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dependencies. In politics, he was 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 Courtier-light 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.

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Death of Gawtrey the Coiner.

At both doors now were heard the sound of voices.

Open, in the king's name, or expect no mercy!' 'Hist!' said Gawtrey. One way yet-the windowthe 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 set teeth-with closed eyes-he moved on-he gained the parapet-he stood safe on the opposite side. And, now straining his eyes across, he saw through the open casement into the chamber he had just quitted. Gawtrey was still standing against the door to the principal staircase, for that of the two was the weaker and the more assailed. Presently the explosion of a firearm was heard; they had shot through the panel. Gawtrey seemed wounded, for he staggered forward, and uttered a fierce cry; a moment more, and he gained the window -he seized the rope-he hung over the tremendous

depth! Morton knelt by the parapet, holding the grappling-hook in its place, with convulsive grasp, and fixing his eyes, bloodshot with fear and suspense, on the huge bulk that clung for life to that slender cord!

Le voilà! le voilà !' cried a voice from the opposite side. Morton raised his gaze from Gawtrey; the casehad burst into the room-an officer sprung upon the ment was darkened by the forms of the pursuers-they parapet, and Gawtrey, now aware of his danger, opened his eyes, and, as he moved on, glared upon the foe. The policeman deliberately raised his pistol-Gawtrey arrested himself-from a wound in his side the blood trickled slowly and darkly down, drop by drop, upon the stones below; even the officers of the 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 awed the policeman; his hand trembled as he fired, and

of the man.

His look, so fixed-so intense-so stern,

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 Morton sprung to his hardiest on whose ear it came. feet, and looked below. He saw on the rugged stones, far down, a dark, formless, motionless mass the strong with life and soul, as an infant with the baubles that it man of passion and levity-the giant who had played prizes and breaks-was what the Caesar 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 1842, was another attempt of our author to achieve Ill-omened Marriage, and other Tales and Poems, 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;
This tasks the reason, that the soul delights.
Talent from sober judgment takes its birth,
And reconciles the pinion to the earth;
Genius unsettles with desires the mind,
Contented not till earth be left behind;
Talent, the sunshine on a cultured soil,
Ripens the fruit by slow degrees for toil.
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 need---
From its plain horn-book learn the dull to read;
Genius, the Pythian of the beautiful,
Leaves its large truths a riddle to the dull-
From 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. In 1844 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. 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

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 incredible. 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 blunders, Bulwer persevered, and he at last wrought out works worthy of his

*We know him, out of Shakspeare's art,

And those fine curses which he spokeThe Old Timon with his noble heart, That strongly loathing, greatly broke. So died the Old; here comes the New: Regard him-a familiar face;

I thought we knew him. What! it's you,
The padded man that wears the stays;

Who killed the girls and thrilled the boys
With dandy pathos when you wrote:
O Lion, you that made a noise,

And shook a mane en papillotes...

But men of long-enduring hopes,

And careless what the hour may bring,
Can pardon little would-be Popes
And Brummels, when they try to sting.
An artist, sir, should rest in art,
And waive a little of his claim;
To have the great poetic heart

Is more than all poetic fame. . . .
What profits now to understand
The merits of a spotless shirt-
A dapper boot-a little hand-

If half the little soul is dirt?...

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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 (who was tremblingly alive to criticism on his works) 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 story in question, which was defective as a work of art; and, notwithstanding his defence, Sir Edward, 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 animated description, though somewhat overlaid with archæological details. The same year (1848), alternating, as before, poetical with prose fiction, and 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. But with all its variety, its ingenuity, and learned lore, King Arthur is found to be tedious. The charm of human interest is wanting, and the vivifying soul of poetry which lightens up the allegories of Spenser and Ariosto is absent from the pages of their modern imitator.

The blending of satire and comic scenes with
romantic fable, though sanctioned by the example
of Ariosto, was also a perilous attempt; and we
cannot say that the covert descriptions of Louis-
Philippe, Guizot, or the Parisian February revolu-
tion, are either very just or very effective. Here
is the portrait of the French minister :

With brow deject, the mournful Vandal took
Occasion prompt to leave his royal guest,
And sought a friend who served him, as a book
Read in our illness, in our health dismissed;
For seldom did the Vandal condescend

To that poor drudge which monarchs call a friend!

And yet Astutio was a man of worth

Before the brain had reasoned out the heart; But now he learned to look upon the earth

As peddling hucksters look upon the mart;
Took souls for wares, and conscience for a till;
And damned his fame to save his master's will.

Much lore he had in men, and states, and things,
And kept his memory mapped in prim precision,
With histories, laws, and pedigrees of kings,

And moral saws, which ran through each division,
All neatly coloured with appropriate hue-
The histories black, the morals heavenly blue!

;

But state-craft, mainly, was his pride and boast
The 'golden medium' was his guiding star,
Which means, move on until you 're uppermost,
And then things can't be better than they are!'
Brief, in two rules he summed the ends of man--
'Keep all you have, and try for all you can!'

In 1851 Bulwer wrote a comedy, Not so Bad as ave Seem, which was performed at Devonshire House, in aid of the Guild of Literature and Art -an institution for decayed and destitute authors and artists, projected by Charles Dickens and others, but which proved a failure. The Queen and Prince Consort were present at this dramatic representation, and among the amateur performers were Dickens, Forster, R. H. Horne, Mark Lemon, and Frank Stone.

pruriency and affectations of his early manner, and displayed the matured powers of the artis, with deeper and broader sympathies, and a wiser philosophy of human life.

In 1853 Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer received from the university of Oxford the degree of D.C.L.; in 1856 he was elected Rector of the university of Glasgow; and in 1858 he joined the administration of the Earl of Derby as Secretary for Colonial Affairs. In 1866 he was elevated to the peerage as Baron Lytton. His literary industry was never relaxed. He successively produced The Lost Tales of Miletus, a collection of ancient legends in original rhythmical strophes (1866); a translation of Horace's Odes (1869); Walpole, or Every Man has his Price, a rhyming comedy (1869); and The Coming Race (1870). The last is a narrative of imaginary travels; it was published anonymously, and excited much attention and speculation, running rapidly through several editions. In this curious work Lord Lytton seems to have been indebted for some hints to a Latin work by Holberg, the Danish poet, Nicolai Kliminii Iter Subterranean, of which a translation is given in Weber's Popular Romances. Both profess to be the narrative of an underground journey, the countries that are the scene of the travels being alike situated in the interior of the earth. In 1872-3, a novel, The Parisians, appeared in monthly parts in Blackwood's Magazine; and Lord Lytton had just completed another work, Kenelm Chillingly, when his busy career terminated. He was seized with a severe pain—a terrible agony-from inflammation in the ear and head, which in three days proved fatal. He died at Torquay on the 18th of January 1873, and was interred in Westminster Abbey. The sudden death of Lord Lytton was much regretted. He was at the head of our literature, with the single exception of Mr Carlyle; his works were popular over all Europe, and his fertility and industry seemed unabated. His son, the present Lord Lytton, has, with a just pride, said of his father : Whether as an author, standing apart from all literary cliques and coteries, or as a politician, never wholly subject to the exclusive dictation of any political party, he always thought and acted in sympathy with every popular aspiration for the political, social, and intellectual improvement of the whole national life.'* Lord Lytton left an unfinished romance, Pausanias, the Spartan, which was published (edited by his son) in 1876.

Imagination on Canvas and in Books.

The later works of this eminent author fulfilled the promise of healthful moral feeling, and the more complete mastery of his intellectual resources, indicated in the family picture of the Caxtons. My Novel, or Varieties of English Life, 1853, and What will He Do with It? 1858, are genuine English stories, uniting the characteristics of town and country life, and presenting the contrasts of national character. His country squires and clergymen are perhaps too good, and his manufacturers and borough Radicals too coarse and vulgar. He views society too exclusively from the atmosphere of Almack's and May It is when we compare works of imagination in writFair. He is also more apt to describe his charac-ing with works of imagination on the canvas, that we ters than to develop them in action and dialogue; which exist in each; for common both to the author can best form a critical idea of the different schools and his digressions, though always ingenious, even and the painter are those styles which we call the when they are pedantic and egotistic, are some- familiar, the picturesque, and the intellectual. By retimes misplaced. These are his most prominent curring to this comparison, we can without much diffi defects or drawbacks. But there is so much culty classify works of fiction in their proper order, and variety in his portraits, so much to delight the estimate the rank they should severally hold. fancy and exercise the understanding, that it is intellectual will probably never be the most widely on these English tales, as we conceive, that the popular for the moment. He who prefers to study in novelist's fame will ultimately rest. His Caxton- this school, must be prepared for much depreciation, for iana, a series of essays (1863) and contributions its greatest excellences, even if he achieve them, are to the Reviews, are also worthy of his reputation. not the most obvious to the many. In discussing, for In the course of his long career he exhibited instance, a modern work, we hear it praised, perhaps, an amazing versatility of intellect and noble perseverance. He worked himself free of the

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1874.

The

Prefatory Memoir to Speeches of Edward, Lord Lytton,

stately as yonder Thames, that flow afar in the waste, never seen, never heard by man. What profits the river unmarked? what the genius never to be known?'

It was not a common thing with Adam Warner to be thus eloquent. Usually silent and absorbed, it was not his gift to moralise or declaim. His soul must be deeply moved before the profound and buried sentiment within it could escape into words.

for some striking passage, some prominent character; but when do we ever hear any comment on its harmony of construction, on its fitness of design, on its ideal character, on its essentials-in short, as a work of art? What we hear most valued in a picture, we often find the most neglected in a book—namely, the composition; and this, simply, because in England painting is recognised as an art, and estimated according to definite theories. But in literature, we judge from a taste never Sybill pressed her father's hand, and, though her own formed-from a thousand prejudices and ignorant pre- heart was very heavy, she forced her lips to smile, and dilections. We do not yet comprehend that the author her voice to soothe. Adam interrupted her. is an artist, and that the true rules of art by which he 'Child, child, ye women know not what presses should be tested are precise and immutable. Hence the darkest and most bitterly on the minds of men. singular and fantastic caprices of the popular opinion—know not what it is to form out of immaterial things its exaggerations of praise or censure its passion and some abstract but glorious object-to worship-to serve reaction. These violent fluctuations betray both a it-to sacrifice to it, as on an altar, youth, health, hope, public and a criticism utterly unschooled in the ele- life-and suddenly, in old age, to see that the idol was mentary principles of literary art, and entitle the a phantom, a mockery, a shadow laughing us to scorn, humblest author to dispute the censure of the hour, because we have sought to clasp it.' while they ought to render the greatest suspicious of 'O yes, father, women have known that illusion.' its praise. 'What! Do they study?'

It is, then, in conformity, not with any presumptuous conviction of his own superiority, but with his common experience and common sense, that every author who addresses an English audience in serious earnest, is permitted to feel that his final sentence rests not with the jury before which he is first heard. The literary history of the day consists of a series of judgments set aside.

But this uncertainty must more essentially betide every student, however lowly, in the school I have called the intellectual, which must ever be more or less at variance with the popular canons; it is its hard necessity to use and disturb the lazy quietude of vulgar taste, for unless it did so, it could neither elevate nor move. He who resigns the Dutch art for the Italian, must continue through the dark to explore the principles upon which he founds his design-to which he adapts his execution; in hope or in despondence, still faithful to the theory which cares less for the amount of interest created, than for the sources from which the interest is to be drawn-seeking in action the movement of the prouder passions or the subtler springs of conduct-seeking in repose the colouring of intellectual beauty.

The low and the high of art are not very readily comprehended; they depend not upon the worldly degree or the physical condition of the characters delineated; they depend entirely upon the quality of the emotion which the characters are intended to excite; namely, whether of sympathy for something low, or of admiration for something high. There is nothing high in a boor's head by Teniers-there is nothing low in a boor's head by Guido. What makes the difference between the two? The absence or presence of the ideal! But every one can judge of the merit of the first, for it is of the familiar school; it requires a connoisseur to see the merit of the last, for it is of the intellectual.

Power and Genius-Idols of Imagination.

From The Last of the Barons.

The father and child seated themselves on the parapet, and saw, below, the gay and numerous vessels that glided over the sparkling river, while the dark walls of Baynard's Castle, the adjoining bulwark and battlements of Montfichet, and the tall watch-tower of Warwick's mighty mansion, frowned, in the distance, against the soft blue sky.

'There,' said Adam quietly, and pointing to the feudal roofs-'there seems to rise power; and yonder' (glancing to the river)-' yonder seems to flow genius! A century or so hence, the walls shall vanish, but the river shall roll on. Man makes the castle, and founds the power-God forms the river, and creates the genius. And yet, Sybill, there may be streams as broad and

'No, father, but they feel!'

Feel! I comprehend thee not.'

You

'As man's genius to him, is woman's heart to her," answered Sybill, her dark and deep eyes suffused with tears. 'Doth not the heart create-invent? Doth it not dream? Doth it not form its idol out of air? Goeth it not forth into the future, to prophesy to itself? And, sooner or later, in age or youth, doth it not wake itself at last, and see how it hath wasted its all on follies? Yes, father, my heart can answer, when thy genius would complain.'

WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH.

His

MR W. HARRISON AINSWORTH, son of a solicitor in Manchester, was born in 1805. He has written several novels and romances, partly founded on English history and manners. His first novel, Sir John Chiverton, appeared in 1825. His next work, Rookwood, 1834, is a very animated narrative, in which the adventures of Turpin the highwayman are graphically related, and some of the vulgar superstitions of the last century coloured with a tinge of romance. In the interest and rapidity of his scenes and adventures, Mr Ainsworth evinced a dramatic power and art, but no originality or felicity of humour or character. romance, Crichton, 1836, is founded on the marvellous history of the Scottish cavalier, but is scarcely equal to the first. He has since written Jack Sheppard (1839), a sort of Newgate romance, The Tower of London, Guy Fawkes, Old St Paul's, Windsor Castle, The Lancashire Witches, The Star Chamber, The Flitch of Bacon, The Spendthrift, &c. There are rich, copious, and brilliant descriptions in some of these works, but their tendency must be reprobated. To portray scenes of low successful villainy, and to paint ghastly and hideous details of human suffering, can be no elevating task for a man of genius, nor one likely to promote among novel-readers a healthy tone of moral feeling or sentiment. The story of Jack Sheppard, illustrated by the pencil of Cruikshank, had immense success, and was dramatised.

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of business. His inclination, however, was for raeli's was ever without some passage of originliterature, not law, and in 1826 he appeared as an ality or power, and a few of the monologues and author, publishing Vivian Grey, a novel in two descriptions in this epic are wrought up with convolumes. A second part was added in the follow-siderable effect; but on the whole it is heavy and ing year. The work was read with great avidity. incongruous, and was universally considered a It contained so many and such direct references failure. Some political dissertations succeeded— to public men and recent events-such sarcastic The Crisis Examined, Vindication of the English views of society and character in high life-and Constitution, Letters of Runnymede, &c. These was at once so arrogant, egotistic, and clever, that are strongly anti-Whiggish, written after the it became the book of the season and the talk of model of Junius, and abound in elaborate sarthe town. Passages of glowing sentiment and casm and invective, occasionally degenerating happy description gave evidence of poetic feeling into bombast, but with traces of that command and imagination. In 1828, the young novelist of humorous illustration which afterwards distincontinued his vein of sarcasm in The Voyage of guished Mr Disraeli as a parliamentary debater. Captain Popanilla, an adaptation of Swift's Gulli- The years 1836 and 1837 were marked by the prover to modern times and circumstances. He then duction of two more novels-Henrietta Temple, a sought out new scenes abroad, travelling over Italy Love Story, and Venetia. The former is one of and Greece, residing for a winter in Constantinople, the most pleasing and consistent of the author's and exploring Syria, Egypt, and Nubia. On his fictions; the second is an attempt to portray the return to England, Mr Disraeli began to mingle characters of Byron and Shelley in connection in the political contests and excitement caused by with a series of improbable incidents. Shortly the Reform Bill and the advent of the Whigs to after the appearance of his tale of Venetia, its power. He was ambitious of a seat in parlia- author was gratified by the acquisition of that ment, and made three unsuccessful efforts for this long-coveted honour, a seat in parliament. He purpose the first two as an extreme Reformer, was returned for the borough of Maidstone, along and the third in the character of a Conservative. with Mr Wyndham Lewis, who died in 1838; and He quarrelled with O'Connell and Joseph Hume, in the following year Mr Disraeli married the wrote furious letters against all gainsayers, and widow of his late colleague, who, in 1868, was sent a challenge to O'Connell's son. He then elevated to the peerage with the title of Visbecame the Coryphæus of the party denominated countess Beaconsfield. Mr Disraeli's first speech 'Young England,' and professed to look for the was looked forward to with some interest, for he elements of national regeneration and welfare in had menaced O'Connell with the threat, 'We the exertions and energies of the 'heroic youth' shall meet at Philippi,' and had piqued the public of the country. From 1830 to 1833 he produced curiosity by his political reveries and bold satire; several works of fiction-The Young Duke, Con- so that a performance rich in amusement, if not tarini Fleming, The Wondrous Tale of Alroy, one of high triumph, was anticipated. In style The Rise of Iskander, Ixion in Heaven, &c. The and delivery the speech resembled Mr Disraeli's best of these is Contarini Fleming, which he oriental magnificence: it was received with shouts afterwards termed The Psychological Romance. of derisive laughter, in the midst of which the Though in the highest degree improbable as a speaker fairly broke down, but in conclusion he story, and exaggerated in tone and sentiment, thundered out with prophetic sagacity: 'I have passages of fine imagination, satire, and descrip- begun several times many things, and have often tion abound in this romance. The hero seemed succeeded at last. I shall sit down now, but the to be a self-delineation of the author—an idealised time will come when you will hear me.' It was Disraeli, revelling in scenes of future greatness, long, however, before he ventured on a second baffling foreign diplomatists and political in- attempt; and when he did come forward again on triguers, and trampling down all opposition by the that trying arena, it was obvious that he had brilliancy of his intellect and the force of his will. profited by the failure and by the subsequent disIn Alroy, the author's imagination ran to waste. cipline it had led him to undertake. It is not It is written in a strain of Eastern hyperbole, in a within our province to review the political career sort of lyrical prose, and is without purpose, coher- of Mr Disraeli. In time his talent, or rather ence, or interest. Nothing daunted by the ridicule genius, took a practical shape; his taste and heaped on this work, Mr Disraeli made a still ambition were chastened, and his efforts as a polibolder flight next year. In 1834 appeared, in tician and debater were crowned with brilliant quarto, The Revolutionary Epick, the Work of success. 'It is a common opinion,' as he has Disraeli the Younger, Author of The Psychological himself said, 'that a man cannot at the same Romance. Such a title was eminently provocative time be successful both in meditation and in action. of ridicule, and the feeling was heightened by the But in life it is wisest to judge men individually, preface, in which the author stated that his poem and not decide upon them by general rules. The was suggested on the plains of Troy, but that 'the common opinion in this instance may be very often poet hath ever embodied the spirit of his time.' correct; but where it fails to apply its influence, He instanced the Iliad, the Eneid, the Divine may involve us in fatal mistakes. A literary man Comedy, and the Paradise Lost, adding: 'And who is a man of action is a two-edged weapon; the Spirit of my Time, shall it alone be uncele- nor should it be forgotten that Caius Julius and brated? For me remains the Revolutionary Frederick the Great were both eminently literary Epick. Accordingly, the Genius of Feudalism characters, and yet were perhaps the two most and the Genius of Federalism are made to appear distinguished men of action of ancient and modern before the throne of Demogorgon, to plead in times. Before the novelist had succeeded in realblank verse the_cause of their separate political ising this rare combination, he continued his litersystems, and Faith and Fealty and Young ary labours. In 1839 he produced a tragedy, England' are triumphant. No work of Mr Dis- Alcaros, which is alike deficient in poetic power

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