The Sun.
London, England, 1856-03-03 00:00:00

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St en Y110461159076/44114 lie !It

the green of Donnybrook ! " Biography gone
Mad"—to wit, the biographies recently published
at New York, of two American journalists, Horace
Greeley of the New York Tribune, and James
Gordon Bennett of the New York Herald. Mr.
Parton, the biographer of the former person, has
no mercy from the humorous reviewer in Blackwood.
Speaking of the hero of his big volume, Parton
says—absurdly enough—" If Horace Greeley were
a flower, botanists would call him single and ex-
amine him with interest," adding, "He is what
Germans sometimes style a nature.'" [Mr.
Parton has said, by the way, elsewhere, of his
hero—" he is a born legislator.") To which sub-
joins the very explicit and outspoken critic in Maga
—" And if J. P. also were a flower, botanists
would inevitably pronounce him a tulip.' He is
what in Scotland we sometimes call a natural'—
otherwise known as a baffling ;' or, in vernacular
English, a born fool !' " As for James Gordon
Bennett, of the New York Herald, more than sus-
pected to be the " Mr. So and So" of American
Notes—of whom quoth Dickens•7--"He is a public
nuisance, is he not ? Yes, sir. A convicted liar ?
Yes, sir. He has been kicked and cuffed, and
caned? Yes, sir. And he is utterly dishonourable,
debased, and profligate ? Yes, sir. In the name
of wonder, then, what is his merit? Well, sir, he
is a smart man !" As for James Gordon Bennett,
of whom O'Connell said once on a public plat-
form " He is one of the conductors of cue
of the vilest Gazettes ever published by in•
famous publishers !" As for him, what does
the Blackwood Reviewer not say ? He calls him
plainly and point blank, just to begin with—" the
Jack Ketch of Editors." He calls him " redoubt-
able and happily unparalleled." He speaks of him
as "a notorious blackguard." He speaks of his
" Memoirs" as forming a sort of companion work
to the .Netvgatc Calendar, or to Defoe's " Autobio-
graphy of an Unfortunate Female." He dilates in
uttermost scorn upon his " third-rate mediocrity
of thought and style," upon his "audacious schem-
ing," his "impenetrability to shame," and his
" invincible endurance of chastisement." He
speaks of one of his blasphemous allusions as—
" worthy of a Couthon or a Marat"—likens him to
a vampire and a cobra-de-capella—talks in fine of
his successes as the results of the union of
" the minimum cf literary ability, and the
maximum of moral worthlessness." Never, in all
his many cow-hidings, never, we undertake to say
in all his fleshly experiences of the welts and weals
of a rattan or the swinges and thuds of a horse-
whip—never before has James Gordon Bennett
been subjected to so tremendous a castigation as
this in Blackwood. After it, in more senses than
one, we guess—Mr. Bennett will feel himself " a
smart man" and no mistake ! It is morally, to all
intents and purposes, like Laving his nose slit, and
his oars cropped, and his cheeks and forehead
branded, and riding through Coventry on the back
of a jackass with his face turned tailwards Enough
of this, however—Paabgh ! The subject treated of is
in itself sufficiently revolting. And gladly do we
turn from it to the sweetening influence of a most
genial and in every way charming notice of " Syd-
ney Smith"—the Jove of Pallas Athemv, otherwise
the originator and first editor of the Edinburgh
Review—earliest and greatest of all the Quarterlies !
The tribute offered to the shade of Sydney by
Blackwood is, from beginning to end, thoroughly
delightful. It will be examined with interest, and
with hardly more interest than admiration.
" Liddell's History of Rome" is the theme of the
opening paper of the March number, and must
be regarded as in all respects rather favour-
able. " Monteil" is the brief title of the
second contribution proving, on inquiry, to
be an eulogistic mention of the obscure and
laborious life, followed by the posthumous cele-
brity of poor old Amens Alexis Monteil, the gifted
author of the History of the French of Various
Conditions. An absurd little treatise on the
" Greek Church," its doctrine, ceremonial, and
government, is chiefly remarkable for its swarming
prejudices, and its abundant evidence of a sort of
microscopic narro w-nii nded tress. An article on
" Nicaragua and the Filibusters," and another on
" The Scottish Fisheries," the, latter suggested
apparently by a paper on the same subject in the
recently published ninth volume of the En
cyclopedia Britannica, are followed by the'
kindly notice of Sydney Smith, already
mentioned. This biographical and critical
chapter on the witty canon of St. Paul's
and writer of " Peter Plyrnley's Letters,"
being succeeded by—a rather unusual circumstance
with Maga, as , she herself acknowledges—two
articles on one subject, one by an English lawyer,
headed " Peerages for Life," the other by a Scotch
lawyer, entitled the "Wensleydale Creation."
Both earnestly directed. against what .Blackwood
designates " the unhappy and singularly ill-timed
attempt to destroy the hereditary character of one
branch of the Legislature." We look in vain in
the present number for what was promised in the
last, namely, Tickler's Autobiography. He
pledged himself to it in February. But we grieve
to observe, in regard to so gentlemanly a dog, that
he has not by any means fulfilled his—bow-wow !

Dublin, University.—This number presents va
rious sketches of an entertaining nature. The firs
paper concludes the account of " Potemlziu, the
Crimea," kc., which was commenced last month.
It imparts information regarding Russia in the last
century likely to meet with attention. The amus-
int'.. story of "Love in Curl Papers " is continued.
It becomes more intricate in this portion, as the
scene of action is removed to Munich, and the calm
serenity of the village is atandoned for the intrigues,
of the city. "The Amber Mouthpiece" is a chro-
nicle of an adventure in Constantinople, which is
very interesting. The hero of the tale, in wishing
to be too clever, nearly lost his life, and met with
many misfortunes. By presence of mind, however,
he contrived to elude his enemies, and to bring,
the cheats and impostors he met with before jus-
tice the next day. Ho was afterwards held up as
an example to others, as sustaining the rights of
travellers in distress. "The Cavalier and the
Puritan" is a singular tale, not devoid of interest,
but possessing some painful. features. " The Dra-
matic Writers of Ireland" is concluded this month.
It has consisted of eleven numbers, and "has em-
' braced eighty-seven names—a goodly number, and
an illustrious brotherhood." It is observed that
some may have been.ornitted through ignorance or
inadvertence, but if so the error shall be rectified
when made known. A valuable summary has been
presented from time to time to those desirous of
obtaining an account of the dramas of Ireland, as
they have thus had brought under itrmediate no-
tice what is difficult at all times to discover. " A
Handful of Jacobite Songs" contains some spirited
pieces. The most deserving of notice is entitled
" The White Rose over the Water." The article
" Novels and Novelists" continues the descriptions
commenced in a former portion. Some of the
anecdotes mentioned are very curious. " Mar
ryat's Sea Stories" form the subject of a paper. It
is said that "Peter Simple" was the work that
made Marryat famous. It was the most successful
naval fiction published in England. Some remarks
are made on Mr. Gilbert's work, "History of the
City of Dublin." In the course of the article a
description is given of the views and purposes of
the author. In tracing the idiosyncracy of the in-
habitants he goes back to a period of remote anti-
quity. It is observed in the concluding passage
that the ancient race is fast disappearing from Ire-
land, from famine and pestilence, but above all
from the numerous emigrations.
"From the Atlantic to the Pacific, where the rocky
I mountains bar like a portal the land of gold—through
the islands of the Southern Ocean to the great desolate
world of Australia, seeking as it were the last home of
their fathers, and doomed to make the circuit of the
earth—still onward flows the tide of human life—that
inexhaustible race who have cleared the forests of Canada,
who have built cities and made all the railroads of the
state, who have given thousands to the red plains of the
Crimea, who have overcome California and peopled
Australia—the race whose destiny has made them the
instruments of all civilisation though they have never
reaped its benefits.
"No colonies recroes the Atlantic. Immutable as
the path of the planet is the destined cycle of human
progression, never ending, never ceasing, until perhaps
the ancient race, after its weary wanderings, will arrive
once more at 'the partings of the ways' in the far eastern
land of Paradise and the dispersion. It is but a sombre
vaticination, yet it is evident that from Ireland the old
people will soon pass away. The old language will be-
come a tradition. The Scythian races, with their free
spirit, and purer faith, will pour in to repeople the de-
solate lands, and to build up the waste plains ; and the
ancient children of the south, of Tyre, of Carthage, of
'the Isles of the Sp, must flee before them, as they have

The New Monthly.—The New Monthly opens
with a paper on the much-disputed Mosquito Ter-
ritory, which has lately excited so much attention.
According to the description given by Mr. Bard,
an American visitor to the Mosquito shore, it is
scarcely deserving of the jealousy and vexation it
has occasioned. It is true that the soil will pro-
duce rice, cotton, coffee, sugar, and indigo, but as
no European settlement can ever prosper on ac-
count of its unhealtshiness, these advantages are
comparatively useless. The English, French, and
Germans have successively founded colonies, but
a few years generally extirpates all the inhabitan's.
Some of the extracts from Mr. Bard's travels fur-
nish' us with interesting' details on this subject.
"The Political Future of England" is a criticism
• i the recent French work of that title, and gives
a moderate share of praise to M. de Montalem-
bert's production. It is followed by an article on
" The Siege of Kars," founded on the narrative of
Dr. Sandwith. No additional details can add to
the sympathy and indignation which the recital of
the sufferings of those de,erted heroes has already
excited, but, if further confirmation were needed,
the testimony of Dr. Sandwith affords a mournful
corroboration. The author of "The Unholy
Wish" furnishes us with a continuation of the
story of Adela Chenevix under the title of " The
Merchant and his Wife." It is written with his
usual skill in tracing character and depicting do
mestic details, and seems to promise a conclusion
of properly melodramatic interest. The " Illus-
tratious of the Manners and Customs of the
Eighteenth Century " terminate in this number,
and gives soma curious details on the pe-
culiarities of style and orthography then in
use. The writer of these papers scarcely
does justice to his labours, in his final remarks,
for if his illustrations" have given us nothing new
in the way of historical instruction he has certainly
collected a large assortment of miscellaneous and
entertaining information. The history of Stoke
Dotterel], it appears, is not yet concluded, nor is
it likely to end, as something strange remains to
be told in the story of its hero. The description
of a pilgrimage to the French Palaces, by Floren-
tia, is agreeably written, and promises to be highly
beneficial toin tending travellers, as the fair voyager
proposes faithfully to record all that she meets
with on her way. She complains of the inaccuracy
with which travellers' tales are generally told, and
sets out on her narrative by a too faithful picture
of the miseries of a stormy passage across the
Channel. The present pilgrimage only extends to
the Tuileries, respecting which there is so much
to be said that we cannot wonder that the trai,eller
loves to linger in recollections of Marie Antoinette
and the First Napoleon. " Literary Leaflets,"
by Sir Natbanisl, has this month a criticism of
llohn's new edition of the works of Addison. The
first part of an amusing story is translated from
the Danish by Mrs. Bushby, and entitled " Cousin
Carl." We fear the next instalment, however,
will bring its adventurous hero into disgrace and
difficulty. We must not omit to mention an ar-
ticle on the Danes and Swedes, which gives a full
account of their land and sea forces.

Tait's Edinburgh.— An article on the " Peace
Conferences" leads the way. The writer enters
on a consideration of the proposed terms of peace,
and points out the dangers to be obviated by the
exercise of clue precaution on our part. What
hope he entertains on this head may be gathered
from the remark—" The peace, if it be concluded,
is a truce of years, five or ten." " Goethe : His
Life and Character," are reviewed in a readable
paper. " Grace Dorrien," a tale, is continued,
and gives promise of greater interest. A second
notice of Alexandre Dumas is far from flattering
to " the improvisatore of the age," as he de-
lights to be considered ; his style is described
as "loose and verbose," his characters "undefined,"
his philosophy of life " shallow," his sentiment
" mere froth," his picturess " lacking consistency,''
his creed " too daringly impious to contemplate
calmly," and the morality of his writings in accord
with his professions. "Tangled Talk," by the
author of " Reading Raids," is sufficiently enter-
taining to be worth unravelling. Mortimer Collins
contributes " Lily," an amusing legend of Guern-
sey, done into Ingolsby verse. " M'Neil and
Tulloch's Crimean Report" is reviewed with con-
siderable candour and judgment. One fact is new
to us—viz., the existence of a law-suit between
Government and Sir Harry Smith, involving the
payment of a large sum of money on account of the
issue of camp stores during the Kafir war. Among
the remaining contents the principal is a paper on
" Commercial Felonies," in which the public are
read some useful lessons.

Bentley's Miscellany.—The American question
seems likely to occupy as large a share of
the resgazine articles as the Turkish question
did some months ago. instead of epitomes
of Russian history, accounts of the Tartar and
Cossack races, sketches of Circassian life, and
pictures of Constantinople, we are now likely
to hear a little too much of Nicaragua, and
its dependencies, the Mosquito country, and
similar imposing titles. The present number of
Ben,ticy furnishes us with two pipers on this topic,
entitled, "The Differences with the United
States," and, " Central America." It does not,
however, desert old friends entirely, fora little
further on we meet with an article beaded, " A
Week in Constantinople." The editor's story of
" The Spendthrift" is continued, and the present
instalment brings the climax of the masked ball
adventures. It is a tale of the last century, and
Mr. Ainsworth's admirers will find in it all those
peculiarities of style and incident for which he is
remarkable. Dudley Costello concludes his story
of " The Dock Warrants." An announcement is
made to the readers of Bentley that in the
April number a new tale of the times will
be commenced, by the same author, entitled
"The Joint-Stock Banker," and designed for the
very laudable and limited purpose of putting a stop
to speculation. If it accomplishes this object it will
ilideed.reWard its readers for thetrouble of perusal,

never in a long iife-time Co be forgotten—any more
than the weird passion of Kean as Othello—or the
ravishing anguish of Malibran as Amina—or
the gay laugh of Mrs. Jordan—or the violin,
half divine, half diabolical, of the wondrous
Paganini. These who can call but one melody
of his to their recollection, as they have heard
it sung by him, " avec les larmes dans la voix,"
can believe in the sincerity of the regret expressed
by Monk Lewis (vol. i, p. 113), who " was in the
greatest a:zonies' the other night at Lady Done-
gal's," at having arrived too late—"'Pon his
honour, he had come fur the express purpose of
hearing me !" Every one, too, with the like pre-
cious memory of "sweet sounds, that gave delight
and hurt not," will have no marvel when they
road (vol. iii., p. under date, 7th to 10th
March, 1820—" Flahault sung, and so did I ;
very nervous about it. If I liar given way, should
have burst out a-crying ; as I rememi)er doing
many years ago at a large party at Lady Rothes's.
No one believes how much I am affected in singing,

partly from being touched myself, and partly
from an anxiety to touch others." The duplex
clue, this, to all his successes ! Elis earnestness in
what he did, and his almost morbid yearning for
admiration. How much he did well ! And in the
doing of it what overfiewing admiration he gained
—enough—and to spare ! For all which he had
precisely the very qualities that were requisite. As
his noble editor has said so justly—" His was
a delightful fancy, not a sublime imagination ; a
tender and touching feline, not a reading and
overwhelming passion.", Hence his celebrity sur-
vives, hardly so much in his gorgeous eastern
romance of " L ilia Rookh," as in his more brief
and homely songs of love and sorrow, his national
Irish Melodies. A fortunate circumstance, the very
brevity of them, in an age when, as Lord Jeffrey has
oddly observed, "men would aslittle think ofsitting
down to a whole epic as to a whole ox." Moore
himself had an accurate sense of the secret of his
powers, the extent of his capacities, of the validity
of his claims upon the notice of posterity. "My
poetry, such as it is," he speaks of (vol. i., p. 17)
as "having sprung out of my deep feeling for
music." And later on (vol. i., p. 60) ho talks of
" the bursting out of my latent talent for music,"
as " iu reality the source of my poetic talent, since
it was merely," ho adds, " the effort to translate
into words the different feelings and passions which
melody seemed to me to express." A revelation
one might almost recognise as quaintly prefigured
in that curious little incident of his childhood,
when at a certain large tea-party, with his hostess
alone in the secret, ho " remained for hours con-
cealed under the table, having a small barrel organ
in his lap, and watching anxiously the moment
when ho was to burst upon their ears with music
from—they knew not where !" This was in the
days when the little fellow excited the wonder of
his acquaintance by his smallness and precocity—
when one Captain Mahoney [the wag !] used to say
laughingly to Moore's mother, that he was sure
Tom had passed all his nights with the "little
people," meaning the fairies, and to banter Tom
himself to his great amusement at stray breakfast
times with such ppsers as—" Well, Tom, what
news from your friends on the hills ? It was a. fine
moonlight night, and I know you were among
them." Those were the merry play-days when
little Tom (after the fashion of big old Sam of Lich-
field in his childhood) was borne on the shoulders
of his boy- companions to the ruins of Dun-Drum
Castle, and there crowned on its summit by the
hands of some little girl of the party ! No wonder
the good Irish folk about him marvelled at the wis-
dom stored up in that small frame, looking as
it did, particularly inFantine for its age—till some
cress-grained old Hibernian Cornelia would cry
out with a comical sort _of indignant asperity,
" Oh, he's an old little crab, he can't be less
than eleven or twelve years of age"—he being then
some seven or eight. Whereto a gentleman sitting
next her responded, " Then, madam, if that be the
case, he must have been four years old before he
was born"—which reply, reported forthwith to'
Tom's mother, "won her warm heart towards that
gentleman for ester after," says that son later
of hii fame—still Tom Moore even
en in the days
then to the wide world, as he was from the first to
the last in his own loving household. Tom even,
he tells us, vide " Letter" No. 261, Tom even to
his little daughter Barbara—where he writes comi-
cally to his " dearest mother"—" Barbara calls me
Tom, and I try in vain to break her off it, because
she hears her mother call nee so." The man was
loving and beloved throughout ; there was some-
thing kindly, human, gentle, genial, be sure of
that, in that large heart, yearning and yearning,
ever and ever, with a hneger so insatiable for
everybody's admiration. Watch him into the
meadows with the same little child—the little Bar-
bara he was before long to bury with some bitter
tears in the suburban churchyard that gave shelter
only the other day to the poor old wearied bones of
the nonogenarian Rogers—it is like a peep into
urke's study, with the memorable glimpse of .the
philosophic statesman lying on the carpet with the
.toys and the " one child ' he too was to rear so
tenderly, only to lose, in his turn, so prematurely
and with such poignant anguish ! To-day, says.
Moore in "Letter ' No. 248, dated froin Mayfield
Cottage, to-day "(a Monday, in 1813) "little
Barbaro a)3d I rolled about in the bay-field before