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    The funeral of Douglas Jebrold , which took p lace in Norwood Cemetery on Monday last , was in all respects a fitting and characteristic tribute to his memory . There was too much real grief amongst those present for any parade of conventional mourning , and everything connected with the event was quiet , simple , and impressive . The cemetery is just the spot he would have chosen for his last resting-place—a green and wooded knoll , surrounded with rich meadows , and within sight of the great world of action amongst whose

    noblest workers he had resolutely toiled for nearly half a century . Ike ocean roar of distant city life , which for years beat a fierce , tumultuous music on the brain and heart of the slumberer , melts around his grave to the inland murmur of a shell . He sleeps amidst the summer blooms and waving shadows that he loved . For you cannot help seeing in his writings that , with the keenest relish of city life , Jerrold had a poet ' s fondness for wild flowers , green fields , rustic scenes , and fresh country air . Glimpses of the fair and sm iling fields of Kent , of its trim hedgerows , ' wayside cottages , with gardenstrips of brimming flowers , ' often occur in . his works , especially—and as a welcome relief to its gloomy pictures of city wretchedness , luxury , and crime in his longest story , ' St . Giles and St . James . ' He rests , too , near his earliest friend , Laman Blanchakd ' s grave being just opposite on the other

    side of the path . The number and character of the mourners who followed his body to the tomb were a living epitaph on the deceased , more eloquent and striking than any words could be . The funeral was private , and the place of burial being distant and difficult of access , it was naturally thought that comparatively few would be present . With the exception , however , of one or two friends unavoidably absent through illness or distance , the mourners at the grave included all who knew him , or who were connected with him in any way from the most distinguished members of his own profession to the pressmen and compositors from the printing-office , who were now and then cheered at their work by his kindly word and radiant smile . The time

    fixed on was scarcely convenient to some who might have wished to be present . It Avas the first day of the ' Handel Festival , ' and while the sad procession wound slowly up the rising ground " the cemetery , the sublime anthems and swelling choruses of the Messiah flooded the crystal dome of the neighbouring palace with the noblest sacred music ever composed ; bat this did not thin the numbers in the quiet burying-ground . To all who knew him , indeed there was a music that was touching and profound in the words of consolation and hope spoken at the open grave pf one so loved and honoured . The gathering round the grave was spontaneous ; the loss heartfelt , and the grief sincere . What an impressive sight it was ! Every turn of the winding carriage-way showed in the procession some well-known face saddened by the

    common loss . Immediately behind the hearse you saw Dickens ' s noble brow , energetic form , and worn , intense mournful look ; and not far off , Thackeray ' s grand head , white and uncovered , rose like King Saul ' s far above all his brethren . Behind followed members of almost every profession—banisters , physicians , clergymen , artists , with the President of the Academy at their head , managers and actors from various theatres , leading publishers , headed by the veteran Charles Knight , while every department of literature was represented by some of its foremost men , who had numbered Jerrold amongst their chosen friends . Such a gathering at his grave is a sufficient answer to all that has been said by covert slander or open hostility of his vindictive , bitter nature . That is , indeed , but the cuckoo cry of cold-hearted and shallow critics .

    As he himself says in his preface to the first volume of his collected works : " Bitter has , I think , a little too often been the ready word when certain critics have condescended to bend their eyes over my page ; so ready , that were my ink redolent of myrrh and frankincense , I well know the sort of readymade criticism that would cry with a denouncing shiver , ' Aloes , aloes . '" Those who look deep enough into his writings will find that lie is profoundly humane . Sympathy , ' the essence of our moral nature , ' was , in fact , the basis of his character . Extremes meet , and his apparent bitterness is often only the excess of sensibility . The spectaole of wrong , in any shape , of injustice to the oppressed , cruelty to tho weak , contempt of the suffering , or punishment of tho innocent , pierced him to the quick ; and the keen , fierce denunciation it provoked wns full of pain . People called

    him ruthless ; ho was , in fact , too pitiful , and could never , to tho last , harden his heart so as to look with politio indifference on the sorrows , and sins , and struggles of even tho humblest amongst his fellow-men . It is true , that with his swift insight lie saw at once into hypocrisy , assumption , and vanity of every kind , and often expressed what ho saw frankly , never , however , malevolently , never with any real unkindncss of hourt . He instinotivcly luid hold of tho good sido of any charactor , and if his wit wns sometimes keen aiul quick to wound , his sympathy was keener and quiokor to heal . No doubt in some oases , his branding sarcasms loft u pcrmanont mark , as it wns well they should . Better if tho base metal of tho world could bo more often so marked for tho recognition of honest men . His loves and hates equally ovinocd lu ' s noble nature . To the last ho had a keen sympathy for tho weak and suffering , a

    passionate enthusiasm for all that is noble and good , and , a pitiless scorn for the contemptible and vile . Those who knew him well saw and understood this far better than the outlying public , who were simply attracted by the brilliancy of his wit , or startled by the keenness of his invective . And what is the result ? The grave of the man whose hand was said to be against every man ' s , and who through life had , according to some , been making only enemies , was crowded by sorrowing friends , who were heart-stricken at the thought that they should hear that earnest voice and feel the grasp of that faithful hand no more . We cry " Poor Jerrold ! " but it is we that are the poorer for his death .

    An equally striking and still more substantial tribute to Douglas Jerrold s character is given in the series of Memorial Evenings announced by his friends-The arrangements for these evenings have been made in the most prompt and considerate way , and they constitute in all respects a noble and expressive offering . Emerson , speaking of gifts , justly censures the barbaric gold which we commonly offer in token of regard ; and what he says of gifts , applies equally to tokens and monuments of every kind . The rule for a gift , he says , is to offer that which properly belongs to your friend ' s character , and was associated with him in thought . "The only true offering is a portion of thyself . Therefore the poet brings his poem , the shepherd his lamb , the farmer corn , the miner a gem , the sailor coral and shells , the painter his

    picture , the girl a handkerchief of her own sewing . " This rule is strictly observed in the present memorial offering . The musician brings his music , the singer her song , the story-teller his tale , the dramatist his poem , the actor his part , the ' week-day preacher' his discourse . There are to be seven evenings—three devoted to dramatic representations , three to readings , and a concert . The concert , which is the first , will be on Saturday , June 27 th , in Sr . Martin ' s Hall , and Madame Novello , Miss Vining , Mir . Albert Smith , Mr . F . Robson , Miss Dolby , and Mr . Sims Reeves , with other distinguished musicians , will assist . On the following Tuesday , Mr . Dickens will read his

    Christmas Carol in the same place , followed , on the same evening in the week after , by Mr . W . H . Russell with his Personal Narrative . On Saturday Evening , July 11 th , will be represented at The Gallery of Illustration , Regent-street , Mr . Wilkie Collins ' s new romantic drama in three acts , The Frozen Deep , performed by the amateur company of ladies and gentlemen who originally represented it in private . With the original scenery , by Mr . Stanfield , It . A ., and Mr . Telbin , and the original music , under the direction of Mr . Francesco Berger . The whole under the management of Mr Charles Dickens . To conclude with a farce ; On the Wednesday

    following , Mr . Douglas Jerrold ' s dramas of the Housekeeper and the P risoner of JFar will be represented at the Haymarket Theatre , by , amongst others , Mr . Buckstone , Mr . Phelps , and Mr . B . Webster . On the following Wednesday evening , Mr . Thackeray will deliver a lecture in St . Martin ' s Hall , on Week-day Preachers ; ' and oh the same night in the succeeding week , Mr . Jerrold ' s dramas of the Rent Day and Black-eyed Susan will be represented at the Adelphi Theatre . We have only space to chronicle the series without remark ; but our readers will , we think , agree with us that they constitute a delicate and becoming tribute to the memory of Douglas Jbrrold , in thorough harmony with his character , worthy of his friends , and honourable to the profession he adorned .

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    THE DEAD SECRET . The , Dead Secret . By Wilkie Collins . 2 vole . Bradbury and Evans We alluded briefly to this new issue of the Dead Secret in our Literary Summary last week ; but a more detailed criticism is called for alike by the . justly eminent position of the author and the sterling character of the work itself : Mr . Collins is one of those men who make the construction of a story an nrfc , and who give themselves up to the elaboration and perfection Of their plot with the same feeling of entire devotion as that which made the sculptor of old finish the back of his statue , though it was to be entirely hidden by the niche in which it stood , with as much minute attention to truth and beauty us he had bestowed on those parts which were to meet the general gaze . Many writers of novels are content if they produce striking effects every here and there , like tho ' situations' in a melodrama , which come in at opportune moments when the audience are getting sleepy ; but Mr . Collins nrovides for all the contingencies of his narrative beforehand .

    nnd takes no step that does not lead in the direction of the catastrophe . A creat deal of this nice regard for the completeness of the whole is no doubt lost on the indolent or unobservant circulating library reader , who scampers thro ugh a novel in the course of as muny hours as there are volumes ; but tho author has his reward—firstly , in the sense of satisfaction which is always derived from performing any work with all one ' s conscience ; and , secondly , in the appreciation of those few who can perceive the delicate strokes and subtle tints which make up the living picture . To Buoh observora the back of tho statue is not hidden , though to others it may be all unknown . - ... -n 1 * I To say that Mr . Collins constructs the best story of any living English writer—that he has more power than all his contemporaries in fascinating the reuder ' s interest by some perplexing mystery , some shadowy terror , with

    which ho lures you on from pago to pa « e until the end is reached—« , ay this time , almost to utter a truism . But it would be doing him the grossest injustice if the often insisting on the fact were to lead to the inference tuac that is his only merit . On the contrary , he has all the other qualities ot a story-tellor : and in none of his works have these been more apparent tnan ia the Dead Secret . Clear nnd life-like concept von of character ; variety ot scene ; dialogue of a perfectly natural and spontaneous kindj humour and

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    —?— ¦ ' ¦ . rvitias are not the legislators , butthejudges and police of literature . They do not make laws—they interpret and try to enfore e them . —Edinburgh Beview .

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    June 20 , 1857 . ] THE LEADER ^ 59 *

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), June 20, 1857, page 593, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2198/page/17/