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_ . altered our view of it . Those holding the opposite opinion will , however , be interested by his 6 X ^ s a cr iti c Professor Browne does not shine . He deals largely in academic conventionalisms ; and very often speaks either from no knowledge or from such vague remembrance as to be little better . Has he read " Sappho since he left College ? If so , he must permit us to express our surprise at his talking of her " nature-loving imagery , " and still
more at his admitting the miserable trash of Ambrose Phillips as " faithful translations " of her two famous poems . How could he ever suppose that Sappho would have been famous if she had written like this ?—" In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd , My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd , My feeble pulse forgot to play ,
I fainted , sank , and died away . " We beg him Jo turn to his Greek , and see what Sappho did write ; he will then know what to think of " faithful translations . " We shall not continue this examination of details , because a work like the present must be judged rather in its totality than in detail ; we cordially commend it as a general view of the subject . The task it attempts is so gigantic , that " honourable
mention" may be fairly awarded where the prize is withheld ; without satisfying the demands of criticism , it may , nevertheless , earn the praise of being a meritorious and useful work . It brings into convenient compass materials which lie scattered broad cast over the great field of literary research , and to the public at large it will be welcome as the first comprehensive view of the whole Literature of Greece which has yet been published .
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POEMS BY BEDDOES . The Poems Posthumous and Collected of Thomas Lovell Beddoes . In 2 vols . Pickering . These are very interesting volumes . The amount of poetic beauty they contain should earn them a place in every collection of choice works ; while to the poetic student they will be peculiarly interesting , their very defects suggesting trains of thought at once profitable and pleasing . To those , and they are the greatest number , who regard imagery as the main thing in a poem , who look upon the gift of poetic expression as the highest of
endowments , Beddoes will assuredly appear a very considerable poet . The factitious admiration which has been excited for the Old English Dramatists will find here matter for further ecstasy . There are passages" in these volumes equal in beauty and tragic intensity to almost anything which has a place in Lamb ' s Specimens . What then ? Do they prove that Beddoes was a great Poet ? They simply prove that Beddoes could write splendid passages ; if you imagine that he who wrote these passages could have written fine works , we refer you to the collected edition of his works for ample
proof of the contrary . Like many other wielders of grand sonorous diction , like many others with the gift of " imagery" ( we will not say imagination ) , Beddoes exhibits , when you pierce beneath the glittering surface , a mind essentially mediocre . Take up his works and consider them from any point of view you will , except the rhetorical , and they are undistinguished from the mass of mediocre poems which yearly issue from the press . This judgment will . sound harsh in the face of the high
eulogies which these poems have called forth . It is , however , perfectly deliberate ; and we leave it in the hands of impartial readers , if they will trouble themselves- to examine tho poems . Here are dramas without any one quality of dramatic art , except that power of expression which we have before . Haul they possess in unusual intensity . Ah fctories they are childish , beyond even what dramatic licence can tolerate , in the delineation of character , the netting in action of passions and motives , and all those individualizing traits which
" o summed up in the word " characterization , ' •> eddoes stands on precisely the same level as those numberless young gentlemen—" mostly fools "who gratify the " desire of friends " by publishing "veactH of blank verse , supposed to be examples ° f tthukspcnriiin art . In our time we have read ( nay , why hesitate iu confessing that we have also ™ nttm ?)—a fearful amount of such ; their characteris tics are vividly remembered by uh , the more ** o as they have all a strong family resemblance . And although wo cannot forget the superiority winch lleddoes manifests iu one important quality , Wu must , nevertheless , deliberately assert that in *« ape ct of drumalio urt he is on tho sauio lovel aa
they are . Beddoes never pays Nature the compliment of attempting to copy her . In the alembic of his wild imagination , Nature becomes transmuted into Phantasms ; and we should throw aside the book in weariness and disgust , were it not for that singular and fascinating power he has of investing his Phantasms in a garb of beauty . Not only the high rare power of characterization , and the rare , yet lower one , of representing Life , do we utterly deny to Beddoes . He might want these and be a considerable writer nevertheless . We go further , and deny him the possession of that degree of intellectual vigour which manifests itself in all poets of worth , as thoughtfulness or judgment . There is a great quantity of reflective writing in these volumes , yet we scarcely remember one new thought—one passage which bore the stamp of a superior intelligence . The imagery is new , the thoughts have no value . His intellect is active—morbidly so—but not deep-seeing . Denying him the qualities which constitute all fine poets , and separating ourselves widely from those critics who have spoken of him as only fine poets deserve to be , we must nevertheless justify their admiration and our own , by exhibiting the power Beddoes does possess . In the remainder of our criticism we shall consider him sui generis . You cannot open the volumes at random and read for many pages without being struck by the unusual intensity of the imagery , and poetic emotion which pulses through the verse . The sombre and painful cast of his thoughts , every now and then bursting forth into impassioned and somewhat lurid magnificence , next arrests your attention . You perceive that his mind is morbid . A taint as of the charnel house rises from the page . The umiuaii eiei
imagery moves gitivcs auu sK . . uus . xuere is little sunlight ; it gives place to moonlight , and the moon is shining upon broken tombs . Death is the great figure moving through this world ; Death—and the Moral Death called Villainy—for which Life and Love are used but as foils of contrast . His hymns are dirges : his love songs have the plaintive wail of despair . To read his poems is like passing through galleries filled with Spanish pictures—endless variations of the theme of Death ! Nothing but crucifixions , or emaciated monks seated in lonel y sorrow gazing at a skull ! Everywhere the Shadow of Death chilling the fair aspect of sunny Life ! Here are some samples : — 44 Marc , ( solus . } Then who hath solitude , like mine , that is not The last survivor of a city ' s plague , Eating the mess he cooked for his dead father ? Who is alone but I ? there ' s fellowship , In churchyards and in hell : but I!—no lady ' s ghost Did ever cling with such a grasp of love Unto its soft dear body , as I hung Hooted upon this brother . I went forth Joyfully , as the soul of one who closes His pillowed eyes beside an unseen murderer , And like its horrible return was mine , To find the heart , wherein I breathed and beat , Cold , (/ ashed , and dead . JLet me forget to love , And take a heart of venom : letm « make A stair-ease of the frightened broaBts of men , And climb into a lonely happiness ! Again : —¦ " Ermin . Had I been waked By torchlight in my eyes , and by a voice That said ' your babes are burning , stabbed your husband , —¦ ltoom on your bosom for their murderer ' s kisses ! ' Why , that to this were tickling to a stab , A pin-wound to an hell-jawed , laughing gash . " Again : —¦ " ANTieirATioN or v , \\ i . tidings . "I fear there is some maddening secret Hid in your words ( and at each turn of thought (' oines up a scull ) , like an anatomy Found in a weedy hole , ' mougst stones and roots And straggling reptiles , with bin tonguuless mouth Telling of murder . In short , lleddoes seems to be speaking through one of his characters when he makes him say — 41 Methinkft The look of the world ' s a lie , a face made up O ' er graves and fiery depths : and nothing ' s true Hut what is horrible . " We will add to these examples mi exquisite passage : — 44 Lady . And therefore earth and all its ornaments , Which are tho symbols of humanity In forms refined , und effort * uncompleted , Urueeful and innocent , temper the-heart Of him who musea and compares them ukilfully ,
To glad belief and tearful gratitude . This is the sacred source of poesy <( Sybil . "While we are young , and free from care , we think so . B ut , when old age or sorrow brings us nearer To spirits and their interests , we see Few features of mankind in outward nature ; But rather signs inviting us to heaven . I love flowers too ; not for a young girl ' s reason ,
But because these brief us Rise yearly from the neighbourhood of the dead , To show us how far fairer and more lovely Their world is } - and return thither again , Like parting friends that beckon us to follow , And lead the way silent and smilingly . Fair is the season when they come to us , Unfolding the delights of that existence Which is below us : ' tis the time of spirits , Who with the flowers , and like them , leave their
graves : But when the earth is sealed , and none dare come Upwards to cheer us , and man ' s left alone , We have cold , cutting winter . For no bridal , Excepting with the grave , are flowers fit emblems . " We hope you have admired the sad beauty of these lines , and noted how even the flowers only recal to him the " neighbourhood of the dead" ; and now read this on Immortality : —
" Can . Wolfram die ? Ay , as the sun doth set It is the earth that falls away from light ; Fixed in the heavens , although unseen by us , The immortal life and light remain triumphant And therefore you shall never see me wail , Or drop base waters of an ebbing sorrow ; No wringing hands , no sighings , no despair , No mourning weeds will I betake me to ;
But keep my thought of him that is no more , As secret as great nature keeps his soul , From all the world ; and consecrate my being To that divinest hope , which none can Jtnoio of Who have not laid their dearest in the grave . Farewell , my love , —I will not say to thee Pale corpse , —we do not part for many days . A little sleep , a little waking more , And then toe are together out of life . "
We close these passages with another on Deathto show how he rings the changes on his constant theme : — 41 SWEET TO DIE . 41 Is it not sweet to die f for , what is death , But sighing that we ne ' er may sigh again , Getting at length beyond our tedious selves ; But trampling the last tear from poisonous sorrow , Spilling our woes , crushing our frozen hopes , And passing like an incense out of man ? Then , if the body felt , ichat were its sense , Turning to daisies gently in the grave , If not the soul ' s most delicate delight When it does filtrate , through the pores of thought , In love and the enamelled flowers of somr ?"
We must reserve for a future number the extracts which will show his genius under other aspects . If we have insisted somewhat on this one aspect of Death , it is because it is predominant in his poems , and indicates a morbid activity of mind
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MELU ' H KHARTOUM AND THE NILKS . Khartoum , and Ihc liluu and Ji'liitc Miles . By ( Jeorgo Mt'lly-U vols . Collmru ami C 0 . ( Second Notice . } Wic resume our extracts from this agreeable book , although limitations of space forbid our quoting half the passages we had marked . Miss Martineau was the first to give our prepossessions in favour of the Camel a shock , arid we hardly thanked her for it , though never doubting that her statement was nearer the truth than those eulogistic pictures of meekness and endurance which had given us our ideas of the Camel . Mr . Melly , though not quite ko harsh to the " Ship of the Desert , " is decidedly for protesting against tlio current notions . " My earliest recollections of them are based on those veracious publications , in which elephants |> w : k up young children and place them carefully on their backs , and camels gallop for days unrepiningly over sandy deserts , never halting , though without both food and water— such are the camel * of our tender years , such are not the camels of our experience . Instead of this poetic patience , they growl . savagoly , muking one of the most disagreeable uoiscu 1 ever heard , and turn round striving to «<•<¦ "P as vuu 1 <) lui them . But when once their burden is properly adjusted they are perfectly quiet , and become tractablo an soon as you liavo taJten your neat . 44 I had a camel from Doiitfolu to Uebel JJerkel , who would not lot i «« turn on my saddle or put my hand in my poeket without turning viciously round with u Jierco growl . 1 had another that by way of ooutratft would wulk quietly to within nhot of a covoy
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Nov . i , 1851 . ] wt ) t VLeaber . 1045
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Leader (1850-1860), Nov. 1, 1851, page 1045, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1907/page/17/
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