we cannot, with any degree of truth, congratulate him either on the
tone or the character of his late lucubrations. These pamphlets, take
them altogether, are about the silliest productions of the day; and
we could well wish, for his sake, that they had never been compiled.
Very few people, we imagine, will be disposed to wait with confidence
for the avatar of his Noblest and Noblers, such as he has depicted
them. Our faith and hopes lie in a different direction; nor have
we any wish to see a Cromwell at the head of affairs, supported by
a staff of noble young souls, poetical or otherwise, who require
to be bought over for the purpose. Towards the close of his fourth
pamphlet, our author lets drop a hint from which we gather that it
is not impossible that his Noblest may hereafter appear embodied in
the person of Sir Robert Peel. All we shall say on that score is,
that Sir Robert has already had sufficient opportunity vouchsafed him
to exhibit the extent of his qualifications. It is not likely that
the Statesman who, in the eve of life, and enjoying the undiminished
confidence of his Sovereign, finds himself in the House of Commons
without the semblance of a party to support him, can ever make
another desperate rally. It would be difficult to find in the annals
of history any instance of a leading politician who has been so
often trusted, and impossible to find one who has so often abused
that trust. Even Mr Carlyle cannot deny the Unveracities of which
Sir Robert stands convicted; and although he appears to think that
lapses from truth are of so common occurrence as to be venial, we
beg to assure him that his opinion is not the general one, nor is
it altogether creditable to the morality of the man who ventures
to express it. We are sorry to observe that, in the conclusion of
this latter tract, Mr Carlyle has condescended to borrow some hints
from that most eminent master of modern scurrility, the late Daniel
O'Connell. This is, in every respect, to be deplored. Wit is not Mr
Carlyle's forte, and this kind of wit, if wit it be, is, when served
up at second hand, both nauseous and revolting. At a calmer moment,
and on more mature reflection, we feel convinced that Mr Carlyle
will blush for the terms which he has allowed himself to apply to so
eminent a genius as Mr Disraeli; and that he will in future abstain
from testifying his gratitude for a humiliating invitation to dinner
in a shape so abject as that of casting personal and low abuse upon
the political adversaries of his entertainer.
If Mr Carlyle feels that his vocation is political--if the true
spirit of the prophet is stirring within him--he ought to endeavour
in the first place to think clearly, and, in the second, to amend his
style. At present his thoughts are anything but clear. The primary
duty of an author is to have a distinct understanding of the matter
which he proposes to enunciate, for unless he can arrive at that,
his words must necessarily be mystical and undefined. If men are
to be taught at all, let the teaching be simple, and level to the
common capacity; and let the teacher be thoroughly conversant with
the whole particulars of the lesson. We have a strong suspicion that
Cassandra must have been a prophetess reared in the same school
as Mr Carlyle. Her predictions seem to have been shrouded in such
thorough mysticism, that no one gave her credit for inspiration;
and in consequence the warnings which might have saved Troy, were
spoken to the empty winds. Here, perhaps, we ought to guard ourselves
against a similar charge of indistinctness. We by no means intend to
certify that Mr Carlyle is a prophet, or that there is any peculiar
Revelation in these Latter-day Pamphlets which can avert the fall
of Britain, should that sad catastrophe be foredoomed. We simply
wish to express our regret that Mr Carlyle, who may lay claim to
the possession of some natural genius and ability, will not allow
us the privilege of understanding the true nature of his thoughts,
and therefore exposes himself to a suspicion that the indistinctness
lies quite as much in the original conception of the ideas, as in the
language by means of which they are conveyed.
As to his style, it can be defended on no principle whatever.
Richter, who used to be his model, was in reality a first-rate
master of language and of verbal music; and although in some of
his works, he thought fit to adopt a quaint and abrupt manner of
writing, in others he exhibited not only great power, but a harmony
which is perhaps the rarest accomplishment of the rhetorical artist.
His "Meditation on a Field of Battle," for example, is as perfect
a strain of music as the best composition of Beethoven. But in Mr
Carlyle's sentences and periods, there is no touch or sound of
harmony. They are harsh, cramped, and often ungrammatical; totally
devoid of all pretension to ease, delicacy, or grace. In short,
we pass from the Latter-day Pamphlets with the sincere conviction
that the author as a politician is shallow and unsound, obscure and
fantastic in his philosophy, and very much to be reprehended for his
obstinate attempt to inculcate a bad style, and to deteriorate the
simple beauty and pure significancy of our language.
THE HUNGARIAN JOSEPH.
The following poem is intended to commemorate a very interesting
episode, which lately enlivened the deliberations of the National
Reform Association. The usual knot of Parliamentary orators having
somewhat cavalierly left the delegates to their own rhetorical
resources, on the third day of conference, and the conversation
having taken a doleful turn, owing to the paucity of subscriptions,
the Chairman, Sir Joshua Walmsley, thought fit to enliven the spirits
of the meeting by the introduction of an illustrious visitor. The
following extract from the morning papers will explain the incident,
as well as the commemorative verses:--
"The Chairman (Sir J. Walmsley) here left the platform, and
shortly afterwards returned, leading a short, stout, elderly,
intelligent-looking gentleman, with a very formidable mustache
and bushy beard of snowy whiteness, whose appearance created
considerable excitement in the audience, and gave rise to great
satisfaction in the minds of several delegates, who were under
the impression that they beheld Mr Muntz, the hon. member for
Birmingham, whose beard is so well known by report to the
Liberal party.
"The CHAIRMAN.--Gentlemen, you observed that I left the platform
for a short time, and returned with a gentleman who is now near
me. It is no other than the Joseph Hume of the Hungarians. (Loud
cheers, followed by cries of 'Name, name.')
"The chairman did not appear able to afford the desired
information, and the venerable Hungarian financier wrote his
name on a slip of paper, from which Sir Joshua Walmsley read
aloud what sounded like 'Eugene Rioschy.' (Cheers; and voices,
'We don't know it now,' 'I can't tell my wife;' and laughter.)
I.
No, no! 'tis false! it cannot be!
When saw a mortal eye
Two suns within the firmament,
Two glories in the sky?
Nay, Walmsley, nay! thy generous heart
Hath all too wide a room:
We'll not believe it, e'en on oath--
There's but one Joseph Hume!
II.
Unsay the word so rashly said;
From hasty praise forbear!
Why bring a foreign Pompey here
Our Cæsar's fame to share?
The buzzard he is lord above,
And Hume is lord below,
So leave him peerless on his perch,
Our solitary Joe!
III.
He may be known, that bearded wight,
In lands beyond the foam;
He may have fought the fiery fight
'Gainst taxes raised at home.
And hate of kings, and scorn of peers,
May rankle in his soul:
But surely never hath he reached
"The tottle of the whole."
IV.
Yes, he may tell of doughty deeds,
Of battles lost and won,
Of Austrian imposts bravely spurned
By each reforming Hun.
But dare he say that he hath borne
The jeers of friend and foe,
Yet still prosed on for thirty years
Like our transcendant Joe?
V.
Or hath he stood alone in arms
Against the guileful Greek,
Demanding back his purchase-coin
With oath, and howl, and shriek?
Deemed they to hold with vulgar bonds
That lion in the net?
One sweep of his tremendous paw
Could cancel all their debt.
VI.
How could we tell our Spartan wives
That, in this sacred room,
We dared, with impious throats, proclaim
A rival to the Hume?
Our children, in their hour of need,
Might style us England's foes,
If other chief we owned than one,
The member for Montrose.
VII.
O soft and sweet are Cobden's tones
As blackbird's in the brake;
And Oldham Fox and Quaker Bright
A merry music make;
And Thompson's voice is clear and strong,
And Kershaw's mild and low,
And nightingales would hush their trill
To list M'Gregor's flow;
VIII.
But Orpheus' self, in mute despair,
Might drop his magic reed
When Hume vouchsafes, in dulcet strains,
The people's cause to plead.
All other sounds of earth and air
Are mute and lost the while;
The rasping of a thousand saws,
The screeching of the file.
IX.
With him we'll live, with him we'll die,
Our lord, our light, our own;
We'll keep all foemen from his face,
All rivals from his throne.
Though Tory prigs, and selfish Whigs,
His onward course assail.
Here stand a hundred delegates,
All joints of Joseph's tail.
X.
Ho, there! remove that hairy Hun
With beard as white as snow;
We need no rank reformers here
To cope with honest Joe.
Not Muntz, with all his bristly pride,
From him our hearts can wean:
We know his ancient battle-cry--
"Shave close, my friends, and clean!"
MY PENINSULAR MEDAL.
BY AN OLD PENINSULAR.
PART VII.--CHAPTER XVII.
Although I have not specified every place at which we halted, or
through which we passed, it may be proper to state that we arrived
in due course at St Sever, which was distant only one day's march
from the actual headquarters of the British army, Aire on the Adour.
Here Pledget interposed his professional authority, and decided that
neither Mr Chesterfield nor Jones must proceed farther. They both
remained, therefore, under surgical treatment at St Sever. Pledget
and Gingham, deeming the road now safe, pushed forward to Aire,
leaving the cart to follow with the convoy. At the same time, our
numbers experienced a still more considerable diminution. Our cavalry
escort, also, received orders to push forward, and started before
us in high spirits, with the prospect of immediate operations. The
convoy was, accordingly, left with only the infantry as a guard,
under Corporal Fraser.
Before starting for this our last day's march I saw both our wounded
men, neither of them well pleased at being left behind. As to Jones,
I was getting used to him, and could have better spared a better man.
I found him confined to his bed, in a house full of sick and wounded;
very much down in the mouth, fractious, a little feverish, and not at
all satisfied with hospital diet. "Please, sir, the doctor don't not
allow me a drop of sperrits, sir; no, nor wine nayther, sir; nothing
whatsomdever to drink, only powders, sir."
"Powders to drink, Jones? What d'ye mean, man?"
"Please, sir, what I means is powders, sir. Hope no offence, sir.
Doctor calls 'em everfizzing powders, sir."
From the Hon. Mr Chesterfield I parted with unfeigned regret. I
believe he had won the respect of the whole party. His manner
was a little stiff and aristocratical at first. But he mended on
acquaintance; and, in everything connected with duty, he was both
highly competent, and pleasant to act with. We got off in good time,
and proceeded on our march as on former days, our road carrying us
through two or three villages.
In passing one of these, I pulled up to make some trifling purchase;
and, when I came out of the shop, found our whole convoy and escort
halted. "How's this, Fraser? Why are we not getting on?"
"Orders for the whole party to halt have just arrived from
headquarters, sir."
"Indeed! Who brought them?"
"A gentleman belonging to your department, sir."
I rode forward to the head of the column; and there, sure enough,
at the entrance of the village inn, saw a uniform resembling my
own. In fact, I recognised not only the coat, but the wearer of it,
though he did not recognise me. He was a foreigner--Westphalian,
Saxon, Bohemian, High Dutch, Low Dutch, or something of that sort;
had served at Lisbon as clerk in a civil department attached to the
British army; and, in some situation of trust and responsibility,
had incurred suspicions of an awkward kind. He had in consequence
been suspended. The matter was referred to the home authorities,
and the result was his dismissal. This was what I knew of him. As
to his having subsequently obtained employment in our department,
of this I knew nothing. And it did appear rather curious that a
person "disadvantageously known," as he was, should have gained a
footing where trustiness was so indispensable. Yet there he stood in
full fig, enormous staff-hat, and all the departmental toggery. He
addressed me in French, with a tone of authority.
"Why have you come this road? You have followed the wrong route.
Your way was by the left bank of the river."
"I came by the high road, of course. The maps show no route by the
other side. All the troops take this way, and of course I followed
their example."
"Nothing of the kind. They all take the other, which is shorter by
nearly a league. Besides, you should not have come by St Sever at
all. I am sent from headquarters, to show you the right direction."
"Very good. Of course, then, you bring written orders."
"No written orders are requisite. My directions are, to turn you into
the other route. This, in fact, is not safe. You will therefore cross
at the ford, and proceed to headquarters along the other bank of the
river."
"If, as you say, the other is the usual route, of course they must
suppose at headquarters that I have taken it. Very droll they should
have sent you to turn me back from this, then."
"Such were my orders. You will proceed by the other road."
"Allow me to inquire," said I, "were your orders from our own
department, or from the Quartermaster-General's?" That was a poser;
for, if they came from our own, the question would at once arise,
Could any such authority enjoin departure from a regular route, given
in writing? If, on the other hand, it had been deemed expedient, from
circumstances grave and unforeseen, to send me fresh instructions
from the higher authority, the bearer of them would probably come
direct from the same quarter. He hesitated--looked rather at a loss.
"The directions," said he at length, "come from your own department,
of course. I was ordered to ride off, make you come by the other
road, and accompany you to the end of the march."
"I had much rather march by the present route. Rather doubt whether I
should be justified in leaving it."
"Oblige me," said he, in an altered tone, "by just stepping into the
house with me. I am charged with a communication of some importance."
Leaving Sancho in care of an attendant, I followed him into the
Auberge. "Have the goodness," said he, "to step into that apartment.
Excuse me for one moment. I must just speak to the landlord."
I entered. It was an apartment on the ground floor, with a table laid
for two--by no means a disagreeable surprise on a march. On the table
were already placed the bread, and the bottle of wine uncorked--sure
signs, in a French inn, that dinner will soon make its appearance.
"Really, he seems a very good sort of a fellow, after all. This is
just the way with the lads of our department. Suspicion be hanged! my
first impressions were unjust."
He entered; and the garçon followed with the soup. "Ah," said my new
acquaintance, "now be quick with the other things. Come, Mons. d'Y--,
this is your longest day's march; you must be hungry, no doubt. Come,
sit down; take some soup. We shall soon be better acquainted. Excuse
this little _ruse_."
"Readily," said I; "and you must excuse my quitting you this instant."
A glance from the window had effected a second revolution in my
sentiments. Looking out before I sat down, I discovered that the
convoy and escort were off! Far down the street, I perceived the last
of them disappearing along the road!--walked straight towards the
door. He was too quick for me; locked it, and placed himself with
his back to it, pocketing the key. "No, no, Mons. d'Y--," said he;
"you are my guest. You really must not depart till after dinner. It's
absurd. For you I ordered it. Would you hurry away without taking a
mouthful?"
Had I removed him by force, I must still have forced the door; and
that might have brought upon me the whole establishment, and caused
further delay. I therefore took three steps from the door to the
window, threw it open, and soon found myself on the _pavé_, which
was higher than the floor of the apartment. To my surprise, Sancho
also had disappeared! My first impression was, that he had gone on
with the convoy, and I was about to follow on foot;--thought it best,
though, to look in the stables first. There he was, sure enough. The
attendant had already taken off his saddle, and was about to remove
his bridle. "What are you about there, my friend? I requested you to
hold him at the door."
"Monsieur, the other English officer came out after you had entered,
and desired me to bring him here, take off his saddle and bridle, and
give him some _orge_."
I whipped on the saddle again in no time, mounted, and soon overtook
the escort. "Corporal Fraser, why did you go on?"
"I understood that we went on by your orders, sir."
"My orders? Nothing of the sort."
"I am very sorry if I have done wrong, sir. The gentleman who joined
just now came out from the inn, and directed us to proceed. Said you
would follow immediately. As he wears the same uniform, I supposed a
command from him was the same as one from yourself, sir. Indeed, he
said it was your order."
"He received no order from me; and he had no business to send you on
without."
"Shall I halt the party, sir?"
"No, no; keep on. It was a mistake our stopping at all."
As we passed out of the village, I began to ruminate upon what
had just occurred. First of all, there was the character of this
gentleman, well known at Lisbon, and, I supposed, at headquarters.
Then there was the improbability of his story, to say nothing of one
or two little contradictions. Then, it was clear, he had attempted to
separate me from the convoy, and to prevent my following it. Then,
too, his conduct was doubly incorrect; in taking upon himself, first,
to halt the party, secondly, to send it on. Item, in the course of
our short interview, he had, it appeared to me, told as many fibs as
could well be got into the given time. Moreover, he had attempted
to divert us from our route, which was just what Hookey did; and,
what made it very remarkable, Hookey and he both wished us to turn
aside in the same direction, namely, by the left bank of the river,
when the regular route was by the right. Something was evidently
not straight. For all that, though, the manner of this intelligent
individual was so very easy and impudent, and he seemed so bent upon
accomplishing his purpose, whatever it might be, that I felt a strong
impression we had not seen the last of him, especially as he appeared
utterly unconscious that I knew his previous history.--"Corporal
Fraser!"
"What's your pleasure, sir?"
"If that person comes up, I wish you to keep near me. Take no notice;
but be prepared, if I direct, to arrest him."
The corporal looked a little queer. "Very good, sir," said he; "upon
receiving your _orders_," (he intoned the word _orders_,) "I shall be
ready to do so."
"In case of my giving you an order to that effect, I, of course, am
responsible, not you. If I turn round, give you a look, and say,
'Fraser,' you will consider that you have got your directions."
"Very good, sir; it shall be done."
My anticipations proved correct. Mounted on what had very much the
appearance of a French post-horse, my would-be entertainer presently
came up at a laborious canter. The moment he got alongside, he began
to expostulate. Was profoundly grieved that I had declined his
hospitality. It was a long day's march, the longest from Passages to
headquarters. "A little refreshment would have recruited your forces,
Mons. d'Y--."
"I cannot separate from the convoy and escort. As you thought fit to
send them on, I had no choice but to follow."
"Well, pardon me, if I have done wrong," said he. "My intentions
were pure, at any rate. Positively, though, you must not follow this
road. The way to the ford is now close at hand. Come, let me be your
conductor."
"Were you not at Lisbon last autumn?" said I.
"Were you?" said he, in a tone of alarm.
"I was. And though you do not know me, I know you."
"Nothing to my prejudice, I feel convinced." (Still more uneasy.)
"Very well. All will be cleared up at headquarters. Of course, you
will accompany us."
"At any rate," replied he, anxious to back out, "I hope to have the
pleasure of meeting you there."
"No, no," said I; "you go with us."
By this time he was decidedly in a fidget, and began to hang behind.
Just then we came suddenly to a lane, branching off to the right.
This was probably the very direction he had wished me to take; though
whether it really led to a ford over the Adour, or to what it led,
was a different question. Before I was aware of his design, he turned
sharp in that direction; and, when I looked after him, he was already
some distance down the lane, digging his heels into the old poster's
sides. This operation had put the gay old stager into something as
much like a gallop as you can hope to get out of a French post-horse.
He was off! Ah! our cavalry had left us too soon. I looked round, and
shouted "Fraser!"
Fraser, prepared for my order, and anxious to have all ready
for executing it, had three men marching at hand, with loaded
firelocks. Three balls whistled down the lane. But it was a waste
of his Majesty's powder and shot; the fugitive escaped unhurt.
Not so, though, the lively old post-horse. His screwed tail, his
stradding hind-legs, and his action--for a moment prancing, not
progressive--gave evident indications that the luckless beast had not
got off so easily as his rider. Then, in an agony of apprehension
lest his scutcheon should receive a second totem, he plunged forward
again at his previous rate, and soon disappeared down the lane.
Pursuit was out of the question, for Sancho's best pace was an
up-and-down; even a French horse was too fast for a French pony: so
both horse and horseman got off.
My first care, on reaching headquarters, was to make inquiry
respecting this new member of our department. You will hardly need to
be informed, that there was no such person belonging to us. The only
question was, how did he get the uniform coat? It certainly was not
that of the corresponding department of the French service, which not
only rejoiced in the appropriate embellishment of a key embroidered
on the collar, but differed in other respects from ours. Some said
he must have procured the coat at Lisbon. Some said he had got it
made for the occasion. A gentleman of the Commissariat suggested that
he had picked up a coat at headquarters, cast off when some of us
had been promoted. But the worst of it was, our department couldn't
recollect when any such cheering event had taken place.
As both Hookey, and this more recent adviser, strenuously insisted
on our proceeding to headquarters by the country to the south-east
of the Adour, and as Hookey particularly inculcated the duty and
necessity of our passing through Hagetmau, which lies a few miles to
the south of St Sever, it is curious to discover, at this interval
of time, that the very neighbourhood indicated by these two talented
individuals as offering us the best route, was precisely the most
unsafe. I reached headquarters on the 17th of March. The next day
the Commander-in-Chief (_vide_ Gurwood) writes to Sir J. Hope,--"I
use the cipher, because I understand the enemy were at Hagetmau
_yesterday_." That's just where we should have been on the same
day, had I followed Hookey's advice; so that we should have walked
right into them; and that, no doubt, was what Hookey intended. But
further, by a letter from the Commander-in-Chief to the Mayor of
Hagetmau, dated 21st March, we learn that, on the 18th, there was in
that place an affair of partisans. It was, therefore, a very eligible
neighbourhood to which our two friends wished to introduce us.
When I reached headquarters at Aire with the convoy and escort, a
forward movement of the troops appeared to have already commenced.
Firing was heard at hand; and the operation was attended with rather
more noise than those in which we were engaged the day before. A
great army advancing upon the enemy, like the chariot of Jove,
cannot move without thunder. I know not how far the arrival of the
treasure which we brought up contributed to this movement. Suffice it
to say, I find our Commander-in-Chief writing to Sir J. Hope, March
18--"I waited quietly till all my means coming up were arrived, and
I am now moving upon them in earnest." Ah, Hookey! you played great
stakes, and a deep game, too. But it wouldn't do.