ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN (1841 - 1901)
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ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN (1841 - 1901) |
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ROBERT BUCHANAN AND THE MAGAZINES POEMS
London Poems: I. Temple Bar
Illustrated Times (8 December, 1860 - p.360) |
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The Country Curate’s Story
Illustrated Times (22 December, 1860 - p.389) “Snowbound” is the title of the Christmas number of the Welcome Guest, and the manner in which the tales herein are introduced cannot at least be charged with any novelty. A party of travellers waiting for an up-mail train on Christmas Eve find that the snow has fallen in and block up the line. Bored out of their lives, they endeavour to wile away the night by telling each other tales applicable to the season. There is, as will be seen, but little novelty in this idea; but there is a small personal interest interwoven with the threads, and plenty of what may be called “seasonable garnish,” in the shape of snow, frost, firelight, punch, and love-making. But the stories told are really very good indeed: in most of them there is, perhaps, too much of the horrible, but three parts of the world feel au enjoyment in being made to shudder, and here they will find it. The stories of Messrs. Hollingshead, D. Richmond, and the author of “Grandmother’s Money,” are highly melodramatic, but they are pleasantly relieved by a very genial, natural boy’s story, signed “M. E. Braddon” (why don’t people sign Christian names in full? what may be “M. E.’s” sex?); and a capital rattle by Captain Wraxall. A poem, “The Country Curate’s Story,” by Mr. R. Williams Buchanan, is decidedly above the average of such productions. The “Snowbound” is illustrated with several excellent engravings, is in every respect far superior to its last year’s forerunner, and is altogether an amusing and a creditable drawing-room miscellany. _____
London Poems: II. The Dead
Illustrated Times (5 January, 1861 - p.11) The second number of Temple Bar is a very great improvement on the first; there is more variety in the selection of the articles and a lighter tone throughout. Graver readers are, however, not uncared for; there is a scientific article on “Light,” clearly and intelligibly written, and educing much novel thought; and an admirable description of a coal-mine and colliery explosions, called “What our Coals Cost Us,” and understood to be written by Professor Ansted. Articles of a Household-Words descriptive character are “The Houseless Poor” and “A Visit to the Iron-clad Ship.” Mr. Sala contributes three papers to the number—a complete and concise summary of the events of the year, written with great force, and in its concluding portion with much beauty of expression, called “Annus Mirabilis;” a continuation of the pleasant “Travels in Middlesex;” and the first instalment of his new novel, “The Seven Sons of Mammon,” which promises admirably. Nothing can be better than the description of the millionaire and his surroundings, while so far, at least, the story possesses the grand merit of being kept close to its point, and being free from that diffuse wandering in which its author occasionally indulges. Lovers of old literature will delight in a charming essay on “Robert Herrick,” written in the true spirit of appreciation There are three poems in the number—one by Mr. Stigant; a second of the “London Poems,” full of fine thought and eloquent expression; and a musical song, by Mr. Mortimer Collins. _____
London Poems: V. Belgravia
The Evening Herald (2 May, 1861 - p.7) Temple Bar flourishes after its manner. “The Seven Sons of Mammon” is the opening story, and is this month, so far as we can see, something more original than last. We detect no “wine” in the present number borrowed without leave or acknowledgement, to use the words of a succeeding paper, “from another man’s vintage,” and this is at least an improvement. “A Jovial Bishop” is a readable and clever paper, “Broad Awake” is sketchy, as Mr. Edmund Yates’ productions not unusually are. “The Real and the Conventional Nigger” should be read at the present time as a counterpoise to the extravagant sympathy in which we are likely to indulge respecting “the men and brethren” of the new American confederation. “For Better, for Worse” is as good as before. “London Poems: Belgravia” is musical and readable; “Clouds” contains some good thoughts; a sketch of “Elizabeth Berkeleigh, Margravine of Anspach,” is respectable; “John’s Wife” is an agreeable story; “On Quacks” is well written, if not very original; “In the Temple Gardens” is well told; and “Three Times” embodies a good idea in three sweet verses. The little poem, in fact, is a perfect gem. _____
London Poems: VI. A City Preacher
The Evening Herald (4 July, 1861 - p.7) Temple Bar is up to its average. The inevitable “Seven Sons of Mammon” commences the number; “The Burg- keeper’s Secret” is a good story; “Chalk” contains a good deal of readable and enjoyable information about those white cliffs of Albion for the neighbourhood of which every one in London is sighing; “Aged Forty” is not worth criticism; “Holy Mr. Herbert” is one of those excellent papers upon minor celebrities of the past which Temple Bar would do well to make a specialty; “Spell-bound” is a short but tolerably good story; “Of the Mountebank Family” records the popular history of the gladiators and fun-makers of old in a sufficiently pleasant fashion; “London Poems” contains “A City Preacher,” very well written; “For Better for Worse” drags its slow length along; “Told at Frascati” reads well; “In Loco Parentis” deserves like commendation; and the concluding piece is some poetry of good quality, suggested by Mr. Holman Hunt’s wonderful picture “Christ in the Temple.” We must not forget to mention as part of the number a complacent, self-satisfied preface, by Mr. Sala, to the volume just concluded. _____
Baby Grace [Note: I have omitted the long extracts from the poem in two of the following reviews.]
The Belfast News-Letter (7 June, 1862) ST. JAMES’S MAGAZINE. London: W. Kent & Co., Paternoster Row. THE June number of this magazine ably sustains its reputation as one of the leading monthlies. Mrs. Hall has retired from the editorship, but the spirit and life of the periodical are well maintained in other hands. At a time when Iron v. Wood has been and is occupying so much of the public attention, the opening paper in the present month’s issue, on “Shot and Shields,” will be read with interest by all who desire to see the status of the nation supported at home and abroad. The writer says—“The introduction into the service of rifled ordnance has induced the majority of the public to believe that some entirely new facts have been lately discovered in connexion with ‘projectiles.’ Such a conclusion, however, is erroneous; for the same principles which influenced the stone flung from the sling of David, or the arrows discharged by our archers at Agincourt, also affect the flight of round shot, shells, and elongated cannon shot.” Albany Fonblanque’s romance of “A Tangled Skein” has reached chapter 17, and increases in its fascinating influence over the mind of the reader as it proceeds. “Death at the Altar” is one of those excellent, brief tales which are being more generally introduced into the light reading of the magazines of the present. There is also, continued, “The Disinherited,” a tale of Mexican life. Amongst the papers on scientific subjects, conveying a vast amount of information, is one by Mr. J. Scoffern, M.B., on “Ceramic Ware,” in which the manufacture of pottery-ware and porcelain is ably treated. There is also an admirable paper by Mr. T. A. Masey, entitled, “Under the Sea and Through the Earth,” in which the telegraph, as a shortener of time and space, is noticed, and the extraordinary speed attained on several occasions in sending intelligence “under the sea and through the earth” set forth in a very happy, readable style. But there yet remains, amongst others, one production of genius in the number before us which is value, in itself, for quadruple the price of the entire. We refer to Mr. R. Williams Buchanan’s beautiful poem—“Baby Grace.” The reader who loves poetry bearing the true impress of one of Nature’s own poets will be enraptured with this piece. An extract or two—and it is difficult to make such where all is so superior—will best show the nature of the poem, and its surpassing excellence:— [Extract: 85 lines.] Many, no doubt, will become purchasers of the “St. James’s” that they may possess this excellent piece of genuine poetry. ___
The Derby Mercury (11 June, 1862) St. James’s Magazine opens with a paper on “Shot and Shields,” containing a good many facts pretty well known before, and such harmless stuff as this:—“The larger the surface of the shot which has to force its way through the air, the greater will be the resistance.” The staff of St. James’s does not seem equal to this class of subjects, and the Magazine is far stronger in fiction than in anything else. Mr. R. W. Buchanan has not equalled the winning playfulness of Mr. Bennett’s “Baby May” in “Baby Grace,” but there is a sort of mournful lovingness in the latter which compensates in some measure for the lack of Mr. Bennett’s brightness. “Under the Sea and Through the Earth” is a useful summary of the present position of the art of telegraphing. ___
The Standard (13 June, 1862) The St. James’s is a more than tolerable number. “Shot and Shields,” the first article, is a readable popular exposition of the controversy between the advocates of iron projectiles and iron sides. “A Tangled Skein,” by Mr. Albany Fonblanque, is of a surety tangled enough, but the unwinding of it is amusing. “Baby Grace,” by Mr. R. Williams Buchanan, is one of the sweetest and most pathetic poems we have ever had the fortune to read. No one who is or has ever been a parent can read it without being deeply affected; no one at all can read it without pleasure. If Mr. Buchanan had never written anything else “Baby Grace” would stamp him as a poet of no common order. A review of the lately published “Memoir of Professor Forbes;” a paper on “Modern French Society;” and “Death at the Altar,” a queer tale, succeed; and the other papers worth notice are “Ceramic Ware” and “Under the Sea and through the Earth,” an account of submarine telegraphy. ___
The Hampshire Advertiser (14 June, 1862 - p.7) ST. JAMES’S MAGAZINE FOR JUNE. We continue to miss, with feelings of regret, the contributions of Mrs. Hall. The present manager, however, is rallying about him a few writers whose efforts are calculated to help the work over severe difficulties, although, as yet, there is abundance of room to mend the position. There is a good article on “Shot and Shields,” a subject profusely handled of late. The writer thinks that such a vessel as the Warrior could disperse a whole fleet of Monitors and Merrimacs, which, though formidable in the smooth waters near the coasts, and against wooden ships, would be but feeble antagonists on the Atlantic, and when opposed to such an enemy as the Warrior. There is a pretty poem—imperfect in some respects, yet charming withal—from the pen of R. Williams Buchanan. It will, we are sure, be read with impassioned interest by all mothers, very many fathers, and by the thousands of loving maidens who regard babyhood with those proper feelings with which Nature has inspired them. It is a graceful history of BABY GRACE. [Extract: verse 1-5, 9-10, 12-13.] _____
John Keats in Cloudland
The Caledonian Mercury (4 July, 1863) ST JAMES’S MAGAZINE abounds with a number of literary trifles more or less readable. Every thing in general, and nothing in particular—from the “Roman Police” to “Scenes at Epsom” and “Antiquarian Researches in Morayshire”—seem to be alluded to incidentally if not specially. There is a very excellent poetic contribution by R. Williams Buchanan, entitled “John Keats in Cloudland.” “Royal Favourites” is a continuation of former chapters on Court history, and is, perhaps, the most substantial and informing article of the number. _____
Willie Baird
Illustrated Times (4 March, 1865 - p.138) The Cornhill contains another of the Garibaldi papers (“Iserna: L’Addio”), which we have all found so pleasant before now, and which we can so easily trace home to the authors, for the pens of husband and wife are both visible in them. “The General, by way of recompense, gave me a piece of roast lamb.” What a picture! Garibaldi handing a gentleman a dab of cold meat like the keeper of a slap-bang shop! The article is very good indeed, and let us hope we shall see these papers collected into a volume, with additions—if any are necessary. The Cornhill has one very unusual feature—a poem, in blank verse, eleven pages long! “Willie Baird, a Winter Idyll,” is, I guess, by Robert Buchanan. It is a Scottish pastoral, broadly distinguished from any “idylls” I have lately been accustomed to see by the novelty of its music and the severe simplicity of its whole manner. Those who go to it for Tennysonian echoes will be disappointed; for it is original—neither “ornate,” nor “grotesque,” but “pure in style—a very touching story, truthfully told, of a beloved little boy who was lost in the snow:— A tiny, trembling tot, with yellow hair; Mr. Du Maurier’s illustrations to “Wives and Daughters” are superlatively good. _____
Langley Lane
Illustrated Times (5 August, 1865 - p.71) In Good Words we have again some excellent Holy-Land illustrations—one that is as large as four pages of the magazine. Robert Buchanan is welcome in “Langley Lane,” and Ricardo Smith is really good in “Alfred Hagart’s Household.” By-the-by, our welcome of “Langley Lane”—a very sweet poem—must not be taken as committing us to the psychology or to the truthfulness of the sentiment. Grant the poet these, however, and his work is beautiful. _____
Hermioné
The Hampshire Advertiser (2 December, 1865 - p.7) THE ARGOSY, A MAGAZINE FOR THE FIRESIDE Most of the magazines have seen the world in the first instance in the month of January/ This sixpenny youngster has had a kind of premature birth, and is born on the first of December. It is healthy, however, and likely to live, provided it is carefully nursed and cared for. The illustrations of Number One are excellent, quite equal to its higher-priced rivals. The hunting scene is spirited and in all respects thoroughly artistic. That of Hermioné is a perfect picture of Beauty and Affection. Some architectural vignettes charmingly illustrate an article entitled “The Infiorata of Genzano.” It is too soon to judge of Charles Reade’s story, “Griffith Gaunt,” from the first four chapters, yet there is an air of promise about it, and the reader will probably be wound up to the desired point of interest as the incidents are developed. The author is not the man to let matters lag by the way. We have here some of the broad peculiarities of his quaint style. Miss Jean Ingelow’s poem of “Sand-Martins” is pleasingly descriptive, and yet devoid of any deep poetic fervour. Miss Isa Craig has some versification, entitled “On Board the Argosy.” The reader may judge of the whole by this sample of the opening lines— Our thoughts are ships that go, We are presented with a vivid description of “The Round of Life in Bokhara,” by an Hungarian traveller—Arminius Vambery—who, it is expected, will deliver a lecture at the Hartley Institution in the early part of next year. A paper called “An Apology for the Nerves” is not so seriously treated altogether as the subject deserves. We have much pleasure in transferring the following poem to our columns:— HERMIONE. [Extract: complete poem.] We are led to suppose that the above neatly-expressed thoughts in “rollicking rhyme” are from the able pen of Mr. Robert Buchanan. There are various other papers in this new-comer which demand our hearty welcome, and as first Numbers are not always the best, we may expect matters to mend when the whole of the crew, including the skipper himself, are all on board the Argosy. We wish them a pleasant and a prosperous voyage. _____
Artist and Model
The Patriot (11 January, 1866 - p.26) The Argosy presents us with another instalment of Charles Reade’s promising story, “Griffith Gaunt,” and of George Macdonald’s poetic account of “A Journey Rejourneyed.” Mrs. Oliphant contributes a short but interesting story entitled a “Hidden Treasure,” Citoyenne B. a graphic sketch of the “Bourgeois of Paris,” Henry Kingsley a picture of New Year’s-day at Windsor, 1327; and Robert Buchanan a London poem entitled “Artist and Model,” full of beauty and pathos. It is no easy task to find a place for a new magazine, but the conductors of the Argosy are evidently determined at all events to deserve success, and we can only trust that their hopes will be fully realised. _____
Hugo the Bastard
The Guardian (3 October, 1866) Temple Bar is rather a good number. Not indeed so far as regards Mrs. Wood, who is tantalising, nor as concerns Mr. Charles Clarke’s “Tale of the War,” which if untrue would be simply bad. It is a story of Prussian oppressions at Frankfort, and ends with a duel where both the combatants are killed, the suicide of a girl who loved one of them, and the moral ruin and suicide of her brother. As a piece of fiction this sort of thing has been done—to use an Americanism—time and again, and if it was not drawn from the late war, it would have been thrown aside for want of all novelty. The justice of drawing such morals from the late war becomes rather questionable when we remember the Austrian report of the conduct of the victorious Prussians. If Mr. Clarke has any facts to support him, they should be forthcoming; but if not, we think his tale should have remained untold. There is a tragic, rather powerful, poem of Robert Buchanan’s, which remind us too much of Robert Browning, but is much more than a mere imitation; one or two light gossiping papers of home and foreign travel, one by Mr. Lord on Vancouver Island, and the other by Professor Ansted on the Inactive Craters of Vesuvius. _____
Charmian
The Standard (15 August, 1867 - p.6) THE BROADWAY. It is scarcely possible that the first number of a new magazine should be its best, though it is not too much to expect that it should give something better than a faint foretaste of its future. The first number of The Broadway is now before us; to-day it will be before the public. . . . The poetry of Mr. Robert Buchanan possesses the subtle charm of simplicity of style, associated with depth and intensity of feeling; and amongst his later productions is nothing so melodious in versification, so tender and graceful in expression, as the lyric termed “Charmian.” His singular felicity of phrase, though here and there almost too florid and too elaborately wrought, is linked with the story of a love which never came to maturity, and of an opportunity neglected. Having escaped from the spell of Mr. Buchanan’s pleasing fancies, the reader will be rather cooled by a perusal of Mr. John Hollingshead’s article entitled “Dramatic Critics Criticised.” . . . _____
A Blind Man’s Love
Illustrated Times (4 December, 1869) Routledge’s Annual contains a good deal of pleasant reading, besides a poem of extreme beauty by Mr. Robert Buchanan. It is entitled “A Blind Man’s Love.” Mrs. Lynn Linton, Hesba Stretton, Annie Thomas, Mr. W. W. Fenn, and Mr. W. Sawyer are among the contributors. High praise is due to Miss Adelaide Claxton’s “Six Stages on the Journey of French Life;” there is a good deal to study in it. _____
Phil Blood’s Leap and The Ballad of Judas Iscariot [Note: Buchanan’s name was not attached to either poem. Phil Blood’s Leap: A Tale of the Gambusinos was ‘by the author of “St. Abe and his Seven Wives.”’ The Ballad of Judas Iscariot was published anonymously. The February edition of the magazine also included Buchanan’s essay on Dickens, ‘The “Good Genie” of Fiction’.]
The Newcastle Courant (9 February, 1872) LOCAL NOTES . . . Has the reader seen St. Paul’s for this month? If not, he should get a hold of it without delay. In “Phil Blood’s Leap,” and “The Ballad of Judas Iscariot,” two splendid poems which it contains, a rich and rare treat awaits him. “Phil Blood’s Leap” very much reminds one, especially in style, of “Jane Conquest,” a beautiful, popular poem from the pen of Mr James Milne, of our own town. Of “The Ballad of Judas Iscariot” it would be impossible to speak in too warm terms of praise. The story is one of the weirdest ever told in the English language. Let any man try to read it, all alone in his room, about midnight; and, unless possessed of more than ordinary human nerve, he will think that, after all, he is not alone but has some strange companions beside him. ’Twas the body of Judas Iscariot Then “the soul” resolved to bury “the body” “deep beneath the soil lest mortals look thereon;” but he could not find a spot of earth that would relieve him of his fearful load. And as he bare it from the field As the soul of Judas Iscariot Half he walk’d, and half he seemed He tried to throw the body into a stagnant pool; but “it floated light as wool.” For days and nights he wandered on, but could not find a spot that would kindly be a grave for his corpse. At last he “perceived a far-off light.” Hastening to the place, he found it was a beautiful palace where a marriage-feast was being held. He dared not enter, but wandered up and down, round the palace. The guests hearing his terrible moans and discovering that it was Judas, entreated the Bridegroom to “scourge” him “away into the night.” The Bridegroom, however, was more merciful than that, for going out to the door— ’Twas the body of Judas Iscariot ’Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door, “The Holy Supper is spread within, The Supper wine is poured at last, ___
The Sun & Central Press (10 February, 1872 - p.8) St. Paul’s Magazine has dispensed with its illustrations, but the general good character of the literature continues undiminished. In the present number there is a remarkable article on the “Art of Beauty,” in which the writer advises all fat people to wear nothing but black clothes, “decently made,” and advocates that ladies (who need them) should use almost any cosmetics not injurious to health. The argument in favour of cosmetics commences thus. “There is not any more harm or degradation in avowedly hiding defects of complexion, or touching the face with pink or white, than in padding the dress, piercing the ears, or replacing a lost tooth; nor can half the objections be urged against the practice that can be urged against that of wearing false hair. It seems to me generally a harmless, and in some cases a most necessary and decent practice.” The clever author of the poem, “St. Abe and his Seven Wives,” contributes some fresh verses to the magazine, under the title of “Phil Blood’s Leap,” a Tale of the Gambusinos (Goldseekers). The poem is a defence of the Indians, against whom the white gold-diggers have a strange aversion, and look upon as so many snakes. Phil Blood is a white man of desperate temperament, who resolves to kill a certain Indian who has been lucky in finding gold and food. Phil pursues the Indian on the latter’s return from hunting one day, and in attempting to clear a precipice, over which the frightened Indian has bounded, misses his footing, and is on the point of rolling into the abyss beneath, when the Indian turns hastily round, grasps the ruffian’s hands, and saves him. The description of this exciting scene is concluded with these words:— Saved? True for you! By an Injin too! and the man he meant to kill, The poem is written with vigour, and every verse is suggestive of American sharpness and wit. It is not, however, likely to meet with the same popularity as “St. Abe,” as a single incident only is dealt with, and that not of an original kind. The description of the Duke of Argyll by Mr. Holbeach is a bold composition. Mr. Holbeach predicts that we may yet expect a new and fine book from the hand of the Duke, and he asserts that he has seen that much of his grace’s equanimity and cautiousness is inherited by the Marquis of Lorne, in whose character there also seems to be another quality which “he has often noticed as the promise of a late but powerful maturity.” ___
Glasgow Herald (10 February, 1872) THE MAGAZINES. Saint Pauls.—In the continuation of the late Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Romance of Immortality,” there is some excellent writing, with the faint cropping up of a new tragic element in the double form of incompatibility in the temperament of the two lovers, and of a mysterious document which will probably turn out to contain directions for the attainment of immortality on this earth. There is a capital article by Mr Robert Buchanan on Dickens, who is happily designated “The ‘Good Genie’ of Fiction.” There is a poem entitled “Supreme Love,” by John Banks, who, if we mistake not, is also Robert Buchanan. Again, “The Ballad of Judas Iscariot,” although unsigned, is wonderfully like a coin of Mr Buchanan’s mintage. We have also a clever and characteristic poem by the author of “St Abe and his Seven Wives.” Henry Holbeach and Matthew Browne have each an article a piece. These apparent two are one and the same person, whose real name, however, is neither Holbeach nor Browne. Mr Buchanan makes some strong statements regarding Dickens. “The world,” he says,” has decided long ago that Dickens was beyond all parallel the greatest imaginative creator of this generation, and that his poetry (the best of it), although written in unrhymed speech, is worth more, and will probably last longer, than all the verse-poetry of this age, splendid as some of that poetry has been.” This is decidedly generous on the part of the critic, but we should doubt if it is altogether an accurate prophecy. Of Mr Buchanan’s criticisms on Dickens’ humour we quote one passage:— “Shakespeare’s humour, even more than Chaucer’s, is of the very essence of divine quiddity. Between Shakespeare and Dickens, only one humorist of the truly divine sort arose, fluted magically for a moment, and passed away, leaving the Primrose family as his legacy to posterity. Swift’s humour was of the earth, earthy; Gay’s was shrill and wicked; Fielding’s was judicial, with flashes of heavenlike promise; Smollett’s was cumbrous and not spiritualising; Sterne’s was a mockery and a lie (shades of Uncle Toby and Widow Wadman, forgive us, but it is true!); and, not to catalogue till the reader is breathless, Scott’s was feudal, with all the feudal limitations, in spite of his magnificent scope and depth. Entirely without hesitation we affirm that there is more true humour, and, consequently, more helpful love, in the pages of Dickens than in all the writers we have mentioned put together; and that, in quality, the humour of Dickens is richer, if less harmonious, than that of Aristophanes; truer and more human than that of Rabelais, Swift, or Sterne; more distinctly unctuous than even that of Chaucer, in some respects the finest humorist of all; a head and shoulders over Thackeray’s, because Thackeray’s satire was radically unpoetic; certainly inferior to that of Shakespeare only, and inferior to his in only one respect—that of humorous pathos. It is needless to say that in the last-named quality Shakespeare towers supreme, almost solitary. Falstaff’s death-bed scene is, taken relatively to the preceding life, and history, and rich unction of Sir John, the most wonderful blending of comic humour and divine tenderness to be found in any book—infinite in its suggestion, tremendous in its quaint truth, penetrating to the very depths of life, while never disturbing the first strange smile on the spectator’s face. Yes; and therefore overflowing with unutterable love.” Mr Holbeach continues his articles on “Literary Statesmen.” His present subject is the Duke of Argyll, whom he describes as being “in politics and sociology a Conservative-Liberal; and if that phrase were admissible in another sphere, it would be applicable to the Duke as a thinker in theology and philosophy. His intellect moves with great caution, and not without something of the spirit which expresses itself in the proverbial saying—‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.’” The writer says of his Grace that “there is no speculative knight-errantry about him. He feels his way in every subject that he touches, and even with a degree of punctiliousness which has an effect not quite cheerful.” “There was,” continues Mr Holbeach, “a Scotch Professor of Logic who, being urged to go and fight a duel with a man who called him a liar, said, with perfect bonhomie—‘What for fight him? Let ’em pruv it, sir; let ’em pruv it.’ It is the same in all his writings.” These indicated features of the Duke’s character as a thinker Mr Holbeach proceeds to illustrate in a very happy manner, and the whole article, we may say, is as well written as it is interesting. The ballad of “Judas Iscariot” is a curious, indeed, a fine production, the last three verses whereof will show what final fate the poet assigns to the man whom all the world regards as a traitor:— “’Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door, ‘The Holy Supper is spread within, The supper wine is poured at last, ___
The Newcastle Courant (16 February, 1872) LITERARY NOTICES. . . . The Saint Paul’s Magazine. (London; Strahan and Co., 56, Ludgate Hill.)—“Saint Paul’s” is remarkably brilliant this month. While all the prose contributions, with, perhaps, one exception, are of a decidedly superior character, the two poems—“Phil Blood’s Leap,” by the able author of “St. Abe and His Seven Wives,” and “The Ballad of Judas Iscariot”—are the finest things of the kind that have appeared lately. Our correspondent “Spectator,” it will be remembered, noticed them at some length last week, and we greatly mistake if they do not have the effect of running the current number of “St. Paul’s” into more than the usual one edition. _____
Seraphina Snowe
The Nonconformist (3 April, 1872) The other magazines of Messrs. Strahan and Co. may be noticed in a single paragraph. St. Paul’s is good, but wants relief. Hawthorne’s “Septimus” is subtle, but unfinished and unsatisfactory, becoming, indeed, more and more so as we go on. Miss Ingelow’s story is more enjoyable. Walter Hutcheson surely has some arrière pensée in “Criticism as a Fine Art,” which, however, is clever; but why does he not cite Mr. Matthew Browne among the critics, whose personality is frequently communicated with peculiar strength! The “Saint Abe” ballad is not so good as we should expect; it wants local colouring. ___
Glasgow Herald (9 April, 1872) Saint Pauls.—Hawthorne’s “Septimus: a Romance of Immortality,” winds slowly and curiously along. . . . “B.”—Mr Robert Buchanan, we presume—has an able and characteristic poem on Mazzini. Mr Walter Hutcheson writes a sort of clever, snappy, happy-go-lucky sort of paper on “Criticism as One of the Fine Arts.” He declares that “scientific criticism is fudge—as sheer fudge as scientific poetry, as scientific painting; but criticism does belong to the fine arts; and, for that reason, its future prospects are positively unlimited.” “Criticism now-a-days,” he says, “simply means (it is doubtful whether at any time it has meant much more) the impression produced on certain minds by certain products.” Listen to how certain things and persons impress Mr Walter Hutcheson:— [Extracts.] “Seraphina Snowe” is the title of a poem by the author of “St. Abe and his Seven Wives.” The present production is clever, but it seems to increase the already existing suspicion that the author is not an American but an Englishman, if not a Scotchman. The article on “Our Dinners” is worthy of being carefully studied by all who are in the habit of giving dinners or of eating them. _____
Faces on the Wall
Leicester Chronicle and the Leicestershire Mercury (18 May, 1872 - p.2) ST. PAUL’S has altered its outside garb, but in our judgment the alteration is not an improvement. It apes the ancient style of covers, and looks old fashioned. “Child-life as seen by the poets,” is a charming paper, one of the most perfect illustrations of the motto of the magazine. “A neat repast, light and choice, of Attic taste.” “Body and Character,” is a scrappy bit of writing on the relation of the mind and body, a subject treated very fully in one of the older numbers of the Quarterly. A single paragraph in that paper contained more stuff than the four pages of Henry Holbeach’s meandering gossip. Walter Hutcheson writes a pathetic paper, sadly too true, under the dolorous plaint, “Pity the poor Drama!” How low dramatic writing has fallen, who does not know? but still let every lover of the legitimate drama read this lament for himself. “Love in Heaven,” will have its readers; but the “Funeral of Mr. Maurice,” will win for itself a wider circle of attraction. The poetry of the number is by Robert Buchanan, and the author of “St. Abe and his Seven Wives.” Buchanan’s “Faces on the Wall,” consists of a beautiful series of sonnets. Miss Ingelow’s tale grows in fascination, and Septimius grows in weirdness. Aunt Kezia dies, despite her elixir of life; and Septimius is more than ever bent on discovering the one lacking ingredient to make it potent to ward off death. _____
John Mardon, Mariner: his Strange Adventures in El Dorado
Glasgow Herald (10 September, 1872) Saint Pauls.—Miss Jean Ingelow’s story, “Off the Skelligs,” moves rather slowly and unsensationally along. The weakness of the tale seems to be its superabundance of talk and its poverty of incident. The strange adventures in El Dorado of “John Mardon, Mariner,” by the author of “St. Abe,” has advanced into the second part, but is not yet finished. There is some quaint and curious versification in the poem, and the local colouring is pretty true to South America, though here and there perhaps slightly overdone. We have next a slight sketch of the Italian Poet Filicaia, with a fine and faithful, rather than a brilliant analysis of his poetry. Then comes a portion of “An Old Letter,” containing a brief but keenly and cunningly wrought effort of storyology, by Catherine Saunders. Under the title “Head Dresses,” M. E. Haweis supplies a singularly interesting paper on colour, which might be perused with advantage by readers of both sexes. We shall just give a taste of it by quoting a couple of passages:— . . . Mr Walter Hutcheson discourses on “Prose and Verse” with good sense and some acuteness. One passage will show partly what he means:— [Extract.] ___
The Newcastle Courant (13 September, 1872) Saint Paul’s Magazine.—(London: Strahan & Co., 56, Ludgate Hill.)—“Off the Skelligs,” by Jean Ingelow, still runs on. In this month’s “Literary Legislators” we have a sketch of Sir John Lubbock, M.P., and under the title of “Editors and Correspondents” “a disgusted journalist” narrates some amusing experiences. The author of “St. Abe and his Seven Wives” gives us the second part of “John Mardon, Mariner.” Though written by one to whom South American forests are clearly familiar, and who has already given evidence of poetic talent, it must be said that Part II. is scarcely equal to Part I.—certainly in beauty nothing like an extract from another coming poem, which appeared a number or two back, and of which we gave a specimen. The writer has had his eye on “The Ancient Mariner,” but if he thinks he can rival the weirdness of that ballad by a free use of capital letters, and quaint phraseology, he is mistaken. In the description of the journey through the forest, the very awfulness of the scenery, and the terrible dangers surrounding the gold seekers, cause a monotony which there is no incident to relieve. But despite these objections, “John Mardon, Mariner” is worth reading. The other matter in the magazine consists of “Rambles in Sussex,” “Filicaia,” “An Old Letter,” “Headdresses,” &c. _____
O’Murtogh
The Nation (28 November, 1872 - Vol. XV, pp.353-354) Mr. Robert Buchanan, whose business it appears to have become to put into verse whatever is momentarily attracting the attention of the public, has been utilising the Irish question, and in a poem called “Murtough”—which treats of the hanging of a “Boy”—he surpasses even himself in false pathos and commonplace thought. As for the verse and diction, most Englishmen and Scotchmen who have undertaken the imitation of Irish dialects—most of them, by the bye, being ignorant that there are more dialects than one—have succeeded in making themselves a spectacle to gods and men; but Mr. Buchanan, when he comes, slaughters and exterminates patience once for all and dashes forbearance into flinders. _____
The Great Snow [from White Rose and Red]
The Sun & Central Press (8 February, 1873 - p.3) The best thing by far in St. Paul’s Magazine is “The Year of the Great Snow,” a most spirited poem by the author of “St. Abe and his Seven Wives.” The approach of that storm, as terrible almost as that which has just swept over Minnesota, is told with great graphic power. The other poem, “Dorothy,” is also very good. Mr. Herne gives an interesting account of some of the leading markets and fairs in Europe. _____
Mnemosyne, or the Retrospect [from Ballads of Life, Love, and Humour]
The Hastings and St. Leonards Observer (27 December, 1873 - p.8) The monthly serials by Messrs. CASSELL, PETTER, AND GALPIN for January are to hand. ... The poetry of this number of the “Magazine” includes a piece by Gerald Massey on the charge of Scarlett’s Heavy Brigade at Balaklava; but it lacks the style of Tennyson’s famous lines on the Immortal Six Hundred, although the words are stirring enough. An excellent picture by Raphael Newcombe illustrates William Sawyer’s nice little poem on “All Hallows’s Eve.” The clear description and simple flow of the lines offers a marked contrast to “Mnemosyne, or the Retrospect,” by Robert Buchanan—a dreamy, mystical piece, which we have tried to understand, but failed. The illustration by M. E. Edwards is capital, and the figures are full of life and animation. What connection exists, however, between the fair young girl, with “the moonlight on her cheek of snow,” and the well-dressed young man looking over her shoulder on to her upturned face, and the idea of the poet, we cannot conjecture. The woodcut is much better than the poem. ___
Berrow’s Worcester Journal (10 January, 1874 - p.6) Cassell’s Magazine has made a marked advance lately, both in the standard of its literary matter and in the excellence of its illustrations, the services of eminent literary men and accomplished artists having been enlisted on its behalf. ... Robert Buchanan, whose works are generally distinguished by dramatic power and subtlety of thought, sends a fine poem, entitled “Mnemosyne.” Unhappily, the effect of the verse is considerably marred by reason of its being prefaced by a most unsuitable illustration, representing a vapid-looking gentleman in evening dress standing beside a lady in ridiculous attire. ___
Lloyd’s Weekly London Newspaper (11 January, 1874 - p.5) In Cassell’s Magazine we see that we have not yet heard the last of the Charge of the Light brigade at Balaklava. Tennyson has immortalised the subject—even if every Englishman did not boast of the feat on every occasion; and now Gerald Massey comes forward, with some fine stirring verse to the old, worn-out tune. We prefer to turn to Robert Buchanan’s refined lines addressed to the Goddess of memory, which M. E. Edwards has illustrated with her usual grace. _____
The Ship of Folly
Leicester Chronicle and the Leicestershire Mercury (21 February, 1874 - p.12) ST. PAUL’S is a very good number. “The Sherlocks” is winning favour, and “the Tales from ‘Belkin’” are more weird and strange. “Calderon’s martyr-plays” is a thoughtful critical paper, and is worth the cost of the whole number. “The Ship of Folly,” by the author of “White Rose and Red” is excellent. When will this unknown Knight lower his visor that we may know who he is? There are other papers of interest, among which is the amusing one entitled “The Apotheosis of the Policeman.” Matthew Brown has not done anything better for some time. _____
Granddad in the Ingle
The Spectator (14 March, 1874) In Cassell’s Magazine there is a real treat for its readers, in Mr. Buchanan’s fine ballad, “Granddad in the Ingle.” He has done nothing better than this terrible, grim story of the old buccaneer, who, in the cheery homeliness of Christmas at the farm, sits wrapped in his old age, dull, sightless, senseless, until he wakes suddenly to the memory of his great crime, and the arousing dart kills him. The imagery is fine and consistent throughout,—in the exterior of the old man,— “As still he sat as a cold grey stone and in the interior, where “Ever the life he lived went on The motive is thoroughly preserved, and the close most effective. ___
Erôs Athanatos
The Bradford Observer (2 May, 1874 - p.6) LITERATURE. PUBLICATIONS FOR MAY. The Gentleman’s Magazine is, as usual, spirited and entertaining. Mr. Francillon’s “Olympia” will, we imagine, place that gentleman in a still higher position on the roll of modern British novelists than the one he has previously enjoyed. There is a wonderful breadth of grasp in “Olympia,” the characters are life-like, and the tone and sentiment of the novel are charming. “The Official Member” is the title of a paper by “the Member for the Chiltern Hundreds.” Like the article in last month’s number, it is clever, witty, and sharply critical. The “member” hits off the different characteristics of the new Ministry very happily. Mr. John H. Ingram contributes an article on “Edgar Allan Poe’s Early Poems,” which contains a good deal of interesting matter concerning the poet which was not before known. Mr. Robert Buchanan, who is now the self-avowed author of “White Rose and Red,” has a poem, on an ancient model, which he entitles “Erôs Athanatos.” It is very good, containing many beautiful lines; but it only serves to increase our wonder that Mr. Buchanan does not stick to the homelier themes that his muse was formerly content to soar amongst. Mr. Blanchard Jerrold’s paper on “Shirley Brooks” gives us a very interesting picture of the late editor of Punch as he appeared to his intimate friends. Mr. Joseph Hatton’s novel, “Clytie,” is concluded in this number. The Gentleman’s Magazine has made a bold bid for popular favour since its new editor took it in hand, and it is not too much to say that at present it is not distanced in point of attractiveness and ability by any of its compeers. ___
The Hull Packet and East Riding Times (15 May, 1874) The Gentleman’s Magazine is unquestionably improving under the new management. The editor is surrounding himself with writers of manifest ability, and some rich promises are added to the store of good things with which he presents us this month. M. Francillon’s “Olympia” has developed, as we anticipated it would do, into an admirable novel—far superior, in our estimation, to his “Zelda’s Fortune;” and its continuing chapters will be looked forward to with intense interest. The second instalment of “Men and Manners in Parliament”—by the Member for the Chiltern Hundreds—deals with “the official member,” in which the writer chattily contrasts the members of the present Cabinet with those who preceded them under the old régime, and gives us a very interesting sketch of the interior economy, so to speak, of Parliament. “Erôs Athanatos” is the title of an exquisitely written poem, by the author of “White Rose and Red,” and the nuptial night of Hyacinthus and Irene is one of the richest conceptions we have read for many a long day. Mr. Blanchard Jerrold contributes a kindly reminiscence of his friend, the late Shirley Brooks, who, as the writer observes, “fell into his long sleep leaving hosts of friends to mourn him, and not an enemy, that I ever heard of, to assail his memory.” Here also we have another sketch of the waterside that will be devoured by anglers with as much avidity as the May-fly is by the trout on the “rampage.” These sketches, by “Red Spinner,” are intensely interesting, and just at this time are calculated not only to entertain the disciple of the “gentle art,” but to teach him a “wrinkle or two,” which will be well worth knowing. There are other interesting chapters in the current number, including one by Mr. John H. Ingram, on “Edgar Allen Poe’s Early Poems;” a sketch of the “Peace Manœuvres of England,” by a Field Officer, and others. The last-named is to be concluded in the June number, in anticipation of the grand sham fight at Aldershot. The conclusion of Mr. Joseph Hatton’s story, “Clytie,” has been condensed into this part, and it will be published in a full three volume novel, next month, by Messrs. Chapman and Hall. We are also promised the opening chapters of a new story by Mrs. Mary Cowden Clarke, some “Waterside Sketches,” and an “important” article on modern archery in England; so that readers of the Gentleman have a prospect of abundant entertainment before them, in the purveying of which we are sure the editor will not fail to sustain the high reputation which this magazine has gained amongst the literature of the day. ___
Nottinghamshire Guardian (15 May 1874 - p.6) To an unusually good number of The Gentleman’s, Mr. Robert Buchanan contributes a new poem, “Eros Athanatos.” If space permitted, it would be no difficult matter to select several passages of the highest poetical beauty, and well worth repetition; as it is, we must content ourselves with a mere recognition of its general power and originality. Mr. Buchanan, by the way, takes this opportunity of acknowledging the authorship of “White Rose and Red,” and therefore of “St. Abe.” ... ___
The Examiner (16 May, 1874 - p.17) The Gentleman’s grows better and better under its new management. A memoir of Shirley Brooks, by Mr Blanchard Jerrold, will be read with great pleasure by the many friends of the deceased man. Though short, it has much in it which could not have been left unsaid, and which no one could have said better than Mr Blanchard Jerrold. “Men and Manners in Parliament” continues to be very entertaining. There is a song of love and glamour from Mr Robert Buchanan—the first of a series. We have read it carefully three times, and yet cannot say whether we like it or not. It really looks as though the critic of the ‘Fleshly School’ were beginning to form himself upon the model he once decried. _____
The Last Poet |
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[Advert for The Gentleman’s Magazine from the Birmingham Daily Post (28 May, 1874).]
The Nonconformist (3 June, 1874) Amongst the papers in the Gentleman’s Magazine we have the continuation of “Olympia,” in which a discovery dawns upon us, and we begin to see, rather too soon, what is to be the end. The “Peace Manœuvres of England” are well criticised by a competent hand, and the “Silent member” (Mr. Lucy?), continues his clever and lively sketches of “Men and Manners in Parliament.” This month we have the “Independent Member,” with characteristic notes of Mr. Smollett, Mr. Scourfield, Mr. Bentinck, Mr. Henry James, Sir Vernon Harcourt, Lord E. Fitzmaurice, Sir Wilfrid Lawson, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Horsman, and Mr. Roebuck. The sketch of Mr. Jenkins is a mere caricature. In last month’s Gentleman’s, Mr. Robert Buchanan joined the “fleshly school” of poets. Yes; that terrific denunciator went over to his enemies bodily, and the “fleshly school” must have had a delicious feeling of being avenged. This month we have a splendidly-conceived incarnation of the “Last Poet”— “Old, gaunt, pale, famine-stricken, hugging rags, _____
The Wedding of Shon Maclean
The Graphic (18 July, 1874 - p.13) Magazine poetry is too often as tasteless as cold veal, but Mr. Robert Buchanan’s “Wedding of Shon Maclean,” in the Gentleman’s, forms a refrreshing exception. It is full of vivacity and humour, and if recited by a Northerner, with a solemn face and a twinkling eye, would, we are pretty sure, “bring the house down.” Bur, except in the ligh awful example, it would scarcely suit an assemblage of Good Templars. _____
The God-like Love
The Nonconformist (7 October, 1874) In the Gentleman’s Magazine the development of the plot of “Olympia” is novel, but slightly too eccentric. And will Mr. Buchanan ever write again on the “Fleshly School” after sinning a second time, as he does this month, in “The God- like Love”? Nothing more “fleshly” was ever written than the stanzas on Danae. We are glad to see in the article on “Liverpool”—another of the articles on “Great Towns and their Public Influence”—an appreciative word relating to the Financial Reform Association, but we decline to accept the writer’s opinion as to the political influence of Liverpool on Lancashire. It has none. In the editor’s “Table Talk” of this month we meet with an acute remark upon Mr. Tennyson’s habit of retouching his poems, which is worth quoting— [Extract.] _____
The Peepshow; or, The Old Theology And The New
The Coventry Herald (4 June, 1875 - p.4) THE GENTLEMAN’S MAGAZINE.—This is a number of fully average merit. ... But the most remarkable contribution to the present number is Mr. Robert Buchanan’s poem “The Peepshow; or the Old Theology and the New.” A more perfect piece of rhythm the writer has never penned, but no less noticeable is the suggestiveness of the matter. The poem is dramatic in form, and thus opens with the showman:— [Extract.] ___
The Graphic (5 June, 1875 - p.7) The Gentleman’s Magazine, besides a further instalment of “Dear Lady Disdain,” has a paper describing “An Evening with Captain Boyton,” a curious record of the menu at a dinner given by the Shakespeare Society of Philadelphia, and a chapter on Smollett, the novelist. But its chief claim to notice is Mr. Robert Buchanan’s poem, “The Peepshow,” a wonderful ballad, if we may call it so, of the “old Theology and the New,” only which is the ”Old?” It is very beautiful and musical, and the children’s utterances are charming, but they do not seem to us to affect the truth of the Showman’s. _____
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