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into custody. This gave me time to secure those original letters, for which the messenger came as well as for me. The next morning the gentleman was set at liberty and the error of the messenger corrected, and I again taken up. After which I was severely examined as a new found traitor." The severe examination did not result in anything immediately formidable. He was forbidden the Court, but retained in sufficient toleration to be either thought worth sending out of the country, or to be genuinely employed through Arnold of the Lower House in the dirtier part of Government work in Holland. Finding his pay irregular he returned. This was not well. The Duke of Shrewsbury had long written a letter to the Lords in his own defence; and on this Smith or Brown published “Remarks." Upon December 7th, 1699, Smith was accordingly ordered to be brought before the Lords; on the 11th he was voted guilty of breach of privilege; on the 15th a petition of his was met by a resolution that his Remarks" were false and scandalous, and must be burned by the hand of the common hangman in the Old Palace Yard, Westminster, on the following Monday; on the 18th a committee was appointed, greatly with an eye to him, to examine the Journals for precedents of punishment; and on the following day the culprit was committed a prisoner to the Gatehouse at Westminster, where he stayed a considerable, time.
Some pleasant occurrences, chiefly at times more sanguinary than those in which Smith was forced by his double policy to make half-hearted use of his bafflement of the midnight messenger, would reward the patience of any one prepared to follow in the track of Imperial swords-tales of rescue and escape, of extraordinary presence of mind, or drollest misconception. Morlot, a French printer, received relief as accidental as any one. About 1649 he had allowed the author of the Custode du Lit de la Reine'-the Regent, Anne of Austria-to send his libellous work to his press. He was apprehended, and conducted under good escort to a petit local." Thence he issued only on the day fixed for his execution. Chance was that that very day a riot broke out,
the Hussars who formed Morlot's cortège were dispersed as if by magic, and the condemned was at large. Superfluous to say, he renounced typography.
Some perhaps may judge that to the sharp external check of fate nobility belongs-from reflected or "applied' higher design. But of original right nobility belongs by universal suffrage to intense fixity in meeting fate. Nobility of the latter kind would seem to have become no more extinct on British territory within the last half century, than nobility of the former kind was in France just two centuries before. What confirmations of this there are, who can tell? Here is one. After John Mitchel had been sentenced to fourteen years' transportation for the publication of two articles inciting to treason in the United Irishman, it was determined that other journals should be begun to take its place. Within two weeks from the trial there was accordingly started the Irish Tribune, of which Kevin Izod O'Doherty was jointly editor with Richard Dalton Williams, the "Shamrock" of the Nation. The first number was dated June Ioth,
1848. Again, just two weeks later, commenced another revolutionary organ, the Irish Felon, over which John Martin, who had hitherto been marked out by no desperate resistance of English. policy, assumed the control. Before the middle of July the Government thought sufficient had been done to justify the compulsory appeal of the Tribune to the people, and the effective arrest of the Felon's career. So the police were ordered forcibly to stop the sale of the papers by vendors in the streets, to break open the offices, to seize types, presses, and books. More; warrants were issued for the capture of all the editors-O'Doherty, Williams, Martin, Duffy of the Nation with them. Duffy was released, Martin convicted, Williams acquitted; and this was the tale of Kevin O'Doherty. Before his
Young Ireland" journalism, while re ceiving the fit education of a Dublin medical student, he had made suit to a lady of Galway, Miss Eva Mary Kelly, whose revolutionary tendencies had already budded and shown fruit in the patriotic songs contributed above the signature of Eva' to the Nation. Now Kevin's luck was to be sent first to
years afterward man and wife sailed for Sydney, and made their home in Brisbane. In 1877 the Hon. Kevin Izod O'Doherty accepted a seat in the Legislative Council.
Newgate, then on August 10th to be arraigned at the bar of Green Street Court-house on the charge of treasonfelony. The jury disagreed. A second jury was empanelled, and a second jury disagreed. The day before his third ar- These are some of the more romantic raignment he was offered a virtual par- episodes in the history of the suppresdon if he would plead guilty. He was sion of books. In England the day of under great tension. He sent for Eva. burning books by the common hangman "It may seem," said he, as if I did not has passed. The list disregarded as feel the certainty of losing you, perhaps it has been by students both of history forever, but I don't like this idea of and literature, certainly reached to a pleading guilty. Say, what shall I do?" length little short of four hundred Do?" was the response, why, be a items. But the widely interpretable man, and face the worst; I'll wait for terms of blasphemy, indecency, and you, however long the sentence may be." seditiousness are causes of suppression Next day Kevin was sentenced to ten certainly not inactive either among us years' transportation. Eva was allowed. or on the Continent. The condemnato see him once more. "Be you faith- tion of M. Léon Taxil's novel, Les ful!" whispered she; "I'll wait.' Amours Secrets de Pie Neuf," at MontAnd she did. There was some solace pellier; the burning of the Gospels at in calling in really expressive verse upon Barcelona; the confiscation of a transthe people to acknowledge her intense lation of the "Decamerone" at Berlin; faith in the lover of his country and of the prohibition of "Laferte's" or the her; but more in the period of testing Princess Dolgorouki's "Alexandre II. : being cut short. He had sailed out to Détails inédits de sa Vie intime et sur Van Diemen's Land in November, 1849, la Mort," at St. Petersburg; the disand after full five years he was set at missal of Mr. Joynes by Mr. Hornby liberty, on condition of his residing from Eton; the seizure of the Kerry anywhere out of the United King- Sentinel at Tralee these and many dom." He went to Paris; but by one other instances which crowd almost short, snatched visit to Ireland he risk within a year show that the hand of the ed the breach of the condition. censor has not lost its cunning to grasp. to land at Kingstown. In two days Eva Whether in this there be a shock to libwas his bride. In 1856 the pardon erty, politicians, and they whose intergranted to the exile' was made uncondi- ests should be represented by them, tional. Ireland was now once more. have it alike in power and in duty to visited, degrees in medicine taken, and decide.—Gentleman's Magazine. practice set up successfully. Some
BY RICHARD H. HUTTON.
THE special intellectual greatness of Cardinal Newman is, I think, more due to the singular combination of a deep insight into man with a predominant passion for theology, than to any other single cause. And when I speak of a deep insight into man, I mean an insight not merely into man's higher moral nature, the best side of man, though that he has too, but the literary feeling which a dramatic poet has for man's grotesque weaknesses and his sometimes equally grotesque virtues, the pleasure such a
poet has in tracking the wayward turns and quaint wilfulness of his nature, the delight he takes in what may be called the natural history of the emotions, the large forbearance he displays with the unaccountable element in human conduct and feeling. It is this side of Cardinal Newman's mind which has made a great theological and religious writer so fascinating to the world at large, so full of that variety and play of thought which is rare among theologians, and which forms so striking a contrast to
his habitual sense of the absolute predominance of the Will that is the same yesterday, to-day and forever. I can explain better, perhaps, what I mean if I refer to the writings of another remarkable man, whose biography-a singularly admirable one-has just been given to the world, and by whose faith my own mind has been even more powerfully influenced than by Cardinal Newman's itself-I mean the late Frederick Denison Maurice. Maurice, like Cardinal Newman, and I venture to think even more strikingly than Cardinal Newman, was haunted from the opening to the very close of his life by at sense of the predominance of the Divine Will. Maurice, like Cardinal Newman, and not less than Cardinal Newman, took the utmost delight in following the windings of human thought on those great subjects which form the borderland between the human and the divine. There is probably hardly a book in the language that represents a more discriminating and more laborious study of the human aspects of the search for wisdom, than Maurice's "Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy." But Maurice's interest in man was moral and not properly literary. It seemed to fail at the very point at which Cardinal Newman's exhibits its greatest force and play. Maurice followed man with ardent interest in his search for wisdom, but seems to have taken comparatively little pleasure in the mere natural history of his character and mind, and to have understood less of it than almost any writer known to me of equal intensity and power. He writes continually as if man were a moral being and nothing else. He treats himself, for instance, as if he had been a moral being and nothing else. There is no manner of forbearance in him for his own idiosyncrasies. The same solemn shadow is ever upon his heart the same penitential litany is ever upon his tongue: the same high lights, the same dark depths, are always visible in the scenery of his mind. The aspect of his life never changes :
"Hardly his voice at its best
Gives us a sense of the awe,
It is not so with Cardinal Newman.
Even in his Oxford Sermons, even in his theological poems, even in his controversial lectures, you have the keenest sense of the literary flexibility of his mind-of the humor, the vivacity, the sympathy with what is essentially due to the structure of our nature, as well as with what is due to the struggles of our wills, by which his predominant theological interests are relieved. This is why I have been so fascinated by his writings since I was a lad of nineteen or twenty. This is why I have often said that if it were ever my hard lot to suffer solitary confinement, and I were given my choice of books but were limited to one or two, I should prefer some of Dr. Newman's to Shakespeare himself. Not, of course, that there is any comparison possible between the two; but while Shakespeare's supreme vitality would undoubtedly inflame the natural restlessness of captivity, Dr. Newman's influence would help me, as none other of equal richness, variety, and play of mind, would help me, to realize the comparative indifference of outward circumstances in a world ruled by God. Maurice's writings would produce that feeling too. But then Maurice's writings would not give any of the relief which keen insight into the varying tints of human character and weakness lends to the grand nionotone of theological teaching. Newman, too, it is true, is always leading us back to the thought that, as he puts it in his "Apologia," "there are two, and two only, luminously selfevident beings-myself and my Creator." But Maurice never lets us stray away from that thought for a moment; and therefore there is too high a strain put on the mind in reading his books. I know no writings which combine, as Cardinal Newman's do, so penetrating an insight into the realities of the human world around us in all its detail, with so unwavering an inwardness of standard in the estimating and judging of that world; so steady a knowledge of the true vanity in human life, with so steady a love of that which is not vanity or vexation of spirit, but which appeases the hunger and slakes the thirst which Vanity Fair only stimulates.
Indeed, I am disposed to think that it is to this human and literary side of
Cardinal Newman's mind that we owe in very large degree that High-Church and Roman Catholic bend which his theology has taken. One chief difference between the Protestant and the Catholic view of the Christian religion has always been this, that the Protestant has insisted mainly on the direct contemplation of the character of God, the Catholic (whether Roman or otherwise) mainly on the adaptation of God's purposes, through the ecclesiastical organization and administration of the Church, to the needs of men. Of course I do not for a moment mean that the Protestant has always ignored this; often, as in the Calvinistic Church of Geneva, he has attempted to break the stiffneckedness of the human heart by a rigid application to its discipline of the most cast-iron of all the many false conceptions of God's absoluteness which the human mind has ever deduced from the Scriptures. Nor do I mean, the other hand, that the various Catholic Churches have generally lost sight of their original theology in the attempt to discipline the human spirit. On the contrary, Cardinal Newman's Own career proves that to that theology as to a final standard the Roman Church's greatest convert has constantly referred all the many complicated ecclesiastical and critical questions with which he has dealt. All I mean is this, that the Protestant has always insisted most on the supreme danger of losing sight of God Himself in the many attempts to subdue and discipline the human spirit which the various Churches have made, while the Catholic has always insisted most on the supreme danger of treating man as if he could live the spiritual life without human authorities to interpret Scripture and to sustain the heart, without human discipline to chasten and to reprove the will, and without a human stewardship to dispense the divine stores of strength and consolation opened to us by revelation. No contrast could be more striking in this respect than the contrast I referred to just now between the late Frederick Denison Maurice and Cardinal Newman. The greatness of Maurice consisted in his profound conviction that God has effectually revealed Himself to us, and that only by keeping our minds steadily on
that revelation is our salvation secured. The fault he found with Dr. Newman's writings was chiefly this, that Dr. Newman believed so much in the necessity for some adaptation of God's purposes to our petty life, saw so clearly the gulf between the infinite and the finite, was so deeply convinced of our inability to comprehend God, that he lost himself in the labyrinths of a supposed divine economy ''-often, in Maurice's opinion, nothing but a mere human development and deterioration of a divine idea--when he should have been recalling us to the vision of the Triune God whom the history of Israel as consummated in Christ had revealed. Maurice was forever telling us of the peril the Church encountered when she once took to adapting" the divine revelation to the supposed weakness of man, instead of taking that weakness to be cured by plunging it in the truth of God. He had the deepest horror of adaptations and economies, and thought theology the one great trust of the Church. Dr. Newman, on the other hand, entered ardently into the human side of the ecclesiastical drama, the various schemes by which the Church has endeavored to master the spirit of man, and has sought to explain to us—
"His misery's birth and growth and signs, And how the dying spark of hope was fed, And how the heart was soothed, and how the head,
And all the hourly varied anodynes.”
If the word "agnostic" had not now become identified with the creed that God is unknown and perhaps unknowable, if it meant only the opposite of a Gnostic, if it meant only one who denies the vision of God to be attainable by any merely human faculty, I should. have said that Dr. Newman had always felt the deepest sympathy with the agnostic element in the Church's faith. Of course he not only believes but has always affirmed that God can and does give us by His revelation a real knowledge of Himself, so far as we are fitted to attain it. But then he holds that there is so deep a chasm between the human nature and the divine, that even revelation taken alone is not sufficient to help us to attain it, unless revelation be protected from corruption and decay by a human institution guaranteed
against error by the providence of God. And his own genius has always leaned to the side of interpreting the human "" economies of revelation by the Church, rather than to the fixed contemplation of the original revelation itself.
The consequence has been that while Dr. Newman has found excuses for many corruptions of Christian teaching, his career has been marked by a much more varied literary life and genius than that of Frederick Maurice. Maurice's life was literally that of a voice-the life of the voice of one crying in the wilderness to man-rather than the life of one who entered into the heart of ordinary human interests. From the first, Dr. Newman, though brought up under Evangelical influences, seems to have had yearnings after a very different life, the life in which the aspirations of the early and medieval Church clothed its regenerated conception of human duty and discipline. He has told us how there were in his childhood some curious anticipations of the close of his religious voyage in the Roman Catholic Church; how, late in life, he found, to his own great surprise, in his first verse book, the figure of a solid, upright cross, and of a rosary and a cross suspended to it; and how, at the age of sixteen, though he had been brought up, as I said, under the strictest Evangelical influences, he felt the strongest impression that it was the will of God that he should lead a single life, an impression which held its ground ever since, "with the break of a month now, and a month then, up to 1829, and after that date without any break at all." Perhaps his recollection may to some extent have deceived him as to the permanence of this impression during his earlier youth; at least the beautiful lines, written when he was thirty-three, would seem to suggest that his anticipations of a different and less austere lot had been, in early life, a good deal more than an occasional dream
"Did we but see
Who strive for the high prize, such sight would
The youthful spirit, though bold for Jesu's
When Newman first went to Oxford his views inclined strongly to the Evangelical School; but he unlearned almost all these special views except his horror of Roman Catholic corruptions, which he retained till 1840-very early, and accepted the doctrines of the authority of the Church, of the transmission of priestly orders from the Apostles, of baptismal regeneration, and the rest of the well-known HighChurch views, with the sort of readiness which seems to show that he was already wearying of a mere "scheme of redemption,' and craving such a theology as could be adapted to the needs of a great ecclesiastical organism, intended to minister to the weakness, guilt, and general unsteadiness of man's feeble and perverted nature, and to bring about by its efforts the actual redemption which God had offered to all men. He conceived a cordial friendship for one of his own pupils, Richard Hurrell Froude (elder brother of the historian) who, while he lived, did muchto accelerate Dr. Newinan's progress toward High-Church principles, and it was through Mr. Froude's mediation that Newman formed so strict a friendship with the poet of The Christian Year, John Keble. In December, 1832, Hurrell Froude, who was consumptive, was advised to go to the South of Europe, and Newman accompanied him. The story of this journey, though only given in a few words in Dr. Newman's history of his religious opinions, is one of the most interesting passages in his life, and it is one which, as I hope to show, his verses especially illustrate. Throughout it he was evidently possessed with a profound sense that a crisis was approaching, in which he was to do some important work for the Church of England. He was to embark at FalWhitchurch, he wrote a sonnet on angelic mouth. While waiting for the mail at guidance, which implies that he already believed in guardian angels; and it