The Press.
London, England, 1856-08-09 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

seem strange to say this, after all the charges
of violence which have been brought against
him. But his own vindication in the " Loves
of the Poets" is quite sufficient. It is too
long to quote, but the gist of it is this :—That
severity is not always a proof of partiality—
that when a critic has thoroughly made up his
mind that such and such a work is rubbish,
and the author an impostor, he is then at
liberty to castigate him secundem artem—but
that real dishonesty and partisanship consists
in a man forcing himself to think every one
who differs front him a fool, and that of this
spirit there is no evidence whatever in the
pages of Blackwood. Wilson had a right to say
this ; and certainly in the present Essays
his praises of Cowper and Byron—two men
most essentially unlike himself—are refuta-
tions of the charge in question.
But, to waive the matter of personalities,
some of the best literary criticism in the
language is to be found in this volume. The
first fifteen or sixteen pages of the review of
" The Man of Ton" contain an unrivalled
account of English satire from Dryden to
Gifford. We call attention to the passage
upon Cowper :

Never were the principles of the real wealth of nations
more grandly expounded, illustrated, and enforced—
national honour, faith, freedom, patriotism, independence,
religion, all sung in magnificent strains, kindled alter-
nately by the pride and indignation of a Briton exulting
in, or ashamed of, the land of saints and heroes. No
want of individual portraits of fools, knaves, and even
ruffians. The same man, who was well satisfied to sit day
after day beside an elderly lady, sewing caps and tippets,
except when he was obliged to go and water the flowers,
or feed the rabtits, rose up, when poetry came upon him,
sinewy and muscular as a mailed man dallying for a while
with a two-edged sword, as if to try its weight and temper,
when about to sheer down the Philistines. Cowper goes
forth in his holy ire like a man inspired and commis-
sioned. You see his soul glowing and burning with fires
kindled on the altar of religion. He comes strong from
the study of the old prophets. And in some of his most
magnificent marches you think that you hear the Bible
transformed into another shape of poetry, the essence
being the same, nor are the sacred strains profaned by
being sounded to a lyre smote by such a hand—a hand
uplifted duly, many times and oft, besides night and morn,
in prayer, and ever " open as day to mebing charity."
How he sheds sudden day into the midnight darkness of
London, lying bare with all her sins and iniquities ! The
dark city quakes as she is suddenly brightened, and stands
confessed in all her guilt, in which she dares not to glory,
now that the hand of Heaven seems stretched forth to
avenge and destroy. There is nothing in Byron of
such sustained majesty as Cowper's Expostulation with
this Queen of the Cities of the earth—nor even in
Wordsworth.

The following vigorous passage upon
Petrarch's Laura is from a review of Mrs.
Jameson's "Loves of the Poets":—
Laura was virtuous. Brit how that could be, it sur•
passed the impure imaginations of the many French reps
and demireps whom, in various ages, it has been the taste
of the unprincipled philosophers, and so forth, in France,
to esteem wits, and whom not a few priggish and pedantic
coxcombs even in Britain, desirous of being thought men
of fashion and of the world forsooth, smelling all the while
of crucibles or parchments. have chattered of in uncouthest
criticism, flirting with the very bones of the beldam—
such as that heartless profligate, Madame do Deffand, and
others too odious to name. An Englishwoman knows
and feels better ; and sees nothing so very laughable or ab•
surd in the belief that the beloved of Petmrch preserved
her virtue in spite of all the strains of impassioned genius
" perilous to hear." Truth and honour dwelt of old in
Italy, in the citadel of the female heart, as they do now in
the same holy fortress, in England; and Laura has found
a champion of her own sex, whose vindication might
soothe her shade, and chase away all shame from her
down•looking eyes, inspired by the insults of the painted
prostitutes that rolled the wanton eye. and trolled the
wanton tongue, in the contemptible Court of the Regent—
the court not of love, but of lust, and of which the ladies,
imperfect Poissardes, hail all the chastity, and but half the
politeness, of the Parisian fishmarket.

Here again is an illustration of surpassing
felicity, from " Days Departed," by Mr.
Bowles:—

Such being the nature of true poets and true poetry,
and such the light in which they are regarded by the race
whom they elevate—what, pray, it may be asked, did Mr.
Jeffrey mean, t'other day. by saying that all the poets of
this age are forgotten ? There are few people whom w,•
love and admire more than Mr. Jeffrey—though we believe
he does not know it : but why will he, in his elegant and
graceful way, speak such nonsense? Scott, Byron,
Southey, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Moore, are, he assures
us, already all forgotten—or nearly so—fading away—mere
specks on the distant horizon of men's clouded memories!
Why, our dear sir, you might just as well affirm that the
stars are forgotten because thousands of coach (tile of people,
coming and going to and front crewing parties, arc not at
the lime aware that the heavens are full ,f them—that
shepherds are watching by them on the hills—and sailors
sailing by them on the seas—and astronomers counting
them in observatories—and occasionally discovering one

SATURDAY,

that had been invisible to the mole•eyes of men since the
creation.

His essay on " The Education of the People"
we recommend to general perusal, believing it
to contain in a small space all that can be said
on the theory of this important subject, and to
be such a logical statement of the nature,
risks, and benefits of general education, as
can nowhere else be found. The Professor
decides in favour of raising popular educa-
tion to the highest possible standard.
The concluding essay of this volume is upon
Wordsworth. In the comparison herein con-
tained between Scott, Byron, and Wordsworth,
Wilson has reached the summit of critical
excellence. The concluding portion of his
remarks on Lord Byron is truly beautiful:—

Byron looks back to the tombs of those great men
" that stand in assured rest "; and gazing, as it were, on
the bones of a more gigantic race, his imagination then
teems with corresponding births, and he holds converse
with the mighty in language worthy to he heard by the
spirits of the mighty. It is in this contrast between his.
august conceptions of man, and his contemptuous opinion
of men, that much of the almost incomprehensible charm,
and power, and enchantment of his poetry exists. We
feel ourselves alternately sunk and elevated, as if the hand
of an invisible being had command over us. At one time
we are a little lower than the angels; in another, but little
higher than the worms. We feel that our elevation and
our disgrace are alike the lot of our nature ; and hence the
poetry of Byron, as we before remarked, is read as a dark,
but still a divine revelation.
He thinks Scott, though inferior in many
respects to his two great contemporaries, the
most unequivocally original of the three. " He
is the greatest of war poets." Of Wordsworth
it is said that he adds "to the great and essen•
" tial faculties of the poet the calm and self-
" commanding powers of the philosopher ;"
also, " all the poets of the age have given up
" to him the palm in that poetry which com-
" mences with the forms and hues and odours
" and sounds of the material world. He has
" brighteuied the earth we inhabit to our eyes—
" he has made it more musical to our ears—he
" has rendered it more creative to our imagi-
" nations." We must remember that when
this was written Tennyson was yet unknown.
We have been greatly delighted with the
perusal of this volume, and we think the
Essays likely to prove much greater public
favorites than the " Noctes." They are full
of wit, wisdom, and humour, with hardly any
taint of the coarseness with which the latter
work would sometimes displease the most
tolerant and partial reader.

Kars, and Our Captivity in Russia. By
Colonel Atwell Lake, C.B. London:

Bentley.
COLONEL LAKE has reasonably anticipated
that any authentic memoranda concerning
the gallant and ever-memorable defence of
Kars will be welcome to the British public.
His narrative, though an agreeable and unpre-
tending record of the interesting and momen-
tous events of the scige, relates more to the
captivity of the British defenders of Kars
than to their vigorous resistance of the enemy—
a scientific and professional work on that sub-
ject being in preparation by Colonel Lake,
which he hopes may be useful to his brother
officers of Engineers.

Kars surrendered on the 28th of November,
1855 ; and then commences the most interest-
ing portion of Colonel Lake's volume. On
the evening of that day the English officers
dined with General Mouravieff, and drank
champagne, while the starved Turks were en-
tertained with bread and soup, of which " some
" of the poor famished creatures ate so vora-
" eiously, that even this simple fare was fatal
" to them, and they died of repletion in a few
" hours." The Colonel thus describes his
own sensations upon retiring to bed that
night •-

My feelings on retiring to bed I shall not easily forget.
I was pervaded by a calm sense of security,—an absence
of the trying responsibility which had, for months, become
a habit of mind. The thought that there were no longer
any risks or terrors to he endured—and that night, even
in the camp of an enemy, might bring repose—that I
should no longer be aroused from my short sleep by the
uncertain sounds of an attack, the roar of cannon, or the
rattle of musketry,—this pleasant vacuity from fear and
care lulled all my senses like a gentle opiate—and 1 soon
fell asleep. These sensations, however, soon proved to be
very deceptive. What had become almost a normal state
of mind and body was not to be shaken off in a day. I

AUGUST 9, 1856.

cannot say that I eaperienced the agri somnia, for I never
was in better health iu my life ; but every slight sound
awoke me, and what sleep I had was disturbed.
The first destination of Colonel Lake and
bis companions, after leaving Kars, was Tiflis,
where they were received with great kindness
and civility by the Russian officials, though
the inhabitants generally were leas hospitable
that could have been wished. They were
lodged in a handsome hotel, taken expressly
for their accommodation by the Russian
Government, at a cost of 1601. a month. The
theatre at Tiflis was very passable, having
been elegantly fitted up by Count Woronzoff,
the acting above mediocrity, the music good,
and the actresses pretty. Here the captives
.consoled themselves as well as they could for
the ungracious conduct of the inhabitants.
Elsewhere, however, everything in this re-
spect was couleur du rose. They were welcomed
everywhere with the greatest cordiality, and
found the demeanour of the Russian ladies
and gentlemen most affable and polished. We
shall string together a few instances, without
specially describing the circumstances of each
'case :

Sn the evening we drank tea in the house of Madame
Warpaehoffay. Her daughters—two very charming young
ladies—sang with great taste and spirit ; and one of them
very good-naturedly danced the Lesghian dance, which we
had never seen before. It is very graceful and fantastic.
The dansesse is in a stooping attitude; the right arm held
jn front of the forehead, and the left behind the back,
/while the feet slide, without being lifted, along the ground.
'lke movement is slow; the music original and pretty.
irke eldest read aloud to us some lines of Byron with an
*went that was quite endearing. Incited by curiosity, and
swims to see all we could, we were ungallant enough to
leave .this charming circle as early as nine for the sake of
:gains to the theatre ; and I here record, by way of warning
to all about to behave in a similar manner, that we were
dreadfully disappointed, and subjected to the infliction of
a sorry performance, which ill•requited us for the sacrifice
we had made.

We accompanied the Padre to his own house, which was
a very prettily furnished and comfortable abode. We were
then introduced to his wife, daughter, and several other
ladies. None of this party spoke any language but Rus-
sian, and Polivanoff was, therefore, obliged to interpret
fur us.

We were most plentifully supplied with wine, biscuits,
and vodki. Padre Aleisey, the father of the Major, was
lunch affected at the idea of our being prisoners so far
away from our homes. He insisted upon our accompanying
him to his house, which was adjacent to the church of the
pillage : here we were again invited and pressed to partake
.of caviar, fish, biscuits, wine, and vodki. The Russians
take no denial, and drink vodki (the spirit of the country)
as if it were water. The scene here would have pre-
seined excellent points for the pencil of Leech or Cruik-
shank, •though the peculiar opinions of the latter would
have been wady shocked.

• •
Fortunately at this conjuncture there entered another
/dicer, who had heard of our arrival, and whose wine in•
:spired mood had only reached the phase of hilarity. He
informed us that there had been that day in the village as
:marl as three weddings, and that grand rejoicings had
inevailed. He at once ordered horses to be got ready for
tus, and wa e anw bile invited us to proceed to his house, and
partake of what cheer he could offer. Here we found his
mite, daughierin•law (a pretty, interesting looking girl),
.and other ladies. The everlasting vodki was copiously
poured.out and handed round, and various toasts proposed.
We were very kindly pressed to stay to supper, and we did
mot leave the village until a late hour, when we proceeded
a. few versts and halted on the high road.

Oi Wednesday the 13th the Governor of Tamboff sent
a message to us that he was obliged to start at noon for
St. Petersburg. and hoped that we would breakfast with
him, as be was very anxious to see us before he left.
We accordingly waited upon him, and found a number
•of persons who had assembled to bid him adieu. His
house was on a grand scale, and handsomely fitted up.
His wife and daughters were very charming people, and
spoke English with fluency. We waited in the drawing-
,room while mass was being celebrated in the saloon. We
then sat down to a sumptous entertainment, which was
served in the breakfast hall. We receivtd the utmost
hiaduess and attention.

The Governor's wife, Madame Daneas, insisted upon
our dining with them. As the youngest daughter had
accompanied her father to St. Petersburg, our party was a
smell but very pleasant one, and after dinner we were
invited, with the ladies, to a soirée and dance at the house
of Monsieur de Lion, the Marechal de la Noblesse. My
friend Thompson, who was a good and indefatigable dancer,
accompanied them; but I was somewhat fatigued and
amide my apologies.

The above circumstances all took place during
the journey from Tiflis to Penza in Russia.
At the latter town, where they were remaining,
a perpetual round of gaiety was kept up; nor
were his entertainers, says the Colonel, less
conspicuous for their culture than their cour-
tesy :
Surrounded as Russia is by civilisation, we are amis.
taxed to consider that her borders only have caltun,