The Sun.
London, England, 1856-07-17 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

The Young Lord. By the Author of the " Disci-
pline of Life," " Clare Abbey," &c., &0..2 vols.

-Hurst; and ljlackett.

Those who have appreciated the former works
by this authoress will welcome the appearance of
these volumes. Nor will they be disappointed, as is
too often t he case, when previous promise is unfule
filled by present performance. This novel is the
production of one who takes high and exalted views
of life, and at the same time fully acknowledges
the influence of softer sympathies, while she advo-
cates the claims of stern principle and uncompre-
mising rectitude. The characters are natural, we
do not find ideal perfectien, or imaginary crime ;
on the contrary, the chief purport would seem to
be the dangers which surround the path of the
g tod and excellent. These difficulties are skillfully
depicted, and the reader cannot fail to he suttee:
by the force and appositeness of the remarks made
upon them. It is impressive to behold both sides
of the question, not always to suppose mankind
divided into two cliquecone for ever improving,
the other as sensibly retrograding. The bad may
make many approaches towards virtue, and the
pure in purpose actually approach the wrong path.
The hero is an admirable character, possessed of
'mattY Ovantages, with an upright mind, a kind
heart, ,noble spirit, thatjearlesa of obstaeles, arid,
scorning paltry motives, pressed on untiringly
towards a'high and holy end. If one thing more
than another occupied the thoughts, propelled the
actions, and inspired the soul of Hugh Beauchamp,
it was the work of benefiting his humbler neigh-
•bours. "He fought for his love when he fought
for the poor." A casual observer might ques-
tion how he could be wrong, but the c tlm voice
of reason, - and the sober reflection of truth,
showed that he erred in his motive. He did not
do right because it was right, he dii not benefit
his fellowmen, from the consideration that
they were also his fellow-heirs of immortality, and
that nothing he did for their good, their spiritu, 1
and moral advancement, but would turn to account
either for their immediate benefit here, or be finally
reaped by them in blessings in the harvest of here-
after. He desired to please them now, and to be
pleased by their thanks. If he worked for them,
he expected them to praise his labours ; if ha im-
proved them, he thought the first fruits of their
improvement, should be exhibited in gratitude to
him. It is not necessary to say that such is not,
never has been, and never will be the result of
doing good on earth. The state of society is too
imperfect, the passions of men too violent, and the
circumstances of life too trying, to admit of a simi-
lar conclusion. If the worker toil with that idea,
he will find with the "young lord" that' all is
vanity and vexation of spirit. Not that Hegh
Beauchamp was a profitless labourer in the human
vineyard : the good he did was incalculable, and
the influence of his known principles was great.
But he suffered hiinself from his own pride and
presumption. Then is seen the best part of the
narrative, when the proud nature that scorns to
learn of earth is taught of Heaven. No that it is
suggested that the misfortt ae that came upon the
proud heir of all that this world can offer to the
young, to dazzle, to fascinate, and to delight, was
to be considered in the light of a judgment or a
retribution, such as often comes down in terror, aF,
the thunderbolt of the skies, upon the head of Liao
presumptuous offender against right and reason.
It is more the intention of the authoress to show
that the good must suffer as well as the evil,
and that the sharpeit sting of adversity for the
conscience of the just is the knowledge that
prosperity has been abused. The young heir of
the Beauchamps overrated himself in supposing
that he should be the primary object of all around
him. He was taught a very different lesson when a
season of distress arrived, and poverty—that touch-
stone of the feelings—knocked at the doors of the
people he had striven to serve. It was not only
in a public capacity that this highly gifted, well-
intentioned, yet mistaken man, committed errors ;
in private he was also unfortunate. His father
had been appointed guardian to a young lady, by
her father, who was abroad, and entertained a high
sense of the superior qualities that distinguished
the Beauchamps. He arranged that if Lord. Sin-
gleton died before himself, the trust should devolve
upon his son, in whom, though young, he felt im-
plicit confidence. All came to pass as had been
foreseen, and Hugh, then Lord Singleton, became

I the guardian of Sybil Moore. • Nor was her father
mistaken. Nowhere could a more zealous, efficient,
or upright deprsitory of the important duty have
been found. The faults, as usual with the young
lord, were on the _surface. His manners undid
the works his mind planned so wall. He was par-
ticular in one thing—he placed his young,wsrd
with a relation of his father's, who lived in the
vicinity of Beauchamp Park. With this kind
friend and his wife and daughter Sybil was parti-
cularly fortunate. Annette Beauchamp is a most
Winning character—one of those rare and gentle
beings who are ever intent on serving others. It
is impossible to exaggerate the good effected by
such natures in a world of selfishness, and Sybil
was among the many who was improved by the
modest village maiden. Sybil Moore was wilful
and passionate, impossible to be governed by force,
buteasilyinfluenced bylove, and affected by the sight
of virtue.. She showed her intrinsic goodAispositien
by conforming herself to the simple ways of her
-new home, 'instead of pining after the banished
splendours of-her former life where she had been
a leadine star to every eye," from her beauty,
grace, ancreacehmplishments.' Lord Singleton did
not try_ to influence her, but commanded, and she
unwilling to submit to one so near her own age
resisted, and. the consequence was continual
struggles for supremacy. After many troubles
Sybil resolved to visit some of her former friends,
who were anxious to see her again. Her guardian
knew that if he spoke no use would be gained ; he
therefore sought his constant helper in all emer-
gencies,_. the _playmate of his boyhood, the com-
panion of his youth, the gentle Annette Beau-
champ. He little knew the suffering he was giv-
ing to her when having begged her to dissuade her
friend frorn the journey, he went on to confess that
the real reason that formed the difficulty of his
communicating with Sybil was his own attachment
to her. For once the spirit ready to help the)
' troubles of others was lost in its own bitterness.
" There are climates in which the sun goes down
suddenly, and while it is day no twilight prepuce;
the mind for the shadows of night. So suddenly
went down the sun•of Annette's existence. What
a single word can do !" Rousing herself she pro-
mised to do her utmost. L failed, however, and
Sybil went away. Soon after her departure the:
summons came to Annette. Always delicate, tbs.,
shock she bad mentally sustained, joined to ties
effects of a cold winter, laid ber low. Trouble,
was paramount in the once happy village.
The young lord had always been warned to ten
careful of tais sight. He neglected the warning, and.,
just at this period he began to feel symptoms of a
catnip,- evil. Sybil returned unharmed by contact i
with givolity to see lier dying friend. On her
deathbed Annette abjured her to overcome her
pride, and follow the dictates of her real feelings.
should. Lord Singleton again seek her band. In a fit
of auger and misapprehension, Sybil had rejected
him before her visit to London. Awed by the
selerrinity of the scene, Sybil promised, if the op-
p )rtunity again occurred,' to agree. Annette
riehtly judged her friend in thinking that the
affliction in prospect would hasten instead of delay
her generous nature, to agree to share the lot and
-walk in the path of one whose way on earth had
been darkened by the hand of God, possibly to
show him that Heaven's sweetest blessings might
yet be his—sympathy and affection. While she
sunk to her last lest, happy ire this conviction, very .
different was the reality. Never would the proud
young lord he beholden in darkness to one who had
scorned him in light. He maintained a friendly
intercourse with her, but that was all. Previous
to this time he had resigned the trust reposed in
him to Mr. Beauchamp, so now no tie connected
them. The long winter he passed in town, trying
reaie lies that resulted in total blindness,- was an
event"ul one to Sybil.. She learned to know her-
self. What all the excellence of her former guar-
dian coull not in the least degree do for her, she
did alone in the house darkened by death. Many
events occurred which tested the newly-acquired
humility of the learners of life's lessons. A. cousin
of Hugh's, to whom he had been very kind, now
in his turn strove t) cheer the sad life, by pointing
out to him what an observer can often find—the,
truth—while those concerned are ignorant. Pride
had its last struggle here, but finally succumbed,
and the result was, the union of two haughty na-
tures as ever existed. Both had been trained since
they first met, one by the destruction of his hopes,
and the other by their fulfilment:- Sybil never
suffered more than when left to herself, while
Hugh Beauchamp never felt more real satisfaction
than when dependent on kindness. All showed
it to him, which triumph his proud spirit never
achieved, in its days of strength and splendour.
It may seem a sad end to the record of youth and
beauty, the pride of man, and the love of woman,
but all those advantages did not give satisfaction,
much less peace, when possessed, and their depri-
vation showed the way for better things to somein
their stead. "Not enjoyment and not'sorrow" is
the best and wisest description of life that the
poet can picture or the novelist portray. This is
peculiarly the representation here given of exist-
ence. The last words spoken by the young lord,
as they wandered at evening over his-splendid do-
main, were called forth by some exclamation of
delight by Sybil. Then, whet' thinking of her
matchless beauty, that had charmed him so often,
now never to be beheld, ho said, " Oh, Sybil, to
chink I shall never see you !" This is, after
a real harbinger of human life ; something le
wanted, or desired, or missed; some treasure is
lost, or found too late. The narratives that sl ow
el to be straight, at least, are fabulous in their in-
stability, without the moral of the fable. Without
trenching on subjects unsuited to the consideration
Of the pages of fiction,' tbe detailer of
.the events
of life, should make manifest, by the tone of the
composition, by the spirit if not the letter, that
undimmed lustre can only shine whive the eyes
of the blind shall be opened. Such considerations
refer only to the higher class of works, to which
this book pre-eminently belongs. It is adapted to
the taste of the superior in feeling, as murk ac the
intelligent in intellect. It aspires to set forth
unworldly precepts, and to influence in the
direction of a higher than an earthly standard.
All must acknowledge the purity of its motives.
the genuineness. of its expressions of feeling, and
the force of its arguments. The story has the in
terest which an earnest mind imparts to everything
under its direction, and will reward reperusal,
when the trifling productions of the hour or the
day arc cast aside in weariness of spirit. Enthu-
siasm is not awakened here for any ideal hero or
or heroine ; they are shown faulty and human in
their good, as others are in their evil qualities. A
fair specimen of the page of existenceds,unfolded
.befereltS;--trittvbiat'tliose Who appear on the scene,
are by turns influenced by the various ruling pas-.
sions of human nature. As the plants are braced
by the rude storms, and nurtured by the gentle
showers, while their blossoms unfold in beauty,
some reclining in the shade of earth, others shining
in the light of heaven •, so the germs of the cha-
racters are trained by different -agencies, varying
in action, uniting in thought, constituting the
course of what the authoress has graphically and
emphatically described, as the discipline of ,life.
With so momentous a subject, it is not a matter of
surprise that the work should bo the exponent of
dep feelings, as it is the indication of lofty prin-
ciples ; that it should seek the approval rather than
the admiration of its readers; and, looking through
Nature up to Nature's God, draw the inspiration
of its eloquence from the shrine of truth.