PHILIP PATERNOSTER. * Ix .a religious novel, we require earnestness if
we cannot get art. No doubt zeal has its evils in fiction as well as in diplomacy. It leads to exaggeration and onesidedness—often very gross. The Evangelical romaneist combines all he can conceive of sly hypo- crisy, remorseless ambition, and unscrupulous villany, into his principal Jesuit, and distributes a fair allowance of ill qualities among most of his Romanist personages whether male or female. The moderate Churchman or Dissenter who exhibits Tractarians in a tale shows little mercy for the personal self-sufficiency, priestly assumption, and esthetic formalism of the Tractarian, the sad deception to which he has recourse in carrying out his purposes, 'and the sadder social guilt he will blindly incur in obedience to " the chureh." On the other side, when Retrial:lists or Tracta- rians take the field, they have no scruples in showing up the in- difference, worldliness, frivolity, and self-seeking, which are as- sumed to especially, distinguish what is called a " state church " ; for the vulgarity, bigotry, religious conceit, and narrowminded- ness of the sectarians or extreme Evangelicals, they have no Morey whatever. Some of the best scenes of religious fiction are satirical exhibitions of these qualities. Still, though zeal may lead to grievous exaggeration and unfair onesidedness, it for the most part possesses not only religious feeling but a real know- ledge of the theological errors it is about to embody in persons
ant i display in action. Zeal and knowledge combined also induce
* Philip Paternoster. A Tractarian Love Story. By an Ex-Puseyite. In two retinues. Published by Bentley.: a certain consistency. The Jesuit, or any other -professor of the black art, may rarely suggest the realities of life ; but he has a concordance with himself.
In both these necessary requirements, the " Ex-Puseyite " au- thor of Philip Paternoster, is greatly- to seek. Of his religious
notions as indicated in his fiefion we will say nothing ; for it would be difficult to find any. His ideas of Tractarian principles are of the vaguest, not to say of the emptiest ; whether such as they ad- vance, or such as are charged upon them. He has observed their costume and rather enlarges it; he seems familiar with the ar- tistic or theatrical style of decoration in which they delight, for he describes it pretty well ; he has heard of some of the evils of their practices, as confession, and some of the treason of which they have been accused ; but he does not appear to have com- prehended the nature of what is urged against them, or, if he has, he postponed the truth to his ideas of effect."
The want of critical consistency in his persons, consequent upon this want of knowledge, is a greater literary evil. He re resents Philip Paternoster as weak, not wicked ; and anxious, so far as he has any motive at all, to do what is right if he knew but how. Yet this man, whose kindness and zeal in the discharge of his duty wins the hearts of his poor parishioners, who always seems to be in search of the truth, and who passes unscathed through a variety of temptations, is made to perpetrate inconsistencies from the sir- best to the greatest. On the day of his ordination he has deter- mined to fast ; and so he does till midnight ; when he joins a Bacchanalian party (of young divines), grills bones, sings songs, and gets drunk. The false friend of the tale—as inconsistent as Philip, leads the Tractarian priest through all the dissipation of London ; but Paternoster being reserved for the heroine always refrains from "vice "—in short the author has just the same beau ideal of religion and a divine as poor Theodore Hook had. The germ of the whole is not very original, being derived from an Anti- Tractarian novel of some years ago. In that tale, however, the betrothed broke off his engagement under the advice of his spi- ritual director, intended for Newman, not then an avowed Roman- ist ; Philip. Paternoster when a clergyman makes an offer, and the same night runs away from his parish and the lady, scenes in London and Paris filling up the interval till he returns. In what then, it may be asked, do the merits of the book con- sist ? Its prominent qualities are smart writing and a knack in describing " fast" or melodramatic scenes with effect. The scenes considered in connexion with one another are improbable enough, and their subjects are not always pleasing, but there is a species of power about them, though in bad taste. The writing is always smart, sometimes slashing, at Others rather empty, always lively. This is a brief specimen. " Upstairs they went into Philip's bed-room, which was arranged simply but sensibly. The dressing-room which was over the study, and shut by a door, attracted Herbert's attention ; he observed- " I suppose, if we should chance at any time to prolong our conversa- tion till midnight, and I should lean to the Rave/ tan heresy, you Will be able to give me a shake-down in the dressing-room. Have you get a bed there' ?
" Dressing-room ! Oh, no. That's my oratory.'
" He opened the door, and displayed the little chamber fitted with all the paraphernalia of prayer. The window had been bricked or boarded up, so as to form a lancet, wherein was inserted a transparency of St. Philip, who, of course, by virtue of his name, was our hero's patron saint. A co- loured sanctuary-lamp hung suspended from theeeiling, and was to burn continually ; whilst the whole place was already fragrant with the fumes of incense. There was a miniature altar raised on a foot-pace (the initiated alone knew it as a tea-chest,) and a little brazen desk thereon supported an illuminated manual of private devotions. The contents of the euratefs pocket-communion were also displayed to view there, and the whole sur- mounted by a large standard crucifix. The walls were hung with, curtains of ecclesiastical drapery, and, had it not been for the anti-climax of a shower-bath in the corner, the whole thing would have been a gem in its way. " This was Philip's 'oratory.' " Alas, theft , for those who, in olden times, had prayed in the wild de- sert, or in the lion's den, or the fiery furnace, or the whale's belly, unsnr- rounded by such adjuncts of prayer ! Why had cruel fate cast the lot of Elijah, of Daniel, of St. Peter, in such remote days, ere the decorative art of the nineteenth century supplied them with material to lift their souls to God ? 0 what a pretty poor burlesque was here on that communion of the creature with the Creator
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