soothe by its sweet remembrance the com- its objective, portions. Of its writer we ing ages of anguish. GUARDIAN ANGEL. "Praise to His Name! The eager spirit has darted from my hold, may say far more truly than did Coleridge of his great predecessor Dante, that "he does not so much elevate our thoughts as send them down deeper." For his subtle speculations on man's complex being, his daring researches into the " abysmal depth of personality," carry us along with them far more completely than do his upward flights. And as it is with the thoughts on which the poem rests, so it is with the verse which forms the superstructure. The iambics and the graver lyrics of the poem (two Consumed, yet quickened, by the glance of of which form our last quotations) have a God." To throb, and pine, and languish, till possesst There will I sing my absent Lord and Love: Take me away, peculiar and serious harmony of sound - Descend ecstatic odours." But the Choruses to which Gerontius pays this beautiful compliment do not justify it. Would either of those which we have exAnd see Him in the truth of ever-one? Who can judge them worthy to be tracted, the best or the worst, so affect any That sooner I may rise and go above, lasting day." Then Purgatory opens. The souls within In my most loving arms I now enfold thee; I poise thee, and I lower thee, and hold thee. And carefully I dip thee in the lake; And thou, without a sob or a resistance, Dost through the flood thy rapid passage take, Sinking deep, deeper, into the dim distance. chanted to the sound of heavenly harps, and to the rush of angelic pinions? Thus, when we compare Dr. Newman with the last great traveller before him on the same road, with Goethe, we find that his Gerontius has nothing to fear from the competition of that silent spirit, so arbitrarily rescued from his just doom by the German poet; we also see that the inestimable advantage of a strong faith has given to the less artistically perfect poem an impress of reality which is wanting to the last two scenes of "Faust;" but, on the other hand, set beside Goethe's swift dactylic flights and his glorious "Easter Hymn," the Five Choirs of Angelicals in Gerontius make but a sorry show. Nor is the final catastrophe more satisfactory, though for a widely different reason than that of Faust." Each tramples on a deep-seated conviction of the human breast, on a strong foundation of natural piety. And though, in Dr. Newman's case, we consent to hold his creed, rather than bis art, responsible for what revolts our moral sense in the conclusion of his drama, yet would it not have procured his exclusion, and with right, from the Republic of even a So ends a poem, in our judgment as satis-heathen philosopher? Can a poem which factory in its subjective as it is the reverse in implies, as does the "Dream of Gerontius," Angels to whom the willing task is given, And masses on the earth, and prayers in Shall aid thee at the Throne of the Most High est. Farewell! but not for ever! brother dear, Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow; Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here, And I will come and wake thee on the morrow." that creatures can be more merciful than to other mediators; as though to supply by their Creator, stand the test of Plato's celebrated rule? From this reflection we pass by a natural transition to our last subject of inquiry: from the consideration of the poetic value of Dr. Newman's verse to the yet more interesting endeavour to learn from it, as a crucial instance, what it profits a soul to turn, as inadequate to its needs, from the voice which, once for all, went forth from the holy hill of Zion; and to seek to supplement its utterances by the oracle of the seven hills. Let us briefly sum up the evidence here presented of the consequences of such a course, and dwell for a moment upon them. * their intercession the deficiencies or the indifferences of the True One. The "Angel of the Agony "pleads on behalf of souls in purgatory with Him who endured that very agony for their sake; and meantime the great Intercessor remains mute - the Redeemer seems unmindful of His own sure promise to admit all spirits faithfully commended to Him" that day" into paradise. Is not the loss to a Christian heart, implied in this lowered conception of the chief object of its faith, an inconceivably great one? Can any gain in inferior departments of the spiritual life be otherwise than trifling when set beside it? Is the gayer tone of the ballads in honour of the blessed Virgin and of The writer (in 1835) of the poem on the saintly founder of the oratory, which "Rest" evidently believed with the elder find a place in this new volume, a really Church (whose teaching on this point is more satisfactory symptom than the stern adopted for her own by the English Church, and sorrowful notes which came from the and recommended to her children upon same lyre in earlier days? If the latter every All-Saints' Festival), that "the souls pointed to a deficiency as yet unsupplied, of the righteous are in the hand of God, to a fear not yet "cast out," do not the and there shall no torment touch them." | former mark a descent to a lower level, a The author of the "Dream of Gerontius" relinquishing of high truths once held, has learned, instead, to look forward, with which it is painful to contemplate? an heroic but sad composure, to death as the beginning of sorrows even to the holy sorrows of unknown intensity as to their sharpness, and as to their duration indefinite. Can he point to one single verse of Scripture which will justify his new teacher in thus making sad a heart which the Lord has not made sad? Nay, more: is not the theology of the later poems, after all, but the natural outgrowth of that root of bitterness which a close inspection might discern springing up amid all the promise of the earlier? For in those, despite of the occasional flashes of a more childlike confidence, was not there very discernible a prevailing tendency to interpose an awful interval (which the Gos Rest," and in other poems (now wholly suppressed) of the "Lyra Apostol-pel ica," their author rejected the invocation of saints to place exclusive confidence in the One Intercessor; he altogether refused to follow their example, who "Seek to charms of man, or saints above, interposes not) between the sinner and the Saviour? to bid those still "stand afar off" whom a gracious voice commands to draw near? That grand hymn of the universal Church, the " Te Deum," claims for the Christian the high privilege of beholding his Redeemer in his Judge. Do not even the early poems tend to reverse the process, to renounce the blessing; and train the mind, instead, to see with Gerontius, "The Judge severe, e'en in the Crucifix" Then, as in the original corruption of the religion of Christendom, so to the individual also comes the Nemesis of faith; to claim for the many the trust refused to the One; to extend into another life the term for the accomplishment of a work which it is felt to be impossible to complete in this. Nevertheless, the defects of Dr. Newman's theology must not render us insensible to what is great and good in it. In Is it well to have learned to divide this confidence to look forward to a death-bed which others than He who died for us are to be called to " soothe"? For Gerontius calls on two names beside His in that last agony when the soul instinctively falls back upon its deepest certainties." His pious friends, and the good priest who kneels be-itive side him, commend him to other advocates, How this promise was interpreted by the prim Church, Prudentius," the poet of the martyrs,' bears witness to us in his grand hymn, "In Exe quiis Defunctorum," what he would (on far other grounds to| ours) agree with us in calling its imperfection thirty years ago, it stirred mightily the men of that generation, because its teacher held the truth that was in it firmly, and preached it boldly-nay, perhaps its partial truth found a way into some hearts which would have closed against the truth orbed in completeness. Is it too much to hope that the light which burns behind strange medieval shapes in the " Dream of Gerontius," may attract some wanderer now, who might have found that same light too dazzling presented through a purer medium? In these days of materialism every expression of faith in the Unseen has its value. Now that the reality of moral evil is denied on every side, each testimony to man's need of deliverance from sin is precious. Nor can we read the "Dream of Gerontius" without envying its gifted author his clear perception that holiness is worth any sacrifice and any suffering; and that to see the Lord" is an unmistakable joy, which would be cheaply purchased by millenniums of anguish. When the poem which contains these stanzas first appeared, its place in the Lyra Apostolica" was just before Newman's David and Jonathan." How must its neighbour's well-remembered line — "He bides with us who dies; he is but lost who lives," 66 have rung in the deserted friend's mind, as Keble sat down alone on the spot (ever after sacred to that bitter recollection) to read the letter which, as he said, † told me that Newman had left us"! Of those two friends' first and last meeting afterwards, we have the deeply interesting record from Newman's own pen. He has described how, after the lapse of many years, he entered Keble's door, and sat in For a mind more earthly, for a heart less faithful than his own to venture to reprove him for the dishonour (great, but unintentional) which he has done to his Master and ours, would be presumptuous. Let a voice from the grave speak for us. Let Dr. New-converse with him, and with a third whose man's friend in earlier and happier times, with whom, while it could yet be said of that little band, "Unå docta cohors arma tenet manu, Muros construit alterâ, he stood shoulder to shoulder in the work of defence and construction, where he has since attacked and thrown down,-the saintly author of the "Christian Year," make answer in our behalf. Let him reply for us that it was the baseless dream of a diseased imagination, "That showed the righteous suffering still, Upon the eternal shore.” * Let him answer the strongest argument for purgatory the seeming impossibility of attaining here the holiness needful for the enjoyment of heaven - by declaring, that to doubt the accomplishment on earth of the work of sanctification in the saved, is to doubt the Word of Him who is Himself the Truth. "Fear not, for He hath sworn; Faithful and true His name. name has been often associated with theirs. Keble's playful exclamation at parting, "When shail we three meet again?" has a solemn sound now, as we remember that it was the last meeting of those three in this world. Yet "when" is infinitely less important, as applied to the final assembling, than "how?" And thinking of the faith, obscured by later accretions, but not destroyed, in the book we have been examining, let us anticipate the manner of the meeting for the two wearied and scarred veterans who remain, in the words of their fellow-champion who has already entered into his rest: "O then the glory and the bliss, When all that pained or seemed amiss, Shall melt with earth and sin away! Shall spend th' eternal day!" -St. Mark's Day: "Christian Year." So may the touching lines which will fitly close our remarks on their great writer find fulfilment in his own case. It was while Keble's Minor Poems. + Coleridge's "Life of Keble." Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home he was girding himself up for the "great | Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, work which he had to do in England" that Newman invoked that Light (by warning fears of sinning against which he was then haunted), in a strain probably familiar to many readers who are strangers to his other works. Nevertheless we cannot omit 66 Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see Shouldst lead me on! I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead Thou me on! remember not past years. what still, after the lapse of near forty I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou years, constitutes its author's surest title to a place in the ranks of that goodly company, the hymn-writers of the universal Church. In every prayer of this their I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, lost leader," bis fellow-Churchmen once, Pride ruled my will his fellow-Christians still, may not dare to join. But this one no man can refuse. May it be accomplished, as for those who now repeat, so for him who first framed, it, when the darkness shall at length be past, and the shadows flee away! Newman's "Apologia." So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till And with the morn those angel faces smile MY LOVE. My love is pale, but in her cheeks But ah, I have not found her yet! Her eyes are blue-such sweet blue eyes! And fill them suddenly with light; Across her brow in even braids Is smoothly laid her glossy hair; Or tricks of dress to make her fair. But ah, I have not found her yet! She wins your heart a hundred ways A native deferential charm, Such little things you soon forget, Although they steal your love apace But ah, I have not found her yet! Her image in my heart I wear; My love, my faith, are all her own; I keep my life prepared for her When she shall come and take her throne. I dream of what the world will seem So much more bright when we have met; I wonder, is it all a dream?— Chambers' Journal. IN a recent number of Les Mondes Dr. A Boue calls attention to the fact that a great many scientific publications of the northern and easterly parts of Europe remain almost unknown, except in the countries where the languages (Swedish, Danish, Finnish, Lithuanian, Russian, Czech, Slavonic, Magyar, Polish, NeoGreek, and Roumanian, and even Dutch) in which they are published are spoken. The author suggests that it would be an advantage if, for each of these publications, either a full translation or an abstract of the papers were simultaneously published in French, English, or GerNature. man. CHAPTER XXVII. EQUAL TO THE OCCASION. seized her. She gives no reason, but, like a parrot, senselessly repeats, 'I cannot help it. If you let him come here, I know I shall refuse him.' It is really more than human nature can endure. Job, indeed! I never read that he had a trial of this kind. However, she shall have no new dresses; and I am determined that I shall neither al-ask any one here, nor take her anywhere. I think if I can carry out this plan I am sure to succeed. I have put forth every effort to find out what she means, and I have tried Marshall in every way, but I don't believe she knows anything either, although she's as artful as can be." WHEN Lady Laura Verschoyle left Dyne Court she promised to write to Mr. Ford on their arrival in Egmont Street, and said that she should then expect to hear when they might see him there. They had now been at home more than a week, and though she feared that Audrey was not yet in a state to receive her eligible admirer, she could not longer delay writing to Mr. Ford. I have been want After despatching her letter to Mr. Ford, her ladyship went into the dining room, where her daughter was writing. She meant to try her skill once more. 66 What a dismal day this is, to be sure! November in London is quite unbearable; one ought to be in excellent health to endure this continual fog and rain." "Now," thought her ladyship, "I must so word this note that his fears will not be unduly excited, for his anxiety might bring Never during the whole course of her him to town at once. But I should like life had her ladyship been so much puzzled. him to know that Audrey is too unwell to Audrey had tried by every means to avoid bear any agitation. Dear me, how thank- being left alone with her mother, as she ful I shall be when it is all settled, and she was sure the conversation would turn upon is married! I cannot stand these worries the one subject. At Hastings these maas I once did." She sat thinking thus for noeuvres were comparatively easy; but now some time, and then wrote:opportunities were constantly occurring, “My Dear Mr. FORD, and she had to listen to long dissertations ing so much to write to you ever since my re-live in the same style; Lady Laura urging on the impossibility of their continuing to turn home, which was on Saturday." ("Perhaps," she said, "he'll think that means the that she must give up her carriage. day before yesterday.") "I know you are very anxious to hear about our dear Audrey. What a comfort it is for me to remember that now I have some one who has a right to share all my troubles on her account! Dear girl, I wish I could give a more satisfactory account of her. Her nervous system continues in such a sensitive state, that Dr. Kenlis says the slightest excitement might bring a relapse. Still, he assures me there is no cause for anxiety. By the end of another month, if his directions are attended to, and she is kept perfectly quiet, she "Well, my dear, perhaps you are able will be quite her former self. Of course I feel My spirits bound to comply with his injunctions, although, to enjoy things more than I can. are so bad, that it makes little difference to I confess, I am greatly tempted to disobey them, and ask you to come and see us. I do me whether the day be bright or gloomy. not think she will put up with this restriction The disappointments I have had have been But I am foolish much longer. She is constantly speaking of rather too much for me. your promised visit. I dare not tell her that I to talk of them, for only sensitive people am writing, for she would insist on seeing the have any feeling for the sufferings of others. letter, and she has no idea of her own weak- I often think of dear Lady Lascelles. She ness. This is the reason why you have no mes-used to say I was the only one who could sage from her. I cannot tell you, dear Mr. give her any comfort, because I so entirely Ford, how eagerly I look forward to certain sympathized with her. Poor thing! what a coming events, or how sure I feel that in enmartyr she was confined to her room for trusting my beloved child to your keeping I am securing her happiness, and the happiness of years, and often for months not able to see one of her family! Ah! Mary had a great deal to answer for." her mother as well. "Yours most truly and affectionately, "LAURA VERSCHOYLE." "Now I don't think I have said so much as will lead him to come; nor so little that he will fancy we don't want him. I think I shall have another conversation with Audrey. She must he brought round, of I cannot think what madness has VOL. XIX. 844 course. LIVING AGE. "I don't think we have had much cause to complain of the weather yet, mamma: yesterday was a lovely day." "Why? said Audrey; "what had Mary to do with it?" |