David Gray, and other Essays. 413 must be the referee. Hence we do not follow this quasi-philosophical argument to its implied conclusion, that there can be no such thing as immorality in literature. As well might we be asked to believe that it possessed no morality—a notion which the positivists will perhaps come to entertain when they have consistently reasoned out their philosophy. We have said that this essay is the best in point of style, for, setting aside some extravagancies, it is temperately written on the whole; but of the other papers composing this volume, we regret that we have hardly a good word to say. Their style is as bad and offensive as the carping and querulous temper, the unabashed ignorance, and the insufferable conceit which they display. Many of Mr Buchanan's poems which had given us genuine pleasure, are henceforth more or less obscured by the revelation here made of the gloomy and grudging character of the poet, for we cannot shake off the association now conveyed. It is really to be lamented that he ever took to "crabbed prose." We might possibly have exempted the memoir of "David Gray" from this general censure; but reading it, as we did, after the other pieces in the volume, we felt an echo throughout it of the insolent vanity, recklessness, and immodesty which had oppressed us in them. To use the elegant phrase he applies to Mr John Stuart Mill, "dogmatism and puppyism supervene." As for poor David Gray himself,-not to speak of his verses, of which we have no knowledge, -he is represented by his friend as the ill-starred victim of literary ambition, but the lesson of his abrupt life is apparently overlooked. Its pathetic issue almost suspends criticism in claiming our pity, as the sense of pain translates the ridiculous into the tragic. His biographer's pretentious attitude, however, provokes merely a sentiment of the ludicrous, in so far as that is compatible with disgust; and long may we be spared a sublimer feeling at any painful cost to him. At the same time, it would be mistaken charity to excuse the crudities of the bombastic stuff here offered to public acceptance; and if Mr Buchanan ever comes to a better mind, as we trust he may, he would be the first to despise us for that service. And talking of charity, our impulsive essayist, it may be said, talks very largely of charity,— almost assuming it to be the sole absolute perfection, instead of the highest relative grace,-but more uncharitable judgments it has rarely been our lot to read than are within the compass of this little book. Probably, one who condescends to patronise Christianity in the fashion he does, may not apprehend its spirit so truly as if he had modestly submitted himself thereto. Putting charity aside, however, what are we to think of the following discriminating judgments which are about as accurate in fact as they are exquisite in taste? Some of these rash words are occasionally qualified by the context, but they represent very fairly the "tenour of his way." Milton had "no spiritual glamour, felt no real emotion," and, consequently, "his bald and turgid prose is pieced out clumsily into ten-syllable lines, which limp like Vulcan;" Dryden wrote " bombastic tragedies," and was 66 a grand specimen of literary immorality,"-a quality which we thought had been argued out of existence; "Crabbe's pictures are nearly worthless;" Blake was "a morbid dreamer;" Southey is "an example of defective vision;" Scott was "no poet; he saw, but he was not moved enough to sing;" Goethe was "great in literature by virtue of his spiritual littleness;" Hood is a "wonderful, but totally misunderstood genius;" De Quincey, "a loose, but occasionally felicitous writer;" Thackeray "works in his own sickening and peculiar fashion," and yet his contemptuous critic borrows his deliverance upon Dean Swift very literally; Carlyle's "message is a LIE, and himself a humbug and a ranter;" Mr J. S. Mill has "sunk his philosophy in bigotry and folly," and it is henceforth associated with "the blatant periods of Mr Bright, and the polished pettiness of Mr Lowe;""Mr Arnold has by no means lived enough to determine living questions;" Mr Tennyson has given us "a garden-philosopher's group of modern idylls," and has made some exquisite attempts to paint English landscape;" "with the exception of a few faint utterances of Wordsworth, all our other religious poetry is conventional and inartistic,"—et sic de similibus. What are we to think of the superior attainments, not to speak of such an insignificant matter as the competence, of one who can deliver himself in such a style? We are asked to regard this volume as his "Confession of Faith," and it shall answer the question. He is a sacer vates, a poet or seer, a calm student, "close to the stars," and with "no scorn for his fellows." His gospel, he tells us, is "charity to men and women, and most of all to himself." His "vocation is the study of eternal, not contemporary, truth." In order to perfect that vocation, we are not surprised to learn that he finds it" imperatively necessary to live alone." As an offset to this destructive role, Mr Buchanan has constructed a "cosmical man" out of the unpromising materials furnished by Walt Whitman, a loafer and a rowdy, with a dash of eccentricity, impiety, and indecency, who was lately known at Washington when Lincoln was President. He is here described as 66 a large, dispassionate, daring, and splendidly-proportioned animal, remaining unmoved, explanatory up to a certain point, but sphinx-like when questioned too closely on morality and religion." We are told," on the best authority," that this important personage-" whose tall figure might be encountered daily at the street-corners and drinkingbars of the capital"-is exercising on the youth of America an influence similar to that exercised by Socrates over the youth of Greece. He has written "about ten thousand lines of unrhymed verse, very Biblical in form, and sometimes even rhythmical like the prose of Plato." How far Biblical or Platonic, let our readers determine from the following lines, which, but for the need of shewing up this folly, we should apologise for inserting : "Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat? What is a man, anyhow? What am I? What are you?— I wear my hat as I please, indoors and out. Why should I pray? Why should I venerate and be ceremonious? Having pried through the strata, analysed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors, and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones. I exist as I am,-that is enough; If no other in the world be aware, I sit content; And if each and all be aware, I sit content. David Gray, and other Essays. 415 One world is aware, and by far the largest to me, and that is myself;- This rhodomontade would read much more effectively backwards. We don't mind throwing out a straw for Mr Buchanan, if he will catch it, in the way of a suggestion that, on reconsideration, he may find he has only admired the dramatic " brutality" of this modern Caliban. He won't thank us, however, for he evidently believes that "Walt Whitman has arisen in the States to sow the seeds of indigenous literature, by putting in music the spiritual and fleshly yearnings of the cosmical man." Is he not also a sacer vates? "He respects no particular creed, admits no specific morality prescribed by the civil law, but affirms in round terms the universal equality of man. He pictures the pageant of life in the country and in cities; all is a fine panorama wherein mountains and valleys, nations and religions, genre pictures and gleams of sunlight, babes on the breast and dead men in shrouds, pyramids and brothels, deserts and populated streets, sweep wonderfully by him. To all these things," it is said, "he is bound; wherever they force him he is not wholly a free agent, but on one point he is very clear,—that so far as he is concerned he is the most important thing of all." So he proceeds to particularise the privileges of the flesh, and asserts that in his own personal living body there is no uncleanness. He sees the beasts are not ashamed, why, therefore," it is asked, "should he be ashamed? 'Sounding his barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world,' as he himself phrases it, he is the clear forerunner of the great American poets, long yearned for, now prophesied, but not perhaps beheld." Perhaps not thus. Poor Artemus Ward could only get the length of making "the world revolve on its own axis, subject to the constitution of the United States." Walt Whitman "strikes with his feet the apex of the apices, and whipper-snappers titter with delight." We have now some idea of what Mr Buchanan depreciates, and we have seen the sort of thing he most admires. We have also seen how he can express himself. It were needless to add to the irony of the situation, if, indeed, it were possible, save by quoting him further, which is not our purpose. We shall, therefore, leave untouched his criticism " on his own Tentatives," only remarking that it nearly succeeds in dispelling any lingering fancy one might have had for his verse. In his present posture, it were idle to wish Mr Buchanan any of that "culture" he so much despises, or that "sweetness and light," against the refining influence of which he has set his face. We shall dismiss him with the elegant valediction of the Archbishop of Grenada, wishing him "all manner of prosperity, with a little more taste." LAICUS. VIII.-FRENCH LITERATURE. Le Christianisme Moderne. Etude sur Lessing. Par Ernest Fontanès. Paris Germer Bailliere. 1867. Etudes Evangéliques. Par Edmond de Pressensé. Paris: Ch. Meyrueis. 1867. M. Fontanès' book is an important one, as indicating one of the features of the religious physiognomy of France at the present moment. The author is one of the pastors of Havre, belonging to the Reformed Church connected with the state. His style is clear, correct, even elegant. He does not shrink from any of the conclusions to which his theory leads him; his convictions are firm, amounting sometimes to disdain. "Curavi cæcos et leprosos sanavi ; sed stultis medendis impar fui ;" such is his motto. Even the firm from which the book issues (G. Bailliere, beyond the limits usually attained by Protestant editors), is likely to secure to it a wide circulation.* Here, then, is an author speaking the language of a convinced rationalist, who undertakes to explain to us what is called liberal Protestantism-Ab uno disce omnes. We may as well begin by informing our readers that this study on Gottlob Ephraim Lessing is merely a canvas in the author's hands to embroider on it the portrait of Ernest Fontanès, but of Ernest Fontanès Germanised, or rather Lessingised. Certainly, had the author lived under the first empire, he would have drawn down upon himself the severe criticism that the Duke of Rovigo, minister of police, addressed to Madame de Stäel, on account of her enthusiasm for the Germans, in her book upon Germany : "It seems to me that the air of this country does not agree with you; we are not reduced to seek our models among the peoples whom you admire. Your last work is not French. It is not possible to let it pass.' And the 10,000 copies of the work upon Germany already printed, were transformed into card-board, perfectly white, valued at twenty louis d'or, the only indemnity which the publisher was able to obtain ! Happily for the pastor of Havre the great criticism of Germany has acquired the right of citizenship in France, thanks to the labours of the Revue Germanique, the Revue Théologique Protestante (Strasbourg), and the numerous translations from the German. The author will doubtless protest against our inculpation. He * We draw attention to this point, i.e., the patronage of a well-known house in Paris, which is not Protestant. To take one's place (were it only in a catalogue) beside Messrs H. Taine, Paul Janet, Ad. Frank, Emile Saisset, Charles de Rémusat, Littré, is not so easy in France, unless for an author of the rationalistic school who has written upon the Origin and the Transformation of Christianity in the manner of the Pastor A. Coquerel, or an author whose talent allows his evangelical principles to pass, like Prof. R. St Hilaire, or Dr E. de Pressensé. Le Christianisme Moderne. 417 will say that he has remained French, and that he has written for the French. He has believed, and therefore he has written. He wishes also, he adds, to take advantage of the awakening to religious studies in his native country, to free it from the yoke of biblical authority, from which it is piteously begging ready-made solutions of the questions pertaining to the soul. Not only so, but he is anxious to initiate it into a new era of liberty, and is asking himself whether the movement of opinion presages "this new era ?" whether it will be fruitful enough to produce" a new state" of Christianity ?-We are satisfied as to the theological convictions of M. Ernest Fontanès, but, after twice reading his book, we repeat, that we are at a loss to say who is the hero of it, Lessing or Fontanès ? But let us go on. We need not enter into any biographical details concerning Lessing; they are to be found in M. Crouslé's book, Lessing et le goût Français en Allemagne (Paris, chez Durand, 1863.) We merely wish to point out what are the regenerating elements in the German author which the Frenchman would fain implant into his own country: -- 1st, Lessing's toleration in religious matters. Madame de Stäel says of Nathan the wise," "It is the finest among Lessing's works. It would be impossible to exhibit religious toleration in action in a manner more natural and more dignified than is done in this piece? Well, but our dramatist did not the less write, in regard to Pastor Alberti, who refused to read the curses against the pagans in the liturgy: "If we ought to love our neighbour as ourselves, we ought also to call down the wrath of God upon those who deserve it." And what are we to think of a toleration which does not shrink from committing acts of insincerity and fraud? Our readers will understand that we allude to the manner in which Lessing gave to the world the famous "Fragments of Wolfenbüttel." It was under the cover of the freedom from censure, granted to the publication of manuscripts proceeding from the library of Wolfenbüttel, that Lessing, as administrator of the library, published, in 1774, the first part of the work of Samuel Reimarus (The toleration of the Deists), and gave it the title of "Fragments taken from the Papers of an Anonymous Writer." It seems to us that this was an abuse of a confidential post which Lessing had accepted with all its obligations. We are not therefore surprised to find that the prince regent reproached him for his imprudence, and ordered his minister to take away from him for a time his freedom from censure.† The pastor of Havre does not take any notice of this want of candour on the part of his master. We may also add that he passes over * L'Allemagne. Edition Charpentier, p. 211. + Until 1827 Lessing passed for the author of the Fragments, but a professor at Hamburg, Gurlitz, proved that Reimarus had sent them to him. În 1839, Lessing's biographer, W. Körte, maintained that the Education of Humanity was no more his than the Fragments, and that it ought to be attributed to a debauchee, Dr Albert Thaers, who was in the habit of communicating to Lessing the doubts he encountered in reading the fathers. Thus the most celebrated of Lessing's rationalistic writings would seem only to be borrowed. - V. Le Christianisme Historique, by the Abbé Chassay, tome i., p. 107. |