fore, they perceived no change, they would never suppose that the power had been in operation. We will now quote from the Reply. "Do these Theologians mean to say that our Lord so completely constituted the senses of his disciples, judges of his miraculous works, as that even his word alone, conveyed through that sense through which faith comes (Rom. x. 17), was not to have weight without their concurrent testimony? Could he reserve to himself no one case in which their faith might have been tried upon his word alone, without their confirmatory evidence? Could not Jesus have cured an internal, hidden complaint-as a pulmonary or hepatic affection, which exhibited no outward symptoms, and would not the apostles upon his simple word, 'Be thou made whole,' have believed the invisible cure to have been wrought? ..... But these gentlemen will say, the question is not an abstract or hypothetical one, of what our Lord might have chosen to say, but of what, from the Gospel, we know that he actually did say, The apostles would habitually judge of that power, by its visible effects.' Let us see if this be the case; that is, whether the apostles were not often placed in a situation where they must have believed a miracle to have been wrought upon their Divine Master's word, without evidence of the senses.' p. 249. That they were so placed, he shows by many clear examples;-as of the woman with the issue of blood (Luke viii.), the woman of Canaan (Matt. xv.), the Centurian (Matt. viii.), the ruler (John iv.) "Still they will urge, in all these instances the senses could have acted; and if brought to the enquiry, would have confirmed the words of our Lord. Hence, Dr. Turton takes the question farther back, and, with some precautionary phrases, makes this argument: "Christianity was, by divine appointment, founded on miracles, that is, on events of the truth of which the senses of men were the judges." (p. 300.) Therefore, it is not to be imagined, that anything should be proposed for our belief relating to objects of sense, which is in contradiction to the senses. This argument is treated at some length, but its pith is here. Let us examine it."-p. 250. He shows, from several reasons, that the Eucharist, though containing in it the greatest, the sublimest, miracle, is not a miracle in the sense in which Dr. Turton considers the term; and that, therefore, the parity does not hold. It "cannot be called a miracle, in the usual acceptation of the phrase; it is a mystery, itself the term and object of faith, and in no wise intended for its evidence."-p. 252. "But then Dr. Turton will not hear of our considering it a mystery, such as the Trinity or Incarnation. As, however, his argument on this subject is confined to the former of these two mysteries, which does not regard objects cognizable by the senses, I will rather say a few words on the latter. Let us look upon the incarnation of our Lord, not in that point of view which regards the ineffable union between the eternal word of God and the human nature, but as respects the formation and assumption of this nature in the virginal womb of Mary. I approach the subject with all due reverence, and say that conception was a thing subject to the test of experience, from the commencement of the human race till that hour; and, as much as human testimony could assure the apostles that whenever the senses experienced the accidents of bread-to use the school terms-the substance was there too; so much did that undeviating testimony assert, that whenever a new human body was formed, it was formed by the efficacy of certain invariable laws. Yet, upon the simple declaration of an angel of God, that what was born in Mary was through the Holy Ghost, we set aside the entire experience of all ages, regarding, mind, a physical law, of which experience was the legitimate test on every other occasion.... Now this suspension of the ordinary laws of constituted nature, this contradiction to the sole test or basis of these laws . . . was surely miraculous to the highest degree: but who would call it no more than a miracle, of the same class as the raising of a paralytic from his bed, given like this in evidence, or to be discussed upon the same principle of investigation and proof, apart from the divine revelation? The fact is, this is a mystery, part of the mystery of the incarnation,-it is itself an object of faith, and, as such, withdrawn from the sphere of all philosophical scrutiny."-pp. 252-4. He goes on to prove that Dr. Turton's principles on the authority of the senses, and on the right for reason to decide at all times what is credible and what is not, betray religion into the hands of the rationalists. Thus it is a man may, unconsciously, go to the verge of a precipice after taking credit to himself of caution, when the danger was merely imaginary ;-risk his life after fencing with shadows. A Regius Professor of Divinity at Cambridge may abhor "hermeneutics" even to the name; and welcome infidelity with the most cordial accollade. We would warn him of the real danger, and dispel his panic fears. Let him be less precipitate, more reflecting. Vague declamations against hermeneutics, coarse reviling and groundless imputations against his adversary will not do. Dogmatism will pronounce its oracles unheeded. Some knowledge of the languages may reasonably be insisted on as an indispensable qualification for the professed censor of a work entering largely into philology. It is not by sneering at system and method in interpreting the Scripture, that a claim to expound it arbitrarily and capriciously, and, nevertheless, in fallibly-will be made out. The self-satisfied theorist is amenable to criticism, as well as the expositor who proceeds by rule; and his blunders will oftentimes be more gross and ridiculous. Lastly, it is not by "saying the thing that is not," by altering phrases, and feigning new meanings, which an author never had in mind, or by the suppression of what strict justice requires to be mentioned, that an honourable triumph can be achieved by his censor. No: "plain dealing is the best-in argument, as well as in the general conduct of life; and perversions and misrepresentations, however refined in their nature, and however adroitly employed, tend neither to the credit of the individual, nor to the support of the cause in which he is engaged." So says Dr. Turton:* and, leaving the reader to his own reflections and conclusions, we refrain from remark, and desist from citation. ART. IX.-Modern English Novels. 1. Female Domination, &c. &c. By Mrs. Gore. 2. Jack Brag, &c. &c. By T. Hook. 3. Seymour of Sudley, &c. By H. Burdon. 4. Peter Simple, &c. &c. By Captain Marryat. 5. The Vicar of Wrexhill, &c. &c. By Mrs. Trollope. 6. Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman, &c. By Lady Blessington. O much talent is now applied to the writing of novels, and so much time to their perusal, that they are become, in fact, works of considerable importance ;-whether we consider them as influencing the prejudices and feelings of the age, or as still more certainly reflecting them, it will not, we think, be uninteresting to take a slight survey of the later works of some of the more eminent English novel writers, amongst whom we class those whose names we have placed at the head of this article, and which we shall take as they occur, without reference to precedency of claims. We consider Mrs. Gore to be one of the most elegant and unexceptionable of the female writers of the present day; her style is easy and graceful, the VOL. VII.-NO. XIII. * P. 331. plot of her stories simple, and yet not careless, and the tendency of her works almost always excellent;-professedly a moral writer, she has not marred her own purpose by taking a too ambitious line. Although she has drawn occasionally from the store-house of wily priests, gloomy superiors, &c. &c. without which few Protestants can make out a story, and which are really as tempting resources as ever were the genii and fairies of olden time, yet she has not systematically meddled with any one's creed, nor dived into the deep recessess of the human heart for pictures of crime and anguish, but has contented herself with delineating, with truth and delicacy, those lighter shades of character by which society is checquered. In her fine appreciation of character, we are reminded of Miss Austin; the latter however was never careless-never gave evidence of writing in haste; her works are each in their way complete specimens of her style, and her characters almost always true to her own conceptions: this is praise which we cannot bestow on Mrs. Gore, in whose works there is great inequality. Decidedly the best of them is Mrs. Armytage. In this novel there is little incident; with the exception of the recovery of a lost will, all the occurrences are of the most domestic and ordinary kind; but, simple as it is, the story is admirably managed for the development of the personages introduced, perhaps we should say the personage, for Mrs. Armytage is the heroine who truly interests us-stately, high minded, well principled, excellent in many ways-nevertheless, the canker of pride and self-worship, with all the evils of that description of bad temper by which such a character · is usually accompanied, are sufficient to create misery to herself and all who surround her. Her impetuous, wellmeaning, thoughtless son;-the pretty straightforward affectionate girl, whom he marries in her despite, and who has neither pretensions to give her support in the eyes of her stern motherin-law, nor tact to deprecate her displeasure, and her own daughter, who is truly a sweet creature,-all these are by turns the victims of her ill humour, and the torments of her selfwilled fastidiousness. Yet this character never degenerates into caricature; magnanimous at heart, she forgives her son for his unsuitable marriage, and supports him when he is chosen to represent the county,-nay more, receives him and his little wife into the house; and poor Marian, connected on all sides with vulgar people, too affectionate, and, unluckily, too much accustomed to themselves and their associates to suspect anything amiss in their manners or habits, is, with her family, a perpetual thorn in the side of Mrs. Armytage, of Holywell, to whom she very heartily and in all respects prefers them. But, ere long, Marian acquires a wholly new position in her sight. "The future heir-the new Arthur-the Armytage to come-formed a link connecting her indissolubly with the family. Marian was no longer the daughter of a Jack Baltimore-she was the wife of Arthur Maudsley Armytage of Holywell." Alas, while the good lady is contemplating in her mind's eye "the bonfires on Holywell Hill-the beacon on Holywell Tower--the ox roasted whole in Holywell Close -the labouring families feasted at Holywell Cross," the unlucky offender gives birth to a little girl, and what is even more provoking, cannot be brought to see any cause of regret or sorrow, but highly delighted with her baby, determining upon christening it Harriet, "after mamma." It is shortly after this that Arthur finds his wife looking at some papers, which the nurse has brought down from an old wardrobe, that had belonged to the late Mr. Armytage, and which she has taken possession of in the nursery. Amongst these, is a codicil, revoking the disposition under which Mrs. Armytage held the property absolutely, and giving it to Arthur on his coming of age-to his mother only a dowry of 2,000l. a-year; the husband and wife, struck with horror at the idea of the effect such a change must have upon Mrs. Armytage, conceal it from her and from one another-he believing that Marian has missed seeing the will amongst the other papersand she that he had, as she requested, committed the whole bundle to the flames. The secret for some months is faithfully kept; but, during this period, events occur that render it more and more burdensome. The gentle daughter droops and dies. Upon the plea of a promise she had received from her to marry no one whom she disapproved, the arbitrary woman had declined, without even naming them to Sophia, the proposals made to her by her early lover, who, long kept in suspense by the inferiority of his fortune, being now raised to affluence, hastens to declare his attachment, through the medium of the mother, whose pride he thus hopes to propitiate; he is peremptorily refused. Bound to marry within a given time by the provisions of his uncle's will, and stung by resentment at such a rejection of the attachment he knew Sophia to have encouraged, he marries another. Sophia had looked forward to his fidelity and love, as her only hope of escape from her dreary home;—that hope destroyed, she sinks, and the patient |