The Sun.
London, England, 1865-08-21 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

William Bathurst. By Lewis Hough. Three vols.
Hurst and Blackett.
" An o'er true tale" is this history of " William
Bathurst," which promises well for its author's
future success as a novel-writer. The style is very
animated, and is enlivened with occasional sparkles
of wit and humour. It is a work of courage in the
present day for a novel-writer to dare to take truth
and probability for his theme, but this the bio-
grapher of William Bathurst has done, and his
story, far from losing by the selection, is one of the
best and most enthralling that have appeared
this season. It is more than an interesting story
hoWever. It contains in its light and pleasant
pages a moral lesson of more powerful meaning
than many uttered in the pulpit, for it is one that has
its counterpart in many a home, and its echo in
many a remorseful heart. William Bathurst is one
of those unhappy ones, " unstable as water," who
not only, in consequence, " never excel," but who
too often fall a prey to evil counsel and example,
and bring ruin and misery on themselves and all
around them. The author of this powerful story has
not yielded to the natural impulse, so common with
the novel writer, to smooth over the consequences
of error and let all be well that ends well.
We will cautiously abstain from spoiling the inte-
rest of the tale, but will content ourselves with com-
mending the skilful manner in which the close of
the plot is constructed, and while (in common with
many readers who will be interested in the story) we
shrink from some of the punishments distributed, we
cannot at the same time refrain from admiring the
justice with which the final doom is awarded, or
the accuracy with which the ultimate results of the
hero's criminal weakness are pourtrayed. William
Bathurst, when we first meet him, is a pretty boy of
ten, with blue eyes and flaxen hair, the only son of
a widowed mother, the prim and austere Mrs.
Bathurst. "He was a genius who invented
the word prim," here interpolates the author
—" it is one of the most expressive words in
the English language, for the utterance of it forces
the face to look the thing." It should have been in-
cluded in that famous list—" Papa—Potatoes—
Poultry—Prunes—and Prism"—with which Mrs.
General amended the pronunciation of the young
Dorrits. Very amusing is the account of
the visit of Mr. Horace Bathurst, the bachelor
uncle and godfather of William, to the
grim dwelling of his precise sister-in-law. Such a
home exercises no beneficent effect on the disposition
of the only boy. An easy school where he is the pet
and the paragdn enervates still more a character too
ready to yield to such influences. With William
Bathurst there is no middle course. He is either
demure and dull at his mother's apron string, or the
reckless companion and partner of his quondam
school-fellow, the gay and unprincipled Frederick
Leeson, the evil genius of the tale, whose character
is very skilfully portrayed. Very justly, however,
in the following forcible remarks does the author
refuse to exonerate his hero from the evil conse
quences of his own weak conduct.
EVERY MAN MUST BEAR HIS OWN BURDEN.

"Pardon the triteness of the remark, but it is really a
very awful thing to have been born. I suppose there is
hardly a human being, however thoughtless or reckless, to
whom that idea has not occurred at somo time or another ;
to most of us it is a familiar subject of consideration. Then
why write it down here ? Because, while I was consider-
ing William Bathurst's position at this period of his life
just now, the fact came home to me, not like the exist-
ence of a country called Timbuctoo, or the number of
miles the moon is distant from the earth, but as a per-
sonal practical truth. You are born and reared without
having ane voice in the matter, it is true, but from the
moment you become a walking, talking, sentient animal
you can help almost everything you do ; you have the
choice of acting rightly or wrongly every minute ; and
when you prefer the latter, you are responsible for it,
and will some day, in some way or other, suffer for the
choice. If a child steals a lump of sugar ho will find
it more difficult afterwards to fight against dishonesty;
if ho allows passion its head, he will find the beast's
mouth harder, and his arm weaker next time ; if he
shrinks from peril, his cowardice will increase. When
the coroner's inquest brings in a verdict of temporary
insanity upon the suicide, wo all say—" Poor fellow!
he could not help it." But could he not ? No, not at
the time, perhaps, but could he not have helped giving
way to that fit of sulks five, ten, fifteen, twenty years
ago ? And all those increasing outbursts of temper, did
ho light them fairly, or strike his colours with greater
and greater pusillanimity every time ?
"Committed theft has he ? Poor follow !—the most
honest man in the world—well off—no necessity for the
act—he was not responsible for it—a mere attack of klepto-
mania ; was there not a time when the temptation to take
might have been resisted, ay, and with ease ? The
drunkard ! Has a craving, has he, which it is almost im-
possible to resist ? lied he that always ?—was he born
with it ? I tell you, in ninety-nine cases out of a hun-
dred, he forced himself to drink to excess in the first
instance ; his gorge rose at the extra glass, Nature stood
up against him and wrestled to prevent his swallowing
it ; but he thought intoxication was manly, or ho had
imbibed from Anacreontic poetry romantic ideas of the
pleasure attached to it, or ho was curious to try a new
sensation, and so he wilfully forced himself through the
vicious portals, and at that moment at least was respon-
sible for the loss of power to resist the poison when at
a later period he was dying of it.
"It is a fearful thing to 'Be—every weakness, every
failing, every sin of omission as of commission, is our
own fault ; we could not help committing it at the mo-
ment, perhaps, but wo could have helped committing
some other sin years before, and a series of subsequent
sins in the interim, which incapacitated us from resist-
ing at the last. Is not the governor who neglects the
defence of the outposts responsible for the loss of citadel ?
Is not the man who fires the fusee the one who blows up the
magazine, what matter whether that fusee smoulder for
five minutes, an hour, a month, a year, a decade, a century?
And therefore I say that 'William Bathurst was himself in
a great measure to blame for the weakness of his character.
It is true that ho was born with a yielding disposition ; it
is true, also, that an injudicious education had tended to
foster rather than discourage the evil ; but nevertheless it
is also true that unless he had in thousands of little matters
given way when his conscience told him to make a stand
which he might have made with ease with a slight amount
of trouble and self-denial, from which, however, he wilfully
shrank, he would never have fallen into habits of vicious
indulgence without a harder struggle against his fate, nor
succumbed so speedily and utterly to the influence of a man
whose walk in life was not, he well knew, along the paths
of virtue."
We will dwell no further on the moral purpose so
very admirably and effectively carried out in the
warning history of " William Bathurst." We may
safely commend the book to all our readers, grave
or gay, for it is one that cannot fail to interest, and
it is one that no one will be the worse for reading.
Let not the seeker of amusement he deterred by
this grave recommendation. As an evidence of
the amusing powers of the writer, let us quote
the following delightful description of
A MARRIAGE A LA MODE; OR, JENKINS OUTDONE.
" Great indeed had been the preparations ; multitudinous
pairs of cards, coupled by a silver cord (since the silver
cord has been loosened by the Divorce Act, the custom of
sending these has very properly gone out), and encased in
highly-ornamental envelopes, were printed, sealed, and
directed ; a whole Oberland of snowy wedding-cakes was
ordered; the most elaborate breakfast that could be pre-
pared for many was provided by Blomteit and Grunter ;
the talents of an ingenious carpoLter were called into play
for the solution of the puzzle, how to feed fifty people in
a room which is crowded by twenty ?' the largest allowance
of bridesmaids had been selected, together with those
maxima; parte,' of such assistants, their dresses ; the bride's
own costume had, after more discussion than would have
sufficed to carry a bill through Parliament, been completed;
a dean (Slr. Johnstone had strained every nerve, but vainly,
for a colonial bishop) was engaged to tie the nuptial knot,
which was to bo pulled so uncommonly tight, that he was
to have four other clergymen to help him to tug at it ; the
village school children were engaged as supers, and
knocked off their reading, writing, sewing, &c., at an early
honr every day, to rehearse strewing flowers in the bride's
path ; all the yellow chariots and white horses and post-
boys to be bad within a circuit of several miles, were re-
tained for the occasion ; a garret was entirely filled from
floor to ceiling with white favours of largo dimensions, a
provision which the pussy-cat thought had been made
against her approaching accouchement ; and gratefully
acting under that erroneous impression, found it a great
improvement upon the coal-cellar. In short, nothing bad
been forgotten when the auspicious (I have a right to that
mouth-filling word, after saying it was fine, and quoting
the proverb, Happy,' &c.') day arrived.
" William Bathurst and his two grooms were in the
church, waiting ; they were dressed--
" I tell you it is all right ; the men's clothes must come
first, because the ladies have not arrived yet ; and as for
omitting the dresses, I know better. Allow me a short
episodical anecdote, I pray you. I undertook ono day to
read out an account of some royal wedding to a party of
ladies who wore working, and occasionally comparing
notes upon their work iu an undertone, which is not an
encouraging thing to one who is rather conceited about
his power of elocution. I road about the virtues and per-
sonal charms of the contracting parties (in whispers), of