The Sun.
London, England, 1860-12-06 00:00:00

THE MAGAZINES.

Blackwood's Magazine.
The first article is a second treatise on " Iron,

Clad Ships of War," of which the first part ap
peared iu last month's number. It is sensibly
written, and contains some truths that those who
are in authority would do well to take into consi-
deration. Great care has been taken to render the
various explanations as clear as possible, and it is
said truly that it is difficult to be understood by the
general reader without descending into minute
technical details. There are diagrams given which
will be of great assistance to those wishing to study
the subject attentively, and altogether this paper
is worthy of notice, offering as it does a circum-
stantial essay on one of the great questions of the
day. The following remarks, in conclusion, are
spirited and to the point, and breathe of that zeal
and tell of that energy which should—
" Still through our navy send its vital power,"
if we aspire to be a match for all open and con-
cealed foes :--
"Do not wait for a war, to do things in haste and re-
pent at leisure. Pitch secrecy to the French, q.ll in the
mechanical and engineering skill of England and America
openly in the face of all nations, and let others match us if
they can. For our part, we have faith in the genius of our
sailor race ; and though England be slow to adopt innova-
tion, it will assuredly be no easy task to preserve the lead
ag iinst her government and people, when earnestly labour-
ing for a common and holy end—defence, safety, and the
commerce of the world. We beat France in our Enfields
and Whitworths, we beat her in our breech-loading Arm-
strongs ; it will be strange indeed if we do not match be-
fore long that fleet of 300 rifled cannon iron-clad vessels of
war which she is straining every nerve to produce, and, it
is averred, will put in the water, by May, 18611"
" The Romance of Agostini" is concluded. It is a
very exciting narrative, and ends more happily
than do many of the tales of the southern lands.
Francisco deserves success no less from his injuries
than his courage and constancy, and it is eminently
satisfactory to leave him in his ancestral home
united to the fair being who appreciated him in the
dark days of poverty and neglect. Teta is a very
well drawn character in her honest zeal for the
cause of the oppressed. In this she contrasts
strongly with her mother, whose natural sympa-
thies were clouded and overcast by the pernicious
influence exercised over her faculties by the long
apprenticeship.' she had served to the cold and selfish
Duchess. " A Visit to the Tribes of the Ryhanlu
Turkmans" is a short sketch that will repay peru-
sal. It commences by observing that " Amongst all
the wild nomade tribes that range about the plains
and mountains of Syria and Asia Minor, there is
none more remarkable as differing from the rest of
the Bedouin family save only as regards pilfering
and lying than the Ryhanlu Turkmen, who spread
themselves over mountain, and valley, and plain in
one almost uninterrupted line from the defiles of
Latakia and Antioch, to the perpetually snow-
capped Taurus range." The various incidents
of this tribe are most interesting, and there is always
something to arrest our attention in these records,
however trivial, of those races of men who dwell in
tents and wander in tribes over the earth, recalling
the primeval times to the memory of the scholar
and the antiquarian. This instalment of " Nor-
man Sinclair" is a momentous one. In the first
place it describes a satisfactory meeting with
Carlton, which the perplexed Norman calls " a sun
glimpse after storm. The second chapter is named
" False Play Somewhere," and treats of a fraudulent
trick which caused an immense sensation on the
Stock Exchange. Ruin is evidently impend-
ing over Mr. Beaton, and in the next
number of the story he will probably
have fallen from his high estate to be
classed among that most wretched rank who have
seen better days, and passed from the pinnacle of
sovereign affluence to the lonely depths of pecu-
niary embarrassments. The last chapter com-
mences the history of a clever man, and in a few
sentences we are given a sad tale of one who might
have done well had he not become imbued with
fatal notions of levelling theories and revolutionary
topics that were insidiously set before him. The
last article is a very able and interesting one; it is
entitled, "Alexander Carlyle, of Inveresk," and
refers to a work lately published containing the
autobiography of that remarkable man. It is re-
freshing to meet with a subject of this kind in the
pages of a magazine, and one gladly leaves for
awhile the vexed questions of the day to contem-
plate a character of departed excellence, one who
in his day exercised an influence over his fellow
men, and left behind him a bright remembrance
and an honourable mention. A curious incident is
told of his early days, when he first displayed his
powers of oratory by mounting a tombstone, and
reading to adozen old women, who had not found
room in the church, the whole of the Song of Solo-
mon. One of the old ladies, delighted at this ex-
traordinary exercise of eloquence, exclaimed,
" Ye'll be minister of Prestonpans yersel' some
day." " No, no, no," said the boy, " not Preston-
pans, yon's my kirk," and pointed to the tapering
spire of Inveresk." When many years had passed
away, and some people were against his being pre-
sented to that living, the survivors of the audience
remembered the saying as prophetic, and repeated
it about till many of the parishioners became re-
conciled to their youthful minister, whom they
regarded as their fore-ordained and divinely
announced instructor. • This article is in every way
worthy of perusal, and it gives a very fair account
of the interesting' work of which it treats. The
following is the concluding passage, which elo-
quently closes with some forcible remarks on the
series of the biographies of last century :
"This work, though latest published, forms, in fact, the
commencement of the series of biographic and anecdotic
reminiscences of the last century with which ourcwn day is
enriched. The admirable Recollections of Lord Cock-
burn' begin nearly where Carlyle leaves off. Sir Walter
Scott was 33 at Carlyle's death, and the wondrous strain is
carried on till the gentle ripple of the Tweed sounded on
that September morning into his dying room, in 1832 In
many respects the earlier revelations are superior to the rest.
In personal interest we cannot, of course, place them on a
par with the records of the man who would be acknow-
ledged the greatest of modern poets, if he were not un-
doubtedly the greatest of; English novellists but as a re-
production of a distinct individuality we hold them not to
be inferior even to the masterpiece of Lockhart. Follow-
ing no master, moulding himself on no model, the charm of
these pages is their originality. They are not Boswellian,
nor Johnsonian, nor Colley Cibbarish, nor traceable to any
source. Yet in their liveliness of description, sly touches
of satire, and vigorous analysis of character, combined with
the naturalness of incident and surprising variety of inte-
rest deduced from ordinary adventures, we are constantly
reminded of ' Gil Blas.' "

Dublin University Magazine.
There is a good article on Thomas Becket, which
contains some just remarks, and furnishes one with
very correct notions as to the general character of
that remarkable man. It criticises the works
recently published of his life, and adverts to the
striking difference that exists between them. The
one by Canon Robertson is described as a " fair
sample of English good sense and manly dealing."
It speaks to us in a language ringing with the life
and lustiness of the present day. On the other
hand, in the life of Becket by Canon Morris nearly
everything seems to remind us of a quaint, half
legendary past. Further on the writer thus ad-
verts to the difficulty that exists in forming a cor-
rect opinion regarding Becket:—
If truth always lay in the agreement, or could be drawn
from the collision of many witnesses, we should by this
time have gained a satisfactory insight into the character of
Becket and his age. Many indeed are the pens that his
memory has kept at work upon him from the day of his so-
called martyrdom until now. Clerks of his household,
faithful secretaries, intimate friends, some of whom had
basked in the sunshine of his earlier, and shivered in the
darkness of his latter days, bore witness briefly or at length,
with many flourishes or in simple terms, to the high
talents, the striking virtues, the pomp, the learning, the
personal charms, the stern enthusiasm of their departed
friend and spiritual father. Their lead was followed by a
long line of simple chroniclers who, dating from the splendid
reign of Henry 11., discoursed and fabled about many
things and persons, until the Wars of the Roses and the
dawn of a later literature put out their feeble lights for
ever. But modern history took up in her turn and handed
on the old familiar tale, with divers changes demanded by
the spirit of an age which had little faith in the marvellous,
and still less in the saint whose shrine had been plundered,
and his bones burnt at the suggestion of that self-willed
iconoclast Henry VIII. Becket's fame., however, survived
the rough handling of his fiercest assailants, to regain in
these days, through the kindliness: the crotchets, or the
religious sympathies of some able writers, no trifling share
of its olden fragrance.
But the truth regarding Becket is nearly as hard to
reach as the truth regarding the early days of Rome. From
the oldest accounts of him, penned chiefly by his devoutost
worshippers, themselves men of middling capacity, of the
narrowest culture, grossly superstitious even in that ago of
gross superstition, we only shape cut an image as unlike any
normal commixture of flesh and spirit, as the first toy you
give a baby is unlike aught seen in books of natural history.
Between their discrepancies, mistakes, contradictions, their
statements often doubtful, sometimes transparently untrue,
their wilful reticonces and wild exaggerations, their love
of fancifully profane comparisons, the prosing rhetoric of
one, the childish gossip of another, the feebl sophistries
and grovelling morality of almost all, the real story of
Becket's life fades, onewhile into a series of nursery tales,
anon transforms itself into a dull didactic romance for
pious young ladies.
This epitome of the career of a noted character in
our early English history is lucidly explained, and
the arguments are logically carried out, while
there exists no prejudice in the manner in which
this excellent article !: has been, done. " A
House Divided against Itself " is continued in
this division, and the interest is of a painful nature.
The enthusiastic partisan for the cause of the
King, Courtenay North,:sets out on her perilous
mission. She ;is, however, outwitted by a Round-
head in the disguise of a Cavalier, and she gives up
the precious packet. However, the deceiver can-
not read it, and on her refusing to do so she is
ordered out to execution. It is not yet known
whether the threat is carried out, as the story
leaves off at the critical
,juncture when the signal
of execution is about to be given. The paper on
" Old Maids" is a very amusing and edifying