TABLE TALK. EDITIONS OF RABELAIS IN THE SUNDERLAND SALE. HE most remarkable feature yet exhibited in the great sale of the Sunderland Library is the prices fetched by the early editions of Rabelais. In these treasures the library was exceptionally rich. No copy of any of the earliest editions of the second book, the "Life of Pantagruel "--which was the first in order of publication-was in the catalogue. A conspicuous rarity, the first edition of " Gargantua," published in Lyons by Francoys Juste, 1535, appeared, however, and was sold for £320. The "Grands Annales" fetched £360, and the 1542 edition of Francoys Juste of the "Life of Gargantua" £280. Other editions so rare that Brunet, whose "Recherches Bibliographiques et Critiques sur les éditions originales des cinq livres du roman satirique de Rabelais" constitutes our chief source of information, has never seen them fetch prices proportionate. No copy of the edition surreptitiously and disloyally published by Dolet was on the list. I am sorry to hear that no single copy of these marvellous books remains in England. All fell to the same enterprising bookseller, Mr. Quaritch, and all, I am told, were bought by him on commission for France. T1 RELATION OF SCENIC ILLUSTRATION TO THE DRAMA. HE extent to which scenic illustration contributes to stage illusion is not yet ascertained. Something is to be urged in favour of the system, said to have prevailed in the days of Shakespeare, of employing no scenery whatever, and presenting as a background a simple curtain of green baize. That matters, however, were quite so primitive as this is yet doubtful. In dealing with stage decoration it is, however, to be borne in mind that the conventional must come in somewhere or other, and that unmitigated gain does not attend the removal from the scenery to the actor of the point at which it presents itself. So long as the realistic thoroughness of the shows of Imperial Rome, in which the charac ters to be put to death are said to have been absolutely slain, is relaxed, we cannot, by any process of stage realism, force upon a fairly sophisticated public the conviction that the action is real. Such mise en scène, however, as is now to be seen in London at certain theatres constitutes in itself an attraction of a very genuine sort. To sce at the Haymarket, in the revival of "The Overland Route," through the spars of the vessel the sun slowly setting in crimson splendour, and the gradual establishment of the empire of darkness, is to acquire impressions that might well be derived from Eastern travel. The views of Messina in the revival of "Much Ado About Nothing," at the Lyceum, are marvellous in beauty; the representation of Catholic ceremonial in the Cathedral is impressive as absolute worship, and the spectacle of noblemen and gallants masquerading in the halls of Leonato, or lounging through the "Cedarn Alleys" of the garden, takes us back to the very period and world of Italian Romance. Apart, then, from all question of its propriety, such scenery as is now put on the stage has a value and a delight of its own. MEN READIANA. EN who during their lifetimes witness the collection and publication of their "ana" enjoy a sweet, an appetising, I should almost suppose an intoxicating draught of the wine of immortality. Such a draught has been accorded Mr. Charles Reade, and I hope that by it his physical and intellectual life will be stimulated and invigorated. To old-established residents upon the dustiest and least accessible shelves of a well-furnished library, the Scaligerana, Thuana, Perroniana, Huétiana, and other volumes, the titles of which are recorded in the "Répertoire de Bibliographies Espéciales, Curieuses et Instructifs" of Gabriel Peignot, the appearance of Readiana, with its diverting contents, and its bulk and exterior, must seem like the commencement of revolution. Comparatively few volumes of English ana are in existence. The most important among them are Baconiana, Swiftiana, Walpoleana, Seldeniana, Wartoniana, Addisoniana, and Atterburyana. Quite worthy to take its place beside these standard works is the new volume. Not the least of its advantages is that in a period when literature is affected. by a species of revived Gongorism, it strikes one by its sincerity; and that to the weak utterances-epicene, I had almost said-which are in fashion, it opposes a virility refreshing to witness. R A LITERARY PARALLEL. EADERS of Thackeray recall the tributes constantly paid by that writer to Alexandre Dumas, to the father not the son, the author of "Monte-Cristo," not that of "Le Demi-monde." Mr. Charles Reade appears to me an English Alexandre Dumas, with the same unflagging invention, the same animal spirits, a kindred charm of style, and a similarly powerful dramatic inspiration. Points of difference may, of course, easily be indicated. If I am charged, however, with paying too high a compliment to a living writer in comparing him with the illustrious dead, I go further, and say that at times, as at the outset of "The Cloister and the Hearth," Mr. Reade attains a point out of the reach of his predecessor. After the eloquent tribute paid to Mr. Reade in this magazine by Mr. Besant, I am not called upon to deal with the appearance of a collected edition of his works. During the perusal of them, however, the resemblance of which I speak has been constantly forced upon me. Mr. Reade's volumes meanwhile constitute a treasure in the possession of which I congratulate myself. AN LAMENTATION IN RENAISSANCE LITERATURE. N age knows as little as an individual concerning its own physiognomy. Nothing in the study of that Renaissance period which, more than any other epoch, commends itself to modern sympathies is more striking than the apparent ignorance of those belonging to it of the magnitude of the social and intellectual movements in which they were taking part. A chief burden of Renaissance literature consists of complaint. Of very much of the highest poetry the keynote is a wail. So prevalent in French literature of the fifteenth century, and the early portion of the sixteenth, is this, that a man like Villon even does not escape its influence, while the writings of poets of less mark abound with ballades upon human misery, or trailtiets upon the unhappiness of France. Without going farther than the Gentleman's Magazine, I can find already quoted in its pages such lines from Renaissance literature as Chacun pour cacher son malheur Et les larmes dedans son cœur. From modern view, meanwhile, the traces of individual suffering and unrest vanish as the recollections of discomfort disappear from memories of foreign travel. To us the period of Renaissance appears a time of turbulence, no doubt, but of fierce exuberant life and keen enjoyment, a time big with discovery, and teeming with all that can stimulate interest and reward exploration, inquiry, and research. A LOST CUSTOM. NGLAND, so far as I know, is the only country in Europe in ENG which the w women may not constantly be seen by river or fountain beating linen for the purpose of washing it. I should like to ascertain when the practice died out in this country, and to what cause its cessation is attributable. That it was prevalent is sufficiently obvious. Shakespeare makes Touchstone say in "As You Like It," "I remember kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'd hands had milked." The batlet or batler, as it is called in the first folio, is the species of flat instrument with which the washerwoman beats her linen, and which, in a famous scene in M. Zola's "L'Assommoir," is turned to punitive account. It is also called a beetle. In "The Woman's Prize," of Beaumont and Fletcher, Moroso asks Have I lived thus long to be knockt o' th' head And Browne, in his "Britannia Pastorals," has an allusion to the same implement. A unique instance appears to me to be here afforded of the disappearance of a local custom which has once been established, and which is yet prevalent over the rest of Europe. THE PUBLISHERS AND AUTHORS. HE feud between the unsuccessful author and the publisher, which has given rise recently to an animated discussion in the Pall Mall Gazette, furnishes a parallel to that ever-enduring quarrel between the reviewed and the reviewer. Except in the notunknown case, in which the critic is but a mouthpiece of the writer, explaining remote allusion or obscure significance, all criticism is distasteful, and most of it is regarded as impertinence. Few things are more amusing to the cynical than to contrast with the anxiety of the writer to obtain an expression of opinion the discontent or disgust with which it is ordinarily received. The fine satire in "Gil Blas" concerning the Archbishop and his Mentor has not yet lost its application. In like manner the eagerness of the young author to obtain on any terms the publication of his volume is in whimsical contrast with his petulance when the result is failure. For the man who, up to a certain point, was the best of judges and the most prized of acquaintances, no terms of abuse are sufficiently strong. The entire class to which he belongs are branded as pirates. A very moderate amount of common-sense is brought to bear upon ordinary judgments. When, however, two such disturbing motives as the wounding of personal vanity and the loss of anticipated profit come into operation, there is no wonder that "madness rules the hour." I am not undertaking the defence of tradesmen who understand the value of the wares in which they deal. My sole desire is to point out that the arraignment of publishers by men who when wounded in the most sensitive points try to transfer the blame to others has no serious importance. SYLVANUS URBAN. |