The Sun. — 1848-11-30 (London, England)

LITERATURE.  MARY BARTON; a Tale of Manchester Life. 2 Vols.  " Mary Barton," unpretending as is its appellation, is, without doubt, one of the most interesting, and in many respects the most admirable, of the many works of fiction which have recently made their appearance. A work of fiction we call it, for the narrative is, of course, fictitious, but the characters are life-like, the pictures of humble life are real, and, above all, the passion and the pathos are eminently truthful. To give in a few words the best description, and the highest eulogium of "Mary Barton," we may say that it affords a most graphic sketch of the habits and thoughts and feelings of the important class to which it relates— one of the most important classes of the community— and, at the same time, in the most delicate and masterly manner it reveals the secret workings of the human heart, which are the same among all classes. From the very first chapter of the first volume, where we join the humble tea party at John Barton's hospitable board, we feel ourselves actually mingling in the scenes of which we read, we inhale the smoky atmosphere of the manufacturing city, we join in the jovial mirth of the factory-workers in their days of plenty, and we sympathise most heartily in their despairing desolation, when idleness has succeeded to employment, and starvation to prosperity. "The short and simple annals of the poor" are here set forth by one well fitted for, and well worthy of, the task. Nothing is "extenuated," " nor aught set down in malice." 'I he wrongs and the wrong-doings of both employers and employed are gently touched upon, and those wrongs and wrong-doings are most effectively illustrated by an awfully tragic incident—an incident which throws a gloom over many pages of the narrative, but which at the same time invests it with most heart-thrilling interest and a most solemn beauty. Not the sorrows of the poor only employ the loving hand which has inscribed "Mary Barton, not the sorrows of the poor only draw tears from the eyes which dwell upon its pages, the chapter which details with a most horrible minuteness the incidents which transpired in Mr. Carson's mansion on the evening of his son's murder, is, perhaps, one of the most natural pieces of writing that ever was penned. Our space will not permit us to enter more fully into the merits of the story. We must bestow one remaining consideration upon the heroine herself. She is well worthy of all consideration. The character of Mary Barton, as here portrayed, affords an inimitable illustration of the complicated workings of a woman's heart. Mary is not described as an all-perfect heroine : early deprived of a mother's care—spoilt by an indulgent father—conscious of great personal attractions, Mary is for a time unworthily influenced by coquetry and ambition. She scorns the affection of a noble-hearted youth in her own sphere of life, who is devoted to her, and for whom she, in spite of herself, entertains a most tender regard, and thus doing violence to her natural inclinations she listens with satisfaction to the loving professions of Henry Carson, the son of the great proprietor, ,her ambitious desire of becoming a wealthy " lady' rendering her wilfully blind to the worth of the man she really loves, and the worthlessness of the " gentleman" who is deceiving her. It is not our purpose to epitomise all the history of Mary Barton, but there is one "situation" towards the close of the narrative which possesses such powerful and unusual interest, and which is, in fact, in every way so admirable, that we should hardly consider ourselves as doing justice to the author of " Mary Barton " it' we did not, however briefly, allude to it. James 'Wilson, Mary's humble lover, declares his affection, and meets with a most decisive rejection from his ambitious mistress ; but no sooner are the words uttered, and Wilson has left her in despair, than Mary's woman's heart triumphs over her girlish vanity ; she feels that she loves Wilson, and would give the world to recal her words. It is too late, however, he is gone, and the same woman's heart which would rejoice over his returgnftolmrebidase lover,herto and recz,ailhts in him. allinalroystdihsompieslseesss heranxiety"gentleman" for chance to reveal to Wilson what she dares not volunteer to tell him. Our brief summary does but inadequate justice to this most truthful delineation of those  "Hopes arid fears which nourish hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long." To come, however, to the grand scene, the masterpiece of the novel—Henry Carson is murdered, and