was whirled off in an unusual hurry to read my dered at, when Mr. and Mrs. Charles play at 12 o'clock, having had notice to that Mathews had such high expectations of his effect, on Monday last, from Mrs. Orger, who next play, that the treasurer was directed at the same time said so many things about the to pay him 1000l. in advance, by way of difficulty of ever herself being present at the securing whatever piece he might write for reading, of its being contrary to etiquette,' the stage. Of his fruitless labours and vex&c., and of her doubting whether she should be ations how little has he narrated. Things able to muster up courage enough to ask permis- explicable in any other art and profession, sion, that I was beaten off my intention to speak about your own kind offer. I was sorry for this seem often quite inexplicable with regard to when too late, as I thought I perceived I could the stage. A very similar result attended have managed it easily enough. -The reading, the production of the two fine plays by I must say, (burning blushes apart), was re- Mr. Browning, then a very young dramaceived with acclamation, and all sorts of the tist. If not highly successful, they at least kindest expressions, by Mr. and Mrs. Charles succeeded, and undoubtedly were of high Mathews, Mrs. Orger, Mr. Robertson (treasurer, promise. But we saw no more of him on the ⚫ an old friend), Bartley, stage manager, and stage. This is not the place for any disPlanché (I believe, reader), and the perform-cussion of the question; but one remark ance is to follow Knowles's, in the thick of the season. So I hope us other dramatizing men will be looking up.'-I will take my chance of finding you in a few days. ་ "Mrs. Hunt's very best remembrances. Love of both to Miss P -, ' Mary,' I mean; also to Margaret, if you see her before I do. Receive again the thanks of yours ever most truly, "L. H." may be made, to the effect that the blame only lies with the public at second hand. The success of Mr. Robertson's comedies, and more recently of Mr. Tom Taylor's historical play, is strong evidence that if there really be a fixed depravity of taste in large classes of the public, there are other classes eager to hail a superior order of drama, and the absolute reform of the stage. This is steadily advancing. Something very much to Leigh Hunt's honour is not, I think, generally known; Some of Leigh Hunt's notes on literary perhaps very few ever heard of it. "Now, business are amusingly adroit in dealing Hunt," said Madame Vestris, with a smil- with oversights, delays, or other difficuling but earnest look, "If you will change ties. Here is one: the movement and close of the last act, it will be far more popular and profitable." "But how, madam?" "Thus: Agolante has been one of the very worst husbands, no doubt; but after his wife's supposed death, there would be good reason for him to reform; in fact, to become quite an altered man. If then, after he finds she is not dead, you let him present himself to her-in short, if you will give him back his wife, your play will run for a hundred nights." Leigh Hunt at once answered: "Impossible! So cruel, so exacting, and utterly selfish a domestic tyrant as Agolante, could never become an altered man. In a very short time he would be as bad again as before, and drive her really into her grave. I can't give him back Ginevra. Besides, he is killed in the end, the great probability is that she will be happy with one who truly loves her, and is worthy of her. The end, as it stands, suggests that." And so the play had only a moderate success of some thirty nights. Too bad too good. With the sudden discovery of so rare and rich a vein, and in a veteran author, it may naturally excite wonder at the present day, how it happened that only one other production of Leigh Hunt's ever appeared on the stage. And the more may this be won "Chelsea, Feb. 6. [No year; but postmark on envelope legibly giving 1838.] "MY DEAR HORNE, A "Many thanks for Blanchard's kind notice, "Ever truly yours, "P.S. Of volume of Repository (for which given divers articles no sort of just perusal yet.” very many thanks), when I see you. I have Here is another, so elegant and courteous as to be really courtly. It might have been written in a full "suit" of the time of Lord Chesterfield, and the person addressed "Chelsea, August 2. "MY DEAR MR. OPIFEX, "Pray favour me with an early Tuesday evening (not inconvenient to you, I think you said), in order that I may enter into a more detailed explanation of my reasons for venturing to omit a few lines towards the beginning of your beautiful tragedy. It was a great liberty, and I hope you do not fancy, for a moment, that I took it without great doubt and reluctance; but I finally warranted myself for three reasons: first, . . . and third, that in your interior you seemed to me to be so truly possessed of the good-nature properly belonging to genius, that I reckoned upon your forgiveness under the circumstances. The truth is, I took it for the only passage in which the malice of a critic might find anything to turn to discordant account; and I hope I am not growing impertinent in my excuses when I add, that for your sake it was I was chiefly moved to venture upon the officiousness, having conceived for you. Come then soon, if you can, and tell me you are not angry with "LEIGH HUNT.” The following, for its joyous vein of romantic flattery, surpasses most ebullitions of the kind on record, when the inadequacy of the cause is considered. It is merely to excuse himself for neglecting or procrastinating the return of some printer's proofs, which there was no great need for me to receive in haste: Chelsea, Feb. 18. 66 In 1841 a project was set on foot for giving the world, for the first time, a true yet polished modernization of the Father of English poetry. All previous so-called modernizations of Chaucer (with the single exception of Lord Thurlow's rendering of the Knight's Tale") had been, at best, paraphrases, ad libitum translations, or gross parodies, and desecrations of the homely power, beauty, graphic richness, and quaint humour of the original. As to the fact that Chaucer was not only a versifier of wonderful variety, but that (so far as we can discover and imagine the actual quantities he used and intended us to read) he was a master of versification, and this in himself, and without considering the age in which he wrote, not the remotest recognition had ever been shown of it. Nor had such a fact ever been dreamed to be likely. It was agreed upon to carry out this project by Wordsworth, Leigh Hunt, Miss Elizabeth Barrett, Robert Bell, Monckton Milnes, and the writer of these papers, who was nominated as editor. Other contributors were also on the list. The following note by Leigh Hunt, commencing in a state of great hilarity, about something else, refers with a very acute observation to one of the difficulties of the undertaking: "MY DEAR HORNE, "Kensington, Nov. [Book published in 1841.] "Glory be to the glorification you have given me. It happened too to come upon me at a moment when I was in great want of an agreeable sensation; and verily it supplied it, and did me a world of good, taking me into a region remote from my cares, and making a king of me, and a sort of Cambus." [Cambus Khan.] Many thanks to the kind heart which impelled you. But your letter, Signor mio, makes me think of the perplexity you speak of; and behold! "MY DEAR OPIFEX, I fancy I have found out the critical reason "A word from you is worth a thousand others and reconcilement thereof; to wit, that it is far from almost all other men, let it have been easier to do something of a bit of literal justice ten times later; and I trust this acknowledge- to Chaucer's serious poems than his merry; bement need as little apologize for delay, knowing cause the language of mirth is apt to be the lanhow much you and I constantly think of one an-guage of manners, and therefore comparatively other, with an intercommunication of spirit that can well let the post wait a bit. Your letter is as great a gem to me, as if the Jew of Malta himself had given me one out of his list; and I fancy I can appreciate it too, without its making the bestower a jot the less rich, but the reverse-more rich from his power to bestow, and to wait. God bless you. I will do all you wish with the proofs, and send them at the right time. "Your affectionate Friend, figurative; while people remain in earnest pretty much in the same fashion for centuries. Take a common colloquial oath, and see how it has changed from his time to ours. When a man says Benedicite,' we feel nothing in it - or very little. It is an old Latin or Popish form of speech: we think God bless me' is quite another matter. This is a very small and slight illustration, but it will easily suggest to you all the rest. "I send you a copy of the first part of the 'Seer' (from London Journal, &c.,) because you will find some characters in it which you ments on both sides. Your sunrise,' in v. 1, might like to use. "Ever faithfully yours, "L. H." With the genial, hospitable, and ever kindly Robert Bell (author of "A History of Russia," editor of the "Annotated Edition of the English Poets," and for many years editor of the Home News), the first acquaintance of the editor of "Chaucer Modernized " was made through Leigh Hunt, with a view to his co-operation in that work. All the contributors, previously named, were highly qualified for the undertaking, and all laboured at it with minute care and thoughtful skillespecially Wordsworth, who, besides his modernization of "The Cuckoo and the more Nightingale," revised, almost throughout, the somewhat lengthy poem of The Flower and the Leaf," which had been done by another hand. Yet, in consequence of the principle proposed by the editor, and accepted by all, viz. that the work should be considered as best done by those who could retain, gracefully, the most of the original — the contest, no less than the labour of love entailed upon the editor by the philological enthusiasts, and sincere as well as learned admirers of the Father of English Poetry, far exceeded, in the converse sense, his most sanguine expectations. Whatever alterations were courteously suggested, queries made, or comparison of the texts of different editions proposed, the majority of them were fought out by letters, or marginal and foot-notes all over the proofs. Some of these proofs have been preserved as curiosities of literature. Even when a proposed, or suggested alteration, if only of a single word, was finally accepted, it was seldom without a preliminary contest — all in the best possible feeling-all showing the admirable earnestness of the great Poet's translators - but nevertheless a trying contest for the unfortunate one who felt it his duty to tempt his fate on all due, or doubtful occasions. As a slight illustration, which is not unlikely to amuse the reader, here are a few scraps taken from a single note, by Robert Bell, who had modernized Chaucer's poem of "The Complaint of Mars and Venus." . although close to the sun uprist,' is not (I think), on the whole, so close a reflection of his meaning as my own line, in which the word sides, sun comes immediately after. In verse ' upland' gives us the picture complete. Be7, I stand up for voluptuous joys.' Pray let it remain. In verse, 8, loving compact' is not so close to the original steven,' which literally means an appointment, or assignation;' besides, assignation is familiar. But if, on consideration, you prefer the compact, you have my assent to its adoption. Verse 17: 'Corse' means, in one sense, body-but in another, course,' which is, in my opinion, obviously the meaning here. Avoiding the light by baffling turns, creeping and running in the shade, is in all respects better, in my opinion. I should be sorry to lose this. "Oh! leave the miracle,' v. 5. 1 must plead also for the restoration of the original line, v. 9. I have brought in the morn in Chaucer's own words. Thanks for calling my attention to this. L'Envoye : You were right about 'Granson' [not grandson]. I am sorry you do not print the stanzas with the indented lines. I have restored a full spelling in those cases where the final syllable is not pronounced. I am afraid I have given you a world of trouble, but I have saved you as much as I could in my proof, which is now completely ready to be printed. Mrs. B. read your Reve's Tale,' and is decidedly of opinion that there is no objec tion to it.... I must see you soon to settle about the next volume. "Ever yours, 66 "R. B." And all this, with much more omitted, after Bell had set out with the pleasing but too delusive amenity, that he had adopted" the greater part of the proposed alterations. But this is a trifle to what occurred with the proofs, as well as manuscripts, of more than one of the other loving translators of the great old Poet. At this period Robert Bell was living in a fine old-fashioned house, with a large garden, some six miles out of London, and gave a cordial standing invitation to his friends to dine there on Sundays. The most frequent guests, that is, once every month or two, were W. M. Thackeray, Samuel Lover, Laman Blanchard, Douglas Jerrold, Dr. Mayo, Felix Mendelssohn (when in London), Frank Stone, "Father 66 Prout," several artists and authors whose [ary suit of the vulgarest taste, including a names do not occur to the memory at this "waistcoat, splendid in the way of decoramoment, and the present writer; occasion- tion," purchased in the vicinity of Bow ally also, William and Mary Howitt, Dion Bells, &c.; and concluded, in the most Boucicault, Dr. Southwood Smith, Leigh astonishing manner, with the easy inconsisHunt, and Mrs. Jameson. tency of declaring that the editor, on the The first time I met Mr. Thackeray (it whole, was never ungenerous or unmanly," will be seen that there are some reasons that "his sympathies were honourable and for definitely marking the individuals in this well placed," and that he told the truth case) was at the office of the Court Journal, as far as he knew it." In the second edithen edited by my admired and lamented tion of the work, an introduction was writfriend Laman Blanchard. Thackeray was ten in which thanks were duly rendered to seated at the editor's desk. Oh! thank some reviewers, and unfair attacks anyou! "exclaimed Blanchard, who was al-swered.. Now, a gentleman of six feet two, ways glad to have to write as little himself and bulky form, with a large camus nose, as possible: "what are you writing there?" and great round-glassed spectacles, should 'I don't call it writing," said Thackeray, have been one of the last to venture upon without looking up. "so much as squirting fanciful personalities. In reply, his incona little warm water down a page of your sistencies were simply displayed; he was journal." This compliment to his courtly informed that the editor had known much readers delighted Blanchard more than it more of the broiling sun of Mexico and the would have done most editors of a fashion-thunders of the Gulf of Florida, than of able journal. An amusingly characteristic London mud, or the chimes of Bow Bells, anecdote claims a few words at this moment. and that if Mr. Titmarsh really were enBlanchard told me that he once asked Col-gaged to play the part of Adonis in the burn if he liked his last article in the New Morning Chronicle, it would be nothing but Monthly? "Like it! well, of course, I a pleasure to witness such a performance. should have liked it." Not quite under- But with regard to his final remark as to standing this equivocal compliment, Blan-honourable sympathies and love of truth, if chard again made the inquiry. "You see," said Colburn, with a grave business-look, "when a new contributor sends us any thing, I examine every page and part of it to find if it's weight, you know; and I do this, less and less, till I can trust him; and then I never read him again. Now, in your case, I assure you I never read a word you write, and never intend to do so." we were friends from that day. But all such personalities have since been very properly banished from the superior organs of literature, and seem to be not readily tolerated in the humbler walks. Mr. Titmarsh sincerely meant that, the editor would be happy to shake bands with him in public or private. A few weeks after this appeared, the editor happened to meet Thackeray at the Royal Society. He immediately came forward, and in the most courteous and kindly manner extended his hand, saying, "Mr. Horne, will you allow me to take your hand?" This was the Some time after this - the length of the feeling and act of a true gentleman, and it interval is forgotten a certain biograph-is a great pleasure to record it. Of course ical and critical work was published, in which several hands of eminent writers were engaged, the editor agreeing to "stand fire" for the anonymous brigade. This work was reviewed at some length in the Morning Chronicle by Mr. Thackeray, "Are you a writer of moods?'" said then only known to the public under the Bell one day to Thackeray. "Yes, asincongruous pseudonym of Michael Angelo suredly," was the answer; "and often not Titmarsh. In his critique, obviously writ- in the best moods." Then, sometimes ten in a half-cynical, half-rollicking, Roys-you can't write at all ?" "Of course not; or ter-Doyster mood, he indulged in a variety not fit to be read." "That's strange," said of self-contradictory observations, and not Bell. Now, I can take out my watch a few intended personalities, though really lay it down upon the table and write, wide of the mark, as they happened to be in within a line or two, the same quantity in no one respect applicable. He selected sev- the same given time." eral sentences of profound or graphic critieism (little suspecting that they chanced to be written by most admired authors), and gibbeted them as unintelligible follies; made a broad sign-board caricature of the editor, as a denizen of the city who had got out of his depth: dressed him in an imagin- I was before Thackeray had published the .. 66 Thackeray was a frequent visitor at the old garden-mansion when Bell lived there, and would go on pleasantly for hours, talking and making sketches in an album. Some of these were richly humorous, and accompanied by scraps of prose or verse. This work which at once raised him to his well- | had a room appropriated to him, in conjuncdeserved eminence, viz. "Vanity Fair." tion with the late Mr. Hogarth, in the house He himself has related how this masterpiece where Household Words, and some chronicle of modern novel-writing was refused in the first instance, both by magazines, and as a substantive work; but it was reserved for Mr. Kent's Footprints on the Road" to make it more recently known that he had also offered himself as an artist, to furnish sketches as illustrations for a popular author's stories, which had been very promptly declined. Bell used to take the utmost delight in seeing him make these fanciful sketches. The drawing-room was very large, and in winter there was a great logfire. It chanced on a certain evening that the lamp suddenly went out, so that the back part of the room was thrown into shadow; and there stood those huge figures-one upwards of six feet two, and bulky in proportion, the other (Bell) being at least six feet four, stalwart and gaunt — with the large log-fire at steady red heat in front of them, and their great shoulders and backs in dark shade. It suggested to the imagination a scene of giants in a forest, holding high conference, or of the meeting between the Chancellor, tower-heavy Turketull," and Gorm" the Scandinavian sea-king, in the fine chronicle play of " Athelstan." What a pity that Bell's amiable, and not unfrequently inspired " visitor, Mendelssohn, did not chance to be at the pianoforte that evening! He would certainly have improvised some wonderful symphony on the oc casion. 66 The last touch has just been given to the foregoing picture, when the sudden news of the departure of an early friend on his final journey, confuses the eye-sight with a doubt as to whether it reads the words aright. No portrait shall, at present, be attempted, and all memoirs must be postponed to a time when one can more steadily approach the subject, and more clearly recail the many genial and admirable characteristics of the private life of Charles Dickens. One brief anecdote is all that shall now be offered. When Household Words first started, and for a long time afterwards, the present writer or record connected with that periodical, were published. There we read newspapers, wrote private notes, gossiped about Corelli and Sebastian Bach, and de omnibus rebus, &c., and should have done special work, but somehow, excepting the correction of proofs, this generally happened to be done elsewhere. At that early date of the periodical, the only regular staff-contributors of original articles, were Mr. Dickens, the acting editor, and myself; and, now and then, an article was jointly written. One day Mr. Dickens proposed to me a paper on Chatham Dockyard." Being much taken with the subject, a day was at once fixed upon, and we went down early to have the day before us dinner being ordered for the hour by which it was considered that our observations and notes could be completed. Now," said Mr. Dickens, "this article will naturally divide itself into two parts, which we can afterwards dovetail together, viz. the works of the dockyard, and the fortifications and country scenery round about. Which will you take?" I at once replied, that the works of the dockyard seemed to me the most promising. He smiled, and said, "Then we'll meet here again at a quarter to five. I'm glad you make that choice, for this is a sort of native place of mine. I was a schoolboy here, and have juvenile memories and associations all round the country outskirts." The kindness and good nature, even more than the readiness for any kind of work, need no comment. How few literary men-how very few would have suppressed a strong personal feeling on such an occasion, before the choice was made. But while the long life of continuous literary work shall show so very few objectionable things, there will remain a large store of kindly acts, to be, from time to time, recorded. To the joint article in question, Mr. Dickens gave the title of "One man in a Dockyard," thus again sinking his own personality in the matter. |