FORTUNATELY, perhaps, for ourselves, we are not in a condition to advance any claim to that mysterious power possessed by the gentleman without a shadow, who is described in "Peter Schlemihl as being able, by the simple operation of extracting from his pocket a scrap of cloth, to raise therewith a splendid and commodious tent capable of entertaining an almost indefinite number of guests. Many, therefore, of the volumes of light literature which are constantly crowding upon us, must necessarily wait for space, and patiently abide until their turn comes, if, indeed, that auspicious moment should ever arrive. But some there are whom it would be out of the question to pass over-fellows of a mark and likelihood, who win their Iway at once to our favour; and even these are sometimes so numerous, that it is not at all times an easy matter to find accommodation such as we would desire. The fields of literature, like the face of the country, have become traversed and intersected by almost every description of thoroughfare, from the railroad, which leads straight to that terminus where the temple of Fame is supposed to be situated, down to the rugged and tortuous by-road, where the wanderer loses his way. There is so little ground that can be termed unbroken-so few fields which contain new pastures that we often pause and wonder what will come next. But the trade still thrives briskly publishers make fortunes, retire from business, and calmly spend the evening of their lives in some handsome villa, the wellearned reward of their industry and enterprise. The author, too, flourishes, even in these hard times. Notwithstanding the tightness of the money-market and the taxes upon paper, books are written, sold, read, and what is, perhaps, more to the purpose-paid for. Whether all of them are worth these complicated and sometimes painful operations, is another matter. The great fact exists, or we should not at this moment be seated, pen in hand, in our easy chairthat throne of judgment whence Poplar the Infallible issues those great literary edicts which

are the admiration, and sometimes the awe, of the whole world.

The literature of these countries, with all its failings and shortcomings, is distinguished beyond all question by an earnest endeavour to express and embody the wants and the peculiarities of the times. This appears to us to be the characteristic of modern fiction in all its forms. But the thoughtful and philosophical exposition of theories, whether they be of remedy or of reconstruction, which will often be found agitating energetic minds, as we have hinted in a former paper, are not always the most judicious topics to be enforced in the shape of a novel. The Smolletts, the Fieldings, the Richardsons, and the Burneys, who, if any ever possessed it, were thoroughly familiar with their art, contented themselves with simply painting the men and manners of their times-drawing out the lessons from the life which existed around them, and illustrating it by social problems of daily experience. They confined themselves within the legitimate range of their craft, and were satisfied with reproducing such pictures of social life as presented themselves to their view. The infinite variety of ends which the novel has been recently made to serve, is calculated, we fear, rather to depreciate from its literary value. The rivers of meditation must of necessity, sooner or later, discharge themselves into the great ocean of print. The man who thinks will write, but it by no means follows that the result of his reflections, in order to find favour with the public, must be served up to them in the shape of fiction, or that grave theories should be insinuated through the medium of popular stories, as raspberry preserves in our schoolboy days were used as the vehicle for administering some useful but frequently unpalatable drug. The tendency to which we advert is little better than an attempt to mingle elements which refuse to combine, and, undoubtedly, had far better be kept apart. We have, therefore, peculiar gratification in presenting to our readers two modest and unpretending volumes which are what they profess to

*

be-the reflections of a gentleman and a scholar upon some of the topics of the day. The Essays of Mr. Sykes are written with great ability and skill; his illustrations are those of a man of the world, as familiar with men and manners as with books; his language that of a graceful scholar; and the reflections, especially those connected with foreign politics and literature, are not less remarkable for their justness and sagacity, than for the benevolent and genial spirit which pervades them. This is undoubtedly high praise; but it is well deserved, for it is long - very long, indeed-since we have met with any papers from which we have derived an equal amount of pleasure as well as instruction, as some of those to be found in these volumes. In the course of an acute biographical fragment, which serves as a sort of preface to the Essays, the author gracefully describes the various phases of his life. From this we would gather that, like the immortal Spectator, these Essays are written by some gentleman who enjoys the combination, than which human life can present none more delightful, of domestic leisure with literary pursuits. He mingles in the world less as an active participator in its reverses and struggles, than as a quiet observer, who watches with philosophic eye the figures as they dance across the glass, or the puppets as they wrangle in the booth. In a quiet way, he has seen much both of men and of countries. There is a shrewdness as well as a quiet humour in his glance; and if we are unable to dwell upon his Essays at the length we would desire, we are consoled by the hope that our readers will avail themselves of forming an opinion of their own from the volumes to which we thus direct their attention. The Essay upon Popular Amusements occupies a conspicuous place in the first volume. It affords, perhaps, as good a specimen as any other of the genial heartiness of the author's nature, as well as of his powers of observation :—

"By thus viewing mankind in action around us, we hear the actual oracle-literature gives us but the whispered response. It is in this sense that a man's life has been said to be the most indubitable poem, for we behold there in action the principles of which

poetry-whose province is the analysis of the human heart-seeks to convey the copy. Yet many who set a high value on learning, and would start with surprise if you doubted their attachment to literature, despise this the most obvious means of knowledge mingling with our fellow-men in the varied walks of life, or the cultivation of human sympathies. It is the indulgence it has afforded to our thirst after this knowledge, which has rendered coach-travelling to us more than a pleasure of free air and rapid Au English

motion.

coach was a fragment of the actual worlda crumb of society broken off, placed upon wheels, and sent bowling over a portion of the terrestrial globe, carrying within itself an integral portion of mankind, with all their hopes, fears, and interests. It is this ready heartiness of sympathy, and its cultivation through the obvious channel of actual intercourse with mankind, which forms the characteristic of that delightful writer, Charles Lamb. In spite of the unavoidable factorylabour, and the unequal pressure of taxation, the wants of the lower classes are more than ever an object of interest with the higher; and this increased and increasing sympathy between the extremes of society we hail as an augury of the happiest omen. But between these extremes much remains to be explored. Charles Lamb looked at mankind steadfastly, heartily, and lovingly; and though our literature may boast of many mightier names, there is scarcely one in whose page we can trace more clearly the flow of human sympathies. He loved his race. - all he wrote bears witness to this predominant feelingand shall not this love be reflected back in the minds of kindred spirits on the author himself?

"There is another advantage, too, which the knowledge we derive from actual commerce with mankind possesses over booklearning-it carries a charm in its very acquirement, and bears the physical energies in full play along with it. Sedentary application may exhaust the frame, and unfit us for either the active business or pleasure of life. Our head throbs; we look on all nature with an altered eye; the light of the sun seems alien to us; the voice of a friend sounds strange and startling in our ears; we are disjointed, as it were; our limbs have been broken on the rack of abstraction. But no such drawbacks attend the acquisition of knowledge from mingling with our kind. Here we have no mental dislocation; on the contrary, we brace and invigorate every energy of our compound nature-the mind is enriched by new stores; its field of inquiry has been enlarged, and the body, in the free play of its energies, is hearty and vigorous. We are what we should be-men of action and digestion, not bilious bookmen. We are

far from willing to undervalue literary avocations, and the results of a solitary study; but surely that knowledge brings us the fullest return which we gain by mingling with mankind. Fifty years ago, a man who talked seriously of the systematic education of the people as a national object, would have been deemed a fitting candidate for bedlam. The maxims of policy then in vogue regarded the people as an instrument, or mechanical power, necessary for taxation or war, but as partaking little further in the interests of humanity. Succeeding events, especially the development of the French Revolution, opened the eyes of rulers and legislators to the power of the people when combined in masses. Fear succeeded to indifference. It was seen that the machine was not invariably passive, or guidable at pleasure, but sometimes dangerous to its masters. Thence came to be considered the means of directing the popular mind. Education, although in the first instance taken up as a party measure by the Liberals, prevailed, and took root: schools were founded, education-committees sent in their reports, and we were henceforward to be the most moral and best-educated people under the sun. To examine how far these institutions have answered their destined end is not our present purpose. Dismissing the question of popular education, that of popular amusements, as a subject for legislative enactment, naturally follows. Under the old system of our government (the Continental nations could have read us a lesson in this respect), such a subject would never have been thought of; and the same argument which dismissed education from the field would here have had an a fortiori force. The lower orders paid their taxes and swelled our armies; they were too well employed to have time for education; and as for amusement, they might well be supposed to have no leisure for that."

The author then proceeds to cast a glance back upon the past, and traces, from the games and festivals of old Rome and Greece down to the tournaments of the age of chivalry, the course of popular amusements.

He

then proceeds to contrast our present age of civilisation with that of those remote periods; and the conclusion is by no means so favourable to us as might be supposed. Under the feudal system, the peasant was little better than an appanage to his lord; but if he was, his wants were more cared for. Social refinements, it is indeed to be feared, instead of knitting rich and poor together more closely in the bonds of brotherhood, have but served to widen the interval between them.

"With us," says Mr. Sykes, "the march

of civilisation has lavished upon the upper classes all that can embellish and adorn life, while a great portion of our population are doomed to the ceaseless toil requisite for their production; and, if the stipulated price be paid, we imagine we have fulfilled our portion of the contract. Society thus becomes a vast mart, and in this hard reciprocation of bargain and sale but few breathing moments are given to the labouring classes. There is another grade the point of union between the labourer and the middle classes

Such

-whose fate does allow them some intervals for social recreation. I would urge that public facilities should be provided for the furtherance of this end. Means of recreation should be cheap, and available to all. establishments are a direct corollary from that consideration for the people which is beginning to form a leading feature in practical politics."

We have not space to follow the author in the development of his views upon this subject. He enforces them

by every variety of illustration which an extensive reading and a habit of acute observation can bring to bear upon this important subject. Where multitudes are gathered together in crowded dwelling-houses-where drainage and ventilation are alike insufficient, and from foul air and foul habits of living, spring those scourges, in the shape of typhus-fever and pestilence, which are but their natural consequences-it becomes a consideration of the highest practical importance, if these evils cannot be wholly got rid of, to mitigate them, and to neutralise their baneful effects as much as possible; those out-of-door recreations, which Mr.Sykes insists should be promoted by the establishment of tea-gardens, and other open-air places of innocent and invigorating recreation, could not but be attended with the happiest results; and if those whom fortune has placed in a position of life which gives them that power over the happiness of his fellow-mortals which a great employer of labour must always command, would attentively consider the humane suggestions contained in this admirable essay, they would reap their reward even in this world, which they do not inhabit only to enjoy.

The subject of university education is one which is treated by our essayist at considerable length, and with much ability. Some of the questions which he raises have since been agitated and very fully discussed. We need not, therefore, travel over the ground which

has been taken up by the Oxford Commission. In his observations, however, upon the credit system, which has been productive of so much mischief, we find a fact stated, in the form of a note, which, in any future scheme of legislation, might be turned to useful account. There is in existence at Oxford what is called a university court, in which a debtor can be summoned to appear before the vice-chancellor, and in case of non-payment he becomes disqualified for a degree; but it would appear that this court only takes cognizance of a certain class of articles_ we presume, the mere necessaries of life and that those items which swell the bills of the undergraduate, and not unfrequently cripple his resources for the remainder of his life, are not within the range of its jurisdiction. So that the court, as it at present exists, is almost inoperative, so far as checking ex. travagance is concerned. It appears to us that the question might be very satisfactorily adjusted by extending its jurisdiction, as in the case of the county

courts.

"Oxford," says our author, "is one of the dearest towns in Europe; and the tradesman almost universally did business on the longcredit system. that is to say, a price far above the average was charged, and indulgence for two or three years was readily granted to those whose means offered any probability of ultimate payment. We could mention many cases of very heavy debt which fell within our own observation. Suffice to say, that a great proportion of the undergraduates were, on taking their degrees, decidedly in debt. To how many, whose difficulties have ended but with their lives, has the germ of the evil arisen from college extravagance! How many wounded spirits in that ultima thule of fast livers, the Bench, can date the foundation of their embarrassments to their university career! Another bad consequence of this system affects even the most prudent. To cover the bad debts and longdeferred payments to which the credit system in this form gives rise, the tradesmen are obliged to charge nearly every commodity at an advanced price."

The picture of college-life which follows these observations is admirably drawn, and copied evidently from life. We wish we could make room for it; but we must refer our readers to the Essays, where he will find it in the first volume.

But, perhaps, among these Essays there is not one which shows more

completely the acute, but at the same time the kindly, power of observation possessed by this writer, than his article upon the tendencies of society as it exists. Into this difficult and delicate topic he enters, boldly discussing it with the knowledge of a man of the world, and with the temper of a Christian and a gentleman. Life is sketched from a serene point of view, but with all the boldness and gentleness of a mind equally above flattery and uncharitableness. It is obvious that a world far more extensive than that busy little one of meanness and pretension, which every provincial circle more or less displays, and one more varied than is to be found in the classic realms of May Fair or Belgravia, has come within the range of a vision keen in analysing those subtle emotions by which the human heart is swayed. Those vulgar peculiarities which attract the notice of the coarse or the carnal observer, and which fill so many fictions professing to represent the manners of the day, are passed over entirely by Mr. Sykes. His eye goes deeper than the surface; and not one of those many springs of action which give society its vague and shifting character is left undetected. The industry of the systematic lounging idler, the melancholy of the vapid fribble, the insouciance of the brilliant goodfor-nothing, the selfish considerations by which so many are led astray, are all judiciously observed upon, and illustrated by this acute-minded essayist. The habitual tone of conversation he asserts and he is justified in the assertion-is the most certain test of the state of moral feeling which exists in society; for that does not so much express an individual's sentiments, as it reflects back those opinions which are permitted, encouraged, and approved of by the society at large. How true is this, and how admirably put. We must, however, conclude our observations upon the first volume, which we cannot do better than by the following extract upon a theme which will soon become one of the past

"The day is brilliant without being oppressively sultry; not too intense a sun, but the sky diversified with those fleeting clouds which add so much to the beauty of an English landscape. The team is harnessed, the artist has one foot on the box, the reins gathered up, ready for action. But, pause a moment, and survey the team they are

well worth the inspection. That near wheeler- what a noble animal!-colour, the real blood bay, descended no doubt from the old Cleveland breed, unrivalled for heavy draught, adapted to the pace of modern travelling by a cross with our pure racing blood. He would be an ornament to the most aristocratic cab that ever descended Bond-street, were it not that his temper is a bit queer, and he sometimes shows a will of his own. . . . The artist is now seated on a goodly throne of coats and capes; at the appointed time we start; a sharp turn clears the precincts of the inn; and the team glide gradually into a trot of at least ten miles an hour. About five minutes disposes of the suburbs, and you are presently bowling along one of the finest roads in the world, the fresh morning breeze fanning your cheek, and a lovely vista of meadow and woodland, undulating slope and romantic dell, opening upon your delighted eye. You are seated, of course, in the front, the luggage on the roof affording as complete a support to your back as ever was afforded by the most luxurious library reading-chair. Beside you sits a girl, whose gracefully rounded form indicates all the freshness of youth-a glance at her face, as it inclines towards you in answer to some question of commonplace politeness, is satisfactory. True, she is far from beautiful, nor are her features remarkable for their regularity, but their expression is animated and joyous; a pair of bright eyes sparkle from her clustering tresses, and the warm hues of youth and health are flashing like the glow of summer over yonder undulating pasture-land. You soon become acquainted; you learn she is going upon her first visit to the metropolis, to be the guest of her uncle at Islington. She tells you many particulars of her uneventful life, with an engaging frankness which wins your heart at once. She narrates her rustic coquetries and triumphs over the hearts of rural swains; and with a half blush she is proceeding to narrate an adventure with a certain Mr. who was trying to kill time and partridges at the squire's house last September, when suddenly the shrill voice of a starch prim-looking female, of a certain age (whom you had scarcely observed seated behind the coach) is addressed to your companion, and nips the budding confidence. But never mind, a pelting shower, such as will cross even our summer skies, rattles down; the old lady is shifted inside. There is nothing like a coach for sentiment after all.

"The box-seat is occupied by a gentleman, whose costume, scrupulously correct, and the somewhat supercilious air which deforms an otherwise handsome countenance, denote the coach-traveller of pretension. His patronage gives an aristocratic tone to the whole concern. 'Well, sir, I must admit the train of smoke that flits across me proves that your weed is of unexceptionable flavour.'

Generally speaking, the society to be met with on a good coach forms a happy medium between the aristocracy, par excellence, and messieurs the great unwashed. It comprehends the body of the middle-classes — the majority of those who travel for businessand a majority of the pleasure-hunters; but more or less includes nearly all ranks. Some of the aristocracy are noted patrons of coaching; and on the Brighton road it is well known that many of the whips are as well bred as the best cattle in their teams. If, indeed, you wish to limit your society to the élite of high life, go and sweat in the salôns, where every square foot contains its male or female occupant of unexceptionable fashion. If your fancy run in the other extreme, visit the Rotunda, Rag Fair, or Oldham, on the market-day; but if you are desirous of seeing the middle, and all but the highest classes, as they live and move in every-day life, be a constant visitor on the roofs of our best coaches. There, if you have eyes, you may discern numberless hidden springs of social life; while abstract speculators and cobwebspinning philosophers, enouncing from their closets dogmas on life or morals, err grievously in their calculations from a lack of this knowledge. And, now, returning from our digression, we come to the whip himself— the artist, par excellence— the moderator of the fiery steeds. Calm in conscious power he sits aloft, one hand firmly yet gracefully grasping the reins; from the other one, of 'Skinner's best,' hangs pendant the finish to his equipment, although not often called into active service. His countenance beams with a celestial effulgence, from being ever fanned by the breeze of heaven; his eye embraces the long vista of the road with an eagle's ken. To drop all metaphor, the whips attached to our first-rate coaches are a right good set of fellows, jolly companions, well-informed and intelligent men. Inebriety has long been banished from the bench, and many of the accessory accomplishments of a finished gentleman have fast succeeded. And now forty miles are gone and passed. scene has changed, and we are dashing across a picturesque and extensive common-one of the few relics of the olden time which modern enclosures have left. The turf extends on either side as far as the eye can reach. How freshly the breeze blows across the heights! This is the true elixir vitæ. What an intense pleasure is existence now! Just look at the pacing of the team is it not a perfect picture? Three chesnuts and a grey; all are in a gallop, for it is a five-mile stage, and burning wheels are the order of the day. See! there is a turn in the road, and a sweeping descent. Look how the nags gather themselves up into a trot at the slightest hint from the reins. The stable is near at hand, and our fresh team stands under those shady elms. And now one word more to you, oh, hypochondriacs and nervous subjects, who, in your carpetted chambers, mourn

The