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days after the death of Kenelm, his parents retired late to rest; in fact, at one o'clock of the morning of the 31st. As they were composing themselves to sleep, they heard a noise as of the breaking of a small stick. To me this noise seemed to proceed from the cabinet or dressing-room behind the bed; my wife heard it as from the commode or draws opposite the foot of the bed. We asked each other what the noise might be, and compared what we had heard. Within a minute, my wife, who had raised herself in her bed, asked me, “What light is that?" I saw no light, and asked, “ Where?”— " On the drawers, brighter than any candle.” She proceeded to describe what she saw: “ Now it rises and grows larger. How beautifully bright! brighter than the most brilliant star. What can it mean it is very strange you don't see it.” I thought so too, but, to encourage her, said, “ Compose yourself; it can mean no harm."
She went on : “ It still rises and grows larger : now it turns towards the window - it takes the form of a dove with the wings spread out—it has a bright glory all around it-it looks steadily at me—it speaks to my heart, and tells me that my dear Henry is happy—it fixes a piercing look on me, as if it would make me feel what it means. Now I know he is happy, and shall lament no more for him. There-now it has disappeared.” Though I had not seen the light, I could see the face of my wife while she was looking at it, and the tears glittering as if a bright light passed through them while they fell down her cheeks. The French word would be ébrillantées. There still remained a suffused light in the room, particularly on the wall above the drawers, as of the reflection of a nearly extinguished fire. This was observed by both of us. It lasted about five minutes, growing gradually fainter, and at length failing entirely. While looking at this suffused and darkish red light, and reasoning with myself how or why the bright light had not been seen by me, I remarked, on the floor, by the open door of the cabinet, the reflection of a veilleuse, or small night-lamp. These lights are made of a single thread of cotton half an inch long, steeped in melted wax, and, when dry, inserted in little flat pieces of cork, which are floated, while the cotton is burning, in a small quantity of oil. This night-lamp was placed in the remotest corner of the dressing-room, which went the whole length of the bed-room. I saw its reflection on the floor only, and only so far as the open door permitted it to be seen. “ This,” said 'I, « cannot be the cause of the suffused light; still less can it have been the cause of the bright one.” While I was looking, first at the suffused light, then at the reflection of the lamp, the former disappeared ; it was plain, therefore, that it had not been caused by the latter.
In the morning we visited the tomb of our departed son, and returned thanks to God.'
• To use the words of a learned, rational, and respectable old man, the curé of St. Agricol, to whom I related the matter, “ Ce qu'on voit, on voit." True,—what one secs, one sees; but the scripture, with that intimate knowledge of human nature evident in
its every page, speaks of some who “ will not be persuaded even though one rose from the dead.”
• The term of thirty days has been observed in the catholic church as that at the end of which revelations have sometimes been made of the happiness of departed souls.' pp. 380, 81.
We are restrained by the peculiar circumstances of the case, from that strain of comment which such a tale and such comments as these tend almost irresistibly to provoke. In spite, however, of the sage and decisive aphorism of the rational ' curé, and maugre the singularly appropriate citation from Scripture, we must be permitted, first, to admire the simplicity of the Narrator, and secondly, to express our regret that he has not given us any illustration of the magical period of thirty • days.'
At Nice, our Author grows nasty, and we must therefore have done with him. The female reader at all events will do well to close the volume at the end of his twenty-second chapter. If this volume be at all designed as a counterpart, or an antidote to Mr. White's account of bis Conversion to Protestantism, nothing can be more satisfactory than the contrast between the two cases—the Protestant lapsing into the dotage of Popery, the Romanist redeemed from its bondage and putting away "its childish things.”
Art. III. 1. Sketches of Portuguese Life, Manners, Costume, and
Character. Illustrated by twenty coloured Plates. By A. P. D. G.
8vo. 16s. London. 1826. 2. Roman Tablets ; containing Facts, Anecdotes, and Observations
on the Manners, Customs, Ceremonies, and Government of Rome. By M. de Santo Domingo. To which is added, the Author's Defence before the Cour Royale at Paris, upon Solemn Hearing. Translated from the French. Crown 8vo. Price 8s. 6d.
London. 1826. 3. Denonciation aux Cours Royales, relativement au Système Re
ligieux et Politique signalé dans le Memoire à Consulter : precedée de nouvelles Observations sur ce Systemè, & sur les Apologies qu'on a recemment publiées. Par M. le Comte Montlosier. 8vo.
pp. 336. Paris. 1826. THESE publications have little in common as regards any
feature in their authorship; and our only reason for placing their titles together at the head of this article, is, that they all tend to illustrate, under different aspects, the moral and political effects of that portentous system of fraud and despotism which, as distinguished, or at least as distinguishable, from the Roman Catholic religion itself, is properly denominated VOL. XXVII. N.S.
Popery; a system which does not deserve to go by the name of a religion, though it employs religion as an instrument, the tool and the mask of its proceedings, but which might be more correctly designated as the grand standing sacerdotal conspiracy against both civil rights and civil government, founded upon principles which make the Church that adopts them, alternately the tyrant and the traitor,
The first of these works professes to give a picture of the State of Manners and Morals in Portugal; a country to which, at this moment, every eye is directed with anxious interest. An anonymous publication, disfigured by vulgar caricature plates in the style of Dr. Syntax's Tour, is neither adapted to carry much weight, nor entitled to rank as an authority. Yet, if we may depend upon the account which the Author gives of himself and of his motives in publishing his work, it would seem to claim more attention than its appearance invites. It abounds with curious and, we believe, substantially correct information; and we are certainly not the less disposed to attach credit to the work on account of its having drawn down the coarse abuse of the Roman Catholic journals. We regret that the statements do not come in a more authenticated shape, and that the Author was not better advised as to the proper style of publication.
• The following sketches were all drawn from life. They lay no claim to merit in composition, beyond that of offering-so far as they go-a faithful delineation of Portuguese manners, customs, and character. The author has been careful only in observing a rigid adherence to Facts; and to the respectable and unprejudiced British residents in Portugal, who are acquainted, however superficially, with the habits of the people, he appeals with confidence to corroborate the truth of his pictures.
• In apology for the literary defects of the present volume, the author has not a syllable to say :-except that no one can be more sensible of those defects than himself. But he has ventured to be. lieve, that an intimate knowledge of a subject might be considered to redeem numerous imperfections of method and style; and he will be forgiven for having felt, that he at least possessed some superior qualifications for his task, over writers who, after a mere residence of a few months, weeks, or even days at Lisbon, have without hesitation undertaken to describe all the peculiarities of the people and country. To enable the reader to judge of the opportunities thus enjoyed by the author, of long and intimate communication with Portuguese society, he shall take leave to state in a few words the position in whichhe stood with that nation.
. At the age of twenty, and in the year 1793, the author entered the Portuguese civil service, and continued in it up to 1804: when, unable any longer to resist the torrent of intrigue to which every in
foreigner in that service is subjected, he quitted for a time both his adopted country and profession. But, in 1809, an advantageous situation being offered to him in the victualling department of the British army then in Portugal, he returned to that kingdom, with advantages possessed by few of his nation:—a good knowledge of the language and the people. It is principally from the later experience of this second residence of many years—which terminated only at a recent period, -that he has attempted to describe the state of society in Portugal. The disgust once provoked in his mind by unjust treatment has long subsided; and he is conscious rather of partiality for, than prejudice against, the Portuguese and their country.' pp. v.-vii.
To most of the scenes, the Author states, that he was an eye-witness. But he forewarns his readers, that many of those scenes are such as no female writer could describe or even allude to. Referring to the declaration made by Mrs. Baillie,
ber lively “ Letters from Portugal,” that the whole truth should not always be told,' the Writer says:
Of the customs of a country like Portugal, no delicate Englishwoman can be a full and exact reporter ; and the author trusts, that the most fastidious reader will not be offended at delineations of manners, which are more gross than the sketches of a female hand, only because they are in the same degree more faithful.'
With this proper idea of female delicacy, the Author of course could not anticipate that his volume would find any readers among his fair countrywomen; and though we must do bim the justice to say, that his volume contains nothing that is adapted to corrupt, but only to disgust, we are unable to recommend it to indiscriminate perusal. On another point, we shall let him again explain himself.
• When the Protestant Christian visits Portugal, he is hourly shocked by witnessing the conversion of all the holiest associations of his faith, into objects of gross and debasing superstition, senseless mummery, and atrocious fraud. Our
everence for sacred things revolts from their exhibition in ludicrous colours—still more in blasphemous distortion : and, unless justified by the object, even the relation of the fact repeats the offence. It is probably from some feeling of this kind, that the fair writer above alluded to has formally interdicted herself from entering into any particulars of the state of religion in Portugal. But the author of the following pages has judged otherwise of the duties of his office. At a period like the present, when the militia of the Papal Church have dangerously renovated their activity, they must be encountered by exposure. The Roman Catholic citizens of these islands merit, perhaps, no reproach for the attempt to remove their civil disabilities ; but when the champions of their cause endeavour to make light of the distinctions of the reformed faith, as an argument for the purity of their own, it is right that the Protestant should be empowered to judge for himself of these differences. Nor can this be done more effectually than by exposing the abominations of the Romish creed, and the conduct of its ministers, in a country where both have unbounded sway. With this view, and satisfied of the sufficiency of his object, the author has entered boldly, broadly, and fully into the subject. He holds himself accountable neither for the gross absurdity nor the blasphemous impiety of the ceremonies, which he is called upon to describe : but, sincerely attached to the pure and reformed faith of this happy land, he is anxious utterly to disclaim any design of indecent levity, and earnestly to deprecate the probability of his motives being mistaken.'
This manly declaration does credit to the Writer's good sense and feeling, and it is this feature in the volume that has induced us to notice his work. We cordially agree with him, that the question relating to the civil rights of our Roman Catholic fellow citizens, has—or at least ought to have-no immediate connexion in our minds with the demerits of the Papal system. But, unhappily, their advocates, both in and out of Parliament, have taken most unwisely half their stand upon a lie. That falsehood must be exposed; the mask, a more fatal weapon sometimes than either torch or sword, must be torn from the unsightly monster; and then let the Romanists of England and Ireland themselves tell us, whether their religion be that of Naples, and Lisbon, and Madrid, or not. We do not want Mr. Butler or Mr. Lingard to tell us what Popery is. If all history could be blotted out, it is only crossing the Alps or the Pyrennees to behold it undisguised and paramount. Let them disclaim and denounce, individually, all participation in the system as they may; the fact remains, that such a system exists; and no other comment on its real character is necessary, than the state of those countries, the effect, more than of any thing else, of Popery itself.
With regard to the state of society in Lisbon, the odious filthiness of the streets and of the people, the mendicity, the prevalence of street robbery, the frequent assassinations, and the general relaxation of morals,—the anecdotes and details in the present volume, whether authentic or not, cannot be charged with exaggeration; since the general facts which they are adduced to illustrate, are notorious. There are, indeed, few capitals which would not furnish a black catalogue of similar crimes; and it is not from any collection of horrible anecdotes, however authentic, that we can fairly infer the national character. But what renders them at once credible aud horribly characteristic is, that, in the case of the Portu