The Sun.
London, England, 1842-06-01 00:00:00

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roceediW
after,
ldraWel
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was
sir the el
:h Fusi
the 11Q1
Ai?
xarOnToil
?.t, of W.,,0
witll.47tll

it
:telt4,? "eing h (the c-,nstoble qinion, that he in- I
Lied to destroy hitus.edf, 11.% the Queen's carriage
marsc("Ling in the diroiLitti of the Palace from I 1,v(707
rt• - the corntahle - toticed the
and
flttiet
,ar: •fll-; tti about f...(6 happen, and when within ten
t). tls tht villain fired a pistol in the direction
sei_ I,e, R. ontl carriage. The policeman immediately
wozrs,lihii, and was assisted almost inunediately after-
Ly.a zoldier. lic was then, as we have before
ea ('`ll,' hurried off to tifo Palace, where he. was
100:e'led, and all That was found was a quantity of
piste t)owil'et. in One of his waistcoat pockets. The
Small and common one, with a flint lock ; it
,5101 "amined and -declared by several competent
belie to have been recently discharged, and their
4w,as that it had been loaded with slugs. •
the(III,CE THE MANSION-HOUSE.
aoe let
fitted
t h
SiOn4;,,sChtt)M.ing notite wai published at the Man-
very- short time of the perpetra,-
ft
The intelligence of her Majesty s
a the most lively manifestations of satis-
to re.•ll among the multitude who thronged around
``
lette:ditetilLe°llradPe-ria:—Pr. having following
received the
tens
in
to communicate. the same to the citi-
him "don, Convinced that they will unite with_
the heartfelt gratitude to Divine Providence for
I,fetY of Our beloVed Queen: .a 1 •
ans'on-honse, May 30, 1842, 8 o'cloch, p.m.
Whitehall May 30,1842, 7 o'clock p.m.
the zarticY
tsihi7isPrdthAatia'hYe'V'Tl-aijtestis', moyn hduertyrettuorn intfforornlmn.
Y'''r Lord -},'• •
evening, was shot at on Constitu io
Lordshill..l.lie criminal has been :apprehended, and your
and 'flil) will rejoice to hear that her Majesty is safe_
•Nta:lnhurt.---1 have -the honour to be, my Lord
T.ollr faithful servant,
‘"
• •
" J. R. G. GB ARAM.e Right Hon. the Lord Mayor.' ''
tip.
, SMITHS' HALL. The account of the atteattempt.th(:,
Nitven's life was brought to the Goldsmiths'
Alderman Copeland, where the livery 1.1.4
4bseptiT:vbYlari dinner.' The National Anthem had just
the; 1.,.8,1;1114; it was immediately called for again, amid
411'11111.°st expressions of loyalty.
!hi! r„E'r 7,ooLooroa.i. GARDENS.—lmmediatelylife . upon
beer,,e'rt, ef the diabolical attempt upon her Majest)'S
tPOnt. 'tiling known at the Surrey Zoological Gardens,h
sh,id,'l_ll,eous burst of loyalty was elicited from the ttuo.
luue.ui her liege subjects there assembled, who raised
~
whieb4--i. Imo-11in-ions call for " God save the Queen, _
wfh i'eleg responded to by the band, was received
,ivheers of the most enthusiastic devotion.
I,e:Sunday, about six o'clock, Mr. Dousbery, otf No._
00k-street, Holborn; who is well known
10nrilLeurie, requested an immediate interview with
si,,,n a subject of great importance, and introduced
atdi.-eeter two brothers of the name of Pearstn,nrin
stistrig at 10. 7, Castle-street, Holborn, one of whom
,111'_,e(1 that at. two o'clock on Sunday, while the Queen
11044 Prince Albert were returning from the Chapel
i
6.,r the a pistol from under his. cost
fiat
.78erit". hilt the Queen ; but whether it trussed rc,
the tla
whetlitr relented, was not observed ; butlrts .
11. (1, " I wish 1 had done it ; and
the tst"l under his coat he walked sulkily. awa
asst re'll-Park. An elderly man who witnessedithe
ttatiT,qt, stated that, he would communicate it tn,_t,hi:
vlaiilies, but that it was too much trouble.
man, boWeVer, asked Mr. Pearson his name and
afar " Mr. Donsbery thinking the facts of
.veroyn
the-1g importance applied to Sir Peter Laurie
'4Liuuit'et, and Sir' Peter wrote a private letter to
Honourable Mr. Murray, the Comptroller of the
vo ?selmicl. under the impression that such matterskn
to maot be kept too secret, and that it was ly
,se ke less noise than if communicated to thede
Ivereta•rY of • State. The- private letter was not
v.red
to Mr. Murray, because he was dining with her
de,stY• The twO Messrs Pearson, who are printers,
eae" 1 3 morning and
ofsa_w Mr. Murray, who
e"llBidervil the acer)mmunication
thatso much importance
'le sent Sir Peter Laurie's note to Sir J. Graham,
itillaulv.requested the I'earsons to call at two o'clock ; not
‘‘a mg kept their appointment punctually, a message
brisng Seat to Sir Peter Laurie, requesting that he would
h forwaord the brothers. When Sir Peter went to
lt-:,ll°lne-ffice he found that they had arrived, and
11-- the authorities were taking their depositions.

0311111TTAL OF THE PRISONER
TO NEWGATE.
U'rcrn the Third Edition of The Sun a Last Night.)
The Council remained in deliberation until about
-4f-past three o'clock. At that hour Sir Robert
peel left the Home-office by the Park entrance, and
waked through the Park to Buckingham Palace.
The Duke of Wellington, the Lord Chancellor, and
4veral other Privy Councillors left by the principal
ktranee in 'Whitehall shortly before four o'clock.
At that houran immense crowd had assembled in
Whitehall, and it had become necessary to send for a
A 7t4chment, of the A division to keep the pathway
k4r• In order to deceive the crowd, a hackney cab
1• sent for and kept waiting at the entrance in
'ltehall. All eyes were immediately fixed on the
t.,,;e.1e, it being concluded
.that. it was waiting to
`°3- the prisoner to his destination.
tlx/.4ktr,4outa quarter after four, Sir.ltobert Peel re;
liottiet4,to the Home-office from the Palace, and almos‘.
the D, PAtelY afterwards a hackney-coach drew up at
'441
t.„-kt blt\:-gate of the office.
"aattlsa -I'',4t four, the prisoner entered the carriage,
io the morning, by three of the officers
e lie did not seem the least fatigued, but
°°ll anxious to avoid the public gaze, for, as
,41 a ,o• e entered the carriage, he threw himself back
'4841)1;0714r of the front seat, and pulled his hat over
ere`lT(l)l am I to drive to ?" said the coachman.
,e%vgat," was the reply of the officer, and
Nrsetlclutnan immediately drove off through the
On :Guards, towards the City.
4111 Y eir,41141437, we learned that the prisoner had been
triale -4141ttted to take his trial for the atrocious
bllvore tan Zaith‘vhich he stands charged. There were not
its eoriv twenty persons present when the prisoner
The eYed away in custody as above stated.
was
crowtOeighbourhood of Buckingham Palace
t° excess all the morning, and towards the
wre'atlDjdd•e of the day the throng of carriages was very
P
quri e
tvere at the Palace only a very short time, but
1,he,f,7, the few minutes we were there we observed
or
trthh, "g among the inquirers :—The Marquis of
bis"'Y, the Duke of Northumberland, the Arch.
414 st- of Canterbury, the Marquis of Clanricardc,
ti‘'eral other noblemen and gentlemen.
PRISONER'S RECEPTION
At AT NEWGATIL.
l'tYin--4-tf-Past four o'clock the hackney-carriage con-
Ilitil! the wretch arrived at the end of the Old
6rl Ludgate-hill, and in consequence of alte-
keatfs Which were being made in the wooden.pave-
h°Pl36site Newgate, the driver pulled up there,
tof ° Prisoner descended, and walked between two
LC' gaolers of the House of Correction, with
bthtellant Tracy, the Governor of the prison,
4011R.,,„1n'l him. Although a number of idlers had
ills ilg"ated, -viewing the repairs of the pavement,
,s° p4i.learalice attracted not the slightest attention,
b'vate was the whole affair kept, and he was
Litt into ate and the doors closed afterhim,
Ith°l:44',°ne person following him from the end of the
lAN Lit,' to the prison steps. Upon entering the
he sa7l', or hall, his handcuffs were taken off, when
feet d°wri on a form, and gazed with the most per-
, e-
SVeroid on th,. objects around him. During the
vim the preliminary arrangements were making pre-
the c-s t° his being taken to his cell, he conversed with
,tigaolers with apparent indifference generally; but
cited e°r twice he asked questions in a rather ex-
h Inatiner. His sojourn here lasted a quarter of
°l'l4, and owing to the hurry incident to his re-
Ipith4l we had scarcely any opportunity of speaking
of a st but he seemed rather to avoid the notice
, ,ti)otea ra anger, and averted his face. His appearance
11: *ant neither agitation nor the slightest.
~, to i„,, self-possession, and the only point
"`"ente a self- sense of the enormous and appalling
st„.:
thlzlltlieol\i.‘i:hnicthile he contemplated, was a quickness of
eye when he met the gaze of another,.f
tho alight be called sinister—a sudden averting o
taiJolance. In stature, he is considerably below the
'coat 'e
size, and was dressed in a dark brown frock
is "d dark trowsers. His face, on the whole,
thewi reverse of what a physiognomist would
thirk had, or blood-thirsty in expression, having
iatio Yes, 'which most certainly lacked not specu-
int Oar in the slightest degree indicated want of
t,th: est., and we should say intelligence, while thet
lineaments of his face were of rather a ,of
tZtitnuld character. His complexion was high, and
as the warrant
a person in perfect health. As soon
warrant certifying his committal from the
..,',lle-office was handed to Mr. Cope, the Governor
his'\_e.w, gate, by Lieutenant Tracy, he was removed to
j„,ra'eli, where he will be kept solitary ; but Mr. Cope
'L!,onated that there would be no unusual observance
or d any other prisoner, with respect to fettering
irotiing him.
1,11

aPitir,e
-11.ESTON MURDER.—Peter Whittle, cotter.-
, of Preston, whose horrible murder of his wife, and
actiattempt at self-destruction,
mated so great a Sell-
LittAn that town about three weeks ago, was brought to
ep.!! ter Castle on Saturday last, his enfeebled condition not
"4,tting au earlier removal,—Lancaster Guardian.

MAGAZINE DAY.
E LICKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.
'We have read with great pleasure Sir Richmond
)-t' a Jotrnelyfroin llerant
ui to Otnoourg on the wnich. heads the
Present Number. This jotituty W.ab Undertaken in
IS40; and its objet WaoO Obtaih the Withdrawal of
the Russian &my which was at that period within
three days' march of the city of Khyva. The gal-
lant officer accomplished his mission so satisfactorily
to all parties concerned, that on his arrival at St. Po-
tersburgh-he was personally thanked by the Emperor
Nicholas; and when 600Y1 after he tame to England,
he received promotion and rank for his services, and
is now -Military Secretary to the Commander-in-
Chief of the Bengal Army, at present in the Khyber
Pass, on its way to relieve General Sale. The nar-
rator gives very minute details of his proceedings
from day to day; of his sufferings from intense
thirst in crossing the Desert ; and of his
voyage across the Caspian to Ourenbourg. But
the most entertaining passages in his Journal, are
those wherein he sketches the habits and characters

of the nomadic tribes of the Turcomans, whom, con-

trary to general opinion, he represents as a cowardly,
crafty race intent on pillage, and careless what atro-
cities they perpetrate on those unfortunate travellers
who may chance to fall into their hands. In the
" Sketches of Italy"—the most hacknied of themes
there is a graphic account of the approach to Venice,
with which the tourist seems to have been much dis-

appointed, justly remarking, " to apostrophize distant
Venice, as travellers do, as a cty of noble edifices
rising out of the sea, such being unquestionably the
fact, is all very well, and very veracious; but to plain
vision,'any given city, divorced from the magic of its
name, rising out of water, and at some miles' distance,
must appear, while this earth is round, very much the
same as if it had the misfortune to be below water-
level. Even when you draw near Venice, the first
buildings offered to sight are by no means
of a character to suggest that they spring
up as by an enchanter's wand, rather than
in the usual course of scaffold building." In
the " Passages in the Career of El Empecinado" oc-
cur several romantic incidents, illustrative of the cha-
racter of this enterprising Spanish soldier of fortune."
The Verdict of a French Jury " is a singular account
of a trial that took place in France in the year 1834, and
excited public attention in an extraordinary degree.
The prisoner was a young man of rank and fortune,
who was accused of having entered the bed-chamber
of the daughter of a French General at midnight, and
proceeded to the worst extremities. The evidence
was exceedingly contradictory, nevertheless he was
found guilty, and still remains in prison e:.piating his
crime. Things of the Day," is a piquant melange
of criticism, anecdote, and biography. In alluding
to Madame D'Arblav's Memoirs, the writer makes
precisely thesame objection to it that we made while
noticing the first volume, and complains in no mea-
sured terms of its intolerable egotism. Ma-
dame D'Arblay evidently laboured under the
aidiculous noticn that she was one of the greatest
luminaries of the eighteenth century, and that society
was exclusively occupied with the consideration of her
powers as a novelist. Hence there is scarcely a page
in the first volume that is not devoted to the subject
of " Evelina."—just as if it were one of those, glorious
productions destined to immortality ! Never was
poor authoress so mistaken in her estimate of herself
and her works I Of her six or eight tales scarce one
is now remembered. " Evelina' sleeps tranquilly
on the shelves of old-fashioned circulating libraries,
and "Cecilia" and "Camilla" keep her company.
Yet there was talent in these works—some humour,
much shrewdness of observation, together with a
power of pourtraying and contrasting character ;
but nothing that indicated the presence of first-
rate ability. Of Hannah More—Madame D'Ar-
blay's contemporary—the writer observes, that " she
was one of the most fussy women, alive or
dead." This is true, but it is not the whole truth,
for the sainted Hatmah—the " tenth Muse," as her
sycophantic admirers called her—was neither more
nor less than a pompous propounder of shallow,
twaddling, orthodox common-places. We defy her
warmest advocate to point to one really vigorous or
original idea in all her voluminous works, whether
prose or verse. She has added nothing to the general
stock of knowledge ; she has suggested no new ma-
terials for thought ; but merely repeated, in good set
phrases, what has been said—and better said too—at
least a hundred times before she ever took to scrib-
bling. Her " Ccelebs " is dreary twaddle ; her tra-
Fedies, if possible, are worse ; and as for her theology
it has nothing but its orthodoxy to recommend it.
We quote the writer's sketch of Sheridan, who started
into celebrity about the same period—or nearly so—
as the over-rated Hannah :

Poor Sheridan ! the world was willing enough to do
him justice, and a great deal more. Ills manners,
talents, and even his vices, were exactly of the order
which the world loves: He was, of all the men of his
day, the most gifted by nature with variety of extraor-
dinary powers. But he threw them all away, and, after
a life of as restless and fruitless anxiety as ever wore out
the spirit of man, perished deserted, Unhappy, and un-
done. He had but one want, and that was' a formidable
one—he wanted dignity of mind. Nothing could teach
him the value of principle. Ascending from the humble
condition of the son of a travelling lectures -for to this
the elder Sheridan had ultimately fallen—he suddenly
roso into the most showy circles of professional, public,
and aristocratic life ; was the first dramatist and the
first wit of a period distinguished for stage authorship
and social animation; suddenly appeared the first orator
of Parliament, in a time which boasted of the memorable
names of Pitt, Fox, and Burke ; and gave the promise
of raising British eloquence to the noblest heights of
Greece and Rome. I am perfectly aware that all this
has been doubted ; that he has left but little behind
him ; and that Sheridan's suppression of the Hastings'
Speeches apparently justifies the common idea, that they
were merely things of the time—gaudy flourishes, the
tinsel vesture of a temporary and overworked imagina-
tion. But the speeches which excited the wonder which
we know those singular displays to have excited—which
first held Parliament, and then the whole assembled
legislature, in astonishment for hours together—which
were not merely endured, but admired by such men as
Burke, l'itt, and the whole crc,wd of taste and talent who
had been taught eloquence by those illustrious masters,
and taught fastidiousness by the habit of witnessing
excellence, cannot have been tinsel or temporary. We
know that the House was in a tumult of applause ; that
every mm without doors was quoting the fragments of
those great performances for months together ; that all
the journals of the time were labouring to collect hints,
figures, maxims, the strong rebukes and brilliant
appeals of those magnificent ornaments. And are
we not entitled to ask, could this effect have
been produced without something that was worthy of
admiration—something that deserved to be recorded as
one of the great memorials of intellectual power—some-
thing that ought to have been preserved and.commemo-
rated as the orations of antiquity are preserved, in evi-
dence and illustration of the intellectual rank of the
national genius ? That Sheridan never published those
Speeches is as much to be regretted as it' the Parthenon
had been swept away in the days of its first splendour,
and before it could have given the architects of future
ages the rules of' the bold and the beautiful in their noble
science. That Sheridan's omission to publish them arose
first from the various dissipations of a life of fashion,
next from the various vexations which so soon began to
sow his path with thorns, cannot be doubted. No man
earlier felt the vanity of human life, or discovered the
wretchedness of attempti-tg, without fortune, to sustain
himself in a rank with the wealthy of the world. In a
few years he was utterly ruined ; and literature, elo-
quence, and wit, gradually passed away from a mind
perplexed with humiliating expedients to sustain exist-
ence. Still we must judge of his public ability by its
public effect. The eloquence which won the universal
admiration of a time of remarkable ability, must have
been true eloquence. What orator since has produced
an equal impression ? What distinguished effort of any
Parliamentary speaker has ever attained the same dis-
tinctions ? To what speech of any man of his time did
the head of the Ministry, the head of the Opposition,
and the head of the political writers of England or the
world—Pitt, Fox, and Burke—offer the same emulous
panegyric ? These are proofs, evidences to which we
have never heard an answer, and to which we never ex-
;t to hear one.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
The adventures of Mrs. Trollope's favourite, Bar-
nabys in America, are recounted with less spirit and
humour than usual. There is too little incident, and
too much prosy dialogue which rather encumbers
than helps on the plot in the present chapters. The
authoress appears solicitous rather to supply a cer-
tain amount of matter with the first crude notions
that suggest themselves, than to develope character
with skill and propriety. Yet her notion of making
the Widow Barnaby write a volume of travels in Ame-
rica is not amiss, and should create much merriment,
if cleverly folio-wed up. The good lady is now just
on the threshold of her literary undertaking, and talks
a world .of dull twaddle on the subject with a Mr.
Beauchamp, whose portrait is, we suspect, greatly
overcharged. Her pretty daughter, Annie, with her
strong prejudices against England and everthing
English, is delineated with far more effect, and bids
fair to become the redeeming feature of the story.
The "Schoolmistress Abroad" is an imitation of Sterne's
quaint, abrupt mode of sketching scenes and incidents
of travel. It is by Mr. Hood, but possesses little of
his drollery, for he appears to have undertaken, the
subject not con more, but as a sort of task-work.
"An Essay on Legs" is light and fanciful. " Short
Rides in an Author's Omnibus" contains some sensi-
ble remarks on the folly of those who would prevent,
if they could, every species of innocent amusement on
the Sabbath, and allow the poorer classes to cultivate
nothing but a long face. "It is difficult to say," re-
marks Mr. Horace Smith, " which predominates, the
cruelty or the selfishness of these proposed restric-
Victions, when we recollect tha they emanate from
parties who have six days in the week for their amuse-
ment; and that their rigour falls exclusively upon the
humbler classes, who have but one for she Purposes of
innocent and healthful recreation. It used to be held the t
he who gives to the poor lends to the Lord ; but our
Cantwells seem to imagine that what they take from
the poor, they give to the Lord, an opinion equally
unwoishy of a good man, and derogatory to a benig-

nant beitv." We take credit to ourselves for having
always opposed, to_ the utmost of our power, the efforts
of the Agnewites to convert the Sabbath into a day of
gloom arid -Contrition;
.when it should be one of inno-
Ceriti. lawful rdereatititi; A Sunday nioftification is
.thing we do not profess to understand—and we have
been no inattentive readers of Sacred writ—but. a
Sunday repose and cheerfulness of nature is
just what accords with our notions of true,
unaffected piety. " Woman's Love," professes to be n.
tale founded on -fact. Rig by Mr. Sheridan Knowles, and
it 18 told with earnestness:but rather too much in that
jerking, epigrammatic style so characteristic of this
author. " Professional Idiosyncrasy" is an ingenious
idea, skilfully worked out. " That clothes," says the
writer, " do in fact exert' some considerable influence
on the disposition,: is man Fest in the case of the
barrister, on whom the wig and gown exercise
paramount sway, enabling him to browbeat witnesses,
and to advance impertinent inuendoes, not to say, ab-
solute untruths, in a way 'that he would be ashamed
to practice, when divested of these habiliments." A
whimsical . theory, somewhat similar to this, may be
found in one of the early chapters of Swift's "Tale
of a Tub." " Spring" is a lively poem from the pen
of the editor. But the reader shall judge for him-

self :
" Come gentle Spring ! ethereal rattiness came !"
Oh ! Thi,mson, void of-rhyme as well as reason,
How couldst thou thus poor, human nature hum ?
There's no such season.
The Spring ! I shrink and shudder at her name !
For why, I find her breath a bitter blighter
And suffer from her blows as if they came
From Spring the Fighter.
Ikr praises then, lot hardy poets sing
And be her tuneful laureates and upholders
Who do not feel as if they had a Spring
rour'd down their shoulders
Let others eulogize her floral shows,
From me they cannot win a singie stanza,
I know her blooms are in full flow—and so's
The influenza !
Her cowslips; stocks, and lilies of the vale,
Her honey-blossoms that you hear the bees at,
Her pansies, daffodils, and primrose pale,
Are things I sneeze at !
Fair is the vernal quarter of the year !
And fair its early buddings and hut" blowings—
But just suppose Consumption's seeds appear,
11 ith other sowings !
For me, I find, when eastern winds are high
A frigid, not a genial inspiration ‘•
Nor can, like Iron-Chested Chubb, defy
An inflammation. 44.
Smitten by breezes from the land of plague,
To me all vernal luxuries are fables,
Oh ! where's the Spring in a rheumatic leg,
Stiff as a table's ?
I limp in agony—l wheeze and cough ;
And quake with Ague that great Agitator ;
Nor dream, before July, of leaving off
My Respirator.
What wonder if in May itself I lack
A peg for laudatory verse to hang on ?
Spring mild and gentle?-yes, as Spring-heeled Jack
'ro those he sprang on !
In short, whatever panegyrics lie
In fulsome odes too many to be cited,
The tenderness of Spring is all my eye,
And that is blighted !