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WO Til STATUE OF KISG CHARLES I. V^ BT LIONEL JOHNSON. 'i Comely and calm, he. rides /. Hard by his own Whitehall: : Only the night wind glides: No crowds, nor rebels, brawl. Gone, too. his Court: and yet. The stars his courtiers are: Stars in their stations set; And every wandering star. I Alone he rides, alone. The fair and fatal King: Dark night is all his own. That strange and solemn tiling. Which are more full of fate. _ The ,«tars; or those sad eyes. Which are more still and erreaV Those lions; or the dark skies. Bjjj£ NttojSkrit SWJfaw& SUNDAY, JUNE 2G, 1010. i " How beautifully (hey writer some things in Franco: It is reported that M. Ileuri Bern stein, having obtained a judgment against Mine Sarah Bernhardt for a sum of money. proceeded to seize certain theatre receipts and property of hers. Whereupon the Association of Parisian Theatre Managers called a meeting and sent a telegram to the great actress word ed as follows: "A French author, regardless of all that dramatic art owes you, has thought fit during your absence to seize your theatre receipts, property and furniMire. We strongly protest against this abominable proceeding. Authorize your conferrees and friends to act for you. We all embrace you." But this was not all. If we mention the incident here, it is be cause of the comment of one of the Paris journals on the offer of M. Bernstein to devote 20.000 francs of the fine to the foundation of a prize for young poets, ne is lectured thus : It is in vain that the hero of this painful episode offers to devote 20,000 francs to the "Jeunesse Poetique." For the "Jeuncsse. Poe tiqu<" will have none of it. It honours, it loves Sarah, the Great Sarah, who, even in her mis take, still remains the highest expression of contemporary dramatic art, whom we admire for her genius, her courage, her faith, and her sublime illusions. The writer who has acted thus, the author of "Faust," and this wicked process, has lost for ever the French public esteem. He is dead to us. Those who admire his talent will regret it, for talent alone does not suffice. All honor to the "Jeunesse Toetique." That gallant body is worthy of the best days of the romantic movement Here is an amusing story about Mr. Thomas Ilardy, revived apropos of his celebration of Li? seventieth birthday. It relates to the ener getic curate of a Dorsetshire parish, who had the idea to invite some members of his flock, mostly farmers and their men, to an evening at his home, where he talked to them about Mr. Hardy's works, reading copious extracts froni the latter. At the conclusion a farmer rose to move a vote of thanks to the curate, whereupon one of his comrades paid : "I be very pleased to second the vote of thanks to our curate for his kindners iv readin' to US ni?d lellin' us all about Muster Tirdy, but we don't want to hear that, it's afi about we; we knows all that." When the incident was re ported to Mr. Hardy he remarked : "I have Lad many criticisms, adverse and otherwise, but if the people recognize their own por trait, that is good enough for me." We wonder just what Mr. Hardy's feeling about criticism is. It has been said that he gave up the writ ing of novels simply because the critics didn't like "Jude" as well as they liked "Tess." i Though we have only just heard for the first time of Mr. Herbert Flowerdew we are exceed ingly sorry for him. From an article of his in the 'Tall Mall Gazette" it would appear that he is a novelist, and, says lie, "I am tired of writing novels. It is not a dignified trade." In itself, no doubt, the calling of a novelist is honorable and useful. But there is no longer any inducement for Flowerdew to do the work of a novelist When he has labored for six months on a story he is compelled to remember that his reward will depend less on the story than on the title he happens to give to it, or on the business ability of the publisher to whom he intrusts it. lie is not even sure that t a provoking title or lavish expenditure on ad- Tertlsemcnt would give his book quite the cir culation which he might secure if he were to elope with a duchess, make an attempt on the life of a great ruler, or in some other ridicu lons way make himself momentarily notorious. If toe novelist wishes to earn more than a pound a week at his profession in England it i« necessary for him, according to Flowerdew, to scramble for the market, to conspire with his publisher to secure public attention by almost any process rather than that of merely t writing a good book. To make matters worse there Is the cruel convention arrived at which decrees that uo new coved should be issued at a higher price than four shillings and sixpence. 'Of eourae, if yonr novel does not have a very L-.n;i? cdrcula tioa, all you have to do is to put a h!gfr pries upon it and there yon are — small ealcE and hi» profits. But they won't let Flow erdeW do this, Poor Flcverdcw ! The tear NEW- YORK DULY TRIBUNE, SUNDAY, JUNE 2<T. 1010 BYRON'S FRIEND Further Recollections of John Cam Hobhouse. RECOLLECTIONS OF A IS)X<: LIFE. By r,onl Broughtnn (John Cam Hobhouse). Edited t.y his daughter, I^aoy Dorchester. With portraits. In four volumes. Vols. 11l and IV. pp. 374-355. Charles Scribner'.s Sons. The second instalment of the reminiscences of John Cam Hobhouse, Lord Broughton, Member of Parliament, Cabinet Minister and closest friend of Byron, brings us a welcome addition to the early volumes. These later records be gin in ISL'II and end in 1834, covering the period of the struggle for Catholic Emancipation and the fight over the reform bill. Hobhouse took an active part in these memorable battles, and his accounts, set down from day to day, are full of interest for the ."-tudent of human nat ure as well as for the student of politics. His days in the House of Commons were sometimes full of exasperations, and he complains of the •'fruitless endeavor to satisfy selfish, silly and unreasonable men." But when the course of events took him out of Parliament and out of office it was with difficulty that he adjusted himself to a round of occupations, invented or acquired; and it was with genuine satisfaction that he returned to office, without conditions, as a member of Melbourne's Cabinet of 1834. He notes his belief that he was the first man not in Parliament who ever had a Cabinet place offered to him. His pleasure in the work of government, by the way, was not shared by all his colleagues of the period with which he deals. He describes Lord Althori) — "the pure, the im perturbable, the virtuous Althorp"— as talking confidentially of his repugnance to office, say ing that it destroyed all his happiness), and add ing that he "removed his pistols from his bed room for fear of shooting himself." There are in these volumes various glimpses — though not as many as the reader would like — of famous personages of that far-off time. William Cobbett was one of them, and very un pleasant ho made himself at a political dinner, gesticulating furiously, swearing tremendously, and. after drinking several glasses of wine, comporting himself like a madman. In con trast with that energetic politician is one of a different stripe, M. de Chateaubriand, to wit— a foppish little man, with a small cane in his hand, running up to a looking glass to adjust his locks. There is an interesting note on an other Frenchman quoted by Hobhouse from the dinner table chat of Sir John Swinburne. Sir John was on his way to Berlin in 1756, when a French traveller, whose carriage had broken clown, asked for a seat with him. This was "a large, round, pock-marked, powdered beau, in siik stockings dirtied to the ankles and a white handkerchief tied around his head." It was Mirabeau, going on his secret mission to Prus sia He talked most agreeably and borrowed JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE, LOKD BROUGII TON. (From the portrait by Lonsdale.) deserted Napoleon. Alexander told the marshals what he had heard, and said. "What do you say to that, gentlemen?' They said nothing, but that night Alexander published the proclamation de claring the dethronement of the Napoleon dy nasty." General Lallemand told Hobhouse that in July, ISIS, he was the bearer of a request to Napoleon from the French army to put himself at their head. He reached Malmaison to find that Napoleon had been gone only two hours. Concerning the sangfroid of Napoleon's antag onist, the Duke of Wellington, Hobhouse has many anecdotes. There is the story of his going to bed at Brussels after hearing 1 of the French advance and appointing his next day's head quarters at Quatre-Bras. They presently wak ened him with the intelligence that the French had taken Charleroi. He jumped out of bed and seized his map. "Ah, taken Charleroi," he said. "I dare say they have. Well, I have done all that man can do. lot what will happen; I shall be at Quatre-Bras to-morrow morning." And so saying, adds our diarist, '"he got into bed and in a minute or two was heard to snore." Wellington was as genially ready to acknowl edge that he "got licked" at Burgos as he was to comment satirically on the flight of the Span iards before the French at Toulouse. "D fine, beautiful!" said the Iron Duke; "never saw twenty-five thousand men run away in my life before!" Hobhouse's attachment to Byron is artlessly revealed in all its noble loyalty in these vol umes. It survived many hurts at the hands of the poet, who in certain moods had something of a boy's wayward cruelty. "No man ever lived who had such devoted friends," wrote Hobhouse after Byron's death. "His power of attaching those about him to his person was such as no one I ever knew possessed. No hu man being cculd approach him without being £50 of Swinburne to keep up his pose as a per secuted man though his pockets were full of money. Englishmen were still greedily listen ing to talk about the famous figures of eigh teenth century France. Hobhouse does not for get to insert in his diary his friend W. R. Spencer's description of Keeker sitting in a corner ol Versailles while the Parisians were attacking the palace. He wiih him pomlrr. and held a great pocket handkerchief to his eyes. Spencer heard the unhappy Queen say to him, "What are we to do? Speak, say ■ word; it depends on you." Not a word said Xecker. Among the entries dealing with Napoleon b Count Lavalette's curious assertion that whes the Emperor Alexander came into Paris, in lsit. he had resolved not to treat with Napoleon, bat had not resolved that young Napoleon should not reign. "He consulted Talleyrand, who m beset by all the old noblesse to ask for th»- Bourbons, but he did not do so. and n.»t a word was said in their favor; and Alexander hesi tated, until one day, whilst in conversation with two French marshals, an aide-d^-eamp came in and whispered that Marmont and his corps had sensible of this magical influence. The-» something commanding but not overawing; *** manner. He was neither grave nor gay*en» place, and he seemed always marie for that '* pany In which he happened to find hr-^?" There was a mildness and yet a deci3io a "■^^ mode of conversing and even In his ad^" which are seldom united in the same j>» '^ Writing forty years after he saw his fn^? in the grave, Hobhouse t*-stin> 3 to the • paired strength of his affection for this ■■ n^* gentleman." His heart is wrung when B~ Genoese banker, Barry. tells him that th/J 1 * when setting out on that unlucky <-xp*..iit;,^*^ Greece, confessed that he would not 50 * ' then but that "Hobhouse and th« others "* laugh at him." Colonel Stanhope, who was °'' 1(J Byron in Greece, told Hobhouse that the was sorry now and then that he ever cam. the country: * "* He. expressed aaajn at the <",»•<>. k <" omra , f . . publishing his letter from f^noa in which \Jjm of going. so that when his intention was ** known, he thought himself hound to 3C t k& 7*** At other times he Mid he was nrlad he ha/i 5 **" and talked with enthusiasm of x-, ( . raiS. oo^ would say that It was better b*-ing at .'.?-. O than going about talking and singing at Jam?** London at past forty, like Tom Moore. " M" ■ Count Gambia's detailed acrount of f.ynn' illness and death is published for the first v ' by Lady Dorchester, the translation hav^* been made by her fat!, Particulars f rr , I other sources Hothouse gathered and fait^V.p preserved. He notes, on undoubted ''UdliS that until the sick man became delirious L was perfectly calm, and calls to mind how oftwi he had heard him say that he was not aar^ henslve as to death itself, but as to how f £J physical infirmity, he might behave at th!* hour. "Let no one." he said, "come near "'' when I am dying, if you can help it and " happen to be together at th • time." Hobhoie-* charging himself v.ith the arrangements for th funeral, deputed Mrs. Leigh to ask Lady Byroa if she had any wishes respecting it. That or placent lady answered that II the deceased ha.* left no directions she thought the matter nagst be left to the judgment of Mr. Hobhouse. Hoi house adds: "There was a postscript saySn» v you like you may show this/ The coldne&Taad calculation of so young a woman on such « occasion are quite unaccountable." Hcbhoc says no harder thing than this el his friend" wife, but between the lines of all his references to her we can read sincere disgust In men tioning his desire to publicly refute the charrps made on her authority in regard to the separa tion, he says: "I consulted friends, and arao2? them Lord Holland, who strongly recommeaJM silence, and did not scruple to say that the ladj would be more annoyed if she were left tJn . noticed than if, whether wrong or right, she had to figure in a controversy. I was far fxoa wishing to annoy her at all; my sole wish was to do my duty by my friend; and I hope I have done that sufficiently by leaving behind me. to be used if necessary, a full arid scropa '.ously accurate account of the transaction in question. I shall content myself here with 23 serting that It was not fear on the part of Lori Byron that persuaded him to separate from his wife. On the contrary, he was quite read 7to 'go Into court* as they call it" Hobhouse's position as Byron's executor «a no easy one. He had to prevent the publication by Dallas of a number of the private letters of the poet to his mother and others, thereby call ing down in print the vituperative wrath if that gossip monger. He had to refuse Laiy Caroline Lamb's request that he should give her her letters to Byron in order to rr.ake sure that she did not use Byron's letters to her in 1 noveL Worst of all. he had to labor mightily to make sure of the destruction of the memoirs in manuscript which, in an unthinking hour, Byron had put Into the hands of Torn Moore. The executor's full sad careful narrative of the proceedings which led up to the burning of th* MSS. is included in these records. It certainly does not shed much lustre on the memory of Moore. After conceding that it was wise mi right to destroy them and agreeing to the sacri fice. Moore still hankered for probable pro£t3 and attempted to retain part if not the whole of the material. Then rose •':.:■. Murray, the publisher, who had paid him £2.000 for tis MSS. which Moore then proposed to redeem "I do not care whose the MSS are!" he ex claimed. "Here am I as a tradesman; I do not care a farthing about having your money or whether I ever get it or not; but such rega.il have I for Lord Byron's fame and honor that I am willing and am determined to destroy these MSS. which have been read by Mr. Gifford. ahJ says they would be damaging to Lord Byron* name. It is very hard that 123 a tradescaa should be willing: to make a sacrifice which a as ■ gentleman will not consent to." ThJ passionate declaration was or.!/ the beginn:n; of an altercation which revealed little Moor? in a very mean light. The day after the papers were burned Hobhouse received a carious mes sage from Lady Byron, who wished him to pVI out that he should write the memoirs of Byrcr. in conjunction with his family — including La-7 Byron. This, she thought, v. ■;:•! stop all spa rious efforts and it would be particularly agree able to her. Hobhoose's reply was to the*** that he had DO spirits nor inclination for & task. '"Poor Byron!" he adds "Here ■ his Sal friend. Tom Moore, his publisher Murray, an: his wife: the first thing they think of b writing his life or getting it written. Sad** 3 the friendships of great authorsi"