BOOKS.

BELL'S SELBORNE.*

GILBERT WHITE is the only man whose writings on natural history have distinctly elevated him to the position of a classical author, and his work has run through a greater number of editions than any other on the same subject, whether in our own or any foreign language. Recent events show that its reputation is still on the increase. Besides stereotyped reissues, no fewer than three separate and handsomely got-up editions have appeared within as many years, and the Natural History of Selborne, day after day, charms an ever-widening circle of readers. Why this should be the case is by no means obvious. We all know that books have their fates, and so forth, but it is not easy to explain the lasting and growing popularity of a series of letters, written professedly with a very limited scope, the limits of which are seldom transgressed, and addressed by a quiet country clergyman to two correspondents—friends we can scarcely call them, for he bad but few opportunities of meeting and knowing them intimately —while they, though by no means common-place men in their day, have assuredly failed to attain more than a respectable position in science or literature. Pennant's many volumes are still consulted, it is true, with advantage by antiquarians and naturalists of an antiquarian turn of mind—some of them have reached several editions—but no one would think of ranking their author high as a zoologist or an archaeologist. Daines Barrington is still less known to this generation. His contributions to the Philosophical Transactions are of little value, and his Miscellanies are seldom disturbed on the dusty shelf where they repose in our libraries. Though both these writers made a figure in the great world of their time, they are now chiefly remembered as White's corre- spondents, and probably most readers of White are wholly in- different as to which of them was the original recipient of the Selborne letters.

We despair of arriving at a solution of the puzzle, but an attempt to solve it is worth making, and we shall begin by comparing these letters with the only contemporary book with which, from the nature of the subject, comparison is possible,—that of Oliver Goldsmith. Though Goldsmith was White's junior by some eight years, be had wandered over a great part of Europe, and of course had enjoyed opportunities of seeing far more of the works of nature than had ever fallen to the lot of White, who apparently never set foot out of England. No one can doubt Goldsmith's claim to recognition as an English classic. As poet, as humourist, as essayist, he stands and will always stand conspicuous, fully justifying in those respects what his celebrated epitaph says of him. His History of the Earth and of Animated Nature was begun in 1769, two years after the commencement of White's correspondence with Pennant, and in the very year in which White first wrote to Barrington. The book appeared in 1774, when the former was all but concluded, and the monographs of the British ilirundines (undoubtedly the most engaging of White's productions) had been penned for com- munication to the Royal Society. One author could not have been influenced by the other. Goldsmith's book, says a biographer, was " one of the most profitable of his literary undertakings." We know it was at once popular beyond anything of the kind

• The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne, in the County of Southampton. By the late Rev. Gilbert Whim, formerly Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. Edited

by Thomas Bell, F.H.B.. F.L.S., P.0.5 , Professor of Zoology in King's College, London. 2 vols. London: Van Voorst. 1817.

before published, and it was for years afterwards read by thou- sands who never heard of White's name. But who now reads it? Who could now conscientiously edit it without having to add notes which, at the foot of every page, would expose the author's childish credulity where caution, to say the least, was required, and his silly hesitation where all was plain ; which would contra- dict his most positive assertions, and would tear to tatters his most confident deductions ? The sublime, vivid, versatile genius of Goldsmith was altogether out of place in natural history, as well as in history proper. He had not the scientific use of his imagi- nation, though he was a doctor of medicine, and therefore had nominally received a scientific education. He failed to under- stand and therefore could only travesty Buffon, and the man who, on so many subjects, " wrote like an angel," could not touch the works of Nature without deforming them.

Now to consider White's followers, as they are commonly accounted. It has long been a fashion for good-natured reviewers to say of almost any new book on observational natural history that the author has studied in his school, and to prophesy the success of a work which has been written, they declare, on the model of Selborne. When we look further into such volumes, although,—

" Plants, trees, and stones they note, Birds, insects, beasts, and many rural things,"

we find them to have but little in common with it, save the general subject. Their authors are frequently men who have the gift of writing agreeably, they are generally accurate, and they have often been good naturalists ; but that avails them not. Knapp's Journal of a Naturalist is certainly entertaining, and is an excellent imitation, as the author evidently intended it to be, of White's calmer manner. The neatly expressed results of Mr. Knox's Sussex Rambles are often marked by a singular degree of philosophic perception. Kingsley's Prose Idylls are good examples of brilliant word-painting. Charles St. John's books of High- land sport and natural history are spirited, beyond all doubt, but they contain hardly more than the rough observations of an intel- ligent hunter. Bishop Stanley's few portraitures are exquisitely painted, but his busy life left him scant time for studies in which he would have unquestionably excelled. Broderip's lore, humour, and facility of illustration do not compensate for the lack of per- sonal observation, caused by a like want of leisure, which his books betray. Newman's Letters of Rusticus amaze us by their mingled knowledge and ignorance. But the best of these authors comes not near White, and we can name no other, for Waterton somehow contrives to jar our feelings ; he was combative, he was a man (no blame to him for that, however) who had a grievance, or rather a succession of grievances, and truthful and animated as was every- thing he wrote, it was written in a very different spirit from that of Gilbert White.

That White was not only all that is meant by the phrase " a

scholar and a gentleman," that he was an accurate observer of everything included in the term "natural history," and a philo- sopher of no contemptible profundity, is indeed evident. But it seems as though the combination of these qualities would not necessarily give him that superiority over all other com- petitors in the same field which he unquestionably possesses. The charm of his writings must lie elsewhere, but we confess we seek its seat in vain. The new letters, for which we have to thank Professor Bell, in the present edition exhibit all the char- acteristic excellences of those with which we have been so long familiar, showing that they were never dressed up for publication, and that it was White's habit to write to his most intimate friends and relations just as he addressed his stately correspondents in London.

It is a great mistake to suppose that any one may advance knowledge by being simply a good field-naturalist, neglecting what others have observed and recorded before him. The men who thus fight for their own hand, premeditatedly sneer at those who read books, and undervalue or ignore the observations of others, are oftenest those who complain most bitterly of the neglect which they declare they themselves suffer. There have been many of this class, and the chiefest among them was Waterton, whom it is not invidious to name, seeing that his merits in other respects are so transcendent. Some of White's superiority to all his imitators may be safely ascribed to his thorough knowledge of the literature of natural history existing in his day. There seems to be scarcely a biological work of any value which he had not read, and he was evidently at pains to keep himself up to the mark as new ones appeared,—doubtless assisted in this by his brother Benjamin, a successful bookseller and publisher in London. Unassuming as he always was, he never abstained from commenting, whether favourably or unfavourably, on the works of others ; but his criticisms always show the most delicate tact, and he invariably wrote as one who knows what he says is true, and is not ashamed to say it.

The new letters, mentioned above, make up about two-thirds of Professor Bell's second volume, and they place his edition apart from all others. With a few exceptions, they are now published

for the first time, and the interest they possess is at least as great as that inspired by the original Natural History of Selborne, which (without the Antiquities) they almost equal in bulk. In some

respects they are more interesting, for we here have displayed much of the author's domestic relations, before unknown to us. It might have been safely presumed that all the traits of his personal character which such letters might contain, would be of a kind to raise our admiration of him, and this proves to be the case.

We find in these new letters all the qualities of our old favourites, —their graceful style, their earnest diction, their scrupulous cor- rectness as to fact, their sound reasoning. The old-world fragrance they exhale is one that gives no surfeit, and the insight we gain into bygone habits is not small. They are all, however, of more recent date than his acquaintance and the beginning of his corre- spondence with Pennant, and concerning the earlier part of White's life we are still left in much ignorance, for though the editor has doubtless done his best to collect all that can be gathered of his author's career, between his birth in 1720 and 1767, when he began to write to Pennant, the materials are too meagre to furnish a memoir worthy of the name. We must say that as a biographer Professor Bell does not shine. The facts he has to deal with are not numerous, but he has laid them before us in a confusing way, and in treating the White pedigree he seems to have got into the condition which schoolboys call " However, that is a small matter, and we learn some things of interest from the memoir. One of them is that in his younger days, White was attached—it does not appear whether he was engaged—to Miss Hester Mulso, the lady who afterwards achieved literary celebrity as Mrs. Chapone. Professor Bell asserts, with some probability, that it was the disappointment thus caused that led White to remain a bachelor. We have also a humorous story, vouched for by one of his nephews, which is entirely new. His old servant came to him one day, and said, " Please, Sir, I've been and broke a glass."—" Broke a glass, Thomas ! How did you do that ?"—" I'll show you, Sir." So he went and brought a wine-glass, which he threw on the floor,

saying, " That's how I broke it, Sir."—" There, go along Thomas. You are a great fool," said his master ; and then muttered, " And I was as great a one, for asking such a foolish question."

It is well known that Professor Bell has occupied himself for many years in preparing this edition, and he, of all men, is per- haps the fittest editor to be found for the work. But we cannot refrain from saying that we are a little disappointed in the way he has discharged his office. He is, of course, an enthusiastic admirer of White, but he seems to have been ashamed of showing

his enthusiasm. We could well have had the number of foot- notes increased, for Professor Bell's foot-notes are straight to the point. The natural danger which an editor of Selborne incurs is

that of overloading the text and airing his own knowledge,—or in one notable case, we may say his ignorance. There is no chance of Professor Bell being charged with this. On the con- trary, there are many passages which certainly require a few words of explanation, where none is vouchsafed. We suspect that this reticence may have been caused by a terrible example of recent occurrence. With one single exception, all the male editors of White have been more or less sound naturalists. It was reserved for an editor who is only a naturalist by popular repute to add as notes to this incomparable production a mass of clippings

from a sporting newspaper which had nothing to do with the subject, and consisted, for the most part, of what we shall not scruple to call vulgar twaddle. The gravest complaint we can make against Professor Bell is that his volumes have a very in- different index, and 130 table of contents, that we may find our way about them. Nevertheless, we are willing to condone this offence, in consideration of the new matter he has given us,—nay, more, we heartily thank him for it.

Professor Bell doubtless had his reasons for the arrangement of the new letters he has adopted, but we think it a pity that the

correspondence between Gilbert White's brother, John, and Linnaeus was not interpolated with the letters of Gilbert to John, for then any one might see clearly the extent to which the latter was indebted to the former's information and hints. It should also be noted that some of the other letters are mis- placed,—for instance, that of Thomas White to Gilbert (ii.,

p. 180), in order of date should follow Gilbert's to his nephew, Samuel Barker (ii., p. 113), and that of Gilbert to another nephew (ii., p. 143) should come after Samuel Barker's to his uncle (ii., p. 151). But these are minor im- perfections. The letters, as a whole, are delightful, and there is not one of them that we could afford to lose. Most interesting among them are the thirty-one from Gilbert to John, extending over some

years, from the time when the latter was chaplain at Gibraltar to his death. To all naturalists it must be a matter of regret that the manuscript Fauna Calpensis, which John composed, has dis- appeared ; but we think Professor Bell might have printed the introduction to it, which he says is in his possession.* After John

White's death, his widow came and lived with Gilbert at Selborne, where her son " Jack " had before been domiciled, and there are no more pleasant passages in the book than those which show the old bachelor uncle's care of the boy whose education had been entrusted to him. Jack was a promising lad, and his parents' consignment to him of shirts and sweetmeats is thankfully re- corded by his uncle. Soon after, he took the measles, and occasioned a little anxiety, though the attack was a mild one, and apparently required little more than alleviation, which was effected by balm-tea. Recovering, he made himself useful, in return for instruction in the classics, by acting as his uncle's amanuensis, and even the laming of his uncle's horse did not ruffle the good man's temper. But Gilbert White's amiable character is also shown in the correspondence with his sister's son, the Sam Barker before mentioned, though on this we have no space to bestow. Entertaining also are the letters which passed between him and Churton, a young Fellow of Brasenose. But perhaps the most instructive of all is the correspondence begun by Marsham, the

Norfolk arboriculturist, and only closed by White's death, in 1793. Selborne was recommended to Marsham by his neighbour William Windham, of political fame and bull-baiting proclivity. It became at once, as he says, his " favourite book," and he wrote to its author. The series of letters is unfortunately imperfect, two of White's being missing, victims possibly of some autograph collector's misdeeds. The mutual esteem which (though they never met) sprang up between these two men is shown by White's exclaiming, " 0, that I had known you forty years ago !"—and indeed, with some indications of a slightly warm temper, so opposite to White's, it is plain that Marsham was worthy of the exclamation. We cannot refrain from quoting a few passages

revealing one strong bond of sympathy between them, and one that does honour to both. Marsham writes (ii., p. 283) :—

" As i find by your Book, you was formerly a Sportsman, i conclude you love dogs, so i may tell you an history of a favourite bitch of mine. I destroyed her first litter of whelps; her 2d litter she laid in a secret place. These i also destroyed ; her 3d she loped in a large cony-burrow over a furlong from the house, and quite out of sight: could human wisdom do more ?—She went a hunting with a partner dog, & i chastised them, the partner first : for every lash i gave it, she cried, as if suffering herself. When I whipped her, she did not cry once. Was not this feeling more for her friend than herself ? & is not this a proof of more exalted friendship than you have ever known in the human race ?"

And White in reply says (ii., p. 286) :-

"Tho' I have long ceased to be a sportsman, yet I still love a dog ; and am attended daily by a beautiful spaniel with long ears, and a spotted nose & legs, who amuses me in my walks by sometimes springing a pheasant, or partridge, and seldom by flushing a woodcock, of late become with us a very rare bird."

To which Marsham rejoins (ii., p. 295) :— " As you have left off sporting I hope you will not think me too cynical, if i wonder that a rational creature can make the chief pleasure of his life to consist in causing, and seeing harmless creatures in the agonies of death. The poultorer's killing-boy and the Lamb-butcher, follow their trade, and perhaps with pity ; the Nobleman's and gentle- man's, is clear pleasure : from causing pain and death."

After all, it is perhaps White's real and tender love of the animal kingdom that is the true secret of the marvellous popularity of his writings for though many will not avow it, and there are still more who are unable to express it, this feeling is strong within an increasing majority of mankind. If so, it may serve to explain the curious fact that issue after issue of his book obtains a sale in America, where scarcely a plant or an animal that he mentions can be known to its readers.

With the exception of toads and frogs, his aversion to which, though not unaccountable, seems so strange to his present editor, —himself, it must be remembered, a distinguished herpetologist,— White seems to have had the greatest sympathy with his fellow- creatures, and this (as the whole tone of his writings shows)

• We may also remark that no notice is taken of the journal kept by White, which was in existence some thirty years ago, when Jesse printed some extracts

from it in his Gleanings. Can this have since disappeared, or is it reserved for • The Faust of Goethe: Part 1, in English Verse. By W. H. Colquhoun. some future editor to publish this great store of observations? London: Moron. because they were his fellow-creatures. He looked on the handi- work of the God he worshipped, and it was good in his eyes. It may be that had he lived in these days, the influence of early training might have been too strong for him to accept the theory of evolution ; but it is certain that if any naturalist should be pervaded by feelings of humanity, it is the evolutionists. And we are happy in knowing that the chief of that school has never, in any of his numerous writings, said one word in disparagement of those feelings. In this respect, as in the high value he has taught us to set on the practice of observation, and in the patient discharge of his duty as an observer, no naturalist has ever approached the author of the Natural History of Selborne, save he who has in these respects surpassed him, for the truest of Gilbert White's followers, and the ablest exponent of his method, is Mr. Charles Darwin.