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Leader (1850-1860), 15th March 1851, Edition Country of 2, Page 17, March 15, 1851.] &** &*&**¥* 263

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      Sketches From Life. By Harriet Martineat...

      day or hour , er remained under punishment for their lives , or for terms . Nobody had ever told him what society was , —what law was , —nor , of course , his duty to society and tinder the law . He owned that he could not sleep at night , nor settle his mind in the daytime , for listening for the footsteps of , some one coining to let him out . It was at once clear what was the best mercy in such a case . The lady had a long conversation -with him ; and , by the time it was done , he was convinced that as he was guilty , by his OWn admission , and actually undergoing the

      punishment to which he was sentenced , there was not the slightest ground for expecting any change before the expiration of his term . She put the question plainly to him whether he did not see this ; and , pale as was his face and quivering as were his lips , he manfully answered " Yes . " He wished her to understand , however , that , while he admitted the act , and that he knew it to be wrong , in a vague sort of way , he had not seen it in a serious light at the time . Here were so many horses , probably belonging to

      well-to-do people , and he was so very much in want of one , that he had not thought the exchange a great sin . He believed , too , that he had had some idea of returning the stolen , horse , some day . Still he certainly knew he was wrong , because he would not have done it if anybody had been within sight . He had felt very uncomfortable , too , —unlike anything he had ever felt before . He had turned twice , before he rode away ; but tl ; e old mare was lying down , — much as if she would never gei up again ; so he

      made off . ** And this was the first time , " said the lady ; " your first serious offence , you say . I wonder what you think now of being driven to it in such a way . " Reuben looked up . " Some of the quarrels at home , " said the lady , " seem to have come from your insisting that you were a man , and would be treated like one , while your stepmother would have it that you were a child . You are nineteen , are not you ?" " Nineteen last Candlemas . "

      " You insist on being a man at home , and then you let a woman ' s tongue drive you to do wrong . Is that so very manly ?" Reuben ' s head sank as suddenly as if he had been shot .

      Here were two new ideas for him to ponderenough for one time . As for the lady , she bad to ponder the strangeness of their being new . So they parted . The next time she entered the cell Reuben started up eagerly , for he was full of things to say . He looked wonderfully better . He now slept well , and could settle his mind to his business in the day . When the lady asked him how he got on now he answered that he made seven shoes a-week , and it was not a bad measure of his welfare . He had some

      very odd questions to ask about law and punishment , and society , and a very striking observation to make on his own case . He was glad that he was caught when he was , for it really was so very easy to take that horse that he thought that , if pressed by difficulty at any time it was more likely that he " would have gone to the same place for another good horse than for the old grey mare ; and then he should have gone "deeper in . " Another idea was that he had better go home , when free , and . stay by his father . He did not think he could ever let him know what had happened ; and he

      Would not venture to say that he could bear with his Ktepmother : but perhaps * she would not think him a boy by that time . He would be worry to bring disgrace on his father ; but , if nobody knew what had happened , and if he went to be H /| fe from temptation , perhaps Tile ludy filled up the pause of doubt . She thought lie hud better go home , — IiojxmI be might lift up his bead again there , in time —but strongl y advised bis telling his father everything . ¦ This was the one thing which lie felt certain be never could do .

      i be third time the lady went , Reuben was in n soft , and serious , and gentle mood—for which there was abundunt reason . The chaplain had told him , two dayn before , what nobody else but the lady was to know , that the anxious father had privately traced bin son , and found out , the whole matter , of which neither neighbours , brothers and sisters , not utop-mothor knew a word . The father had written to the chaplain ( not venturing to come , for fear of observation ) , und hud implored him to tollRuuben that ho did not believe him wicked , though he had done u wicked

      thing ; that he knew he had been hard-driven at home ; that he begged him to bear his punishment patiently , and when it was over to come straight home ; that . he should never hear a word of reproach from him , and should be protected from ill-treatment by any body else ; and he might make a good and happy life of it yet . " Well , what do you mean to do ? " inquired the lady .

      *• Go straight home , " he answered , with sparkling eyes . " I'll see if I can stand a woman ' s tongue , and . . . But I said so once before , " he continued , in a saddened tone ; " I couldn't stand it . And then , there ' s another thing—I shall have a heavy secret all my life . I ' m glad father knows it ; but , for his sake , nobody else ever must . I never carried a secret before , and this will be a heavy one . " The ladv thought that it might be useful as a

      warning , and , if taken cheerfully in that way , and as a thing that could not be helped , it would not be very burdensome . But now , and in subsequent interviews , Reuben ' s conclusion , from every point of view of his own affairs , was— First thing , when I get out , I'll go straight home . And the lady ' s doctrine ^ which won its way into his rciid by degrees , was that his safety was to besought , not in place and circumstances , but in a renewed mind .

      March 15, 1851.] &** &*&**¥* 263

      March 15 , 1851 . ] &** &*&** ¥ * 263

      The Plains Of Lombardy. Heavily Hang The...

      THE PLAINS OF LOMBARDY . Heavily hang the purple grapes By fair Lake Garda ' s waveless side ; Above , in slow ethereal march , Battalion'd clouds in order ride . Oh , Italy , dear Italy ! Did thy sun but light thee free , What earth , what sky , were so divine , So full of majesty as thine ! Fading away to formless mist , In grand long aisles thy mountains stand ; The flame-lit trails of broad-leav'd vine Cling round their poles on either hand , Or , over stones of warm grey wall , Droopingly hang like maids forlorn ; A foreground rich with white church-towers , And feather'd spires of Indian corn . Oh , Italy , dear Italy ! Often wo dreamt of thee unknown , — A far-off home , a painter ' s heaven , A heritage the poet's own . How have thy saints more holy seem'd Since we beheld the earth they trod ! Where Leonard work'd and Dante dream'd , And Raphael ' s thoughts were sent of God . The day is dying ; midst the blue A molten nun sinks slowly down ; The earth is black , the purple hills Like shadows of the heaven are thrown . Blind with the glory , mute we stand ; The glorious plains now lost in light , And shortly twilight ' s tender veil Is lifted by the silver night . When we afar shall think of tins , How glorious will the memory be ! A golden dream for northern nights , A daily prayer that thou wert free . 'A vision of beauty cheering us , Who labour under paler skies ; May Uod he . with thee in the day When thou and all thy sons arise . B .

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      L () V K In A M A Z Ill. Madame <Le Stiu...

      L () V K IN A M A Z ill . Madame < le Stiu > Th restlvss vanity once prompted her to ask Talleyrand whether he thought Nnpoleon had more esprit than she had . The diplomatic wit replied , " Mitdmne , Vlimpereur a autant . d ' etprit qtte vautt , ma is vour , ' 'ten plus intrrpide . The Kmperor U perhaps , as clever as you , but you have greater intrepidity ! " The mot is perfect . I thought of it the

      other night when listening to Love tn a Maze . Mr . Hourciciiult , if not the flint of comic writers , is assuredly one of the most intrepid . H « carries a comedy as J ) anton curried a revolutionary ineuuure , aver del ' audace . llelying on the stupidity of the public , and on it . « known preference for " old familiar fuce « , " he dispenses with the labour of invention , take * his characters , like his dresses , from the theatrical r < pertory , reproduce * scenes and situations that have become heirlooms , and does not disdain to borrow

      jokes from such wellknown books as Bacon ' s Etsaya And he succeeds , the lucky dog ! the intrepid genius I Palnuimqtd meruitferal , let him succeed who deserves He succeeds by sheer intrepidity . London Assurance is one of the most successful comedies of modern times . Yet every character , every incident in that comedy is unmistakeably traceable to some other play or plays . All Mr . Boarcicault ' s share in it is smart dialogue , and the intrepidity which can thus dexterously seize hold of stereotyped materials and boldly offer them again as new .

      The same qualities of liveliness ( wit and animal spirits ) and intrepidity cause the success of Love in a Maze . Give him good actors , and he will keep the house in a state of merriment at the smallest possible expenditure of invention . He does so in this instance . It would be idle to tell him that a widow making a " 1 * dead set" at a reluctant bachelor whom she formerly jilted , and now onee more enchained , is a somewhat stale contrivance . Stale ! what of that ? Am I to be cudgelling my brains for novelties when the old succeed as well ? Stale ! so little do I care for that objection that I will employ this situation twice in the same piece , and the audience shall applaud me ! And he does it \ And the audience does applaud ! None but the brave deserve success ! He knows that if

      Mrs . Winstanley , as a gay laughing widow , sets her cap at the amorous but recalcitrant Keeley , the audience which delighted in Lady Gay Spanker will be sure to applaud . He knows also that it is as " safe as the bank" to place Mrs . Keeley and Harley on the stage together , as pert soubrette and lugubrious servingman , she coaxing and wheedling him so pleased to be coaxed and wheedled . With four such characters the comedy" is complete . All I have now to consider is a Httle " serious interest " which will employ the Keans , and the piece is done ! Let me see , the Keana—oh ! man and wife in a state of

      misunderstanding : lovingeachothertodistraction , butbelieving in each other ' s indifference ; \ es ! that ' s it to a " t !" A Fop may be thrown in for Wigan , and a Btage fop is to be had any day without much , invention , stap my vitals ! Observe that these characters , chosen with such wise intrepidity by our dramatist , are not only the common property of the stage , but are by him left as he found them . He has added nothing . Why add to what has already been found successful ? Why gild refined gold , paint the lily , and add humanity to a lay figure ? It is believed indeed by pedantic old quidnuncs who look upon the drama as literature , and

      imagine that the comic writer has a serious and laborious , no less than a noble task , that observation of life—the life which moves upon the world ' s stageportraiture of character—invention and profound art are all required to produce a comedy . But the quidnuncs , who regards them ? What do we care about Life , when we have the Stage : what , after all , is the World compared with Inehbald ' s British Theatre f Invention ? A grand thing , no doubt , but so rare ! Observation ? Good again ; but so difficult , requiting first the experience , and then the faculty ! Character ? Difficult , difficult ! Art ? Truth ? Nature ? Really

      such demands are exorbitant ! Robert Macaire , in one of Philippon ' s admirable caricatures , is represented as a speculator to -whom some unhappy shareholder is mildly suggesting that he should like " to pee the accounts . " " Accounts , " replies Robert Macaire , " Monsieur , you must comprehend that from the moment you demand accounts commerce becomes impossible ! " Alas , yes ! k commerce devient impossible under such conditions , and I feel that comedies are in this respect like commerce : I must not make impertinent demands ! Art , Truth , Nature , Invention are accounts which no shareholder must call

      for ! Besides , what does it matter to me if the public like such pieces as Love in a Maze—and I am bound to say that I was there on the third night and found a full house really applauding it—is not that enough ? No popular writer should be severely handled for his faults , because the fault really lies in the people who encourage him . Martial boldly taxes the Roman public with hiB popularity : ** You , oh , reader ! are the cause of my success ; if Koine delights in my not very proper vtrHea , it is because you Romans read and quote them " : — " Scria cum poBBim , quod delrctantia mulim Scribere ; tu raussa es , lector amice , mihi Qui lcfris , et totacantas mea carmina Roma . "

      Mr . Bourcicuult may say the same to Ins public ; but perhaps he prefers being silent . The fact is , however , that only dull dogs like myself who have imbibed foolish prejudices about the drama , and who fancy that invention , observation . Sec , are requisite In comedies , raifio a word of protest ngaimit Love in a Maze : tbo pit is pleased , and after that criticism is n mere luxury . But , leaving the quidnuncs and their exorbitant demands , I would suggest to Mr . Bourcieault that even from his own point of view Low im a Mmte is verr deficient in substance and action . Dull it seldom is , but it is rarely interesting . Th « story is too thin and meagre , especially as earn feels through ^ out a sense of its untruth . Rupert and Loot eould not have Hiiffored that misunderstanding to continue

  • Citation
    • Leader (1850-1860), March 15, 1851, page 17, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_15031851/page/17/