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Translated from the Italian by A.M. Von Blomberg. Part I. Introductory Narrative. Edited by H.M. Trollope. 2 vols. Dickens as an Educator. James L. Hughes. By F. B. Sanborn and W. T. Harris. By Theodore F. Munger. By Ruth McEnery Stuart. Works, vol. 8 new edition. Translated by M. J. Safford. Vierter Band. Chas. By Henry T. Finck. Chas. Oeuvres Completes, vols. 8 and 9.
In attempting to wear after them, Captain Trollope found his masts, rigging, and sails so much injured that all his efforts were ineffectual, or his gallantry would probably have been rewarded by a complete victory.
This is no doubt the cause of the revulsion of opinion by which in some English circles Trollope has suffered of late. If there are fashions, habits, and tastes which the rising generation is certain to despise, it is such as were current in the youth of their own parents about thirty or forty years before them.
Some of our younger friends who read the name which heads this essay may incline to think that it ought to be very short indeed, nay, be limited to a single remark; and, like the famous chapter on the snakes in Iceland, it should simply run that Anthony Trollope has no place at all in Victorian literature.
E.S. Ritchie. 8vo. pp. 84. 25 cts. The Kellys and the O'Kellys. A Novel. By Anthony Trollope, Author of "Dr. Thorne," etc. From the Last London Edition. New York. Rudd & Carleton. 12mo. pp. 432. $1.25.
Trollope would give the idea a decent funeral for the sake of having his adverb appear at the grave above reproach from grammatical gossip.
Trollope described the wounded feelings of a young clerk whose chief sent him to fetch his slippers; and in our own day a Private Secretary, who had patiently taken tickets for the play for his chief's daughters, drew the line when he was told to take the chief's razors to be ground.
We could not suffer the confidential attitude of the latter now, nor the mannerism of the former, any more than we could endure the prolixity of Richardson or the coarseness of Fielding. These great men are of the past they and their methods and interests; even Trollope and Reade are not of the present.
Then, too, what man of seventy will agree with a man of thirty as to the comparative merits of Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, Trollope, George Eliot, Eugene Sue, Victor Hugo, Balzac, George Sand? How few read "Uncle Tom's Cabin," compared with the multitudes who read that most powerful and popular book forty years ago? How changing, if not transient, is the fame of the novelist as well as of the poet!
It was Anthony Trollope who was most like her in simple honesty and instinctive truth, as unphilosophized as the light of common day; but he was so warped from a wholesome ideal as to wish at times to be like Thackeray, and to stand about in his scene, talking it over with his hands in his pockets, interrupting the action, and spoiling the illusion in which alone the truth of art resides.
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