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The late Mr. Robert
Mackenzie Daniel, author of the "Young Widow," the ”Scottish Heiress,”
and other popular works of fiction, was best known to general readers,
through his soubriquet of the ”Scottish Box.” We think it was the
Literary Gazette which first designated Mr. Daniel by that title; and
from its aptness, as indicating tho peculiar quality of his talents, it
was at once adopted nod received as just, by the general reading public.
Not that his style was in anything akin to that of the distinguished
author of “Pickwick," for never, perhaps, in that respect alone, did two
authors differ more widely than the “Scottish Box," and the original
“Box," but rather that the name being already in the market, as the head
of a class of literature, original in the real sense of the term, and
distinctive for the deep and varied acquaintance with human life which
it displayed, it appeared to the mind of the critic, the most aptly
descriptive of an author, who, without possessing attributes of genius
at all comparable to Dickens, yet owned, in common with his great
prototype, the quality of treating the subjects which he chose as the
groundworks of his novels, in a manner truly original, and totally
devoid of the violations of truth and nature, so characteristic of
fashionable works of fiction. Mr. Daniel finished his career but a short
time ago, and a posthumous production from his pen, entitled the
"Cardinal's Daughter,” has just made its appearance. Sir Egerten Bridges
remarks, that in perusing any literary work, the reader is always
anxious to know something of its author—how he thought, how he spoke,
and what were his habits; and if such curiosity is excited in the case
of books in general, how much more so in the case of one whose author
has ceased to exist before his hand was allowed to give the last polish
to its pages, and whose final moments—his brain now torn and dismembered
by the stern necessities of his position, a wife and children looking
for that support, which his exertions were inadequate to supply, was
enshrouded amid the clouds of dark insanity!
Robert Mackenzie Daniel was born in Inverness-shire in the year 1814.
His father was a small landed proprietor or laird, within a short
distance of the county town, and Robert was the youngest child of a
rather numerous family. His school education having been completed at
Inverness, young Daniel was sent at the age of fifteen, to Marischal
College, Aberdeen. Here he remained for the space of three yean
diligently pursuing his studies, and though he was by no means what is
generally styled an “arduous student,” still the basis of general
knowledge which he acquired was scarcely inferior, nay, perhaps,
superior, to that which the utmost ardour in most other youths could
have supplied. After years built a superstruction of information upon
this basis surpassed but seldom. Even in boyhood there were few subjects
of au intellectual nature in which he was not tolerably conversant; and
a strong inclination to a desultory mode of study continued with him
through life. Unlike most men who have their peculiar “hobby,” instead
of regarding merely one subject as worthy of particular attention, he
ever “looked with appetite of keenest edge” upon everything alike. No
epicure in the choice of viands for the intellectual palate, he
resembled the hardworking labourer, who, returning from his day's
labourious toil, devours his evening’s meal without questioning its
quality, On quitting Aberdeen, he removed to Edinburgh, from the desire
of his friends that he should niv direct his studies with a view to the
bar, which was ahe his own inclination at this period. In prosecution ot
this object, ho entered the office of a writer to the Signet, at the
same time attending the law classes of the University. His legal studies
were pursued with unremitting vigour, although he by no means neglected
the cultivation of his mind in other respects. For the space of several
sessions he was a constant attendant upon the prelections of Professor
Wilson, and had a strong taste for a literary life deeply engendered in
his mind by the illustrious example he saw before him. After a residence
of four years at Edinburgh, Mr. Daniel began to abandon the idea of
following the profession of an advocate. Although he had hitherto
devoted himself to the study of Scottish jurisprudence with zeal, his
more matured thoughts, as already hinted, at length began to manifest a
decided tendency to a literary occupation. Perhaps the resolution of
abandoning the bar was confirmed by other circumstances of even a more
pressing nature than strong inclination towards a different mode of
lift. The tardiness of success at the Scottish bar to any but those of
powerful connexion amongst writers or solicitors is proverbial. You are
sure to meet with some degree of success if you wait long enough for it,
and this probationary process of waiting must be gone through according
to the strictest letter of what the Scotch call “gentility." It wan
precisely the inability to find tho means to support this “gently” which
Mr. Daniel was in want of. He looked before him, and beheld in the vista
of professional struggle long years of obscurity and neglect. He
bethought him that he might meet with success as a literateur in London,
and, accordingly, we find him there in the latter part of 1836. His fate
at first as a literary man in the great metropolis was similar to that
of most men at their outset—he wrote for periodicals by the dozen, but
his communications were very often rejected. After a season of trial and
vexation, he was for a brief period engaged in connexion with the
“Courier," a deceased evening paper. This situation he subsequently
exchanged for the editorship of the "Court Journal,” on the
establishment of that weekly, which he conducted for the space of two
years. Of Mr. Daniel's ephemeral productions, pootieal and prose, we can
take no account, scattered as they are over numerous London magazines,
to which he in time found admission. His maiden novel was the ”Scottish
Heiress" which was produced in 1842. The marked success which attended
this, his first considerable attempt, encouraged its author to another
effort in the following year, and accordingly the "Gravedigger” appeared
in 1843. His second production, however, was scarcely received with the
same amount of popular applause as his first, and it was always regarded
by its author as a failure. In 1844, Mr. Daniel having recently married,
removed from London to Jeney, hoping that, amid the Elysian beauties of
that ancient islet, he might fial that quiet and repose so requisite to
continuous fitemry labour. There, in a short apace of time, he produced
the "Young Widow" which, from the universal acclaim with which it was
greeted, at once placed its anther in a distinguished position amongst
popular Dorelists. He was now in regular demand at the libraries—a
work by the "Scottish Box” was sue to command a sale, and he needed no
longer indulge misgivings as to his prospect of success in that
department of literature which he had adopted. His next effort was the
“Young Baronet,” which was fitted to be the last published in its
author’s lifetime. It was published in November 1845, and felly
supported the opinions which the best critics had already expressed of
Mr. Daniel's talents. We see that the subject of our notice retired to
Jersey, in the hope of finding that quiet and repose, which continuous
literary labour so necessarily requires; and such enjoyments would have
been his, had he kept aloof from extraneous pursuits by no means
congenial to his mind. It happened, in an evil moment, that Mr. Daniel,
in January 1845, accepted the editorship of a paper then started in
Jersey, designated the "Jersey Herald.” la the small community of the
Channel Islands, the tide of petty politics rune to an inconceivable
height; and any individual occupying the position of editor of a public
Journal, is always regarded as the rightful devoted victim of personal
abuse, from all who differ in opinion from that system of policy -which
he advocates. There are two political parties in Jersey—the Rose party,
and the Laurel party. They are so called from the distinctive badge
which the adherents of each respectively wear in their buttonholes on
gala days. Their politics of course have nothing to do with the politics
of England; but originate entirely within their own little circle. The
Rose party may be regarded as the Whigs of the locality, and very
illiberal Whigs they ire: the Laurel party may be called the Tories and,
if there is a pin to choose between them, the latter are decidedly the
more liberal of the two. Such is the virulence of party faction, and the
personal danger to which an editor of a newspaper is exposed, that the
luckless wight who occupies this distinguished position is obliged to be
always armed, on the street and in his office, with a life-preserver, or
oaken cudgel, in order to be prepared against the anticipated attacks of
those upon whose political escapades he has descanted in his columns.
Mr. Daniel was the editor of a Rose paper, and the numerous nose-pullings
and cudgelling of which he was the victim, at the hands of the
Lauretitee, embittered the existence «f a man not adapted for, at least,
that species of party strife. Mr. Daniel conducted the "Jersey Herald”
tall September, last year, when, immediately subsequent to Her Majesty’s
visit to the island, he was overtaken by a mental malady which, six
months afterwards, resulted in his death. On the appearance of the
malady in question —which, by the way, had for some time previously been
foreshadowed by unequivocal symptoms—be was removed by his friends to
England, where, notwithstanding the unabated exertion of the most
eminent medical skill, his disease underwent no alteration for the
better. The decay of his physical powers keeping pace with the daily
increasing hope-lessness of his mental recoveiy. Mr Daniel, unconscious
of every thing passing around him, gradually sunk, till at length his
career terminated at the early age of thirty-three. His death took place
in March, in Bethlehem Hospital.
In estimating the merits of Mr. Daniel as an author, it would perhaps be
untrue to say, that although his pages are undoubtedly, in a remarkable
degree, exempt from the usual sickly sentiment, and other unnatural
characteristics of the great mass of novels devoid, more or less, to the
portraiture of life, he was the best and most skilful writer of his
class. In dealing just with the author of the ”Young Widow,” let us not
be unjust to others who have pushed themselves into notoriety in the
same field. Be it sufficient, therefore, to say of him In the feudatory
strain, that he was a writer of great talent and great premise. His
style of language, clear, copious and severely adorned, was at all times
calculated to express, in the noblest accents, the varied thoughts and
emotions of his intellectual mind. The “Cardinal's Daughter,” to which
reference, is a posthumous work, has already been made, evinces that,
notwithstanding the reputation its author had already attained in one
department of novel-writing, he was destined, had time and opportunity
been permitted, to achieve for loftier and mom enduring in the higher
historical walk.
The "Cardinal’s Daughter” is the only work of Mr. Daniel of which the
basis is taken from history. It in ushered in by a preface, to which we
must make slight allusion, on it explains the reason for which (not to
speak of the protracted illness and death of its lamented author),, it
had not received final corrections at his hands. The work was, in feet,
written before his malady commenced, but its correction and publication
had been delayed for some time, in order that he might, by editing "The
Poor Cousin" introduce his wife to the notice of tho public, probably,
under the apprehension, "that in m short space she would be left to
obtain, by her own exertions, for herself and children, that livelihood
which, though at most severe sacrifices of mind and body, he had
hitherto supplied.” Happily, "The Poor Cousin” met with that success
which its editor so anxiously desired, and the widow is now fairly
embarked in the career from which the husband has just been removed. A
new work is advertised as shortly to appear from her pen; and, from the
ability evinced in her former production, we are justified in
anticipating that the same need of approval won by the first effort,
will not be denied to the second.
The “Cardinal,” alluded to in the titles in Cardinal Wolsay, and the
"Daughter” is Henrietta, a nun, mid to have been the offspring of that
celebrated dignitary. Although the "Daughter” gives name to the work,
yet the Cardinal himself is the most prominent and interesting character
therein. One Ralph Brandon, a purely fictitious character, is also
introduced, and occupies a very important position among the actors in
the drama. He is the Cardinal’s secretary, and passionately in love with
Henriette, whom, at the anticipated dissolution of the monasteries, he
intends to marry. The chief interest of the story consists in the detail
of the fresh obstacles the Cardinal every day devised to frustrate the
ultimate designs of Brandon. The latter has imbibed the principles of
the reformed, then rapidly gaining ground, and this difference of
opinion from his master, furnishes the opportunity of numerous hits at
the state of the Church at that period. Space, however, will not permit
us to give even a hasty outline of the story, and the reader who is
curious to learn the full details of the "Cardinal's Daughter,” must
consult the work itself.
The tale is artistically pat together, and exhibits, on the part of its
author, great power as a historical romancist.
One would almost fancy that the writer who could adopt for the title of
a work a name so peculiar as that before us, meant to make it a handle
for exposing the immorality of one of the greatest men in former times.
In this idea, however, he would be mistaken. Instead of regarding Wolsey
as, in any degree, unworthy of his vocation as a priest, our author
considers the priesthood as highly honoured, and illustrated by
possessing him within Its pale. Mr. Daniel is, in fact, the most
unqualified admirer of the butcher’s son, we remember ever to have met
with. He talks of “that glorious mind which had burst like prisoners
over difficulties which environed it, and snapped the iron chains which
bound it to neglect— that lightning energy of character which had
rendered him triumphant at home and abroad, feared by those who hated
him, and respected by those who derided his birth; and which had stamped
upon the countenance of Wolsey, a character of greatness which no
bearing could disguise." Some writers have stigmatised the Cardinal, as
one, who, like Richard the Third, possessed neither “love nor pity,” and
who, in order to gain his own personal ends, would hesitate at no means
which craft or dishonesty could devise. Our author, on the contrary,
avers, that generous, vigorous, and lofty as his character was,
tempestuous, and daring as his life had been, there wore still elements
of the richest affection in Wolsey’s heart, ”and instead of falling in
with the representations of those who describe him as avaricious, he
advocates the old man’s part by assuring us that “his nature was
bountiful as the day." The following is the author’s conception of the
character of Brandon in conjunction with that of Wolsey.
"They might have formed a study for a painter. Wolsey’s bold expressive
features now perfectly exposed —the noble forehead and curled grey
hair—the large clear eyes, so full o*f fire, yet changeful as a
woman’s—the fine broad chest and manly air, which the guise of
priesthood could not conceal, and the insignia of his dignity lying
spurned, as it were, at his side—showed, or might have seemed to show,
something of the trinity of his character —the judge, the statesman, and
the priest—while he wore upon his countenance a stamp of genius which
also showed that he was fitted for them all. Brandon, too, had something
in his aspect that made one look on it again. Deformed in person yet
handsome in features, slightly built yet of a frame indicating strength
and activity—young iu yean, and of an expression of countenance denoting
impetuosity even to fierceness, there was yet blended with it a firmness
and a haughty gravity, which, far from weakening the general effect,
gave it a vigour and a character of determination eminently its own.
Both knew each other well; the one had almost attained the summit of his
ambition—the other had but entered upon the race, yet was conscious of
possessing those qualities which lead to the greatest success: both were
superior to the times in which they lived—the one, indeed, had all the
passions and enthusiasm of youth to an intensity that was his curse—the
other bad none of these, yet it is not saying too much to affirm that
there was something of fellowship between the young secretary and his
priestly lord.”
Mr. Daniel, throughout all his works, evinces great power in the use of
passionate declamation when occasion calls it forth; but no subject
which he has previously treated, afforded so frequent opportunity for
the display of his talents in this respect as the present. We think he
could have made a good dramatist. In the following Brandon and Henriette
are engaged in colloquy upon the crimes of the Church :—
"'But the Cardinal
“Will fall with the Church which he madly upholds.
"And thou?
"I will grieve for my lord, but rejoice that the bated rule of Rome is
at an end—I will joy for thee, my loved one, but mourn for poor
Katherine, banished from wedlock and a throne, at the caprice of a
tyrant’s will.
"Ralph this is the heretic’s creed
"I reck not. The crimes of the Church are odious in the sight of God,
and their rule is tyranny to man. The splendour that decks their stately
domes is purchased with the orphan’s bread—the rich lands that smile
around them are shut against the poor man’s kine—their learning is
cloistered as a precious thing, and their knowledge serves but to bind
with stronger shackles the consciences,, the thoughts, the mind, the
bright immortal soul of man. When a boy I cursed them. I longed to
grapple with the men that threw a holy mantle over a heart of guile :
they are a load upon the land—England rots beneath their sway—let the
day come, I will be foremost to tear them from their lofty seats—to bear
the crafty secrets of their hallowed dens. I know them; they are hounds
that whine around the foot of power, and make merchandise of man’s
devotion to his God. There is a handwriting on the wall —this kingdom
has departed from them, and the hearts of good men will exult in
liberty. Oh! it is a foul blot on this beautiful world that man should
thus become a god to man, and deal heaven’s curse and pardon with a
palsied hand—an old dotard in a scarlet gown! Let the day come.
I will be the first to welcome it. I long to see my countrymen free in
soul—liberty they will have—a tyrant now nits upon the throne, but
superstition aids him not, and when the channels of knowledge are
unbarred, men will then canvass the royal power, its limits and its
rights. Yes, my Henriette, I long to see the day, when England shall
shake off her vassalage to Rome—when these greedy churchmen shall be
taught that splendour is not needed in holy ministering, and the English
peasant can raise his brow to heaven, heedless of a dull priest’s frown!
"This is the language of the heretics,’ repeated Henriette, gazing
earnestly upon him.
“It matters little, sweet one, if it is the language of truth. I tell
thee, my Henriette, that m day is at hand when the nests of these proud
birds shall be rifled and their plumage torn.”
Scarcely inferior to his power of declamation already referred to, are
the abilities of our author in description. Many of the descriptions in
the ''Cardinal’s Daughter” are very effective; the appearance of London
in the reign of Henry the VIII. is especially so. Conducted by Mr.
Daniel, we wander in imagination along the fields, skirting the "Strand”
of the river Thames, till we arrive at a "Convent" whose "Garden" is the
"Covent Garden” of to-day, the mart for vegetables and flowers. London
of the sixteenth century is called up before ns in vivid colouring, at
every page. Every spot, associated in immortal history with the events
of the period in which the scene of the present work is laid, is
compelled into our presence, and made to appear just as they severally
appeared then; old St. Pauls, Whitehall, Westminster Abbey, and its then
surrounding sylvan country of green fields and wooded hills. Among the
characters secondary te those already named, may be mentioned the "Bluff
Harry” himself, and his ill-fated consort, Anne Boleyn; both equally
necessary for a work founded on any subject connected with the. career
of Wolsey. How true to fact such characters are drawn, we leave to
readers of history to determine.
The prominent faults of the "Cardinal's Daughter” are those incident to
all literary productions written against time. The necessities of his
family demanded that he should write rapidly and incessantly; while the
earlier portion of the sheets was going through the press.
Mr. Daniel was stretched upon his death-bed; nor did any vitality of
mind remain to direct such corrections as, had his intellect remained
with him, would doubtless have been made; and before the latter portion
of his manuscript had as yet even come into the printer's hands, he was
in his grave. The “Cardinal’s Daughter" is, in the true sense of the
phrase, a “posthumous work," and as such let it be judged. |
