of the simplest and holiest religion, untainted by the faintest indication of sectarianism or cant. "Some few of her personal friends, whose tried affection has stood the test of years of weal and woe, who have known her intimately from early youth, and who are well acquainted with many with which it pleased Almighty God to visit her, at various periods of her life, will be at no loss to guess whence she has derived her experience of the sufferings of the heart-of a heart that feels acutely all those ills that the flesh is heir to'-connected in divers ways with the deepest affections, and the dearest and most sacred ties, of our nature. And it has also so chanced that, in her progress through life, an intimate and affectionate intercourse with some of those very friends has been the means of affording her opportunities of experience, respecting the trials of the heart in others, which, though widely differing in circumstances, have, in some instances, been no of the severe trials and calamities less severe than her own. "Friends, to whom these things are known, will feel that the writer has had for many years that book of nature spread before her, which is never studied without profit when the overruling providence of God is ever borne in mind as the comment and the key." Also: 66 In noticing a former production of this lady's, in another periodical, we took occasion to remark, that the page of romance ought to be the page of truth, equally with that of history. Historical fact, correctness of costume, vraisemblance of manners, should never be violated. A perfect romance would be a perfect transcript of nature, animate or inanimate, in all its forms and variations. Whenever real characters may be introduced, in a work of fiction, historic fact should constitute the frame-work-the grand outline from which not the slightest deviation should be tolerated. We do not mean by this dictum that the genius of the writer should be cramped, or condemned to the recapitulation of dry detail. Heaven knows, there is somewhat too much of this even in what is denominated history itself. All that we wish to insist upon is, that real personages should not be made to say or do what they not only did not say or do, but what it was impossible they should ever have said or done. By the practice of which, by implication, we complain -a practice of error from which Sir Walter Scott himself was not free-the reader is ridiculously mystified, and induced to receive for truth, that which is neither more nor less than direct falsehood. Taking fact for the basis of romance, and respecting it equally as the outline of his superstructure, the arOn the contrary, they embrace chitect has ample scope for the exercise of five distinct tales: The Prediction, The Orhis inventive powers. All that is required is, phans of La Vendée, The Little Doctor, Vithat his incidents and characters be preserved cissitudes, and The Adopted. Of these, The in keeping—that nothing may be presented Orphans of La Vendée, and The Adopted, but what might have actually taken place, are strictly of the character of historic roor what, for aught that we know to the conmance; The Prediction, The Little Doctor, trary, actually did take place. If this rule and Vicissitudes, are more immediately asbe adhered to, the reader can never be mis-sociated with our feelings of domestic life. led, or induced to entertain erroneous views of facts, persons, or manners. Thus it is evident that no one can be qualified to set up for a romance writer, unless he bring to the task a discriminative mind, richly stored with reading and observation." These remarks were induced by a full recollection of the merits of the whole of Mrs. Bray's works; and we can safely affirm, that we are unacquainted with any other writings that present so full an exemplification-so complete a realization-of our own notions on the subject. Allusive to the title of the volumes before us Mrs. Bray remarks, in her preface, that Many characters in these and in her former writings (though introduced under fictitious names and events) have had living models, from which she has painted with freedom, but still, she trusts, without any unworthy or ungenerous motives." Unlike her former publications, these volumes do not consist of one continuous narrative. The Prediction is a fearful story, written with great beauty and power, in illustration of a sentiment thus expressed :— “What an anxiety do we witness in some minds respecting futurity! with those who have quick susceptibilities, a melancholy feeling of heart (which, more or less, ever accompanies the susceptible), high aims and generous motives, with whom the world is new; how morbidly painful does the obscurity of the future often appear to such; how eager are they to penetrate into the mysteries of human life, to withdraw the veil, and to refer all things to destiny. They are glad to be rid of their own responsibility; and to fancy such events must happen, such circumstances must lead to them, because a conviction of this nature enables The interest of the tale arises out of a prediction," by an astrologer, who was said to have told the fortunes of the Prince of Wales (George IV.) when a very young man, that," when a funeral bell rung at a bridal, Charles should have cause to sorrow; and that "he was to suffer by water the last evil of man." In the composition, there is just enough of a leaning towards the side of superstition to excite an intense interest in the mind of the reader. Charles Edwards loves, and is beloved by, a most excellent and accomplished woman; but insuperable obstacles preclude the possibility of their union. By the accidental circumstance of an idiot boy gaining access to the belfry, at the time of the bridal of his beloved, the funeral bell is rung. The most disastrous events ensue; and here is the final catastrophe :- ““I shall perish,' he replied firmly; it is FATED: and, saying this, he let go my hand, leaped into the boat, and, in another minute, that slight and fragile thing was cleaving her way over the angry and agitated waters. The moon was up, but not now did she float through the azure sky in that serene majesty, 'When out of sight the clouds are driven, No: the moon seemed only to look forth through the dim, heavy, sulphurous clouds that floated near her, round her, athwart her, to send an occasional gleam that made but too distinct the roaring Severn, covered and quivering with foam, as every wild wave came rushing in, as if chased by the Furies, who, on this night, had lent their unmitigable rage to the winds, the waves, and the tides, in that forlorn hour, for the ruin of that forlorn bark. Heavy clouds were in the distance; they seemed to fall, to rest upon the hills, and to look on the dreary waters, whilst they bore along their prey as mourners, who, in fixed silence and in gloom, watch the progress of some stern decree of fate, whose end is death. Suddenly the air became more dense, and a distant peal of thunder rolled away among the mountains of Wales, as one brief bright flash shot from east to west, and gave once more to my sight the little bark, dis tinct in its outline, and surrounded by the disturbed, the all-devouring waves. How shall I speak the sickening of my soul; the sense of horror that thrilled through every vein, when I beheld that bark, so frail, so small, so ill-governed by the hand of a boy, reeling in the midst of the eddies, and driving on towards the sunken rocks; the boat, too, overbalanced by an outspread and straining sail! Great God! be merciful,' I exclaimed, or he is lost!' A dreadful conviction of impending evil seized on my mind; my head grew dizzy, my trembling limbs almost refused me their support, and my eyes closed, as if to shut out the fearful spectacle that in another moment would meet their agonized gaze. I could not, dared not look up; I could only fervently and mentally ejaculate a few broken sentences, imploring the mercy of Him who or the storm of human passions, by his will, by can calm the raging of the tempestuous waters, his word! How deeply, how fervently, did I offer up that agitated petition-that Heaven would spare! But the winds were pitiless,the waves were wild,—they did their work; for God, whose will is higher than that of man, inscrutable as the mysteries of his creation; He was deaf to the cry of nature, to the voice of prayer, in that awful, that fatal hour. Lost, lost; struck on the rocks,-down,-sunk-Good God! the poor boy's mother!' These were cries which, in hurried and strange accents of affright, met my ear on every side, as I stood watching on the shore. Such cries, indeed, first announced to me that all was over, that all earthly hopes of aid were alike vain. The boat, my unhappy friend, and the presumptuous boy who had undertaken its guidance in such peril, had found one and the same grave.” The story of The Orphans of La Vendée is altogether of a different class; as we have said, strictly historic in character. The heroine, Jeanne Lobin (sister of Pierre, the hero), inspired by the character of Joan of Arc, becomes, under the most agonizing circumstances, another Joan of Arc herself. Some idea of Mrs. Bray's artist-like feeling, and power of description, may be conceived from the following scene-a scene such as Claude might have been proud to have painted "The scene was one such as I shall never forget: it was on an evening in the month of September; the day had been sultry and oppressive, but as it declined, a gentle breeze arose from the water, that was very refreshing: the sun was going down in the west with indescribable glory: a few clouds were in the azure dome, they seemed to advance, and finally to fall around the lord of light, as if to environ him in a regal shroud of purple fringed with gold. The Loire, which was here broad and expansive, was not in the least ruffled by the evening air: near the banks, the rising tide sent a few slow and lapping waves to the shore, that scarcely disturbed by their motion the profound stillness which hung around: there was one bright glow ing line of light upon the surface, where it reflected the setting sun; for the rest, the river lay clear and cold, gliding on through the valley, that was bounded on either side by a chain of low and picturesque hills, now of one deep and uniform purple; they seemed to look down, as if watching in silence the river that brought them health and fertility in its course. A ruined convent, ivy-grown and melancholy, stood a little above on the opposite shore: no vesper hymn now came floating over the tide, that had long been silenced, when the poor inmates of that dwelling of peace and of devotion had been driven out by the sounds of war, as the ringing of the tocsin came far and wide to call the bold peasantry to arms. A village and the village church, seen beyond the convent, were in one glow of red, almost as if on fire, from the ardent reflection of the sun. Some boats were gliding down the Loire with people in them, carrying vegetables and fruits to a distant market: every stroke of the oar could be distinctly heard; so great was the stillness, and so slight the breeze, that the boatmen assisted the sails of their little vessels with rowing them along. One of the men was singing an airan air I had often heard whilst in this country: the melody was very simple, but full of energy no wonder it was so, for it was Vendean." The interview between Jeanne Lobin and the curé of her parish, previously to her joining the royal army, to which her brother had devoted himself, and the signal vengeance she inflicts upon Varras, the republican destroyer of her brother, are scenes of extraordinary power, and soul-thrilling effect. Indeed, the entire fable is wrought up with classical severity, and the utmost intensity of feeling. Within our narrow limits, however, it is impossible to extract a passage that would not lose infinitely by the transfer. The Little Doctor is a story of every-day life, involving much tender and gentle pathos in its details. In Vicissitudes, a tale abounding in varied and extraordinary incident, we find a gypsy sketch--a fortunetelling anecdote-altogether as unaccountable in its nature, and as remarkable in its consummation, as the "prediction" previously noticed. Illustrations and descriptions of the manners and costume of the inhabitants of Sweden, in the reign of Gustavus III. (assassinated by Ankerstrom) are here very felicitously introduced. On these, however, neither time nor space will permit us to dwell. The Adopted, the fifth and last tale of the series, may be regarded as forming a grand climax. The scene is chiefly laid in Brittany, in the early period of the French revolution. The notorious Mirabeau is exhibited, though only upon one occasion, with much dramatic and characteristic force. The scenery of Brittany, and the character, costume, manners, superstitions, &c. of its inhabitants, are pourtrayed with an accuracy and skill which, superadded to the finest judgment and discrimination, evince a consummate knowledge of history, of the appalling events of the period, and of every minute locality in point. Pressed as we are for room, we yet feel it impossible to resist the temptation of detaching the following just tribute to the character of woman; more especially as it may serve as one example, from a thousand that might be selected from Mrs. Bray's writings, of the justness of her thinking. "A woman's heart was made as a storehouse of the affections. Take from her these, or fancy that the almighty Creator of all things designed her to be the equal of man in her intellectual powers, or to be what he is in a public career, in one of government or rule, and you would change her very nature. You would counteract the very designs of God himself. He has said woman was made for man. Home is her sphere; the affections her highest and noblest distinction, and in them alone is she the superior of man; for in them is she more tender, more devoted, more spiritual than himself. whilst man is called on to fulfil the most arduous and laborious duties both of body and of mind, allots to him a fellow-being, of a gentler nature than his own, to soothe his cares, to watch over his infant years, to glad his home, and to open to all who may need its consolation, a heart whence springs, at the call of misery, like the waters from the living rock, a fount of pure and renovating affections. That enduring constancy of attachment which is not to be shaken by change, not even to be eradicated by injury, is found alone in woman: she pities and forgives; for in a truly amiable woman there is something of heaven-to say so is no fable. The utterance of the heart is all her actions: "And how wise is that ordinance of God, that she does not wait the slower dictates of the judgment; for, as the poet sings— And following promptly what the heart thinks Commits to Providence the rest; "The heart of woman delights in the finer and the more minute shades of sympathy;that heart yearns for an object of affection at every period of its being. So little is there of selfishness in woman, that her own happiness is often sought by the happiness of another, in which she can take no part, excepting by the tenderness of her character, that places her in that other's place, and makes her feel what he feels, by the finest emotions of a generous and unerring sympathy." There is such oneness in the story of "The Adopted" that we find extreme difficulty in transferring to our pages a single passage, sufficiently isolated in its character, to convey to the reader even a tolerably just idea of the writer's power. We make an experiment, though, we are conscious, without success. "It was Mirabeau who now led forth Philippe to enter on that career which he had already chalked out for him. They were joined by the Count de Josselin, and made their way, with all haste, to the hall of the commons, the place usually occupied by the three estates of France. The workmen were busied in preparing the arrangements necessary for the king and court at the purposed royal sitting. The members of the national assembly, who had already refused to listen to the king's command to suspend their meeting, were now pressing on, headed by Bailli, their president, to take their seats. They were repulsed from the doors of the common hall, by an armed guard of some strength. members, except an old bench or two that would not hold a third part of their number. Mirabeau, the most eloquent, and neither less ferocious nor daring than any of the spirits of the time, rushed forward, and placed himself near Bailli. He was eager to speak, but gave way to the president; and, as Bailli arose to open the meeting, the first forked flash darted from the blackened clouds, and for a moment his eyes; so bright, almost so blinding, was its compelled the leader to place his hand before effects. A peal of thunder, that burst immediately above their heads, followed; and then, by the sudden opposition of darkness to light, the day appeared to be momentarily extinguished, as if there had been a total eclipse of the sun. The heavens now poured down torrents of rain, which the earth seemed to drink up with greediness; and the steeples rocked, and the towers shook, of many an ancient church and convent in Paris, as if trembling for the ravages of the storm. "It was in the midst of these terrors of heaven and earth, of God and man, that the infuriated assembly took that impassioned oath, never to break up their sittings till the constitution of their country should be based on the solid rock of freedom for all France. Scarcely had the oath passed their lips, when the thunder and the lightning opened on them with renewed and reiterated terrors, and the rain and hail poured down in such torrents as compelled "In this state of exasperated feeling, they them to retire; yet they did not disperse till rushed, with one accord, to a common tennis- Mirabeau and the Count de Josselin (who had court, hard by, there to debate "on matters both been in league to gain over many of the deep and dangerous." But scarcely had they military to the popular faction) presented Phiassembled, when a storm of thunder and light-lippe to the most determined of the assembly, ning poured down upon them with terrific violence. It was an awful hour. The clouds that find a spirit devoted to liberty, and whose resoas a young Frenchman in whom they would had been gathering throughout a still and sul-lution would never fail in that cause, even if try day, now hung black and motionless over required to meet death in all its terrors of the Paris. It seemed as if the evil genius of that devoted city had reserved, for the day of this tumultuous assembly of the national representatives and their partizans, in direct opposition to the will of the sovereign prince, the first indication he chose to make manifest of that "moral tempest, 99 so soon destined to shake the whole kingdom of France, and to overthrow both the throne and the church in its career. prison or the field." And Philippe Clairval, and his hapless mother, did meet death in all its terrors, by the guillotine. The prison scene previously to the execution, and the execution itself, when the mother and son, and the abbess of Ploermel and her nuns, and hundreds of other innocent individuals, were remorselessly slaughtered on the scaffold at Nantes, during the bloody reign of Carrier, present instances of such powerful painting by the pen, as it would be difficult, if not impossible, to surpass. We console ourselves for the want of farther means to illustrate these attractive volumes, by the satisfactory certainty that they must soon be in the course of general perusal. INAUGURATION OF THE STATUE OF GUTTENBERG. FROM THE NOTES OF A TRAVELLER OF RANK.* Mayence, August 14, 1837. I was present at the ceremony of inauguration of the statue of Guttenberg, a native of Mayence, the inventor of the letter-press, from which he produced the first printed Bible. The statue is colossal-of bronze, and just arrived from Berlin, where it was produced. This will remain a monument to the memory of the worthy Guttenberg, who died 300 years ago. In early life he was an apprenticed workman in the then art of printing when his genius suggested a power to facilitate the mode. He was discouraged, and was persecuted, suffered poverty and neglect, till a few enlightened burghers of the town encouraged him to persevere, when, as the first effort of completion in the success of his undertaking, he produced the first printed Bible, and thus changed darkness into light; and the religion of Christ shone forth in the first printed Psalm. Guttenberg became courted became rich and soon was master of a pretty house, "the Casino;" where in the small garden attached to it, is now seen a statue in marble of him. Deputies from the many cities of Europe arrived to assist at the ceremony of this inauguration; and the painted banners and arms of these, supported on poles, formed the outward circle of the arena, where the deputies and company were to sit. In the centre was a seat for the then Governor of Mayence, the Hereditary Prince * This interesting little narrative is by a lady of taste and feeling-an honour to her sex, and to her country, wherever she travels-but who has never yet allowed her name to appear in the arena of public authorship. By her kind mission, it appears as a private obligation to our pages.-EDITOR of THE ALDINE MAGAZINE. per The or of Prussia; and in front of the statue was a raised pulpit, from which one of the learned of the students delivered an oration in German. At the close of this, the awning which hitherto had covered the statue, fell, and then sounded all the cannon of the town-the firing of guns, and continued peals of cheering applause. Guttenberg is represented in his age-a round close cap on his head, a full gown falling well from his shoulders, a printing tablet in one hand, and a Bible under his left arm. chestra of 800 musicians sang a hymn to the Virgin, and fine music succeeded-then a second oration to introduce the printingpresses in front of the statue, which were put into operation, and whilst they took off 1000 impressions of our national air-God save the King! was sung not only by the 700 voices, which formed a part of the orchestra; but by all the persons-at least 20,000-present. The printed papers were distributed generally, and when one of these was in the hands of the Duke of Cambridge, who was in the balcony opposite with the Electorate of Hesse Darmstadt, Prince and Princess of Prussia, Grand Duke of Nassau, &c., it was easy to perceive our affectionate Prince overcome with the thought of that being the first time of hearing it since he lost his brother William IV. Cannon firing, and general rejoicing concluded the ceremony. The conscious feeling of the inhabitants of Mayence, that they had done their duty to the memory of the man, whose genius had contemplated, and brought to bear, a power which would, under the blessing of God, contribute to enlighten and diffuse the blessings of Christianity to the world. LINES TO O fair as fond, and fond as fair, Modest as mild, and mild as bright, O true as good, and good as just, H. C. D. |