The Press.
London, England, 1855-03-17 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

of Gore house suddenly left the country ; and
the gorgeous contents of their palatial salons
were surrendered to the inspection of the
vulgar public, and the hammer of the auo•

tioneer.
There is not much that can be considered
very novel or surprising in these incidents.
The celebrity of the persons mixed up in
them alone gave them a sort of temporary
fascination. Had they been permitted to
take the usual course of such episodes in our
social annals, they would have furnished a
topic of gossip for a season, and been for
gotten. The Loudon world, with all its love
of scandal, is not so uncharitable as to linger
long over vices or follies expiated by ruin and
expatriation ; and its peccant curiosity, pam
pered with variety, is very easily appeased.
But there are some people who will not let
well alone. There are others who will not let
ill alone. Mr. Madden belongs to the latter
description. He will not suffer Lady Bless-
ington's career to drop quietly into oblivion :
he will not allow the public to exercise its
charity in silence. The consequences are
precisely such as invariably result from indis-
cretions of this nature.
The subject of the biography answers accu•
rately to the conditions laid down in the open-
ing. Mr. Madden could not have found a
more complete example of the character he
proposed to illustrate. Lady Blessington
notoriously occupied what he calls a " false
position." It was not merely that she lived
extravagantly; that there was a. perpetual
wear and tear of brain and spirits in the
struggle to keep up appearances; and that
the external life of splendour and excitement
was a mask that concealed daily increasing
pecuniary embarrassments, recklessly and
wantonly incurred. It was not merely, as Mr.
Madden tells us, that for two years before the
"break up" at Gore-house, Lady Blessington
lived in " constant apprehension of execu
" tions," and adopted " unceasing precautions "
in the admission of persons " at the outer
" gate and hall door ;" or that for a consider-
able period Count D'Orsay was in " continual
" danger of arrest," and obliged to " confine
" himself to the house and grounds, except on
" Sundays, and in the dusk of the evening on
" other days," till a sheriff's officer at length
effected an entrance in disguise ; or that,
when the " break up" took place, " numerous
" creditors pressed their claims, bill-die-
" counters, money-lenders, jewellers, lace-
" venders, tax-collectors, gas-company agents,"
&c., laying bare the whole machinery by which
what Mr. Madden designates the "false appear
anees " had been maintained ; or that an execu-
tion for 4,000/. was finally put in by a house
" largely engaged in the silk, lace, India
" shawls, and fancy jewellery business,"
clearly indicating the character of the expendi-
ture which in the long run brought down its
inevitable punishment.* If this were all, it
would be no great matter. Cases of this kind
are common enough, where vanity and want of
principle predominate over the obligations of
good sense and honesty. But there were
other vultures that fed upon Lady Blessing-
ton's peace of mind, and delivered her
up in solitude to remorse and " splendid
" misery." And it is herein we must look for
the circumstances that rendered her case ex
ceptional. Mr. Madden frequently hints at
these secret tortures. In one place he says,
in italics, to impress the dark allusion more
strongly, " the present enjoyments were never un-
" accompanied with reminiscences of the past that
" were painful." Similar mysterious little frag
merits of sentences of a like tendency are
scattered up and down his pages, casting
their heavy shadows into every nook and
cranny of the story. Lady Blessington herself
supplies a clue to the suspicions awakened by
her biographer Her " detached thoughts.
found in various papers, or noted down
amongst certain " records of reflection," to
which she gave the name of " Night Thought
" Books." intimate with a terrible clearness
the nature of her lonely meditations on the
past. They all run much upon the same class

• The exit of Count D'Orsay, as described by Mr. Madden, is
striking. A " confidential servant" having communicated the
alarming fact of the execution, the necessity for his immediate
departure became apparent. " The following morning, with a
single portmanteau, attended by his valet, he set out f. Paris,
and thus ended the London life of Count D'Orsay!"

SATURDAY,

of experiences, and the inferences she ex-
tracted from them. Here is an instance, con•
taining a complaint against the rigorous ver-
dicts of society in certain cases :
England is the only country in Europe where the loss of
one's virtue superinduces the loss of all. I refer to chastity.
A woman known to have violated this virtue, though she
possess all the other virtues, is driven with ignominy from
society into a solitude rendered insupportable by a sense
of the injustice by which she is made a victim to solitude,
which often becomes the grave of the virtues she brought

to it.
This is immediately succeeded by the fol-
lowing appropriate reflection :
Passion! possession ! indifference ! What a history is
comprised in these three words ! What hopes and fears,
succeeded by a felicity as brief as intoxicating, followed in
its turn by the old consequence of possession, indifference 1
What burning tears, what bitter pangs, rending the very
heartstrings—what sleepless nights and watchful days form
part of this every-day story of life, whose termination leaves
the actors to search again for new illusions to finish like the
last!

--- -
Now follows the effort to reconcile these
things, not to the conscience, whose functions
may be presumed to have been suspended in
the process, but to the doctrine of appear-
ances, the last refuge of the victim of the in-
justice of society :
In some women modesty has been known to survive
chastity, and in others chastity to survive modesty. The
last example is the most injurious to the interests of so-
ciety, because they who believe while they preserve chastity
inviolate they may throw aside the feminine reserve and
delicacy which ought to be its outward sign and token, give
cause for suspicions, and offend the purity of others of
• their sex with whom they are brought in contact much
more than those who, failing in chastity, preserve its de-
cency and decorum.
We will make no commentary on this wretched
sophistry, which even the most vicious French
novelist would consider it derogatory to the
credit of his vocation to employ. We only
touch upon these passages to exhibit the tenor
of Lady Blessington's " Night Thoughts,"
leaving the reader to form his own opinions, and.
draw his own conclusions. We might accu-
mulate a heap of such moralities ; but these
are sufficient for the purpose.
Here then are the evidences of that " false
" position " Mr. Madden had to deal with. We
see it in both its aspects—external and inter-
nal : the silks and laces, tapestries, or mole
and marqueterie of the drawing-room, and the
hideous skeleton of the midnight chamber.
Mr. Madden tells us, on the threshold of his
book, that it will be his duty to speak freely
and fearlessly of this " false position ;" and
we, accordingly, look into his voluminous
compilation for the narrative that is to instruct
and admonish the fashionable world by the
force of a conspicuous example. But what do
we find there? That he has altogether evaded
the responsibility he had thus voluntarily un-
dertaken ; endeavoured to excite sympathy
where he should have pronounced condemna-
tion; and embalmed in spices, and crowned
with laurels, the dead actors in this most
moral drama to whose memory he dedicates
his inky tears.
As it would be obviously impossible, how-
ever, in putting together the materials of this
biography, to affect ignorance of circumstances
notorious to all persons who have moved in
the circles of London any time these five and
twenty years—indeed, Lady Blessington's
celebrity dates much farther back—Mr. Mad-
den tries to elude the difficulty by leaving a
long interval in Lady Blessington's life wholly
unaccounted for, and by substituting dim allu-
sions and deprecatory comments for the facts
he is either unwilling to disclose, or desirous
of exhibiting in tinted side-lights. This mode
of treatment is unfortunate in two points of
view. It wrongs at once the public and the
heroine of the book. Mr. Madden is not con-
tent to leave out Hamlet ; he suppresses the
Ghost also. Of this the public have a right to
complain. On the other hand, his way of
hinting at sundry unrevealed incidents is so
suggestive, that it makes the case press much
harder upon the lady than if he had told the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth. Of this, we think, the friends of Lady
Blessington have a still more manifest right
to complain.
It will be said, no doubt, that the sup-
pressions and omissions are justified by cer-
tain considerations which all readers will
easily understand, and that the publication of
the particulars we desiderate would have been

I

MARCH 17, 1855.

an outrage upon public morals and private
feelings.
We know it ; and we are strongly of
opinion that the publication of such details
would be utterly unwarrantable. But we are
at a lots to comprehend by what kind of logic
Mr. Madden can take advantage of this argu-
ment. If it be of any practical value it must
be admitted as a reason, not for publishing the
life of Lady Blessington in a partial, mutilated,
and deceptive form, but for not publishing her
life at all. Topics that cannot be candidly and
safely discussed—that cannot be fully inves-
tigated without offence, or examined only in
favorable phases without a compromise of
principle, are best let alone.
Mr. Madden is careful to inform us that he
does not consider it a part of his business to
sit in judgment on the " failings " of others ;
that it is "not for the world to make any in-
" quiries into the antecedents of errors," and
so on ; and, after quoting the Gentleman's
Magaztae to show that the "biographer must
" form his narrative by selection," and that
" Boswells Johnson" opened "the floodgates
" of public desire," and " set up an example of
" an indiscriminate development of facts," he
apprises us that the task he has undertaken is
to illustrate the literary life of Lady Blessing-
ton. The reasoning is absurd ;—but let that
pass.
Upon what grounds does Mr. Madden con
Bider the literary life of Lady Blessingtou of
sufficient importance for a revival in this
ambitious shape of three unusully large
volumes ? Was she aistinguished as a writer?
What did she write? Novels which, even with all
the helps of her notoriety, failed in the hands
of her speculative publishers, who were per •
petually complaining of their bargains; verses
which nobody read outside the circle that
would have read and lauded them had they
been even of a more flimsy texture than they
were, if a texture more flimsy were possible of
fabrication; and Books of Beauty having as
much substance in them as the wings of
moths, and of less intrinsic value than the
gilt cloth in which they were bound.
But, granting that Lady Blessington's pre-
tensions were of such magnitude as to call for
an elaborate biography, does her biographer
do proper justice to the subject by confining
himself to its literary side ? Literature was
not the feature by which Lady Blessington
was most known, or by which she acquired
whatever distinction attached to her. Suppose
a writer undertook the life of some person
whose career had been rendered remarkable by
its opposition to the ordinary customs of society,
and whose life was mainly a life of scepticism
and evil, would he be considered to have ful-
filled his duty in leaving out all those parts
which contributed to its essentials, and dwell-
ing only on its accidents?
The distinction between the two lives, the
real life and the unreal, is delusive. It
leaves an absolutely false impression upon
the mind of the reader. This principle of
" selection " may be carried to any extent, and
there is no reason why, with a little adroitness
and ingenuity, it might not be made to elevate
a highwayman into a hero. By picking
.out, and
heightening the attractive traits, and 'gaoling
all the rest, Dick Turpin becomes a candidate
for popular admiration. There is nothing to
prevent his biographer from presenting him
as a perfect specimen of fine breeding and
generosity, whom he may introduce to his
readers with a flourish of panegyrios:—" See
" with what easy confidence he carries him-
" self—see what a pretty fellow he is—how
" politely he stops the carriage--how grace-
" fully he takes off his hat to the ladies—and
" with what an air of gallantry he robs them
" of their jewels and watches !"
But Mr. Madden does not follow up his
own rule. He does not restrict himself within
the limits he lays down. In fact, he does not
separate the two lives. He takes us to Ire-
land, and shows us Lady Blessington in her
youth ; he relates all he knows about her up
to her first marriage, and then drops the cur-
tain. Several years, as they say in the play-
bills, elapse between the acts ; aud when the
curtain is raised again, we find Lady Bless.
ington on her travels. After this, Mr. Madden
takes us into Gore-house ; he shows us the
people collected there—he shows us, in short,
just as much of Lady Blessmgton's personal

THE PRESS.

history as suits his purpose, the suppressed
portions haunting us, nevertheless, like
spectres, in every page. By what violence to
art, or torture of language, this can be called
the literary life of Lady Blessington, we are
at a loss to conceive. Is ►her marriage a part
of her literary life ? or her travels ? or her
debts ? or Count D'Orsay's settlements, and
the extraordinary details connected with the
Blessington property ?
Such, however, as the life is, we must accept
it for whatever it is worth—an inquiry which
we reserve for our next number.

Nature and Human Nature. By the Author
of " Sam Slick." London : Hurst and
Blackett
EVERYONE will welcome this continuation of
Sam Slick's " Wise Saws." He left us some-
where on the coast of Nova Scotia, looking
after the fisheries, and we pick him up now
fishing within our own boundaries, and just
escaping from one of our cruisers, having
decoyed her on to a sandbank, while he slipped
through a narrow passage and made all sail to
get out of reach of her guns. His remarks
upon the fishery question have of course been
omitted, and his observations upon human
nature alone given to us. Need we say that
the Clockmaker in these volumes retains the
same quaint humour, lively wit, and sound
common sense which so enlivened his former
work? He tells an abundance of good stories,
and tacks shrewd morals to the end of them—
makes jokes good and bad—brags and boasts—
never admits himself to be taken in, but takes
in everyone else—and yet, with all his fun and
buffoonery, he instructs while he diverts
and amuses us to some purpose. His
remarks upon men and women show great
observation and knowledge of character and
a thorough comprehension of the different
motives which actuate us upon different
occasions; and the pleasing, pungent vola-
tility of those odd, quaint terms in which
they are clothed gives a relish to the di-
version of the reader. His moralisations
have nothing in them of tedious argument or
philosophic method which rack the mind to
comprehend ; on the contrary, we catch his
meaning at a glance, and are as much diverted
by the quaint humour of the expression as we
are by the racy moral contained in the words.
It is like the rough stick of Brutus which
contained a golden rod within.
There are so many good stories throughout
the book that it is difficult to make a selection,
but we will content ourselves with a few ex-
tracts taken at random. What a capital bit of
characteristic truth is this
There are two kinds of boastin', Squire, active and
passive. The former belongs exclusively to my country-
men, and the latter to the British. A Yankee openly
asserts and loudly proclaims his superiority. John Bull
feels and looks it. He don't give utteranoe to this convic-
tion. He takes it for granted all the world knows and
admits it, and he is so thoroughly persuaded of it himself,
that, to use his own favorite phrase, he don't care a fig if
folks don't admit it. Has vanity, therefore, has a
sublimity in it. He thinks, as the Italians say, "that
when Nature formed him she broke the mould " There
never was, never can, and never will be, another like him.
His boastin', therefore, is passive. He shows it and acts
it ; but he don't proclaim it. He condescends and is
gracious, patronises and talks down to you.
John Bull has just this opinion of himself.
The " Sono Romano " does not possess a
tithe part of the supercilious contempt with
which we underrate every one else, and the
sublime vanity with which we overrate our-
selves.
Here is a little story with a reflection that
contains the whole philosophy of life :
There was a jack-tar once to England who had been
absent on a whaling voyage for nearly three years, and he
had hardly landed whim he was ordered off to sea again,
before he had time to go home and see his friends. He
was a lameutin' this to a shipmate of his, a serious-minded
man, like you.
Sais he, " Bill, it breaketh my heart to have to leave
agin arter this fashion. I havn't seen Polly now goin' on
three years, nor the little un either." And he actilly
piped his eye.
"It seemeth hard, Tom," said Bill, trying to comfort
him ; "it seetneth hard; but I'm an older man nor you
be, Tom, the matter of several years;" and he gave his
trousers a twitch (you know they don't wear genuses,
though a gallus holds them up sometimes), shifted his
quid, gave his noi'wester a pull over his forehead, and
looked solemncholly, "and my experience, Tom, is, that
this life uiti'l all hen- sad ghillies."

261

With all his fun and his keen sense of the
ridiculous, the Clockmaker is possessed of a
vein of pathos in his rough coarse nature,
which breaks out here and there. The im-
pression which a Sunday at sea makes upon
upon his mind is reverently told :
Then I like Sunday at sea in a vessel like this, and a
day like this, then the men are all clean and tidy, and the
bell rings for prayers, and all hands are assembled aft, to
listen to the captain as he reads the Church Servioe. It
seems like a family scene. It remind► me of dear old
minister and d►ys gone by, when he used to call us round
him, and repeated to us the promise " that when two or
three were gathered together iu God's name, be would
grant their request." The only difference is, sailors are
more attentive and devout than landsmen. They seem
more conscious that they are in the Divine presence. They
have little to look upon but the heavens above and the
boundless ocean around them. Both seem made on pur-
pose for them—the sun to guide them by day, and the stars
by night, the sea to boar them on its bosom, and the breeze
to waft them on their course. They feel how powerless they
are of themselves ; how frail their bark ; how depealant
they are on the goodness and mercy of their Creator, suit
that it iu He alone who can rule the tempest and control the
stormy deep. Their impressions are few, but they are
strong. It is the world that hardens the heart, and the
ocean seems apart from it.
But all his religious feeling does not pre-
vent him from perpetrating a " smart" swindle
whenever the opportunity occurs, and some
of his tricks by which he contrives to put
money in his pocket and take in his friends
are worthy of Barnum. It does not much
matter to the Clookmaker whether it is in
buying, selling, or " swapping," but ho always
contrives to get the best of the bargain.
In his observations upon the colonies and
colonial government there is much sound
common sense. " Mr. Slick," said his friend
the doctor, " what is your opinion of the
" North American Colonies ? "

" Ah, doctor," said I, " things can't and won't remain
long as they are. England has three things among which
to choose, for her North American colonies :—First : In-
corporation with herself, and representation in Parliament.
Secondly : Independence. Thirdly : Annexation with the
States. Instead of deliberating and selecting what will be
most conducive to the interest of herself and her depen-
dencies, she is allowing things to take their chance. Now,
this is all very well in matters over which we have no con-
trol, because Providence directs things better than we can ;
but if one of these three alternatives is intluitely better
than the other, and it is in our power to adopt it, it is the
height of folly not to do so. I know it is said, for I have
often heard it myself, why we oan but lose the colonies at
latit. Pardon me, you can do more than that, for you can
lose their affections also. If the partnership is to be dis-
solved, it had better be done by mutual consent, and it
would be fur the interest of both that you should
part friends. You didn't shake hands with, but fists lit
us, when we separated. We had a stand-up fight, and you
got licked, and wounds were given, that the best part of a
century hasn't healed, and wounds that will leave tender
spots for ever, so don't talk nonsense."
There is great shrewdness in the passage
describing the only way of attracting the
attention of " Britishers " to political evils
However, it is of no use to remonstrate with the Eng-
lish public. They won't listen to you. If you want to be
beard, attract their attention, in the first instance, by
talking of their own immediate concerns, and while they
are regarding you with intense interest and anxiety, by a
sleight of hand shift the dissolving-view, and substitute a
sketch of your own. For instance, says you, " How is it
the army in the Crimea had no tents in the autumn, and
rso huts in the winter—the hospitals no fittings, and the
doctors no nurses or medicines? How is it disease and
neglect have killed more men than the enemy ? Why is
England the laughing-stock of Russia, and the butt of
French and Yankee ridicule ? and how does it happen this
country is filled with grief and humiliation from one end of
it to the other ? I will tell you. These affairs were managed
by a branch of the Colonial-office. The Minister for that de-
partment said to the army, as he did to the distant pro•
viuces, ' Manage your own affairs and don't bother us.'
Then pause and nay, slowly and emphatically. ' You now
have a taste of what we have endured in the colonies. The
same incompetency has ruled over b6th.' "
To leave polities and turn to dyspepsia, if
the American women eat such a breakfast as
Sam Slick describes, we are not surprised at
their losing their teeth and good looks by the
ripe age of thirty :
The curtains are looped up, and the shutters folded back
into the wall, and the rooms are sprinkled with tea-leaves,
which are lightly swept up, and the duet left behind, where
it ought to be, on the carpet: that's all the use there iro
carpet, except you have got corns. And then the Venetians
are let down, to darken the looms, and the windows are
kept closed to keep out the thee, the dust. and the heat,
and the flowers brought in and placed in the stands. And
there is a beautiful temperatnre in the parlour, for it Is the
same air that was there a fortnight before. it is so hot
when the young ladies come down to breakfast, they Can't
eat. so they take nothing but a plate of buck-wheat cakes,
and another of hot buttered rolls, a dozen of oysters, a pot
of preserves, a cup of honey, and few ears of Indian porn,
Thecanwar'tmahiitteunmetsplilblt'se
trey sneanlidhaed anv amheaspvr. ecty tlt,sB;d
horrid o