upon as infidelity: nay more, on the frontispieces of the very latest attacks of Strauss and Bauer, we see their titles as theological teachers in the Universities added to their namestheologians, be it remembered, who are satisfied with nothing less than the entire overthrow of the Christian system, deny the reality or possibility of a revelation under any circumstances, and thence proceed to the negation of a personal Deity, to Pantheism, and the deification of human reason. They were removed, it is true, in consequence of their works; but this exercise of despotic authority was looked upon by many as an infringement upon the freedom of instruction, though to us, and probably to most Englishmen, the onus of justifying their course appears to rest upon those who, by their want of uprightness, rendered such interference necessary. Let us not, however, judge harshly. The known existence of political restraint upon these subjects suggests almost necessarily to speculative minds the distinction between esoteric and exoteric doctrines, a distinction which, dangerous though it be, involves still some admixture of truth.

In theological science the comparison with Germany must be in every sense very little to the advantage of our own country; as indeed, in most departments of learning, we are indebted to Germany for the most valuable materials we can now employ. The different branches of theological science are there cultivated to a perfection of which none of our seminaries in England, and, least of all, our old Universities, afford any example. To insure the due improvement of these advantages, severe examinations are imposed on every candidate for orders. Having the dread of these examinations constantly before them, the students actually devote their time to subjects which have a direct bearing upon their future vocation, a fact which will doubtless excite astonishment in England, where, till the recent Oxford movements, the reverse was almost universally the case among the aspirants to the ministry of the Established Church. The students of theology in Germany apply their time more to Hebrew than to Greek poetry, more to the history of the Church than to that of the ancient republics; and seldom obtain prizes for Latin hexameters or Greek iambics, but rather for dissertations on important characters and periods in the history of doctrine

and the Church. If, indeed, it were the custom to preach from Pindar, and to write homilies on Homer, instead of the books of the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, or if all ministers thus educated had the good fortune to obtain the place of head master in public schools, without parishes to attend to, this course of education could not be improved; but since this is not the case, some incongruities are the result, not least, the great ignorance of the fundamental facts of ecclesiastical history, and of the acknowledged principles of criticism, often betrayed in the works of modern English theologians.

ART. VI. THE WHITE LADY AND UNDINE. Pickering. 1844.

In this volume we meet in harmonious companionship the White Lady and the lonely and mystical Undine. The latter has long since won her way to our affections, and her gentle image comes o'er our memory like the plaintive tone of an Æolian harp that has swept past us in some sad or meditative hour, and again mingles with the hidden thoughts of past years, when they are called from their silent cells by some unperceived link with present existence; and with this passing recognition of an old friend, we turn to welcome the White Lady. It is a translation from the German of C. Von Woltmann, and is written in a pure English style, well suited to the character of the story, which is simply and touchingly told, and more worthy of attention than might be supposed from a superficial perusal; containing, we think, deep moral truth.-The descendants of an ancient and noble house are assembled at the Castle. One of the party, Otho, the son of the Prince, and future heir, making his appearance at the breakfast table, at a late hour, gives as the cause of his absence, having had his curiosity strongly excited, the previous night, by the appearance of a female figure seated in one of the courts, in the moonlight, and remaining unmoved by his continued gaze; and he informs the Princess, his Mother, of what he supposes the late night-watching of one of her attendants. The Princess is affected and disturbed by the relation, which leads to the history of the White Lady, who has for centuries past been observed to appear to some of the family previous to any tragic or sorrowful event.

Under the influence of these mysterious legends, Otho's young Bride parts with unusual reluctance from her husband, when he mounts his horse for the day's ride. She throws her arms round him, "Do not ride too rashly, dear Otho."-He sees her blue eyes full of tears," There now! have not they worried her to tears with their ghost stories? fear nothing, my little snow-drop ;" and leaping into the saddle, is carried out of sight by his bay steed. "He has carried him safely so long," said Bertha to herself, "they have stood so many battles together, why

should a misfortune happen just to-day." Yet, even so ; Otho is thrown from his horse, and could not be restored to life. The family all leave the Castle except poor Bertha, who clings to the scene of her former happiness. The White Lady appears to her at different times. In the course of a few months a fresh fountain of happiness is opened to her in the birth of her son.-The White Lady visits the cradle of the Infant, and leaves with him a wreath of gems, and a curious antique key. This key opens a valuable casket, which the old Steward gives, on his death-bed, into Bertha's hands, telling her it has been handed down from father to son for many generations, accompanied by a solemn injunction not to attempt to open it. As his grandson, who will succeed him in his stewardship, is very young, he gives the casket into his Lady's charge. Bertha finds in it a manuscript written by the White Lady, containing a sketch of her life and a history of her death, which was on this wise :-Worn out by the pressure of care and anxiety, she finds herself dying whilst her husband is from home.-"I awoke one morning unable to move, and my throbbing heart and burning brain filled by the thought-no more shalt thou behold the absent! unspeakable was my anguish * * * My daughters came, and kneeled around my bed-I could not bear to dieI sent for my grand-children, for the servants, and had them all close round my bed; I clung to life: they all linked me to it! And the Priest drew near-I ought, he said, to turn my thoughts to Him who had ordained even this trial-if indeed it were impending-for my benefit, in mercy. I would not hear him out-I bade him cease, and not call that mercy which would snatch me away in the midst of my days from so many dear to me, and from all my children, without even bidding farewell to the dear companion of my life. Then my eldest daughter threw herself on her knees by the bedside, and spoke fervently * * I

heard nothing but the sweet tones of her voice; I felt nothing but pride in her holiness. I cried, Pray that my life may be spared!-I felt myself becoming weaker every moment; I yet struggled against death with indescribable anguish. * * Weaker and weaker grew my breath; I strained myself to support it by force. The Priest prayed aloud for my salvation-I ordered him

*

to be taken out of my sight. I implored heaven with the utmost vehemence for life-life-life!"-She dies, and her Spirit stands in the presence of the Holy One:-in answer to her prayers she is sent back to life.- "The power of breathing returned, and I felt the weight of earthly existence again heaving and sinking in my breast. I heard a muffled earthly sound at regular intervals; around me were gloomy damp shades, a small red light glimmered above. I opened my eyes; I recognised the lamp of our family vault burning above me, as I lay in a Coffin, wrapped in my shroud. The funeral bell was pealing overhead in the tower for me. Again I lived! Heavily did life weigh upon me after the new existence I had just tasted; but my heart instantly awoke to joyful emotion, at being restored to my husband and my children, and I started up impatiently, wishing myself out of the vault to meet them." She meets a funeral procession, the bearers and attendants fly in terror as she approaches; raising the pall she discovers the body of her husband. "I beheld my husband-his corpse was before me, his living wife! I threw myself on the Coffin; I pressed my breathing lips, my distracted heart, on his peaceful countenance, on his motionless breast. O! life-life-life!"

The wish to see her children carries her irresistibly into their presence, but only to see them shudder at her approach, and her youngest beloved daughter dies from the effects of terror.-She finds herself neither a mortal being, nor a blessed spirit. In the vault of the chapel she looks upon her husband and child reposing by each other, and her empty coffin between theirs-" Therein I should by God's appointment, have been sleeping, while my husband would now be advancing to welcome me in those heavenly regions whose blessedness I knew; * * * so blessed a lot I had flung rebelliously away."-Henceforth she visits her children and descendants only in their sleeping moments, and resigns herself to her solitary existence, patiently waiting until the moment of her deliverance should come.

There are some, we doubt not, whose minds, by nature gentle, and under the regulation and influence of high religious principles, who will be unable to comprehend the struggle here depicted, this abandonment of the soul to one overpowering desire, which renders it insensible to any