no mortal better-how mankind was to on the mind, when the conviction be guided, if at all, along the ancient flashes or rather pours in upon it that ways. Natural and supernatural reli- Rome is the true Church.” •By and by, gion might be distinguished in idea; but in his “Apologia,” he described the in fact they were one and the same; or, change as if from a mere subjective respeaking closer to the purpose, that ligion, painfully kept alive by incessant state of mind which issued in belief of reasoning, to an objective and real God was the very state which led to ac world, which was always there, and ceptance of Church and Bible. Had went on of itself, whether the individ. Renan believed in the living God of Na- ual mind regarded it or not. His deep ture, and not in a mere ideal process or inward feelings, his spiritual instincts, formula, he would have discounted the hitherto groping about blindly for objections in detail which he could not something outside which might answer, and have followed up his voca- spond to them, were now at length sattion to the priesthood. It was his tem- isfied. The Via Media was a theory per of mind, not the strength of those lying hid in old volumes; it never had objections, which decided him. And moulded to its own principles a nation again, though a born Catholic, he had or a kingdom, let alone the tribes, and put aside the Church's testimony as tongues, and peoples of continent; though it never had existed. He was, but Rome was the Mother and Mistress in short, a Protestant relying upon his of all Churches; she was Christianity unaided judgment, and therefore he fell as a world-wide, undeniable fact; unin the day of battle.

less revelation were a myth, she had But were not Anglicans Protestants ever been its guardian. But Revelation also?“Our Church is not at one withi was no myth, and Providence did not itself," Newman wrote despondingly as fulfil its great design by taking manthe prospect darkened. There was a “con. kind in a snare. Assuredly, they were federacy of evil marshalling its hosts true historians, accurate critics, and from all parts of the world, organizing men of sound judgment, who mainitself, taking its measures, enclosing tained that no line could be drawn the Church of Christ as in a net, and which would separate the latter from preparing the way for a general apos- the middle or the early Christian centasy." Puritans, Liberals, political turies; and as we could not accept the economists, unbelieving men of science, New Testament without defending the all in their several ways were denying Old, in like manner he that believed in or tending to pull down the faith once Church or Sacraments must take them delivered to the saints; and what could from the hands of St. Peter's successor: stand against them? He had begun to Thus, beginning with conscience and apprehend that no religious body had the life of the spirit, which to him was strength and consistency enough to do the supreme reality, Newman wove the so, except the Roman Church. Princi- web all through to its last filaments; ples long dormant were springing up which Renan, by an inverse method, and bearing fruit; as it ripened, friends was undoing in those same momentous and foes alike cried out "popery," and years until not a thread of it was left.. their spontaneous agreement

What shall we conclude from token that the seeds thus victoriously extraordinary a spectacle as this of two. bursting into life had been brought men, equally gifted and, so far as we from the Seven Hills. It was a “most can judge, equally sincere, arriving it revolutionary, and therefore a most ex- such opposite goals? Newman has citing, tumultuous conviction,” which asked the question in a former and came to displace and utterly banish the justly-celebrated instance, that of Moncalm Anglicanism under the shadow of taigne and Pascal.

And he answers which Newman had dwelt for so many

thus:years. “You cannot estimate," he tells

Shall we say that there is no such thing: his sister, “the strange effect produced as truth and error, but that everything is


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true to a man which he troweth? And write them out fair and without broken not rather, as the solution of a great mys- lines, still, if as a whole our reading tery, that truth there is, and attainable it corresponds with the highest and deepis, but that its rays stream in upon us

est wants of human nature, if it satisthrough the medium of our moral as well

fies conscience, and lays down our duty, as our intellectual being; and that, in consequence, that perception of its first prin- and makes communion with the Unciples which is natural to us is enfeebled, seen possible, and opens to us a boundobstructed, perverted, by allurements of less prospect, yet does not flatter our sense and the supremacy of self, and, on passions or our pride, Newman would the other hand, quickened by aspirations argue that we have all the proof we can after the supernatural; so that, at length, reasonably demand, of its being the two characters of mind are brought out

very interpretation which we were into shape, and two standards and systems meant to achieve. of thought-each logical, when analyzed,

With Renan all these things must be yet contradictory of each other, and only

read backward, as in some unballowed not antagonistic because they have no common ground on which they can con

juggling spell. There is no key to existence but the ancient Eastern one of

universal delusion, if that can be But, though no common ground, there termed delusion which has come about may be a definite issue; and unless I by accident; for design, consciousness, have read my authors to little purpose, foresight, are words without it emerges from all they have written when we would talk of the eternal touching the nature and course


process. God is in the making. Our things, their origin, and the term to infinite Cosmos puts forth innumerable which they are moving forward. New feelers into the void; and, by experiman believes in a present Deity, Renan ments repeated through millenniums, in a future; to the English saint God is it has come at last to be the unfinished the Eternal Self-Consciousness, who yet promising enterprise which we bewas before all worlds, and guides them hold. Some day, if luck attends it, the according to the word of His wisdom, world will develop a triumphant ethical by a plan fore-ordained, every part of law; instead of brute matter blindly which He holds in perspective and con- striving, and often annihilating what is templates ere it is realized. That

most precious, it will have

eyes and which comes out of the seed is only the conscience; it will be just as well as alfull development of what was stored

mighty. But now “the real is a vast up within it; and so in the ripe age of outrage on the ideal," and the noblest Christianity we have clue to its of all religions was itself due to prophefounder's intention. For an intention cies misinterpreted, legends framed by He must have had, as well as foresight

dreaming enthusiasts, miracles of the consequences inevitably follow panded from simple occurrences ing in a world like ours upon begin through a mist of emotion, and hallucinings so disposed and ordered. He is nations possessing the one human spirit hidden in Himself; clouds and darkness which, without sacrilege or more than are round about Him; none ever felt

a pious metaphor, was worthy to be more piercingly how thick are the cur

called Divine. All the gods are mortal, tains of His pavilion than did this mys- indeed; and the fairest of them will tic and philosopher; but deliberate plan is something which can be under pass away; "tout ici-bas n'est que rêve.

et symbole.” stood even though its author be invisi

As they began, so did these two men ble; it has a language, a grammar, of

finish their thought-one with his its own which saves it from the charge “L'Eau de Jouvence,” and science of being mere. haphazard or a succes

turned 'to pagan mythology, the other sion of strokes at random. And though with his “Dream of Gerontius," the viswe cannot decipher all its syllables, or

ion of judgment. Prospero has no one 1 Essay on Assent, p. 312.

to judge him; he is lawless and free,








subject only to the formulas of the “conjectural science and serious frichemist, which he can elude if they volity. Cephalus, then, speaks to the press upon him too heavily. Gerontius logician, Socrates, in this wise: – belongs to a different race; he is of the

Let me tell you, Socrates, that when a man sky and not mere sensuous flesh; he is

thinks himself to be near death, fears and Ariel in his lightness and purity, free,

cares enter into his mind which he never not from law, but from earthly passion had before; the tales of a world below, and -a winged nature, soaring upward like of the punishment which is exacted there the fire to its eternal sphere. With of deeds done here, were once a laughing Renan we feel ourselves falling into a matter to him; but now he is tormented with darkness which thickens

de- the thought that they may be true; either scend. With Newman

spirit from the weakness of age, or because he springs aloft, we breathe an air tense is now drawing nearer to that other place, and invigorating; we cannot think but he has a clearer view of these things; susthat this should be the clime and atmo- picions and alarms crowd -thickly upon

him, and he begins to reflect and consider sphere of highest human progress. Why what wrong he has done to others. And go back to Athens or the Renaissance,

when he finds that the sum of his transfamous above all else for their worship gressions is great, he will many a time, of a beauty which had in it too little of like a child, start up in his sleep for fear, the moral element? If our instincts and he is filled with dark forebodings. can be ranged upon any scale of objec- But to him who is conscious of no sin, tive worth and we all believe that sweet hope, as Pindar charmingly says, is there is such a scale-then the instinct

the kind nurse of his age. “Hope," he which has stirred Gerontius, "the old

says, “cherishes the soul of him who lives

in justice and holiness, and is the nurse of man eloquent," to dream of a Divine

his age, and the companion of his journey Presence and of judgment to come, is – hope, which is the mightiest to sway the infinitely higher than that which sees

restless soul of man.” the conclusion of our days as an euthanasia, a tranquil suicide, and noth

But hope in the life to come is the

Christian religion. ing beyond. Comparison itself is, in such disputes, the keenest criticism;

WILLIAM BARRY. and who, when his mind is clear and

1 Republic, Bk. I., Jowett's translation. self-possessed, would not rather be this Ariel than that Prospero ?

Thinking over these things, I have sometimes likened Cardinal Newman, in his "gracious senescence”—if I may

THE AMULET.1 borrow an exquisite word from Mr. Low

Translated for THE LIVING AGE by Mrs. Mauľice ell,—to that Cephalus who is introduced at the beginning of Plato's “Republic,”

PART III. and who, “looking very much advanced in years, is seated on a cushioned chair,

It was now the month of August; the with a garland on his head, for he has heat grew more and more intense, albeen offering sacrifice in the court” to

though the days were somewhat the immortals. Nor can I suggest the shorter, and the discomfort which the conclusion which, from his many teach- heavy temperature produced, seemed ings is to be gathered more appositely to explain the languor which often opthan by quoting that other “Dream Ol

pressed me, even in the midst of the Gerontius" which I find attributed to reviving joy of life. Cephalus in the dialogue. It is Greek

Days and weeks passed in a leaden prose, lightsome and simple as New. torpor; my strength faded away. The man's own; and the moral which it morning of the 26th of August I woke holds out to us is not yet laid to heart; after a night troubled and full of but far more likely to be a true one I dreams. I rose immediately, and as consider it than all Ernest Renan's 1 Copyrighted by The Living Age Company



Alexis still slept tranquilly I went down he went on gently, laying my hand back into the garden to walk. But soon the on my knee. garden seemed to be a furnace. I went I was obliged to answer, as I had so out into the country, I followed the often done before, “Nothing,” though paths, I sauntered by the brooks, I en- I had the strongest desire to be able to tered the wood and breathed in the morn- tell him all sorts of fine and interesting ing air with delight, holding up my face things. We fell into silence; a strange to the boughs so that they might sprin- silence which seemed to grow deeper in kle my burning cheeks with a rain of proportion as we wished to speak, but dew. My hair, caught by the frolicsome which was sweeter than I can say. branches of the forest trees, fell down In this very place, beside these same strewn with leaves and blossoms. In rose trees, there slowly rose before me the wet grass my light slippers lost all my own little figure as I once sat, long consistency, and I felt the soft earth ago between papa and mamma, full of under my feet. I stepped along in the pride because of a summer dress covlight of the rising sun, through the ered with bunches of cherries, which I moist meadows set with the white cups wore for the first time. of the morning glory, where the blue “Pick them, pick them,” old Pietro eyes of the periwinkle greeted me with would say, as he came and went. sisterly glances. All the wood-sounds I remembered the day when I fell into were songs, all the twitterings of the the reservoir, trying to catch a butternestlings were prayers, and falling on fly resting on the surface of the water! my knees, I too prayed in the midst of And I remembered standing by the gate this joyous nature as if I were in a with my apron full of nuts, and giving temple of God.

them all to a poor beggar who was hunTowards evening the heaviness of the gry, and who put them in his pocket air increased; the sky was covered with with a look of despair. The garden had clouds. I was unnerved to the point of seen my whole life, year after year, day exhaustion. When my cousin arrived after day; it had seen me laugh, it had he found me sitting under the rose trees seen me weep, it saw me now absorbed by the side of the house without in my thoughts, poor thoughts no doubt, strength even to go as far as the paths. feminine thoughts! I turned my head

Perhaps he had come a little earlier at this moment to see what my cousin than usual. Unconsciously he length- was doing. He had in his hands a white ened the time he passed with me, more lace scarf which I had taken off my and more.

neck when the heat was greatest, and We felt an increasing desire for near- was crushing it together in an agitated ness, for communion; we experienced manner which alarmed me. Fearing more and more the need to confide every- that my silence had annoyed him I thing to each other, even the most pass immediately spoke to him, but he only ing thoughts. The simplest speech be- answered by an unintelligible monotween us was invested with a myste- syllable. Then a fresh breeze blew on rious fascination whose influence we us, and I asked him for my scarf. He both felt, felt too, so that we could often

gave it up unwillingly, without speakunderstand each other by a word, or ing, with a wild glance that I had never a slight movement of the head, and seen before. sometimes we said the same thing at “The weather is changing,” I said at once.

last, troubled by this long continued “Are you ill?” he asked, taking my silence. hand in his.

My cousin raised his eyes to the sky “Are you also a physician ?" I said, carelessly, and answered:smiling, questioning him in my turn. "Perhaps it is.” Then I added, without waiting for an I sought in vain for something to say, answer, “No, I am well.”

but I could find nothing. “What have you been doing to-day?" In the mean time little evening sounds






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began to arise; insects rustling into music, though I knew I could not play their shelters, the distant barking of a for fear of awakening Alexis. I took up dog, a falling leaf sighing that, resisting my embroidery, but there was no more all day, it must fall at last. Within the embroidery silk. Then I stood motionhouse a lamp in Ursula's hand

less for a long time in the middle of dered from window to window as she the room with my hands clasped behind made preparation for the night.

me. I do not know whether it was my “Mamma,” called Alexis from the imagination, or whether some light obdoorstep where he had been playing ject really struck against the glass, but with Pietro, “I am sleepy."

I went over to the window and opened "I am coming, love."

it. The weather was still threatening "Do not go away,” said my cousin, and and I leaned on the window sill and his imperious voice was full of looked down into the garden. If I treaty.

should live a thousand years I should “But it is time."

never forget the voice that spoke to No, it is not time.” “See how dark it is."

“Myriam, it is I–I want to speak to “That is the storm coming."

you.” "That is true; what a threatening “What nonsense,” said I, forcing my

self to speak in a low, even voice. We remained thus a few moments “Why are you here yet? I will go and irresolute, searching perhaps for some call Pietro; he did not know you had not supreme word for an unknown emotion. gone.” Alexis began to call again, “Mamma, "Do not call any one—I want to speak I am sleepy.”

to you." “Adieu," I murmured quickly as I Seeing that I hesitated and did not rose.

know what to do, he continued, “Let He repeated with a touching gentle- me in, I entreat you." ness :

I took the light and went down. As “Do not go away.”

I opened the door a puff of wind blew “The child is sleepy; be reasonable, out my candle, and I gave a little cry. mon ami.I said "mon ami,” as I had He shot the bolt to prevent the door never said it before, because I thought from slamming, and taking my hand he he needed a kind word just then.

led me without a word towards the half He answered submissively, “Adieu." darkened staircase, guided by the light

I went up the steps without look- that streamed out of the salon. I was ing back, following Pietro, who was not afraid, I could not be afraid of him, carrying the little boy, already half and yet I trembled. As soon as I was asleep.

in the room I dropped into a chair and When Alexis was in his bed, and I asked him anxiously:had kissed him a thousand times, I went “What do you want?" back to the ante-chamber to ask Pietro O how could he have answered thus? if he had lighted my cousin down the He was pale, and there was a desperate stairs this dark evening. He answered look in his eyes from which I recoiled. that M. de la Querciaia had already He fell on his knees and hiding his face gone, and that he had only arrived at in my dress he murmured some words the gate in time to close it.

which I could not hear. “Very well," I said, "you can go to bed I felt myself turning to stone under now.”

the misery that penetrated every fibre However, it was still early and I was of my being, and as his head still rested not at all sleepy. I thought I would on my knees and his arms were raised finish the evening with some quiet imploringly, I shrank back, rigid with reading, but I could not lay my hands terror, seeking to draw myself away immediately on the book I wanted. I from his touch. lingered by the piano, turning over my “Do I inspire you with such repul

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