The Press. — London, England, 1853-11-12 00:00:00

NOVEMBER 12, 1853. resembles the earlier one, that the two might with advantage be incorporated iu a single work. Indeed the letters now published. being scattered over an interval Of eighteen years, and fragmentary from the omission of all that was already before the world, leave behind a disagreeable sense of incomplete ness. There is no prefatory memoir prefixed, except the imperfect fragment by liontee*Wal pole. The notes are ample. though not always accurate, as witness the notice of one Mr. Gos hawk, of Cambridge, who is deseribed as hav in been "oh senior wrangler" in 1747. By this publication the first editor is eon victed of cortaiu grave derelictions of duty. such 11t4 improving passages of his author. suppressing halt' a letter and transferring the other half to the next, connecting the two by an interpolated sentence: and other like free doms. Of Mason's own letters a few are given which might be very advantageously left out. being heavy in style, and wholly without in terest. _ We subjoin two specimens of Gray's writing, as it appears in this volume. The first relates to the laureateship : TO THE RE% . WILLIAM MAst)N. live. 19, Mt Dear 3lason,—Though I very well know the bland emol lient saponaceuus qualities both of sack and silver, yet if any great man would say to me, " I make you rateateher to his Majesty, with a salary of :1001. a year and two butts of the best malaga. and though it has been list'sl to catch a mouse or two. for form's sake, in public once a year, yet to you, air. Wt. shall not stand upon these things," I edit , not say 1 should jump at it : nay, if they would drop the very name of the office, and eall me sineeum to the King's Majesty, I should still feel it little awkward, and think tleiy body I saw smelt a rat about me; but I do not pretend to Mane any our else that has not the same sen sations: for my .at I would rather be sergeant trumpeter or pinmaker to the palace. Nevertheless I interest myself it little in the history of it, and rather wish somebody may accept it that will retrieve the credit of the thing, it' it be retrievable, or ever had any eredit. Rowe was, 1 think, the last moan of charm-ter that had it. As to Settle, whom yon mention, he belonged to my I.ord Mayor, not to the king. Eustleu was a person of great hopes in his youth, though at last he turned out a drunken parson. 1 oryolen WAS as disgraceful to the edits., from his character, as the Istorest scribbler could have been from his verses. office itself has always humbled the professor hitherto (even in an age when kings were somebody ), if he wire a poor writer by making Trim more conspicuous, and if he were a good one by setting hint at war with the little fry of his own profession, for there are poets enough to cosy vsets a of laureat. Letters of condolence arc usually lxypoeriti cal, or formal, or both, and, even it' they ho otherwise, yet on topics which are common to all humanity novelty either of expression or of thought is well-nigh impossible. The follow ing, however, has something of classical beauty and pathos : TO RICOARD STONEFIEWER, Dt.101.131. (By Caxton Itag.) Cambridge, Nov. ^_, 1789. My dear Sir,--I am sincerely pleased with every mark of your kindness. and as such 1 look upon your last letter in particular. 1 feel jut the sorrow you have felt. and yet I cannot wish to lessen it : that would be to rob yell of the best part of your nature, to efface from your mind the ten. der memory of a lather's love, and derive the dead of that just and grateful tribute which his goodness demanded from you. I must. however, remind you how happy it was for him that you were with him to the last : that he was sensible, perhaps, of your care, when every other sense was vanish. big. Ile might have lost you the last ym.ar, might have seen you go before him, at a time when all the ills of help less old age were coining upon him, and, though not de..ti• tnte of the attention and tenderness of others, yet destitute of yuur attention and MMIr tenderness. Nay God preeerve you, my best friend. and, long alter my eyes are dosed, give you that last satisfaction in the gratitude anti affec tion of a son, which you have given your father. I am ever most truly and entirely yours, T. G. Mesnoireg et Correspondanee Politique et Min- Fairy , du Rol Joseph. (Memoirs and Political and Military Coy-respondence of King Joseph.) By A. du Casse. Paris: Perratin. M. nu CAssE, the editor of the voluminous papers of King Joseph, is aide-de-camp to Prince Jerome Napoleon, and is known us a wiiter on military matters. Joseph Bonaparte, the elder brother of Napoleon 1., spent a con 'iderable portion of his life in collecting materials for his own personal history, and M. du Casse tells us in his introduction that the present publication will probably occupy volumes. We have only the two fiat now before us, and they are very uninterest ing,. being little more than the dry official ocument s relating to scents and transactions THE PRESS. on whose historical facts there is searcely any colitroversy. There are n few portions of Napoleon's letters in the first volume which derive some interest from the independent tame of their strictures on French society. In his early eorrespondenco with Joseph he repeatedly refers to the volatility and love of pleasure peculiar to the Parisians. Napoleon seems to have been very much struck at the rapidity with which the French mind forgot the events Of the reigu of temar, anal the careless ease with which society in the French capital again embarked in dissipation. lie constantly fees to the extraordinary power of wuttuut at Paris. In one liblee lie Olisell'es that it woman ought to have six months of lift' there, in order to learn the respect with which she should he treated ! In some of his letters he writes like it fatalist, and assumes at tone of indifferenee ; but, with something of reality, there is a great deal also of affectation in thew portions of his letters. Thu second of these volumes brings' the eormspondence of King ,Toseph to the end of Isllll. In the more advanced portions of this work we shall probably find some passages re quiring an examination in detail. Smile Mow. An Histoticatl Roonittee of the Time of George I. By Adillestone 11111. London : Routledge and Co. NoNE but a noviee in the art of novel-writing would continence a fiction with the folh•w ing passage, which destmys the illusion of a reader:— On the th side of Leieestemitmare, where Miss Linwood 's eelelorated needlework was exhibited for so many wars, and where the " Mysterious Lady " and " Madame Warton afterwards perplexed the credulous, or gl at Rica the potligate—where cockney sportsmen resort to loeeome '•doad shots," and the thineeloving Alumni and milliner to indulge their tastes in the polka a n d waltz. stood Smile House. ereetial he the witty and satirical baronet of that mum', in the reign of Charles 11. In the year 17141 it was the town residence of the Honourable Frances Fleet. WINA, daughter of Lord lierartl, of Bromley Ball, in Staffordshire, and widow of the opulent "'Thomas Fleet wood, tot' Nlartin Similes, in the county of Cheater, Elul." The nau►es of " Miss Linwood," " the Mys terious Lady," and " Madame Warton "—so inaptly introduced—herald iu the uann►enoe n►ent of a tale in eve►y l►mo of which we are reminded of the mechan►sm of the Minerva Press school of fiction. " Savile !louse" attempts to present a story of the domestic affections, and to give at the same tune a iiieture of the reigr► of the first of the Ueor•ges. The writer's power is not equal to either ]►or tion of his subject. There is not the colour of the age impressed either upon the style of the composition or upon the characters de scribed ; and the plot is of the kind or employed by what may be called the Surrey drama school of fictionnits. We have a sneak. ing villain, taken from the class of mercenary apostates, whose designs against the happi ness of an old English family n►ake a principal Dart of the story of " Savile House." By extracting a portion of one of its most " spirited " scenes, our readers will have a taste of the style of the writer. The following passage will recal to thou► Malty others about " cruel, unnatural fathers" and undutiful daughters : " What is your misery compared to mine ?" returned Nladeline. " Better to dip a degnuled death that, live a ,blabilied life. My fate will be far more pitiable than yours. furl have no hope in t ital-1111 trust in man ! In vain did Ilitchnnaigh enilemour to soothe or threaten her Mut silence. She adhered to her resolution, and in• formed him that she should at once seek the presence of Ali's. Fleetwood, and implore her pardon, fur the deeeption she had involutitanly practised on her ; and then she added, " I will leave this hornse fur eser. You can $(1) your way ill the world, and I will go 11l ille ; for we, though father and daughter we be, call never breathe one atmosphere, and live together." " Ungrateful girl!" exclaimed Il awls ; " KIP you determined om •our ruin, and uu nine'? (Mee 1114011:, I beseech you pause. I have done all, dared all, fur you. It is your aggrandizement alone that I have sought, not mine. For you I have amassed wealth ; for you I have steeped my soul in perjury : for I entild not hear to leave my vial Beggar. Think, think before you act so rashly : remember. I am your father." '• A most cruel and unnatural one. As soon would Ibe kindred with the ileeeithil hyena as with a goalksa man like you. lhi not attempt to hinder me, for I will parr out." _ _ Go, then, said Ilitchruotwh. " •n 1 pulalish all you know. Then beg, btarre, or the, for such must be your fate." " N.,: ' rt pli. I Jlsdeliue, asultinety. " I /than nut atarvlr. I .1111 %.111144. and, thank !leaven, I arm brauukal. Eat* cattuttt erin.l,l nor ailtvi•sity diaaflll umi. I lure a heart of and a hririt that can brace--defy the *ibis's& storm !" thi 4 . she hung open the door, eniaseil a anis!d corridor. anti the relit moment 'shawl before Mrs. rivet thhi. 'ler tit:lire was drawn up to its *idlest height : her features Wert . 11111111110 d with passion the 011 4 1 5 of her tituk acredilated to %Inite their usual rise. and %cornett lit hettil forth apatite of eleetrie tire. A antile, half %.' o l . llfiki. half aglillitetl, hovered round her mouth; and her 'bosom heaved like the waves of an angry sea. With one hand alit' pressed upon it. as if to keep the ti 1111 l ilt down : a ith the tither aloe !Named to llitelii 11111 l gli, wipo ! in spite Ot Iris Clldt•tl% our to he eoluivoi k ed, ..t.iod coati Mg sod ltrmhli►yl with impotent rage behind her. Amongst the historical c h arac t er , ' intro. thleeli Are tieorge 1.. the Duke of Wharton. and Ilaolatile But, as Mh o; I.inwood would titlY. they uru Silieheli into tho eouiposition, rather than artistically painted. Sarile !louse " may thus not inaptly Le ealle4l l'eelinen of lihniry tapestry, without bril liancy of colour or originality of design, and presenting little to praimo but, the meelumical regularity of its needlework. A Peep fit the Pixies : or, Legends ell the West. By Mrs. Bray. London : Brant and Grit fith. MISS .1 NOW CAROLINE Dvvtus, who has the good fortune to possess an SIMI in 'Mrs. Bray, having exprossed a wish (hut that lady " would write a book " for "little people like herself," this volume—dedicated to her—is the result. It opens with a vivid description of Dartmoor —its hills and sparkling streams—the treeless waste broken by the solitary rocks. and those other rocks which, called tors, are piled fantas tically iu heaps, and resemble ruined SI holds built and wrecked in giituts' wars— the lielteum of many colours—the moss covered with scarlet dowers from which the dye for woollen cloths is made—" the pale yellow but " terfly sportin on the front of some old " grey rock, or sett ling, on the wild thyme or " the golden furze"—the song of the thrush — the lark's triumphal chant—time mystic civvies where the Druids of old performed strange rites—the few stunted ivy-covered oaks sole remnant of their sacred grove—the great stones that mark the grave of a British chief or king—the sudden mists that fall end wrap the traveller round, and rise and vanish its suddenly; and, to crown all, the author reveals to US that on this great moor. wl tere " dl 111 lOuliulal iii, aims sia.re Ilan gloat bliskle.. dung by their pitshitig nitits dewly u•ii. asi grey ad lowly %MI," the genuine Pixies of the West have left some of their most choice menowials. " Pixy thithun" is the first tale. The time is laid m the reign of James I. Trim Triekett. an honest. tailor, and Betsy Hamming, together with a black eat, are accused of having "a/- wished," and thereby prematurely caused, the death of a young neighbour of theirs who was " bedridden, blind, deaf, and helpless," and hail scarcely completed her ttoth year. Iles' demise, under t hese eireumataneen, was deemed so unaccountable that Trim, Betsy, and 'Tore the eat were taken before the justice, who or dered the eat to be put into a bag, and decreed that, unless Betsy in one month could spin one hundred and forty pieces of thread so tine that all could pass together through the eye of Trim's needle, Trim should be burnt alive and Iletsylinnged. Is not this enough to make the "litUe folks" shudder ? Need we observe that the danger increases up to the very last moment of the last minute of the last hour of the last day of the allotted time, end that then, when time fire and the rope are ready, it astonish ingly disappear'? How did this happen? First we will " let the eat out of the bag," where she hail been kept without food one month. tightly fastened up, and as she was taken out dead this sufficiently established her innocence, for it was held to prove that she was only a mortal eat, and therefore not a witch. Secondly, Trim had a good son. named Johnny, who worked in amine. and Johnny had a wicked master, who limed to beat him ; and a good Pixie, called (intim'', told Johnny that for every cuff he built 11-t u t his master without complaining he i Pixie Gallon) would spin a thread fin- the needle. And he kept his word. And Johnny was grateful, fur, oh serving that Gathon was naked, he offered to get his father to make a pair of trousers for 1