Part 5 (1/2)
His other plea of privilege, our author rather brings forward to wave it. He certainly, however, does allude frequently to his family and ancestors--sometimes in poetry, sometimes in notes; and while giving up his claim on the score of rank, he takes care to remember us of Dr.
Johnson's saying, that when a n.o.bleman appears as an author, his merit should be handsomely acknowledged. In truth, it is this consideration only, that induces us to give Lord Byron's poems a place in our review, besides our desire to counsel him, that he do forthwith abandon poetry, and turn his talents, which are considerable, and his opportunities, which are great, to better account.
With this view, we must beg leave seriously to a.s.sure him, that the mere rhyming of the final syllable, even when accompanied by a certain number of feet; nay, although (which does not always happen) those feet should scan regularly, and have been all counted accurately upon the fingers-- is not the whole art of poetry. We would entreat him to believe, that a certain portion of liveliness, somewhat of fancy, is necessary to const.i.tute a poem; and that a poem in the present day, to be read, must contain at least one thought, either in a little degree different from the ideas of former writers, or differently expressed. We put it to his candour, whether there is anything so deserving the name of poetry in verses like the following, written in 1806, and whether, if a youth of eighteen could say anything so uninteresting to his ancestors, a youth of nineteen should publish it.
Shades of heroes farewell! your descendant, departing From the seat of his ancestors, bids you, adieu! etc., etc.
Lord Byron should also have a care of attempting what the greatest poets have done before him, for comparisons (as he must have had occasion to see at his writing-master's) are odious. Gray's ode on Eton College, should really have kept out the ten hobbling stanzas ”on a distant view of the village and school of Harrow.” ...
However, be this as it may, we fear his translations and imitations are great favourites with Lord Byron. We have them of all kinds, from Anacreon to Ossian; and, viewing them as school exercises, they may pa.s.s. Only why print them after they have had their day and served their turn?...
It is a sort of privilege of poets to be egotists; but they should ”use it as not abusing it”; and particularly one who piques himself (though indeed at the ripe age of nineteen) of being ”an infant bard”--(”The artless Helicon I boast is youth”;)--should either not know, or not seem to know, so much about his own ancestry. Besides a poem on the family seat of the Byrons, we have another on the self same subject, introduced with an apology, ”he certainly had no intention of inserting it”; but really, ”the particular request of some friends,” etc., etc. It concludes with five stanzas on himself, ”the last and youngest of a n.o.ble line.” There is a good deal also about his maternal ancestors, in a poem on Lachin-y-gair, a mountain where he spent part of his youth, and might have learnt that a _pibroch_ is not a bagpipe, any more than a duet means a fiddle....
But whatever judgment may be pa.s.sed on the poems of this n.o.ble junior, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content; for they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is at best, he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parna.s.sus; he never lived in a garret, like thorough-bred poets; and ”though he once roved a careless mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland,” he has not of late enjoyed this advantage.
Moreover, he expects no profit from his publication; and whether it succeeds or not, ”it is highly improbable, from his situation and pursuits hereafter,” that he should again condescend to become an author. Therefore, let us take what we can get and be thankful. What right have we poor devils to be nice? We are well off to have got so much from a man of this Lord's station, who does not live in a garret, but ”has the sway” of Newstead Abbey. Again we say, let us be thankful; and, with honest Sancho, bid G.o.d bless the giver, nor look the gift horse in the mouth.
SYDNEY SMITH ON HANNAH MOORE
[From _The Edinburgh Review_, April, 1809]
_Caelebs in Search of a Wife; comprehending Observations on Domestic Habits and Manners, Religion and Morals._ 2 vols. London, 1809.
This book is written, or supposed to be written (for we would speak timidly of the mysteries of superior beings), by the celebrated Mrs.
Hannah Moore! We shall probably give great offence by such indiscretion; but still we must be excused for treating it as a book merely human,--an uninspired production,--the result of mortality left to itself, and depending on its own limited resources. In taking up the subject in this point of view, we solemnly disclaim the slightest intention of indulging in any indecorous levity, or of wounding the religious feelings of a large cla.s.s of very respectable persons. It is the only method in which we can possibly make this work a proper object of criticism. We have the strongest possible doubts of the attributes usually ascribed to this auth.o.r.ess; and we think it more simple and manly to say so at once, than to admit nominally superlunary claims, which, in the progress of our remarks, we should virtually deny.
Caelebs wants a wife; and, after the death of his father, quits his estate in Northumberland to see the world, and to seek for one of its best productions, a woman, who may add materially to the happiness of his future life. His first journey is to London, where, in the midst of the gay society of the metropolis, of course, he does not find a wife; and his next journey is to the family of Mr. Stanley, the head of the Methodists, a serious people, where, of course, he does find a wife. The exaltation, therefore, of what the auth.o.r.ess deems to be the religious, and the depretiation of what she considers to be the worldly character, and the influence of both upon matrimonial happiness, form the subject of this novel--rather of this _dramatic sermon_.
The machinery upon which the discourse is suspended, is of the slightest and most inartificial texture, bearing every mark of haste, and possessing not the slightest claim to merit. Events there are none; and scarcely a character of any interest. The book is intended to convey religious advice; and no more labour appears to have been bestowed upon the story, than was merely sufficient to throw it out of the dry, didactic form. Lucilla is totally uninteresting; so is Mr. Stanley; Dr.
Barlow still worse; and Caelebs a mere clod or dolt. Sir John and Lady Belfield are rather more interesting--and for a very obvious reason, they have some faults;--they put us in mind of men and women;--they seem to belong to one common nature with ourselves. As we read, we seem to think we might act as such people act, and therefore we attend; whereas imitation is hopeless in the more perfect characters which Mrs. Moore has set before us; and therefore, they inspire us with very little interest.
There are books however of all kinds; and those may not be unwisely planned which set before us very pure models. They are less probable, and therefore less amusing than ordinary stories; but they are more amusing than plain, unfabled precept. Sir Charles Grandison is less agreeable than Tom Jones; but it is more agreeable than Sherlock and Tillotson; and teaches religion and morality to many who would not seek it in the productions of these professional writers.
But, making every allowance for the difficulty of the task which Mrs.
Moore has prescribed to herself, the book abounds with marks of negligence and want of skill; with representations of life and manners which are either false or trite.
Temples to friends.h.i.+p and virtue must be totally laid aside, for many years to come, in novels. Mr. Lane, of the Minerva Press, has given them up long since; and we were quite surprised to find such a writer as Mrs.
Moore busied in moral brick and mortar. Such an idea, at first, was merely juvenile; the second time a little nauseous; but the ten thousandth time, it is quite intolerable. Caelebs, upon his first arrival in London, dines out,--meets with a bad dinner,--supposes the cause of that bad dinner to be the erudition of the ladies of the house,--talks to them upon learned subjects, and finds them as dull and ignorant as if they had piqued themselves upon all the mysteries of housewifery. We humbly submit to Mrs. Moore, that this is not humorous, but strained and unnatural. Philippics against frugivorous children after dinner, are too common. Lady Melbury has been introduced into every novel for these four years last past. Peace to her ashes!...
The great object kept in view throughout the whole of this introduction, is the enforcement of religious principle, and the condemnation of a life lavished in dissipation and fas.h.i.+onable amus.e.m.e.nt. In the pursuit of this object, it appears to us, that Mrs. Moore is much too severe upon the ordinary amus.e.m.e.nts of mankind, many of which she does not object to in this, or that degree; but altogether. Caelebs and Lucilla, her _optimus_ and _optima_, never dance, and never go to the play. They not only stay away from the comedies of Congreve and Farquhar, for which they may easily enough be forgiven; but they never go to see Mrs.
Siddons in the Gamester, or in Jane Sh.o.r.e. The finest exhibition of talent, and the most beautiful moral lessons, are interdicted, at the theatre. There is something in the word _Playhouse_, which seems so closely connected, in the minds of these people, with sin, and Satan,-- that it stands in their vocabulary for every species of abomination. And yet why? Where is every feeling more roused in favour of virtue, than at a good play? Where is goodness so feelingly, so enthusiastically learnt?
What so solemn as to see the excellent pa.s.sions of the human heart called forth by a great actor, animated by a great poet? To hear Siddons repeat what Shakespeare wrote! To behold the child, and his mother--the n.o.ble, and the poor artisan,--the monarch, and his subjects--all ages and all ranks convulsed with one common pa.s.sion--wrung with one common anguish, and, with loud sobs and cries, doing involuntary homage to the G.o.d that made their hearts! What wretched infatuation to interdict such amus.e.m.e.nts as these! What a blessing that mankind can be allured from sensual gratification, and find relaxation and pleasure in such pursuits! But the excellent Mr. Stanley is uniformly paltry and narrow, --always trembling at the idea of being entertained, and thinking no Christian safe who is not dull. As to the spectacles of impropriety which are sometimes witnessed in parts of the theatre; such reasons apply, in much stronger degree, to not driving along the Strand, or any of the great public streets of London, after dark; and if the virtue of well educated young persons is made of such very frail materials, their best resource is a nunnery at once. It is a very bad rule, however, never to quit the house for fear of catching cold.
Mrs. Moore practically extends the same doctrine to cards and a.s.semblies. No cards--because cards are employed in gaming; no a.s.semblies--because many dissipated persons pa.s.s their lives in a.s.semblies. Carry this but a little further, and we must say,--no wine, because of drunkenness; no meat, because of gluttony; no use, that there may be no abuse! The fact is, that Mr. Stanley wants not only to be religious, but to be at the head of the religious. These little abstinences are the c.o.c.kades by which the party are known,--the rallying points for the evangelical faction. So natural is the love of power, that it sometimes becomes the influencing motive with the sincere advocates of that blessed religion, whose very characteristic excellence is the humility which it inculcates.
We observe that Mrs. Moore, in one part of her work, falls into the common error about dress. She first blames ladies for exposing their persons in the present style of dress; and then says, if they knew their own interest,--if they were aware how much more alluring they were to men when their charms are less displayed, they would make the desired alteration from motives merely selfish.
”Oh! if women in general knew what was their real interest! if they could guess with what a charm even the _appearance_ of modesty invests its possessor, they would dress decorously from mere self-love, if not from principle. The designing would a.s.sume modesty as an artifice; the coquet would adopt it as an allurement; the pure as her appropriate attraction; and the voluptuous as the most infallible art of seduction.” I. 189.