Now, before one proceeds further, is it not necessary to call the reader's attention to the meaning of this passage? The author, it appears, does not scruple to state that he has no knowledge, no proof whatever of the truth of the story. Yet he relates it gravely as a piece of ecclesiastical history; and specially, he relates certain miracles which he states were performed by Gundleus, living and dead, and the appearing of an angelic host about his tomb. Did these things really happen, or did they not? Did the Almighty really interpose by miracles, supernatural voices, and visions of angels? The author answers, "I do not know," and as nothing was to be known, he could give no other answer. But as he did not know whether these miraculous tales were true or not, why did he retail them? How can such conduct be exonerated from the charge of disregard of truth, and of a most irreverent and profane mode of treating sacred names and subjects? The truth is, as it will appear in the sequel, the authors seem resolved to write something. If they have credible materials, well and good; if not, they must only retail palpable fictions, and call them myths, symbols, and legends. But again and again the question must be asked, if it be lawful to write myths now, and call them history, Was it not equally lawful in the apostolic age? And, if so, what becomes of the gospel history? Still, serious as this question is, the point immediately under notice is, the loose notions these writers have regarding truth and falsehood.

"But I do know," says this author, "that they are saints whom the church so accounts.' "Yet if he should consult any respectable Romancatholic authority, he would find that this matter is not deemed quite so certain in the Roman church. But this is a point which cannot be noticed now. Nor does the author seem to rest the whole weight of the story on this ground; but merely the fact of Gundleus being a Saint. The point on which he thinks it requisite to bestow some considerable pains, is the lawfulness of making up fictions of this sort on the slenderest materials, or on none at all. This question he has discussed at some considerable length in the introduction to the life of Gundleus, and his reasoning, if such it can be called, will afford a striking illustration enough, of the manner in which this party contrive to puzzle and perplex their judgment in the plainest matter, and the sophistry by which they are endeavouring to lead the public mind back to the superstitions from which the divine mercy has delivered us.

"The Christian lives in the past, and in the future, and in the unseen; in a word, he lives in no small measure in the unknown. And it is one of his duties, and a part of his work, to make the unknown known; to create within him an image of what is absent, and to realize by faith what he does not see. For this purpose he is granted certain outlines and rudiments of the truth, and from thence he learns to draw it out into its full proportions and its substantial form,-to expand and complete it; whether it be the absolute and perfect truth, or truth under a human dress, or truth in such a shape as is most profitable for him. And the process, by which the word has been given him, returns not void,' but brings forth and buds and is accomplished and prospers, is Meditation."—p. 1.

This may be "Meditation,"-but plain-spoken people would have called it fiction. And if such a process of invention be lawful, what is meant by "intruding into the things that are not seen ?" But what

infinite confusion is here! It is one of the Christian's duties "to realize by faith what he does not see." Undoubtedly it is-but why "by faith?" because faith is that which embraces a revelation. It does not "make the unknown known." But rather it withdraws its foot when it reaches the confines of the unknown, content to know and to realize what is known and revealed, and presuming not rashly to attempt to unveil those secret things, which the divine wisdom has thought proper to reserve to himself. This is faith. But to attempt "to make the unknown known" is not an exercise of faith, but the licentiousness of a presumptuous imagination, wise above that which is written. But, even when this author says, that it is a Christian duty to "realize by faith what he does not see," in his sense of the word "realize" the proposition is untrue. For plainly, what he means by realizing is, allowing the imagination to invent those particulars of which the Word of God is silent, and how any one can imagine this to be a duty is exceedingly surprising.

"It is Meditation which does for the Christian what Investigation does for the children of men. Investigation may not be in his power, but he may always meditate. For Investigation he may possess no materials or instruments; he needs but little aid or appliance from without for Meditation. The barley loaves and few small fishes are made to grow under his hand; the oil fills vessel after vessel till not an empty one remains; the water-pots become the wells of a costly liquor; and the very stones of the desert germinate and yield him bread. He trades with his Lord's money as a good steward, that in the end his Lord may receive his own with usury."-pp. 1, 2.

Divested of the figures, here used to give it sacredness, and an appearance of being recognised by Holy Scripture, "Meditation" in this sense of the word is really nothing but falsehood and irreverence. The true Christian will wait for the Divine command before he begins to fill his vessels with oil, or pour out costly liquor from the waterpots; and if he should be tempted to command "the stones of the desert to germinate and yield him bread," he will remember the example of Him who was once assailed by the same temptation, and resisted it. In truth, the illustrations are as unhappy as the doctrine is false.

"This is the way of the divinely illuminated mind, whether in matters of sacred doctrine or of sacred history. Here we are concerned with the latter. I say, then, when a true and loyal lover of the brethren attempts to contemplate persons and events of time past, and to bring them before him as actually existing and occurring, it is plain, he is at loss about the details; he has no information about those innumerable accidental points, which might have been or happened this way or that way, but in the very person and the very event did happen one way,-which were altogether uncertain beforehand, but which have been rigidly determined ever since. The scene, the parties, the speeches, the grouping, the successson of particulars, the beginning, the ending, matters such as these he is obliged to imagine in one way, if he is to imagine them at all."-p. 2.

But why is he obliged "to imagine them at all?" Why is he not content to be ignorant, where the providence of God has left him in the dark? What a true and loyal lover of the brethren may or may not do, it is hard to determine beforehand, for many such have done things which it would have been happier for themselves and others if they had left undone; but, most assuredly, no man who has any love or reverence for truth, can feel any pleasure in turning imagination into history; and those who hate and abhor falsehood, and know how difficult it is to keep in quick and healthy exercise the love of truth

in a world of falsehood and delusion, will be far more likely to hold tight the bridle on their imaginations, than to give a loose rein to fancy, and call it meditation.

"The case is the same in the art of painting; the artist gives stature, gesture, feature, expression, to his figures; what sort of an abstraction or a nonentity would he produce without this allowance? it would be like telling him to paint a dream, or relations and qualities, or panic terrors, or scents and sounds, if you confine him to truth in the mere letter; or he must evade the difficulty, with the village artist in the story, who having to represent the overthrow of the Egyptians in the sea, on their pursuing the Israelites, daubed a board with red paint, with a nota bene that the Israelites had got safe to land, and the Egyptians were all drowned. Of necessity then does the painter allow his imagination to assist his facts; of necessity and with full right; and he will make use of this indulgence well or ill, according to his talents, his knowledge, his skill, his ethical peculiarities, his general cultivation of mind."-p. 3.

Of course, if people will paint what they have never seen or could see, they must draw on their imaginations; but if they would only employ their imaginations on some other than sacred subjects, Christianity would lose nothing by their forbearance. But yet, how does this illustration asssist the argument? If the painter professes to give the world the offspring of his fancy and nothing more, his veracity is not called in question, whatever sentence may be pronounced on his judgment, taste, or skill. But if he should call it a portrait, and publish it as a likeness of a place or person he had never seen, people would not scruple to call him a dishonest man.

"In like manner, if we would meditate on any passages of the gospel history, we must insert details indefinitely many, in order to meditate at all; we must fancy motives, feelings, meanings, words, acts, as our connecting links between fact and fact as recorded. Hence holy men have before now put dialogues into the mouths of sacred persons, not wishing to intrude into things unknown, not thinking to deceive others into a belief of their own mental creations, but to impress upon themselves and upon their brethren, as by a seal or mark, the substantiveness and reality of what Scripture has adumbrated by one or two bold and severe lines. Ideas are one and simple; but they gain an entrance into our minds, and live within us, by being broken into detail.”—p. 3.

scarcely fail "We must

We

Stript of its sophistry, this extraordinary passage can to shock and disgust the mind of every serious person. insert details indefinitely many in order to meditate at all." must insert details! What! into "the gospel history?" Surely one would have supposed that if this be what is meant by meditation, any one who had the fear of God before his eyes would feel that meditation was sinful. But where is this to end? Or rather, when did it begin? Is it only within the last ten years, that meditation of this fashion became lawful? Is it only the party who follow Mr. Newinan, as their leader that have a right to "insert details indefinitely many" into the gospel history, and "fancy motives, feelings, meanings, words, acts," and anything else they please, as" connecting links" between the facts of the sacred narrative? Are they the only "holy men" who are at liberty to "put dialogues into the mouths of sacred persons?" It would seem not. They do not pretend to have a patent right to such profaneness. And if not, the fearful question again occurs when did this right begin to be exercised ?-when did holy men begin to "insert details," and "fancy motives, feelings, meanings, words, acts," and to "put dialogues into the mouths of sacred persons ?" Had the Evangelists no right to do such things? and if they

had, how far did they exercise it? How far is the gospel a fact or a mythic legend? How far are its words and syllables truth, on which we can rest the well-being of our immortal spirits? or the "mental creations" of what, however it be dignified with the mame of Meditation, is, in truth, no better than the irreverence of a licentious imagination? This system strikes at the root of Christianity itself, and the more it shall be developed, the more clearly will this appear.

"Hence it is, that so much has been said and believed of a number of Saints with so little historical foundation. It is not that we may lawfully despise or refuse a great gift and benefit, historical testimony, and the intellectual exercises which attend on it, study, research, and criticism; for in the hands of serious and believing men they are of the highest value. We do not refuse them, but in the cases in question, we have them not. The bulk of Christians have them not; the multitude has them not; the multitude forms its view of the past, not from antiquities, not critically, not in the letter; but it developes its small portion of true knowledge into something which is like the very truth though it be not it, and which stands for the truth when it is but like it. Its evidence is a legend; its facts are a symbol; its history a representation; its drift is a moral. "—pp. 3, 4.

"Something which is like the very truth, though it be not it." What notions of truth these people must have! The only parallel is Mr. Newman's notion, that, "in certain cases a lie is the nearest approach to truth."

The author proceeds :

"Thus, then, is it with the biographies and reminiscences of the Saints. • Some there are which have no memorial, and are as though they had never been;' others are known to have lived and died, and are known in little else. They have left a name, but they have left nothing besides. Or the place of their birth, or of their abode, or of their death, or some one or other striking incident of their life, gives a character to their memory. Or they are known by martyrologies, or services, or by the traditions of a neighbourhood, or the decorations of a Church. Or they are known by certain miraculous interpositions which are attributed to them. Or their deeds and sufferings belong to countries far away, and the report of them comes musical and low over the broad sea. Such are some of the small elements, which when more is not known, faith is fain to receive, love dwells on, meditation unfolds, disposes, and forms; till by the sympathy of many minds, and the concert of many voices, and the lapse of many years, a certain whole figure is developed with words and actions, a history and a character,-which is indeed but the portrait of the original yet is as much as a portrait, an imitation rather than a copy, a likeness on the whole but in its particulars more or less the work of imagination. It is but collateral and parallel to the truth; it is the truth under assumed conditions; it brings out a true idea, yet by inaccurate or defective means of exhibition; it savours of the age, yet it is the offspring from what is spiritual and everlasting. It is the picture of a saint, who did other miracles, if not these; who went through sufferings, who wrought righteousness, who died in faith and peace,—of this we are sure; we are not sure, should it so happen, of the when, the where, the how, the why, and the whence."-pp. 4, 5.

Are we sure?-sure that he ever worked miracles of any sort ? although, as the author admits is frequently the case, we know nothing whatever about him beyond his name, and even that may be as chimerical as St. Longinus, and St. Amphibalus, whom these authors will persist in believing to be a human being and a clergyman, though Bishop Lloyd would have taught them he was only a military cloak transformed by a blunderer into a clergyman and a martyr. However, though we know nothing whatever "of the when, the where, the how, the why, and the whence," we may, according to these authors, without anything to go on but a name, and no proof that ever any human being to bear the name existed, set to work, and meditate and

develope, till our fiction has grown into a saint, and we may call this a portrait; and we may say that our hero worked miracles, and describe them, and put dialogues into the mouths of sacred persons, and we need not trouble ourselves to ask, whether our mental creations have had any existence except in our own brains-and yet no one shall dare to say that we are deficient in love of truth or reverence for holy things.

"Who, for instance, can reasonably find fault with the Acts of St. Andrew, even though they be not authentic, for describing the Apostle as saying on sight of his cross, Receive, O Cross, the disciple of Him who once hung on thee, my Master Christ?' For was not the Saint sure to make an exclamation at the sight, and must it not have been in substance such as this? And would much difference be found between his very words when translated, and these imagined words, if they be such, drawn from what is probable, and received upon rumours issuing from the time and place?"-p. 5.

But why was "the Saint sure to make an exclamation" of any sort? And if he did, why this rather than any other?

"And when St. Agnes was brought into that horrible house of devils, are we not quite sure that angels were with her, even though we do not know any one of the details? What is there wanton then or superstitious in singing the Antiphon, 'Agnes entered the place of shame, and found the Lord's angel waiting for her,' even though the fact come to us on no authority?"—p. 5.

But who knows whether Agnes was ever brought into the place of shame! And if she was, and angels did attend her-is that any reason why she should see them?

"And again, what matters it though the angel that accompanies us on our way be not called Raphael, if there be such a protecting spirit, who at God's bidding does not despise the least of Christ's flock in their journeyings? And what is it to me though heretics have mixed the true history of St. George with their own fables or impieties, if a Christian George, Saint or Martyr there was, as we believe?"—p. 5.

Yet surely, unless these authors were as ignorant as there is very good reason to believe them to be, they must have known how much has been said by respectable and learned Romanists of the necessity of reforming the breviary, and how little veneration they profess for St. George. But give these authors their full licence to meditate and develope, and call their legends portraits—and what is the ideal of piety they present to our imitation? Gundleus, a king, a husband and a father-deserts his family and his duties to live in the wilderness "an abstinent and saintly life:"

"His dress a hair cloth; his drink water; his bread of barley mixed with wood ashes. He rose at midnight and plunged into cold water; and by day he laboured for his livelihood."—p. 7.

Such is their notion of piety, and such their reverence for truth. A similar example of this confusion of moral perceptions is found in this same volume, in the life of St. Bettelin (a person of whose history they cannot say that it is not "altogether fabulous ") in a passage which, if one wanted to give a triumph to the infidel, would seem constructed for the very purpose.

"And what the malice of foes has done to the bodies of the Saints, the inadvertence or ignorance of friends has too often done to their memories. Through the twilight of ages, in the mist of popular credulity or enthusiasm,-amid the ambitious glare of modern lights, darkening what they would illustrate, the stars of the firmament gleam feebly and fitfully; and we see a something divine, yet we cannot say what it is we cannot say what, or where, or how it is, without uttering a mistake. There