Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 094.djvu/419

Rh forest, and thinks that it can never be reclaimed. The wiser man, the labourer, begins at his corner of the wood, and makes out a task for himself each day. Think, that large as may appear the work to be done, so, too, the result of any endeavour, however small in itself, may be of infinite extent in the future. Nothing is lost." This book has done yeoman's service as a pioneer in the backwoods of social and sanitary reform, and has even exalted the literature of those questions to a place in our belles lettres.

In 1848 appeared the first volume of "The Conquerors of the New World and their Bondsmen," a narrative of the principal events which led to negro slavery in the West Indies and America. It treats the subject with learning and industry, with fine taste and generous feeling. The narrative is lucid and comprehensive, the reflections are philosophical and humane.

Less successful are this writer's achievements in the "realms of poesie." He produced, in 1843, an historical drama, "King Henry the Second;" a too quiet and rather prosy representation of à Becket's stirring times, when priestly authority acted on the belief that,Also a tragedy, "Catherine Douglas," the action of which centres in the death of the Scottish James I. This is a closet play, and formed much on the same model as the elaborate dramas of Mr. Henry Taylor. An able reviewer remarks, that it contains some capital snatches of conversation, glimpses of philosophical verity, specimens of antiquarian research; but that it is utterly wanting in the art essential to the conduct of a piece. Both plays want energy and dramatic enthusiasm; they do little to excite the feelings, little to interest the imagination. One gladly turns from the actors, and their eloquent blank verse, to the genial friends in council, who discourse so winningly in the orchard of the Parsonage, and in whose society we, as well as the author, feel at home. "John of Salisbury" is unrecognised where "Ellesmere" is a household familiar; and even "Catherine Douglas" has an entrance to seek in circles where "Lucy Daylmer" is an old favourite. In effect, we like better the poetry of our author's prose than the prose of his poetry; and, while oblivious of his plays, we desire to keep up a deep impression of his essays, the reading, marking, learning, and digesting of which we would commend to every one with a head to be enlightened and a heart to be improved.