The Sun.
London, England, 1841-05-01 00:00:00

MAGAZINE DAY.

L'LACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.
_Lae review of Mr. Gleig's "Memoirs ofWarFen
Hastings" is continued this month; and the tone
adopted throughout it is one highly unfltvour-
able to Hastings's public character, who is ac-
cused of gross injustice, of bad faith, of cruelty
towards the native princesses of Oude and their
Minister, and, above all, of too often adopting as
the principle of hie; policy, the notion that the
end justifies the means. We cannot but think
that the Reviewer presses with undue severity
on Warren Hastings, and does not sufficiently
take into consideration the very unsettled and
precarious nature of our position in India at the
time when he was Governor-General. In par-
ticular, the observation that "his trial ought to
have ended in condemnation, and that the
acquittal of Hastings leaves -a stain on the
justice of his country," is . extremely un-
generous—first, when we bear in mind the
length and searching character of that important
trial ; and, secondly, the prodigious pains
that were taken by some of the ablest lawyers
and statesmen in England, to secure a verdict of
guilty. That Hastings. wes not influenced by a
Spartan sense of integrity in some of his political
transactions with the native Princes of India, is
parhaps true; and it may be equally true &it
the expedient Nsas too often uppermost in hio
though ts,swa'gesting and determining his course of
action ; but, even allowin-this, he was not a bit
worse than many otlaar English statesmen who
stand well in public estimation. For instance,
the manner in which the Union with Ireland was
• brought about, was a much more discredit-
able affair to all concerned in it, than any
-thing in which Hastings was engaged. The
" Wars of the Sects in France" is an interest-
ing historiette, and conthsns the truth of
Walter Scott's ationiralls description of
King Louis's Scottish Guard in " Quentin
Durward." " Ten Thousand a -Year," in-
troduces us to Mr. Aubrey in a 'Chan-
cery-lane spunging-house. The scene is: power-
fully drawn. Qt the attorney Gammon—Mr.
Warren's best discriminated character—we have
but a few glimpses ; but, few though they be,
they are highly impressive. Tne pathetic
touches are those which we like least, for they
seem to be the result of great effort on the part
of the writer. " When I was in the Legion," is
a sprightly, satirical- memoir of military life.
"Niebuhr," is an agreeable biographical sketch
of this eminent German author, of whose great
work, the Roman History, the writer says,—
"At present, it is a pile of materials, not an edi-
fice; and the most embarrassed in its plan of any
work we know." The " Lines to an Emigrant
Lady," . by Mr. Simmons, evince much true
feeling. We quote a few of the stanzas :

Adieu! adieu! In sect et now •
My spirit sore must chide
The grief that fain would sear my brow,
Despite of all my pride.
But none shall tell, for none shall know
The wasting agony of woe
This hi at t must L am to hide,
Though still remembering that we met,
To love--to sever—and forget.
Forget thee—ay—let Leth6 out
Upon my senses roll—
Or be the Hebrew Ru!er's doubt
Proved groundless to my soul;
To whence it came let it d: part,
And its exiAenee newly start
Once more from Being's goal;
Then in that second sinful race
Of this and thee shalt live no trace.
But until soul and sense be sunk
In mute forgetfulnes,
The madd'ning draught of live I've drunk
To passion's wild excess,
More sweet 'mid sorrowing and shame,
'I han if the world around us came
To brighten and to b!ess—
Shall leave a fever in this brain
The touch of time would cool in vain.
Adieu, adieu !—the scathed bough
When riven from its tree,
Parts not more hopelessly than now
I sever wide from thee—
Nor differs more May's morning light
From Winter's wild December night
Than our fites disagree
Blighted or blest may be thy lot,
All one to me,—l share it not.
Thou nameless, guileless, guiltless One,
Whose smile to me was woe !
How my heart heaves to think upon
Thy fortune here below !
Shall this our distant northern clime
Behold the wasting hand of time,
O'er thy young beauty go,
Or shall our green isle's verdure wave
O'er—love's sole rest—thine early grave ?

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

Some recent speeches and addresses of Mr.
O'Connell—the " best-abused man in the three
kingdoms," as he delights to style himself—to
the people of Ireland, form the subject of a most
vehement diatribe in this Number of Fraser.
Not only is the great agitator pronounced to be
a " sly and selfish Jesuit, a concrete of worth-
lessness floating on the troubled surface of an
agitated country ;" but he is compared also to
" Catiline, i%larat, and Robespierre"—all whose
amiable peculiarities, we are gravely assured,
meet in him. How Mr. O'Connell must laugh at
such phrenzied attacks, on the part of the Tories!
These men show the excess of their fear, by the
excess of their abuse, of him, and publicly pro-
claim far and wide the power and sagacity which
they would thin deny. And well may they tear
and hate him, for to his influence it is owing
that they are not now basking in the sunny
regions of the Treasury Bench. When the Tory
parry cease to pour out their vials of wrath
on Mr. O'Connell's head, we shall begin to
think that his day is past, •or passing—
but not till then. " Murder and Mystery "
attractive alliteration !—is an amusing incident,
told with considerable tact, and turning upon the
supposed discovery of a murder made by an
English gentleman while residing in a lodging-
house at Paris. In an adjoining floor to him
dwelt a young couple, man and with, who were
sometimes visited by a male friend, when a great
deal of mysterious conversation used to take
place between the parties. On one occasion the
Englishman heard their voices raised as if in
altercation, and on peeping through the key-
hole lie saw one of the young men stab the other
to the heart with a poignard, while the female
threw herself on the body in an agony of emo-
tion. Some days afterwards, the English gentle-
man happening to be at the theatre, saw the
same tragedy enacted on the stage by the same
parties, and then for the first time became aware
that he had witnessed not a real murder, but a
dramatic representation of one, and that the sup-
poSed assassins were merely actors rehearsing their
respective parts in private ! "Tracts for the
Times" adopts the anti-Newman side of the
question, the writer justly observing, " whether
the views of the Church or of the Tractarians
are correct, is not the question. If they believe
the Church to be in error, they are at liberty to
quit her communion ; but as long as they remain
within her pale, they are not at liberty to decry
her Reformers, nor to complain of defects in her
services, nor to introduce practices which ; to
does not warrant." The " Flower's Petitior :o
Lady Blanche" is a passable sample of perio..i-
cal poesy. " Mysie's Mermaid" is a dull tale,
whose sole recommendation is, that it is short.
" Specimens of the Table-Talk of the late John
Boyle" is an imitation of Sir Morgan O'Doberty's
well-known "Maxims," published many -years
ago in Blackwood. In "Eminent Soldiers of the
Eighteenth Century" we have a biographical
memoir of the great Frederick the Second, of
Prussia, from which we quote this anecdote
There is probably no sovereign or individual of whom so
many anecdotes are related as of Frederick 11. Py far th
greater proportion of these—nine-tenths, at least—are mere
fables, invented by persor:s blinded by his fame, and totally un-
acquainted with his character. Frederick was quick, shrewd,
and witty; but eestitute of that generous hilarity, frankness,
gallantry, and kirline.s of feeling, for which so many writers
have tried to give him credit. It is more difficult to forge
anecdotes than is generally belieVed, and as the volumes of folly
every day written about Napoleon amply attest. We shad
here relate one which concerns Frederick, as it is well authen-
ticated. The Prussian Guards were composed of good-looking
soldiers, selected from the army at large. They were all Ger-
mans, no foreigner bang admitted into the corps; and, as the
Kinghimself examined the new recruits, no deception could be
well practised. In the latter rears of his life he had, however,
got into the titbit of askins, the men only three questions, and
those in regular succession, so that it was easy to ineruet even
foreigners how to answer in German. The King's questions
were, " How old are you?" " How long have you served r
" Have you received both your pay and clothing for your last
regiment?" The officers of the Guards wishing, on one occa-
sion, to obtain a very good-looking young Fiench soldier for
their corps, instructed him in the German replies, which were
to be given to the King's successive questions ; and when the
time for inspection canie brought him up tight boldly to the
front of the parade. By some accident, however, the King
changed the order of his queslion., and put the second first,
saying, " How lung have you served ?" " Twenty years, please
your Alejesty," was the reply of the unconscious Frenchman.
The King lo ked at the young man, and inquired " How o:d
are you, then?" " One year. pi, ase your i\tajesty," said the
compo-ed soldier. " Are you !tad, or do you thine me mad ? '
a-ked the King. The Frenchman shirking that the Kieg was
now inquir ng about the ray and clothing. calmly mil ed,
" Both, please your Majcs!y." A peal of laughter, which bu st
from all around, and in which the King himself joined most
heartily, prevented any displeasure from being manifested
against the projectors of the deception.