The Sun.
London, England, 1846-11-04 00:00:00

MAGAZINES.—(CONTIisIUED.)

THE DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.
Two admirable biographical papers are conspicu-
ous in the present number: the one on Adolphe
Thiers, who in 1821 lived with M. Mignet, in a
miserable garret in the Passage Iliontesquieu, Palais
lloya?e, Paris, and who now resides in his superb
mansion in the Place St. George, after having been
Prime Minister of France' and after acquiring an
European celebrity, as the historian of the Revolu-
tion, the Consulate, and the Empire; the other on
Laman Blanchard, who somewhere about 1824, stood
on the parapet of Westminster-bridge with the in-
tention of drowning himself in the Thames, and who,
after nearly twenty years more of toil and anxiety,
died the death of a suicide. The memoirs of Thiers
closes so abruptly that we are inclined to hope it may
be continued. As an example of how much may be
achieved from little, how distinction may be won
from obscurity, how affluence may be acquired from
destitution, this paper is most valuable. Barn at
Marseilles on the 15th of April, 1797, the son of an
industrious lccksinith, Thiers commenced life
without any promise of distinction, without
any apparent means of elevating himself to
any thing above mere respectability, without
patronage, money, or even expectations.
Nevertheless, by the aid of his own genius alone, of
his own perseverance, of his own quickness of percep-
tion he has rendered his name illustrious, not merely
in France but throughout the civilised world. With
a diminutive body, features of a common caste, figure
ungainly, slovenly and vulgar; with a voice intole-
rable for its nasal twang and provincialism, restless
and fidgetty in his movements, and remarkable for a
grotesque habit of swinging his body from side to
side ; this unpatronised, penniless, neglected man
insinuated his way from the garret to the editorial
office, from the editorial office to the fashionable
salons, from the salons to the palace, from
the palace to the Ministerial Cabine. From being
engaged as a writer upon the Constitutionnel, and ori-
ginating and editing the National newspaper, he ul-
timately became one of the principal instigators of the
revolution of 1830, and subsequently directed the
affairs of the French Government. It must
have been a startling alternation for Thiers—
his journey from Aix in the banquette of a diligence
to seek his fortune in the metropolis, and his entering
the Cabinet of Louis Philippe, when the King sa-
luted him with the interrogation—"
M. Thiers,
are you ambitious ?" and immediately after-
wards tendered him the portfolio of finance. Before
we close our notice of this contribution, we would
transcribe one paragraph "which occurs in the outline
of the revolution of the three days. It is this :
" Among the most conspicuous of the journalists of
that day, was an individual of tall and lank figure,
abrupt but noble impulses, and serious aspect. At the
first report of the fire-arms, he shook his head mourn-
fully, Then he went, unarmed, except with a walking
cane, through the town indifferent to the balls which
were whizzing around him, and braving death without
seeking for victory. This individual, destined after-
wards to play a sad but illustrious part, was then little
known: his name was Armand Carrel. Have you even
a single battalion?' said he incessantly to his more san-
guine friends. On the morning of the 28th, meeting
M. Etienne Arago (the brother of the astronomer of
that name) who evinced much ardour, he said to him,
Stop !' and pointing to one of the populace, who was
greasing his shoes with the oil of a broken lamp, he
said, Beheld the people !—such is Paris !—ever the
same levity—indifference—the appropriation of the re-
sults of great and important actions to the most trifling
uses.' "

Two accusations have been made against Thiers
during the course of his political career—one of pecu-
lation in office, the other of poltroonery during the
emeutes of '3O. Of both these he is tolerably well
cleared by the writer ; but of his ingratitude to his
unfortunate worshipper Schubart, too much can
scarcely be said in reprobation. The history of poor
Laman Blanchard is an extraordinary contrast to the
successes and renown of the historian-statesman. The
circumstances of that melancholy career are too
fresh in the public recollection to require
any particular enumeration. From his birth, in Great
Yarmouth, the 15th of May, 1803, to his entrance
into the Proctor's office, to his casual appearance as
an actor on the stage at Margate, down to the miser-
able 15th of February, 1845, when he cut his throat
with a razor, all the incidents of his gentle life, and of
his violent death, have been already'eloquently and
pathetically detailed by the pen of Sir Edward Bul-
wer Lytton. We have ourselves paid a tribute to
that beautiful and moving composition. Hood dying
of a broken heart, Hayden shooting himself in a mo-
ment of despair, Maginn perishing in misery,
Blanchard driven to madness and suicide by the
ceaseless labour of his mind, have successively and
recently afforded us testimonies of the neglected con-
dition of literary and artistic intellect. We need not
recur to Otway and Chatterton, we have had in our
own days spectacles as appalling and instructive.
We cannot, with a vivid remembrance of these
things, but participate with the writer in
his expression of astonishment at "genius starving,
and blockheadism and blackguardism revelling in
turtle and champagne." We cannot but feel amazed
and indignant, as he is, in thinking that " Sheridan
Knowles, the honest, the kind, the generous, is
struggling with the difficulties of existence." We
cannot ourselves but sympathise, as he does, with
those neglected beings, who are " working, working,
working, not by the sweat of their brows,—for that
toil is light and wholesome—but by the sweat of their
_minds, and memories, and souls, and hearts." This
article is admirably corroborative of the noble and
winning character given of Blanchard by Sir Edward.
The writer emphatically says, that Leman Blanchard's
soul was " like a divine and noble temple, where truth
and candour, and white-robed virtue sat eternally
enthroned." He describes Blanchard as a guileless,
honest, kindly-tempered creature, and declares, as
Sir Bulwer Lytton had already declared, that, to his
knowledge, Blanchard never made an enemy through-
out his life. Here is a description of his disposition,
and it is one the memory of which all good men must
love :

" There was about him an exuberant good nature—a
tone of graceful charitableness for the errors and w,
nesses of ethers—a distaste for satirical comment or
bitter observation, or just, though perhaps severe, criti-
cism on the minds and manners of his contemporaries—
a sweet and beaming benevolence of voice and gesture,
which to one who had known and tried what mankind
really are, and in the bitter school of experience, learned
to despise, to pity, or to loathe them, appeared to be at
first a mere affectation—assumed, like a robe; for the
occasion—and intended by its wearer as a dress for cer-
tain times and seasons and companions, rather than for
ordinary use. But this mistaken idea gradually faded
assumption of a
away as Blanchard became better known. There was
evidently, in his case, no hypocritical
virtue which he did not really possess. If his kindness
were fanatical, it was at all events sincere."
Here is an account of the personal appearance of that
accomplished and unfortunate author :
" In figure he was slight and small, but fairly propor-
tioned. His features were dark ; but it was that soft
eastern darkness

'Like the night
Of Orient climes and starry skies,'
which is, perhaps, more agreeable to the eye in a man,
than the blended red and white which belongs to our
northern races. Intelligence shone out of every line in
his countenance like a light ; and there was a flash in
his eye, which at times made him look absolutely beau-
tiful. His hair, like his eyes and features, was also dark,
and was as fine as silk, with a natural curl ; and his
entire appearance war. characterised by a delicacy, a gen-
tleness, a thoroughbr, dness of manner which one looks
for and finds in an Arabian steed— all lightness, ele-
gance, and ease. His hands and feet too were small ;
and his whole appearance was so entirely prepossessing,
that the sternest critic might well pause before he in-
flicted pain on one whose entire nature seemed as soft
and gentle as a woman's ; but who, nevertheless, was as
perfectly free from any effeminacy of look, or tone, or
manner, as man possibly could be."
Of the paper upon the "British Theatre," we shall
abstain from speaking in its present state of incom-
pletion. Carleton's tale of " The Black Prophet" is
continued with undiminished ability. A capital
series is commenced called " A Scamper in the Long
prospective The entire number of the
Vacation," as also another upon " Guernsey," by-
gone and
is the most excellent that has been pub-
lished for many months.

DOMBEY and SON. No. 11. By Charles Dickens.
If possible, the present are superior to the preceding
chapters. We are introduced again to Son, other-
wise the infant Dombey, in his morning ablutions and
in his evening gymnastics preparatory to bed, when
he took "a short walk uphill over Richards's gown, in
a short and airy linen jacket." In his account of
Miss Nipper's smothered indignation in the nursery,
" Boz" writes a little grotesque sentence that reads
like a quotation from Fielding :
" As the knight-errants of old relieved their minds by
carving their mistress's names in deserts, and wilder-
nesses, and other savage places where there was no pro-
bability of there ever being anybody to read them, so did
Miss Susan Nipper curl her snub nose into drawers and
wardrobes, put away winks of disparagement in cup-
boards, shed derisive squints into stone pitchers, and
contradict and call names out in the passage:,
Mr. coming down
r. Pitt " turning up his
The description of the christening party in the
sorrow-
fully"finor leesastin
parlour, rct lhoooludr,c
garden,oll withati to hnne"nl
felaosae m,
the top of the bookshelf,
is admirable. The christening itself is drawn with a
dismal power. Of the various adventures crowded
into the after pages it would be scarcely fair to ab-
stract from their interest by speaking in epitome. We
cannot do better than transcribe two of those descrip-
tions of London locality for which Mr. Dickens is
already so famous. Here is a minute and truthful
picture of Camden Town before the railroad was com-
pleted, and also of Staggss-gardens:—
" Tho first shock of a great earthquake had, just at
that period, rent the whole neighbourhood to its centre.
Traces of its course were visible on every side. houses
were knocked down streets broken through sad
stopped ; deep pits and trenches dug in the ground ;
enormous heaps of earth onsi clay thrown up ; buildings