pen,pencil and poison-第4章

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extinguisher　of　stars；　rosy　Aurora；　drives　furiously　up　her　brine…

washed　steeds　to　behold　the　death…pangs　of　her　rival。





Were　this　description　carefully　re…written；　it　would　be　quite

admirable。　　The　conception　of　making　a　prose　poem　out　of　paint　is

excellent。　　Much　of　the　best　modern　literature　springs　from　the

same　aim。　　In　a　very　ugly　and　sensible　age；　the　arts　borrow；　not

from　life；　but　from　each　other。



His　sympathies；　too；　were　wonderfully　varied。　　In　everything

connected　with　the　stage；　for　instance；　he　was　always　extremely

interested；　and　strongly　upheld　the　necessity　for　archaeological

accuracy　in　costume　and　scene…painting。　　'In　art；'　he　says　in　one

of　his　essays；　'whatever　is　worth　doing　at　all　is　worth　doing

well'；　and　he　points　out　that　once　we　allow　the　intrusion　of

anachronisms；　it　becomes　difficult　to　say　where　the　line　is　to　be

drawn。　　In　literature；　again；　like　Lord　Beaconsfield　on　a　famous

occasion；　he　was　'on　the　side　of　the　angels。'　　He　was　one　of　the

first　to　admire　Keats　and　Shelley　…　'the　tremulously…sensitive　and

poetical　Shelley；'　as　he　calls　him。　　His　admiration　for　Wordsworth

was　sincere　and　profound。　　He　thoroughly　appreciated　William　Blake。

One　of　the　best　copies　of　the　'Songs　of　Innocence　and　Experience'

that　is　now　in　existence　was　wrought　specially　for　him。　　He　loved

Alain　Chartier；　and　Ronsard；　and　the　Elizabethan　dramatists；　and

Chaucer　and　Chapman；　and　Petrarch。　　And　to　him　all　the　arts　were

one。　　'Our　critics；'　he　remarks　with　much　wisdom；　'seem　hardly

aware　of　the　identity　of　the　primal　seeds　of　poetry　and　painting；

nor　that　any　true　advancement　in　the　serious　study　of　one　art　co…

generates　a　proportionate　perfection　in　the　other'；　and　he　says

elsewhere　that　if　a　man　who　does　not　admire　Michael　Angelo　talks　of

his　love　for　Milton；　he　is　deceiving　either　himself　or　his

listeners。　　To　his　fellow…contributors　in　the　LONDON　MAGAZINE　he

was　always　most　generous；　and　praises　Barry　Cornwall；　Allan

Cunningham；　Hazlitt；　Elton；　and　Leigh　Hunt　without　anything　of　the

malice　of　a　friend。　　Some　of　his　sketches　of　Charles　Lamb　are

admirable　in　their　way；　and；　with　the　art　of　the　true　comedian；

borrow　their　style　from　their　subject：…





What　can　I　say　of　thee　more　than　all　know？　that　thou　hadst　the

gaiety　of　a　boy　with　the　knowledge　of　a　man：　　as　gentle　a　heart　as

ever　sent　tears　to　the　eyes。



How　wittily　would　he　mistake　your　meaning；　and　put　in　a　conceit

most　seasonably　out　of　season。　　His　talk　without　affectation　was

compressed；　like　his　beloved　Elizabethans；　even　unto　obscurity。

Like　grains　of　fine　gold；　his　sentences　would　beat　out　into　whole

sheets。　　He　had　small　mercy　on　spurious　fame；　and　a　caustic

observation　on　the　FASHION　FOR　MEN　OF　GENIUS　was　a　standing　dish。

Sir　Thomas　Browne　was　a　'bosom　cronie'　of　his；　so　was　Burton；　and

old　Fuller。　　In　his　amorous　vein　he　dallied　with　that　peerless

Duchess　of　many…folio　odour；　and　with　the　heyday　comedies　of

Beaumont　and　Fletcher　he　induced　light　dreams。　　He　would　deliver

critical　touches　on　these；　like　one　inspired；　but　it　was　good　to

let　him　choose　his　own　game；　if　another　began　even　on　the

acknowledged　pets　he　was　liable　to　interrupt；　or　rather　append；　in

a　mode　difficult　to　define　whether　as　misapprehensive　or

mischievous。　　One　night　at　C…'s；　the　above　dramatic　partners　were

the　temporary　subject　of　chat。　　Mr。　X。　commended　the　passion　and

haughty　style　of　a　tragedy　（I　don't　know　which　of　them）；　but　was

instantly　taken　up　by　Elia；　who　told　him　'THAT　was　nothing；　the

lyrics　were　the　high　things　…　the　lyrics！'





One　side　of　his　literary　career　deserves　especial　notice。　　Modern

journalism　may　be　said　to　owe　almost　as　much　to　him　as　to　any　man

of　the　early　part　of　this　century。　　He　was　the　pioneer　of　Asiatic

prose；　and　delighted　in　pictorial　epithets　and　pompous

exaggerations。　　To　have　a　style　so　gorgeous　that　it　conceals　the

subject　is　one　of　the　highest　achievements　of　an　important　and　much

admired　school　of　Fleet　Street　leader…writers；　and　this　school

JANUS　WEATHERCOCK　may　be　said　to　have　invented。　　He　also　saw　that

it　was　quite　easy　by　continued　reiteration　to　make　the　public

interested　in　his　own　personality；　and　in　his　purely　journalistic

articles　this　extraordinary　young　man　tells　the　world　what　he　had

for　dinner；　where　he　gets　his　clothes；　what　wines　he　likes；　and　in

what　state　of　health　he　is；　just　as　if　he　were　writing　weekly　notes

for　some　popular　newspaper　of　our　own　time。　　This　being　the　least

valuable　side　of　his　work；　is　the　one　that　has　had　the　most　obvious

influence。　　A　publicist；　nowadays；　is　a　man　who　bores　the　community

with　the　details　of　the　illegalities　of　his　private　life。



Like　most　artificial　people；　he　had　a　great　love　of　nature。　　'I

hold　three　things　in　high　estimation；'　he　says　somewhere：　　'to　sit

lazily　on　an　eminence　that　commands　a　rich　prospect；　to　be　shadowed

by　thick　trees　while　the　sun　shines　around　me；　and　to　enjoy

solitude　with　the　consciousness　of　neighbourhood。　　The　country

gives　them　all　to　me。'　　He　writes　about　his　wandering　over　fragrant

furze　and　heath　repeating　Collins's　'Ode　to　Evening；'　just　to　catch

the　fine　quality　of　the　moment；　about　smothering　his　face　'in　a

watery　bed　of　cowslips；　wet　with　May　dews'；　and　about　the　pleasure

of　seeing　the　sweet…breathed　kine　'pass　slowly　homeward　through　the

twilight；'　and　hearing　'the　distant　clank　of　the　sheep…bell。'　　One

phrase　of　his；　'the　polyanthus　glowed　in　its　cold　bed　of　earth；

like　a　solitary　picture　of　Giorgione　on　a　dark　oaken　panel；'　is

curiously　characteristic　of　his　temperament；　and　this　passage　is

rather　pretty　in　its　way：…





The　short　tender　grass　was　covered　with　marguerites　…　'such　that

men　called　DAISIES　in　our　town'　…　thick　as　stars　on　a　summer's

night。　　The　harsh　caw　of　the　busy　rooks　came　pleasantly　mellowed

from　a　high　dusky　grove　of　elms　at　some　distance　off；　and　at

intervals　was　heard　the　voice　of　a　boy　scaring　away　the　birds　from

the　newly…sown　seeds。　　The　blue　depths　were　the　colour　of　the

darkest　ultramarine；　not　a　cloud　streaked　the　calm　aether；　only

round　the　horizon's　edge　streamed　a　light；　warm　film　of　misty

vapour；　against　which　the　near　village　with　its　ancient　stone

church　showed　sharply　out　with　blinding　whiteness。　　I　thought　of

Wordsworth's　'Lines　written　in　March。'





However；　we　must　not　forget　that　the　cultivated　young　man　who

penned　these　lines；　and　who　was　so　susceptible　to　Wordsworthian

influences；　was　also；　as　I　said　at　the　beginning　of　this　memoir；

one　of　the　most　subtle　and　secret　poisoners　of　this　or　any　age。

How　he　first　became　fascinated　by　this　strange　sin　he　does　not　tell

us；　and　the　diary　in　which　he　carefully　noted　the　results　of　his

terrible　experiments　and　the　methods　that　he　adopted；　has

unfortunately　been　lost　to　us。　　Even　in　later　days；　too；　he　was

always　reticent　on　the　matter；　and　preferred　to　speak　about　'The

Excursion；'　and　the　'Poems　founded　on　the　Affections。'　　There　is　no

doubt；　however；　that　the　poison　that　he　used　was　strychnine。　　In

one　of　the　beautiful　rings　of　which　he　was　so　proud；　and　which

served　to　show　off　the　fine　modelling　of　his　delicate　ivory　hands；

he　used　to　carry　crystals　of　the　Indian　NUX　VOMICA；　a　poison；　one

of　his　biographers　tells　us；　'nearly　tasteless；　difficult　of

discovery；　and　capable　of　almost　infinite　dilution。'　　His　murders；

says　De　Quincey；　were　more　than　were　ever　made　known　judicially。

This　is　no　doubt　so；　and　some　of　them　are　worthy　of　mention。　　His

first　victim　was　his　uncle；　Mr。　Thomas　Griffiths。　　He　poisoned　him

in　1829　to　gain　possession　of　Linden　House；　a　place　to　which　he　had

always　been　very　much　attached。　　In　the　August　of　the　next　year　he

poisoned　Mrs。　Abercrombie；　his　wife's　mother；　and　in　the　following

December　he　poisoned　the　lovely　Helen　Abercrombie；　his　sister…in…

law。　　Why　he　murdered　Mrs。　Abercrombie　is　not　ascertained。　　It　may

have　been　for　a　caprice；　or　to　quick