The Sun.
London, England, 1861-10-11 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

Notice to Quit. By W. G. Wills, author of "
Foreshadowings," 3 vols. Hurst and Blackett.
This is a superior work, that reveals a consider-
able knowledge of character and gains on the at-
tention by its forcible delineations and vivid illus-
trations. The chief point on which the story turns
is powerfully related, and the reader cannot but be
impressed with the manner in which the events are
described. There is interspersed throughout these
pages much emphatic writing; here we find a cir-
cumstance that is told in a eentence, and again
some striking feature of character is made manifest
at once in the dialogues recorded. John Brom is
a very peculiar style of man, not at all calculated
to attract esteem, but one sure to get on in the
world. He is clever, pushing, and unscrupulous.
It is interesting to note how two such diverse cha-
racters as he and James Heath first approximated
and then separated. Neither the one nor the
other was worthy of regard : of the two Heath had
the advantage, but he was too vacillating. In fact,
there is no one in the book that one really likes.
Its heroes and heroines are very aptly described
in their several styles; but they are not the gold
dust of humanity by any means. Ellen Tern is
a strange creature. Her bringing up was remark-
able in its isolation, and it affected her subsequent
life by imbuing her mind with morbid ideas, and
rendering her unfit to mix in general society from
her peculiar notions, One of the most impressive
passages in the story is that from which it takes
its name, the danger that hung over the strong
and self-reliant man John Brom. He thought
himself secure for long years, till his hopes were
rudely shattered and his mind harrassed by the
torturing news that ever after haunted him,
till time fulfilled the threat that had
appalled him at its first mention. He had
been desired to insure his life, and in accord-
ance with the suggestion he went to arrange
accordingly. The destroying spirit of his peace
met him in the shape of a most ruthless doctor
employed by the office who informed him as plainly
as words could tell that his life was hanging on a
thread as he laboured under a disease of the heart,
that was of a most dangerous class, and that a year
or two was the utmost he could have to live. The
effect upon him was overpowering in the greatest
degree. "It took some fortitude to recall his scared
senses, and focus them on the dread thought which
when dropping upon the mind in'ghastly hints, un-
mans the stoutest. There have been merciful gra-
dations, there have been glimpses of the bony hand
behind the veil; many a memento morn which
gently familiarises shrinking nature. But for him,
in youth, in strength, in glory, the veil is rent, and
the gaping spectre exposed within a touch?'
For some time Mr. Brom was awed by
the dread announcement, and kept him-
self in retirement, his spirits gradually were
revived, and he hurried from the place, resolved to
drown thought in a whirl of excitement ; and thus,
by immersing himself in this world's most stirring
pursuits, to shut out the remembrance that he might
instantly be summoned to another world, of which
he could realise nothing but dread. His end was
very terrible at last, for he died as he was perpe-
trating an imposture, by declaring himself the
author of Heath's play. It was a strange sort of
compact that they had made between them, and it
was one that, unsuitable in life, was doubly awful
in death. Mr. Brom had risen to make his bow
to the audience as the author of the admired and
successful piece, when the long-expected and
dreaded summons went forth, and the soul ex-
changed worlds while the plaudits of the public
were ringing in his ears. The following passage
gives a most impressive picture of the scene:—

- That obeisance is not made to thehouse, good people.
Observe it among your acclamations. It is still and solemn
—arms outstretched even as a Persian adoring the sun ;
nay, like a limp marionette whose cord is loosed. His ear
seems dull to this demonstration, ye multitude, or else his
thanks are borne on that vivid gush down the crimson
cushion. In St. Paul's, the great recline as still and
solemn, a peck or so of dust remaining of them ; could ye
rouse them with your cries to their olden grandeur from the
bathos of death. Ye are nought—your applause passes
over him as will presently a graveyard wind. He will not
arise. Hush I can your plaudits turn the rushing planets ?
can human fame stream one spark of light though eternal
space ? Hush
There fell a strange troubled stillness over that multi-
tude. Wreathed beauty—lordly and dandified manhood—
the clouds of heads above and below stared and murmured,
aghast—He will not arise I
Heard ye the call of God, ye multitudes I summoning a
human soul from amid its pride—its pomp—its sin. Saw
ye the hand I God's hand has been amongst ye as pal-
pably as when it flowed in grim Hebrew athwart the w4ll.
Hush i a mother's shriek. This is the tragedy of the
night, indeed ; but ye were not bidden to this. Again, the
cry from a mother's riven heart. Has your actress of the
night ever caught that thrill of agony ?
Hurry away to your homes, ye multitudes, in your
strange, troubled stillness : ye have seen an act rehearsed
which each and all of ye must once play, as ye melt away
with your frivolous generation • pray that when ye pass,
it may not be thus with you ; better in obloquy and ter-
ture—better rotting by inches, than thus on the very billow
of earthly fame. _ _ _

Away ! what follows is private, sacred, awful ! They
:Aro moving It. Its dread salutation to the summons of
God is done.

It was a sad end to an enterprising man like John
Brom that he should depart with a lie on his lips
as it were. He left this world with false renown
encircling him, and our last thoughts of him are
painful ones. This description of his terror of death
is given very truthfully, and doubtless there are
many more around us in the pride of life who would
be like him in their horror if such an announcement
were made to them. They look on death as a far-off
calamity in the vale of years beneath, with which
they need not now spoil their plans and sadden their
lives, but to receive a " Notice to Quit" is more than
their philosophy can brook or their patience with-
stand. Ellen does not win our sympathy at all ;
she was of a kind nature, but she was so morbid in
her notions that she seemed to undermine the effects
of her good intentions. After the death of Brom
she married Heath. The conclusion of the work is

tame in comparison with the earlier part
and especially the middle of the last volume. Had
the narrative ceased at the death of John Brom it
might have been better, as the description is so
powerful that the rest falls tame as an afterthought.
Whether right oT.,,wrong, he is the hero, and with
him the interest 8T the piece dies out. The reader
will hardly coincide with the validity of Ellen's
argument when she persuaded her husband to
relinquish writing. it is quite contrary to the
doctrine of employing and improving the talents
entrusted to our care, which, beyond and above the
opinion of the wisest of mortals, bears the stamp of
Divine approval, and is the inculcation recorded in
the most sacred of writings. Because of the infini-
tude of creation Ellen urged that Heath should
regard his doings as petty, mean, and valueless,
forgetting that nothing is valueless in the eyes of
Him who sees the sparrows fall, nothing poor
or contemptible that affects the welfare of
his creatures. Those who, like Heath, possessed
shining abilities, ought to improve them to the
utmost+ of their powers. Let them influence others
in the pursuit of good, and thus benefit themselves
and all around them now, and perhaps generations
that shall spring up when they are sleeping in the
dust shall be glorious witnesses to the fruit of their
labours when the Lord of the Harvest shall gather
in the grain. This work is sure to impress by its
powerful descriptions, as well as from its impressive
scenes and its knowledge of human nature. " Notice
to Quit" is replete with incident, and stored with
anecdotes. Besides the thread of the narrative, there
is attractive interest in the relations given of
the introduction of railways. Therefore it can be
confidently recommended to the notice of readers,
and they will find ample scope in its exciting pages
for the employment of their faculties of divination
and reflection, while the moral that is hidden in
its recital is one that am never be too forcibly im-
pressed on the minds, and recalled to the memory
of the dwellers on earth. "In the midst of life we
are in death."

East and West, or Once upon a Time. By J.
Frazer Corkran. 3 vols. Hurst and Blackett.
The scene of this work is laid chiefly in Spital-
fields, and the " time" selected for the opening of
the story is that of the change which produced
such desolation among the handloom weavers. The
introduction of machinery was truly as the writer
observes, " The coming of a giant upon the earth to
do the work of man by other and more powerful
means, but exacting the inevitable price of present '
sacrifice, which every great change entails.',
We are not shown the change itself, but we
see its effects in the altered
prospects of
a young couple who had married in the better
times. A number of characters are introduced
among whom it is difficult to select the hero and
heroine, but the story seems to be intended to ex-
press opinions and feelings, and to show individual
peculiarities rather than to tell a direct tale. In-
deed a want of concentration is one of its principal
faults; the interest is not sufficiently centred on
one group, and the effect would have been better
had the author given greater prominence to a few
chief figures, instead of dispersing the reader's
attention among so many of equal importance. The
history of Edward Lush is extremely sad. He is
the only son of a rich banker, and has been subject
from youth to attacks of morbid melancholy. The
only person who can rouse him from these is the
.beautiful and gifted daughter of his old nurse. It
is not surprising, therefore, that he loves his bene-
factress, and, during his father's absence,
marries her. His father is enraged, declares
his son to be insane, and commits him to
a private asylum, and bribes the young wife's
mother to agree to the marriage being considered
null, as the parties were under age, The unfortu-
nate wife enters the service of a family going
abroad, 'Raying her child with her mother. Many

years after, this child,.who had fallen into the hands
of strolling players, is adopted by his own father,
who was then allowed to be at large. Kate, the
long-lost wife, is also traced by a series of happy
coincidences. But notwithstanding the extraordinary
good fortune which reunites father, mother, end
son after so long a separation, their joy is short
lived. It is in Paris, during the stormy days of
Feb.,
1848, that the scattered family are re-assem-
fer hisit martyred
deprives
mother,pArchbishop.rive
who
herehr
e of
witnesses.f
bled, and in crossing ono of the barricades the
youth is killed by a stray shot, by the side of the
elalsoe ns h o
the shock proves
esad
d oes
nt oo too
t glor en
catastrophe,great
and
survive, and the miserable Edward thus loses both.
the moment that he
bweilfieevesand t
hesno
to
ot
be restored to • him.
Mr. Elias Mathews, one of the chief persons in
the book, is a favourite character with novelists
and dramatists. He belongs to a class which is
unhappily not an uncommon one, combining a
loud profession of religion with cold-hearted sel-
fishnessgrasping avarice- His son, Obadiah,
different from himself, and is driven from
is very
home by his father's tyranny. Henry Mathews,
the brother of Elias, and his spirited French
wife, the chivalrous Count D'Avray and the gentle
Lady Softworth, the frank and generous
Justin Forbes and his eccentric parents, all
serve to entertain or to interest in
various degrees. The sketch of Mr. Samson
Shepherd, who labours so indefatigably among the
poor of Spitalfields, is a tribute to the energy and
self-devotion of our home missionaries. The writer's
theories on political economy bring him to wise
conclusions. More he thinks may be done by
training the yonng and quietly befriending the old
than by overthrows of the social system, or the
frantic proclamation of " liberty, equality, and fra-
ternity. Nevertheless, he is not insensible
to the difficulties of the working man, as is
proved by the following conversation. Tho two
youths, Justin and Obadiah, having just returned
from Paris, visit their old friend the weaver, and
are shocked to find him with a wife and four chil-
dren, earning only 12s. or 14s. a week by 18 hours'
daily labour.

" Why do you stand it ?" whispered Obady.
"What would you have me to do ?" asked Bessonet.

"I have meditated upon these things,,and see no help for
it. We are the necessary victims to a change wrought by
machinery. It is well that we are left something to glean,
for as we are poor low-born creatures, sent into the world
to earn our bread by the sweat of our face, we are not en-
titled to claim compensation, like bishops and judges, and
Government men, when they can attend no longer to their
duties, or when offices are done away with by improved
machinery of another kind. You cannot pension all
of us."

" They can give you a fair price for your work."
" So I said one day to the gentleman who writes on the
subject for the 'Cornucopian.' Well, let us reason this matter
out, my friend, says he. Labour, you see, is an element
which enters into your piece of silk, and like silk value rises
and falls according to the quantity in the market—if there
be too much, down you go ; or you carry your labour to
some place where it is craved and wanted ; so how could I
answer that ?" _ _

" I answered him for you," said Marian, " but you
would not back me up, John. I told him we were better nor
bobbins and twist, for that bobbins and twist could nor,
think and feel, and had no children to provide for, and
were not responsible like us to God and man for our

thoughts and actions."
"And you know how he answered—did he not prove that
you confounded two things together which had no neces-
sary connection ? You are mixing up, said he, morals with
machinery, and religion with the market, and conscience
with calculation, whereas the whole subject resolves itself
into simple supply and demand."
" Ohl I know he used very fine language, and it vexed
me to feel there was something wrong, and I could not find
words to show it ; and it made me cry to see you give in so
easily; John; you who used to read books long ago—to be
sure you have no time now for reading, and if you had,
what would be the use of it for the likes of us—worth only
twopence a day to begin with, to rise to a couple of shillings
in our prime of life ; and when we grow old, Lord help us
when we have no more labour to carry to market."

" Is it not the duty of children to support their parents ?
and you are both so good, that I am sure yours will support
you," observed Just.
" Out of how much, Mr. Forbes?—and they would not
be like their father and mother, brought up with knowledge
of reading and writing, for there is no time now for school."
" What did the gentleman say to that ?—asked Obady.
" Well, I'm not sure that we went into the question.
'• Stay, now," says Obady, " he said labour was —"
"Twist and bobbins," cried Marian.

" Very good—now let me go on. Twist and bobbins ;
but twist does not become twist of itself, and bobbins are
made with hands and fashioned with skill—take twist first.
You cultivate the mulberry-tree, and you watch over the
young worms and feed them, or there never would be silk.
Now why should there not be mulberry-tress for the little
silk weavers as well as the worms ?"

Marian laid down her iron, but could only catch a glimpse
of meaning.
"I see what you are driving at, Mr. Obady," cried John.
Bassonet ; " that if labour is to be on a par with the things,
without which they would be useless, why is it the labour
animal should not be cultivated ?"

"Does not the owner of a horse, and a bird, and a dog,

try to develope all the qualities of his animals; and all the
qualities of his plants ? And the more these qualities are
developed the more valuable they become. Then why
should man be worse treated? Why should not all bia
qualities be developed—his mind, his soul, his heart ?"
" Because," answered John, for the first time bitterly,
and yet more sadly than bitterly " his mind and soul are
not wanted in the labour market, only his hands and feet,
which machinery is beating out; and then what is to be-
come of him ?"

Then he will have more time for the head and heart,"
coneuded Just.

" Ah, if it would come to that 1" sighed Bessonet.
" Just is right," said Obady ; " it must come to that, or
come to the ruin of the race."

The scenes in Paris are described with fervour and
vitality, and give some idea of the wild excitement
of that short-lived triumph. Madlle. Rachel's de-
clamation of the " Marseillaise" is introduced, and
the wonderful effect produced on the audience is
vividly described.

THIS DAY'S MARKETS.