The Press. — London, England, 1857-05-16 00:00:00

MAY 16, 1857. attempts at their removal. Sir Charles him self, too, who begins to find his youth return ing to him under the genial influence of his companions, makes but a very feeble protest ; and things go on in a very gay and rollicking sort of fashion for some time, until a sudden discovery about Lord Walter estranges Lavinia from him, and brings about the departure of himself and Camilla from the hall. Of course Sir Charles has been in love with Lavinia from the first ; but the invincible conviction that he is an old man prevents him from doing justice to his pretensions. It is only by an accident at last that he discovers the state of her feelings towards himself—and then the story terminates in the usual way. The action, from the first page to the last, continues in one place, and is confined almost entirely to four people. We have no " acci dents and offences" of any sort, and the whole interest is centered on the denouement of the situation of two young ladies and two gentle men in a country-house, who are all playing at cross-purposes through the greater part of the story. We do not think, as we have before said, that this will find favour with the Eng lish public ; but the few who prefer delicate characterisation and a playful exposure of the foibles and infirmities of the female sex, will find in " Dark and Fair" a most capital enter tainment. The incidents occur ,just as they would do in real life, and the whole tale wears a wonderfully natural and human aspect. The two young ladies are drawn with equal spirit and exactness. Camilla is a refined romp ; Lavinia is pensively passionate ; both are thorough women. Their little piques, jea• lousies, and sulkiness are drawn to the life. Lavinia, perhaps, shows the closest observa. tion of women, but Camilla is our favourite ; her unflagging spirits, her dash, and her sauciness are irresistible, and we must say that we think our friend " Calcraft " made a mistake in his choice. " Caleraft " himself is an admirable portrait of a cultivated, kindly, but somewhat melancholy character, who looks at the worst side of things in general and always at the worst side of himself. It is in painting such characters as these that this author excels, though Sir Charles Rockingham is the best he has yet done. The worst of it is, however, that it by no means follows because a character is na tural that he may not therefore be a bore. Sir Charles is not quite that, but still his eternal diffidence does become rather tedious at last, and his perpetual good advice rather prosy. He should have married the gay and practical Camilla, for, as the latter once remarked, he and Lavinia are too much alike to live coin. Portably together. Lord Walter undoubtedly displays real humorous power. His quaint and exagge rated affectation provokes laughter. But we laugh as at a caricature, rather than a living original. We question whether his extreme sangfroid in the case of Miss Selina Brown be not greatly overlone, though we may observe in passing that the conduct of the young ladies on that occasion is exhibited with re markable truthfulness, and evinces that close and fruitful study of female manners which only the genuine man of the world is enabled to exercise. The moral of this story is not particularly good, for it inculcates disobedience to parents and contempt of guardians. The diction is rather stiff, but the style is simple, and is that of a gentleman, if not a perfect English Writer. Essays awl Sketches. By the late William Pitt Seargill, Author of " Truckleborough Hall," " The Usureis Daughter," &e. London : Hardwielce. THE late Mr. Scargill possessed talents with out genius, and had a capacity for observing common things. But he wanted originality, grace, and fancy ; and he was prone to apply his pen to themes requiring vivid sympathy and springs of deep emotion. The best part of this volume is its table of contents, which would have taxed the powers of Charles Lamb or Washington Irving. We quote part of it.— .. ... - The Decline of Poetry—The Public—The Minor Aris tocracy—Common Novel Readers—Better Days—The Old Place—Fact and Fiction—Readers and Writers--Per• THE PRESS. aonalities of Literature—The Disappointed Man —Courage and Cowardice—My Schoolmaster's Daughter—Profundity —Civilisation—Confessions of a Tond•Eater—My Two Aunts—The Lad of Crenius—The Wise and Good— Chivalry—The Rage. - - But when we come to examine the way in which these topics arc treated, we are made to think of the tantalising sufferings of the fre- quenters of a " popular ' foreign hotel at the West•end, where the carte is worthy of Soyer, but where the cookery reminds ono of the swindle of the Royal B►itish Bank. An essayist must either be profound or light and fascinating. Mr. Scargill wanted vigour for the first, and subtle eloquence for the last. He bus no sweet or softly musical prose when he tries to record emotional sensa tions. " The Old Place," for example, ought to be suggestive of delicate fancies. He attempts the theme thus : Who that has lived beyond the middle of life, in the vicissitudes which belong to humanity, and has been long and far away from his early home, has not at times had affectionate yearnings after a sight of the old place ? And who, after years of absence, turning to visit the old place, has not felt himself in some measure disappointed? Who has not found, under such circumstances, his poetry wither and fade into prose? Life's poetry is like the rainbow: we can see it only at a distance—we can never catch it. These are precisely the thoughts of a prosaic mind ; but on such a theme we want to see described the feelings of a common nature elevated into something poetic by the recollec tion of " the days that aro no more," and powerfully moved at sight of the ancient roof tree or neglected garden, hallowed with the memories of life's early morning. In another part of the same essay he observes upon a class of feelings which some of our readers may have experienced : The greatest change of all, however, in the old place and that which affected me most deeply, was the change in my old friends—the companions of my youth. Some of them were dead—others worse than dead to me, they were changed—my old schoolfellows, my former neighbours, those with whom I was once as intimate as their own thoughts—the men, the women, the children, of whom I have frequently dreamed and constantly thought when in India, all seem to be as completely altered as the Strand at Charing cross. Judging from the manner in which they receive me, i should fancy they had never once thought of me since I left England. Several of them had some difficulty to recollect me, and made many mistakes about my name. Surely it lowers a man's sense of his own itnpor• tance to be taken for another person—it signifies nA whether the individual for whom he is n i.taken be high or low, rich or poor : I think it would hurt my sense of self•love to be mistaken for the wisest, the best, the highest of mankind When one loses his identity, he loses every thing; for there is something in self, which, I know not how, why, or wherefore, places a man in his own thoughts above every other individual. Au ashy sensation is, indeed, communicated to any sensitive person who seeks to revive an old friendship, and who finds that the flame of early affection has burnt out into cinders. But the susceptible have exquisite pleasures even if they 'neve proportionate pains. It is for them, and not for merely prosy beings, to thrill with the sensations described by the poet — Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes it many a year ; And dear to my heart as 't was then to my eyes Is that bower by the side of the calm liendemeer. The thought in that passage is not a mere rhetorical conceit But the "delight" could in the first instance be felt only by the sus• ceptible, and in coarse or callous natures the thoughts of " the old place " would not long remain " dear to the heart." An essayist like Mr. Scargill wants the glowing instincts which on such themes inform the mind more fully than hours of grave reflection. If a light essayist has not wit or sentiment, he ought to have rich humour, or joyous animal spirits. A commonplace bookworm, the pest of circulating libraries and the ruth less tyrant of small tea parties, is thus sketched by Mr. Scargill But your true reader, your kelluo librorunt, your per secutor of old maids who keep circulating libraries, is an intelligible and definite character. He sticks to his business, and follows his pursuit up closely and perse• veringly. He lets no new book come out without seeing something about it. He lives upon the literature of the day ; anti why the literature of the day should not be quite as good as the literature of yesterday what mortal can tell? A genuine reader has a kind of instinct, by which he is directed to reading-rooms, and coffee-houses, and subscription-rooms, precisely at the moment when the papers are accessible, and he reads them conscientiously and pertinaciously. Even so he sticks to magazines and reviews. and his eyes sxm rivetted to the pages of quarterly productions. Wishing to mix the utile with the dulce, and to blend instruction with entertainment, he reads all that comes in his way, and he that reads every thing is sure to read something good. He reads morals, and metaphysics, and gossip, and sentimentality, and science: he amalgamates conundrums and mathematics; he solves problems and guesses riddles; he devours Magyar poetry and deciphers Chinese characters; and it is no forced transition if he pus over front the balance of Europe to the squabbles of Murphy Delaney and Patrick Mahoney. It is all grist that comes to his mill ; it is reading, and he that reads does something, while he that thinks does nothing. Your rending man has not a stomach that digests that which he devours, but he has a gizzard like that of a goose which grinds all into one mass. His eyes are never weary, and his mind is never full. He resembles Baron Munchausen's horse, who, when his hind quarters were cut off by a portcullis, stood at a trough to drink, drink, all day long, never tired and never full. Here we leave our inventory of qualities, but there is no gleam of fancy beyond the bor rowed and hackneyed illustration of Mun chausen's horse. Enumeration of points differs as much from true description as a milliner's bill from a figure in full dress, or a page of a catalogue from a row of volumes. " Life " must be breathed into descriptions. Wanting animation, they want everything. The popular essay is a form of writing almost peculiar to English literature. Its fatal fault is a tendency to heaviness, as essayists can rarely take up the exciting subjects of religion or politics; and they cannot use dramatic forms to give relief and contrasted variety to their thoughts. It is a great mistake to suppose that the essay form has lost its appropriate use. It gives great play to versatile minds, and suits the habits of the reading public iu England. New Zealand, or Zealandia, the Britain of the South. By Charles Hursthouse. Two Vols. Loudon: Stanford. IT is a suspicious fact that few political writers upon colonial subjects venture into print in praise of their colony until they aro resettled in England. Then—no matter whether they come from the coasts of Guinea or Guiana, New Zealand or Northern America— having made their money, and left their health and hardships behind them, they sit down delibe rately to tell the world that there is no place in it comparable to their pet colony for a tine climate, cheap and good land, or high interest for money ; in a word, that it combines every possible advantage for accumulating a rapid fortune, and for enabling the intending emi grant in a brief period to return to England a great capitalist. New Zealand is an excellent case in point. For years we have heard of nothing else from retired colonists but of the fine opening these islands offered to emigrants ; how they may get seventy bushels of wheat off their acre ; how their sheep and cattle will thrive ; how heir vegetables will grow ; and, in fact, how with a small capital they might suddenly and would certainly become prosperous proprietors and founders of a family which might one day govern the world, or supply Mr. Macaulay with his speculative Spirit. Now, if with this anticipated prospect there were mixed some such plain matters of fact as, for instance, that the islands, except in the immediate neighbourhood of the settlements, are a vast primeval forest—that if you buy a farm in a settled district you may grow your wheat or potatoes, but you can get no market for them—that as for high interest for your money you never get back the capital, and are not often paid the interest—that your sheep get " hoven " on the " tutu," or die of the foot rot or scab, and your cattle of any other indigenous or imported disease—that a bush lire may burn down your homesteads, and that in twenty-four hours from being prosperous you mg) , become bankrupt and beggared—it would not only be a more just view of the chances of colonial sue.ess, but it would be more fair to the public, and, on the whole, less injurious to the colony. In these days, perhaps, few educated men are really carried away by the bright pictures retired colonists paint of their deserted homes. But the uninstructed middle classes who hourly crowd from our shores leave them full of false hopes and vain illusions, a few months after to curse the day that brought them to MAY 16, 11 attempts at their self, too, who begit ing to him under companions, make: and things go on is sort of fashion for discovery about Lo from him, and Uri himself and Camil . Sir Charles has from the first ; hr that he is an old m justice to his pre accident at last du her feelings towa story terminates it The action, from continues in one p entirely to four pc dents and offences interest is centeret situation of two yo men in a country-I] cross-purposes thr( story. We do not said, that this will lish public ; but 1,1 characterisation an foibles and infirtni find in "Dark and tainment. The in] would do in real lit a wonderfully natu two young ladies a and exactness. C Lavinia is pensiv( thorough women. lousies, and sulkin Lavinia, perhaps, tutu of women, but her unflagging ap sauciness are irre that we think our mistake in his Choi "Calcraft" 'inns( a cultivated, kindly character, who lot things in general a of himself. It is it as these that this Charles Rockingha done. The worst no means follows tural that he may Charles is not quit diffidence does bee and his perpetual He should have nu Camilla, for, as the and Lavinia are to Portably tcgether. Lord Walter t: humorous power. rated affectation p laugh as at a cant original. We quc sangfroid in the ca not greatly overhn in passing that t ladies on that occ markable truthful] and fruitful study only the genuine n to exercise. The moral of th good, for it inculca and contempt of rather stiff, but th( of a gentleman, writer. Essays and Sketc? Pitt Seargill, Hall," " The U London : Hardt% THE late Mr. Scan out genius, and I common things. grace, and fancy ; his pen to them( and springs of dec of this volume is would have taxed I or Washington Try The Decline of Poetr tocracy—Common Kona Place—Fact and Fict -