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      November 8,1856.] T H E L E A P E Il 107...

      November 8 , 1856 . ] T H E L E A P E IL 1073

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      ICtteratttr ^ ¦ ¦ ¦

      .. . . ... T ' . ¦ ¦ . . ¦ ¦ Critics Are...

      .. . . ... T ' . ¦ ¦ . . ¦ ¦ Critics are notthe legislators , but the judges aad police of literature . They do not make laws—they interpret and try to enforce them . — Edinburgh Review .

      'Eyebyone' Has Now Been To Paris, And Is...

      'EYEBYone' has now been to Paris , and is of course familiar with the Bois de Boulogne in its new splendours ; but probably that which most arrests the attention is the richness of the equipages , and the costumes of the coquettes ; surely the wealth here represented must be enormous ? On this subject let us hear a writer in Blackvcood : ~—

      Though it was the end of February , the sun -was shining evidently in total foTgetfulness that it was not June . Shining , warming , lighting , extracting such variety of exquisite colour from the thousand splendidly-drest ladies who walked and strolled and lounged about the open alleys in the wood , that it is quite possible he fancied he was bestowing his favours on a prodigious bed of flowers . On the beautiful lake floated gay boats with many-coloured sails , carrying cargoes of bright-hued parasols and radiant bonnets and richest glistening silk . In the road rested or slowly moved forward barouches and "britzkas , and chariots and phaetons , all-with bright panels and glittering wheels and gorgeous linings , with horses trapt with gold and silver , and reins of spotless White ; while behind hung suspended a bunch of peony or tulip six feet high , with immense calves to its legs , and a cocked hat on its head , and sometimes even a velvet-sheathed sword at its side . Then the horsemen—gaiety of

      apparel is not left entirely to the ladies in France . There were green coats , and blue coats , and olive coats so shinj' that they looked like pink , and grey coats so brilliant that they looked like white : and still the cavalcade passed on ; and beauties caracoled on long-tailed steeds ; and bewhiskered men galoped past on strong-legged chargers , and , countless as the combinations in a kaleidoscope , they formed in lines , in squares , in circles ; and ever over all shone that cloudless sun , and beside them sparkled that waveless water . And on seeing all that brilliancy , all that show , and all that wealth , I said to old Busby , Who are all these ?—where does all the money come from ? There ' s more appearance of riches here than in Hyde Park in the height of the season . " Old Busby will certainly have a concussion of the brain if he shakes his foolish old head with such disdainful jerks much longer . He shook his head as if he had been a mandarin for many years in a grocer ' s window , and said ,

      " My dear , how you are blind ! These are nothing but a set of humbug foreigners ; swindlers every man ; all adventurers on the Bourse or founders of the Credit Mobi-Iier ; lords to-day , beggars to-morrow , and galley-slaves the day after . But what then ? the spectacle is the same to us . These same carriages will be here this day week—so will these horses—so will these ladies ; but the proprietors , mark you , will be different . That fellow ' s clerk will succeed to his fraudulent compagnie and his britzka , and he himself will he marker at a billiard-table . That other fellow will be shot in a duel by a co-forger of Government hills , and his Aadalusian mare will be ridden here by some gambler whose loaded dice are not yet discovered- But the Bois will be as gay , the lake as charming ' , and the sun as bright . I have been intimate * " said Busby , in a very foreign accent , " with some English squires on their shortlegged Suffolk cobs , whose rent-roll -would buy the fee simple of all the vagabonds heie . " ' ¦ ¦ ¦ - ¦ ¦ ¦¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ , ' ¦ ¦ ¦ . . ¦¦ ¦ . '¦ ¦ ¦ ' ' . ¦ ¦¦•¦¦ ¦¦ . ¦ ¦ , ¦ ¦¦ ' ¦ ¦ '

      A true picture , and forming the appropriate introduction to an interesting story , called " A Cause Avorth Trying , " in which the writer contrives to excite curiosity , though he has not taken the pains to work out the denouement in a satisfactory manner . How rare it is to meet with a good story " We do not allude to the want of invention displayed in creating new situations—these will always remain rare—but in the want of that invention which supplies all the details , which fills up the outline of an old anecdote , and makes it a new drama . Except poems , nothing is so abundant as stories , nothing so rare as stories that are really good .

      ^ In The Remie De Paris There Is A Strik...

      ^ In the Remie de Paris there is a striking paper by Henri Martin , the historian , on Calvin , Loyola , and Rauelais , in which , is quoted tbe frank but startling avowal of Calvin ' s disciple , Theodore be Beza , that " the liberty of conscience is a diabolical dogma—libertas cwiscientUs diabolimm dogma " - Frank the avowal is , because , as all history- shows , whatever the motto of Protestantism may have been , its practice has considered this liberty of conscience the prompting of Satan whenever liberty happened to issue in the adoption of opinions not held by the denouncing sect ; startling the avowal is , because if Protestantism does not protect and encourage perfect liberty of conscience , what is its own mison d ' etre ? M . Henri Martin well characterizes the Reformation as enfranchisement of national churches from the yoke of Rome , enfranchisement of particular churches , Christian communities within ill-defined limits , but no enfranchisement of the conscience .

      After A Period Of Dulness Almost Unparal...

      After a period of dulness almost unparalleled , Literature seems , in England at least , to be entering once more into a season of activity , although few books of jam civ promise are announced . In France there is an absolute cessation of literary life , which is almost certain to continue as long as the present ignoble despotism continues . Much as we may deplore the blindness of fear—fear at the bugbear of Socialism so dexterously raised by one party and so foolishly and treacherously stimulated by another—which alone has made France servile , it is a source of great consolation to know taat the intelligence of France has nq , t accepted the present regime . Bayonets may rule for a time ; but only over an ignorant people . Ideas are more powerful than , ' bayonets , and Louis Nai * ol , kon is at war with ideas .

      Kate Coventry. Kate Coventry: Ran Autobi...

      KATE COVENTRY . Kate Coventry : ran Autobiography . Edited by G . J . Whyto Melville , Author of Digby Grand . " J . \\ r . Parker and Son . Thjerbi is something fresh and healthy in all that Colonel Whyto Melville writes , and this Kate Coventry is very unlike the mawkish stories which delight the ¦ libra ries , and weary all sensible people . It is the autobiography of a . fast young lady , and yet is neither vulgar nor insipid . Feminine eyes may detect ,

      perhaps , the masculine hand throughout this autobiography , but no eyes will detect anything but free , healthy animal spirits . Kate is a dashing girl , fonder of horses than worsted work , but sound in heart and limb ; and if she is enthusiastic about riding and hunting , where is the woman who , having once surmounted the timidity of her sex , and made direct acquaintance with pigskin , can speak of these things without enthusiasm ? That Kate sometimes outrages the proprieties is very true ; mammas will think her ' so bold , ' and dyspeptic clergymen unfamiliar with pigskin will shake dolorous heads over her levity ; but the majority of Englishmen will admire her ' pluck , ' and rejoice in her final happiness . While the spirited pages of this novel carry us gaily to the end , we are not much troubled by misgivings as to the commonplaceness of most of the incidents and a general defiance of minute probabilities ; there is a great deal of true observation in the book , amid much that evidently belongs to the invention , of the circulating-library . Here is a good hit : —

      People may talk about country pleasures and country dut ies , and all the charms of country life ; but it appears to me that a good many things are done under the titles of pleasure and duty , which belong in reality to neither ; and that those who live entirely in the country , inflict on themselves a great variety of unnecessary disagreeables , as they lose a great many of its chief delights . Of all receipts for weari ^ ness , commend me to a dinner-party of country neighbours by daylight—people who know each other just well enough to have opposite interests and secret jealousieswho arrive ill at ease in their smart dresses , to sit through a protracted meal with hot servants and forced conversation , till one young lady on her promotion being victimized at the pianoforte , enables them to yawn unobserved , and welcome ten o ' clock brings round the carriage and tipsy coachman , in order that they may enter on their long-, dark , dreary drive home through lanes and by-ways , which is only endurable from the consideration that the annual ordeal has been accomplished , and that they need not do it again till this time next year .

      Very well observed also is the wayward recklessness with which Kate teazes her cousin—persisting in the very course she knows is making him grieve , and grieving while she persists . Here is an animated description of ahunt : — / . : ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ . ' ;;¦ . ¦ ¦ - . ; . ¦ \ '¦ : ¦ -.- "¦ ' :.. - . ¦ ¦ " Gone away ! " exclaims Squire Haycock , lifting Ms cap high above his red head ; " Yonder he goes ! Don't you see him , Miss Coventry , how whisking under the gate ? " . ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦' . ' ¦' ¦¦' . ' ¦¦ ¦ . - .: ' . ¦ . \ . ' . ¦ : ¦ . . ¦ ' • ¦ ¦; ' . ¦ . . ¦ ' ¦ - ' . ¦ ""¦ '" . ¦ ; ¦ ¦ " ^ Forward , forward ! " holloas Frank , giving vent to his excitement in one of those prolonged screams that proclaim how the astonished sportsman has actually seen the fox with his own eyes . The next instant he is through the hand-gate at the end of the ride , and , rising in his stirrups , with the wicked chesnut held hard by the head , is speeding away over the adjoining pasture , alongside of the two or three couples of

      leading hounds that have just emerged from the . covert . Ah ! we are all forg otten now , women , children , everything is lost in that first delirious five minutes when the hounds are really away . Frank was gazing at me a minute ago as if his Very life was at my disposal , and now he is speeding away a field ahead of me , and don't care whether I break my neck following him or not . But this is no time for such thoughts as these , the drunken huntsman is sounding his horn in our rear . " Will , the whip , cap in hand , is bringing up the body of the pack . Squire Haycock holds the gate open for me to pass , Cousin John goes by me like a flash of lightning ; White-Stockings , with a loose rein , submits to be kicked along at any pace I like to ask him ; the fence at the end of the field is nothing , 1 shall go exactly where Frank did ; my blood thrills with ecstasy in . my veins : moment of moments ! I have got a capital start , and we are in for a run .

      As I sit here in my arm-chair and dressing-gown , I see the whole panorama of today passing once more before , my eyes . I see that dark , wet , ploughed field , with the white hounds slipping noiselessly over its furrowed surface . I can almost perceive the fresh wholesome smell of the newly-turned earth . I see the ragged , overgrown , straggling fence at the far end , glistening with morning dew , and green with formidable briars . I see Frank Lovell ' s chesnut rising at the weakest place , the rider sitting well back , his spurs and stirrup-irons shining in the sun ; I see Squire Haycock ' s square scarlet back , as he diverges to a well-known corner for some friendlyegress ; I hear Cousin John ' s voice shouting , " Give him his head , Kate ! " As White-Stockings and I rapidly approach the leap , my horse relapses of his own accord into . a

      trot , points his small ears , crashes into the very middle of the fence , and just as I give myself up for lost , makes a second bound that settles me once more in the saddle , and lands gallantly in the adjoining field , Frank looking back over his shoulder in evident anxiety and admiration , whilst John ' s cheery voice , with its " Bravo , Kate !" rings in my delighted ears . We three are now nearest the hounds , a long strip of rushy meadow-land before us , the pack streaming along the sid « of a high thick hedge that bounds it on our left ; the south wind fans my face and lifts my hair , as I slacken my horse ' s rein and urge him to to liis speed . I am alongside of Frank . I could ride anywhere now , or do anything . I pass him with a smile and a jest . I am the foremost with the chase . What is ten years of common life , one ' s feet upon the fender , compared to five such golden minutes as these ?

      Criticism , if inclined to be severe , might pick large holes in the book but its pleasant style disarms criticism . On one point only will we suggest to Colonel Melville the necessity of l ' evision , and that is the somewhat too obtrusive odour of cigars which rises from his pages . Every body smokes , and is always smoking , till the word cigar becomes an impertinence .

      Foetry And Politics On The Danube. Itoum...

      FOETRY AND POLITICS ON THE DANUBE . Itouman Anthology ; or , Selections of Roman , Poetry , Ancitnt and Modern . Boing a Collection of the National Ballads of Moldavia and Wallachia , & c . By the Hon . Henry Stanley . Hertford : Stephen Austin . Les Principaute ' s de Moldavie et de Valachie . Par Paul Bataillard . Paris : Amyot . Stephen * Austin is an artist . Sadi of Shiraz , that poet of rich fancies , would scarcely recognize his own " Rose Garden" in its illumination of gold and colours , from , the press of the Hertford printer . Nor could the llouman songsters ever have hoped to appear in the West so gorgeously costumed 1

      in Turkish and Byzantine decoration as in . this volume by Mr . Stanley . Every page is a picture . Between delicate-green covers , on ivory paper , with gilded edges , their verses lie , each in a frame of arabesque beauty , red , blue , green , and gold , with superb initial letters , vignettes , and tailpieces , and faultless typo . Mr . Stanley ' s publication is thus recommended to notice by its external characteristics . Upon opening its earlier pages the reader may be disconcerted by finding a number of poems in a language probably strange to him ; ho may take it for-bnrbaric Italian , for some curious dialect of Sicily or Corsica , but there are translations for those who lire not Rouman scholars , and for those who are , as -well as for those who are not , there is a well-writ ten and informing preface , by Mr . Stanley .

  • Citation
    • Leader (1850-1860), Nov. 8, 1856, page 17, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_08111856/page/17/