The Press. — London, England, 1856-04-26 00:00:00

r- -- APRIL 26, 1856. takes such pains to insist on. Yet, being so insignificant, he stigmatises Professor Fara day's " labour " in devising a machine for the investigation of the cause of the phenomena of table -turning, as " misdirected "; calls the instrument an " infantile toy ' ; and denounces those results which he has the fairness to quote correctly as being "insufferably child ish." He coolly " recommends the world to " believe in the verity of (spiritual) manifests " Lions, but not to seek them" ; and he informs his readers that "he has taken good care not "to be deceived by trickery," but does not condescend to permit them to judge of the efficiency of the means adopted to preclude its possibility. Pretty well for a modest man ! We will conclude our notice by selecting a ft.tw specimens of his logical powers. He says (p. 22) that a certain effect " can only" be pro duced to a limited extent, "as be is inclined to believe " that if it were carried beyond a certain point a result would take place which would render it impossible. Supposing that Mr. Crosland were not only "inclined to be lieve" but "quite certain of" the second re sult, could he say more in favour of the limitation of the first effect than that it "could not" be carried beyond a certain extent; yet one would suppose that the in crease of the amount of his belief in the one ought to affect the believed degree of possi bility of the other. Logically, the case is this: a proposition of a certain degree of probability has a necessary consequence ; Mr. Crosland says he is certain of the consequence on the ground that it follows from the probable pro position. He could not be certain of it, strictly speaking, except he were also certain of the original proposition. Again, though at p. 13 he makes the character of a spirit depend upon the nature of its communications, he denies (p. 38) that the " frivolity " of the spiritual communications may be made an objection against their really supernatural origin. Surely, if we may employ the character of the messages as a means of distinguishing between " good " and " bad " spirits, we may employ it as a means of distinguishing between good spirits and no spirits at all. Again (p. 138), he says, the question being the - reality" of the messages, "the impor " tanee of a communication depends upon " the character of the person from whom it " proceeds ; " arguing that the messages are not frivolous, because they are supernatural. But if the question be the reality of the mes sages, this argument evidently assumes the very point to be proved. The question is : given the messages, are they supernatural? and, in de termining this, the nature of the messages is a very important item of evidence " ' Yes' or " No' are frivolous words," says Mr. Cros land ; " but when they are uttered by a " sovereign or a prime minister they may rule " the destinies of a life." But supposing that we had no other means of ascertaining the character of a stranger but his conversa tion, surely we should be quite justified in de ciding against his judicial pretensions if his conversation were frivolous, or displayed re markable ignorance, or great want of self respect : we should be strangely prejudiced in favour of a theory if we did no t. W e s h ou ld like to enter into the general question of spi ritual appearances, but want of space compels us to postpone its consideration to some future opportunity. We will only sav that, in our ()Pillion, a priori arguments against the possi bility of such appearances are about on a par in Worthlessness with it posteriori evidence in their support The Old Vicarage. A Novel. By Mrs. Hubback. Three Vols. London: Skeet. THIS is a nice story, and told with ladylike grace, but showing the weakness incident to the form of composition adopted by its nar rator. Mrs. Hubback is niece of the late Miss Austen, and has apparently studied to excess the fictions of her eminent relative. Within a certain range Mies Austen had great force, but her interests were limited to the drawing room and parlour; and in our (lay the readers of novels require a larger picture, and more dramatic variety of characters, than can be found in Miss Austen's school of writing. Somoth ino of romance, and a stirring story, THE PRESS. are also demanded, before an eager public can be rivetted. Mrs. Hubback, we think, does herself injustice by narrowing her sub jects to genteel sorrows and to girlish pathos. Her sentimental young ladies and her nice young men want life and individuality; and she only manoeuvres her puppet-show through the trials of life as familiar to all frequenters of circulating-libraries. She writes prettily ; her taste appears to be superior tr. her talent, but she produces her tales so quickly that she does not do justice to her powers. We recol lect that the late Miss Ellen Pickering pub lished three novels before she had a decided " success." Mrs. Hubback's first story (in consequence chiefly of the immediate interest of its subject) gained her much notice ; but she ought to take far more trouble in looking round her for original character, and in choosing a striking story with the lights and shades of a larger social life. "The Old Vicarage " is a sentimental tale, in which the conventions of novel-writing are well kept up; but the two first volumes are deficient in interest, and it is only in the third that the authoress touches the heart. She cannot paint male characters well, but she has a nice power of depicting feminine feelings. The following situation will explain itself, and the manner of the two sisters to each other is natural and lifelike : His plans determined on, his mind made up, and his spirits calmed by resolution and despair, he returned to Eaton-place to dine with the liarhams ; and, for the first time since the commencement of his long intimacy with the family, he made a most marked difference in his treat ment of the two sisters. His manners to Dora were expressive of a desire to please, such as he had never be trayed before, and such as excited some surprise and disappointment in Isabel's mind, which required both spirit and good breeding to conceal. How Dora herself received this change of manner might be gathered from Isabel's speech to her as they stood in the drawing-room Afterwards. " Well, Do'll, I really think you are the greatest and most relentless flirt I ever saw." "Am l ?" said the younger sister, languidly throwing herself on a sofa, and turning away her face; " what have I been doing now ?" " Flirting to a degree beyond good manners with Mr. Huyton," said Miss Barham, looking at her own deepening carnation in a pier-glass opposite to her. " I was only paying him in kind," replied Dora, un• dauntedly : " if he meant nothing, nor did I ; if he was in earnest, I have no objection." " You don't mean to say that if Charles Huyton were to propose to you, you would accept him ?" said Isabel, turn ing full on her sister. '` Would not you, Isabel?" was Dora's reply. "Our tastes are not usually so similar, that that should be any answer," said Isabel. " Well," said Dora, starting up, " I mean what I say ; I was not flirting with Mr. Huyton more than he was with me." " And if he were to ask you to marry him, you know you would say no, as you did to Lord Dunsmore ! " " No, I would accept him on the, spot," cried Dora, giving way to a desperate fit of pique and mortified feel ing. "You need not look so scornful, Isabel; I mean what I say." Luckily you are not likely to be put to the test," re plied Miss Barham. " But we must go and dress, or the countess will be here before we are ready to go with her." Dora, however, did not follow her sister's example; but when the other quitted the room, she remained reclining on the sofa. Her head ached, her heart ached still more; affection wounded, vanity and pride alike outraged ; sor row, real sorrow, a sense of injustice in herself, and of having been all through in the wrong, made her bosom throb, and flushed her cheek, and really rendered her quite unfit for society." The authoress has more descriptive than dramatic talent. This is pretty writing : The sisters' residence at the Vicarage was rapidly draw ing to a close. A long farewell had been said to every well-known forest nook and glade, each beloved haunt of bygone days : a sad leave had been taken of each pa rishioner, each lowly friend and affectionate well-wisher; many parting tokens had been humbly but kindly offered, from those who had known them from childhood, or begged as precious memorials of the late vicar and his daughters, by the sorrowful parishioners, who still grieved for their best friend. The last Sunday came, and they knelt for the last time on the spot where for years their devotions had been offered up. Every look was now a pain, every action almost caused a pang, and both sisters ardently wished the time were come which should put an end to the sorrowful dream in which they now seemed to move. There was no outward demonstration of their grief; it wore the calm, grave, torpid aspect that a dull November day presents when the sky is all shrouded in a sombre veil of grey, and the distant hills wear the same heavy tint, whilst no wind moves through the half-bare trees, or wakens the waters to life. Over such a scene silence and stillness brood, the silence of deathlike sleep, made only more apparent as tl:e soft rustle of a falling leaf catches the ear, or the eye is attracted by its movement, as it calmly Boats to the dull earth beneath. But in the scene in the churchyard, where Airs. Hepburn meets Charles Huytun, the 401 authoress does not write up to the situation. It is the best in the book, and in the hands of a more practised performer on the human heart it would be made deeply affecting. Weakness is the fault of Mrs. Ilubback; but she has a refined style, and a certain graceful ness of manner, and a freedom from aught that is offensive. With a stronger plot, her talents would appear to more advantage. Who Wrote the Waverley Novels I London : Smith and Elder. WE have waited for the apnearance of this pamphlet with considerable curiosity and some degree of solicitude. The question to be discussed could not fail to be a highly interesting one, and it might have proved damaging to the fame of an author whom we all venerate and love. But, after a careful consideration of the arguments brought for ward in favour of Thomas Scott, Sir Walter's brother, we are happy to say our faith in the paternity of the novels remains. That Scott, like every other literary man, may have occa sionally received hints and sketches, we do not question at all ; but that his was the master mind which pervaded the whole, and his the rich stream of humour which runs tl: -nigh all his Scottish characters, we see no reason in the world to doubt. It would be difficult to classify this author's objections to the commonly received theory, and we shall content ourselves, therefore, with stating them in the order in which they occur in the pamphlet : Among the few letters from Sir Walter to him (Thomas Scott), which appear in Lockhart's book, I was particu• lady struck with the following passages in a letter written during the autumn of 1814 : . . " S;tici me a novel, intermixing your exuberant and natural humour with any incidents and descriptions of scenery you may see, particularly with characters and traits of manners. I will give it all the cobbling that is necessary, and, if you do but exert yourself, I have not the least doubt it will be worth 5001.; and, to encourage you, you may, when you send the manuscript, draw on me for 1001. at fifty days' sight, so that your labours will, at any rate, not be quite thrown away. You have more fun and descriptive talent than most people ; and all that you want, i.e, the mere practice of composition, I can supply, or the devil's in it. Keep this a dead secret, and look nothing when Waverley is spoken of. If you are not Sir John Falstaff, you are as good a man as he, and may, therefore, face Colville of the Pale. . . . Mind that your MS. attends the draft. lam perfectly serious and confident, that in two or three months you might clear the cobs. I beg my compliments to the hero who is afraid of Jeffrey's scalping•knife." There is no denying that this is a very remark able statement, and if the writer had brought forward many of equal value he would have established a strong case. As it is, we take it for what it is worth; but, in the face of the contradictory evidence in the possession of the world, that is not much. Let it stand on record that Scott proposed to his brother to write a novel. In regard to Thomas's literary qualifica tions, or those of his wife, is it, shown that either had any which Sir Walter had not? Not in the least. The author is perpetually telling us of Thomas Scott's humour and Mrs. Scott's acquaintance with Scotch legends and family stories—appearing to forget that we have testimony entirely independent of the novels to show us that, if there ever was a man who excelled in these qualities, it was Sir Walter himself. The story on which " Guy Mannering " is founded-- which, by-the-bye, is of Scotch, and not Irish, origin, as this writer alleges, the incidents having occurred in the family of the Browns of Carsluth —is brought forward as a strong proof in favour of that novel having been written by Mrs T. Scutt, who had been born and bred amid the scenes where the story is laid. It is really surprising that any critic should gravely bring forward such superficial reasons to over throw so well-founded a reputation. Are we to suppose that Scott, with his love of romance, was necessarily ignorant of these events because he did not live in the part of the country where they occurred ? The same may be said of the scenery which Scott is reported never to have seen—a fact, however, by no means so certain as is supposed. Is it impossible for a man with Scott's powers of painting to describe scenery at second hand with the greatest fidelity? We really do not see why.