Martinsburg gazette. [volume] (Martinsburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1833-1855, 1841-11-25

extracted from late Foreign Journal:
!" 1t may appear somewhat strange that
we should introduce TO our readers SUBJ
liect which appears, at first sight, to have
about as much to do with the corn laws as
| Alexander the Great with Alexander the
Coppersmith. Yet we do not know any
man who has done more for the poetry
and the picturesque of the bread tax than
Mr.. Dickens. For wit, perception oil
character, graphic delineation OF those
ephameral human phenomena which elude
the grasp of less delicate perception, he
has hardly any rival. Above all, the sort
OF pho,oge mic quality Of his mind, by which
every shade and hue of the most neglect.
ed insignificant portions of the moral land
scape are made as instinct with interest,
truth and life, as the most important and
striking, is feature of it which we do not
remember ever to have seen approached
by other writers. |: is his natures
plague to spy into abuses" He reminds
US of cnder gatherers, who find something
by which they can profit in the rubbish
that society casts away. He catches up
the dross, and makes it shine like pure
gold. Nay, he is sort Of moral alchy-
mist, that can convert the worthless into
the precious, and show the uses and the
signifcancy of every thing that lives, and
moves, and has a being. He "gathers
up the fragments" of our nature, tina,
"notbing may be lost" With miracu-
lous touch he can feed, out of the most lem
ten entertainment, the perishing multitude,
and convert water into vino. Like Gold
smith, there is nothing which he does rot
touch, and nothing he touches which he
does not ndorn.
"But "more than that, than this, than
those, than ALL" we like him for this, that
his big heart is in the right place; that he
is man of large humanties that his
moral sympathies are catholic, and his Of
fect;ons universal. He is, as it were, a
Waterman for heaven. Not a sparrow
falleth to the ground but he registers il in
his great history of life. His genius, his
wit, his graphic power, and the interest
which he gives to all that he sketches,
these give him ready access to every cir.
Gle Of society, and make his writings rel.
ished equally by the peer and the peasant;
the little milliner IN her back parlor, and
the great duchess in her boudoir. Scenes
that the great cannot even imagine, he
carries straight into their drawing room.
Phases of human life, which the rich and
powerful either never have an opportunity
of observing, or carefully avoid all chance
of bringing within the sphere Of their OBJ
servation. he presents to them IN their
most striking aspects, without offending
their delicacy by the hideous accessories
of their actual condition. While he caus
es the most abject and loathsome carcases
to come between the wind and their no.
bility, they are made picturesque and in.
teresting rather than horrible, and stand
| before the mind rather to teach it a whole
some lesson, and to make pomp take ply
sic, than to disgust without instruc,ing, or
| wound without amending.
"It is a mighty privilege Of this genius
to make itself heard equally in the kitchen
and the hall to enter in at the straight
gate of supercilous rank or proud and fas.
| tdious fashion, and yet to be welcome
passenger in the broad thoroughlare Of
the vulgar, common place, working day
world. 1t is, as it were, to be the con-
ductor, that connects the positive and neg.
alive poles of society to be the ambas.
sador from poverty TO pride, or the medi-
ator between the abjectness of hopeless
penury and the superbial magnificence
of aflluent aristocrecy. This, we say, is
a mighty privilege, and this great writer
has used it well and wisely. He hath a
! n 9
upon human being simply as such, as
something inexpressibly great, and upon
an immortal creature ms Of infinite value
and significancy. He feels that man is
more precious than many sparrows, and
that blurred, and marred, and yitiated
though the likeness be, yet there stands
the IMAGE of his heavenly father. In his
kind and manly breast, every iellow-crea-
ture finds willing advocate; the waling
of tho desolate catches his overwhelming
ear, and the despairing look of tho famil-
lar child of wretchedness meets his mild,
keen glance, although there should be
none other to register its sullen grief.
"He makes the cries OF the poor TO be
heard in the palace, and gets the mlsera.
BILE an entrance into the great mans
house. The poor orphan, that finds what
it is to be in solitary desert in the thick.
peopled city; that surrounded by mil
lion of protesting christians, is yet alone,
and without hope in the world /; that tells
his dreary story with patient Sadness,
but gets no one, in that dense, busting,
busy, money getting crowd, TO hear him
for his cause why he, of all tina, populous
cavalcadc, arrests one passing stranger,
and he, pen in hand, proclaims his bro.
theirs wrongs, through the wide extent Of
broad Britain.
"And that same cunning penman, how
strange his taste He finds forlorn in
FAINT so desperate in fortune that even his
miserable mother has left it on the steps
to do or die; and Of all the cases for the
genteel humane, the drawing-room Christi
anity, the silk stockings and-pumps philan-
thropy of the times, it SO turns out that he
will have none other, but only this. He
walks straight into the workhouse, and
when other men see only some parish
brnts that are TO be abused, and poisoned
and sickened with insult and bad usage
into early death, why there he secs the
soft innocent, ingenious, grief-shaded
conference of thoughtful boyhood, and
his sound heart yearns the more to hin
49, r.. 49,. u~..kax c,shaw M. ~oothar