The Press.
London, England, 1858-10-16 00:00:00

THE PRESS, OCTOBER 16, 1858

1008

ther, and it was piteous to see how she folded him to her
arms and cried. After a while the nurse carried him away,
and laid him out in his little bucket-eradle, just below
Emmie's bed, where she could look into it. . . . In
the evening, Emmie, who had been very quiet up to this
time, and had been intently watching baby's face as he lay
beside her in the cradle, had an alarming hystencal fit. .
Dr. Partridge desired he might be buried next day, as he
said it was of the greatest importance he should be taken
away from Emmie, for that hanging over him and gazing
intently on bum, as she never ceased to do, was having a
very bad effect upon her in her weak state. She did not
make much objection when I told her. When I awoke in
the morning, she was still gazing on her child. At ten
o'clock Captain Hayes and Dr. Partridge came. I had
asked the former to come, and bad also asked for the use
of • little close carriage of his to carry the baby to the
cemetery. He brought his broughum too, and he and Dr.
Partridge went in it, and I with my dear little boy in the
close carriage, the only ride we shall ever have together!
But, first, there was the cruel task of taking him away
from his mother. She begged to have him a hide while
longer. She had him taken out of his cradle and put on
a pillow by her, and then she folded him in her arms and
wept over him in a manner which made me feel more
than 1 ever felt in my life. Then she had the coffin put
where the cradle had been, and placed him in it herself,
and put some little dark red roses, which grow in great
luxuriance in our garden, and of which she is very fond,
in his hands and on bis breast; and then she bravely
coy ered him up, and 1 carried him out and fastened down
the coffin out of her hearing.

But this was not all. With that idolatry, that
clinging to symbols, so becoming and even en-
dearing in woman, the bereaved mother, during
her husband's momentary absence, had caused
her own and his daguerreotype to be brought to
her, and had placed one of the little baby's
‘‘ hands on one and one on the other, and the
" Bible, which her mother gave her, against his
" breast." Not lightly would we embark in the
same skiff, on a stormy sea, with the man
who could read these passages with unmoistened
eyes. But time presses, and there is yet much
to be noticed—more, far more, than even can
be glanced at in a weekly journal. Clearly
and distinctly are the outlines sketched of the
earlier mutinies, and bravely did the chaplain
of Lucknow prepare himself for the coming
storm. Of himself he thought not at all ; his
wife he commended to her Creator—to his
neighbours and parishioners he would do his
duty at the cost of his life. And that forfeit was
demanded of him at an early period of the siege,
though not before he had availed himself of every
opportunity of going about doing good, and of
proving himself a not unprofitable servant. At
last he too was stricken by a bullet, from the
effects of which, however, he had partially re-
covered when cholera supervened, and this noble
soldier of Christ was gathered to his fathers.
How did his loving wife bear this great trial, this
unutterable affliction ? Listen to her words of
faith as she tells his death to his mother :
Oh, had you been with me to watch the entrance of that
blessed soul into the glory that awaited it, to see the per-
fect serenity and ➢eace that was his through that last short
but painful illness, you would not think it strange for The
to say that I have never known what it is to have one re-
pining thought since he was taken away from me. It was
impossible to feel anything but rapture in the thought of
his having entered into his Master's joy.
. . . . He had not the least fear of death. He said
to those who came to see him on hie deathbed, " I am
not in the least frightened, and I know exactly how I am."
And his beautiful tearless smile must have proved to them
how little dread there was for hint in the prospect of death.
. . . . I cannot tell you what a strange unearthly
sort of peace I had at the time of his death. Through
that last day end night of his life, up to the moment that
he died, a marvellous kind of triumphant feeling mime over
me. 1 cannot explain it, but 1 felt as if I were watching
his entrance iuw the joy of his Lord ; and I seemed to
feel the joy myself. This feeling continued fur days after,
in a greater or less degree, and only became less radiant
as the death like blank in my own life became more ap•
parent.

Humbly and respectfully would we allude to one
other point that irresistibly fbrces itself upon our
attention. Quite incidentally is a second cha-
racter introduced into the saddened associations
of this domestic drama. No reader imbued with
the ordinary feelings of man will lay down this
book without a profound and tender admiration
for the brave and loving wife, who was worthy
to be the companion, friend, and nurse of this
worthy English gentleman and sincere Christian.
We seem, indeed, to look on as her character
gradually forms and develops itself. Before her
marriage, when told that her betrothed must
seek a competence in distant climes, " she takes
" it very quietly," and he, appreciating her in-
nate force of character, confidently remarks, "I
" have no manner of doubt that she will cleave
" firmly to me, and will go where I do." We
have already seen what interest she took in the

scenes of her husband's childhood ; we next be-
hold her in the streets of Lisbon, when he writes
to his mother, "I could hardly get Emmie to
" speak a word (of French). The only thing to
" be done was for her to tell me the sentences
" when we wanted anything, and for me to speak
" them." By and bye she gathers more confi-
dence, and we read that she " went into fits of
" laughter at hearing " her husband " give direc-
" tions in Ilindostanee ; not that she could do
" any better." A little later she is the patient
and assiduous nurse by the bedside of the fevered
and delirious patient, and, with the true poetic
delicacy of a woman's love, divines that whatever
reminds him of his first love for her will give
him pleasure and do him good. So she lays on
his pillow passion-flowers wet with dew, like those
she used to send to him in the days of the dream
that precedes marriage. But the joyous spirit is
not yet toned down. She still clings too fondly
to earth and its bright associations—her happi-
ness is yet too human. She can write to her
sister-in-law a long letter about her pet spaniel
Chloe, and longs for two "lovely monkeys," de-
signated by her sensible and practical husband
as " nasty brutes." From this innocent levity
she was reclaimed by an awful and heartrending
affliction, the death of her little babe. Long and
strenuously did she battle with her sorrow ; but
a more terrible trial than any she had yet under-
gone now awaited her. Immediately after the
commencement of the siege, she volunteered to
assist in the hospitals, and her fond husband
notes down in his diary, " How proud I was to
" see my dear wife going about the wards on her
" message of mercy. I could not look at her
" without my eyes filling with tears." Yet a few
days and he too was to be taken from her; but
she was not as those who sorrow without hope.
It was only when, for the first time, she went to
see the stone and inscription over his grave that
her grief overpowered her, and extorted the
piteous cry—" What would I not give to be rest-
" ing there with him ! God only knows how I
" have longed to die where he has died, and there
" to be buried !"

We must here break off abruptly, and with a
word of regret. The editors have acted injudi-
ciously, as it seems to us, in swelling this deeply-
interesting volume with the letters of condolence
they have received from the friends and admirers
of their deceased relative. We would not speak
lightly on such a subject, but we confess they
give us an impression like to that one accepts
from the claqueurs at a theatre. Their brother,
however, needed no such testimonials to his worth,
and we think they might well be omitted in
future editions.

Curiosities of Literature. By Isaac Disraeli.
A New Edition. Edited, with Memoir and
Notes, by his Son, the Right Hon. B. Disraeli,
Chancellor of her Majesty's Exchequer. In
Three Vols. Vol. 11. London : Routledge.
Loan BACON has described the uses to which
various kind of men apply their knowledge.
Some make of it a means of advancement in
life, and others are animated solely with regard
to philosophic objects; while some employ
knowledge "as a sort of terrace on which they
" may walk up and down, and recreate them-
" selves by taking extensive prospects around."
It is in the latter category that Isaac Disraeli
should be placed. Many of the subjects of which
he treated were not logically exhausted by him
after a scientific method, and others he has dis-
cussed cursorily. With such a writer it is often
necessary to be critical in accepting his views
about literary reputations. In Literature he
sought fir pleasure and for amusement, rather
than for definite aims of utility ; and we could
desire that more pains had been taken about the
annotations of this edition of the " Curiosities of
Literature." The Chancellor of the Exchequer
would naturally shrink from passing any strictures
on his lather's opinions, while his occupations as a
statesman would of course not allow him the
leisure requisite for a critical annotation. We
have, in our review of the first volume of
this publication, expressed our views as to
the literary rank of Isaac Disraeli. John-
son has said that the criticism which does
not give examples is worthless, and we
shall illustrate our views of this work by some
remarks. The beauties and the occasional
defects lie intermingled together. Thus, when he

---=
treats of "Anecdotes of Abstraction of 111 ind," our
author happily shows his aptitude for dovetailing
in a sort of literary mosaic-work the "curiosi-
ties" of his reading. His best manner is seen in
the following passage :

This intense abstraction operates visibly; this pertur.
bation of the faculties, might be (emptied, affects
persons of genius physically. What a forcible description
the late Madam Roland, who certainly was a woman of
the tirat genius, gives of herself on her first reading of
Telemachus and Tasso. "My respiration rose; I felt a
rapid tiro colouring my face, and my voice changing, had
betrayed my agitation; I was Eucharis for Telemachus,
and Erminia for Tancred ; however, during thie perfect
transformation, I did not yet think that I myself was any
thing, for any one. The whole had no connection with
myself, I sought for nothing around ins; I was them, I
saw only the objects which existed for them ; it was a
dream without being awakened."—Metastasio describe(' a
similar situation. " When I apply with a little attention,
the nerves of my sensorium are put into a violent
tumult. I grow as red in the face as a drunkard, and am
obliged to quit my work." When Malebranche first took
up Descartes on Man, the germ and origin of his philo-
sophy, lie was obliged frequently to interrupt his reading
by a violent palpitaion of the heart. When the first
idea of the Essay on the Arts and Sciences rushed on the
mind of Rousseau, it occasioned such a feverish agitation
that it approached to a delirium.
fhis delicious inebriation of the imagination occasioned
the ancients, who sometimes perceived the effects, to
believe it was not short of divine inspiration. Fielding
save, " I do not doubt but that the must pathetic and
affecting scenes have been writ with tears." He perhaps
would have been pleased to have confirmed his observation
by the following circumstances. The tremors of Dryden,
after having written an Ode, a circumstance tradition has
acoidently handed down, were not unusual with him; in
the preface to his Tales he tells us that in translating
Homer be found greater pleasure than is Virgil ; but it
was not a pleasure without pain ; the continual agitation
of the spirits most needs be a weakener to any constitu-
tion, especially in age, and many pauses are required for
refreshment betwixt the heats.

The instances taken from Mme. Roland, Metas-
tasio, Malebranche, and Rousseau are happy; and
Isaac Disraeli's anecdotes are generally very
apposite to the matter illustrated. It is when he
utters a strictly critical opinion that our eminent
author fails. Thus in the very next article we
arc introduced to Richardson, of whom he
writes :

The censure which the Shakspeare of novelists has
incurred for the tedious procrastination and the minute
details of his fable ; his slow unfolding characters, and the
slightest gestures of his persoiiiivs, is extremely unjust;
for is it not evident that we could not have his peculiar
excellences without these accompanying defects?

It is extravagant to call Richardson " the Shake-
speare of novelists." In order to obtain an
analogue for the powers of Shakespeare in the
prose fiction of modern times, we should require
the invention of original types of character and
great variety of subject, besides powers of appre-
ciating and sympathising with both human and
physical nature. There are various passages in
Shakespeare which show the mighty bard's sense
of the glory and grandeur of the earth, its land-
scapes, its heaving sea, its painted clouds, and all
the effects called " picturesque." In Richardson
there is not, as far as we can remember, any
sympathy with physical nature, and his types of
character were tew. Since the time of the
Waverley Novels the phrase " Shakespeare of
Novelists " has by common consent been given
to Scott—whether rightly or not, we shall not
here inquire. It is not true, besides, that we
" cannot have the peculiar excellences of Richard-
son without his accompanying defects."
Richardson had great and particular talent in
painting details. So also had Miss Austen, and
she had not his wearying minuteness.

- -
There are some good points and ingenious
parallels in the article on " Poetical Imitations
and Similarities," but sonic of the comparisons are
strained, and the textual emendations cannot
always be received. He observes:—
De Caux, an old French poet, in one of his moral poems
on an hour-glass, inserted in modem collections, has
many ingenious thoughts. That this poem was read and
admired by Goldsmith, the following beautiful imago
seems to indicate. Da Caul, comparing the world to his
hour-glass, says beautifully,
Vest un verre qui luit,
Qu'un souffle pout tlatrutre, et qu'un souffle a produit
Goldsmith applies the thought very happily :
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade ;
A breath eau fu.tlie them, as ,1 breath has matte.
I do not know whether we might not read, for molern
copies are sometimes incorrect,
A breath unartk•ls them. as a breath bus made.
If the reading of " unmakes" were adopted, the
point would be lost. The " breath " of a sove-
reign can " make " a prince or a peer, but it can-
not " unmake" them. The suggested emendation

would be decidedly inaccurate. We believe, in-
deed, that the manuscript of Goldsmith's poetry
was either incorrect or else that it wanted critical
revision. In the noble passage, for instance, be-
ginning,
Like some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

--
the beautiful metaphor of the mountain towering
over clouds is all made to depend on the word
cliff," which is inadequate to such grandeur of
effect.
As a speculator on grand moral causes,
Disraeli was often too ingenious. One of the
most characteristic articles in the volume before
us is called "Of a History of Events which have
not happened." He observes in it :
One of the great revolutions of Modern Europe perhaps
had not occurred, had the personal feelings of Luther been
respected, and had his personal interest been consulted.
Guicciardini, whose veracity we cannot suspect, has
preserved a fact which proves how very nearly some im-
portant events which have taken place, might not have
happened ! I transcribe the passage from his thirteenth
book: "Caesar (the Emperor Charles V.), after he had
given an hearing in the l)iet of Worms to Martin Luther,
and caused his opinions to he examined by a number
of divines, who reported that his doctrine was erroneous
and pernicious to the Christian religion, had, to gratify the
pontiff, put him under the ban of the empire, which so
terrified Martin, that, if the injurious and threatening
words which were given him by Cardinal San Salto, the
apostolical legate, had not thr,.wn him into the utmost
despair, it is believed it would have been easy, by giving
him some preferment, or providing for hint some honour.
able way of living, to make him renounce his errors. ' By
this we may infer that one of the true authors of the
Reformation was this very apostolical legate ; they bad
succeeded in terrifying Luther ; but they were not satisfied
till they had insulted him ; and with such a temper as
Lather's, the sense of personal insult would remove even
that of terror ; it would unquestionably survive it. A
similar proceeding with Franklin, from our ministers, is
said to have produced the same effect with that political
sage. What Guicciardini has told of Luther preserves the
sentiment of the times. Charles V. was so fully per-
suaded that he could have put down the Reformation, had
he rid himself at once of the chief, that having granted
Luther a safeguard to appear at the Council of Worms, in
his last momenta he repented, as of a sin, that having
had Luther in his hands be suffered him to escape ; for to
have violated his faith with a heretic he held to be no
crime.

In the history or religion,human instruments have been
permitted to be the great movers of its chief revolutions ;
and the most important events concerning national
religions appear to have depended on the passions of in-
dividuals, and the circumstances of the time. Impure
means have often produced the most glorious results ;
and this, perhaps, may be among the dispensations of
Providence.

Let any reader turn to Robertson's " llistory of
Charles V.," and he will there see, in the copious
enumeration of secondary causes which assisted
in producing the Reformation, that the appearance
of Luther was comparatively of little importance.
The printing of the Bible, and its circulation in
the vernacular, would have produced scores of
Luthers or Knoxes; and the history of the
Reformation in England shows that, in any case,
whether Luther had existed or not, the downfall
of the Church of Rome would have taken place
in this country. The supposition that " had the
" personal feelings of Luther been consulted"
the Reformation would not have taken place is
perfectly untenable. It is one of those rash ad-
missions :which a Jesuit would fasten upon, and
know how to use. " Where was your religion
before Luther ?" is the common question put in
controversy by a Romanist disputant, to which
the Protestant reply should always be, " Where
was your face before it was washed ?"

The conjecture in the following passage is
more sound :

After his immense conquest, had Gustavus Adolphus
nut perished in the battle of Liitzen, where his genius
obtained a glorious victory, unquestionably a wonderful
change had operated on the affairs of Europe; the Pro-
testant cause hail balanced, if not preponderated over, the
Catholic interest; and Austria, which appeared a sort of
universal monarchy, h id seen her eagle's wings clipped.
But "the Antichrist," as Gustavus was called by the
pnests of Spain and I trly, the Saviour of Protestantism,
as he is called by Eugland and Sweden, whose death
occasioned so many bonfires among the Catholics, that
the Spanish Court interfered lest fuel should become
tro scarce at the approaching winter—Gustavus fell—
the fit hero fur one of those great events which have never
happened!

And so also in the next paragraph :
On the first publication of the " Icon Basilike," of
Charles 1., the instantaneous effect produced on the nation
was such—fily editions, it is said, appearing in one year
—that Mr. Malcolm Laing observes, that " had this book,"
a sacred volume to those who considered that sovereign RS
a martyr, " appeared a week somer, it might have pre-
served the King," and possibly have prAuced a reaction of
Popular feeling ! The chivalrous Dundee made an offer
to James 11., which, had it been acted on, Mr. Laing ac-