The Sun.
London, England, 1833-10-16 00:00:00

THE FUNDS.

If we can credit the various statements in the French
papers, in respect to the situation of Spain, it appears
that Don Carlos's cause is greatly gaining ground, and
we may soon hear of a civil war and much blood-
shed in that country; hut we are still in the dirk as to
where Don Carlos and the French General have proceeded.
The correctness of this information will be of imporance
to ascertain, as it will point out to us the focus of operations
as well as his great point de puis. A few days, no doubt
will clear up this mystery.
In respect to the affairs in Portugal, not having any
fresh arrivals, we have nothing to add to the last accounts.
By the express from Paris this morning, it appears that
the Rentes come lower-71f. Should the insurrection in
Spain make progress, we have no doubt that a French
army will cross the Pyrenees.
Consols, which left off yesterday 87 to opened at
86,1- to 87, for the Account, with little doing.
Portuguese Scrip 191 to 20 prem. ; Spanish 21f to

HALF-PAST ONE.

We hear that the Queen of Spain, on the death of the
King, sent a messenger to Don Carlos, acquainting him of
the death of his brother, who immediately went into a great
rage, saying that he was King of Spain, and desired the
courier to leave his presence instantly.
Consols continue steady at 87 for the Account, with
little doing.
Portuguese Scrip 191 1 premium; Spanish 21g.
THREE O'CLOCK.
Console for the Account, 87.

LIVERPOOL COTTON MARKET, OCT. 14.
—We note no improvement in our Cotton Market to-
day, the sales reaching merely 500 blgs, of which are-
-100 Pernams,
i 1 14 I. a ICI I. ; 50 Maranhams, 11/1-I. a
d. s
per,lO bdi. 8 ;d
50
. a
b,OOO 1B
bads
.to 10!td. ; 300 Boweds, Orleans,
aboutlmports yesterday and to-day
or more.
ati

The Inverness Courier says that the depth
of Loch Ness, in the centre, is from 106 to 1!.5 fathoms,
which is deeper than any part of the sea betwixt this and
Norway. Its extreme depth has invested the loch with
a peculiarity often noticed—it never freezes.
A lady looking at some stockings in a dry
good store inquired of the clerk, who was a raw lad, how
high they came ? The clerk very seriously answered,
" I never tried them on, but believe they will reach above
the knee."

The lode of copper lately discovered at Ta-
vistock still continues to afford every prospect of success in
working. Being in the neighbourhood of the canal it
belongs to the canal proprietors, and it is expected a shaft
will soon be sunk and working commenced.

LITERATURE.

STANDARD NOVELS. No. 32.
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME.
LoNnoN, 1833.

We are not at all surprised that this romance
has created an extraordinary sensation in Paris.
It is admirably adapted to the taste of a feverish,
imaginative, unsettled period, when the minds
of even the soberest readers must be, more or
less, in a state of considerable excitement. Victor
Hugo is as much the creature of his age as the
Elizabethan dramatists, or the wits of Queen
Anne's time, were of theirs. He represents the
fiery, headstrong, impassioned mind of young
France, full of various promise, but possessing
far more fancy than judgment, and feeling than
reflection. In the style of his genius—as ex-
hibited in the singular tale before us—Vic-
tor Hugo hears no slight resemblance to the
late gifted Maturin. Both riot to excess in a
prodigal imagination ; both are prone to " tress-
pass on the verge of all we hate ;" both are
ever in extremes, holding a chastised and equable
judgment at arm's length, as if it were the bit-
terest foe to their genius ; yet both half redeem
their errors by the stirring appeal they make to
our common sympathies. If we were asked what
was the predominant characteristic of Victor
Hugo's writings—we know nothing of his dramatic
efforts—we should at once reply—tenderness.
This is more conspicuous than even his wonder-
working imagination. It throws a redeeming
grace over the wildest extravagances of " Notre-
Dame sheds a hallowed, softened lustre over
its gloomiest and most offensive scenes ; recon-
ciles its inconsistencies ; imparts form and mean-
ing to its most vague idealities ; and brings its
most unnatural characters within the common
pale of humanity. This is the true province—
the unerring test of imagination ; not to glitter
in words and specious images, which appeal
only to the eye or the ear ; but to arrest the
attention, to feed the thought, to take prisoner
the heart, and drag it, a helpless captive, at its
triumphant chariot wheels. In the hands of
an inferior artist, the two characters of La Es-
meralda and Quasimodo the Hunchback, would
have been mere revolting impossibilities, calcu-
lated only to create disgust. But a powerful
genius has presided over their creation, and care
fully watched, and bid his readers, too, watch,
comprehend, and sympathize with, their every
thought and movement. Both are the creations
of a poet—the dreams of a young enthusiast,
whose range ofimagination is unbounded. Nothing
can exceed the striking, poetic style in which
these two characters are introduced to our notice.
We see Quasimodo—the fierce, uncouth, one-
eyed, hunchbacked dwarf, a miracle of ugliness,
and driven out with scorn from that world of
which he feels he can never form a part—placed
amid the congenial monsters—the sculptured
abbots—the dragons and giants of the old
cathedral of Notre-Dame, to whom his whole
soul is taught to yearn in fondness, because they
" never laugh in his face," and because he feels
the necessity of loving something. The bells
of the tower in like manner are his best friends ;
their music compensates him for the loss of
man's speech, and melt, purify, and enlarge a
mind that else were " duller than the fat weed
that rots on Lethe's wharf." The cathedral
and its only tenant, the Hunchback, are so
mixed up in the reader's mind, that it is im-
possible to dissociate them. The cold, dim,
spectral aisles of the one, sacred to stillness and
melancholy, seem to be the legitimate abodes of
such an unsocial spirit as the other. They are
like mother and son, so thoroughly has the
genius of Victor Hugo endowed both with life.
Indeed every thing lives in his pages. His
imagination has a principle of vitality about it,
which Wordsworth only—though in his hands
this rare faculty assumes a different form—can
equal. Mark in the subjoined passage the un-
hesitating audacity with which he draws on the
reader's fancy ! He bids you see, as well as
hear, the cathedral harmonies of Paris ; and
treads on the very verge of the precipice cf ab-
surdity, without once overshooting it. The
description is fuller of life and splendour and
power than anything modern literature
And if you would receive from the ancient city an
impression which he modern cannot produce, iisc,•nd
the morning of some hi4h fes,ival, at sun-rise on Easter
or Whitsunday, to some elevated point from which you
may overlook the wh..le capital, and listen to the awaking
of the bells. Behold at a signal proceeding from heaven,
for 'tis the Sun himself that gives it, those thousand
churches trembling all at once. At first solitary twinkles
pass from church to church, as when musicians give no-
tice that they are going to begin. Then see, for at cer-
tain times the ear too seems to be indued with sight—see
how, all of a sudden, at the same moment, there rises
from each steeple as it were a column of sound, a cloud
of harmony. At first the vibra'ion of each bell rises
straight, pure, and in a manner separate from that of the
others, into the splendid morning sky ; then swelling by
degrees, they blend, melt, amalgamate into a magnificent
concert. It is now but one mass of sonorous vibrations,
issuing incessantly from the innumerable steeples, which
float., undulates, bounds, whirls over the city, and ex-
pands far beyond the horizon the deafening circle of its
oscillations. That sea of harmony, however, is not a
chaos. Vast and deep as it is, it has not lost its trans-
parency .. you see in it each group of notes that has
flown from the belfries, winding along apart ; you may
follow the dialogue, by turns low and shrill ; you may
see the octaves skipping from steeple to steeple ; you
watch them springing light, winged, sonorous, from
the silver bell, dropping dull, faint, and feeble, from
the wooden; you admire the rich gamut incessantly
running up and dawn the seven bells of St. Eustacht ;
you see clear and rapid notes dart about in all
directions, make three or four luminous zigzags, and
vanish like lightning. Down yonder, the abbey of St.
Martin sends forth its harsh, sharp tones ; here the Bas-
tille raises its sinister and husky voice ; at the other ex-
tremity it is the great tower of the Louvre, with its
counter-tenor. The royal chimes of the palace throw
out incessantly on all sides resplendent trills, upon which
falls, at measured intervals, the heavy toll from the belfry
of Notre-Dame, which makes them sparkle like the anvil
under the hammer. From time to time you see tones of
all shapes, proceeding from the triple peal of St Germain
des Prea passing before you. Then, again, at intervals,
this mass of sublime sounds opens and makes way for the
strette of the Ave Maria, which glistens like an aigrette
of stars. Beneath, in the deepest part of the concert,
you distinguish confusedly the singing within the churches,
which transpires through the vibrating pores of their
vaults. Verily this is an opera which is well worth lis-
tening to. In an ordinary way, the noise issuing from
Paris in the daytime is the talking of the city; at night
it is the breathiug of the city ; in this case it is the
singing of the city. Lend your ear, then, to this trati
of steeples
the in
beings, the eternal murmur of the
r
distant quartet of the four forests placed like immense
siritonp ofle s
human
diffusefim nainte
million
over the whole the buzz of half a
piping of the wind, the grave and
organs on the four hilt of the horizon ; soften down, a.
with a demi-tint, all that is too shrill and too harsh in
the central mass of Bound...and say if you know auy

thing in the world more rich, more gladdening, ni!i
dazzling, than that tumult of bells ; thin that fure6c`3!:
music ; than those ten thousand brazen tones breathed,
at once front floret of stone three hundred feet high;
that city which is but one orchestra; than that tymP''
rushing and roaring like a tempest."
Ihe character of La Esmeralda stands 00t ft
-011
fine contrast to that of Quasimodo. She is
grace, gentleness, and purity—a lovely ideslisl„l
yet rescued from the insipidity of most
characters, by her profound, feminine seneibillt)l;
Though reared in the lap of indigence, thcnidfo
companioned among the profligates and otitcs'ia
of society, she yet wanders abroad, like O'fsber
the forest of lions, safe in the armour °I he
innocence and simplicity. Yet, beautiful 09 I p
character is, it is not without its draw-baci`s'aid
is made to shoot up on a soil that never C°.-ut
have nurtured such a plant. It over-taxes °
credulity. Sooner could a lily blossom °no
duig-heap, than a La Esmeralda thrive among ore
dregs and offal of society. When ShaksP%3
created his Miranda, he created also for he .00
enchanted island—surrounded her with 6°ol'
localities ; he would never have dresiplte
making her a tenant of Wapping. Yet it';eil
such a sort of place that Victor Hugo has 0
his Esmeralda, and compelled us to beliesl.oo
even there, though daily familiarized to the
degrading associations, she could be as trstlq
innocent, and spiritual, as a Una or a 101°,l'olt
'Phis inconsistency is the result of a mindir
yet matured—not yet in possession of its
unclouded energies. Victor Hugo's falleYslli
indeed, as far removed from its full gr°l'.;
as was Schiller's, when he " witched ,
world" with his striking drama of the " 11°4
hers." The tares spring up together witb,
1
wheat, in the expansive fields of his intel'e:p
Thus the same mind that created a Quasil9sl;
and La Esmeralda, has in the very sole
created also a Claude Frollo—one of Oslo.,
garest, grossest, and most unimaginative of chef
tern, without the slightest pretensions to origlice,
lity—though portrayed without prodigious lOreti
—being a sort of cros:s between Shakseo
Lord Angelo and Lewis's monk Ambrosio. 'lll
presence of this disgusting personage perPet`lo
mars the beauty and harmony of the scene' tae
comes like a chilling cloud across the stois",es
of a summer day—is as impertinent an intrils.ot
as the wanton Chloe in Fletcher's ()the,'
perfect pastoral of the " Faithful Shepherds 5;,
Yet he is evidently a favourite with the outb
who gloats over the ch ratter, and ct-ats'S i 10,4
full length, nervously solicitous that tl°tikd
single trait of grossness should escape him' 0,
yet this man was the creator of ESnler3ol
and drew forth the gentlest beauties of se)
merit from the bosom of even a Quasi°

i
befolri
torde
Kara

!Peet/
It'lt 1
tine

with ,
Tb
the pi

Tl:e.
4glinat

Such are the inconsistencies of genius., r
We have said nothing of Victor Hugoso,
soriptions of the old buildings of Paris. ',el
are as full of sublimity and as full-inforiol
with sentiment as the most impressive of Mortep
architectural creations. His " Notre-agile'
,A C$
particular, is a master-piece. The .4
thedral, with its dim spires and shadowy 81
S 00
stands frowningly out, like some huge giott'olo
the canvass, striking upon our senses that 0410
awe, which Congreve has so well described°sje
" Mourning Bride," and which Dyer has
us kel, in his " Ruins of Rome." In Pas°sl
of the purest and gentlest sensibility, 01
" Hunchback," as we said before, abouildg
profusion. The epi,ode of the mother, ~06
even in her wildest deliriums, kept the little :Po;
of her lost daughter for ever in her b"5
her phrenzy, which was suddenly cured bjlicr
low, faint wail of an infant, which rerninde prig
of the cries of her own, unheard for fifteen
years ; the holy, undying affection that alosAieser
entertained for the only female who l'Pbto
addressed to him a word of gentleness ;"-'3l/
and a thousand similar passages which 'le 01.
no space to enumerate, more than redo":
wildest extravagances of the tale. Asa
115`001°
men of anothtr style of excellence, we 0110'
point to the description of Claude ;;.,
headlong fall from the towers of Notre of
which for graphic energy and minuielieflobl
detail, may vie with that thrilling one 1113016)
Roy, where the exciseman Morris is bi
into the depths of Lochlotnond. We elc%oo6e
observing that the Hunchback bids fair t
i e%#
a deep impression on the public mind. its
to
travagances will stimulate the vitiated aPPetsoollf
the mere romance reader; while its bright'l,oo
gleams of love and beauty, its gushes of 5e115,1 tciP
its learned lore, and, here and there, its Pleoed
insight into character, will make sure and 4
way with the select few.

Joii;
mete,. t
4tni th,

The
tilty

SHIPPING INTE LLIGENCE—(THI—
g DA
FROM LLOYD'S. 1.111
freoP'o'
DEAL, OCT. 15.—Wind W.S.W. to W., —4,0 40111
squalls.—Arrived the Excellent, late Stepbeo9• tee'
duras; Cecilia, Walker, from Oporto; and Hon
Lisbon.
PORTSMOUTH, OCT. 15.—A heavy gale fron"11004
—Arrived his Majesty's ship Cordelia, froto
Sailed the Soho steamer, for London.
PLYMOUTH, OCT 14.—Wind W.S.W., fre~blo4
rived the Adventure, Miller, from Memel. .„1 dit
FALMOUTH, OCT. 14.—Wind S.W. to fOr
breezes and squally.—Arrived off port the 11'4;001
from Lisbon. Put back his Majesty's ship SP freol
Oporto and Lisbon, with mails. 01 ;Ili
TORBAY, OCT. 14.—Arrived the Racer, IC A
Buenos Ayres.
be°
PADSTOW, OCT. 14.—Arrived the Ells
QuLivebec.
EurooL, Ocr. 14.—Arrived the 164 0 (,Y";
Carr, from Bombay ; Harriet, Mitchinson, frnoforlt
ham ; Arethusa, from Barbadoes; Sir J. 13ereyittleV
lin, from Montreal ; Jordison, Jordison, Irtonria, i
Scipio, Grind ray, from Quebec; George Cann volpti;
nell, from St. Andrew's, New Brunswick ;000°,04°
Randall, and Ann Porter, Tobacco, from New CVO.:
Emma, James, from Malaga; John, Rinord, frn7che
rom
and Isabella, Decamp, from St. Petersburgb,:th /04)o4;
scalles, Fisher, from Bengal, sailed the 6 "To tam,
by a piratical schooner in lat. 13. .1., a ioll‘olleo
26. 20. W., mounting two 12-pounders anu io,P;obe
with about 50 or 60 men, apparently Spa sight,
taking nearly all the fresh stock a sail hove in
sfo'
they hauled off.
,e
ARRIVAL OF CAPTAIN ROSS 1.1.'
ibr
STRAITS. 14.:/.41,
has just
jluestttepraf:s•oemd
tteoiutgli,h tredito;:i'is,;;;acitobry, it
bi
ugence of the safety of Captain Ross and his 001.4
2C4l.aoEreltnttir.nia(sicatotlfar oil, acid bringing the veryd oi
ire on board the Isabella, of Hull, andeticlarendea,/
id
eked for daily. Captain Lyall, 01.6 cantsio °'lool.ll
been on shore yet; but we learn that d
tiro her ir
.ivorhtiticnhahteelyhafdallpernocin ;
eeditti
,ot to the wreck of the Fury, and
oiitte whale gb
hinthseeaLcshbet'h'

,tt16:41 flat
tti
Ik tlirloP
/o(4it
41'411.4
Re 6

Adening,
that WO
tee breatbed
'eet high; ";
that t•PIPb°