Lissadel; or, in Stony Places: a Story. By Mrs. J.
Pollock. (Tinsley Brothers.)—It is almost superfluous to observe that this story is told in the first person, by a young lady. That form of composition is nearly universal at present, for no better reason, it would appear, than that it is the most difficult which any writer who has a conception of high art can adopt., and therefore offers peculiar temptations to the audacity of incompetency ; and that the most conspicuous failures of some of the masters of fiction have been associated with the auto- biographical form. Mrs. Pollock is not more successful than the innumerable ladies who have of late practically adopted the motto which she puts on her title-page :—
"'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print ;
A book's a book, although there's nothing in't,"
—a pleasure so strictly confined to the writer in the present instance, that our utmost indulgence does not help us to understand it. The authoress deals to one of her young ladies, a certain "Gwen,"—who talks slip-slop, variegated with bad French, to her sister, while they are riding "on the most desolate moor in England," and is the most vulgar young person of the present novel-period,—a righteous fate. She drowns her, with our hearty approbation. This is the principal achievement of the book ; a secondary one, which has both boldness and economy to recommend it, is the importation, bodily, into the story of the entire plot of "The Polish Jew," and various criticisms upon Mr. Irving in the character of Mathias. This opens an ififinite resource for the novel-writing sisterhood; they need only file the theatrical papers, and " there they are 1" Mrs. Pollock gives modern history a turn. She tells us of a Mr. Amherst (who had a friend with "Hyperion curls"), a personage whose "talk was vivid,"—we should think it was indeed, and witty to boot, judging by the following sample of it:—
" A near approach to fire is apt to wax dangerous ; these French poupfies are no exception. Misfortune and bloodshed frenzy them. Frenchmen literally grow drunk with blood to vomit crime,' said Mr. Amherst forcibly. ' Nothing like the first Revolution was ever before seen in the civilised world. Europe stood by, petrified into inaction at sight of the unnatural carnage. And the "Reign of Terror " still leaves its gory trail ; an era of that description demoralises a country ; there are always some bad spirits ready to tread the desperate path that has once been pointed out. The excesses of 1872 had birth in the enormities of 1793.'"
If any one wants more vividness, lot him read Lissadel through. He will probably be reminded in the process of the interview of Mrs. Hominy and the LL.'s with Martin Chuzzlewit, and how the heads of the audience "ached with the exertion."
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