The Sun.
London, England, 1841-03-01 00:00:00

MAGAZINE DAY

BLACKWOOD'S MAG'AZINE.

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We should have imagined that Wordsworth's
poetry was by this time a critical thethe well nigh
exhausted ; but not so thinks Christopher North,
and accordingly we find in the present Maga, an
essay on the peculiar cliarecer of this great
poet's genius, which is manifestly the production
of one who not only understands, but feels, his
subject. 'the occasional affectations of Words-
worth, who in his " Lyrical Ballads"has not seldom
mistaken sheer childishness for manly simplicity,
arc very properly protested against, while jus-
tice is done to his striking powers of thought,
his easy, nervous, and unaffected versification,
and the uniformly healthy and elevated tone of
his philosophy. The critic, however, insists on
his pathos, which is a quality we are strongly
disposed to deny him. He is a poet too habitually
calm, too severe and profound of reflection, ever
to be melted into tenderness. He soars above
such weakness—for such, we suspect, he would
consider that tremulous, active sensibility which
touches our hearts so deeply in the works of
Collins, Byron, and, we may add, Burns. We
have been struck with the truth of these re-
marks :

" An obstinate habit of reflection, cultivated in retirement,
explains what is peculiar both in the faults and merits of
Wordsworth's poetry. Rarely do we meet with any spon-
taneous burst of passion ; his vehemence appears cold and
studied ; he waves a wand, does this ma*ician, who has no
power except to still the tempest. But is not this enough
power for one spirit to possess? And what praise is too great
for him whose genius makes pure our solitude, and imposes
peace on our perturbed meditations?"
" Ten Thousand a Year"—which bids fair to
rival the EncyclopEedia Britannica in length—is
this month full of the grossest political carica-
ture, unredeemed by the slightest humour or
fancy. Were it not fbr the inscrutable character
of Gammon, and the interest with which we
watch the progress of his stealthy, cat-like ma-
nceuverings which are hinted at with uncommon
adroitness, and will, we anticipate, give rise to
some impressive scenes—were it not, we say, for
this striking, mysterious character, which in its
way, is a master-piece, the tale would be perfect-
ly intolerable, for its aristocratic sketches evince
a perfect ignorance of the conventional usages
of high life its low life representations are dis-
gusting to a degree to which we have few parallels
in modern fiction ; its sentiment is mere twaddle,
and its dialogues are spun out to an extent that
would almost tempt one to believe that the re-
spective parties were talking against each other
for a wager. We subjoin the only amusing inci-
dent in the present chapter ; but even here, the
effect is sadly overcharged. Mr. Titmouse, after
taking his seat in the House of Commons, dis-
tinguishes himself by his clever imitations of the
crowing of a cock—which, by the bye, is a Tory
propensity—and one night, when an important
debate is going forward, crows so inimitably as to
give rise to the following scene :
" Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o !" issued, with .inimitable fidelity
of tone and manner, from immediately behind Lord Bulfinch,
who started from his seat as if he had been shot. Every one,
started; Mr. Vivid recoiled a pace or two from the table—
and then a universal peal of laughter echoed from all quarters
of the House, not excepting even the strangers' gallery. The
Speaker was convu'sed, and could not rise to c " order !"
Lord Bulfinch laughed himself almcst into fits; even those
immediately behind Mr. Vivid were giving way to uncontrolla-
ble laughter, at so comical and monstrous an issue. He him-
self tried for a moment to join in the laugh, but in vain ; he
as terribly disconcerted and cor&unOed. This frightful and
disgusting incident had done away with the effect of his whole
speech ; and in twenty-four hours' time, the occurrence would
be exciting laughter and derision in every corner of the king-
dom.

" Order! order ! order !" cried the Speaker, his face red
and swollen with scarce subdued laughter. Several times Mr.
Vivid attempted to resume, only, however, occasioning re-
newed laughter. Still he persevered; and, with much pre-
sence of mind, made a pointed and witty allusion to Rome
saved by the cackling of a goose. 'Twas, however, plainly
useless ; and after a moment or two's pause of irresolution, he
yielded to his fate, wi h visible vexation abruptly concluded
his observations, gathered ha'tily together his papers, and
resumed his seat and his hat—a s-gnal for renewed laughter
and triumphant cheering trt m the Ministerial side of the
House. Up then started Mr. O'Squeal—and, despite his
aliurd and extravagant gesticulation, and perfectly frightful
tone of voice, dashed boldly off at one or two of the weakest
points which had been made by his discomfited adversary,
which he dealt with very dexterously ; and then threw up a
vast number of rhetorical fireworks, a-nidst the glitter and
blaze of which he sat down, and was enthusiastically cheered.
'Twas my friend Mr. Titmouse that had worked this wonder,
and entirely changed the fate of the day. Up rose Mr.
O'Squeal's dreaded opponent—but in vain; he was quite crest-
fallen; evidently in momentary apprehension► of receiving an
interruption similar to that which Mr. Vivid had experienced.
He was nervous and fidgety—as well he might be ; and would
most assuredly have shared the fate of Mr. Vivid, but that
Titmouse was (not without great difficulty) restrained by Lord
Bulfinch, on the ground that the desired effect had been pro-
duced, and would be only impaired by a repetition.
The " llourraunee Empire" is a delightful arti-
cle, descriptive of Affghanistan and the manners
of the Affghan tribes, and penned in that spirited
and colloquial style which never fails to con-
-ciliate the reader. " A Lounge on the Sea" is a
pleasing sort of a prose pastoral, in which, how-
ever, far too much praise is lavished on that
quaint, sly old dog, Izaac 'Walton, whose great
literary merits we have never yet been fortunate
enough to discover. He wrote some passable lives of
eminent contemporaries, and a book about fish-
ing, in which occur one or two pretty sylvan de-
scriptions; and this is the whole amount of his
claims upon the favour of posterity. " Hints to
Authors" is duller this month than usual. The
satire is not well applied—consequently it misses
fire. A " Fifth Chapter of Turkish History"
contains a clever account of the capture of Cairo
by the Turks, and the massacre of the Mame-
luk es in the year 1517. In " Conservative Pros-
pects" the speedy advent of Sir R. Peel to power
is confidently predicted. We have no apprehen-
sion of such a visitation. The Tories are stuck
as fast to the opposition benches as if they were
glued to them.