Previously mentioned on these pages were
the literary works of Captain D.L. Richardson, which were contemporaneous with Macaulay’s
(Thomas Babington) presence in Calcutta.
D.L. Richardson’s “Literary Chit-Chat” is available on
Google Books. In the foreword, D.L.R. expressed the hope that via this work, he
might “contribute, however indirectly, to raise the tone of conversation in the
homes of the rising generation of Hindus”.
Some excerpts might serve as a suitable memorial to the civilizing mission of the
imperialists. An added benefit is an
amusing view of Macaulay.
Literary Chit-Chat
No. 1
MACAULAY AND THE POETS
No. 1
MACAULAY AND THE POETS
A.—You have just had an interview, I hear, with Thomas
Babington Macaulay—What do you think of him?
H.—In some respects he appeared the most extraordinary
person I ever met with. His
conversational powers are marvellous.
A.—My friend J—thinks him a shallow fellow, and in his grave
dull way, speaks contemptuously of him “as a mere reviewer.”
H.—As a mere reviewer! As if any blockhead could write a
review! Such reviews, indeed appear
in some of our literary periodicals, any body could write, who has no dislike
to self-degradation. But the criticisms
in the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews are generally original
papers of great power, and often surpass in the same characteristic excellence
the work they commend most highly and with most justice. I consider some of Macaulay’s criticisms in
the Edinburgh to be amongst the very
finest compositions of that kind in our language. Perhaps Johnson’s analysis of Dryden’s powers
is the Doctor’s best performance, but it is quite equaled by Macaulay’s
brilliant and sagacious criticism on the same poet.
A.—I did not think you had so high an opinion of Macaulay as
an author. To me he appears flippant,
dogmatical, labored—though he is not without a showy cleverness. His style is never easy and natural. He has not the art to hide his art. It is not so difficult to construct the short,
snappish, independent French sentences of which he is so fond, and which are
agreeable enough to vulgar readers, because they move lightly, and are
unencumbered with a weight of thought.
To use an illustration of Coleridge’s, they have only the same connexion
with each other that marbles have in a bag.
H.—It may be easy enough to compose short sentences, but it
is not so easy to point them with the wit and truth of Macaulay.
A.—At all events, you must grant that he is arrogant, and
self-conceited.
H.—You are thinking of the man, and not of the author. I do not suppose that a reader unacquainted
personally with the writer would discover these faults, and even private
intercourse Macaulay is usually courteous and polite.
A.—I know not how you can say so. He left an impression on my mind that he
despised every one but himself. He talks
incessantly, and will hardly allow any one at his own table to wedge in a
single word. He is overwhelming. He soon tires the most admiring hearer.
H.—He never tired me,
either in private life or in the House of Commons, where one of his brilliant
orations throws all other speakers in the shade. It is still more delightful to read than to
hear them. They are so polished, so
terse, and so full of close reasoning and general truths. They are the only speeches we now see in the
newspapers that remind us of the eloquence of Burke. I do not mean to say that they exhibit the
same fine imagination, or the same depth of philosophy or force of genius, but
they have that breadth of thought and that absence of purely temporary and
local detail which make Burke’s speeches as readable now as the day after they
were delivered.
A.—All this appears to me to be very extravagant; but I
suppose we shall never agree upon the subject of Macaulay’s genius. I should like, however, to know what sort of
conversation you had with him at the Albany.
H.—Oh! He talked about the poets of England—the living
poets—and I was delighted to listen.
…..
…..
A.—I cannot read Southey myself. His arrogance and self-praise are
intolerable.
H.—Macaulay considers him the greatest writer of his age.
A.—If by greatness he means bulk or voluminousness, I say ditto to Macaulay—making one
exception—that of Sir Walter Scott, who wrote wagon-loads.
….
H.—What think you of Macaulay’s own verses?
A.—His Lays of Ancient
Rome have neither imagination nor fancy, but they exhibit a thorough
intimacy with the spirit of Ancient History, and are clear, animated and
energetic.
H.—Poetry is not perhaps his forte-but yet his verses are such as any man might be proud of. It
is as a Critic and Essayist that he will be known to posterity.
A.—If he should be known at all.
……
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