Our first volume contained the portrait of Sir Walter Scott; our sixth
and concluding volume is adorned by the portrait of Charles Mackay. In
these distinguished men there is not only a strong mental similarity,
but also a striking physical resemblance. Those who are curious in such
matters will do well to compare the two portraits. The one was the most
prolific and popular writer at the commencement of the century; the
other is the most prolific and popular song-writer of the present day.
Wherever the English language is heard and patriotic songs are sung,
Charles Mackay will be present in his verse. He rejoices in his English
songs; but Scotland claims him as a son.
Charles Mackay is of ancient and honourable extraction. His paternal
ancestors were the Mackays of Strathnaver, in Sutherlandshire; while, on
the mother's side, he is descended from the Roses of Kilravock, near
Inverness, for many centuries the proprietors of one of the most
interesting feudal strongholds in the Highlands. The Mrs Rose of
Kilravock, whose name appears in the "Correspondence" of Burns, was
Charles Mackay's maternal grandmother.
He was born at Perth in 1814; but his early years were spent in London,
his parents having removed to the metropolis during his infancy. There
he received the rudiments of an education which was completed in the
schools of Belgium and Germany. His relation, General Mackay, intended
that he should adopt the military profession; but family arrangements
and other circumstances prevented the fulfilment of that intention.
The poetical faculty cannot be acquired; it must be born with a man,
growing with his growth, and strengthening with his strength, until
developed by the first great impulse that agitates his being, and
generally that is love. There are versifiers innumerable who are not
poets, but there are no poets whose hearts remain unstirred by the
exciting passion of irrepressible love, when song becomes the written
testimony of the inner life. Whether it was so with Charles Mackay we
have not ascertained, nor have we cared to inquire. His love-songs,
however, are exquisitely touching, and among the purest compositions in
the language. Certain it is that the poetical power was early
manifested; for we find that, in 1836, he gave his first poems to the
public. The unpretending volume attracted the attention of John Black,
who was then the distinguished editor of the _Morning Chronicle_. Ever
ready to recognise genius wherever it could be found, and always
prepared to lend a hand to lift into light the unobtrusive author who
laboured in the shade, he offered young Mackay a place on the paper,
which was accepted, and filled with such ability that he was rapidly
promoted to the responsible position of sub-editor. He soon became one
of the marked men of the time in connexion with the press; and, in 1844,
he undertook the editorship of the _Glasgow Argus_, a journal devoted to
the advocacy of advanced liberal opinions.
This paper he conducted for three years, and returned to London, where
he received the appointment of editor of the _Illustrated London News_,
a situation which, considering the peculiar character of the paper, he
fills with consummate tact. Some of the great organs of public opinion
may thunder forth embittered denunciations, others, in the silkiest
tone, will admonish so gently that they half approve the misconduct of
people in power if their birth happens to have been sufficiently
elevated. The distinguishing characteristics of the political articles
written by Charles Mackay are their manly and thoroughly independent
spirit, avoiding alike fulsome adulation and indiscriminate abuse. His
censure and his praise are always governed by strictest impartiality.
Whether he condemns or whether he applauds he secures the respect even
of those from whom he differs the most. It is no small merit to possess
such a power in the conflict and strife of politics. We happen to know a
circumstance which speaks volumes on this subject. The peculiarities of
the press of England were being discussed in the presence of a foreign
nobleman, of high rank and political influence, who expressed himself to
this effect:--"Some of your newspapers are _feared_, some simply
tolerated, some detested, and some merit our contempt, but the
_Illustrated London News_ is respected. It is admitted everywhere, it is
read everywhere; and, although it is sometimes severe, its very severity
is appreciated, because it is the expression of earnest conviction and
sterling good sense; the result is, that it has, on the Continent, a
wider influence than any paper published in England."
Mackay's works have been numerous and various. Without presuming to be
perfectly accurate, we shall attempt a list of his several publications.
His first, as we have already stated, was a small volume of "Poems,"
published in 1836. This was followed by the "Hope of the World," a poem,
in heroic verse, published in 1839. Soon afterwards appeared "The Thames
and its Tributaries," a most suggestive, agreeable, and gossiping book.
In 1841 appeared his "Popular Delusions," a work of considerable merit;
and next came, in 1842, his romance of "Longbeard, Lord of London," so
well conceived and cleverly executed, that an archaeologist of
considerable pretensions mistook it for a genuine historical record of
the place on which it was written. His next work, and up till that
period his noblest poem, "The Salamandrine, or Love and Immortality,"
appeared in 1843. As there is no hesitation in his thought, there is no
vagueness in his language; it is terse, clear, and direct in every
utterance. An enemy to spasms in every form, he abhors the Spasmodic
School of Poets. If the true poet be the seer--the far seer into
futurity--he should see his way clear before him. He should write
because he has a thought to utter, and ought to utter it in the clearest
and the fittest language, and this is the principle which manifestly
governs the compositions of Charles Mackay. The "Salamandrine" lifted
his works high in the poetic scale, and permanently fixed him, not only
in the ranks, but marked him as a leader of the host of eminent British
poets. His residence in Scotland enabled him to visit many places famous
in Scottish history. The results were his "Legends of the Isles,"
published in 1845 and his "Voices from the Mountains" in 1846. A few
months before the publication of the last named volume, the University
of Glasgow conferred upon him the degree of LL.D.
When the London _Daily News_ was started, he contributed some stirring
lyrics, under the title of "Voices from the Crowd." They arrested the
attention of the public, and tended greatly to popularise and establish
the reputation of that journal. In 1847 appeared his "Town Lyrics," a
series of ballads which harrowed the soul by laying bare many of the
secret miseries of the town. In 1850 was published his exquisite poem of
"Egeria," probably the most refined and artistic of all his productions;
and in 1856 he gave to the world "The Lump of Gold," and "Under Green
Leaves," two volumes of charming poetry; the first tracing the evils
that flow from unrestrained cupidity; the second the delights of the
country, under every circumstance that can or does occur. Latterly he
has composed some popular airs, set to his own lyrics; thus giving to
the melody he has conceived the immortality of his verse. With the late
Sir Henry Bishop he was associated in re-arranging a hundred of the
choicest old English melodies. The music has been re-arranged; and many
a lovely air, inadmissible to cultivated society from its being
associated with vulgar or debasing words, has been re-admitted to the
social circle, and is fast floating into public favour in union with the
words composed by Mackay.
Here we stop. This is not the time, nor is it the place, to discuss,
with any great elaboration, the merits or peculiarities of Charles
Mackay as an author. We have to do with him as the most successful of
song-writers. Two of his songs, perhaps not among his best, have
obtained a world-wide popularity. His "Good Time Coming," and his
"Cheer, Boys, Cheer," have been ground to death by barrel-organs, but
only to experience a resurrection to immortality. On the wide sea, amid
the desert, across the prairies, in burning India, in far Australia, and
along the frozen steppes of Russia are floating those imperishable airs
suggested by the "Lyrics" whose names they bear. The soldier and the
sailor, conscious of impending danger, think of beloved ones at home;
unconsciously they hum a melody, and comfort is restored. The emigrant,
forced by various circumstances to leave his native land, where, instead
of inheriting food and raiment, he had experienced hunger, nakedness,
and cold, endeavours to express his feelings, and is discovered crooning
over the tune that correctly interprets his emotions, and thrills his
heart with gladness. The poet's song has become incorporated with the
poor man's nature. You may see that it fills his eyes with tears; but
they are not of sorrow. His cheek is flushed with hope, and a radiant
expectation, founded on experience, which seems to illuminate and gild
his future destiny. Marvellous, indeed, are the influences of a true
song; and while they are rare, they are by fashion rarely appreciated.
In it are embodied the best thoughts in the best language. By it the
best of every class in every clime are swayed. In it they find
expression for sensations, which, but for the poet, might have slumbered
unexpressed till the day of doom.
Whether we think of Charles Mackay as a journalist, as a novelist, as a
poet, or as a musician, he wins our admiration in all. Possessing, as he
does in a high degree, a fine imagination, allied to the kindliest
feelings springing from a sensitive and considerate heart, he is beloved
by his friends, and cares little for the vulgar admiration of the
crowd. The pomp, and circumstance, and self-exaltation, so current
now-a-days, he utterly despises. But the kindliness, the glowing
sympathies of a few kindred spirits gladden him and make him happy.
Though modest and retiring in his disposition, he has no shamefacedness.
His conversation is like his verse; there is neither tinsel nor glitter,
but genuine, solid stuff. Something that bears examination; something
you can take up and handle; something to brood over and reflect upon;
something that wins its way by its truthfulness, and compels you to
accept it as a principle; something that sticks close, and springs up in
the future a very fountain of pure and unadulterated joy; from all this
it will be inferred that no man can remain long in his company without
feeling that he is not only a wiser, but a better man for the privilege
enjoyed. He is still in the prime of life and the maturity of his
intellect. May we not, in concluding this slight notice of his life and
character, express a hope which we know to be a general one--that he may
yet live to write many more poems and many more songs, as good or better
than those which he has already given to the world?