418A. George Noel Gordon, Lord Byron. Poet.
[By E. H. Baily, R.A. Modelled from authentic portraits.]
419. Douglas Jerrold. Writer.
[Born in London, 1803. Still living.]
Before he was eleven years old, he went as midshipman to sea. Returned to London after two years’ service, and in his boyhood took to writing dramas for minor theatres. In later life he has produced dramatic works of a higher kind—his comedies being remarkable for epigrammatic wit, and sparkling dialogue. His prose writings, generally, are characterized by trenchant sarcasm, by a vigorous Saxon style, by earnestness of will, and by an unflinching advocacy of liberal principles. Douglas Jerrold has been charged with bitterness of spirit, and a malicious desire to set the poor against the rich. The charge rests upon no good foundation. He revolts from injustice and oppression; he feels acutely their effects upon all who come within their operation; and his views are invariably expressed with all the intensity of his genuine convictions. His pen has been always at the service of humanity; and his heart is as sound as his language is plain, direct, and unequivocal.
[Executed in marble, 1852, by E. H. Baily, R.A.]
419*. Henry Taylor. Poet.
[Still living.]
Known to literature as the author of “Philip Van Artevelde,” a drama for the study, not for the stage. This dramatic poem is admirably finished, and contains many beautiful images, and passages of undoubted vigour. But the polish is too evident, the labour expended too much on the surface. There is nothing in the work to offend; nothing to take by surprise; nothing that stirs the human heart to its depths. The author shall defy you to point out the blemishes of genius on his pages. You may equally challenge him to produce evidence of the power of genius. In “Philip Van Artevelde” we are ever within sight of the domain in which the great dramatists reign supreme, but never in the domain itself. It is all but a great work. It seems as if only fire were wanting at the poet’s heart to convey us at once from the region of great talent to the higher sphere of undoubted inspiration. But the needed warmth comes not.
[By Macdonald, of Rome.]