Famous Reviews | Page 4

is clear that his

difficulty always was to cease talking. Men as different as Macaulay
and Charles Dickens have spoken with deep personal affection of his
memory.
In one of Carlyle's inimitable "pen-portraits" he is described as "a
delicate, attractive, dainty little figure, as he merely walked about,
much more if he were speaking: uncommonly bright, black eyes,
instinct with vivacity, intelligence and kindly fire; roundish brow,
delicate oval face, full, rapid expression; figure light, nimble, pretty,
though so small, perhaps hardly five feet four in height.... His voice
clear, harmonious, and sonorous, had something of metallic in it,
something almost plangent ... a strange, swift, sharp-sounding, fitful
modulation, part of it pungent, quasi latrant, other parts of it cooing,
bantery, lovingly quizzical, which no charm of his fine ringing voice
(metallic tenor, of sweet tone), and of his vivacious rapid looks and
pretty little attitudes and gestures, could altogether reconcile you to, but
in which he persisted through good report and bad."
* * * * *
Perhaps Jeffrey's most famous criticism was the "This will never do" on
Wordsworth; of which Southey wrote to Scott, "Jeffrey, I hear, has
written what his friends call a crushing review of the Excursion. He
might as well seat himself on Skiddaw, and fancy that he crushed the
mountain."
It is obvious, indeed, that the Lake poets had little respect for their
"superior" reviewers; whose opinions, on the other hand, were not
subject to influences from high places. It will be noticed that Jefferey is
even more severe on Southey's Laureate "Lays" than on his "Thalaba."
The review on Moore, quoted below, was followed by formal
arrangements for a duel at Chalk Farm on 11th August, 1806; but the
police had orders to interrupt, and pistols were loaded with paper. Even
the semblance of animosity was not maintained, as we find Moore
contributing to the Edinburgh before the end of the same year.
We fear that the appreciation of Keats was partly influenced by
political considerations; since Leigh Hunt had so emphatically
welcomed him into the camp. It remains, however, a pleasing contrast
to the ferocious onslaught on Endymion of Gifford printed below.
HENRY LORD BROUGHAM (1779-1868)
Brougham was intimately associated with Jeffrey in the foundation of

the _Edinburgh Review_: he is said to have written eighty articles in
the first twenty numbers, though like all his work, the criticism was
spoilt by egotism and vanity. The fact is that an over-brilliant versatility
injured his work. Combining "in his own person the characters of Solon,
Lycurgus, Demosthenes, Archimedes, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord
Chesterfield, and a great many more," his restless genius accomplished
nothing substantial or sound. His writing was far less careful than his
oratory. A man from whom almost everything was expected, and who
was always before the eye of the public; he has been described as "the
God of Whiggish idolatry," and as "impossible" in society. Harriet
Martineau is unsparing in her criticism of his manners and language;
and evidently he was an inveterate swearer. His enthusiasm for noble
causes was infectious; only, as Coleridge happily expressed it, "because
his heart was placed in what should have been his head, you were never
sure of him--you always doubted his sincerity."
In the Opposition and at the Bar this eloquent energy had full scope,
"but as Lord Chancellor his selfish disloyalty offended his colleagues
while," as O'Connell remarked, "If Brougham knew a little of Law, he
would know a little of everything." Unquestionably his obvious failings
obscured his real eminence, and even hinder us, to-day, from doing full
justice to his memory.
* * * * *
It was the following, somewhat heavy-handed, review which inspired
the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, with all its "extraordinary
powers of malicious statement"--truly a Roland for his Oliver.
SYDNEY SMITH (1771-1845)
The third founder of the Edinburgh and one of its most aggressive
reviewers, until March, 1827, Sydney Smith has been described as
"most provokingly and audaciously personal in his strictures.... He was
too complacent, too aboundingly self-satisfied, too buoyantly full of
spirits, to hate anybody; but he burlesques them, derides them, and
abuses them with the most exasperating effrontery--in a way that is
great fun to the reader, but exquisite torture to the victim." At the same
time, his wit was always governed by commonsense (its most
prevailing distinction); and, though almost unique among humorists for
his personal gaiety, "his best work was done in promoting practical
ends, and his wit in its airiest gambols never escaped his control."

There was, in fact, considerable independence--and even courage--in
his seriously inspired attacks on various abuses, and on every form of
affectation and cant. Though his manners and conversation were not
precisely those we generally associate with the Cloth, Sydney Smith
published several volumes of sermons, and always