A word or two are necessary before we close, with reference to one remarkable phenomenon in connection with a leading personage in the drama. By a singular coincidence, not only Mrs. Norton, but every person in the book, is in perfect ignorance of a fact that is present to our mind almost from the first page to the last. David Stuart, of Dunleath, we grieve to say, is not only a very selfish gentleman, but a most accomplished rascal, yet not a human creature, but the reader and ourselves, has the least idea of it. Just look at him! Appointed the guardian of a helpless girl, he makes away with her fortune in a fruitless endeavor to enrich himself. He hears from the maiden's own lips that her heart is irrevocably bestowed upon a man whom she adores, yet he coolly recommends her to form an alliance with a brute for whom she cares nothing at all, in order that she may recover the wealth of which he, the adviser, has deliberately robbed her. Returning to England, and taking up his residence with the husband of his ward, he places the poor girl in a cruelly false position, and all but blasts her reputation, by compelling her to keep a secret, the communicating which could at the worst only occasion him a very trifling inconvenience. Quitting the husband's house, and learning quite soon enough for the lady's happiness that he had been the object of Eleanor's early choice, he advises an action for divorce, promising his hand in the event of a triumphant verdict. Finding the wife more honest than himself, he smothers his affection and looks elsewhere for crumbs of comfort. He finds them at the table of Lady Margaret Fordyce, whom he condescendingly weds, because, we are compelled to suppose, she has Dunleath to throw into the bargain. That Stuart is unnaturally described we will not say; but that Mrs. Norton should be so profoundly ignorant of his faults—should take such pains to hold him up as a high-minded gentleman—that Lady Margaret should imagine him a paragon of perfection and positively adore him—that her brother, the Duke of Lanark, should be "fond of him,"—and that an incalculable amount of respect and love should be thrown away by all parties concerned upon so worthless an object is, we must confess, somewhat disgusting in an age when even the highest merit fails too often of securing its deserts. One good action alone saves David Stuart from utter detestation. He recovered and restored the fortune of Eleanor Raymond—but many a transported forger has been capable of heroism as lofty, with incitements to honesty about as pure.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] Stuart of Dunleath: by Mrs. Norton. New-York, Harpers, 1851.
Authors and Books.
The student of classic mythology, who loves with Hammer Purgstall and Kreutzer to dive into the oriental depths of ancient myths, will welcome the recent appearance of a work by Ludwig Mercklin, entitled Die Talos-Sage, und das Sardonische Lachen. The story of Talus, and the Sardonic Laughter—a contribution to the history of Grecian legend and art—St. Petersburg and Leipsic, 1851. In this work we learn that the Cretan Talus was beyond doubt the Phœnician sun-god, and that he was identical with the Athenian of the same name. The Cretan Talus, according to the mythological account, was a brazen image, which Vulcan gave to Minos, or Jupiter to Europa. He defended the island by heating himself in the fire and embracing his enemies. More literal commentators have attempted to prove that Talus was a brazen statue or beacon, like the Colossus of Rhodes, placed by the Phœnicians on the Cretan promontory. The Athenian Talus, inventor of the compass and saw, was slain by his uncle Dædalus, who was envious of his talent. The gods changed him to a partridge. After identifying the twain, Mercklin attempts to prove that the elements of this myth are to be sought in the ancient dogmas of lustration, and that they may be still further referred to the worship of Apollo. In connection with this Talus legend, he closely scrutinizes the account of the so called Sardonic laughter, and its relation to the same religious rites. "In conclusion, he discusses those ancient works of art which illustrate this subject, namely, the medals of Phaistos and the celebrated vase of Ruvo, of which he gives a new, and on the whole certainly correct account." In connection with this work we may notice another which appeared in April, entitled Bellerophon, by Herman Alex. Fischer. From the subject we infer that this Fischer is identical with Vischer who published three years ago one of the best Æsthetics on philosophies of art, ever written even in Germany. We are told in a short notice, that the author attempts, by a study of the myth of Bellerophon and those works of art relating to it, including the etymological signification of the name, to establish the identity of Bellerophon with the sun-god. Φοντης is by him derived or varied from Θαντης and Βελλερο, explained as identical with ἡελιος, ελη, σελας, and σεληνη.
Some anonymous scribbler in Berlin has recently put forth a treatise on free trade, entitled Tempus omnia revelat: of which a reviewer, in conjecturing the cause of its publication, remarks, that "as it treats generally of every thing else besides free trade, it is probable that the Free Trade Union have not deemed it worth while to hear him through."