ページの画像
PDF
ePub

MARGARET (wildly.)

Fly, fly,

Save thy poor child;
Away to the road,

By the side of the stream,
And across the path
That leads to the wood;

Then turn to the left,

And over the plank
He lies in the pond.
Loiter not, linger not,
Still does he stir

With the motion of life.
His little hands struggle

More faintly and faintly,
Rescue him! rescue him!

FAUSTUS.

Recall thy wandering mind-thy life's at stake.
One step and thou art free.

MARGARET.

Oh, that we once had left yon hill behind!
See there, my mother sitting on a stone-
Icy cold comes a dead hand on my temples.
My mother there is sitting on a stone,

And her grey head is trembling, and her eyes
Close, and she now has ceased to nod; her head
Looks heavy, and she sleeps too long-too long-
Oh, when she sank to sleep how blest we were?
It was a happy time!

FAUSTUS.

She listens not;

Words have no weight with her; there is no way,
But forcibly to bear her hence.

MARGARET.

Touch me not; no, I will not suffer violence :
Seize me not with that murderer's grasp; whate'er
I did was done for thee, my love. I did

Every thing my love asked me, willingly.

FAUSTUS.

Day dawns-oh, hasten hence, my love! my love!
MARGARET.

Day! yes, 'tis day, the last, the judgment-day;
My bridal day it should have been; tell none
That thou hast been with poor weak Margaret.
Alas! my garland is already withered ;
We'll meet again, but not at dances, love:

The crowd is gathering tumultuously,

[ocr errors]

The square and street are thronged with crushing thousands;

The bell hath sounded; the death wand is broken;

They bind and blindfold me, and force me on;

On to the scaffold they have hurried me;

Down in the chair of blood they fasten me:

And now through every neck of all that multitude

Is felt the bitter wound that severs mine.

The world is now as silent as the grave!

FAUSTUS.

Oh, that I never had been born!

[blocks in formation]

Large as have been our extracts from this truly original poem, the reader who confines himself to them can have but little idea of its power and beauty as a whole. Considered strictly as a dramatic composition, its great merit consists in the characters of Mephistopheles and Margaret. That of the former is a masterpiece. Pure intellect, exerted in ceaseless activity and in one steady direction, by the force of habit, without motive, without emotion, without gratification, would, in the first instance, appear the most unmanageable of all personifications; it would seem impossible to prevent it from becoming a cold, unreal, and uninteresting abstraction, or impossible to preserve it amid the working of passions and the bustle of real life in unimpassioned and unmoved consistency-yet the triumph of the poet is here complete. No touch of human feeling, no stirring of desire, no enjoyment of gratified affec

tion or appetite ever mingles with the constant operation of the Dæmon's deep and unclouded wit; every superstitious fancy, every mysterious feeling, every fearful recollection of the reader's own breast, all the externals connected with the legendary fiend, are set at work by the poet to give full and distinct personality to this creature of his fancy; but through all the apparently wild and wayward extravagancies of his action, the uncarthly consistency of the Dæmon's character is observed without a break. Margaret and Martha were probably suggested to the author by Juliet and her Nurse. We find in Margaret the same girlish simplicity as in Juliet, modified only by the differences of her country and condition, the same love at first sight, the same ready confession of her passion, and when her affections are engaged, the same

"Bounty as boundless as the sea,
And love as deep;"

but in the terrific sequel of her career of guilt and shame, the bard has exhibited the character suggested to him under circumstances unparalleled in the original has vindicated his claim to it, and fairly made it his own. Considered in each scene by itself, Faustus is admirably drawn. Each scene is an exhibition of human nature in some particular posture, but that harmony is failed of, which makes these the postures of the same individual mind, and fixes them to one person. Faustus wants personality, and the reader feels little interest in the nominal hero of

the piece throughout. To judge, however, of this poem by the rules of the regular drama would be absurd. The best critic, after all, is the reader's own mind and feeling; and we are mistaken if our extracts have not supplied him with materials for forming some judgment of the poetry in this volume. We must add one more, and that one, because in the whole compass of English Lyrical Poetry-and to English poetry it now belongs-we do not think that there is any thing which surpasses it-it is from the prelude at the theatre :

Give me, oh! give me back the days
When I-I too-was young—

And felt, as they now feel, each coming hour
New consciousness of power.

Oh happy, happy time, above all praise!

Then thoughts on thoughts and crowding fancies sprung,
And found a language in unbidden lays;

Unintermitted streams from fountains ever flowing;-
Then, as I wander'd free,

In every field, for me

Its thousand flowers were blowing!

A veil through which I did not see,

A thin veil o'er the world was thrown

In every bud a mystery;

Magic in every thing unknown :

The fields, the grove, the air was haunted,
And all that age has disenchanted.

Yes! give me give me back the days of youth,
Poor, yet how rich!--my glad inheritance,
The inextinguishable love of truth,
While life's realities were all romance-

Give me, oh! give youth's passions unconfined,
The rush of joy that felt almost like pain,
Its hate, its love, its own tumultuous mind;
Give me my youth again!

Whether Mr. Anster may not have some right to complain that we have considered this work rather as an original poem than as a translation we cannot pretend to determine. On himself, after all, the guilt, if there be any, mainly rests. We have read the poem with an unbroken and unoffended interest which we should have thought it impossible for a translation to create and sustain, and even still find it hard to recur to it with any permanent recollection that it is one. This, we consider-and we think that most readers will agree with us-constitutes its greatest excellence. The poet whose mind moves so freely and so truly through the whole

train of another's operations as never in their exhibition to remind us of effort or constraint, may certainly stand on fair ground of rivalry with his original:-Could higher praise than this belong in the present case to any poet? The poem is one which tries the translator's skill in every species of poetic composition, and in each taxes his powers to the very utmost:--Mr. Auster has shrunk from none, and in all he has been eminently successful. The conceptions of his author are not preserved in the cumbrous folds and wrappings of the Embalmer's art, but start up before us in the fair forms and proportions of living things. Even without the

reader's possessing a knowledge of the original language which would enable him to judge of Mr. Anster's merit as a critically faithful translator, there is an internal evidence of the general fidelity of a translation, arising from the consistency of its parts, which all can appreciate, and which this work possesses in the highest degree. Germany owes a deep debt of gratitude to Mr. Anster for being the first who, after years of incredulity, has in these countries fully justified her enthusiastic admiration of her mighty bard. As Irishmen we feel justly proud that this high triumph has been achieved by our countryman. The man who, under any circumstances, gives a new impulse to the literature of his country, has a strong claim on her gratitude; but this claim is greatly enhanced when, as in Mr. Anster's case, he has made the attempt amid the absorbing interest of political excitement and the conflict of angry and tumultuous factions. His work must, we confidently expect,

assume a permanent station in the highest rank of English poetry. Under these circumstances, and with these feelings, we cannot bring ourselves to notice such lesser imperfections as must be found in any of man's labours; and we take our leave of Mr. Anster with the sincerest admiration of his genius, and congratulation of this triumphant display of it.

The other translations in the volume are executed with the same spirit and vigor as the larger one, on which we have dwelt so long, and present the same indications of extraordinary original power in the translator. In the Notes the reader will find much rare and interesting information. The Preface is written with an elegance that does honour to the author's taste, and a kindliness towards his brother labourers which does honour to his feelings, and the Dedication associates with his own a name dear to every scholar, every man of worth or genius, and every Christian in this country.

CORPORATION REFORM.

IN February last, on the meeting of parliament, the House of Commons, at the suggestion of Lord Morpeth, inserted a clause in their address to the King, in which they expressed their regret that the progress of many useful reforms had been interrupted by the dissolution of the preceding parliament. To those who remembered that but a little time before that dissolution, the Whig Lord Chancellor had declared that if the session of 1834 had effected little, the session of 1835 would effect less, this proceeding of the House of Commons appeared strange and unaccountable. It was, however, adopted upon the distinct and emphatic assurance of Lord John Russell, that, at the time when the Melbourne cabinet was broken up, a variety of measures of reform were actually in the course of preparation, when, unhappily, the sudden dismissal of the industrious and honest statesmen who composed the Melbourne Cabinet had deprived the country of the promulgation of those marvellous measures that were to be

enduring monuments of the wisdom and the patriotism of their authors.

Those assertions of Lord John Russell were certainly strangely at variance with the no less positive declarations of Lord Brougham. The House of Commons, however, chose rather to believe the word of the ex-minister; and, on the assurance of that word, they committed themselves to the truth of his statements. This was probably all that Lord John desired— the statement served the party purpose for which it was designed-it furnished the pretext for an unmeaning amendment to the address to the King, and gave honourable members an opportunity of shewing their factious opposition to ministers whom they had determined to find guilty, but against whom the only difficulty was to find a charge.

The noble lord perhaps prided himself on the ingenuity of his device. It was something to have framed an excuse for faction--to have invented a story that served as a pretext for the base manoeuvres of party. Satisfied

with the momentary success of his little scheme, the noble lord never troubled himself to look beyond its momentary consequences--he never once recollected that the time might come when the falsehood would be detected, and its originator exposed -dazzled by the glitter of the emoluments of office, he never once thought of its inconveniences-his whole soul was asborbed in reflections upon the magnitude of the prize at which he grasped, and the triumph of the anticipation of the Home Secretary's place, he never once remembered that when he and his accomplices had succeeded, upon the strength of their unfounded representations, in displacing honester and abler men, the country would expect them to verify their statements by producing those measures for the preparation of which they took so much credit to themselves.

Sir Robert Peel, however, was displaced the Melbourne cabinet was reconstructed just as it was constituted in November, with the exception of the only individual who appeared to be in ignorance of their glorious measures of reform. With the solitary omission of Lord Brougham, the members of it have been reinstated in placethey again receive their salaries, and bestow the patronage of the crown. Lord John Russell's statement is now subjected to an inconvenient test.Those measures which were ready in November, ought surely to be forthcoming in April. But, alas, for the veracity of the noble lord-alas, for the credulity, real or pretended, of the House of Commons, that acted on his word-it is now discovered that the measures which were absolutely ready in November, are still to be thought of and prepared. The house adjourns for an unprecedented space of time, to meet the convenience of the new cabinet-and in this awkward emergency, hasty and bungling measures are prepared, to meet the exigencies of the case-principles taken up without consideration, are blundered out into details prepared without care; and, after many procrastinations and excuses, the leader of the House of Commons lays upon the table an illconsidered and a worse digested bill for the reform of municipal corporations in England and Wales.

It cannot but seem strange, that the principle which Lord John Russell thought most important while in opposition, in office he comparatively forgets-the appropriation of the revenues of the Irish church was the great object for which he struggled--to effect this sacrilegious project, he obtained his place. But scarcely has he been placed in his office, when he unaccountably changes his mind. The reform of corporations, upon which no vote of the House of Commons had been passed, which never had been brought forward in the party struggle that disgraced the commencement of the present session, becomes suddenly magnified into the first importance, and viewed from the position in which the noble lord is now placed, those objects, which but a little while ago appeared so vast, have dwindled into comparative littleness and insignifi

cance.

To those who honestly seek the good of the nation, the objects which were of importance in April are surely of the same importance now. The statesman who is convinced of the national utility of a great measure, will steadily pursue it; and, whether in office or in opposition, his efforts will be directed to the same end. But while the interests of the nation are permanent, those of a party may be very changeable and uncertain; and thus, while the conduct of the patriot is steady and consistent as the object which he seeks, the policy of the partizan is vacillating and variable as the interests which he serves. The one has nothing to embarrass his calculations, as he has nothing to consider but his country's good, while the other must take into his account all the perplexing chances of party contingencies, and be guided by all the debasing considerations of party selfishness, altering his course, and changing his tactics, as the poor and paltry interests of party may require.

We believe that the only object of the Whigs is to retain office-the desire of place is the only motive that actuates them. We have long been led to this conclusion, and recent events have confirmed our belief. Ever since the assembling of parliament, the whole tactics of the party have had reference to this single end.

« 前へ次へ »