benevolent and gifted, but inconsistent and vacillating subject, is discussed:–_Cromwell_, which gives a completer, more authentic, and less prejudiced account of the eventful life of the great Puritan leader than is to be found in any other publication known to us:–_Crusades_, a complete picture in little of those great fitful blazes of religious enthusiasm by which it flickered into its final extinction; (for, afterward, only a semblance of it was made a stalking-horse by politicians;) and this article is quite a model of epitome:–_Cuneiform Inscriptions_, in which the writer has presented concisely and clearly the fruits of a careful examination of all the many theories that have been broached with regard to these important and puzzling records of the ancient world, without revealing a preference, if he have one, for any; a wise course, where, in a case of such consequence, the views of learned men are so conflicting, but one not always easily followed:–_Damascus Blades_, a very interesting, and, for general purposes, a very full description of the peculiarities of those famous, and, it appears, not too much lauded weapons:–_Deaf and Dumb_, a very copious article of eleven pages, rich in historical and biographical detail, and giving full accounts of the various methods of instruction adopted for this class of persons in all times and countries, with a large body of statistical information upon the subject; an article of great interest, but perhaps undue length:–_Death_, which conveys much information on a subject as to which the grossest and most deplorable misconceptions prevail; an article equally remarkable for its careful and minute presentation of the phenomena of death and for the placid and philosophical spirit in which it is written:–_Deluge_, in which, with the ingenuity before shown in the treatment of similar subjects, the various accounts of that event, and the facts and theories relating to it, are laid before the reader in a manner to which no one, of whatever creed, can object, and a new and very ingenious and rational mode of accounting for the phenomenon in question is proposed;–_Dog_, the fulness of which makes it acceptable to the lover of natural history, the sporting man, and the general reader:–and the last article, _Education_, one of great value, which describes the systems of instruction pursued in all ages and countries, and which, without entering upon the support of any one of them, presents to the reader such an impartial and detailed summary of the distinguishing features of them all, that he can form an intelligent opinion upon them for himself.
The volume is so meritorious, that we have not looked for faults; but, as we turned the leaves, we noticed a few such as the following:–that the river Dove, in England, should be mentioned as “noted for its picturesque scenery,” and yet its association with Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton, its chief glory, be passed unnoticed; and that Discord should be defined as, “_in music_, a combination of sounds inharmonious and unpleasing to the ear”; whereas, although, out of music, discord means a sound inharmonious and displeasing to the ear, in music discord is the golden bond of harmony, the life and soul of expression, that for which the ear yearns with a yearning that is inexpressible, and enjoys with poignancy of pleasure. We asked, too, if Thomas Dowse should be honored with a page and a half, in which his fall from a tree, his rheumatic fever, and the head winds which prevented him from visiting Europe are chronicled,–while the eminent French painter, Couture, whose use of the pallet is marked by such striking originality, that it has produced an impression upon the works of a generation of painters, has twelve lines! And we can hardly be accused of hypercriticism, in directing the attention of the editors to a sentence like the following, in the article _Diptera_, p. 498, 2d col.:–“Though _this order_ contains the bloodthirsty mosquito, the disgusting flesh-fly, and many insects depositing their eggs in the bodies of living animals, _it_ is a most useful one, supplying food to insectivorous birds, and _themselves_ [who? what?] consuming decomposing animal and vegetable substances,” etc. But these are instances of oversight in not very important matters, or of inaccuracy of expression, or of difference of judgment between the editors and ourselves as to plan, which even in our judgment do not affect the value of the work in which they occur. Graver errors could be found in almost every work of great scope that ever came from the press. We indicate them that we may afford some help toward a nearer approximation to that perfection which is unattainable.
_Tom Brown at Oxford: a Sequel to School-Days at Rugby._ By THOMAS HUGHES, etc. Part I. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1859.
Many men write successful books; but very few have the power of making a book succeed by naturalness, simplicity, and quiet strength, as Mr. Hughes found the secret of doing in his “School-Days at Rugby.” It is so easy to be eloquent,–scarce a modern French novelist but has the gift of it by the ream; so easy to be philosophical,–one has only to begin a few substantives with capitals; and withal it is so hard to be genial and agreeable. Since Goldsmith’s day, perhaps only Irving and Thackeray had achieved it, till Mr. Hughes made himself the third. It is no easy thing to write a book that shall seem so easy,–to describe your school-days with such instinctive rejection of the unessential, that whoever has been a boy feels as if he were reading the history of his own, and that your volume shall be no more exotic in America than in England. Yet this Mr. Hughes accomplished; and it was in a great measure due to the fact, that beneath the charm of style the reader felt a real basis of manliness and sincerity.
His second book, “The Scouring of the White Horse,” was less successful,–in part from the narrower range of its interest, and still more, perhaps, because it lacked the spontaneousness of the “School-Days.” In his first book there was no suggestion of authorship; it seemed an inadvertence, something which came of itself;–but the second was _made_, and the kind fairy that stood godmother to its elder brother had been sent for and accordingly would not come.
In this first number of his new story Mr. Hughes seems to have found his good genius again, or his good genius to have found him. We meet our old friend Tom Brown once more, and commit ourselves trustingly to the same easy current of narrative and incident which was so delightful in the story of his Rugby adventures. We have no doubt the book will be instructive as well as entertaining; for we believe the author has had some practical experience as teacher in “The Working-Men’s College,”–an excellent institution, in which instruction is given to the poor after work-hours, and which, beside Mr. Hughes, has had another man of genius, Mr. Ruskin, among its unpaid professors. The work is to be published simultaneously in this country and in England.
_Avolio; a Legend of the Inland of Cos, with other Poems, Lyrical, Miscellaneous, and Dramatic._ By PAUL H. HAYNE. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1859. pp. 244.
There is a great deal of real poetic feeling and expression in this volume, and, we think, the hope of better things to come. The author has not yet learned, and we could not expect it, that writers of verse tell us all they can think of, and writers of poetry only what they cannot help telling. The volume would have gained in quality by losing in quantity, but to give too much is the mistake of all young writers, and it is, perhaps, only by making it once for themselves that they can learn to sift. It is so hard at first, when all the sand seems golden! Of old the Muses were three, each of whom must reject something from the poem, but when verse-writing became easier and more traditional, their number was raised to nine, that they might be the harder to please. And what a difficult jury they are! and how long they stay out over their verdict!
But, after all, it seems to us that Mr. Hayne has the root of the matter in him; and we shall look to meet him again, bringing a thinner, yet a fuller book. The present volume shows thoughtfulness, culture, sensibility to natural beauty, and great refinement of feeling. We like the first poem, which is also the longest, best of all. The subject is an imaginative one,–and the choice of a subject is one great test of genuine aptitude and ability. In this poem, and in some of the sonnets, (which are good both in matter and construction,) Mr. Hayne shows a genuine vigor of expression and maturity of purpose. There is a tone of sadness in the volume, as if the author were surrounded by an atmosphere uncongenial to letters. The reader cannot fail to be struck with this, and also with the oddity of two or three political sonnets, in which Mr. Hayne calls on his fellow-citizens to rally for the defence of slavery in the name of freedom. The book is dedicated, in a very graceful and cordial sonnet, to Mr. E.P. Whipple; and it is seldom that South Carolina sends so pleasant a message to Massachusetts. Mr. Hayne need only persevere in self-culture to be able to produce poems that shall win for him a national reputation.
_Fairy Dreams; or Wanderings in Elfland._ By JANE G. AUSTIN. With Illustrations by Hammatt Billings. Boston: J.E. Tilton & Co. 1859.
This is a pretty book for children, written with no little feeling and fancy, and in a graceful style. The chimney-corner has been abolished by the economical furnace-register, and Santa Claus, if he come at all, must do it like an imp of the pit. The volumes for children to pore over, as they bake by the stove, or stew over the black hole in the floor, have also suffered an economic and practical change. No more fires, no more pretty fancies, seems to have been the doom. Parents who think, as we do, that children inhale practicality with our American atmosphere, and that a little encouragement of the imaginative side of their nature is not amiss, will be glad to drop Mrs. Austin’s book into the proper stocking. The stories are well told; that, especially, of the Gray Cat is full of fanciful invention. The book is very prettily manufactured also, though we think publishers are carrying their fondness for tinted paper too far. Salmon-color is too much; the deepest tint allowable is that of cream from a cow that has grazed among buttercups.
_Twelve Years of a Soldier’s Life in India:_ Being Extracts from the Letters of the late Major W.S.R. HODSON, B.A., Trinity College, Cambridge; First Bengal European Fusileers, Commandant of Hodson’s Horse. Including a Personal Narrative of the Siege of Delhi and Capture of the King and Princes. Edited by his Brother, the Rev. GEORGE H. HODSON, M.A., Senior Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. From the Third and Enlarged English Edition. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1860. 16mo. pp. 444.
This book should be widely read; or we might better say, this book _will be_ widely read,–so widely, indeed, that there is no need for us to repeat its story here, or to give an abstract of its contents. Hodson was a man worth knowing, and his letters show him to us as he was. The special qualities of which Englishmen are proud, as the traits of national character, belonged in an uncommon degree to him. He was eminently truthful, staunch, and brave; he had a clear eye, a strong and ready hand, cool judgment, stern decision, and a tender heart. He might have borne the old Douglas motto on his shield.
He was trained under as good teachers as a young man ever had. At Rugby, under Dr. Arnold; then, for a year or two, living among the ennobling associations of Trinity College; then at Guernsey, as a young soldier, under Sir William Napier; then in India, with James Thomason, Lieutenant-Governor of the Northwest Provinces, one of the best rulers that India ever knew, “_facile princeps_ of the whole Indian service”; and finally passing from him to serve under Sir Henry Lawrence, the noblest soldier of India, a man for whom common words of praise are insufficient,–Hodson had an unrivalled set of masters, and his life proves him to have been worthy of them.
The British rule in India is of such sort as to test the qualities of its officers to the last point. If they have anything good in them, it is sure to be brought into full action. Such responsibilities are thrown on them as at once to stimulate them to exertion of their best powers. Men who in the ordinary fields of work might remain all their lives mere commonplace mediocrities, under the discipline of Indian service, find out and show their real value. The Indian mutiny exhibited how common the rare qualities of foresight, energy, and enduring courage, and the still higher qualities of submission, patience, and faith, had become among those against whom the natives rose like a flood to overwhelm them in destruction. The little bands of English at Cawnpore, at Lucknow, and at many a less famous station, stood like rocks against the dashing of the storm. The qualities that enabled them to win the admiration even of their enemies, and to call forth the respect and the sorrow of the world, were the result, not of sudden stress, but of long and habitual training. The reader of Hodson’s memoir will gain a knowledge of the processes by which such characters are developed.
The letters which make up the larger part of this book are written with animation and simplicity, and are full of spirited accounts of adventure, of rough and various service. The narrative which they afford of the siege of Delhi is of absorbing interest. The picture of the little army of besiegers, wasted by continual disease and exposure to the heats of an Indian summer,–worn by the constant sallies and attacks of a host of enemies trained in arms,–saddened by the receipt of evil tidings from all quarters,–feeling that upon their final success rested not only the hope of the continuance of British supremacy in India, but the very lives of those dear to them,–and, worst of all, compelled to submit to a succession of incompetent generals, whose timidity and irresolution baffled the best designs of officers and the dashing bravery of the troops;–the pictures which Hodson gives of this little army, of its unflagging spirit and resolution, and its valorous deeds, are drawn with such truth as to bring the successive scenes vividly before the imagination. Hodson himself was one of the best and most useful of a noble corps of officers. His modesty does not hide the grounds of the enthusiasm which was felt for him by his men,–of the admiration that he excited among his fellows. The story of the capture of the King and Princes, after the fall of Delhi, is one of the most interesting stories of daring ever told. You hold your breath as you read it. It was a gallant deed, done in the most gallant way.
Altogether, the book is one of thoroughly manly tone and temper,–a book to make those who read it manlier, to put to shame the cowardice of easy life, to make men more honest, more enduring, more energetic, by the example which it sets before them. Hodson’s life was short, but its result will last. There was no sham about it, no meanness,–nothing but what was large, true, and generous. As one turns the last page, it is with no regret that such a man should have died in the fight, for he was a Christian soldier. He was the _preux chevalier_ of our times. The words in which Sir Ector mourns for his brother, Sir Lancelot, are fit for his epitaph. “‘Ah, Sir Lancelot,’ said hee, ‘thou were head of all christen knights! An now I dare say,’ said Sir Ector, ‘that, Sir Lancelot, there thou liest, thou were never matched of none earthly knight’s hands; and thou were the curtiest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrood horse; and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that ever strook with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among presse of knights; and thou were the meekest man and the gentlest that ever eate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortall foe that ever put speare in the rest.'”
_Friends in Council_. A Series of Readings and Discourse thereon. A New Series. 2 vols. Boston: James Munroe & Co. 1860.
The best class of readers in England and America are sure to give a cordial welcome to a new book by Mr. Helps. Nothing better need be said of this second series of “Friends in Council” than that it is a worthy sequel of the first. It is the work of a man of large experience and wide culture,–of one who is at the same time a student and a man of the world, versed in history and practically acquainted with affairs. Refined thoughtfulness and common sense combine to give value to all that Mr. Helps writes, and he is master of a style at once manly and elegant, quiet and strong. Two famous lines, which occur in a passage quoted in these volumes, serve well to characterize their merits:–
“Though deep, yet clear,–though gentle, yet not dull,– Strong without rage,–without o’erflowing, full.”
Such books have a special worth in these days of hasty writing. They admit one to the companionship of thoughtful, well-mannered gentlemen. One feels that he has been in good company, after reading them; and, whatever he may have gained of wisdom from the friends he has met in council, he is also improved in temper and in manners by their society.
The conversations which form the setting of the essays in these volumes enable Mr. Helps to present in an easy and effective way various sides of the important questions that he discusses. Completeness of statement is rarely to be obtained upon any of the deeper topics of life. If the golden side be displayed, the silver side is likely to be hidden. The same man holds various, though not irreconcilable opinions upon the same subject, according to the different lights in which he views it or the different phases it presents. The most honest man must sometimes appear inconsistent for the sake of truth; and the clearer a man’s own convictions, the wider will be his charity for those of others. Mr. Helps exhibits admirably this natural and necessary diversity of thought, existing even where there is a coincidence of principle and of aim.
The essays upon War and Despotism are, perhaps, the ablest in these volumes, and deserve to be seriously viewed in the light of passing events. They are distinguished by freedom from exaggeration and by their moderation of statement. As in so many of the productions of the best English writers at the present day, something of despondency in regard to the condition of the world is to be traced in them. And truly, to one who looks at the state of Europe and of our own country, there is more need for faith than ground of hope.
But at this Christmas season, this season of peace and good-will, let all our readers read the essay on Pleasantness. And if they will but take its teachings to heart, we can wish them, with the certainty of the fulfilment of our wish, a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
_The Marvellous Adventures and Rare Conceits of Master Tyll Owlglass._ Newly collected, etc., by KENNETH R.H. MACKENZIE. With Illustrations by Crowquill. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1860. pp. xxxix., 255.
This is a very beautiful edition of a very amusing book. The preface and notes of Mr. Mackenzie will commend it to scholars, while the stories themselves will divert both young and old. A book of this kind, which can keep life in itself for more than three hundred years, must have some real humor and force at bottom. It is as good a specimen of mediaeval fun as could anywhere be found. With nothing like the satiric humor of the “Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum,” it appeals to a much larger circle of readers. We are very glad to meet it again in so handsome a dress, and with such really clever illustrations. It is just the book for a Christmas gift.
_Reynard the Fox, after the German Version of Goethe._ By THOMAS JAMES ARNOLD, Esq. With Illustrations from the Designs of Wilhelm von Kaulbach. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 346 and 348 Broadway. 1860. pp. 226.
It is very well that Mr. Arnold should tell us on the title-page that his version is _after_ that of Goethe. Nothing could be truer,–and it is a very long way after, too. By substituting the slow and verbose pentameter of what is called the classic school of English poetry for the remarkably forth-right and simple eight-syllabic measure of the original, the translator has contrived to lose almost wholly that homely flavor of the old poet, which Goethe carefully preserved. We do not mean to say that this is altogether a bad version, as such things go; on the contrary, it has a great deal of spirit, as it could hardly fail to have, unless it belied its model altogether;–but it is as far as possible from giving any notion of the characteristic qualities of “Reinaert de Vos.” If Mr. Arnold must change the measure, Chaucer’s “Nonnes Preestes Tale” would have been a safer guide to follow.
The book, in spite of its American title-page, is wholly of English manufacture. It is a very handsome volume, and Kaulbach’s illustrations are copied with tolerable success, though with inevitable inferiority to the German originals. Kaulbach is hardly so happy an animal-painter as Grandville, but he has at least given his subjects in this case a more human expression than in his monstrous caricatures of Shakspeare.
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