The Sun.
London, England, 1831-01-01 00:00:00

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

The " Noctes" are this month most capital in
point of whim and spirit, though somewhat un-
necessarily severe on the metaphysics of Mr„
Moore. The writer should remember that
Moore is a poet, and it is a little hard to expect
him to be a metaphysician also. If he dabble a
little in this line, the critic should remember that
he is but an amateur, and treat him accordingly.
The success of Moore as a wit is quite enough
to damn him as a metaphysician, tho two cha-
racters are quite incompatible. "On the Late
French Revolution," is a review of two histories
of that event ; one of which, by a Mr. Turn-
bull, meets with the justice that it deserves.
" Dr. Parr and his Cotemporaries" is a masterly
analytical notice of this much-over-rated scholar
and divine. The writer clearly is De Quincy.
No one else in the present day combines such
deep scholastic learning with such freshness of
thought and broad power of ridicule and carica-
ture. The article is pointed, witty, entertaining
—very satirical, and assuredly very just. We
subjoin a description of the Opium , Eater's
first interview with the sesquipedalian pedagogue:

" Nobody announced him; and we were left to collect
his name from his dress and his conversation. Hence it
happened, that for some time we were disposed to question
ourselves whether this might not be Mr. Bobus even,
(little as it could be supposed to resemble him), rather
than Dr. Parr, so much did he contradict all our rational
preconceptions. A nun,' said we, who has insulted
people so outrageously, ought not to have done this in
single reliance upon his professional protections ; a brave
mao, and a man of honour, would here have °uric I about
with him, in his manner and deportment, some such
language as this,—' Do not think that I slieter myself
under my gown from the natural consequences of the af-
onts I offer ; mortal combats I am forbidden, sir, as a
Christian minister, to engage in; but, as I find it impos-
sible to refrain from occasional license of tongue, I am very
willing to fight a few rounds, in a ring, with any gentle-
man who fancies himself ill-used.' Let us not be mis-
understood ; we do nut contend that Dr. Parr should often,
or regularly, have offered this species of satisfaction. But
we do insist upon it—that no man should have given the
very highest sort of provocation so wantonly as Dr. Parr
is recorded to have done, unless sonsciuus that, in a last
extremity, he was ready, like a brave man, to undertake a
short turn-up, in a private room, with any person whatso.
ever whom he had insulted past endurance. A doctor,
who had so often tempted a cudgelling, ought himself to
have had some ability to cudgel. Dr. Johnson assuredly
would have acted on that principle. Had volume the
second of that same folio with which be floored Osborn,

•
happened to lie ready to the prostrate man's grasp, nebo
can suppose that Johnson would have gainsaid his right
retaliate ; in which case, a regular succession of ro-
would have been est,lolished. Considerations sy--
these, and the Doctor's undeniable reputation (gran
even by his most admiring biographers) as a sanguin
flagellator, throughout his long career of pedagogue,
prepared us—nay, entitled us—to expect in Dr. Pr
huge carcass of man, fourteen stone at the least. I
his style, pursy and bloated, and his sesquipedalian w,
all warranted the same conclusion. Hence, then, our
prier, and the perplexity we have recorded, when the
opened, and a little man, in a bus wig, cut his way throt
the company, and made fur a fauteuil standing oppo
to the fire. Into this he lunged ; and then fcrthtvi
without preface or apology, began to open his talk u;
us. Here arose a new marvel and a greater. If we I
been scandalized at Dr. Parr's want of thewes and In
conditions so indispensable for enacting the part of St
Johnson, much more, and with better reason, were
now petrified with his voice, utterance, gestures, and
meansur. Conceive, reader, by way of counterpoise
the fine enunciation of Dr. Johnson, an infantine lisp—
worst we ever heard—from the lips of a man above six
and accompanied with all sorts of ridiculous grimaces a
little stage gesticulations. As he sat in his chair, turni
alternately to the right and to the left, that he might c
pease his edification in equal proportions amongst us
seemed the very image of a little French gossiping abb

Passages from the Diary of a late Pt
sician" bear frequent marks of power and c
scriptive ability, but are both too highly-wroug'
at least to convey an idea of reality. The wri,
is too ambitious of exciting—what our ingenio
city correspondent is so fond of calling—" a set
tion." He should trust more to nature and
to art.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
Appended to this number is an admire
engraving of Sir W. Scott's bust, by Chan

faithful—so we are told—as a resemblance,
indubitably excellent as a work of art. Accc
pitying this bust is a literary sketch—full
freshness and feeling, and a certain cord
quaint, vigorous, and even affectionate earne
ness—of the great novelist, by Allan Cunning!!

—the most natural of modern ballad writ,

It is impossible to read this slight sketch w

out being struck with the fine tone of enth
siasm that pervades it. The record of one a
thor by another—especially when the two k
pen to be poets—are seldom very sincere
agreeable ; but this one is an exception, to pror
which we shall subjoin an extract :

I was present one evening when Coleridge, in a lon,
and eloquent harangue, accused the author of Waverle
of treason against Nature, in not drawing his character
after the fashion of Shakspeare, but in a manner of id
own. This, without being meant, was the highest praisa
that Scott could well receive. Perhaps the finest COrn.
plitnent ever paid him was at the time of the late corona
tion, I think. The streets were crowded so densely tha
he could not make his way from Charing-cross down tt
Rose's, in Abingdon-street, though he elbowed ever sc
stoutly. He applied for help to a sergeant of the Scotcl
Greys, whose regiment lined the streets. Countryman,
said the soldier, ' I am sorry I cannot help you,' and made
no exertion. Scott whispered his name—the blood rushed
to the soldier's brow—he raised his bridle•hand, and ex•
claimed—' Then, by G—d, Sir, you shall go down—
Corporal Gordon, here—see this gentleman safely to
Abingdon-street, come what will !' It is needless to say
how well the order was obeyed. I have relate.' how I
travelled to Edinburgh to sec Scott, and how curiously my
wishes were fulfilled ; years rolled on, and when he came
to London to be knighted, I was not so undistinguished as
to he unknown to him by name, or to be thought un-
worthy of his acquaintance. I was given to understand,
from what his own Ailie Gourley calls a sure hand, that
a call from me was expected, and that I would be well
received. I went to his lodgings in Piccadilly with much
of the same palpitation ef heart which Boswell experienced
when introduced to Johnson. I was welcomed with both
hands, and such kind and even complimentary words, that
confusion and fear alike forsook tne. When I saw him in
Edinburgh, he was in the very pith and flush of life—even
in my opinion a thought more fat than bard beseeins ;
when I looked on hint now, thirteen years had not passed
over him and left no mark behind ; his hair was growing
thin and grey ; the stamp of years and study was on his
brow; be told me he had suffered much lately from ill-health
and that he once doubted of recovery. His eldest son, a
tall handsome youth—now a Major in the army—was
with him. From that time, till he left London, I was
frequently in his company. He spoke of my pnrsuita and
prospects in life with interest and with feeling—of nay
little attempts in verse and prose with a knowledge that
be had read them carefully—offered to help me to such
information as I should require, and even mentioned a
subject in which he thought I could appear to advantage.
If you try your hand on a story,' he observed, I would
advise you to prepare a kind of skeleton, and when you
have pleased yourself with the line of narrative, you may
then leisurely clothe it with flesh and blood.' Some
years afterwards I reminded him of this advice. Did
you follow it ?' he inquired. I tried,' I said ; 'but I had
not gone far on the read till some confounded Will o'-Wisp
came in and dazzled my sight, so, that I deviated from the
path and never found it again.'—' It is the same way with
myself,' said he, smiling; I form my plan, and then I
deviate.'—' Ay, ay,' I replied, ' I understand—we both
deviate—but you deviate into excellence, anel I into absur-
dity.'
" I have seen many distinguished poets, Burns, Byron,
Southey, Wordsworth, Campbell, Rogers, Wilson, Crabbe,
and Coles idge ; but, with the exception of Burns, Scott,
for personal vigour, surpasses them all. Burns was,
indeed, a powerful man, and Wilson is celebrated for feats
of strength and agility ; I think, however, the stalworth
frame, the long nervous arm, and well •knit joints of
Scott are worthy of the best days of the Border, and
would have gained hint distinction at the foray which fol-
lowed the feast of spurs. On one occasion he talked of
his ancestry, Sir Thomas Lawrence, I think, was present.
One of his forefathers, if my memory is just, aided with
the Parliament in the Civil War, and the family estate
suffered curtailment in consequence. To make amends,
however, his son, resolving not to commit the error of his
father, joined the Pretender, and with his brother was
engaged in that unfortunate adventure which ended in a
skirmish and captivity at Preston in 1715."

" Mr. Brougham"—we still cleave, and so
does the essayist before us, to the Mister in
preference to the Lord—is a correct but some•
what feeble and common-place sketch of this
great man, first as a lawyer ; second, as a States
man. " Legacy of a Late Poet," judging frot
the style, we should pronounce to be Bart
Cornwall's. The verses have all the manneris►
of his earliest and most successful poetic
efforts. " Conversations with an Ambitious Stu-
dent in 11l Health," possess not a little metaphy-
sical acumen, mixed with an occasional foppery
of thought and manner, which is however rather
diverting than otherwise, like the praises by Dr.
Johnson of his own beauty ; and Goldsmith's
admiration of his " peach-coloured" dress•
coat. " I'll Pack my Portmanteau," is a whim-
sical account of the miseries of early rising—to
which we far from being insensible. The de-
tails of the towel standing bolt upright, like
Lot's wife, in a state of petrifaction ; of
the shaving-soap cemented to the box, and
the brush to ditto of the water in the
bason frozen to such a degree, that a herd
of nightmares might trot with perfect safety over
its surface ;—these are things not to be thought
of without a shudder, as the almost invariable
adjuncts to early rising in winter. They are
well-wrought up and made the most of, in Mr.
Poole's sprightly extravaganza before us. Camp-
bell of Spernies' Three Wives" (mercy on us—
or rather o❑ him !) is distressing, as its title im-
ports—luckily it is short, for it would be impossible
for a Benedict of ordinary sensibilities to endure

a confession of triganly in detail ! " Sketches
from the North" is a smart article on an interest-

ing topic—the leading political characters in
Edinburgh. " Poland" is an admirable, and, at
the present juncture,an instructive historical sketch
of one of the finest and most foully-wronged
countries on the face of God's earth. " Speak-
ers and Speeches in Parliament" is a sprightly
and seasonable sketch ; but surely the writer is
severe overmuch on Lord Grey and Sir J.
Graham ! Altogether the number is a capital
one ; judicious in variety, and seasonable in the
character of its information. The engraving
alone is a gem worth theprice of the whole book.

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

By its own account, and we have no reason to
dispute the fact, this magazine runs on its
course rejoicing, that is to say, increases greatly
in circulation. We are glad to hear this, the
periodical is a spirited one, though its early
numbers were too much tainted with a reckless
spirit of personality which, wholly unintelligible
to country readers, could have inspired in them no
other emotions than those of disgust. In the
more recent numbers, especially the present one,
personality has been almost lost sight of, and
consequently the No. is much the gainer. " \Val-
len stein's Camp" is a spirited but free translation
from Schiller—compared with Lord Levison
Gower's dilution it is admirable, but might be
much better without attaining any super-eminent
excellence. "On the Punishment of Death" is
a well-condensed digest of the opinions of
Hazlitt and Basil Montagu on this important
subject. " Narrative of the French Revolution"
is a review of the late publications illustrative of
this event. A Mr. Turnbull's history, entitled
" The French Revolution of 1830," is treated
with marked derision, as a work beneath con-
tempt, and justice is awarded to the clear,
powerful, and argumentative details of Mr.
Colton. " Dr. Phillpotts, the Bishop,"—we
hurry from this subject with a strong feel-
ing of loathing, and turn for consolation
to the smart little sketch which accompanies
the portrait of our tetnporate and esti-
mable friend Ensign O'Doherty, the standard
bearer and pride of Blackwood. The face
is one of a religious caste ; and is thrown into
agreeable shadow by:a huge puritanical bronze
wig, such as beseems the dignity of this Ad-
jutant, who has lately, we understand, turned
methodist, and now holds forth at the new
Jerusalem Tabernacle in the Waterloo road.
" L'Envoy" is a lively, satirical piece of egotism,
and " Some Passages front the Diary of Mr.
John St. John Long"—that most immeasurable
and unparalleled quack—full of humour. En
. .

VOICI :--

bOAIF. PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF TIIE LATE ma.

JOHN ST. JOHN LONG.
Aye—there's the rntb."—llainlet.

" 'Tie all one !" said I, laying down the newspaper on

the breakfast table, after reading an erroneous represeuta•
tins of myself and the Marquis of Sligo : ' I am resolved
to remove this stain front my character, and, if hard-rub-
Ling can do it, I may hope to succeed.' I had scarcely
pronounced these words, when my servant entered the room
to inform me that a person had arrived in breathless haste,
imploring my assistance for a gentleman in a dying con-
dition. Heedful, as I ever am to attend to the sufferings
of others—a pursuit in which I have found ample fee-
licity—l drew on my boots and followed the applicant to
rise house of the suffering gentleman. This was situated
in a picturesque part of the metropolis, and, on knocking,
the door was opened to me by a man who might be six
and forty years of age—there. or thereabout. Guessing
the purport of my visit, he said nothing, but led me up
to his master's room, when a spectacle of the most ap-
palling character met my eyes. A gentleman in the prime
of life lay extended on a bed—his hair dishevelled, his
dress disordered, andhis complexion a midway hue between
the tints of chalk and Cheshire cheese. His tongue hung
out of his mouth, loaded with evidence of internal strife.
I naturally believed that the present was a confirmed case
of phthisis pulmonalis, and I accotdingly had recourse to
my well known, and, with-few-exceptions, always-success-
ful remedy of inhaling. In this instanee, however, it did
not answer my expectations. Instead of benefitting the
trachea, it produced a sympathetic affection of the stomach
and diaphragm, and the ecsophagus farmed the medium of
continunication between the patient and myself. Having
taken a pinch of snuff, I was about to give my other in-
fallible remedy a fair trial, when the patient opened his
eyes. But, gracious heaven ! what eyes ! The visual orb
was swoln, blood-shot, troubled, and intolerably dull. At
the same moment, some incoherent expressions fell from
the unfortunate gentleman. After a reference to the kid-
neys, he seemed to wish for something to be found in the
coal-hole, or the cider-cellar ; but the search of the servant
below stairs was unavailing. I now began to apprehend
delirium. To be sure of tine state of his mind, I inquired
if there were any clergyman whom he would wish to see :
.3
He exclaimed, 0 venerable old Offley !' But when I ex-
pressed to the servants a wish that this reverend gentle-
-( man might be sent for, they assured me they had never
Ng heard of him ! The patient then muttered some inarticu-
-7" late sounds, and turned on his side. This position being
favourable for my original operation of rubbing, I slit up
the back of his coat, waistcoat, and all other vestmental
impediments, and smartly applied a solution of tartarised
antimony along the course of the spine. The effect was
instantaneous on the alimentary canal, and a griping iu
the transverse arch of the colon well nigh put a full atop
to the patient's sufferings. The ductus communis choir-
dochus again deluged the stomach, and with the customary
consequences. The scene now became almost insupport-
able. An aged nurse, who bad, from the infancy of the
Be patient, been his domestic, declared that she could hold
out no longer. Poor creature ! the tear of affection
glistened in her eye; while her canvul,ed features be-
trayed uncontrollable sensations. It was a struggle be-
tween the heart and the stomach : the heart remained
true, but the stomach turned. At this the patient com-
menced cursing, swearing, and blaspheming, in a way
which will be found fully detailed with all due dashes—! —!
--! Sac, &c. in the last number of a northern magazine.
Zounds !' cried be, starting up on his scant—' Who
arc you ? who sent for you ? May the fiends catch you
and cleave to you for ever! Give us the hips ! a small
glass of brandy !ah!ah!ah ! 0 my back ! D—n all doc-
tors! Here am I stung and tortured with gastritis, Ire-
patens, splenitis, nephritis, epistaxis, odontalgia, car -
dialgia, diarrhcca, and a whole legion of devils with
Latin names ! D—n all doctors, again, say I.' And with
this exclamation, he hurled curious crown of crockery
at my head, which fitted on so tightly, that only by
breaking it, could I disengage myself from the delfic dia-
dem. I hastily ran down stairs, and meeting the man of
six-and-forty in the passage, I inquired of him very mi-
nutely concerning the state of his master. He answered
all my questions with perfect candour, and not without a
certain archness of hick and manner rather unusual among
men of six-and-forty in his rank of life. From all I
elicited, and also from certain corroborative proofs, which
I do not think it necessary now to specify, I have no hesi-
tation in declaring, for the information of the profession to
which I do not belong, and of the public generally, that
in this case my abstruse remedies had not a fair trial, in-
asmuch as the patient's state was vulgarly simple. He
had be-n drunk the night before ! J. ST. J. 1.,"

'1 -
11)„.......
4..4.
tom',f4
1,..,4
.
~::::
: l
, .:.,::...1
•:‘,,,
.
1(l
1:1N:J. 1
11
ri.''..
• I
t
$.
. .
ii,r2
e,
• )
:',
' 74
11.4,4
ill:4
1:-I
,:::;!,,
)14:' I
4
Pl. '':'.:4l
.....:-. ! ,
. • , c': . ,
• ,; t
'e.:••
i,
0,,,,
114—,
~ r i
-I
it.
4 . 4
V• r.i;,
.‘ :i.
1:1
, -',•• 'l
-..i ~ A• •
,f,, • 1 *I
It. 't 14
,*, -„ Ni
,ti. i ge
•
~4
''..4
: I.
- ' • El
i'L
44 7
'it '),
...4 •
~. -
,
4.•
1 k• 0
:
"i
. ,
tt , '
!' I
40
,R^ .1,
i . a
4 • '
. 1
I
• : I
4 '
1
. ~:
A, '•'11
; .1.1 1
-A .".ti ~,, e
4 i
, ..1
, )
~.,,,
e
. 4 1
;,.
'A- , _