The Press. — London, England, 1858-11-13 00:00:00

THE PRESS, NOVEMBER 13, 1858. 1114 with advantage, for, although the sentiments expressed are placed in the mouth of the suicide's foster-nurse, there is nothing to show that Mr. Neale himself rejects the childish idea of connect ing natural phenomena with moral causes. Our readers shall judge for themselves:— They buried him in -- chutchyard. The day was bright, and calm, and beautiful. It was autumn with its latest smile. The funeral procession was long, and its appointments handsome. But none present at the cere mony will readily forget it. The moment the corpse reached the precincts of the graveyard the aspect of the day changcd. It blew ; it rained; it hailed; it thundered; it lightened ; the bearers quailed under their burden, and were with difficulty persuaded to proceed. All of them referred the tempest to their lifeless load. Some connected it with his wretched end : others with his fearful opinions. Was it so ? Were the spirits of the air unwilling that the infidel's re nains should rest in hallowed ground ? 2. If modern American tale-writers fairly de lineate the tone of society on the western shores of the Atlantic, it will bear no comparison with that which still happily prevails in the mother country, notwithstanding our alleged decadence. The first thing that strikes an English reader is the total ignorance of the most elemental scrip tural doctrines, and the absence of all moral and religious training, invariably ascribed to the affluent classes—and not to them only, but to every section of the community. The common remark of heroes and heroines whenever they fall under afflictions is that they were never taught to pray, or made acquainted with the primary articles of the Christian faith. That the dwellers in the backwoods should be too earnestly and incessantly engaged with the struggle of life to bestow much thought on things spiritual may be a subject for regret, but hardly one for sur prise. The same excuse, however, cannot apply to the wealthy inhabitants of the flourishing cities on the seaboard, with whom the employment of time is a greater puzzle than an acted charade. We read without much astonishment that, in some remote settlements of the far West, the name of the Deity is never pronounced save as an intense or idle exclamation, and that the reli gion of Christ is no more professed than that of Mohammed. It is startling, however, to learn that the same dull apathy exists in the most re fined and accomplished circles in the great sea port towns. Not less unaccotsntable is the ex traordinary rapidity of the transition from utter infidelity or indifference to enthusiastic and fer vent faith. In Miss Roe's novel, the chief in strument of conversion is a stray leaf of the Old Testament containing the third chapter of Pro verbs, treasured up by Henry Thornton, the hero of the tale, but constantly falling into the hands of all sorts of people. The proselytizing powers of this dirty little scrap of paper are nothing short of miraculous. A fast young gentleman, taken home in a state of intoxication, reads it for the first time in his life, and straightway re nounces his giddy companions and all the plea sant vices to which he had previously been addicted. A strange being, the book-keeper in a general store, casts his eye upon the page, and is brought forthwith to a serious frame of mind. A banker dismisses Henry for insubordination, because the young gentleman has some scruples about going to the post-office on the Sabbath, but the magic leaf is placed before him, his con science is awakened, and Henry becomes—well, we must not anticipate the unravelling of the plot. Henry Thornton himself is a model young man. Men, women, and children all take a great fancy to him, and imme diately become good Christians. One of his latest converts, however, is his lady-love, who requires all manner of suffering, both mental and corporeal, before she can be roused to feel a lively interest in religious matters. While yet benighted she is sorely puzzled to discover the meaning of a note sent to her through the post office. " It had neither name nor address; but in " a plain neat hand was written, or rather painted " with a pen, simply the word Mizpah.' " Luckily she happens to be staying with a gentle man who is familiar with the Bible, and therefore able to refer her to ch. xxx. v. 49 of the Book of Genesis. He further declares it to be "a beau " tiful idea, and with more meaning to it, and " conveying the sentiments of true friendship more " forcibly than would many pages such as friends " commonly address to each other." Absent lovers, separated from one another by cruel fate, will do doubt feel grateful to Miss Roe for a hint that may spare them the trouble of reading and writing interminable pages of rhapsody. Ad mirers of what may be called " adolescent " literature will probably think well of this appa rently characteristic sketch of American manners, though perchance they may smile at the quaint idioms and expressions that here and there meet the eye. It may be new to them to hear a carriage, or a dog-cart, called an " establishment," or a country lawyer addressed as "Esquire" So-and so. They may also " feel more like laughing " when their physician recommends them to " give a little sling" to a sister in extreme peril of death. These are peculiarities, but they will assuredly not deter them from being " true to the last," or from reading from the first to the final page. 3. " Emma de Lissau," if an authentic tale, as the preface asserts, can be nothing else than the autobiography of a young Jewess, subjected to cruel persecution in her own family on account of her sincere conversion to Christianity. The nar rative is decidedly interesting from the insight it furnishes of Jewish interiors, but at times tediously wiredrawn, as if the writer took a painful pleasure in recalling the minutest recol lections of her cruel and unmerited sufferings. Her delineations of Jewish character, we suspect, are only too truthful, and exhibit the modern Hebrews, even of the better class, in no pleasing light. They appear to have lost none of the vices that have flourished among Asiatics of all races and in all ages. False, cruel, rapacious, and bigoted, they are still as essentially Oriental as were their forefathers in the days when there were kings, judges, and prophets in Israel. Be this as it may, we recommend a perusal of Emma de Lissau's experiences of life among the Jews to all who take an interest in the conversion of that ancient people. 4. In the character of an English governess of a religious temperament, Miss M'Crindell has written a pleasing description of life at Gibraltar, for the benefit of juvenile readers. Some per sons, indeed, may object to the frequent recur rence of scriptural quotations, and, from an artistic point of view, they certainly do mar the general effect of the story. But, on the other hand, they are never introduced profanely, and may possibly induce very young people to attach a real and present meaning to what they are very apt to regard as something of the past and not of universal application. The following sketch of the motley population of Gibraltar may be taken as a fair specimen of the descriptive portion of this "tale of real life" : Vint miuht almost fancy yourself in the midst of a masquerade, whilst perambulating its streets, so great is the ‘itriety, so singular the contrast of the countenances, costumes, and languages, that at every step captivate your attention. The Jew, with a countenance much more marked than his brethren in England, and rendered more remarkable by his long beard, shaven head, and Oriental costume, consisting of a loose !garment, with hanging sleeves, fastened by a broad red girdle—the Moor, in his capacious li3ke, of striped or other woollen stuff, his turban arid yellow slippers—the Spaniard, dis tinguished by his high conical hat, and his cloak in all seasons—the Greek, in his picturesque embroidered jacket ; and dress of many colours—the Portuguese, with Ins deeply•brorzed complexion, and the Italian with his sparkling eyes—all mingled in strange confusion with the light, careless bearing of the Frenchman, anti the grave, thoughtful countenance of the Englishman. But the step of the latter, though composed, was the step of a master, and his eye, as it glanced at the surrounding fortifica tions, and marked the proud array of his country a military uniform, seemed to beam with the conscious triumph of power and undisputed sovereignty. Our next extract refers to a superstitious legend credited in the lonian Islands : The Greek Church is quite as fertile in legends and miracles as the roman, anti the following story may, I think, vie with any of them in absurdity. A very devout woman was in the constant practice of giving money to the priests, to procure masses for the souls in purgatory. Her husband, who was not of the same mind as herself, fre quently took possession of the money which she intended to devote to this purpose ; in order, therefore, to secure it, she adopted the expedient of burying it in a particular spot in her garden, till she found au opportunity of giving it into the hands of the priest. This she did fur some time, successfully, but one day her hoard was stolen, whether by her husband or any one else I know nut, and abe could no longer deposit it there with safety. She afterwards planted a pomegranate tree or this spot, and it sprang up with most miraculous rapidity, and, thiaigli it was out of season, was soon loaded with beautiful truit. She sent some of the finest pomegranates as a present to the bishop, and the right reverend father, on opening one of them, found in every seed a human soul, which had been rescued from purgatory by the masses purchased with the good woman's money, and now flew away towards heaven, on being released from their confinement The plot, if such it can be . called, is extremely meagre, but it is . evidently intended merely a s a vehicle for a familiar account of 6ibraltar and its environs. 5. Last, and least in size, though not in merit, is a child's book in bright blue covers, relieved with golden letters. Though quite improbabl e, this is really an interesting and we ll- wr i tten tale , with touches of dry humour that conjure up a complacent smile. Mrs. Abel, the good-natured but not particularly judicious governess, "with " the funny twinkling little eyes and the thick, " soft, old-fashioned, flaxen curls, reposing in two " hu„.(re masses on the forehead," i s a capital sketch. The small laugh with which she com mences her somewhat incoherent sentences, her odd sort of trot, and her huge straw bonnet with yellow bows, all help to "make up" the cha racter and complete the identity. There is something approaching to humour in the account of her descent from the haystack ; and when little Grace is restored to her parents, the excited governess seizes " an unfortunate schoolboy who " had the ill-luck to be standing near at the " moment, and began kissing and embracing him " with such energy that he never got over it, " but remained an idiot for life." The pathetic, however, is the chief element in this clever re cital of romantic adventures, and will draw many a sympathetic tear from youthful eyes. The Reigning Beauty. By Georgiana Lady Chatterton. Three Vols. London : Hurst and Blackett. A . IT T la l el l nl O y :S he x a o r lfr d teissm p publishers, b w li h s hicehr considerables elapses l w ap e se su dissatisfaction s a fe n n ao d cti co oc esn ca ao the s'n f their books appear, in the various papers to which they forward them. In the case of a work of profound thought or abstruse science the vanity of an author may easily take refuge in the supposition that some difficulty is experienced in obtaining the services of a critic competent to do justice to his production ; in the case of a novel such a consolation must, we fear, be precluded. I hose most interested may rely on it that when a novel is not noticed at once it is because it is so uninteresting or so ill written that the reviewer finds excessive difficulty in getting through it. Really good works of fiction, it may be observed, never hang on hand; nor, indeed, do tho , e which are hopelessly and atrociously absurd. The first we are eager to read; the others present such salient points as to afford, in many cases, most unintentional amusement, and render it a comparatively easy task to form a judgment of them. There is, however, a class of novels of which the quality is wholly negative—which are neither exciting nor ridiculous—which provoke neither pleasure, horror, astonishment, nor incre dulity ; which arc simply one dead level of tedious mediocrity—the fen country of fiction, in which you have no chance, certainly, of being drowned, and yet are never thoroughly dry; and to which the common expression of "wading;' through a book is therefore peculiarly applicable. Such a task as this is naturally put off as long as Possible, and thus it is that certain volumes encumber what it is the fashion to call "our library table " for weeks or months together. Upon ours, the " Reigning Beauty " has exer cised her sway for, certainly, a considerable time, and, during the periods when we have paid our court to her, with much the same effect that the . wand of Ilermes exercised over the faculties of Argus.—Lady Chatterton's story is of that kind which appears probable or not according to the amount of skill and delicacy employed in working it out. Her plot shows smile invention, and might with more judicious treatment have proved interesting, but instead of bestowing her elliet attention on its clear and complete elaborat ion, she has introduced a number of subordinate characters who bewilder the reader without help ing to develop the main action, and who have im independent interest to warrant the space devoted, to their exhibition. The story is told tor the most part in an autobiographical limn, but t t i hc apparently, proving rather unma na g eable, clumsy expedient is resorted to of makin; one of the other characters write a diary and tb r wari h i , to the supposed narrator—a plan which has t effect of involving the reader in hopeless con fusion. There is some attempt at discriminationt of character as regards the female perso , nages , ihc chic the male ones are thorough failures. a