The Sun.
London, England, 1841-11-02 00:00:00

MORNING SUN

THE MAGAZINES.

BLACKWOOD' S MAGAZINE.
Mr. Alison's History of the French Revolu-
tion—or rather the ninth volume of this elabo-
rate work—forms the subject of a spirited critical
notice in this Number. We find little to object
to in this notice, unless it be the Reviewer's esti-
mate of Napoleon, whom, in one place, he styles
" the prince of charlatans," and in another, an
" incorrigibly heartless, innately perfidious, and
remorselessly bloody tyrant," who made the
" nearest approach to a fiend of any man that
ever sate on a throne." Hard words these, so much
so as to be quite ridiculous. Napoleon was no
worse than other conquerors : indeed he was far su-
perior to many ; and, considering the prodigious
elevation he attained, the power he wielded, the
temptations to which lie was subjected, and the
sanguinary and licentious period at which he
commenced his career, the wonder is, not that
he committed so many crimes, but that he com-
mitted so few. As regards his charlatanism, this
charge is, we think, sufficiently refuted by his
history. It was not charlatanism that gained
him, at the age of twenty-six, his first laurels in
Italy; still less was it charlatanism that won the
battles of Marengo and Austerlitz, and drew up
that famous code which extorted the admiration
of the first legislators and lawyers of the age.
" Sketches of Italy" are light, pleasant reading
enough, dashed off at a heat, and evidently
while the impressions were yet strong in the
writer's mind. The comments on the " Report
from the Select Committee of Fine Arts" are
seasonable and judicious, and we coincide with
the objections to Mr. Barry's proposal to increase
the quantity of light to be let in through the
roof in
Westminster Hall. As these objections
are eloquently and forcibly urged, we cannot do
better than quote a portion of them
'What ! increase the dormar windows in Westminster
nall—make so material an alteratiol in the ancient
architect's design ! The quantum of light, and position
Not, is to architecture what chioroscuro is to painting.
ounian being has a right to meddle in this great
Matter ; and what could be worse than to let in any por-
tion of present and garish day into that grey and misty
antiquity, the atmosphere of ages—the shadowy hall,
whose aerial distances are as blended epochs of far-otf
._ !
The very beams and rafters are eloquent, im-
pregnated with the breath of hoary wisdom, throw-
their recesses of my
ing off their frEX 7rrE iv° Err' in echoy sounds, from
11
stic and oracular obscurity. Fit
a 11; even now, wherein the shade of Alfred may walk
'"Cjeapoury majesty, and, like the great Achilles, rejoice
.I.e 4.4 he learns that his sons excel in glory. Here is
ideal of architecture—the personification of a great
history : lot it rest in its original intention. If pictures
and
statues must be there, let them be painted for the I, and -curingnot mutilate the building to make modern co-
the more conspicuous."
" Chapters of Turkish History" are devoted to
an account of the famous siege of Vienna
during the reign of Solyman the Magnificent—
e contemporary of Francis the First and
uharles the Fifth, and the most powerful prince
that ever swayed the Ottoman sceptre. The
`alls of this event, so glorious to the Christian
chivalry—etfor the Turk here met with one of his
most crushing defeats—are given with infinite
;Igor and minuteness. " Hebraistics," is an
have
notice of an old drama, supposed to
*Ye been written by a Jew. " Homer and the
totneridm," is not so good this month as it was
last. It is too prolix and desultory, and as it
seems to have no beginning, so it comes to no
roclusion. " Grandfathers and Grandchildren,"
poem b
much of a grandfather's prosiness
out it. " Funcheon Woods," is an elegant
),°eM by Mr. Simmons; but we prefer quoting
he lively quiz on Lord Palmerston's mode of
renouncing the Greek word Ilione (Hilli-onnee).
the firstista
we me not, is Lorsh will be ainong
to laugh at its good-humoured archness :

HILLI- ONNEE.
The Whigs can boast of many a name,
Groat Normanby and Little Johnny ;
But far their foremost child of fame
Is he that owns fleet Hilli-onnee.
'Mong lords and legs a contest rose
As fierce as e'er we fought with Bonny ;
From words it almost came to blows,
And still the theme was Hilli-onnee.
And some said this and some said that :
No want there was of taco-phony
With short and long, with sharp and flat,
They sore misnomer'd Hilli-onnee.
Then one bethought him of a way
To terminate this acri-mony ;
He call'd as umpire of the fray,
The Lord that owns fleet Hilli-onnee.
His Lordship, though a scholar once,
At this appeal was much etonne ;
But loth to be esteem'd a dunce,
He search'd his books for Hilli-onne.
No doubt he well remember'd yet
Old Sophocles's Hanti-gonne ;
A clearer case he could not get,
Nor more in point for Ililli-onnee.
But firmer proofs he sought and found;
The Greeks, disliking mono-tonny,
Had accents to direct the sound,
And these show'd here 'twas Hilli-onnee.
He wrote his answer, brief, yet bright
With classic wit and keen i-ronny,
And having quash'd the Tories quite,
He taught us all 'twas Hilli-onnee.
Ot Peel! your guilt what tongue can tell !
'Twas nothing less than rank fe-lonny,
To oust a Lord who talks so well
Of heathen Greek and Hilli-onnee.
Had I the might of Pindar's muse
To sing the praise of Palmer-stonny;
The deathless Prince of Syracuse
Should yield to him and Hilli-onnee.
Pindar, alas ! is in his grave ;
But this good page of old E-bonny,
For distant days the names shall save
Of Palmer-ston and Hilli-onnee.

I,,,,This is
BENTLEY S MISCELLANY.
rich ber
Al urn the most spirited and entertaining
we.have read for many a month. The
tie h, fansastic humour of In drama-
Iliao eer of Whitehead—the quaint, cordial,
or
lik eccentricity of George Daniel—and the
for-enl) graphic vigour of Oilier—all combine to
theba miscellany unsurpassed, if equalled, by
piet°rial of
est its periodical contemporaries. The
altet
1 partment is not less clever ; and the
as; fine of the " Auto-da-fe" by Leech, exhibits
desire
a sPecimen of Muck horror as one could
site eto shake one's sides at. What an exqui-
theretb•sence of all intelligence and sensibility is
11 In the simpering countenance of the Spanish
"are"'
Jew Ilan' Who is coolly taking. snuff, while a
‘,„,enibtt ~.P roasting before him, evidently much
7 hatr.-,", d by the novelty of his position !
that 0( 'luPpy counterpart of the royal phiz is
AhraelitG°l4 Stick in Waiting, who stares at the
not b -F, as if astonished at his bad taste in
fueitureltlg delighted 'with the opportunity of
Grad ~Majesty ! The expressive mug of the
Inquisitor, which indicates
anxic-t 'll • ' a benevolent
kill „3' that the Jew should be "done to a
abi .' is equally irresistible. Of the poem thus terzii illustrated, we cannot speak in warmer..
Inn, s of praise than when we say that it is
Rib the 'best that Ingoldsby has produced..
pr'oel bard Savage". improves in interest.. as it
•,,,,eeds. Here is a description of his seizure by
ctti-Ills despatched after him by order of his af-
eet;
.„-onate mother
tin; Itas about to knock at the door, when a man tapped
;,°n the shoulder.
14
?„ One word with you, if you please," he said, beckon-
111e a few paces. I attended him.
. 44, Your name Savage ?" he inquired.
4: A. 41, is. What do you want ?
ei,`U'a, Bill, lend a hand," he said.
the 41, it seemed, was alive to business ; for scarce were
Powlv°..irds spoken, when my arms. were pinioned_ by a
ba "I'l ruffian and I was thrust into a coach, the two
ell tu br • '
tln mg in after me. In an instant, the door was
the Z.---the windows were drawn up, the blinds after
j,: and the coach drove off at a rapid rate.
„114110-113.,5° confounded by this sudden seizure, that I was
zioi,e.,,l)q °lit of my presence of mind. In a moment,
with iielr, I regained my senses, and struggling violently
1404 e two fellows, attempted to get hold of the handle
It 4 " the doors.
Curs •
with a
thsin .e his young bones and muscles," cried one of
„ till."
brutal oath. " This won't do. Down with
ofslde eittllnn Bill dealt me a tremendous blow on the
gustthr the head, and winding his hand into my cravat,
1 .tle domrn
L upon one of the seats. ~ Isi. all ue
this choked," I gasped. " Don't murder me."
thnekiat bout," cried the fellow with a hoarse
kr h_ei planting his knee upon my chest, and forcing
the rc7cl back with his hand. " Now, Watson, where's
can't r, Just tie up his pickers and stealers ;he
Watson tnoch harm after that."
intightlyoZaasitireatly with his rope, which he bound
g toe is y wrists. " Now get up," said he, lend-
how a ',tick-handed slap upon the face, " and tell us
wii°ll find Yourself bythisume.,,
/ I.( 4t*Yer rn•
Private feelings of resentment might be,
haled it Was useless to remonstrate with men, whom,
„vged who •L'. at perfect liberty I could not effectually resist,
alarm,
eetillad rendered me altogether powerless. They l"g Under orders • and these, although in some
(le applied myself to discover.
of lb; nilernen ~ , ~
kit '3
WOrEl • ' ' °egan, (what a shocking perversion
!),„ etreumstances compel us at times to com-
•wastak gentlemen, I
_ am sure there
~
must be some
~,,hiSheali IJ:sr:not be the person you want.
,k. Was called Bill,
the gag useful ?" said the fellow
lint' t°lll 1g fello-1:' " that mouth of his will be opening.
the, ° set el,
yow, cried the other, "if you'll promise
)10ise, shall k ur throat, and to attempt no escape, Bill,
ist, eor a sou gag in his pocket: if you make a
viiel. Viri372 Wearing horribly, "it shall be worse
b'Ou; 4„,;finre got you; and we know what to do
"4 wha; WO choOif to do ' b
wit yout nobody

-7

IV//‘

~w

'''-',..

need know. We shan'6. mureer yoi,C dare say, unless
you wish it."
"But, what are you going to do with me?" I urged,
greatly disturbed at this speech, which implied that
murder was one of the branches of the worthies' pro-
fession.
" He will be chattering, you see," said Bill.
"Never mind," replied Watson, "it does him good,
and us no harm. It's natural he should feel a little curio-
sity. Should'nt you, Bill?"
" Why yes," said Bill. " Nature, you know, as a man
may say, is what we all feel."
"Do we?" returned Watson. " Well, I'm no scholar,
and don't know much about that."

" Gentlemen," said I, " I am sure you are in an error.
I am certain you have taken the wrong person."
"Catch us doing that," replied Watson ; " though, I
dare say if we had taken any one else instead of you, you'd
have thought him the right one. No—no."
" A Tale of the High North Road" is a curious
account of the sayings and doings of two highly
educated London artists, who passed themselves
off on the landlord of a country hotel, for Lord
Brougham and his valet, travelling post-haste to
Scotland. Of course, they were detected, but
not before they had mistaken the landlord's best
silver plate for their own, and decamped with it
in the hurry of the moment. The " Moated
Grange " is a readable story, but it would have
been improved by curtailment. " Merrie Eng-
land in the Olden Time " is a singular melange,
the product of an intellect of a restless, frag-
mentary character, made up of dainty odds and
ends, like a second day's feast. Mr. Daniel is
" every thing by turns, and nothing long." He
is constantly starting ideas, but never runs them
down. He suggests, but does not work out.
Before
is well on with one subject, he is off,
like lightning, to another. One moment we find
him wandering, without care for his pockets,
in the thick of Bartlemy Fair ; the
next, he is deep in biography; but soon tiring of
this vein, he flies for relief to a quaint, familiar
ballad, in which, provided it be short, he emi-
nently excels. Reading his " Merrie England "
is something like witnessing a pantomime. The
changes are so sudden and unexpected, the lights
and shades so broad, the bustle so incessant, and
the effect of the whole so grotesque, that the
mind is in a continued whirl throughout. Yet we
like Mr. Daniel, despite the hop-step-and-jump
turn of his intellect. He is evidently a kindly-
natured man, well informed—say, rather, full
of odd scraps of information, and with much of
that simplicity of character—at least we judge
so by his writings—which is usually the com-
panion of genius. Old Fuller would have under-
stood him; Sterne would have been proud to
have his opinion of Uncle Toby ; and Elia would
have recognised in him another self. The
" Bread and Cheese Club" is of average merit.
The following is the best thing in it :—" There
is neither
i infancy nor youth in a pun ; no pro-
gression n its ephemeral life ; it is born full-
grown, and dies of old age in a second."
The Spanish story, "La Diligenca," is too
long, and its interest does not warrant
its length. The " Gathering of the Dead"
is a wild flight of fancy—a sort •of poetic
nightmare, wherein imagination and absurdity
are combined in nearly equal portions. The
" Haunted Manor House of Paddington " is a
local legend, told with uncommon earnestness.
The working-out is particularly good, the inci-
dents all acting together, all growing naturally
out of the subject, and telling by their unity and
completeness. " Guy Fawkes" is now brought
to a close, and we are not sorry for it. It is a
work of tact rather than genius, to which it
bears the same resemblance that burnished cop-
per bears to gold. Though constantly in motion,
its characters have no life. They are mere
painted puppets set in action by the showman's
strings. The descriptive portions of the tale are
the best, for Mr. Ainsworth has a quick and true
eye for the picturesque; and when pourtraying a
scene that has struck his fancy—such, for instance,
as Chat Moss—never overshoots, or falls short of;
his mark, " Love's Banquet" is an arch little
poem, and we subjoin it accordingly
think of the minutes-0! think of the nights
I've spent on my pillow awake—
What fevers endured, what dreams, and what frights—
All these have I borne for your sake!
0! remember your vows, your oath on your knee,
The kiss when you said we must part,
But promised, whatever your distance from me,
I still should be close to your heart.
How oft have you said, "I but live in your eyes,
A banquet for Jove is your look—
Your charms are a feast—other food I despise!"
And now you have married your cook