The Express.
London, England, 1858-01-05 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

The dimereiled in Asher*, Are, , Life. By A. J. OTIII.

I N OTO R. 2 rob. jotter:a • 1.0141:11.11.61 ;Ad Co.
There are unfortunately some authors who have
not the remotest Wee of whet °mediates a book. It It sot
true that

" A book's a book, although there's nothing in ft."
♦ fine critic and subtle thinker of our times says, " Speak-
ing of books generally we may call them organs of ocianau-
aleedea between man and man, by which the knowledge,
the niatimenta, the story of one become the property of an-
other, or at least offer to his fellow Min what is peculiarly
his own." Now if this theory were true, and authors would
mamba it and act accordingly, what a world of pains would
be spared the critic. For butane% Mr. Andrew Jame
@Mingles could not have fined up his two volumes as he
les maseged to do by memo( quotations hem every author
mew Irma. Who Mr. Symington is we are unable to M-
arna earresina That he Is restaphyacelly Mahood Is clear
trees the Me of hie work, and that he la a Sooteltmaa
we U. Wooed to believe from the fact that he is metaphy-
okay Inclined. What Mr. Symington has to say ma Boom
be Mid ; he sees to enter the temple of the Universe by
"the gale whisk is eaßel BsseadfaL" The naivetes is hilt
by as Darla* Ambit o* en awe MA* pla Where that
• wPoOde
is enunpd are abserredegard to flans,
colour, mead, thought or deed—there beauty will reveal
Itself." Now, in this theory we tuuably submit there is no-
thing aew—lt is sa old as Plato. The mail of Mr. Syming-
tth is that he attempts to show that It is hr, and for this
pipers travireen the whale Odd of Mare sad art. But at
themes doe, be exhausts the reader, sad, se we think, on-
asemeffy. Surely than wee no need that he should have
entered won his subject historically, or should have spun out
by quelation into two volume materials which are barely mut-
ating to ►ave honestly tilled one. Immediately our author
spine Ids mouth we pert company with him. "AU the
world," he eaciame, "worships beauty." Is this sot Yea,
exclaims Mr. Synatialca ; see the infant. Ah, Mr.
Synaingka, you are wrong hem. We appeal to
" Paterfamilias." Mr. Symington must be an =mar-
rid man, or be never would have hazarded so rah
an assertion. In one of his letters, John Foster notices the
1 ludicrous ems with which infants are mood—but we need
net gaols the celebrated essayist Are the pictures which
ehildhsed Imo beentital ? Are they sot often even quite the
novena, and yet what child doss not prefer them to the
works of a Turner or a Titian ? Do we admire carroty
heir ? The ansisals did. Is a pitchy flavour agreeable to
the mama geed livery Yet thus wee it the ROOM toper
eassoned Ids wine. Is not wag beautiful ? and yet Dr.
Utlegalens tells us that amongst the enrage with when
be mho la contact, the attempt to sing during divine service
was invariably productive of laughter. When Plato
speaks of beauty, we know what he means, for his highest
beauty is the highest truth, end that is God. Mr. Symingtea
says the same thing in different words. But does the world
worship this beauty P As a matter of fact, by the mamas fa
the Battle of Life a It not altogether forgotten ? In sober
teeth we ash our author what of beauty and the worship of It
to there In the dull dark life of worldly men—in the counting-
house, where acoommodation bills are drawn—in the manu-
factories where frauds are done—in the garrets and cellars of
London, sad Manchester, and Edinburgh, where the bitter
draught of life would be nauseated were it not for gin ?
What care such for the Beautiful ? It may have come to
them In their youthful dreams, but it has laag left than
now. Mr. Symington ht his study, surrounded by the
noblest thoughts of the noblest thinkers, writes of the world
as it ought to be, not as it is. But we peas on. The sub-
ject on which our author writes has been fruitful in con-
troversy since time was young, and so it will be to the
end of the chapter. He is merely the last writer on it—
nada( mare.

littater roam comes to ita in the shape of a Gaggle vo-
lume celled

Or,Amu Cllapter is a Life. By the Author of " Mar-

suet Melilla." London : mist sad Blackett.

A young lady at the age of 28 finds herself an orphan
and alone in the world, with a heavy encumbrance, In the
shape of • rent roll of two thousand a-year. As young
lathes are apt to do who have had a disappointment, she
forswears the world and determines to adopt some orphans.
The plea is on the point of succeeding admirably till she
meets with her old lover and marries. The tele Is a quiet cos
—absent too much so; had we not read "Margaret Mait-
land," vs should have liked this better.

Anotlasr old friend mete us in the author of " Mary
Powell." Her last publication is

The Year Now. A To 4 of th. Tyrol. London. Arthur

The selection of her subject I. judicious. As reps&
Engliah literature it may be considered entirely new, for
Montgomery's poem is now rarely read. In the yew 1809,
the Swiss under Hair roes %rinse the French, and fro s
time were victorious. The Tyrolese held shooting-matches,
'at which their plans were organised. Our author describes
these, and Hofer as present. We follow his career as lesder,
joyous in victory, hopeful end unflinching in defeat. We MO
him die as a brave man should, even though death come to
his in its ugliest shape. " The Year Nine" is a tale el no
put power, but it is medal* end will be reed by the
numerous admirers of " Mary Powell."

The &oleos Heir. By Za. G. Haase[. Looks :
T. Newby.
. . . . _

. -
Is admirably adapted for the circulating library. Milliners
in remote districts will devour its pages with atom about
In the oompeas of three thin volumes of dontile-landed type
we get almost all the deadly sins. In the ascend shaper we
have the murder of a lord and the abduction of hie heir, sad
the father we travel in the company of oar author the more
we become surrounded by criminals and mime. To ineresse
the attractions of his pages our author takes err, unpardon-
able liberties with nal characters, whom he brings upon the
stage—e trick only a weak author will have recourse to.
Lard Brnatatield seduces Clan Douglas, who bean him •
daughter. Clara Douglas's brother, whom the lord has
treated fa the most moan, manner, murders his lordship,
whilst • etempanioa kidnaps his ma. Clan's daughter
become@ a wry urea of wog, sod le found to be the heir
to the setae's of Lord Beentellaid sad of Lady Barton,
whose am, the acealaal her, le the offspring of ma
Maass between lawestf sad Lord Brualnield. The stolen
kir, who is se heir ..r 1;11—for are seemiage of Clara
Douglas with Lord Bruntetleld was a real ome—is brought
up by Burke end Hare—is adopted by an atrocious keine of
• Whig lawyer in Bdiaburgh—becornes an aetoniabing artist,
and is passionately beloved by the daughter of a duke, who,
with • simplicity we imagine ram in auk exalted circles,
and refreshing in any, ems in the atria her beer ideal of •
man of refined feelings and of great intellectual powers. It
may be, undoubtedly it is, true that—
A simple maiden In her dower
Is worth • hundred coats of arms;

bat it is not ankles* with a hundred coats of arms who think
so. Lady Mary Belmont, however, opines otherwise. To
her, in the language of our author, "intellect was every-
thing, gold was only dross, and rank an empty name
After a swiss of astonishing adventures the lest hair—Con-
standee the stoat—is made a lord, marries Lady Mary Bel-
meat, end the celebrated singer reeigns him the estates of his
labor, and merely retains the Barton property for herself.
We must take the liberty of humbly remonstrating with
Lay Wallace. In

irttLierim, sad, the Moment of Fortune (London : Richard

Bentisy). -
We have two tales, printed in three volumes, in lib
anima with that mysterious law the rationale of which is
known oily to prisons and publishers, sod possibly paper-
seeksis, which compote the novelist somehow or other to
II tap three volumes. Evidently the tales ars frost kinks
sonars; and the least return lady Wallace could hays due
the author was to give his name. The public would se soon
know who writes • book as who translates it. spas Sta-
bled loves Katherine ficloppelman, the beautiful dower-ffirl
of • small German town,

Al if do thing he loved w all s saint,
And every plass abs astarial wars s aliens."

Ultimately he 'swim ler. Ia the Bonne of the story we
lave sem talthttl skaabas cd Germ& matmere, sad a bait
et that heavy ltereoar dear to the lead of tablas:a-smoke sad

traseandewieliwa. "The Iltomat ot Pertain " 4 ails hter
proilastlim„ nil pales with slabousis idastser• that storm
to • teapot, t pith Intrigue la a petty German must. Both
Wow us tau, to be forgotten •• wear read.