The Sun.
London, England, 1861-12-16 00:00:00

Ner, in truth, beini
as as serial, b,
These deft

so to speak, imponderabl ppreciaa._
of art, when the work, no ,w that it is actually com-
pleted, comes to be regarded as a whole. For nar-
ratives published originally in this piecemeal man-.
bneer,cotimiepplete
aramioniniittsreelqr,uisite appears to be capable
of definition thus—that each link in the chain shall.
anal that y
separate links shall be capable ofallt
revealingese
an instantaneous continuity when bound to-
Rether at the close. Like the juggler's
rings (let us say) that—taken up one by one,
and then carelessly jumbled together in the
wizard's hands,. suddenly, in some mysterious
manner, appear dangling from his grasp
in one continuous chain. Is it then asked—now
that "Norman Sinclair" lies before us in its entirety
—has Professor Aytoun succeeded in his new voca-
tion, that is as a Poet turned Itomancist ? The
answer to this, we will say then at once,
may be given very simply and very ern.
phatically. As a Novelist—Yes, and Triumph-
antly. As a Serialist, No, beyond all doubt, and a
thousand times No. We prefer therefore to regard
the work—now that it comes substantially under our
notice in its completed form—we prefer to regard
it altogether—not as a serial, but as a whole. Its
comparative failure as a serial is really and truly
after all a subject of very fugitive considera-
tion. Its success as a completed story we are
disposed on the contrary to look upon as assured
and unmistakeable. With the hero himself, Norman
Sinclair—a noble-hearted fellow—our sympathies
go right cordially through all the joys and sorrows,
through all the anxieties andvicissitudes of uto-
biographic narrative. He claims our own individual
interest at occe,of course,from his professional charac-
ter as a. London journalist.. And we follow-..the
development of his fortimes with the liveliest curi-
osity from his earliest boyhood to the happy cul-
mination of the star of his career as the husband
of Mary, nAe Beaton, the charming heroine !
Mary being the daughter of Richard Beaton, the
Railway Monarch. Around tile central group a
wonderful crowd of imaginary beings, many of
them doubtless drawn "from the life," all of them
without any exception that we can think of, Mu.-
bitably drawn "to the life"---4ttract our notice as
we turn the pages of these volimes: fluctuating
perpetually in their combinations, as they do, the
while•like the parti-coloured fragments of a kaleido-
scope. Specimens of humanity from various nations,
from all classes, in divers garbs and of most viyelly
contrasting character, live. and move before us as
we sit within the magic circle of the Romancist.
Yonder is my Lord Windermere, an admirable
example of the English aristocrat. Yonder Sir
George Smoothly, M.P.—" as pliable a glove, as
slippery as an eel, and as consistent as April wea-
ther." Here slouches by in his huge peajacket a
genuine original—David Osett, the sterling and
the whimsical. There trips past us—dainty, riant,
fastidious—Arthur Faunce, better known in the
story as Attie Faunce, the universal favourite. The'
villain of the narrative—to whom due poetic jus-
tice is meted out at last—is Joseph Speedwell, the
scampish butting man, eventually the forger, and
generally coming, in the vilest sense of the words,
under the category of a ne'er-do-well. In Mr.
Pocock we have a sort of less eccentric Mr. Bucket
—otherwise the type and paragon of a Detective.
Mr.Shearaway, Writer to the Signet—one of the
alarmingly entitled firm of Mucklecay, Littlewoo,
and Shearaway—is excellently well delineated
throughout as the common sense adviser,
" guide, philosopher, . and friend " of Nor-
man.' •A' word of commendation is due likewise
to the lifelike limning of Mr. Poins, the
Solicitor. The portraiture of the Yankee adven-
turer Jefferson I. Ewins—is more_ elaborately done
than the majority of the characters introduced.
Yet even the best of these are often finished
skefehes—pencilled too in styles the most diver-
sifieda now as it were in crayons, with a delicate
tinge upon the cheek—now in sharp and well-cut
outlines, like that little black-and-white shadow of
a likeness known as the silhouette! Does any one
want at a glance to appreciate Professor Aytoun'a
perfect master of the genuine, quiint, racy Scottish
dialect, let the seventh chapter in the second of these
delightful volumes be turned to—the chapter com-
posed entirely (pp. 0-112) of Baillie M'Chappie's
account of his memorable visit to Paris. Again—
having thus tested our Novelist's powers as a sus-
tained Humorist—let his capacity as a pathetic
writer be evidenced by Norman's simple and most
touching narrative of the death of his uncle good
Dr. Buchanan. Occasionally in the dry grotesque.
ness of the mere manner of the narrative, one is
reminded—particularly in the openings of the
chapters—of the mock heroic; seriocomic oddity •
of Fielding. Quoth the writer gravely at the
beginning of chap. vi., vol. Lawyers like
crabs on a kitchen floor make more noise than
speed, and sometimes to the vulgar eye, appear
to retrograde instead' of advancing." In the
same volume there are introduced at critical
stages in the crowded movement of the plot some
inimitable racing scenes, that would have glad-
dened the heart of Mr. Apperly, and that may
compete with Jack Hinton's farnous steeplechase
on Moderideroo ! As to the recollections of Auld
Reekie in Norman's earlier childhood—recollec-
tions with the record of which the fiction opens
to the reader's gaze—they, more vividly than any
other portion of the story, appear to partake of
the veritable character of autobiographic descrip-
tion. Altogether, viewing the narrative of Norman,
Sinclair as a whole, we hesitate not to offer Pro-
fessor Aytoun—long ranked so highly in our
estimation as Humorist, Critic, Satirist, Poet—
our earnest congratulation upon his brilliant debut
in his newly developed capacity as a Novelist.