The Sun.
London, England, 1863-07-10 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY EVENING, JULY 10, 1863,

well agreed upon by the best authorities that a
union of the two rival means of defence is the
rational conclusion of the difficulty. No Englishman
would wish to weaken our naval force, or would be
slow to entrust his country's safety and honour to
dt he en keepingtthat t
r
to
endurance of the most powerfnl vessel, whereas
heorfe hme rush: ahvneaslaiinal oirts bt uhte istui.
es
usgetihf - eavuid-
Mother Earth will bear any
w
to put upon her. Even the famous Monitors, w
one mayito choose
to cwhoiocshe
have proved comparatively p
produced so much excitementowaeryleesasr ourntdwero atghoe,
strongly-tcListarf ttieerteadtiftnoert.maTnyheeirt
hturrets
couldthem became completely disabled. Rapid as are the
improvements made in fortifying ships, the ad-
vances made in the range and power of guns keep
pace with them. Let us profit by the experience of
other nations as well as by the warnings of the
past, and not suffer ourselves to be carried away
to either extreme, but bring both arms of defence to
our aid. Let our navy be all that can be wished,
equal in strength and efficiency to its old reputation
and our present position, but let us support it ty
those sturdy fortifications which no ruse can with-
draw from their standing point, no hurricane or
change of weather affect, no inconsiderate move-
ment place at the mercy of the enemy. A handful
of volunteers, inside a properly constructed fort,
will offer a formidable opposition to the
most experienced and skilful foe. We have
to thank the American War for reading
us an emphatic lesson on this matter. The forti-
fications of Charleston and Vickeburg have played
conspicuous parts in that protracted and deadly
struggle. The boasted iron-clads of the North
were compelled to retire discocefited from the
assault on Char.eston, whereas had the fortifications
been less erensive and trustworthy large bodies, of
men might have failed to maintain Southern supre-
macy in those cities. We all know how the
fear of the Quadrilateral turned the scale against
Venice iu 1859, and we have heard only too much of
the terrors of Cronstadt and its surroundings. No
illustration, however, comes so much home to the
English mini as the recent experience of Charles-
ton, and the interest with which we have watched
the progress of events in the gallant Southern city.
The proposed fortifications at Spithead will be
very similar in construction. The sea forts to be
raised on No-man's Land and the Horse Laud
occupy the same position as Forts Moultrie
and Sumter bear to Charleston. When the scheme
is fully carried out, Portsmouth, instead of present-
ing to a hostile army the tempting spectacle of an
English dockyard open to attack will present a front
as unimpressible and impregnable as Charleston or
Gibraltar.

LITERATURE.

False Positions ; or, Sketches of Character.
2 vols. Chapman and Hall,
This is a tale of very original design. The mere
incidents of the story are of an unusual character,
and their sequences and consequences are quite un-
expected. This is, without doubt, a great merit,
and will be welcomed as such by the wearied readers
of ordinary romances. Nevertheless, we cannot say
that the plot of this story is either pleasing or satis-
factory. It is a series of " cross purposes" and
" false positions." Evelyn Beaumont, the heroine,
is all that a heroine should be—" Evelyn was beau-
tiful, her voice was sweetly modulated, she thought
deeply, and expressed herself with the eloquence of
truth "—yet we are grievously mistaken in assert-
ing her to be ail that a heroine should be, for she is
singularly deficient in tenderness. She can hate,
and she doE s hate her treacherous uncle, Colonel
Beaumont; she can be bitter, and indignant, and
sarc istic ; but, as far as this history reveals her to
us, she cannot love. She is, throughout her
career, the victim of " false positions." Left an
orphan in her early girlhood, she is really the
heiress of a large estate. Her father, for some whim
or to secure her from fortune-hunters, leaves two
wills, the second not to be opened until his daugh-
ter is of age. The first will consigns the estate to
his brother for the time being, with a handsome
provision for his daughter. Thus is the real mis-
tress of the domain a guest of her uncle's, and sub
ject to his petty tyranny and meanness—False posi-
tion the first. Colonel Beaumont is a widower
with an only daughter, Lucy; he has, however, an
unacknowledged son, the child of his first
marriage with a person of inferior
rank. Anxious to keep this mesalliance
secret during his brother's lifetime, the colonel rears
his son under another name; and all the affections
of his selfish heart, all the ambition of his scheming
life are centred in this boy, Norman Harcourt.
Norman, the hero of the tale, is brilliant and clever,
but singularly cold, sarcastic, and disagreeable—
" Norman was very clever; no one could be more
amusing, when he chose, or more fascinating. The
very caprice of his not choosing to be so always
had sometimes a strange attraction, for his fits of
inspiration frequently appeared so irrespective of
circumstances, that they threw a kind of charm
around him—he was my eterioua ; and so dear is this
quality to the heart of women, that the mystery of
iniquity will not seldom have a better chance of
success with them than the too great transparency
of character which sometimes accompanies having
nothing to hide !" As these remarks are written
by a lady, it is not for us to question their correct.
ness. Norman is singularly proud and wilful, and
the thraldom of his guardian's authority is irksome
to him, more especially when he is informed that
the supposed guardian is his father. Col. Beaumont,
for reasons of his own, still keeping secret the fact
that Norman is his lawful son, the ambitious and
haughty young man is doomed to continued
ignominy and disappointment in consequence of
this reserve—False position the second. The evils
of these "false positions" are, however, insignificant
compared to the calamitous results of the falsest
position of all which is brought about by the machina-
tions of Colonel Beaumont. The colonel is aware
of the secret of his brother's second will, and knows
that his niece, Evelyn, will be a wealthy heiress.
He, therefore, destines her for his beloved Norman.
To this end he shrinks from no falsehood, however
gloomy, from no treachery, however mean or des-
picable. The only satisfaction we experience in
the denouement of the story is the very questionable
pleasure with which we behold the failure of all
his scheming after the consummation of his de-
signs. The story, as we havesaid, is far from pleasing
The characters are so disagreeable that no better re-
sult could perhaps be anticipated from their mutual
intercourse. Tee dialogues and descriptions are
sparkling and animated, and there are some inte-
resting chapters on Ireland—in which the young
husband of Lucy is the victim of an agrarian, murder,
and which, considering the half avowed authorship
of the book, will be perused with especial interest.

Forbidden Fruit. By J. T. 2 vols. Smith and

Elder,

We will do the writer of these volumes the justice
to believe—and we do believe—that they have been
written with a good purpose, with the wish to en-
force upon society the weight of a great moral re-
sponsibility. We believe such to have been the
writer's object, but we are inclined to think that it
has singularly failed. To preserve our children
from bidily disease we do not think it neces
sary to take them to the fever hospital. To
warn the young of the ill Effects of iniquity,
it is not adisvable to expose them to evil
communications." The authoress of Forbidden
Fine has written her book in order to denounce
the evils of marriages without affection, and to dilate
upon the power and strength of love ; but she has
taken a very low view of social morality, and a very
poor estimate of the elevating power of true affec-
tion. One of her heroines, Maud, hears a mistaken
report that her lover is married to another, and im-
mediately she becomes the bride of a man old
enough to be her father. Her conduct is of course
most reprehensib'e, and deserves punishment ; but
the author rewards her after the customary fashion
by removing the antiquated husband, and uniting
the young widow to her early love. Far more ele-
vatedand encouraging was the admirable teaching
of "Emilia Wyndham:—
" Not once or twice in our rough island story,
The path of duty was the path of glory ,"
and in the case of Mrs. Marsh's charming heroine,
it became the path of happiness also. If we
find fault, however, with the moral teaching.
of the history of Maud, what shall we say of
that of het friend Lady Helen ? The beautiful,,
quotation from De Musset on the title-page, Tai
souffert souvent, je me suis trompe quelquefois
mais j'ai site," appears singularly out placesoeflfishand
to
in
a work which only presents love
retain ain
debasing aspect, and only likely is
ap
s
recol-
lection equivalent to rerr orse.
The story
posed to be related by a young officer in the army,
but the writer continually forgets
this fact, and
with a singular
lays down her opinions as a woman
oblivion as to the individuality of the supposed in-
aid enough, however, of a
terlocutor. We have 8-
work of which we cordially P disa rove—its own
P
title is its best commentary. Let it remain, as it
asserts to be, forbidden fruit.

LONDON AS IT IS —I have before me the Post-
office Map of London for 163. The small cloud ot
houses which in 1647 stretcnBed from Temple-bar to the
Tower, and from the Thames to London-wall, has expanded
itself, until an area embracing more square miles than
then it did acres, is a continuous mass of brick and
mortar. Who can measure its extent, or predict the
its of its expansion ? Witt Mother Shipton's pro-
phecy be verified, and will Primrose-hill eventually
become the centre of London ? Primrose-hill I Why,
in 1647, Primrose Hill lay far away in the outskirts
of London, beyond Tottenham House, and no one besides
that toothless, crazy old witch could have dreamed such
a dream 1 Yet see how house has been joined to
house, and suburb to suburb, until Highgate and
Hampstead on the north, and Peckham and Clapham
oil the south, threaten soon to become part and parcel
of this gigantic Babylon of buildings. London now
encloses in its vast circumference Fulham and Ham-
mersmith on the west, and Bow, Stepney, and Kings-
land on the east. la vain should we look for fields in
Islington or Pentonville—even the White Conduit Gardens,
in which the mighty "Elevens" of the days of the Regency
played their c,icket matches, have disappeared. Shep-
heidesses% walks and Maiden-lanes have lost their pristine
features, and form regular lines of streets interlaced with
water and gas pipes, and electric wires. Your Paradise
rows and Pieasant-places are for the most part moral as
well as material deformities. If anything green grows in
them it is artificial, and the very air comes to their denizens
choked with a dense floating concrete of dust end smoke.
The fields lying between the Tonbridge Chapel and old
Saint Pancras Church, across which, even so recently as
the end of the last century, passengers use to go after
dark in bands of seven or eight, armed with staves and
bearing lanterns, for tear of highwaymen--what has become
of them? Skinner Street and Somers Town have sprung
up, producing an ill-conditioned, poverty-stricken crop of
tenements, Paddington and Notting-hill have likewise
fallen victims to this mania of house-rearing. Why I when
I was a boy it was a delight to tramp north-westward of a
summer's evening and drink a glass of ale in the gardens
of the "Yorkshire Sting° I" Now it is necessary to take
rail, if one would escape from the soot and dirt of London,
plant foot upon the soft award, view a waving corn-field,
or inhale a mouthful of fresh air. It is in vain we look for
anything redolent or bright within an easy walking distance
of the heart of London. We are hemmed in on every side
by brick and mortar suburbs. No garden 3, no parts, no
meadows, no verdure,—all is defaced and denaturalised, by
etreet upon street.— Ogee a Week,