BAYARD TAYLOR.--'While man's desires and aspirations stir,
He cannot choose but err.'
One would like to know what becomes of the _original metres_, when a
line of eight monosyllables is transmuted into two claudicant lines
that run to sixteen syllables. By the way, we must remember one other
rendering:--
SHELLY.-- ... 'Man
Must err till he has ceased to struggle.'
But even Shelley has not quite caught Goethe's meaning. This is
excusable, as we know that Shelley's German was imperfect.
Our ultimate judgment on Mr. Bayard Taylor's effort is simply this: it
is a worthy piece of work, but it does not, and cannot stand as
representative of 'Faust,' for the two reasons already assigned. Mr.
Taylor cannot fathom Goethe's meaning, and cannot catch his music.
_The Breitmann Ballads._ By CHARLES G. LELAND. Complete Edition.
Trübner and Co.
Mr. Leland has found it necessary to protest against spurious
Breitmanns, and to say that his only authentic ballads are contained
in this volume--a testimony at once to both the popularity of the
ballads and the value of this edition. The various parts of the volume
are very unequal in merit, but 'Hans Breitmann in Italy' is equal to
the best work of the author, and attests his varied attainments. We
have already done justice to the ballads, and need only quote his
advice to the Pope:--
'"Tonitrus et cespes!" dixit Johanes Breitmann.
"Si veritatem cupies, tunc ego sum der right man;
Percute semper ferrum dum caldum est et _malleable_,
Nunc est tuum tempus te facere _infallible_.
'"In nostra America quum Præses decet abire,
Die ultimo fecit omne quodposset imaginire.
Appointet ambasciatores et post-magistros,
Consules et alios, per dextros et sinistros.
'"Quum Rex Bomba ista Neapolit--anus,
Compulsus fuit to shin it--ut dixit Africanus--
Fecit ultimo die ducos et countos, vanus.
(Inter alios McCloskey, tuus Hibernicus chamberlanus.)
'"Et quia tu es; ut credo; ultimus Poporum,
Facis bene devenire, quod dicitur High Cockalorum--
Sei magnissimus _toad in the puddle_, ite caput, magnamente;
Et ERITUS SICUT DEUS, nemine contradicente!
'"Unus error solus, Sancte Pater commisisti.
Quia primus _infallible_ non te proclamavisti,
Nam nemo audet dicere: Papa fecit quod non est bonus.
Decet semper jactare super _alios_ probandi onus.
'"Conceptio Immaculata, hoc modo fixisti,
Et nemo audet dicere unum verbum, de isti:
Non vides si infallibilis es, et vultis es exdare,
Non alius sed _tu_ solus hanc debet proclamare."
'"Figlio mio," dixit Papa; "tu es homo mirabilis,
Tua verba sunt mi dulcior quam ostriche cum Chablis,
In tutta Roma, de Alemania gente,
Non ho visto uno con si grande mente.
Ver obenedetto es--eris benedictus,
'"Tibi mitterem photographiam in qua sum depictus,
Tu comprendes situatio--il punto et gravamen.
Sunt pauci clerici ut te. Nunc dico tibi.--Amen."'
_The Member for Paris: a Tale of the Second Empire._ By TROIS-ETOILES.
Three vols. Smith, Elder, and Co.
The purpose of this very clever book is to give a picture of the
political and social state of France during the early period of the
Second Empire, the period immediately subsequent to the _coup
d'état_--the period of the Crimean War, and of the _Crédit Mobilier_.
Anything more shrewd in observation, more competent in knowledge, more
healthy in judgment, more caustic in refined sarcasm, more sparkling
in style, it is difficult to imagine. The thread of story upon which
these sketches are strung is of the slenderest. Raoul Aimé was Duke of
Hautbourg, on the Loire, whose head shared the fate of those of so
many of the old aristocracy in 1793, and whose estate was sold for a
mere song to an attorney. Raoul Aimé's son went into exile, married
the wealthy daughter of an English slave-owner, with whose money he
bought back the estate, returned to France with Louis XVIII., and died
a Minister of State. His son was accidentally killed in the streets
the day after the _coup d'état_ of 1851, his nephew, Manuel Gerald,
being heir to his title and property. A sturdy, and noble-hearted
Republican, Gerald cannot take possession of estates purchased with
the money of a slaveholder, or live in France under the _régime_ of
Napoleon III. He lives, therefore, in comparative poverty in Brussels,
and distributes the large revenue of his estates in charities. His two
sons, Horace and Emile, enthusiastically ratify their father's
repudiations, and study law in Paris in order to practise as
barristers. The father, however, wisely refuses to accept the verdict
of his sons as final, puts into their hands a deed conveying the
estate to them, and puts them upon a probation of five years, at the
end of which their decision is to be given. The two young men enter at
the bar, take modest lodgings in the house of a haberdasher, and
become the heroes of the story. Their characters are finely
discriminated. Horace, the elder, is full of fine generous impulses
and virtues, but has certain social weaknesses that render him
incapable of the austere, not to say Quixotic virtues of his father.
Emile, who is subordinate in the narrative, is less brilliant than
Horace, but studious, solid, modest, and Spartan; both brothers,
moreover, are affectionate and filial. The interest centres on Horace,
who makes a brilliant _début_ in defence of a press prosecution, and
becomes famous; is returned deputy for Paris, becomes acquainted with
M. Macrobe, the great financier, the founder and chairman of the
Crédit Parisien; is so far entangled by him as to marry his daughter
Angelique, notwithstanding a deeper passion for Georgette, the
haberdasher's daughter; writes brilliant articles, makes effective
speeches, passes through various phases of Parisian life, and
ultimately, after his father's death, determines to claim the dukedom.
Almost every class and aspect of the venal life of Paris during this
humiliating period is made to pass before us, the chief personages
being portraits from life, easily cognizable by anyone moderately
acquainted with history: indeed, the names of some are but very thinly
disguised. Thus, Jules Favre is Claude Febre, M. Thiers is M. Tiré, M.
Arsène Houssaye is Arsène Gousset, Mr. Worth is Mr. Girth, Blanqui is
Albi. Journalist, Republican, Legitimist, and Imperial, notably the
renowned correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_, who is everywhere and
knows everything; politicians, lawyers, novel writers, financiers,
aristocrats, bourgeoisie, Parisians, and villagers, are presented in
careful portraiture--evidently from life--the whole being done with
very great literary skill and brilliancy. The story, slight as it is,
and notwithstanding the somewhat melodramatic incidents of the
struggle between Horace and Albi at his father's grave, and the death
of the former and his wife on the day they take possession of the
estate, indicates great powers of novel writing, if the writer be so
minded. Nothing can be more skilful, discriminating, or beautiful than
the delicate contrasts in character between the two brothers, Horace
and Emile, the two girls Georgette and Angelique, the two patriots
Horace Gerald and Nestor Roche; or more masterly than the way in which
the working of Imperial institutions is exhibited. The marvel is that
any despot, in such a position of moral isolation, and with such
unscrupulous and reckless methods of tyranny and corruption could, for
eighteen years, have maintained himself upon the throne of France. The
fact speaks volumes for the condition to which unscrupulous rulers and
blind revolutions may reduce a great people. The writer's intimate
acquaintance with the interior of French life, whether the court life
of Paris, or the village life of Hautbourg, the legal life of the
Palais de Justice, or the bourgeoise life of commercial travellers,
and Parisian shopkeepers, is manifest in every sentence, and is
something unique. The book is a gallery of portraits, in a series of
social sketches eminently original and clever. A genial and
high-minded Asmodeus, in a vein of delicate sarcasm, reveals a state
of things which all were assured of, but which very few could picture.
Here, with graphic realism, and yet with perfect delicacy, its
terrible rottenness is indicated. In his very different field, and
with a very different genius, both in quality and degree, the author
of "The Member for Paris" has been as eminently successful as MM.
Erckmann-Châtrian. We trust that the writer, whom we can scarcely err
in identifying with the author of the brilliant French sketches which
have appeared in the _Cornhill Magazine_, will work yet more fully the
mine of which he has given us these specimens.
_Behind the Veil_. By the Author of 'Six Months Hence.' Smith, Elder,
and Co.
It is an undoubted weakness in a writer of fiction when the interest
of the story is made to depend upon a succession of exciting
situations and tragic catastrophes. There was in this writer's former
work a weird interest in the strange psychological problem which he
set himself to work out, and which was done with a considerable degree
of power and promise. In the present story sensational incident
abounds, and is not earned off by morbid psychology. Here, as in the
former work, the interest centres upon a murder--surely human life is
varied enough for a fresh source of interest. The story opens with a
railway accident, in which the hero is well-nigh killed, and, in his
delirium, awakens certain suspicions about his antecedents, the
pendant picture of which is a scene of murder in the Australian bush.
After his marriage is broken off he nearly dies of typhus fever, in
the delirium of which he removes the suspicions which had gathered
round him; and Jessie, his betrothed, nearly dies of a ruptured
blood-vessel. Twice he is found by Beresford in a remote part of
Wales--the chances of finding him there being a hundred thousand to
one, while the plot is carried on by a dozen most improbable
coincidences. Then James his brother, who in fleeing from justice has
slept in a railway truck, apparently rides to his death in a furnace,
into which, by automatic action, it is likely to deliver him; but by a
refinement of feeling, resembling that of a cat with a mouse, he is
made to jump off and over a precipice, only to die a few hours after
in the custody of the police, who are in pursuit of him for
murder--having confessed himself guilty, first of the murder, then of
the crime of blocking the railway, to cause the death of his brother.
In addition to all this, Jessie's brother dies of consumption, and a
seaside acquaintance is half killed by cardiac asthma. Now we have no
objection to a reasonable amount of the tragic, but thus to fill a
novel with it is simply repulsive, and is defective art. A good plot
should be constructed like a Chinese puzzle, and, like a Chinese
puzzle, taken to pieces. The Author of 'Behind the Veil' simply breaks
the puzzle after cleverly putting it together. There can be but little
good, and a very inferior land of interest in such melodramatic
stories; we get too impatient even to be amused, and we cannot rank
very highly the writer who chiefly depends upon them. The best parts
of 'Behind the Veil' are its dialogues and letters--especially those
of Jessie and Flo--which are very spirited and clever; as is also the
schoolboy slang of Conrad. If the writer would trust himself to a
novel of character he would, judging from these, succeed well. The
characters themselves, too, are well conceived and discriminated,
especially those of the mother and the two sisters. Noel Arlington is
too galvanic to be natural or interesting. Beresford is better, and
has two amusing foils in Smith, the pianoforte tuner, and Pinthorne,
the curate--both of which are very clever caricatures. The literary
power evinced is considerable; the love-making is well-nigh perfect,
although we do not quite like a man of thirty-five and upwards
marrying a girl of fifteen. The writer ought to do good work; and
will, if he will only emancipate himself from a vicious school, depend
less upon blue lights, and more upon natural human developments. His
book is one in which, while the defects hinder perfect sympathy, the
excellences are too distinctive to permit us to lay it aside.
_Fernyhurst Court; an Every-day Story._ By the Author of 'Stone Edge.'
Strahan and Co.
If the author of 'Behind the Veil' has gone to the one extreme, the
author of 'Fernyhurst Court' has gone to the other. Although her work
belongs to the higher and more thoughtful school of character, and
although it is written with the delicacy, beauty, and power that
challenged attention and excited expectation in 'Stone Edge,' it has
not movement enough to sustain its characters. The artistic structure
is loose, although upon the artistic finish much careful pains is
bestowed. More of the evolution of a story would have prevented the
tendency to run into inordinate descriptions and to desultoriness
which has sometimes wearied us. The book is a thoroughly good one--it
could not be otherwise from the pen of its author--but like 'Benoni
Blake,' upon which we have offered some criticisms in another place,
it might have been better. Whatever the skill of touch and the effects
of colour, the first great requisite of a picture is composition; so
the first great work of a novel writer is a story--and story there is
none in 'Fernyhurst Court.' Its studies are chiefly of women, and are
apparently intended to exhibit the causes of wifely unfitness and
motherly failure, in little defects of temper and unselfishness. Some
half-dozen thoroughly disagreeable women are delineated--none of them
wicked, but all unloveable through little naggings, or little
selfishnesses. We confess that we could have dispensed with one-half
of them, and could have desired the substitution of two or three
contrasts like May. Milly is an improvement upon Dickens's Dora, but
Lionel's chances of happiness are not great. The moral of the story is
a wholesome one if the girls will but take it; but we confess we
should like to see the authoress devoting her fine perception of
character, and her great descriptive powers, to a work architecturally
great, as well as artistically beautiful.
_Her Title of Honour._ By HOLME LEE. Henry S. King.
This charming biographical fiction is constructed upon the outline of
Henry Martyn's history, which it clothes with imaginative flesh and
blood, incident, conversation, and motive; so far, that is, as the
actual history does not supply these. The authoress has been very
faithful to biographical fact; her religious sympathies, moreover,
have enabled her to enter with great appreciation into the purposes
and motives, the hopes and fears, the fluctuations and resolves of
that heroic life. The result is an imaginative story that is probably
more true to actual life than the ordinary biographies of Henry Martyn
are; for imaginative genius--faithful, as here, to ascertained facts,
even the minutest--can represent men and women much more truly and
vividly than a mere common-place biographer who is restricted to
literal fact. The conception of Eleanor's character, generous and
loving, and yet falling short of needful heroism, is not only very
fine, but is, perhaps, the true explanation of the great
disappointment in Martyn's career. Personal and local names are
changed so as to give greater freedom of treatment to the artist, but
they are easily identified--Truro with Pengarvon, Salisbury with
Craxon, Eleanor Trevelyan with Lydia Grenfell. We scarcely need say of
a book of Holme Lee's writing that it is carefully finished, and
redolent of a refined and beautiful soul. We have no more accomplished
or conscientious literary artist. The fine touches of characterization
of which the book is full, give it a great charm to cultivated minds.
The broken-off purposes of Henry Martyn's life give novelty to the
course and issue of the story, and significance to the moral which
wise preachers often proclaim, that tangible achievement is not the
greatest end or influence of a life. Henry Martyn may have applied
great scholarship and refined intellectual powers to work, which
ordinary literati would have done even better, but the consecration of
ordinary powers would not have filled the Church and the world with
such an influence.
_Benoni Blake, M.D., Surgeon at Glenaldie._ By the Author of 'Peasant
Life in the North.' Strahan and Co.
'Peasant Life in the North' won for its author a respectful attention
to whatever else he might publish. Few sketches, of contemporaneous
writers, surpass or equal the racy characterizations and subtle human
tenderness of 'Muckle Jock,' the mild Rhadamanthus doom of 'The
Dainty Drainer,' or the perfect admixture of refined passion and
rustic roughness of 'The Mason's Daughter.' 'Benoni Blake,' therefore,
excited expectations which it will both gratify and disappoint. Let us
have done with the grumbling first. Of course the subjective
characteristics of this author were to be anticipated. No one could
have looked for a novel in the style of Charles Lever or Wilkie
Collins from him. Subtle analysis, quiet description, and a certain
vein of sentimental and philosophical reflection and comment were to
be expected. We will not say that in these rather than in crowded
incident and dramatic representations the chief genius of fiction
lies. Every man in his own order. 'Charles O'Malley' is, in its way,
as good as 'The Transformations;' but we may say that the greatest
achievement of genius is a just equilibrium between the two, and this
the author of 'Benoni Blake' has not maintained. His work is a
photograph rather than a story, a photograph of the kind that presents
the same face in four aspects of it. The effect is like looking
through an album containing only different photographs of the same
person. The art is very beautiful, and the effect for a little while
very charming, but one gets tired before the second volume, and wishes
that 'Benoni Blake' would do something, or that somebody would do
something to him. We get as tired of his simple inertia as he of the
simple facile sweetness of Bessie's kisses. There is, moreover, a
little too much about kissing; the sweetness of kisses is better
suggested than described. The author has made the mistake of expanding
a sketch, such as might have found a place in 'Peasant Life,' into a
book--story it scarcely is--and he has done this by repetitions and
reiterations of substantially the same situation and sentiments. This
probably is an unconscious revolt against mere sensationalism, for the
writer is clearly capable of spirited dialogue and of inventive
construction. We are not, however, quite sure of the limit of this
power. Neither the peasant dialogues nor the conversations of educated
persons have much variety; the latter, indeed, if we except the brief
episodes at Fanflare Lodge and of the flirtation with Miss Shawe, are
almost wholly substituted by descriptions. We are told what the
characters are--they do not unfold or exhibit themselves. The author
has, however, a minute acquaintance with the provincial thought and
speech of the Scottish peasantry; their racy humour, pawky shrewdness,
and quaint prejudices, are admirably described. John, the minister's
man, and Nannie, his female counterpart, are genuine types;--John's
leal affection comes out very nobly in the proffer of his hoarded
savings. So, in a somewhat higher grade, are Mr. Bowie, the 'paper
minister,' and Miss Robison. The conversation between Mr. Bowie and
John, as the latter drives home the former, is the raciest bit in the
book; but all this runs in a very narrow groove. There are, too,
certain mannerisms, which recall unpleasantly reminiscences of the way
in which Thackeray buttonholes his readers and takes them into his
confidence, which had better be avoided, as also a covert, although
not ill-natured, vein of sarcasm, which leaves you in doubt whether
the writer is in jest or earnest; in which again, the influence of
Thackeray is a little too perceptible. Decidedly, too, the puff
indirect, in reference to the opinion of the _Saturday Review_ on
'Peasant Life in the North,' is in bad taste. Altogether, there is a
lack of the _ars celandi artem_, a certain artificialness, and
self-conscious mannerism that mars the effect of the book. The writer
is apparently ashamed of his gentle sympathies, and tries to appear
cynical.
It is easier, however, to speak of defects than of excellences, and
the manifold and great excellences of 'Benoni Blake' alone justify us
in saying so much about its defects. The former are a minute knowledge
and love of nature, a keen insight into the fluctuations and
inconsistencies of human nature, a sympathetic tenderness for its
sorrows and loves and pure joys, hearty enjoyment of its humour and
pathos, and a quiet realism, exquisitely flavoured with sentiment,
which portrays life as an accomplished artist paints a portrait, with
just that idealism which adorns character without falsifying it. The
character of Benoni, gentle and good but not heroic, drifting into
virtue rather than fighting for it; that of Bessie, tender, yet
resolute; lowly yet great in self-sacrificing power; trustful as
worship, yet sensitive and very refined in feeling, and capable of
being helped, as her friend Miss Robison helps her--are both admirably
done: so is the contrast between the two ministers, Mr. Blake and Mr.
Bowie. There is, however, something unnatural and improbable in the
relative feeling of father and son, and we are sorry that Miss Robison
should fall into the arms of a selfish and vulgar fellow like Bowie.
The Fanfare family are also well portrayed. Altogether there is great
power and greater promise in 'Benoni Blake.' It exhibits the fine
elements of Scottish life in its lowlier walks, with a degree of
ability that equals that of the author of 'Robin Grey.' It is full of
beautiful lights and shades, tender touches, and racy humour, great
truthfulness, and delicate discrimination. It does not fulfil the
promise of 'Peasant Life in the North,' but had not that appeared
first, it would be the promise of much better things to come.
_A Harmony of the Essays, &c., of Francis Bacon._ Arranged by EDWARD
ARBER. English Reprints. London: 5, Queen-square, Bloomsbury.
Mr. Arber has here furnished us with one of the most curious and
interesting books even of his rich series. His ample bibliography
leaves no point necessary for elucidation untouched. It includes Dr.
Rowley's 'Life of Lord Bacon,' Ben Jonson's testimony, Aubrey's
gossip, 'A Prologue on Varieties of Species in Literature, with
special reference to the Essay and its Natural History;' a general
introduction concerning Bacon's literary character in connection with
his personal history; a bibliographical catalogue and tabular return
of the various editions of the essays, with an account of
translations, &c. Nothing, indeed, seems to have escaped the industry
of this prince of modern bibliographers. But the chief interest of the
volume is its harmony of different texts. The texts selected are--I.
The Editio Princeps, published 1597. II. Second edition, 1598; these
two editions being almost identical. III. A volume preserved among the
Harleian Manuscripts, containing interlineations and corrections in
Bacon's own hand. IV. Second revised text, published 1612. V. Final
English edition, 1625; usually regarded as the standard edition, but
nevertheless varied and corrected by Bacon. These texts are printed by
Mr. Arber in four parallel columns, Nos. I. and II. being identical in
the first column, and Bacon's final corrections of No. V. being
appended in foot-notes. The different works included in Mr. Arber's
volume are:--I. A Harmony of the first group of ten Essays. II.
'Meditationes Sacræ,' Latin text with English translation. III. 'On
the Colours of Good and Evil.' IV. A Harmony of the second group of
twenty-four Essays. V. A Harmony of the third group of six Essays. VI.
A Harmony of the fourth group of eighteen Essays. VII. The Fragment of
an Essay on Fame. We scarcely need point out the great literary
curiosity which this harmony of the essays constitutes, nor the means
which it affords of studying Bacon's painstaking 'file,' and its
illustration of his own saying, 'I alter ever when I add, so that
nothing is finished till all be finished;' the significant comment of
the great master on 'easy' writing. The perfection of Bacon's essays
is the result of nearly forty years' continuous labour.
_Publications of the Early English Text Society._ Trübner and Co.
1871.
46. _Legends of the Holy Rood; Symbols of the Passion and Cross
Poems._ Edited by RICHARD MORRIS, LL.D.
47. _Sir David Lyndesay's Works. Part V. The Minor Poems of Lyndesay._
Edited by J. A. H. MURRAY, Esq.
48. _The Time's Whistle: or a Newe Daunce of Seven Satires, and other
Poems._ Compiled by R. C., Gent. Edited by J. M. COWPER, Esq.
_Extra Series. XIV. On Early English Pronunciation, with especial
reference to Shakspeare and Chaucer._ By ALEXANDER J. ELLIS, F.R.S.,
F.S.A., &c., &c. Part III.
The present issue will more than satisfy the members of this valuable
Society, and we can scarcely doubt that the publications of which it
consists will attract to it more subscribers.
Dr. Morris's collection of 'Legends of the Holy Rood' will be welcomed
both for the examples which it furnishes of the English language, as
written in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, and
still more for its exhibition of one of the most interesting of the
Christian legends, in several of the forms in which our forefathers
were accustomed to hear it. The learned editor has prefixed to the
collection a summary of the incidents of the legend in its various
forms, and many who do not care to grope their way through the
legends themselves, may be delighted and instructed by this sketch of
a work of pious imagination which, while it amuses by its quaintness,
can hardly fail also to strike the mind of a reader of the present day
with admiration at the intensity of feeling, the abandonment to
belief, and the wealth of spiritual apprehension, under the influence
of which the story must have grown. To those who are unacquainted with
the forms of Christian thought and feeling in the 'ages of faith,' and
may wish to acquire some knowledge of it from original sources, under
competent guidance, no better aid could probably be recommended than
that afforded by this volume.
Nearly half of the volume containing the minor poems of Lyndesay is
occupied by a preface by Professor Nichol, giving a sketch of Scottish
poetry up to the time of Sir David Lyndesay, with an outline of his
works. Some of the poems are amusing. That entitled 'The Justyng
betuix James Watsoun and Jhone Barbour,' has a ring of humour,
reminding us of Burns; but, on the whole, these pieces do not give a
very high impression of the poet's power. The expression is better
than the matter.
The author of 'The Time's Whistle' is unknown, but his present editor,
Mr. Cowper, appears to be inclined to identify him with Richard
Corbet, successively Bishop of Oxford, and of Norwich. Whoever he was,
he hated well Papistry and Puritanism, as well as the grosser vices of
his day, which seem to have been those of most days. The blows of his
satire do not lack force, though they may delicacy of epithet, and his
judgments on others are made from the firm ground of a supreme
self-satisfaction. It is noteworthy how, just after the golden days of
Queen Bess, the age appeared to its censors as evil as that of Queen
Victoria does to ours. The attitude of High and Dry Churchmen towards
Papist and Dissenter also appears in these verses just as we are
familiar with it, and the vices castigated are those of all times.
There is, however, one exception, in the description given of the
ignorant frequenter of bookstalls, who sought to make himself appear a
man of learning by poring over and seeming to read authors whose
language he did not know. The description of him is very amusing. In
some of the smaller poems the writer shows poetic feeling, especially
in reference to the beauties of nature, expressed in graceful verse.
The third part of Mr. Ellis's valuable work on 'English Pronunciation'
is a vast mine of information and suggestion concerning the great
subject he is attempting to treat. This part contains, besides Mr.
Ellis's own writing, and the passages from authors which he prints for
the purposes of his arguments, reprints of several early tracts on
pronunciation and phonetic writing, and a pronouncing vocabulary of
the sixteenth century, compiled from several authors of that age. We
venture, however, to think that Mr. Ellis will need an interpreter to
make the fruit of his labours available to any but those who can
wholly devote themselves to the study of his subject. His 'Glossic,
or New System of Spelling,' and 'Key to Universal Glossic,' by means
of which he seeks to express the many sounds of human language, are,
to say the least, very hard to be understood. The problem is,
doubtless, a most difficult one, and Mr. Ellis's signal qualifications
to deal with it are so well known that we can do no more here than
acknowledge gratefully this further contribution of his learned labour
in a field of unknown fertility, little cultivated, and painful to
till: while we at the same time point out the hindrance we find in
deriving all the benefit from his work which we believe it is capable
of affording.