The Sun.
London, England, 1846-07-01 00:00:00

TAIT'S.

With extreme pleasure we observe an accession of
talent to this able periodical, in the person of Mr. George
Gilfillan, as a contributor. What he has commenced in
his eloquent volume of " Literary Portraits," he appears
determined to complete here—namely, a gallery of those
personages who have during the present century adorned
the literature of Great Britain by their writings. And
we are glad to observe, in the first paper of his second
series, a very remarkable improvement in the style of
composition. What was previously extravagant in
brilliancy is now modulated to something approaching
to rhetorical correctness ; what was an exorbitant
elongation of paragraphs, heaped one upon the other for
the expression of a single idea, is now reduced to a brevity
more consonant with the object—namely, the utterance
of that single idea. Still Mr. Gilfillan must
guard himself from falling into an extreme of
condensation when he is thus endeavouring to correct
this tendency to copiousness. Despite the sneers of
certain frigid critics, he must, if he would not utterly
ruin his genius, avoid cramping his powers by a too
strict subjection to the rules and formalities of composi-
tion. We would the more particularly urge this upon
him, as in his writings we recognise the impetuosity of
an enthusiastic thinker. Mr. Gilfillan throws his
thoughts upon paper with a nerve and earnestness which
we would not see abated one jot, even though it were
at the risk of encountering the blemishes of pre-
cipitation. Originality and depth of sentiment, and
spontaneousness of diction may be frittered away byla
too great anxiety to produce sentences peculiar for ele-
gance, or arguments of a precise sequence, and a prim ap-
propriateness. We say thus much because we believe
Mr. Gilfillan •to have received his credentials as an
author rather from nature than from the book-
shelf ; his mind is animated rather by an in-
nate vigour than by reflections from the dilectus or
schoolings from the dorainie. " Sir Edward Bulwer
Lytton" is the first contemporary writer considered in
this new series, and forms an admirable opening paper to
Tait for July. It is to be hoped thut Dickens, and
Carleton, and Marryat, and the rest of that fraternity,
will be anatomised by the same cunning hand. Full
justice is done to Bulwer as an essentially unique ro-
mancer. He is shown to be no copyist of others, but to
have formed for himself a class of novel writings, and
(what is still more) a class of readers. But we conceive
the critic rather exaggerates when he observes that Sir
Edward's " stile is vicious from excess of vi,tue, weak
from ; that every word is a
p y, the close of every
sentence a climax. 'a strength
The analogy drawn be-
tween the characters of Byron and Bulwer is
eccentric enough and Plutarch ian enough; and the eccen
oint, repletion
every clause
of
se s,tbgethaut
tricity of it is especially vitible in the concluding remark
jtandaetd" way of doing penance, threw his
swyhstielemßiYnrtrilibeyGreek war, Bulwer has with better
result leaped into a tub of cold water !" Cordially do
we coincide with Gilfillan in regarding " Zanoni" as in
all respects the masterpiece of Bulwer Lytton ; the
memory of that beautiful book clings to us like a vision,
the like of which is never seen but once—a vision of the

mysterious, the solemn, and thepathetic. As a specimen
of the novelty with which Mr. Gilfillan invests even
themes handled a thousand times before, and as an ex-
ample also of the brilliant mannerisms of his style, we
transcribe a few observations about Dyron. er