The Express. — London, England, 1851-06-07 00:00:00

LITERATURE. The Pried Mime so of Rom*. Bentley. The anooymoua author of this little work regretting, as every Mend of human progress must, that after a w e e of centuries, all the old wounds of ON Wien are re-opened, and the polemical and religions die anarioas which harmed our forefathers aro considers that there exists no better weapons kr re sisting the papal encronchments than such as the armoury of our enemies supplies ready to hand. He thinks that the best way to check and confound the advances of Rome, is to seek the proofs of her frauds, tyrannies, and usurpations in her own hideous chro nicles, and to show the hideous features of popery in a glass held up by itself. For these reasons be has chosen the life of St. Dunstan, one of the shining lights of the Popish calendar, as his theme, and ehal lenges the whole bead-roll of beatified sinners patro nized by Rome to produce a more glaring example than this Dunstan of the atrocities she authorized to secure her spiritual and temporal supremacy. In the paragraph quoted we have the author's notion of THE WISEMAN IMENT. Perhaps the papal court may believe that in this century the has discovered a disciple who can match with the crafty Saxon, and who will eventually be u much interwoven with our national hi-tory. Perhaps Rome may conceive that another master-mind may subvert national law and in dependence, as Duustan did under the succesnors of Alfred. But unless there comes a new irruption of barbarians, like the ancient Scythian hordes, to subvert all Esro pe , and plunge us into a seconfl age of darkness, thu expectation will never be realised. Whatever to us, we cannot retrograde. The hcptarchy would as easy to us as the clotted tiara, the inquisition, and the eau fessional. The Bible must be blotted out from the earth before any modern Dawn in can bring hack England under the seraphie government of what Dr. Wiseman calls the (" hierarchy of angels." If Rome hopes to root out protest satins, she must employ other measures than those which were resorted to in the ages of the Edgers and the Edwina. She must, at teat, begin by an attempt to convince our lesson, and not by vulgar chests, juggles, and pretended miracles. The age of tho monkish Katerfelto hu gone for over. _ _ _ - • The first five chapters of the volume are of an in troductory character, and treat of the early Christian church in Britaiu, the introduction of popery, and the state of the nation in the era of Etheldred, &c. The sixth chapter shows us HOW DUNSTAN BM AWE AN AUCHBISIIO/P. The see of Winchester falling vacant, was offered by Bdred to Dunstan, but refused by him, under divers pre tences. This opportunity, however, was not to be lost of possessing the mind of the king with what he deemed the only reward fitted fur his talents and ambition, sad so Odo was then very old, the crafty Dunstan carefully abstained from accepting any post inferior to the primacy. The mode in which be informed the king of his desire was characteristic, and as wand under the Reid of miraculous interposition. " lie had," he related, seen a vision, and, moreover, received a blow from St. Peter, who had informed him that it was inflicted as a pu nishment for his refusal, and a token not to decline the primacy of England." The weak Faired believed' the tale, and sagache.ly pronounced it as a sign that he would in fallibly become Archbishop of Canterbury. In the next chapter we have an account of how Dunstan treated his sovereign, and see pretty plainly WHAT A VOrtill AUCLIDIDMOr WILL DO. Edwin was young, headstrong, and perhaps weak; but unlike the weakness iif hit predecessor (which, seeking sup port from the assisting aria of Dunstan, allowed himself I blindly to be lea by him) Edwin was self-willed and obsti nate, determined to emancipate himself from the control of both priests and courtiers, in order to indulge his inclina tion and passions without consulting their opinions. Ifs esteemed himself no puny boy, to be taught that he wore a crown only to invest others with its power ; but being • king, as such he determined to reign. 1 hear feelings arc natural to youth and inexperience, and had Edo iu lived, the nobler parts of his nature would have ultimately predominated, and his tender heart might have felt fur Ins people a portion of that love he bore El vis; but to a youthful sovereign Hushed with power, the haughty supremacy of such hold spirits as Odo and Dunstan must have been unbearable ; and while I cannot but pity the want of policy which led hint to attack, before he could subdue them, I warmly sympathise in the generous endea vour to emancipate the nation and himself from such thral dom. Ile appears to have been one of the only persons of i that day notimposed upon by the miraculous machinery so successfully used to blind all eyes as to the real purposes of the priests, and this aloue at his age argues the possession of considerable understanding. The precise time when his connection with Elgiva began is not clear, but the moat probable view is that he married young, and was her husband at the time of his coronation. The obstinate perverseness., of all the monkish writers in denying her the name of wife, may Ise at once referred to the fiat that she was related to her husband within the prohibited degrees. Therefore, in their prejudiced eyes, the fair Elgiva held but the infamous position of a concu bine. Ilea ever, this supposed impediment to the lawfulness of their marriuge proves her, at least to have been of noble birth, and fit to match with the king. Bat the Saxon chronicles mention her repeatedly as his wife, and even the 'scepticism of Lingual admit. the', though all agree in the fact of her affinity to Edwin, this tic probably having been the means of attaching them to each other from tenderest infancy. Hints are thrown out by his enemies that Edwin possessed the regard of other women, but no substantial accusation arraigns his constancy; and had the truth been really as is implied, doubtless his enemies would more clearly have assured themselves of it. After these preliminary remarks, I shall proceed to relate the tale of their love and their sufferings; a tale so fraught with interest, that it has emerged with singular distinct ness from the obscurity of surrounding events. Where his tory even has failed to secure attention, this romantic story has been sung by poets, and served for the foundation of many a tale. When Edwin ascended the throne he was only sixteen, and possessed of such singular personal beauty as to be sur named " the all fair." During the life of his uncle he is mid to have treated the Archbishop Odo with much re spect, but liuding, probably, that ho endeavoured to en croach, and sought to make himself too much master of his actions, he ceased to distinguish him after his accession. We are left to suppose, however, that Odo performed the ceremony of coronation, as in the subsequent feats he takes DO prominent • part. At this banquet were assembled all the nobles and clergy in the land, rallying round the throne of a young king, whose tender age seemed todemand their presence and claim their loyalty. Great importance was in those days at tubed to thew national carousals, with which every re markable event was celebrated. The Anglo-Saxons are re proached for their monstrous excesses in drinking, and on this occasion it should have been the policy of Edwin, how ever disgusted, to have appeared to share in their riotous revels. But his he.art was elsewhere, and he longed to ap proach his beloved and beautiful wife ; and, casting at her feet the regal trappings with which he was invested, to for get in her society the noisy wine he could no longer endure, With thoughtleas levity he rose from the table, nor did he observe the astonished and angry looks cast on him by the theme around, hut hastily retreated to his private apart swots. liege and displeasure possessed the assembly, who became at List so clamorous that the onieioua Odo proposed sending for the monarch and forcing his return. No lay man dared accept so delicate a mission ; none but • priest could have the aallacity to trust himself upon the privacy of the king ; but Dunstan rejoiced in the opportunity of as serting the power he intended to exercise in full vigour during the future reign, stepped forwareLand, accompanied by a bishop sCynesius by name) penetrated to the king's sparuneuts. Here they discovered Edwin caressing his be loved Elgiva, his crown thrown on the ground, and he himself divested of his royal mantle ; the presence of his mother appears sufficient proof that it was her society alone he sought, though the monkish writers with indecent spleen have insinuated that the mother shared, or rivalled Mute's love for her daughter. Dunstan, to whom this mew poseented thews. and I whose heart, closed to lamest aibeties, envied elbow its I enjoyment, endeavoured he dreg the kind from the wart meet, instead of megiordtelly nigh/ his regemit, and wincing him in proper language the impreithee et his conduct. Outraged to the last degree by the ineeleath of the abbot, Edwin "clewed to complyoued Dustin rod bh MIA for getful even of the vmdiwagen des to the wen and eir• impeded by the &average, he the wows on his head; end unheeding the threats awl remsnstrances of the est raged Motive (who wherewith, ins& baths& an bar lord) they dragged him away, and hesilit ressehmil him et the festival. In this act we sea the tog rome sf Dnasteab sada city —the saint wholly disrm. sow is sesablsnes, and Edwin was fully justified OMIT /*SWIM the lie was, indeed, unwise in the mit he adopted of nsgre his digs*. _ 'Whops be was berried un by the isdisweet iopstionse of Teo wheammeweelly insulted by the rebind of Dances to acksewlsilge her as his wife, natianllysenglit to nab► the man whim sesdast woo so injurious. Dsgslth wee too Ind y gootol is the favour of the ma ths, end the mash =NM if the &Mats Dayasarf to pos sess in his YAW*, yoreglooo of de age. to be woly et tie;ed by arms hies as pee henna to his by no =din thiliseed Edwin showed tea- Mont* opidl,C=l whim. on, whew =ever the eththese Edwin was the Mel grime Dewlap, and rho spasse esseits elaw, ennead eithey introdasties ef the some meth& Ms whisk wee se , p r = etieLtsibool oyo z at t:r dont tad Rabogaloggoloto he ems mord to defy arradri. Mu th§ dews court gathering &Ng blot too to diassipsfrA. mired to us mosootory at Olastothary, then to ham awe osbonto fe webthatiag the eartlMtp the kbog, Nod to bum booro bi diesnies the wth Eights from bo a s m ow syslisity. The peyote Ovum gook4simmosi by soolodetiot is oil mob being shear seetit abbot to he wise arovioisobod. is exact propos. ibis Irk*. Impost istomt et the clones). • siniMilell Madre Doman =dog tobooloogy egos amb or was llumblogl, ono ggotoOdo. bat. as the rolobilios tar lis en radth meth dis lumpiest was under consideration, it is wersj e gollehle that, aware of dm fie be naked for present I . The /rat indication of the beintikt is elf was a The bawds kb/Fre:4w legt". M u rti l ltreeetures etwamiesed to the sea -1 esses of former semedgea. This nee. bind. tonehlog Dead= in • met ten* be helves me Mort idle le plead dm ide et erne bemfm4 edges sin had be- Wd i n kil adlosellW &Lyda. maim li eopemelliens I oisonings. would Unneeded at eadi dlielms. end akin ham afEn4 WO led hosent fatsi itworaid have been I Me tke amen ari ast the 14aelt dr treasure. Fairly memieni. alMillik. W • gala he darned, Dunstan, the mint. the sew marine 10 memo the money, was driven le the reedlike el flight. • resolve OW _bed le pummel any reel loran, he weal , ' rather ham died thee denied Into sovietise. Indeed el' thus tacitly acknowledging hie guilt, and husking his church and soneastery, (thiprreecution of whisk should be ' the natural meek of his deporture), hushed& rather have expired at the Met Of the am, in the ante mine Met me so zany a the einem, Monk lees crafty digelteries of the early church bed perished in the trying BUM Mr the northern invasions. With what a humbled spirit pet the haughty prelate lave presented himself before the abode of those friends whom lespitaikg he new meght! What new miracles end revelations lie saint have reined to explain his otherwise Dealases si t elml amigt i lronve with his friends Abhelwold and Oawelg, afterwards raised by him to the sees of Win (heater and IVorcester ; but no roof could now afford safety to the man who but a few mouths hack was the chosen and bosomed gnat of kings and nobles, and he sought the ma shers, determined to cross ti Flanders, and seek in a fo reign lend the security denied him at home. Having ob tained a asset, he hastily embarked, and while a favour able wed Ailed the sails, he could descry on the beach the OIRMISIMS of the queen, who, it is said, having closely traced his thoesteps, had arrived too late to execute her cruel command of putting out his eyes. His character and conduct justify me in supposing that in this moment of extreme humiliation he must have sworn some dreadful oath, that those shores which witnessed hie departure as an outcast should, ere long, view his return possessed of all the power his soul desired, when that king. who had dared to beard him, should be dethroned, and the proud beauty, who had hunted him like a fetbn from plane to place, should by a wretched death wash out his injuries in her blood. To Flanders Dunstan sailed, where, on his arrival, he was hospitably received by Count Arnett', and at the abbey of St. Peter, in the town of (-Vocal, he safely reposed, and composed hi s mind in these monastic solitudes to the pleasing task of revenge. Here for the present we must leave him, and look back to what is passing in England and at the court of Edwin after his flight. No opposition stems to have been appre hended, and the flight of Dunstan appeared to the head strong Edwin to he the real commencement of his reign. Nothing, however, could have been more impolitic in a young and inexperienced prince than the banishment of Dunstan. To sa) nothing of the opinion of the nation at large, Odo, the archbishop, was the intimate friend and firm supporter of Dunstan. The pious Turketnl, far re moved from the scandal of courts, and ignorant of the fraudulent means used by him for advancement, also honoured him with his regard. Thus Edwin's precipitancy deprived the throne of all support from those who ought to have bees its beat defence, anti whose enmity ensured the downfall of his power. The abbeys possessed by Dunstan (those of Olastonbury and Abingdon) were dissolved, and the Benedictine monks, probably more pious than their superior, driven forth on the world to de plore in vain the pusillanimous desertion of their abbot, and the secular clergy triumphed everywhere in their stead. Edwin, misled by counsellors as hot-headed as hinisilf, whose opinions were strengthened by the influ ence of the exasperated queen, waged war on all the monas teries' and by their sequestration forfeited the good opinion of his subjects, who viewed the monks as beings of a supe rior order. No excuse can be offered for his conduct to his grandmother, who from her birth and merits was univer sally beloved, and his cruel confiscation of all her estates present* the only real indication of a corrupt heart. In rcs gard to his other acts the power of the church had become so excessive, and the part which Dunstan had taken against the queen, and his authority was so undisguised, that he was fully justified (if he hail possessed the power) to uproot the one and moderate the other. Disorder and cunfusioa were rapidly spreading over the land; the Archbishop Otto viewed with horror the banish ment of Dunstan and the power of Elgiva ; and he headed •anspiracy, strengthened by the numerous friends of Dun i*" to IMAIC/Iniue the authority of the king. Whether this eemegirsey was fomented by the angry passions of Dunstan, I leave my reader to imagine. The first open act of out zel a vengeance inflicted on Edwin, was a divorce separated him from Elgiva. A strong party must Mae piewerfu - ly seconded the ferocious spirit of the arch- Whets se he dared to send a Lund of 'soldiers to fulfil his demeo u a i m ibo, forcibly penetrating into the palace, seised the Elgiva, and after branding her beautiful face with • t iron, iu order effectually to destroy the power of those triumphant charms, banished her to Ireland. Whistwere the feelings of Edwin when he learned or wintered the outrage history dues not record; but its disuse is significant, and &aims how much his situation was awed, when lie endured unrevenged the loss of his wife, bland of using his authority to punish the horrible out age with the name spirit he had excercised to repel the Ilimainsult to his authority. Elgiva's beauty, however, re covered from the creel marks inflicted on her by Odo. Rs vishina as ever, and impatient again to return to her husband, she escaped from Ireland, and sought fur him at Gloucester. Hearing of her arrrival, °do's satellites pursued and seized her; vainly she called on the protection of a husband, on the respect duo to a queen ; no pitying ear was near, no avenging hand was raised to her aid ; the monsters in human form, into a hose custody she had fallen, cut the muscles and sinews of her legs to prevent her flight and the possibility of her re joining Edwin, leaving her in unutterable agonies to await that death which soon terminated her excessive suffering. The extraordinary cruelty indicted on Elgiva is only ex plained by the recollection that she had formed a party against Dunstan and the monks. Iler opponents have in her death given us au edifying specimen of the ferocity with which the church considers henielfjustified in punish ing those who oppose her favourites, and refuse submission to their grasping ambition. The final quotation shows the termination of a dis pute of parties which had rent the kingdom. DUNIITA24 . I MIRACLE. The exiled monks, driven from the kingdom by the Be nedictine., had taken refuge in numbers with the Scotch, hence they now returned tilled with new hopes of restoration and success. Each side was preparing an army to decide such conflicting claims, and the kingdom was threatened with the immediate prospect of a civil war likely to be waged with peculiar animosity. But at this critical mo ment, while the sword was as yet but half drawn forth, and none had advanced to shed the first blood, the primate's voice was heard. Upheld by the sanctity of his office, and the respect borne him by the nation, he prevailed on the adverse chiefs to join with him in convening a synod at Winchester, where the posture of affairs could be peaceably considered. Ou this ecclesiastical ground he felt iui his own sphere, and amid the lolly isles of that ancient cathedral the clang of arms, and the warlike array of the nobles, was dumb and powerless before the gorgeous display of altars, of relics, of glittering processions and costly garments, with the various accessories the church, even in these days, could display. All the machinery of 1 that vivid appeal to the senses, so popular among an igno rant and superstitious people, was called into requisition to captivate the e7e and blind the understanding the of assem bly. The archbishop, as he seated liirrself on the throne, and remembered his own resources, surveyed the magnificent scene around, and felt that by the superiority of his in tellect the day was already won ; assured that those whose breasts then beat with rage, and whose minds were fixed in determined opposition, would in a short space retire humble, abject, and convinced. The couueil was stormy, the debates tumultuous • at length a number of voices called on Dunstan to speak , all eyes were directed towardehim, and every ear was bent in earnest attention. A strange silence followed—the primate spoke not, bat steadfastly directed his eye to the crucifix at the high altar, which, marvellous to relate, became articulate, and amid the awed hush of thc assembly uttered these w ords: "Far be it from you—you have dune well—to change again, would be wrung. ' Arising at the moment that every' listener stood suspended in fear, dismay, or awe, at so supernatural en event, Dunstan addressed the assembly, and premed on them the monstrous impiety of disregarding such a miraculous intervention. " What wish ye more? cried he; "the divine voice has spoken." Descending from his throne, the assembly retired in confusion, and the conucil separated. This scheme was so far successful that opposition was quieted for the present, and none dared openly arraign the Maishishop of a fraud, which was believed by the majority le Man actual demonstration of the divine will. The ar- , Mlherefore, was signally happy, and I should seppose Was thus time that Dunstan hail so especially at himself before the eyes of the nation as the vehicle eithedivine will, that he announced the fact of his haling MSS la a vision his own mother united to the Saviour of Iles world, and repeated with pious unction a song learnt tutim on the occasion from one of the attendant angels. anecdote is the climax of the curiosities contained in that invaluable repository, the Cleopatra MS., without, whose valuable help I should want the very cream of my narrative. But alas, there is no accounting for the obstinacy of man kind; spite of the miraculous voice at Winchester, spite of the video, sastantly seen by our mint, some adversaries were NM Inn& hardy enough to oppose his will, and (as he Isforantedl *the will of heaven. At the expiration of tour =4,llllllllhelime of the former synod, these godless men' all the ammibly of another assembly at Caine to eseddie stew the flited points. Here then was Dun gan orb Ile meet w ith Mese Impious opposers of his pro )." Una =la who duel le doubt his infallibility, and he resolved not to alien di tele weeps from his grasp so lightly op baked dens et If Mak obi }at Mel* lives must pay the forfeit. The laYm mamboing salke plea of youth, and Dunstan maid OM essilisted the deliberations of the senned. ems/Wm elf at beam. eas_ Mile . rid threats and reproaches nag at ea s y veplie d in a short speech, end* with Mass verde: . I submit the cause et. the church M the deddies le Christ:" words no sewer snared that the satire SIR gr a s ir :::, and Dunstan alone naminell Wooly sealed IS his throne. Numbers were kiln eall may the victory was gained, what awed th algi =te w th sua t a idst infamy was cam- THE EXPRESS; SATURDAY- EVENING, • plate so loos as his aseaseree were Tieerriouo, and the so naseirise resanised West with their Weisel appendages of realms sessin eager to ie his Wen i All opposition was sow andek be Wile Mai wpm seek as advereary Kassow—lbat is to war, the wi'vMditisp bud already can tonal. Ward was saashildwol is tin Slums alai the swam el. annihilated. Orations of Father Garazzi. Decade Me Second. WWI Blertehes of Precious Reformer. of Me Beaman Chinch. D. Bogue. This collection of Orations, by the eloquent Barna bite, Omani, will be welcome wherever troth is acceptable or talent admired. The readers of the Express are already familiar with the character of theserhetoricalefforts, but many who read and enjoyed the sketchy reports which appeared from time to time in our columns will gladly hail their re-publica tion in a corrected shape, and as a book fitted for the table or the library. Appended to the orations wo find some original sketches of previous labourers in the field of Italian church reform, and in introducing this new matter the writer says : " The eloquent priest Gavaszi, now holding forth in London against the gross abuses of tho establishment to which he belongs, displays one other instance of a man educated in a faith the absurdities and abuses of which he is unable to hide in silence. Intimately aware of the defects of his church, his patriotism, his sense of religion, and his love for truth, compel him to denounce them, regardless of the anger of its temporal ruler, and in defiance of the spiritual terrors which hold hi s fellow priests in check. Those who have gone before him in the good work of reform have too frequently sealed their sincerity with their blood. happily for truth and its present expounder, Father Gavazzi finds in the English metropolis not only a sympathising audience, but an asylum, secure alike from the angry power of Pio Nino and the sbirri of the Austrian supporters of the papacy." The first sketch introduces us to To the teaching of Abeillard, at the opening of the twelfth century, is mainly attributable the intellectual impulse which, oace coinmunicated to Western Europe, paused not In its onward career until it had precipitated the Reforma tion. The spirit of free inquiry was first awakened among his scholars, and one of the most distinguished of these was Arnaldo, attracted by the fame of the new philosophy in Prance from the other side of the Alpe. Returning to Italy, the monk of Brescia found no difficulty in arousing from the torpor of medileval lethargy his native district and the whole Lombard territory. The dignitaries of the church were powerless to withstand the onslaught of the eloquent reasoner; and in 111$ a council was hastily assembled in the Lateran church, which ordered the capture of the reformer, and a perpetual dun gees as his future abode. Recrossing the Alps, be unfurled Ids standard at 'Lunch, in Switzerland, and quickly obtained Ike adhesion of the whole country to his opinions, the Popes legate included. It required all the efforts of the Abbot of Citeaux to gain back the latter functionary. Rome itself began to hesitate; and three successive pontiffs of that capital (Innocent 11., Lucius, and Eugene III.) were en gaged in a desperate struggle with the inhabitants for the aruntecance of their authority. Arnold, feeling that the time hail come to strike a blow at lead-quarters, re-entered Italy, and appearing at Rome, found no difficulty in driving thence the feeble occupant of authority, and fur ten successive years held undisputed per of the metropolis, and of the popular sympathies. The Romans were excommunicated, and placed und2r in terdict; and after several insurrectionary commotiuns, is one of which Cardinal Gerardis was killed, Arnold with drew into Tuscany, whither his popularity accompanied him. Meantime Nieholus Breakspeare became pope, under the name of Adrian IV. (A.D. 1154), and invoiced the aid of the Emperor Frederic Barba:mat to deliver him from his formidable rival. The German auxiliary of the popedom, finding in Adrian a useful ally, made nu scruple of using brute force again= the champion of reform, caused him to be waylaid and dragged to Rome, where he was delivered up to the amnia of his antagonist, who burnt him alive in • street of that city A.D. 115-5, and had the ashes of the victim cart into the Tiber. But his doctrines long survived, both iu the capital and the provinces; and utiriug the next century the results became manifest in numerous outbreaks against sacerdotal corruption and tyranny. Next we find a short but graphic notico of JEktOnit SAVUNAROLA. This eloquent Dominican friar was born at Ferraro, la lkl2, mid elected prior of St. Mark's Convent, at Florence, to 1488. Lorenzo de Medici had contrived to extinguish the freedom of that ancient republic, by grasping all the powers of the commonwealth, and steeping the inhabitants of Tuscany in vicious and inglorious voluptuousness. From that ignoble condition the voice of the patriot-priest aroused the citizens; and, during four years of Loreuzo's life, the usurper was kept in check by the denunciations of the' popular tribune. On his death-bed in 1492, he sought the consolations of religion at the hands of the reformer, who required a formal surrender of his assumed authority and the revival of republican institutions. From that hour the Florentines resumed the privilege of self-government, and the manlier virtues of freemen superseded the grovelling habits of slavery. Named ambassador of the republic, he managed the negotiations with Charles VIII. of France to the advantage of Florence, and established its full inde pendence. The rapid amelioration of all classes, and the mad improvement consequent on the new order of things, became the marvel of all Italy, and the terror of evil-doers throughout the peninsula. Alexander VI. (the infamous IBertria) was the occupant of the Roman sovereignty; and feeling the terrible condemnation which such a contrast suggested of his owe iniquitous government, and abominable personal misconduct, set at work to destroy the glorious fabric of a Christian commonwealth, the more dangerous from its inconvenient vicinity. He summoned the indo mitable friar to Rome, to give an account of his faith (') to his ecclesiastical superior; and finding that the indignant contempt of the Florentines was the only answer he re ceiveal, and that they defied him to meddle with their chosen guide and magistrate, his holiness put forth a menace of excommunication against Savunarola, and interdict against the city. Meantime the crowds that listened to his preach ing could scarcely be contained within the vast cathedral, and the new hall fur popular assemblies, still extant as an enduring monument of his influence over the people, was constructed in what was then the municipality, but is now the Grand Ducal palace. The progress of civil liberty kept pace with the advancement in practical Chridianity.l (The discomfited ambition of the Medici termed a league with the affrighted jealousy of the tiara; and all the elements of debauchery, tyranny, and corruption, entered into combina tion against the further developement of moral and intel lectual reform. A conspiracy to restore the despotism of the Medici was detected, and the traitors brought to justice by the vigour of Savonarola. This was the signal fur an edict of excoin munication on the part of Pope Borgia, which the undaunted friar set at naught, preaching with renewed energy against the villanous and sacrilegious doings of the Vatican during the Christmas festival of 1497. A fanatic monk offered to test the approval of Heaven on the l'oge's conduct in this business, by throwing himself into a blazing pile of fire wood, provided Savouarola was the partaker of his exploit. This monstrous folly found abettors among the ignorant populace, but was never realised on the part of the papal diaaapion. Finally, after a series of intrigues and tree eiseries, from the partisans of the Medici and of Borgia, fiattonarola was seised, put to the torture. and, continuing Ito the last his denunciations of tyranny and hypocrisy, was tied to the stake in the public square of Florence, and then and there burnt alive, on the 23rd of May, 1498, and his ashes east into the Arno. With him perished the chances of Italian regeneration, and the liberties of Central Italy. A Venetian church reformer stands next for his portrait. IRA PAULO AARPI, Horn e Venice in 1552, entered the religious order of Semites in ljrfsi, was at first theologian of the Duke of Mantua, then officiating in the ministry, at Milan, under St. Charles Borrorneo ; made a doctor, at Padua, in 1.579, and provincial of his order; was intimate, at Rome, with Rellarmine and the first celebrities of the day ; finally fixed at Venice, became deeply versed in scientific inquiries throughout the whole range of contemporary knowledge, as his MSS. in the Venetian archives abundantly show to this day. He is principally known by his vigorous resistance to the Roman court in a struggle muds resembling the pre sent encounter between Piedmont and the Pope about the Siccardi law. _ The scene was at Venice. The Protagonicta was Paul V. (Camillo Borghese), founder of a very fashionable if not otherwise distinguished family. He had just come into enjoyment of the Popedom, and was flushed with his new-blown honours to an extent natural in a young Pop.:, when an opportunity arose of exhibiting in the eyes of Europe. Two clerical Lotharios, the Canon Scipio Saracen, and Count Brandulisio, abbot of Nervosa, had 'hem carrying their gallantry into the bosom of some Venetian families, and had been punced upon by orders of the senate. The affair made sonic nob?. Burghcse C4lllO to the res :ue of the cloth, and summoned the republic to hand him over the reverend culprits: he met with a flat refusal. Fired with holy indignation, the pontiff issued a threat of excommuni cation against the refractory commonwealth, sad failing in producing the expected submission, issued the Vatican thunders in due form. The old Doge happened just then to die, but no one dared to treat him a la Santa Rosa, and refuse him sepul chral rites. The Senate met on the 10 January, 1606, to elect his successor. Fancy the scene. The council is met in the old pillared palace, known to us all by . Cana letti's yield hand. The mysterious Ten arc ranged in their proper stalls. The thousand representatives of the Libro d'Oro are in the inferior hall, adorned by the pencil of Tin , toretto. The Pope's nuncio is announced; he sweeps up 'through the assembly, and proclaims the acts of the republic a nullity, and any election of supreme magistrate made by the excommunicated senate illegal and void. Ile retires. The senators of Venice fortwith elect Leonardo Donato doge of the serene repdblie. The nuncio next day puts forth &declaration absolving all Tanana= from their elle glance. War to the knife ensues. By orders from Bombes) the , Interdict le laid on: no bell shall ring, no nuns shalfbe sung, no child receive baptismal regmendloa, no maiden be led to .3 - uNg 7, 1851. - • the holy altar to be wed, no corpse cleseend with bkasing to the grave. Bat the Conseil of Tea decree ofierawbe. AU mai every one of the foregeiffis rites shall be sisrairmed as wank under strict paisley. - The pearls* slaw of the mobile ars but too happy of ties peelleable illng - tits papal inherits* to the winds. One say data was Mind with deed doors. The Council of Tali orders a galleys te be NOMA before the meted paresis, wlikk ere observed to be sees open The head Plairrially et l'ailus in the laud lima= 0 the republic, having esseked artless to forward to the Senate any despatch he adobe rect4ve how Bane, that he would set as Ss Hely Ghost toad bispir• l V He got for answer, that the Holy Spirit had already is, spired the Council of Ten is bang the Ant who disobeyed the orders of the commonweelth. _ _ . Paul V., under these circumstances, had the incredible I folly to match all hie disposable troops to the Venetian I frontier, and got together a quatlty of artillery at Fulani. It is true that weilerimail /pie, which had some crow to I pluck with Venloe. ea ON weak pontiff to this display / of imbecility, just as aistrlit at the present moment might be prompting and abstales Pie Nono against Piedmont. But in each case at tie decisive moment the temporal 1 powers chose to back out of the business. The war was, 1 however, carried on by pamphleteers on both aides. Beller mine was ordered to wield his ponderous pen on behalf of 1 the absurd doings of the papacy. The "blue books" he 1 pat forth are quite laughable when react at the present day ' under the glare of international jurisprudence. But the serene republic had a champion unrivalled in dialectics, in civil and canon law, as in manly independence. Tho vigorous mind of Fro Paulo was exerted in the cause of his country, and ho pulverised to atoms the pretensions of the Roman court, just as the wigged lion of St. Mark was ready to trample into the dust the papal soldiery, should they venture to violate the Venetian territory. Tho affair ended by the tiara drawing in its home and taking off the interdict. Fro Paulo's history of the Council of Trent is a com plete exposure of that packed and partial aesembly. So formidable was he considered to papal interests that he was deemed worth assassinating at any cost, and was in debted to Bellarmine for a friendly caution on one occasion. But the emissaries of the Vatican took another opportunity ; and on the sth October 1607, not far from his residence, ho was waylaid by fi ve assassins, and received several wounds, being left for dead, with a stiletto imbedded in his jaw. The senate summoned from Padua Fabricius Aqua pefidente, the tint surgeon in Italy, to attend on him ; and : when he died, in 1623, public mourning was ordered throughout the-Venetian dominions. it is known that he had formed a party of more than three hundred patricians of Venice for the introduction of the reformed faith into that great Italian commonwealth, which was quite ripe for its reception. One more extract and we have done. It refers to ANTONIO DE DONINIS. Dorn in 1566, in an island off the coast of Dalmatia, of a family which produced a pope and many cardinals, he studied among the Jesuits of Loretto, stnd graduated at the University of Padua. He wax promoted to the bishopric of Segni by the Emperor Rudolph. and subsequently to the archiepiscopal gee o 1 Spalatro, the old palace of Diocletian, in Dalmatia, in which archdiocese he proceeded to introduce many salutary , reforms. the outrageous conduct of the Pope in the eactian business just referred to opened his eyes still further to the untenable position of Roman usurpa tions; whereupon he resigned his metre, and retired into Switzerland, and shortly afterwards to Heidelberg and Eng land, where he was made Dean of Windsor by James the First. - Ile wrote in this country his work, "De Republica Christiana," demonstrating the inadmissibility of the papal claim to monopolise in one person the whole episcopacy, and utterly annihilate the independence of Christian bishops throughout the world. Assured by the Spanish ambassador of the desire which Gregory XV. had to wel come him back to Italy, and desirous of revisiting a more genial climate, he returned to Rome, where his letters to his friends in England were violated, and he was treacherously thrown into the Castle of St. Angelo, occupying the same dungeon in that fortress lately tenanted by Dr. Achilli, where he died from harsh treatment and torture in the =2l. Not content with this bitur revenge, the Inquisition arraigned Win before their dark tri bunal after his death, pronounced him guilty of heresy, mad, ordering his bones to lie exhumed, proceeded to re enact the dismal doings adopted in the previous cases of Arnaldo and Savonarola, and reduced washes in the Campo di Fiore the inanimate remains of their antagonist. Ile was a man not only of great theological acquirements, but conversant with all the various branches of physical science, and wrote early in life the remarkable treatise, De Radiis Lucia in Vitra* l'erspeetiois a hide, 4W., Venice, 1611, in which, for the first time, the discovery of the re al nature of the rainbow was propounded ; and Newton pays homage to this great Italian reformer as a natural experimentalist and reasoner of the first order Those who wish for more should refer to the work itself, which may be most strongly commended to all enemies of papal aggression—to all foes of priestly intolerunce. But, before leaving the subject, wo must make room for a graphic sketch of Oavazzi himself. "The Padre entered, says a writer in the Sodtialk Press," and we were startled to find him received with loud cheers. He was dressed in the double robe of his order—a close frock reaching to his heels, on the breast of which was a large em broidered cross, while a medal was suspended from his breast. Over the frock he wore a loose gown, on the left shoulder of which was another cross. He is a swarthy Italian, aged about fifty, with hair as black as a ravens wing, with an eye like au eagle's! But how shall 1 describe his sermon-oration ! He sat down on a chair placed towards the one side of the platform, and commenced calmly and deliberately to ' enunciate his sentences. Anon the fire began to burn, and he rose to his feet. By and by lie paced the plat form rapidly. 116 blood was now careering through his veins ; and as he poured his withering scorn on !tome, on its purgatory, its cunning, its cruelty, its lies, the impressiveness of his action, and the lire of his denunciation, were truly sublime. Talk of grace, of grandeur, of earnestness, of fervid eloquence. The man who has only seen the comparative staidness of pulpit oratory in Scotland, and much more in Eng land, can form no conception of the molten torrent which rushed from Gavarzi's lips, while his action was beautiful and chaste beyond conception. When, ever and anon, ho reached a climax, and every eye was riveted, and every car greedy of each word, the excitability of his audience prevented them from listening in quietness, and they completely drowned his perorations amid their irrepressible bravos and shouts ; and as he likened protestant England, its free institutions and its religious liberty, to the Crys tal Palace, which let in light at every point, with Rome bolting and barring its gates, the laughter and shouts of his excited audience showed how thoroughly they appreciated the illustration, and adopted the sentiment. Gavarri's oratory is not merely the most wonderful that I ever listened to, but exceeds all that any imagination ever pictured. If Luther preached like this man, no wonder that he revolutionised Europe r Manton and Cafar ; or the _Tav Races. A Tale. Simpkin, Mar.h.dl and Co. The two races who figure in this work and come into continual contact, are the descendants of Cain and the offspring of AbeL Those of Cain arc of course the bad genii of the story—those of Abel its redeeming angels. The story is supposed to be told by Cain ; and professes to be neither more nor less than some of his experiences after his doom. The author pretends to deal largely with human pas sions—to touch the springs of human emotion with the muterhand of a philosophic poet—and to im press on his readers' minds a particular part of the Bible by means of a story. To assort that a keen poetic insight and a profound philosophy have been expended upon Hanson and Cater, and, therefore, that the author is justified in the assumption of so grand and sacred a theme, would be to overestimate his capacities. There is little poetry in the book nothing grand and fur:king—none of tho require ments of sacred scenery or action. Yet there is grace, and there is a tact in writing. Perhaps a striving after effect, in short, spasmodic sentences; but alto gether the book is amusing, and the story is well put together. Developments of love are given here to satisfy the craving of sentimentalists—but the heroines arc in the mould of the nineteenth century —and Hanson might just as fitly be called Sir Row land Kalydor, Bart. All the accessories arc studied; but the actors never allow you to forget that they are acting. Formon's palace is broadly painted—but Formon himself is a personage who has figured span many a scene. There is even the comic man of the drama, one Gondan—who, at Formon's banquet, sings some comic verses of indif ferent humour; there . arc also other verses of an amatory nature profusely scattered about the volume —stray leaves, we suspect, from the author's ..rt folio. * With these drawbacks, however, the ...k may pass as an interesting story ; but as a philo sophic and poetic romance it has no value, and we should strongly advise the author, when he is called upon to prepare a second edition for the press, to withdraw Cain from the position of a showman, in which he now stands, crying at the conclusion of any paragraph—" Alas! alas! I am falling !" As a specimen of the conduct of the story we ex tract the description of roarox's sexcwrr. The hall It as worthy of Forman's inasmiiimet palate. It was of vast length anti height, but it same& even new than it really was. The pilLan which supported the ma I sprang mealtimes hens the sides and eametimes from the 4 3 4, centre, and the arches of them twined seek ether in • thousand fantastic shapes, at different new ear beads. Fine meshes of stonework hem the higher arches, and exquisitely light figures cut a the lower ones, so that the whole roof seemed supported by an airy tissue of delicate pillars, left the eye in doubt where it be gan and ended ; and the blase of innumerable lights, which were distributed among them, and were reflected from the brilliant crystals of which the sides of the hall were built, and which projected in all sorts of shapes and colours, made Use sneers of the place seem dreamlike and unreal. It MBA ft me like a half-waking remembrance ofone of the siMpseldeas caverns which I had seen in the far West, be am* the fire mountains, illumined by throe tremendous Wes, and which appeared, as I glanced, half in wonder Wilts terror, down its long arcades, to arch away into in a l ity. t was • fit place for feasting for the chiefs of a rest people ; and as I looked around it my heart swelled proudly an me—for I had first conceived this city and these palaces, and I was the father alike of the mighty nation and its chiefs. But in a moment the blasting thought came like the hand of death upon me, that my frightful crime had brought a curse. Let me not look that way. At the upper end of the hall couches were ranged in a half-circle for the elders, and down either side there were lower ones for the others who were to share their feast. In the very centre were long tables, narrow, but sufficient to hold many of the viands ; between them and the couches the attendants had space to pass. Behind all there were raised seats, which were for the women who were honoured by admission to the luxurious scene. Ramon and Ada had scarcely time to hurry down the hall and through the side entrances, before the music which 1 had heard as wo entered broke suddenly into a rapid march, swelling and swelling on the car, till, as the great doors were flung wide open, and troops of young girls came pouring in, it reached a pitch beyond which it seemed that it was impossible to rise, and then suddenly hundreds of voices burst in upon it withan overpowering effect, sing ing the followiug chorus : Ileum with mane,,! Welcome gladness! Let e• be merry, for age creeps on! Welcome plassurel Joy's • trammel Spend while you have it —.twill soon be gone! As they saug the girls still poured in in numbers. They were mostly very young, and, like all the daughters of say race, fair and beautiful Their arms and shoulders, which they bared at will as they raised or let their light robes drop aside, were white as the snows on the great ranges of mountains in the West, when the afternoon sun glows upon them; and as they stepped to the time of the music, and some waved their arms and hands above their heads, I thought so beautiful a sight was never seen before. They ranged themselves on either side of the great doors as the verse finished, and while the instruments passed on into a flowing and exqusite harmony. Anna and Ada were on sides opposite each other. Both were distinguished from their companions —Ads, by her beauty, which was tintless, and outshone that of all the rest ; Anna, by her noble pre sence and splendid figure, seen by every one as she towered above the throng. 'l'hey looked at each other—Anna in quiringly and sometimes impatiently, as though demanding some explanation from her friend; Ada endeavouring to communicate her,explanations, but unable to find signs to do so. But almost instantly the instruments outside swept again into the march, and at the very climax of it, as before, all the female voices rushed into the theme as the elders en tered, and after them the guests, who now on their part helped to swell the chorus, glancing at the maidens as they Hence with renew! Grief to-morrow! Who can enjoy when the hate is grey ! Tooth is cowry ! Ago is weary! Let us to joyous, thee, while we may. Formon led the way, as master of the banquet. He con ducted the elders up the hall to their couches at the end; the other guests followed at a distance and in order; and, as they passed up the inner aide, the girls did the like outside the couches, while the unseen instruments continued to pour out, as it were, streams of must exhilarating music. Ere long all were placed—the elders and guests reclining, the maidens seated in long rows close behind. Here follows a lover's quarrel—of the same pattern se those used by novelists of the present century : CATAIt AND ANNA. I followed Cater and Anna, as they went together to a somewhat secluded part of the great hall. I had known nothing of the intercourse hitherto, but could guess, from their manner to each other, that they must have been more tree and unreserved before their late misunderstanding. Cater, however, fronted the matter bravely, and was gay and tender with his beautiful companion. But he seemed to think of, and yet anxiously avoided, one topic. " What a gay scene," he said to her. "Yet we am glad —are we nut both glad, Anna ?—to escape from it. See, Hamon and Ada have done so too. It is very pleasant in a limo like this, Anna, to know that wo at least love; is it not so—do you not feel so?" Yes," she answered fondly. " Our love is so different to these other peoples love. See Hake there, with the two beautiful maidens who were with me but now at the feast;" and she ',Muted to a young man who was apart with the girls I had seen beside Anna. " That is not love, Cater— at least like ours." " No. no," he replied. "I do not love you only because you are beautiful, Anna—that were too poor a love for me —though you are beautiful ; --I think you never looked so beautiful before." " Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, " I bad forgotten Cater. I wished to ask you about Ilamil. I have not seen him since your return, and he wu always so eager to come after your absences and greet me. Whore is he ?" Catar looked a little sad, and did nut at uuce reply. " I was so delighted," she went on, " when Hamon told me how kind you had been to him. But what is the matter Cates ? Is he not still with you ?" He paused a moment, then, " No, Anna, no," he said, hesitatingly. " Ile—poor fellow—he—" he stopped. She looked inquiringly at him. " I saw his mother not long ago, just before the banq'iet," he added. " Why, what has happened? What has been the matter? Has he done anything that is wrong ?" " Oh, no," replied the other. " Ile never did wrong— at least I remember nothing. 1 loved him, poor fellow, for he was very sincere. Ido not know if your constant laud nen for hint made me love him more than I should have done "—she smiled—" but I never knew a snore faithful soul. He fell in our last battle." " What—do you mean he is killed ?" exclaimed Anna. "It cannot he so bad as that, Catar. ills poor mother— what would she do without him ? No, no ; surely he would keep out of danger for her sake. You do not know that he is dead, do you ?" " There is no doubt whatever of it," he replied. I have been to see her, and to break the news to her. Damon went with me; he proposed going, thinking we might soften it to her." " Noble Hanlon !" she murmured. " But how did she bear it, Cater ? What did she say ?" " Poor thing ! It was a dreadful blow to her," he an swered. " I thought when first the truth dawned on her that it had killed her. She did not speak, but her face grew white, and her eyes looked wild. I was alarmed; I had never seen so terrible a despair. But I continued speaking ; 1 told her how good and faithful her son had been, how I loved him, and lamented his loss; on which she sud denly fell crying, which was a great relief to me, fur then I knew all was well with her. You must go and see her, Anna, and do what you can to comfort her" She said she would to-morrow. " I havo often thought, Catar," she added presently, how much more such a loss I must hurt an old person than one of our age. If a friend of ours diee,—why we have plenty more; life seems opening to us, and we can afford to be prodigal. We cannot feel so much as the old feel, who cannot look forward to new friends. As the loved ones drop away, they must seem liko the trees in autumn when the keen winds blow ; each blast robs them of what can never be restored. But, by the way, Cater," she said abruptly, " why did you not tell me before ?" He would havo found this question an awkward one to answer, for, as I knew, he had forgotten Hamil until Hamon spoke of him. Seeing him pause, however, Anna went un. " Did you say you saw her to-day ?" she said. " Yea," he replied, " after the great meeting. I went with Damon." " I remember," she exclaimed. " I saw you, with Hamon, go aside under the arches." Catar's face looked a little troubled, and he tried to turn the theme : it was too close to dangerous ground for hint to be easy here. But Anna was determined it should not be turned. With the wilfulness natural to womankind, she would not see that the subject was one which it would be better to let alone; or, if she saw it, she had a natural drawing to meddle with what was dangerous. When, therefore, Cater made some answer about Harnon's love for him, and dilated on this, and referred back to the com mencement of the campaign, wherein Damon had accom panied him almost to the neutral plains, she only laughed, as though she knew what her lover had in view, and was determined to defeat it. " It is very strange," pursued Catar, " that Damon, who is so brave amongst us, should so systematically refuse to fight mainst the Sethites. I have often wondered what his early history was: he would never tell me anything about jj. I doubt if he ever told any one. Did you know it ? Md he ever tell Ada? " Never, I believe," answered Anna. " I shall grow jealous of you, Cuter, I think, if you speak so muchi of Damon. lou know you so easily become jealous of mc." Catar'a brow instantly grew black as a thunder-cloud ; but he put a strong effort upon himself. " Not," he said, when it is the question of one of your own sex; but naafi," he went on, with an effort, as though detenined net to he again made angry, " Damon is a fine man, and I love him as I never loved any woman, Anna.' She moiled and answered in the same tone ; and for a while all west well again. But presently, with a folly for whisk I meld have been angry with her, she edged back to din dilbasui, as moths edge back to a ame, and then mid benlyderted fall into it " Oder, she said, " I've a favour to ssk of you. Is " " Have yes you replied 'playfully. " I will not say it griusted.leethould Mke advantage some time of my new. INIA irk me for favours which I would not grant ate. Ng expect to have a like answer. But Ido met Qgak it lib* I shell refuse you anythiug, Anna," and it smiled affeMlusately at her. 7 But she would not be put from her purpose. Having got peace y t th him, she thought it well perhaps, to make repraab on him for his doubting her. " You showed true nobility of soul this morning, Cater," she said ; " nobility like that which made me first love You." There was a slight contraction of his brow as she spoke; it was evident ho almost guessed what she was going to say. The sinister line to which I have alluded showed, though almost imperceptibly, and his lips closed a little firmer than was wont. She went on, however, blindly. " I mean in your plea for your prisoner," she said ; " in your plea for Akan, Cater." He leaped up from his seat. " Great heavens, Anna!" he exclaimed—but, recovering himself instantly, with great power of mind, he sat down beside her again. Well ?" he said, but sternly. She was alarmed. She saw her folly, and that she had touched a very dangerous subject moat incautiously. But she either did not know how to avoid proceeding, or was too wilful to give up her determination. She went on, therefore, recklessly, hoping no doubt that her intentions, which, as far as they concerned Akau, were good, would have their just reward, and carry her through. " You must not be angry, Cater," she said, " if I some times ask things not often in the minds of lovers. The favour I have to ask now does not concern love at all : it concerns him and his liberty. I would have you use all your power, not only to save Akan, but to set him free!" " Great heavens, Anna!" exclaimed Cater again; " this is too bold! But no—you cannot mean it. What, the man —the very man that every one—" He sprang up once more, and stamped passionutely on the ground : then, in a a moment, " I believed you," lie added when you said— when you asserted—l could not help believing you, you looked so like what you were when I first loved you—Can you, inspite of that—? By all that is ,good and true, Anna!" he suddenly exclaimed, in a paroxysm of passion. and turning full upon her—. by all that is good and true, you dare nut ask that amain!" Her spirit was roused. " Why not ?" she answered, loftily. " What is it you have is your thoughts, Cater? What suspicions are these? What abominable suspicions are these, Cater? I dare, and I d ask it , agaiu. I ask it in the name of whatever is good and pure.' She rose, too, and advanced a step towards hint, her splendid form drawn to its full height, and her eyes glow ing, and her bosom heating with her excitement. But he would not trust himself to answer her. Ile covered his . face for a moment with his hands: then, as she stepped Cor i ward and touched them with hers, as though she would , have removed them, he uttered a low cry, and dashing her t from him, rushed away. With these extracts we must close the volume— : half suspecting that we have already given too much r space to it. The Young Doctor. A Novel. By the author of 64 Lady Granard's Nieces." 3 voh. Newby. As we are quite assured when the curtain rises upon a new Adelphi melodrama, that in spite of 0. Smith, and other dark agencies, virtue will be re warded, and speak the tag, in the freshest white muslin, at the close of the third act ; so in novels, we are generally prepared for hard hearted fathers, cast away sons, fraudulent possessors of titles, and other terrible and dastardly personages in a nourish ing condition through two volumes and a half, to lee set aside in the last hundred pages in favour of the good folk of the story. Virtue always begins the happy period of its career when the novel closes. It ts the fate of the reader to sigh over the troubles of faultless young gentlemen and angelic young ladies ; and alas! when they are about to bask in the world's sunshine, comes the word " Finis." It is not generally fur the public to know how happily they spend their lives. Occa sionally, after nine hundred pages of darkness, when the sunshine comes, the novelist, like the owl, with " they were happy ever afterwards," retires precipi tately to busy himself with sombre plans for his next batch of puppets. And young ladies continuo to follow the novelist through the evolutions of his actors with breathless anxiety, to cry when they are told that "an impassable gulph " separates the lovers at the end of the se cond volume—to laugh happily when the demon of the plot is vanquished, and the bridal pro cession may be seen, on a bright May day, winding through the green lanes to the village church. If these little excitements are nut very beneficial, at least it has not yet been proved that, when mode rately indulged in, they do harm. Besides the novel ist of the orthodox three volume school is always a most moral individual. Virtue vanquishes acts of parliament at the critical moment, always comes in for the estate at last, and has invariably a faultless figure, the divinest eyes, and the most winning smile. Therefore the example is good, though perhaps recorded often in the prosiest of styles. It the three volumes which issue annually from the press will not bear philo aophieal investigation—if they cannot be tested strictly as creations having some reference to nature, they may generally be aceepted as harmless amuse ment for those readers who do not pursue any par ticular branch of study; who have no intellectual hobby, but only a desire to be interested. In many respects the " Young Doctor" is an ordi nary novel. As a literary performance, it can have no lasting place in English literature—this is cer tain; but as an ingenious story, not ill put together, it may claim considerable notice from the novel read ing public. The scenes aro sketched rapidly and freely, and, when the author does not wander into sentimental disquisitions, carry the reader for ward pleasantly enough. The personages repre sented in the drama include a hunchback (who is the hero), a handsome dissipated lord, an eccentric old gentleman of a mawkish cast of humility, and various young ladies of more than average attrac tions. fhe following passage, extracted from the first chapter of the novel, describes the hero when stung by parental ill-treatment, consequent upon his deformity, he has deserted the parental roof—that of a marquis, given up his title and resolved to breast the world unaided by his friends : Tilt. TIttiANT FltOM 110111 E. The air was chill, and although he felt breathless with fatigue, he could not long remain there in perfect inactivity, so he walked on, wrapping his light cloak around him, and still following the track the carriage had taken, but not with the hopes of overtaking it. lle did not meet many people as he passed through the deserted streets; some, indeed, were loitering about, but they did not notice him ; and on Kaden he walked, till he left the town behind, and found himself in the high road again. Hero he turned aside to wards the north, for the day was breaking, suit he imagined that if his parents sent in pursuit of him, any persons whom he might meet there would easily be able to recognise his description by the marked deformity of his person, and would at once tell the route he bud taken. Soon after ho entered a lune, whose situation completely shut from his view the glimmering lights of the distant town, and in partial obsturiry he still walked on, till, from actual weari nisei, he looked about for some place where he could rest awhile. Glancing round him through the dim twilight then spreading over the heavens, he discerned an old shed on the right-hand side of the road, which scented to belong to some outhouses :Mailed to a small white cottuge,and climbing cis r a wooden fence that was raised before it, he crept into this pour shelter through a half-open window, and sat down to decide what further stops he should take to escape detec tion and pursuit. Not many minutes, however, elapsed before the train of thought entering his mind was disturbed by the suspicion that there was some one else in the shed besides himself, and groping about in the yet imperfect daylight, he per ceived, at the farther end, the figure of a boy lying asleep upon some straw. To be certain that he slept—and if he did not, to ask permission to remain, fur a littlo while, beneath the shelter he had found—Horace approached the lad, and, in doing so, stumbled over something lying near the rude bed ou which he reclined. Stooping down to examine what it was, with some difficulty, he discerned it to lie u bundle of coarse, outer garments, that no doubt belonged to the sleeper, and, atter a few minutes' silent consideration of a scheme, which suddenly ruse to his mind, he arrayed himself in them, placed • piece of money, taken Item his own slender purse, by the side of the slumbering boy, then made his exit from the shed, by the same way in which he entered it, and tired though he was, again walked on. His east of clothes, with a sagacious precaution un usual to his years, ho meanwhile tied together and sunk, by means of a large stone attached to them, in a pond, that ho soon afterwards passed. But the exertions of the night at length overcome the strength of the wanderer, and, towards morning, being utterly spent with fatigue, ho climbed up • soft ! green hedge, bordering the wayside, lay down to rest his tired limbs in the field it enclosed, and a few minutes after, fell asleep. And thus broke the first day since his flight upon tho humpback—the rich man's heir, bat the unloved and jea lous one—for child though he was, he had deeply felt tho want of a mother's and a father's love. Slighted, fur the sake of a younger brother, whose beauty cruelly contrasted with his deformity, and whose quick parts shamed his less apprehensive ones, during years be bore the jealous tor ments, which this preference of his parents towards their second child raised within his heart; and the apparent dul ness of his understanding, that, in reality, veiled a strong though indolent mind, was never shaken off. lie was ono who needed enonuragement to pursue any object with activity, and this incentive to industry he never received. Prejudiced against their unfortunate offspring, by his miserable deformity, his father and mother easily believed his mind to be the counterpart of his person, and that the dull, quiet boy had no abilities to compensate for his na tural defects. This was not the case, however ; a strength of character, unknown to them, and a susceptibility of feeling that few would hare supposed him to possess, lay hidden beneath all his indolence and listnessitess but his ignorance of his real capacity, and the constant ssalowiy nog lisp. they )uld et it at ; t 741 ould had IMO who, rith- VI • that they ;al- - Nig ism I tee atho per re es WWI 4r.