sing and practising Catholic in the entire three volumes! What is the necessary inference? That our creed is a

and intolerant system, which, if we act up to its dictates, not only shuts us out from all friendly intercourse with the members of another Church, but makes it a duty to hate and despise them,-to shrink from receiving any obligation or contracting any tie, which may subvert or weaken this pious detestation -that we conceive ourselves bound to eschew every friendly office, that we wish not to be treated with ordinary kindness, -to receive no mark of affection or esteem,-that no heretic pencil should copy the portrait of our venerated mother, no heretic hand preserve our early sketches as a remembrance of ourselves, lest it should tempt us to violate the holy abhorrence of heretics, which is the true characteristic of pure untainted orthodoxy.

The struggle between growing passion and waning orthodoxy was long and painful, but it terminates, as in a novel it must, in the triumph of the former, and the marriage of the heretic Clara Montgomery with the bigot Reginald, now, by the death of his father, Sir Reginald De Vere. Thus at the very moment which had been so anxiously awaited, the victim had escaped from the toils of the conspirators; and the rich prize, just as it became worth the seizing, was lost for ever to the Church! This was a case where casuistry must strain to the utmost the limits of its pliant morality; and where the interests of the Church may legitimatize any proceeding, no matter how atrocious. "They must be parted," argued Fitzgerald; any, all means must be resorted to. In such a case all things are justifiable."-vol. iii. p. 100. The result is a series of the most diabolical fraud and villany. Sir Reginald is summoned to Rome, on the ground that, no dispensation having been obtained, his marriage with a heretic is invalid. Every representation is used to induce him to sever the hated connexion. His brother Clement, and Fitzgerald, are the osten-sible actors in the plot, but the cardinal already alluded to, and even his holiness Pius VII himself, are behind the scenes, and lend it their full sanction and approval.

Nor is this all. These attempts proving fruitless, a deeper and more villainous expedient is devised. Documents are produced, which testify that his first wife Angela is still living; and circumstances are recalled to his memory which render it but too probable. His marriage with Clara is thus invalid upon a double ground. The wretched baronet is driven to despair. For two years he struggles against the machinations

employed against him. But in vain. The enemy has laid his toils in too wide and secure a train. Escape is beyond his power. His only hope is a divorce from his first wife, which he accordingly proceeds to seek from the pope; and at length obtains (!!) on condition of surrendering his Italian property, appropriating to the uses of the Church a considerable portion of his yearly revenue, and dedicating his son Walter, born during his absence from England, to the priesthood of the Roman Church. Fitzgerald and Clement being despatched to England upon some of those dark missions in which Rome delights, the latter becomes the bearer of this proposal from Reginald to his unhappy wife, who, in hopeless ignorance of the causes of his protracted absence, is pining away at home in this worse than widowhood. But, false in private feeling, as unprincipled in religion, Clement discharges the mission with malicious duplicity. Concealing the circumstances in which it was given, and the object it was intended to secure, he contents himself with presenting the order which Sir Reginald had given for the delivery of his child. The unhappy mother, believing herself now indeed deserted by her heartless husband, and confirmed in the impression by the treacherous representations of Clement, refuses to acknowledge the unfeeling mandate, and the mediator, doubly false, in his letter to Sir Reginald, places the refusal to the account of indifference and want of affection for her husband.

Sir Reginald refuses to believe, and despite an ecclesiastical mandate, prohibiting all communication with his heretic wife, hurries to England, that, if it be true, he may learn from her own lips the fatal intelligence. Alas! all things combine against the unhappy man. Lady De Vere, under the conviction that he has come in person to compel the enforcement of the cruel order, confirms by her conduct the worst representations of her enemies. Sir Reginald leaves her in despair. A long, heart-broken letter declares the unhappy truth to his wife. The announcement is too much for her intellect, already too severely tried. She rises from the perusal of the fatal letter a miserable maniac!

But enough of the tragedy. Let us hasten to the denoueA disagreement between the worthy confederates in this infernal scheme, which leads eventually to a complete rupture, lets in the light upon their dark doings. Clement, who through the arts of Fitzgerald has been recalled from the joint mission, and cited to appear at Rome, betrays the conspiracy, and Reginald succeeds in compelling from the Franciscan a

confession of the forgery, and a certificate of the death of his first wife, whom the false monk had himself attended at her last hour. It is unnecessary to add, that Lady De Vere recovers her reason. Sir Reginald, by the death of a relative, succeeds to the title and estates of Lord Audley; and they are all left in fair way of long enjoying their sorely periled happiness. It does not end here.

"On the third day subsequent to their arrival, Reginald, after having been for some time buried in deep reflection, suddenly rose, and taking Walter by the hand, led him to Lady Audley.

666

Clara,' said he, with great earnestness, 'you once asked me to suffer you to educate our child a Protestant; you have yourself alluded to that requisition, and you have admitted that my acquiescence was impossible. To say the truth, I saw it in that light-to speak candidly, I considered the request unfair; but I think differently now. Take him, therefore; do what you will with him; make him a

"Lord Audley paused, and Clara, scarcely daring to believe her senses, whispered the word he should have spoken.

"Yes, such as you yourself are, dearest; teach him to resemble you, and I shall be satisfied.'

"You really will allow our precious Walter to be reared a Protestant? Oh, Reginald, how happy you make me; I dared not venture to expect such happiness. My kind, kind Reginald;' and Clara burst into a flood of tears.

"Nay, Clara, it is scarcely kindness,' said Lord Audley, smiling. "Then it is conviction,' cried Clara eagerly. Reginald, your eyes are opening to the errors of the Church of Rome.'

"Indeed, Clara, I have seen enough to shake my faith in her infallibility; and although I am aware it would be unfair to blame any religious system on account of the individual misconduct of its members, still, in the present instance I fear it is the Church of Rome rather than her minister, which is in fault. For is it not, alas! her creed and policy to proselytize by any means-to prevent what she considers heresy, by the use of any instrument? Fitzgerald has acted towards us the part of an unchristian man; a part which I believe numbers of the Roman Catholic clergymen would severely reprobate; but for all that, one which the Church of Rome herself would justify; and feeling this, I have no longer any hesitation in conforming to your wishes. Walter shall be a Protestant' (this time the word was clearly uttered); and,' Lord Audley added in a gayer tone, when he is old enough, I suppose he will join his fellow-Protestants in consigning me to eternal misery.'

"No, no, not the most intolerant spirit would have done that, even in former times; and now, now that your views are so much altered, oh, Reginald, you tell me I must teach Walter to believe as I do. Why not rather say that he must copy you?' and Clara looked anxiously towards her husband; he turned his head away.

"Clara, you expect too much at my age, and after having been so very rigid, you must rest satisfied if I become less of the bigot.' But, dearest Reginald, you will not surely stop here ?' "Yes, yes, I shall,' he answered quickly.”—vol. iii. pp. 303-6. Notwithstanding this declaration, however, the author determines not to do things by halves.

"Not many months afterwards, Frances Merivale spent some very happy weeks at Ravenswood, and on returning to Sandilands, brought with her the intelligence that Clara's dearest wish was gratified: Lord Audley had gradually relinquished every former error, and was become a staunch, and thoroughly consistent Protestant.”—vol. iii. p. 309.

It is rather unfortunate for his consistency that she makes her convert carry his intolerance, as well as creed, to the opposite side of the ledger. Perhaps, however, she considers the following arrangement with regard to the household at Ravenswood, quite enough religious liberty for Papists.

"Pray,' inquired Mrs. Leyton, how does Lord Audley manage about his household; has he sent all his Roman Catholic servants about their business?'

"No,' replied Frances, I believe not one has left his service.'

"And what is done respecting mass? Does Mr. Winwood officiate?' "No; the chapel is never used. Mr. Winwood remains at Ravenswood, not as officiating priest, but as an old and valued family friend. The Roman Catholic servants have liberty to attend the chapel at Wilston, Lord Audley merely insisting that they shall join the daily worship of the family, which he himself conducts."-vol. iii. PP. 315-16.

Here, with this most appropriate and orthodox conclusion, end the trials of the "married man." The after history of "the monk," is left untold, and we fancy there are not many who will deplore the omission. We can scarcely regret, that the three legitimate volumes having been duly filled up at this point of the narrative, the pious author has been spared the trouble of drawing further upon imagination, for a history which we could not hope would improve either the head or heart of the reader. We have given the main story of this strange fiction, as incongruous in its plan, as it is puerile and unnatural in the description of character. There are of course many side-scenes, which we have not thought it necessary to bring forward. The death of Helen Templar is a most gratuitously painful tragedy, without even the recommendation of being strikingly related; and an episode of a young monk, Enrico, who plays no part whatever in the main plot, is intro

office should have begun, Enrico, fainting and weak, leant upon his deliverer's arm.

"That wine,' cried Clement, nay, swallow it, Enrico, you will need strength, for you must fly. The garden wall down by the river is not impassable. In fact, it must not be, for it will prove your only means of egress. Quick, quick, we may not lose a moment; lean on me.'"-vol. iii. pp. 221-7.

This we are assured is no fancy sketch, no tale of a distant age, intended merely as a stirring exercise of the imagination, or a source of passing interest, without any purpose beyond the excitement of the moment. It is a sober and deliberate description, which the reader is expected to believe. We may be led to imagine, a serious note suggests, "that such hellish contrivances were the offspring of a darker age, and that their use has passed away; but we should do wrong, even in these our days; and although her powers are comparatively limited, the Inquisition has not wanted victims." Did no silent consciousness arise, when, at the close of this glowing sketch, the author asked what must be the nature of a creed which sustains itself by such a prop?

And this is a picture of Catholic principles and manners! not in a distant age, or a foreign country, but at home, among ourselves, and in our own day! This is held out to our fellowcountrymen, as a portraiture of our habits of every-day life! Our clergy are unprincipled hypocrites, holding no law, but that which the interests of the Church dictate; our people are blind, unenquiring bigots, or secret unbelievers, scarce disguising their contemptuous scepticism!

Gladly indeed would we look upon it in a less gloomy spirit. But the unhappy truth stares us too clearly in the face. It is vain to suppose, that these characters are introduced only for the purpose of heightening the effect; that the craft and villany here attributed to a few individuals, is not intended as a sketch of the general body. We cannot, with all anxiety to interpret favourably, forget that there is no set-off to this bad picture, nothing to relieve the darkness of its colouring. We see too evidently, that the unchristian conduct of Fitzgerald is represented, not as his own, but that of his Church; what "the Church of Rome herself would justify."

"Remember,' said Frances Merivale, how many good and exemplary Catholics there have been; and as Walter is so intelligent, and apparently so well disposed, hope that he will rank with Pascal, Fenelon, Bossuet, and Massillon.'

"I dare not. I have seen the working of that false religion, and I can only view it as a moral mildew, beneath whose poisonous influence