« PreviousContinue »
by the presence of the great, he never will be felt by him who has lashes with merited severity the been terrified into virtue; who vices and follies of the higher | avoids evil, not because he dislikes ranks.
it, but because he is fearful of the Mr. Irving is endowed by na- consequences. Into such a bosom ture with the qualities most essen- the sacred glow of virtuous emotial in the formation of an orator ; tions has never entered : he is he unites the lofty imaginings of neither a favourite of God nor man. the poet with the resistless deduc- If then it be not the character of tions of a logician. Indefatigable the gospel to terrify us into ,virin his researches, he never leaves tue, if it loves to gain us over to a subject till he has exhausted it. it by dwelling on its milder or He traverses creation to its boun- ennobling attractions, what are daries, and brings back all its end- we to make of these terrific denunless variety in aid of the great ciations, of all that mysterious and cause to which he is devoted : he fearful language in which Mr. employs his intellect to bend Irving is said to clothe the sacred opinion to the controul of religion truths of the gospel ? Is this the and virtue, and labours to turn character of his eloquence or not; the stream of thought into a chan- if it is, ought it to be his characnel, where no error shall sully its ter ? These are questions which purity and cause it to spread ruin we have not seen discussed by any and desolation, instead of beauty of the numerous commentators and fertility in its progress.
who have either enthroned him on And, although we do not wish a height above all height, or sunk to damp the character of a man so him into “ the lowest deep.” justly admired; yet here a ques- We shall be happy to learn from tion arises, and one of no small some of our numerous correspondifficulty ; whether it is the cha- dents, if possible, the true characracter of the gospel to terrify uster of Mr. Irving's eloquence; and into virtue, or gain us over to its to point out at the same time, how mild dominion by unfolding its far his style, imagery, sentiments, charms, by displaying all the and general manners, are calcukinder emotions, fonder sympa-lated to promote the great end of thies, endearing affections, inspi- his apostolical labours. ring raptures, divine recollections, hallowed determinations, serene,
LOVE AND JEALOUSY. tranquil, and divine composure of mind which it awakens or establishes in the breasts of its votaries.
(Continued from Page 213.) These are feelings;--this is a Baron T- - stood fixed in state of mind which never has and gloomy meditation, shuddering at
A GERMAN STORY.
the conviction of his sister's inti- tear the wound once more open. delity, and in vain seeking any I will address him. I will prove; means of vindication. For ever to him that I am wellaequainted. cursed then,' cried he at last, " be with every particular. He will
. the whole hypocritical sex! What not acknowledge any thing, but look can be the look of innocence, his looks will betray him.' if Emilia's was not ?-Brother, be
He seized the Baron's arm, and a man. Forget a woman unwor- drew him away partly against his thy of your love. Let no recol- will. •Reverend old man,' comlection of a faithless wife intrude menced the Count, whence the upon the joys of youth which beck- sorrow which I see pourtrayed on to you from every side. You upon your sallow cheek?'' It is have concealed this affair, you not sorrow, my Lord,' answered have thereby spared the honour of the priest; I stood upon the my family, for which I thank you; brink of the grave, but it has and now, from this moment, Emi- pleased the Almighty that I should lia is dead, her name is for ever return to this world. I am beta banished from our conversation. ter; and by order of my physician,
Baron T-kept his promise. have to-day, for the first time, The name of the Countess never stepped into the open
air.' fell from his lips; and though a • I congratulate you,' said the secret sorrow likewise preyed on Count, 'Do you know me-Ung him; although the wasted form of doubtedly, my Lord; I have the his once so much loved sister honour of speaking to Count Z**.' often floated in his sight, yet he " True, replied he, you are speakassumed a cheerful look, and, to-ing to the unfortunate Count Z**, gether with his brother, rushed whose misery is alone to you no from one vortex of dissipation secret.'— My Lord,' stammered into another.
Anselmo, pardon me, I do not One day they happened to be understand you.' The Count east sauntering in an open walk of the a look of bitter scorn at him. You city, where noblemen and beggars, mean to say you must not underpromiscuously paraded; suddenly stand me. Have you not been the Count espied a priest, pale, surprised that during these three emaciated, and supporting himself years you have not seen my wife with a stick. • Heavens!' cried at the chair of absolution:'-No, he, see, that is Emilia's confes- my Lord,' returned the priest, I sor.'
have not been surprised. She proBaron T-started, looked bably has found a man'niore worfearfully towards him, and was si-thy of her confidence. It has hurt lent. • Come, dear T-,' said me, I will not deny; for she is a Gustavus, after a pause, 'let us noble, excellent lady.'- All is in
vain, your secrecy is needless. your service, unight be guilty of Know, that on that hateful eve of more irregularities.' All Saints, 1, I myself, was con- As if thunderstruck, tortured, cealed in the church, and heard racked by every word which fell: the vile transaction which Emilia from the lips of the confessor, stood confessed to you.—I know the Count Z**, and trembled in every lovely youth, for six months, daily limb. He recollected that young visited our bed-chamber; I know Wildman had lately married his that he each time escaped while wife's former servant, and acknowwe were at supper. You see, ledged a child of some years old Şir, I know all. . You have par- to be bis own. The scales fell doned her in the name of God, from his eyes; the mist dispersed; but as I hope for pardon from God, he saw his beloved, suffering, inI cannot.'
nocent Emilia, and sunk senseless Anselmo raised his hands and against a tree. The Baron, almost eyes towards Heaven. Almighty, as violently agitated, stood rooted Providence!' exclaimed he, now to the spot, and unable to speak. do I see why thou hast not hark- The pious priest immediately ened to my fervent prayer that I gave a signal to a backney coachmight be allowed to depart to the man, and conducted the brothers habitations of peace! Oh! my to the Count's house. Lord, what have you done? Your Scarce had Gustavus recovered wife is innocent. You must re- his fạculties, when he called aloud member young
Wildman, the for horses. During the few moorphan, whom you educated, and ments employed in preparing for whom you three years since them, he ran to and fro, howling procured an office in the customs. and wringing his hands. In vain An unlawful amour had taken did the Baron and Anselmo enplace between him and your maid deavour to console him; he saw servant, and their meetings were them not. The horses arrived at in your chamber. Her Ladyship the door; he rushed down the at length detected them, She dis- steps, threw himself upon one of missed the servant instantly, but them, and galloped away without concealed the whole from you, be- looking behind him, or asking cause she feared your hasty tem- whether his brother would accomper, and wished not to ruin the pany him. young man, To me she disclosed Baron. Tfollowed him. the whole transaction, because Away they flew over hill and dale, her scrupulous conscience re-day and night, without resting a proached her with the idea that inoment longer than was necessary the girl, after her dismissal from to change horses. At midnight,
after the second day, they knock-band, Where are my children? ed at the gates of the castle. Are they still alive? It must be 'Emilia, stretched on her bed of now three years since I heard any straw, just started from a terrific thing of them.' dream; she heard the noise at the
In repentant agony the Count gates; she heard them opened and again fell at her feet, and swore again barred. Hark! The foot- he was undeserving of her pardon, steps of many persons echoed The youngest child, a lovely girl, through the dark and lonesome was immediately brought from the gallery, which led to her prison. boor's wife, Emilia clasped it Hark! the key clinked in the lock in her arms, every maternal feelof the iron door ; the bolt was ing awoke, and for the first time pushed aside; the door was open- tinged her pallid cheeks again ed: the glare of twenty torches with red. dazzled Enilia's eyes. See! a The next morning, shortly bewrithing man lay at her feet-she fore their departure the Count recognised her husband. See ! a commanded the steward to destroy weeping youth lay in her arms- the odious turret, and level it with she recognised her brother. Oh! the earth. * No,' said Emilia, who can describe the raptures smiling and throwing her arm of a guiltless soul, whose inno-round her husband's neck, the éence at length is manifest'; of a turret must remain as it now is, tender heart which at once reco-or where should I have any evivers all that is dear to it!
dence against you. These fallen : As yet the Count was stretched cheeks will rise again; these palupon the earth, sobbing and ask-lid lips will regain their colour ; ing whether she would ever for- these languid eyes will recover. give him. She embraced him their former lustre; but the turforgave him-attempted to raise ret, let the turret remain as it him-in vain-he saw her wan now is-let it be a warning to disfigured countenance, and ba- each traveller who passes on this ried his own in the dust. Emilia road, never to condemn his wife at last knelt åt his side, clasped upon appearances.' him in her arms with heart-felt affection, and mixed her tears with
Vravele. his. Her brother, deeply moved, súrveyed in silence the affecting
An Abridgment of the Travels of as
Gentleman through France, Italy, After the first storm had sub
Turkey in Europe, the Holy Land, sided, and the three happy people Arubia, Egypt, &c. had forsaken the dreary dungeon, (Continued from Page 215.) Emilia, with tender anxiety, and We come now to the Catacombs, in a gentle tone said to her hus- as they are commonly called, or
an assemblage of subterraneous now lie buried in the rubbish. '; sepulchres in the neighbourhood The fairest Obelisk: now in of Rome, where the Christians Rome stands in the Piazza before are supposed to have interred their St. Peter's church, whither it was martyrs in the times of persecu- brought from the Circus of Nero, tion, and which are accordingly in the ruins of which it had laid visited out of devotion, and relics buried a great number of years. taken from thence, and dispersed It is one entire piece of marble, throughout the catholic countries. seventy-two feet high, twelve feet These Catacombs consist of a vast square at the base, and eight at number of narrow vaults, with a the top. variety of windings and turnings, The Obelisk of St. John de Laby which the suburbs of ancient teran is the tallest in Rome, being Rome were in a manner under- a hundred and eight feet high mined. Each alley or passage is without the pedestal or cross. about three feet broad, and eight It is well known there were an or ten feet high ; on the sides of abundance of theatres and amphid which are niches or graves, where theatres in ancient Rome, but we in the dead bodies were deposited, only find the ruins of four now rewhich were laid lengthwise, three maining. Some small footsteps of or four rows one over another, the theatre of Pompey are to be parallel to the alley. Each of seen. these graves was just capable of There were anciently no less receiving one body, and had its than ten Circi in Rome, which mouth closed with large thick tiles were large structures, generally of and sometimes pieces of marble, an oblong or oval figure, built for cemented together in a manner the celebration of several sorts of inimitable by the moderns, On games, or exercises ; one of which some few of these tiles we find the was capable of containing 260,000 name of the deceased person ; spectators, and frequently a palm-tree en
We shall begin our descripgraven or painted.
tion of the churches with that In the Via Appia, a little way of St. Peter, it being adınired by. out of Rome, stands the tomb of all who see it, and deemed a mas-, Metella, the wife of Crassus, on ter-piece of modern architecture. which are carved the heads of oxen, The area which lies before this in memory,
suppose, of the magnificent structure is of a cirgreat number of those beasts that cular form, and encompassed by a were sacrificed at the funeral of beautiful peristyle or colonnade, this lady.
consisting of two hundred and, There were a great number of eighty-four marble, pillars, of the Obelisks in ancient Rome, which / Doric order. The two finy fountains