The Sun.
London, England, 1852-05-06 00:00:00

THE QUARTERLIES.
TEE EDINBURGH REVIEW. No. CXCIV.
Although there are no less than ten contributions
in the current number of the Edinburgh, we doubt
much whether a single article amongst them will
attain even a temporary amount of popularity. Not
that the papers in the April instalnient. are altogether
devoid of talent, or that they are without being suf-
ficiently diversified, but that the talent displayed is
throughout (for the most part) dull and scholastic,
tedious and dogmatical. Suggested by the :Nou-
velles Causes Celebres, the opening article, is a kind
of biographical sketch of " Treason du Coudray,"
whose name we should rather have seen among the
" Unsuccessful Great Men," who are celebrated
in such a very congenial spirit by Pro-
fessor Creasy. The argument upon "National
Education" which follows is a dry and
didactic repetition of facts already again and
again reiterated—from the laborious volume of Mr.
Wyse, now her Majesty's Ambassador to Greece,
down to the most recent number of some of our pro,
vincial contemporaries. To some extent, however,
ip this article we can forgive the repetition for the sake
of 'the philanthropy, by which it is no less glaringly
distinguished. A review of "Farini's Stato Romano,"
is followed by a chapter on " Athenian Architecture,"
and this again, by—the most important contribution
in the present number of the Edinburgh—the paper
on " Investments for the Working Classes." The
introductory sentences of the article here particu-
larised, are, unhappily, of almost universal

"We have often had occasion to remark on the ob-
stacles and perplexities, the hidden perils, the opposing
risks, the surprising and unforeseen dilemmas, which
beset the path of active beneficence, especially when
attempted on a great scale. The difficulty of doing-good
is at least equal to its luxury. To the conscientious and
the thoughtful the path of philanthropy is one of briars
and thorns: On the one hand lies the shame and ro•
Proach of witnessing a vast accumulation of misery
without aueffort to. relieve it: on the other the danger
raven more clearly apprehended in proportion as our
eckperience is wide and our inquiries deep—of egg"'
7ating the evil we attempt to mitigate. On the one side
lies the sin of the Levite who looks upon the wounded and
bleeding.victim, and passes by, either in shrinking sensi-
Ityor in sheer despair: oa the other lies the • risk,
fpm ignerance or-incaution, of pouring in oil which shall
Cause the Isounds to fester, and wine which shall stirau-
bite the fever. It is no easy matter to steer between
kcYllti and Charybdis; and wo Should deal gently with
the pilot—if only he be cautious and modest—vveo, in
shunning one peril, incurs shipwreck from the other."
Poor Feargus O'Conuor's involvment with reference
to his land scheme, is, in the course of the argument,
accounted for in a manner which is clear, without, of
Course, being satisfactory. After an estimate of
"John Knox's Liturgy," comes a criticism of M.
Bayous', biography of "Mallet du PAIL" Strangely
Rraceful is the opening of what, at a first glance, seems
to be - very drily suggestive, namely, the review of
"Roebuck's Whig Ministry of 1830. In the course
of these
.preliminary remarks to a political review it
c/quisttely said, in reference to the respect and gra-
titude in which the venerable Samuel Rogers—
(decidedly rara avis in terris, nigroquesimillima cygno,
for inasmuch as he is both a Poet and a Blnker)—is
held by the public up to this very moment—" It
Would, indeed, have been extraordinary if the poet of
Memory should not live in our recollections." A
notice of " Squier's Nicaragua" is succeeded by a
paper on "Lord Derby's Ministry and Protection.—
a paper unquestionably free trade, but also unques-
tionable Whig—as Whig as might have been expected
tinder the livery of buff and blue. And so the num-
be of the Edinburgh is brought to a conclusion.

LITERATURE.
THE JESUIT IN INDIA. One Volume. Burns

and Lambert.
A curious volume, in some respects really extra-
ordinary in its revelations, is the one here published.
It recounts the progress made by the Jesuit mission-
!Pea in Southern India during the last few years,
the writer—evidently a man of singular intelligence—
having qualified himself for the task of inditing the
narrative by four years spent in the midst of the
labours he enumerates. Sir Harcourt Lees is dead,
!t is true, but we have still amongst us men interested
In watching the movements nearer home than the
Madura mission of the disciples of St. Ignatius de
li,royola. Indeed, the development of the Society of
Jesus in England is amongst the number of those
remarkable events which arrest, by the force of
their very singularity and importance, the atten-
tion of the most indifferent spectator. During
several years the Jesuits have extended,
Unobserved, it may be, but none the less securely
°ll that account, the wondrous influence exercised by
them now-a-days scarcely less effectually amongst
the people of these islands than amongst any other of
the various races of Christendom. It behoves every
One, therefore, really solicitous to forward the cause
of truth in religion to scrutinies keenly the course
Vlirsned by this unassuming but dominant association.
Spreading their ranks over the whole of the habitable
regions
of the globe, the Jesuits are everywhere ac-
tuated by the same motives, swayed by the same
laws, struggling towards the same achievements.
They are differently clad, it is true, in different re-
gions,speaking in those different regions a different
Inguage, and adopting towards their different inhabi-
tants very different kinds of demean Our. But in all
other respects the Jesuit is still the Jesuit, nothing
more and nothing less than the Jesuit, be he in
the train of his General at Rome, be he a resident at
the College of Stonyhurst, be he in the streets of
Paris, or in the solitudes of Hindostan, floating over
the oriental seas, or threading the forests of America,
Passing under the luxuriant, foliage of the south or
over the sterility of the northern snows. It is, con-
sequently, not waste of toil to pore over the pages
which let us into the secret movements of the Society,
even when these movements are so far removed from
our own observation as the southern portions of the
Asiatic continent. We remember the almost awe-
inspiring effect of that scene in the Juif Errant, in
Which Eugene Sue described M. Rodin as bending
over a globe representing, the earth, the surface of
'which was marked in red dotted lines, with the
track of the footsteps of these übiquitous
Jesuit missionaries. Here, at any rate, is a
volume which enables us to trace those
footsteps somewhat more comprehensibly in one
direction, namely, into the southern quarters of our
Indian territory. The scene of the missionary la-
bours there, described by the anonymous traveller,
embraces part of the Carnatic, the province of Tan-
jore, and the country down to Cape Comorin, corn
prising, in fact, the southernmost extremity of Hin-
destine and being designated the Vicariate of Madura.
Situated at from about 7.51 to 11.50 north latitude,
. the climate is very relaxing, from the perpetual heat
reaching sometimes 100 Fahrenheit in the day time,
and falling only
prevalent, and 12 degrees by midnight—cholera
almost invariably in its most dan-
gerous intensity, by reason of the previous exhaus-
tion. Here it is that the missionaries are described as
battling with an idolatry believing not merely in
Om, or the Trimouti—Brahma the Creator, Vishnou
the Preserver, and Siva, or Sichem, the Destroyer—
but, besides these, worshippin.g
selected by the moat novel the symbols
g ling fetichism.
Sometimes, as in the instance of the petrified shell
called Salagranan, this idolatry descends even to the
_ deification of the freaks of Nature, branching off
into a mythology altogether so intricate as to render
• all other mythologies numerically insignificant by
comparison. According to the given account by this
little volume, the temptations to adventure upon the
labours of Christianizing thett Ilino
rclotbos.—for the Mus-
sulmen, in the present but Persuasive to bfa
hopeless—are anything worldly
sense ; the dwelling
of the adventurer being
a mud-
hut, thatched with palm leaves, at spread
ally accompanied by
occasion
on planks, his food rice,
the flesh of some lean and tough poultry. Yet, by
declared that upwards of
150,000 idolaters in that means
such as these,
it I 9
quarter of the globe alone
have been redeemed to a
belief
in Christianity.
However, the matter here considered is one demand-
ing the serious attention of the
public—aiding them,
as these statements cannot fail to do, in their effort
to
comprehend the progress of the Jesuit party in
England by watching the movements of their brethren
Iu Hindostau:

BLEAK HO USE. No. HI. By Charles Dickens.
Matured and mellowed in style, " Boz" is as fresh as
ever in originality. Bleak House, which seemed
in
the two first numbers to commence in a subdued
tone, such as even filled our mind with
disappoint-
ments has already in the third number developed it-
Self with a vigour and rapidity that promise to ren-
der it not unworthy of the pen of our incomparable
novelist—one who, without extravagance, may b'
called the Le Sage of his generation. Exercising
during his lifetime an influence that Le Sage never
obtained--read by thousands and thousands almo.t
o the instant of publication—his, green numbers
lying simultaneously on the tables of the artizan and
0' the patrician—we exult to find a genius possessing
Power in some respects so very solemn in its re-
sponsibility, always displaying itself in the inculca-
tion or the worship of the good, the gentle, and the
toautiful. Seldom has the large heart of Charles
Dickens revealed this tendency more conspicuously
tutu in the May instalment of his new fiction.
Esther becomes more loveable than ever (uncon-
sciously to herself) in the writing of her autobio-
graphy Mr. Jarndyce himself, capital fellow
though he is, with his perpetual terror of the ear
Wind, and his uncomfortsble liability to be "floored
again," hss his nose put out of joint by his friend
and former school-fellow Lawrence Boythorn, who
literally bursts into the narrative, takes the reader's
partiality by storm, and gives promise of being one
of the most glorious creations of the author, to whom
the ;
world is already indebted for such beings as' Old
Weller, and Tom Pinch, and Captain Cattle, and
and John Willett, and Mr, Mantellini, and