348 CRABBE'S TALES OF THE HALL. (JULY, 1819.) Tales of the Hall. By the Reverend GEORGE CRABBE. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 670. London: 1819. MR. CRABBE is the greatest mannerist, perhaps, of all our living poets; and it is rather unfortunate that the most prominent features of his mannerism are not the most pleasing. The homely, quaint, and prosaic style — the flat, and often broken and jingling versification - the eternal full-lengths of low and worthless characters — with their accustomed garnishings of sly jokes and familiar moralising —are all on the surface of his writings; and are almost unavoidably the things by which we are first reminded of him, when we take up any of his new productions. Yet they are not the things that truly constitute his peculiar manner; or give that character by which he will, and ought to be, remembered with future generations. It is plain enough, indeed, that these are things that will make nobody remembered — and can never, therefore, be really characteristic of some of the most original and powerful poetry that the world has ever seen. Mr. C., accordingly, has other gifts; and those not less peculiar or less strongly marked than the blemishes with which they are contrasted; - an unrivalled and almost magical power of observation, resulting in descriptions so true to nature as to strike us rather as transcripts than imitations - an anatomy of character and feeling not less exquisite and searching—an occasional touch of matchless tenderness and a deep and dreadful pathetic, interspersed by fits, and strangely interwoven with the most minute and humble of his details. Add to all this the sure and profound sagacity of the remarks with which he every now and then startles us in the midst of very unambitious discussions ; — and HIS TRUE CHARACTERISTICS. 349 the weight and terseness of the maxims which he drops, like oracular responses, on occasions that give no promise of such a revelation; and last, though not least, that sweet and seldom sounded chord of Lyrical inspiration, the lightest touch of which instantly charms away all harshness from his numbers, and all lowness from his themes and at once exalts him to a level with the most energetic and inventive poets of his age. These, we think, are the true characteristics of the genius of this great writer; and it is in their mixture with the oddities and defects to which we have already alluded, that the peculiarity of his manner seems to us substantially to consist. The ingredients may all of them be found, we suppose, in other writers; but their combination — in such proportions at least as occur in this instance-may safely be pronounced to be original. Extraordinary, however, as this combination must appear, it does not seem very difficult to conceive in what way it may have arisen; and, so far from regarding it as a proof of singular humorousness, caprice, or affectation in the individual, we are rather inclined to hold that something approaching to it must be the natural result of a long habit of observation in a man of genius, possessed of that temper and disposition which is the usual accompaniment of such a habit; and that the same strangely compounded and apparently incongruous assemblage of themes and sentiments would be frequently produced under such circumstances-if authors had oftener the courage to write from their own impressions, and had less fear of the laugh or wonder of the more shallow and barren part of their readers. A great talent for observation, and a delight in the exercise of it the power and the practice of dissecting and disentangling that subtle and complicated tissue, of habit, and self-love, and affection, which constitute human character seems to us, in all cases, to imply a contemplative, rather than an active disposition. It can only exist, indeed, where there is a good deal of social sympathy; for, without this, the occupation could excite no interest, and afford no satisfaction-but only such a mea 350 CRABBE HIS CHARACTERISTICS THOSE OF sure and sort of sympathy as is gratified by being a spectator, and not an actor on the great theatre of life and leads its possessor rather to look with eagerness on the feats and the fortunes of others, than to take a share for himself in the game that is played before him. Some stirring and vigorous spirits there are, no doubt, in which this taste and talent is combined with a more thorough and effective sympathy; and leads to the study of men's characters by an actual and hearty participation in their various passions and pursuits; though it is to be remarked, that when such persons embody their observations in writing, they will generally be found to exhibit their characters in action, rather than to describe them in the abstract; and to let their various personages disclose themselves and their peculiarities, as it were spontaneously, and without help or preparation, in their ordinary conduct and speech of all which we have a very splendid and striking example in the "Tales of My Landlord," and the other pieces of that extraordinary writer. In the common case, however, a great observer, we believe, will be found, pretty certainly, to be a person of a shy and retiring temper-who does not mingle enough with the people he surveys, to be heated with their passions, or infected with their delusions and who has usually been led, indeed, to take up the office of a looker on, from some little infirmity of nerves, or weakness of spirits, which has unfitted him from playing a more active part on the busy scene of existence. Now, it is very obvious, we think, that this contemplative turn, and this alienation from the vulgar pursuits of mankind, must in the first place, produce a great contempt for most of those pursuits, and the objects they seek to obtain -a levelling of the factitious distinctions which human pride and vanity have established in the world, and a mingled scorn and compassion for the lofty pretensions under which men so often disguise the nothingness of their chosen occupations. When the many-coloured scene of life, with all its petty agitations, its shifting pomps, and perishable passions, is surveyed GREAT OBSERVERS. 351 by one who does not mix in its business, it is impossible that it should not appear a very pitiable and almost ridiculous affair; or that the heart should not echo back the brief and emphatic exclamation of the mighty dramatist— Life's a poor player, 66 Who frets and struts his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more!". Or the more sarcastic amplification of it, in the words of our great moral poct — 46 Behold the Child, by Nature's kindly law, Some livelier plaything gives our Youth delight, Scarfs, garters, gold our riper years engage; Till tir'd we sleep-and Life's poor play is o'er!" But This is the more solemn view of the subject: the first fruits of observation are most commonly found to issue in Satire-the unmasking the vain pretenders to wisdom, and worth, and happiness, with whom society is infested, and holding up to the derision of mankind those meannesses of the great, those miseries of the fortunate, and those "Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise," which the eye of a dispassionate observer so quickly detects under the glittering exterior by which they would fain be disguised -and which bring pretty much to a level the intellect, and morals, and enjoyments, of the great mass of mankind. This misanthropic end has unquestionably been by far the most common result of a habit of observation; and that in which its effects have most generally terminated: Yet we cannot bring ourselves to think that it is their just or natural termination. Something, no doubt, will depend on the temper of the individual, and the proportions in which the gall and the milk of human kindness have been originally mingled in his composition. - Yet satirists, we think, have not in general been ill-natured persons and we are inclined rather to ascribe this 352 CRABBE SATIRE SHOULD RIPEN TO PHILANTHROPY. limited and uncharitable application of their powers of observation to their love of fame and popularity, which are well known to be best secured by successful ridicule or invective—or, quite as probably, indeed, to the narrowness and insufficiency of the observations themselves, and the imperfection of their talents for their due conduct and extension. It is certain, at least, we think, that the satirist makes use but of half the discoveries of the observer; and teaches but half- and the worser half of the lessons which may be deduced from his occupation. He puts down, indeed, the proud pretensions of the great and arrogant, and levels the vain distinctions which human ambition has established among the brethren of mankind ; — he "Bares the mean heart that lurks beneath a Star," -and destroys the illusions which would limit our sympathy to the forward and figuring persons of this world the favourites of fame and fortune. But the true result of observation should be, not so much to cast down the proud, as to raise up the lowly; not so much to diminish our sympathy with the powerful and renowned, as to extend it to all, who in humbler conditions, have the same, or still higher claims on our esteem or affection. It is not surely the natural consequence of learning to judge truly of the characters of men, that we should despise or be indifferent about them all; - and, though we have learned to see through the false glare which plays round the envied summits of existence, and to know how little dignity or happiness, or worth, or wisdom, may sometimes belong to the possessors of power, and fortune, and learning and renown, it does not follow, by any means, that we should look upon the whole of human life as a mere deceit and imposture, or think the concerns of our species fit subjects only for scorn and derision. Our promptitude to admire and to envy will indeed be corrected, our enthusiasm abated, and our distrust of appearances increased; - but the sympathies and affections of our nature will continue, and be better |