The Sun.
London, England, 1860-01-05 00:00:00

The Cornhill Magazine.

We do not know when we have been better
pleased with the first number of a new periodical.
Not only are the majority of the articles excellent
in themselves, but the general tone of the whole
collection is pervaded by that rarest of the senses—
common sense. The Cornhill Magazine, as its name
would seem to indicate, is characterised by an utter
absence of all pretence or frivolity—it is a good
substantial reality, not a highly-decorated show.
As such we very gladly give it our cordial greet-
ing, and heartily wish it all the success which, if
it carry out the prediction of its initial number, it
promises richly to deserve. Anthony Trollope
opens the volume with the first instalment of
a new tale, " Framley Parsonage," which, like
the best productions of that author's pen, abounds
with a quiet humour and with sober sense. The
third chapter, " Caldicotes," which introduces us
to the varied circle then assembled, is capital. The
portraits are highly finished individualities, and
among them we recognise some old acquaintances
from Barchesber. The second article, "The Chinese
and the Outer Barbarians," is by no less an autho-
rity than Sir John Bowring ; while an article on
" Our Volunteers " has Sir John Burgoyne for its
author. Mr. Lewes' "Studies of Animal Life" are
likely to fill the reader with amazement ; assuredly
in the world of nature there are more (living) things
than are dreamt of in our philosophy ! Mr.
Thackeray himself commences one of his delightful
fictions, entitled " Lovol the Widower." A little
initial illustration exhibits a party walking in
serene composure, utterly unconscious that for
head-pieces they are furnished with veritable
muffs, sable, or ermine, as the case may be.
The (author's own) illustration is suggested, of
course, by the opening of Mr. Thackeray's serial,
e.g. :
li " Who shall be the hero of this tale ? Not I who write it.
I am the but Chorus of the Play. I make remarks on the
conduct of the characters; I narrate their simple story.
There is love and marriage in it ; there is grief and disap-
pointment ; the scene is in the parlour, and the region be-
neath tho parlour. No ; it may be the parlour and kitch n,
in this instance, are on the same level. There is no high
life; unless, to be sure, you call a baronet's widow a lady in
high life; and some ladies may be, while some certainly are
not. I don't think there's a villain in the whole perform-
ance. There is an abominable selfish old woman, certainly ;
an old highwayrobber; an old sponger on other people's kind-
ness; an old hunter of Rath and Cheltenham boarding-houses
(about which how can I know anything, never having been
in a boarding-house at Bath or Cheltenham in my lifel ?) ;
an old swindler of tradesmen, tyrant of servants, LT'y of
the poor—who, to be sure, might do duty for a villain,but
she considers herself as virtuous a woman as ever was born.
The heroine is not faultless (ah ! that will be a great relief
to some folks, for many writers' good women are, you know,
so very insipid). The principal personage you may very
likely think to be no better than a muff. But is many a
respectable man of our acquaintance much better? and do
muffs know that they are what they are, or, knowing it,
are they unhappy? Do girls decline to marry one if he is
rich ? Do we refuse to dine with one ? I listened to one at
Church last Sunday, with all the women crying and sobbing;
and, oh, dear me ! how finely he preached Don't we give
him great credit for wisdom and eloquence in the House of
Commons ? Don't we give him important commands in
the army ? Can you, or can you not, point out one who
has been made a peer? Doesn't your wife call one in the
moment any of the children are ill ? Don't we read his
dear poems, or even novels? Yes; perhaps even this one
is read and written by—Well ? Quid rides ? Do you
mean that I am painting a portrait which hangs before me
every morning in the looking-class when I am shaving ?
Apra ? Do you suppose that I suppose that I have riot
infirmities like my neighbours ? Am I weak ? It is noto-
rious to all my friends there is a certain dish I can't re-
sist ; no, not if I have already eaten twice too much at
dinner. So, dear, sir, or madam, have you your weakness
your irresistible dish of temptation? (or if you don't
know it, your friends do.) No, dear friend, the chances
are that you and I are not people of the highest intel-
lect, of the largest fortune, of the most ancient
family, of the most cousummatu virtue, of the most fault-

less beauty in face and figure. We are no heroes nor
angels; neither are we fiends from abodes unmentionable,
black assassins, treacherous lagos, familiar with stabbing
and poison—murder our amusement, daggers our play-
things, arsenic our daily bread, lies our conversation, and
forgery our common handwriting. No, we are not mon-
sters of crime, or angels walking the earth—at least I know
one of us who isn't, as can be shown any day at home if
the knife won't cut or the mutton comes up raw. But we
ate not altogether brutal and unkind, and a few folks like
us. Oar poetry is not as goad as Alfred Tennyson's, but
we can turn a couplet for Miss Fanny's album : our jokes
are not always first-rate, but Mary mid her mother smile
very kindly when papa tells his story or makes his pun.
We have many weaknesses, but we are not ruffians of
crime. No more was my friend Lovel."

Another contribution from the same hand, being
the last in the number, is the first of a series of
" Roundabout Papers," and relates to "a lazy, idle
boy." Nothing can be more delightful, and we
commend it to all who take up the magazine. The
article on " The Search for Sir John Franklin"
will be read with interest, being from the pen of
one of the members of the the last melancholy but
successful expedition. From a very interesting and
discriminating paper on " A Man of Letters of the
Last Generation " poor dear Leigh Hunt—we
quote the following felicitous remarks .

As few men brought their personality more thoroughly
into their writings, so few men, out of the bookworm pall
aforesaid, were more thoroughly saturated with literature.
He saw everything through books, or saw it dimly. Speak-
ing of his return from Italy, he writes • I seemed more
at home in England, even with Arcadian idealisms, than I
had been in the land nearer their birthplace; for it was in
England I first found them in books, and with England
even my Italian books were more associated than with Italy
itself." And speaking of the Parnaso Italiano, he goes
on :—" This book aided Spencer himself in filling my Eng-
lish walks with visions of gods and nymphs,—of enchan-
tresses and magicians; for the reader might be surprised to
know to what a literal extent such was the case." He used
to "envy" the " household waggon that one meets with in
sequestered lanes" for its wanderings, but was daunted at
the bare imagination of "parish objections" and raffish
society ; and so he ever recurred to " the stationary domes.
ticities." He failed in practical life, because he was not
guided in it by literature. He could only apprehend
so much of it as he found in the cyclopredia. On the
other hand, he could render all that literature could
give. His memory was marvellous; and to try him in
history, biography, bibliography, or topography, was to
draw forth an oral "article" on the topic in question.
Ask him where was the Ouse, and ha would tell you of al/
the rivers so called ; what were the books on a given sub-
ject, and you had the list; "who was Colonel O'Kelly ?"
and you had a sketch of the colonel, of the horse "Eclipse,"
Id Epsom, and of horse-racing in general, as distinguished
from the racing of the ancients or the modern riderless
races of Italy—where, as in Florence, may still be seen a
speciinen of the biga sweeping round the meta" fervidis
evitata rotis." His conversation was an exhaustless Curio-
sities of Literature. Tho delighted visitor read his host,—
but it was from a talking book, with cordial voice natu-
rally pitched to every change of subject, animated gesture,
sparkling eyes, and overflowing sympathy. In society
Leigh Hunt was ever the perfect gentleman, not in the
fashion, but always the scholar and the noble-minded man.
But his diffidence was disguised, rather than removed, by
his desire to agree with those around him, and to fall in with
the humour of the hour. He was better known to his
reader, either in his books, or, best of all, in his home,
where familiarity tested his unfailing courtesy, daily inter-
course brought forth the persevering goodness of his heart
and conscience, and poverty (lid but fetch out the thorough-
going generosity that not only " would share" but did share
the last crust.

Only two contributions remain unmentioned.
One, " The First Morning of 1860," being a poetic
aspiration against war—the other, Father Prout's
" Inauguaration Ode," which is capital, and well
worthy of its right humorous author. Its advice—
sound sensible advice—has been judiciously carried
out by the editor : with a verse or two from which
genial greeting we cannot do better than conclude
our notice of this new and promising aspirant in
the field of periodical literature :

Proffer good material—
A genuine Cereal,
Value for twelvepence, and not dear at twenty.
Such wit replenishes thy Horn of Plenty 1
Nor wit alone dispense,
But sense :
And with thy sparkling Xerez
Let us have Cores.
Of loaf thou hast no lack,
Nor set, like Shakspere's zany, forth,
With lots of sack,
Of bread one pennyworth.
Sprightly, and yet sagacious,
Funny, yet farinaceous,
Dashing, and yet methodical—
So may thy periodical,
On this auspicious morn,
Exalt its horn,
Thron'd on the Hill of Corn!
Of aught that smacks of sect, surplice, or synod,
Be thy grain winnow'd 1
Nor deign to win our laugh
With empty chaff.
Slam aught o'er which dullard or bigot gloats;
With meal from Titus Oates
Or flour of Joseph Miller.
There's corn in Egypt still
(Pilgrim from Cairo to Cornhilll)
Give each his fill.
But all comers among
Treat best the young ;
Fill the big brothers' knapsacks from thy bins,
But slip the Cup of Love in Benjamin's.

The Universal Review of Politics, Literature, and

Social bcience. Allen and Co.

There is an article on Richard Brinsley Sheridan,
which is very deserving of perusal. It is observed
at the commencement that " of all the eminent men
of these latter days whose lives have been thought
worthy of embalmment in printer's ink, Sheridan
seems to have met with nearly the worst treatment
at the hands of his biographers." The books that
have appeared on the remarkable man are then cri-
ticised, and the most recent one is by an octogena-
rian, of the general merits of which a most unfavour-
able opinion is here recorded, although it is allowed
that it presents us with desirable information.
After a well-written and comprehensive essay on
the chief points of the life of this distinguished in-
dividual, the critic thus concludes :
" Human character is always more or less of a riddle, and
the key to that of Sheridan has not yet been, perhaps will
never be, given us in full. How much of his careless, idle,
procrastinating ways sprang from his natural self how
much from cool forethought, aiding and abetting a secret
love of display and startling surprises ? He seemed ut-
terly to hate all needless and much needful exertion, and
yet he could work hard and steadily for particular ends.
Sometimes the previous idleness enhanced immeasurably
the results of his sudden industry. The last scenes of ono
of his most popular plays, " Pizarro," were actually being
written while the first acts were performing on the stage.
We have seen how nearly a former success of his hovered
on the brink of a more serious failure. At other times it
seemed that nothing whatever could save him from delibe-
rately starving out the life of some hopeful literary bant-
ling, or from shutting the door on some fair scheme of per-
sonal advancement. He could bravo a world in arms to win
his wife, he could wait patiently for the right moment to
assert his rank as an orator and a statesman, but he never
could be brought to look into his own pecuniary affairs? or
to decline paying twice over for bills sent in a second time
by pure mistake. . . . That he had many rare and
winning gifts of mind and soul; that his impulses were
mainly right and noble; that most of those who knew him
best seem also to have loved him most dearly; that his
ambition, large as it was and growing what it fed on, sel-
dom, if ever, outran his high-toned honesty of
_purpose, or
turned his proud self-reliance into uncharity anu overween-
ing self-conceit ; that he loved his political principles, how-
ever faulty they may have been, better than party, and
never sacrificed either to a greed for worldly advancement
at any price ; that he had a fine scorn for hypocritieal pro-
' tences of every kind, and a sense of honour finer on the
whole than most gentlemen of his time or ours—are con-
clusions which the candid reader will hold us fairly war-
ranted in drawing from the facts within our reach."
A new tale is commenced, called " Sir Everard's
Daughter," which promises well, and displays some
correct definitions of character. Sir Everard him-
self is a fine specimen of an old English country
gentleman. There are two very instructive papers
on recent works of importance thathave been added
to the stores of our literature, both being valu-
able in themselves and useful for reference.
One is the diaries and correspondence of Sir George
Rose, and the other the autobiography of Lord
Dundonald. The opinions expressed on the works
of" Mary Anne Schimmelpennick" on the principles
of Beauty may attract the reader. On the whole,
there is a great deal of solid reading of various
styles to render this number a very readable one,
and political students will find matter for reflection
in the details of the Shipping Interest and the re-
marks on Finance, which form portions of the
contents.

RECOVERY OF THE EUPIIEMIA.—This vessel,
trading from Montrose to London, was sunk on the 14th
ult. in the north channel of Gravesend Reach, nearly off
Coalhouso Point, from having come in collision with the
screw steamer Lady Eglinton, belonging to the British and
Irish Steam Packet Co. The Euphemia was cut down to
the water's edge and sank immediately, affording the crew
but short notice for saving themselves in the darkness
of a bitterly cold night. Happily all hands were rescued,
and forwarded to London by Mr. Matthews, agent to the
Shipwrecked Mariners' Society. The task of recovering the
wreck from a depth of 23 feet having been undertaken by
the Patent Derrick Company, the smallest of their two
floating machines, under the joint superintendence of Mr.
Bishop, the inventor, and Captain Atkins, adjusted the ne-
cessary lifting chains during Tuesday under the sunken and
,mud-embedded craft. Yesterday, notwithstanding the con-
tinuance of the south-westerly gales, the derrick succeeded
in raising up the crippled Euphemia and bringing her to the
surface. The recovered vessel was then taken to Gravesend
Reach, firmly held in the grip of the powerful little derrick,
and placed on shore last evening in front of the Clifton
Baths for examination as to the extent of the injury sustained
through the collision.
LIVERPOOL COV.ORATION ACCOUNTS.—The an-
nual estimate of the revenue and expenditure for the first
official quarter of 1860 was presented to the Council at their
meeting yesterday (Wednesday). The estimated obligatory
expenditure was £91,062, including Town-hall establish-
ment, £3,974; constabulary force and police expenses,
£22,000; borough gaol, £10,000; county expenses, £7,500;
the estimated income was £107,074, including from interest
£21,053; markets, £8,500; fines for leases, £26,000; tenants
at will, £10,212 ; tobacco warehouses, £6,053. Birkenhead
estate, £6,400 ; prosecutions at assizes and sessions £lO,OOO.
This leaves a total surplus of £16,012, but if the discretion-
ary expenditure for schools and charities, amounting to
£7,402, and £7,890 for improvements already sanctioned by
the council were taken into consideration, this surplus
be diminished to a net available surplus of £720.