The Sun.
London, England, 1836-12-31 00:00:00

THE STUN, LONDON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1536

ODE TO SIR ROBERT PEEL.

LITERATURE.

JIM CROW loquitur.

LITTLE TALES FOR LITTLE HEADS,
FLORAL SKETCHES, &c. c .
E. Wilson, :London, 1836,
These are clever children's books, got up
taste, at small expense, printed in a handsome large
'
anu containing a choice variety of appropriate
embellishments.

Never mind how the captious Conservative flats
Indulge in small sneers at apostates and rats,
'Tis yours, or I greatly mistake you. Bol! Fzel,
To go wriggling from 1.""
So turn al," ~cy to Whig like an
-Leel-
-twist about—do just so;
ißtendthyeouvlileasrooonf mnarkaye,asgtj-row I
give your awe hiticOming shouts
To the sunshiny INS, and your sneers to the OUTS ;
Never stick at a trifle, but swim with the stream ;
If Reform be the fashion, let that be your theme—
Yes; turn about—twist about—do just so ;
And you'll soon make as famous a hit as Jim Crow !
As for Glasgow, friend Bob, if you'll take my advice,
You'll cut that connection, and bolt in a trice ;
For the Scotch are a quick-witted race, and no doubt,
Like the Glasgow Town Council, will soon find you out—
So turn about—twist about—do just so ;
And you'll soon make as famous a hit as Jim Crow !
Consistency's good, but tis better to shy it,
So long as one cannot get anything by it,
And yours, my dear Bob, is so small in amount,
'Tis the very last thing you can turn to account—
Then turn about—twist about—do just so ;
And you'll soon make as famous a hit as Jim Crow I

THE DUKE OF MON ill tl UTH. 3 Vols. 1
Bentley, London, 1836.
The period to which this tale refers is that of the I
early portion of the reign of James the Second, when
the well known insurrection of the Duke of Monmouth
deluged the West of England with blood. Of course,
the Duke is one of the most prominent personages of
the narrative, and is pourtraycd with scrupulous re-
gard to the truth of history, the author representing
him just as he really was, a treacherous, weak-minded,
yet ambitious profligate, desirous to obtain the reputa-
tion of a hero, with no more talent than just qualified
him to shine as an agreeable lady's man in the Court
circles of Charles the Second. Had Monmouth or
his advisers possessed sagacity and moral courage
equal to their ambition, they might have hurled James
from his throne ; for the West of England, and no
slight portion of Scotland, of the influential citizens
of London, and of the Midland Counties, were in
their favour, so great was the distrust of the ruling
monarch, for his known bigotted attachment to Ca-
tholicism. But instead of availing himself promptly
and vigorously of these advantages, Monmouth pre-
ferred to fritter his time away, in idle parade, among
the Western towns, the consequence of which was, that
James was enabled to gather together a small body of
disciplined troops, who, under Kirke and Feversham,
annihilated the rebels on the bloody field of Sedgmoor.
A stirring period like this, is well calculated for the dis-
play of the powers of the novelist, and the author has
accordingly, as far as in him lies, availed himself of his
opportunities. There is no deficiency of character or
incident in his story ; its chief defect is a want of
vigor and earnestness in those scenes which are meant
to be the most dramatic and impassioned. He has
drawn Monmouth admirably ; the old cavalier, Cap-
tain Kingsley, is also painted to the life ; but he has
failed sadly in his attempt to pourtray the Flora Mac-
Ivor like character of Aquila Fullerton, which is cold
and formal throughout, though intended to be impreg-
nated with the profoundest enthusiasm and sensibility.
Colonel Kirke is better ; indeed, we may say, be is
the best sustained character in the tale, with the excep-
tion, perhaps, of Lord Grey, whom, however, the
author only gives us in sketch.

Go, put on your smoothest political face,
And kneel at the feet of the Whigs for a place,
But should they reject you as one of their cads,
Then turn again, Bobby, and fly to the Rads
Yes, turn about—'twist about—do just so ;
And you'll soon make as famous a hit as Jim Crow !
Yes, fly to the Rads, and give out that the snow,
Has prevented your joining their party 'till now ;
Toast " Peerage Reform " o'er a stiff glass of grog,
Shout " Feargus for ever," and go tho whole hog !
Yes, turn about—twist about—do just so ;
And you'll soon make as famous a hit as Jim Crow !

In the quantity and quality of its articles on practi-
cally
useful subjects, the Dublin Review stands as
high as any of its quarterly Contemporaries. In the
comprehensiveness of its political views, and the vigour
of its style, the generality of its readers will find much
to admire—much from which information may be
drawn, capable of being employed in promoting social
happiness, by destroying the ignorant prejudices of the
people. But, as a whole, it is heavy, and to some
extent uninviting. It addresses itself too exclusively
to the man-of-business class of readers, and to theolo-
gians—a body of men much more noisy and trouble-
some, than remarkable for their clear insight into the
affairs, either of this world or the next. What we com-
plain of is the absence of stirring criticisms on works
of art and imagination—not a string of stale common-
places, but vivid sketches capable of awakening genius
from its lethargy, and calculated to inspire the people
with a love of the beautiful and the good. In the pre-
sent Number there are three articles on works of' the
imagination—namely, the " Reviews of the Literature
of the Aristocracy of Rank and Genius ;" of " Cha-
teaubriand's Sketches of English Literature ;" and of
the "Life and Writings of the late Felicia Hemans" ;
but of these articles the last mentioned is the only one
worthy of the columns in which it appears. The Re-
viewer administers a severe but well-merited correction
to Mrs. Hemans' biographer, Mr. Chorley, who, in
his life of the poetess, has not scrupled to publish let-
ters which no sincere friend to the memory of that lady
would desire to see in print. The extracts from her
works display taste and judgment; and the Reviewer's
estimate of her genius is formed upon the most care-
ful perusal of the whole of her published poems.
We cannot resist the temptation to quote the fol-
lowing exquisite lines, notwithstanding the Reviewer's
objection to the gloomy spirit which pervades them :

THE REVELLERS.
" Ring, joyous chords 1 ring out again 1
A swifter, still, and a wilder strain 1
They are here—the fair face and the careless heart,
And stars shall wane ere the mirthful part.
—But I met a dimly mournful glance,
In a sudden turn of the flying dance 1
I heard the tone of a heavy sigh,
In a pause of the thrilling melody !
And it is not well that woe should breathe
On the bright spring-flowers of the festal wreath.
—Ye that to thought or to grief belong,
Leave—leave the hall of song !
" Ring, joyous chords I—but who art thou,
With the shadowy locks o'er thy pale young brow,
And the world of dreamy gloom that lies
In the misty depths of thy soft dark eyes?
—Thou hast loved, fair girl ! thou has loved too well !
Thou art mourning now o'er a broken spell ;
Thou hest poured thy heart's rich treasures forth,
And art unrepaid for their priceless worth 1
Mourn on ; yet come thou not here the while,
It is but a pain to see thee smile 1
There is not a tone in our songs for thee—
Home, with thy sorrows, flee !
" Ring, joyous chords ! ring out again !
But what dost thou with the revel's train ?
A silvery voice through the soft air floats,
But thou hast no part in the gladdening notes;
There are bright young faces that pass thee by,
But they fix no glance of thy wandering eye 1
Away ! there's a void in thy yearning breast,
Thou weary man 1 wilt thou here find rest?
Away ! for thy thoughts from the scene have fled,
And the love of thy spirit is with the dead !
Thou art but more lone midst the sounds of mirth—
Back to thy silent hearth 1
" Ring, joyous chords ! ring forth again !
A swifter still, and a wilder strain 1
—But thou, though a reckless mien be thine,
And thy cup be crowned with the foaming wine,
By the fitful bursts of thy laughter loud,
By thine eye's quick flash through its troubled cloud,
I know thee! it is but the wakeful fear
Of a haunted bosom that brings thee here
I know thee I—thou fearest the solemn night,
With her piercing stars, and her deep wind's might !
There's a tone in her voice which thou fain would'st shun,
For it asks what the secret soul hath done !
And thou—there's a dark weight on thine—away
—Back to thy home, and pray !
" Ring, joyous chords 1 ring out, again 1
A swifter still, and a wilder strain !
And bring fresh wreaths I—we will banish all
Save the free in heart from our festive hall 1
On through the maze of the fleet dance, on !
—But where are the young and the lovely ?—gone
Where are the brows with the red rose crowned,
And the floating forms with the bright zone bound?
And tho waving locks and the flying feet,
That still should be where the mirthful meet !
--They are gone—.they are fled—they are parted all !
--Alas 1 the forsaken hall 1" •

Among the common-sense articles of the Dublin
Review, is one strongly recommending the adoption of
a Poor Law for Ireland, from which we made a long
extract, which appeared in our leading columns of Mon-
day last. In this article the arguments advanced by
Mr. O'Connell against the establishment of a compul-
sory system of pauper relief are impartially examined,
and triumphantly refuted. The Reviewer does not
mince matters. He boldly and fearlessly denounces
all who are opposed to the establishment of Poor Law§
as virtual enemies to the Irish peasantry. The article
on " Irish Absenteeism" is by far the ablest refutation
of the IVl‘Culloch and Edinburgh Review theories
upon this subject that has yet appeared. It is well
intimate
acquaintance and manifests in every page the most
acquaintance with the science of politica'. economy—a
science, by the way, of which several of its most dis-
tinguished professors know very little. No time could
be better chosen than the present for the exposure
which is here made of the system of study pursued in