Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

names of our time of shunning, like a pes-out the hope of reaching one of those comtilence, the hordes of vanity-struck individ- fortable stations, hope would be extinguishuals who would tear the coats off their ed, talent lie fallow, energy be limited to backs, in desperate adherence to the skirts. Thou, too, O Vanity! art responsible for greater evils:-Time misspent, industry misdirected, labor unrequited, because uselessly or imprudently applied: poverty and isolation, families left unprovided for, pensions, solicitations, patrons, meannesses, subcriptions!

True talent, on the contrary, in London, meets its reward, if it lives to be rewarded; but it has, of its own right, no social preeminence, nor is it set above or below any of the other aristocracies, in what we may take the liberty of calling its private life. In this, as in all other our aristocracies, men are regarded not as of their set, but as of themselves: they are individually admired, not worshipped as a congregation: their social influence is not aggregated, though their public influence may be. When a man, of whatever class, leaves his closet, he is expected to meet society upon equal terms: the scholar, the man of rank, the politician, the millionaire, must merge in the gentleman: if he chooses to individualize his aristocracy in his own person, he must do so at home, for it will not be understood or submitted to any where else.

the mere attainment of subsistence; great things would not be done, or attempted, and we would behold only a dreary level of indiscriminate mediocrity. If this be true of professions, in which, after a season of severe study, a term of probation, the knowledge acquired in early life sustains the professor, with added experience of every day, throughout the rest of his career, with how much more force will it apply to professions or pursuits, in which the mind is perpetually on the rack to produce novelties, and in which it is considered derogatory to a man to reproduce his own ideas, copy his own pictures, or multiply, after the same model, a variety of characters and figures!

A few years of hard reading, constant attention in the chambers of the conveyancer, the equity draftsman, the pleader, and a few years more of that disinterested observance of the practice of the courts, which is liberally afforded to every young barrister, and indeed which many enjoy throughout life, and he is competent, with moderate talent, to protect the interests of his client, and with moderate mental labor to make a respectable figure in his profession. In like manner, four or five years sedulous attendance on lectures, dissections, and practice of the hospitals, enables your physician to see how little remedial power exists in his boasted art; knowing this, he feels pulses, and orders a recognized routine of draughts and pills with the formality which makes the great secret of his profession. When the patient dies, nature, of course, bears the blame; and when nature, happily uninterfered with, recovers his patient, the doctor stands on tiptoe. Henceforward his success is determined by other than medical sciences: a pill-box and pair, a good house in some recognized locality, Sunday dinners, a bit of a book, grand power of head-shaking, shouldershrugging, bamboozling weak-minded men and women, and, if possible, a religious connexion.

The rewards of intellectual labor applied to purposes of remote, or not immediately appreciable usefulness, as in social literature, and the loftier branches of the fine arts, are, with us, so few, as hardly to be worth mentioning, and pity'tis that it should be so. The law, the church, the army, and the faculty of physic, have not only their fair and legitimate remuneration for independent labor, but they have their several prizes, to which all who excel, may confidently look forward when the time of weariness and exhaustion shall come; when the pressure of years shall slacken exertion, and diminished vigor crave some haven of repose, or, at least, some mitigated toil, with greater security of income: some place of honor with repose-the ambition of declining years. The influence of the great prize of the law, the church, and For the clergyman, it is only necessary other professions in this country, has often that he should be orthodox, humble, and been insisted upon with great reason: it pious: that he should on no occasion, right has been said, and truly said, that not only or wrong, set himself in opposition to his do these prizes reward merit already passed ecclesiastical superiors; that he should through its probationary stages, but serve preach unpretending sermons; that he as inducements to all who are pursuing the should never make jokes, nor understand same career. It is not so much the exam- the jokes of another: this is all that he ple of the prize-holder, as the prize, that wants to get on respectably. If he is amstimulates men onward and upward: with-bitious, and wishes one of the great prizes,

he must have been a free-thinking reviewer, retired to die) at Kingston-upon-Thames. have written pamphlets, or made a fuss It is our melancholy duty to inform our about the Greek particle, or, what will readers that this highly gifted and amiable avail him more than all, have been tutor to man, who for so many years delighted and a minister of state. improved the town, and who was a most strenuous supporter of the (Radical or Conservative) cause, (it is necessary to set forth this miserable statement to awaken the gratitude of faction towards the family of the dead,) has left a rising family totally unprovided for. We are satisfied that it is only necessary to allude to this distressing circumstance, in order to enlist the sympathies, &c. &c., (in short, to get up a subscription)."

We confess we are at a loss to understand why the above advertisement should be kept stereotyped, to be inserted with only the interpolation of name and date, when any man dies who has devoted himself to pursuits of a purely intellectual character. Nor are we unable to discover in the melancholy, and, as it would seem, unavoidable fates of such men, substantial grounds of that diversion of the aristocracy of talent to the pursuit of professional distinction, accompanied by profit, of which our literature, art, and science are now suffering, and will continue to suffer, the consequences.

Thus you perceive, for men whose education is intellectual, but whose practice is more or less mechanical, you have many great, intermediate, and little prizes in the lottery of life; but where, on the contrary, are the prizes for the historian, transmitting to posterity the events, and men, and times long since past; where the prize of the analyst of mind, of the dramatic, the epic, or the lyric poet, the essayist, and all whose works are likely to become the classics of future times; where the prize of the public journalist, who points the direction of public opinion, and, himself without place, station, or even name, teaches Governments their duty, and prevents Ministers of State becoming, by hardihood or ignorance, intolerable evils; where the prize of the great artist, who has not employed himself making faces for hire, but who has worked in loneliness and isolation, living, like Barry, upon raw apples and cold water, that he might bequeath to his country some memorial worthy the age in which he lived, and the art for which he lived? For these men, and such as these, are no prizes in the lottery of life; a grateful country sets apart for them no places where they can retire in the full enjoyment of their fame; condemned to labor for their bread, not in a dull mechanical routine of professional, official, or business-like duties, but in the most severe, most wearing of all labor, the labor of the brain, they end where they be-ulus of fame will be inadequate to maingun. With struggling they begin life, with struggling they make their way in life, with struggling they end life; poverty drives away friends, and reputation multiplies enemies. The man whose thoughts will become the thoughts of our children, whose minds will be reflected in the mirror of his mind, who will store in their memories his household words, and carry his lessons in their hearts, dies not unwillingly, for he has nothing in life to look forward to; closes with indifference his eyes on a prospect where no gieam of hope sheds its sunlight on the broken spirit; he dies, is borne by a few humble friends to a lowly sepulchre, and the newspapers of some days after give us the following paragraph:

"We regret to be obliged to state that Dr-, or Esq. (as the case may be) died, on Saturday last, at his lodgings two pair back in Back Place, Pimlico, (or) at his cottage (a miserable cabin where he

In a highly artificial state of society, where a command, not merely of the essentials, but of some of the superfluities of life are requisite as passports to society, no man will willingly devote himself to pursuits which will render him an outlaw, and his family dependent on the tardy gratitude of an indifferent world. The stim

tain the energies even of great minds, in a contest of which the victories are wreaths. of barren bays. Nor will any man willingly consume the morning of his days in amassing intellectual treasures for posterity, when his contemporaries behold him dimming with unavailing tears his twilight of existence, and dying with the worse than deadly pang, the consciousness that those who are nearest and dearest to his heart must eat the bread of charity. Nor is it quite clear to our apprehension, that the prevalent system of providing for merely intellectual men, by a State annuity or pension, is the best that can be devised: it is hard that the pensioned aristocracy of talent should be exposed to the taunt of receiving the means of their subsistence from this or that minister, upon suppositions of this or that ministerial assistance which, whether true or false, cannot fail to derogate from that independent dignity

of mind which is never extinguished in the| breast of the true aristocrat of talent, save by unavailing struggles, long-continued, with the unkindness of fortune.

We wish the aristocracy of power to think over this, and so very heartily bid them farewell.

THE LOST LAMB.

BY DELTA.

From Biackwood's Magazine.

A SHEPHERD laid upon his bed,
With many a sigh, his aching head,
For him-his favorite boy-on whom
Had fallen death, a sudden doom.
"But yesterday," with sobs he cried,
"Thou wert, with sweet looks at my side,
Life's loveliest blossom, and to-day,
Woes me! thou !iest a thing of clay!
It cannot be that thou art gone;
It cannot be, that now, alone,
A gray-hair'd man on earth am I,
Whilst thou within its bosom lie?
Methinks I see thee smiling there,
With beaming eyes, and sunny hair,
As thou wert wont, when fondling me,
To clasp my neck from off my knee!
Was it thy voice? Again, oh speak,
My boy, or else my heart will break!"

Each adding to that father's woes,
A thousand bygone scenes arose;
At home-a-field-each with its joy,
Each with its smile-and all his boy!
Now swell'd his proud rebellious breast,
With darkness and with doubt opprest;
Now sank despondent, while amain
Unnerving tears fell down like rain :
Air-air-he breathed, yet wanted breath-
It was not life-it was not death-
But the drear agony between,
Where all is heard, and felt, and seen-
The wheels of action set ajar;
The body with the soul at war.
'Twas vain, 'twas vain; he could not find
A haven for his shipwreck'd mind;
Sleep shunn'd his pillow. Forth he went-
The moon from midnight's azure tent
Shone down, and, with serenest light,
Flooded the windless plains of night;
The lake in its clear mirror show'd
Each little star that twinkling glow'd;
Aspens, that quiver with a breath,
Were stirless in that hush of death;
The birds were nestled in their bowers;
The dew-drops glitter'd on the flowers;
Almost it seem'd as pitying Heaven
A while its sinless calm had given
To lower regions, lest despair
Should make abode for ever there;
So tranquil-so serene-so bright-
Brooded o'er earth the wings of night.

O'ershadow'd by its ancient yew, His sheep-cot met the shepherd's view; And, placid, in that calm profound, His silent flocks lay slumbering round; With flowing mantle, by his side, Sudden, a stranger he espied, Bland was his visage, and his voice Soften'd the heart, yet bade rejoice.—

"Why is thy mourning thus ?" he said,
"Why thus doth sorrow bow thy head?
Why faltereth thus thy faith, that so
Abroad despairing thou dost go?
As if the God who gave thee breath,
Held not the keys of life and death!
When from the flocks that feed about,
A single lamb thou choosest out,
Is it not that which seemeth best
That thou dost take, yet leave the rest?
Yes! such thy wont; and even so,
With his choice little ones below

Doth the Good Shepherd deal; he breaks
Their earthly bands, and homeward takes,
Early, ere sin hath render'd dim
The image of the seraphim!"

Heart-struck, the shepherd home return'd; Again within his bosom burn'd

The light of faith; and, from that day,
He trode serene life's onward way.

A NUT FOR "GRAND DUKES." From Blackwood's Magazine.

GOD help me but I have always looked upon a "grand duke" pretty much in the same light that I have regarded the "Great Lama," that is to say, a very singular and curious object of worship in its native country. How any thing totally destitute of sovereign attributes could ever be an idol, either for religious or political adoration, is somewhat singular, and after much pains and reflections on the subject I came to the opinion that German princes were valued by their subjects pretty much on the principle the Indians select their idols, and know ing men admire thorough-bred Scotch terriers-viz, not their beauty.

Pic

Of all the cant this most canting age abounds in, nothing is more repulsive and disgusting than the absurd laudation which travellers pour forth concerning these people, by the very ludicrous blunders of comparing a foreign aristocracy with our own. Now what is a German grand duke? ture to yourself a very corpulent, moustached, and befrogged individual, who has a territory about the size of the Phoenix Park, and a city as big and as flourishing as the Blackrock; the expenses of his civil list are defrayed by a chalybeate spring, and the budget of his army by the license of a gambling-house, and then read the following passage from "Howitt's Life in Germany," which, with that admirable appreciation of excellence so eminently their characteristic, the newspapers have been copying this week past

"You may sometimes see a grand duke come into a country inn, call for his glass

Le

THE NEWSPAPER PRESS OF FRANCE.
From the Foreign Quarterly Review.

Courier Français: La Presse: Le National, 1842.

La Siècle: Le Constitutionel: Le Journal

des Débats.

1842.

of ale, drink it, pay for it, and go away as unceremoniously as yourself. The consequence of this easy familiarity is, that princes are everywhere popular, and the daily occurrence of their presence amongst the people, prevents that absurd crush and stare at them, which prevails in more luxurious and exclusive countries." THE literature of the American NewspaThat princes do go into country inns,per is not more distinguishable from that of call for ale, and drink it, I firmly believe; a the French, than darkness is from light. circumstance, however, which I put the But as we have shown, in the case of less value upon, inasmuch as the inn is America, a most unjust and scandalous inpretty much like the prince's own house, fluence created, without character and withthe ale very like what he has at home, and out talent; we believe it will be instructive the innkeeper as near as possible in breed-to show, in the case of France, that without ing, manner, and appearance, his equal. something more than the highest order of That he pays for the drink, which our talent, even aided by the best repute, a author takes pains to mention, excites all just and creditable influence cannot be remy admiration; but I confess I have no tained. words to express my pleasure on reading that "he goes away again," and, as Mr. Howitt has it, "as unceremoniously as yourself," neither stopping to crack the landlord's crown, smash the pewter, break the till, nor even put a star in the lookingglass over the fire-place, a condescension on his part which leads to the fact, that 'princes are every where popular."

It will startle many to be told that the Newspapers of France have in a great measure lost their celebrated hold of the opinions of the French People. But every attentive observer knows the fact, whatever the cause may be ; and could accurately tell you the when, if not the why, of this visible decline of power. As in these cases it often happens, Journalism was at the height of its greatest triumph in Paris, when the disease which struck down its strength appeared. While a journalist was yet prime minister of France, its influence began to give way; though not till another journalist had received sentence and imprisonment as a felon, was its degradation openly proclaimed. We are not, as we shall prove, using language too strong for the occasion.

Now considering that Mr. Howitt is a Quaker, it is somewhat remarkable the high estimate he entertains of this "grand ducal" forbearance. What he expected his highness to have done when he had finished his drink, I am as much at a loss to conjecture, as what trait we are called upon to admire in the entire circumstance; when the German prince went into the inn, and knocking three times with a copper Some time in the early part of last year, kreutzer on the counter, called for his the electors of Corbeil were invited to hear choppin of beer, he was exactly acting up the addresses of two candidates for the to the ordinary habits of his station, as honor of their representation. We can when the Duke of Northumberland, on his easily satisfy ourselves by a simple aritharriving with four carriages at the "Clar-metical calculation, that if thirty-four milendon," occupied a complete suite of apart-lions of Frenchmen give but a hundred and ments, and partook of a most sumptuous fifty thousand electors, the meeting held at dinner. Neither more nor less. His Grace the village of Corbeil could have contained of Alnwick might as well be lauded for his but a fraction of electoral freedom. ducal urbanity as the German prince for public meetings are not tolerated in France, his, each was fulfilling his destiny in his an approach to one, although confined to the own way, and there is not any thing a few, who, notwithstanding the infinite diwhit more worthy of admiration in the one vision of property into which the country case, than in the other. is parcelled, are yet able to pay two hundred But three hundred pounds per annum, francs or eight pounds sterling direct taxaeven in a cheap country, afford few lux-tion, is worthy of an encouraging attention. uries; and if the Germans are indifferent to cholic, there might be, after all, something praiseworthy in the beer-drinking, and here I leave it.

As

Perhaps the locality itself may help us to an analogy. Corbeil, about twenty miles distance from Paris, possesses the rare honor of being approached from the capital by a railway, at that time certainly the longest in the kingdom. Now the meeting of which we speak bore about the same proportion

in privileges and immunities to our own Mehemet Ali over the Pachalic of Egypt, tumultuous yet orderly assemblages, which, would be regarded by France as a Casus noisy as the waves, are yet as obedient to Belli. Many of M. Thiers's partisans conhigh laws and influences, as does the twenty sidered this note, after the stimulus which miles' Paris and Corbeil railway, to the im- had been given to popular feeling by the mense network of iron which overspreads watchword that 'France had been insulted,' England. Yet as to that short and solitary a very diluted specimen of diplomatic spirit; railway (for its fancy rivals for holiday cus- and the suspicion was so generally spread tom to Versailles are hardly worth speaking that M. Thiers had been acting only meloof) gives promise of rising enterprise, so dramatic anger from various motives, to the rare meeting at its terminus seemed full some of which we shall not even allude, that of hope, of growing liberty. The occasion his dismissal caused comparatively very was a more than usually important one. little sensation. This note of the 8th of The Thiers Ministry had just fallen. Their May, whose effect upon public feeling we successors, opposed by nearly the whole have just glanced at, was the document of press, were anxious to receive the sanction all others which M. Faucher felt bound to of popular opinion. A vacancy in a me-adopt and justify. His manner of doing so tropolitan district was an excellent oppor- deserves attention, inasmuch as upon that tunity of ministers to test the favor of the point turns much of the remark we shall country, while the ex-administration were have to offer upon Journalism in Paris. anturally eager to win for themselves that crown of approbation which still remained wanting to the security and glory of their successors. With all respect for the government candidate, we shall pass his name over, and introduce at once to our readers M. Leon Faucher, editor of the Courier Français.'

M. Faucher, then announced to his astonished hearers that He, not a cabinet minister, not a member of the government, not holding a seat in the chamber, but simply Editor of the 'Courier Français,' and as Editor, did assist at the drawing up of that very note of the 8th of May, declaring under certain conjunctures, WAR. And what M. Faucher was upon this occasion plac-a War! One in which, as M. Thiers himed in one of those peculiar situations, where the stake to be played for is so high, that he who is ambitious of winning puts his whole fortune on the cast. Not only did he risk the character of M. Thiers and his party, whom he represented, but, what was more important still, the credit and character of Journalism were to stand or fall by his election. Whether, then, from personal vanity, or the legitimate object of presenting to the electors the strongest point in his own favor, the editor of the 'Courier' certainly tore away with a bold if not a rude hand, the veil which had hung over the connexion between the Press and the Thiers ministry.

self subsequently declared, the blood of ten generations would be shed!' The charge against the note was, that it was prepared in so cautious a form, and contained so much qualification, as to neutralize its own menace. M. Faucher labored to show, therefore, that it was in truth and substance that which it professed to be: a declaration of War in certain given circumstances, which circumstances, he contended, were likely to have arisen, and only did not arise, because of that very menace made with his own sanction: and that in fact, Mehemet Ali owned to M. Thiers, and himself, M. Faucher, that he was not driven out of Egypt as he had been out of Syria. We do It is known to every body who takes the not stop to contest M. Faucher's reasoning, slightest interest in the politics of the day, or to dispute his facts: our object is to that M. Thiers resigned because the king, show, from evidence furnished by the editor upon the eve of the opening of the chambers, of a leading journal, the position occupied refused to admit a passage in the speech, by Journalism in France even up to the peproposed to be spoken from the throne, riod of M. Thiers's resignation. When M. which he regarded as tantamount to a declar- Faucher told the electors of Corbeil that he ation of war against the Four Great Pow-sanctioned the note of M. Thiers, he did so ers, who, in conjunction with the Porte, had upon the assumption of his own unquestionsigned the treaty of July for the settlement of the Eastern Question. Previously to this, and while M. Thiers enjoyed the full exercise of ministerial power, he had drawn up the celebrated note of the 8th of May, addressed to Lord Palmerston, and declaring that an interference with the hereditary rights of

able popularity. He dropped the office of advocate or apologist for Thiers. He threw the guarantee of his own character between public suspicion and the ex-minister, not doubting for a moment, that in the presence of the people he stood the higher. He almost dared them to doubt the word of one

« AnteriorContinuar »