The Sun.
London, England, 1853-07-14 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

Bleak House. No. XVII. By Charles Dickens.
Our anticipations as to the character of the de-
nouement are being in almost every particular real-
ised—rather, perhaps, should we say our conjec-
tures, in regard to the nature of the plot, have already
been in almost every instance verified. Bucket
proves himself to be no greenhorn. Instead of
this, indeed, the pink and pattern of detectives.
He has shown himself, through all the bewildering
intricacies of the incidents, just one too many for
the assassinator of the old man of the name of
Tulkinghorn. Everything apparent fixes the infamy
of the clime on Lady Dedlock—and yet that fami-
liar demon, the fat forefinger of Mr. Bucket, be-
comes the index pointing in a quite opposite direc-
tion—pointing steadily to the shadowy form of
another murderess—as steadily and inexorably as
the hand of death or of fate—marking out the real
criminal as with the sinister wand of an inflexible,
inscrutable, passionless, unpitying, and impertur-
bable Rhadamanthus. Although we promised in
our notice of the proceeding number that, accord-
ing to a shrewd guess, it appeared to us unlikely
Boz would ever allow his model police detective to
blunder so egregiously as to run on the trail
of an innocent victim of malevolence, how-
ever strong the evidence might seem to be to
the superficial—we will confess that we ourselves
experienced something like surprise when—coming
to that crowning point in the narrative--" after a
suspense of a minute or two, the door slowly opens,
and"—there enters (to be taken into custody by
Mr. Bucket, in the presence of Sir Leicester)—not
Lady Dedlock, but—a French woman—Mademoi-
selle Hortense ! As we suspected ! Even to a
nicety. Hortense was all along mistrusted by
Bucket. Hortense was the nameless lodger of that
pattern detective. Hortense was the writer of the
letters accusing Lady Dedlock of being the mur-
deress. Hortense, in fine, turns out to be the mid-
night assassin of the old man of the name of Tulk-
inghorn. At length we may hope, therefore, to
get some clue to that still inscrutable mystery about
Mademoiselle Hortense, once upon a time, at Ches-
ney-wold, walking through the wet grass in her
stockings. May we still venture to surmise
that her eccentric conduct in so doing was
simply to register more firmly in her own
mind her determination to be revenged on
her haughty mistress ? Nothing could well be
more admirable than the unravelment of the
tangled thread of the narrative in the chapters last
published. Their enthralling character might
reasonably be anticapted from the mere titles of
them—one " Springing a Mine"--another "Flight"
—another " Pursuit"—headings at once suggestive
and alluring, while they prepare the mind for
divers dramatic disclosures. The mine sprung is
under the feet, of course, of Mademoiselle Hortense,
and the hand that springs it is that of Mr. Bucket.
The Flight is that of Lady Dedlock, and the Pur-
suit is conducted by the übiquitous Detective,
at the instigation of the haughty but forgiving and
noble-spirited Sir Leicester. It must be obvious
from these few particulars how much is ac-
complished by our author in the develop-
ment of history—another indication of which
is apparent in the multiplicity of the characters
introduced within this restricted instalment of the
fiction. Besides the conspicuous personages al-
ready specified, we here observe grouped about the
stage the bodily form of the young man of the
name of Guppy, no less than the ghostly shadow
of the old man of the name of Tulkinghorn ; we see
the glorious " old girl" once more, triumphant on
her returning townwards with Mr. George's mother,
good Mistress Rouncewell ; we see that most ex-
cellent of ne'er-do-weels released from prison, fully
exonerated from all share in the murder of Tulk-
inghorn ; we catch a glimpse of grandfather Small-
weed, of Mrs. Snagsby, of the Reverend Chadband,
with his wife and his oil-mill--even too of Phil
Squod and Mercury. It would have rejoiced us to
encounter once again in these chapters the boister-
ous Boythorn, and the self-contained Skimpole—
but in good time we may now hope to meet with
them before the close of the story, and to learn more
in so doing of cousin John, of Esther, of Rick, of
"my darling girl," of the Jellybys and the Turvy-
drops, of Charley and of Peepy, of Miss Flite and
Mr. roodcourt ; and last, but not least, of the
great case of Jarndyce and Jarndyce. Death has
already snatched from us Jo, and Gridley, and
Nemo, and Tulkinghorn—but there are still re-
mauling to lure us on through all the mazes of the
plot, to its now rapidly approaching conclusion.
Several exquisite passages adorn this seventeenth
number of " Bleak House"—some of delightful hu-
mour, others of delicious pathos, and one or two of
an interest quite absorbing. The interview between
Mr. Bucket and Sir Leicester, for example, is ad-
mirably, and in parts most touchingly, described—
as also between the broken-hearted baronet and his
old housekeeper. Again—nothing could well be
more purely and unaffectedly pathetic in its simpli-
city than the account of Mrs.. Baguet taking
George's mother to him in the place of his impri-
sonment. During one of the most touching por-
tions of this description, we hear quite character-
istically, that " all this time the old girl, turned
away, leans one arm against the whitened wall,
leans her honest forehead upon it, wipes her eyes
with her serviceable grey cloak, and quite enjoys
herself, like the best of old girls as she is." Alto-
gether, the present number of " Bleak House" is a
superb instalment.

The Life and Death of Silas Barnstarke. By Talbot
Gwynne, author of " The School for Fathers,"
&c. Smith and Elder.

This tale, like others of the author's, is a story of
bygone days, the events taking place in the seven-
teenth century, in that stormy time so often the
period chosen for fiction. Rut the present tale
does not refer to public events, indeed it scarcely
notices them, excepting as they affect the ind'vi-
duals of the story. Silas Barnstarke, the hero, and
his brother Walter, are left orphans at the com-
mencement, and are brought up by their uncle, Sir
John Lovell, a worthy country baronet. Silas re-
quests at an early age that he may be educated for
a merchant, and so attain his greatest wish, the
regaining of some old family estates, which had
been lost by the improvidence of his ancestors. He
sets out in life with the one idea of making money,
and being being of a firm, resolute disposition, of good
abilities, and a strong mind, he succeeds to the
height of his ambition. But the demoralising prin-
ciple which he had adopted at the outset of life
clings to him when all need for it has vanished.
From making every good impulse subservient to it
he soon had few to control, for he was never of a gene-
rous or elevated character. His father's will having
been made before the birth of his brother, Silas is
the only heir, and, overcome by his desire of wealth,
he refuses to give Walter anything, leaving him a
dependent on his uncle's bounty. He subsequently
becomes a clergyman, and he is shown as a con-
trast to his brother throughout. To obtain posses-
sion of the much-coveted acres, Silas does not
hesitate to direct the fury of the Puritans against
the owner, and to take possession of his confiscated
property. A long course of meanness and selfish-
ness leads him on step by step from his first avari -
cious tricks at school to his neglect of his brother,
to his treacherous information against Sir Peter
Markeham, to fill the catalogue of his misdeeds
with the crime of murder. Being the next heir to
his cousin, he murders him on a lonely com-
mon, to obtain his estates, in addition to
his own vast wealth. But the hour of re-
tribution is at hand. The terrible avenger
comes : the plague strikes the miser, and the
murderer, and teaches him in the hour of death,
by the agonies of remorse, by the sufferings of the
pestilence, how little relief to the stricken body,
how little consolation to the tortured soul, were
those golden hoards and those vast estates—the
dead sea-fruit of that " covetousness which is
idolatry." A striking lesson is thus afforded,
which, in this money-making age, is not altogether
unnecessary. It shows how those who make wealth
their first object, even should they begin in a just
cause, are apt to be drawn into the whirlpool, and,
when the need is past, love it and seek it fbr its sake
alone, neglecting the calls of duty and charity, re-
fusing to hear the cry of distress, and slighting
even their natural claimants if they will diminish
those heaps of treasure which to preserve and in-
crease becomes almost insensibly their chief desire.
Though few are so led away as Silas Barnstarke,
and plunge themselves in actual outward crime,
there are many whose hearts are hardened and
best feelings warped by this dangerous passion.
The style of the author is already favourably known
to the public, and the present tale will not diminish
his reputation. A great number of secondary
characters are introduced, all well delineated, and
the interest is sustained throughout by the vigour
of the narrative and the variety of incident.

The Church of. England Quarterly Review.
The first article in this review is on Mr. Layard's
recent discoveries at Nineveh and Babylon. It is
followed by a criticism on a French historical work,
which affords the subject for a very interesting
paper, " The Hohenstauffen and the Popes." A
writer on " University Reform" does not approve
of the great changes which have been proposed, and
in defence of his opinions he asserts that the col-
leges of America, with all the systems of the world
to choose from, are voluntarily recurring to the
cultivation of the classical department of study.
Another article on an important subject of general
interest is " Elementary Education," a subject
which demands immediate attention, but which,
like many others of equal importance, is beset with
difficulties. The chief papers on theological points