The Sun.
London, England, 1850-07-08 00:00:00

VERITAS. A Poem.

Whoever may have written this anonymous poem
has poetic feeling, what though he is guilty through-
out it of many unpoetic extravagances. " Veritas"
is dedicated to Thomas Carlyle, and to Thomas Car-
lyle it will have come commended quite as much by
its eccentricities as by its excellences. Of the better
powers of our author let us at once, in all truthfulness,
afford a good and golden specimen. Here is his gra-
phic and sententious delineation of the woman of his
affections—
" lie said—the maid I love is she whose mind
Is gentle. prudent, and sincerely kind,—
Whose life is always constancy and love,—
Whose modest eye is never prone to rove,—
Whose equal conscience is serenely right,—
Whose breast is free of jealoury and spite,—
Whose thoughts are not too mach of the ideal,—
Whose feelingF, though acute, are always real,—
Whose judgment in advance is of her years,—
Whose genuine sense in every act appears,—
Whose cautious tongue from slandering is free,—
Whose soul despises all iniquity,—
Whose face is lighted with a graceful smile,—
Whose conduct is incapable of guile,—
Whose ready laugh is not the laugh of folly,—
Whose manr er is untouched by melancholy,—
Whose chie'est joy is in her neighbour's weal,—
Whose tender heart reciprocal can feel,—
Whose hopes are always longing for the best,—
Whose wishes are but simple in request,—
Who knows herself —a knowledge too uncommon!
And ne'er forgets the character of Woman."
Hear him again descanting more briefly, but not less
eulogistically upon the delights of domesticity :
•' Home, all endearing haven to the yonng!
Thy accent melts like honey on the tongue—
The weary exile wandering far away
Through tears looks back; the szhoolboy at his play
Reckons his dearest joys et Christmas times,
When by his friends his village belfry chimes;—
The youthful mariner, afar at sea,
Looks to his ship, but always thinks of thee;—
The distant lover, gazing on the skies,
Hopes that the moon is seen by brighter eyes!"
Elsewhere his phrases are equally worthy of commen-
dation, as where he apostrophizes poesy (p. 45) as
the " sweet manna of the mind," or where he ex-
claims (p. 57)
" Friendship we long have reckon'd second love,
A sort of hallow'd feeling from above."
Others of his expressions are rather wiredrawn, and
verging too much upon the grotesque. In one place,
he calls truth very admirably (p. 65), "the power of
reason in its prime," while in another he
speaks of it must outrageously as (p. 66), " the
backbone of the human race." That is one of the
absurdities of the volume. Now for more of them.
Slang phrases and vulgarisms are never thought too
mean for poetry by the writer of " Veritas :" and thus
we find him complaining at one instant, (p. 74)
" How many hopeful specs in life give way," &c.
and at another protesting that (p. 43)
" Poor artifice and etiquette but school
Into obedience every verdant fool."
Then his rhymes ! Hear them :
" Perhaps to pawn a watch, perbaps a coat—
If more than one the wretched man has got.

You only cast your pearls to the swine,
And do the act perhaps at the wrong time.

This man was fl stter'd daily by his friends—
Ile liked it, but to likings there's nc, end.

. . . . . .
The walls were wood, the dwelling quite compact,
With luxury of window front and back."
As to his metre, our author must have some odd
notions, as also in his mode of pronunciation. For
instance, " world" must be to him as it is to Mr.
Peggo t t y , a dissyllable, wurreld, in o
xrTdt
ore
ar
ya atngod amne
ourselveseaveke s
even
the second line in the following completely correct
,
(p. 50) :
"Even from the Transatlantic side they come
Yet,
shown,
we rnwi : Tiat
soih,
s, si enaat
losl thetwtwithout
eiwisertste haveoubt wl
eao mlr
itsrl
ides
already
eneys a au
intimated
andht iuems . . '
e'
Andt
tiThose.pr nr ioi 'Dv e 8 ,
there is something very graceful in the thought
struck out by the author, where he is describing him-
self at the time when he (p. 39)
" Wrote sonnets, too, on lovely woman's eyes—
Warm from the heart, and free of all disguise,
With thoughts, mysterious in their varied strains,
As frozen dreams upon the window panes !"
Speaking of the vernal season, he describes it (p. 65)
as the time—
" When birds begin to sing;
When woods are yellow with the buds of spring."
Of jealousy, especially in its evidence towards all
would-be poets, he says (pp. 92, 93), with much of
his own veritas :
" But be it understood, there is a thing.
Callel envy, with a hidden, hideous sting;
Always desirous to bring others down
To a dull level equal to its own.
And poets get enough of this to quaff—
The scorner's censure and the idiot's laugh;—.
The secret whisperings of lesser men,
Who loathe the effusions of a friendly pen.
Thus jealousy, fiend of the eye-ball queen,
Sister of fear, and demi-god of spleen!
Seen in the lover's trembling form to swell,
poetry ttrey
be
7raur,rtiloers's.
meanings—loads
finds faults, and while it calls you friend!
mgthoteost who with it have an equal tame.—
Would laugh with silent joy to see your end."
gone Alludingb y,
histo thevin d assertionicttion
is that
altogetherth e
passed over unnoticed. " What ! " he exclaims
(pp. 97, 98)—
" Did Alexander—Philip's compering son.—
Leave no campaigns for great Napoleon?
Did Homer write what Virgil since has done?
Did Virgil pen what Shakspere's fame has won?—
Or Shskspere pen what Byron, Cowper, Young,
Hay, s.rewn among creation, nobly sung?
Di 1 M 1 n live of old? is Moore yet dead?
Or wave‘ the grass o'er Wordsworth's aged head?"
To the last inquiry the answer is, unhappily, by
this time in the affirmative. The argument is
good ; but we very much fear, with all its merite,
whether the illustration will be found in " Veritas."

ANONYMOUS POEMS.
Forty years have been consumed in the compokition
,of this volume, which nevertheless, after All, does not

extend beyond sixty pages, and presents altogether
a remarkable illustration of Sheridan's sarcasm about
" a rivulet of rhyme running through a meadow of
margin." Several of the pages contain no more than
four lines—the entire moiety of a capacious leaf being
dedicated to an epigram. As to the period occupied
by the anonymous bard in the travails of metrical
composition, we learn its exact duration from a state-
ment very explicitly given to that effect in the pre-
face. We complain not of the paucity of verses—
heaven forfend we should be afflicted with more
of a comparable mediocrity. There are enough
of them and to spare, few though they,
are numerically. But what excites cur sur-
prise in reference to them 13 the length of time ab-
sorbed in their production and its hardy acknowledg-
ment. To us it appears like the antithesis to Byron's
propitiatory note to the " Hours of Idleness," inform-
ing the critics that they were the effusions of a
" minor." Several of the fragments from Camoens
and Petrarch are ingenious—some of thkm felicitous.
But what shall we say of the "Fragments intended
for a copy of verses to be spoken at Oxford in 1814,
after the visit of the Allied Sovereigns," for example ?
In one part of it we have—
•' Ile flies—a refuge Elba's rocks afford,
And the bleak isle receives hrr faun lord."

Then come a number of asterisks ; then—
" A narrow speck amid the dreary main"—
Then more asterisks. Why, after thirty-six years,
preserve that fragment? Why print it, and correct
the proof•sheet of it, and publish it ? To be brief,
the author of " Anonymous Poems" is a scholar, but
not a poet.

THE MINISTRY OF THE BEAUTIFUL.

By H. Slack, F. G.S.
" A thing of beauty is a joy for ever" is an
opinion which has received an unanimous assent, but
the chief value of beauty and of joy is their powerful
efficacy in producing and promoting good, and this
beautiful ministry of the beautiful is the theme
of Mr. Slack's little work. " The Ministry of
the Beautiful, as endeavoured to be set
forth in the following pages," be tells us, " consists
chiefly in its omnipresent power of stimulating the
fancy and the heart to join the intellect in adoration of
the good and true." This most truthful and beautiful
definition is enoughof itself to predispose all who read it
to turn with interest to the work itself, from the
perusal of which they cannot fail to derive pleasure.
In two respects, however, we are somewhat dissatis-
fied with the manner in which Mr. Slack has set forth
his very delightful subject-matter. He has adopted
the form of a dialogue between two persons of the
names of Edith and Lyulpb, but these individuals are
introduced to us without being invested with any in-
dividual interest whatsoever ; and, again, the style of
their discourse is at times deficient in that
simplicity which renders conversation so charm-
ing. These two drawbacks we mention
frankly, because we so greatly sympathise with
Mr. Slack's sentiments and with his enthusiasm
for his subject. The volume is rich in beautiful
pictures and beautiful thoughts. Turning over the
pages at random we read :
" Life should be measured by time wisely employed,
and not by periods unprofitably spent. He is the
oldest who has thought and felt the deepest and the
the most. . . What efforts should not woman
make to preserve in maturity the sim-
plicity of the child. When that is lost, the
sunlight of her being is sadly over-clouded, if not
wholly gone. . . . The human soul should receive
from all directions, and harmoniously weave together
the filiaments of truth which float like gossomer-threads
throughout the universe. . . . Those who love
most know most. To the true worshipper, nature ex-
hibits beauty and sublimity, while to the irreverent is
barrenness and vacuity. . . . In proportion as a man
develops beauty within, does he find it without," &c., &c.

'OPULAR .HISTORY OF MAMMALIA.

By Adam White.
VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. By
Mary Roberts.
The publications of Messrs. Reeve and Benham
are, in their peculiar style, unequalled. Again and
again have we had occasion to commend the excellent
and very attractive manner in which works of science
or natural history are issued from their establishment.
The two works above mentioned are inferior to none
of their predecessors in external advantages. Two
thick square volumes, handsomely bound, beau-
tifully printed, and embellished with from
ten to twenty brilliantly-coloured lithographs.
The history of Mammalia is by Mr. Adam White, of
the zoological department of the British Museum.
It comprises a familiar account of the classification
and habits of the most numerous and important divi-
sion of the animal kingdom. For the young espe-
cially this volume, with its brilliant pictures and in•
teresting anecdotes, will be an invaluable acquisition.
" Voices from the Woodlands," similar in
character is totally dissimilar in style. By
a graceful kind of :poetic licence, the
authoress has literally put " tongues in trees."
The dwellers of the woodlands, from the stately oak
to the modest lichen, have here found a voice, and,
in simple but most attractive language, have indivi-
dually recorded their natural peculiarities and their
family associations. In this sultry season it is quite
refreshing to turn over the pages of this volume, em-
bellished as it is with a pictorial abundance of verdant
foliage.

MAGAZINES, &c.—(CONTINUED.)

BENTLEY.

The "Ladder of Gold" is the chef d'oruvre of
Robert Boll; whether we regard it as a novel of
manners or as a novel of character it is equally
great; the manners of this our day are portrayed
with a Watteau-like taste and fidelity, while the cha-
racters are accurate studies of human nature. In
the present instalment the sacrifice is completed ;
the stern, cold-hearted Rawlings has forced Margaret
to become the wife of Lord Charles Eton. He hiss
now ascended the ladder of gold, and the perilous
descent, we imagine, is about to commence ; the
railway panic looms gloomily in the distance ; we
are at the beginning of the end. Mr. Bell, as usual,
embraces every opportunity of inculcating the neces-
sity for practising that virtue which is the very
foundation of Christianity itself—charity. At the
commencement of Chapter VI. he says—
" People who show an eagerness to condemn the con-
duct of others in situations in which they were never
placed themselves, are apt to lay the flattering unction to
their souls that they would have acted differently in
similar circumstances. We are all wise and judicious
and self-possessed after the event. And very virtuous
are we who aro out of the reach of temptation, and un-
scathed by the sore trials of the world. This is the
virtue which looks out from its draperies and carpets
upon the bleak wintry landscape, and hugs itself upon
its honest comforts; the virtue of the coward who,
secure from danger, boasts of his courage; of the shrew
who, after an unlovely and unsolicited youth, casts her
scorn upon the blight of poor beset and suffering beauty;
of the rich man, to whom Rant is an allegory, and who,
when he denounces the famishing wretch that has stolen
a loaf, is ertite confident that he would rather star% e
than do such a thing himself. Alas! for all our self-
reliance, none of us know what we should do till we are
tried. If our virtues were to be measured by the loud-
ness of our protests against the vices, what an angelic
world it would be! But virtue is not the negation of
evil, it is the practice of good; and the most practical,
and saving, and sweetest of all the virtues is charity!"
The author of " Reminiscences of a Gaol Chaplain"

gives us an interesting account of a visit to Bishops-
thorpe during the reign of the courtly but kind-
hearted Archbishop Harcourt, and an equally amus-
ing sketch of high doings in society, of an altogether
opposite complexion, is an account of a " Dignity Ball
at the Seychelles.. " The " Inedited Letters of Cele-
brated Persons" this month consist of the first instal-
ment of Mrs. Piozzi's correspondence with Lysons
immediately after her marriage, during her tour on
the continent. These letters represent both Mr. and
Mrs. Piozzi in a most amiable light, while the be-
haviour of Johnson appears to have been not only
overbearing and tyrannical, but intensely selfish. An
article on La Tempesta does full justice to "an
opera which combines a wider field of artistic combi-
nation than has ever before been embraced in a single
production." After going into a detailed criticism of
the opera, in which honour due is paid to the " elo
quent pantomime," the " graceful and expressive
action, and the " floating steps" of Carlotta Grisi as
Ariel, to the Calibsn of Lablache, " the supreme
monster of all earth's dire chimeras," who " when he
gets drunk among the sailors" feels his " humanity
dilating in its passions under the influence of that
fierce excitement, and rises to the climax of his
savagery,
.beyond which it is impossible to conceive
any impersonation more grand and perfect," to the
liquid, clear, and fluent melody, and felicitously per-
fect singing of Madame Sontag as Miranda, and to
the spirit and gusto of Mademoiselle Parodi as Ste-
phano, the writer thus concludes :
" To the enterprise and liberality of Mr. Lumley we
E.re indebted for a lyrical drama which marks an im-
porNnt era in the history of the Italian Opera in this
country. Instead of exclusively relying upon the
repertoires of the Continent, we have here ( riginatt d a
great production upon our own stage ; and it will be a
lasting reproach to the amateurs and patrons of high art
in England it' our spirited entrepreneur be not cheered
onward in the arduous couree he has so auspiciously
commenced, and encouraged to persevere in the same
ambitious direction."
There are two illustrations to the present number of
Bentley, the first is to "The Ladder of Gold," the
second is a portrait of the Duke of Wellington by
Allred Crowquill.

DAVID COPPERFIELD.—Nos XIV. and
XV. By Charles Dickens.
Within these two latest instalments of the auto-
biography of " David Copperfield," the narrative has
become surprisingly developed. David has not only
obtained the sanction of the Misses Spenlow to his
suit, but through the instrumentality of Traddies has
greatly propitiated the favour of those ladies in his
behalf. It is true that much difficulty has been ex-
perienced by Deady is the main of them arr4Dge-

ments, in consequence of Traddles's hair standing so
much in the way. Those who may find any diffi-
culty in comprehending how this can possibly be the
case, we refer to the original history of our hero's
dilemma, where,it will be,found that, besides imparting
surprised and rather " hearth.broomy" expression to
the countenance of Mr. Thomas Traddles, of the
Inner Temple, the locks of Mr. Thomas Traddles have
materially interfered with his own personal fortunes.
Not, however, to pause unnecessarily upon mere
details, we may observe briefly but significantly,
before coming to the consideration of the July num-
ber, that David and Dora are happily united in wed-
lock, in the presence of Mr. Dick, and Aunt Betsy,
and Peggotty, and Traddles, and Agnes, and the
dearest girl in the world—one of seven. The com-
mencement of the number just p'iblished recounts the
progress of " Our Housekeeping"—especially detail-
ing the miseries experienced in regard to servants.
Parragon is chiefly remarkable for having as " fol-
lower" a "cousin in the Life Guards, with such long
legs that he looked like the afternoon shadow of
somebody else!" Another handmaid deserves par-
ticular commemoration, for inasmuch as though " one
of the most amiable of women," she " generally made
a point of falling either up or down the kitchen stairs
with the tray, and almost always p!unged into
the parlour as into a bath with the tea-things." The
quarrel between the bride and bridegroom almost im-
mediately after the honeymoon is beautifully told,
and yet more beautiful in its naturalness is the
reconciliation. Aunt Betsy living next door to them
is all gentleness in her behaviour to Little Blossom.
As instances of Dora's economy in her mode of
housekeeping, the incidents regarding the purchase of
a salmon and oysters are humorously illustrative.
We have a suspicion that little Dora will die prema-
turely, the mere expression of the "child-wife" being
a sort of confirmation of this melancholy conjecture.
The manner in which Mr. Dick " fulfils my aunt's
prediction" in reconciling Dr. and Mrs. Strong with
each other is told with extraordinary power,
the broadest humour and the most touching
pathos being blent together in the descrip-
tion. We know not whether to laugh most
at the stupidity of the Old Soldier, or at the interjec-
tional sarcasms of Aunt Betsy, or at Mr. Dick being
fortunately prevented, "by a hug and a sounding kiss
from the latter, from standing on one leg as an appro-
priate expression of delight." The eloquent appeal of
Annie and the silent response of the dear old Doctor
are alike touching and beautiful. The last chapter in
the July instalment, headed "Intelligence," affords
us some information of poor Em'ly, and of Steerforth,
through the revelations made one evening at High-
gate to David Copperfield, indirectly by Rosa Dartle.
and directly by Littimer. It is not less, we believe,
from the probability of a double marriage, than from
the circumstance of David Copperfield beginning life
as a abort-hand reporter, and rising afterwards into
celebrity as a novelist, that the rumour has sprung into
existence that this work—the most noble and exquisite
of all the effusions of his genius—is the revelation by
Charles Dickens of his own personal experiences ; and
that altogether in its character it is more of an actual
than of a fictitious autobiography.