The Sun.
London, England, 1856-11-01 00:00:00

ALBERT SMITH.

Who, asks Albany of Chatterton, is yonder—
" The short man with the rolling gait, bushy beard,
aquiline nose, and quick grey eyes, now approaching us,
who seems to catch and comprehend at a glance the
spirit of the whole scene around him !
" CHATTERTON.—What ! you, a denizen of London
town, not know the Lord of Egypt's western hall, the
mighty climber of the monarch-mount, in whose great
praise the deadest of dead walls becomes resuscitate,
and finds a voice ?,--not know Albertus Magnus-Albert
Smith ? _ . .

" TEMPLE.—' Facit indignatio vereurn.' Euge Poeta !
" ALBANY.—He here ? —then will there be a wagging
of beards in Piccadilly ere Christmas."

Subsequently, and as a crowning, crashing criti-
cism—a worthy pendant to the introductory re-
view anent Ruskin—comes a serio-comic paper
headed " The Art of Cavilling." A glorious
onslaught it is upon a couple of very absurd fel-
lows—one of whom has recently propounded the
question, " Who wrote the Waverley Novels? "
and the other of whom asks, with the pert vivacity
of a decidedly priggish mind, " Was Lord Bacon
the author of Skakspere's Plays ?" The reply
vouchsafed by Maga to each of these exceedingly
ridiculous inquiries is really and truly something
quite delightful. Upon the later of these twin in-
terrogatories, the reviewer in Blackwood observes,
among other things, as follows :
" Putting these same Plays out of the question, there
remains little by which we can prove the genius of
Shakespeare, says Mr. Smith. Extremely true ; and
putting aside the Nile and Trafalgar, Waterloo and
Torres Vedras, together with a few other trifling inci-
dents, we might find ourselves somewhat in difficulty to
prove the genius, for example, of Nelson and Wellington,
these two tangible men of iron, though they do, to our
certain knowledge,lie alone together in their glory, the
one sailor and soldier of a national apotheosis, under the
echoing dome of St. Paul's. What if Shakespeare's
Plays were Shakespeare, even as Waterloo and San
Sebastian were the Duke,' whom, the 9ther year, we
all went forth to bury like a king? But then Shake-
speare never was a wonderful youth, like poor young
precocious Keats, or hapless Chatterton, those unfortu-
nate children of fame, whose early ever•ripeoess left
nothing but a feverish promise of glories unattained.
We do not even know that he was a clever boy, that
riotous young English rogue, who committed a trespass
in Sir Thomas Lucy's park ; and how, then, asks the
writer of this Letter to Lord Ellesmere, could Shakespeare
have written Shakespeare's Plays ?
"It is a puzzling question ; and we are afraid we
could not clear it up, did the universal house of Smith,
in one astounding chorus, demand an explanation. We
cannot tell how he did it, most sage inquirer. We are
absolutely certain we could not do it, if you put us upon
our honour ; neither could you, if you tried until the
end of time ; and neither, we are convinced, could Fran-
cis Bacon, had the prize been, not the chancellorship of
England, but the imperial throne of all the world."
Admirable—this—is it not, good reader ? and wor-
thy of our sage, old slashing, crashing, daring, de-
fiant, perennial Blackwood?

Dublin University —" The Fortunes of Glen-
core" is drawing to a close. In the present portion
the unfortunate Charles does not appear in the
scene, but we are informed that he is involved in
great trouble on account of his having fought a
duel with a young Austrian. His father is the
same morose and. incomprehensible individual that
he has ever hitherto appeared. It is amusing to
note the difference between the two friends of the
recluse Upton and Harcourt ; the ono crafty and
cautious, the other impetuous and violent in his
demeanour. The papers on " Cyprus" are brought
to a conclusion in this number; many curious ac-
counts are given of the peculiarities met with in
the island. The various traditions and histories
relating to the monuments and places of note im-
part an interest to the narration. The details of
the " Sponge Fishery" attract attention. It is a
dangerous life that of the divers ; no habitual
diver reaches the age of fifty, while many
are early cut off. The story of "My Own
Funeral" is a strange one, and those who
like the startling will be pleased with it.
The narrator describes how he was carried in
a trance to a dead-house ; but, recovering, he dis-
guised himself, and actually attended his own fune-
ral ; he there learns who were true and who false
friends, and amazed every one by his sudden re-
appearance on the stage of life. " The Retreat of
the Glaciers" contains some remarks on the Alpine
scenery ; it is observed, that " it is to be regretted
that, out of the hundreds who annually visit the
'glaciers of Switzerland, but few are in the least ac-
quainted with their nature." "John T wilier" is
a quaint article, descriptive of a man who was
always essaying to perform great things, but con-
tinually failing from attempting too much in an
indefinite manner. " Cloak and Feather Ballads"
are peculiar verses, characteristic of the epoch of
the cavaliers. The political readers will find
ample subjects for their entertainment in several
elaborate articles, as " Spain," " Sardinia," &c.
The poem entitled "Caesar" is not remarkable in
any way, being uninteresting. The recent work
on the " Border Lands of France and Spain"
forms
the subject of a paper, in which that interesting
work is descanted upon, and some extracts are
given of the most important parts of the volume.