Madam DARMESTETER'S _Retrospect and other Poems_ is turned out by
FISHER UNWIN in that dainty dress with which he has made attractive
his Cameo Series. We used to know Madam DARMESTETER as Miss MARY F.
ROBINSON, a writer of charming verse. That in her new estate she has
not lost the old touch is witnessed by several pieces in this volume,
notably the first, which supplies the title. The penultimate verse of
this little lyric is most musical. There are several others nearly as
good. But occasionally Madam writes sad stuff. Of such is _The Death
of the Count of Armaniac_, of which this verse is a fair sample:
"ARMANIAC, O ARMANIAC,
Why rode ye forth at noon?
Was there no hour at even,
No morning cool and boon?"
My Baronite, though not yet entered for the Poet Laureateship, thinks
that kind of thing might be reeled off by the mile. Why not
My Maniac, O my Maniac,
Why rode ye forth at eve?
Was there no hour at morning tide,
No water in the sieve?
[Illustration: A Clerk in Our Booking-Office.]
Three years ago an American firm issued a princely edition of _The
Memoir of Horace Walpole_, written by AUSTIN DOBSON. It was too
expensive for mere Britishers, and only a small number of copies found
their way to this country. But the literary work was so excellent,
that it was pronounced a pity it should be entombed in this costly
sarcophagus. Messrs. OSGOOD, MCILVAINE, & CO. have now brought out an
edition, in a single handsome volume, at a reasonable price. HORACE
WALPOLE has often been written about since he laid down the pen,
but never by a more sympathetic hand than Mr. DOBSON'S, nor by
one bringing to the task fuller knowledge of WALPOLE'S time and
contemporaries. The charm of style extends even to the notes, usually
in books of this class a tantalising adjunct. Mr. DOBSON'S are so full
of information, and so crisply told, that they might with advantage
have been incorporated in the text. The volume contains facsimiles of
HORACE WALPOLE'S handwriting, an etching of LAWRENCE'S portrait, and
a reproduction of the sketch of Strawberry Hill which illustrated the
catalogue of 1774. Altogether a delightful book that will, my Baronite
says, take its place on a favourite shelf of the library that has
grown up round the memory of one of the most interesting figures of
the Eighteenth Century.