The Express.
London, England, 1858-12-29 00:00:00

LITEBATUBB.

New Pictures and Old Panels. By Dr. DOIA.N.
London : Richard Bentley.
It is clear the reading of the age is becoming
vastly misoellansous : the trifles we affect would lave
been scorned by the neration that had listened to
Dr. Johnson, Burke, and talked of Gibbon.
These people believed in the dignity of History:and
Society, wore wigs, and were not • little pompous.
How apologetically does Dr. Johnson pen one of
his essays in defence of anecdotes ; and when the
elder D'lsrseli exclaims, "How superficial is that cry
of some impertinent pretended geniuses of these
tioise,who affect to exclaim, ' Give me no anecdotes
of an author, but give me his works,' " the sentiment
had the charm of novelty. D'lmaeli himeelewho might
have known better in quoting Clarendon's remark
respecting Lord Falkland's being a little man, finds
fault with the historian for stooping to such trifling
partiealars, inasmuch as they " degraded the
truth and dignity of historical narrative." Such
ismer' world find little favour now. That Addison
bad en irregular pulse—that Dr. Johnson cut his
nails to the quick—that Descartes was very particular
about his wigs—are facts the gathering up of which
has sada more than one man famous in our time.
Our grandfathen were great lawn by this theory of
theirs as to historical dignity. Such things as those
we have referred to are not the trifles that they
awe. It is by little things that we link ouiselves
with the geniuses and heroes of the pent We
never MI egrets without thinking of Lard
Miss tin Mr. Scott, a -13 nefiess bar-
reeter—bergeimieg for them in Clare-market. We
never knew a um of diminutive stature who did not
refer to Dr. Watts, and quote his celebrated lines;
and we may be mire that anyone who has a wart on
his face, or is lame or deformed, is cheered and less
inclined to grieve over his calming when he thinks
of Cromwell, of Talleyrand and Byron and Sir
Walter Scott, of Pope, and William of the glorious
sad immortal memory. Are you deaf?—so was Sir
Joshua Reynolds. Have you lost an eye ?—a
miselsancis befel the hero of the Nile. Wont the
booksellers 'purchase your manuscripts? They re-
fined " Vanity Fur," they refused the " Rejected
Addrems," and paid but five pounds for the copy-
right of " Pars, Lost." One likes to think of
these things—they form part of the pleasures of
association. Not only do they make more pal-
pable to us the shadowy forma of the peek
but they lift es up to a sense of kindred
with them. Writers like Dr. Doran and the
clam to which he belongs may always calculate
on • certain amount of human interest being excited
by what they write; nor can we find much fault with
their productions, unless they take the place of
better, a case which we fear sometimes scours. I
" New Pictures and old Panels " is an improvement
on Dr. Doran's last work. A man who will be
always compiling mast occanoaally be dull, end
write on dull subjects ; and truly very tedious read-
ing indeed was Dr. Doran's " History of Court
Fools." It pares our limited comprehend= why
such Woke should be written at all. Literature is
either a reality—the expression of what a rasa has
felt, or seen, or known, or imeginsd,or desired--or it
is • sham, and deserves no quarter. It is ill writing
books with no meaning to plasm readers without
sense. Booksellers may find a profit in it, but
authorship has a right to be something higher and
holier.

we went the best in Art now or no Art,
Tim time is dons for facile settings ■p
Oi mammon gods—Nymphs him sad Tracer tiara

Of that Saracen chief who had it inscribed upon
his tomb, " Here lies he who attacked Rhodes and
would have subjugated Italy," we feel that at any
rats his aim was grand, and we can pay him due
reverence, bat our tale bearers and history mongers
are not to be honoured even for their aims.
It is obvious even to the most superficial
that in these days all books save such
as an genuine are a doubtful benefit, ex-
cept to the proprietors of circulating libra-
ries. By all means let History be studied—let the
dead be Drought back to life—let the canvas glow
with the lustre of the living cheek—let us look on
the eye beaming with human passion—and let us
hearken to the voice echoing along the corridors of
time, mow jubilant in triumph, now mournful
in despair but why try to be funny P
Tragedy is not farce ; it is bad breeding to laugh at
a stranger because his accent, his gait, his dress
differ from ours. Dr. Doran, however, thinks other-
wise. Thus Louis VII. burns four thousand pea-
sants of Champagne who had taken refuge in the
church at Vitry. The writer speaks of it as "This
fanny little escapade of the king's." Onr own
Henry VIII.—a great monarch after all—we read,
e could not entirely give up the indulgence of cer-
tain fables, and being in too charming a humour to
kill his ex-wife, he only beheaded Cromwell and
burned Barnes, who had counselled him to marry
her." This style of writing may suit the serial in
which it originally appeared, but it in-
dicates a spirit fatal to the understanding
of the men or the deeds of the Put. It
must mislead the young, who will be more
reedy to reed Dr. Doran's neatly bound volume than
painfully to study History at the fountain head.
They, more than older readers, are especially prone
to be deceived by smartness, and to take flippancy
for wit. It is only fair to Dr. Doran to remark that,
in spite of the exceptions we have taken, he has
severtheless published a very readable volume,
though we must add that the title is unsatis-
factory, and gives no idea of the nature of his work.
Dr. Doran has got together his miscellaneous mays,
and republished them as if they were papers read by
a few artists to each other. Indeed, without this
well-worn fiction the various essays would be utterly
unconnected. We have a few personal sketches,
such sa those of Chtnier and Oehlenscblager. We have
a few rapid historical outlines, such as England a
century ago, a group of Queens unquened ; portraits
of the daughters of Charles L some wondrous
legends are told ; and some papere which seem to be
records of foreign travel. The best sketch in the
book is decidedly the first one—" A Portrait in Three
Panels," in which figure Dr. Dodd, Oliver Gold-
smith, Mrs. Bellamy the actress, and the great
Wesley. We question whether the Doctor has been
happy in his conversations. Goldsmith was a slender
scholar but a man with real knowledge of the
world. Dr. Doran makes him talk like a pedant.
The opening picture is very good. It contains