The Sun.
London, England, 1829-06-01 00:00:00

MAGAZINE DAY.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

There is much to blame and much to praise
in the present number of this well-known ma-
gazine. The political opinions throughout are
violent but imbecile, replete with bluster and all
that desperate spirit of infatuation which never
fails to beset a man advoCating a cause, of the
weakness of which he is conscious. Quern
Deus vult perdei e, Arius dementat—a species
•
of political hallucination with which this Northern
luminary has of late been severely visited. But
we willingly turn from its obscure to its brighter
side. " The Millennium,"as a half-serious, half-
hurlesque article, is ably and pleasantly written ;
en voici:—
" We have haul no spring; and the deficiency has been
ascribed to the storms by which the political world is
ag'tated having extended themselves to the elements, to
the indignation of Heaven at the moral depravity of the
age, snd to divers other causes,—all of them, it is con-
ceived, equally remote from the true one. It. fact, this
unseasonable privation is, we submit, not the effect, but
mediately the cause, of most of the extraordinary conver-
sions, and other events, which have lately astonished and
perplexed us. Due attention has not been paid to the
important philosophical fact, that the sun is an immense
body of fire, which is constantly consuming itself. Now,
the immortal Newton, whose
.theory is generally preferred
to that of Sir Richard Phillips, and his disciples, has told
us that gravitation, or the force by which the earth and
the other planets are retained in their respective orbits, is
in the direct ratio of the mass of the attracting body.
Here is a frightful prospect !—the density of the sun, and
consequently die force of gravity, constantly diminishing!
Thus, the radius of the earth's orbit is gradually increas-
ing, and we are continually receding from the centre
of our system. Again, this force of gravity varies also
inversely as the square of the distance : the farther we are
from the sun, the less powerful, in a much greater ratio,
is its attraction. So that here are two distinct causes
constantly and powerfully co-operating' to throw us to a
remoter distance from the source of light and heat ! It is
a sense of duty alone which induces us to avow the con-
viction which has been reluctantly forced upon us. The
orbit of this our planet will become gradually more and
more eccentric, until it shall at length revolve a comet
with a fiery tail,' visiting God knows what regions of
heat and cold, or possibly fly off in a tangent through in-
finite space. In consequence of the frightful rapidity with
which it is clear that the sun his been wasting away of
late, the deviations of the earth from its proper course have
been unusually great, to the manifest deterioration of the
seasons, and producing at the same time a corresponding
eccentricity in the conduct and opinions of its inhabitants.
Hence sudden changes in the minds of men, and the con-
stitutions of kingdoms; hence mercurial morality, end
political harlequinade, and other singular results, which,
of course are but a prelude to something still more ex-
traordinary, and more miraculous. Which is the most
simple theory—the one we have just developed, or that
which insists upon an alteration in the laws of nature, as
the consequence of a fluctuation in human principles and
opinions,"

The opening paragraph in the above extract is a
felicitous and evidently an ironical allusion to the
late declaration of a notorious Morning Jour-
nalist, that Providence had deprived us of our
spring gooseberries, peas, cabbages, and currants,.„
is revenge for our having permitted the Duke
of Norfolk to slip into the House of Lords, and
Lord Surrey into the House of Commons.
" Sketches of Italy and the Italians" is a desul-
tory collection of facts and anecdotes, on the
tritest of all topics. One fact, however, is curi-
ous, the account of the " Vipers of Lugano"—a
select and gifted spot which we should have no
objection to people with refractory Ultras.

" At the foot of Mount Salvador, on the lake of Lu-
gano, is a villa of considerable extent, the proprietor of
which has been compelled to abandon it, and neither by
war, nor pestilence, nor ghosts, but by the incredible mul-
titude of vipers in. its vicinity. This tribe of serpents,
which, since the classical work of Fontana en the viper,
and his experiments on its poison, has regained its ancient
importance, is annually increasing in this favourable
locality; and to an extent so formidable, that the founder
of the deserted villa must have been half-mad to build in
such a spot, if this pandemonium of serpents contained a
twentieth part of the numbers observed there a few years
later. Vipers are, notoriously migrating serpents; and
those of Mount Salvador take their departure when the
summer heats become oppressive, and swim in mighty
columns across the lake, to the cool an.l shady woods of
the oppogite shore. There they remain until late in the
autumn, and return in the sunny side of the lake, where
they pass the winter and spring oil the chalk slopes beneath
Mount Salvador. In their winter qua tcr., they coil and
twist themselves together int,' knotted clusters, from
which their peeping heads project, and give to the whole
mass the appearance of the imposing ball-thistle, or of the
head of Medusa."

" Songs of the Affections" are a series of
Poems from the classical, tender, and feminine
pen of Mrs. Hemans : they are in every respect
worthy of that most estimable lady. " What's
to be done ?" is a tale which has a sound praise-
worthy moral attached to it, viz., that the

greatest curse that can be bestowed on man is

a weak, vacillating, irresolute disposition. This
is instanced in the case of the Rev. Dr. Smi-

thers, the hero of the narrative, who entails his
"infirmity of purpose" on his children, and is

consequently, though unconsciously, their ruin.
The tone of this sensible little tale reminds us

in places of Miss Edgeworth :—catt °raise go
higher ? " Lays of the Periodicals" are pun-
gent, and trundle pleasantly into rhyme. The
allusion to Mr. Leigh Hunt's yellow breeches
is touching, and not to be thought of without
a sigh. " The Murderer's Last Night" is a dead

set at the tragic : it- is an elaborate— catalogue of
the horrors of a night preceding an execution ;

by dint of " twisted knees"—" rolling eye-
balls"—" stiffened joints"—" scorching sighs"—
" inarticulate screams," and so forth, the 'CI niter
has made out a strong case, in the manufac-
turing of which, however, dyspepsia (that great
nurse of the tremendous) has had no slight
share. There is nothing like indigestion to pro-
duce a striking effect, whether on paper or on
canvas. Dryde❑ and Fuseli used always to eat
for their conceptions, which were never so wild

or thrilling as when their stomachs were over-

loadect! " The Diver" is an energetic transla-

;ion, or rather paraphrase, of one of the most

vigorous of Schiller's ballads. " Noctes A inbro-

siance" are highly diverting ; we fancy we can
trace in them the rich, broad, and genuine hu-
mour of Odoherty, a writer who, if he could

be prevailed on to do himself justice, would con-
centrate ail his free and hearty powers of wit and

sarcasm on some one particular work, instead of
scattering them at random over periodicals, where
they are•read, admired, and forgotten. On the
whole, the present Magazine is able and enter-
taining, though we must confess ire have seen a
better number.

MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
The late extraordinary excitement kept up
with such absurd pertinacity by the anti-Catholic
press, is now, we perceive, going down ; even
the quick invention of malignity has no new lie
to invent, faction is below par, prejudice, bigotry,

" and all uncharitableness," have found their
fitting level. The periodical before us, a
.few
1 months since the most truculent, the most un-
sparing, the most madly self-opinionated of all
the anti-Papist alarmists, has aclengtkcome, or
rather we should say, is coining to its senses.
The Captain an& of the monthly journals find-
ing no one to back him, has retired with an in-
dignant but suppressed growl from the field,
Bigotry is at times a fine, and what is still
better, a matketable, a thriving commodity, but
no discreet journalist would choose to trade in
it when the article is below par. In this shrewd
spirit the present number is conceived. Its
Protestant murmurs are few and far between, it
is consequently much improved in manner as
well as matter. In the first article, " England,
Russia, and Turkey," we recognize the presence
of a vigorous and declamatory spirit, somewhat
of the " Croaker" cast of sentiment, but shrewd
nevertheless, and discriminating in the general
tendency of its reasonings. " The Fortune
Hunters " is a long amusing tale of the Gil
Bias school, abounding in character rather than
in incident. The scene is laid in Seville, among
the thieves and other " small gentry " of that
city, one of whom, a pious old harridan, whose
knavish desires are perpetually at war with her
devotional propensities, is spiritedly hit off. We
recommend this tale to our readers, it is of
a superior character. " The Conversazione,"
whose scene is in Portland-place, will be
at once recognised ; it is a smart sarcastic
dialogue on the men and things of the
day, interspersed here and there with a
few jokes more to be respected for their an

quity than their point. " Literary Property" is
dull, but practical, and therefore not to be lightly
spoken of. " The Pime►►to Family" is a capital
quiz an the hankerings after fashionable noto-
riety, of a wealthy pains-taking West India mer-
chant, who is cursed with a spendthrift wife and
a large family, the express image of their mo-
ther. This amusing article is drawn from life,
by one who is no indifferent observer of " the
world as it goes." We see the same Pimento
follies repeated day after day, in the restless
migrations of the East to the West end of the
metropolis. A house in any street or square—
provided it be West of the neutral territory of
Russell or Bedford Squares —is the Ultima
Thule of a thriving citizen's ambition. It is the
Promised Land of which he is ever striving to
catch a glimpse, from the Mount Pisgah of St.
Paul's. " Has England misgoverned Ireland,"
is a rambling incoherent diatribe full of eloquent
nothings ; " Theatrical matteis," a sensible
matter of fact essay on the passing drama and

its actors. " Notes of the mouth" are humorous
and satirical sallies, slightly discoloured with the
spleen of party, but not so much so as to de-

tract from the reader's amusement. We quote
the following well expressed reflections on the
death of the Countess of Derby, as a specimen
of the author's more serious style :
" Death, the only law that is never violated, is rapidly
striking away all the names that tigured in our youth.—
The bar, the senate, and the stage, have lost, in quick suc-
cession, nearly every eminent name. Lady Derby has just
gone : she who, when manners were a science, was their
supreme representative ; who, in the wittiest, gayest, and
must graceful day of the last century, was the observed of
all observers; the toast of the Hares, Townshends, and
13urgoynes ; the heroine of every. stage, and the model of

every theatrical aspirant, she has laid her graces in the
grave, and now sleeps where neither fame nor flattery can
reach her more. The life of an actress is, proverbially, of
a' mingled yarn,' and perheps no human lot so tho-
roughly acquaints the individual with the pleasantnesses
and the pains of life. Bub Miss Farren seems to have had
all the rases for her own ; almost from the commencement

of her career, she was a public favourite. Her fine thea-
trical powers were instantly acknowledged, and the style of
her performances gave, invariably, the impression of an

original elegance of mind. She had the higher merits of
preserving herself from the peculiar hazards of her profes-
.

lion ; and her marriage with Lord Derby, at mice re-
warded and raised into affluence and rank an actress whose

personal conduct did honour to her sex, as it undoubted

added highly to the public rewcet for the stage. She
thenceforth enjoyed a long eireer of opulent tranquillity..
She quitted the stage in 1797, after just twenty years of

success, and was Countess of Derby two-and-thirty years,
She was born in 1759."