The Sun.
London, England, 1846-01-03 00:00:00

CON T Ll't ERATI, HE.
ii RI N I I 1 f-! 31 IA G --A Ll?f ) Y. loin.ildf'es
1,9 B. D !reeds, .11.1' 3 l'ut
l‘ir.
Di,raeli has bet n greatly celebrated during.
the
last few years for his brilliant and satirical
speeches if, the tiou,e, n;d his admirable delineations
ofmodern society. The eew generation look to him
with
eonthh-nce. He not only thinks deeply', but
!Peaks boldly : the first to denounce a narrow pre •
Judice, the foremost to support a righteous cause
entireoly differing from him in political
htio.ugh
tnns, at least in what regards the outward farm,
w Cordially agree with the principles he advocates,
guise of
and regard him as a real reformer. The flim-y dis-
guise
hypocritepolitical dishonesty, the empty subterfuge of
wanerin- ,
while
„, give way before the breath of his
in_ find § sarcasm, the wronged and the suffer-
,Kl in him a powerful friend. His pen is ever
'fe,4l,Y in their cause, and speaks the language of a
eemix heart. Such are the qualities w hich have
gained him the approbation of the multitude, such the
ralities which have excited the enmity of the few.
It is in a very different character he apears in the
Works now before us. These were p
written many
Y ars
of 1.1,
e back, and are now republished for the benefit
the itnew generation. Here we scarcely recognise
a
131111"sopher end politician so much as the poet.
To writ!, the story of Contarini Fleming was a hold
and original
author's object
undertaking, but it was successful. The
was not to chronicle the adventures of
ia.,11 ordinary being,
is ohi,to indite a common biography ;
ze ; " was to poultray the rise and progress of
`,--rl'us, to develop the formation of a poet. It is not
record
e'en. of events and accidents, but a history of
`44) and thoughts, and passions.
1, T he noblest StUfly of mankind is man."
Vtile It ost glorious subject of contemplation is the
poet mind—and what mind can compare to a
w
vie I
t's? Ah, what a combination is presented to our
• alUbiw
ihat burning desire for fame—what high
d °ll---what thrilling hope, and gloomy, hesitating
0-f°llbts•-•what bright hours of inspiration—what days
)23' and nights of sorrow ! Now raised to the,
tO4l,Pt eminence of blissful anticipation—now sunk
Qv:4'e lowest depth of despair ! The creature of
de'retnes, feeling joy and sorrow in the uttermost
p._ riees-and love, the most ennobling of all human
;8 how pure' and holy is the love of a poet ?
a rtehni the gorgeous realms of imagination he brings
lene,,°u,siand unknown charms " to clothe with excel-
s No- the thing beloved ;" he paints her beauty with
he ors borrowed from the heaven of his fancy ;
his
uows
m ecstacy, before his idol's shrine—
To anlighty spirit yie'ds a passionate adoration.
under elioeate such emotions Contarini Fleming was
are ftillten ; it was a daring task, but its intentions
the ulfilled. It is, indeed, written con (more, with
the ea d.
0f one who comprehends his subject, with
feertrute
nn, " of one who has himself experienced the
situlai? she describes. Fortune placed Contarini in a
Relict ,°,.a well calculated to develop genius. Nursed
yearnedyearnedtheof f?r his mother's lovely land, the beautiful
ahoy,. '4,, ignorant of a mother's love, so dear to all,
810 w-i all to the children of genius, with a heart
eon ng with fond affection, he found few to love, and
lone)e t° comprehend him. We sympathise with the
ieterYr rrows of the friendless child, we follow with
eve, el' his career at school and college, we see him
of- the creature of extremes—now the gayest of the
ofYil.the leader of mirth and folly, gaining the hearts
am's, comrades by his lively, ardent temper—now
gellenlng Greek twelve hours a day,
"and winning a
phii medal amidst " classic cheer:,
th Tophy of "Voltai-e, and flying from the world to
—learning the
of depths of a lonely forest to be the leader of a band
Lerehbers. His strange education thus concluded,
ceol:e:turns to his home and enters public life. He
de,"gos his wild poetic effusions to the flame', and
ester himself to politics with all the ardour of his
is Cre• His father filling the post of Minister, he
herutroduced to the Government under his auspices;
tiene, he waits awhile, versed in all mysteries of poli-
ei intrigue, regarded as a promising statesman.
ut the . '
see_ ruling passion of his life is strong, and again
pour t! its influence ; he flies to solitude ; there he
of
ls recent 3 torth the feelings of his heart in a bitter satire
4,`1 companions—his ministerial colleagues
i.: not forgotten. " Manstein" is published without
life
author's name ; it excites immediate and universal
litkenti"ll. In describing this portion of his hero's
lie 1 4r. Disraeli seems to have anticipated the pub-
itftrinn of his own " Coningsby," some thirteen years
novel rwards The excitement which that celebrated
7, occasioned finds a counterpart in the history of
es'anstein " When Contarini mingled with the gay
f-„V, he 'heard all around exclaations like the
tc'wing Have you read ' Manstein?' Ah, you
I'3t get it directly. The oddest book that ever was
:ritten. We are all in it, we are all in it ! There
lifthe Baron de Bragnaes—he is really hit off to the
itie-;--very satirical—very odd—very personal—all
ever it
get it—very witty—very flippant—
fttidYveb°dY is reading it. It is full of imagination,
io i,. rY personal, very personal, indeed ; we are a.ll
.. eun discovered
to_ ‘. You are there ! The name of the author is
'l;aotnfded by enemies ;
, and Contarini finds himself sur-
this troubles him little ; he cares
itarefr the smiles of the world. There is one thing he
4,4137_, however ; it is thus powerfully described :
eppettreedettseo months after the publication of `Manstein,'
tie north' new number of the great critical journal of
i's`,/' notn i'r Europe• One of the works reviewed was
"Jended-rf°'i? Product.ion. I tore open the leaves with a
ttleliibe ee`ng of desire and fear, which I can yet re-
I% ' 'eh prepared for the worst. I felt that such
(leeideceienscms, however impossible it was to deny the
me idea
bgebius of the work, and however eager they
tam it ,Ltev,hall the advent of an original mind, I felt
lIPPr"e Of the
reasonable and just that they should dis-
knaiewhat ',"la temper of the less elevated portions, and
eXalto. uisinite the moral tendency of the more
4 Wit
what sup what horror, with what blank despair, with
rthenie, appalling astonishment, did I find myself,
lea; e first me in l'f a subject of the most reek-
I was most EnalimnYa lt,e'and the most adroit ridicule.
in stench to
desees 'earified, I malignant,
scalped. . They scarcely con-
., Passin
'tnPered notice my dreadful satire, except . ,
to remark
g' that, by the by, I appeared to be as ill
secret
all as I was ieibecile. But, with all my eloquence,
-eeret f my faneY, and all the strong expression of my
laegh.dee"gs,these ushers of the court of Apollo fairly
kern 1" err Parnassus, and held me up to pubic
mingled' exhibiting exhibiting the most lamentable instance of
P
BPecnne retension and weakness, and the most ludicrous
oral._ nof literary delusion that it had ever been their
4, WY °Tee tO ;
castigate, and, as they hoped, to cure.
~,ftr-Liznye
vcp.tieisin fell from my hand. A film floated
c't heart isi°ll; my knees trembled. I felt that sickness
1,..._3 that we experience in our first serious scrape.
ridiculous. 7,4„..,. It was time to die.
ali•h_'Yt,l!tt did it signify? What was authorship to me?
kge::aid I care for their flimsy fame—l, who not yet of
might's an important functionary of the State, and who
111,73: look to its highest confidence and honours? It
v,r really too ludicrous. I tried to laugh. I did smile
iffy bitterly. The insolence of these fellows ! Why!
10,20u1d not write, surely I was not a fool. I had done
tray thing. Nobody thought me a fool. On the con-
piil, , everybody thought me a rather extraordinary
. Pl. What would they think now?. I felt a qualm.
thoi+ buried my face in my hands , I summoned 3,
into my verym-
soutlights to their last struggle, I penetrated
astes
I and I felt the conviction that literary creation was
444 sary to my existence, and that for it I was formed.
&gt,
flail the beautiful and dazzling forms, that had
tbrienedin my youthful visions, rose up before me,
h monarchs, and radiant heroes, and women
they
ter than day; but their looks were mournful, and
if "._ extended their arms with deprecating anguish, as
lii4'-e'ehetreat me not to desert them. And, in the mag-
the worear my emotions and the beauty of my visions,
atThaetlii Y sarcasms that had lately so shaken me seemed
\Vie til: of another and a lower existence; and I mar-
lesa4dt' f°r a moment, this thin transient cloud could
and / il.
ea the sunshine of my soul. And I arose,
ae_ e 1. ted up my
i,un.r, "d y
_to heaven,
arm and waved it like a
Rreatest of
" spite of all "ore by the Nature that I adored, that,
Sheiusldn respo.nd
auc'Peosition, I would be an author, ay! the
to the ma ; .
thors, and that far climes and distant ages
,L et this painted to cof my sympathetic page."
t"i% Proud spirit b the very life ?—the agony of
and
new d(lrious °wed down even to thedust, .
_:vigtxtr, energy of conscious intellect rising with
Iv ,wili , resolved to dare and conquer all ! But
leav not ti
loved him to see'ger with the young Contarini, we
county'l4 the sunny shores of Italy, the be-
te hi hearty ofh.
le s , on, ~18 dreams—to find the ideal mistress
ave hiu, , feel the ecstasy of a poet's love. We
theme . and turn to "Alro " This is a very different
it
eon , written in another Y.lt is the history of
•,,,,e reror Like or style. .
perfect picture-
n„,, Lie old the " Contarini, it is a ,
;"'eeive the „gradual development of character—we
high- the k"tference of each separate part, yet re-
llgh-spiet unit Y of the whole. Alroy is a daring,
)4v• I
et id Youth des 1 d from the royal line of
freed Yet hoe • , cen( e
soul burns for
L ern, his nin captivity. His .
~
~Iss country ardent spirit pants for the liberation of
81ories of Tni_ en, for the restoration of the ancient
ret. devout' e
eloped it The love of conquest is not
ellever that it is the holy spirit of a patriot, and a sefty, his aatanitna tea his breast. His genius finds a
Oticluerergirnmugl achieves the glory ! Behold him a
''.B Power--no e land of his captivity ! Bagdad is in
lo)olit the
v,. tiger hw is the time to march to Jerusalem,
not ''r Prevails I tasted blood, the lust of pomp and
.nag.,,ad _ , why should he go to Jerusalem ? Is
f (cis a c„u 's great and glorious ? He stays and
aithion ra at Bac,d ,
oinks.--: Y related , ad . All this is beautifully and
1,,e into the ; the gradual decline as the hero
Y,
and conqueror is true to nature; we admire,
„ grief,
we comprehend.
Hie better' bright, and
the geni glorious was his young career."
setting of I_llB exerts her influence at the close,
have had man ms sun is glorious as its dawn. We
Historye nf the Yoo histories of conquests, but this is the
Cl:tatiul than conqueror. Yet the style is even more
_ a Cloth
in all the e tale, a story of the East, it is
T nee, our tra . gurgeous splendour of Oriental ro •
tame •h our nstations of the " Arabian Nights" are
and thj °lllPariSOn • hut then her 48 lh Original. 1
The
,zt motions i 0 style is solemn, musical, and
reigua,,e _ n :t,of the descriptions are in the flowery
b Rthi'lin. I,lt. tsh. r_ast, in. slow, melodious measure,
mar the
Tr'Larn
Qnpi, ft
it ofi true poetry. If any could
Y san occasional rhyme, but hap-