directly under the wheels of the Trac- required of him was paid down to the tarian movement, he might have been liv-last farthing. All was given away, till ing yet; and few, who have paid his only his great unrooted honesty reworks any attention, will doubt but that mained to him. Religion would indeed he would have been one of the greatest be a rhapsody of words if in such a case of living men. That this unfortunate in- a man could not spend his life and yet in terruption and harassing mental conflict the highest sense possess it. Whosoever fatally interfered with his æsthetic devel- shall lose his life shall preserve it. It is opment as a successful poet, is very a beautiful belief, and it never was beat abundantly proved by nearly all the out into the metal of actual hard fact poetry he has written. He carried his with a sublimer self-denial than in the doubts about him by force of habit, and life of Clough. not least doubted his own powers, and the quality of his own productions. His doubts to him indeed Were traitors, And made him lose the good he might have won, By fearing to attempt. From Chambers' Journal. ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE. BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS. He kept his most important poem, the On the north side of the High Street "Amours de Voyage," in MS. beside of Edinburgh, opposite the cross, there him for nine years, and only published it was, in the early years of the present cenat last in a kind of modestly furtive way tury, a plain-looking shop without any in an American periodical- the "At- exterior show. The door was up three lantic Monthly." His doubt seemed to or four steps from the pavement, and on find him out and to hunt him to cover each side was a window with small panes. whenever and wherever he ventured out. The interior was rather gloomy, for the He could not escape it. There was noth-roof was low; and in the rear, seen as in ing left for him, but in his own melan- a kind of vista, there was a long warecholy words, "to pace the sad confusion through." Baffled and tempest-tost by conflicting opinions, he exclaims in one of his poems: - O may we for assurance sake house, with tables, which, on certain days every quarter, were laden with the blue and yellow covered periodical, the wellknown Edinburgh Review. There was a decorous though bustling air about the shop-lads; decent middle-aged clerks sat poring over ledgers at desks near the windows; mingling with the ordinary We almost wish he could have done so, concourse of customers, might occasioneven at some little intellectual sacrifice. ally be seen learned and lawyer-looking But that was just the thing he could not personages in black coats, dropping in do. He was too keenly suspicious of his from the street, and making their way to intellectual life. With him there was no an inner room, where sat the presiding deeper form of dishonesty than that genius- Archibald Constable, a roundwhich shrinks from its own conviction. faced portly man of gentlemanly aspect, There never was a character more spot-who had, some years previously, gained lessly free from anything even approach- distinction as the leading publisher in ing compromise in this respect. His intellectual honesty was without a flaw. Everything went down before his convictions-his living at Oxford (it should not be forgot that in his position pecuniary sacrifice meant poverty), and with it in many men's eyes, his social status as well. And last, what to him was of far more value than these, the confidence of his dearest friends, and at the head of the -list Arnold himself. Happiness, health, all went; and in their place, to use a phrase of his own, came "spirtual vertigo and megrims unutterable," and loneliness and misery. Everything his conscience Scotland. Such is exactly what I remember, when, at my start in life as an apprentice, I was sent on business errands to Constable's in 1814. Like other boys brought up for "the trade," I always felt a certain degree of awe in visiting this august temple of literature. It was imposing in its dinginess and wholesale arrangements, and to a youth it became peculiarly impressive on the issue of Waverley, in three volumes, when time after time I was despatched to procure fresh quantities to meet an insatiable public demand. As a humble be hind-backs member of the bibliopolic pro ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE. 243 I fession, I could not but feel the import- he was a kind and indulgent master. ance of "doing business" at this marvel- passed six years very happily as an aplous emporium. In the way of maternal prentice, and another as a clerk, receiving admonition, I had again and again been in the last year thirty pounds of salary. reminded that I could do no better than Mr. Hill's shop was frequented by the follow the example of Archibald Consta- most respectable persons in Edinburgh. ble, who, at one time, had been as poor Burns the poet when in town was a freand friendless as I was-and now see quent visitor; the distinguished professwhat he has come to! strangers. making frequent visits, and my conductors and clergy, and the most remarkable ing him to the Advocates' Library. Mr. I remember Captain Grose Hill did not remain long in the Parliament Close, but removed about the year 1790 to the shop at the cross," south side of the High Street. Constable devoted his entire attention to learning his business; attended book Throughout his apprenticeship, young auctions, read catalogues, and embraced every opportunity of making himself acquainted with books. This knowledge was considerably augmented by having Only now, after a lapse of sixty years, has the story of Constable's life and what he did for literature been fully told. The narrative is from the pen of one of his sons, Mr. Thomas Constable, who does merited justice to his father's memory. To us, the work corroborates recollections of a long past period. All we can do here, however, is to offer a few of the more interesting circumstances, blended with such remarks as may incidentally occur. It is now exactly a hundred years since Archibald Constable was born at Carnbee in Fife, where his progenitors for a time had been decent and intelligent to make a catalogue of old and valuable farmers. He might probably have con- books which the Earl of Moray had given tinued the family in the same profession, to Hill in exchange for modern publicabut for the fact of a person from Edin- tions. Other work of the same kind folburgh having set up as a bookbinder in lowed, and ultimately he became so prothe small town of Pittenweem. The sight ficient in the character and value of old of the bookbinder's shop and its modest books as to give him a bias towards this exhibition of literary wares, suggested to branch of the trade. When his apprenyoung Constable the idea of being a book- ticeship came to a close in 1794, he reseller. To enter himself to this profes-mained, as he tells us, another year with sion in the little sea-side town was out of the question. promoting his son's wishes, wrote to his The father, desirous of correspondent in Edinburgh, Mrs. Eagle, a respectable widow lady, who carried on the business of a seed-merchant. Through her friendly interference, the youth was engaged as an apprentice to Peter Hill, who was about to begin as a bookseller in the Parliament Close. There is a traditionary episode not to be omitted. Mrs. Eagle could not conveniently conduct the lad on his arrival to Mr. Hill, but put him in charge of her youngest apprentice, Alexander Henderson, son of the gardener at Cringletie, in Peeblesshire, who had been only about a month in town. stance led to a life-long intimacy between The circumthe two young men, both of whom made some figure in the world. diligently fought his way on, married the Henderson daughter of Mrs. Eagle, became a noted seed-merchant, and was elected Lord Provost of Edinburgh. As for Constable, he commenced his career, February 1788. He says in an autobiographic sketch: "Mr. Hill commanded an excellent business. I lived in the house with him, and Mr. Hill in the capacity of clerk. During account in 1795. Previous to settling Having pitched himself in the midst of as from his enlarged views and liberal booksellers, he distinguished his place of dealing, Constable became the publisher business, by inscribing over the door, of the Farmer's Magazine, the Scots Scarce old Books," which was quizzed Magazine, and certain Medical and Philby some of his brethren and neighbours osophical Journals. With these beginas "Scarce o' Books," a joke which he nings, he was appropriately selected by did not mind. His success in business Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, John Archibald far exceeded his expectations; his shop Murray, Francis Horner, and others of becoming a place of daily resort for book- the set, to be the publisher of the Edincollectors and others. At this time and burgh Review, the first number of which for twenty years later, booksellers' shops appeared on the 10th of October 1802. about the cross were places of daily Willison was, of course, the printer; and lounge for all who aspired to literary at his office in Craig's Close, it was custastes, and had some leisure to spare on tomary, for sake of incognito, to meet to gossip about things in general. These consider articles and settle on the conshops answered the purpose of clubs. A ducting of the work. The success of the lounger with little to do, would probably Review, which was immediate and comspend an hour or so with Creech, who, on plete, may be said to have been chiefly fine days, held a kind of conclave on the due to two things-the ability of the steps to his door, his bald head covered writers, and the liberal payment per sheet with a nicely powdered wig; next, he would by the publisher. For a time, the Edindrop in at Hill's, or Constable's, or Bell burgh carried all before it; in fact, had and Bradfute's, or at the shop of Man- the field to itself, until the appearance of ners and Miller- a resort more remark- the Quarterly in 1809. able, however, for wits, female literati, Getting deeply into the publishing and we might add, people of a musical line, Constable gradually dropped the old turn; for Bobby Miller," one of the book-trade. Seemingly with a view to partners (a bland bulky man, dressed in bringing capital into the concern, he took nankeen breeches and white stockings, as a Mr. Hunter into partnership, which if ever ready to go out to dinner, or to subsisted for seven years. Hunter was take a hand at whist), sang beautifully, not bred a bookseller. He was a man of and had a strong clientèle of musical ad- literary tastes, and being son of Hunter mirers. A pleasant way of spending ex- of Blackness, he possessed a high social istence was that lounging about book- standing. Perhaps so much the worse. shops, to which the keepers of these es- Like many others at the time, he was a tablishments had no objection; for in good deal of a bon-vivant, a quality which these days things were taken very easily. by no means leads to success in business. The fact is stated in the Life of Consta- On an occasion of Longman making an ble, which we were already quite aware excursion with him in Forfarshire in 1803, of, that in their mutual dealings the Edin- he astonished and half-killed the London burgh booksellers seldom settled ac- publisher with drinking-bouts at gentlecounts with actual coin. Bills played a men's houses. In a letter to Constable, considerable part in their dealings. A Hunter moralizes on the incapacity of his good deal was also done in the way of companion to stand this style of living. Barter. At periodical settlements, bal-"These Englishers will never do in our ances such as seven pounds fifteen shil- country: they eat a great deal too much, lings and sixpence would be paid off by and drink too little; the consequence is, copies of Cook's Voyages, Doddridge's their stomachs give way, and they are Rise and Progress, or some other knocked up, of course." Three years work of which the debtor happened to later, he took Murray of London on a have a redundancy the transaction similar expedition, and in the same way being always comfortably adjusted at Johnnie Dowie's, John's Coffee-house, or some such-like cosy tavern in the Old Town. The hangers-on at Constable's were usually of an enlightened superior order, such as wealthy country lairds on the scent for curious old books, town clergymen, professors in the university, lawyers in high practice, antiquaries, and artists. From this circumstance, as well' nearly finished him. The carouse was at Brechin castle, and is described as being "dreadful." He pities Murray, but says, "he has himself principally to blame, having been so rash as to throw out a challenge to the Scots." What a record of past manners! Constable did not relish intelligence of this kind, and we can see that Hunter, with some fair abilities, was a drag on the concern. An attempt was made in 1859 to set up a branch of the business in Lon-share in the "good things" he had sedon; but the representative in charge, cured. The happiest period of his life named Park, died, and the attempt being was perhaps about 1810, when things abandoned, the firm fell back on commis- were in a flourishing state without any sion agencies. Hunter died suddenly in serious alloy, at which time he lived in a 1811. According to the narrative before pleasant suburban retreat at Craigcrook, us, he appears to have made a safe in- along with his rising family; shewing vestment as a partner. "He advanced hospitality to distinguished men of letoriginally in 1804, L.2500; in 1811 heters who travelled so far northward. had drawn that sum and about L.4000 be- What happiness is sometimes diffused in sides-consequently, with the L.17,000 a dwelling by the presence of a kindlypaid to him [share of capital stock at natured maiden aunt! It was the fate of his decease, possibly], he gained fully the family at Craigcrook to be so cheered, L.21,000 by being A. C.'s partner." In by Miss Jean Willison, sister of Mrs. other words, for the miserable input of Constable, and who was familiarly known L.2500, Constable gave away L.21,000, as "Auntie Jean.” In her youth, she for which, as far as we can see, he re- had been sent to France for her educaceived no substantial benefit. His next tion, and there she became the admired partner was a Mr. Cathcart, who took of a young French gentleman, who, in Hunter's share in the concern, introdu- token of his affection, presented her with cing at the same time Mr. Robert Cadell, a box of bonbons. Jean was too good a as a member of the new contract. At daughter to marry without her father's this time. according to an abstract of ac- approval, and the Frenchman was left to counts, the assets of the firm amounted sigh in vain. An end was abruptly put to L.104,000, from which had to be de- to the affair, by the outbreak of the war ducted debts amounting to L.54,000, leav- with England. Jean fled, and got home ing a clear balance of about L. 50,000 in safety. What became of the forlorn a good sum to have been realized in six- wooer we are not told. Jean's feelings, teen years, after paying all expenses, and however, had been touched. She treasliving in a comfortable style. There was, ured the box of bonbons, at the bottom however, an awkward item in the state of which she found a ring. This sad of affairs: In the debts due by the firm memorial of hopes now forever vanished, was comprehended the sum of L.33,000 she put on her finger, and listening to of bills, by which it is seen that, even at no other lover, devoted herself to the this time, the business was largely car-duty of a ministering angel in the family ried on by a system of credit. of her sister. Latterly, in her old days, Perhaps Constable could not have Auntie Jean became a little eccentric, reached the climax he did by the slower and somewhat deaf. When dying, she and more safe system of ready-money said confidingly: "If I should be spared dealings. He had already formed an in- to be taken away, I hope my nephew will timacy, if not business connection, with get the doctor to open my head, and see the notabilities of literature, and consti- if anything can be done for my hearing!" tuted the Scottish capital an eminent publishing centre. The best literary property going fell in his way. Until his time, the publishing business in Edinburgh had for the most part been conducted in a narrow scraping manner. The most enterprising in the trade was Charles Elliot (father-in-law of the late John Murray of Albemarle Street), who removed with his business to London. Creech, on the contrary, was to the last degree mean in his dealings, of which a painful instance occurred in his settlement with Burns for the first complete edition of his works. In this wavering state of mind, the gentle being passed away to her rest. Auntie Jean's ring, as it ought to be, is still preserved as a family relic. The abstraction of capital by the death of Hunter was a misfortune to the firm, compensated by a reinvigoration from Cathcart; but this new partner did not long survive. He died in 1812. The heavy draught made on the concern by this event, occurred about the time that the Encyclopædia Britannica was purchased, when heavy charges were undertaken in connection with that voluminous work. From this period, we trace a Archibald Constable appeared on the downhill financial course. Bills were scene as a revolutionist in the profession. not only given in discharge of regular For a time he "had the ball at his foot," business obligations, but put copiously was the head publisher in Scotland and in circulation to raise capital from bankcourted by London publishers for a ers and money-brokers. In short, a sys The dewless desert of blank and barren, has seldom outlived its own generation; denial was no place for the gentle muse. and, in fact, any attempt to get the mateImagination cannot breathe its atmos- rials of poetry out of half belief, argues phere and live. And yet, though not a defective poetical perception at the present themselves, these old controver- outset. sies have left us an inheritance. The It is possible indeed, leaping to the times have changed, and we have changed opposite extreme, to get something like with them. The gloomy, not to say stagey atheism that had a certain fascination for the youth of thirty or forty years ago, has given place in our day to a refined and vaguely idealistic pantheism, which, without any of the old obtrusion a living poet. For, waiving altogether of unbelief (it has even a kind of niggardly recognition of a personal God about it), still exercises a limiting influence on poetry a weaker solution of the strong waters of atheism, not so objectionable as the old form, on account of what it admits of evil, as of what it excludes of good. Without attempting any hardchurch definition of its influence and indeed we question much if many of its poetical exponents themselves could give a perfectly lucid account of what they believe and what they do not believe we are yet of opinion that it puts a limitation on genius, and especially on poetical genius, in nearly the same proportion that it falls short of a definite faith. Leaving all moral considerations out of sight as not within our province, it seems to be necessary, for aesthetical reasons alone, that the poet, of all other artists, should possess a belief that shall at least be clear to himself. Above all other men it behoves him, in the words of one of the greatest of his brotherhood, to be One in whom persuasion and belief Has ripened into faith, and faith become at There is a certain degree of heat which language fuses, and becomes the possible vehicle of poetical feeling, and the point of liquefaction is never registered below conviction, but above it. We do not say conviction is all that is necessary. Oxygen itself would quickly consume life, yet a man must consume oxygen to live. Conviction alone will not produce poetry, but it is an essential component of the atmosphere in which alone poetry can be sustained. At the degree in the mental thermometer which chronicles conviction, the possibility of poetry begins. Anything below that lacks one of the first conditions of its existence. The poetry that has been produced without due regard to this essential quality, 1 poetry out of the gigantic and passionate denial of Satan himself, as Milton has abundantly proved; or even, to a certain degree, out of the pagan abhorrence of the God of Christianity, as illustrated by any question as to the moral fitness of rehabilitating even under an impersonal or dramatic mask that which, in the hearing of the majority of his audience, can only be regarded as flat blasphemy, there can be no doubt that Mr. Swinburne has reached his highest poetical possibility in what we may classify as his ethnical poems. Without troubling ourselves about whether the inspiration comes from above or below, there is a force about his audacious profanity that we do not so readily find in his other efforts. Good or bad, Mr. Swinburne's capacity for blasphemy is unquestionably une qualité, as the French would say, with their subtle substratum of meaning. In the hands of a poet like Milton, the Titanic war against heaven is capable of a certain amount of diabolical picturesqueness; but the merely human unbelief, the distracting doubt, and the shuffling ingenuity that nibbles at this creed and that without arriving at any definite conviction of its own, is the most unpoetical thing in the world. No amount of artistic skill can make its effusions pleasing. Seeking sympathy and finding none, they seem to be all conceived in the melancholy minor, without any of the natural plaintiveness of that key, and with a double share of its hopeless dejection. There appears to be a place in the realms of the imagination for either God or devil; but upon the Laodicean lukewarmness, upon the apathetic neutrality that is neither cold nor hot, poetry turns her back. To trace the effects of scepticism, and the stern limitation put upon poeiical genius by the want of that faith which ripens into Wordsworth's "passionate intuition," would open up too wide a field, extending as it does through all the infinite phases and degrees of doubt, from the first shadowy suggestion down to the ultimate utter denial. But that each step downward is hurtful in its degree, whatever disguise it assumes, could be |