The Sun.
London, England, 1856-01-31 00:00:00

Eureka-Lit is found ! A really national cyclo-
psedia—a new dictionary of universal knowledge—
issued as a cheap periodical, and yet delivered to
the subscribers with such admirable rapidity as to
come almost at once into their hands as a substan-
tial publication. Already (in attestation of this)
half of the entire work has even now been per-
fected—perfected within three years from the date
of its commencement. A similarly brief interval
will place the other moiety in our possession.
Eight out of the sixteen volumes of the serial may
now be ranged upon our bookshelves for consulta-
tion. The remaining eight are to follow in due
sequences according to Mr. Knight's original an-
nouncement. Hitherto he has been true to his
word—he will not fail to fulfil his later promises
with equal accuracy in the hereafter. He has
taught us to regard his assurances upon these mat-
ters with implicit and illimitable confidence. He
has earned his right to our respectful acceptance of
his declarations upon these heads as neither illu-
sory nor simply speculative. What he engages to
do, he does, and does, moreover, always right
well, and—thoroughly. It cannot very easily be
forgotten by the reading public of England, that
to Charles Knight, among all men, it is indebted,
especially, directly, personally indebted for the
boon of an unbounded supply of instructive and
entertaining, cheap and wholesome publications.
As the originator of our respectable cheap litera-
ture, Charles Knight takes foremost rank among
the more eminent and the more practical of our
great national benefactors. He is incomparably
and beyond all question the Father of the new Sys-
tem. Individually, as an author, as a man of in-
tellect—his fame will rest, of course, upon the me-
mory of his luminous writings as facile princeps
amcng the commentators and biographers of Shak-
spere. It gives promise, moreover—this literary re-
putation of his—of being very considerably enhanced
by his ingenious researches as the popular historian
of England. Otherwise—as a philanthropist, as a
promoter of general education, as a publisher—
Charles Knight will be most honourably remem-
bered in his capacity as the founder of the recent,
but already wide-spread system of good and cheap
literature, whether in regard to books, or in regard
to periodicals. Recollect, it was Charles Knight
who, years and years ago, poured lavishly from his
printing press, every successive Saturday, the
weekly instalments of that very memorable illus-
trated instructor—the Penny Magazine. It was
Charles Knight, again, who in the same way, month
after month, printed and published that well-
remembered pocket library—the Shilling Volumes.
It was Charles Knight who was the accepted and
authoritative medium for the distribution all over
the empire of the famous treatises of that much
abused but eminently serviceable body—the
,society for the Difficsion, of Usefid Knowledge. It
was Charles Knight who did all this, and who,
besides doing all this, crowned the whole of his
really benign labours at once as author, and editor,
and publisher, by giving to the world another
genuine world-wonder in the shape of his heinous
Penny Cyclopedia. He has, since then, in a re-
markable little volume called "The Old Printer
and Modern Press," related how it came to pass
that the last-mentioned work, in spite of its ad-
mitted excellence, never became so far successful
as to he actually remunerative. He has therein
laid it down as an axiom that no serial publication
has ever really succeeded in this country, which
occupiscl more than four or five years, at the very
utmost, in the stages of its periodical appearance—
explaining, while doing so, very lucidly, the why
and the wherefore. Ho has recounted, for ex-
ample, in illustration of his accuracy in this rather
startling estimate, how the " Penny Cyclopiedia,"
during the eleven years absorbed in the progress
of its issue, number by number, pai.t by part,
volume by volume, gradually, at first almost
imperceptibly, but in the end very appreciably,
dwindled from a circulation of 50,000, to a circula-
tion of 20,000—upwards of half the number of the
original subscribers finding their patience exhausted
long before the arrival of the ultimate date of its
completion ! Instructed by the very costly expe-
rience thus purchased, Mr. Knight deliberately re-
solved upon the issue in weekly numbers at sixpence,
and in monthly parts at two shillings, and in quar-
terly volumes at twelve shillings, of THE NATIONAL
CYCLOP.EDIA, a Dictionary of Universal Know-
ledge, based upon The Penny Cyelopcedia. A won-
derful undertaking, apart from its cheapness, when
it is remembered that it is, to all intents and pur-
poses, a new cycloptedia, to be begun and finished.
within five years altogether from the actual date of
its coinmencemeat. Yet more remarkably to faci-
litate the completion of the serial in the hands of
the subscribers, Mr. Knight, it appears to us most
judiciously, decided upon an alphabetical arrange-
ment of his English CyclopLedia under four separate
divisions, each complete in four volumes—first,
4 vols. of " Geography ;" secondly, 4 vols. of
" Natural History ;" thirdly, 4 vols. of " Sciences
and Arts ;" fourthly, 4 vole of " History and Bio-
graphy "—sixteen volumes altogether. A couple
of these divisions appearing simultaneously.
Already, as we have said, exactly half of the entire
work, as thus organised, has by this time made its
appearance. Tao subscribers have thus, within
little more than two years and a-half acquired in
return for the petty outlay of just sixpence per
week, eight splendid volumes, comprising within
them a perfect cyclopmdia of " Natural History
and "Geography." Beautifully printed in clear
type, upon excellent paper, and lavishly adorned
with woodcut illustrations, the text of the old
work (the " Penny Cyclopdia.") having been
carefully remodelled in the new work (the
"English Cyclopdia ''), so as to adapt it
to the advanced state of existing knowledge !
How successfully all this has been accomplished
in the two broad divisions of the work already
completed, may be easily enough conjectured, when
it is bobornem mind that among the distinguished
authorities consulted in reference to the natural
sciences are contemporaries as illustrious as Owen
in regard to anatomy, as Liebig in regard to
chemistry, as Austad in regard to geology, as
Broderip in regard to ornithology, and so forth
throughout. Speaking of the work at this stage
of its publication, we are not estimating its value
merely es; pule llcrettlem ! It is something better
and more advanced even than a torso. Already
there stand before us, each complete in itself and
maturely perfected, two out of the four figures
arranged to be grouped together, in symmetrical
order, upon the pedestal of the English Cyclopcedia.
We can speak of them, therefore, as we find them ;
and we find them in all essential respects really
admirable. When brought to its final close the
aggregate work will be embellished with upwards
of five thousand wood engravings-5,000 separate
illustrations, scattered over the pages of sixteen
quarto volumes of inestimably instructive letter-
press. Sixpence a week for all this—the wonders
of our age it must be confessed are not altogether
restricted to such marvels as the steam-engine and
the electric telegraph.

The Popular History of England. By Charles
Knight. No. I. Bradbury and Evans.
Here, indeed, we have in simple truth before us
but the foot of a Hercules. It were presumptuous

This is a striking and remarkable story, with
great originality of plot and vivid delineation of
character, drawn by a vigorous if unpractised hand.
Yet, notwithstanding the talents displayed in its
production, the impression it leaves on the reader's
mind is not a pleasing one, though it may serve to
point a moral to those whose passionate affections
mislead their judgment, and whose desire to make
those they love happy overpowers their sense of
right. It presents us with the melancholy picture
of a vehement and gifted nature, with an enthusi-
astic reverence for all that is true and noble, and
a fervent sense of right, wandering in the paths of
sin and sorrow, and wrecking all its hopes of hap-
piness and virtue, on that rock which has proved
fatal to so many, " doing evil that good may
come." It is written in the form of an autobio-
graphy, the writer being the only daughter of a
clergyman who has four sons. The story opens
with a tragedy. On a sultry summer afternoon the
heroine, then only a girl, is in her father's study,
when sho overhears a conversation between him
and her mother, which opens to her the fatal secret
which mars her whole after life. As her mother is
persuading her husband to choose the right way,
and has just triumphed, she sees her youngest child
playing in the garden in the thunderstorm. She
flies to bring him into safety, and they are both
struck dead beneath an old cedar tree. The same vivid
flash deprives another of her brothers of sight, and a
third dying some time after, Lilian, and her eldest
brother Lawrence, are all that remain of the once
happy family, the blind boy being placed at a
school, and seldom returning home. But the bit-
terest sorrow was to come. Lilian's father, as we
have already said, was a clergyman of the English
Church, but being of a controversial disposition he
had become persuaded that her ritual was not the
right one. What the precise nature of his doubts
was, his daughter never knew ; she only knew that
he did doubt, and she saw the result. This father
was the one great object of Lilian's existence. Her
affection for him was intense, and she saw that t
continue the outward observance of his profession
was to him torture. But he was of that weak and
vacillating disposition, which possessing the noblest
impulses, might almost as well have the worst.
" With e longings of an angel" he had neither
strength of mind nor moral rectitude sufficient to
stay him from acts that were almost criminal. The
thought of his family deterred him trom surrender-
inn' his benefice. His wife and five children he
thought he could not doom to poverty, and so he
lingered arid delayed till his wife, with firmer
principle and stronger faith, persuaded him to do
what was right, nothing doubting—for whatever
the real value of his opinions, it is certain that if
lie believed them true, be should have followed
them. The hand of death withdrew from hint his
adviser and support, and with her his new resolu-
tions. Lilian was aware of the struggle in her
father's mind, and an earnest longing to aid him
filled her heart. She saved all she could, but
found her hoards proceed slowly, and a passionate
desire for wealth seized her. She sought it, it is true,
for her father's sake ; but, alas, when once riches are
made our final object, reckless of the moans by
which they are attained, however pure the heart,
however holy the object, the path to every crime
lies open. All Lilian's better feelings were sacri-
ficed at the shrine of gold. Her early lover was
poor, and the first affection of her heart was sur-
rendered. She found herself desiring the death of
her miser uncle, nay, almost conniving at it, for
she neglected to warn him of danger. His pacl:et-
book fell into her hands ; she became a thief. It is
true that the check she withdrew from it did not
profit her as her brother claimed it ; but that did
not excuse the act. Finding the philosopher's stone
still eluding her grasp, she resolved to captivate a
rich lawyer, with whom she was well acquainted,
and who had extricated her from a serious diffi-
culty. She succeeded, and they were engaged,
though with the confession on his part that he had
once loved another, and could never hope to love
again. Lilian was reckless, she had taught herself
to love him, and freedom for her father was an
object great enough to compensate for any defici-
encies. A cousin of Lilian's, Alice Campbell, came
to reside with her a few months betore her mar-
riage. She had been brought up by her aunt, a
strictly conscientious woman, but had never seen
her mother's family, owing to her aunt's displea-
sure against Mr. O'May, Lilian's father. This was
another of the instances in which his fatal weakness
of disposition entailed misery on others, and re-
morse on himself. He had recommended a friend
to the dying Mr. Campbell, as a guardian for his
daughter, whom he believed to be unworthy of the
trust. He proied so, and the orphan was left
penniless. Her aunt, in displeasure, would never
see the author of the misfortune, and broke off an
engagement which Alice had, formed, on learning
that her lover was a friend of Mr. O'May.
This lover was no other than Mr. Hal-
lidon, the lawyer, to whom Lilian was en-
gaged, and as the wedding-day rapidly ap-
proached, that was to fulfil the hopes of her life
and set her father free, the long-parted lovers met
at Lilian s home. They were both too upright,
however, to wish the engagement broken without
Lilian's consent, and that she would not give. To
the passages which follow we must demur. How-
ever much Lilian's love for her father had become,
the ruling passion of her life, however great her
desire to set him free from his difficulties, how-
ever vehement and excitable her feelings by nature,
it is, to say the least, highly improbable that she
should have been so lost to all womanly dignity
and self-respect, so forgetful of feminine propriety
and delicacy, as to insist on the fulfilment of Mr.
Hallidon's promise to her against his wish. It
sufficiently proves that the story is traced by a
masculine pen, for though Lilian's character is
described as almost Italian in its vehemence and
' excitement, her finer and better feelings were in-
compatible with such a course. It was scarcely
possible that she should have become so hardened
in her gold-seeking course, and the fact of her be-
ing described as really cherishing an affection for
Michael Hallidon, renders it the more improbable.
Butso the author, to our regret, has described it.
Lilian refuses to abandon her rights, which
the others admit to be pre-eminent, and so
affairs proceed for a few days. Lilian, meanwhile,
is perplexed by repeated demands for money from
her brother. We have not alluded to his pursuits
before, though they occupy a prominent place in
the story. It is enough that lie has persuaded his
father to write a falsehood about his age, to obtain
him a situation, and is compelled to bribe one who
knows it to silence. He, too, has possession of his
father's secret, and uses it to extort large sums of
money from that miserable man. Driven almost
wild by the troubles around her, and tortured by
the sense of all her own wrong doing, Lilian finds
a letter one day announcing the miser's death and
her succession to all his wealth. 'Bitterly she re-
' CAl3a PKQPIlega 014 her desire fer Tr' 3 ealtb that oho