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prophecy, which so wonderfully teach this lesson, have at the same time assigned to the different agencies which have been the unconscious instruments of that Divine Providence, a place in the great drama, and stamped upon them a character, far different, oftentimes, from that which human discernment might have given them; and have exhibited, behind the veil of earthly things, principles and agents of the world unseen. And, be it recollected, it was the question of the worship of images in the Christian Church, as is observed by the historian of Rome's Decline and Fall, that "produced the revolt of Italy, the temporal power of the Popes, and the restoration of the Roman Empire in the West."

The relations between the spiritual and temporal powers, bound together as they were so strangely, and interwoven so closely, in the system of papal Europe, may perhaps be traced in the further description of the agency revealed in the vision. "And he had power to give life"- —or more literally "breath-to the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak, and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast should be killed. And he caused all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: and that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name." The persecuting character of the Church of Rome is, unhappily, too notorious to need pointing out: and, though she wielded not the sword with her own hand, nor gave directly from herself the command for the execution of her sentence; yet would she give her victims over to the secular power, and make kings and princes inflict the punishment which she pronounced on the guilty. And among the instances of the infliction, by temporal sovereigns, of penalties of the very kind specified in the prophecy, reference has been made by expositors to that which is recorded of the Norman Conqueror, "that he would not permit any one under his power to buy or sell any thing, whom he found disobedient to the apostolic see." But in regard to this whole portion of the prophecy, and especially the image of the wild beast, its compulsory worship, its mark, and name, and number, there is a difficulty and a mystery, the existence of which is sufficiently proved by the diversity of interpretations proposed by expositors; and which would lead us to the conclusion that it is reserved for the still unrevealed future, in the destinies, perhaps, of modern Europe, perhaps of the East, as well as the West, to remove the obscurity which envelopes the vision.

And with regard particularly to the mystic number,-declared to be a mystery by the inspired Authority which hath propounded it for the thoughtful consideration of "him that hath understanding,"-amidst the variety of conjectures which have been offered, (some regarding it as a chronological date, others, and those the greater number, as composing a word, or title,) I know nothing better than to repeat the cautions of Irenæus, the disciple of Polycarp, the disciple of S. John, reproving those who hastily endeavoured to interpret it, and saying that it is safer to await the event of the prophecy, than to attempt to conjecture and divine the import of the name. I may add, however, that if a preference is to be given to any one interpretation, rather than another, especially of those which have sanction from antiquity, the strongest claim, perhaps, may be asserted in behalf of one of those which Irenæus has enumerated, and which (though himself, it would seem, inclining rather to a different one) he thinks to be very probable, as being the name of the last of the four empires, the Latin. But all seems uncertain conjecture.' — Harrison,

pp. 350-357.

This conclusion is characteristic, and he is not the less to be

respected because such is his conclusion on many points. Uncertain as he confesses his results to be, he will repay a thoughtful reader. His exposition of the four living creatures, as connected in some mysterious way with the great monarchies, is worthy of attention, though it may be too much to say that it is established. Several writers have noticed that they seem to acknowledge the benefit of redemption as their own. His familiarity with the Hebrew prophets leads him to a more frequent reference to the earlier prophecies than is customary with expounders of the Apocalypse, and he is at least suggestive and thoughtful on the subject of the general interpretation of prophetic imagery. But it seems that we must still leave much to the great teacher, time, and do our best so to apprehend the general bearing of the predictions that have been given us, as neither to be too confident of what will, nor unprepared for what may, come upon us.

The student who would commence inquiry, if not discouraged by all this uncertainty, may be recommended to begin with a careful perusal of the Book of Daniel, not neglecting the Septuagint. After this he should read the Apocalypse also carefully in Greek, and make an analysis, with parallelisms exhibiting the apparently connected prophecies and coincident events. And throughout he should take pains to note the habitual application of particular symbols and expressions, especially in cases where their meaning can be decisively determined, either in these or other portions of Holy Writ. By doing this, if he will but abstain from hasty conclusions, as he would find himself forced to do if he were pursuing a chemical analysis, or a geological theory, he will at least place himself in a position to know what may be known on this mysterious subject. It would be out of place here to homilize on the reverence and devotion befitting such an inquiry: but it may suffice to say, that the model for an expositor of prophecy is the prophet Daniel. Faithful in Babylon, abstinent in a luxurious court, patient in a long life of exile, fearless in bearing testimony, humbled for his people's sins, constant in devotion, a man greatly beloved' was he who understood by books' the time of his people's return from captivity, and to whom was revealed the time of a still greater deliverance.

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1 The ordinary Greek may be of use as illustrating the New Testament, but the true Septuagint version of the Book of Daniel has only lately been brought to light; and though printed at Rome in the latter part of the last century, is not found in the common editions of the Septuagint. See Maitland, p. 26, note.

60

ART. III.-Ettore Fieramosca, o La Disfida di Barletta, racconto di MASSIMO D'AZEGLIO. Parigi: Baudry, Libreria Europea,

1848.

In our July number, 1848, we called the attention of our readers to the Italian novels, and to those of D'Azeglio in particular, and we are tempted to resume the subject. Our reason is this; we consider the best of them to embody, more than any with which we are acquainted, our conception of what a perfect novel should be. We have always agreed with those, who rank the novel of character as the highest achievement in the department of fiction. In the luxury of the deepest seclusion, without any acute perception of the springs of human action, and, above all, without any minute observation of the manifold changes which they exhibit in the outward frame-work of society, an imaginative mind may dream a series of adventures, which shall chain us for a time in rapt attention, or hurry us on in breathless suspense till the catastrophe has broken the charm. But to such works we rarely return; we do not seek in them the lessons of wisdom and experience. They neither teach us to observe, nor, for any beneficial purpose, to feel. In fact they are mere creations of the fancy. They have no hold upon the heart.

It was doubtless the sense of this defect which gave rise to what may be called the novel of analysis, whose principal aim is a keen and minute dissection of the feelings and motives of the heart. These are, from time to time, laid open with consummate skill in a series of metaphysical disquisitions, but they have little to do with the world as it is. Such novels have little action and no manners. The characters, if characters they may be called, have no individuality. They are described, not shown. If their actions tell, their conversations never do. Commonly, indeed, such works, like the poems of Byron, are but the reflex of the writer's individual mind-a mind often anomalous in its texture, and distorted still more by erroneous opinions and diseased feeling. We would instance, as a case in point, such novels as those of Godwin and Mrs. Shelley. We do not here refer to the false principles and mischievous tendency of those works, but to their artistic merit. As compositions they seem to us a failure. Of course we do not deny the imaginative power shown in such novels as Frankenstein and the Last Man, Fleetwood and St. Leon, but they do not show us man as he is. We do

not go to them as the text-book of human life. They are at best only a stern and awful vision which sometimes haunts our slumbers, a kind of mental night-mare from which we are glad to awake to the reality of our daily existence. In one work only, his terrible Caleb Williams, has Godwin shown himself a master of his art. The impression of that romance is indelible. To say nothing of the withering effect of the story, the principal characters are strongly and individually marked. But, even here, it is the all but supernatural grasp, with which Falkland holds his victim, which gives to Caleb Williams its surpassing charm. If written now, its effect might have been heightened to an extent which it is almost frightful to think of. Railroad communication, and above all the wonders of the electric telegraph, might easily have given to Falkland the appearance of ubiquity, and led his victim to feel as if, in contending with him, he was contending with omnipotence.

But, while we give to the novel of character precedence over the novel of analysis, as well as the novel of mere incident, we do not think that all, who have devoted themselves to the highest department of fiction, have fully succeeded in their attempt. Some have attempted more than they could accomplish. Some have succeeded perfectly, but have not attempted enough. The failure of Richardson-we mean of course in attaining perfection, for in many respects he is unrivalled-arose from his ignorance of conventional manners. All the springs of passion, all the strength and weakness of the human heart, were opened up to him and by him, but he knew nothing of the manners which he undertook to paint. Of the tone of good society he was as ignorant as if he had lived all his life at Otaheite; and the defect is painfully felt by the reader of his interminable works, in spite of the graphic power of some of his descriptions, and the overwhelming pathos of others. The novels of Smollett and even Fielding have, we think, been somewhat over-rated as novels of character, independent of their moral tendency. The former, in particular, seem to us often simply disgusting, and we cannot understand how a pure and cultivated taste can take pleasure in scenes and characters, which we trust are no longer true to life, and from which, if real, we should shrink with instinctive abhorrence. We must not take our readers again through the catalogue of those writers of fiction, who have more or less enriched our literature with such delineations of character and manners, as both taste and principle may approve. In our notice of the novels of the authoress of Emilia Wyndham, herself a high example of the style of writing to which we refer, this has been already done; but to what we then said of Jane Austen, whose works as far as they go we think unrivalled, we have one

remark to add. The authoress of Emma, Mansfield Park, and Persuasion, achieved perfectly what she attempted, but she attempted too little. Whether this arose from distrust of her own powers, or from a deficiency in her aim, the fact is undeniable. The consequence is, in the first place, a detraction from her usefulness. One is not made much better by her works. One admires the consummate skill of the plan, the perfect finish of the details, the matchless delineation of the characters, and the exquisite perception of the failings and weaknesses by which they are distinguished; but one looks in vain for the lofty impulses and deep emotions which purify the soul by pity and terror.' There is no intenseness of purpose. We may read her works again and again, and who is there that does not? but they leave us much as we were before. She is a perfect painter, but she belongs to an inferior school. Hence her want of high moral influence. Who is made much better by the matchless truth of a picture of Teniers or Ostade; but who can stand before a Madonna of Raphael, and not imbibe, for a time at least, some portion of its purity and submission? But, in the second place, as a mere artist, Jane Austen suffers from the narrowness of her range. Even to this day she is not fully appreciated by many. Nay, it would not be difficult to find really clear, and even tasteful persons, who see little or nothing in her. The fact is that it requires patient investigation to enter completely into her merit. Every sentence, almost every word, tells. It will never do to read Jane Austen, as most people read novels, merely to get at the story. Her peculiar excellence is in the detail, and a detail so fine in its elaboration, as to escape the insight of all but the acute observer. They who write thus must take the consequence. The fault is partly with their readers, but it is partly with themselves. They paint life truly, but they paint it only in its more ordinary features. They tell the truth, but not the whole truth. Far from it. Life is not the prosaic thing they would make it. It has more stirring events, sterner passions, loftier conceptions, higher aims. There is great artistic skill in writing a book, which shall tell only of what happens any day in every body's house, and yet charm down hours to moments; but still there are greater things than these,' and Jane Austen has eschewed them.

Now it is their intenseness of purpose which gives their high tone to the Italian novels, and makes us desire to call the attention of our readers again to the subject. They breathe the same truthfulness which charms so much in compositions of an inferior tone, but united with a higher and nobler purpose. Love of liberty, love of man, love of God, self-sacrifice, all that is good, and true, and noble, are the component parts. The Italian

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