Shane, you will soon move into the new cottage at Clurn Hill? I passed it to-day, and it looked so cheerful; and when you get there, you must take Ellen's advice, and depend solely on yourself.' 'Och, ma'am dear, don't mintion it; sure it's that makes me so down in the mouth this very minit. Sure I saw that born blackguard, Jack Waddy, and he comes in here quite innocent like: "Shane, you've an eye to squire's new lodge," says he. "Maybe I have," says I. "I am yer man," says he. "How so?" says I. "Sure I'm as good as married to my lady's-maid," said he; "and I'll spake to the squire for you my own self." "The blessing be about you," says I, quite grateful-and we took a strong cup on the strength of it-and, depinding on him, I thought all safe; and what d'ye think, my lady? Why, himself stalks into the place-talked the squire over, to be sure -and without so much as by yer lave, sates himself and his new wife on the laase in the house; and I may go whistle.' 'It was a great pity, Shane, that you didn't go yourself to Mr Clurn.' That's a true word for ye ma'am, dear; but it's hard if a poor man can't have a frind to depind on.' G. P. R. JAMES. MR GEORGE PAYNE RAINSFORD JAMES is one of Scott's historical imitators-perhaps the best of the numerous band, and unquestionably the most persevering. If he had not written so much-if, instead of employing an amanuensis, to whom he dictates his thick-coming fancies,' he had concentrated his George P. R. James. whole powers on a few congenial subjects or periods of history, and resorted to the manual labour of penmanship as a drag-chain on the machine, he might have attained to the highest honours of this department of composition. As it is, he has furnished many light, agreeable, and picturesque books-none of questionable tendency. Mr James's first appearance as an author was made, we believe, in 1822, when he published a History of the Life of Edward the Black Prince. In 1829, he struck into that path in which he has been so indefatigable, and produced his historical romance of Richelieu, a very attractive fiction. In 1830, he issued two romances, Darnley, or the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and De L'Orme. Next year he produced Philip Augustus; in 1832, a History of Charlemagne, and a tale, Henry Masterton; in 1833, Mary of Burgundy, or the Revolt of Ghent; in 1884, The Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall; in 1835, One in a Thousand, or the Days of Henri Quatre, and The Gipsy, a Tale; in 1837, Attila, a romance, and The Life and Times of Louis XIV.; in 1888, The Huguenot, a Tale of the French Protestants, and The Robber; in 1839, Henry of Guise, and A Gentleman of the Old School; in 1840, The King's Highway, and The Man at Arms; in 1841, Corse de Leon, Jacquerie or the Lady and Page, The Ancient Régime, and A History of the Life of Richard Cour de Lion; in 1842, Morley Ernstein; in 1843, Forest Days, Eva St Clair, The False Heir, and Arabella Stuart. Altogether, the original works of Mr James extend to one hundred and eighty-nine volumes, and he has edited about a dozen more! 'There seems,' his faculty of getting up scenes and incidents, says a lively writer, to be no limit to his ingenuity, dilemmas, artifices, contretemps, battles, skirmishes, disguises, escapes, trials, combats, adventures. He accumulates names, dresses, implements of war and peace, official retinues, and the whole paraphernalia of customs and costumes, with astounding alacrity. He appears to have exhausted every imaginable article of attire on record. What he must have situation, and to have described every available passed through-what triumphs he must have enjoyed-what exigencies he must have experienced wardrobe his brain must be! He has made some -what love he must have suffered-what a grand poetical and dramatic efforts, but this irresistible tendency to pile up circumstantial particulars is fatal to those forms of art which demand intensity of passion. In stately narratives of chivalry and feudal grandeur, precision and reiteration are desirable rather than injurious-as we would have the most perfect accuracy and finish in a picture of ceremonials; and here Mr James is supreme. One of his court romances is a book of brave sights and heraldic magnificence-it is the next thing to moving at our leisure through some superb and august procession.' The sameness of the author's style and characters is, however, too marked to be pleasing. Mr James is a native of London, born about the year 1800. He early commenced writing tales, encouraged by Mr Washington Irving, and the success of Richelieu proved an incentive to exertion. During the reign of William IV., the honorary office of historiographer of Great Britain was conferred upon him, but he afterwards relinquished it, and proceeded with his family to the United States. He was six years (from 1852 to 1858) consul at Richmond, Virginia; and at the expiration of that period, was appointed consul at Venice, which office he still holds. SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON. Among our living authors, the name of BULWER LYTTON has long been conspicuous. It is thirty years since he appeared as a novelist, and during that time there has been, as Scott said of Byron, no reposing under the shade of his laurels-no living upon the resource of past reputation: his foot was always in the arena, his shield hung always in the lists.' He is remarkable also as having sought and obtained distinction, in almost every department of literature-in poetry, the drama, the historical romance, domestic novel, philosophical essay, and political disquisition. Like Cowley, too, he is memorable as having appeared as an author, in a printed volume, in his fifteenth year. This early and indefatigable candidate for literary distinction, enjoyed advantages in the circumstances of his birth, education, and fortune. He was the youngest son of General Bulwer of Heydon Hall and Wood Dalling in the county of Norfolk. His mother, an amiable and accomplished woman, was of the ancient family of Lytton of Knebworth, in Hertfordshire; and on her death in 1843, the novelist succeeded to her estate, Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. and took the name of Lytton.* General Bulwer died in 1807, and the charge of his three sons fell to his widow, whose care and tenderness have been commemorated by the youngest and most distinguished of her children. From your graceful and accomplished taste,' says the novelist, in the dedication of his works to his mother, 'I early learned that affection for literature which has exercised so large an influence over the pursuits of my life; and you who were my first guide, were my earliest critic.' He is said to have written verses when he was only five or six years old. In June 1820, appeared his first volume, Ismael, an Oriental Tale, with other Poems, written between the Age of Thirteen and Fifteen. The boyish rhymes are, of course, merely imitative. His next public appearance was as the successful candidate for the prize poem in Cambridge University. He was then a fellow-commoner of Trinity Hall, and in 1825 he carried off the Chancellor's * His full name, like that of his brother novelist, Mr James, might serve in point of length for a Spanish hidalgo. It is Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer Lytton. His brother, Sir Henry Lytton Bulwer, is a well-known diplomatist, and author of several works-An Autumn in Greece; France, Social and Literary; The Monarchy of the Middle Classes; and a Life of Lord Byron, prefixed to a Paris edition of the poet's works. While noting these family details, we may state that in 1827 Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton was married to Rosina, daughter of Francis Wheeler, Esq. of Lizzard Connel, county of Limerick -an unhappy connection which was soon separated. The lady extravagant. The issue of this marriage was a son and daughter. The latter died in 1848: the former, Edward Robert, has already been noticed as a poet. has written several novels not deficient in talent, but wild and gold medal for the best English poem. The subject selected by Bulwer was sculpture, and his verses are above the average of prize poems. The long vacation in his college terms, was spent by our author in rambles over England and Scotland, and France. In 1826, he published a volume of miscellaneous verse, entitled Weeds and Wild Flowers, and in 1827, a poetical narrative, called O'Neil, or the Rebel. The latter was in the style of Byron's Corsair, echoing the false sentiment and morbid feeling of the noble poet, but wanting the poetic ardour, condensed energy of expression, and graceful picturesqueness which gild, if they do not redeem, the errors of Byron's style. A love of poetry, however intense, even when combined with general literary talent and devoted study of the art 'unteachable, untaught,' I will never make a poet; and of this truism, Bulwer Lytton is a striking illustration. He has returned again and again to his first love and early ambition, and at times seems to be on the brink of complete success; yet, with all his toil and repeated efforts, he has never been able to reach the summit of the sacred mount. The following is a favourable specimen of these poetic aspirations : Eternal air-and thou, my mother earth, All idly dallying with the glowing trees; In the same year, 1827, Bulwer published his first novel, Falkland, a highly coloured tale of love and passion, calculated to excite and inflame, and evidently based on admiration of the peculiar genius and seductive errors of Byron. Taking up the style of the fashionable novels-rendered popular by Theodore Hook, but then on the waneBulwer next came forward with Pelham, or the Adventures of a Gentleman, 1828. This is a novel full of brilliant and witty writing, sarcastic levity, representations of the manners of the great, piquant remark, and scenes of intrigue and passion. There was a want of skill in the construction of the story, is preparing to wed an interesting and noble-minded woman, the generous Madeline; and the scenes connected with this ill-fated passion possess a strong and tragical interest. Throughout the work are scattered some beautiful moral reflections and descriptions, imbued with poetical feeling and expression. What lover of literature, for example, does not sympathise with this passage? [Admiration of Genius.] There is a certain charm about great superiority of intellect that winds into deep affections, which a much more constant and even amiability of manners in lesser men, often fails to reach. Genius makes many enemies, but it makes sure friends-friends who forgive much, who endure long, who exact little; they partake of the character of disciples as well as friends. There lingers about the human heart a strong inclination to look upward to revere: in this inclination lies the and immortality which are rendered so cheerfully to the source of religion, of loyalty, and also of the worship great of old. And, in truth, it is a divine pleasure to admire admiration seems in some measure to appropriate to ourselves the qualities it honours in others. We wed-we root ourselves to the natures we so love to contemplate, and their life grows a part of our own. Thus, when a great man, who has engrossed our thoughts, our conjectures, our homage, dies, a gap seems suddenly left in the world-a wheel in the mechanism of our own being appears abruptly stilled; a portion of ourselves, and not our worst portion--for how many pure, high, generous sentiments it contains!-dies with him. for the tragic and satirical parts were not well adjusted, but the picture of a man of fashion-a Charles Surface of the nineteenth century-was attractive, and a second edition of Pelham was called for in a few months. Towards the close of the same year, Bulwer issued another novel, The Disowned, intended by the author to contain 'scenes of more exciting interest and vivid colouring, thoughts less superficially expressed, passions more energetically called forth, and a more sensible and pervading moral tendency.' This was aiming at a high mark, but the labour was too apparent. The scene of the novel was laid in the last century-the days of Chesterfield, George Selwyn, and Horace Walpole; but it had no peculiar character or appropriate illustration, and consequently did not attain to the popularity of Pelham. Devereux, a Novel, 1829, was a more finished performance. "The lighter portion,' said one of the critics in the Edinburgh Review, 'does not dispute the field with the deeper and more sombre, but follows gracefully by its side, relieving and heightening it. We move, indeed, among the great, but it is the great of other timesnames familiar in our mouths-Bolingbroke, Louis, Orleans; amidst manners perhaps as frivolous as those of the day, but which the gentle touch of time has already invested with an antiquarian dignity; the passions of men, the machinery of great motives and universal feelings, occupy the front; the humours, the affections, the petty badges of sects and individuals, retire into the shadows of the background: no under-current of persiflage or epicurean indifference checks the flow of that mournful enthusiasm which refreshes its pictures of life with living waters; its eloquent pages seem consecrated There was strong interest, though a want of simto the memory of love, honour, religion, and unde- plicity and nature, in Eugene Aram; but Bulwer's viating faith. In 1830 Bulwer brought out another next novel, Godolphin, published anonymously, was work of fiction, Paul Clifford, the hero being a in all respects an inferior work. About this time, romantic highwayman, familiar with the haunts he undertook the management of the New Monthly of low vice and dissipation, but afterwards trans-Magazine-which had attained a high reputation formed and elevated by the influence of love. Parts are ably written, but the general effect of the novel was undoubtedly injurious to the public taste and morals. The author seemed to be sinking into a representative of the artificial, unnatural schoolan embodiment of Moore's sentimentalist under the editorship of Campbell-and published in that work several essays and criticisms, subsequently collected and issued under the title of The Student. In 1833 appeared his England and the English, a series of observations on society, literature, the aristocracy, travelling, and other characteristics and peculiarities of the English people. Some of these are acute and clever, but many are tinged with prejudice, and a desire to appear original and sarcastic. The Pilgrims of the Rhine-a fanciful and beautifully illustrated work-was Mr Bulwer's next offering, and it was almost immediately afterwards succeeded by one of his best romances, The Last Days of Pompeii. This brilliant and interesting classic story was followed by one still more vigorous and masterly, the tale of Rienzi, the Last of the Tribunes, which is the most complete, high-toned, and energetic of all the author's romantic fictions. His tendency to minute and prolonged description is, in these works, relieved by the classic associations connected with his story, and by historical information, while the reader's He interest in the characters and incidents is seldom permitted to flag. Bulwer may now be said to have attained the acme of popularity as an imaginative writer, but he was still to appear as a master of the A fine, sallow, sublime sort of Werter-faced man, With moustaches that gave-what we read of so oftThe dear Corsair-expression, half savage, half soft. And with this sickly sentimentalism there was a great deal of prolix description. The love of satire, which had mingled largely in all Bulwer's works, took a more definite shape in 1831, in The Siamese Twins, a poem satirical of fashion, of travellers, of politicians, London notoriety, and various other things, discussed or glanced at in sportive or bitter mood, and in verses that flow easily, and occasionally express vigorous and lively thoughts. Among the miscellaneous poems that follow The Siamese Twins, is one entitled Milton, which was subsequently corrected and enlarged, and is unquestionably Bulwer's best poetical production. tried fiction again-the poetical satire having proved a comparative failure-and produced, 1831, Eugene Aram, a story of middle life, founded on the history of the English murderer of that name. The char-English domestic novel. acter of the sordid but ingenious Eugene Aram is idealised by the fancy of the novelist. He is made an enthusiastic student and amiable visionary. The humbling part of his crime was, he says, 'its low calculations, its poor defence, its paltry trickery, its mean hypocrisy: these made his chiefest penance.' Unconscious that detection was close at hand, Aram 636 Ambitious of shining in politics as in literature, our author had obtained a seat in the House of Commons. In 1831 he was returned for the borough of St Ives, and in the following year for the city of Lincoln, which he continued to represent until the year 1842. He was a supporter of extreme reform principles; and in 1835 he conferred a signal favour on his party by a political pamphlet, entitled The set teeth-with closed eyes-he moved on-he gained Crisis, which had almost unexampled success. Lord the parapet-he stood safe on the opposite side. And Melbourne, in return for this powerful support, now, straining his eyes across, he saw through the open offered Bulwer an appointment in his administration. casement into the chamber he had just quitted. Gawtrey He declined to accept office, but in 1838 the honour was still standing against the door to the principal of a baronetcy was conferred upon him. He has staircase, for that of the two was the weaker and the since greatly modified his political opinions-con- more assailed. Presently the explosion of a firearm was scientiously, there is every reason to believe-and heard; they had shot through the panel. Gawtrey in 1852 he was returned as a Conservative member seemed wounded, for he staggered forward, and uttered for Hertfordshire, the county in which his property a fierce cry; a moment more and he gained the window is situated. His few parliamentary speeches have he seized the rope-he hung over the tremendous been able and comprehensive. They shew little of depth! Morton knelt by the parapet, holding the the partisan or keen debater, but are marked by grappling-hook in its place, with convulsive grasp, and a thoughtful earnestness, and by large and liberal fixing his eyes, bloodshot with fear and suspense, on the views of our national interests and dependencies. huge bulk that clung for life to that slender cord! In politics he is still the man of letters-not a political adventurer; and in the busiest portions of his public life literature was never neglected. In 1837 appeared Bulwer's novel of Ernest Maltravers. He designed this story to illustrate what, though rare in novels, is common in human life -the affliction of the good, the triumph of the unprincipled.' The character of Maltravers is far from pleasing; and Alice Darvil is evidently a copy from Byron's Haidee. Ferrers, the villain of the tale, is also a Byronic creation; and, on the whole, the violent contrasts and gloomy delineations of this novel render it more akin to the spurious offspring of sentimental romance, than to the family of the genuine English novel. A continuation of this work was given in the following year, under the title of Alice, or the Mysteries, with no improvement as to literary power or correct moral philosophy, but still containing some fresh and exquisite descriptions, and delightful portraiture. His next work was Athens, partly historical and partly philosophical. In the same year (1838) we had Leila, or the Siege of Granada, and Calderon the Courtierlight and sketchy productions. Passing over the dramas of Bulwer, we come to Night and Morning, a novel with a clear and simple plot, and some good characters. Gawtrey, a swindler, is well drawn, and the account of his death affords a specimen of the novelist's scenic' style. Gawtrey is the chief of a gang of coiners in Paris; they are detected, and Gawtrey, with his associate Morton, is pursued to the attic in which they live. [Death of Gautrey the Coiner.] At both doors now were heard the sounds of voices. 'Open in the king's name, or expect no mercy!' 'Hist!' said Gawtrey. One way yet-the window-the rope.' Morton opened the casement-Gawtrey uncoiled the rope. The dawn was breaking; it was light in the streets, but all seemed quiet without. The doors reeled and shook beneath the pressure of the pursuers. Gawtrey flung the rope across the street to the opposite parapet; after two or three efforts, the grappling-hook caught firm hold-the perilous path was made. 'Go first,' said Morton; 'I will not leave you now; you will be longer getting across than I shall. I will keep guard till you are over.' "Hark! hark!--are you mad? You keep guard! What is your strength to mine? Twenty men shall not move that door, while my weight is against it. Quick, or you destroy us both! Besides, you will hold the rope for me, it may not be strong enough for my bulk of itself. Stay!-stay one moment. If you escape, and I fall-Fanny-my father, he will take care of her-you remember-thanks! Forgive me all ! Go; that's right!' With a firm pulse, Morton threw himself on that dreadful bridge; it swung and crackled at his weight. Shifting his grasp rapidly-holding his breath-with | "Le voilà! le voilà!' cried a voice from the opposite side. Morton raised his gaze from Gawtrey; the casement was darkened by the forms of the pursuers-they had burst into the room-an officer sprung upon the parapet, and Gawtrey, now aware of his danger, opened his eyes, and, as he moved on, glared upon the foe. arrested himself-from a wound in his side the blood The policeman deliberately raised his pistol-Gawtrey trickled slowly and darkly down, drop by drop, upon the stones below; even the officers of law shuddered as they eyed him; his hair bristling-his cheek white-his lips drawn convulsively from his teeth, and his eyes glaring from beneath the frown of agony and menace in which yet spoke the indomitable power and fierceness of the man. His look, so fixed-so intense-so stern, awed the policeman; his hand trembled as he fired, and the ball struck the parapet an inch below the spot where Morton knelt. An indistinct, wild, gurgling soundhalf laugh, half yell-of scorn and glee, broke from Gawtrey's lips. He swung himself on-near-nearnearer-a yard from the parapet. 'You are saved!' cried Morton; when at that moment a volley burst from the fatal casement-the smoke rolled over both the fugitives-a groan, or rather howl, of rage, and despair, and agony, appalled even the hardiest on whose ear it came. Morton sprung to his feet, and looked below. He saw on the rugged stones, far down, a dark, formless, motionless mass-the strong man of passion and levity-the giant who had played with life and soul, as an infant with the baubles that it prizes and breaks-was what the Cæsar and the leper alike are, when all clay is without God's breath-what glory, genius, power, and beauty, would be for ever and for ever, if there were no God! This novel of Night and Morning, was followed by Day and Night, Lights and Shadows, Glimmer and Gloom, an affected title to a picturesque and interesting story. Zanoni, 1842, is more unconnected in plot and vicious in style than the previous fictions of Bulwer, and possesses no strong or permanent interest. Eva, the Ill-omened Marriage, and other Tales and Poems, 1842, is another attempt of our author to achieve poetical honours, ever present to his imagination, but, like the flowers on the mountain cliff, Not to be come at by the willing hand. We give, however, from the volume a happy definition : Talent and Genius. Talent convinces-genius but excites; Genius, the sudden Iris of the skies, On cloud itself reflects its wondrous dyes: And, to the earth, in tears and glory given, Clasps in its airy arch the pomp of Heaven! Talent gives all that vulgar critics needFrom its plain horn-book learn the dull to read; Genius, the Pythian of the beautiful, Leaves its large truths a riddle to the dullFrom eyes profane a veil the Isis screens, And fools on fools still ask-What Hamlet means?' The next work of our author was The Last of the Barons, 1843, an historical romance, describing the times of Warwick the king-maker, and containing the most beautiful of Bulwer's female creations, the character of Sybill. Though too much elaborated in some parts, and even dreary as a story, this romance, viewed as a whole, is a powerful and great work. Next year the novelist appeared as a translator. He gave to the world a version of Schiller's poems-executed carefully, as all Bulwer's works are, and occasionally with poetic spirit and felicity. He then ventured on an original poetical work, The New Timon, a poem partly satirical and partly narrative, which he issued anonymously, the first part appearing at Christmas 1845, and three others being subsequently added. Timon is a romance of London, exhibiting on the groundwork of an improbable plot sketches of the leading public men and authors of the metropolis-eulogising some, vituperating others, and dealing about praise and censure with a degree of rashness, levity, and bad taste almost inconceivable in so practised a writer and so accomplished a man as Bulwer Lytton. Among those whom he assailed, both in verse and prose, was Alfred Tennyson, who was designated School Miss Alfred;' and the poetry of the laureate -so highly original, refined, and suggestive-was classed among blunders, Bulwer Lytton persevered, and he at last wrought out works worthy of his fame. His next novel, however, was not a happy effort. Lucretia, or the Children of Night, was written to exhibit some of the workings of the arch-ruler of civilisation, money, 'which ruins virtues in the spendthrift, no less than engenders vices in the miser.' The subject is treated in a melodramatic style, with much morbid sentiment and unnecessary horrors, and the public condemnation of the tale was so emphatic, that Sir Edward deemed it necessary to reply in A Word to the Public. In this pamphlet the novelist sought to vindicate the moral tendency of his tales, and to defend the introduction of crime and terror in works of fiction. His reasoning was just in the abstract, but had no particular reference to the art; and, notwithstanding his defence, Sir Edward, story in question, which was defective as a work of in a subsequent edition, modified some of the incidents and details. As a contrast to Lucretia, he next presented the public with a tale of English domestic life, The Caxtons, a Family Picture, which appeared in monthly parts in Blackwood's Magazine, and in 1849 was collected and issued in the usual three-volume form. Free from all mysticism and terror, and abounding in humour, quaint fancies, and delineation of character, this work was highly successful. The characters were modelled upon the creations of Sterne-the head of the family being a simple, learned, absent recluse, who speculates like Mr Shandy; while his brother the half-pay captain, his son Pisistratus-the historian of the family-his gentle, affectionate wife, and the eccentric family doctor, are all more or less copies from the elder novelist, retaining much of his genial spirit, whim, and satire, but with none of his grossness. While this work was in progress, delighting the readers of the Magazine, its untiring author issued another historical romance, Harold, the Last of the Saxon Kings, a story of love and war, of Gothic and Celtic superstitions and character, presenting much aniarchæological details. The same year (1848), altermated description, though somewhat overlaid with The jingling medley of purloined conceits, Out-babying Wordsworth and out-glittering Keats. That the satirist was unable to appreciate the works of Wordsworth, Keats, or Tennyson is in-nating, as before, poetical with prose fiction, and credible. We must impute this escapade to a desire to say smart and severe things, as Pope and Byron had said before him, and to try his artistic hand in a line of authorship sure to attract attention. The disguise of the New Timon was seen through, and Miss Alfred' is believed to have rebuked the audacity of the assailant in a very masculine reply. But whatever were his affectations or * We know him, out of Shakspeare's art, I thought we knew him. What, it's you, * But men of long-enduring hopes, And careless what the hour may bring, And Brummels when they try to sting. again assuming the anonymous guise, Sir Edward came forward with the first part of a metrical romance, King Arthur, by the Author of the New Timon. The concluding portion was published early in 1849, and with it the name of the author was given. A serio-comic legendary poem, in twelve books, was a bold experiment. Sir Edward had bestowed on the work much thought and labour. It exhibits a great amount of research, of curious mythological and Scandinavian lore, and of ingenious allusions to modern events and characters, mixed up with allegorical and romantic incidents. We have the wandering king sent out by Merlin in quest of chivalrous adventures, guided by his emblematic silver dove (love), and protected by his magic sword (heroic patriotism) and by his silver shield (freedom). He vanquishes, of course, all enemies, and ranges through all regions, having also his ladye-love, Ægle, a fair maid of Etruria. What profits now to understand A Timon you! Nay, nay, for shame, Punch, 1846. |