The Sun.
London, England, 1851-08-01 00:00:00

AUGUST 1, 1651.

MAGAZINE DAY.
BL,4CETVOOD.

Two features especially mark the current number
of Blackwood—the commemoration of the death of
" Delte," and the continuation of Sir Bul tater Lytton's
" Novet" under the name of Pisistretus. Politicians
will, cf course, tarn with a greedy inquisitiveness to
the opening article far August, being a disquisition
on " The Census and Free Trade," and, what is
more, a disquisition from the hand of no less trenchant
a publicist —or we are mistaken than Archibald
Alison, the historian. Attractive, however, though
this remarkable chapter in illustration, and we might
say, also, in depreciation of the newly-organized
science:of political economy, is, its interest to ourself,
is marvellously subordinated by the two other and
already-mentioned contributions. The tribute of ad-
miring and affectionate respect to the memory of
David Macbeth Moir does laenour to the pages
of Blackwood. Eminently deserved though every
rhetoric, and word of praise is, the graceful manner in which
each syllable of the eulogium is expressed, does
infinite credit to the writer both in regard to his
agsrheeedash l
ea , lustre,overt haet
ho-
nouredthe pages of the periodical.
sseanmseibtiilmitye,
and
mournful his
Upon the additional
chapters of " My Novel" it is scarcely possible to re-
mark otherwise than incidentally, seeing that the
plot of the story is even now but dimly and gradually
deYeloping itself, insomuch that conjecture would
inevitably mar the interest of the fiction ; and to dwell
upon the narrative without uttering some such insi-
nuated anticipations would be impossible, in conse-
quence of the interest aroused in the mind of the reader
by the master mind of the novelist. In consequence
of his application to the eccentric but generous-hearted
homeeopathist, Dr. Morgan, Leonard Fairfield acci-
dentally discovers his illegitimacy—discovers that he
is the child of shame, the child of Nora, a child unto
whom the law has denied a father. The description of
his emotions on hearing a truth so terrible to his
proud nature, is beautiful indeed, and beyond all in
that touching moment when, in a sudden paroxysm of
tears, he apostrophises the memory of his mother.
John Burley, already known to the reader as the fan-
tastic fisher of the one-eyed perch, developes, in the
course of the chapters here published, into a remark-
able and substantial character. As an example of an
author of the last generation, Burley is pencilled iu a
manner as admirable in its truthfulness' as Fallen was
delineated by the same facile hand as the representa-
tive of a writer of an age more remotely antece-
dent. His gorgeous day-dream of what an author
ought to be—" A being between gods and men, who
ought to be lodged in a palace, and entertained at the
public charge upon ortolans and tekay," one who
" should be kept lapped in down, and curtained
with silken awnings from the cares of life, having
nothing to do but to write books upon tables of
cedar, and fish for perch from a gilded gal-
ley," is lamentably contrasted with his own er-
ratic course and chequered existence, his slumbers
in a garret, and his midnight orgies iu the midst of
tobacco smoke and the lowest ranks of topers and
boon companions. From him Leonard learns the
snares and pitfalls Ns hick beset the writer for fame,
as much almost as from conning the grand and ter-
rible tragedy revealed by the biographer of Cnatter-
ton. The passages referring to the life of this mighty
genius—in regard to precocity the mightiest genius
the world ever saw—are finely end at moments most
touchingly written. They well deserve reference at
the hands of any future memorialist of the " wondrous
boy," as elucidative of the great moral which is to be
derived from his history. " Voltaire in the Crystal
Palace," besides being an enthralling eccentricity,
attracts the attention of the reader by its very title,
rendering him by suggestion doubly curious to see the
promised but as yet unpublished romance of the same
edifice, by Mr. Warren. After this article comes
another, containing some very attractive "Pictures
from St. Petersburgh," pictures the more
attractive from the circumstance of their
novelty. " Paris in 1851" is certain to secure to it-
self innumerable readers, by reason of its very desig-
nation; so that it can dispense with any commenda-
tion : not so the " London Diary of a German Au-
thoress," which justice compels us to pronounce more
amusing than the majority could have anticipated.
" The Raid of Arnaboll," a tale of the bygone year,
lends an additional charm to the magazine, which is
completed by a brief allusion to the election at Scar-
borough.