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the combat is terminated by the interference of| It is a subject on which any doubting mind the seconds Wessex rushes to his room, and is might consult both St. Peter, (1 Peter, c. 3, v. 3,) about blowing out his brains when he is arrested and St. Paul, (1 Timothy, c. 2, v. 9,) to advanby one Mr. Matson, an illegitimate brother of tage. But Alice determines to keep up her cosLord Wessex, the quondam steward of the Duke tume. We rather think she has a latent liking of Lennox, and the creature through whose in- for the ample tube of the fancy trowsers," strumentality the abduction of Lady Alice is ef- and the "brilliant, coral-studded linen swellfected. He afterwards reappears at Rome as ing gently over the bust," (vol. 2, p. 130.) Clifthe Baron Von Schwartzthal. Grace Clifford, ford, over whom as over all the rest of the party, after her rupture with Lord Wessex, forms an except Grace, a most unaccountable stupidity or engagement with Lord Stratherne, the brother blindness seems to have come to prevent their of Alice. recognition of Alice, takes rooms next to Fitz

Our readers must now gather up all these char- alan, and lives on terms of almost hourly intimaacters—some two years after the abduction-ex-cy with this "bi-sexual," individual. cept Lady Alice, and put them down at Rome. It is needless to dwell on the details of their resiThey must also add Captain and Lady D'Eyn- dence at Rome. We shall hasten to the denouecourt, the brother-in-law and sister of Alice-ment. Fitzalan, Wessex and the Baron or Matson, and finally, they must set the whole party to visi- find that the secret of her disgrace can no longer be ing all the myriad curiosities of the Eternal City, kept. It is necessary to get rid of him. So he (or and to Mr. Frederick Clifford's other occupa- she) appears at the Carnival as Miss Fitzalan. One tions, they must add on his part a seemingly thing occurs in reference to this which on the score incessant attendance on mass and prayers, of morals we do not "readily comprehend." Fitzchurches and chapels. At the Exposition a alan tells Clifford that he has "lost all his friends, St. Cecilia attracts their attention. It is un- father, mother, sisters and brothers," (vol. 2, p. lergoing criticism. The German artists are as- 115,) and subsequently confesses to him, (vol. 2, onished—the French delighted—and the Eng- p. 165,) that this is untrue, the falsehood attractish charmed. The artist enters. It is Mr. Al- ing no attention from him, and then this sister is red Fitzalan. He is English of course, though introduced on the stage. Fitzalan is then meta'attired in the highest style of French fash-maphosed into the Princess Alexina Galitzin, and on." Clifford makes his acquaintance and as such, has quite a career of ambition and splenuys his picture. When he goes to pay for dor sketched out for her future. As Fitzalan, t, he is struck with the startling identity" of however, he (or she) reappears and takes a young Fitzalan with Alice Stuart. They have seat in the vettura of next morning for Naples, nuch talk together. Clifford has a fit of crying, and is to have a parting interview with Clifford. after which they go to luncheon in company, on Much to his regret he does not on his return to which occasion, by-the-way, Alice takes too much his room find the much loved Frederick, but wine and falls ill in the street. After dinner they looking upon this as another drop of bitterness proceed to Lady Beauchamp's rooms, where Fitz- in his cup, he retires quietly to bed. Clifford, ilan figures extensively, and Grace Clifford, by who had grown tired of waiting for Fitzalan, and utting her hand gently on his heart," discovers had walked out on the parapet of the house a woman's agitated and overflowing breast,' "where he had fallen asleep, now "enters the vol. 2, p. 141,) and Mr. Fitzalan and Lady Alice chamber," which seems to him filled with the are known to her as one and the same. A prom- atmosphere of chastity," (vol. 2, p. 189.) He se of secresy is exacted from Grace, and there- approaches the bed where "Fitzalan lay in a pon Alice contrives a visit to Miss Clifford's position of natural slumber"—" recognizes the partment and there tells her story, which con- countenance of sweet, yet almost death-like, ists merely in a series of improbabilities not repose," ," "the watch, excessively small,” “the worth relating here. Grace and she discuss the ivory comb, with the bas-relief carving": still he ropriety of her keeping the oath of concealneut which has been extorted from her by Maton and Wessex. On that score Alice is easy. But she says

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"What troubles me most is, that for man or oman to wear the garb appropriated by custom o the other sex seems to me expressly forbidden y scripture. It is a dreadful thing for me to olate such a law. I ask myself, day by day, the promise by which I engaged to do it, was ot void in itself.”—Vol. 2, p. 153.

does not believe Fitzalan to be Alice. He throws himself on the sofa. His movements disturb her. She jumps out of bed, walks across the room for a glass of water. He discovers from her nightdress that she is beyond doubt a woman:

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ceiving who it was, faltered his name. Clifford therefore content ourselves with an extract, conblushed almost as deeply as herself, as he folded cerning the merits of which, having more than her in a tender embrace, then drew her towards once visited an upholsterer's shop, we may be perthe fire, and gazed, as if he still doubted his own

senses, at her face so rapidly changing. He kiss-mitted to say that we know something.

ed her forehead, lips, hands, in a state of delirium. She had too much sensibility herself to ex"But the chief object in the soft light and stillpect him to be calm at such a moment, but her ness of that bridal chamber is the ivory couch. eyes wandered around for her dressing robe, classically formed, profusely carved, and half enwhich lay on a chair. He enveloped her with veloped in clouds of lace. On the counterpane it, without either having spoken, piled the fire of the bed-white satin brilliantly embroidered with dry faggots from the panier, sat down, and in gold and colors, the work of Clarinelle St. placing her on his knee, folded his arms once Liz-reposes the same memento. (a crucifix.) of the Divine Sufferings that have purchased and more around her form." sanctified all human bliss, which formerly protected the bed of the lonely Fitzalan."

As also incidental to the better understanding

"Indeed, it was more than human nature was capable of, to restrain at such a moment, the expression of feelings which their mutual reverence but rendered more deep. We may take it for a scene of passion as pure as natural. And of the "moral" of this story, we may as well as her lover calmed, Alice, in her turn, permitted mention, that Lord Wessex, at the time of his herself to press her lips again and again to his engagement to Grace, was engaged also in a liburning forehead, and then she would lay her aison with Isabel, the early friend of Louise de head fondly on his shoulder and slightly sob." Belmont, now the wife of Lord Devereux—a Vol. 2, p. 192. species of domestic arrangement which passes without rebuke on the part of our “moral” and Reverend author, who however excuses it ou the ground that Devereux has first deserted" ber, (vol. 2, p. 62.)

The interview lasts some time. It ends in Clifford's expressing his determination to marry her in the morning, and refusing in the mean season to trust her out of his sight. Next morning he is delirious from the effects of the mala

We have thus endeavored to give a faithful rious fever, contracted by sleeping out the night the propriety of departing from the realities of outline of this story, which is written to illustrate life "to obtain the permanence and beauty of the ideal," and to teach "a moral not readily comas Wessex's second. Stratherne shoots Wes-prehended by ordinary minds." The book nasex, of course; but Wessex shoots the Baronurally presents itself in three aspects: as a theological work, or exposition of the views held by killing him on the spot, (vol. 2, p. 203.) Clifone extreme section of the High Church Epis ford is pronounced dying, and has an Eng-copalians; as a moral tale, in which "the beauty lish clergyman to confess him, and give him of the soul of the heroine is made to shine forth ̈` the Sacrament. He then tells Alice of cer- with more than ordinary splendor; and as a work tain herbs, to be found only on the Roman of art, which abandons the realities of life to deCampagna, which he directs to be gathered and administered to him. This she does-and velop by a reproduction of the author's mind. of course, in spite of the doctors and the fever, something superior to any representation, however accurate, of human nature as it is really exhe recovers; and we come to the last scene of hibited by the discipline of actual existence. all in this strange eventful history-the marriage. This is done in true Anglo-Catholic style by the Rev. and Hon. Herbert Courtenay.

before in the open air. Of course Alice determines not to leave him. All is discovered. Lord Stratherne calls out Wessex. The Baron acts

"The ceremony, in short, was such as has not been witnessed in England since the early and unspotted period of the sixth Edward, which exhibited the purified Church of England as she was in the beauty and love of her espousals, before an adulterous tampering with the foreign reformation had led her to prevaricate in her fi

delity to her Eternal Bridegroom."-Vol. 2, P.

215.

Of the book in its theological aspect, we have nothing to say. As men and as Christians, we might perhaps pause before we rashly condemned the Church of Rome,-to whose care we are

indebted under God for the preservation of the Bible through so many centuries of mental darkness and heathen persecution, and so much learned and pious exegesis of the sacred w tings, because that Church holds itself entitled to administer its rites and consolations to its

children, no matter where sojourning. As men and Christians, we might too, perhaps, be cauWe are then entertained with an elaborate de- tious how we adjudged the Protestant sects,--wh scription of "a room in which Clifford at one have so manfully fought the battle of religious time found himself," and of what occurred there. belief founded on reason rather than authority. Of these mysteries, not being members of the to be beyond the covenanted mercies of God. clerical profession, we know nothing, and must even though their ministers do not officiate by

virtue of the Apostolic descent. And as men | Lady Devereux. Again, for a woman "to wear and Christians, we might possibly be disposed the garb of the other sex" is a misdemeanor in to extend the mantle of charity over our Low law, punishable by imprisonment in this happy Church brethren, who being within the fold of the land of liberty, where it is regarded by our wise true branch of the Catholic Church and receiving men as an offence against morals and decency; its sacraments at the hands of regularly ordained yet the beatific Lady Alice sports trowsers with ministers, are nevertheless unenlightened as to "an ample tube" for two years; and all for the the right meaning of some of the Rubrics, and sake of testifying her devotion to the true docare still walking in darkness as to the merits of trine of Anglo-Catholic jurisdiction. Again, Tract number Ninety. But we are neither men Lady Alice, who takes too much wine at the nor Christians. We are only ultra High Church dinner table of a hotel, perches herself in her Episcopalians. As such we know our duty. night-clothes on her lover's knees and spends Like our author, we condemn the Romanists be- much time in kissing his burning forehead, and cause of their unsoundness on the question of indulging in other tender endearments—the scene Episcopal jurisdiction: we condemn the secta- of action being her own bed-room-her only prorians, because they have not the Apostolical suc- tection being a crucifix lying on her bed; and we cession; and as for Low Churchmen, wolves are told it is an exhibition of "passion as pure as in sheep's clothing, scoffers at the Oxford Tracts, natural." The naturalness of it, we do not queslet them be Anathema Maranatha. Romanists, tion, but of its purity, credit Judæus. It is unneSectarians, Low Churchmen-we damn them cessary however to comment further upon the all alike with equal unction and expedition.- moral tendency of this story. To every pureFiat justitia! minded woman, to every right-thinking man, to As a moral tale, we confess that we are dis- every father, husband, brother, it must seem as posed to use no ordinary language in speaking though the Reverend Author, "being thereunto of this book, coming as it does from the pen instigated by the Devil," (to use the language of of one who is professedly engaged in teaching criminal indictments,) had deliberately taxed both. the religion of our Blessed Lord. As the work of his memory and his imagination, to produce a a clergyman, it may and will penetrate into houses work which should be as licentious in its details where it would not otherwise have gone, and be as it is infamous in its general principles. To perused by those to whom such scenes of vice are compare such a book with the productions of strange. When Ernest Maltravers and Alice or Eugene Sue is to do the Frenchman great injusthe Mysteries were given to the public, men con- tice. He wrote the Mysteries of Paris for the demned them because of the probable pernicious purpose of exposing the atrocities practised uneffects of a tale, in which a deviation from the paths der legal pretences against the poor; and he sucof virtue was rewarded by marriage and hono- ceeded in attracting general attention to the rable position. Here the same thing occurs to character of the criminal code. He wrote the Louise de Belmont. In Bulwer's novel, the un- Wandering Jew to exhibit the iniquities of the fortunate Alice was an orphan, a mere child, Jesuits; with how much effect, let the newspapers without education and writhing beneath the ty- answer. But this book, to all appearance, is written ranny of a father, who, if we remember rightly, merely to show that adultery and seduction may perishes by the hands of the law. The name of be practised with impunity-nay, that they tend the Creator, except as an imprecation, is unknown to develop the beauty of one's soul, provided to her. As such she sins. But her sin brings with it the means of education. Her mind is unfolded; she learns to know the truth; and with that knowledge comes regret, remorse, and years of penitence and expiation. Then purified by suffering and prayer, she meets again the man of Last of all, we must look at the book in an her early love, and he, so far as he can, repairs the artistic point of view, as an illustration of the wrong which he had done. But Lady Beau- theory that it is necessary to "depart from realichamp's case is wholly different. She is wealthy ty to gain the permanence and beauty of the and highly educated. Augustus is represented as ideal." As to this, we presume that no one, being mentally unconscious, when she seeks his however infatuated with the theory itself, will couch. She then deceives her father, and Lord ever cite this novel as an instance of its correctBeauchamp-suffers her child,-but we will not ness. But for ourselves, we, in part, attribute dwell further upon the details of this disgusting, this failure of the author (in a mere literary and thanks to nature, impossible story. Again, sense) to the theory which he has adopted. It is Lord Wessex engages himself to Grace Clifford not that upon which the great masters of art at the same time that he is living in adultery with have wrought out those immortal works which

VOL. XV-68

one keeps a crucifix on one's bed, and recites the Compline Psalms of an evening. Against such uses of the symbol of salvation and of the Holy Scriptures, all honest Catholics and Protestants will alike protest.

have been and ever will be the delight and ad- that as a theological exposition, it is a slanderous miration of mankind. To the earnest, sorrowful Dante, Poetry was that

divine philosophy

Musical as is Apollo's lute,

caricature of Catholic christianity: as a moral treatise, it is licentious and corrupting in the ex

treme: as a work of art, professedly upholding a theory, it is a wretched failure. The Reverend Author and his friends will doubtless meet these

which every where to the attentive ear discourses censures by the assertion that the work has of Nature and the Divine intelligence*: with created a sensation and procured notoriety for its the ardent, creative Schiller, "true art is not satis- Author. We can only answer, that the same fied with a show of Truth. It rears its edifice on thing may be said of Judas Iscariot and a host of Truth itself, on the solid and deep foundations kindred spirits and their works. of Nature"-whilst the serene and thoughtful Lee Town, Va., July, 1849. Goethe has thus recorded his ideas of art in "the golden cadences of poesy":

As all Nature's thousand changes
But one changeless God proclaim,
So through Art's wide kingdom ranges
One sole meaning still the same.
This is Truth. eternal Reason,

Which from Beauty takes its dress,
And serene through time and season,
Stands for aye in loveliness.

To mention Homer and Shakspeare, is to call to mind developments of man and man's character, which, in their depth, assume at times the appearance of revelation. And yet the wondrous book of man's nature is but partially unfolded by them. What need to go beyond it? Why not pore over its pages? Is there not enough of tenderness, of excitement, of novelty, of tragedy to be found there? Now grave, now gay; thoughtful and trifling; sublime and sensual; passionately struggling with life; sadly wrestling with doubt; thirsting for knowledge as for hid treasures, yet thereby only increasing sorrow; vainly endeavoring to elucidate the eternal problem of his intellectual existence, the solution ever escaping him just as he seems about to grasp it; dimly realizing the complicated relations of his social existence, the mysterious action of mind upon mind; with passions, desires, and feelings that put him on a level with the beasts that perish; with hopes, fears and aspirations that render him but a little lower than angels; the mysterious link between the spiritual intelligences which minister round the throne of the Most High, and the creatures which are of the earth, earthy: such are some of the traits of human nature, and are there not materials enough here upon which to exercise the plastic hand of Art?

We will, however, dismiss this book by saying,

* Filosofia, mi disse, a chi l'attende,
Nota non pure in una sola parte,
Come Natura lo suo corso prende
Dal Divino Intelletto.

Inferno, Canto xi. 97-100.

+ Remarks on the use of Chorus in Tragedy. + Carlyle's Translation of Wilhelm Meister.

BOYHOOD.

"Thou hast my better years

Thou hast my earlier friends-the good-the kind."

"It was but childish ignorance,
Though now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from Heaven,
Than when I was a boy."-Thomas Hood

The bright, bright hours of hoy hood!-
Of times their memories rise

Like clouds of a golden and purple hue,
Over Fancy's radiant skies.

The bounding pulse. and the joyous heart,
The life untouched by pain,

And the whispered tones of a glorious Hope,
All rush to mind again.

The Past! in its fairy realms I live,
Its garden is filled with flowers,
And my spirit inhaleth the incense sweet
That ascends from its roseate bowers.
As the wanderer lone on the desert sands,
Looks back to his home with tears,
So the wanderer lone on the sands of life,
Hails the light of his early years.

I remember my bosom's first warm thrill,
As a beautiful form passed by-
The glossy folds of the waving hair,
And the light of the beaming eye,-
And I deerned that woman's sweet, fair face,
In its holy thought did seem

Like the angel-features that on me shone,
Each night, in my boyhood's dream.

Bryst

I remember her whose slightest tone,
Bore with it a magic power,
Whose warm glance beamed on my folded heart,
Like the sun on his favorite flower-
Till the passionate thoughts that slumbered there,
In a still sleep, deep and long,

Burst forth, like waves from a woodland shade,
To beauty and light and song.

I remember the smile of one who loved,

Her thoughtless and wayward boy,
With a love that mocked all chance or change,
And which Death could not destroy.

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THE TABLET OF THE THEBAN CEBES.

Translated from the Greek.

BY REV. J. JONES SMYTH, A. M.

[Cebes was as the title indicates-a native of Thebes. He was a disciple of Socrates. Xenophon in the Memorabilia,' B. 1, ch 2, sec. 48, makes honorable mention of him, as being one of those distinguished men who by their virtuous lives and patriotic conduct showed what was the real nature and true tendency of the instruction which the great Philosopher imparted. Plato has made him one of the interlocutors in his Phodon.

riety of votive offerings. But in front of the temple a certain tablet had been presented, on which was some strange painting, containing some peculiar mysteries, which we were unable to comprehend, or find out what they could mean. The painting did not appear to us to be either a city or a camp; but there was a circle enclosing two other circles, a greater and a less. There was a gate to the first circle, close to which a large crowd appeared to be standing; within the circle a multitude of women was visible; and beside the entrance to the outer gate and circle an old man was standing, who by his gestures seemed to be enjoining something upon those that were entering.

2. After we had for a long time perplexed ourselves about the interpretation of this myth, a venerable old man standing at our side, said : "Strangers! The difficulty which you now experience about this painting is nothing unusual, for very few of the inhabitants of the place are at all acquainted with its allegorical interpretation. Indeed the offering itself was not made by a citizen of the place; but a stranger who came here a long time since, a man of great intelligence and remarkable for his wisdom, and who both by precept and example manifested an ardent love for a kind of Pythagorean and Parmenidean mode of living, consecrated this place,

--

and presented this painting to Chronus."

Stranger. "Did you ever see or get acquainted with this man?"

Old Man. "Yes. Being a youth at the time, I was in the habit of gazing at him long with admiration, for he used to discourse on a great variety of subjects with earnestness and power; and of this allegorical painting I have frequently heard him give a full explanation."

3. Stranger. "Then, I beseech you, if some business of importance does not happen to prevent, to explain it to us, for we have been very anxious to learn what in the world it means." Old Man. 64 With great pleasure, strangers, The edition from the following translation is made is the However it is proper that I should first tell you small Leipzig one of Tauchnitz, 1829.

This is the only production of Cebes which has come down to us. He is said to have written two other diajogues.

The translator has aimed at giving a version as nearly literal as the idioms of the two languages will admit. None except those who have made the trial, can form any ade quate notion of the difficulty of rendering the condensed power of Greek particles and the nice and philosophical shades of meaning of Greek compounds into tolerable Eng. lish without obscuring or greatly weakening the beauty and vigor of the original. Why is not this chaste and beautiful little work made to form a part of our School or even College courses? Its brevity, plain and simple style and eleVated moral tone all recommend it.]

THE INTERLOCUTORS: A STRANGER AND AN OLD
MAN.

1. We happened to be walking in the place sacred to Chronus, in which we saw a great va

that the explanation involves some risk."

Stranger. "Of what nature?"

Old Man. "If you attend to and understand what I am about to tell you, ye shall be both wise and happy; but if you do not, then becoming foolish, unfortunate, morose and ignorant, a life of misery awaits you. This interpretation resembles the enigma of the Sphinx, which she was wont to propose to men, for whoever was able to solve it was saved, but he who could not was destroyed by the Sphinx. So is it with the interpretation of this painting; for Folly is a Sphinx to mankind. She proposes as enigmas such questions as these, What is good, what bad,

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