Landor is speaking, of course, with his usual impetuosity, particularly
moved by antipathy to Lord Brougham. A fairer estimate of the "bluff and
blue" exponent of Whig principles may be obtained from our brief
estimate of Jeffrey below. His was the informing spirit, at least in its
earliest days, and that spirit would brook no divided sway.
FRANCIS LORD JEFFREY
(1773-1850)
Jeffrey was editor of the _Edinburgh Review_ from its foundation in
October 10th, 1802, till June, 1829; and continued to write for it until
June, 1848. He was more patronising in his abuse than either _Blackwood_
or the _Quarterly_, and on the whole fairer and more dignified; though
he was considerably influenced by political bias. In fact, his
judgments--though versatile--were narrow, his most marked limitations
arising from blindness to the imaginative.
The short, vivacious figure (so low that he might pass under your chin
without ever catching the eye even for a moment, says Lockhart), was far
more impressive when familiar than at first sight. Lord Cockburn praises
his legal abilities (whether as judge or advocate) almost without
qualification; but Wilson derides his appearance in the House:--"A cold
thin voice, doling out little, quaint, metaphysical sentences with the
air of a provincial lecturer on logic and _belles-lettres_. A few good
Whigs of the old school adjourned upstairs, the Tories began to converse
_de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis_, the Radicals were either snoring
or grinning, and the great gun of the north ceased firing amidst such a
hubbub of inattention, that even I was not aware of the fact for several
minutes."
He has been called "almost a lecturer in society," and it is clear that
his difficulty always was to cease talking. Men as different as Macaulay
and Charles Dickens have spoken with deep personal affection of his
memory.
In one of Carlyle's inimitable "pen-portraits" he is described as "a
delicate, attractive, dainty little figure, as he merely walked about,
much more if he were speaking: uncommonly bright, black eyes, instinct
with vivacity, intelligence and kindly fire; roundish brow, delicate
oval face, full, rapid expression; figure light, nimble, pretty, though
so small, perhaps hardly five feet four in height.... His voice clear,
harmonious, and sonorous, had something of metallic in it, something
almost plangent ... a strange, swift, sharp-sounding, fitful modulation,
part of it pungent, _quasi latrant_, other parts of it cooing, bantery,
lovingly quizzical, which no charm of his fine ringing voice (_metallic_
tenor, of sweet tone), and of his vivacious rapid looks and pretty
little attitudes and gestures, could altogether reconcile you to, but in
which he persisted through good report and bad."
* * * * *
Perhaps Jeffrey's most famous criticism was the "This will never do" on
Wordsworth; of which Southey wrote to Scott, "Jeffrey, I hear, has
written what his friends call a _crushing_ review of the Excursion. He
might as well seat himself on Skiddaw, and fancy that he crushed the
mountain."
It is obvious, indeed, that the Lake poets had little respect for their
"superior" reviewers; whose opinions, on the other hand, were not
subject to influences from high places. It will be noticed that Jefferey
is even more severe on Southey's Laureate "Lays" than on his "Thalaba."
The review on Moore, quoted below, was followed by formal arrangements
for a duel at Chalk Farm on 11th August, 1806; but the police had orders
to interrupt, and pistols were loaded with paper. Even the semblance of
animosity was not maintained, as we find Moore contributing to the
_Edinburgh_ before the end of the same year.
We fear that the appreciation of Keats was partly influenced by
political considerations; since Leigh Hunt had so emphatically welcomed
him into the camp. It remains, however, a pleasing contrast to the
ferocious onslaught on _Endymion_ of Gifford printed below.
HENRY LORD BROUGHAM
(1779-1868)
Brougham was intimately associated with Jeffrey in the foundation of the
_Edinburgh Review_: he is said to have written eighty articles in the
first twenty numbers, though like all his work, the criticism was spoilt
by egotism and vanity. The fact is that an over-brilliant versatility
injured his work. Combining "in his own person the characters of Solon,
Lycurgus, Demosthenes, Archimedes, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord Chesterfield,
and a great many more," his restless genius accomplished nothing
substantial or sound. His writing was far less careful than his oratory.
A man from whom almost everything was expected, and who was always
before the eye of the public; he has been described as "the God of
Whiggish idolatry," and as "impossible" in society. Harriet Martineau is
unsparing in her criticism of his manners and language; and evidently he
was an inveterate swearer. His enthusiasm for noble causes was
infectious; only, as Coleridge happily expressed it, "because his heart
was placed in what should have been his head, you were never sure of
him--you always doubted his sincerity."
In the Opposition and at the Bar this eloquent energy had full scope,
"but as Lord Chancellor his selfish disloyalty offended his colleagues
while," as O'Connell remarked, "If Brougham knew a little of Law, he
would know a little of everything." Unquestionably his obvious failings
obscured his real eminence, and even hinder us, to-day, from doing full
justice to his memory.
* * * * *
It was the following, somewhat heavy-handed, review which inspired the
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_, with all its "extraordinary powers
of malicious statement"--truly a Roland for his Oliver.
SYDNEY SMITH
(1771-1845)
The third founder of the _Edinburgh_ and one of its most aggressive
reviewers, until March, 1827, Sydney Smith has been described as "most
provokingly and audaciously personal in his strictures.... He was too
complacent, too aboundingly self-satisfied, too buoyantly full of
spirits, to hate anybody; but he burlesques them, derides them, and
abuses them with the most exasperating effrontery--in a way that is
great fun to the reader, but exquisite torture to the victim." At the
same time, his wit was always governed by commonsense (its most
prevailing distinction); and, though almost unique among humorists for
his personal gaiety, "his best work was done in promoting practical
ends, and his wit in its airiest gambols never escaped his control."
There was, in fact, considerable independence--and even courage--in his
seriously inspired attacks on various abuses, and on every form of
affectation and cant. Though his manners and conversation were not
precisely those we generally associate with the Cloth, Sydney Smith
published several volumes of sermons, and always accepted the
responsibilities of his position as a clergyman with becoming industry.
Croker's veiled sarcasm in the _Quarterly_ (printed below) was no more
bitter, or truthful, than similar utterances on any Whig.
* * * * *