The Press. — London, England, 1857-08-01 00:00:00

p 1 Nobody can read this volume without being greatly amused. We may even entertain a persuasion that Mr. Thackeray's style of re monstrance, when not conceived in a sneering spirit, may be beneficial to the Irish people. But he is nevertheless an unconscious in structor. He sees the outsides of things clearly, remembers them accurately, and de scribes them with distinctness. But we doubt if he would not feel a little embarrassed if called upon for any generalisation of what passed before him. As long as he has illus tration and anecdote at his service he can enable us to utilise his writings for ourselves ; but when deprived of these he would, we fancy, be as helpless as a man used to swim with corks if suddenly stripped of them. This is of course a matter of habit, and not of natural deficiency ; but the more inveterate the habit the more difficult its correction. And we greatly doubt if Mr. Thackeray will ever improve his position by abandoning the sphere of letters. The Sister of Charity; or, from Belgravia to Ber►xiondsey. By Mrs. Chalice. Three Vols. London : Bentley. Tuts. is a clever, sketchy, readable sort of a light novel, in which living and dead celebri ties are attempted to be photographed. As a first attempt it deserves some praise, though many of its incidents are forced ; and the authoress does not succeed iu composing a dramatic tale. Miss Nightingale figures in its pages as " Miss Lester;" and the late Sir William Molesworth is introduced, with worse than questionable taste, seeing the fact of the novel being dedicated to Lady Molesworth. The inscription to Lady Molesworth runs as follows : To !Any Mottswoarn, A Tribute To her Sympathy in the Cause of Prowess And a Mark of Respect to the Memory Of her Husband, The late Right Honourable SIR WILLIAM MOLESWORTH, BART., M.P. By the Authoress. Both the taste and grammar of the dedication may be objected to ; but we must not be too critical with a lady's first attempt. Here the authoress attempts to paint Miss Lester— alias Miss Nightingale—in her teens : Rut not on any of these did Eustace gaze ; his wonder and delight were rivetted to the centre of this strange place, where, standing, bathed in prismatic hues, which tell with beams from the stained &us above, was a Using surpassing in its interest any of the 'Heat Four 44 In the present case, when Amy and Eustace arrived, they felt themselves immediately honoured and expected; and were at once marshalled to a small, inner, morning room, the simple, nut elegant, and habitable arrangements of which were rather in contrast to the fairyland view just permitted by a half-closed folding•door of a suite of apart- ments beyond. In the pleasant nook to which they had been ushered were a desk and easel, both having the appearance of con• atant use ; a large supply of the newest publications on a variety of subjects—artistic, poetic, political, and philo sophical ; a vase of fresh flowers; a heap of letters, of every form and dimension, from the polisheo,perfurned missive, to the large, clumsy appeal of business or charity ; and some manuscript music on a stand, by an uncovered harp, near the shaded and richly curtained window ; while the chilliness of the late autumn morning was dispersed by the cheerful fire, principally composed of wood emitting a pleasant odour, burning on the hearth, before which was stretched a large dog, instantly recognised by Mr. Seville as that be had seen years before at the feet of Sir Richard Lester. There are various passages in these volumes affecting to describe " High Life." In the following sketch the Stafford-house Whigs will not pretend to recognise the "Duchess of Ayrton" : One beautiful morning, at the beginning of the London season of 11351, a small, but perfect carriage containing two ladies, and drawn by thoroughbred ponies, slowly pur sued its pleasant way by the Serpentine in Hyde park. A servant was in attendance, whose costume, though plain, was as faultless as the horse be rode ; but his guard might well have been dispensed with, as it was long before the hour when this spot is wont to be frequented by " the world." The lady who so cleverly, but daintily, hell the reins of the fairy-equipage was charming•looking in the extreme, but somewhat difficult of description, as her fascination seemed to consist more in instiller and that ",k quoi," which is, if I remember rightly, some where proclaimed by Montesquieu as indispensable ; and triumphant " over a difficulty" when the fact of regular beauty has been denied. _ _ _ She was small, bright, and piquante. Her hair, of a chesnut hue, was turned back from the face in the mode so prevalent since in France, but becoin;.ng to so few. Her eyes were dark grey, and animated; while the exquisite figure was well displayed in the rather cl.w-fitting dress, so quiet in its colour, so charming in its freshness, and so exquisite, to the very delicate gloves on the small bands which guided the spirited but docile ponies. Her companion,though equally nice in her appointments, was evidently a little more careless of appearance ; but not one of the few stragglers then and there about, whether governesses with their young charges, men lounging and meditating on " what next and next " in their fate, or young ladies taking their constitutional beauty-walk, but mani fested some sign of the attraction to be found in her earnestly intellectual face, and unconsciously graceful attitude. For some time both these ladies were ( for a wonder, perhaps) silent; at length, the fair charioteer thus begs? : You are Fositirely provoking, Beatrice ; to think of another season, and you. with all your advantages—to say, nothing of mine"—(she archly put in), " still on my hands !" " My dear Ductless," answered Beatrice Lester, laughing. " What shall I do to please you?" " Why marry, to be sure," answered her Grace, suddenly whipping the ponies, with a silken cord that just tickled their ears. " marry!" ejaculated the younger lady, in playtul mock- By innocence I swear, and by my youth, I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth— Nor never none Shall master be of it, save I alone. "Oh ! shocking!" esclaimed the Duchess of Ayrton ; "horrible to pervert Shakspesre in that manner, Beatrice. And then the blank, too, of your forced omission which I shall perforce take as some sort of admission ; but, prithee, dear friend, with all your philanthrophy, do not meditate the masculine usurp'd attire' of the Viola you quote, to carry out your views of single blessedness." And so on. Some readers like books of this kind, and if executed with real knowledge and high finish they are often piquant ; but we have had an over-supply of those inartistic productions. wn e e s re u , ne sbtaatnnu tb : I I Joan surpass . \ .. \ 754 fined his shirt•collsr, moist with the generous drops that trickled from the chin above,—its little per centage upon the punch. There was a fine dashing black satin waistcoat that called for its share, and generously disdained to be but. toned. I think this is the only specimen I have seen yet of the personage still so frequently described in the Irish novels—the careless thinking 'squire—the Irish Will Whimble. " Sir," says he, " as I was telling you before this gentle man came in ( from Westport, I preshmue, sir, by the mail; and ` my service to you!' ), the butchers in Chum. Tuam)—where I live, and shall be happy to see you and give you a shake down, a cut of mutton, and the use of as good a brace of pointers as ever you shot over—the butchers say to me, whenever I look in at their shops, and ask for a joint of meat—they say : ' Take down that quarther o' mutton, boy, it's no use weighing it for Mr. Bodkin. He can tell with an eye what's the weight of it to an ounce!' And so, sir, I can ; and I'd make a bet to go into any market in Dublin, Tchtime. Ballinasloe, where von please, and just by looking at the meat decide its weight." At the pause, during which the genileman, here th-sig nated Bodkin, drank off his materials, the young oiliner said gravely, that this was a very rare and valuable accomplishment, and thanked him for the invitation to T chutu . e. The honest gentleman proceeded with his personal memoirs ; and ( with a charming modesty that authenti cated his tale, while it interested his hearers for the teller) he called for a fresh tu•nbler, and began discoursing about horses. " Them, 1 don't know," says he, confessing the fact at once, " or, if I do, I've been always so unlucky with them that it's as good as if 1 didn't. _ . . " To give you an idea of my ill-fortune: Me brother-'n law Burke once sent me three colts of his to sell at this very fair of Itallinasloe ; and, for all I could do, I could only get a bid for one of 'em, and sold her for sixteen pound. And d'ye kflow what that mare was, sir ?" says dlr. Bodkin, giving a thump that made the spoon jump out of the punch glass for fright,—" D'ye know who she was^ she was Wster•Wagtail, sir,—Water•Wagtail! She won fourteen cups and plates in Ireland before she went to Liverpool; and you know what she did there?" (We slid, " Oh! of course.") " Well, air, the man who bought her from me, sold her for four limier' guineas ; and in England she fetched eight hunder' pounds!" THE PRESS, AUGUST 1, 1857. the background. It was Beatrice Lester; she whom he had lately risked his life to save, by whose side he had knelt in dread and hope, and for whose sake he had just under gone the ungenial cross•questioning of the Misanthrope. • • • • • Simple words, but thrilling earnestness. Nothing to read, everything to hear—by those, at least, to whom they might be addressed. And then, what • face! More singular, perhaps, than perfectly beautiful, but not to be forgotten with the sunshine just touching the upraised eyes with that peculiar brilliance which the artist knows so well how to appreciate, and, by simple but most effective touches, to portray: those extra lights on the orbs even of an ordi nary face render humanity radiant, and the painter's work complete. It was difficult to decide as to the rest of the features ; the complexion was very pale, rendered still more so by an abundance of heavy dark hair, requiring better arrangement for a more perfect view of the countenance. The form of this young creature, too, was slight, but scarcely rounded and developed enough, beneath the almost shapeless, dark dress for beauty. But all this was for memory, more th►n conscious observation at the time ; the eyes rivetted attention, and raised speculation as to their owner, while the thrilling. somewhat tremulous tones of the voice, seemed to bespeak a nature intense, poetic, earnest; a moral harmony, an inward glow; than which the sunshine from without on the principal feature of the face caused the lesser radiance. Here is Miss Lester's Loudon abode:— The residence of Beatrice Lester was not very large, but the promise of the chaste repose intimated by the external arrangements was fully realised the moment your foot crossed the threshold. No parade was there of a liveried crew ; but a respectable, quiet man, without a shade of the hypocrisy of his class on his countenance, led the visitor on respectfully (whatever the cut of coat or cloak), through a spacious hall (which, unlike many Lon don vestibules, was warm and peculiarly fragrant) into such rooms as might be denoted by the business or pleasure seeking of the guest. For the visitors to his young mis- tress were certainly not all of one class. . It is difficult to sum up in a few words the tendencies of our English school. Our English art, as we have seen, is healthful and vigorous, because eminently naturalistic; it is true and honest, because etch painter is true to him self, and with mental independence paints just what he thinks sill feels ; it is for this reason diversified in subject and character, not fettered by authority, nor bound down by historic precedent. It likewise represents and corresponds to the existing phases of society, painting up to the re quirements of the drawing room, and putting upon canvas all that is talked of at the dinner-table. Finally, it knows bow to respect as well as to represent English life and manners in their observance of social and moral proprie ties, in their respectabilities, in their downright, honest, and hearty commonplace. We think and trust, however, that in our English life and thought are to be found higher phases of existence than our national art has thus gene- rally ventured to portray. The faculty of imagination, the feelings of devotion, man in his higher aspects of thought or worship, religion as it connects the earth and humanity with heaven,—these inspirations, to a corresponding no• bility in art, our national school has hitherto for the most part left unheeded. The time has been, and in some countries still is, when a picture claimed the bended knee. Whatever, then, be the merits of our English school—and they are great—it is but too manifest that we need the guidance of higher thought, the inspiration of s nobler idea. Our art is too fugitive, miscellaneous, and vagrant, and seems, like our poetry, to await the outburst of some strong national impulse, some cry from the people, some kindling of the fire. "Sea-side Studies" and " Afoot " make up a very pleasant number. In Fraser we find the same premature expression of opinion upon the Indian mutiny which we shall presently have to notice in the Dublin. The writer endeavours to pooh pooh the notion of general discontent, and unfortunately asserts that the Sikhs are now " eager to try conclusions with the traitors who have proved unfaithful to their salt." Alas ! for human prescience ! The general contents of this magazine are not less attractive than usual. " English Social Life from the Thirteenth to the Sixteenth Centuries" is perhaps the most interesting in the number. The Dublin University Magazine contains two articles on the great question of the day—the first a review of " Sir Charles Napier in lcdia ;" the second a paper expressly on "The Indian Mutiny." We shall quote a short passage from each : Lord Ellenborough was crushed for attempting to carry out a new system before the question had been sufficiently ventilated, and the mists of error and prejudice dispersed. The anomaly which be was the first clearly to detect, but which is becoming better known every day, is as follows : The government of an integral portion of the British empire upon a system suitable only to a body it, settlers in a new country. Private enterprise may be all very well for effect ing a lodgment in a remote and barbarous but powerful and wealthy region, where strict observance of the forms of law is impossible, and where the peril and the profit alike appertain to the individual adventurer. Such was the system by which in the seventeenth century we de. stroyed the naval power of the Spaniards in the purple seas of the tropics. Such was the system which originally struck terror into the golden courts of Oriental potentates, and laid the foundation of the greatest colonial empire the world has ever seen. But while the conquest of India was in progress, a system might be not only tolerable but advantageous, which, after the establishment of a regular government, would be fraught with danger and injustice. It might be well to tempt indivtdual audacity by the enor• mous magnitude of the prize to be won ; and it might be well that a private company should bear the responsibility of many questionable, though perhaps unavoidable, actions, rather than the Imperial tioverninet.t, or the whole British people. Under such circumstances, the privileges of the East India Company were a benefit to the community at large. But this state of things has now, we maintain, entirely passed away. The necessity for these privileges has ceased to exist ; they are now but an encumbrance ; and in an age which has signed the death•warrant ut all monopoliei, we cannot believe that the gigantic monopoly in Lesdeahall•street will bug be PriPitte4 to 0040110, PERIODIC AL LITERATURE. Ix Blackwood this month we have the usual admix ture of fiction, literature, art, and science. " What will he Do with It?" and "Scenes of Clerical Life," proceed swimmingly. " North on Homer" is a merited tribute of respect to that Jupiter of critics. " Tho Manchester Exhibition" contains some very interest ing remarks on " The English School" and its ten dencies :