The Press. — London, England, 1853-10-01 00:00:00

OCTOBER 1, 1853. WAS old, its hair grey, its head wise. Every one that said, " Lord, Lord :" two hundred yeouso ago, ass a Chtistian. Them were no earliest men now ; Williams, the missionarv, who lived mad died for the tiospel, was not earnest itt reli• ghat ; but Cromwell, who packed a jury. and sea munlered his prisoner.--Croutwell, iu whose mouth was heaven, anti in his heart tempund sovereignty, was the pattern of ear nest religion, or. at all events. second ill siueetity to Ma hornet alone, in the abst•nee of details respecting 0: whom wt. kll • only that his mouth is a seripttur eon rordatiee, and his hands the hands of Mr. Carlyle's saints. Then they went hack n century or two. and were eloquent about the great antique heart, and the beauty of an age whose samples were Abbot Sampson total Joan of Are. Lord Ipsden hatted argument, but jealousy is a brass spur: it mule even this Mall fluent fiat met.. Ile suggested " That tire hundred years added to a world's life made it just live hundred yeti's; older. not younger. and if older, greyer,--and if greyer, wiser.•' of Abbot Sampson," said he. " whom 1 confess both a great and a good man, his author, who with all his talent belongs to the class muddle-head, tells us, that when he had been two years in authotity his red hour had turned grey, fighting against the spirit of his age : h o w the den t s., tarn, could he be a sample of the spirit of his 'lgo.? " Joan of A►e W 11.4 burnt by aoelann►tion of her use, a►ul is admired by our age; which fact identities an age most with a heroine, no gibe her• your heart, or to gi% 4! her u blazing faggot and death " Abbot Sampson and .luau of Are," concluded he, " prove no more, in favour of their age, and nu Ices against it, than Lot does for or against Sodom. Lot wan in Sodom, but not of it ; and No were Sampson and .loan in, hot nut the vilbmous times they lived in. " It' the phrase ' earnest man' means man ' 'toning the beasts that an. 'leaf to reason, it is to be hoped that civilisation and Christianity will really extinguish the whole race for the benefit of the earth." Lord Ipsden succeeded in aumoying the fair theorist, but not iu convincing her. The mediaeval enthusiasts looked On him as some rough animal that had burst into sacred grounds unconscious!), and gradually edged away from hint. Agreeable acting eau make dramatic trifles successful, and confer a playbill immortality On two-act pieces made up of point, badinage, absurd situations, and good scenery. But the novelist and theatrical manager must eater by different means of success, though this witty and sparkling writer seems to think that, be cause novels have been dramatised. therefore vandevillen may be printed in volumes. But the mannerism of " Peg Woffington" and "Christie Johnstone " is sure to pall upon the reader, when we have not finished comedians like Mrs. Stirling and Mr. Leigh Murray to realise to our bodily sight those " c hara c t e rs " which the author has failed to portray to " the mind's eye." If there he exhibited truth of nature in a work of fiction, we can allow for extravagant incidents ; but how can our pas sions be moved by the contemplation of a " Christie Johnstone "—a fascinating fishwife, shining, " like a meteor," with her " snowy " cleanliness of costume," with the courage and presence of mind of at Nelson in petti coats, and with every womanly virtue ? All heroines arc entitled by prescription to a full measure of stereotyped perfections ; but our great English novelists or dramatists have not taught us to look fin• Belvidere at Billing,;gate. or Diana. Vernon at Hungerford Market crying "Yarmouth bloaters." This Newhaven herring dealer is (as already intimated) a crockery " monster," brilliant at a superficial glance, but a most brittle china toy, falling to pieces at the first touches of criticism. A Sanamer's-Day Dream, and other Poems. By H F. Robinson. London : Pickering. The Crook and the Sword. awl other Poems. By F. Fitzhugh. London : Johnstone and Hunter. POETRY may be smooth, and even agreeable, yet very bad. No skill in numbers will ever render insipidity and conventionalism tolera ble. Its worth may be not unfairly judged by determining what 'tuition of it is peculiar to the mind of the author. If his ideas lime frequently found expression before, and he gear his inspiration from without, not from within, the Muse assuredly has not chosen him, however ardently he may have wooed the M um e There su•e passages in the s e two volumes so much alike that it might be thought one author had borrowed from the other, were it not evident that both had borrowed freely from that largo stock of thought and imagery which, through changed circumstances, has partly lost its original truth and signification, end has fallen into commonplace by frequent and un- THE PRESS. meaning repetition. Crahhe. with .loluition' s strong approval. laughed at the dreamy bards who &titled they were describing Nature by Meehanie echoes of the Mantuan soul;." Strange to say, the race of these dreamy bards I►► not vet extinet. Some of them still limey that every dock must have its shepherd. with crook anti pipe, and that Phylisses must ch►u•ut the feathered ehmisters of the µ►rove to silence with their superior warblings. Mr. Fitzhugh sings : Where trembling wild dowers, wou'd by &amnia bee, 'Mid uturs•beds cluster oer the tinning rill ; Where the soft plaint of tingdove front the tree Mingles witit bleatings on the dist:mt hill, I wander oft when noontitle'r burning sou I:idm putting labour Poll the grateful shade : To list the *tun:, to gentle ears unknown: The ploughboy carols to his bright.e)oil tih ! tew• and simple our the jo b s of mut Where rural labour rh►ims Ito. daily earn ; Ile %%flit!. %AT siii., ha 111•11%.1* flAtt the ban let., burn 'will the fetid city's This is followed by a description of the rural churchyard : upside tio.m, too, the siugde 111:lidt`11 1111: Wilf tr.f . Idlsltningehro k the lem4 .1114 Wholl t. 11%. I% WI brightness in her etes, And Whit'll the 11111ekilini utl the thorn. hliort wa,Ficr life, but itriglit, t pan., awl gay ; ller charms uvlukc the rustic Jl li.%C'. Shepherds from distant hills c here W posy, .111.1 luu their reeds her bvutoti to kvilearm.. flaying given this taste of Mr. Fitzhugh's quality, we may lie excused further extract ; not should we have quoted these lines except Warning to young bards that, if the nature they see affords no materials for poetry, they should not look for images in the descriptions of poets who wrote centuries ago, when possibly rural life presented itself under a different aspect. " The Sword " of Mr. Fit:. hugh does not pleaso us better than his t'rook." lie 111111 better observe the promise of one of his heroes and " sheathe it.' Mr. Itobinsou's rural pictures are of a higher class. They ale less plainly imitative but, with some happy exceptions, scarcely more natural. His intoning walk is a crowd of images thrown together at random, quite wanting in the pencilled di.,tiuctuess of original observation : As I descend, all round the hills become Alive with docks of sheep, whose bleating sounds Soft to the ear, like infancy's tirst notes ; Now down the valley rings the huntsman's horn, Sharp, clear, sad beautiful, quick answer - 11 hack Ily some stray hark, or the deep hay of hounds. Now distant steeples joyous carols ring. Flinging their sounds to heaven with such gl. As if tin.y would announce them that lists Bad into-nionied with the day, and all Was jubilee below. Now taint i. !want The city's rising murmur, like the throb Subdued of some vast engine, or the sound Of waters breaking on a distant shore ; Now through the air uptloats the farmer's 44111 The clad: of whips, the ploughman's hoarei (s sly, A., with the buy tram they move mong To early toasturage : now front the field Is heard the measure of the labourer's song. With whistling tune, or loud laugh intersiwrs'4l. As if wish every stroke hip. hew beat timv, And, as he wiwkA, rude piettires of sweet home, Of childhood's welcome, or ..f smiling wife Throng . t 1 011.0%10 his healthy brain : and over all, (o'er the lamb's bleating. ur the sheep dog's bark, The winding horn, the carolling of bells, The murmur of the city and the plain, S.mg.4 of the skies—mitsie of the earth, The cock'm shrill vry is hf ml aloud mid liar. He seems to share Mr. Fitzhugh's delusion that. in the country all youths and maidens are happy. virtuous, and healthy, passing their time in the innocent love-making represented by the music of reeds and carols; while in cities "the youthlesachildren of our factories," with "hapless morals," " pallid checks," and " tearful eyes sunken with toil," are condemned through life to "Om long dArk The tints of the one picture are all bright, of the other all sombre ; there is more of fancy than of truth in either. We agree with an observation of "Jean Paul," that nothing can be more false than to estimate eonditions of humanity by our own standard, and to represent those persons as utterly miserable whose state appears so to us. The sub stance of his idea only occurs to us, but we are strongly impressed with its general good sense. In Mr. Robinson's volume, however, there are many touches of genuino poetic feeling. 523 Ile does not yet understand the seertst of self reliance. Finding an echo in his breast to the 11111sleal utteruurr. Of tiIIICM past, he t oo often adopts them for his min, and giveh forth hentinient for troth. Ills own few modest. rhino% are worth all the gninly tines he 11144 'IIIIM hit like this is tat mono precious than the strung atilt' pant of tho glowing eourbers of the •1111. - anti flit' slliOkt. frOill tt hick tire cede and follow it. The dew. In' says, has vanished front the earth, sloe lint in slimly nooks tit tonsil Pared by doted leite ea. Anil ruufitl by tangled laimtlni, %Vliere the 'meet Kit ape. And some lone bird Mina s man.) hough, Dreaming pv111110,44. the Still** lilt , erlit.4ld, Num to 'Xo submit.. hia midnight imam. Here we recognise the poet's eye, and it k passages like IMF& which lead us to augur• favourably of the author's sensibility. lint he tuuKt I►auish from his mind all bookish im• invasions, and see or think tin• himself alone, if lw would really present us with any pictures of the rural life of our day worth attention. Tho ground has rot been much trodden of late, and would repay the culture of an original observer wl►u dared to draw from truth, not tir u •y. Mr. ltobinson has jester pretension to poctie thought than to description. But «here, also, imitation, as it seems to us, has can ht 110141 of 111111, 111141 made hint a mannerist. Hi., misery is beyond the misery of all unfledged poets who lune gone before him : I Inns. drunk, ( Ily onn•ing CM the ilairk%ollo. The theme of 1114' of And all the Hokum changcm of I he earth,—) I'p go the very dregn, the• ems 44 Itte. Si•aret• 44161.'41 to my lips. I feel 144)Nr11, Amid the mighty toryht 44 i li 41 , 4 1 4 1 1,44.1 filo' a N111111•1' . 11 141111 11 1.41101 g II ISE. The jile.l ut thy bridwit down, ;$1 : ink I.mli.koNl M t% hollow %% ith 91v Awl all tla• syovio vivo. ()toile ausrl.l--- glory, pleasion , , p.m cr. 14)ve, 1411• Ih.• isrvor ► ity 1 un• 1140%, or if penthiiiiec, "Cih 1.111114. 1101141 W Sllo'll, 111.1'01114:41111. lOW 11141/10111g 0111 411%111111. lie has a partiality,—whieli w uhl ~vent strange, if it were not so conuuou with per sonm of him teniperainent,--for the death and eorruption. We have the poet . . farewell : " Farewell! a long awl ..al fai,ut II To all Fee 14,41 win% ; Fur clearly imw I hear iii. 1,18,11," and the musician's " dying invocation," " di, my beloved, turn illy midnight eyta Limn nte ere l die,' ifte. "Midnight eyes," by the way. i., a novelty a e do not admire. Then there are the " Heart's Requiem," begirmite; " Oh, fevered heart," and ending, •• Sleeping upon !hulks suit ',dime: and lines writen in dejeetion. . oh, Life, tio‘sit art 411 • ' and n unr,t dismal " Lamesatatioli," "Oh, mucking world. mid bollovphootithm! " First Love" yield►t nothing more eheerild than a moan over a tombstone: and n " Change of Home" entraps us into following a young lady into her Kel►ulehro Her clo4.ed eyes arr sinking, Anil hollows urr therr ; 114. r lips sre tut du-taking The dark, 44411'4'4 air. • • • • • or uwnunl hest will The mild eager And thi% final king She'll Hot rum in %vim Anal forms that now moulder, Whom• emnos an. roht, 11111 No bll igrll to tidal her In Adopt' glom. If such themes were the result of 01..ive, we cannot at the author's taste ; but, if the 'sentiment which dietated them be natural, he should endeavour, for him Own m w h e no l ess than for that of his readers, to get rid of them as quickly us possible. fie Wouldmore wisely blow his melancholy into a flute than wears. it into rls)use. In a far nubler style are some lines sultgestaal doubtless by the text Death, whore ii thy tidily? " t i . , 4 4 , , • 0 t i . ,' , 1 ° 1 , ';• e • ~4 4 Ilk 0 1 ~d i N t e 1 l IT ' A . A , t !-,