The Press. — London, England, 1855-06-09 00:00:00

Yittratart. Pictures from the Battle Fields. By the Roving Englishman. London : Routledge and Co. Ws all know what character the old proverb ascribes to a bird which defiles its own nest; anti if common report speaks the truth in attributing the authorship of this work to one of the luckiest young men in her Majesty's diplomatic service, we must say that he strikes us as a remarkably ill-conditioned ornitholo gical specimen. The first part of the volume before us is devoted to an account of the author's journey ings in the East, interspersed with desultory sketches of life and character, done with a certain degree of vulgar smartness and fluent flippancy which the unfastidious may be will ing to accept for cleverness and wit. From this portion of the book we will quote his descriptions of "the Russian soldier" and "the Russian officer "—taking leave to tell the author that he mistakes the feeling of the people to whose prejudices he would pander when ho supposes that Englishmen will be pleased to see such cruel caricatures of the sturdy and resolute foernen whom it needed the best chivalry of Britain to repel. Those, at any rate, wire have confronted the Russians in the field will read these passages with the stern disapprovalwhich gallant soldiers ever feel for the weak railers at the foe whom men of truer and more chivalrous natures have en countered with fiercer weapons than words : TUi RUSSIAN SOLDIER. He is a sulky, sullen, stupid-looking fellow, with a pale blue complexion, like that produced by what the doctors call the " administration " of nitrate of silver in cases of disease. Poor wretch ! he looks like a felon, for he has been treated all his life as a hound. He has a short straight nose, the nostrils of which are turned outwards, and seem like two small holes in his face. He has little round eyes; but he is too stupifled by ill-treatment to have any expression in them, though he is in the first flush of youth and strength. His hair is of a rusty bay or reddish brown. It does not dare to curl or wave, and sticks out in points and notches, as though in despair of doing right, turn which way it will. He is a square-built, powerful man, but he is listless, silent, and awkward. He appears susceptible of neither pain or pleasure ; to have no respect or love for himself. He seems to have neither reason or instinct. He is a machine ready to obey a touch of the impelling rod, or to have something within him which hears and acts at the hoarse shout of command, but of himself he does nothing. He has no will, no energy, no pride of craft. If you speak to him suddenly, he starts, and takes an attitude of drilled attention. He will not flinch or stir for a blow, but his eyes darken and his thick lips close, lie is dirty in his person and habits, but not untidy or slovenly ; for he seems always on parade. tiod only knows what thoughts pass through his mind, for he never utters any. He appears profoundly impressed with his own insignificance and inferiority to every one who wears a good coat, and he bows down abjectly before a bit of gold lace and a sword, whoever wears them. He has no soldierly love of pleasure. He loves drink, indeed, and he will sit silently soaking raw spirits as long as he can get any, but the liquor has no brightening effect on him. He is as impassive in his cups as when sober. He may drink himself blind, deaf, speechless, motionless, but he cannot drink himself gay. If an officer told him to walk down a precipice, or drink a glass of speedy poison, the idea of re- Monstrance or disobedience would never occur to him. He would do either as merely a part of hie allotted task in life, the object for which he was born. He has been told that the French and English are impious heretics, a sort of plausible devils in human shape ; he believes it devoutly, for lie has no reasoning powers, no opinions. He believes that be will incur Divine wrath by holding communion with them ; that they will poison him if he eats their food ; that they will torture instead of healing him, if he is wounded ; that their medicines are death in disguise, their benefits a mockery, their kindness a device of the evil one. He does not think these things distinctly, and one after the other; but such is the general confused impression on his abject mind. THE RUSSIAN OFFICER. He is an incarnate falsehood, a backbiter, with malicious intent, a most notable slenderer. He has no high and in spiring creed, no soul, no heart; but he has the jargon and all. y despises and sneers at the connive at the shame of his his child, for his interest or smallest scruple. He would dis kinsman or best benefactor, by •to the galleys. He would if it was not likely to be I cheat at play. He would ,iis mistress in folding her to the wages of crime from her would poison her mind till it became Re would give her aid and counsel in f her husband, if any gain were to be got lie covertly laughs at the whole thing; he q$ really care two straws about the issue of the struggle, except se far SO 4 HMI 80U10 clay affect his social seeming of them all. lie utterly honour of women. He would co wife, hid sister, his mother, or hi convenience, without the smalles honour the hearth of his kinsina means which should send him t Commit a burglary unblushingly, brought home to him, He would dexterously pick the pocket of his his breast. He would receive the without a pang. He would poiso as black as his own. He woullgi the slow murder of her laulband, by it. . . . 14e covertly laugl does not. really care two straws THE PRESS. position in Europe as a Russian officer. For t})e rest, he despises alike as fools those who are lighting with him or against him. He knows the commencement of the bother was a mere personal pique between two old men, or a political pretext for doing something which was exces- sively hazardous. He has not a grain of military en thusiasm ; but, if a poor or an obscure man, he welcomes the war readily enough, as a possible means of personal aggrandisement. As for the danger, he neither thinks or cares much about it. What is the use cf living, if you cannot have 60,0001. a year, and live in Paris? The rest is all bosh I If slander were a valid or useful instrument of warfare, the "Roving Englishman " might hope to do good service against our foe. But, as its employment is repugnant to every honest mind, and can only serve to brutalise war and embitter national hatreds, we must beg to repudiate these pictures as the mere " fancy sketches " of a mean and malignant disposition, always eager to revile when it thinks it can do so at a safe distance, and without fear of retaliation. The introductory and latter portions of the book are devoted to the bitter depreciation of her Majesty's servants generally, and to those under the control of the Foreign-office par ticularly. Our readers will not suspect us of any over indulgent leaning to Whig magnates, or of any blind, unreasoning faith in those who have been intrusted with the conduct of affairs during the last two years. We have spoken out plainly enough our disapproval of their policy. But Christian charity and gentlemanly feeling should be of no party, or rather of all parties ; and when men of high character, kindly nature, and tried ability are ranco rously attacked in their private as in their public capacity, we will not stop to ask if they are Whigs or Tories, lords or commoners, Greys or Smiths, Browns or Cavendishes, but will brand the calumny in the terms it de serves. Slang is not wit. Where is the humour in perpetually styling Lord Westmorland " Lord Fiddlededee," and Lord Stratford de Redcliffe "Sir Hector Stubble "? Why, the swarming urchins of St. Giles display mo►e invention in their nicknames. If ever the term aping could be appropriately ascribed to the penmanship of a creature supposed to possess human intelligence, it would be to the " Roving Englishman's " servile imitation of the lowest peculiarities of Mr. Charles Dickens—pecu liarities which, though they cannot degrade his genius, yet serve to show that there is a link between the brightest and meanest of mankind. Monkeyficd Dickensism is really the only phrase which we can find to truly designate such descriptions as this following of the camp at Chobhatu No accident of importance having happened to anybody during the preliminary arrangements, the camp soon be came a place of fashionable resort. It was as good as a play. Parade went mad there, and the cousinocracy showed itself worthy of the occasion. Colonel Lord Fitzgrey entertained a distinguished party to breakfast at Stuffem's Railway Hotel. General the Honourable Sir Ajax Fitzelliot did the same ; and so did Captain and Lieutenant• Colonel Money bags and Lady Prudence Moneybags. Lord Blethusaleh Filzrussell, attended by a wealthy or titled staff of his own immediate connections, including the sons of his family banker and solicitor, rode slowly along the line, in a manner suited to his age, dignity, and infirmities. Nothing could have been more admirable than the conduct of his lordship on this trying occasion. The intrepid heroism with which he kept his seat on horseback, in spite of severe rheumatic pains, brought on by the frequent showers which had caused even the boldest old /adiem to take shelter; the cheerful manner in which he raised his double eyeglass, to inspect each fine regiment as it filed past him. Indeed, the scene was quite affecting, and his lordship's medical man (present with a lancet, in case another attack of apoplexy had seized my lord suddenly) received the warmest and most. deserved com pliments for his care and skill, from a select circle of the aristocracy. Mr. G. M. W. Reynolds (we hope we rrint his initials correctly) can afford to look down upon such stuff us this, as a genuine specimen of the higher order of Quadrumana, who goes through the actions pertaining to man with becoming gravity, may despise the frivolous antics of the Sylvanus or Nemestrina species. The author tells us that Lord Westmor land was present at a ball given by Prince Schwartzenberg to celebrate the downfall of Lord Palmerston, and that his lordship after wards composed a mass in honour of the Prince's death, which happened a short time subsequently. The ball was given instead of thp usual pew Year's-day reeeptten; and few SATURDAY, of our readers, we should fancy, will be likely to credit such a piece of gobemoucherie as the assertion that the defeat of a British Minister was the occasion of the festivity. The mass was composed by Lord Westmor land twenty-five years previously at Florence, and was produced at Vienna before Prince Schwartzenberg's death. So much for the writer's ingenuousness. We have already hinted at his gratitude to Lord Westmorland and other diplomatists, from whom he received kindness, and by whom he was treated with unusual consideration. As the "Roving Englishman," in the midst of his tricks, professes a great love of plain dealing, wo must take the liberty of putting his sincerity to the test, and of asking him (if he be the person universally named in society as the author of this book) whether it is to his merit, or to the aristocratic influences which he so eloquently deprecates, that he owes his almost unpreeedentedly rapid rise in his profession? And whether it is to the humbleness of his contrition, or to the interest with which the accident of his birth has surrounded him, that he is indebted for his retention and even pro motion in a service the rules of which he has so flagrantly transgressed ? Secondly. Did not the Earl of Westmor land evince extraordinary indulgence to the author under circumstances when a certain degree of rigour would have been shown by almost any other ambassador than the kindly, accomplished diplomatist and gallant soldier who represents his Sovereign at Vienna, and against whom we doubt if one of her Majesty's subjects can be found to endorse or to echo the ungrateful attack which beginning at page 297 extends to page 305 of the work before us ? _ _ Thirdly. Does the author know (what he pretends to ignore) that the concert which he rates Mr. Grey fur performing in at Vienna was given for a noble charity? Its object was to raise a fund for the widows and orphans of literary men. Does he or does he not remember a young member of the mission at Vienna who eagerly sought admit tance to the musical parties given by the same gentleman, who there made acquaint ance with the society which he vituperates, and who now writes a book full of sneering allusions to the man whose salt he has eaten, and from whom he never met with aught but kindness and courtesy ? When he seeks to dis parage the same person as a public employe, does he or does he not know that Mr. Grey is not only one of the most genial companions and kindly gentlemen in Europe, but that he is also one of the ablest and most rising diplomatists whom we possess? The former part of our statement will be corroborated by all who know anything of London or foreign society ; and the officers of our Baltic fleet and all who have studied the policy of the Swedish Court will readily admit that to the tact, conciliatory spirit, and, above all, to the frankness and honest unre serve of Mr. Grey we are mainly indebted for the friendly attituda of Sweden at the com mencement of the war, as for its present cop dial feeling towards us we are indebted to Mr. Mageuis, who has also the honour of being roundly abused by our author. Fourthly. Was it for certain reasons result, ing from his former gross misconduct consi dered prudent that the author should not he employed on the same confidential footing as other attaches? Was thiO not particularly the case at Constantinople, and is not this the secret of the peculiar savageness of his on slaught on Lord Stratford? His readers will not fail to perceive his strange ignorance of all the more important negotiations in which our ambassador at Constantinople was en gaged. It is somewhat strange, and not unworthy of remark, that the persons upon whom the author most plentifully pours forth the vials of his splenetic spite are those wit whom the individual currently reported to be the " Roving Englishman " has been diplo matically connected. Lord Stratford de Red cliire, Lord Westmorland, Mr. Bligh, Mr. Alagcnis, and Mr. Grey, ore covered with filth by our literary yahoo ; whereas Lord Cowley, Mr. Hudson, Mr Crampton, Mr. Buchanan, and other British envoys, equally amiable and equally talented with those WI 40141 he I►ttaoh4l ! 543