The Sun.
London, England, 1849-01-01 00:00:00

MONDAY

MAGAZINE DAY.
BLACKWOOD.

Although we recognise the hand of Alison in the
first article for January, we give precedence to the
contribution of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton—
because in "The Year of Revolutions" we find only
the marks of great political bigotry and intolerance,
while in " The Caxtons" we perceive the evidences of
a very brilliant and distinguished genius. If the
concluding chapters of this beautiful serial be only
comparable to those which have already appeared,
" The Caxton*" will prove—or we are very much
mistaken—the masterpiece of one who has already
penned such works as "Harold" and " Zanoni.
The interview between Pisistratus and Trevanion is
an admirable piece of dialogue ; while reading it we
were breathless with attention—so artistically is the
interest aroused before its commencement. Hitherto
we have heard it objected to " The Caxtons," that
no one cares a straw what becomes of any one of the
characters. The objection, we opine, will be re-
linquished even by the most exacting after the perusal
of " Part IX." A profound sympathy is there
excited by the author for the creations of his fancy
—a sympathy which extends proportionately to
Fanny Trevanion, to Pisistratus Caxton, to Augus-
tine, to Captain Roland, and in a lesser degree to the
other personages whose fortunes are delineated in
the narrative. We still miss Sir Sedley Beaudesert
—Bulwer must not forget him, for he promises to
eclipse Pelham, Maltravers, Ferrero, et hoc genus
cline. Francis Vivian threatens to occupy the post
vacated by Pisistratus—namely, as secretary to the
Member of Parliament and future Minister. Should
the adventurer be actually admitted in the capacity
of amanuensis into the house of Mr. Trevanion, we
calculate that his feelings of honour will not prove so
punctilious in regard to the acquisition of the hand of
the heiress. Vivian (doubtless, as we have already
intimated, the reprobate son of Captain Roland,
receiving under an assumed name the patronage of
Pisistratus) will prove the evil genius of the fiction—
repaying with misery, and anxiety, and confusion the
generous efforts made in his behalf by the younger
Caxton. How beautiful, how touching is that part
beginning "And it was true, 0, my mother !" The
tears brim into the eyes while reading it; and we say
deeply and earnestly with this great writer, "We
come to men for philosophy—to women for conso-
lation." Old Augustine, having begun the correction
of the first proofs of his colossal work, discourses
right eloquently on a crochet of his respecting the
Hygeinic Chemistry of Books. The conceit is most
felicitous, and abounds with the tokens of a very
curious erudition. He presents to Captain Roland
and to Pisistratus, each, a copy of the " Life of Ro-
bert Hall" (written, if we recollect rightly, by the
renowned essayist, John Foster, of Bristol), telling
them that the biography will affect them as a sove-
reign remedy for their afflictions. And so in truth
it turns out—the memorial of the Bossuet of Eng-
land shedding a balm into the hearts of the mourners.
The scene in which they meet, and mutually reveal
the emotions aroused by that tale of genius, of pain,
and of resignation, is peculiarly happy, especially to-
wards the conclusion. The Captain says—
" What I have seen in this book is courage. Here is
a poor creature rolling on the carpet with agony; from
childhood to death tortured by a mysterious incurable
malady—a malady that is described as an internal appa-
ratus of torture;' and who does, by his heroism, more than
bear it—he puts it out of power to affect him; and
though (hero
.is the passage) his appointment by day
and by night was incessant pain, yet high enjoyment
was, notwithstanding, the law of his existence.' Robert
Hall reads me a lessun—me, an old soldier, uho thought
myself above taking lessons—in courage, at least. And,
as I came to that passage when, in the sharp paroxysms
before death, he says, ' I have not complained, have i,
sir?—and I won't complain,'—when I came to that pas-
sage I started up, and cried Roland de Caxton, thou
hast been a coward! and, an thou hadst had thy deserts,
thou hadst been cashiered, broken, and drummed out of
the regiment long not' " •
" After all, then, my father was not so wrong—he
placed his gun right and fired a good shot."
" He must have been from six degrees to nine degrees
above the crest of the parapet," said my uncle, thought-
fully—" which, I take it is the best elevation, both fur
shot and shells, in enfilading a work."

"What say you, then, Captain? up with our knap-
sacks, and on with the march!"
" Right about—face!" cried my uncle, as erect as a
column.
" No looking back, if we can help it."
" Full in the front of the enemy.—' Up, guards, and
at 'ern!' "
" ' England expects every man to do his duty 1' "
" Cypress or laurel!" cried my uncle, waving the book
over his head.

It is long since there has appeared, even in Black-
wood, such a serial as " The Caxtons." We congra-
tulate the entrepreneurs of Maga upon the acquisition
of Bulwer in a higher capacity than that of a contri-
butor of metrical translations. Alison—if it be
Alison, which we could almost avouch—is clever,
shrewd, and abounding with a miscellaneous kind of
knowledge in the political retrospect upon 1848,
"The Year of Revolutions." But.lie is uitra-preju
diced on the side of the Reactionnaires. And, beyond
this, he is just a trifle too sanguine as to the conquest
of democracy by the counter-revolution. He will
find in the end that it is the glory and not the shame
of Pius IX. that he began the movement of political
reform ; and he will find also, that however successful
the tyrant of Naples, and the tyrant cf Prussia, and
the tyrants of Austria may have been in putting the
heel of despotism upon the nationalities of the
Germans and Italians, democracy will vindicate its
rights and its reputation by an explosion in com-
parison with which the revolutions of 1848 will be
insignificant. " French Conquerors and Colonists"
is an agreeable review of the volumes penned by
Borrer and Alby. " The White Nile," a criticism
on the Expedition of Werne, and an ornothological
paper on " The Dodo and its Kindred," are eccentric
productions which will afford amusement to those
who like anything rather out of the way. Mr. Stir-
ling receives a deserved eulogium in the article en-
titled " Art and Artists in Spain ;" and after an in-
different tale of 1787, entitled " The Sword of
Honour," Blackwood terminates its number for
January with a review of the " Memoirs of Kirkaldy
of Grange." At this rate, during 1849, Ebony will
more than sustain its honoured and honourable repu-
tation.