The Germ Part 24

"'Of his sunk eyes some awful mystery, And wept we knew not why. There was a grace Of radiant joyful hope upon his face, Most unaccustomed, and which seemed to be All foreign to his wasted frame; and yet So heavenly in its consolation we Smiled through the tears with which our lids were wet.

His lips were cold, as, whispering, 'Do not fret

"'When I am gone,' he kissed us: and he took Our uncle's hands, which on our heads he laid, And said: 'My children, do not be afraid Of Death, but be prepared to meet him. Look; Here is your mother's brother; he to her As Reginald to Eve.' His thin voice shook.-- 'Eve was your Mother's name.' His words did err, As dreaming; and his wan lips ceased to stir.'"--pp. 55-57.

(We have quoted this pa.s.sage, not insensible to its defects,--some common-place in sentiment and diction; but independently of the good it does really contain, as being the only one of such a character sustained in quality to a moderate length.)

Reginald and his cousin Wilton grew up together friends, though not bound by common sympathies. The latter has known life early, and "earned experience piecemeal:" with the former, thought has already become a custom.

Thus far only does Reginald bring his retrospect; his other friends come up, and they all return homeward. Here, too, ends the story of this canto; but not without warranting some surmise of what will furnish out the next. There is evidence of observation adroitly applied in the talk of the two under-keepers who take charge of the boat.

"They said: 'Oh! what a gentleman to talk Is that there Lacy! What a tongue he've got!

But Mr. Vivian _is_ a pretty shot.

And what a pace his lords.h.i.+p wish to walk!

Which Mr. Tancarville, he seemed quite beat: But he's a pleasant gentleman. Good lawk!

How he do make me laugh! Dang! this 'ere seat Have wet my smalls slap thro'. Dang! what a treat!

"'There's company coming to the Place to morn: Bess housemaid told me. Lord and Lady----: dash My wigs! I can't think on. But there's a mash O' comp'ny and fine ladies; fit to torn The heads of these young chaps. Why now I'd lay This here gun to an empty powder-horn Sir Reginald be in love, or that-a-way.

He looks a little downcast-loikish,--eh?'"--pp.62, 63.

It will be observed that there is no vulgarity in this vulgarism: indeed, the gentlemanly good humour of the poem is uninterrupted.

This, combined with neatness of handling, and the habit of not over-doing, produces that general facility of appearance which it is no disparagement, in speaking of a first canto, to term the chief result of so much of these life and adventures as is here "done into verse." It may be fairly antic.i.p.ated, however, that no want of variety in the conception, or of success in the pourtrayal, of character will need to be complained of: meanwhile, a few pa.s.sages may be quoted to confirm our a.s.sertions. The two first extracts are examples of mere cleverness; and all that is aimed at is attained.

The former follows out a previous comparison of the world with a "huge churn."

"Yet some, despising life's legitimate aim, Instead of b.u.t.ter, would become "the cheese;"

A low term for distinction. Whence the name I know not: gents invented it; and these Gave not an etymology. I see no Likelier than this, which with their taste agrees; The _caseine_ element I conceive to mean no Less than the _beau ideal_ of the Casino."--p.12.

"Wise were the Augurers of old, nor erred In substance, deeming that the life of man-- (This is a new reflection, spick and span)-- May be much influenced by the flight of birds.

Our senate can no longer hold their house When culminates the evil star of grouse; And stoutest patriots will their shot-belts gird When first o'er stubble-field hath partridge whirred."--p.25.

In these others there is more purpose, with a no less definite conciseness:

"Comes forth the first great poet. Then a number Of followers leave much literary lumber.

He cuts his phrases in the sapling grain Of language; and so weaves them at his will.

They from his wickerwork extract with pain The wands now warped and stiffened, which but ill Bend to their second-hand employment."--pp. 4, 5.

"What's life? A riddle; Or sieve which sifts you thro' it in the middle."--p.45.

The misadventures of the five friends on their road to Nornyth are very sufficiently described:

"The night was cold and cloudy as they topped A moorland slope, and met the bitter blast, So cutting that their ears it almost cropped; And rain began to fall extremely fast.

A broken sign-post left them in great doubt About two roads; and, when an hour was pa.s.sed, They learned their error from a lucid lout; Soon after, one by one, their lamps went out."--p.29.

There remains to point out one fault,--and that the last fault the occurrence of which could be looked for, after so clearly expressed an intention as this:

"But, if an Author takes to writing fine, (Which means, I think, an artificial tone), The public sicken and won't read a line.

I hope there's nothing of this sort in mine."--p. 6.

A quotation or two will fully explain our meaning: and we would seriously ask Mr. Cayley to reflect whether he has always borne his principle in mind, and avoided "writing fine;" whether he has not sometimes fallen into high-flown common-place of the most undisguised stamp, rendered, moreover, doubly inexcusable and out of place by being put into the mouth of one of the personages of the poem; It is Sir Reginald Mohun that speaks; and truly, though not thrust forward as a "wondrous paragon of praise," he must be confessed to be,

"Judging by specimens the author quotes, An utterer of most ordinary phrases,"

not words only and sentences, but real _phrases_, in the more distinct and specific sense of the term.

"'There, while yet a new born thing, Death o'er my cradle waved his darksome wing; My mother died to give me birth: forlorn I came into the world, a babe of woe, Ill-omened from my childhood's early morn; Yet heir to what the idolators of show Deem life's good things, which earthly bliss bestow.

"'The riches of the heart they call a dream; Love, hope, faith, friends.h.i.+p, hollow phantasies: Living but for their pockets and their eyes, They stifle in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s the purer beam Of suns.h.i.+ne glanced from heaven upon their clay, To be its light and warmth. This is a theme For homilies: and I will only say, The heart feeds not on fortune's baubles gay.'"--p. 51.

Sir Reginald's narrative concludes after this fas.h.i.+on:

"'But what is this? A dubious compromise; Twilight of cloudy zones, whereon the blaze Of suns.h.i.+ne breaks but seldom with its rays Of heavenly hope, towards which the spirit sighs Its aspirations, and is lost again 'Mid doubts: to grasp the wisdom of the skies Too feeble, tho' convinced earth's bonds are vain, Cowering faint-hearted in the festering chain.'"--p. 60.

A similar instance of conventionality constantly repeated is the sin of inversion, which is no less prevalent, throughout the poem, in the conversational than in the narrative portions. In some cases the exigencies of rhyme may be pleaded in palliation, as for "Cam's marge along" and "breezy willows cool," which occur in two consecutive lines of a speech; but there are many for which no such excuse can be urged. Does any one talk of "sloth obscure," or of "hearts afflicted?" Or what reason is there for preferring "verses easy" to _easy verses?_ Ought not the principle laid down in the following pa.s.sage of the introduction to be followed out, not only into the intention, but into the manner and quality also, of the whole work?

"'I mean to be _sincere_ in this my lay: That which I think I shall write down without A drop of pain or varnish. Therefore, pray, Whatever I may chance to rhyme about, Read it without the shadow of a doubt.'"--p. 12.

Again, the Author appears to us to have acted unwisely in occasionally departing from the usual construction of his stanzas, as in this instance:

"'But, as I said, you know my history; And your's--not that you made a mystery Of it, nor used reserve, yet, being not By nature an Autophonophilete, (A word De Lacy fas.h.i.+oned and called me it)-- Your's you have never told me yet. And what Can be a more appropriate occasion Than this true epic opening for relation?'"--p. 48.

Here the lines do not cohere so happily as in the more varied distribution of the rhymes; and, moreover, as a question of principle, we think it not advisable to allow of minor deviations from the uniformity of a prescribed metre.

It may be well to take leave of Mr. Cayley with a last quotation of his own words,--words which no critic ought to disregard:

"I shall be deeply grateful to reviews, Whether they deign approval, or rebuke, For any hints they think may disabuse Delusions of my inexperienced muse."--p.8.

If our remarks have been such as to justify the Author's wish for sincere criticism, our object is attained; and we look forward for the second canto with confidence in his powers.

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