We believe, then, that almost all illus

appended. And, indeed, it is only rarely | woods, the Mr. Kantwises and Mr. Mouldthat even in fiction true illustrations are ers, the Mr. Slopes and Mrs. Proudies possible. Cruikshank's illustrations of admit of lively illustrations, and some of "Pickwick" and "Oliver Twist" are, in- them have found it; but his best characdeed, part and parcel of the genius of those ters, and his most truly humorous sketchwonderful books. We should hardly es, his Dean Arabins, Archdeacon Grantknow "the Artful Dodger" without lys, Mr. Hardings, and Phineas Phinns, Cruikshank's help in realizing Dickens's do not very well lend themselves to illus wonderful study. We should have noth-tration, and certainly have seldom been ing like a true conception of Noah Clay- fortunate enough to find it. Mr. Trolpole's cunning, cowardice, and selfishness lope's delineations of common life are too without Mr. Cruikshank's aid; and as for true to reality to admit of being so drawn the wicked Fagin and his terrible horror as to tell you more, or even as much, of death, even the genius of Dickens acting about them as he tells in his dialogues. alone would never have impressed it upon There are very few real men whose charus as Cruikshank has impressed it. But acters are so written in their face, that then, Dickens's genius, with its strongly- you could tell nearly as much by seeing marked physical features, its emphasis on their outward forms as you could learn by all the superficial gesture and dress of hearing them converse. life, and its leaning to caricature, is expressly calculated for illustration and espe-trations to poems are worse than superflucially for the illustration of such a man as Cruikshank, who may be said to have been born to complete Dickens and make the marvels of German fairy-tales visible to the eyes of children. Directly you turn from Cruikshank to the illustrations by Phiz, you see how imperfectly the latter has grasped many of Dickens's conceptions, though one or two, Mr. Pecksniff, the American rowdies, Bailey Junior, and Mrs. Gamp, are admirably portrayed. Mr. Moddle, for instance, "the youngest gentleman in company (who entreats Miss Pecksniff to "become the bride of a ducal coronet, and forget me. I will not reproach, for I have wronged you; may the furniture make some amends "), is a complete failure; and the grim avarice and murderous vindictiveness of Jonas Chuzzlewit are never conceived by Phiz at all. Still, Dickens was one of the most eminently illustratable of our novelists. His sharp, over-outlined conceptions lend themselves to the artist, especially if he has a good spice of the caricaturist in him; and Dickens hardly ever attempts to describe what is not in some way plainly written in lines upon the face or the gestures. Thackeray, again, was not From The Saturday Review. CONSIDERATION OF OTHERS. only a satirist, but in his illustrations of his own tales became the satirist of his CONSIDERATION in its social use is a new own satire, and showed you the snob be- word. In books of the last century we neath the gentleman and the selfish ad- find it employed only with reference to venturer beneath the flatterer far more grave subjects and the weighing of imporplainly than most men would have found tant questions. To have it or to want it is them in the literary delineations them- not attributed as a feature of character. selves. But Trollope, again, has never really lent himself to illustration, except in the fragments of vulgar life which are to be found in most of his writings. The Mr. Cheesmans and Mrs. Green

ous; that they injure the poems to which they are offered, except in the very rare cases in which the painter and the poet have a common element of genius, though expressed through different media; that novels are quite as often injured as helped by illustration, and always injured unless the novelist lived chiefly in his eyes as Dickens did, or has a good talent for caricature; and that almost the only kind of book to which respectable illustrations really add a good deal, are books in which there is some deep vein of the grotesque, like Dante's " Inferno," or "Don Quixote," or "Baron Munchausen," or again, almost all the fairy tales which delight children,- for in all these the artist's appeal to the eye really helps very materially in bringing home to the imagination of the reader the fancy-feats of the author. But certainly nine out of ten illustrated books that are not of this last class would be in better taste and more enjoyable without the illustrations than with them.

When Cowper assures a confiding friend that he divulges nothing but what might appear in the magazine, and this only after great consideration, he has in his mind the austere virtues of secrecy and discre

open carriage, the inconsiderate man will
hint at the uncertain temper of the horse,
throw doubtful glances over the harness,
or suspect a screw loose in the carriage
which may make things awkward at the
descent of the next steep hill, where more
than one accident has happened within
his knowledge. And whatever he is on
land, he is worse on the water, where the
terrors of timidity reach their climax-
terrors which it seems his deliberate ob-
ject to enhance by every word and action,
only that we know how blindness to the
feelings of others gives an aptitude in
the art of infusing uneasiness not to be
matched by design. A satirist of the old
French court observes on this point:
"It would seem on first thoughts that
part of the pleasure of princes was to in-
convenience other people; but it is not so.
Princes are like other men; they think of
themselves, follow their taste, their pas-
sions, their convenience." It needs no
malice of intention to bring about conse-
quences that might have malice for their
contriver. It is said that Queen Char-
lotte used to let Mrs. Siddons stand
reading to her till she was ready to drop.
She did not know what it was to stand
when she preferred sitting down. Con-
sideration needs to be cultivated, and per-
sonal experience of the inconvenience to
which others are subject is the great
teacher on this point. Hence it is that

tion. Now we use the word not only to express serious deliberation, but a habit, grown into an instinct, of deferring to the feelings and convenience of others in little things. Consideration does not come before us as an angel whose office it is to whip the offending Adam, but as an easy companion making the wheels of life run smooth. In fact, we hardly attribute it as a quality till we miss it. There are people whose whole course of proceedings in minor matters is a misfit: no action of theirs adjusts itself to our expectations or plans; their comings and goings upset arrangements; their sayings, doings, movements, as far as they affect us, seem guided by fate rather than intelligence. Nothing is convenient to them that suits the general convenience; they are compelled by necessity to disturb and put out. We say of such a one-of the man who, when he comes, habitually knocks the household up at two in the morning or keeps us painfully watching and waiting for him, and can find no better time for starting when he goes than five o'clock on a winter's morning-that he has no consideration; he perhaps says and thinks | that he cannot help it, but we learn to recognize, not a necessity outside himself, but a characteristic. It is only by contrast that we find out that the friend who never puts out our plans, who comes when we expect him, who respects the dinner-hour, never interferes with an ar-rich people are often very inconsiderate rangement, and naturally conforms to the scene of which he finds himself a part, does so by no accidental felicity, but through a delicate though perhaps unconscious subservience of his will to ours; and we instal consideration into a virtue. There are people, kind and even self-edness is not within the compass of limdenying in great things, who constantly spoil pleasure or disturb the tranquillity of our serener hours through the defect of inconsiderateness. They will, to save the trouble of a letter, address a telegram announcing the merest trifle about them selves to some household which they know to be hanging on the tenter-hooks of suspense on a question of the deepest personal concern, careless that the message will be received with trembling hands as the tidings of death or ruin. If there happens at a picnic to be a girl particularly afraid of lightning, the inconsiderate man of the party draws the attention of the company to every black cloud, is sure that it is coming their way and means mischief. Timidity attracts this quality like a magnet. When a nervous elderly lady trusts herself to the dangers of an

in money matters. They put people to expense without realizing the embarassment they cause. They know that they themselves are careless of money, which seems to them liberality, but it bores them to have to remember that this open-hand

ited means; they cannot entertain the idea that to some people a small sum is like their life-blood. People long incapacitated from active exertion by illness or infirmity are often inconsiderate towards those they employ. It is not easy for them to realize that those who can walk at all can walk too much, or that healthy powers can be overstrained. How often indeed is health sacrificed to the inconsidcrateness of sickness and decay, though this is a branch of our subject too grave to be dwelt upon here.

Servants have so much the upper hand nowadays that we have rather to plead for consideration from them than to give it, and perhaps it is only in lodging-houses that we see them still victims. Here, for the season, they think it worth while to endure trials of temper and unreasonable

demands on their physical strength which | tion dispenses with it, as being a quality must be educating them for communists so innate that nothing can weaken it. And when their time comes. The notion that no doubt it does pull through some very they have a right to consideration used to rough encounters; but nothing can in the be regarded as an impertinence. Steele long run stand disregard or forgetfulness in his day represents the fine lady dis- of the idiosyncrasies which constitute self. gusted with the dawn of such pretensions. The families that hold on to one another The English are so saucy with their through life have always considered one liberty, I'll have all my lower servants another in small things as well as great. French; there cannot be a good footman born out of an absolute monarchy." The modern way of showing inconsiderateness to this class is by ignoring their presence in the choice of subjects of conversation. A sense of immeasurable distance between themselves and their attendants can alone account for the carelessness with which some people utter sentiments and repeat gossip before them. It would surprise as much as it would disgust them to find their paradoxical opinions and random comments repeated verbatim an hour after in the servants' hall; they have spoken under the impression that the topics of the master and his guests are altogether above menial intelligence.

Want of tact is so like inconsiderateness in its effects that it may be regarded as a branch of our subject. We cannot, for example, say whether it is want of tact or want of consideration that sometimes stumbles in the way of the most critical occasions of life those touch-and-go states of feeling between man and woman which must be caught at the crisis; when, if a proposal is interrupted, a declaration strangled in the opening sentence, no after opportunity is of any avail. To judge from novels and from some actual experiences, blunderers of our present type have a great deal to answer for. Many a blighted life owes its sorrows to an inopportune intrusion or blindness to the obviBut of course choice of topics is at all ous duty of keeping out of the way, or to times one of the great tests of this qual- a joke mistimed, or some other obtuseity. Most people can be quickened into ness of the moral sense. There is this considerateness by self-interest. To be difference to be observed between want of treated with consideration is the privilege consideration and want of tact, that the of wealth and greatness, while it is the one can be cured by care, watchfulness, lot of some never to have their existence regard for personal interest, or an enrecognized by regard for their feelings, larged benevolence, but the other never. preferences, dislikes. It does not do to Want of tact is an incurable infirmity; complain, as some do, of people riding nothing can mend it, nothing can prevent rough-shod over their sensibilities, but the its unseasonable exhibition. It is a sense thing sometimes happens through mere wanting, whereas inconsiderateness is only preoccupation with the principal figures in a sense dulled from want of practice. a group. The considerate temper ever In the one case it is mere want of thought, bears in mind not only the prominent in the other it is innocent persistency in members of a company but the supernu- wrong saying and doing. The topics meraries. Nobody is insignificant enough which want of tact will think su table, the to be left out of the reckoning. This de- memories it will rake up, the services it liberation and suspended action of thought will obtrude, the times and seasons it will and tongue is, it must be granted, much violate, are in the very genius of pervereasier to some persons than to others. sity. While these escapades pass for inThe more pronounced the character the considerateness they irritate the immedimore is consideration of this subtle kind ate sufferer, but in time they accumulate difficult, and a thing requiring a conscious into a treasury of anecdote, and constieffort; it is a mild virtue, meritorious in tute a character. The people, however, proportion to the wit and fine impulse it who really suffer under a man who flahas to contend with. By reformers and grantly wants tact are not his immediate ascetics it is discarded along with the victims so much as those closely belongother minor domestic virtues. It is their ing to him, who sit by and listen and wonbusiness to disturb every comfortable state der with tingling cars and flushed cheeks; of things. Every founder of a rule en- and, in fact, he often becomes rather a forces his rule upon all constitutions and favourite with society. Deficiency of pertempers alike; consideration would be ception, joined with good nature, is always weakness. But also it is the too common making demands for indulgence, and puts fault of family life to fail in considerate- the pardoner in a superior position. We ness. It is supposed that natural affec-are always telling good stories of such

people behind their backs; their sayings | grateful are we to our benefactors that the and awkwardnesses are a stock subject in their own circle, and so promote talk and good neighbourhood.

publication of the diary did an immense injury to its writer's reputation. Previously he was known as a staid, trustworthy and conscientious man of business, as a patron of science and literature, and as a president of the Royal Society. Jeremy Collier says he was "a philosopher of the severest morality." Since 1825 we have been too apt to forget the excellence of his official life, and to think of him only as a busybody and a quidnunc. Lord Braybrooke, who first introduced the book to the public, had no very accurate notion of the duties of an editor, and he treated his MS. in a very unsatisfactory manner. Large portions were omitted without explanation, and apparently without reason, and although much was added to succeeding editions, still the reader might well say

-

That cruel something unpossessed

Corrodes and leavens all the rest.

Sydney Smith has given many of the traits which describe consideration and its opposite in his definitions of "a nice person," and "hardness of character." "A nice person," he says, "makes no difficulties, is never misplaced, is willing to sit bodkin, and is never foolishly affronted. A nice person helps you well at dinner, and understands you. A nice person respects all men's rights, never stops the bottle, is never long, and never wrong; always knows the day of the month, the name of everybody at table, and never gives pain to any human being. All the joys of life are communicated to nice people; the hand of the dying man is always held out to a nice person." And now for the reverse picture. "A hard person thinks he has done enough if he does not speak ill of your relations, your children, your country; and then, with the greatest goodhumour and volubility, and with a total inattention to your individual state and position, gallops over a thousand fine feelings, and leaves in every step the mark of his hoofs upon your heart. The hard per-published in 1854, but no alteration of the son crushes little sensibilities, violates little proprieties, and overlooks little discriminations, all from wanting that fine vision which heeds little things, that delicate touch which handles them, and that fine sympathy which superior moral organization always bestows." In all this he describes men as he finds them; we have touched on the causes which make one person "nice" to those about him, and the other "hard" and apt to annoy or wound.

From The Academy.

DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE OF
SAMUEL PEPYS.*

THE diary which Samuel Pepys kept with praiseworthy diligence for ten years of his life has thrown such a flood of light upon the history and manners of his time that one is apt to forget the fact that before the year 1825 the world knew nothing of this mass of gossip. Yet so un

Diary and Correspondence of Samuel Pepys, Esq., F.R.S., from his MS. Cypher in the Pepysian Library, with a Life and Notes by Richard Lord Braybrooke; deciphered with additional Notes, by the Rev. Mynors Bright, M.A. Vol. I. (London: Bickers & Son, 1875.)

The third edition, published in 1848, contained a large mass of restored passages, amounting it is said to not less than onefourth of the entire work. Some fresh notes were added to the fourth edition,

text was made beyond "the correction of a few verbal errors and corrupt passages hitherto overlooked." Subsequent editions have been mere reprints of these. Still there was much omitted which cannot be included in Lord Braybrooke's description of entries "devoid of the slightest interest," and we therefore welcome Mr. Mynors Bright's entirely new transcript, as it gives us "the whole of the diary" with "about one-third of matter never yet published." There is a passage, however, in the preface which is unsatisfactory, as we gather from it that those parts which the editor "thought would be tedious to the reader, or that are unfit for publication," have been left uncopied. Mr. Bright, as Sir Walter Scott said of the first editor, "hangs out no lights," or, in other words, has printed no stars to show where the passages to which he refers are omitted. We very much doubt the power of the editor of such a book as this to judge what will or will not be tedious to readers, and, although we do not say that the objectionable passages ought to have been printed, we think that some sign should have been given wherever any portion has been omitted.

The first volume occupies the period from January, 1659-60, to June 30, 1662, and contains one hundred more pages than

Nov. 9th, 1660.- I went to my father's and staid late, talking with my father about my would come and be as a servant (which my sister Pall's coming to live with me if she wife did seem to be pretty willing to do today) and he seems to take it very well and intends to consider of it.

the first volume of the third edition (1848), I wife was dead, which made me that I slept ill which covers the same ground. The ad- all night. ditional matter is of the true Pepysian flavour, and we add a few specimens which are neither better nor worse than the remainder. Some of the entries in the old editions that gave a wrong impression, from being improperly curtailed, are now set right. Here are two instances in which it will be seen that the omitted passages completely alter the sense. The words printed by Lord Braybrooke are in italics: :

April 11th, 1661. So home and I found all well, and a deal of work done since I went. I sent to see how my wife do, who is well. So to Sir W. Batten's and there supped, and very merry with the young ladies. So to bed very sleepy for last night's work. Dec. 30th, 1661. With my wife and Sir W. Pen to see our pictures, which do not much displease us, and so back again, and I staid at the Mitre, whither I had invited all my old acquaintance of the Exchequer to a good chine of beef, which with three barrels of oysters and three pullets and plenty of wine and mirth was our dinner, and there was about twelve of us, and here I made a foolish promise to give them one this day twelvemonth, and so forever while I live, but I do not intend it. So home to Sir W. Pen, who with his children and my wife has been at a play to-day and saw D'Ambois," which I never

saw.

46

Lord Braybrooke's reading makes Pepys
himself take his wife to the play.
Here are some entries relating to the
diarist's domestic arrangements:

Jan. 8th, 1659-60. — From thence to my father's to dinner, where I found my wife, who was forced to dine there, we not having one coal of fire in the house, and it being very hard frosty weather.

June 29th, 1662. — I do find upon my monthly ballance that I am worth 650l., the greatest sum that ever I was yet master of. I pray God give me a thankfull spirit, and care to improve and increase it.

Oct. 13th, 1660.- From thence to my Lord's, and took Captn. Cuttance and Mr. Shepley to the Sun Taverne, and did give them some oysters. After that I went by water home, where I was angry with my wife for her things lying about, and in my passion kicked the little fine basket, which I bought her in Holland, and broke it, which troubled me after I had done it.

Nov. 6th, 1660. At night to bed, and my wife and I did fall out about the dog's being put down in the cellar, which I had a mind to have done because of his fouling the house, and I would have my will, and so we went to bed and lay all night in a quarrel. This night I was troubled all night with a dream that my

Aug. 26th, 1661. This morning, before I went out, I made even with my mayde Jane, who has this day been my mayde three years, and is this day to go into the country to her mother. The poor girle cried, and I could hardly forbear weeping to think of her going; for though she be grown lazy and spoilt by Pall's coming, yet I shall never have one to please us better in all things, and so harmless, while I live. So I paid her her wages and gave her 2s. 6d. over, and bade her adieu, with my mind full of trouble at her going.

Nov. 27th, 1661. This morning our mayde Dorothy and my wife parted, which though she be a wench for her tongue not to be borne with, yet I was loth to part with her; but I took my leave kindly of her and went out.

There are several new entries about songs and music; for instance :

Nov. 24th, 1660. - Had a fire in my closet and fell to entering these two good songs of Mr. Lawes, "Helpe, helpe, O helpe,” and “O God of Heaven and Hell," in my song-book, to which I have got Mr. Childe to set the base to the Theorbo, and that done to bed.

Dec. 3rd, 1661. — At noon thence to the Wardrobe, where my Lady Wright was at dinner, and all our talk about the great happiness that my Lady Wright says there is in being in the fashion and in variety of fashions, in scorn of others that are not so, as citizens' wives and country gentlewomen, which though it did displease me enough, yet I said nothing to it. Thence by water to the office through bridge being carried by him in oares that the other day rowed in a scull faster than my oares to the Towre, and I did give him 6d.