The Sun.
London, England, 1827-02-01 00:00:00

AY EVENING, FEBRUAR,Y 1, 1827.

MAGAZINE DAY.

THE NEW MONTHLY

Commences with Sketches of the Irish Bar, from the
pen of Mr. Shicl, and certainly no -lawyer on the other
side of the Channel can pretend to show off the Gen-
tlemen of the long robe with more spirit, inure feeling,
or more indignant recollection burning over the degrada-
tion, fancied as well as real, to which the ambitious mind
of his countrymen is subjected by the system of exclusion,
barring their learned lawyers from the dignity of the
Bench. The present sketch of Mr. Bellew, contains many
interesting particulars of the past as well as present state
of the Irish Bar. His character of this Orator, is
summed up with a plentiful store of epithets of the first
order, and good enough to serve for fiftcen different cha-
racters. The biographer says, " whether I consider him
(Mr. Bellew) as an individual, as the representative of the
old Catholic aristocracy at the Bar, as a politician, reli-
gionist, or a pensioner, I look upon this able, up-
right,
,slarch, solemn,. diflaclk,, pragmatical, bylexible,
uncbmprOmising,-obstinate, pious, moral, good, benevo-
lent, high-minded, and exceedingly wrong-headed per-
son, as in every way entitled to regard." Now this ca-
talogue of worthies is long enough to constitute a saint,
far less a lawyer, but Mr. Shiel delights in pouring. forth
the vials of his professional love as well as those of his pa-
triotic wrath--and he does both with all the-freedom of an
orator, and all the graceful diction of a Poet. There is
much amusement in this Number, and some interesting
particulars of Turkey, the ruins of the Great Babylon, and
Sketchei of Parisian Society. We select the following
anecdote of Sheridan, and some sweet stanzas.

STANZAS.

Like the young spring-buds, sweet and bright,
And like the lark, and like the light,
And like the wind, and like the wave,
E'en such is Hope : Buds find a grave,
The lark gives place unto the owl,
The light is quench'd in darkness foul,
The winds are fickle, waves betray,
And Hope is falser far than they.
Awl like the dew upon the thorn,
And like the blushful break of morn,
And like a vessel harbour'd well,
And like a song, and like a spell,
E'en such is Man : the dew exhales,
The morning 'a past, the vessel sails,
The song is sweet but swiftly flies,
The spell is burst, and Man he dies.
And Tike the azure skies of June,
And like the sun, and like the moon,
And like a bowl, and like a smile,
And like a taper's burning pile,
E'en such is Life : the changed sky rains,
The sun goes down, the pale moon wanes,
The bowl is drain'd, that smile's the last,
The taper's spent, and Life is past.

J. C. N.

SHERIDAN'OI INTRODUCTION INTO THE CLUFI.—It is proper to
premise, that when any gentleman is desirous of being a member
of Brookes's, it is necessary that two members should propose him,
and that his name, with those of the proposers, should be inscribed
on a board over the fireplace of the club-room, for one montk be-
fore his election or rejection is decided. This must be by ballot,
and if even one black ball be thrown into the nrn, the candidate
cannot be admitted. This rule, in the olden time, .was, like the
Median and Persian laws, never infringed: perhaps it is not now;
bets the present members of the anb.are not so rigid as to the
character, qtudity, and fortune of candidates, as their fathers were.
Twenty years ago, the Club was select, and by no means numer-
ous : a citizen or merchant could seldom or never obtain admis-
sion ; and wealth alone, without high blood or transcendent talent,
was generally excluded. Within a few late years, the number of
members has been extended to fifteen hundred ; consequently
wealth, or a seat in the Opposition, has been a pretty certain pass-
port for admission. Eleetion, by ballot, however, still continues;
and the only person who ever became a member without this
ceremony, was his present Majesty, then Prince of Wales. His
Royal Highness entered the Club in order to have more frequent
intercourse with Fox; and, on his first appearance, every member
got up and welcomed him in by acclamation. But, to return to
the subject of the prevent anecdote.
When Fox first became acqUainted with Sheridan, he was so
delighted with his company and brilliant conversation, that he
was exceedingly anxious to get him admitted as a member of
Brookes's, which he himself was in the habit of frequenting every
night: Sheridan was accordingly propoied ; and though on
several occasions every gentleman was earnestly canvassed to vote
for him, yet he was sure to have one black hall whenever he was
ballotted for ; which was, of course, sufficient to disqualify him.
This was carried on for many months : and it was at length
resolved on by his friends to find out who the person was that so
inveterately opposed the admission of the orator. Accordingly,
iperlef,juidfiheeeecwouoludldnohiarperminiodcencepdrohoinafs
otof
nbolahelek-dbeasileehnist Majestyfor
the balls were marked, and old George Selwyn (whose aristocratic
th re him-e
ge-
nerations at least) was discovered to be the hostile party. This
circumstance was told ;the same evening to • Mr. Sheridan, who
t be put up again as usual, and
enmduigehtof the matter might be left to himself.
dheesgigreedd .thtlaiattthehfiaarthnaemr
conduct
Accordingly, on the next evening, when he was to he ballotted
for, Sheridan arrived at Brookes'e, arm-in-arm with the Prince
of Wale., just ten minutes before the balloting began. Being
shown into the candidates' waiting-room, the waiter was ordered
to tell Mr. Selwyn that the Prince desired to speak with him,
in the room below stairs, immediately. Selwyn obeyed the sum-
mons without delay; and Sheridan, to whom, by the by, he had
no personal dislike, entertained him for half an hour with a po-
litical story which interested him very much, but which, of
course, bad no foundation 'in truth. During Selwyn's absence
the balloting went on, and Sheridan was chosen ; which circum-
stance was announced to himself and the Prince by the entrance
of the waiter, who made the preconcerted signal, by stroking his
chin with his hand. Sheridan immediately got up, and apologising
for an absence of a few minutes, told Mr. Selwyn that " the
Prince would finish the narrative, the catastrophe of which he
would find very remarkable." He now found his own way
up-stairs, and his name being sent in to Fox, he came out, took
him by the hand, and introduced him with all due formality to
the Club ; and all the members of which welcomed him ky shak-
ing hands, and with the most flattering compliments. Sheridan
was now in his glory.
The Prince, in the mean time, was left in no enviable situa-
tion ; for he had not the least idea of being left to conclude a story,
the thread of which (if it had a thread) he had entirely forgotten,
and which, perhaps, his eagerness to serve Sheridan's cause pre-
vented him from listening to with sufficient attention, to take up
where Sheridan had dropped it. Still, by means of his auditor's
occasional assistance in the way of prompting, he contrived, with
a good deal of hamming and hawing, to get on pretty well for a
few minutes; when a question from old Selwyn, as to the Rat
contradiction of a part of his Royal Highness's story to that of
Sheridan, completely posed him, and he stuck fast. Having en-
deavoured to set himself right by floundering about a good deal,
and finding that it was all labour in vain, the Prince at length
burst out into a loud laugh at the ludicrous figure which he cut,
and exclaimed " D—n the fellow !—to leave me to finish his in-
fernal story, of which I know as much as the child unborn ! But
never mind, Selwyn, as Shery does not seem inclined to come back,
let us go up-stairs, and I dare say Fox, or some of them, will be
able to tell you all about it."
They adjourned to the Club Room accordingly, and old George,
who did not know what to make of the matter, had his eyes corn;
pletely opened to the whole manoeuvre, when on his entrance,
Sheridan, rising, made him a low bow, and thus addressed him :
" Pon my honour, Mr. Selwyn, I beg pardon for being absent so
long; but the fact is, I happened to drop into devilish good com-
pany :—they have just been making me a member,—without even
one black
ball,—and here I am." " The devil they have!" ex-
claimed George.--
Facts speak for themselves," replied Sheridan ;
" and as I know you are very glad of the circumstance, accept' my
grateful thanks
(pressing hie hand on his breast, and 'bowing
very low), .for your friendly suffrage. And now, if you will sit
downhy me, I'll finish my story; for I dare Say his Royal High-

ness has found conside►able difficulty in doing justice to its merits."
" Your story ! It's all a lie, from beginning to end !" screamed
out Selwyn, amidst immoderate fits of laughter from all parts of
the room. The old man now sat down, growling, at the nearest
whist-table ; but, in a short time, he could not help joining in the
peal. of mirth which were occasioned by the trick that had been
played him ; and before the evening was over, he shook hands
with Shericien, and kindly wished him welcome.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.
The very mention of this popular miscellany conjures
up images of Cervantic gravity, broad humour, rapid
sketches of character, and exaggerated stories of sentiment.
In the two first of these the present Number is eminently
successful. The contribution entitled " On Murder con-
sidered as one of the Fine Arts," is as amusing a specimen
of grave irony, as we have seen for some years. Swift
might have been proud to acknowledge it. We give
the following extract as a specimen of its merits :
" A philosophic friend, well known for his philanthropy and
general benignity, suggests that the subject chosen ought also to
have a family of young children wholly dependent on his exer-
tions, bit,witrof deepening the pathos. And, nodnubtedly, this
is a judicious caution. Yet I would not insist too keenly on this
condition. Severe good taste unquestionably demands ,it; but
still, where the man was otherwise unobjectionable in point of
morals and health, I would not look with too curious a jealousy
to a restriction which might have the effeet of narrowing the
artist's sphere.

"So ninth for the person. As to the time, the place, and the
tools, I have many things to say, which at present I have no
room for. The good sense of the practitioner has nsually directed
him to night and privacy. Yet there have not been wanting cases
where this rule was departed from with excellent effeet. In re-
spect to time, Mrs. Ruscombe's ease is a beautiful exception,
which I have already noticed ; and in respect both to time and
place, there is a line exception in the Annals of Edinburgh,
(year 1805), familiar to every child in Edinburgh, but which has
unaccountably been defrauded of its due portion of fame amongst
English amateurs. The case I mean is that of a porter to one of
the Banks, who was murdered whilst carrying a bag of money, in
broad day-light, on turning out of the High-street, one of the
most public streets in Europe, and the murderer is to this hour
undiscovered.

Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempue,
Singula dun capti circuruvectamur amore.
" And now, gentlemen, in conclusion, let me again solemnly
disclaim all ,pretenvions on my own part, to the character of a pro-
fessional man. I never attempted any murder in my life, except
in the year 1801, upon the body of a tom-cat ; and that turned
out differently from my intention. My purpose, I own, was down-
right murder. Semper ego auditor tantum ?' said I, nunquarane
reponam ?' And I went down stairs in search of torn at one
o'clock on a dark night, with the animus,' and no doubt with
the fiendish looks of a murderer. But when I found him he was
in the act of plundering the pantry of bread and other things..-..-
Now this gave a new turn to the affair ; for the time being one of
general scarcity, when even Christians were reduced to the use of
potato-bread, rice-bread, and all sorts of things, it was downright
treason in a tom-cat to be wasting good wheaten-bread in the way
he was doing. It instantly became a patriotic duty to put him to
death ; and as I raised aloft and shook the glittering steel, I fan-
cied myself rising like Brutus, effulgent from a crowd of patriots ;
and, as I stabbed him, I

4 called aloud on Tully'a name,
And bade the father of hie country hail !'"

As amateurs of murder ourselves (thmigh, like the writer
in Blackwood, we have never practised), we cannot refrain
from entering our protest against that villainous habit which
some bunglers have lately introduced of slicing the jugular.
It is a very vulgar way of doing business, besides it is apt
to dirty the artist. We recommend instead (as a good im-
plement for murder) a dose of subtle opium; it sits warns and-
comfortable on the stomach ; is quiet and unassuming in its
operations, and above all, saves a vast deal of time.--
Consider how ugly a gentleman looks with his throat cut ;
on the other hand, how pensive, how sentimental, is his
countenance, as the colour flows and ebbs under the influ-
ence of resistless opium. We recommend this hint to
the serious consideration of all future artists; who if by
way of amusing an idle hour, they ever feel inclined to
try their hands on a murder, will find their account in
doing it by means of . poison. "Sn odgrass's Narrative
of the Burmese War," is a well-written account of that im-
portant feature in our Oriental Annals. " The Gallery of
the German Prose Classics," is prosing; " Selwyn in search
of a Daughter," as good as the usual run of Magazine ar-
ticles, and. the verses " On the Death of a Daughter"
are pensive and poetical; we give them entire :

ON THE DEATH OF A DAUGHTER.
'Tis o'er—hi that long sigh she past—
Th' enfranchised spirit soars at last !

And now I gaze with tearless eye
On what to view was agony.
That panting heart is tranquil now,
And Heav'nly calm that ruffled brow,
And those pale lips which feebly strove
To force one parting smile of love,
Retain it yet—soft, placid, mild,
As when it grac'd my living child!
Oh ! I have watch'd with fondest care,
To see my opening flow'ret blow,
And felt the joy which parents share,
The pride which fathers only know.

AndA h
nd ma vaer
ke,a the
dt
that long,ten long night,
d erflo
flower rdecay,
e a y
Not torn abruptly from the sight,
But slowly, sadly waste away
The spoiler came, yet paused, as though
So meek a victim check'd his arm,
Half gave, and half withheld the blow,
As forced to strike, yet loath to harm.
We saw the fair cheek's fading bloom,
The ceaseless canker-worm consume,
And gazed on hopelessly,
Till the mute suffering pictured there
Wrung from a father's lip a prayer,
Oh God !—the prayer his child might die.
Ay, front his lip—the rebel heart
E'en then refused to bear its part.
But the sad conflict's past—'tis o'er,
That gentle bosom throbs no more!
The spirit's freed—throngh realms of light
Faith's eagle-glance pursues her flight
To other worlds, to happier skies ;
Hope dries the tear which sorrow weepeth,
No mortal sound the voice which cries,
" The damsel is not dead but sleepeth !"
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

" METROPOLITAN IMPROVEMENTS."--A locally inte-
resting paper, and acceptable to all those who love to
learn the process by which a blind alley is transformed at
the ned of one of our architectural necromancers into a
splendid street of palaces. The article headed "Etiquette,"
is manifestly from the pen of a leveller, he eschews it as
a young beginner does olives, and puts forwards many
whimsical reasons for his radical tendencies. In addition
to humour, "Etiquette" possesses thought, and this is say-
ing a great deal for a Magazine Contributor. " A Dis-
sertation on Dinners," has given us quite an appetite to
read it, we shall dine cm hour earlier in consequence.
" The Spells of Home," by Mrs. Hemans, is as classical
and elegant as her poetry is apt to be. On the whole,
this number is throughout exemplary.

THE MONTHLY REVIEW.
A good number enough, as Sancho Panza•obeerved of
Signor Camacho's wedding dishes, but griivously stinted
in point of quantity. This, however (in literature at
least), is nothing new ; for, if a iiublisher hall quantity, he
cares little for quality, and vice versa. Now with respect
to the last clause of the above sentence, the present

" Monthly Review" is highly efficient ; all its articles are
pungent, racy, terse; but, when they treneh upon history,
are downright failures. In proof of this we refer our
readers to the attack made last month on Mr. Sharon
Turner's Henry the Eighth ; an attack whose prejudice
was only equalled by its presumption, and its presumption
by its ignorance. The review of Mr. Banim's Tales of
the O'Hara Family, in this February number, is just such
a one as their highly-gifted author deserves; it is discri-
minating and expressive, without being compelled to re-
sort to the eulogistic generalities beneath which a spurious
critic strives to conceal his deficiency. The article entitled
" Biography and Obituary for. 1827," is just,-partilcularly
the remark upon Lord Gifford. What, indeed, does the
editor of that work mean by devoting whole pages to
such authorlings as Michael Kelly, Miss Jane Taylor (a
nursery poetess, if we remember right), Mrs. Watts, and
Lindley Murray, and dismissing Lord Gifford, the first
lawyer of the present century, with a few pages of absurd
comment; and Charles Mills' the profoundest historiarof
his day, without even a word ? Such discretion speaks
for itself. " The Confessions of an Old Batchelor" i
somewhat too laudatory ; the book, though goOd, is far
from superlative, and is, as the critic shrewdly observes,
fictitious. It will pass muster nexertheless, as will also
the present number of the Monthly, wLich we recommend
to the notice of all those who can afford tet spend half-a-
crown on the improvement of their minds.