The Press. — London, England, 1854-11-25 00:00:00

Are we to accept the following as literally true, in a child of such tender years ? To me Falstaff was not witty and wicked—only irresis tibly fat and funny ; and I remember lying on the ground rolling with laughter ever some of the scenes in Henry the Fourth—the muck play, and the seven men in buckram. Some books fixed vivid pictures in her imagination. The following seems tinged with affectation : For example, out of Homer's " Odyssey" (lent to me by the parish clerk) I had the picture of Nasicaa and her maidens going down in their chariots to wash their linen : so that when the first time I went to the Pitti Palace, and could hardly see the pictures through blinding tears, I saw that picture of Rubella, which all remember who have been at Florence, and it flashed delight and refreshment through those remembered childish associations. Music, as might be expected in so sensitive a child, produced an extraordinary effect upon her : Discordant sounds were not only hateful, but made me turn white and cold, and sent the blood backward to my heart; and certain tunes had a curious effect, I cannot now account for : for though, when heard for the first time, they bad little effect, they became intolerable by repetition ; they turned up some hidden emotion within me too strong to be borne. It could not have been from association, which I believe to be a principal element in the emotion excited by music. I was too young for that. What associations could such a baby have had with pleasure or with pain ? Or could it be possible that associations with some former state of existence awoke up to sound? That our life " hath elsewhere its beginning, and cotneth from afar," is a belief, or at least an instinct, in some minds, which music, and only music, seems to thrill into consciousness. This notion of a " former state of exist ence" is, we believe, a favourite theory with some minds. We are inclined, how ever, to refer all the sensations to which Mrs. Jameson alludes to peculiar organisation rather than to what we suppose must be called a pre-earthly or pre-bodily state of being. Our own prosaic experience may be of little value in determining so subtle a question, but we may say that we never met with any person who had any serious idea that he could recollect anything before he was born, or who imagined it likely that con sciousness preceded conception. As we have arrived at the end of Mrs. Jameson's autobiographical fragment, we are tempted to say a few words on such revelations in general. We are afraid that no person could relate his sentiments and sensations from a very early age without subjecting him self to the charge of being exceedingly egotisti cal, nor without a great probability of the record of youthful experience being coloured by the impressions and opinions of more ad vanced age. In the case of literary persons there seems a stronger objection against such rela tions (except when conceived in a most modest spirit), as the literary character is believed to be peculiarly prone to exaggerate the importance of its internal life. The practice is, moreover, exposed to ridicule from the habit some writers have of talking perpetually of themselves, and even of making money by filling books with their mental portraiture. There is a kind of quackery in this practice which strikes us as altogether derogatory to literary reputation. It is a mode by which an author may to his circle of readers, be it large or small, puff him self just as he pleases ; and there may be as much real puffery in giving prominence to childish peculiarities as in representing ma turity endowed with all imaginable talent and virtue. It is probable that many of Mrs. Jameson's readers will exclaim, " What a " wonderful child she must have been !" But we are afraid that these reminiscences will on the whole detract from the respect in which she has hitherto been held as a writer. Some children, we know, have great strength of cha racter and intense capacity of feeling; but this line of delineation has been overdone in modern literature. We may remark that the fondness of some authors of talking about themselves receives curious illustration in another part of this volume. Towards the latter end of his life, Hazlitt was, or fancied himself, deeply in love. His Dulcinea was a servant maid. His folly might have passed without much notice, had he not chosen to fill some quires of foolscap with his raving. " Scripta liter amariet." His writings remain a pi record much rather of the morbid vanity which endeavoured to inflate even its folly to colossal proportions than of genuine emotion. 4 It is a fault generally of Mrs. Jameson's book, that, in all her ethical speculations, she 1122 ~- THE PRESS. is inclined to refer to her individual expe rience, which appears to us influenced to a remarkable extent by her peculiar associa tions. Thus, one of her reflections is— It is good for us to look up, morally and mentally. If I were tired I would get some help to hold my head up, as Moses got some one to hold up his arms while he prayed. In another place she writes : - - If I fear God it is because I love him, and believe in his love; I cannot conceive myself as standing in fear of any spiritual or human bring iu whose love 1 do not entirely believe. This may be true for Mrs. Jameson, but cannot possibly be true for the great majority of mankind. Fear is the apprehension of evil, and surely a being, whether spiritual or mortal, who has power to inflict on ourselves, or those dear to us, irreparable injury, may well be an object of dread or fear. But on the subject of fear Mrs. Jameson has peculiar views. Thus she writes : In morals what begins in fear usually ends in wickedness. In religion what begins in fear usually ends in fanaticism. Fear, either as a principle or a motive, is the beginning of all evil. But fear as a restraining principle must be wholesome in its effect, as certainly no society could exist if wholly released from its in fluence. As another instance of the per sonality of the sentiment the following may be taken : - " You and I," said H. G., yesterday, " are alike in this —both of us so abhor injustice, that we are ready to fight it with a broomstick if we can find nothing better ." Such sentences are plainly out of place in a collection of ethical reflections. The reader who likes matter for !thought will, however, find here abundant exercise for his mind, though his conclusions will often be the opposite of those which the lady advances. Not unfrequently she contradicts herself : " A poet," says Coleridge " ought not to pick nature's pocket. Let him borrow, and so borrow as to repay by the very act of borrowing. Examine nature accurately, but write from recollection, and trust more to your imagination than your memory." This advice is even more applicable to the painter, but true perhaps in its application to all artists. Raphael and Mozart were, in this sense, great borrowers. As au artist, Mrs. Jameson should have known that no worse rule could possibly be given to form a painter, who can never widely depart from actual nature and the constant contemplation of it without great liability to error. Contrast the above with what is said elsewhere of the necessity of close attention to individual nature in the painter : Lftvater told Goethe that on a certain occasion when he held the velvet bag in the church as collector of the offer ings, he tried to observe only the hands ; and he satisfied himself that in every individual, the shape of the hand and of the fingers, the action and sentiment in dropping the gift into the bag, were distinctly different and individually characteristic. What then shall we say of Van Dyck, who painted the hands of his men and women, not from individual nature, but from a model hand—his own very often ?—end every one who considers for a moment will see in Van Dyck's portraits that, however well painted and elegant the hands, they in very few instances harmonise with the personalile— that the position is often affected, and as if intended for display—the display of what is in itself a positive ftult, and from which sonic little knowledge of comparative phy Biology would have saved him. There ale hands of various character ; the hand to catch, and the hand to hold ; the hand to clasp, and the hand to grasp. The hand that has worked or could work, and the hand that has never done anything but hold itself out to be kissed, like that of Joanna of Arragon in Raphael's pic ture. Let any one look at the hands in Titian's portrait of old Paul IV.: though exquisitely modelled, they have an ex pression which reminds us of claws ; they belong to the face of that grasping old man, and could belong to no other. Some sentences to the like effect will be rend with pleasure from Wilkie's notes on Holland : T thought T could trace the particular districts in Hol• land where Ostade, Cuyp, and Rembrandt had studied, and could almost fancy the spot where the pictures of other masters had been painted. Indeed, nothing seemed new to me in the whole country ; and what one could not help wondering at was, that these old masters should have been able to draw the materials of so beautiful a variety of art from so contracted and monotonous a theme. Their variety arose out of their truthfidness. I had the same feeling when travelling in Holland and Belgium. It was to me a perpetual succession of reminiscences, and so it has been with others. Rnbens and Rembrandt (as landscape•painters)—Cuyp, Hobbima, were continually iu my mind ; occasionally the yet more poetical Ruysdaal but why ever thinks of Wouvermans, or Bergham, or Karel du .Tardin, as national or natural painters ? their scenery is all gel up like the scenery in a ballet, and I can conceivr nothing more tiresome than a room full of their picture elegant as they are. SATURDAY, But this only shows how poorly imaginative scenery can replace the truth of nature. Aa respects music, the case appears to be dif ferent. Of all arts it is the most essentially creative. It is the subtlest and most ravishing expression of the soul through the most ethereal of all media. Occasicnally we meet here with a reflection we can entirely approve, as in the following:— Social opinion is like a sharp knife. There are foolish people who regard it only with terror, and dare not touch or meddle with it. There are more foolish people who, in rashness or defiance, sieze it by the blade, and get cut and mangled for their pains. And there are wise people, who grasp it discreetly and boldly by the handle, and use it to carve out their own purposes. Sometimes her criticism is open to ques- tion : Be [Chateaubriand] says of Madame Roland, " Elle avait du caractere plutOt toe du genie ; le premier peut donner le second, le second ne peut dewier le premier." What does the man mean? this is a mistake surely. What the French call caractere never could give genius, nor genius, caracti re. Au rale, l am not sure that Ma dame Roland—admirable creature genius ; but for talent, and caractere—first rate. But if Chateaubriand uses earaches in the sense of mental idiosyncracy or force of will, the passage is perfectly intelligible. Genius is often impressionable and inconstant, and is unable to impart strength of purpose; but will can give that kind of genius which can over come incredible obstacles, and achieve un heard of successes to attain its objects. The criticisms on art at the close of the volume will, perhaps, be the portion most relished. The following passage on Rachel is finely discriminative : Latterly she has become a hard mannerist. Her face, once so flexible, has lost the power of expressing the nicer shades and softer gradations of feeling ; so much so, that they write dramas for her with supernaturally wickea and depraved heroines to suit her especial powers. I conceive that an artist could not sink lower in degradation. Yet, to satisfy the taste of a Parisian audience and the ambition of a Parisian actress, this was not enough, and wickedness required the piquancy of immediate aproxilna tion with innocence. Iu the Valeria she played two char- , &eters, and appeared on the stage alternately as a miracle of vice and a miracle of virtue ; an abandoned prostitute and a chaste matron. There was someting in this contrasted impersonation, considered simply in relation to the aims and objects of art, so revolting, that I sat in silent and deep disgust, which was partly deserved by the audience which could endure the exhibition. It is the entire absence of the high poetic element which distinguishes Rachel as an actress, and places her at such an immeasurable distance from Mrs. Siddons, that it shocks me to hear them named together. The volume is handsomely produced, but might, we think, have been greatly improved by friendly revision. In spite of much clever ness, it is the least pleasing performance of Mrs. Jameson which has fallen under our notice. The Discontented Children, and how they were Cured. London: Grant and Griffiths. Amusing Tales for Children. By Miss Corner. London: Deane and Son. Puss in Boots. By Miss Corner. London : Deane and Son. THESE little books, belonging to the simple class of pretty stories, are written in a lively manner and with a good intent, though making no attempt to trench on the province of school or governess. Words by the Wayside; or, the Children and the Flowers. By Emily Ay ton. London : Grant and Griffiths. A CLEAR introduction to botanical knowledge, plea• santly written in the form of dialogue, adapted to create and gratify a taste for those pure pleasures of nature which chain the senses while instructing the mind. Ballad of the Battle of Alma. London : Effingham Wilson. AN anonymous poetical effort, written in plain ballad style, and framed upon the reports of " Our own Correspondents." It gives evidence of poetic feeling and descriptive power, which, perhaps, future subjects may develop. ' William Bogartles Own Joe Miller. London: Ward and Lock. A TOLERABLE collection of jokes of this century, though most of the good ones are too well known to need republication. It is to the credit of the editor that the fun is quite free from vice or brutality, and that the jokes will bear repetition in any company. [