The Sun.
London, England, 1860-07-23 00:00:00

awaited."

LITERATURE,

Scarsdale, or Life on the Lancashire and Yorkshire
Border Thirty Years Ago. 3 'Vols. Smith and

Elder.

We here meet with a very peculiar book, in
which there is a great deal of information afforded
regarding the state of the manufacturing districts.
It is always desirable to dwell on the causes that
result in any popular outbreak, and, if from regard-
ing the annals of 'the past, we glean any ideas that
may so guide us in the present that the future may
be rendered peac,aable, it is always a great thing
achieved. Considerable skill has been shown in
some of the scenes that represent the rioters and
conspirators. Rzcept for the notorious ringleaders,
we always feel pity, if not sympathy, for these mis-
guided men who are excited and agitated by de•
signing men, while their frames are weakened by
toil and hunger and their minds tortured by
anxious doubts. Apart from the popular records,
there is a good deal of interest in the narrative
with which the subject matter is skilfully ,inter-
woven. The only point in the tale that appears to
be faulty is the episode of the Duke and Duchess,
and this could advantageously have been omitted. It
is an undesirable topic at any time which is sug-
gested by the disclosures of the life and actions of
the French nobleman, and it does not answer any
available purpose. Mabel is a superior style of
young lady, and notwithstanding her pride she
impresses one very favourably. Helen Hollings-
worth is more elevated in her character, and in
many trying scenes she shows great qualities.
Lord Pendleborough's career is a very interesting
one, and he is almost the most attractive person in
the book in his sincere endeavours to render him-
self more worthy of his high social position, in his
strenuous efforts to do good to his neighbours, and,
indeed, to promote the welfare of all classes. At
the same time there was nothing high-flown, or
sentimental, about him ; all was straightforward,
and his genial nature enabled him to enjoy life
while he was seeking to improve it. The account
of Colonel Vavasour is impressive, although rather
far-fetched at times in its sketch. It is worthy of
notice how excellently Mr. Hollingsworth dis-
charged his trust of guardianship to the misguided
but well-intentioned youth. There is no greater
mistake made by elders than to practice severity in
such extreme cases. More have beets irretrievably
ruined by harshness than indulgence ; the convic-
tion that no allowance will be made for faults has
made the offender reckless of all consequences, and
and errors crimes have been the result. It would be
well if more such teachers existed as the kind but
firm friend here represented. Oliver Holte is a
peculiar style of man, but his honest heart and up-
right life command respect. He is a type of the better
class of the old Puritans : he has their unflinching
disposition, blended with some softer attributes. In
the hard work and fierce conflicts in which lie was
constantly engaged, he displays so much sympathy
in his steadfast course for those not so firm as him-
self, that one cannot help feeling a degree of admi-
ration for him. Sir Guy Scarsdale does not
appear so prominently on the scene as some of
the others, but he is a fair specimen of a large
landed proprietor. He endeavoured to do good
when he met with any deserving objects, and con-
sidering the troublous times he lived in, he made
the best of his opportunity. " Scarsdale" is a novel
that has not been composed in a hurry; but it
seems to have a purpose in its concentrated pages,
and in some of the descriptions the reader will find
passages of interest and excitement. Such works
cannot be so generally welcome as the more lively
sketches of society, or the brilliant representations
of history or politics, but they possess solid worth
in their reflective wisdom ; and those who wish to
inform themselves of the state of the working
classes in some momentous epoch, that reveals
more than long years of calm, will be willing to
appreciate a work that discloses much of the inner
life of an influential portion of the community.

_Herbert Chauncey. By Sir Arthur Hallam Elton,
author of " Below the Surface." 3 Vols. Smith,
Elder, and Co.
The author of the work before us is not unknown
either in the literary or political world. In a for-
mer novel he has drawn us a picture of English
country life, but in the present he takes the oppor-
tunity to mingle some political portraitures with
his romance. Thus we have a vivid sketch of a
contested election some oears ago, resulting in riot
and confusion, and several incidental descriptions of
the House of Commons and its habitues, some of
whom it is not difficult to recognise. The work of
written in the form of an autobiography. Herbert
Chauncey, its hero, describes himself as " a man
more sinned against than sinning," and certainly he
deserves that title. He is a modern " Murad, the
Unlucky," for, with the best intentions and excellent
prospects, his undertakings and adventures con-
tinually result in disappointment and disgrace.
The clue to all his misfortunes is, however, dis-
coverable in the unrelenting animosity of Sir Hugh
Littlecot, a country baronet of wealth and influence.
Sir Hugh has an only child, Ada, to whom he is
devotedly attached, though in other respects a hard-
hearted snd tyrannical man. In early life Herbert
had been engaged to Ada Littlecot, but had suddenly
broken the engagement on arriving at the conclu-
sion that he loved another far better. The manner in
which he expressed his change of views was certainly
most reprehensible, and the anger of the fierce old
man, who had reluctantly consented to the marriage,
in the first instance, for his daughter's sake, was not
surprising. Herbert speedily married Rosamond
Esther, the lady who had eclipsed poor Ada Little-
cot, and soon prepared to stand for the county.
Then his troubles began. Sir Hugh, in-
censed at Herbert's conduct, and still further en-
raged by the sight of his daughter's drooping
, spirits and failing health, made it the great object
of his life to ruin and disgrace his enemy. He was
possessed of great wealth and much political in-
fluonce, which gave him constant opportunities of
thwarting his victim. He also became aware of
the fraudulent acts of the directors of some com-
pany, who were therefore ready to carry out his
views in any way, in order to avoid exposure.
One of these was a lawyer, and subsequently be-
came Chauncey's agent, a position which gave him
endless opportunities for mischief. A foreign valet
of Sir Hugh's, who had a private grudge against
Chauncey, was also a valuable coadjutor. Through
Mrs. Chauncey's maid he obtained access to his
house and abstracted papers which were of moment.
By a chain of unfortunate circumstances aggravated
by his own imprudence, Chauncey lost his estate,
his political reputaticn, his seat in Parliament and
finally his wife and child. This last misfortune was
remedied by the confessions of the treacherous
maid, but we leave him at the close of the volumes
with all his other troubles unrelieved, saving that
his bitter enemy Sir Hugh has followed his
daughter to the grave. There are many other
characters introduced, and the events are so crowded
that they are almost confusing. Rosamond is well
drawn as a generous, warm-hearted yet wayward
creature. Ada Littlecot does not attract much in-
terest, for she scarcely appears after her childhood
and what we are told of her is somewhat morbid
and sentimental. The reader will find much to in-
terest and engage him in this novel, and as we men-
tioned above, the Parliamentary and election
sketches show the writer's familiarity with the
scenes he describes.

Poems : Containing the " City of the Dead." By
John Collett, late of Wadham College, Oxford.
Second Edition, revised and enlarged. Longman.
This is 'a very charming little work that can
hardly fail to be appreciated by those who are
gratified with those verses which contain the ex
pression of deep feeling joined to the admiration of
lofty principles. There:is nothingLremarkable in
the book; and it is a mistaken kindness friends
frnds
to flatter authors, and no service for critics to say
one thing when all the world knows the contrary
is the truth. This remark applies particularly to
poems, than which no class of literature is so run
down by the unrefined, or so overlauded by the
prejudiced and partial. While denying that every
one who makes rhyme now•a-days is a genius and
a bright particular star, there is no need to fly to
the other extreme, and because' the volume that
may be the unhappy victim of some captious
critic's ill temper
or a new "Pleasures of Hope," to declare that it is
trash, and ought to be immediately hurled to limbo.
Often real pleasure
.and profit may be derived from
simple un4ffected lines ; they apply to the imme-
diate concerns of daily life and home existence, and
if they do o not attain to perfection, measured by a
cold critical standard, they fulfil their mission of
interesting the weary spirit and calming the
harassed brain.
" They come in earth's deep misery, a soothing, sweet relief,
They come a solace in the hour of overwhelming grief."
1 If inspired by faith's visions there is no reason
why they should not influence as well as impress,
and while declaring the beauties of this fair world,
impart by the spirit of their songs the blessed truth
that those who delight in the loveliness of earth,
may rejoice in the thought of its brightest radiance,
being only the faint reflex of another and. a better
world. To look through nature up to nature's God
is a gift that is priceless in its value ; the peasant
may cultivate his fields in the conviction that
if he can thus lift his heart on high he is

in possession of a treasure better than the phi-
losopher can reach with his dogmas or the
prince confer in his proudest day of power. The
advantages that may be derived from the perusal
of poetry of the simplest kind does not extend to
those grandiloquent effusions of mysticism which
are so much the rage now. This work before us has,
happily, no such drawbacks ; it is straightforward
and comprehensible, while the metreis graceful and
the style flowing. One of the best pieces is the
poem which is called " The Cloud," and in its fine
thoughts and elevated expression it is an illustra-
tion of the saying, " There is a silver lining to every
cloud." In the first part the mourner is bewailing
his fate in the terms of the bitterest anguish. The
second part contains the advice of a friend which
speaks to his tortured and distracted mind the
glorious words of hope, and bids him, as a sufferer,
to have patience, and, as a soldier of the cross, to
endure to the end, and to look for the coming of
that day when sorrow shall flee away for ever, and
when the -warriors of Heaven shall be rewarded by
their King :

" Oh that I were in days long past, in the bright and happy
days,
When the melody of life was one long gladsome song of
praise.
Oh that I were in days long past, those days of cloudless
light,
So swift Time's chariot-steeds swept by, I scarcely felt
their flight.
But now his lagging wheels revolve so heavily and slow,
The hours are days, the days are months, the seasons cease
to flow.
In vain I turn from side to side, and seek more sunny
skies,
Th' appalling Angel of Despair stands still before my
eyes.
Oh, how can I thus daily die, or Hire this living death ?
I'll dare that leap into the dark, and face what comes be-
neath.

Peace ! mourner, to thy troubled breast, and cease thee to
repine :
'Tis Mercy which decrees thee this; let Mercy's will be
thine
Dost thou not call to mind God's word read in thy brighter
days,
That His thoughts are not as our thoughts, His ways not
as our ways ?
For, whether by the still small voice Christ seeks thy faith
to prove,
Or by the whirlwind's blasting blast, yet know that voice
is love.
Deepest thou, indeed, the human love that wept o'er La-
zarus' grave,
Would smite thy body to the earth, except thy soul to
save ?
Though Sorrow be a stormy flood, upraised by many a
blast;
Fear not, for round thy sinking form th' Eternal arms are
cast.
While Health, and Happiness, and hope, crown'd high
Life's festive bowl,
How ill thy greater part then fared—thy great undying
soul I
As the heavy cloud of dark black mist that wings its up-
ward flight
Is changed by the sun's bright touch to wreaths of fairy
light,
So with the shade of chastening woe, that weighs the
spirit down,
Th' Almighty waves his wondrous wand—the cross be-
comes a crown.
Grasp, then, the telescope of Faith within thy feeble hand ;
Shut out Earth's scene, and gaze aloft, where Heaven's
high mountains stand.
For Faith makes bright the earth-dimm'd eye, enabling
thee to gain
A glimpse whose light shall give thee strength to face
Earth's bitterest pain."
Another piece that attracts attention is that en-
titled "The Deathbed," and, although the thoughts
are not new in themselves, still they are the reitera-
tion of the thousand times repeated strain that
has swelled the song of praise and strung the harp
of triumph, since first the sons of men were taught
the glad tidings of resurrection ; that though their
beloved ones were gone from their finite existence
here, the mortal should yet put on immortality
and the corruptible incorruption. It will appear
to the reader that some solemn truths have been
impressively imparted, and some beautiful thoughts
becomingly expressed, in these verses. There is
affection that will not be buried in the dark night
of the grave, flourishing its perennial flowers by the
couch of death. The following verses are some of
the most striking :

" Oh, brothers, I am dying now, in youth's first early
bloom ;
As Ev'ning's length'ning shade, my life steals onward into
gloom :
My bosom heaves so faint and slow, so worn and pale
am I,
Your eyes will scarcely note the change when ye behold
me die.
Oh, had it pleased the will of Heaven, perchance this lowly
name
In world-wide blasts had sounded from the bugle horn of
Fame;
But wheresoe'er that mighty will appoints your earthly
state,
Oh, strive first, brothers, to be good, and then seek to be
great.
You'll hear soon faithful Gelert's voice pine in his speech-
less grief,
To him the hopes of other life cannot bestow relief ;
"ris not the least; of those sharp pangs that rend this dying
heart,
That from my loved and trusty friend I evermore must
part.

Oh, tend my favourite flower with care ; but ere its blos •
soms bloom,
The flower of my young life will lie all wither'd in the
tomb :
Oh crescent Moon, that still beholds my weary lingering
stay,
Ere thou complete thy cirsling orb I shall hare pass'd
away.

Oh, chaunt that strain you sang last eye, each night until
I die ;
For Music's charm will welcome me snore perfect in the
sky :
Then shall this tongue unwearied sing that new and nobler
song,
While seraph choirs, o'er distant apace, swell the full tide
along.
But weep not comfortless, nor with despairing sorrow
mourn ;
The northern breeze is teraper'd to the lamb that's newly
shorn.
Oh, weep not, then, my brothers dear—upraise the stream -
ing eye ;
God's word declares that we shall meet in realms beyond
the sky.
There comes a fearful sinking now, as if life's sands were
run ;
Though heart and strength may fail me, yet I've One to
lean upon :
His circling arm shall bear me up, through Jordan's chilly
wave;
His radiant love shall light with peace the valley of the
grave.

Death comes not now a Terror King to scare the Weary
soul ;
An Angel snaps the silver cord, and breaks the golden
bowl ;
Thou glorious seraph boar me up upon thy heavenward
wing;
0 Grave, where is thy victory ? 0 Death, where is thy
sting ?' "
This little volume has surely fulfilled its object of
affording gratification to its readers, and of setting
forward high and lofty truths for the contempla-
tion, clothed in words that delight the fancy, and
please the taste. This is the second edition of this
book, which it is most interesting to observe is
dedicated to the memory of the late Lord Macaulay.
In the dedication the author gracefully and grate-
fully affirms that it is indebted for its publication
to his kind patronage. Few more glorious recol-
'ections live in one's memory of the departed great
than a tribute like the foregoing.
" The sweet remembrance of the just,
Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust."
And the hand that has written for itself a passport
to the temple of fame being stretched out to serve
and save others on the same rugged road, up the
same steep ascent, is a bright and blessed result, a
high and happy privilege, for friends to number in
the catalogue of the great man's actions. We com-
mend this little work to the notice of the reading
community, certain that its pages present much
that is worthy of welcome.