The Sun.
London, England, 1835-12-15 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

TEE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE, AND
THE TRIUMPHS OF GRACE.
Aj 2.'RE AUTRO.R " PROSPECT ; OR, SCENES OF REAL LIFE."

, Longman and Co. 1835.
TO decide -upon the merits of works of a strictly
religious character, is not the province of newspaper
criticism ; and it rarely happens that we permit our-
selves to exceed those limits which, in our opinion,
Ought to bound our critical labours. Our exceptions
tn ails general rule have only been in favour of works
introduced to the public under peculiar circumstances,
and when we found them to contain extensive and
general views of the 'Christian dispensation, without
arty allusion to the tenets of a favoured sect.

Now, the volume whose title is prefixed to this
notice is rather remarkable, as being the production of
a Young Scottish lady, the daughter of a clergyman.
It embraces a domestic story, of which we are assured
that the leading incidents—indeed all the incidents—
ate strictly true. There is nothing whatever remark-
able in the fact of young ladies writing religious tales ;
Jut in the repression of those views which charm the
imagination of youth, heated by religious enthusiasm,
and in making truth itself both the groundwork and
the superstructure of the intellectual fabric, there is
certainly much to call forth the approbation of every
well-regulated mind. So far all must admit that the
"Mysteries of Providence" is deserving of high praise.

AGNES DE MANSFELDT.

IT 7'. C. GRATTAN.
Saunders and Otley. 1836.

An interesting story of one of the most interesting
Periods. in the annals of the world. The great deluge,
Ind tke redemption of mankind by the death of the
4edearner, are the only events to be found in the wide
page of universal history, whose consequences can
hear a comparison in the magnitude of their results,
pith the Reformation of the Church brought about,
in a great degree, by the preaching of Martin Luther
and his devoted followers. Many circumstances con-
(lured to facilitate the triumph of this intrepid re-
former, and to effect those wondrous changes in the
entire frame-work of society, which are the admiration
°I modern times : nevertheless, our astonishment is
0t diminished; and after the minutest investigation of
the naturalconnection between the effects and the causes
which produced them, we dismiss the subject with a
settled conviction that to the theologian, the philoso-
pher, andthe politician, the sixteenth century offers more
Inateriaas for deep reflection, and for acquiring a real
insight into the motives by which the mass of mankind
are actuated, than any other five centuries from the
creation of the world to the present time. This is
Is entirely owing to the complexity of the events of
that period. The changes which took place were of
such a nature as to leave none indifferent to their oc=
eurrence. Their effects were felt from the highest to
the lowest classes in society ;-and those to whom the
P•frairs of this world were indifferent, found themselves
Peiplexed with respect. to their condition in the extent.
It is. only in a conflict where men act freely, and where
they are impelled to action by the motives of religious
conviction and political interest, that we catch a glimpse
'3f human nature undisguised ; for where only one of
these motives exists, those upon whom it operates are
for the most part either living machines or monsters
14 fanaticism. But all this relates rather to the
Period in which the story of Agnes de Mansfeldt is laid,
than to the incidents of the story itself. The loves of
a Catholic Electoral Archbishop of Cologne and a
protestant Canoness—the duplicity, the treachery,
knd the villainy of a self-styled Italian Count, and the
credulity of a young and lovely Duchess, who has re-
course to magic in order to recover the affections of
her husband—a.
are nut of themselves events which pe-
culiarly mark any period in modern history. Never-
theless the incidents that accompany them bear the
)rapress of the time, and of the difficulty with which
the human mind emancipates itself from the thraldom
c 4 a blind superstition. The story is throughout
deeply interesting. The plot is tangled, and we• can-
ot stop to unravel it ; but the following extract will
l°e sufficient to convince our readers that there is no
want of power in the more stirring scenes. Those who
*ill not desire to know more of a work containing such
t passage as the following, are less curious than
We are :

"' Now, Duchess Anne,' said he, sternly and abruptly,
fate bath at length placed us fitly together. We-are now
'tdeed alone—the heavens above us, the waters underneath
''we are no more mere beings of the earth, which we have
'bitted and lost sight of—one of us for ever. Arc you pre-
Ilared to die ?'
To die ! oh God ! What mean you by those horrid
Irfords ? Oh, Count Scotus, do not trifle with my terrors—
. am in fearful alarm—prithee, prithee, put back to land—
et me meet my husband's fury, and fall by his hand, rather
t
4'ln linger in this agony of dread !'
`` Patience one moment ;it will nit last long. Can'st
Choi;l,„ fathom, proud Duchess, the depths of that flood ?
"13 ; yet thy bed is ready made in its soft sands. Thou
/t°aldest read the stars ! Ha, ha, ha! it must then be
through
the magnifying medium of those waters into which
Toil are about to sink.

` Alas, alas, there is a frightful tone of truth in your
terrible voice—you arc not mocking my fears,—l know
I'3o are going to murder me—oh, mercy, mercy, Count
eotus! I have done nought to injure you. What means
this purpose ? Tell me, tell me—oh, say that you but
Van with my weakness—that );ou are about to work some
bPlwerful charm, some spell for my happiness, and this is
ut the dreadful preface—the mysterious and awful Mean-
Lltion for the spirit of good you are going to raise—Oh,
'Peak me some comforting words ; turn your face towards
fie, that I may read your heart 1'
"Ile agitated supplicant rose from the bench and
?tight the Italian in her arms. He flung her back rudely
I.°lll him, and exclaimed,
~`" Not injured me ! Did you' not repulse my passion
When I loved you ? Did you not fly in disgust and terror
swnen I wooed you—in mockery it is true, but you knew
4ot that—by the river side? Do you not now, even when
'°l.l would twine your arms around me, loathe and fear me?
`'re not these wrongs, and do they not merit death ? But
*itbout all this you are doomed to die, and by my hand,
alld in the eddies of this flood—it is written—so prepare !'
" He bad left the boat to its random course, and'fearing
that it might drift to the shore, he was resolved to finish
theldeed at once. He therefOre approached the Duchess,
l''ho lay stunned and almost senseless across the bench, and
4eizing her round the waist he lifted her up. But the dread
fapproaching death gave her new strength, and she clung
4 r ster to the bench, and screamed aloud in the hoarse hope-
.,,agiless of succour. A thought flashed across her mind
that seemed to promise a momentary respite from what she
110 a, felt to be her inevitable fate.
v" Oh, stop, stop one minute,' cried she, but one minute,
'Ai I tear off those diamond trappings and give them to
as a poor reward for a minute more of life.'
" Foolish wretch !' vociferated the Italian, they are
k 3 false as is your sex—they are not worth ten ducats.
now as you perish that I have had all of you worth bay-
-InR, in the real jewels which those counterfeits replaced-
-441d now to finish with you!'
Duchess.
Mercy, mercy !' uttered the choking voice of the
4-'achess.

".` Death, death!' responded the villain. Hast thou
rer known me for such a fool as to dream of my letting you
olve, that I might die ? of allowing you to proclaim your
Wri justification, and brand me with infamy ?'
1," Oh, fear not that I shall reveal anything,' cried the
-.uuelless, in new hope of touchily,- him with compassion-
-01 swear eternal secrecy—l will bury myself out of sight
the whole world—l will tear my tongue out, if you but
pare my life.
" ' The dead only tell no tales,' was the villain's reply ;
!M at length worn out by the struggle, she offered no re-
°lstance to his attempt to raise her up, but a low panting
AZ37 of supplication which he heeded not. He lifted her in
luarms, and just as lie stooped towards the boat-side to
nge her into the stream, a bounding spring from the
°tiler end made the frail vessel heave to and fro, and the
111 orderer lost his balance ere he could effect the deed. A.
shout close to his car accompanied a powerful blow
iforllch felled him to the floor. He sprang up again, and
rand himself assailed by two men, whose furious voices he
"ognisea for tllop of Sweinisben and Von Heyen. They
bOd~lYe
and on him, and by a sudden heave they lifted him
np flung him right over the side, striking him

repeated blows on the head with their clenched fists, to
force him from the convulsive grasp with which he still
clung to the gunwale. He disappeared. But, with a last
desperate clutch he had seized the body of the Duchess and
dragged her with him into the river's depth. Both instantly
sank, her gurgling screams mixing with the oaths and ex-
clamations which broke from the shocked men, who had
meant to be her saviours and avengers. With straining eyes
and out-stretched arms they watched, for some seconds of
fearful suspense. At last the white-robed body of the
Duchess rose to the surface, and almost close to the ready
hand of Von Heyen.
" 4 God be praised ! I have her 1' exclaimed he, making
a grasp ; but a portion of the fragile garment tore away
from the hapless -wearer, and she sank again.. A. cry of
agony broke from the brave young man, who without a
moment's consideration of his own danger sprang into the
river, and dived in the direction where she had disappeared.
Von Sweinishen had now to support the sole burden of
agitated suspense. He held the oar in both hands, afraid
to move it lest he might propel the boat to the place where
he hoped the bold swimmer at least would rise -again, and
thus cause him the risk of a stunning blow against the keel
or side. In a few seconds he appeared, and though he
spoke not, and that the darkness prevented his anxious
comrade from seeing any certainty of his success, it was
evident, from the striking out of only one of his arms in the
water, that he held some heavy substance in the other
below the surface.

" Heaven grant you have not missed the lady and
brought up the murderer !' cried Von Sweinishen fervently
—but the nearly exhausted swimmer dared not open his
mouth to reply, lest the water should rush in and take his
breath entirely away.

" Von Sweinishen saw it was impossible without immi-
nent risk of upsetting the skiff to lift in his friend or the
person he held ; so, the moment Von Heyen approached
sufficiently near to the side to grasp the gunwale with his
unencumbered hand, he worked lustily with the oar, and in
a few minutes succeeded in reaching the shore just as his
companion's strength had almost failed him, and as he
dreaded that he should be forced either to relinquish the
hold of the boat's side, or let go the object he upheld with
the other hand.

' • Which is it ?' cried Von Swcinishen, rushing from the
stern, as the boat buried its prow into the soft bank.
" The Duchess, the Duchess !" replied Von Heyen,
sinking on the rushy sedge, and with a last faint effort
dragging up the body beside him."