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diff --git a/old/awkbi10h.htm b/old/awkbi10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7767a51 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/awkbi10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3472 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>Biographical Study of A. W. Kinglake</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Biographical Study of A. W. Kinglake, by Rev. W. Tuckwell</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Biographical Study of A. W. Kinglake +by Rev. W. Tuckwell + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Biographical Study of A. W. Kinglake + +Author: Rev. W. Tuckwell + +Release Date: May, 1996 [EBook #539] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 23, 1996] +[Most recently updated: August 27, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from the 1902 Edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A. W. KINGLAKE - A BIOGRAPHICAL AND LITERARY STUDY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PREFACE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +It is just eleven years since Kinglake passed away, and his life has +not yet been separately memorialized. A few years more, and the +personal side of him would be irrecoverable, though by personality, +no less than by authorship, he made his contemporary mark. When +a tomb has been closed for centuries, the effaced lineaments of its +tenant can be re-coloured only by the idealizing hand of genius, as +Scott drew Claverhouse, and Carlyle drew Cromwell. But, to the +biographer of the lately dead, men have a right to say, as Saul said +to the Witch of Endor, “Call up Samuel!” In your study +of a life so recent as Kinglake’s, give us, if you choose, some +critical synopsis of his monumental writings, some salvage from his +ephemeral and scattered papers; trace so much of his youthful training +as shaped the development of his character; depict, with wise restraint, +his political and public life: but also, and above all, re-clothe him +“in his habit as he lived,” as friends and associates knew +him; recover his traits of voice and manner, his conversational wit +or wisdom, epigram or paradox, his explosions of sarcasm and his eccentricities +of reserve, his words of winningness and acts of kindness: and, since +one half of his life was social, introduce us to the companions who +shared his lighter hour and evoked his finer fancies; take us to the +Athenaeum “Corner,” or to Holland House, and flash on us +at least a glimpse of the brilliant men and women who formed the setting +to his sparkle; <i>“dic in amicitiam coeant et foedera jungant</i>.”<br> +<br> +This I have endeavoured to do, with such aid as I could command from +his few remaining contemporaries. His letters to his family were +destroyed by his own desire; on those written to Madame Novikoff no +such embargo was laid, nor does she believe that it was intended. +I have used these sparingly, and all extracts from them have been subjected +to her censorship. If the result is not Attic in salt, it is at +any rate Roman in brevity. I send it forth with John Bunyan’s +homely aspiration:<br> +<br> +<br> +And may its buyer have no cause to say,<br> +His money is but lost or thrown away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER I - EARLY YEARS<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The fourth decade of the deceased century dawned on a procession of +Oriental pilgrims, variously qualified or disqualified to hold the gorgeous +East in fee, who, with <i>bakshîsh</i> in their purses, a theory +in their brains, an unfilled diary-book in their portmanteaus, sought +out the Holy Land, the Sinai peninsula, the valley of the Nile, sometimes +even Armenia and the Monte Santo, and returned home to emit their illustrated +and mapped octavos. We have the type delineated admiringly in +Miss Yonge’s “Heartsease,” <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a> +bitterly in Miss Skene’s “Use and Abuse,” facetiously +in the Clarence Bulbul of “Our Street.” “Hang +it! has not everybody written an Eastern book? I should like to +meet anybody in society now who has not been up to the Second Cataract. +My Lord Castleroyal has done one - an honest one; my Lord Youngent another +- an amusing one; my Lord Woolsey another - a pious one; there is the +‘Cutlet and the Cabob’ - a sentimental one; Timbuctoothen +- a humorous one.” Lord Carlisle’s honesty, Lord Nugent’s +fun, Lord Lindsay’s piety, failed to float their books. +Miss Martineau, clear, frank, unemotional Curzon, fuddling the Levantine +monks with rosoglio that he might fleece them of their treasured hereditary +manuscripts, even Eliot Warburton’s power, colouring, play of +fancy, have yielded to the mobility of Time. Two alone out of +the gallant company maintain their vogue to-day: Stanley’s “Sinai +and Palestine,” as a Fifth Gospel, an inspired Scripture Gazetteer; +and “Eothen,” as a literary gem of purest ray serene.<br> +<br> +In 1898 a reprint of the first edition was given to the public, prefaced +by a brief eulogium of the book and a slight notice of the author. +It brought to the writer of the “Introduction” not only +kind and indulgent criticism, but valuable corrections, fresh facts, +clues to further knowledge. These last have been carefully followed +out. The unwary statement that Kinglake never spoke after his +first failure in the House has been atoned by a careful study of all +his speeches in and out of Parliament. His reviews in the “Quarterly” +and elsewhere have been noted; impressions of his manner and appearance +at different periods of his life have been recovered from coaeval acquaintances; +his friend Hayward’s Letters, the numerous allusions in Lord Houghton’s +Life, Mrs. Crosse’s lively chapters in “Red Letter Days +of my Life,” Lady Gregory’s interesting recollections of +the Athenaeum Club in Blackwood of December, 1895, the somewhat slender +notice in the “Dictionary of National Biography,” have all +been carefully digested. From these, and, as will be seen, from +other sources, the present Memoir has been compiled; an endeavour - +<i>sera tamen</i> - to lay before the countless readers and admirers +of his books a fairly adequate appreciation, hitherto unattempted, of +their author.<br> +<br> +I have to acknowledge the great kindness of Canon William Warburton, +who examined his brother Eliot’s diaries on my behalf, obtained +information from Dean Boyle and Sir M. Grant Duff, cleared up for me +not a few obscure allusions in the “Eothen” pages. +My highly valued friend, Mrs. Hamilton Kinglake, of Taunton, his sister-in-law, +last surviving relative of his own generation, has helped me with facts +which no one else could have recalled. To Mr. Estcott, his old +acquaintance and Somersetshire neighbour, I am indebted for recollections +manifold and interesting; but above all I tender thanks to Madame Novikoff, +his intimate associate and correspondent during the last twenty years +of his life, who has supplemented her brilliant sketch of him in “La +Nouvelle Revue” of 1896 by oral and written information lavish +in quantity and of paramount biographical value. Kinglake’s +external life, his literary and political career, his speeches, and +the more fugitive productions of his pen, were recoverable from public +sources; but his personal and private side, as it showed itself to the +few close intimates who still survive, must have remained to myself +and others meagre, superficial, disappointing, without Madame Novikoff’s +unreserved and sympathetic confidence.<br> +<br> +<br> +Alexander William Kinglake was descended from an old Scottish stock, +the Kinlochs, who migrated to England with King James, and whose name +was Anglicized into Kinglake. Later on we find them settled on +a considerable estate of their own at Saltmoor, near Borobridge, whence +towards the close of the eighteenth century two brothers, moving southward, +made their home in Taunton - Robert as a physician, William as a solicitor +and banker. Both were of high repute, both begat famous sons. +From Robert sprang the eminent Parliamentary lawyer, Serjeant John Kinglake, +at one time a contemporary with Cockburn and Crowder on the Western +Circuit, and William Chapman Kinglake, who while at Trinity, Cambridge, +won the Latin verse prize, “Salix Babylonica,” the English +verse prizes on “Byzantium” and the “Taking of Jerusalem,” +in 1830 and 1832. Of William’s sons the eldest was Alexander +William, author of “Eothen,” the youngest Hamilton, for +many years one of the most distinguished physicians in the West of England. +“Eothen,” as he came to be called, was born at Taunton on +the 5th August, 1809, at a house called “The Lawn.” +His father, a sturdy Whig, died at the age of ninety through injuries +received in the hustings crowd of a contested election. His mother +belonged to an old Somersetshire family, the Woodfordes of Castle Cary. +She, too, lived to a great age; a slight, neat figure in dainty dress, +full of antique charm and grace. As a girl she had known Lady +Hester Stanhope, who lived with her grandmother, Lady Chatham, at Burton +Pynsent, her own father, Dr. Thomas Woodforde, being Lady Chatham’s +medical attendant. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a> +The future prophetess of the Lebanon was then a wild girl, scouring +the countryside on bare-backed horses; she showed great kindness to +Mary Woodforde, afterwards Kinglake’s mother. It was as +his mother’s son that she received him long afterwards at Djoun. +To his mother Kinglake was passionately attached; owed to her, as he +tells us in “Eothen,” his home in the saddle and his love +for Homer. A tradition is preserved in the family that on the +day of her funeral, at a churchyard five miles away, he was missed from +the household group reassembled in the mourning home; he was found to +have ordered his horse, and galloped back in the darkness to his mother’s +grave. Forty years later he writes to Alexander Knox: “The +death of a mother has an almost magical power of recalling the home +of one’s childhood, and the almost separate world that rests upon +affection.” Of his two sisters, one was well read and agreeably +talkative, noted by Thackeray as the cleverest woman he had ever met; +the other, Mrs. Acton, was a delightful old <i>esprit fort</i>, as I +knew her in the sixties, “pagan, I regret to say,” but not +a little resembling her brother in the point and manner of her wit. +The family moved in his infancy to an old-fashioned handsome “Wilton +House,” adjoining closely to the town, but standing amid spacious +park-like grounds, and inhabited in after years by Kinglake’s +younger brother Hamilton, who succeeded his uncle in the medical profession, +and passed away, amid deep and universal regret, in 1898. Here +during the thirties Sydney Smith was a frequent and a welcome visitor; +it was in answer to old Mrs. Kinglake that he uttered his audacious +<i>mot</i> on being asked if he would object, as a neighbouring clergyman +had done, to bury a Dissenter: “Not bury Dissenters? I should +like to be burying them all day!”<br> +<br> +Taunton was an innutrient foster-mother, <i>arida nutrix</i>, for such +young lions as the Kinglake brood. Two hundred years before it +had been a prosperous and famous place, its woollen and kersey trades, +with the population they supported, ranking it as eighth in order among +English towns. Its inhabitants were then a gallant race, republican +in politics, Puritan in creed. Twice besieged by Goring and Lumford, +it had twice repelled the Royalists with loss. It was the centre +of Monmouth’s rebellion and of Jeffrey’s vengeance; the +suburb of Tangier, hard by its ancient castle, still recalls the time +when Colonel Kirke and his regiment of “Lambs” were quartered +in the town. But long before the advent of the Kinglakes its glory +had departed; its manufactures had died out, its society become Philistine +and bourgeois - “little men who walk in narrow ways” - while +from pre-eminence in electoral venality among English boroughs it was +saved only by the near proximity of Bridgewater. A noted statesman +who, at a later period, represented it in Parliament, used to say that +by only one family besides Dr. Hamilton Kinglake’s could he be +received with any sense of social or intellectual equality.<br> +<br> +Not much, however, of Kinglake’s time was given to his native +town: he was early sent to the Grammar School at Ottery St. Mary’s, +the “Clavering” of “Pendennis,” whose Dr. Wapshot +was George Coleridge, brother of the poet. He was wont in after +life to speak of this time with bitterness; a delicate child, he was +starved on insufficient diet; and an eloquent passage in “Eothen” +depicts his intellectual fall from the varied interests and expanding +enthusiasm of liberal home teaching to the regulation gerund-grinding +and Procrustean discipline of school. “The dismal change +is ordained, and then - thin meagre Latin with small shreds and patches +of Greek, is thrown like a pauper’s pall over all your early lore; +instead of sweet knowledge, vile, monkish, doggerel grammars and graduses, +dictionaries and lexicons, and horrible odds and ends of dead languages +are given you for your portion, and down you fall, from Roman story +to a three-inch scrap of ‘Scriptores Romani,’ - from Greek +poetry, down, down to the cold rations of ‘Poetae Graeci,’ +cut up by commentators, and served out by school-masters!”<br> +<br> +At Eton - under Keate, as all readers of “Eothen” know - +he was contemporary with Gladstone, Sir F. Hanmer, Lords Canning and +Dalhousie, Selwyn, Shadwell. He wrote in the “Etonian,” +created and edited by Mackworth Praed; and is mentioned in Praed’s +poem on Surly Hall as<br> +<br> +<br> +“Kinglake, dear to poetry,<br> +And dear to all his friends.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Dr. Gatty remembers his “determined pale face”; thinks that +he made his mark on the river rather than in the playing fields, being +a good oar and swimmer. His great friend at school was Savile, +the “Methley” of his travels, who became successively Lord +Pollington and Earl of Mexborough. The Homeric lore which Methley +exhibited in the Troad, is curiously illustrated by an Eton story, that +in a pugilistic encounter with Hoseason, afterwards an Indian Cavalry +officer, while the latter sate between the rounds upon his second’s +knee, Savile strutted about the ring, spouting Homer.<br> +<br> +Kinglake entered at Trinity, Cambridge, in 1828, among an exceptionally +brilliant set - Tennyson, Arthur Hallam, John Sterling, Trench, Spedding, +Spring Rice, Charles Buller, Maurice, Monckton Milnes, J. M. Kemble, +Brookfield, Thompson. With none of them does he seem in his undergraduate +days to have been intimate. Probably then, as afterwards, he shrank +from <i>camaraderie</i>, shared Byron’s distaste for “enthusymusy”; +naturally cynical and self-contained, was repelled by the spiritual +fervour, incessant logical collision, aggressive tilting at abuses of +those young “Apostles,” already<br> +<br> +<br> +“Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would +yield,<br> +Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father’s field,”<br> +<br> +<br> +waxing ever daily, as Sterling exhorted, “in religion and radicalism.” +He saw life differently; more practically, if more selfishly; to one +rhapsodizing about the “plain living and high thinking” +of Wordsworth’s sonnet, he answered: “You know that you +prefer dining with people who have good glass and china and plenty of +servants.” For Tennyson’s poetry he even then felt +admiration; quotes, nay, misquotes, in “Eothen,” from the +little known “Timbuctoo”; <a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3">{3}</a> +and from “Locksley Hall”; and supplied long afterwards an +incident adopted by Tennyson in “Enoch Arden,”<br> +<br> +<br> +“Once likewise in the ringing of his ears<br> +Though faintly, merrily - far and far away -<br> +He heard the pealing of his parish bells,” <a name="citation4"></a><a href="#footnote4">{4}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +from his own experience in the desert, when on a Sunday, amid overpowering +heat and stillness, he heard the Marlen bells of Taunton peal for morning +church. <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5">{5}</a><br> +<br> +In whatever set he may have lived he made his mark at Cambridge. +Lord Houghton remembered him as an orator at the Union; and speaking +to Cambridge undergraduates fifty years later, after enumerating the +giants of his student days, Macaulay, Praed, Buller, Sterling, Merivale, +he goes on to say: “there, too, were Kemble and Kinglake, the +historian of our earliest civilization and of our latest war; Kemble +as interesting an individual as ever was portrayed by the dramatic genius +of his own race; Kinglake, as bold a man-at-arms in literature as ever +confronted public opinion.” We know, too, that not many +years after leaving Cambridge he received, and refused, a solicitation +to stand as Liberal representative of the University in Parliament. +He was, in fact, as far as any of his contemporaries from acquiescing +in social conventionalisms and shams. To the end of his life he +chafed at such restraint: “when pressed to stay in country houses,” +he writes in 1872, “I have had the frankness to say that I have +not discipline enough.” Repeatedly he speaks with loathing +of the “stale civilization,” the “utter respectability,” +of European life; <a name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6">{6}</a> +longed with all his soul for the excitement and stir of soldiership, +from which his shortsightedness debarred him; <a name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7">{7}</a> +rushed off again and again into foreign travel; set out immediately +on leaving Cambridge, in 1834, for his first Eastern tour, “to +fortify himself for the business of life.” Methley joined +him at Hamburg, and they travelled by Berlin, Dresden, Prague, Vienna, +to Semlin, where his book begins. Lord Pollington’s health +broke down, and he remained to winter at Corfu, while Kinglake pursued +his way alone, returning to England in October, 1835. <a name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8">{8}</a> +On his return he read for the Chancery Bar along with his friend Eliot +Warburton, under Bryan Procter, a Commissioner of Lunacy, better known +by his poet-name, Barry Cornwall; his acquaintance with both husband +and wife ripening into life-long friendship. Mrs. Procter is the +“Lady of Bitterness,” cited in the “Eothen” +Preface. As Anne Skepper, before her marriage, she was much admired +by Carlyle; “a brisk witty prettyish clear eyed sharp tongued +young lady”; and was the intimate, among many, especially of Thackeray +and Browning. In epigrammatic power she resembled Kinglake; but +while his acrid sayings were emitted with gentlest aspect and with softest +speech; while, like Byron’s Lambro:<br> +<br> +<br> +“he was the mildest mannered man<br> +That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat,<br> +With such true breeding of a gentleman,<br> +You never could divine his real thought,”<br> +<br> +<br> +her sarcasms rang out with a resonant clearness that enforced and aggravated +their severity. That two persons so strongly resembling each other +in capacity for rival exhibition, or for mutual exasperation, should +have maintained so firm a friendship, often surprised their acquaintance; +she explained it by saying that she and Kinglake sharpened one another +like two knives; that, in the words of Petruchio,<br> +<br> +<br> +“Where two raging fires meet together,<br> +They do consume the thing that feeds their fury.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Crabb Robinson, stung by her in a tender place, his boastful iterative +monologues on Weimar and on Goethe, said that of all men Procter ought +to escape purgatory after death, having tasted its fulness here through +living so many years with Mrs. Procter; “the husbands of the talkative +have great reward hereafter,” said Rudyard Kipling’s Lama. +And I have been told by those who knew the pair that there was truth +as well as irritation in the taunt. “A graceful Preface +to ‘Eothen,’” wrote to me a now famous lady who as +a girl had known Mrs. Procter well, “made friendly company yesterday +to a lonely meal, and brought back memories of Mr. Kinglake’s +kind spoiling of a raw young woman, and of the wit, the egregious vanity, +the coarseness, the kindness, of that hard old worldling our Lady of +Bitterness.” In the presence of one man, Tennyson, she laid +aside her shrewishness: “talking with Alfred Tennyson lifts me +out of the earth earthy; a visit to Farringford is like a retreat to +the religious.” A celebrity in London for fifty years, she +died, witty and vigorous to the last, in 1888. “You and +I and Mr. Kinglake,” she says to Lord Houghton, “are all +that are left of the goodly band that used to come to St. John’s +Wood; Eliot Warburton, Motley, Adelaide, Count de Verg, Chorley, Sir +Edwin Landseer, my husband.” “I never could write +a book,” she tells him in another letter, “and one strong +reason for not doing so was the idea of some few seeing how poor it +was. Venables was one of the few; I need not say that you were +one, and Kinglake.”<br> +<br> +Kinglake was called to the Chancery Bar, and practised apparently with +no great success. He believed that his reputation as a writer +stood in his way. When, in 1845, poor Hood’s friends were +helping him by gratuitous articles in his magazine, “Hood’s +Own,” Kinglake wrote to Monckton Milnes refusing to contribute. +He will send £10 to buy an article from some competent writer, +but will not himself write. “It would be seriously injurious +to me if the author of ‘Eothen’ were <i>affichéd</i> +as contributing to a magazine. My frailty in publishing a book +has, I fear, already hurt me in my profession, and a small sin of this +kind would bring on me still deeper disgrace with the solicitors.”<br> +<br> +Twice at least in these early years he travelled. “Mr. Kinglake,” +writes Mrs. Procter in 1843, “is in Switzerland, reading Rousseau.” +And in the following year we hear of him in Algeria, accompanying St. +Arnaud in his campaign against the Arabs. The mingled interest +and horror inspired in him by this extra-ordinary man finds expression +in his “Invasion of the Crimea” (ii. 157). A few, +a very few survivors, still remember his appearance and manners in the +forties. The eminent husband of a lady, now passed away, who in +her lifetime gave Sunday dinners at which Kinglake was always present, +speaks of him as <i>sensitive</i>, quiet in the presence of noisy people, +of Brookfield and the overpowering Bernal Osborne; liking their company, +but never saying anything worthy of remembrance. A popular old +statesman, still active in the House of Commons, recalls meeting him +at Palmerston, Lord Harrington’s seat, where was assembled a party +in honour of Madame Guiccioli and her second husband, the Marquis de +Boissy, and tells me that he attached himself to ladies, not to gentlemen, +nor ever joined in general tattle. Like many other famous men, +he passed through a period of shyness, which yielded to women’s +tactfulness only. From the first they appreciated him; “if +you were as gentle as your friend Kinglake,” writes Mrs. Norton +reproachfully to Hayward in the sulks. Another coaeval of those +days calls him handsome - an epithet I should hardly apply to him later +- slight, not tall, sharp featured, with dark hair well tended, always +modishly dressed after the fashion of the thirties, the fashion of Bulwer’s +exquisites, or of H. K. Browne’s “Nicholas Nickleby” +illustrations; leaving on all who saw him an impression of great personal +distinction, yet with an air of youthful <i>abandon</i> which never +quite left him: “He was pale, small, and delicate in appearance,” +says Mrs. Simpson, Nassau Senior’s daughter, who knew him to the +end of his life; while Mrs. Andrew Crosse, his friend in the Crimean +decade, cites his finely chiselled features and intellectual brow, “a +complexion bloodless with the pallor not of ill-health, but of an old +Greek bust.”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER II - “EOTHEN”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +“Eothen” appeared in 1844. Twice, Kinglake tells us, +he had essayed the story of his travels, twice abandoned it under a +sense of strong disinclination to write. A third attempt was induced +by an entreaty from his friend Eliot Warburton, himself projecting an +Eastern tour; and to Warburton in a characteristic preface the narrative +is addressed. The book, when finished, went the round of the London +market without finding a publisher. It was offered to John Murray, +who cited his refusal of it as the great blunder of his professional +life, consoling himself with the thought that his father had equally +lacked foresight thirty years before in declining the “Rejected +Addresses”; he secured the copyright later on. It was published +in the end by a personal friend, Ollivier, of Pall Mall, Kinglake paying +£50 to cover risk of loss; even worse terms than were obtained +by Warburton two years afterwards from Colburn, who owned in the fifties +to having cleared £6,000 by “The Crescent and the Cross.” +The volume was an octavo of 418 pages; the curious folding-plate which +forms the frontispiece was drawn and coloured by the author, and was +compared by the critics to a tea-tray. In front is Moostapha the +Tatar; the two foremost figures in the rear stand for accomplished Mysseri, +whom Kinglake was delighted to recognize long afterwards as a flourishing +hotel keeper in Constantinople, and Steel, the Yorkshire servant, in +his striped pantry jacket, “looking out for gentlemen’s +seats.” Behind are “Methley,” Lord Pollington, +in a broad-brimmed hat, and the booted leg of Kinglake, who modestly +hid his figure by a tree, but exposed his foot, of which he was very +proud. Of the other characters, “Our Lady of Bitterness” +was Mrs. Procter, “Carrigaholt” was Henry Stuart Burton +of Carrigaholt, County Clare. Here and there are allusions, obvious +at the time, now needing a scholiast, which have not in any of the reprints +been explained. In their ride through the Balkans they talked +of old Eton days. “We bullied Keate, and scoffed at Larrey +Miller and Okes; we rode along loudly laughing, and talked to the grave +Servian forest as though it were the Brocas clump.” <a name="citation9"></a><a href="#footnote9">{9}</a> +Keate requires no interpreter; Okes was an Eton tutor, afterwards Provost +of King’s. Larrey or Laurie Miller was an old tailor in +Keate’s Lane who used to sit on his open shop-board, facing the +street, a mark for the compliments of passing boys; as frolicsome youngsters +in the days of Addison and Steele, as High School lads in the days of +Walter Scott, were accustomed to “smoke the cobler.” +The Brocas was a meadow sacred to badger-baiting and cat-hunts. +The badgers were kept by a certain Jemmy Flowers, who charged sixpence +for each “draw”; Puss was turned out of a bag and chased +by dogs, her chance being to reach and climb a group of trees near the +river, known as the “Brocas Clump.” Of the quotations, +“a Yorkshireman hippodamoio” (p. 35) is, I am told, an <i>obiter +dictum</i> of Sir Francis Doyle. “Striving to attain,” +etc. (p. 33), is taken not quite correctly from Tennyson’s “Timbuctoo.” +Our crew were “a solemn company” (p. 57) is probably a reminiscence +of “we were a gallant company” in “The Siege of Corinth.” +For “‘the own armchair’ of our Lyrist’s ‘Sweet +Lady’” Anne’” (p. 161) see the poem, “My +own armchair” in Barry Cornwall’s “English Lyrics.” +“Proud Marie of Anjou” (p. 96) and “single-sin - ” +(p. 121), are unintelligible; a friend once asked Kinglake to +explain the former, but received for answer, “Oh! that is a private +thing.” It may, however, have been a pet name for little +Marie de Viry, Procter’s niece, and the <i>chère amie</i> +of his verse, whom Eothen must have met often at his friend’s +house. The St. Simonians of p. 83 were the disciples of Comte +de St. Simon, a Parisian reformer in the latter part of the eighteenth +century, who endeavoured to establish a social republic based on capacity +and labour. Père Enfantin was his disciple. The “mystic +mother” was a female Messiah, expected to become the parent of +a new Saviour. “Sir Robert once said a good thing” +(p. 93), refers possibly to Sir Robert Peel, not famous for epigram, +whose one good thing is said to have been bestowed upon a friend before +Croker’s portrait in the Academy. “Wonderful likeness,” +said the friend, “it gives the very quiver of the mouth.” +“Yes,” said Sir Robert, “and the arrow coming out +of it.” Or it may mean Sir Robert Inglis, Peel’s successor +at Oxford, more noted for his genial kindness and for the perpetual +bouquet in his buttonhole at a date when such ornaments were not worn, +than for capacity to conceive and say good things. In some mischievous +lines describing the Oxford election where Inglis supplanted Peel, Macaulay +wrote<br> +<br> +<br> +“And then said all the Doctors sitting in the Divinity School,<br> +Not this man, but Sir Robert’ - now Sir Robert was a fool.”<br> +<br> +<br> +But in the fifth and later editions Kinglake altered it to “Sir +John.”<br> +<br> +By a curious oversight in the first two editions (p. 41) <i>Jove</i> +was made to gaze on Troy from Samothrace; it was rightly altered to +Neptune in the third; and “eagle eye of Jove” in the following +sentence was replaced by “dread Commoter of our globe.” +The phrase “a natural Chiffney-bit” (p. 109), I have found +unintelligible to-day through lapse of time even to professional equestrians +and stable-keepers. Samuel Chiffney, a famous rider and trainer, +was born in 1753, and won the Derby on Skyscraper in 1789. He +managed the Prince of Wales’s stud, was the subject of discreditable +insinuations, and was called before the Jockey Club. Nothing was +proved against him, but in consequence of the<i> fracas</i> the Prince +severed his connection with the Club and sold his horses. Chiffney +invented a bit named after him; a curb with two snaffles, which gave +a stronger bearing on the sides of a horse’s mouth. His +rule in racing was to keep a slack rein and to ride a waiting race, +not calling on his horse till near the end. His son Samuel, who +followed him, observed the same plan; from its frequent success the +term “Chiffney rush” became proverbial. In his ride +through the desert (p. 169) Kinglake speaks of his “native bells +- the innocent bells of Marlen, that never before sent forth their music +beyond the Blaygon hills.” Marlen bells is the local name +for the fine peal of St. Mary Magdalen, Taunton. The Blaygon, +more commonly called the Blagdon Hills, run parallel with the Quantocks, +and between them lies the fertile Vale of Taunton Deane. “Damascus,” +he says, on p. 245, “was safer than Oxford”; and adds a +note on Mr. Everett’s degree which requires correction. +It is true that an attempt was made to <i>non-placet</i> Mr. Everett’s +honorary degree in the Oxford Theatre in 1843 on the ground of his being +a Unitarian; not true that it succeeded. It was a conspiracy by +the young lions of the Newmania, who had organized a formidable opposition +to the degree, and would have created a painful scene even if defeated. +But the Proctor of that year, Jelf, happened to be the most-hated official +of the century; and the furious groans of undergraduate displeasure +at his presence, continuing unabated for three-quarters of an hour, +compelled Wynter, the Vice-Chancellor, to break up the Assembly, without +recitation of the prizes, but not without conferring the degrees in +dumb show: unconscious Mr. Everett smilingly took his place in red gown +among the Doctors, the Vice-Chancellor asserting afterwards, what was +true in the letter though not in the spirit, that he did not hear the +<i>non-placets</i>. So while Everett was obnoxious to the Puseyites, +Jelf was obnoxious to the undergraduates; the cannonade of the angry +youngsters drowned the odium of the theological malcontents; in the +words of Bombastes:<br> +<br> +<br> +“Another lion gave another roar,<br> +And the first lion thought the last a bore.”<br> +<br> +<br> +The popularity of “Eothen” is a paradox: it fascinates by +violating all the rules which convention assigns to viatic narrative. +It traverses the most affecting regions of the world, and describes +no one of them: the Troad - and we get only his childish raptures over +Pope’s “Homer’s Iliad”; Stamboul - and he recounts +the murderous services rendered by the Golden Horn to the Assassin whose +<i>serail</i>, palace, council chamber, it washes; Cairo - but the Plague +shuts out all other thoughts; Jerusalem - but Pilgrims have vulgarized +the Holy Sepulchre into a Bartholomew Fair. He gives us everywhere, +not history, antiquities, geography, description, statistics, but only +<i>Kinglake</i>, only his own sensations, thoughts, experiences. +We are told not what the desert looks like, but what journeying in the +desert feels like. From morn till eve you sit aloft upon your +voyaging camel; the risen sun, still lenient on your left, mounts vertical +and dominant; you shroud head and face in silk, your skin glows, shoulders +ache, Arabs moan, and still moves on the sighing camel with his disjointed +awkward dual swing, till the sun once more descending touches you on +the right, your veil is thrown aside, your tent is pitched, books, maps, +cloaks, toilet luxuries, litter your spread-out rugs, you feast on scorching +toast and “fragrant” <a name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10">{10}</a> +tea, sleep sound and long; then again the tent is drawn, the comforts +packed, civilization retires from the spot she had for a single night +annexed, and the Genius of the Desert stalks in.<br> +<br> +Herein, in these subjective chatty confidences, is part of the spell +he lays upon us: while we read we are <i>in</i> the East: other books, +as Warburton says, tell us <i>about</i> the East, this is the East itself. +And yet in his company we are always <i>Englishmen</i> in the East: +behind Servian, Egyptian, Syrian, desert realities, is a background +of English scenery, faint and unobtrusive yet persistent and horizoning. +In the Danubian forest we talk of past school-days. The Balkan +plain suggests an English park, its trees planted as if to shut out +“some infernal fellow creature in the shape of a new-made squire”; +Jordan recalls the Thames; the Galilean Lake, Windermere; the Via Dolorosa, +Bond Street; the fresh toast of the desert bivouac, an Eton breakfast; +the hungry questing jackals are the place-hunters of Bridgewater and +Taunton; the Damascus gardens, a neglected English manor from which +the “family” has been long abroad; in the fierce, dry desert +air are heard the “Marlen” bells of home, calling to morning +prayer the prim congregation in far-off St. Mary’s parish. +And a not less potent factor in the charm is the magician’s self +who wields it, shown through each passing environment of the narrative; +the shy, haughty, imperious Solitary, “a sort of Byron in the +desert,” of cultured mind and eloquent speech, headstrong and +not always amiable, hiding sentiment with cynicism, yet therefore irresistible +all the more when he condescends to endear himself by his confidence. +He meets the Plague and its terrors like a gentleman, but shows us, +through the vicarious torments of the cowering Levantine that it was +courage and coolness, not insensibility, which bore him through it. +A foe to marriage, compassionating Carrigaholt as doomed to travel “Vetturini-wise,” +pitying the Dead Sea goatherd for his ugly wife, revelling in the meek +surrender of the three young men whom he sees “led to the altar” +in Suez, he is still the frank, susceptible, gallant bachelor, observantly +and critically studious of female charms: of the magnificent yet formidable +Smyrniotes, eyes, brow, nostrils, throat, sweetly turned lips, alarming +in their latent capacity for fierceness, pride, passion, power: of the +Moslem women in Nablous, “so handsome that they could not keep +up their yashmaks:” of Cypriote witchery in hair, shoulder-slope, +tempestuous fold of robe. He opines as he contemplates the plain, +clumsy Arab wives that the fine things we feel and say of women apply +only to the good-looking and the graceful: his memory wanders off ever +and again to the muslin sleeves and bodices and “sweet chemisettes” +in distant England. In hands sensual and vulgar the allusions +might have been coarse, the dilatings unseemly; but the “taste +which is the feminine of genius,” the self-respecting gentleman-like +instinct, innocent at once and playful, keeps the voluptuary out of +sight, teaches, as Imogen taught Iachimo, “the wide difference +‘twixt amorous and villainous.” Add to all these elements +of fascination the unbroken luxuriance of style; the easy flow of casual +epigram or negligent simile; - Greek holy days not kept holy but “kept +stupid”; the mule who “forgot that his rider was a saint +and remembered that he was a tailor”; the pilgrims “transacting +their salvation” at the Holy Sepulchre; the frightened, wavering +guard at Satalieh, not shrinking back or running away, but “looking +as if the pack were being shuffled,” each man desirous to change +places with his neighbour; the white man’s unresisting hand “passed +round like a claret jug” by the hospitable Arabs; the travellers +dripping from a Balkan storm compared to “men turned back by the +Humane Society as being incurably drowned.” Sometimes he +breaks into a canter, as in the first experience of a Moslem city, the +rapturous escape from respectability and civilization; the apostrophe +to the Stamboul sea; the glimpse of the Mysian Olympus; the burial of +the poor dead Greek; the Janus view of Orient and Occident from the +Lebanon watershed; the pathetic terror of Bedouins and camels on entering +a walled city; until, once more in the saddle, and winding through the +Taurus defiles, he saddens us by a first discordant note, the note of +sorrow that the entrancing tale is at an end.<br> +<br> +Old times return to me as I handle the familiar pages. To the +schoolboy six and fifty years ago arrives from home a birthday gift, +the bright green volume, with its showy paintings of the impaled robbers +and the Jordan passage; its bulky Tatar, towering high above his scraggy +steed, impressed in shining gold upon its cover. Read, borrowed, +handed round, it is devoured and discussed with fifth form critical +presumption, the adventurous audacity arresting, the literary charm +not analyzed but felt, the vivid personality of the old Etonian winged +with public school freemasonry. Scarcely in the acquired insight +of all the intervening years could those who enjoyed it then more keenly +appreciate it to-day. Transcendent gift of genius! to gladden +equally with selfsame words the reluctant inexperience of boyhood and +the fastidious judgment of maturity. Delightful self-accountant +reverence of author-craft! which wields full knowledge of a shaddock-tainted +world, yet presents no licence to the prurient lad, reveals no trail +to the suspicious moralist.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER III - LITERARY AND PARLIAMENTARY LIFE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Kinglake returned from Algiers in 1844 to find himself famous both in +the literary and social world; for his book had gone through three editions +and was the universal theme. Lockhart opened to him the “Quarterly.” +“Who is Eothen?” wrote Macvey Napier, editor of the “Edinburgh,” +to Hayward: “I know he is a lawyer and highly respectable; but +I should like to know a little more of his personal history: he is very +clever but very peculiar.” Thackeray, later on, expresses +affectionate gratitude for his presence at the “Lectures on English +Humourists”:- “it goes to a man’s heart to find amongst +his friends such men as Kinglake and Venables, Higgins, Rawlinson, Carlyle, +Ashburton and Hallam, Milman, Macaulay, Wilberforce, looking on kindly.” +He dines out in all directions, himself giving dinners at Long’s +Hotel. “Did you ever meet Kinglake at my rooms?” writes +Monckton Milnes to MacCarthy: “he has had immense success. +I now rather wish I had written his book, <i>which I could have done +- at least nearly</i>.” We are reminded of Charles Lamb +- “here’s Wordsworth says he could have written Hamlet, +<i>if he had had a mind</i>.” “A delightful Voltairean +volume,” Milnes elsewhere calls it.<br> +<br> +“Eothen” was reviewed in the “Quarterly” by +Eliot Warburton. “Other books,” he says, “contain +facts and statistics about the East; this book gives the East itself +in vital actual reality. Its style is conversational; or the soliloquy +rather of a man convincing and amusing himself as he proceeds, without +reverence for others’ faith, or lenity towards others’ prejudices. +It is a real book, not a sham; it equals Anastasius, rivals ‘Vathek;’ +its terseness, vigour, bold imagery, recall the grand style of Fuller +and of South, to which the author adds a spirit, freshness, delicacy, +all his own.” Kinglake, in turn, reviewed “The Crescent +and the Cross” in an article called “The French Lake.” +From a cordial notice of the book he passes to a history of French ambition +in the Levant. It was Bonaparte’s fixed idea to become an +Oriental conqueror - a second Alexander: Egypt in his grasp, he would +pass on to India. He sought alliance against the English with +Tippoo Saib, and spent whole days stretched upon maps of Asia. +He was baffled, first at Aboukir, then at Acre; but the partition of +Turkey at Tilsit showed that he had not abandoned his design. +To have refrained from seizing Egypt after his withdrawal was a political +blunder on the part of England.<br> +<br> +By far the most charming of Kinglake’s articles was a paper on +the “Rights of Women,” in the “Quarterly Review” +of December, 1844. Grouping together Monckton Milnes’s “Palm +Leaves,” Mrs. Poole’s “Sketch of Egyptian Harems,” +Mrs. Ellis’s “Women and Wives of England,” he produced +a playful, lightly touched, yet sincerely constructed sketch of woman’s +characteristics, seductions, attainments; the extent and secret of her +fascination and her deeper influence; her defects, foibles, misconceptions. +He was greatly vexed to learn that his criticism of “Palm Leaves” +was considered hostile, and begged Warburton to explain. His praise, +he said, had been looked upon as irony, his bantering taken to express +bitterness. Warburton added his own conviction that the notice +was tributary to Milnes’s fame, and Milnes accepted the explanation. +But the chief interest of this paper lies in the beautiful passage which +ends it. “The world must go on its own way, for all that +we can say against it. Beauty, though it beams over the organization +of a doll, will have its hour of empire; the most torpid heiress will +easily get herself married; but the wife whose sweet nature can kindle +worthy delights is she that brings to her hearth a joyous, hopeful, +ardent spirit, and that subtle power whose sources we can hardly trace, +but which yet so irradiates a home that all who come near are filled +and inspired by a deep sense of womanly presence. We best learn +the unsuspected might of a being like this when we try the weight of +that sadness which hangs like lead upon the room, the gallery, the stairs, +where once her footstep sounded, and now is heard no more. It +is not less the energy than the grace and gentleness of this character +that works the enchantment. Books can instruct, and books can +exalt and purify; beauty of face and beauty of form will come with bright +pictures and statues, and for the government of a household hired menials +will suffice; but fondness and hate, daring hopes, lively fears, the +lust of glory and the scorn of base deeds, sweet charity, faithfulness, +pride, and, chief over all, the impetuous will, lending might and power +to feeling:- these are the rib of the man, and from these, deep veiled +in the mystery of her very loveliness, his true companion sprang. +A being thus ardent will often go wrong in her strenuous course; will +often alarm, sometimes provoke; will now and then work mischief and +even perhaps grievous harm; but she will be our own Eve after all; the +sweet-speaking tempter whom heaven created to be the joy and the trouble +of this pleasing anxious existence; to shame us away from the hiding-places +of a slothful neutrality, and lead us abroad in the world, men militant +here on earth, enduring quiet, content with strife, and looking for +peace hereafter.” <a name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11">{11}</a> +Beautiful words indeed! how came the author of a tribute so caressingly +appreciative, so eloquently sincere, to remain himself outside the gates +of Paradise? how could the pen which in the Crimean chapter on the Holy +Shrines traced so exquisitely the delicate fancifulness of purest sexual +love, perpetrate that elaborate sneer over the bachelor obsequies of +Carrigaholt - “the lowly grave, that is the end of man’s +romantic hopes, has closed over all his rich fancies and all his high +aspirations: he is utterly married.” <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12">{12}</a><br> +<br> +“Gai, gai, mariez vous,<br> +Mettez vous dans la misère!<br> +Gai, gai, mariez vous,<br> +Mettez vous la corde au cou!” <a name="citation13"></a><a href="#footnote13">{13}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +There is generally a good reason for prolonged celibacy, a reason which +the bachelor as generally does not betray: Kinglake remained single, +by his own account, because he had observed that women always prefer +other men to their own husbands. Yet, although unmarried, perhaps +because unmarried, he heartily admired many clever women; formed with +them sedate but genuine friendships, the <i>l’amour sans ailes</i>, +sometimes called “Platonic” by persons who have not read +Plato; found in their illogical clear-sightedness, in their [Greek word +which cannot be reproduced], to use the master’s own untranslatable +phrase, a titillating stimulus which he missed in men. He thought +that the Church should ordain priestesses as well as priests, the former +to be the Egerias of men, as the latter are the Pontiffs of women. +And Lady Gregory tells us, that when attacked by gout, he wished for +the solace of a lady doctor, and wrote to one asking if gout were beyond +her scope. She answered: “Dear Sir, - Gout is not beyond +my scope, but men are.”<br> +<br> +In 1854 he accompanied Lord Raglan to the Crimea. “I had +heard,” writes John Kenyon, “of Kinglake’s chivalrous +goings on. We were saying yesterday that though he might write +a book, he was among the last men to go that he might write a book. +He is wild about matters military, if so calm a man is ever wild.” +He had hoped to go in an official position as non-combatant, but this +was refused by the authorities. His friend, Lord Raglan, whose +acquaintance he had made while hunting with the Duke of Beaufort’s +hounds, took him as his private guest. Arrested for a time at +Malta by an attack of fever, he joined our army before hostilities began, +rode with Lord Raglan’s staff at the Alma fight, likening the +novel sensation to the excitement of fox-hunting; and accompanied the +chief in his visit of tenderness to the wounded when the fight was over. +Throughout the campaign the two were much together, as we shall notice +more fully later on. There are often slight but unmistakable signs +of Kinglake’s presence as spectator and auditor of Lord Raglan’s +deeds and words; <a name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14">{14}</a> +his affection and reverence for the great general animate the whole; +in outward composure and latent strength the two men resembled each +other closely. The book is, in fact, a history of Lord Raglan’s +share in the campaign; begun in 1856 at the request of Lady Raglan, +the narrative ends when the “Caradoc” with the general’s +body on board steams out of the bay, “Farewell” flying at +her masthead, the Russian batteries, with generous recognition, ceasing +to fire till the ship was out of sight. “Lord Raglan is +dead,” said Kinglake as vol. viii. was sent to press, “and +my work is finished.”<br> +<br> +Ten years were to elapse before the opening volumes should appear; and +meanwhile he entered parliament for the borough of Bridgewater, which +had rejected him in 1852. His colleague was Colonel Charles J. +Kemyss Tynte, member of a family which local influence and lavish expenditure +had secured in the representation of the town for nearly forty years. +Catechized as to his political creed, he answered: “I call myself +an advanced Liberal; but I decline to go into parliament as the pledged +adherent of Lord Palmerston or any other Liberal.” He adds, +in response to a further question: “I am believed to be the author +of ‘Eothen.’” He broke down in his maiden speech; +but recovered himself in a later effort, and spoke, not unfrequently, +on subjects then important, now forgotten; on the outrage of the “Charles +et George”; the capture of the Sardinian “Cagliari” +by the Neapolitans on the high seas; our attitude towards the Paris +Congress of 1857; while in 1858 he led the revolt against Lord Palmerston’s +proposal to amend the Conspiracy Laws in deference to Louis Napoleon; +in 1860 vigorously denounced the annexation of Savoy and Nice; and in +1864 moved the amendment to Mr. Disraeli’s motion in the debate +on the Address, which was carried by 313 to 295. His feeble voice +and unimpressive manner prevented him from becoming a power in the House; +but his speeches when read are full, fluent, and graceful; the late +Sir Robert Peel’s remarkable harangue against the French Emperor +in the course of an earlier debate was taken, as he is said to have +owned, mainly from a speech by Kinglake, delivered so indistinctly that +the reporters failed to catch it, but audible to Sir Robert who sate +close beside him.<br> +<br> +With his constituents he was more at ease and more effective. +His seat for Bridgewater was challenged at a general election by Henry +Padwick, a hanger-on to Disraeli and a well-known bookmaker on the turf, +who, with an Irish Colonel Westbrook, tried to cajole the electors and +their wives by extravagant compliments to the town, its neighbourhood, +its denizens; a place celebrated, as Captain Costigan said of Chatteris, +“for its antiquitee, its hospitalitee, the beautee of its women, +the manly fidelitee, generositee, and jovialitee of its men.” +Kinglake met them on their own ground. In his flowery speeches +the romance of Sinai and Palestine faded before the glories of the little +Somersetshire town. What was the Jordan by comparison with the +Parrett? Could Libanus or Anti-Libanus vie with the Mendip and +the Quantock Hills? The view surveyed by Monmouth from St. Mary’s +Tower on the Eve of Sedgemoor transcended all the panoramas which the +Holy Land or Asia Minor could present! But his more serious orations +were worthy of his higher fame. In the panic of 1858, when the +address of the French colonels to the Emperor, beseeching to be led +against England, had created serious alarm on this side the Channel, +he went down to Bridgewater to enlighten the West of England. +“Why,” he asked, “do we fear invasion? The population +of France is peaceful, the ‘turnip-soup Jacques Bonhomme’ +is peaceful, the soldiers of the line are peaceful. Why are we +anxious? Because there sits in his chamber at the Tuileries a +solitary moody man. He is deeply interested in the science and +the art of war; he told me once that he was contemplating a history +of all the great battles ever fought. He holds absolute control +over vast resources both in men and money; he has shown that he can +attack successfully at a few weeks’ notice the greatest European +military power: gout or indigestion may at any moment convert him into +an enemy of ourselves. Until France returns to parliamentary government +this danger is imminent and continual. Our safety lies in our +fleet, and in that alone. If for twenty-four hours only the Channel +were denuded of our ships in time of war with France, they would hurl +upon our shores a force we could not meet. Such denudation must +be made impossible; our fleet so augmented and strengthened as to provide +impregnably at all times for home defence no less than for foreign necessities. +Our danger, I repeat, lies in no hostility on the part of the French +army, in no ferocity on the part of the French people, in no <i>present</i> +unfriendliness on the part of the French Emperor: it arises from the +fact that a revolutionary government exists in France, which has armed +one man, under the name of Emperor - Dictator rather, I should say - +with a power so colossal, that until such power is moderated, as all +power ought to be, no neighbour can be entirely safe.” This +speech was reproduced in “The Times.” Montalembert +read it with admiration. “Who,” he asked Sir M. E. +Grant Duff, “who is Mr. Kinglake?” “He is the +author of ‘Eothen.’” “And what is ‘Eothen?’ +I never heard of it.”<br> +<br> +He found great enjoyment in parliamentary life, but was in 1868 unseated +on petition for bribery on the part of his agents. Blue-books +are not ordinarily light reading; but the Report of the Commissioners +appointed to inquire into the alleged corrupt practices at Bridgewater +is not only a model of terse and vigorous composition, but to persons +with a sense of humour, inclined to view human irregularities and inconsistencies +in a sportive rather than an indignant light, it is a sustained and +diverting comedy. Of the constituency, both before and after the +Reform Bill, three-fourths, the Commissioners artlessly inform us, sought +and received bribes; of the remainder, all but a few individuals negotiated +and gave the bribes. So in every election, both sides bribed avowedly; +if a luckless Purity Candidate appeared, he was promptly informed that +“Mr. Most” would win the seat: highest bribes decided each +election, further bribes averted petitions. When once a desperate +riot took place and the ringleaders were tried at Quarter Sessions, +the jury were bribed to acquit, in the teeth of the Chairman’s +summing up. At last, in 1868, the defeated candidate petitioned; +blue-book literature was enriched by a remarkable report, and the borough +was disfranchised. Of course Kinglake had only himself to thank; +if a gentleman chooses to sit for a venal borough, and to intrust his +interests to a questionable agent, he must, in the words of Mrs. Gamp, +“take the consequences of sech a sitiwation.” The +consequences to him were loss of his present seat, and permanent exclusion +from Parliament.<br> +<br> +He was keenly mortified by his ostracism, speaking of himself ever after +as “a political corpse.” Thenceforward he gave his +whole energy to literary work, to occasional reviews, mainly to his +“Invasion of the Crimea.” In the “Edinburgh” +I think he never wrote, cordially disliking its then editor. A +fine notice in “Blackwood” of Madame de Lafayette’s +life was from his pen. Surveying the Revolutionary Terror, he +points out that Robespierre’s opponents were in numbers overwhelmingly +strong, but lacked cohesion and leaders; while the Mountain, dominated +by a single will, was legally armed with power to kill, and went on +killing. The Church played into Robespierre’s hands by enforcing +Patience and Resignation as the highest Christian virtues, confusing +the idea of submission to Heaven with the idea of submission to a scoundrel. +Had Hampden been a Papist he would have paid ship-money. He wrote +also in “The Owl,” a brilliant little magazine edited by +his friend Laurence Oliphant; a “Society Journal,” conducted +by a set of clever well-to-do young bachelors living in London, addressed +like the “Pall Mall Gazette,” in “Pendennis,” +“to the higher circles of society, written by gentlemen for gentlemen.” +When the expenses of production were paid, the balance was spent on +a whitebait dinner at Greenwich, and on offerings of flowers and jewellery +to the lady guests invited. It came to an end, leaving no successor +equally brilliant, high-toned, wholesome; its collected numbers figure +sometimes at a formidable price in sales and catalogues. <a name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15">{15}</a><br> +<br> +The first two volumes of his “Crimea” had appeared in 1863. +They were awaited with eager expectation. An elaborate history +of the war had been written by a Baron de Bazancourt, condemned as unfair +and unreliable by English statesmen, and severely handled in our reviews. +So the wish was felt everywhere for some record less ephemeral, which +should render the tale historically, and counteract Bazancourt’s +misstatements. “I hear,” wrote the Duke of Newcastle, +“that Kinglake has undertaken the task. He has a noble opportunity +of producing a text-book for future history, but to accomplish this +it must be <i>stoically</i> impartial.”<br> +<br> +The beauty of their style, the merciless portraiture of the Second Empire, +the unparalleled diorama of the Alma fight, combined to gain for these +first four-and-twenty chapters an immediate vogue as emphatic and as +widely spread as that which saluted the opening of Macaulay’s +“History.” None of the later volumes, though highly +prized as battle narratives, quite came up to these. The political +and military conclusions drawn provoked no small bitterness; his cousin, +Mrs. Serjeant Kinglake, used to say that she met sometimes with almost +affronting coldness in society at the time, under the impression that +she was A. W. Kinglake’s wife. Russians were, perhaps unfairly, +dissatisfied. Todleben, who knew and loved Kinglake well, pronounced +the book a charming romance, not a history of the war. Individuals +were aggrieved by its notice of themselves or of their regiments; statesmen +chafed under the scientific analysis of their characters, or at the +publication of official letters which they had intended but not required +to be looked upon as confidential, and which the recipients had in all +innocence communicated to the historian. Palmerstonians, accepting +with their chief the Man of December, were furious at the exposure of +his basenesses. Lucas in “The Times” pronounced the +work perverse and mischievous; the “Westminster Review” +branded it as reactionary. “The Quarterly,” in an +article ascribed to A. H. Layard, condemned its style as laboured and +artificial; as palling from the sustained pomp and glitter of the language; +as wearisome from the constant strain after minute dissection; declaring +it further to be “in every sense of the word a mischievous book.” +“Blackwood,” less unfriendly, surrendered itself to the +beauty of the writing; “satire so studied, so polished, so remorseless, +and withal so diabolically entertaining, that we know not where in modern +literature to seek such another philippic.”<br> +<br> +Reeve, editor of the “Edinburgh,” wished Lord Clarendon +to attack the book; he refused, but offered help, and the resulting +article was due to the collaboration of the pair. It caused a +prolonged coolness between Reeve and Kinglake, who at last ended the +quarrel by a characteristic letter: “I observed yesterday that +my malice, founded perhaps upon a couple of words, and now of three +years’ duration, had not engendered corresponding anger in you; +and if my impression was a right one, I trust we may meet for the future +on our old terms.”<br> +<br> +On the other hand, the “Saturday Review,” then at the height +of its repute and influence, vindicated in a powerful article Kinglake’s +truth and fairness; and a pamphlet by Hayward, called “Mr. Kinglake +and the Quarterlies,” amused society by its furious onslaught +upon the hostile periodicals, laid bare their animus, and exposed their +misstatements. “If you rise in this tone,” he began, +in words of Lord Ellenborough when Attorney-General, “I can speak +as loudly and emphatically: I shall prosecute the case with all the +liberality of a gentleman, but no tone or manner shall put me down.” +And the dissentient voices were drowned in the general chorus of admiration. +German eulogy was extravagant; French Republicanism was overjoyed; Englishmen, +at home and abroad, read eagerly for the first time in close and vivid +sequence events which, when spread over thirty months of daily newspapers, +few had the patience to follow, none the qualifications to condense. +Macaulay tells us that soon after the appearance of his own first volumes, +a Mr. Crump from America offered him five hundred dollars if he would +introduce the name of Crump into his history. An English gentleman +and lady, from one of our most distant colonies, wrote to Kinglake a +jointly signed pathetic letter, intreating him to cite in his pages +the name of their only son, who had fallen in the Crimea. He at +once consented, and asked for particulars - manner, time, place - of +the young man’s death. The parents replied that they need +not trouble him with details; these should be left to the historian’s +kind inventiveness: whatever he might please to say in embellishment +of their young hero’s end they would gratefully accept.<br> +<br> +Unlike most authors, from Molière down to Dickens, he never read +aloud to friends any portion of the unpublished manuscript; never, except +to closest intimates, spoke of the book, or tolerated inquiry about +it from others. When asked as to the progress of a volume he had +in hand, he used to say, “That is really a matter on which it +is quite out of my power even to inform myself”; and I remember +how once at a well-selected dinner-party in the country, whither he +came in good spirits and inclined to talk his best, a second-hand criticism +on his book by a conceited parson, the official and incongruous element +in the group, stiffened him into persistent silence. All England +laughed, when Blackwood’s “Memoirs” saw the light, +over his polite repulse of the kindly officious publisher, who wished, +after his fashion, to criticise and finger and suggest. “I +am almost alarmed, as it were, at the notion of receiving suggestions. +I feel that hints from you might be so valuable and so important, it +might be madness to ask you beforehand to abstain from giving me any; +but I am anxious for you to know what the dangers in the way of long +delay might be, the result of even a few slight and possibly most useful +suggestions. . . . You will perhaps (after what I have said) think it +best not to set my mind running in a new path, lest I should take to +re-writing.” Note, by the way, the slovenliness of this +epistle, as coming from so great a master of style; that defect characterizes +all his correspondence. He wrote for the Press “with all +his singing robes about him”; his letters were unrevised and brief. +Mrs. Simpson, in her pleasant “Memories,” ascribes to him +the <i>éloquence du billet</i> in a supreme degree. I must +confess that of more than five hundred letters from his pen which I +have seen only six cover more than a single sheet of note-paper, all +are alike careless and unstudied in style, though often in matter characteristic +and informing. “I am not by nature,” he would say, +“a letter-writer, and habitually think of the uncertainty as to +who may be the reader of anything that I write. It is my fate, +as a writer of history, to have before me letters never intended for +my eyes, and this has aggravated my foible, and makes me a wretched +correspondent. I should like very much to write letters gracefully +and easily, but I can’t, because it is contrary to my nature.” +“I have got,” he writes so early as 1873, “to shrink +from the use of the pen; to ask me to write letters is like asking a +lame man to walk; it is not, as horse-dealers say, ‘the nature +of the beast.’ When others <i>talk</i> to me charmingly, +my answers are short, faltering, incoherent sentences; so it is with +my writing.” “You,” he says to another lady +correspondent, “have the pleasant faculty of easy, pleasant letter-writing, +in which I am wholly deficient.”<br> +<br> +In fact, the claims of his Crimean book, which compelled him latterly +to refuse all other literary work, gave little time for correspondence. +Its successive revisions formed his daily task until illness struck +him down. Sacks of Crimean notes, labelled through some fantastic +whim with female Christian names - the Helen bag, the Adelaide bag, +etc. - were ranged round his room. His working library was very +small in bulk, his habit being to cut out from any book the pages which +would be serviceable, and to fling the rest away. So, we are told, +the first Napoleon, binding volumes for his travelling library, shore +their margins to the quick, and removed all prefaces, title-pages, and +other superfluous leaves. So, too, Edward Fitzgerald used to tear +out of his books all that in his judgment fell below their authors’ +highest standard, retaining for his own delectation only the quintessential +remnants. Vols. III. and IV. appeared in 1868, V. in 1875, VI. +in 1880, VII. and VIII. in 1887; while a Cabinet Edition of the whole +in nine volumes was issued continuously from 1870 to 1887. Our +attempt to appreciate the book shall be reserved for another chapter.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER IV - “THE INVASION OF THE CRIMEA”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Was the history of the Crimean War worth writing? Not as a magnified +newspaper report, - that had been already done - but as a permanent +work of art from the pen of a great literary expert? Very many +of us, I think, after the lapse of fifty years, feel compelled to say +that it was not. The struggle represented no great principles, +begot no far-reaching consequences. It was not inspired by the +“holy glee” with which in Wordsworth’s sonnet Liberty +fights against a tyrant, but by the faltering boldness, the drifting, +purposeless unresolve of statesmen who did not desire it, and by the +irrational violence of a Press which did not understand it. It +was not a necessary war; its avowed object would have been attained +within a few weeks or months by bloodless European concert. It +was not a glorious war; crippled by an incompatible alliance and governed +by the Evil Genius who had initiated it for personal and sordid ends, +it brought discredit on baffled generals in the field, on Crown, Cabinet, +populace, at home. It was not a fruitful war; the detailed results +purchased by its squandered life and treasure lapsed in swift succession +during twenty sequent years, until the last sheet of the treaty which +secured them was contemptuously torn up by Gortschakoff in 1870. +But a right sense of historical proportion is in no time the heritage +of the many, and is least of all attainable while the memory of a campaign +is fresh. On Englishmen who welcomed home their army in 1855, +the strife from which shattered but victorious it had returned, loomed +as epoch-making and colossal, as claiming therefore permanent record +from some eloquent artist of attested descriptive power. Soon +the report gained ground that the destined chronicler was Kinglake, +and all men hailed the selection; yet the sceptic who in looking back +to-day decries the greatness of the campaign may perhaps no less hesitate +to approve the fitness of its chosen annalist. His fame was due +to the perfection of a single book; he ranked as a potentate in <i>style</i>. +But literary perfection, whether in prose or poetry, is a fragile quality, +an <i>afflatus</i> irregular, independent, unamenable to orders; the +official tributes of a Laureate we compliment at their best with the +northern farmer’s verdict on the pulpit performances of his parson:<br> +<br> +<br> +“An’ I niver knaw’d wot a meän’d but I +thow’t a ’ad summut to saäy,<br> +And I thowt a said wot a owt to ’a said an’ I comed awaäy.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Set to compile a biography from thirty years of “Moniteurs,” +the author of Waverley, like Lord Chesterfield’s diamond pencil, +produced one miracle of dulness; it might well be feared that Kinglake’s +volatile pen, when linked with forceful feeling and bound to rigid task-work, +might lose the charm of casual epigram, easy luxuriance, playful egotism, +vagrant allusion, which established “Eothen” as a classic. +On the other hand, he had been for twenty years conversant with Eastern +history, geography, politics; was, more than most professional soldiers, +an adept in military science; had sate in the centre of the campaign +as its general’s guest and comrade; was intrusted, above all, +by Lady Raglan with the entire collection of her husband’s papers: +her wish, implied though not expressed, that they should be utilized +for the vindication of the great field-marshal’s fame, he accepted +as a sacred charge; her confidence not only governed his decision to +become the historian of the war, but imparted a personal character to +the narrative.<br> +<br> +In order, therefore, rightly to appreciate “The Invasion of the +Crimea,” we must look upon it as a great prose epic; its argument, +machinery, actors, episodes, subordinate to a predominant ever present +hero. In its fine preamble Lord Raglan sits enthroned high above +generals, armies, spectators, conflicts; on the quality of his mind +the fate of two great hosts and the fame of two great nations hang. +He checks St. Arnaud’s wild ambition; overrules the waverings +of the Allies; against his own judgment, but in dutiful obedience to +home instruction carries out the descent upon the Old Fort coast. +The successful achievement of the perilous flank march is ascribed to +the undivided command which, during forty-eight hours, accident had +conferred upon him. From his presence in council French and English +come away convinced and strengthened; his calm in action imparts itself +to anxious generals and panic-stricken aides-de-camp. Through +Alma fight, from the high knoll to which happy audacity had carried +him he rides the whirlwind and directs the storm. In the terrible +crisis which sees the Russians breaking over the crest of Inkerman, +in the ill-fated attack on the Great Redan where Lacy Yea is killed, +his apparent freedom from anxiety infects all around him and achieves +redemption from disaster. <a name="citation16"></a><a href="#footnote16">{16}</a> +We see him in his moments of vexation and discomfiture; dissembling +pain and anger under the stress of the French alliance, galled by Cathcart’s +disobedience, by the loss of the Light Brigade, by Lord Panmure’s +insulting, querulous, unfounded blame. We read his last despatch, +framed with wonted grace and clearness; then - on the same day - we +see the outworn frame break down, and follow mournfully two days later +the afflicting details of his death. As the generals and admirals +of the allied forces stand round the dead hero’s form, as the +palled bier, draped in the flag of England, is carried from headquarters +to the port, as the “Caradoc,” steaming away with her honoured +freight, flies out her “Farewell” signal, the narrative +abruptly ends. The months of the siege which still remained might +be left to other hands or lapse untold. Troy had still to be taken +when Hector died; but with his funeral dirge the Iliad closed, the blind +bard’s task was over:<br> +<br> +<br> +“Such honours Ilion to her hero paid,<br> +And peaceful slept the mighty Hector’s shade.”<br> +<br> +<br> +If the framework of the narrative is epic, its treatment is frequently +dramatic. The “Usage of Europe” in the opening pages +is not so much a record as a personification of unwritten Law: the Great +Eltchi tramps the stage with a majesty sometimes bordering on fustian. +Dramatic is the story of the sleeping Cabinet. “It was evening +- a summer evening” - one thinks of a world-famous passage in +the “De Corona” - when the Duke of Newcastle carried to +Richmond Lodge the fateful despatch committing England to the war. +“Before the reading of the Paper had long continued, all the members +of the Cabinet except a small minority were overcome with sleep”; +the few who remained awake were in a quiet, assenting frame of mind, +and the despatch “received from the Cabinet the kind of approval +which is awarded to an unobjectionable Sermon.” Not less +dramatic is Nolan’s death; the unearthly shriek of the slain corpse +erect in saddle with sword arm high in air, as the dead horseman rode +still seated through the 13th Light Dragoons; the “Minden Yell” +of the 20th driving down upon the Iäkoutsk battalion; the sustained +and scathing satire on the Nôtre Dame Te Deum for the Boulevard +massacre. A simple dialogue, a commonplace necessary act, is staged +sometimes for effect. “Then Lord Stratford apprised the +Sultan that he had a private communication to make to him. The +pale Sultan listened.” . . . “Whose was the mind which had +freshly come to bear upon this part of the fight? Sir Colin Campbell +was sitting in his saddle, the veteran was watching his time.” +. . . “The Emperor Nicholas was alone in his accustomed writing-room. +He took no counsel; he rang a bell. Presently an officer of his +staff stood before him. To him he gave his order for the occupation +of the Principalities.” This overpasses drama - it is melodrama.<br> +<br> +To the personal element which pervades the volumes great part of their +charm is due. The writer never obtrudes himself, but leaves his +presence to be discerned by the touches which attest an eye-witness. +Through his observant nearness we watch the Chief’s demeanour +and hear his words; see him “turn scarlet with shame and anger” +when the brutal Zouaves carry outrage into the friendly Crimean village, +witness his personal succour of the wounded Russian after Inkerman, +hear his arch acceptance of the French courtesy, so careful always to +yield the post of danger to the English; his “Go quietly” +to the excited aide-de-camp; <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17">{17}</a> +his good-humoured reception of the scared and breathless messenger from +D’Aurelle’s brigade; the “five words” spoken +to Airey commanding the long delayed advance across the Alma; the “tranquil +low voice” which gave the order rescuing the staff from its unforeseen +encounter with the Russian rear. He records Codrington’s +leap on his grey Arab into the breast-work of the Great Redoubt; Lacy +Yea’s passionate energy in forcing his clustered regiment to open +out; Miller’s stentorian “Rally” in reforming the +Scots Greys after the Balaclava charge; Clarke losing his helmet in +the same charge, and creating amongst the Russians, as he plunged in +bareheaded amongst their ranks, the belief that he was sheltered by +some Satanic charm. He notes on the Alma the singular pause of +sound maintained by both armies just before the cannonade began; the +first death - of an artilleryman riding before his gun - a new sight +to nine-tenths of those who witnessed it; <a name="citation18"></a><a href="#footnote18">{18}</a> +the weird scream of exploding shells as they rent the air around. +He crossed the Alma close behind Lord Raglan, cantering after him to +the summit of a conspicuous hillock in the heart of the enemy’s +position, whence the mere sight of plumed English officers scared the +Russian generals, and, followed soon by guns and troops, governed the +issue of the fight. The general’s manner was “the +manner of a man enlivened by the progress of a great undertaking without +being robbed of his leisure. He spoke to me, I remember, about +his horse. He seemed like a man who had a clue of his own and +knew his way through the battle.” When the last gun was +fired Kinglake followed the Chief back, witnessed the wild burst of +cheering accorded to him by the whole British army, a manifestation, +Lord Burghersh tells us, which greatly distressed his modesty - and +dined alone with him in his tent on the evening of the eventful day.<br> +<br> +If Lord Raglan was the Hector of the Crimean Iliad, its Agamemnon was +Lord Stratford: “king of men,” as Stanley called him in +his funeral sermon at Westminster; king of distrustful home Cabinets, +nominally his masters, of scheming European embassies, of insulting +Russian opponents, of presumptuous French generals, of false and fleeting +Pashas <i>(Le</i> <i>Sultan, c’est Lord Stratford</i>, said St. +Arnaud), of all men, whatever their degree, who entered his ambassadorial +presence. Ascendency was native to the man; while yet in his teens +we find Etonian and Cambridge friends writing to him deferentially as +to a critic and superior. At four and twenty he became Minister +to a Court manageable only by high-handed authority and menace. +He owned, and for the most part controlled, a violent temper; it broke +bounds sometimes, to our great amusement as we read to-day, to the occasional +discomfiture of <i>attachés</i> or of dependents, <a name="citation19"></a><a href="#footnote19">{19}</a> +to the abject terror of Turkish Sublimities who had outworn his patience. +But he knew when to be angry; he could pulverize by fiery outbreaks +the Reis Effendi and his master, Abdu-l-Mejid; but as Plenipotentiary +to the United States he could “quench the terror of his beak, +the lightning of his eye,” disarming by his formal courtesy and +winning by his obvious sincerity the suspicious and irritable John Quincy +Adams. When Menschikoff once insulted him, seeing that a quarrel +at that moment would be fatal to his purpose, he pretended to be deaf, +and left the Russian in the belief that his rude speech had not been +heard. Enthroned for the sixth time in Constantinople, at the +dangerous epoch of 1853, he could point to an unequalled diplomatic +record in the past; to the Treaty of Bucharest, to reunion of the Helvetic +Confederacy shattered by Napoleon’s fall, to the Convention which +ratified Greek independence, to the rescue from Austrian malignity of +the Hungarian refugees.<br> +<br> +His conduct of the negotiations preceding the Crimean War is justly +called the cornerstone of his career: at this moment of his greatness +Kinglake encounters and describes him: through the brilliant chapters +in his opening volume, as more fully later on through Mr. Lane Poole’s +admirable biography, the Great Eltchi is known to English readers. +He moves across the stage with a majesty sometimes bordering on what +Iago calls bombast circumstance; drums and trumpets herald his every +entrance; now pacing the shady gardens of the Bosphorus, now foiling, +“in his grand quiet way,” the Czar’s ferocious Christianity, +or torturing his baffled ambassador by scornful concession of the points +which he formally demanded but did not really want; or crushing with +“thin, tight, merciless lips and grand overhanging Canning brow” +the presumptuous French commander who had dared to enter his presence +with a plot for undermining England’s influence in the partnership +of the campaign. Was he, we ask as we end the fascinating description, +was he, what Bright and the Peace Party proclaimed him to be, the cause +of the Crimean War? The Czar’s personal dislike to him - +a caprice which has never been explained <a name="citation20"></a><a href="#footnote20">{20}</a> +- exasperated no doubt to the mind of Nicholas the repulse of Menschikoff’s +demands; but that the precipitation of the prince and his master had +put the Russian Court absolutely in the wrong is universally admitted. +It has been urged against him that his recommendation of the famous +Vienna Note to the Porte was official merely, and allowed the watchful +Turks to assume his personal approbation of their refusal. It +may be so; his biographer does not admit so much: but it is obvious +that the Turks were out of hand, and that no pressure from Lord Stratford +could have persuaded them to accept the Note. Further, the “Russian +Analysis of the Note,” escaping shortly afterwards from the bag +of diplomatic secrecy, revealed to our Cabinet the necessity of those +amendments to the Note on which the Porte had insisted. And lastly, +the passage of the Dardanelles by our fleet, which more than any overt +act made war inevitable, was ordered by the Government at home against +Lord Stratford’s counsel. Between panic-stricken statesmen +and vacillating ambassadors, Lord Clarendon on one side, M. de la Cour +on the other, the Eltchi stands like Tennyson’s promontory of +rock,<br> +<br> +<br> +“Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crowned.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Napoleon at St. Helena attributed much of his success in the field to +the fact that he was not hampered by governments at home. Every +modern commander, down certainly to the present moment, must have envied +him. Kinglake’s mordant pen depicts with felicity and compression +the men of Downing Street, who without military experience or definite +political aim, thwarted, criticised, over-ruled, tormented, their much-enduring +General. We have Aberdeen, deficient in mental clearness and propelling +force, by his horror of war bringing war to pass; Gladstone, of too +subtle intellect and too lively conscience, “a good man in the +worst sense of the term”; Palmerston, above both in keenness of +instinct and in strength of will, meaning war from the first, and biding +his time to insure it; Newcastle, sanguine to the verge of rashness, +loyally adherent to Lord Raglan while governed by his own judgment, +distrustful under stress of popular clamour; Panmure, ungenerous, rough-tongued, +violent, churlish, yet not malevolent - “a rhinoceros rather than +a tiger” - hurried by subservience to the newspaper Press into +injustice which he afterwards recognized, yet did but sullenly repair. +We see finally that dominant Press itself, personified in the all-powerful +Delane, a potentate with convictions at once flexible and vehement; +forceful without spite and merciless without malignity; writing no articles, +but evoking, shaping, revising all. The French commanders were +not hampered by the muzzled Paris Press, which had long since ceased +to utter any but dictated sentiments; they suffered even more disastrously +from the imperious interference of the Tuileries. Canrobert’s +inaction, mutability, sudden alarms, flagrant breaches of faith, were +inexplicable until long afterwards, when the fall of the Empire disclosed +the secret instructions - disloyal to his allies and ruinous to the +campaign - by which Louis Napoleon shackled his unhappy General. +In Canrobert’s successor, Pelissier, he met his match. For +the first time a strong man headed the French army. Short of stature, +bull-necked and massive in build, with grey hair, long dark moustache, +keen fiery eyes, his coarse rough speech masking tested brain power +and high intellectual culture, he brought new life to the benumbed French +army, new hope to Lord Raglan. The duel between the resolute general +and the enraged Emperor is narrated with a touch comedy. All that +Lord Raglan desired, all that the Emperor forbade, Pelissier was stubbornly +determined to accomplish; the siege should be pressed at once, the city +taken at any cost, the expedition to Kertch resumed. Once only, +under torment of the Emperor’s reproaches and the Minister at +War’s remonstrances, his resolution and his nerve gave way; eight +days of failing judgment issued in the Karabelnaya defeat, the severest +repulse which the two armies had sustained; but the paralysis passed +away, he showed himself once more eager to act in concert with the English +general; - when the long-borne strain of disappointment and anxiety +sapped at last Lord Raglan’s vital forces, and the hard fierce +Frenchman stood for upwards of an hour beside his dead colleague’s +bedside, “crying like a child.”<br> +<br> +The lieutenants of Lord Raglan in the Crimea have long since passed +away, but in artistic epical presentment they retain their place around +him. Airey, his right hand from the first disembarkation at Kalamita +Bay, strong-willed, decisive, ardent, thrusting away suspense and doubt, +untying every knot, is vindicated by his Chief against the Duke of Newcastle’s +wordy inculpation in the severest despatch perhaps ever penned to his +official superior by a soldier in the field. Colin Campbell, with +glowing face, grey kindling eye, light, stubborn, crisping hair, leads +his Highland brigade tip the hill against the Vladimir columns, till +“with the sorrowful wail which bursts from the brave Russian infantry +when they have to suffer loss,” eight battalions of the enemy +fall back in retreat. Lord Lucan, tall, lithe, slender, his face +glittering and panther-like in moments of strenuous action, wins our +hearts as he won Kinglake’s, in spite of the mis-aimed cleverness +and presumptuous self-confidence which always criticised and sometimes +disobeyed the orders of his Chief. General Pennefather, “the +grand old boy,” his exulting radiant face flashing everywhere +through the smoke, his resonant innocuous oaths roaring cheerily down +the line, sustains all day the handful of our troops against the tenfold +masses of the enemy. Generous and eloquent are the notices of +Korniloff and Todleben, the great sailor and the great engineer, the +soul and the brain of the Sebastopol defence. The first fell in +the siege, the second lived to write its history, to become a valued +friend of Kinglake, to explore and interpret in his company long afterwards +the scenes of struggle; his book and his personal guidance gave to the +historian what would otherwise have been unattainable, a clear knowledge +of the conflict as viewed from within the town.<br> +<br> +The pitched battlefields of the campaign were three, Alma, Balaclava, +Inkerman. The Alma chapter is the most graphic, for there the +fight was concentrated, offering to a spectator by Lord Raglan’s +side a <i>coup d’oeil</i> of the entire action. The French +were by bad generalship virtually wiped out; for Bosquet crossed the +river too far to the right, Canrobert was afraid to move without artillery, +Prince Napoleon and St. Arnaud’s reserves were jammed together +in the bottom of the valley. We see, as though on the spot, the +advance, irregular and unsupported, of Codrington’s brigade, their +dash into the Great Redoubt and subsequent disorderly retreat; the enemy +checked by the two guns from Lord Raglan’s knoll and by the steadiness +of the Royal Fusiliers; the repulse of the Scots Fusiliers and the peril +which hung over the event; then the superb advance of Guards and Highlanders +up the hill, thin red line against massive columns, which determined +finally the action.<br> +<br> +The interest of the Balaclava fight centres in the two historic cavalry +charges. Here again, from his position on the hill above, Kinglake +witnessed both; the first, clear in smokeless air, the second lost in +the volleying clouds which filled the valley of death. He saw +the enormous mass of Russian cavalry, 3,500 sabres, flooding like an +avalanche down the hill with a momentum which Scarlett’s tiny +squadron could not for a moment have resisted; their unexplained halt, +the three hundred seizing the opportunity to strike, digging individually +into the Russian ranks, the scarlet streaks visibly cleaving the dense +grey columns. Inwedged and surrounded, in their passionate blood +frenzy, with ceaseless play of whirling sword, with impetus of human +and equestrian weight and strength, the red atoms hewed their way to +the Russian rear, turned, worked back, emerged, reformed; while the +4th and 5th Dragoons, the Royals, the 1st Inniskillings, dashed upon +the amazed column right, left, front, till the close-locked mass headed +slowly up the hill, ranks loosened, horsemen turned and galloped off, +a beaten straggling herd. Eight minutes elapsed from the time +when Scarlett gave the word to charge, until the moment when the Russians +broke: we turn from the fifty describing pages, breathless as though +we had ridden in the melley; if the episode has no historical parallel, +the narrative is no less unique. Our greatest contemporary poet +tried to celebrate it; his lines are tame and unexciting beside Kinglake’s +passionate pulsing rhapsody. Its effect upon the Russian mind +was lasting; out of all their vast array hardly a single squadron was +ever after able to keep its ground against the approach of English cavalry; +while but for Cathcart’s obstinacy and Lucan’s temper it +would have issued in the immediate recapture of the Causeway Heights.<br> +<br> +The Charge of the Light Brigade, on the other hand, while it stirred +the imagination of the poet, shocked the military conscience of the +historian. He saw in it with agony, as Lord Raglan saw, as the +French spectators saw, no act of heroic sacrifice, but a needless, fruitless +massacre. “You have lost the Light Brigade,” was his +commander’s salutation to Lord Lucan. “<i>C’est magnifique, +mais ce n’est pas la guerre</i>,” was the oft-quoted reproof +of Bosquet. The “someone’s blunder,” the sullen +perversity in misconception which destroyed the flower of our cavalry, +has faded from men’s memories; the splendour of the deed remains. +It is well to recover salvage from the irrevocable, to voice and to +prolong the deep human interest attaching to death encountered at the +call of duty; that is the poet’s task, and brilliantly it has +been discharged. Its other side, the paean of sorrow for a self-destructive +exploit, the dirge on lives wantonly thrown away, the deep blame attaching +to the untractableness which sent them to their doom, was the task of +the historian, and that too has been faithfully and lastingly accomplished.<br> +<br> +Inkerman was the most complicated of the battles; the chapters which +record it are correspondingly taxing to the reader. More than +once or twice they must be scanned, with close study of their lucid +maps, before the intricate sequences are fairly and distinctively grasped; +the sixth book of Thucydides, a standing terror to young Greek students, +is light and easy reading compared with the bulky sixth volume of Kinglake. +The hero of the day was Pennefather; he maintained on Mount Inkerman +a combat of pickets reinforced from time to time, while around him through +nine hours successive attacks of thousands were met by hundreds. +The disparity of numbers was appalling. At daybreak 40,000 Russian +troops advanced against 3,000 English and were repulsed. Three +hours later 19,000 fresh troops came on, passed through a gap in our +lines, which Cathcart’s disobedience, atoned for presently by +his death, had left unoccupied, and seized the heights behind us; they +too were dispossessed, but our numbers were dwindling and our strength +diminishing. The Home Ridge, key of our position, was next invaded +by 6,000 Russians; the 7th St. Leger, linked with a few Zouaves and +with 200 men of our 77th Regiment, French and English for once joyously +intermingled, hurled them back. It was the crisis of the fight; +Canrobert’s interposition would have determined it; but he sullenly +refused to move. Finally, led by two or three daring young officers, +300 of our wearied troops charged the Russian battery which had tormented +us all day; their artillerymen, already flinching under the galling +fire of two 18-pounders, brought up by Lord Raglan’s foresight +early in the morning, hastily withdrew their guns, and the battle was +won. It was a day of Homeric rushes; Burnaby, with only twenty +men to support him, rescuing the Grenadier Guards’ colours; the +onset of the 20th with their “Minden Yell”; Colonel Daubeny +with two dozen followers cleaving the Russian trunk column at the barrier; +Waddy’s dash at the retreating artillery train, foiled only by +the presence and the readiness of Todleben. One marvels in reading +how the English held their own; their victory against so tremendous +odds is ascribed by the historian to three conditions; the hampering +of the enemy by his crowded masses; the slaughter amongst his officers +early in the fight, which deprived their men of leadership; above all, +the dense mist which obscured from him the fewness of his opponents. +If Canrobert with his fresh troops had followed in pursuit, the Russian’s +retreat must have been turned into a rout and his artillery captured; +if on the following day he had assaulted the Flagstaff Bastion, Sebastopol, +Todleben owned, must have fallen. He would do neither; his hesitancy +and apparent feebleness have already been explained; but to it, and +to the sinister influence which held his hand, were due the subsequent +miseries of the Crimean winter.<br> +<br> +But the epic muse exacted from Kinglake, as from Virgil long before, +the portrayal not only of generals and of battles, but of two great +monarchs, each in his own day conspicuously and absolutely prominent +- the Czar Nicholas and the Emperor Napoleon:<br> +<br> +<br> +“dicam horrida belia,<br> +Dicam acies, actosque animis in funera REGES.”<br> +<br> +<br> +His handling of them is characteristic. Few men living then could +have approached either without a certain awe, their “genius” +rebuked, - like Mark Antony’s, in the presence of Caesars so imposing +and so mighty; Kinglake’s attitude towards both is the attitude +of cold analysis.<br> +<br> +In the opening of the fifties the Czar Nicholas was the most powerful +man then living in the world. He ruled over sixty million subjects +whose loyalty bordered on worship: he had in arms a million soldiers, +brave and highly trained. In the troubles of 1848 he had stood +scornful and secure amid the overthrow of surrounding thrones; and the +entire impact of his vast and well-organized Empire was subject to his +single will; whatever he chose to do he did. Of stern and unrelenting +nature, of active and widely ranging capacity for business, of gigantic +stature and commanding presence, he inspired almost universal terror; +and yet his friendliness had when he pleased a glow and frankness irresistible +in its charm. Readers of Queen Victoria’s early life will +recall the alarm she felt at his sudden proposal to visit Windsor in +1844, the fascination which his presence exercised on her when he became +her guest. He professed to embody his standard of conduct in the +English word “gentleman”; his ideal of human grandeur was +the character of the Duke of Wellington. It was an evil destiny +that betrayed this high-minded man into crooked ways; that made England +sacrifice the stateliest among her ancient friends to an ignoble and +crime-stained adventurer; that poured out blood and treasure for no +public advantage and with no permanent result; that first humiliated, +then slew with broken heart the man who had been so great, and who is +still regarded by surviving Russians who knew his inner life and had +seen him in his gentle mood with passionate reverence and affection.<br> +<br> +Kinglake’s description of “Prince Louis Bonaparte,” +of his character, his accomplices, his policy, his crimes, is perhaps +unequalled in historical literature; I know not where else to look for +a vivisection so scientific and so merciless of a great potentate in +the height of his power. With scrutiny polite, impartial, guarded, +he lays bare the springs of a conscienceless nature and the secrets +of a crime-driven career; while for the combination of precise simplicity +with exhaustive synopsis, the masquerading of moral indignation in the +guise of mocking laughter, the loathing of a gentleman for a scoundrel +set to the measure not of indignation but of contempt, we must go back +to the refined insolence, the [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] +of Voltaire. He had well known Prince Napoleon in his London days, +had been attracted by him as a curiosity - “a balloon man who +had twice fallen from the skies and yet was still alive” - had +divined the mental power veiled habitually by his blank, opaque, wooden +looks, had listened to his ambitious talk and gathered up the utterances +of his thoughtful, long-pondering mind, had quarrelled with him finally +and lastingly over rivalry in the good graces of a woman. <a name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21">{21}</a> +He saw in him a fourfold student; of the art of war, of the mind of +the first Napoleon, of the French people’s character, of the science +by which law may lend itself to stratagem and become a weapon of deceit.<br> +<br> +The intellect of this strange being was subject to an uncertainty of +judgment, issuing in ambiguity of enterprise, and giving an impression +of well-kept secrecy, due often to the fact that divided by mental conflict +he had no secret to tell. He understood truth, but under the pressure +of strong motive would invariably deceive. He sometimes, out of +curiosity, would listen to the voice of conscience, and could imitate +neatly on occasion the scrupulous language of a man of honour; but the +consideration that one of two courses was honest, and the other not, +never entered into his motives for action. He was bold in forming +plots, and skilful in conducting them; but in the hour of trial and +under the confront of physical danger he was paralysed by constitutional +timidity. His great aim in life was to be conspicuous - <i>digito +monstrarier</i> - coupled with a theatric mania which made scenic effects +and surprises essential to the eminence he craved.<br> +<br> +Handling this key to his character, Kinglake pursues him into his December +treason, contrasts the consummate cleverness of his schemes with the +faltering cowardice which shrank, like Macbeth’s ambition, from +“the illness should attend them,” and which, but for the +stronger nerve of those behind him, would have caused his collapse, +at Paris as at Strasburg and Boulogne, in contact with the shock of +action. It is difficult now to realize the commotion caused by +this fourteenth chapter of Kinglake’s book. The Emperor +was at the summit of his power, fresh from Austrian conquest, viewed +with alarm by England, whose rulers feared his strength and were distrustful +of his friendship. Our Crown, our government, our society, had +condoned his usurpation; he had kissed the Queen’s cheek, bent +her ministers to his will, ridden through her capital a triumphant and +applauded guest. And now men read not only a cynical dissection +of his character and disclosure of his early foibles, but the hideous +details of his deceit and treachery, the phases of cold-blooded massacre +and lawless deportation by which he emptied France of all who hesitated +to enrol themselves as his accomplices or his tools. Forty years +have passed since the terrible indictment was put forth; down to its +minutest allegation it has been proved literally true; the arch criminal +has fallen from his estate to die in disgrace, disease, exile. +When we talk to-day with cultivated Frenchmen of that half-forgotten +epoch, and of the book which bared its horrors, we are met by their +response of ardent gratitude to the man who joined to passionate hatred +of iniquity surpassing capacity for denouncing it; their avowal that +with all its frequent exposure of their military shortcomings and depreciation +of their national character, no English chronicle of the century stands +higher in their esteem than the history of the war in the Crimea.<br> +<br> +The close of the book is grim and tragic in the main, the stir of gallant +fights exchanged for the dreary course of siege, intrenchment, mine +and countermine. We have the awful winter on the heights, the +November hurricane, the foiled bombardments, the cruel blunder of the +Karabelnaya assault, the bitter natural discontent at home, the weak +subservience of our government to misdirected clamour, the touching +help-fraught advent of the Lady Nurses: then, just as better prospects +dawn, the Chief’s collapse and death. From the morrow of +Inkerman to the end, through no fault of his, the historian’s +chariot wheels drag. More and more one sees how from the nature +of the task, except for the flush of contemporary interest then, except +by military students now, it is not a work to be popularly read; the +exhausted interest of its subject swamps the genius of its narrator. +Scattered through its more serious matter are gems with the old “Eothen” +sparkle, of periphrasis, aphorism, felicitous phrase and pregnant epithet. +Such is the fine analogy between the worship of holy shrines and the +lover’s homage to the spot which his mistress’s feet have +trod; such France’s tolerance of the Elysée brethren compared +to the Arab laying his verminous burnous upon an ant-hill; the apt quotation +from the Psalms to illustrate the on-coming of the Guards; the demeanour +of horses in action; the course of a flying cannon-ball; the two ponderous +troopers at the Horse Guards; Tom Tower and his Croats landing stores +for our soldiers from the “Erminia.” Or again, we +have the light clear touches of a single line; “the decisiveness +and consistency of despotism” - “the fractional and volatile +interests in trading adventure which go by the name of Shares” +- “the unlabelled, undocketed state of mind which shall enable +a man to encounter the Unknown” - “the qualifying words +which correct the imprudences and derange the grammatical structure +of a Queen’s Speech”: but these are islets in the sea of +narrative, not, as in “Eothen,” woof-threads which cross +the warp.<br> +<br> +To compare an idyll with an epic, it may be said, is like comparing +a cameo with a Grecian temple: be it so; but the temple falls in ruins, +the cameo is preserved in cabinets; and it is possible that a century +hence the Crimean history will be forgotten, while “Eothen” +is read and enjoyed. The best judges at the time pronounced that +as a lasting monument of literary force the work was over refined: “Kinglake,” +said Sir George Cornewall Lewis, “tries to write better than he +can write”; quoting, perhaps unconsciously, the epigram of a French +art critic a hundred years before - <i>Il cherche</i> <i>toujours +a faire mieux qu’il ne fait</i>. <a name="citation22"></a><a href="#footnote22">{22}</a> +He lavished on it far more pains than on “Eothen”: the proof +sheets were a black sea of erasures, intercalations, blots; the original +chaotic manuscript pages had to be disentangled by a calligraphic Taunton +bookseller before they could be sent to press. This fastidiousness +in part gained its purpose; won temporary success; gave to his style +the glitter, rapidity, point, effectiveness, of a pungent editorial; +went home, stormed, convinced, vindicated, damaged, triumphed: but it +missed by excessive polish the reposeful, unlaboured, classic grace +essential to the highest art. Over-scrupulous manipulation of +words is liable to the “defect of its qualities”; as with +unskilful goldsmiths of whom old Latin writers tell us, the file goes +too deep, trimming away more of the first fine minting than we can afford +to lose. Ruskin has explained to us how the decadence of Gothic +architecture commenced through care bestowed on window tracery for itself +instead of as an avenue or vehicle for the admission of light. +Read “words” for tracery, “thought” for light, +and we see how inspiration avenges itself so soon as diction is made +paramount; artifice, which demands and misses watchful self-concealment, +passes into mannerism; we have lost the incalculable charm of spontaneity. +Comparison of “Eothen” with the “Crimea” will +I think exemplify this truth. The first, to use Matthew Arnold’s +imagery, is Attic, the last has declined to the Corinthian; it remains +a great, an amazingly great production; great in its pictorial force, +its omnipresent survey, verbal eloquence, firm grasp, marshalled delineation +of multitudinous and entangled matter; but it is not unique amongst +martial records as “Eothen” is unique amongst books of travel: +it is through “Eothen” that its author has soared into a +classic, and bids fair to hold his place. And, apart from the +merit of style, great campaigns lose interest in a third, if not in +a second generation; their historical consequence effaced through lapse +of years; their policy seen to have been nugatory or mischievous; their +chronicles, swallowed greedily at the birth like Saturn’s progeny, +returning to vex their parent; relegated finally to an honourable exile +in the library upper shelves, where they hold a place eyed curiously, +not invaded:<br> +<br> +<br> +“devoured<br> +As fast as they are made, forgot as soon<br> +As done. . . . To have done, is to hang<br> +Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail,<br> +In monumental mockery.”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER V - MADAME NOVIKOFF<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The Cabinet Edition of “The Invasion of the Crimea” appeared +in 1877, shortly after the Servian struggle for independence, which +aroused in England universal interest and sympathy. Kinglake had +heard from the lips of a valued lady friend the tragic death-tale of +her brother Nicholas Kiréeff, who fell fighting as a volunteer +on the side of the gallant Servian against the Turk: and, much moved +by the recital, offered to honour the memory of the dead hero in the +Preface to his forthcoming edition. He kept his word; made sympathetic +reference to M. Kiréeff in the opening of his Preface; but passed +in pursuance of his original design to a hostile impeachment of Russia, +its people, its church, its ruler. This was an error of judgment +and of feeling; and the lady, reading the manuscript, indignantly desired +him to burn the whole rather than commit the outrage of associating +her brother’s name with an attack on causes and personages dear +to him as to herself. Kinglake listened in silence, then tendered +to her a <i>crayon rouge</i>, begging her to efface all that pained +her. She did so; and, diminished by three-fourths of its matter, +the Preface appears in Vol. I. of the Cabinet Edition. The erasure +was no slight sacrifice to an author of Kinglake’s literary sensitiveness, +mutilating as it did the integrity of a carefully schemed composition, +and leaving visible the scar. He sets forth the strongly sentimental +and romantic side of Russian temperament. Love of the Holy Shrines +begat the war of 1853, racial ardour the war of 1876. The first +was directed by a single will, the second by national enthusiasm; yet +the mind of Nicholas was no less tossed by a breathless strife of opposing +desires and moods than was Russia at large by the struggle between Panslavism +and statesmanship. Kinglake paints vividly the imposing figure +of the young Kiréeff, his stature, beauty, bravery, the white +robe he wore incarnadined by death-wounds, his body captured by the +hateful foes. He goes on to tell how myth rose like an exhalation +round his memory: how legends of “a giant piling up hecatombs +by a mighty slaughter” reverberated through mansion and cottage, +town and village, cathedral and church; until thousands of volunteers +rushed to arms that they might go where young Kiréeff had gone. +Alexander’s hand was forced, and the war began, which but for +England’s intervention would have cleared Europe of the Turk. +We have the text, but not the sermon; the Preface ends abruptly with +an almost clumsy peroration.<br> +<br> +The lady who inspired both the eulogy and the curtailment was Madame +Novikoff, more widely known perhaps as O. K., with whom Kinglake maintained +during the last twenty years of life an intimate and mutual friendship. +Madame Olga Novikoff, <i>née</i> Kiréeff, is a Russian +lady of aristocratic rank both by parentage and marriage. In a +lengthened sojourn at Vienna with her brother-in-law, the Russian ambassador, +she learned the current business of diplomacy. An eager religious +propagandist, she formed alliance with the “Old Catholics” +on the Continent, and with many among the High Church English clergy; +becoming, together with her brother Alexander, a member of the <i>Réunion +Nationale</i>, a society for the union of Christendom. Her interest +in education has led her to devote extensive help to school and church +building and endowment on her son’s estate. God-daughter +to the Czar Nicholas, she is a devoted Imperialist, nor less in sympathy, +as were all her family, with Russian patriotism: after the death of +her brother in Servia on July 6/18, 1876, she became a still more ardent +Slavophile. The three articles of her creed are, she says, those +of her country, Orthodoxy, Autocracy, Nationalism. Her political +aspirations have been guided, and guided right, by her tact and goodness +of heart. Her life’s aim has been to bring about a cordial +understanding between England and her native land; there is little doubt +that her influence with leading Liberal politicians, and her vigorous +allocutions in the Press, had much to do with the enthusiasm manifested +by England for the liberation of the Danubian States. Readers +of the Princess Lieven’s letters to Earl Grey will recall the +part played by that able ambassadress in keeping this country neutral +through the crisis of 1828-9; to her Madame Novikoff has been likened, +and probably with truth, by the Turkish Press both English and Continental. +She was accused in 1876 of playing on the religious side of Mr. Gladstone’s +character to secure his interest in the Danubians as members of the +Greek Church, while with unecclesiastical people she was said to be +equally skilful on the political side, converting at the same time Anglophobe +Russia by her letters in the “Moscow Gazette.” Mr. +Gladstone’s leanings to Montenegro were attributed angrily in +the English “Standard” to Madame Novikoff: “A serious +statesman should know better than to catch contagion from the petulant +enthusiasm of a Russian Apostle.” The contagion was in any +case caught, and to some purpose; letter after letter had been sent +by the lady to the great statesman, then in temporary retirement, without +reply, until the last of these, “a bitter cry of a sister for +a sacrificed brother,” brought a feeling answer from Mrs. Gladstone, +saying that her husband was deeply moved by the appeal, and was writing +on the subject. In a few days appeared his famous pamphlet, “Bulgarian +Horrors and the Question of the East.”<br> +<br> +Carlyle advised that Madame Novikoff’s scattered papers should +be worked into a volume; they appeared under the title “Is Russia +Wrong?” with a preface by Froude, the moderate and ultra-prudent +tone of which infuriated Hayward and Kinglake, as not being sufficiently +appreciative. Hayward declared some woman had biassed him; Kinglake +was of opinion that by studying the <i>ètat</i> of Queen Elizabeth +Froude had “gone and turned himself into an old maid.”<br> +<br> +Froude’s Preface to her next work, “Russia and England, +a Protest and an Appeal,” by O. K., 1880, was worded in a very +different tone and satisfied all her friends. The book was also +reviewed with highest praise by Gladstone in “The Nineteenth Century.” +Learning that an assault upon it was contemplated in “The Quarterly,” +Kinglake offered to supply the editor, Dr. Smith, with materials which +might be so used as to neutralize a <i>personal</i> attack upon O. K. +Smith entreated him to compose the whole article himself. “I +could promise you,” he writes, “that the authorship should +be kept a profound secret;” but this Kinglake seems to have thought +undesirable. The article appeared in April, 1880, under the title +of “The Slavonic Menace to Europe.” It opens with +a panegyric on the authoress: “She has mastered our language with +conspicuous success; she expostulates as easily as she reproaches, and +she exhibits as much facility in barbing shafts of satire as in framing +specious excuses for daring acts of diplomacy.” It insists +on the high esteem felt for her by both the Russian and Austrian governments, +telling with much humour an anecdote of Count Beust, the Prime Minister +of Austria during her residence in Vienna. The Count, after meeting +her at a dinner party at the Turkish Embassy, composed a set of verses +in her honour, and gave them to her, but she forgot to mention them +to her brother-in-law. The Prime Minister, encountering the latter, +asked his opinion of the verses; and the ambassador was greatly amazed +at knowing nothing of the matter. <a name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23">{23}</a> +From amenities towards the authoress, the article passes abruptly to +hostile criticism of the book; declares it to be proscribed in Russia +as mischievous, and to have precipitated a general war by keeping up +English interest in Servian rebellion. It sneers in doubtful taste +at the lady’s learning:<br> +<br> +<br> +“sit non doctissima conjux,<br> +Sit nox cum somno, sit sine lite dies;”<br> +<br> +<br> +denounces the Slavs as incapable of being welded into a nation, urging +that their independence must destroy Austria-Hungary, a consummation +desired by Madame Novikoff, with her feline contempt for “poor +dear Austria,” but which all must unite to prevent if they would +avert a European war.<br> +<br> +How could one clear harp, men asked themselves as they read, have produced +so diverse tones? The riddle is solved when we learn that the +first part only was from Kinglake’s pen: having vindicated his +friend’s ability and good faith, her right to speak and to be +heard attentively, he left the survey of her views, with which he probably +disagreed, to the originally assigned reviewer. The article, Madame +Novikoff tells us in the “Nouvelle Revue,” was received +<i>avec</i> <i>une stupefaction unanime</i>. It formed the general +talk for many days, was attributed to Lord Salisbury, was supposed to +have been inspired by Prince Gortschakoff. The name standing against +it in Messrs. Murray’s books, as they kindly inform me, is that +of a writer still alive, and better known now than then, but they never +heard that Kinglake had a hand in it; the editor would seem to have +kept his secret even from the publishers. Kinglake sent the article +in proof to the lady; hoped that the facts he had imparted and the interpolations +he had inserted would please her; he could have made the attack on Russia +more pointed had he written it; she would think the leniency shows a +fault on the right side; he did not know the writer of this latter part. +He begged her to acquaint her friends in Moscow what an important and +majestic organ is “The Quarterly,” how weighty therefore +its laudation of herself. She recalls his bringing her soon afterwards +an article on her, written, he said, in an adoring tone by Laveleye +in the “Revue des Deux Mondes,” and directing her to a paper +in “Fraser,” by Miss Pauline Irby, a passionate lover of +the “Slav ragamuffins,” and a worshipper of Madame Novikoff. +He quotes with delight Chenery’s approbation of her “Life +of Skobeleff”; he spoke of you “with a gleam of kindliness +in his eyes which really and truly I had never observed before.” +“The Times” quotes her as the “eloquent authoress +of ‘Russia and England’”; “fancy that from your +enemy! you are getting even ‘The Times’ into your net.” +A later article on O. K. contains some praise, but more abuse. +Hayward is angry with it; Kinglake thinks it more friendly than could +have been expected “to <i>you</i>, a friend of <i>me</i>, their +old open enemy: the sugar-plums were meant for you, the sprinklings +of soot for me.”<br> +<br> +Besides “Russia and England” Madame Novikoff is the author +of “Friends or Foes? - is Russia wrong?” and of a “Life +of Skobeleff,” the hero of Plevna and of Geok Tepé. +From her natural endowments and her long familiarity with Courts, she +has acquired a capacity for combining, controlling, entertaining social +“circles” which recalls <i>les salons</i> <i>d’autrefois</i>, +the drawing-rooms of an Ancelot, a Le Brun, a Récamier. +Residing in several European capitals, she surrounds herself in each +with persons intellectually eminent; in England, where she has long +spent her winters, Gladstone, Carlyle and Froude, Charles Villiers, +Bernal Osborne, Sir Robert Morier, Lord Houghton, and many more of the +same high type, formed her court and owned her influence.<br> +<br> +Kinglake first met her at Lady Holland’s in 1870, and mutual liking +ripened rapidly into close friendship. During her residences in +England few days passed in which he did not present himself at her drawing-room +in Claridge’s Hotel: when absent in Russia or on the Continent, +she received from him weekly letters, though he used to complain that +writing to a lady through the <i>poste restante</i> was like trying +to kiss a nun through a double grating. These letters, all faithfully +preserved, I have been privileged to see; they remind me, in their mixture +of personal with narrative charm, of Swift’s “Letters to +Stella”; except that Swift’s are often coarse and sometimes +prurient, while Kinglake’s chivalrous admiration for his friend, +though veiled occasionally by graceful banter, is always respectful +and refined. They even imitate occasionally the “little +language” of the great satirist; if Swift was Presto, Kinglake +is “Poor dear me”; if Stella was M. D., Madame Novikoff +is “My dear Miss.” This last endearment was due to +an incident at a London dinner table. A story told by Hayward, +seasoned as usual with <i>gros sel</i>, amused the more sophisticated +English ladies present, but covered her with blushes. Kinglake +perceived it, and said to her afterwards, “I thought you were +a hardened married woman; I am glad that you are not; I shall henceforth +call you<i> Miss</i>.” Sometimes he rushes into verse. +In answer to some pretended rebuff received from her at Ryde he writes<br> +<br> +<br> +“There was a young lady of Ryde, so awfully puffed up by pride,<br> +She felt grander by far than the Son of the Czar,<br> +And when he said, ‘Dear, come and walk on the pier,<br> +Oh please come and walk by my side;’<br> +The answer he got, was ‘Much better not,’ from that awful +young lady of Ryde.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Oftenest, the letters are serious in their admiring compliments; they +speak of her superb organization of health and life and strength and +joyousness, the delightful sunshine of her presence, her decision and +strength of will, her great qualities and great opportunities: “away +from you the world seems a blank.” He is glad that his Great +Eltchi has been made known to her; the old statesman will be impressed, +he feels sure, by her “intense life, graciousness and grace, intellect +carefully masked, musical faculty in talk, with that heavenly power +of coming to an end.” He sends playfully affectionate messages +from other members of the <i>Gerontaion</i>, as he calls it, the group +of aged admirers who formed her inner court; echoing their laments over +the universality of her patronage. “Hayward can pardon your +having an ambassador or two at your <i>feet</i>, but to find the way +to your <i>heart</i> obstructed by a crowd of astronomers, Russ-expansionists, +metaphysicians, theologians, translators, historians, poets; - this +is more than he can endure. The crowd reduces him, as Ampère +said to Mme. Récamier, to the qualified blessing of being only +<i>chez vous</i>, from the delight of being <i>avec vous</i>. +He hails and notifies additions to the list of her admirers; quotes +enthusiastic praise of her from Stansfeld and Charles Villiers, warm +appreciation from Morier, Sir Robert Peel, Violet Fane. He rallies +her on her victims, jests at Froude’s lover-like<i> galanterie</i> +- “Poor St. Anthony! how he hovered round the flame”; - +at the devotion of that gay Lothario, Tyndall, whose approaching marriage +will, he thinks, clip his wings for flirtation. “It seems +that at the Royal Institution, or whatever the place is called, young +women look up to the Lecturers as priests of Science, and go to them +after the lecture in what churchmen would call the vestry, and express +charming little doubts about electricity, and pretty gentle disquietudes +about the solar system: and then the Professors have to give explanations; +- and then, somehow, at the end of a few weeks, they find they have +provided themselves with chaperons for life.” So he pursues +the list of devotees; her son will tell her that Caesar summarized his +conquests in this country by saying <i>Veni, Vidi</i>, <i>Vici</i>; +but to her it is given to say, <i>Veni</i>, <i>Videbar, Vici.<br> +<br> +</i>On two subjects, theology and politics, Madame Novikoff was, as +we have seen, passionately in earnest. Himself at once an amateur +casuist and a consistent Nothingarian, whose dictum was that “Important +if true” should be written over the doors of churches, he followed +her religious arguments much as Lord Steyne listened to the contests +between Father Mole and the Reverend Mr. Trail. He expresses his +surprise in all seriousness that the Pharisees, a thoughtful and cultured +set of men, who alone among the Jews believed in a future state, should +have been the very men to whom our Saviour was habitually antagonistic. +He refers more lightly and frequently to “those charming talks +of ours about our Churches”; he thinks they both know how to <i>effleurer</i> +the surface of theology without getting drowned in it. Of existing +Churches he preferred the English, as “the most harmless going”; +disliked the Latin Church, especially when intriguing in the East, as +persecuting and as schismatic, and therefore as no Church at all. +Roman Catholics, he said, have a special horror of being called “schismatic,” +and that is, of course, a good reason for so calling them. He +would not permit the use of the word “orthodox,” because, +like a parson in the pulpit, it is always begging the question. +He refused historical reverence to the Athanasian Creed, and was delighted +when Stanley’s review in “The Times” of Mr. Ffoulkes’ +learned book showed it to have been written by order of Charles the +Great in 800 A.D. as what Thorold Rogers used to call “an election +squib.” In the “Filioque” controversy, once +dear to Liddon and to Gladstone, now, I suppose, obsolete for the English +mind, but which relates to the chief dividing tenet of East from West, +he showed an interest humorous rather than reverent; took pains to acquaint +himself with the views held on it by Döllinger and the old Catholics; +noted with amusement the perplexity of London ladies as to the meaning +of the word when quoted in the much-read “Quarterly” article, +declaring their belief to be that it was a clergyman’s baby born +out of wedlock.<br> +<br> +Madame Novikoff’s political influence, which he recognized to +the full, he treated in the same mocking spirit. She is at Berlin, +received by Bismarck; he hopes that though the great man may not eradicate +her Slavophile heresies, he may manifest the weakness of embroiling +nations on mere ethnological grounds. “Are even nearer relationships +so delightful? would you walk across the street for a third or fourth +cousin? then why for a millionth cousin?” Madame Novikoff +kindly sends to me an “Imaginary Conversation” between herself +and Gortschakoff, constructed by Kinglake during her stay in St. Petersburg +in 1879.<br> +<br> +“<i>G</i>. Well - you really have done good service to your +country and your Czar by dividing and confusing these absurd English, +and getting us out of the scrape we were in in that - Balkan Peninsula.<br> +<br> +“<i>Miss O</i>. Well, certainly I did my best; but I fear +I have ruined the political reputation of my English partizans, for +in order to make them ‘beloved of the Slave,’ I of course +had to make them, poor souls! go against their own country; and their +country, stupid as it is, has now I fear found them out.<br> +<br> +“<i>G. Tant pis pour eux! Entre nous</i>, if I had +been Gladstone, I should have preferred the love of my own country to +the love of these - Slaves of yours. But, tell me, how did you +get hold of Gladstone?<br> +<br> +“<i>Miss O. Rien de plus simple</i>! Four or five +years ago I asked what was his weak point, and was told that he had +two, ‘Effervescence,’ and ‘Theology.’ +With that knowledge I found it all child’s play to manage him. +I just sent him to Munich, and there boiled him up in a weak decoction +of ‘Filioque,’ then kept him ready for use, and impatiently +awaited the moment when our plans for getting up the ‘Bulgarian +atrocities’ should be mature. I say ‘impatiently,’ +for, Heavens, how slow you all were! at least so it strikes a woman. +The arrangement of the ‘atrocities’ was begun by our people +in 1871, and yet till 1876, though I had Gladstone ready in 1875, nothing +really was done! I assure you, Prince, it is a trying thing to +a woman to be kept waiting for promised atrocities such an unconscionable +time.<br> +<br> +“<i>G</i>. That brother-in-law of yours was partly the cause +of our slowness. He was always wanting to have the orders for +fire and blood in neat formal despatches, signed by me, and copied by +clerks. However, I hope you are satisfied now, with the butcheries +and the flames, and the - ?<br> +<br> +“<i>Miss O. Pour le moment</i>!”<br> +<br> +She is absent during the sudden dissolution of Parliament in 1874. +“London woke yesterday morning and found that your friend Gladstone +had made a <i>coup-d’état</i>. He has dissolved Parliament +at a moment when no human being expected it, and my impression is that +he has made a good hit, and that the renovated Parliament will give +him a great majority.” The impression was wildly wrong; and he +found a cause for the Conservative majority in Gladstone’s tame +foreign policy, and especially in the pusillanimity his government showed +when insulted by Gortschakoff. He always does justice to her influence +with Gladstone; his great majority at the polls in 1880 is <i>her</i> +victory and <i>her</i> triumph; but his Turkophobia is no less her creation: +“England is stricken with incapacity because you have stirred +up the seething caldron that boils under Gladstone’s skull, putting +in diabolical charms and poisons of theology to overturn the structure +of English polity:” she will be able, he thinks, to tell her government +that Gladstone is doing his best to break up the British Empire.<br> +<br> +He quotes with approbation the newspaper comparison of her to the Princess +Lieven. She disparages the famous ambassadress; he sets her right. +Let her read the “Correspondence,” by his friend Mr. Guy +Le Strange, and she will see how large a part the Princess played in +keeping England quiet during the war of 1828-29. She did not convert +her austere admirer, Lord Grey, to approval of the Russian designs, +nor overcome the uneasiness with which the Duke of Wellington regarded +her intrigues; but the Foreign Minister, Lord Aberdeen, was apparently +a fool in her hands; and, whoever had the merit, the neutrality of England +continued. That was, he repeats more than once, a most critical +time for Russia; it was an object almost of life and death to the Czar +to keep England dawdling in a state of actual though not avowed neutrality. +It is, he argued, a matter of fact, that precisely this result was attained, +and “I shall be slow to believe that Madame de Lieven did not +deserve a great share of the glory (as you would think it) of making +England act weakly under such circumstances; more especially since we +know that the Duke did not like the great lady, and may be supposed +to have distinctly traced his painful embarrassment to her power.” +So the letters go, interspersed with news, with criticisms of notable +persons, with comments enlightening or cynical on passing political +events: with personal matters only now and then; as when he notes the +loss of his two sisters; dwells with unwonted feeling on the death of +his eldest nephew by consumption; condoles with her on her husband’s +illness; gives council, wise or playful, as to the education of her +son. “I am glad to hear that he is good at Greek, Latin, +and Mathematics, for that shows his cleverness; glad also to hear that +he is occasionally naughty, for that shows his force. I advise +you to claim and exercise as much control as possible, because I am +certain that a woman - especially so gifted a one as you - knows more, +or rather feels more, about the right way of bringing up a boy than +any mere man.”<br> +<br> +Unbrokenly the correspondence continues: the intimacy added charm, interest, +fragrance to his life, brought out in him all that was genial, playful, +humorous. He fights the admonitions of coming weakness; goes to +Sidmouth with a sore throat, but takes his papers and his books. +It is, he says, a deserted little sea-coast place. “Mrs. +Grundy has a small house there, but she does not know me by sight. +If Madame Novikoff were to come, the astonished little town, dazzled +first by her, would find itself invaded by theologians, bishops, ambassadors +of deceased emperors, and an ex-Prime-Minister.” But as +time goes on he speaks more often of his suffering throat; of gout, +increasing deafness, only half a voice: his last letter is written in +July, 1890, to condole with his friend upon her husband’s death. +In October his nurse takes the pen; Madame Novikoff comes back hurriedly +from Scotland to find him in his last illness. “It is very +nice,” he told his nurse, “to see dear Madame Novikoff again, +but I am going down hill fast, and cannot hope to be well enough to +see much of her.” This is in November, 1890; on New Year’s +Eve came the inexorable, “Terminator of delights and Separator +of friends.”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VI - LATER DAYS, AND DEATH<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +For twenty years Kinglake lived in Hyde Park Place, in bright cheerful +rooms looking in one direction across the Park, but on another side +into a churchyard. The churchyard, Lady Gregory tells us, gave +him pause on first seeing the rooms. “I should not like +to live here, I should be afraid of ghosts.” “Oh no, +sir, there is always a policeman round the corner.” <a name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24">{24}</a> +“Pleaceman X.” has not, perhaps, before been revered as +the Shade-compelling son of Maia:<br> +<br> +<br> +“Tu pias laetis animas reponis<br> +Sedibus<i>, virgaque levem coerces<br> +Aurea turbam</i>.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Here he worked through the morning; the afternoon took him to the “Travellers,” +where his friends, Sir Henry Bunbury and Mr. Chenery, usually expected +him; then at eight o’clock, if not, as Shylock says, bid forth, +he went to dine at the Athenaeum. His dinner seat was in the left-hand +corner of the coffee-room, where, in the thirties, Theodore Hook had +been wont to sit, gathering near him so many listeners to his talk, +that at Hook’s death in 1841 the receipts for the club dinners +fell off to a large amount. Here, in the “Corner,” +as they called it, round Kinglake would be Hayward, Drummond Wolff, +Massey, Oliphant, Edward Twisleton, Strzelecki, Storks, Venables, Wyke, +Bunbury, Gregory, American Ticknor, and a few more; Sir W. Stirling +Maxwell, when in Scotland, sending hampers of pheasants to the company. +“Hurried to the Athenaeum for dinner,” says Ticknor in 1857, +“and there found Kinglake and Sir Henry Rawlinson, to whom were +soon added Hayward and Stirling. We pushed our tables together +and had a jolly dinner. . . . To the Athenaeum; and having dined pleasantly +with Merivale, Kinglake, and Stirling, I hurried off to the House.” +In later years, when his voice grew low and his hearing difficult, he +preferred that the diners should resolve themselves into little groups, +assigning to himself a <i>tête-à-tête</i>, with whom +at his ease he could unfold himself.<br> +<br> +No man ever fought more gallantly the encroachments of old age <i>- +on sut être jeune jusque dans ses vieux jours</i>. At seventy-four +years old, staying with a friend at Brighton, he insisted on riding +over to Rottingdean, where Sir Frederick Pollock was staying. +“I mastered,” he said, in answer to remonstrances, “I +mastered the peculiarities of the Brighton screw before you were born, +and have never forgotten them.” Vaulting into his saddle +he rode off, returning with a schoolboy’s delight at the brisk +trot he had found practicable when once clear of the King’s Road. +Long after his hearing had failed, his sight become grievously weakened, +and his limbs not always trustworthy, he would never allow a cab to +be summoned for him after dinner, always walking to his lodgings. +But he had to give up by and by his daily canter in Rotten Row, and +more reluctantly still his continental travel. Foreign railways +were closed to him by the <i>Salle d’Attente</i>; he could not +stand incarceration in the waiting-rooms.<br> +<br> +The last time he crossed the Channel was at the close of the Franco-Prussian +war, on a visit to his old friend M. Thiers, then President. It +was a dinner to deputies of the Extreme Left, and Kinglake was the only +Englishman; “so,” he said, “among the servants there +was a sort of reasoning process as to my identity, ending in the conclusion, +<i>‘il doit être Sir Dilke</i>.’” Soon +the inference was treated as a fact; and in due sequence came newspaper +paragraphs declaring that the British Ambassador had gravely remonstrated +with the President for inviting Sir Charles Dilke to his table. +Then followed articles defending the course taken by the President, +and so for some time the ball was kept up. The remonstrance of +the Ambassador was a myth, Lord Lyons was a friend of Sir Charles; but +the latter was suspect at the time both in England and France; in England +for his speeches and motion on the Civil List; in France, because, with +Frederic Harrison, he had helped to get some of the French Communists +away from France; and the French Government was watching him with spies. +In Sir Charles’s motion Kinglake took much interest, refusing +to join in the cry against it as disloyal. Sir Charles, he said, +spoke no word against the Queen; and only brought the matter before +the House because challenged to repeat in Parliament the statements +he had made in the country. As a matter of policy he thought it +mistaken: “Move in such a matter openly, and party discipline +compels your defeat; bring pressure to bear on a Cabinet, some of its +members are on your side, and you may gain your point.” +Sir Charles’s speech was calmly argumentative, and to many minds +convincing; it provoked a passionate reply from Gladstone; and when +Mr. Auberon Herbert following declared himself a Republican, a tumult +arose such as in those pre-Milesian days had rarely been witnessed in +the House. But the wisdom of Kinglake’s counsel is sustained +by the fact that many years afterwards, as a result of more private +discussion, Mr. Gladstone pronounced his conversion to the two bases +of the motion, publicity, and the giving of the State allowance to the +head of the family rather than, person by person, to the children and +grandchildren of the Sovereign. Action pointing in this direction +was taken in 1889 and 1901 on the advice of Tory ministers.<br> +<br> +Amongst Frenchmen of the highest class, intellectually and socially, +he had many valued friends, keeping his name on the “Cosmopolitan” +long after he had ceased to visit it, since “one never knows when +the distinguished foreigner may come upon one, and of such the Cosmo +is the London Paradise.” But he used to say that in the +other world a good Frenchman becomes an Englishman, a bad Englishman +becomes a Frenchman. He saw in the typical Gaul a compound of +the tiger and the monkey; noted their want of individuality, their tendency +to go in flocks, their susceptibility to panic and to ferocity, to the +terror that makes a man kill people, and “the terror that makes +him lie down and beg.” We remember, too, his dissection +of St. Arnaud, as before all things a type of his nation; “he +impersonated with singular exactness the idea which our forefathers +had in their minds when they spoke of what they called ‘a Frenchman;’ +for although (by cowing the rich and by filling the poor with envy), +the great French Revolution had thrown a lasting gloom on the national +character, it left this one man untouched. He was bold, gay, reckless, +vain; but beneath the mere glitter of the surface there was a great +capacity for administrative business, and a more than common willingness +to take away human life.”<br> +<br> +“I relish,” Kinglake said in 1871, “the spectacle +of Bismarck teaching the A B C of Liberal politics to the hapless French. +His last <i>mot</i>, they tell me, is this. Speaking of the extent +to which the French Emperor had destroyed his own reputation and put +an end to the worship of the old Napoleon, he said: ‘He has killed +himself and buried his uncle.’” Again, in 1874, noting +the <i>contre coup</i> upon France resulting from the Bismarck and Arnim +despatches, he said: “What puzzles the poor dear French is to +see that truth and intrepid frankness consist with sound policy and +consummate wisdom. How funny it would be, if the French some day, +as a novelty, or what they would call a <i>caprice</i>, were to try +the effect of truth; “though not naturally honest,” as Autolycus +says, “were to become so by chance.”<br> +<br> +He thought M. Gallifet <i>dans sa logique</i> in liking the Germans +and hating Bismarck; for the Germans, in having their own way, would +break up into as many fragments as the best Frenchman could desire, +and Bismarck is the real suppressor of France. Throughout the +Franco-Prussian war he sided strongly with the Prussians, refusing to +dine in houses where the prevailing sympathy with France would make +him unwelcome as its declared opponent; but he felt “as a nightmare” +the attack on prostrate Paris, “as a blow” the capitulation +of Metz; denouncing Gambetta and his colleagues as meeting their disasters +only with slanderous shrieks, “possessed by the spirit of that +awful Popish woman.” Bismarck as a statesman he consistently +admired, and deplored his dismissal. I see, he said, all the peril +implied by Bismarck’s exit, and the advent of his ambitious young +Emperor. It is a transition from the known to the unknown, from +wisdom, perhaps, to folly.<br> +<br> +His Crimean volumes continued to appear; in 1875, 1880, finally in 1887; +while the Cabinet Edition was published in 1887-8. This last contained +three new Prefaces; in Vol. I. as we have seen, the memorial of Nicholas +Kiréeff; in Vol. II. the latter half of the original Preface +to Vol. I., cancelled thence at Madame Novikoff’s request, though +now carefully modified so as to avoid anything which might irritate +Russia at a moment when troubles seemed to be clearing away. In +his Preface to Vol. VII. he had three objects, to set right the position +of Sir E. Hamley, who had been neglected in the despatches; to demolish +his friend Lord Bury, who had “questioned my omniscience” +in the “Edinburgh Review”; and to exonerate England at large +from absurd self-congratulations about the “little Egypt affair,” +the blame of such exaggeration resting with those whom he called State +Showmen.<br> +<br> +Silent to acquaintances about the progress of his work, he was communicative +to his few intimates, though never reading aloud extracts or allowing +them to be seen. In 1872 he would speak pathetically of his “Crimean +muddle,” perplexed, as he well might be, by the intricacies of +Inkerman. Asked if he will not introduce a Te Deum on the fall +of Louis Napoleon, he answered that to write without the stimulus of +combat would be a task beyond his energy; “when I took the trouble +to compose that fourteenth chapter, the wretched Emperor and his gang +were at the height of their power in Europe and the world; but now!” +He was insatiate as to fresh facts: utilized his acquaintance with Todleben, +whom he had first met on his visit to England in 1864; sought out Prince +Ourusoff at a later time, and inserted particulars gleaned from him +in Vol. IX., Chapter V.<br> +<br> +In 1875 he told Madame Novikoff that his task was done so far as Inkerman +was concerned, and was proud to think that he had rescued from oblivion +the heroism of the Russian troops in what he calls the “Third +Period” of the great fight, ignored as it was by all Russian historians +of the war. He made fruitless inquiries after a paper said to +have been left behind him by Skobeleff, explaining that “India +is a cherry to be eaten by Russia, but in two bites”; it was contrary +to the general’s recorded utterances and probably apocryphal. +Russophobe as regarded Turkey, he sneered at England’s sentimental +support of nationalities as “Platonic”: a capital epithet +he called it, and envied the Frenchman who applied it to us, declaring +that it had turned all the women against us. He was moved by receiving +Korniloff’s portrait with a kind message from the dead hero’s +family, seeing in the features a confirmation of the ideal which he +had formed in his own mind and had tried to convey to others. +Readers of his book will recall the fine tribute to Korniloff’s +powers, and the description of his death, in Chapters VI. and XIII. +of Vol. IV. (Cabinet Edition).<br> +<br> +Many of his comments on current events are preserved in the notes or +in the memories of his friends. Sometimes these were characteristically +cynical. He ridiculed the newspaper parade of national sympathy +with the Prince of Wales’s illness: “We are represented +as all members of the royal family, and all in family hysterics.” +Dizzy’s orientalization of Queen Victoria into an Empress angered +him, as it angered many more. The last Empress Regnant, he said, +was Catherine II. and it seems to be thought that by advising the Queen +to take that great monarch’s title, we shall exercise a wholesome +influence on the morals of our women. He would quote Byron’s<br> +<br> +<br> +“Russia’s mighty Empress<br> +Behaved no better than a common sempstress;”<br> +<br> +<br> +“there was an old-fashioned sacredness, which, however foolish +intrinsically, was still useful, in our title of ‘The Queen’; +nor do we see the policy of adding a <i>Suprême de Volaille</i> +to the bread and wine of our Sacrament.”<br> +<br> +He chuckled over the indignation of the <i>haute</i> <i>volée</i>, +when on the visit to England of President Grant’s daughter in +1872, Americans in London sent out cards of invitation headed “To +meet Miss Grant,” as at a profane imitation of a practice hitherto +confined to royalties; laughing not at the legitimate American mimicry +of European consequence, but at the silly formalists in Society who +fumed over the imagined presumption. Consulted by an invalid as +to the charm of Ostend for a seaside residence, he limited it to persons +of gregarious habits; “the people are all driven down to the beach +like a flock of sheep in the morning, and in the evening they are all +driven back to their folds.” He reported a feeble drama +written by his ancient idol, Lord Stratford de Redcliffe; “it +is a painful thing to see a man of his quality and of his age unduly +detained in the world; when the Emperor Nicholas died, the Eltchi lost +his <i>raison d’être</i>.” He disparaged the +wild fit of morality undergone by the “Pall Mall Gazette” +during the scandalous “Maiden Tribute” revelation, pronouncing +its protegées to be “clever little devils.” +He was greatly startled by Gortschakoff’s famous circular, annulling +the Black Sea clause in the Treaty of Paris, and much relieved by Bismarck’s +dexterous interposition, which saved the susceptibility of Europe, and +especially of England, by yielding as a favour to the demand of Russia +what no one was in a position to refuse; but he maintained, and Lord +Stratford agreed with him, that Gortschakoff’s precipitate act +was governed by circumstances never revealed to mankind. He learned, +too, that it caused the Chancellor to be <i>déconsideré</i> +in high Russian circles; he was called “<i>un Narcisse qui se +mire dans son encrier</i>.” Kinglake used to say that in +conceding the right of the Sultan to exclude any war-flag from the Bosphorus +and the Dardanelles, Russia was treating Turkey as a bag-fox, to be +gently hunted occasionally, but not mangled or killed; and he felt keenly +the ridicule resting on the allies, who were compelled to surrender +the neutralization purchased at the cost of so much blood and treasure. +He watched with much amusement the restoration of Turkish self-confidence. +“Turkey believes that he is no longer a sick man, and is turning +all his doctors out of the house, to the immense astonishment of the +English doctor, so conscious of his own rectitude that he cannot understand +being sent off with the quacks. You know in our beautiful Liturgy +we have a prayer for the Turks; it looks as if our supplications had +become successful.” His interest in Turkey never flagged. +“I am in a great fright,” he said in 1877, “about +my dear Turks, because Russia gives virtual command of the army before +Plevna to Todleben, a really great<i> homme de guerre</i>.”<br> +<br> +Russophobia was at that time so strong in London that Madame Novikoff +hesitated to visit England, and he himself feared that she might find +it uncomfortable. Her alarm, however, was ridiculed by Hayward, +“most faithful of the Russianisers, ready to do battle for Russia +at any moment, declaring her to be quite virtuous, with no fault but +that of being <i>incomprise</i>.” But he groaned over the +humiliation of England under Russia’s bold stroke, noting frequently +a decay of English character which he ascribed to chronic causes. +The Englishman taken separately, he said, seems much the same as he +used to be; but there is a softening of the aggregate brain which affects +Englishmen when acting together. He hailed the great Liberal victory +of 1880, and watched with interest, as one behind the scenes, the negotiations +which led to Lord Hartington’s withdrawal and Mr. Gladstone’s +resumption of power; for in these his friend Hayward was an active go-between, +removing by his tact and frankness “hitches” which might +otherwise have been disastrous. He thought W. E. Forster’s +attack on Mr. Gladstone’s Irish policy in 1882 ill-managed for +his own position, his famous speech not sufficiently “clenching.” +Had he separated from his chief on broader grounds, refusing complicity +with a Minister who consented to parley with the imprisoned Irishmen, +he would, Kinglake thought, have occupied a highly commanding position. +At present his difference from his colleagues was one only of degree.<br> +<br> +He was once beguiled, amongst friends very intimate, into telling a +dream. He dreamed that he was attending an anatomical lecture +- which, as a fact, he had never done - and that his own body, from +which he found himself entirely separated, was the dissected subject +on which the lecturer discoursed. The body lay on a table beside +the lecturer, but he himself, his entity, was at the other end of the +room, on the furthest or highest of a set of benches raised one above +the other as at a theatre. He imagined himself in a vague way +to be disagreeing with the lecturer; but the strongest impression on +his mind was annoyance at being so badly placed, so far from the professor +and from his own body that he could not see or hear without an effort. +The dream, he pointed out, showed this curious fact, that without any +conscious design or effort of the will a man may conceive himself to +be in perfect possession of his identity, whilst separated from his +own body by a distance of several feet. “The highest concept,” +said Jowett, “which man forms of himself is as detached from the +body.” (“Life,” ii. 241.) The lecture-room +which he imagined was one of the lower school-rooms at Eton, with which +he had been familiar in early days.<br> +<br> +After Hayward’s death in 1884, his own habits began to change. +He still dined at the Athenaeum “corner,” but increasing +deafness began to make society irksome, and, his solitary meal ended, +he spent his evenings reading in the Library. By-and-by that too +became impossible. His voice grew weak, throat and tongue were +threatened with disease. In 1888 he went to Brighton with a nurse, +returned to rooms on Richmond Hill, then to Bayswater Terrace. +An operation was performed and he seemed to recover, but relapsed. +Old friends tended him: Madame Novikoff, Mr. Froude and Mr. Lecky, Madame +de Quaire and Mrs. Brookfield, Lord Mexborough his ancient fellow-traveller, +Mrs. Craven, Sir William and Lady Gregory, with a few more, cheered +him by their visits so long as he was able to bear them; and his brother +and sister, Dr. and Mrs. Hamilton Kinglake, were with him at the end. +Patient to the last, kind and gentle to all about him, he passed away +quietly on New Year’s Day, 1891:<br> +<br> +<br> +“being merry-hearted,<br> +Shook hands with flesh and blood, and so departed.”<br> +<br> +<br> +His remains were cremated at Woking, after a special service at Christchurch, +Lancaster Gate, attended by Dr. and Mrs. Kinglake with their son Captain +Kinglake, the Duke of Bedford, Mr. and Mrs. Lecky, Mrs. W. H. Brookfield +and her son Charles.<br> +<br> +<br> +No good portrait of him has been published. That prefixed to Blackwood’s +“Eothen” of 1896 was furnished by Dr. Kinglake, who, however, +looked upon it as unsatisfactory. The “Not an M.P.” +of “Vanity Fair,” 1872, is a grotesque caricature. +The photograph here reproduced (p. 128), by far the best likeness extant, +he gave to Madame Novikoff in 1870, receiving hers in return, but pronouncing +the transaction “an exchange between the personified months of +May and November.” The face gives expression to the shy +aloofness which, amongst strangers, was characteristic of him through +life. He had even a horror of hearing his name pealed out by servants, +and came early to parties that the proclamation might be achieved before +as few auditors as possible. Visiting the newly married husband +of his friend Adelaide Kemble, and being the first guest to arrive, +he encountered in Mr. Sartoris a host as contentedly undemonstrative +as himself. Bows passed, a seat by the fire was indicated, he +sat down, and the pair contemplated one another for ten minutes in absolute +silence, till the lady of the house came in, like the prince in “The +Sleeping Beauty,” though not by the same process, to break the +charm. He gave up calling at a house where he was warmly appreciated, +because father, mother, daughter, bombarded him with questions. +“I never came away without feeling sure that I had in some way +perjured myself.”<br> +<br> +On his shyness waited swiftly ensuing boredom; if his neighbour at table +were garrulous or <i>banale</i>, his face at once betrayed conversational +prostration; a lady who often watched him used to say that his pulse +ought to be felt after the first course; and that if it showed languor +he should be moved to the side of some other partner. “He +had great charm,” writes to me another old friend, “in a +quiet winning way, but was ‘dark’ with rough and noisy people.” +So it came to pass that his manner was threefold; icy and repellent +with those who set his nerves on edge; good-humoured, receptive, intermittently +responsive in general and congenial company; while, at ease with friends +trusted and beloved, the lines of the face became gracious, indulgent, +affectionate, the <i>sourire des yeux</i> often inexpressibly winning +and tender. “Kinglake,” says Eliot Warburton in his +unpublished diary, “talked to us to-day about his travels; pessimistic +and cynical to the rest of the world, he is always gentle and kind to +us.” To this dear friend he was ever faithful, wearing to +the day of his death an octagonal gold ring engraved “Eliot. Jan: +1852.” He would never play the <i>raconteur</i> in general +company, for he had a great horror of repeating himself, and, latterly, +of being looked upon as a bore by younger men; but he loved to pour +out reminiscences of the past to an audience of one or two at most: +“Let an old man gather his recollections and glance at them under +the right angle, and his life is full of pantomime transformation scenes.” +The chief characteristic of his wit was its unexpectedness; sometimes +acrid, sometimes humorous, his sayings came forth, like Topham Beauclerk’s +in Dr. Johnson’s day, like Talleyrand’s in our own, poignant +without effort. His calm, gentle voice, contrasted with his startling +caustic utterance, reminded people of Prosper Mérimée: +terse epigram, felicitous <i>apropos</i>, whimsical presentment of the +topic under discussion, emitted in a low tone, and without the slightest +change of muscle:<br> +<br> +<br> +“All the charm of all the Muses<br> +Often flowering in a lonely word.” <a name="citation25"></a><a href="#footnote25">{25}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +Questions he would suavely and often wittily parry or repel: to an unhistorical +lady asking if he remembered Madame Du Barry, he said, “my memory +is very imperfect as to the particulars of my life during the reign +of Lous XV. and the Regency; but I know a lady who has a teapot which +belonged, she says, to Madame Du Barry.” Madame Novikoff, +however, records his discomfiture at the query of a certain Lady E-, +who, when all London was ringing with his first Crimean volumes, asked +him if he were not an admirer of Louis Napoleon. “<i>Le +pauvre Kinglake, décontenancé, repondit tout bas intimidé +comme un enfant qu’on met dates le</i> <i>coin: Oui - non - pas +précisément</i>.”<br> +<br> +He had no knowledge of or liking for music. Present once by some +mischance at a <i>matinée musicale</i>, he was asked by the hostess +what kind of music he preferred. His preference, he owned, was +for the drum. One thinks of the “Bourgeois Gentilhomme,” +“<i>la trompette</i> <i>marine est un instrument qui me plait, +el qui est</i> <i>harmonieux</i>”; we are reminded, too, of Dean +Stanley, who, absolutely tone-deaf, and hurrying away whenever music +was performed, once from an adjoining room in his father’s house +heard Jenny Lind sing “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” +He went to her shyly, and told her that she had given him an idea of +what people mean by music. Once before, he said in all seriousness, +the same feeling had come over him, when before the palace at Vienna +he had heard a tattoo rendered by four hundred drummers.<br> +<br> +<br> +Kinglake used to regret the disuse of duelling, as having impaired the +higher tone of good breeding current in his younger days, and even blamed +the Duke of Wellington for proscribing it in the army. He had +himself on one occasion sent a cartel, and stood waiting for his adversary, +like Sir Richard Strachan at Walcheren, eight days on the French coast; +but the adversary never came. Hayward once referred to him, as +a counsellor, and if necessary a second, a quarrel with Lord R-. +Lord R-’s friend called on him, a Norfolk squire, “broad-faced +and breathing port wine,” after the fashion of uncle Phillips +in “Pride and Prejudice,” who began in a boisterous voice, +“I am one of those, Mr. Kinglake, who believe R- to be a gentleman.” +In his iciest tones and stoniest manner Kinglake answered: “That, +Sir, I am quite willing to assume.” The effect, he used +to say, as he told and acted the scene, was magical; “I had frozen +him sober, and we settled everything without a fight.” Of +all his friends Hayward was probably the closest; an association of +discrepancies in character, manner, temperament, not complementary, +but opposed and hostile; irreconcilable, one would say, but for the +knowledge that in love and friendship paradox reigns supreme. +Hayward was arrogant, overbearing, loud, insistent, full of strange +oaths and often unpardonably coarse; “our dominant friend,” +Kinglake called him; “odious” is the epithet I have heard +commonly bestowed upon him by less affectionate acquaintances. +Kinglake was reserved, shy, reticent, with the high breeding, grand +manner, quiet urbanity, <i>grata protervitas</i>, of a waning epoch; +restraint, concentration, tact of omission, dictating alike his silence +and his speech; his well-weighed words “crystallizing into epigrams +as they touched the air.” <a name="citation26"></a><a href="#footnote26">{26}</a> +When Hayward’s last illness came upon him in 1884, Kinglake nursed +him tenderly; spending the morning in his friend’s lodgings at +8, St. James’s Street, the house which Byron occupied in his early +London days; and bringing on the latest bulletin to the club. +The patient rambled towards the end; “we ought to be getting ready +to catch the train that we may go to my sister’s at Lyme.” +Kinglake quieted his sick friend by an assurance that the servants, +whom he would not wish to hurry, were packing. “On no account +hurry the servants, but still let us be off.” The last thought +which he articulated while dying was, “I don’t exactly know +what it is, but I feel it is something grand.” “Hayward +is dead,” Kinglake wrote to a common friend; “the devotion +shown to him by all sorts and conditions of men, and, what is better, +of women, was unbounded. Gladstone found time to be with him, +and to engage him in a conversation of singular interest, of which he +has made a memorandum.”<br> +<br> +Another of Kinglake’s life-long familiars was Charles Skirrow, +Taxing Master in Chancery, with his accomplished wife, from whose memorable +fish dinners at Greenwich he was seldom absent, adapting himself no +less readily to their theatrical friends - the Bancrofts, Burnand, Toole, +Irving - than to the literary set with which he was more habitually +at home. He was religiously loyal to his friends, speaking of +them with generous admiration, eagerly defending them when attacked. +He lauded Butler Johnstone as the most gifted of the young men in the +House of Commons; would not allow Bernal Osborne to be called untrue; +“he offends people if you like, but he is never false or hollow.” +A clever <i>sobriquet</i> fathered on him, burlesquing the monosyllabic +names of a well-known diarist and official, he repelled indignantly. +“He is my friend, and had I been guilty of the <i>jeu</i>, I should +have broken two of my commandments; that which forbids my joking at +a friend’s expense, and that which forbids my fashioning a play +upon words.” He entreated Madame Novikoff to visit and cheer +Charles Lever, dying at Trieste; deeply lamented Sir H. Bulwer’s +death: “I used to think his a beautiful intellect, and he was +wonderfully<i> simpatico</i> to me.” But he was shy of condoling +with bereaved mourners, believing words used on such occasions to be +utterly untrue. He loved to include husband and wife in the same +meed of admiration, as in the case of Dean Stanley and Lady Augusta, +or of Sir Robert and Lady Emily Peel. Peel, he said, has the <i>radiant</i> +quality not easy to describe; Lady Emily is always beauteous, bright, +attractive. Lord Stanhope he praised as a historian, paying him +the equivocal compliment that his books were much better than his conversation. +So, too, he qualified his admiration of Lady Ashburton, dwelling on +her beauty, silver voice, ready enthusiasm apt to disperse itself by +flying at too many objects.<br> +<br> +He was wont to speak admiringly of Lord Acton, relating how, a Roman +Catholic, yet respecting enlightenment and devoted to books, he once +set up and edited a “Quarterly Review,” with a notion of +reconciling the Light and the Dark as well as he could; but the “Prince +of Darkness, the Pope,” interposed, and ordered him to stop the +“Review.” He was compelled to obey; not, he told people, +on any religious ground, but because relations and others would have +made his life a bore to him if he had been contumacious against the +Holy Father.<br> +<br> +Kinglake was strongly attracted by W. E. Forster, a “rough diamond,” +spoken of at one time as a possible Prime Minister. Beginning +life, he said, as a Quaker, with narrow opinions, his vigour of character +and brain-power shook them off. Powerful, robust, and perfectly +honest, yet his honesty inflicted on him a doubleness of view which +caused him to be described as engaging his two hands in two different +pursuits. His estimate of Sir R. Morier would have gladdened Jowett’s +heart; he loved him as a private friend; eulogized his public qualities; +rejoiced over his appointment as Ambassador at St. Petersburg, seeing +in him a diplomatist with not only a keen intellect and large views, +but vibrating with the warmth, animation, friendliness, that are charmingly +<i>un</i>-diplomatic. Of Carlyle, his life-long, though not always +congenial intimate, he used to speak as having great graphic power, +but being essentially a humourist; a man who, with those he could trust, +never pretended to be in earnest, but used to roar with glorious laughter +over the fun of his own jeremiads; “so far from being a prophet +he is a bad Scotch joker, and knows himself to be a wind-bag.” +He blamed Froude’s revelations of Carlyle in “The Reminiscences,” +as injurious and offensive. Froude himself he often likened to +Carlyle; the thoughts of both, he said, ran in the same direction, but +of the two, Froude was by far the more intellectual man.<br> +<br> +Staunch friend to the few, polite, though never effusive, to the many, +he also nourished strong antipathies. The appearance in Madame +Novikoff’s rooms of a certain Scotch bishop invariably drove him +out of them, “Peter Paul, Bishop of Claridge’s,” he +called him. To Von Beust (the Austrian Chancellor), who spoke +English in a rapid half-intelligible falsetto, he gave the name of <i>Mirliton</i> +(penny trumpet). His allusions to Mirliton and to the Bishop frequently +mystified Madame Novikoff’s guests. For he loved to talk +in cypher. Canon Warburton, kindly searching on my behalf his +brother Eliot’s journals, tells me that he and Kinglake, meeting +almost daily, lived in a cryptic world of jokes, confidences, colloquialisms, +inexplicable to all but their two selves.<br> +<br> +He cordially disliked “The Times” newspaper, alleging instances +of the unfairness with which its columns had been used to spite and +injure persons who had offended it, chuckling over Hayward’s compact +anathema, - “‘The Times,’ which as usual of late supplied +its lack of argument and proof by assumption, misrepresentation, and +personality.” He thought that its attacks upon himself had +helped his popularity. “One of the main causes,” he +said in 1875, “of the interest which people here were good enough +to take in my book was the fight between ‘The Times’ and +me. In 1863 it raged, in 1867 it was renewed with great violence, +and now I suppose the flame kindles once more, though probably with +diminished strength. In 1863 the storm of opinion generally waxed +fierce against me, but now, as I hear, ‘The Times’ is alone, +journals of all politics being loud in my praise. But I never +look at any comment on my volumes till long afterwards, and I never +in my life wrote to a newspaper.” Once, when Chenery, the +editor, came to join the table at the Athenaeum where he and Mr. Cartwright +were dining, Kinglake rose, and removed to another part of the room. +“The Times” had inserted a statement that Madame Novikoff +was ordered to leave England, and he thus publicly resented it. +“So unlike me,” he said, relating the story, “but +somehow a savagery as of youth came over me in my ancient days; it was +like being twenty years old again.” It came out, however, +that “our indiscreet friend Froude” had written something +which justified the paragraph, and Kinglake sent his <i>amende</i> to +Chenery, with whom ordinarily he was on most friendly terms.<br> +<br> +He disliked Irishmen “in the lump,” saying that human nature +is the same everywhere except in Ireland. Parnell he personally +admired, though hating Home Rule; and stigmatized as gross hypocrisy +the desertion of him by Liberals after the divorce trial. He was +wont to speak irreverently of Lord Beaconsfield, whom he had known well +at Lady Blessington’s in early days. He would have found +himself in accord with Huxley, who used to thank God, his friend Mr. +Fiske tells us, that he had never bowed the knee either to Louis Napoleon +or Benjamin Disraeli. He poured scorn on the Treaty of Berlin. +Russia, he said, defeating the Turks in war, has defeated Beaconsfield +in diplomacy. If Englishmen understood such things they would +see that the Congress was a comedy; anyone who will satisfy himself +as to what Russia was really anxious to obtain, and then look at the +Salisbury-Schouvaloff treaty, will see that, thanks to Beaconsfield’s +imbecility, Schouvaloff obtained one of the most signal diplomatic triumphs +that was ever won. <a name="citation27"></a><a href="#footnote27">{27}</a> +A sound <i>entente</i> between Russia and England he thought both possible +and desirable; but conceived it to be rendered difficult by the want +of steadiness and capacity which, for international purposes, were the +real faults of Lord Beaconsfield and Lord Salisbury. He repeated +with much amusement the current anecdote of Lord Beaconsfield’s +conquest of Mrs. Gladstone. Meeting her in society, he was said +to have inquired with tenderness after Mr. Gladstone’s health, +and then after receiving the loving wife’s report of her William, +to have rejoined in his most dulcet tones, “Ah! take care of him, +for he is very <i>very</i> precious.” He always attributed +Dizzy’s popularity to the feeling of Englishmen that he had “shown +them sport,” an instinct, he thought, supreme in all departments +of the English mind.<br> +<br> +Towards his old schoolfellow Gladstone he never felt quite cordially, +believing, rightly or wrongly, that the great statesman nourished enmity +towards himself. He called him, as has been said, “a good +man in the worst sense of the term, conscientious with a diseased conscience.” +He watched with much amusement, as illustrating the moral twist in Gladstone’s +temperament, the “Colliery explosion,” as it was called, +when Sir R. Collier, the Attorney-General, was appointed to a Puisne +Judgeship, which he held only for a day or two, in order to qualify +him for a seat on a new Court of Appeal; together with a very similar +trick, by which Ewelme Rectory, tenable only by an Oxonian, was given +to a Cambridge man. The responsibility was divided between Gladstone +and Lord Hatherley the Chancellor, with the mutual idea apparently that +each of the two became thereby individually innocent. But Sir +F. Pollock, in his amusing “Reminiscences,” recalls the +amicable halving of a wicked word between the Abbess of Andouillet and +the Novice Margarita in “Tristram Shandy.” It answered +in neither case. “‘They do not understand us,’ +cried Margarita. ‘<i>But</i> <i>the Devil does</i>,’ +said the Abbess of Andouillet.” “The Collier scandal +narrowly escaped by two votes in the Lords, twenty-seven in the Commons, +a Parliamentary vote of censure, and gave unquestionably a downward +push to the Gladstone Administration. Mr. Gladstone, on the other +hand, cordially admired Kinglake’s speeches, saying that few of +those he had heard in Parliament could bear so well as his the test +of publication.<br> +<br> +To the great Prime Minister’s absolute fearlessness he did full +justice, as one of the finest features in his character; and loved to +quote an epigram by Lord Houghton, to whom Gladstone had complained +in a moment of weariness that he led the life of a dog. “Yes,” +said Houghton, “but of a St. Bernard dog, ever busied in saving +life.” He loved to contrast the twofold biographical paradox +in the careers of the two famous rivals, Gladstone and Disraeli; the +dreaming Tory mystic, incarnation of Oxford exclusiveness and Puseyite +reserve, passing into the Radical iconoclast; the Jew clerk in a city +lawyer’s office, “bad specimen of an inferior dandy,” +coming to rule the proudest aristocracy and lead the most fastidious +assembly in the world.<br> +<br> +He was not above broad farce when the fancy seized him. At the +time when a certain kind of nonsense verse was popular, he, with Sir +Noel Paton and others, added not a few facetious sonnets to Edward Lear’s +book, which lay on Madame Novikoff’s table. His authorship +is betrayed by the introduction of familiar Somersetshire names, Taunton, +Wellington, Curry Rivel, Creech, Trull, Wilton:<br> +<br> +<br> +“There was a young lady of Wilton,<br> +Who read all the poems of Milton:<br> +And, when she had done,<br> +She said, ‘What bad fun!’<br> +This prosaic young lady of Wilton.”<br> +<br> +<br> +There were many more, but this will perhaps suffice; <i>ex ungue leonem</i>. +They were addressed to the “Fair Lady of Claridge’s,” +Madame Novikoff’s hotel when in London, and were signed “Peter +Paul, Bishop of Claridge’s.”<br> +<br> +<br> +“There is a fair lady at Claridge’s,<br> +Whose smile is more charming to me,<br> +Than the rapture of ninety-nine marriages<br> +Could possibly, possibly, be; - ”<br> +<br> +<br> +is the final dedicatory stanza. It is the gracious fooling of +a philosopher who understood his company. “There are folks,” +says Mr. Counsellor Pleydell, “before whom a man should take care +how he plays the fool, because they have either too much malice or too +little wit.” Kinglake knew his associates, and was not ashamed +<i>desipere in loco</i>, to frolic in their presence.<br> +<br> +<br> +One point there was on which he never touched himself or suffered others +to interrogate him, his conception of and attitude towards the Unseen. +He wore his religion as Sir William Gull wore the fur of his coat, <i>inside</i>. +Outwardly he died as he had lived, a Stoic; that on the most personal +and sacred of all topics he should consult the Silences was in keeping +with his idiosyncrasy. Another famous man, questioned as to his +religious creed, made answer that he believed what all wise men believe. +And what do all wise men believe? “That all wise men keep +to themselves?”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Footnotes:<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> When “Heartsease” +first appeared, Percy Fotheringham was believed to be a portrait; but +the accomplished authoress in a letter written not long before her death +told me that the character was wholly imaginary.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a> Pedigrees +are perplexing unless tabulated; so here is Kinglake’s genealogical +tree.<br> +<br> +<pre>KINGLAKES OF SALTMOOR. WOODFORDES OF + CASTLE CARY. + | | + +-------------------+ | + | WILLIAM=MARY WOODFORDE. +ROBERT | + | +--------------------+ ++--------------+ | | +| | | | +SERJEANT REV. W.C. A.W. KING- DR. HAMILTON +JOHN KING- KINGLAKE LAKE KINGLAKE. +LAKE. (“Eothen.”) + +</pre><p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3">{3}</a> “Eothen,” +p. 33. Reading “Timbuctoo” to-day one is amazed it +should have gained the prize. Two short passages adumbrate the +coming Tennyson, the rest is mystic nonsense. “What do you +think of Tennyson’s prize poem?” writes Charles Wordsworth +to his brother Christopher. “Had it been sent up at Oxford, +the author would have had a better chance of spending a few months at +a lunatic asylum than of obtaining the Prize.” A current +Cambridge story at the time explained the selection. There were +three examiners, the Vice-Chancellor, a man of arbitrary temper, with +whom his juniors hesitated to disagree; a classical professor unversed +in English Literature; a mathematical professor indifferent to all literature. +The letter <i>g</i> was to signify approval, the letter <i>b</i> to +brand it with rejection. Tennyson’s manuscript came from +the Vice-Chancellor scored all over with <i>g</i>’s. The +classical professor failed to see its merit, but bowed to the Vice-Chancellor, +and added his <i>g</i>. The mathematical professor could not admire, +but since both his colleagues ordained it, good it must be, and his +<i>g</i> made the award unanimous. The three met soon after, and +the Vice-Chancellor, in his blatant way, attacked the other two for +admiring a trashy poem. “Why,” they remonstrated, +“you covered it with <i>g</i>’s yourself.” “<i>G</i>’s,” +said he, “they were <i>q</i>’s for queries; I could not +understand a line of it.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4">{4}</a> “Enoch +Arden,” p. 34.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5">{5}</a> “Eothen,” +p. 169. Reprint by Bell and Sons, 1898.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6">{6}</a> “Eothen,” +p. 17.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7">{7}</a> His deferential +regard for army rank was like that of Johnson for bishops. Great +was his indignation when the “grotesque Salvation Army,” +as he called it, adopted military nomenclature. “I would +let those ragamuffins call themselves saints, angels, prophets, cherubim, +Olympian gods and goddesses if they like; but their pretension in taking +the rank of officers in the army is to me beyond measure repulsive.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8">{8}</a> “Eothen,” +p. 190 in first edition. It was struck out in the fourth edition.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9">{9}</a> “Eothen,” +p. 18. Reprint by Bell and Sons, 1898.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10">{10}</a> He is +very fond of this word; it occurs eleven times.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11">{11}</a> “Quarterly +Review,” December, 1844.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12">{12}</a> “Eothen,” +p. 46.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13">{13}</a> Poitier’s +“Vaudeville.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14">{14}</a> One characteristic +anecdote he omits. Two French officers were attached to our headquarters; +and the staff were partly embarrassed and partly amused by Lord Raglan’s +inveterate habit, due to old Peninsular associations, of calling the +enemy “the French” in the presence of our foreign guests.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15">{15}</a> Some of +us can recall the lines in which Sir G. Trevelyan commemorated “The +Owl’s” nocturnal flights:<br> +<br> +<br> +“When at sunset, chill and dark,<br> +Sunset thins the swarming park,<br> +Bearing home his social gleaning -<br> +Jests and riddles fraught with meaning,<br> +Scandals, anecdotes, reports, -<br> +Seeks The Owl a maze of courts<br> +Which, with aspect towards the west,<br> +Fringe the street of Sainted James,<br> +Where a warm, secluded nest<br> +As his sole domain he claims;<br> +From his wing a feather draws,<br> +Shapes for use a dainty nib,<br> +Pens his parody or squib;<br> +Combs his down and trims his claws,<br> +And repairs where windows bright<br> +Flood the sleepless Square with light.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16">{16}</a> Greville, vii. +223, quotes from a letter written after Inkerman to the Prince Consort +by Colonel Steele, saying “that he had no idea how great a mind +Raglan really had, but that he now saw it, for in the midst of distresses +and difficulties of every kind in which the army was involved, he was +perfectly serene and undisturbed.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17">{17}</a> “Go +quietly” might have been his motto: even on horseback he seemed +never to be in a hurry. Airey used to come in from their rides +round the outposts shuddering with cold, and complaining that the Chief +would never move his horse out of a walk. “I daresay,” +said Carlyle, “Lord Raglan will rise quite quietly at the last +trump, and remain entirely composed during the whole day, and show the +most perfect civility to both parties.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote18"></a><a href="#citation18">{18}</a> The first +death! out of how many he nowhere reckons: he shrinks from estimates +of carnage, and we thank him for it. But an accomplished naturalist +tells me that the vulture, a bird unknown in the Crimea before hostilities +began, swarmed there after the Alma fight, and remained till the war +was over, disappearing meanwhile from the whole North African littoral.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote19"></a><a href="#citation19">{19}</a> “D-n +your eyes!” he said once, in a moment of irritation, to his <i>attaché</i>, +Mr. Hay. “D-n your Excellency’s eyes!” was the +answer, delivered with deep respect but with sufficient emphasis. +Dismissed on the spot, the candid <i>attaché</i> went in great +anger to pack up, but was followed after a time by Lady Canning, habitual +peacemaker in the household, who besought him if not to apologize at +least to bid his Chief good-bye. After much persuasion he consented. +“Hardly had he entered the room when Sir Stratford had him by +the hand. ‘My dear Hay, this will never do; what a devil +of a temper you have!’ The two were firmer friends than +ever after this” (LANE POOLE’S <i>Life of Lord Stratford</i>, +chapter xiii.).<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20">{20}</a> The story +of an old quarrel between Sir Stratford Canning and the then Grand Duke +Nicholas at St. Petersburg in 1825 is disproved by Canning’s own +statement. The two met once only in their lives, at a purely formal +reception at Paris in 1814.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21">{21}</a> <i>La +Femme</i> was a “Miss” or “Mrs.” Howard. +She followed Louis Napoleon to France in 1848, and lived openly with +him as his mistress. In the once famous “Letters of an Englishman” +we are told how shortly after the December massacre the <i>élite</i> +of English visitors in Paris were not ashamed to dine at her house in +the President’s company: and in 1860, Mrs. Simpson, in France +with her father, Nassau Senior, found her, decorated with the title +of Madame de Beauregard, inhabiting La Celle, near Versailles, once +the abode of Madame de Pompadour, “with the national flag flying +over it, to the great scandal of the neighbourhood.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22">{22}</a> Bachaumont’s +criticism of Latour. Lady Dilke’s “French Painters,” +p. 165.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23">{23}</a> Here is +one of the stanzas:<br> +<br> +“L’Autriche - dit-on - et la Russie<br> +Se brouillent pour la Turquie.<br> +Dès aujourd’hui il n’en est plus question.<br> +En invitant une femme charmante,<br> +Le Turc - et je l’en complimente -<br> +Est devenu pour nous un trait d’union.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24">{24}</a> “Blackwood’s +Magazine,” December, 1895, p. 802.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote25"></a><a href="#citation25">{25}</a> I inserted +this quotation before reading the “Etchingham Letters.” +Sir Richard would wish me to erase it as hackneyed; but it applies to +Kinglake’s talk as accurately as to Virgil’s writing, and +I refuse to be defrauded of it.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote26"></a><a href="#citation26">{26}</a> This delightful +phrase is Lady Gregory’s. One would wish, like Lord Houghton, +though suppressing his presumptuous rider, to have been its author.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27">{27}</a> Of course +Kinglake was not alone in this opinion. It was voiced in a delightful +<i>jeu</i> <i>d’esprit</i>, now forgotten, which it is worth while +to reproduce:<br> +<br> +<br> +“THE BERLIN CONGRESS.<br> +<br> +“The following Latin poem, from the pen of the well-known German +poet, Gustave Schwetschke, was distributed by Prince Bismarck’s +special request amongst the Plenipotentiaries immediately after the +last sitting on Saturday:<br> +<br> +<br> +“‘GAUDEAMUS CONGRESSIBILE.<br> +“‘Gaudeamus igitur<br> +Socii congressus,<br> +Post dolores bellicosos,<br> +Post labores gloriosos,<br> +Nobis fit decessus.<br> +<br> +“‘Ubi sunt, qui ante nos<br> +Quondam consedere,<br> +Viennenses, Parisienses<br> +Tot per annos, tot per menses?<br> +Frustra decidere.<br> +<br> +“‘Mundus heu! vult decipi,<br> +Sed non decipiatur,<br> +Non plus ultra inter gentes<br> +Litigantes et frementes<br> +Manus conferatur.<br> +<br> +‘Vivat Pax! et comitent<br> +Dii nunc congressum,<br> +Ceu Deus ex machinâ<br> +Ipsa venit Cypria<br> +Roborans successum.<br> +<br> +“‘Pereat discordia!<br> +Vincat semper litem<br> +Proxenetae probitas, <a name="citation27a"></a><a href="#footnote27a">{27a}</a><br> +Fides, spes, et charitas,<br> +Gaudeamus item!<br> +<br> +“G. S.”<br> +<br> +<br> +“THE OTHER VERSION.<br> +(From the “Pall Mall Gazette.”)<br> +<br> +<br> +“A correspondent informs us that the version given in ‘The +Standard’ of yesterday of the congratulatory ode (‘Gaudeamus +igitur,’ etc.) addressed to the Congress by ‘the well-known +German poet Gustave Schwetschke,’ and ‘distributed by Prince +Bismarck’s request among the Plenipotentiaries,’ is incorrect. +The true version, we are assured, is as follows:<br> +<br> +“‘Rideamus igitur,<br> +Socii Congressus;<br> +Post dolores bellicosos,<br> +Post labores bumptiosos,<br> +Fit mirandus messus.<br> +<br> +“Ubi sunt qui apud nos<br> +Causas litigâre,<br> +Moldo-Wallachae frementes,<br> +Graeculi esurientes?<br> +Heu! absquatulâre.<br> +<br> +“‘Ubi sunt provinciae<br> +Quas est laus pacâsse?<br> +Totae, totae, sunt partitae:<br> +Has tulerunt Muscovitae,<br> +Illas Count Andrassy.<br> +<br> +“‘Et quid est quod Angliae<br> +Dedit hic Congressus?<br> +Jus pro aliis pugnandi,<br> +Mortuum vivificandi -<br> +Splendidi successus!<br> +<br> +“‘Vult Joannes decipi<br> +Et bamboosulatur.<br> +Io Beacche! Quae majestas!<br> +Ostreae reportans testas<br> +Domum gloriatur!’”<br> +<br> +<br> +“This version, which from internal evidence will be seen to be +the true one, may be roughly Englished thus:<br> +<br> +<br> +“Let us have our hearty laugh,<br> +Greatest of Congresses!<br> +After days and weeks pugnacious,<br> +After labours ostentatious,<br> +See how big the mess is!<br> +<br> +“‘Where are those who at our bar<br> +Their demands have stated:<br> +Robbed Roumanians rampaging,<br> +Greeklings with earth-hunger raging?<br> +Where? Absquatulated!<br> +<br> +“‘Where the lands we’ve pacified,<br> +With their rebel masses?<br> +All are gone; yes, all up-gobbled:<br> +These the Muscovite has nobbled,<br> +Those are Count Andrassy’s.<br> +<br> +“‘And what does England carry off<br> +To add to her possessions?<br> +The right to wage another’s strife,<br> +The right to raise the dead to life -<br> +Glorious concessions!<br> +<br> +“‘Well, let John Bull bamboozled be<br> +If he’s so fond of sells!<br> +Io Beacche! Hark the cheering!<br> +See him home in triumph bearing<br> +<i>Both</i> <a name="citation27b"></a><a href="#footnote27b">{27b}</a> +the oyster shells!’”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote27a"></a><a href="#citation27a">{27a}</a> “Der +ehrlich Miikler.”<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote27b"></a><a href="#citation27b">{27b}</a> Peace and +Honour.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY OF KINGLAKE ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named awkbi10h.htm or awkbi10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, awkbi11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, awkbi10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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