THE MAGAZINES.

MERE must be a special providence that watches over magazines, if we may judge from the way in which, every now and then, they seem to defy their readers. One magazine trades upon its reputa- tion for solidity to be dull. Another takes advantage of its politi- cal fame to prophesy deceits. Another which professes to be light is frivolous. We presume the secret of this daring is that the old magazines are sure of retaining the affection of their readers, while the new magazines count on piquing the curiosity of the public. And there is, after all, a great amount of forbearance on the part of that realized myth called the general reader. Still, we think that such patience is counted upon too much, and that it will not always stand the test. No one can complain of there being one or two dull, or one or two trivial articles in any number of any maga- zine. But why is it that by a sort of attraction the dull and the trivial articles flock together into the same number, and, instead of keeping an even balance, the magazines give us alternate excellence and poverty, too many good papers to be appreciated in the course of a month, and so many bad ones that the whole month is a blank?

We have purposely made our remarks general, in order that we may not wound the feelings of any magazine in particular. But it is very possible that as our readers skim through this article they may detect the causes of its gloomy opening, and may con- nect vague censure with the absence of marked praise. It is true that the modern type of magazine, where the continued story is everything, scarcely leaves room for newspaper criticism. The story will be reviewed when it is complete, if even then it is worth reviewing. To give so much as a paragraph to two or three chapters of a novel is of little use to the reader, and of less profit to the critic. There is sometimes a word to be said about the beginning of a story, if only to state that a new story is begun. But beyond that each successive part claims nothing at our hands, and, if the main interest of the magazine is not to be mentioned, what can be said of the secondary matter This is not the case with the older magazines. In Blackwood we turn with pleasure and curi- osity to "Linda Tressel ;" but Blackwood would still be Black- wood without her. The chief article of the present number is on " Horace : the causes of his popularity ;" and this a critical paper of rare merit, recalling the palmy days of the Edinburgh magazine. We should hardly assert that "it is an era in the life of the school- boy when he first commences his acquaintance with Horace," unless, indeed, we were allowed to have some doubts as to the nature of the era and of the acquaintance. Byron's "Farewell, Horace, whom I hated so," is not a sentiment of limited applica- tion, although in many cases the first hatred turns into strong after- affection. But with the exception of this hasty half-truth, we find little to carp at in the essay, and much:in it to admire. We cannot say the same for another article in the number to which we looked with more interest. What Blackwood might say on the subject of Aytoun, remembering its own obligations to him and the example he set its future writers, is something very different from what it has said about him, if it has said anything that cannot be found in Mr. Martin's life. One might think that all readers of Black- wood would have made themselves acquainted with that life when it was first published. If any one ought to appreciate Aytoun, it

should be those for whom he catered so well, to whom some of his richest humour was so freely given. Yet Blackwood contents itself with a poor review of Mr. Martin's life, quoting what many papers have quoted already, and simply endorsing what has been shaken by criticism. A sketch of Sir Robert Walpole, some of Cornelius O'Dowd's suggestions for leaving Ireland alone and bringing the rest of the world into a comic har- mony with her, an article on Charles Kean, a political song, and a political paper conclude the number. There is a story of Cornelius O'Dowd's about a husband and wife who quarrelled, because the wife maintained that eternal punishment was essential to Christianity. The husband declared that he never could believe such a monstrous doctrine. His father-in-law, remembering certain traits of his daughter's character, met the objection to eternal punishment by saying, "If you only go back and live with her, you'll believe in it yet : she'll convince you."

This is a rather Irish version of what Mr. Disraeli said in his Oxford speech, and it leads us naturally to the political article in Black- wood—a laboured panegyric on the new Premier. It seems slightly unnecessary for Mr. Disraeli's friends to take up the

cudgels for the accuracy of his own report of the Edinburgh speech, and to argue that whether he used the word " I " or " we " in the famous educational phrase, the effect was just the same. This, however, is the gist of the Tory defence.

It is true that Fraser chooses the same point for an attack on Mr. Disraeli. And we think no one will have any difficulty in recognizing the critic in Fraser. There is one writer who has always followed Mr. Disraeli's career with consistent acerbity, and who on more than one occasion has revived old stories of his indiscretions

and plagiarisms. No answer has ever been given to either charge, but Mr. Disraeli seems likely to live both charges down. The first number of the new St. James's Magazine talks of him as having been accepted with cheerfulness and contentment by the Press, the House of Commons, and the nation. His candidature

for High Wycombe is described in the same magazine as a vain attempt to turn the Whig flank by charging with democratic allies in the cause of what he thought popular Toryism. Perhaps the same critic will explain away the sentiments so ruthlessly quoted by Fraser. Most of the other articles in Fraser are too solid. Mr. Whittle's essay on "How to save Ireland from an Ultramontane University," Mr. Bonamy Price's paper on the French controversy on Free Banking, and the articles on "Vol- canoes and the State Papers of the Reign of Henry VIII. need serious students. But there is a very curious story by Mr. Richard F. Burton, an adaptation of an Indian tale of magic, prefaced by some samples of similar legends. And the volcano paper contains a telling sketch of the eruption of Vesuvius, as may be seen from the following extract :—

" At length, but not without much stumbling over the rough lava beds and the charring of our boot soles, we stood on the lip of the crater. The scene was extremely grand. Our guides with wise forethought had conducted us up the cone on the windward side, a neoessary precaution, as volume§ of sulphurous exhalations rolled from the crater which would have suffocated us had we come within their influence. Occa- sionally as the wind swirled within the crater it scooped out the dense vapours and left the vast void nearly unobscured. We now made the circuit of the crater, a long and arduous tramp, as the lip, which aver- aged only six feet in width, consisted of heaped-up scorim and lava, rendering locomotion extremely difficult, while in many places the treacherous crust was so hot as to burn our feet. The scene was one indeed of the wildest desolation, and yet though all around bore evidence of untameable fierceness, it was not without its beauties. Many of the fumarole or smoke-holes presented a beautiful appearance, their edges glowing with brilliant yellows, whites and greens, produced by the con- densation of sulphuric, muriatie, and carbonic acids, combined with various alkaline, earthy, or metallic bases. But the difficulties of pro- ceeding round the edge of the crater were trifling compared to these attendant on the descent into it, and the climb upwards. This was choking work. More than once when eddying winds drove the sulphuretted hydrogen into our nostrils, or when we trod incautiously on the edges of fumarole, we apprehended that the crater would be our tomb. At length, half suffocated and blinded, we stood on the edge of the mysterious tube which formed the funnel of the crater. The sides were vertical, enabling us to peer far down ; but no bottom was visible. The guides, however, declared that the tube was upwards of 1,000 feet deep, and judging by the time that bodies were falling before they came to rest, it is probable that the depth of this great fire tube was not exaggerated. It was easy to detach large masses of lava and scorias from the edge of the tube, which went thundering down till they

seemed to fall in water. Columns of vapour came fitfully growling up from the tube at a velocity when unaffected by the wind of about seventy-eight feet a minute. Having remained as long as possible in what might not be unaptly likened to the jaws of hell, we scrambled out of the crater, delighted to be able to inhale comparatively pure air on its edge."

In the Corn/till we light on one of those short tales about which the first question always is, "Is it by Miss Thackeray or Mrs. Oliphant ?" The name of Dinglefield Green in the second line takes

us back to a similar tale which appeared in a late number. We need not speculate as to the authorship. If the first mentioned were the author, there would be no need of criticism. But only to put the question implies that the critic is satisfied. There is a buried tragedy in the story which forces its way up, as it were, in spite of the restraint imposed by the tone of the place and its society. Mrs. West is a little in the way, we think. We might have done without her. At the outset she rather disturbs our view of Lady Denzil. Her comments after the grand scene are not needed. She seems brought in then on purpose to be snubbed, and we are in no mood for a snubbing. The remaining contents of the Cornhill are more curious than attractive. There is an article on Sur- names which contains a mass of information, put somewhat statisti- cally, and another on New York and San Francisco which deals even more largely in figures. As we read about the number of persons born into the world during the year 1865, with the name of Smith awaiting them on their arrival, and hear that Clark is more common than Clarke, Browne than White, and Davies than Davis, we cannot but think that the whole subject of surnames might have furnished an excellent theme if the writer had gone further afield. As it is we, hear too much of the Registrar-General. The article on New York and San Francisco seems in like manner to owe much of its material to the Post-Office Directory. But this expression is to be taken figuratively. There is no book of reference that tells us how much money is spent on tea, coffee, whisky, and tobacco by the families of New York, how many "retired thieves "—the phrase is curious—leave a capital of 60,000 dollars, or how long it takes an Irishman to rise from the posses- sion of a small tape store to a marble warehouse and some twenty million dollars. All these facts are noticeable, but could not they be made into literature ? The author of the paper called "Don Ricardo" has worked up a number of anecdotes in a readable shape, and we take from him an account of a novel Spanish bull-fight :—

" The door was flung back, and a noble bull dashed into the ring with that impetuous rush which is so fine. He galloped wildly round the ring once or twice, apparently astonished at finding nothing to encounter, and then took up his position in the centre of the arena, pawing, and shaking his curly black locks over his small stag-like muzzle. A door facing him was then opened and the tiger WIUS let out. It was very singular to remark the different way that the tiger came out of his den ; no wild rush or roar, but sneaking out of his cell he crept close to. the barrier, and crouching against it, looked with half-closed eyes at his enemy. The bull directly he saw him gave one or two wild snorts, full of vigour and passion, and backed a few paces. He did not seem afraid, but conscious ho was in the presence of a dangerous enemy, not to be trifled with ; so they continued gazing at each other for some seconds. Presently the tiger seemed to crouch gradually lower and lower till he lay literally centre a terre, and, commenced dragging himself paw by paw nearer to the ball. He in his turn retreated two or three steps, and then stood still awaiting the event—no movement but an occasional petulant shake of his head, and a slight noise like a deep sigh. You might have heard a pin drop in the Plaza, so intense was the excite- ment as inch by inch the tiger drew near. Suddenly ! in a moment! he seemed to double himself into a ball, and then fly out like a piece of watch-spring, but with no roar, in perfect silence he sprang ! A wild furious snore on the bull's part as he met him, and we saw him receive the tiger full on his horns ; for an instant one claw hung on the bull's glossy shoulder, and then he fell a corpse on the sand, for the bull's horn penetrated the chest and heart. The conqueror sniffed once or twice at the body, made a plunge at it, and then cantered round the ring as if aware of the gallant feat he had accomplished."

Macmillan opens with an article on Technical Education, by Mr. Scott Russell. The name of the author will carry weight with it, and his conclusions have some chance of being accepted. But the paper is mostly made up of quotations. Mr. Trevelyan has a short article called "Memorial Literature of the American War," chiefly taken up with an extract from James Russell Lowell. Mr. Leslie Stephen's paper on Ritualism, is in some respects an answer to Mr. Palgrave, and shows very clearly that the Ritualists have been the first to repudiate the msthetic argument which has been put forward in their favour. Mrs. Fawcett's remarks on the Education of Women are sometime forcible, and generally sensible. We do not wish by such approval to commit ourselves to the scheme for having a girls' hostel at Cambridge, which, we confess, seems fanciful. But the case of Christ's Hospital, which Miss Fawcett mentions, certainly needs an inquiry. We have left to the end Mr. Goldwin Smith's admirable article on "The Last Republicans of Rome," a stirring protest against some of Momm-

sen'e views, a vindication of Cicero and Cato, and a severe estimate of Ciesar. In this estimate there is nothing very new, for we have known Mr. Goldwin Smith's views on Imperialism since the Oxford Essays of 1856 and Fraser's Magazine of 1857. But there are some delicious touches of the old irony in the criticism of Mommsen, and of his "girding at characters deficient in sensual paasion with a friskiness which is a -little amusing, when you con- nect it with the spectacles and the blameless life of a learned pro- lemon" The portrait of Cicero is still better than his thumb-nail sketch of the ideal German professor, and may be commended even to those classical Conservatives who abhor Mr. Goldwin Smith for being a Republican, and yet knowing how to construe.

The St. Paul's continues its two stories with much spirit.

Phineas Finn, the Irish Member," began tamely, but in the last =two numbers has been approaching Mr. Trollope's higher levels, and the story of Mr. Finn's first speech in the House given in this number is admirably told. "All for Greed," Madame de Bury's French story, has been throughout clever and interesting. "Paul

• Goslett's Confessions," of which the second part appears in this number, is also a success, and very lively reading. The St. Paul's has certainly improved of late, though its politics are still a little "thin." Its poetry has never been worth much. The -" Ballad of Squire Curtis," in the present number, seems to us

poor imitation of the olden style.

The Contemporary Review for April has some very good papers, the anost remarkable perhaps being the essay on the Pall Mall Gazette, -which is, on the whole, both just and humorous. But when the 'writer describes the tone of it as predominantly " Benthamized Con- servatism," and as "totally without enthusiasm of any kind," he as scarcely just, we think, to the more impressive articles 'written by the chief Benthainizer, and no doubt the strongest of all the writers, on the staff. The writer of the leading article on the -day of the funeral of Lord Palmerston,—nearly or quite the most 'remarkable and earnest and powerful article we ever remember to have read in the leader-columns of any newspaper,—cannot pro- perly be described as destitute of a certain grim, and deep, and mas- sive enthusiasm. Mr. Mozley's paper on "Christ alone without Sin" is also one of singular cogency and power. Mr. Maurice's reply 4o the article by the Dean of Cork on the Irish Church, which we noticed two or three weeks ago, is earnest, eloquent, and to our minds, conclusive.

We have a mass of other magazines on our table, but there is nothing to say about them, and they are to be found in the adver- tisements. The St. James's Magazine, however, must be noticed, as it has revived under the auspices of Mrs. Riddell, and contains the first chapters of her newest story. Once a Week has also passed into a new series, and the tale now going on, by Messrs. Charles Reade and Boucicault, is a singular specimen of the union -of the strong effects of two different schools, and of a daring elabor- ateness of construction. Both these magazines have gained in -character by their change, and while Once a Week has struck a vein of sketchy cleverness, the St. James's Magazine has more than -one article of decided merit. "County Politics," "The Reason- ableness of Opera," " Rochefoucauld " have something of a Corn- JO stamp upon them. If we remember rightly, the St. James's aged to be a bad Temple Bar. It is as well that it should have looked further east for its model, though it need not have chosen a -cover that so clearly suggests the Mansion House.