The Sun.
London, England, 1842-10-01 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY VVENING, OCTOBER 1, 1842.

liberation, in order that he might provide for his wife
and family, who were solely dependent on his exer-
tions, and his wife was in that state that her confine-
ment was hourly expected.
The other prisoners were then separately asked
what they had to say against the remand. They all
declined saying anything.
Mr. Gregory said he had very little to say in
answer to what had been said by the professional ad-
visers of the prisoners. With regard to Leech, he
had only to observe that the charge now made against
him was totally distinct from those on Which he had
been held to bail ; and although those were of a
serious nature, yet not so serious as the present.
Mr. Cobbett—PQrhaps Mr. Gregory will. state
what the charge is ? Mr. Gregory—lt is a charge of
conspiracy. _

Arr. Bent hoped Mr. Gregory would say what were
the particulars of the charge.
Mr. Gregory—Certainly I shall not. It is a charge
of conspiracy of a very serious nature, and quite dis-
tinct from any yet brought forward.
Mr. MAUDE said the question for their considera-
tion was, whether the remand asked by the prose-
cution was a reasonable one to give them sufficient
time to prepare the evidence to be adduced against
the parties. The Bench. were of opinion that it was,
and should therefore grant it.
The Rev. Mr. Scholefield urged on the Bench the
necessity of admitting him to bail, as he had duties to
perform which no one could do but himself; and,
with regard to his son, he understood the charge
against him was for publishing the seditious placard,
with which he had no more to do than Mr. Gregory
himself. He trusted, therefore, both would be set
rd liberty, and, if life was spared him,. he would ap-
pear on Tuesday. _

Mr. Gregory stated that he understood the applica-
tion made to him was, that the son might be set at
liberty, and to that he was ready to consent on his
giving bail.
Mr. Maude—Then let that be so.

Mr. Cobbett then applied for Leech's liberation.
Mr. Maude said the case must stand remanded to
Tuesday, and the only indulgence that could be
granted must be the liberation.of the younger Schole-
field on his giving two sureties in 1001. each for his
appearance on Tuesday.
Mr. Cobbett said Leech must be tried in a few clays
by the Special Commission, and by that means he
would be effectually prevented from preparing his
defence. If that were so, it would be a complete
defeat of the ends of justice.
Mr. Maude said he had already had a month to
prepare his defence, and every facility would be afforded
him for that purpose during his imprisonment.
The prisoners were then remanded, with the excep•
tion of Wm. Scholefield, whO was liberated on bail.

MAGAZINE DAY.
BLACKWOOD' S MAGAZINE.

The concluding volume of Mr. Alison's " Eu-
ropean History" tbrms the subject of an eloquent
but prejudiced notice in the present Number of
this Magazine. The Reviewer. is, of course, an
ardent panegyrist of the historiaUilfor the poli-
tics of the one are, with scarcely a shade of dif-
ference, the politics of the other; and observes
of his work, that it is one of the " noblest" pro-
ductions of the age. The work is certainly an
able one--that is to say, it shows great variety of
research : great skill and patience in comparing
and sifting evidence ; and great impartiality,
considering that the author is a zealous Tory,
and that the • exciting period of which he treats,
is one calculated to call forth all political pre-
judices; but while. we 'allow that Mr. Alison's

history possesseS these u,:questionable recom-
mendations, we must observe, on the other hand,
that its sketches of character are often erroneous,
and still oftener superficial ; that it lays down
hasty premises, and draws from them still hastier
c'jnclusions ; that its descriptionm—especially of
battles, in which the author evidently delights—
though frequently picturesque and spirited, are
defbrrned by tawdry and inflated verbiage ; and
that its style abounds in Scotticisms, and is too
thickly studded with trope and simile to suit the
grave, sober dignity of the historic muse. Still,
even with these drawbacks, it is by far the best
English history
we have of Europe during the
gigantic wars of the Revolution, and if judiciously
abridged, would be invaluable as a work of re-
ference. Alluding to the grand and comprehen-
sive subject of which Mr. Alison treats, the Re-
viewer says, " The French Revolution has
wholly passed away. We have seen its cradle,
its maturity, and its grave." This may be true,
as regards the great outbreak itself ; but the
bold democratic spirit which prompted that out-
break, still walks the earth. We can trace its in-
fluence in every recent popular movement in
France ; while in England, it makes itself felt
and feared as Chartism, which is the alias by
which it is no'w best known among us. The de-
mocratic spirit, quickened by the French Revo-
lution, has yet a mighty task to achieve ere it
can be said to have fulfilled the mission on which

it was sent by destiny. Speaking cursorily of
modern historians, the Reviewer, after paying a
generousand deserved tribute to the transcendant
merits of Gibbon, remarks of his celebrated
contemporary, Robertson, that he "has sincerity,
knowledge, and a serious, yet forcible eloquence."
This is very vague, general criticism, and like a
general invitation, it means nothing. Robert-
son's chief excellence is the clear arid distinct
views he exhibits of periods and events which
the nature of his subject will not allow him to do
more than just briefly glance at, as in, his intro-
duction to .• Charles the Fifth," where. he gives
a brief, butadmirably digested and lucid summary
of the rise and progress of the feudal system; and
his chief defect is the heavy, languid monotony of
his manner, and the cumbrous and artificial
construction of his sentences. With the Re-
viewer's opinions of Hallam we cordially agree ;
but not so with his remark, that " the later
writers of history in England have scarcely risen
beyond the yank of compilers." Surely Sharon
Turner, the laborious, exact, scrupulous chro-
nicler of the Anglo-Saxon ages; Lingard, the
more than rival of Hume—his superior in all
the qualities, save style, that constitute the
historian; Tliirlwall, whose history of Greece is
beyond all question the best that has yet ap—
peared, Mitford's being a mere school-boy's
essay compared with it;—surely, these writers
are something better than mere compilers! The
Reviewer, we suspects is wholly unacquainted
with their works, or lie would not have hazarded
so flippant an observation. His character of
Carnot is still more to be objected to; but this,
not from its flippancy, but its fierce prejudices.
He condemns the sturdy Republican, because
he was a member of Robespierre's Government,
forgetting—or, what is more probable, not caring
to remember—that Carnot had nothing at all to
do with the cruelties then practised, but uni-
formly kept aloof from his Terrorist colleagues,
and confined himself exclusively to the war
department, and the creating and provisioning
of fourteen vast armies, which he precipitated
on the frontiers, and by so. doing saved France,
when almbst every one
but himself despaired of
her salvation ! " We believe," adds the Reviewer,
" that Carnot was one of those who voted for
the death of Louis the Sixteenth." He might
g
have been positive of the fact with perfect safety,
for the great Republican's Vote was iven in
`theSe. memorable words, which - the Reviewer
ought not to have forgotten—" Death, and never
was a decision come to with such reluctance 1"
" Poems and Ballads of Schiller" are translated
with singular spirit and elegance, by one.
whose powers of versification are of no ordinary
character. it Ricardo and Adam Smith" is a
it with about .the same
clever essay, but by no means so interesting or
imaginative as a fairy-tale.
We have read
pleasure that we
should read Cocker's Arithmetic, whose plot,
characters, and incidents,&c•,so puzzled
poor James: Hogue, that lie proaounced it to
be the most bewildering love-story that had ever
been recommended to his perusal.
" Sketches
of Italy" are somewhat dull and
treatment. common place;
but the subject is scarcely susceptible of novel "
Caleb Stokely"
gives the bio-
graphical sketch of a ouno- gentlewoman, Miss
Em
ma Fitzjones, whose MiitbrtUne it was to be
descended from a race of drunkards; and who
took special care that the family failing should
not be extinguished in her person. Accordingly
she indulged in strongwaters till her nose
blushed like a mulberr and resembled " the
tower of Lebanon that looketh toward Damas-
cus." Her reminiscences are exciting and pala-
table enough, for theflavour of brandy and water
impregnates every line. " The League's Re-
venge" is a political diatribe, full of mis-state-
rnents. From the review 9f ~ Alison's Europe,"
we quote a graphic sketch of the waning glories
of Napoleon in the memorable year, 1813:—
The spell was now consciously- broken. The star
whose influence had hitherto grown into a kind of
gallant and illustrious credulity, a brilliant supersti-
tion of soldiership, was now swept from the sky.
Even the name of Napoleon was no longer the sound
of a trumpet ; and the Man of France had suddenly,
sunk down from that exaltation which, whether fic-
titious or true, makes men soldiers, and makes sol-
diers heroes ; into the level of which all things must
become common-place,
and small and personal inter-
ests supersede the splendid illusions of our general
being. The heart of imperial France was broken,
and she was thenceforth to be prepared to meet her
,hare in the common burdens and contempts that be-
long to the sufferers and strugglers among mankind.
Posterity will not believe things; and in a hundred
or a thousand years hence, the philosopher, turning
over the eloquent pages of this history, will attribute
a large portion of their fervid imagery to the ardour
of a contemporaneous mind—the overwrought pres-
sure of the time. But the philosopher will be wrong,
and the historian right; the only defect in. the de-
scriber will be the native weakness of human expres-
sion to speak of impulses and causes beyond the re-
sources of language. No speech of man can realise
the actual sensation with which the power of France
was really regarded in its days of power. No con-
eption of after times can approach the mixture of
fear, astonishment, and anxiety, the sasmn won-
der, and even the mysterious and fearful admiratiOn,
with which Europe looked on the throne of Napo-
leon. ' Yet, what must be the effect on the general
human mind, of living in the perpetual presence or a
sovereignty which had concentrated all the powers of
the vast French empire on conquest—which had
turned every monarch into a vassal ; whose armies
were poured out by the hundred thousand-whose
march was from capital to capital
and whose tri-
umphs had the extent, _rapidity, and completeness of
something beyond man ! Even the language of the
time felt the impression of these extraordinary events,
and the phrases of "Invincible," " Son of Destiny,"
"Irresistible," " King-maker," though given in other
days in the sycophancy of courtiers or the terror of
slaves, were given to the head of this fearful empire
and army, almost by a natural use of words, The
impression is wearing away now even among our-
selves, but it was not the less vivid while it existed.
In the conquering days of Napoleon there was but
one name in the world, and that name his
His guilt, his personal vices his teas i awn.
, r,erf; Av, . 4
T-A his
reckless love of blood, were 114 filly "'"
"
_y aolirlowledged
then as at this moment, when WO ore recounting the
causes which brought him to his grave ; but success,
genius, grandeur of plan, and triumph of executiim,
' wand gichiven
no man, him an
for e a
le
thousand vation in the eye of -.-. •
Anrnpo• to
Year's hero him, had
been raised, and to FrallOo 4 Power, not merely over
the frame of nations, hut the mind, which almost
divested submission of its disgrace, and to which the
simple resistance, as it was resisted for many 4 passive
and painful year by England With 4 %tic to glory.
.. ;
---------

among
them io 40 ingenious story
BRNTI,EIP S MISCELLANY.
There are several entertaining tales and sketches
in this month's "c Miscellany ;" find ihremost
~ Huang John Dory, which describes the dis-
appointments endured by an epicure in his hunt
piaki/4. inqumes as to its destina-
after this daintiest of sea-fish. He
had t seed}il i
shop, Rtici 09
lying full-length on the sl,q3 g.f. q 40,,ild„ger,s
destina-
tion, fnntidiltai tt wasjust going to be despatched
to the house of one of his most intimate friends;
Off he goes there without a,u. 11st1%\i loss of
tine hoping. to Teepeive an invitation to dinner;
c in tatirse of conversation he learnsl that his
iend intends to dispatch the dainty, by way of
resent? to a neighbour. The
,NT
' ev,ie entitle
Ue citM

visit is to that envied neighbour; but here again
he is disappointed; at last, after tracking the
John Dory from house to house, with the despe-
rate pertinacity of a bloodhound, he achieves the
great object of his ambition, and makes a hearty
dinner off the fish, which by some means or other
has found its way into the kitchen of Sir Robert
Walpole. These incidents, it will be seen, bor-
der closely on the extravagant, but they are
Skilfully wrought up ; and here and there occurs
a touch of genuine humour. " Mr. Ledbury's
Grand Tour" recounts the adVentures of an un-
sophisticated cockney who journeys to Paris, in
company with a sprightly, rakish adventurer—
one Jack Johnson, who leads him into all sorts
of scrapes. This amusing scamp's character is
hit off with infinite ,drollery; and we have a
diverting by-sketch of a pretty French grisette,
who, desirous of being thought to speak our lan-
guage with fluency, says, " I spik Angleesh—
rosbif—Got-dam—pot-portare," which she thinks
is an unanswerable proof of her perfect acipaint-
ance with the English tongue. "My First Client,
the Bishop," is a story of clever Irish rogues,
one of who'd pisses himself off as a Bishop
to a simple and inexperienced young London at-
torney. This hoax is improbable enough, but still
more improbable is it that a London attorney
should possess either simplicity or innocence. 'We
should just as soon think of suspecting Satan of
Methodism. All attorneys—whether young or
old, -rich or poor, metropolitan or provincial—
are necessarily as keen as Sheffield razors; and
even the dullest-among them is as sharp as the
appetite of a crocodile after a banyan day. This
is an axiom which—unlike the patent safety cabs
—cannot be overturned. The " Forged Will" is
a story of wild and fearful interest, professing to
be founded on fact. "Bartholomew Fair, Past
and Present" describes the glories of this rollick-
ing holiday festival, as it existed in the good old
times—say, half a century ago. It is now, we
fear, numbered among the -things that were,
greatly, no doubt, to the satisfaction of the im-
mortll author of the " Lord Mayor's Voyage to
Oxford," who some years 'ago, feirmally de-
nounced-it from the pulpit at Pimlico, as a scene
of awful vice and villainy, where reckless liber-
tines were constantly on the look-out for un-
sophisticated maid-servants, whom they too
often tempted to "cut away the anchor of their
virginity If we remember rightly, these were
Dr. Dillon's own words; and wonderfully ex-
pressive they are, and sure to create an intense
sensation, when delivered from a Pimlico pulpit.
"A Campaign with the Christinos" contains
some graphic descriptions, together with charac-
teristic sketches of well-known Spanish leaders.
"The Philosophy of Time" is somewhat obscure
and enigmatical as regards the letter-press por-
tion of the article; but the embellishments are
lively and fanciful; and the engraving entitled
"To-day" forms a striking pictorial allegory.
We close with an extract from Ingoldsby's
whimsical version of the legend of the "Babes
in the 'Wood." The wicked uncle, having re-
solved •pn getting. rid of his deceased brother's
children, sends for two Bravos, as is duly stated
in the following stanzas :
Having thought on the How and the When
To get rid of his nephew and niece,
He now sent for two ill-looking men,

And he gave them five guineas a piece.—
Says he, " Each of you take up a child
On the crupper, and when you have trotted
Some miles through that wood lone and wild,
Take a knife,out and cut its carotid ! "--
"Done" and "done" is pronounced on each side,
While the poor little dears are delighted
To think they a cock-horse shall ride,
And are not in the least degree frighted;
They say their " Ta! Ta!" as they.start,
And they prattle so nice on their journey,
T hat the rogues themselves wish
,to-their heart
They could finish the job by attorney.
Nay, one was so taken aback
By seeing such spirit and life in them,
That he fairly exclaimed, "I say, Jack,
I'm blow'd if I can put a knife in them !"
" Pooh!" says his pal, " you great dunce !
You've pouch'd the good gentleman's money,
So out with your whinger at once,
And scrag Jane, while I spiflicate Johnny !"
lle refus'd, and harsh language ensued,
Which ended at length in a duel,
When he that was mildest in mood

Gave the truculent rascal his gruel ;
The Babes quake with hunger and fear,
While the ruffian his dead comrade, Jack buries ;
Then he cries, " Loves, amuse yourselves here
With the hips, and the haws, and the- blackberries I

" I'll be back in a couple of shakes ;
So don't, dears, be quivering and quaking :
I'm going to get you some cakes,
And a nice butter'd roll—that's a-baking !"
Ile rode off with a tear in his eye'
'Which soon ran down his rough cheek and wet it,
And he said to himself with a sigh,
" Pretty souls !—don't they wish they may get it !"
From that moment the Babes ne'er caught sight
Of the wretch who thus wrought their undoing,
But passed all that day and that night
In wandering about and " boo-hoo"-ing.
The night proved cold, dreary, And-dark,
So that, worn out with sighing and sobbings,
Next morn they were found stiff and stark,
And stone-dead, by two little Cock-Robins.
These two little birds it sore grieves
To see what so cruel a dodge I call,
They cover the bodies with leaves,
An interment quite ornithological ;
It might more expensive have been,
But I doubt, though I've not been to see 'em,
If among those in all Mensal Green
You could find a more neat Mausoleum.
Now, whatever your rogues may suppose,
Conscience always makes restless their pillows,
And Justice, though blind, has a nose,
That sniffs,out all conceal'd peccadilloes.
The wicked old Uncle, they say,
In spite of his riot and revel,
Was hippish and qualmish all day,
And dreamt all night long of the d—l.
lie grew gouty, dyspeptic, and sour,
And his brow, once so smooth and so placid,
Fresh wrinkles acquired every hour,
And whatever he swallowed turned acid.
The neighbours thought all was not right,
Scarcely one with him ventured to parley,
And Captain Swing came in the night,
And burnt all his beans and'his.barley.
There was hardly a day but some for,
Ran away with his geese and his ganders,
His wheat had the mildew, his flocks
Took the rot, and his horses the glanders;
His daughters drank rum in their tea,
His son, who had gone for a sailor,
'Went down in a steamer at sea,
And his wife ran away with a tailor.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE,
Mrs. Trollope quizzes the " Whims and Oddi-
ties" of brother Jonathan with, if possible, in-
creased relish this month. Her notable " Wi-
dow Barnaby" is now on a visit at the country
seat of Colonel and Mrs. Beauchamp, near New
Orleans; and is of course smitten with a sudden
admiration of the slave system, which she looks
on as the pride and the safeguard of Ys--•
....-
land. Equally as a matter 0f..00.-
~urse, her,Kee host
and hostess are astonished''
find so much ge-
nuine liberality of 0-_n tirne- tk° .
ina thorough-bred
EnglishwoJmn i and the fl
compliments that pass
between the parties in conseuie.nce—each striv-
ing which (344 ii pepper theci
ofughcst''—are con-
ceived in the
broadest spirit. caricature.
i It is
impossible Pot to be diverted wit 1 Mrs. Trollope's
ludicrous and sarcastic sketches of American
character, even while we utterly.repudiate them
as studies front nature, " More Hullaltbaloo" is
s
a good-humoured quiz on Mr. Hullah' musical
o r
system, which is just now in such highha
v
with,__ the long-eared denizens of the West-end.
" Apigram on a late Cattle-show in Smithfield"
is in Mr. Hood's archest manner. • But our read-
ers shall judge for themselves : '

" Old farmer Rail is taken sick,
-Yet nat with any sudden trick
Of fever, or his old dyspepsy ;
But having seen the foreign stock,
It gave his system euolt a shock,
He's had lit of cattle-epsy."

In " Short Rides in an Author's Omnibus," we
meet with some shrewd aphoristic remarks.
Desdemona," says Mr, Horace Smith, " saw
the Moor's complexion in his mind; and a dark
or dirty deed may assume a very fair aspect,
when we look at it through the purse. That
;Ann must be a sturdy moralist, who does not
prefer his cash to his conscience ; and what
casuist ever wanted an excuse for a profitable
transgressionl" Here is another aphorism equally
trIAO 40 litk3--" For stopping a man's mouth, when
ho is in the habit of uttering disagreeable truths,
there is no gag like gold. Complaint having
been made to a certain bishop, that a vicar in his
diocese mks nl‘voys preaching against pluralities,
twill silence him in less than a week' said, the
prelate; and so he did, by giving the vicar an
additional benefice." Sir Hubert 'Walpole, it
may be remembered, udopted a similar method
for silencitq patriots. When their clamour h,e7
Bata inconvenient to him, he wavo them a flit
sinecure ; and their noise coase.d iq Ekn, instant, as
if by miracle. ‘c AeuliPtisC-enoe3 Of a Medical
Student n are wAtre4 iNnh Impressive ear-
ißeAtAess o, 1.1.44.11rier, that keeps the reader's
gctc.“tiuo on the stretch throughout. The

denouement, however, is somewhat too
tnelo-dramatic in its character. From the
" Five Incumbents" we quote a brief, droll
sketch of a mischievous school-boy. "As a
boy," observes the young scamp, " I was fond of
science, and investigated the powers and proper-
ties of a squirt; but being soon tired of squirting
at insects, I made up my mind to have a shot at
a man or a woman--I did not care which. Our
garden pales ran parallel with the high road. I
hid myself behind them, and loaded my squirt
with dirty ditch-water. I heard a step approach-
ing, caught a glimpse of a well-dressed man, and
let fly ! I felt I had succeeded, for I heard a
hearty and well-developed oath. In a few seconds
the thee and neckcloth of a gentleman appeared
above the paling. I :was then sure I had been
successful, for both were covered with duck-weed
and green slime. He wielded a bamboo at me,
and threatened to break every bone in my skin."
In an amusing essay, entitled "Horse and Foot,"
Mr. Hood thus alludes to his own deficiencies as
an equestrian :
The chase of course excites my admiration and
wonder, and, like Lord Chesterfield, I unfeignedly
marvel—but for a different reason—that any gentle-
man ever goes to it a second time. A chapter of
Nimrod's invariably gives me a Crick in the neck. I
can well believe that "it is the pace that kills," but
why rational beings with that conviction should ride
to be killed, exceeds my comprehension. For my own
part, could such a pace eve*-come into fashion, it
would be suicidal in me to attempt to hunt at a trot,
or even in a walk. Ride and tie, perhaps, if, as I sup-
pose, it means one's being tied on—but no, my evil
genius would evade even that security. Above all, but
for certain visits to Epsom and• Ascot, I should have set
down horse-racing as a pleasant •fiction. That Buckle,
without being buckled on, should have reached the
age he attained to—or that Day should have had so
king a day—are to my mind " remarkable instances
of longevity" far more wonderful than any recorded
in the newspapers. How a jockey can bestride, and,
what is more, start with one of those thorough-bred
steeds, is to me a standing, or rather running, or
rather flying miracle. Were I a Robinson or a Rogers
I should certainly think of the plate as a coffin-plate,
and that, the stakes were such as those that were for-
merly driven through self-murderers' bodies.
It would appear, then, that a rider, like a poet,
I must be born and not made—that there are two
races of men as differently fated as the silver-spooned
and the' wooden-ladled—some coming into the world,
so to speak, at Ryde, others, like myself, at Foots-
cray, and thus, by necessity, equestrians or pedes-
trians. In fact, to corroborate this theory, there is
the Championship, which, being hereditary, is at
least one instance of a gentleman being ordained to
horseback from his birth. As to me, instead of re-
trograding through Westminster-hall on Cato, I must
have backed out of the office. It is probable, how-
ever, that beside the causes already enumerated,
something of my inaptitude may be due to my pro-
fession. It has been remarked elsewhere as to riding,
that " sedentary persons seldom have a good seat,"
and literary men generally appear to have been on a
par, as to horsemanship, with the sailors. The au-
thor of " Paul Pry,' in an extremely amusing
paper, has recorded his own quadrupedal mischances.
Coleridge, for a similar or still greater incapacity,
was discharged from a dragoon regiment. Lamb
avowedly never went "horse-pickback" in his life.
Byron, for all his ambition to be thought a bold
cavalier, and in spite of his own hints on the sub-
ject, appears to have been such an indifferent per-
tbrmer—and Sir Walter Scott, as we read in his life,
tumbled from his galloway, and Sir Humphry Davy
jumped over him. Even Shakspeare, as far as we
have any account of his knowledge of horses, never
got beyond holding them. Lord Chesterfield has de-
scribed Doctor Johnson's 'appearance in the saddle ;
but the catalogue would be too tedious. Suffice it, if
riding be the " poetry of motion," authors excel
rather in its prose.