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death, foretold, as it is said, by himself on | 1484, by the inquisitors Jacob Sprenger, and the previous day.
one who called himself Henricus Institor. Strange to say, accused witches fared bet- Reginald Scott, Dr. Cotta, and Thomas Ady, ter before the Spanish tribunals than else were among the few that had sufficient sense where. Their revelations were rightly judged to see through the general delusion under to be the result of their own diseased imag- which their contemporaries labored, and inations. One woman gave a circumstantial courage to publicly express their convictions account of her ride to the moeting, and the in writing. While lamenting the hard treatorgies there witnessed and shared, but a ment experienced by the accused, we must crony of her own proved, that after anoint- take into account the general disregard of ing her stick, she had lain down on her own life which distinguished the witch period, and hearth and dreamed the rest.
that many, very many, of those burned, deThe terrible Malleus Maleficarum, the served hanging, at least, for real crimes. “ Hammer of Witches," was put forth in
A BALLAD ON A BISHOP.
But the wisdom of Solomon backed by young
Sirach THE Bishop of Rochester thinks it's the ticket
Would never have moved the inflexible hierarch To hinder his clergy from playing at cricket ; That parsons should bowl well, or make many The bishop, whose name is both Wigram and notches, ter
Cotton, Rific appears to the Bishop of Rochester.
The latter well rammed in his ears must have
gotten, The Bishop of Rochester's awfully skeared
For in periods as swollen as elephantiasis At the thought of the clergymen wearing the He turns Mr. Davies slap out of the diocese.
beard : Nor cares for the plea of heretical railer
- With how little of wisdom in state or in creed That they've done it from Aaron to Jeremy he world may be governed,” said Axel the Taylor.
And this bishop, who useth episcopal pen so, The bishop prohibits, with Claphamite rigor,
Owns he doesn't know Hebrew, but censures The spring to the saddle, the touch on the trigger,
Colenso. “ Nor, Fishers of Men," he remarks,“ do I wish
IIis brother, the Bishop of Punchester, waits To angle, though Peter, I know, was a fisher- To see how he'll get out of Davies's Straits ;
But wishes that Pam had been rather more wary
When Vaughan tacked a nolo to e-piscopuri. To the bishop a parson, as strong in the arm
-Punch. As he is in the pulpit, says, “ Pray, may I “No, sir, you shall breed neither small ewe nor SHAKSPEARE ON THE COPPERHEADS. big ram
To the Editors of the Evening Post : While I'm your diocesan,” cries Dr. Wigram.
The following extract from “ Coriolanus " has Replies the bold parson, “Please, bishop, to mind a direct application : That the Church hath a glebe to the pastor as
“What would you have, you curs, signed, Which means he's to farm it :". - a brave rara
That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights avis
you, Appears, by the way, this recalcitrant Davies :
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to
you, Says the bishop, “ Look here : it's reported to Where he shonld find you lions finds you hares ;
Where foxes, geese ; you are no surer, no, That you mix with coarse farmers too much, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, Mr. D.”
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, “ Vy lord, some false notions you've taken aboard- To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, ship,
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves I do no such thing, I declare to your lordship.
Deserves your hate ; and your affections are “I don't buy or sell. I don't hunt, fish, or A sick man's appetite, who desires most that shoot.
Which would increase his evil. He that depends Won't you leave a poor parson one manly pur- Upon your favors swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes." PER SE. THIRD SERIES. LIVING AGE.
From The Cornhill Magazine. task she had at first cheering hopes of sucEUGENIE DE GUERIN.
cess : she had at last bafiling and bitter disWho that had spoken of Maurice de appointment. Her earthly business was at Guérin could refrain from speaking of his an end; she died. Ten years afterwards, it sister Eugénie, the most devoted of sisters, was permitted to the love of a friend, M. one of the rarest and most beautiful of souls ? Trébutien, to accomplish for Maurice's mem6. There is nothing fixed, no duration, no vi- ory what the love of a sister had failed to tality in the sentiments of women towards accomplish. But those who read with deone another; their attachments are mere light and admiration, the journal and letters pretty bows of ribbon, and no more. In all of Maurice de Guérin could not but be atthe friendships of women I observe this slight- tracted and touched by this sister Eugénie, ness of the tie. I know no instance to the who met them at every page. She seemed contrary, even in history. Orestes and hardly less gifted, hardly less interesting, Pylades have no sisters.' So she speaks of than Maurice himself. And now M. Trébutien the friendships of her own sex. But Electra has done for the sister what he had done for can attach herself to Orestes, if not to Chrys- the brother. He has published the journal othemis. And to her brother Maurice Eu- of Malle. Eugénie de Guérin, and a few (too génie de Guérin was Pylades and Electra in few, alas!) of her letters. The book has
made a profound impression in France ; and The name of Maurice de Guérin,--that the fame which she sought only for her young man so gifted, so attractive, so careless brother now crowns the sister also. of fame, and so early snatched away ; who Parts of Malle, de Guérin’s journal were died at twenty-nine; who, says his sister, several years ago printed for private circula6 let what he did be lost with a carelessness tion, and a writer in the National Review had so unjust to himself, set no value on any of the good fortune to fall in with them. The bis own productions, and departed hence bees of our English criticism do not often without reaping the rich harvest which roam so far afield for their honey, and this seemed his due ; ” who, in spite of his imma-critic deserves thanks for having flitted in his turity, in spite of his fragility, exercised such quest of blossom to foreign parts, and for a charm, “ furnished to others so much of having settled upon a beautiful flower found that which all live by,” that some years after there. He had the discernment to see that his death his sister found in a country house Malle. de Guérin was well worth speaking of, where he used to stay, in the journal of a and he spoke of her with feeling and appreyoung girl who had not known him, but who ciation. But that, as I have said, was sevheard her family speak of him, his name, the eral years ago ; even a true and feeling date of his death, and these words, “ il était homage needs to be from time to time releur vie (he was their life);” whose talent, newed, if the memory of its object is to enexquisite as that of Keats, with less of sun- dure ; and criticism must not lose an occasion light, abundance, and facility in it than that like the present, when Malle. de Guérin's of Keats, but with more of distinction and journal is for the first time published to the power, had “ that winning, delicate, and world, of directing notice once more to this beautifully happy turn of expression ” which religious and beautiful character. is the stamp of the master,-is beginning to Eugénie de Guérin was born in 1805, at be well known to all lovers of literature. the château of Le Cayla, in Languedoc. Her This establishment of Maurice's name was family, though reduced in circumstances, was an object for which his sister Eugénie passion- noble; and even when one is a saint one çanately labored. While he was alive, she placed not quite forget that one comes of the stock her whole joy in the flowering of this gifted of the Guarini of Italy, or that one counts nature; when he was dead, she had no among one's ancestors a Bishop of Senlis, who other thought than to make the world had the marshalling of the French order of know him as she knew him. She outlived battle on the day of Bouvines. Le Cayla him nine years, and her cherished task for was a solitary place, with its terrace looking those years was to rescue the fragments of down upon a stream-bed and valley ; her brother's composition, to collect them, may pass days there without seeing any livto get them published. In pursuing this ing thing but the sheep, without hearing any
living thing but the birds.” M. de Guérin, | Other sisters have loved their brothers, and Eugénie's father, lost his wife when Eugénic it ia not her affection for Maurice, admirable was thirteen years old, and Maurice seven ; as this was, which alone could have made he was left with four children, Eugénie, Eugénie de Guérin celebrated. I have said Marie, Erembert, and Maurice-of whom that both brother and sister had genius : M. Eugénie was the eldest, and Maurice was the Sainte Beuve goes so far as to say that the you est. This youngest child, whose beauty sister's genius was equal if not superior to and delicacy had made him the object of his her brother’s. No one has a more profound mother's most anxious fondness, was com- respect for M. Sainte Beuve’s critical judgmended by her in dying to the care of his ments than I have ; but it seems to me that sister Eugénie. Maurice at eleven years old this particular judgment needs to be a little went to school at Toulouse ; then he went to explained and guarded. In Maurice’s spethe Collège Stanislas at Paris ; then he be- cial talent, which was a talent for interpretcame a member of a religious society, which ing nature, for finding words which incomM. de Lamennais had formed at La Chênaie parably render the subtlest impressions which in Brittany; afterwards he lived chiefly at nature makes upon us, which brings the inParis, returning to Le Cayla at the age of timate life of nature wonderfully near to us, twenty-nine, to die. Distance, in those days, it seems to me that his sister was by no means was a great obstacle to frequent meetings of the his equal. She never, indeed, expresses
herseparated members of a French family of nar- self without grace and intelligence ; but her
Maurice de Guérin was seldom words, when she speaks of the life and apat Le Cayla after he had once quitted it, pearances of nature, are in general but inthough his few visits to his home were long tellectual signs ; they are not like her brothones; but he passed five years—the period eris--symbols equivalent with the thing symof his sojoạrn in Brittany, and of his first bolized. They bring the notion of the thing settlement in Paris-without coming home at described to the mind, they do not bring the all. In spite of the check from these ab- feeling of it to the imagination. Writing sences, in spite of the more serious check from the Nivernais—that region of vast woodfrom a temporary alteration in Maurice’s re- lands in the centre of France—". It does one ligious feelings, the union between the brother good," says Eugénie, “ to be going about in and sister was wonderfully close and firm. the midst of this enchanting nature, with For they were knit together, not only by the flowers, birds, and verdure all round one, tie of blood and early attachment, but also by under this large and blue sky of the Niverthe tie of a common genius.“ ,''says nais. How I love the gracious form of it, Eugénie, “ two eyes looking out of one fore- and those little white clouds here and there, head.” She on her part brought to her love like cushions of cotton, hung aloft to rest the for her brother the devotedness of a woman, eye in this immensity!” It is pretty and the intensity of a recluse, almost the solici- graceful, but how different from the grave and tude of a mother. Her home duties pre- pregnant strokes of Maurice’s pencil: “I vented her from following the wish, which have been along the Loire, and seen on its often arose in her, to join a religious sister- banks the plains where nature is puissant hood. There is a trace—just a trace—of an and gay; I have seen royal and antique early attachment to a cousin ; but he died dwellings, all marked by memories which when she was twenty-four. After that, she have their place in the mournful legend of lived for Maurice. It was for Maurice that, humanity-Chambord, Blois, Amboise, Chein addition to her constant correspondence nonceaux; then the towns on the two banks with him by letter, she began in 1834 her of the river,- Orleans, Tours, Saumur, journal, which was sent to him by portions Nantes; and, at the end of it all, the ocean as it was finished. After his death she tried rumbling. From these I passed back into to continue it, addressing it " to Maurice in the interior of the country, as far as Bourges Heaven.” But the effort was beyond her and Nevers, a region of vast woodlands, in strength ; gradually the entries became rarer which murmurs of an immense range and and rarer; and, on the last day of December, fulness" (ce beau torrent de rumeurs, as, with 1840, the pen dropped from her hand : the an expression worthy of Wordsworth, he journal ends.
elsewhere calls them) “ prevail and never
• We were,'
Words whose charm is like that of good ? Everything is green, everything is in the sounds of the murmuring forest itself, bloom, all the air has a breath of flowers. and whose reverberations, like theirs, die How beautiful it is! well, I will go out. away in the infinite distance of the soul. No, I should be alone, and all this beauty,
Maurice's life was in the life of nature, when one is alone, is worth nothing. What and the passion for it consumed him ; it shall I do then ? Read, write, pray, take a would have been strange if his accent had basket of sand on my head like that hermitnot caught more of the soul of nature than saint, and walk with it? Yes, work, work! Eugénie's accent, whose life was elsewhere. keep busy the body which does mischief to “ You will find in him,” Maurice says to his the soul! I have been too little occupied tosister of a friend whom he was recommending day, and that is bad for one, and it gives a
you will find in him that which you certain ennui which I have in me time to ferlove, and which suits you better than any- ment.” thing else-l'onction, l'effusion, la mysticité." A certain ennui which I have in me: her Unction, the pouring out of the soul, the wound is there. In vain she follows the rapture of the mystic, were dear to Maurice counsel of Fénélon : “ If God tires you, tell also; but in him the bent of his genius gave Him that he tires you." No doubt she obeven to those a special direction of its own. tained great and frequent solace and restoraIn Eugénie they took the direction most na- tion from prayer : “ This morning I was suftive and familiar to them ; their object was fering; well, at present I am calm, and this the religious life.
I owe to faith, simply to faith, to an act of And yet, if one analyzes this beautiful and faith. I can think of death and eternity most interesting character quite to the bot- without trouble, without alarm. Over a tom, it is not exactly as a saint that Eugénie deep sorrow there floats a divine calm, a de Guérin is remarkable. The ideal saint is suavity which is the work of God only. In a nature like Saint François de Sales or Fén- vain have I tried other things at a time like élon ; a nature of ineffable sweetness and se- this : nothing human comforts the soul, nothrenity, a nature in which struggle and revolt ing human upholds it :is over, and the whole man (so far as is possible to human infirmity) swallowed up in
“ A l'enfant il faut sa mère,
A mon ame il faut mon Dieu.” love. Saint Theresa (it is Malle. de Guérin herself who reminds us of it) endured twenty Still the ennui reappears, bringing with it years of unacceptance and repulse in her hours of unutterable forlornness, and making prayers ; yes, but the Saint Theresa whom her cling to her one great earthly happiness Christendom knows is Saint Theresa repulsed -her affection for her brother-with an inno longer; it is Saint Theresa accepted, re-tenseness, an anxiety, a desperation in which joicing in love, radiant with ecstasy. Malle. there is something morbid, and by which she de Guérin is not one of these saints arrived is occasionally carried into an irritability, a at perfect sweetness and calm, steeped in jealousy, which she herself is the first, inecstasy; there is something primitive, indom- deed, to censure, which she severely reitable in her, which she governs, indeed, but presses, but which nevertheless leaves a sense which chafes, which revalts ; somewhere in of pain. the depths of that strong nature there is a Malle. de Guérin's admirers have compared struggle, an impatience, an inquietude, an her to Pascal, and in some respects the comennui, which endures to the end, and which parison is just. But she cannot exactly be leaves one, when one finally closes her jour-classed with Pascal, any more than with nal, with an impression of profound melan- Saint François de Sales. Pascal' is a man, Choly. “ There are days,” she writes to her and the inexhaustible power and activity of brother, “ when one's nature rolls itself up, his mind leave him no leisure for ennui. He and becomes a hedgehog. If I had you here at has not the sweetness and serenity of the this moment, here close by me, how I should perfect saint ; he is, perhaps, “ der strenge, prick you ! how sharp and hard ! 6. Poor kranke Pascal,—the severe, morbid Pascal” soul, poor soul,” she cries out to herself an- -as Goethe (and, strange to say, Goethe at other day, “what is the matter, what would twenty-three, an age which usually feels Pasyou have: Where is that which will do you cal's charm most profoundly) calls him ; but
the stress and movement of the lifelong con- science for you to resist this impulse, and I flict, waged in him between his soul and his make it one for you not to follow it.” And she reason keep him full of fire, full of agitation, says of herself, on one of her freer days : “ It and keep his reader, who witnesses this con- is the instinct of my life to write, as it is the flict, animated and excited; the sense of for- instinct of the fountain to flow.” The charm lornness and dejected weariness which clings of her expression is not a sensuous and imagto Eugénie de Guérin does not belong to Pas- inative charm like that of Maurice, but rather cal, Eugénie de Guérin is a woman and an intellectual charm ; it comes from the longs for a state of firm happiness, for an texture of the style rather than from its eleaffection in which she may repose : the in- ments; it is not so much in the words as in ward bliss of Saint Theresa or Fénélon would the turn of the phrase, in the happy cast and have satisfied her ; denied this, she cannot flow of the sentence. Recluse as she was, rest satisfied with the triumphs of self-abase- she had a great correspondence : every one ment, with the sombre joy of trampling the wished to have letters from her; and no wonpride of life and of reason underfoot, of re- der. ducing all human hope and joy to insignifi To this strength of intelligence and talent cance ; she repeats the magnificent words of of expression she joined a great force of charBossuet, words which both Catholicism and acter. Religion had early possessed itself Protestantism have uttered with indefatiga- of this force of character, and reinforced it: ble iteration : “On trouve au fond de tout in the shadow of the Cevennes, in the sharp le vide et le néant-at the bottom of everything and tonic nature of this region of southern one finds emptiness and nothingness,'' but she France, which has seen the Albigensians, feels, as every one but the true mystic must which has seen the Camisards, Catholicism ever feel, their incurable sterility.
too is fervent and intense. Eugénie de Guérin She resembles Pascal, however, by the was brought up amidst strong religious influclearness and firmness of her intelligence, ences, and they found in her a nature on going straight and instinctively to the bottom which they could lay firm hold. I have said of any matter she is dealing with, and ex- that she was not a saint of the order of Saint pressing herself about it with incomparable François de Sales or Fénélon ; perhaps she precision; never fumbling with what she has had too keen an intelligence to suffer her to to say, never imperfectly seizing or imper- be this, too forcible and impetuous a characfectly presenting her thought. And to this ter. But I did not mean to imply the least admirable precision she joins a lightness of doubt of the reality, the profoundness, of her touch, a feminine ease and grace, a flowing religious life. She was penetrated by the facility which are her own.
6. I do not say,”
power of religion ; religion was the masterwrites her brother Maurice, an excellent influence of her life ; she derived immense judge, that I find in myself a dearth of ex- consolations from religion, she earnestly pression ; but I have not this abundance of strove to conform her whole nature to it; if yours, this productiveness of soul which there was an element in her which religion streams forth, which courses along without could not perfectly reach, perfectly, transever failing, and always with an infinite mute, she groaned over this element in her, charm.” And writing to her of some com- she chid it, she made it bow. Almost every position of hers, produced after her religious thought in her was brought into harmony scruples had for a long time kept her from with religion; and what few thoughts were the exercise of her talent ; " You see, my not thus brought into harmony were brought dear Tortoise,'' he writes “ that your talent into subjection. is no illusion, since after a period I know not Then she had her affection for her brother : how long of poetical inaction, a trial to which and this, too, though perhaps there might be any half-talent would have succumbed, it in it something a little over-eager, a little rears its head again more vigorous than ever. too absolute, a little too susceptible, was a It is really heart-breaking to see you repress pure, a devoted affection. It was not only and bind down, with I know not what scru- passionate, it was tender, pliant, and self-sacples, your spirit, which tends with all the rificing to a degree that not in one nature out force of its nature to develop itself in this di- of a thousand — of natures with a mind and rection. Others have made it a case of con- will like hers—is found attainable. She thus