The Sun.
London, England, 1863-02-27 00:00:00

LITERATURE

Sylvia's lovers. By Mrs. Gaskell, Author of
" The Life of Charlotte Breute," " Mary Barton,"
&e., &c. 3 vois. Smith and Elder.
It is some time since the reading public were
favoured with a novel from this gifted writer, and
it is satisfactory to find that her style has not
deteriorated, nor her characters become lees for-
cible. In some of the personages here met with,
we find all the vigour of her former heroes and
heroines. Philip Hepburn is a masterpiece in his
life-like delineation—his virtues, his vices, all show
forth marked and prominent. They are nicely
balanced and evenly adjusted, so that we alternately
admire and despise him. Some impetuous leader
might pronounce judgment against him at once, but
that would not be fair. His errors were grave ones,
but they could not obliterate his merits. He was
gifted also with sufficient honesty of heart to know
the wrong he hail done, and the memory of it walked
through life, even unto death beside him. Sylvia
might have spared him the misery, and herself the
sin of her curses, for the avenger was ever with bins,
as the worm that dieth not, and the fire that cannot
be quenched. The point on which the story turns
is as skilful in design as was ever introduced into a
picture of real life, and ably has the conception
been carried out. Sylvia, a frank, fearless country
girl, of no particuler character, except that she was
obstinate and unforgiving when deeply offended,
was in love with Charles Kinnaird, the ;4 Speck-
sioneer" of a vessel bound for Greenland, on the
whale fishery. Philip had long been attached to
his pretty little cousin, but was waiting to declare
himself until some business arrangements had been
completed. His employers sent him to London on
an important mission. He started early in the
morning, and took his way by the sea shore to
arrive at the place where the coach started. Thus he
passed the " Haytersbank Gully, opening down its
green entrance among the worn brown bases of the
cliff." This was Sylvia's home, and he longed to
see her then and repeat the adieus of the previous
evening. Time forbade, however, and he hurried
on. A man came down the gully just then at Et,
quick pace, and, as he preceded him, Philip saw it
was his rival the Specksioneer, Kinnaird. This
latter was also on his travels, being about to take
sail for the Northern Seas. He had made an en-
gagement with a whaler at North Shields, and bad
just taken leave of Sylvia. Maddened at this
thought, Philip went on after his rival, his suc-
cessful rival, when, suddenly taking a different
turn and getting in advance of Kinnaird, he fore•
saw a deadly danger for his foe. On came the un-
suspicious sailor, and up started the ambush. The
press-gang had seized him. In vain he showed his
papers, and declared he was a protected whaler by
Act of Parliament. The fierce crew would hear no
law but that of capture, when and how they could.
They seized their prey, but on the point of depart-
ing for their boat, then in waiting on the shores
Kinnaird caught sight of Philip watching them
behind a rcck. He called to him, and, ignorant Of
his vindictiveness against him, though aware be
was not friendly disposed, proceeded to send by'
him a parting message to his cousin. Unfortu-
nately on the road Philip stumbled over Kinnaird'e
hat, which had dropped in the struggle. "In the
band that went round the low crown a ribbon was
knotted, a piece of that same ribbon which Philip
had chosen out with such tender hope to give to
Sylvia for the Corney's party on New-year's Eve.
He had been almost relenting into pity for the wan
captured before his eyes, now he abhorred him."
He heard Kinnaird deliver his charge, that be
would tell Sylvia of his misfortune, bid her not
forget their engagement, and to remember that he
would be faithful to her and return as soon as pus'
sible. Philip went on, and Kinnaird was borne to
the boat, thence to the ship, and then afterwards
over the seas to fight in foreign lands in the wars
then raging with great virulence. As may be ex-
pected, that message never reached its destinatioee
When Philip returned from London, he found, to
his great relief, that every one thought Kinnaird
had been drowned. His hat was found on the
shore, and no one in the neighbourhood had nos
ticed the vessel that had carried him away. Philip
thought this a grand opportunity, and eagerly em-
braced it. Had he looked into the question aright lie
would have recognised the deadly snares of the
tempter. Philip's love was not a perfect attach-
ment, the highest affection is capable of any sacri-
fice for the good, even for the happiness of the be-
loved one, Philip's was essentially a selfish feeling;
he stood by and saw Sylvia shedding bitter tears
for her lost love, while he acted a lie, and let her
grieve, knowing that a word from him would haste
made her heart rejoice. One step leads to another
with fearful velocity, on this dark road of decer
tion and subterfuge ; some grievous family troubles
overcame the light-hearted girl, and her sunshiny
career was for ever darkened in this world. ifer,
father, who had always entertained a burning hatred
to the press-gang, became in an evil hour involved
in a very serious struggle with them. He and his
friends liberated the men that the officers had
seized, and then, excited and maddened by long
oppression, they forgot themselves, and burned
down the " Randyvow," as they called the place
where the officers put up in Monkshaven. For
this Daniel Robson was seized and tried. By the
laws of the land at that time he was guilty of IL
capital offence, and his life paid the forfeit. Mrs.
Robson, enfeebled by illness, became quite ebildisli,
and Sylvia was alone in the world. What a con'
treat to the blooming girl, the idol of her parents;
who had not a care in the world, but was beloved
and admired wherever she turned. Philip was thAe
mainstay of the afflicted household; he provide'
an eminent lawyer to defend the accused ; 11
brought the wife and daughter to the prison, and
stayed with them in the dreary town where the
execution took place. Sylvia had notice to quit
the farm, the world seemed a desert around her:
and it was not wonderful that she should have 11.;
last agreed to marry Philip, whom she respected an
honoured for his services to her father, and his niv
wearying kindness to her mother. The scene OW;
changes. The country life, with its freedom an
ci
freshness, vanished with the days of her haPPI
youth, and the dream of her first love'
away for ever, Sylvia was now the wife 0,
a respectable shopkeeper in Monkshaven, out:
her existence assumed a measured routine that
cramped her feelings tied curbed her desires almost
beyondendurance. Philip's feelings in these "haPP. 1
days" are most accurately described. No heavier
punishment can befall the daring sons of humanit.lt
than to have their impious wishes granted, and their
unworthy longings gratified. Philip knew that his
cousin was not for him by the decision of her OP;
heart and the arrangements of Providence. 14,
began by wishing something to befall his rival, and
from the rocks up sprang men to do his bidding'
Then he availed himself of the dreadful judgments
of Heaven on the afflicted family to work out hi;
purpose. He succeeded, and yet the result V%
not so delightful " after all, and tbough he did not
)
acknowledge it to himself, the long desired haPP....
ness was not so delicious and perfect as he had It
tieipated." How could it be with the tearful guilt
that was buried in his heart. lie thought it buried
and forgot how he had outraged
allthe
d ecs°imreirknndos; '
Him to whom all hearts are open,
came,Soou aanttdero.tilio:
fatala° hboiadr.
aayntedrshbeaatilkt h. ,
sshtocohdadbgefolej
abilirdthfroorthwehironichinldo sthecerets
herbs for her mother, who , (~.
naird, glowing with life
Sylvia in the garden of la
ha'
there to gather some
suffered much, and looking up from her eroPl°l"g
she believed 1)1,0
iol,
mfaethilotmshsedeb:pwinhetrhelomveigrh;twellicean whose waves ev,
loved to watch as the grave of her lamented
zity
She rushed home, he followed her, the gu'd„
Philip appeared, and all was known. Then, truerdoled by her cruel misery, and urged on by o
vehement nature, Sylvia took a vow never rant
forgive the man who had played her so false. the
after events
are described with much Pe'til°l,o
Philip Hepburn expiated his crime so far es
ov,
could. He left the wife he dared not look tlPet,
and the men whose faces he could not nie
the
army, wandered off. Presently lie entered Ile
army, and in some desperate encounter 110
saved Kinnaird's life. After some time' al
returned to Monkshaven. He was so altered 11.:4,
the injuries he received in the Wig that no Qrit)