The Sun.
London, England, 1857-06-01 00:00:00

MAGAZINE DAY.

Blackwood.—Glorious news for the readers of
Blackwood! Bulwer again with all his vivacity,
with all his originality, with all his genius, faci' e
princeps among Maga's noble band of contributors.
Here, in fact, is the commencement of his new
story, under the rather eccentric title " What will
he do with it ?" Another great composite fiction
—"
By Pisistratus Caxton"—delineative of the
" Varieties of English Life." No historical
romance taking us back to the days of Epaminon-
das—to the age of the Plantagenets—to the epoch
of Boccaccio—to the comparatively recent times of
our own Bolingbroke. But in lieu of this, some-
thing far better from a great master-hand like that
of Bulwer Lytton—a picture of ourselves "as we
are" seen by those keen eyes of his, with our sorrows,
and our hopes, and our loves, and our aspirations
—all passed in turn thro' the alembic of his gene-
rous sympathies ! It is a new version of " England
and the English !" There are no less than eight
chapters in the present (the initial) instalment.
And it is not difficult to conjecture throngh those
eight chapters the scope and diversity of the ornate
and elabora' e work of art of which those eight chap-
ters are but the commencement. The dry humour of
our Author twinkles •out upon us even through the
terse explanatory heading of Chap. One, intimating
thatit (ch. i.)is descriptive of various matters of note,
" conveyed in artless dialogue after the manner of
Herodotus, Father of History (Mother unknown)."
One of those quaint thoughts one marvels no one
ever lit upon before—a scholastic freak that dear
old Austin Caxton himself would have chuckled
over—and one that another dear old friend of us all
(Charles Lamb) would have relished like a nut !
Already we can see enough of the new tale by-Our
English Sir Walter—this strangely-entitled story
of "What will he do with it?"--to recognise i.s
striking dissimilarity from all its famous and diver-
sified predecessors. It promises to be as different
from them, one and all, as they have been each
different from the other. Yet, so to speak, with
something generically kindred to " My NOW 1," as li
befits a purely wholesome English story penned by
no other pen than that of Pisistratus Caxton, vivi-
fied by a genius ever sparkling, fresh, and adoles-
cent. As to that genius—nothing appears t) pall,
or fade, or mar in any way its " infinite variety."
Its advance is still steadily—Upwards. Read the in-
troductory chapters of " What will he do with it ?"
and they read with all the exhilarating vivacity of
" Pelham" —but with ripened wisdom glowing
through their animation. The tree is not all leaves
now, sprinkled with casual blossoms, hut has golden
fruit .clustering in among the branches plentifully.
Everything around him appears to be strangely
suggestive to this vigilant and meditative observer.
The scene opens in the midst of an English Fair
upon a village green in Surrey. Sir E. Lytton has
; not sauntered through one of those gay, homely
rural scenes to no purpose ! He has not (to speak
of these things in common parlance) talked with
an Astrologer for nothing ! He has not peered
himself into the mystic fairyland, dreamland, cloud-
land of a Magio Crystal for nothing I Hence—
Merle the Cobbler Hence—the egg-shaped ball
of a glassy something, in the which little Juliet
Araminta sees the reflection of her own sweet face
distorted—" so long 1" Already—lightly sketched
in, though they are as yet (and that necessarily)—
the characters introduced are, many of them,
radiant with originality. Waife, indeed, is a veri-
table creation—a wonderful creation : worthy of
being ranked with Burley The Ruined Genius,
or with David Fallen in " Not so bad as we Seem."
Here is the sketch of GENTLEMAN WAIFE—THE
I STROLLING PLAYER.

"Yes, the Bandit, who appeared but in the las
scene, and even then uttered not a word, was the once
great actor on that itinerant Thespian stage, known
through many a fair for his exuberant humour, his im-
promptu jokes, his arch eye, his redundant life of drol-
lery, and the strange pathos or dignity with which he
could suddenly exalt a jester's part, and call forth tears
in the startled hush of laughter; he whom the cobbler
had rightly said, " might hare made his fortune at
Covent Garden." There was the remnant of the old
popular mime!—all his attributes of eloquence reduced
to dumb show Masterly touch of nature and of art in
this representation of him—touch which all, who had
even in former years seen and heard him on that stage,
felt simultaneously. He came in for his personal por-
tion of dramatic tears. Waife, Wage!' cried many a
village voice, as the little girl led him to the front of the
stage. He hobbled ; there was a bandage round his eyes,
The plot in describing the accident that had befallen
the Bandit, idealised the genuine infirmities of the man
—infirmities that had befallen him since he was last seen
in that village. He was blind of one eye; he had be-
come crippled ; some malady of the trachea or larynx
had seemingly broken up the once joyous key of the old
pleasant voice. He did not trust himself to speak,
even on that stage, but silently bent his head to the
rustic audience ; and Vance, who was an habitual play-
goer, saw in that simple salutation that the man was an
artistic actor."
Sophy, the little girl who can't see into the Crystal,
and "Grandy," as she calls poor broken down
Waife, her grandfather—are as unlike another
little girl and her grandfather, familiar, long since,
to the readers of English Story, as any human
beings can well be. Yet, in their mysterious wan-
derings together, do these two bear a dim resem-
blance, in some faint degree, to Little Nell and
her Grandfather, in the• " Old Curiosity Shop."
The ghost-like semblance of this shadow of a shade
of a similarity, we doubt not, will disappear alto-
gether as the tale advances in its elaboration. We
wish much, very much indeed, however, that some of
the names selected for the dramatispersonce in "What
will he do with it ?" were not provokingly and con-
' fusingly identical with other names with which we
have elsewhere become familiarised. Merle, the
astrological cobbler, for example, reminding us of
the Jew Gambler in Lever's story of "The Mar-
tins." And Rugge, the strolling manager, clashing
in our memory with Pancks's legal friend at Pen-
tonville, in Dickens's " Little Dorrit." Enough,
however, very nearly bas been said in regard to
this notable introductory contribution to the June
number of Blackwood. It is Maga in her glory
with Bulwer in his glory—a dear favourite of us
all, redivivits I So—may they long flourish together.
So—may we linger enthralled for many months to
come over the pages tending to reveal to us, bit by
bit, What he will do with it ! . . . . As Sir
Edward Lytton's story begins, Mrs. Oliphant's
story is brought, as we anticipated last month it
would be brought, to a conclusion. It confirms our
admiration for the genial and graceful abilities of the
authoress. It is a charming tale charmingly told, and
one that closes (save in regard to the one fact that
it does close) to everyone's satisfaction. There is
one lapsus, however, in the plot, that, honestly be
it said, altogether passes our comprehension. Mrs.
Oliphant describes and Blackwood's Magazine prints
the solecism as a mere matter of course—How
Lord Winterbourne's title and estates are made the
subject of a Trial at the Assizes, instead of in the
House of Lords ! What does Mr. Warren say to
such a " slip" as this in the magazine, glorified
twenty years ago by the legal lore, as well as the
social drolleries of "Ten Thousand a Year ?" Has be
winced at it ? We have scarcely left ourselves lei-
sure to remark otherwise than cursorily of the seven
other contributions in this number of Blackwood,
—one of these seven contributions being a graceful
poetic celebration of Maga's Birthday, YEtatis, Five
Hundred. An art-critic ably surveys in one paper
the " Manchester Exhibition of Art-Treasures "
while a book-critic weighs in the balance, no less
ably in his way, the historical writings of Sir
Francis Palgrave. " Stewart's Practical Angler "
is examined scrutinisingly by another reviewer;
and " China and Japan ' are scanned by yet an-
other contributor to Maga, through the lens of
certain recent " American Explorations." A
tolerably familiar serial by this time, the delinea-
tion of " Phases of Clerical Life " —is continued.
A new serial, portraying some fresh " Seaside
Studies," will be found wisely descriptive of the
Scilly Islands," in this its first instalment. . So—
flourishes Blackwood perennially. And so—
"And long may she flourish in beauty and worth,
The loved of the muses, the pride of the North
Long, long may she shine in her bountiful light,
Like the ruddy Aurora that kindles the night !
And when she has doubled the span of her age,
With the vigout of youth ever stamped on her page,
'May some 'minstrel in rapture and triumph declare,
That none can with Maga, ONE THOUSAND compare.