The Sun.
London, England, 1847-04-08 00:00:00

MAGAZINES—(CONTINUED.) hr dolest,rna;mtehoef stqhuaaprleacteowiteserslf aisrevecnalilceed. campaniles ; and
TAI T. • I b • 'awl The city lies out
B€Jore Mr. Tait resigned the pi oprietorshir of t 0-
away from the %h ere, high and dry, like the Goodwin-
magazine it arrived with all possible punctuality, and , sands at low water. So you go in buta b—first al, ag
enabled us to give an early criticism upon its contents rows of extensive Puddle-docks and then over what
among the leading monthly periodicals. Since the might be taken for a huge flooded race course, the post.
retirement of its original publisher Tait has so loitered and rails of which just appear above the water, so that
upon the road that we are compelled to afford each there is no great fear of drowning • the whole tract re-
number a less careful perusal and a more hurried con- minding intelligent travellers of the Essex marshes out
sideration. We hint thus much that the transmission at sea. And before getting there you must not be quite
may be speedier henceforth. From his first appear-
led away by the poets, who are from time to time taken
ante we have welcomed the compositions of Mr. Gil-
so poorly respecting its beauties ; because the
fillan ; we have always read them with a gusto, and thereto from Mestre—which is to Venice what Twicken-
ham
is to Eel Pie Island—is not exactly like the dio-
have generally found' them on a parity with their ramas and descriptions you have formed your notions
themes. Besides his volume of " Literary Portraits," from. In fact, in common-place minds, it may suggest
he has occasionally sketched the ideal likeness of con- unfavourable comparisons with Wapping, until the pas-
temporary bookmen in the pages of Tait. The sage boat emerges into the great ter-street of this
idiosyncrasies and writings of Sir E. L. B. Lytton, amphibious city of human beavers."
of Thomas Hood, and of James Montgomery have This description of Venice, though less poetical, is
been commented upon with much that is subtle and infinitely more correct than the descriptions to be
more that is earnest and passionate in his style of found in the note-books of sentimental travellers.
criticism. Here he seizes a most fruitful subject— Gudge, his wife, and Mrs. Hamper, whom they
Alfred Tennyson—the master of the young poets have picked up at Boulogne, arrive at an hotel at
now living—and we confess ourselves utterly and un- Venice, and there they find Christopher officiating as
utterably disappointed. Mr. Gilfillan shows no ca- the English waiter. Gudge attempts to bully
pacity whatever for appreciating the genius of Ten- him, but it will not do ; Christopher is a
nyson. We doubt very much whether he have ever man now, and knows that there is a mystery
read one quarter of what Tennyson has written— attached to his birth. He has been shipped off from
little as that unfortunately is. That Alfred Tenny- Southampton to Leghorn, and from thence has been
son is a more remarkable poet than Mr. Gilfillan takes transferred to Vienna. le sets Gudge at defiance,
him to be is proved by one significant fact, namely, that and appeals to Sir Frederick Arden, and when in-
his poems have risen in little more that a dozen years formed that Sir Frederick Arden is dead, he bates
to a distinguished celebrity,unaided and unpuffed. A- nothing of his courage, but avows his intention to
young man, the son of a Lincolnshire clergyman, proceed to England and discover the mystery of his
scarcely emancipated from the scholastic bonds of his birth. Mrs. Hamper, who has palmed herself upon
Cambridge, publishes, in 1831, a little book of poems. the Gudges meets with some high friends who are
The book is unparaded; it creeps quietly enough going to Florence, and determines to palm herself
into existence; but it has the true spirit, the true upon them. She therefore leaves Venice for Florence,
verve—the divine a.filatus. It seizes upon the ima- via Bologna, but on her journey is attacked by bri-
ginations and hearts of Englishmen ; its verses have gands, and taken up into the stronghold, where she is
the golden ring about them ; their numbers are in detained as a prisoner for the sake of the ransom
every mouth ; they become a part of our household which they expect to receive for her. Sprouts has
memories. A few years float over and a second vo- succeeded to the library, and is on the eve of mar-
lume is added to the first : coupled together they are riage with Bessy Payne. The jolly man has been
on bookshelves in odd corners all about England, side long married to Miss Twits, and Sprouts and the
byside with Keats and Coleridge. The name of Alfred party go down to Greenwich Fair, where they meet
Tennyson becomes al familiar as the most eminent of with Skittle and the Taglioni Ginger Beer Cart, who
modern classics to every lover of real poetry, and introduces them to Hickory and to Luddy's daughter,
Government ultimately confirms the plaudits of the an interesting girl of fifteen (poor Luddy is dead),
people by a pension of two hundred pounds per an- and in the course of conversation Hickory relates the
num. Mr. Gilfillan, to our thinking, therefore, shows early history of Christopher, and Sprouts announces
but little discrimination in the manner of this strag- his intention of following up the clue which
gling and indifferent article. Many of the figurative Hickory has furnished in order to be revenged on
sentences are, of course, inimitable—it would be diffi- Gudge. It will be seen that this part 8 leaves all
cult for Mr. Gilfillan to write anything, however the parties concerned in an interesting imbroglio,
carelessly, without casual gleams of beauty, both in and we await with curiosity the appearance of part 9.
thought and expression. There is truth, no doubt, in
these brilliant sentences :—Speaking of the verses of
Tennyson, "It is the voice and lute of Ariel ; but
heard not in a solitary and enchanted island, but in a
modern drawing-room, with beautiful women
bending round, and moss-roses breathing, in their
faint fragrance, through the half- opened windows."
•. " From the sublime to the snug, and vice
versa, is with him but a single step. We may liken
him to the sea-shell, which, sitting complacently and
undistinguished among the commonplace ornaments
of the mantelpiece, has only to be lifted to give forth
from its smooth ear the far-rugged boom of the ocean
breakers." . • • . "By sobs of sound, by half-
hints of meaning, by light, hurrying strokes on the
ruddy chords of the heart, by a ringing of changes
on certain words and phrases, he sways us as if with
the united powers of music and poetry."
"He paints vivid and complete pictures in a few
lively touches, and by a few airy words, as if caught
in dropping from the sky." So far there is accuracy
in these delineations of the peculiarites of the intel-
lect of Tennyson—but no farther. Mr. Gilfillan
views that intellect only from one point. He cannot
turn it on a pivot, like those whirligig poetasters who
show you all the pha'ses and sides of their mental
character at once ; and he won't take the trouble to
make a circuit round it himself. Hence the paper is
crammed full of inconsistencies. He likens Tenny-
son's verse, for example, to Ariel ; but Ariel, be it
observed, in a drawing-room among moss-roses and
beautiful women. The " Two Voices" are marvel-
lously like the voice of Ariel ! The " Vision of Sin"
is wonderfully suggestive of a modern drawing-room I
The lamentations of " St. Simeon Stylites" are exces-
sively like the breathings of moss-roses I Absurd,
literally absurd, as these metaphors are when
employed not as illustrative of a single cha-
racteristic, but as indicating the entire grasp
and disposition of the poet; they are endur-
able when compared with the self-sufficiency of
the notices of the separate poems. " Mariana at the
Moated Grange," the "Talking Oak," the "May
Queen," and "Ori'ana " are dismissed with their
mere enumeration. The " Lotos Eaters," a piece
brimming with the very dew of the "land of drowsy-
head" is slurred over with an impertinent kind
of half compliment. "Dora" is summarily dismissed,
after being likened to a "deep quiet pool." And
" Godiva" is considered in just fifteen lines. While
the whole of the latter part of the article is de-
voted to an extravagant panegyric upon the author of
" Festus," as if the talent of the author of " Festus"
had anything to do with Alfred Tennyson ! Why,
the little poems we have named are worth fifty " Fes-
tuses," with their "buttered thunders r The paper
is apparently intended as a dispassionate and complete
survey of the capacity of Tennyson, and yet nothing
is said about the exquisite poem of "The Sleeping
Beauty ;" nothing is said of the impassioned wailings
of " St. Simeon Stylites ;" nothing is said of the chaste
and perfect ballad of "The Miller's Daughter ;" no-
thing is said of the "Lord of Burghley," of the
" Walk to the Mail," of the "Gardener's
Child," of "Lady Clara Veve de Vere " of the "Lady
of Chalott," of the fragment "Morte d'Arthur,'
or of " Elianore." As we enumerate these solely
from recollection, it will be manifest that the over-
sights of Mr. Gilfillan are extraordinary, when he
professes in one part to mention the more remarkable
of Tennyson's writings. Several of those we have
have just mentioned as altogether unnoticed by him
are among the most remarkable of Tennyson's poems.
It is some compensation, however, to find that the
writer can appreciate the sentiment of " Locksley
Hall," and that he is so far incited to enthusiasm by
the refrain about " the golden prime of good Ha-
roun Alraschid," as to speak of the " Arabian Nights
Entertainments" in this wise :—" The Thousand -
and. one Nights' is one enchantment—more powerfel
than the lamp of Alladin, or the open sesame of AXi
Baba. The author, were he one—not many—is a
magician—a genii--greater than Scott, than Cer-
vantes, equal to Shakspere himself. What poetry,
passion, pathos, beauty of sentiment, elegance of
costume, ingenuity of contrivance, wit, humour, farce,
interest, variety, tact in transition, sunniness of spirit,
dream-like wealth of imagination, incidental but pre-
cious light cast upon customs, manners, history, re-
ligion—everything, in short, that can amuse or
amaze, instruct or delight, the human spirit 1" If we
could sympathise in no other particular with Mr.
Gilfillan we could to the uttermost in his admiration
for those glorious hoards of poetry and treasuries of
fiction. After a pithy but dry essay upon " Success
in Life," the readers of Tait are presented with a
condensed continuation and completion of " Mrs.
Thornton's Truth and Falsehood," a tale that was
suddenly interrupted by the publication in the ma-
gazine of Mrs. Gore's very feeble and very unworthy
novel of " Temptation and Atonement." Thomas
de Quincey is nearly bereft of what Bardolph
would call his " seven sentences," when speaking of
Wordsworth. It is well paganism is exploded, other-
wise we should be in danger of seeing the Opium
Eater one of these fine days offering a kid and let-
tuces before the shrine of the Poet Laureate, or pour-
ing a libation of the decoction of poppies upon Rydal
Mount. The paper by De Quincey, headed "Milton
versus Southey and Landor," is a clever but bewil-
dering rhapsody. Mr. Burton's "Lives of Lord
Lovat and Forbes of Culloden," forming an excellent
supplement to ilrs. Thomson's "History of the
J....mins,” are epeipteed, and a biography of the late
James Calder, one of the old school of reformers, is
contained among the miscellaneous contributions.
Besides a temperate article upon " Government
Education" there are minor criticisms, and the usual
Political Register. Alluding to the aid received by
Lord George Bentinck from the Hon. Gentleman the
Member for Shrewsbury, Tait caustically observes—
" His Lordship's sting is in his tail, and it is pitful
that the tail of a very medium person should be of
such rare and sterling genius 1" It is the genius, the
slave of the Lamp.

VANITY FAIR. Part IV. By W. M. Thackeray.
In the opening chapter of the present number we
find ourselves again with the Sedleys and Osbornes
in Russell-square. Poor Amelia loves George
Osborne with her whole heart, but we are afraid that
George Osborne will turn out a worldling after all,
and not worthy the affection of poor Amelia. We
are also introduced to old Osborne, the very beau
ideal of a vulgar purse-proud parvenu, who would
fain cut old Sedley, the founder of his fortunes, because
the world has not gone well with him of late and who,
more than insinuates to George that it would be well
that he should violate his engagement with Amelia.
Miss Rebecca Sharpe is domiciled in the house of
Miss Crawley, in Park-lane, having ejected all Miss
Crawley's toadys, and Rebecca is visited there daily
by Rawdon Crawley, who has become acquainted
with George Osborne, and plucked him gloriously at
billiards. Rebecca calls on Amelia, and invites her to
dine at Miss Crawley's in Park-lane. George Os-
borne and Rawdon Crawley are also invited, when the
following admirable scene takes place :
" How's little Miss Sharp, by-the-bye," Osborne in-
quired of his friend over their wine, with a dandified
air. " Good-natured little girl that. Does she suit you
well at Queen's Crawley? Miss Sedley liked her a good
deal last year."
Captain Crawley looked savagely at the Lieutenant
out of his little blue eyes, and watched him when he
went up to resume his acquaintance with the fair gover-
ness. Her conduct must have relieved Crawley if there
was any jealousy in the bosom of that life-guardsman.
When the young men went up stairs, and after Os-
borne's introduction to Miss Crawley, he walked up to
Rebecca with a patronising, easy swagger. He was
going to be kind to her and protect her. He would
even shake hands with her, as a friend of Amelia's ;
and saying, " Ah, Miss Sharp ! how-dy-doo ?" held
out his left hand towards her, expecting that she would
be quite confounded at the honour.
Miss Sharp put out her right fore-finger—And gave
him a little nod, so cool and killing, that Rawdon Craw-
ley, watching the operations from the other room, could
hardly restrain his laughter as he saw the Lieutenant's
entire discomfiture ; the start he gave, the pause, and
the perfect clumsiness with which he at length conde-
scended to take the finger which was offered for his
embrace.

" She'd beat the devil, by Jove 1" the Captain said,
in a rapture ; and the Lieutenant, by way of beginning
the conversation, agreeably asked Rebecca how she
liked her new place.
" My place?" said Miss Sharp, coolly, " how kind of
you to remind me of it ! It's a tolerably good place :
the wages are pretty good—not so good as Miss Wirt's,
I believe, with your sisters in Russell Square. How
are those young ladies?—not that I ought to ask."
" Why not?" Mr. Osborne said, amazed.
W hy, they never condescended to speak to me, or
to ask me into their house, whilst I was staying with
Amelia ; but we poor governesses, you know, are used
to slights of this sort."
" My dear Miss Sharp !" Osborne ejaculated.
"At least in some families," Rebecca continued.
" You can't think what a difference there is though. We
are not so wealthy in Hampshire as you lucky folks of
the city. But then lamin a gentleman's family—good
old English stock. I suppose you know Sir Pitt's father
refused a peerage. And you see how lam treated. I
am pretty comfortable. Indeed, it is rather a good
place. But how very good of you to inquire 1"
Osborne was quite savage. The little governess pa.
tronised him and persiffied him until this young British
Lion felt quite uneasy ;_ nor could he muster sufficient
presence of mind to find a pretext for backing out of
this most delectable conversation.
" I thought you liked the City families pretty well,"
he said haughtily.
" Last year you mean, when I was fresh from that
horrid vulgar school ? Of course I did. Doesn't every
girl like to come home for the holidays? And how was
Ito know any better? But oh,
Mr. Osborne, what a
difference eighteen months' experience makes!—eighteen
months spent, pardon me for saying
so, with gentlemen.
As for dear Amelia, she, I grant you, is a pearl, and
would be charming anywhere. There now, I see you
are beginning to be in a good humour ; but oh, these
queer odd City people 1 And Mr. Jos.—how is that
wonderful Mr. Joseph?"
" It seems to me you didn't dislike that wonderful Mr.
Joseph last year," Osborne said kindly.
" How severe of you! Well, entre nous, I didn't break
my heart about him ; yet if he had asked me to do what
you mean by your looks (and very exp,ressive and kind
they are, too), I wouldn't have said no.'
Mr. Osborne gave a look as much as to say," Indeed,
how very obliging!"
" What an honour to have bad you for a brother-in-
law, you are thinking? To be sister-in-law to George Os-
borne, Esquire, son :)f John Osborne, Esquire, son of—
what was your grandpapa, Mr. Osborne? Well, don't
be angry. You can't help your pedigree, and I quite
agree with you that I would have married Mr. Joe
Sedley; for could a poor penniless girl do better? Now
you know the whole secret. I'm frank and open ; and,
considering all things, it was very kind of you to
allude to the circumstance—very kind and polite.
Amelia, dear, Mr. Osborne and I were talking about
your poor brother Joseph. How is he?"
Thus was George utterly routed. Not that Rebecca
was in the right; but she had managed most successfully
to put him in the wrong. And he now shamefully fled,
feeling if he stayed another minute, that he would have
been made to look foolish in the presence of Amelia.
Poor Rebecca, however, is caught in her own trap.
Lady Crawley dies, and the Baronet himself comes
to London to induce Rebecca to return to Queen's
Crawley:—

I wawnt you back at Queen's Crawley, Miss," the
baronet said, fixing his eyes upon her, and taking off
his black gloves and his hat with its great crape hat-
Dand. Ills eyes bad na.h a strange look, mud fixed
upon her so steadfastly, that Rebecca Sharp began
almost to tremble.
" I hope to come soon," she said in a low voice, " as
soon as Miss Crawley is better—and return to—to the
dear children."
" You've said so these three months, Becky," replied
Sir Pitt, " and still you go hanging on to my sister,
who'll fling you off like an old shoe, when she's wore
you out. I tell you I want you. I'm going back to the
Vuneral. Will you come back? Yes or no?"
daren't—l don't think—it would be right—to be
agin, I want you,'' Sir Pitt said, thumping the
b
alone—with you, Sir," Becky said, seemingly in great
git on without you. I didn't see what
it was till you went away. The house all goes wrong.
It's not the same place. All my accounts has got mud-
dled agin. You,must come back. Do come back, Dear
Becky, do come.
" Come—as what,
agitation.ta eI. sa7 I can't
Sir?" Rebecca gasped out.
Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the baronet
said, grasping his crape hat " There! will that zatusfy
you? Come back and be my wife. Your vit vort. Birth
be hanged. You're as good a lady as ever I see. You've
got more brains in your little vinger than any baronet's
wife in the county. Will you come? Yes or no?"
Oh, Sir Pitt," Rebecca said, very much moved.
zee if I don't. You shall do what
what you like ; and 'av it all your own
Say yes, Becky," Sir Pitt continued. " I'm an old
man, but a good n. rni good for twenty years. I'll
spheanpdpy
way. I'll make you, a zettlement. I'll do everything
region Look year !" and the old man fell down on his
her like knees and leered at e. a satyr.
ycumak e
like'o;u
Rebecca started back a picture of consternation. In
the course of this history we have never seen her lose
her presence
of mind ; but she did now, and wept
some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her

CHRISTOPHER TADPOLE. By Albert Smith.

Part VIII.

The 25th chapter, which commences the present
number, jumps over a space of six years :
" And you must allow your author to carry you to
another land. You must imagine a strange and noise-
less city, with silent highways of water for countless
boats, instead of rattling thoroughfares for cabs and
carts, looking for all the world like rows of ruined Re-
form Club-houses built on the banks of the Serpentine.
Strange black looking craft, like floating hearses, glide
about the streets, giving you the idea that one half of
the population is burying the other half ; and every now
and then you come upon a view, which you appear to be
already well acquainted with, from a perforated card,
water-coloured drawing in an album, or a print in an
annual, or some dining-room picture, associated with an
agreeable party, heat-frosted claret jugs and early
asparagus.
" You will see no trees—a Bloomsbury-square lilac
would be a grove by comparison. And you will meet
no horses—the most wretched cab-hack in London
might be kept for a show, and create a great sensation.
The thoroughfares are all alleys, and the alleys are
nothing but back-doors leading to narrow bridges
crossing small stagnant canals making you think
every instant that you are coming to some docks.
But you are not, nevertheless. And you may soon
miss your way if you lose sight of any of
the landmarks, resembling square parish churches,
with cheap obelisks on their summits, which
rise in so many directions. The boats are called gon-

eyes.
oh, Sir,
Pitt!" she said. " Oh, Sir—l—l'm mar-
ried already."

CHEAP STEAM THAVELLlNG.—yesterday steam-
vessels were conveying passengers from the river Thames
to Ipswich for 2s. each.