The Press.
London, England, 1854-11-11 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

poetical career. The poet wrote nothing else
in his age which would lead us to suppose that
he was then capable of producing these enti-
neatly-beautiful lines. But whether they were
long meditated as an appropriate " finis" to
the poet's labours, or whether they were the
last flash of his inspiration as it leapt up with
a kind of supernatural strength and lustre be-
fore sinking into darkness, it must be admitted
that no author's poetical works could end in a
finer or more ennobling strain :
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er;
So, calm are we when passions are no more !
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descnes.
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Mr. Bell has edited this volume very satis-
factorily. We may differ from him on parti-
cular points, but are quite willing to do
justice to his diligence, skill, and discrimina-
tion. In the memoir and notes he has brought
together just the kind of information the reader
will desire to know. It is full, but not tedious,
and conveyed in a crisp and pleasing style. As
matter of taste sonic obvious explanatory notes
had better have been omitted, we think. It is
hazardous to presume too much on the igno-
rance of the class for whom this edition is
adapted. Waller, we fancy, will meet with few
readers requiring to be told that the " nymph
that sprung out of the sea " was Venus ; that
" Thetis' son," for whose bright shield the
Argive peers contended, was Achilles ; that,
again, " the mother of Achilles" was Thetis ;
that the " blue eyed virgin" of the Iliad was
Minerva ; that " the Egyptian Queen " re-
nowned for her graces was Cleopatra; that
he who stole celestial fire" was Prometheus;
or that he who
Conversed with the Almighty face to face
was Moses. These notes are of the class which
most readers will be inclined to resent as
impertinent. Mr. Bell, we see, has acted on
a system in inserting them, as they run through
the volume, and are probably borrowed from
some older edition ; but in any case they might,
with more advantage, have been altogether
omitted.

Recollections of Literary Characters and Cele-
brated Places. By Mrs. Thomson. London:
Bentley.
THESE volumes consist chiefly of reprints of
some articles contributed to periodicals on
interesting ruins and noble residences, inter-
spersed with personal recollections of some
recently deceased literary and scientific cha-
racters. Amongst the places described are
Ham-house, Holland-house and its inhabi-
tants, Whitehall and its predecessors, Kenil-
worth, with chapters from history on the
siege of Ragland Castle,the defence of Latham-
house, and more matter of a similar kind.
Amongst the eminent persons gossipped about
are L. E. L., Wilkie, Chantry, John Galt, Dr.
Parr. Mrs. Siddons, Thomas Campbell, and
Dr. Maginn—a motley list of eminent persons,
but for that very reason giving good subjects
for anecdotic recollections. We cannot say
that Mrs. Thomson has cast any new light upon
those artistic and literary celebrities, about
whom much has already been written, but,
combined with her sketches of old historical
houses, her present work may be accepted as
light, readable, and entertaining. it appears
that, for the sake of convenience, her writings
for the periodicals purported to be from a
male pen, and the phrase " a man like me "
(throughout the volume) often seems incon-
gruous. The work opens with an account of
Dr. Maginn, and the following is a graphic
likeness of that singularly-endowed cha-
racter :
I made my way into the very thick of the throng; elbowed
a poetess to the right, trod upon the slipper of a lady
historian, touched the saintly shoulder of some Charlotte
Elizabeth of the day, and, more formidable than all,
brushed, maybe, the sacred dust off the sleeve of a
reviewer. All were standing, all were listening to some
one who sat in the middle of a group; a low-scatisl man,
short ill stature, was uttering pleasantries, and scattering
witticism about him, with the careless glee of his country
...this was Maginn. Ilia articulation was impeded by a

1073

stutter, yet the sentences which he stammered forth were
brilliant repartees, uttered catboat sharpness, and edged
rather with humour than with satire. His &countenance
was rather agreeable than striking ; its expression sweet,
rather than bright. The grey hair, coming straight over
his forehead, gave a singular appearance to a face still
bearing the attributes of youth. He was thirty or the re-
about* (yes, saucy neice of mine. thirty is still young) ; but
his thoughtful prow, his hair, the paleness of his com-
plexion, gave him many of the attributes of age. . .
t looked on for a moment, as the crew id authors, reviewers,
playwrights, and novel-weavers paid homage to la-. Magian.
lie was then in the zenith of his glory—the glory which
radiated from John Kill or sent forth a rich stream of light
from the pages of Fraser. His conversation was careless
and Abend, and but for the impediment of speech would
have had the charm of a rich comedy. ilia choice of words
was such as 1 have rarely met with in any of sty cou-
temporaries.
Such was Magiun, as he appeared in his
days of health. One point has been omitted
by Mrs. Thomson in her sketch of his per-
sonal appearance. The peculiarity of his
aspect was increased by the disproportional
size of his large head. In his decline Mrs.
Thomson saw him again, and sketches him
thus:—

The next time I saw this ill-starred son of genius was in
a friend's house, very early one morning, as Itr. Maginn
was going away to France. He and I were fur some
minutes alone in a room together. It was a dingy, London
morning, and the room corresponded to the day—a lodging-
house room. It was not dirty, to speak individually ; but
a general air of antiquity, of long-established dustiness, of
confirmed, ingrained, never-to-bc•effaced uncleanliness sat
upon every article in the appartinent, even to the top of the
bell-ropes. The fire was not lighted—it was September ;
the window was open sufficiently to chill the susceptible
frame of Msginn as he paced to and fro, never looking
towards me, waiting for our common friend. I shut the
window. He looked towards me for an instant, stam-
mered out a " Thank you." His face was then of a leaden,
ashy hue ; his grey hair had become thin ; his dress—hut
why expatiate upon thal,—yet it looked sorrowful, and
shattered, like its wearer, and I fancied it meant much.

Both pictures of that unhappy scholar are
painfully like. Maginn was a wan whose
memoirs, if properly written, would be
pathetic and instructive, but it is not likely
that he will ever find a biographer. In his
literary, as well as in his personal, character
there was a strange mixture of strong and
weak points. His scholarship was various,
and, we can critically add, it was also most
profound. With the classical works of anti-
quity ho was intimately conversant, and in
the literature of European languages he was
deeply read. His attainments attracted the
particular notice of the deepest-read men of
his time, and, amongst others, that of the late
celebrated Archbishop Magee, who remained
on the friendliest terms with Magnin up to
the time of the archbishop's death. It was,
as we happen to know, while walking home
from a committee of the House of Lords, lean-
ing on Maginn'a arm, t hat the fatal illness of
which that learned prelate died first manifested
itself. As a journalist and political writer
Maginn's forte lay in hitting off ephemeral
persons and passing topics, with a style
popular in manner, but whimsically diversi-
fied with curious reading. He suffered from
that mental idiosyncrasy that almost always
appears in the helluo librorum. His attain-
ments weighed down his originative faculties,
and it was only in short bursts of conversa-
tional excitement, or in sonic fierce passage
from his trenchant pen, that he displayed the
force of his faculty. For political writing,
properly so called, Maginn was not suited.
His thinking in politics sprung from feeling,
and not from logical reflection, and it wanted
that moral determination and definiteness of
creed required for an English political writer.
In argumentative and illustrative faculty he
was surpassed by many journalists of his age;
but in scholarly knowledge, ready humour,
and versatility of intellect, he had no superior.
We know something of his life and habits,
but this is not an opportunity for describing
one whose special originality lay in blend-
ing much of the knowledge of Porson with
many of the accomplishments of Theodore
Hook.
Mrs. Thomson would have done better by
avoiding references to what was called " The
Fraser Duel." She is not informed of all the
circumstances of the ease, as we could easily
show, but the topic is not one atiltsble for dis-
cussion. In connection with Maginn she
alludes to Griffin the Irish novelist, and refers
to " The Collegians " (p. use of ties.
" most powerful of the neglected novels of the

1074

" day." The work was published twenty years
ago, and, so far from being " neglected," it
enjoys considerable popularity, has passed
through repeated editions, and at the time of
its appearance drew attention to the author
from many distinguished quarters. The poems
by the same writer have also been successfully
reproduced, and many of them are repeatedly
quoted. His life also has been written at
great length, and a melancholy narrative it is.
In one instance (before his talents were
known), after having been three days without
food, lying in a garret at Holborn, he was
rescued from a death of misery by a chance
call from Maginn, who warmly exerted himself
on that occasion in behalf of Griffin, an act
that ought never be forgotten when the cha-
racter of Maginn is under discussion ; and
there aro other instances within our know-
ledge of Maginn having acted with equal
goodness of heart.
" L. E. L." has been gossipped about enough,
and it is time that her remains, and all the
circumstances of her death, should be allowed
to rest. Mrs. Thomson's sketch of her is not
so graphic as her picture of Maginn, and in the
days of her first appearance in London society,
in the heyday of her popularity, "L. E. L." was
a very remarkable, and, in some respects, cap-
tivating personage. Galt is another subject for
Mrs. Thomson's pen. His latter days were
clouded with misfortunes ; but, though
neglected by many of his friends, there was
one who recollected him :
I spoke of the few friends who tried to cheer the breaking
heart of the poet in his retirement at Barnes-cottage.
Among these was one whose kindness contributed much
to soothe the wounded spirit, and to appease the cravings
of that which merited not the name of mortified vanity, but
which might be termed a consciousness of unjust desertion
by the world. She 3ame—l dare not pen her name—still
beautiful, always gifted, better than all, ever kind, in all her
loveliness of delicate apparel, in all her gems and splendour.
She sat by the sick man's easy chair, the soft air blowing
about hercostly veil Ind other appurtenances as she stooped ;
whilst in the lane stood her gay coach at the door, its proud
steeds pawing the ground, its five balls and coroneted panel
attracting the surprise of many a passerby, as he contrasted
the lowly entrance with the sumptuous vehicle. She came
pitying and sorrowing, and ever and anon leaving behind
her something to solace the dark hours which succeeded
the return of the omnibus from the foul city. She knew,
gay and gorgeous as was her attire, she too knew how the
world's censures eat into the heart. Kind, beautiful, yet
erring being ! The world casts you from it—in some mo-
ments of reflection, for come they will, when the heart
challenges the memory, and regret and sonow bedew your
eyes with tears, know that you comforted the infirm man
in his infirmity—that you left him soothed and thankful—
that you, of all the gay dames who were wont to smile upon
his happier hours, forsook not his decline.
It needs no conjurer to tell that Margaret
Countess of Blessiugton was the lady alluded
to here. She was very capable of generous
conduct, for a kinder being seldom lived. We
observe that memoirs of her are announced as
shortly about to appear.
We do not like having the errors of men who
have recently deppated from amongst us
brought again under our gaze. Mrs. Thomson
says in her preface :
I give these recollections as they were originally
printed ; and am confident that, whilst there may be many
who may differ from me in my opinions and predilections,
there will he no one who can reproach me with a harsh or
unjust expression towards those who are beyond the reach
of human sympathy.
And her book shows every desire to conform
to the rule laid down, but at p. 130, vol. ii.,
she writes of Thomas Campbell in italics of
" the dark sluulow which followed his course
" through life," and then proceeds :
It was one which the righteous might have ventured to
pity, the rigid to forgive. It was the fatal effect of a sensi-
tive mind too severely tried; it was the remnant of old
conviviality, the sources of which were poisoned, and were
converted into self indulgence. It was an evil, a curse—
resisted when too late—destroying by inches the fine in-
tellect—eating into the constitution, sparing nothing save
the kind, afflicted heart. It was a vice—yes, I grant it—a
vice produced by long anxiety, by companionless care, and
increased by the neglect and desertion of old friends who
might have solaced, have warned, have controlled. It was
a vice which society, disgusted and sorrowing, visits once
and never withdraws her ban.

this :

- -
Without "venturing to pity or forgive," it
would have been better for an anecdotist who
makes use of Campbell's name as a source of
attraction in her volu►nes to frryet. Silence
in such cases is better than a Mrs. Candour
style of apology.
Mrs. Siddons was a woman of genius, whose
character, apart from her vast powers, we have
always heard Broken of with sincere respect

THE PRESS.

by all who kne w her. We do not like popular
writers noting down such an anecdote as

I had heard much of Mrs. Siddons from my earliest
childhood. Some aged relations of mine were fond of
talking of the days when St. John's-wood was a wood, and
when Lisson-grove was a grove. In those times there was
an old manor-house in St. John's-wood, which the usual
course of changes in this mundane state had reduced to a
farmhouse. The farmer, or his wife, let off some of 'he
rooms into lodgings. The old couple to whom I have re-
ferred were in the habit of taking apartments during the
summer months at the manor-house. It stood quite in the
country, and, as fate would have it, old Mr. and Mrs.
Kemble, the parents of the immortal trio (for, though last
and least, the present survivor was a great actor, and is an
accomplished man), had lodgings there also. I have heard
my relations say—and they were no ordinary judges—that
there never was a more perfect gentleman than old Mr.
Kemble, nor a finer woman, nor a more excellent being,
than his wife. Both were singularly handsome.
Mrs. Siddons had by that time given up ironing her
husband's shirts, and was in the zenith of her fame at
Drury Lane. Her proud mother was always talking of
" Sally," and occasionally the magnificent " Sally" swept
across the manor•house garden, and, bowing her lofty head,
paid fleeting visits, coming in her own carriage, to her
parents. Mrs. Kembla was very desirous of showing
Sally" to her friends and fellow-lodgers; day after day
she promised to do so, but Mrs. Siddons never could or
would wait for the display. One morning my old lady
friend heard an altercation between mother and daughter
on that very point. Mrs. Kemble persisted. " Well, then,"
replied the haughty Sarah," Madam, I wait your pleasure."
The mother retired and stationed her friend in the hall,
where she could see the immortal Sarah returning. In a
few minutes Mrs. Siddons came out, preceding her mother
—a fatal blemish in manners. She moved, my friend said,
as if she would scarcely deign to touch the earth, and, with
a distant cpurtesy, passed on; but her dress, her walk, her
grand beauty, then in its prime, were long the theme of my
old friend's talk; while the words " Madam, I wait your
pleasure," were given by her in that deep, distinct tone
which none who had ever heard Mrs. Siddons could fail to

recognise.
This story depends on some " aged relations "
of the authoress, and it is unlike the character of
Mrs. Siddons. She was stately, not " haughty ;"
wits like Tom Moore thought her " dull,"
and a tragedy queen in the drawing-room
has often disappointed those who have
been awed by her in the mimic scene. But
Sarah Siddons, we firmly believe, was utterly
incapable of the heartless and absurd conduct
recorded above.
The siege of " Ragland Castle" and the de-
fence of Latham-house have often been re-
counted. A brilliant descendant of the Smiler-
' sets, at a still more formidable siege, is now
doing honour to his heroic race. The old
spelling of the name, " Raglan," has been
adopted by the gallant general. Charles I.
always spoke of it as "Ragland," and the
Marquis of Worcester dated his letters "from
"my poor house of Raglan." In allusion to
Fairfax, the authoress is under a mistake. She
writes :

The name of Fairfax is no longer noble amongst us
(neither, indeed is that, of Cromwell) ; and it is singular
that the family of Fairfax is, or was, represented by a de-
scendant who followed the occupation of a miller in the
rural village of Barford, near Warwick.
The peerage of Fairfax is still in existence,
though for the last three generations the holders
of it have resided in America. It still remains in
the roll of the House of Lords. Within the
last few days we were speaking to a descen-
dant (in the female line) from Sir Thomas
Fairfax, in whose family, even to this day, a
singular peculiarity in the eyes may be dis-
tinctly seen.
The account of the famous family of Stanley
is tamely written by Mrs. Thomson. She is
evidently not conversant with all the historical
stories of that renowned race, whose present
representatives illustrate the family motto of
" Sans changer" in their readiness, like their
ancestors, to be foremost amongst competi-
tors of high descent. But even in her com-
pilation the chivalrous energy of the Stanleys
stirs the heart of the most languid reader, and
cold must be the English breast which does
not feel pride in knowing that, in the field and •
in the senate, the Somersets and Stanleys in
our own days present such brilliant examples
of the right noble qualities of the old blood of
England. There is something pleasing in the
recollection that the claims of a Fitzroy Somer-
set to the title of " Raglan " were submitted
to her Majesty at the special instance of the
present Earliof Derby, while Prime Minister,
We can recommend these volumes to book
clubs as presenting a miscellany of agreeable
light reading, savouring plesoantly of old his-
tory and modern gossip.

SATURDAY,

Haps and Mishaps of a Tour in Europe. By
Grace Greenwood. London : Bentley.
HAD any one asked us what novelty we were
to expect in the relation of the " Haps and
Mishaps of a Tour in Europe," we should
simply have replied " none ; " for what no-
velty can be found in a description of scenes
and loealities which for the last thirty years
have been looked at, ransacked, and described
by inquisitive travellers front all corners of the
earth: In the style of writing, even, every
form of composition has been exhausted. But,
with these obvious disadvantages, Miss Green-
wood's book will still be found pleasant read-
ing. Viewed as the journal of a young woman
fresh from a country which, we are told, is in
general devoid of picturesque scenery, with
no beautiful lakes like those of England, uo
mountains or views like those of Switzerland,
no coasts like those of Italy, no noble cities
containing treasures of art like those of Paris
or Florence, no quaint old towns, no curious
costumes of bygone periods, and but little
historical association—allowance must be
made for that natural amount of rapture and
enthusiasm which a poetic nature would ex-
perience upon beholding the beauties of a
world long spoken of and the hoary records of
the " far great Past " of Europe s antiquity.
Possessed of a strong poetic temperament
and a lively fancy, there is a piquancy and a
freshness in her first impressions and an honest
enjoyment in her descriptions which are quite
enlivening ; yet her enthusiasm is seldom
affected, she evidently feels all she expresses,
and in her reflections and remarks gives proof
of quick intelligence, of varied reading, and of
an accomplished and well-informed mind.
Her book is written somewhat in the form of
a journal, and in general dwells more on the
personal feelings and adventures of the author
than the places she visited and objects she
saw.

Arriving at Liverpool, Miss Greenwood
stops with some friends for a short time, sees
the manufacturing towns, admires the dray
horses and the workmen's neat cottages (we
are afraid that Mr. Joseph Sturge must have
got up some model cottages for the occasion,
and treated Miss Greenwood something in
the manner that the Russian officials treated
Howard), visits Warwick and Stratford-upon-
Avon, where, as she comes out of " the shrine
" of her highest intellectual worship," she is
disagreeably struck by the smartness and
insolent newness of some of the buildings ou
the way :
How I hated the flaring shop windows, with their
display of cheap ribbons, and prints, and flashy silks.
But I was comforted by the sight of a goodly number of
quaint and nioss-grown houses, and I could have blessed a
company of strolling players and ballad singers, who had
collected a gaping crowd in an open square, for being in
harmony somewhat with the place. I could have willed
Stratford and all its inhabitants to have been wrapped for
ever in a charmed sleep, like that of the fairy talc, when
Shakspeare was laid to his rest in that picturesque old
church on the banks of the Avon. Nature seems nowhere
unharmonious with one's poetic memories of hint—you
could almost believe that the trees, and the grass, and e‘en
the flowers, were of his day. I remember a rich June rose,
hanging over a hedge, its warm leaves glowing through
glistening raindrops, and that it seemed to me he might
have looked into the heart of this rose and dreamed of the
passion-freighted heart of Juliet. We entered the church,
passed up into the chancel, and stood before the bust and
above the ashes of Shakspeare.
Having reached London, she lionises in a
quiet way, and with this advantage over her fair
sister of " Sunny Memories" reputation, that, not
being made a show of, she happily has nothing
to relate of individual dukes and duchesses,
and contents herself with recording her im-
pressions of London society in few words.
She was introduced to Lord Carlisle, and
is taken by him to see the galleries of paint-
ings at Stafford and Bridgewater Houses. Her
remarks upon Raphael contrast advantageously
with the presumptuous strictures of Mrs.
Stowe :
To Raphael it seems no poetio extravagance, no
sacrilegious enthusiasm, to apply the term divine. I cannot
conceive how one can look on his pictures long enough to
get at their soul without believing him to have been often
visited with cele ;tie inspirations, that, by close and holy
communion wi.h Heaven, he obtained the secrets of
creativ.i power—and that thus visions of transcendent
purity, of serivhic loveliness and divine beatitude, were
vonch,afed to him. Su peculiarly pine and peaceful is
' the atmosphere of his works, that one half believes them
' canopied by angel wings. The holiness of the pictures of
wilieh I have spoken is the more impressive from Ma