Part 3

"The Sermons of Paley were chiefly a posthumous publication. They were preached to, as they were written for, a country congregation; they are therefore divested of studied ornament of style, and elaboration of argument. But they bear the peculiar impress of the author's own powerful and unsophisticated mind; and for strength of conception, and clearness and sometimes vigour of expression, it may be questioned whether many in them have been ever surpassed. They are not, strictly speaking, eloquent; but there is a force, as well us a novelty of treatment, in many of them, that put them above all comparison. They are familiar without coarseness, and terse without obscurity. Their main charm may be said to consist in the simplicity and strength with which religious and moral truths are handled; the uncompromising and straightforward manner in which human frailties and sins are exposed; the kindliness of exhortation to repentance and godliness of living; the power, purity, and comfort of the Gospel-dispensation; and, above all, the perfect absence of fanaticism, of an overheated fancy, and of a persecuting spirit. But these qualities, which so eminently distinguish the _writer_, ought in some degree to possess the _reader_, of the sermons in question. For the kindly _reception_ of the scriptural truths enforced by Paley, there must be nothing ascetic, nothing morose, nothing self-willed and intolerant, in the mind of him who sets himself in right earnest to the task of their perusal. In like manner, all highly wrought, impassioned, and uncontrollable emotions, which carry the infatuated understanding into a wide and wild sea of doubt and distraction, must be absent from the reader. It cannot be dissembled that, when read with a proper spirit, we rise from the perusal of Paley's Sermons not less convinced of the necessity of putting a guard upon the unruliness of our passions, than of living in peace, goodwill, and brotherly love with all mankind."

Among the remainder in the first volume (in all 16,) is Bishop Horne's _Life a Journey_, upon that touching line in Psalm cxix.--

"I am a stranger upon the earth."

How beautifully are the consolations of our blessed religion set forth in the imagery of the subsequent extract:--

"Although the traveller's first and chief delight is the recollection of his home, which lies as a cordial at his heart, and refreshes him every where and at all seasons, this does by no means prevent him from taking that pleasure in the several objects presenting themselves on the road, which they are capable of affording, and were indeed intended to afford. He surveys, in passing, the works and beauties of nature and art, meadows covered with flocks, valleys waving with corn, verdant woods, blooming gardens, and stately buildings. He surveys and enjoys them, perhaps, much more than their owners do, but leaves them without a sigh, reflecting on the far greater and sincerer joys that are waiting for him at home. Such exactly is the temper and disposition with which the Christian traveller should pass through the world. His religion does not require him to be gloomy and sullen, to shut his eyes, or to stop his ears; it debars him of no pleasure, of which a thinking and reasonable man would wish to partake. It directs him not to shut himself up in a cloister, alone, there to mope and moan away his life; but to walk abroad, to behold the things which are in heaven and earth, and to give glory to him who made them; reflecting, at the same time that if, in this fallen world, which is soon to be consumed by fire, there are so many objects to entertain and delight him, what must be the pleasures of that world which is to endure for ever, and to be his eternal home; Flocks feeding in green meadows, by rivers of water, remind him of the future happy condition of the righteous, when 'they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, for the lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water.' From fading plantations he carries his thoughts to the paradise of God, where, in immortal youth and beauty, grows the tree of life, whose tree never withers, and which bears its fruit through the unnumbered ages of eternity. Earthly cities and palaces cause him to remember thee, O thou holy city, heavenly Jerusalem, whose walls are salvation, and thy gates praise, and the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple in the midst of thee! He who sees the world in this light will draw its sting, and disarm it of its power to hurt; he will so use it as not to abuse it, because the fashion of it passes away; he will so enjoy it, as to be always ready to leave it for a better; he will not think of settling at his inn, because it is pleasantly situated. He remembers that he is a traveller; he forgets not that he is a stranger in the earth."

What will the scoffers and scorners, the haters of good works, say to the sacred truths--the soft-breathing simplicity--of this extract. How painful then is it to turn to the idle speculations and feverish fancies of their philosophical unbelief.

Dr. Dibdin has supplied the sketches of the Reverend Authors and the Notes. One of the latter on a passage in the Sermon, _Scripture Difficulties Vindicated_, by the Rev. C. Benson, relates to a noble, but lamentably sceptical, poet.

We have looked through the second volume, which contains twenty-three Sermons, and notice this beautiful passage from a Sermon by Dr. Townson:

"And, to take up once more the comparison of life to a voyage, in like manner it fares with those, who have steadily and religiously pursued the course which heaven pointed out to them. We shall sometimes find, by their conversation towards the end of their days, that they are filled with hope, and peace, and joy; which, like those refreshing gales and reviving odours to the seaman, are breathed forth from Paradise upon their souls; and give them to understand with certainty, that God is bringing them unto their desired haven."

(_Note by the Editor._) The poetical spirit of this paragraph is not less remarkable, than its discriminative piety. It seems probable, that Dr. Townson had in view the fine passage of Milton:

And of pure, now purer air, Meets his approach; and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy: now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours, from the spicy shore Of Araby the bless'd; with such delay Well pleas'd, they slack their course; and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles: So entertain'd those odorous sweets

_Paradise Lost_, iv. 152.

Another passage, scarcely less poetical, and, in moral beauty, far superior, affords a still more striking coincidence:

The merchant, who towards spicy regions sails, Smells their perfume far off, in adverse gales; With blasts which thus against the faithful blow, Fresh odorous breathings of God's goodness flow.

_Bp. Ken. Works_, i. 494.

It is an interesting proof of the fertility of Dr. Townson's mental resources, that in the original manuscript, he has left behind, on a separate leaf, an equally fine illustration; to be occasionally substituted for that which has called forth these remarks. It were injustice to withhold it from the reader:

"In this situation, the devout Christian may be compared to a traveller journeying towards some fair city, in which he has beforehand established a good correspondence. He has climbed the hill that stands next to it; and, though the distance still forbids him to take a distinct survey of it, yet the prospect of its towers and buildings rising before him, of its spires and pinnacles glittering in the air, and of peace and pleasantness in its borders, revives his heart. The consideration of his past perils and fatigues now gives him pleasure. He is thankful to a gracious Providence, that has led him almost through them, and brought him to a point, whence he has a downward and direct way to a place of rest and abode; in which he will meet with a cordial reception, and be delighted with new scenes of beauty, magnificence, and wonder. With such satisfaction doth faith fill the heart of the religious pilgrim and stranger, when he has nearly travelled through the changes and chances of this mortal life, and feels himself approaching to the heavenly Jerusalem, the abiding city."

The accomplished author, himself, like Milton, a traveller, here blends his own observation of foreign lands, with his recollections of our great poet:--

As when a scout Through dark and desert ways with peril gone All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn, Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, Which to his eye discovers unaware The goodly prospect of some foreign land First seen, or some renown'd metropolis, With glitt'ring spires and pinnacles adorn'd, Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams.

_Paradise Lost_, iii. 543.

The _Sunday Library_, it should be added, is printed in correspondent style with the _Cabinet Cyclopaedia_, and each volume has a finely engraved Frontispiece Portrait.

* * * * *

VENETIAN HISTORY.

The _Family Library_ Editor has judiciously enough filled his 20th volume with "Sketches" from the History of Venice. Another volume is promised, the present extending from the settlement of the Veneti in Italy to the year 1406. The intention is stated to be, "to present in detail some of the most striking incidents of the History of this great Republic, connecting them with each other by a brief and rapid survey of minor events;" for which purpose the Editor has freely taxed Sismondi and the late Count Daru. The result is one of the most enchanting volumes of historiettes that has ever fallen into our hands; illustrating, to be sure, numberless dark points, or "damned spots" of human history; "much of atrocious guilt, of oppression, cruelty, fraud, treachery, baseness, and ingratitude;" yet the very heinousness of these characteristics carries on and keeps up the intense interest of the volume.

We select for extract the "tragical tragedy" of Marino Faliero--not so much for its novelty to the reader, as for correcting an erroneous view into which the license of poetry may have led him:--

The name of Marino Faliero is familiar to English ears; but the reader who borrows his conception of the Doge of Venice from the modern drama in our language which purports to relate his story, will wander as far from historic truth as from nature and probability. The _Chronicle_ of Sanuto, which the poet has avowed to be his basis, presents no trace of that false, overwrought, and unintelligible passion which, in the tragedy, is palmed upon us for nice sensitiveness to injured honour. We are told, indeed, that the angry old man had once so far indulged his choleric humour as to fell to the ground a somewhat tardy bishop during the celebration of a holy solemnity. We hear of a fiery temper, accustomed to command, elated by success, and in which, on the confession of Petrarch, who was personally well informed regarding it, valour predominated over prudence. These are the unsettled elements upon which the Tempter best loves to work; but the insanity and extravagance with which we must charge Faliero, if we suppose his attempt to overthrow the government of which he was chief, arose solely from an outrageous desire of revenge for a petty insult, are entirely gratuitous, and belong altogether to the poet. Madness of another kind, however, that of ambition, is clearly ascribable to him; and, if we take this as our key, much of the obscurity attendant upon a catastrophe which has been imperfectly and inadequately developed will be cleared away; we shall obtain a character little indeed awakening our sympathy, but yet not wholly at variance with our judgment; and although we may be astonished at, and recoil from the motives which prompted his crime, they will not be altogether of a class which sets our comprehension at defiance.[6]

At a banquet, which it was customary for the doge to celebrate in his palace, after the bull-hunt, on the Carnival Thursday, a squabble had arisen from some too pressing familiarity offered by one of the young gallants of the court to his mistress. Michele Steno, a gentleman of poor estate, was enamoured of a lady in attendance upon the dogaressa; and, presuming upon her favour, he was guilty of some freedom which led the doge to order his exclusion.--This command appears to have been executed with more than necessary violence; and the youth, fired by the indignity which disgraced him in the eyes of his mistress, sought revenge by assailing Faliero in that point in which he conceived him to be most vulnerable. He wrote on the doge's chair, in the council chamber, a few words reflecting upon the dogaressa: "Marino Faliero, husband of the lovely wife; he keeps, but others kiss her."[7] The offence was traced to its author; it was pitiful and unmanly; yet it scarcely deserved heavier punishment than that which the XL adjudged to it--namely, that Steno should be imprisoned for two months, and afterwards banished from the state for a year. But, to the morbid and excited spirit of Faliero, the petty affront of this rash youth appeared heightened to a state crime; and the lenient sentence with which his treason (for so he considered it) had been visited, was an aggravation of every former indignity offered to the chief magistrate by the oligarchy which affected to control him. Steno, he said, should have been ignominiously hanged, or at least condemned to perpetual exile.

On the day after the sentence, while the doge was yet hot in indignation, an event occurred which seems to have confirmed the chronicler whose steps we are following, in his belief in the doctrine of necessity. "Now it was fated," he tells us, "that my Lord Duke Marino was to have his head cut off. And as it is necessary, when any effect is to be brought about, that the cause of that effect must happen, it therefore came to pass"--that Bertuccio Israello, Admiral of the Arsenal,[8] a person apparently of no less impetuous passions than the doge himself, and who is described as possessed also of egregious cunning, approached him to seek reparation for an outrage. A noble had dishonoured him by a blow; and it was vain to ask redress for this affront from any but the highest personage in the state. Faliero, brooding over his own imagined wrongs, disclaimed that title, and gladly seized occasion to descant on his personal insignificance. "What wouldst thou have me do for thee?" was his answer: "Think upon the shameful gibe which hath been written concerning me, and think on the manner in which they have punished that ribald Michele Steno, who wrote it; and see how the Council of XL respect our person!" Upon this, the admiral returned--"My Lord Duke, if you would wish to make yourself a prince, and cut all those cuckoldy gentlemen to pieces, I have the heart, if you do but help me, to make you prince of all the state, and then you may punish them all." Hearing this, the duke said--"How can such a matter be brought about?" and so they discoursed thereon.

(_To be concluded in our next._)

[6] Lord Byron's conception of Faliero's character and motives appears to us to be mistaken; but what is to be said to the countless impertinences and ingraftments upon history which M. de la Vigne has introduced into his French play on the same subject?

[7] "_Marin Falieri, dalla bella moglie, altri la gode, ed egli la mantiene_."

[8] This officer was chief of the artisans of the Arsenal, and commanded the Bucentaur--for the safety of which, even if an accidental storm should arise, he was responsible with his life. He mounted guard at the Ducal Palace during an interregnum, and bore the red standard before the new doge on his inauguration; for which service his perquisites were the Ducal Mantle, and the two silver basins from which the doge scattered the regulated pittance which he was permitted to throw among the people.--_Amelot de la Houssaye_, 79.

* * * * *

MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

* * * * *

CAMBRIAN SUPERSTITIONS.

We noticed the preparation of this work at p. 315 of our last volume, and there gave a few anticipatory extracts. The author is Mr. W. Howells, of Tipton, whose good fortune it has been to secure a list of Subscribers to his work, of gratifying length and flattering rank. The origin of the volume is curious enough, and is thus explained in the Preface:

"My inducement for presenting to the public these tales of 'by-gone days' was the advertisement of the very Rev. Archdeacon Beynon, which appeared in the Carmarthen Journal, of _May_ 21, 1830, proposing a reward of twenty guineas, with a medal value three guineas, for the _best printed_ English Essay, 8vo. containing 500 pages, on the Superstitions, Ghosts, Legends, &c. of _all parts_ of the principality, to be delivered _before February_ 3, 1831. Now when the limited period proposed for the collection of 500 pages of matter, and the above little adjective _all_ is considered, it must appear obvious that such an Herculean labour is not capable of being accomplished by _one_ individual alone.--Imagining it, therefore, to be a matter of impossibility to perform what the very reverend gentleman requires, I cannot consistently with propriety offer myself as a candidate, but will say--'_Palmam qui meruit ferat_.'

"I have had considerable trouble to collect the stories which appear in the work, being also two years from attaining my majority, and having so short a period to collect them, as the book is hastily ushered before a discerning public, I trust they will overlook any imperfections which may appear."

The production of the work is creditable to the enthusiasm of, legally speaking, the infant author; and we should be happy to learn that our insertion in the _Mirror_ of some of the pieces in this volume has fostered its growth. We quote an interesting passage on

_Fairy Rings._

In the youthful days of an aged friend of mine, the belief in fairies existed in many parts of Wales; and, when a "schoolboy, with his satchel," unwillingly trudging to school, he has often observed, in a meadow near Conwil, Carmarthenshire, three small circles of grass, which appeared to have been weaved round the edges. Wondering much for what purpose they were ordained, he once asked his mother the use of them, when she gave him a severe injunction not to _approach_ on any account, much less _enter_ the rings, for, said she, they belong to the Bendith eu mammau (a species of fairies), and whoever enters them can never get out, it being enchanted ground.

These rings have not only been noticed by the illiterate, but by philosophers and learned characters, who have advanced two opinions respecting them. Some, among whom are Dr. Priestly and Mr. Jessop, upon practical and scientific observations, attributed them to lightning, but their experiments did not prove altogether satisfactory. Drs. Wollaston, Withering, and others, who had _duly_ examined these spots, ascribed them to the growth of fungi, which opinion seems undoubtedly the best.--The rings vary in size and shape, some having seven yards of _bare_, with a patch of _green_ grass a foot broad in the middle; others, of various sizes, are encompassed with grass much greener than that in the interior. It is rather remarkable that no beasts will eat of them, although some persons suppose that _sheep_ will greedily devour the _grass_. Shakspeare thus speaks in his Tempest:

"Ye elves of hills, brooks, stagnant lakes, and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot, Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him When he comes back; you demi puppets that By moonshine do the _green sour_ ringlets make, Whereof the _ewe not bites_, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms----."

The following story is well known in Carmarthenshire:--A farmer going out one morning very early to fetch his horses from pasture, heard some delicious music, far sweeter he thought (no doubt) than ever bard produced from his _telyn_ (harp); and being allured by it, as we read of men being allured of old by the enchanting voices of Sirens, he proceeded to the place whence the strains seemed to issue, and in a sequestered retreat beheld the elves footing it merrily. Wishing perhaps to obtain more extensive knowledge of these "dear little creatures," he had the magnanimity to enter the ring, with the intention of joining their matachin, and soon had his desire gratified, for there they kept him, dancing away, night and day, without intermission. His relatives at home were at a loss to know what had become of him, and immediately concluded that he had terminated his existence, or had gone on a journey; but days, weeks, and months rolled on, and no farmer appeared, nor were any tidings heard respecting him, until it chanced one day that a man passing by the lonely spot, saw him knocking his legs about as if he was bereft of his reason; and going up to him, inquired what caused him to be so merry, which broke the spell; and the farmer, as if waking out of a dream, exclaimed, "O dear! where are my horses?" and stepping out of the magical circle, fell down, and mingled his dust with the earth: no wonder, for he had been dancing without nourishment or food for more than a twelvemonth. If every fair dancer joined the Tylwyth teg's dance, how many beings would be danced out of the world?

This is credited, he informs me, in some parts of North Wales, at the present day. Two men travelling together, happened to be benighted soon after entering a wood, and one of them being fatigued, sat down and slept, but when he awoke could no where discover his companion; thinking he had travelled on, he proceeded, but when he arrived at home, was astonished at the inquiries respecting his fellow, and related that he had lost him while he slept. As there seemed to be a mystery in the case, the relatives of the absent individual went to the village wizard, who informed them that he was in the power and hands of the fairies, but if they would go to the place where he was missed by his companion, just a year after that time, they would see him dancing with them, when they were to rescue him. After the year had elapsed, they went and found it as the conjuror had said;--whereupon one of them dragged the man out of the ring, who immediately asked if it was not better to proceed home, imagining it was the same night, and that he was with his companion. One of the people presented him with some victuals, which he began to eat, but had no sooner done so, than he mouldered away.

Wishing the juvenile author all success in his future essays, we commend his present work to the lovers of superstitious lore, and to the substantial notice of the very reverend personage already alluded to.

* * * * *

THE GATHERER.

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles. SHAKSPEARE.

* * * * *

THE REFORM BILL.

(_For the Mirror_.)