"Aha!" quoth the Baron. "This book of Master STANLEY WEYMAN'S, called
_Under the Red Robe_, delighteth me much. A stirring story of
swashbucklers, pistols, daggers, conspirators, gay gallants, and gentle
dames! Exciting from first to last, and all in one volume, which,
beshrew me, by my hilts!" quoth the Baron, "the reader, be he who he
may, will find easy to take up, and most difficult to put down, until
quite finished. 'Tis published by one METHUEN, of London, whose house
Cavalier WEYMAN hath favoured more than once ere he wrote this stirring
romance." Towards the finish there is a spice of BULWER LYTTON'S drama
_Richelieu_,--indeed the last situation in this tale is almost one with
the action of the scene in the play where _Richelieu_ brings the lovers
together. Yet is this but a mere detail, and those who follow the
Baron's literary tips will do well and wisely to read _Under the Red
Robe_. By the way, Mr. CATON WOODVILLE'S illustrations to the story are
excellent, having the rare merit of assisting the action without
revealing the plot. "CATON, thou pictureth well."
Within the limits of a hundred pages Lord DUFFERIN has given the
world a picture it will not willingly let die. It is a portrait of
his mother, "one of the sweetest, most beautiful, most accomplished,
wittiest, most loving and lovable human beings that ever walked upon
the earth." This, as my Baronite says, is the superlative of praise,
and it might reasonably be suspected that filial feeling has warped
critical acumen. But here in this volume of _Songs, Poems, and Verses_
(JOHN MURRAY) we have Lady DUFFERIN though dead yet speaking, and may
judge for ourselves. It is characteristic of her son that, whilst on
the first page the above title is boldly set forth in large ruddy-hued
type, a smaller line lower down, in plain black ink, refers to the
"Memoir." In its felicity of literary style, its clear touches of
characterisation, and its flashes of quiet humour, this monograph is a
masterpiece. It fittingly frames the extract from the journal commenced
by Lady DUFFERIN when she felt the hand of death gripping her. This
fragment is prose worthy of the author of _The Irish Emigrant_, whose
simple pathos has stirred the heart on both sides of the Atlantic.
Within the brief limits he has assigned to himself, Lord DUFFERIN
manages to give a succinct account of the illustrious family of which
HELEN, Lady DUFFERIN, was a bright, particular star. It would be
difficult to parallel the sustained brilliancy of the SHERIDANS, from
RICHARD BRINSLEY down to his great-great-grandson, at present Her
MAJESTY'S Minister at Paris. To the possession of all the graces they
have added display of all the talents. It is hard to live up to the
literary standard of the SHERIDANS. In this delightful volume Lord
DUFFERIN shows that the marvel was accomplished by his mother, and is
possible for himself.
My Baronite has made an attempt to read _Lourdes_ in the convenient
shape in which Messrs. CHATTO AND WINDUS present it to the
English-speaking public. He honestly admits that, finding on a rapid
glance through its pages the first chapter was a fair sample of the
bulk, he gave it up. M. ZOLA has avowedly set himself the task of
minutely describing the pitiful experience of the halt, the lame, the
blind, and much worse, who journey to Lourdes in the desperate hope
of miraculous recovery. He may at least be congratulated on having
achieved his object. Only, the report with all its horrible detail
would more fittingly have appeared in the pages of the _Lancet_ or the
_British Medical Journal_. Since it has been published in book form
realism should have been carried one step further. The volume ought to
have been bound in a poultice instead of ordinary cloth. As it is, the
leaves turned over fill the room with faint, sickening smell of the
hospital ward. _Lourdes_ is certainly not alluring. It is, in truth,
_lourd--et sale aussi_.
Once again, for the benefit of all brother-scribes who, for a while, or
frequently, may have to do their scribbling when journeying, or while
compelled by illness to remain in Bedford-under-Clothes,--as was but
recently the case with your own Baronius, pains and counterpanes all
over him,--the use of "_The Hairless Author's Paper-pad_," _i.e._ "_The
Author's Hairless Paper-pad_," issued by the _Leadenhall Press_, on
which the author can write with pencil or with pen,--for the blotter is
handily placed at the back of the pad,--is strongly recommended by the
Ready Writer's and Ready Reader's best friend,