The Sun.
London, England, 1841-07-15 00:00:00

L ITE RA TU RE.

EDINBURGH REVIEW. No. CXL VIIL
Longman, London, 1841.
Never was man better qualified, by habit and
the peculiar structure of his mind, for the task of
a Reviewer, than Mr. Macaulay. Quick—lively
- ardent—argumentative, when argument is re-
quired—eloquent when an impression is to be
made by mere force and splendour of style—
subtle and ingenious, if not profound or original,
as a thinker—and abounding in that sort of infor-
mation which is most likely to take with the gene-
rality of readers ;—the Right Hon. Gentleman
possesses every requisite, except wit, necessary
to constitute an accomplished periodical essayist.
His memory, too, which in some degree supplies
the place of fancy, is strong to retain every im-
pression that has once been made on it, so that
he is never at a loss, even when busied with the
most unpromising themes, for lively, apt allusion
end illustration. The variety of the sources
from which he gathers his materials is indeed ex-
traordinary. The.poets, sophists, and historians
of Greece and Rome; the writers of France and
Italy; the dramatists, essayists, metaphysicians,
divines, an:-1 wits of our Elizabethan and Angus-
' tan ages; the A rablan and Persian story-tellers ;
the Spanish romancers ; the Byzantine chroni-
clers ; and those long-winded prosers, the early
Fathers of the CatholicChurch;—all are ransacked
to supply Mr. Macaulay with striking points and
ingenious illustrations. Hence his pages glitter at
times like a constellation, arid as his chief ambition
seems to be to dazzle and astonish, rather than
to convince, he rarely misses his mark. Gene-
rally speaking, his Reviews consist of a suc-
cession of brilliant and effective passages, now
of a descriptive,, now of a dramatic, and now
of a metaphysical character, thrown together
without much method or arrangement.; exhibit-
ing no traces of a severe or continuous process
of thought; no patient working out of favourite
ideas and principles ; but keeping, nevertheless,
the reader's mind in a constant state of excite-
ment. Of such a sort is the article entitled
" The Port-Royalists," which stands first in the
present Number, and which we have no hesita- '
Lion in ascribing to the Right Hon. Gentleman's
pen. It is an account, in sketch, of the founders
of the well-known Abbey of Port Royal ; and
though rambling and desultory to a degree, and
exhibiting a bold contempt for all chronological
arrangement, possesses the enchaining interest
of a Scotch novel—so picturesque are its de-
scriptions; so' vivid its outlines of character,
which remind us of some of Retsch's etchings
from Faust; and so agreeably does its style al-
ternate between epigram and amplification. The
celebrated Cornelius Jansen of course occupies
a niche in this temple which the Reviewer has
erected to the honour and glory of the Port-
Royalists ; but instead of entering into a detailed
statement of this religious Reformer's creed, he
might have contented himself with telling us in
one word, that it was neither more nor less than
Methodism. Jansen was the Wesley.—or rather
Whitfield—of his day. He held that the ma-
jority of the human race were born for
no other purpose than to be damned, and
that the select Few only were destined to salva-
tion. This unsocial creed did not suit the more
pliant and orthodox divines of France, so a paper-
war was commenced against Jansenism, which
lasted for seventy years, and gave abundant em-
ployment to all the wits, satirists, and historians
of the time. In Voltaire's tales there are, if we
remember rightly, several sarcastic hits at the
followers of the great Cornelius. Of' the well-
known Madame de Maintenon, Mr. Macaulay
furnishes us en passant with a very graphic
sketch, which, though on the whole condemna-
tory, might have been more severely so with
propriety. To say that she was a narrow-minded
prude, is not saying enough. She was a canting,
heartless hypocrite; ever most intriguing when
apparently most frank and candid ; concealing
an insatiable thirst for power Midi* aLunge4ted
show of moderation ; and professing extrervie
interestedness when she was at heart .the'nsOSt
selfish of upstarts. Of all the mistresses of the
Grande Monarque—and their name is Legion—
this woman is the most unamiable. Compared
with her, poorLaValliere is a paragon of purity ; and
even the haughty De Montespan shows white as
snow beside her. It was our lot to wade through
her Correspondence, some two years since, and
never was seen such a specimen of dull, petty,
canting common-place ! That Louis was duped
by such a woman, proves not her quickswittedness,
but his mental imbecility. As a specimen of Mr.
Macaulay's graphic and picturesque style; we
quote his account of a projected attack on the
Abbey of Port Royal, about the cordmencement
of the wars of the Fronde—the character of
which wars, by the by he defines with the hap-
piest accuracy :
Guided by such pastors, the Port-Royalists were fol-
lowing out a prof Tess -more tranquil than that of John
Bunyan's Pilgrim, when the wars of the Fronde rudely
scattered tie shepherd and the flock. Most of the nuns
fled fr.'r refuge to Paris, but the recluses (they were
Frenchmen still) appeared three hundred strong, in de-
fence of their sequestered valley. Above their hair-
shirts glittered coats-of-mail. As the last notes of the
anthem died away, the trumpet summoned the worship-
pers to military exercises. Spears and helmets flashed
through the woods—plumes waved over many a fur-
rowed brow—intrenchments, which may still be traced,
were thrown up ; and the evening gun, the watchword,
and the heavy tread of cavalry, broke a silence till then
undisturbed, except by the monastic choir, or the half-
uttered prayer of some lonely penitent. De Sericourt
felt once again his pulse beat high as he drew out the
martial column, and raised the long-forgotten words of
peremptory command. But ere long a voice more sub-
dued, though not less peremptory, was heard to silence
his. De Saci's heart mourned over this reliance on an
arm of flesh. Watching the first pause in the new en-
thusiasm of his associates, he implored them to lay aside
their weapons ; and in long-suffering to submit them-
selves and their cause to the Supreme Disposer of events.
At an instant the whole aspect of Port-Royal was
changed. Students returned to their books, penitents to
their cells, and handicraftsmen to their ordinary labours.
It was a change as sudden and as complete as when, at
the bidding of the Genius, the crowded bridge and the
rushing river disappeared from the eyes of Mirza,
leaving before him nothing but the long hollow Valley
of Bagdad, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing 'on the
sides of it.
" Cecil and De Clifford" is a commendatory
notice of two novels that have lately attracted
considerable attention. The Reviewer attributes
the former to the sprightly pen of Mrs. Gore,
but we can scarely credit that she could have
written it, for the keen insight into the inner
heart of man that " Cecil " exhibits in its more
serious scenes, could not have been attained by
a woman. That she may have assisted in the
composition, is likely enough, but we cannot
bring ourselves to believe that she was the sole
authoress. Judging from one or two marked
peculiarities of manner, we feel strongly disposed
to assign the notice of the "Colman Family"
to Mr. Leigh Hunt. It is lightly and spiritedly
written, but we have rather too much of the
Bonnell Thorntons, Lloyds, Churchills, and
other contemporaries of the elder Colman, not
one of whom is now remembered, with the ex-
ception, perhaps, of Churchill. And even his is
no enviable notoriety. He has come down to us,
not as a poet, but as a coarse, vigorous, ill-
natured satirist, who is more remarkable for
force of style than strength of thought. His
best work is his " Rosciad, ' and even this would
be sorry enough, if it were not for the apt and
pointed sketch of Mossop. We cordially agree
with the Reviewer in his estimate of George
Colman " the Younger "—as he styled himself at
the very juvenile age of seventy. He was a
genuine humourist, but his sentiment was mere
maudlin drivel, without an atom of heart in it;
and his attempts at a high tragic flight were stiil
more deplorable. All that is sterling in his
" Iron Chest " is directly borrowed from " Caleb
Williams ;" but his " Mountaineers " being
mere noisy rant throughout, is, we presume, his
own. His best play is his " John Bull." This
was a hit between wind and water—a successful
aim at the bull's eye—and dexterously chimed in
with the feelings and prejudices of the national
character at the period when it was written. In
the notice of " Swinburne on the Courts of
Europe," the Reviewer, we are glad to see, does
justice to the memory of the unfortunate Marie
Antoinette, whose reputation has passed through
the furnace of calumny, seven times heated,
and come out unharmed. Indiscreet she was,
fond of pleasure, and too prone fo meddle
with affairs of State; but she had no worse
failings; and when we call to mind her rare
magnanimity, her heroic determination of pur-
pose, and the calm, undaunted front she op-
posed to her enemies in the hour of her bitterer
adversity, we can pardon these, or ahundredsuch
trivial blemishes. In a passing allusion to Riche-
lieu,the Reviewerspeaks of him as " resting the
Crown upon the Church, the Jesuits, the Princes,
and the Noblesse." Now, this is not correct.
The despotic Cardinal took special care that the
Crown of France should rest but on one person
—and that one was himself. The King reigned
by him, and through him, only. He it was, and
no other, who pulled the strings that moved the
Royal puppet. The one was no:ninally, the
other was virtually, a Sovereign. As for the
Nobles and Princes, Richelieu reduced their
power to a mere cypher, and gave a shock to
the feudal system, from which it never after-
wards thoroughly recovered. Indeed, the Re-4
viewer himself acknowledges that he " destroyed
the iadividuality of the Noblesse ;" but lie did
more,—he absolutely extinguished them as an
influential body in the State. Had •his
successor, Magaxin, possessed but half his

energy, never should we have heard of
De Retz, or the senseless wars of the
Fronde. " Grounds and Objects of the Budget"
is sound in its argument, but somewhat too tame
and whininr, in its spirit. At a crisis like the pre-
sent, the Reviewer should have spoken out more
boldly. When a cause is urgent, and its issue
doubtful, a lukewarm advocate does it more harm
than good. " The late Lord Holland" is a kindly
and respectful tribute to the memory of a gene-
rous, tolerant, public-spirited Nobleman, who
rarely made an acquaintance that he did not im-
mediately convert into a fast friend. Our readers
will, no doubt, be pleased with this, eloquent de-
scription of Holland House, and its late illus-
trious owner :

The time is coming when, perhaps, a few old men, the
last survivors of our generation, will in vain seek, amidst
new streets, and squares, and railway stations, for the
site of that dwelling which was in their youth the fa-
vourite resort of wits and beauties—of painters and poets
—of scholars, philosophers, and statesmen. They will
then remember, with strange tenderness, many objects
once familiar to them—the avenue and the terrace, the
busts and the paintings ; the carving, the grotesque gild-
ing, and the enigmatical mottoes. With peculiar find-
ness, they will recal that venerable chamber, in which all
the antique gravity of a college library was so singularly
blended with all that female grace and wit could devise
to embellish a drawing-room. They will recollect, not
unmoved, those shelves loaded with the varied learning
of many lands and many ages ; those portraits in which
were preserved the features of the best and wisest English-
men of two generations. They will recollect how many men
who have guided the politics of Europe—who have moved
great assemblies by reason and eloquence—who have put
life into bronze and canvass, or who have left to posterity
things so written as it shall not willingly let them die—
were there mixed with all that was loveliest and gayest
in the society of the most splendid of capitals. They
will remember the singular character which belonged to
that circle, in which every talent and accomplishment,
every art and science had its place. They will remember
how the last debate was discussed in one corner, and the
last comedy of Scribe in another ; while Wilkie gazed
with modest admiration on Reynolds' Baretti ; while
Mackintosh turned over Thomas Aquinas to verify a
quotation ; while Talleyrand related his conversations
with Barras at the Luxemburg, or his ride with Lannes
over the field of Austerlitz. They will remember, above
all, the grace—and the kindness, far more admirable than
grace—with which the princely hospitality of that an-
cient mansion was dispensed. They will remember the
'venerable and benignant countenance, and the cerdial voice
of him who bade them welcome. They will remember that
temper which years of pain, of sickness, of lameness, or
confinement, seemed only to make sweeter and sweeter ;
and that frank politeness which at once relieved all the
embarrassment of the youngest and most timid writer or
artist, who found himself for the first time among Am-
bassadors and Earls.