pectation that it will be publicly acknowl- or breaking loose upon their afternoon
edged in some shape. When your store is rambles, surrounded by the children they
amassed, as we have remarked already, encouraged to be their playmates. The
your literary discretion is merely beginning children who had the run of the inner
to be tried. You have to face the invid-book-room at Abbotsford, and kept pos-
ious task of rejection, unless you mean session of the little tenement at Keswick,
consciously to mar your work and do in- became a part of the professional life of
justice to the reputation you are respon- their parents. But that kind of domestic
sible for. You find that your correspond- revelation may be very easily overdone;
ent, the fussy dilettante, has been cackling as when a widow or daughter writes the
over illusory treasures. You can make life of the husband or father whose loss
nothing of the packet of brief dinner invi- has left a grievous chasm in her existence.
tations; or the note paying a civil compli- Then we have her and very naturally,
ment to the poem in manuscript that was should she once have decided to make the
promptly sent back. You give offence in public her confidants-always twining
other quarters with better reason. You herself round the memory of the lost one,
cannot reproduce indefinitely very similar and recalling the thousand unsuggestive
ideas; and there are passages and person-trifles which have a living and touching
alities in really suggestive letters which interest for herself; while an enthusiastic
you are bound in common prudence to friend, though with less excuse, is apt to
suppress. All that, however, is matter of fall into a similar error.
personal feeling and sacrifice. You must
make up your mind to make a certain
number of enemies, and to brazen out a
good deal of obloquy and abuse. After
all, your rejected correspondents cannot
cherish their malice forever; nor are you
likely to trouble them soon again for an-
other magnum opus. But when your ma-
terials have been sifted, and when what is
worthless has been refused, you enter on
the more delicate and critical stage of
dealing with them as between yourself and
your public. You must keep the fear of
being wearisome perpetually before your
eyes, and resign yourself to retrenching
mercilessly on what at first sight seemed
worthy of preservation. No matter how full
of interest a life may have been, the public
will not tolerate more than a reasonable
amount of it; and it should be your study
to bring out in striking relief those fea-
tures which gave your subject his special
claims to notoriety. It may have been
lucky perhaps for Boswell, though of
course he deplored it, that he should have
made the acquaintance of his hero so late
in life. Otherwise, though it is difficult
indeed to believe, those delightful volumes
of his might have been multiplied disa-
greeably.

Judicious glimpses at the domestic interior are indispensable; but unless, perhaps, in the case of a woman who has been throwing lustre on her times, without having recognized any "special mission" that way, it seems to us that those glimpses should be indulged in with extreme discretion. Much of course depends upon the We should never have loved either Scott or Southey half so much, had we not seen them sitting among their books

man.

That leads one naturally to the cardinal
virtue of self-suppression, which, after all,
is only another form of tact. If you are
bent on killing two birds with one stone
if you hope to immortalize yourself in com-
memorating your friend - there is no more
to be said save that doubtless you will go
far towards defeating your own purpose;
for a book can hardly fail to be poor when
half the contents are either indifferent to
the reader or objectionable. But a man's
unconscious vanity may innocently enough
cast a heavy shadow over his hero; or the
writer may honestly multiply useful de-
tails, which as matter of self-regard he had
better have restricted. If he be a Boswell
or choose to play the Boswell, there is no
great harm in that; but Boswells, as we
have observed, are almost as rare as phœ-
nixes. More often we have something in
the style of Forster's "Life of Dickens,"
though the author will almost necessarily
have been less fortunate in a subject. Mr.
Forster, in writing a most entertaining nar-
rative, said nothing, of course, that was
not strictly true, nor perhaps did he exag-
gerate either his intimacy or the influence
he exercised on his friend. But though
the delicate flatteries he published, and the
details he gave, may have added life and
color to the story he was writing, they
threw Dickens himself into the back-
ground; and at all events, so far as its
author was concerned, the impression of
the book was decidedly unpleasing.

There is one kind of memoir in which
the writer must come to the front, and that
is autobiography. If undertaken in a
spirit of absolute candor and simplicity,
nothing may be made more instructive and
entertaining. Nor does it follow by any

and graphically we have the hero presented to us! Or take a genius of a very different order, who wrote with a different purpose, and in very different style. We have lately had a voluminous collection of the letters of Honoré de Balzac. The most important of these were addressed to two ladies

means that the autobiographer need be | since he was making the war history he one of those men whose name has been describes so lucidly. Yet with hardly a much in the mouth of the world. On the single directly personal touch, how forcibly contrary, in our opinion, the best of our autobiographies are those that have chiefly a domestic or personal interest. They should be the honest confessions of a nature that has the power of self-analysis; and nobody but the individual himself can make the disclosures which give such a history completeness. No incident can to the sister whom he had always made then be too insignificant, provided it have his confidante, and to the Russian barsome distinct bearing on the end in view. oness whom he afterwards married. We The author must necessarily have a reten- do not know if he had any idea that they tive memory, and he should have a natural might ultimately be published. Nor if he instinct of self-observation. For in telling had, do we imagine that it would have his plain, unvarnished tale, he reveals him- made any great difference; for a Frenchself more or less consciously; and if he man whose soul is steeped in romance is have the knack of picturesque narrative, it likely to be transcendently feminine in his is so much the better; while literary ex- emotional candor. At all events, that lifeperience may be a positive snare. It may long series of letters makes up the most tempt him into the laying himself out for vividly descriptive of autobiographies. effect, which will almost inevitably defeat We know the novel-writer, with his bursts its purpose - into giving an air of artifice of sustained industry, when the fancy was and sentiment to the confessions that working at high-pressure pace; with his should be unmistakably genuine. Some trials, his triumphs, his eccentricities, and of the most satisfactory autobiographies his extravagances, as if we had lived in we are acquainted with, have been writ- his intimacy all his days. It is not only ten by women. Women, and especially that we hear the duns knocking at his French women, are more emotional and impressionable than the rougher sex. When they are warmed to their work, they have less hesitation in unbosoming themselves unreservedly in the public confessional; nor are they embarrassed by false shame or overstrained sensitiveness, when they are impelled to lay bare their innermost feelings. But if a public man becomes his own historiographer, it is an incessant effort to be either straightforward or dispassionate. He places himself involuntarily on his defence, and is vindicating his reputation with his contemporaries and posterity. Naturally he cannot be overscrupulous in putting his conduct in the most favorable light; he launches crossindictments against the opponents who have impeached it; and even if in his own judgment he be punctiliously conscientious, his conscience may have been warped by the habit of self-deception.

What comes very near to actual autobiography, and may be even more strikingly indicative of character, is the publication of copious correspondence, either by itself or slightly connected by a commentary. The Duke of Wellington was a man of few words, and the Wellington despatches are models of terse narrative and pointed English. The writer, though he only alludes to himself incidentally, necessarily fills a great space in them,

door, and see them assembled to lay siege to his ante-room, while he was feverishly toiling against time, filliping himself by perpetual doses of coffee in the sumptuous apartments they had furnished on credit. But he reveals all the caprices of his changing moods; he shows himself in his alternations of excitement and depression; he has no conception of drawing a veil over the failings and sensibility he is inclined to take pride in; he returns time after time to his literary feuds and resentments, as he is inexhaustible in his abuse of the pettifogging lawyers who strewed thorns among the rose-leaves on which he would have loved to repose. He cannot be said to exhibit himself to advantage, and yet somehow we like him. Not certainly on account of his genius, for that was decidedly of the cynical cast that repels affection though it compels admiration. We believe we take to him chiefly because he is so entirely without reserve for us. In ordinary biographies you feel that much may be kept back, and suspicion suggests or exaggerates the concealments; while, if a man be entirely outspoken, and seems to take your sympathy with him as a matter of course, we give him more than due credit for his amiable qualities. Unhappily, it is seldom we have such elaborate self-portraiture nowadays, seeing that painstaking letter-writing is become a fash

ion of the past, and it is only one of the on which the popularity of ancient and
indefatigable French romance-writers like modern historians, like Tacitus or Claren
Balzac, Sand, or Dumas, who can spare don, is more solidly established than their
time and thought for it from their mul- striking contemporary portraits. The
tifarious avocations.
sketch of Catiline is perhaps the most im-
We are disposed to wonder at the cour-pressive part of Sallust's history of the
age or rashness of those who write the famous conspiracy. What would we give
biographies of living men. The work can now for the most meagre memoir of Shake-
be but an unsatisfactory instalment at the speare, were it only authoritative? and
best; and it is impossible to overrate its had he found his Boswell or Lockhart, we
delicacy or difficulty. It must tend to be might have had a book that would have
either a libel or unmitigated eulogy, though gone down to posterity with his poems.
much more often it is the latter. When So much is that the case, that one of the
an enemy undertakes it-and we have most favorite modern forms of biography
seen an instance of that lately in memoirs consists in ransacking the authorities of
of the premier - he must judge his sub- the remote past, and piecing together such
ject solely by public appearances. He disjointed materials as they can supply.
can have no access to those materials for That must be more or less like recon-
the vie intime which can alone give truth-structing the mastodon from the traces he
ful color to the portrait. Besides, he holds has left on the primeval rocks. Learned
a brief for the prosecution; he has to Germans, distinguished members of the
vindicate the prejudices which warp his French Academy, deeply-read professors
judgment, and he lays himself out to in- in the English universities, have betaken
vent misconstruction of motives, if not themselves to rewriting the lives of illus-
for actual misrepresentations. While the trious Greeks and Romans. They have
partial friend or enthusiastic devotee can done most creditable work, we confess;
scarcely steer clear of indiscriminate puff- and yet, however acutely logical the treat.
ing. Whatever he may do for the reputa- ment may be, we have the impression that
tion of this subject, he can hardly fail to we are being beguiled into historical ro-
injure his own. As his readers are dis-mance where the actual has been ingen-
posed to set him down as either a dupe or iously merged in the ideal. In lives that
a shameless panegyrist, he pays the pen came nearer to our own times, that impres-
alty of having thrust himself into a false sion naturally diminishes; and we grant
position. If he has really much that is that there is more satisfactory reason for
new and original to tell, it will be assumed writing them. The discoveries of gossipy
that he has had direct encouragement to State papers all the world over notably
undertake the task. Few men are cast in those in the archives of Simancas, and the
such a mould, or occupy a position so un-official correspondence of accomplished
mistakably independent, that they can dare
in such embarrassing circumstances to
show the serene impartiality of the judge.
If they have gone for their information to
the fountain-head, they have, in fact, com-
mitted themselves to a tacit arrangement
by which they undertake to be nothing but
laudatory. Should they insinuate blame,
it is in such softened terms that they al-
most turn condemnation into compliments.
And even when the writer can honestly be
lavish of his praise, he must feel that his
praises sound unbecoming. In short, as
it seems to us, it is work that can scarcely
be undertaken by any man of sensitive
feeling.

Yet in more ways than one the production of a good biography is a most praiseworthy ambition, for no one is a greater benefactor alike to literature and posterity than the man who has achieved it. In spite of his amiable superstition and his tedious digressions, Plutarch is still a standard classic. Nor is there anything

Venetian emissaries — have thrown floods
of unexpected light on some of the most
remarkable personages of the Middle Ages.
There is an odd fashion too in those
subjects, and certain picturesque people
and periods seem to have an irresistible
fascination for literary men. Paradoxical
conclusions, that are due in a great degree
to the author's ingenuity, have of course
their charm; and we can understand the
taste that finds delight in whitewashing the
most doubtful or disreputable figures in
history. But the fact of some impressive
character having already been repeatedly
appropriated, appears to be a challenge to
other artists to take him in hand; and
thus, for example we see a religious re-
former like Savonarola, or such a subtle
thinker as his contemporary Machiavelli,
receiving, noteworthy as they undoubtedly
were, more than their fair share of atten-
tion.

Next to Boswell's Johnson, to our mind
the most enjoyable life in the language, is

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200

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more gallantly fought out after the flush of an unexampled series of triumphs. Almost unprecedented prosperity had ended in what might have been the blackest eclipse, but for the manly nature that shone brightest at the last through the clouds that would have depressed any ordinary fortitude. Never was there stronger temptation to indiscriminate hero-worship, for Lockhart was the friend and confidant of his father-in-law, and had watched him with ever-growing admiration through his changing fortunes. No man was better fitted to appreciate that rare versatility of literary genius than one who had himself been a successful romance-writer, and who was a critic by temperament as well as habit. Perhaps it was partly owing to that critical temperament, with the practice of self-control which it inferred, that the biographer proved equal to his splendid opportunities. Partly because, setting the obligations of honesty aside, he felt that all he could tell of his father-in-law would only redound to Scott's honor in the end. But the result has been that we have a life in many volumes which for once we would very willingly have longer, and for once in a way, if there be a fault in the book, it is the excessive self-effacement of the accomplished author. Had he told all, which of course he could not do, we believe it would appear that his counsels to Scott had been invaluable.

Lockhart's Scott. And a model biogra- | dom has there been a more strangely phy it is for the practical purpose of exam- checkered career, or a losing campaign ple, since no man who can avail himself of somewhat similar advantages need despair of producing a creditable imitation. As we have remarked already, the secret of Boswell's success in some degree defines and eludes detection; while some of the conditions to which it is most obviously due are such as few men would care to accept. They would object to discarding delicacy and reserve, and to pursuing their purpose with a sublime indifference as to whether or not they made themselves the laughing-stock of their readers. But Lockhart produced his fascinating work simply by writing a straightforward narrative. He was entirely outspoken as to the private life of his illustrious subject, except in so far as disclosures of family secrets were necessarily limited by good taste and good feeling. As we are taught to admire Sir Walter's genius in the critical appreciation of his works, we learn to love the man in his domestic intercourse. What can be pleasanter, for instance, than the picture of the lion taking refuge from the houseful of guests his hospitality had gathered into Abbotsford, at his favorite daughter's quiet breakfast-table under the trees in the little garden at Huntly Burn? We learn to love him in his friendship for his pets, for it was friendship at least as much as fondness; and they and their master thoroughly understood each other. Lockhart, with the true feeling of an artist, has painted Scott among his dogs as Raeburn Since Scott wrote the "Napoleon," did. We know them all, from Camp, whose which hardly did justice either to the emdeath made him excuse himself from a din-peror or to the author, good lives of solner-party on account of the loss of a much-diers have been scarce - although, by the loved friend from Maida sitting solemn- way, in that connection, we may refer to ly at his elbow in his study, or stalking the Count de Sèjur's admirable memoir of gravely by his master's side, while the rest his master which came out a few years ago. of the pack were gambolling ahead of Wellington and the heroes of the peninsula them down to "the shamefaced little had been disposed of; and there were few terrier," who would hide himself at a word opportunities for soldiers distinguishing of reproof, and who could only be lured themselves in the comparatively peaceful out of his seclusion by the irresistible times that followed. In India and the sound of the meat-chopper at the dinner- Crimea, though we do not forget dashing hour. To be sure no biographer could leaders like the Napiers, and many distinhave been more fortunate in a subject. guished generals of division, no really The life of Scott from first to last was great commander can be said to have come overcharged with diversified elements of to the front; and the lives of officers in romance. His lines were cast in the land [subordinate positions usually supply inciof the Border, where every hamlet and dents that are too episodical. Besides, peel tower had its legend, and each stream the memoir of a distinguished soldier and dale their ballads. There was an ex- must have mainly a strategical interest, and traordinary blending of the picturesque the most accomplished literary artist will with the practical as the lawyer turned into find his talent taxed to the utmost if his the poet and novelist; and the pen of the book is to be made attractive to the general wizard in an evil hour took to backing the public. No doubt the authoritative life of bills that landed him in insolvency. Sel-Von Moltke will be a most valuable work,

yet we may surmise that it will be heavy | fine scope for forcible writing in a brilliant reading. Moreover, the present fashion forensic career, when beginning with some of war correspondence unpleasantly antici- unlooked-for exhibition of eloquence; with pates the military memoir writer. He the lucky hit of a junior stepping into the must go for his most exciting materials to place of an absent leader, it led him republications that are universally accessi- through professional and political intrigues ble, though, after having been read, they and many a hotly contested election, to may have been half forgotten in the newer land him in the chief justiceship or on the interest of fresher sensations; while most woolsack. At present the course of the men will be inclined to renounce in de- profession is more prosaic. The young spair the hope of improving on the pictu- barrister's best chance at his start is a payresqueness of the best of these narratives. ing family connection, or marriage with a It must be much the same in the case of lady who brings clients as her dowry. He statesmen. Formerly, when there were climbs the ladder by slow degrees, and it meagre Parliamentary reports, when the is seldom he clears the first rounds at a premier was a despot like Walpole or spring. The ballot and the new election Chatham, and the administration arbitrary laws have done away with the romance of so long as he held office, there was the hustings; and even the humors of the much that was interesting to be told, much circuits seem to have been dying out with that was mysterious to be explained, when the old habits of sociable conviviality. We a biographer found himself in a position fear we shall never again have such a book to make confidences. Now it is compara- as Twiss's "Life of Lord Eldon; nor tively rarely that we have to wait for the need future lord chancellors fear a new demise of the principal actors in them to series of a Lord Campbell's "Lives," learn the exact truth as to important trans- which shall "add a fresh horror to death." actions. Each successive step is submit- Perhaps in the general decadence of the ted to the most searching scrutiny. Ener- art, the lives of divines are the sole excepgetic or fussy members ask questions and tion; and that is chiefly because they are raise debates. Ministers are forced to so seldom liberally catholic either in their stand on their defence against attacks and spirit or their interest. A man who has insidious suggestions that cannot well be made a name as a pulpit orator, or who left unanswered. The debates are thrashed has played a leading part in the affairs of out in exhaustive leaders, while corre- some church or sect, has his personal folspondents and consuls abroad are contrib-lowing of devoted worshippers. In nine uting to the literature of foreign questions. cases out of ten the life has been written There is a serial publication of blue-books by some faithful follower who has clung to which are systematically condensed for the him like Elisha to Elijah. The biography information of the public. No minister becomes the faithful reflection of its subdare refuse the publication of a State pa-ject's views and convictions. We can per: at the most, he can only take the hardly say that his prejudices are treated responsibility of deferring it. Now and with tenderness; for they are adopted, then a man's lips may be sealed by a punc-defended, and developed. The people tilious sense of honor, or by circumstances who make a rush on the first edition know which he can hardly command, as to some exactly what they have to expect, and there cabinet decision or piece of diplomacy in is little chance of their being disgusted or which he played a conspicuous part. But disappointed, since the name and familiar with the lapse of time, people have ceased opinions of the author guarantee the tone. to feel concerned in that; and even when The bitterness of conflicting creeds is attention has been subsequently called to proverbial; and it is too seldom that a it in some keen political critique, it only writer seizes on the grand opportunity of awakens a languid interest. We are far soaring superior to the narrow prepossesfrom saying that the average talent of our sions of sectarianism, into the untroubled statesmen has declined, though the glare atmosphere of the Christian religion. Yet of publicity that exposes their shortcom- though a sectarian memoir must be oneings seems to give greater point every day sided and narrow-minded, it need by no to the famous dictum of Oxenstiern. But means of necessity be a literary blunder. there can be no question that writing their On the contrary, earnest partisanship may lives in detail is coming more and more to be an antidote to dulness; bitterness of have much in common with the philosoph- feeling gives it a certain piquancy; and ical revision of ancient history. the invective that is inspired by honest self-satisfaction may lend animation and vigor to the style. The pious men who

Even with the lawyers, things have changed for the worse. There used to be