The Press.
London, England, 1856-11-01 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

come to the coat, or the coat was to go to the
soldier, was a petty question of detail about
which these longheaded patriots could not be
expected to trouble themselves.

A good instance of the precipitancy with
which the British public pronounced their
opinion on matters of which they knew
nothing was the case of Lord Raglan and the
knapsacks. When the troops lauded in the
Crimea they were too weak from previous
sickness to carry great coats, knapsacks, and
blankets all at once. Lord Raglan therefore
determined that as they were going for the
first time to bivouac in the open air the great-
coat and blanket would be more needed than
the knapsack :

Accordingly, a direction was given to the effect that the
men might leave their knapsacks on board ship ; but thy
were to land both with their great•coats and blankets,
and in the latter they were, to roll up a change of thingN—
a spare shirt, a pair of socks, and a pair of boots.

The knapsacks were sent round to Balaklava,
and Lord Raglan and the generals of division
have all been severely blamed because they
did not allow the men to get them back at the
earliest opportunity. But the fact was that
these said knapsacks contained nothing which
would compensate for the labour of bringing them
to the camp. The truth of the matter, says Sir
Richard, is this :

The third shirt, the third pair of socks, the second
towel, and the shell-jacket, would be in the " squad•bag."
Then the soldier had been directed to take with him in
his blanket a spare shirt, a pair of socks, and a pair of
boots. He also carried his forage-cap, and no doubt
(though that was n:-it specially ordered) he would take
with him also his first towel, his soap and his comb ; and
supposing that he did so, the sole contents of his knapsack
would be the following articles:—

One pair of trousers, if not worn out, which was the
case in the light division, and probably in the other divi-
sicns—one pair of mitts—one small hook—one " hold-
all," containing razor and other shaving materials—one
blacking-brush—one bottle of blacking—one button-
brush—one button-stick.

Among these articles the first—the pair of trousers (if
it then existed in any of the knapsacks)—is the one likely
to be of use ; but with respect to the rest, the generals of
division may be pardoned for thinking that then, at the
opening of the siege, the razors, the blacking-brushes,
the blacking-bottles, the button•brushes, and the button-
sticks, were all of less account than the precious time and
the precious labour of the men.

We have still left a great number of par-
ticulars unnoticed, but we have, at least, said
enough to show that Sir Richard Airry is not
a man to be accused lightly, or to be made an
unresisting scapegoat. At the outbreak of
the war the people were carried away by an
irrational democratic impulse, and the Go-
vernment, instead of controlling and directing
it, were hurried down the stream. Every-
thing was done with a degree of childlike im-
patience which cannot wait another day for a
new pleasure. The flower of our troops was
shipped off at once. It was time enough to
consider their destination afterwards. It was
felt that striking results must be produced
immediately, or else the people would be dis-
satisfied, and the Government in danger.
Alma, Inkermann, and Sebastopol were thus
political rather than military necessities, and
were attended accordingly by the violation of
military prudence. The army was obliged to
leave Eupatoria without tents, and to march
on Sebastopol without transports, all for fear
the newspapers should say they were doing
nothing. Government, in the meantime,
acted like weak persons often do, and in-
curred blame justly through the fear of in-
curring it falsely—

Multos in summa pericula misit
Venturi timor ipse
The very means which they took to avoid sus-
picion turned out eventually the source of
their disgrace. And, as we ponder over the
pages of Sir Richard Airey's Addresses," we
gradually come to see in them something far
beyond the vindication of particular characters.
We read there the Nemesis which awaits those
rulers who violate their own consciences in
obedience to popular passions. Their hands
were palsied and their counsels were dis-
tracted. And it was reserved for those men
who claimed to be the ablest administrators in
the United Kingdom to consummate the great-
est national disaster since the loss of the Ame-
rican colonies.

SATURDAY,

The Angel in the House. Book li. " The Es-
pousals." London : J. W. Parker and Son.
OF all writers we are most bound to take poets
as they are. It is vain to think that we can
mould them to our desires, or that they will
be obedient to rules of criticism. Their merit
consists in their originality. Their verse, of
whatever kind it be, must come from them-
selves. Their culture, it is true, must, like
the culture of other minds, be moulded by the
times in which they live. They do nut exist
apart from the intellectual atmosphere of their
age ; but beyond that broad and general in-
fluence which they unconsciously receive, and
the colouring and habitudes of thought which
equally unconsciously they derive from exter-
nal circumstances, they are Nature's children,
born not made ; and as profitably might we at-
tempt to direct the winds or change the colour
of the sky, as amend what we take to be their
defects. Usually their peculiar characteristics,
of whatever kind they be, strengthen with the
maturity of their mind.
We could wish that Mr. Coventry Patmore
were less fantastical, and that his notions of
poetical beauty were different from what they
are. But, such as he is, we must take or rtject
him. This is the only question to be deter-
mined,—is he a poet worth listening to ? We
think that he is. In his new poem, "The Es-
pousals," as in his " Angel in the House,"
there is much exquisite verse. The first part
of Vaughan's wooing was told us before ; here
we have narrated its continuation to the mar-
riage-day. The hopes, fears, and raptures of
the lover constitute the staple of the verse,
and often we are puzzled whether to deride as
puerility, or receive as touches of nature, pas-
sages descriptive of the trivialities which after
all enter largely into domestic life, as for ex-
ample the following, purporting to be a con-
versation between Vaughan and his be-
trothed :
" What's this?" " Miss Gussett's Fashion-Book.
Ito you like flounc'd or plain skirts best''"
"0, flounc'd, like yours. These—" " gathers " " look
Too straight: I like them thus, recess'd."
" That fashion's old." "You've charming taste
In colours : dim grey with a dash
Of gayest azure at the waist !
How I should like to have that sash!
Oh, thanks. What narrow boundaries hold
My world ! You are so fair—but, Dear,
You must be tired of being told ?"
"Oh no, Love !" " Are you pleased to hear ?"
" I would, of course, seem fair to you."
" But, Sweetest, you in it promise me
To think my praises simply true !
Come to the mirror. Why not ? See,
Are you not beautiful? Confess I
Nay, till you do you must not go I
There, while you're blushing, tell me !" " Yes.'
" You can't see with your head turn'd so."
The taste of this is very questionable.
The following is better. The wedded pair
have just reached the seaside. The earnest
moods of the lover are described in bursts of
rapture clear and thrilling as the song of the
nightingale :
Feasts satiate ; stars distress with height ;
Friendship means well, but misses reach,
And wearies in it's best delight,
Vex'd with the vanities of speech;
Too long regarded, roses even
Afflict the mind with fund unrest;
And to converse direct with Heaven
Is a great trouble in the breast:
Whate'er the up-looking soul admires,
Whate'er the senses' banquet be,
Fatigues at last with vain desires,
Or sickens by satiety :
But truly my delight was more
In her to whom i any bound for aye
Yesterday than the day before
And more to•day than yesterday.
The volume concludes with Vaughan's de-
scription of the eve of his wedding-day :
As souls ambitious, but low-born,
If greatly raised by luck or wit,
All pride of place will proudly scorn,
And live as they'd been used to it,
So we two wore our strange estate:
Familiar, unaffected; free,
We talk'd, until the dusk grew late,
Of this and that; but, after tea,
As doubtful if a lot so sweet
As ours was ours in very sooth,
Like children, to promote conceit,
We feign'd that it was not the truth;
And she assumed the maiden coy,
And I adored remorseless charms,
And then we clapp'd our hands fur joy,
And ran into each other's arms.