The Express.
London, England, 1867-08-29 00:00:00

HIGH WATHIL AT LONDON BRIDGZ.

Ten DAil•ioeisinig—, li.2101:1:.7A1S;;roon7 Ih. 538 e.
To-Moitow—lloening. lb. 15na.. —Afternoon, 2h. 40m.

LONDON, THURSDAY, AUGUST 29.

AMONG the newspaper advertisements that show
the estimate which tradesmen have formed of the
public wants at this season of the year occurs one
with the agreeable heading, " Light Literature
" for Summer Reading." In August we read
for relaxation. We want just such intellectual
food as will serve to distract ennui, something
that will help us through a wet morning, and
add a zest to tho lazy hours of a fine day. The
books which we carry with us into the woods, or
read upon the seashore, must be convenient in size
and lively in contents. The days of big books are
gone for ever ; the days of solid books may
return in winter, but now our literary
food must be adapted to summer heat and sum-
mer enjoyment. At this season, then, we all
submit to the spell of the novelist. Young ladies
read novels in the intervals of croquet and flirta-
tion ; young men read them at any time and
every time, and elderly people take them up
when the warmer curiosity, excited by the daily
paper, has been duly appeased. The power
once held by the minstrel is now transferred
to the story-teller. He is the king of hearts—
the master of the public—the ruler of mighty
armies. We confess that we submit ourselves not
unwillingly to this potentate, but we decline to
render allegiance to the thousand pretenders who
usurp his title. A good novel, the work of a true
artist, is a boon to be grateful for, but the novels
manufactured to supply the demand of
the market, when once you detect the
secret of the machinery, are utterly inane
and wearisome productions. Chatun d son
gait, however. There are men who can read
HANNAH Moss's " Ccelebs" ; there are men
who cannot read FIELDING or Seth. ; there are
women who find Miss AUSTIN tedious, and who
prefer the achievements of Miss HILADDON. We
have heard the " Vicar of Wakefield" sneered at
as silly ; we have been told that " Romola " is
dull. Happily, the world of fiction is wide
enough for all.

But the domain of light literature is not alto-
gether in the hands of the novelist. Some of the
most amusing books in the language may be
claimed by other writers, by humourista in verse
and prose, by travellers and voyagers, by essayists
like CaaaLza LAMB, and biographers like Bob-
WELL. Then there are the periodicals, which
servo as agreeable entries for those whose
appetite is too weak or fastidious for more solid
food. How charmingly these morsels are served
up to us ! They are so good of their kind that
many readers ask for nothing better. The monthly
supply satisfies the monthly wants. Here you
have fiction and fact, sound sense and clever non-
sense, criticism upon books and upon society, po"
tics made easy, and history made picturesque.
The reviews and magazines are, in truth, infinitely
pleasant reading. They give us in good English
the results of thought, and are perhaps all the more
attractive because in many instances they save the
trouble of thinking.

Week by week and month by month the mass
of cheap and light literature increases. Our be►t
writers contribute to magazines ; our most popu-
lar books are reprints from their pages. Short
articles are preferred to long treatises, short
poems to epics ; we imbibe our phi'osophy and
science in almost imperceptible doses ; we like to
be informed without fatigue and to be amused
without effort. Sixty years ago neither prose nor
verse, magazines nor reviews, afforded food for the
million. Whatever was inexpensive was considered
worthless. Our poets then appeared in go'den
quartos, our travellers published massive volumes,
our novelists asked a guinea and a half for a story.
" Mews " did not exist in those days, and HAz-
Liar tells us that he paid five shillings to secure
one of Scores romances for an even'ng's reading.
The light literature which appeared when BYRON
and Soy:rune and COLERIDGE were young men was
doubtless very charming, but the circulation was
comparatively limited. Scorr, indeed, carried the
nation with him, and so did BYRON, but the
majority of brilliant writers won their way to
fame and popularity by slow and tedious steps.
Novels and magazines were regarded as a
luxury then; they have become a necessity now.
As the world grows older its cares perhaps grow
heavier, and we need something which shall
lessen the burden or enable ua to forget it. The
men who try to drive away their troubles by
drinking have happily greatly diminished of late
years; but the men who endeavour to achieve the
same end by the aid of a brilliant story have sen-
sibly increased. The moralist will tell us that the
two classes are alike, and that one form of dissi-
pation has but superseded the other; but the
moralist must own that the change is greatly in
favour of modern society, and that it is better to
keep care off with a book than with a bottle.

We grant,of course, that the growing passion for
amusing literature may have an injurious effect,
and that there is a danger lest flippant versatility
be preferred to sound knowledge. No doubt it
would be better if people read less and thought
more, if politics and philosophy were preferred to
Action, if LOCKE and ADAM SMITH were more

popular than Mr. DICKENS, if the novels of
JUSTIN/AN were in greater favour then Mr.
TROL LOPE'S, or if BACON'S " Essays" were more
highly valued than the Essays of CORNELIUS
O'Dovio. We all know that wisdom is better
than folly, and thorough education better than
superficial culture. But then Englishmen do not
live in Utopia, and readers are not all wise, and
mental indolence is occasionally preferred to severe
discipline ; and so it comes to pass that the lite-
rature which is most appreciated and best paid for
is that which amuses idle momenta.

It is useless to deplore the existence of this uni-
versal passion, nor, indeed, are we quite sure that
it is a cause for regret. Superficial knowledge is
better than unmitigated ignorance ; literary dissi-
pation is, to say the least, less injurious than dis-
sipation of any other kind. Moreover, it does
not follow that what is intrinsically best must be
the best under all circumstances and to all per-
sons. The finest works in literature, as in art,
are not those which prove most attractive to the
public, and even men of splendid culture will, we
suspect, sometimes prefer HORACE to MILTON, and
the " Bon Gaultier Ballads " to the " Excursion."
Let us be thankful that what the best of orr
popular writers give us is at all events sound and
wholesome ; that it points a good moral, and is
full of the milk of human kindness. Not only is
it readable, but, unlike much of the literature now
popular in France, it is fit to be read. The worst
that can be said against the light literature of the
day is that it encourages one to be lazy ; but then in
our overworked country indolence may sometimes
be accounted a virtue, and in this hot month of
August the writers who amuse us—perhaps those
also who send us to sleep—may be regarded as
friends and benefactors.