Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66 No.406, August 1849

In Short

This volume of the long-running Scottish magazine functions as a cultural snapshot of the late 1840s. It blends formal literary reviews of figures like Charles Lamb with sprawling, opinionated dialogues on history, philosophy, and the chaotic politics of the day. Whether dissecting the failure of democratic uprisings in Germany or debating the nuances of Shakespearean scholarship, the publication maintains a distinctively conservative, British perspective. It endures as a primary window into the anxieties of a society grappling with rapid modernization, political instability, and the shifting foundations of religious faith.

The Story

The volume opens with a reflective, appreciative look at the literary legacy of Charles Lamb. The contributors position Lamb as a quirky, genius-adjacent figure—a man whose "contracted" range of thought and playful wit merit a permanent, if eccentric, niche in the English canon. This literary appraisal sets the stage for a broader survey of contemporary writing, including a critical review of Kaloolah, an American travel narrative by Dr. W. S. Mayo. The magazine’s reviewers display a sharp, sometimes biting, critical eye, dismissing some works as mere "backsliding" while finding genuine merit in others.

As the focus shifts from the library to the world stage, the tone darkens. The magazine provides a detailed, often scathing analysis of the 1849 uprisings in Baden and Rhenish Bavaria. It chronicles the "insurrection of seven weeks," portraying the revolutionary leaders as incompetent, self-serving, and ultimately destructive. The writers argue that these movements lacked a "clearly defined object," resulting only in immense loss of blood and treasure. This concern for social order expands into a broader indictment of the conditions in Paris, where the editors analyze the rise of a vast, potentially dangerous underclass—a "common sewer" of the commonwealth—composed of foundlings and the illegitimate.

The narrative arc concludes by receding from the immediate political chaos into the "Tent-Music" of private intellectual discourse. In a series of dialogues, the contributors—North, Buller, Seward, and Talboys—gather to debate the nature of glory, the meaning of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and the decline of religious belief in the face of materialistic philosophy. They trace the "irreligious Philosophy" of the previous century to the political explosions of their own time, viewing the revolutionary fervor as a direct consequence of the abandonment of faith and order. The volume ends with a weary, yet resolute, retreat to the "Mount," where the aging, crutch-bearing North seeks solace in traditional scholarship and the "Venerations of Time." Throughout the pages, the text moves from the "Gothic drollery" of Lamb’s wit to the grim realities of the European barricades, eventually finding a final, quiet refuge in the classical debates of gentlemen scholars by a river.

How It Unfolds

The literary portrait The volume begins with a meditation on Charles Lamb’s unique position in English literature, characterizing him as a man of "oddity" whose humorous essays and letters have earned him a lasting place in the public’s affection.

The critical survey The editors pivot to reviewing recent releases, contrasting the "fabulous" and absurd representation of George Dyer with the more ambitious if flawed adventures found in contemporary American fiction.

The political indictment The scope widens to cover the German uprisings, where the magazine details the chaos, administrative failures, and violent suppression of the rebellion in Baden with a tone of severe disapproval.

The sociological fear The writers analyze the instability of modern France, pointing to the high numbers of illegitimate children and the suffering of the middle class as signs of an impending, systemic social collapse.

The final deliberation The volume closes with a long, discursive dialogue among a group of men who reflect on the "paths of glory," the dangers of materialistic thought, and the necessity of maintaining the ancient, sacred ties between order and belief.

The People

The volume is populated by a mix of historical figures, literary archetypes, and the magazine's own recurring cast of interlocutors. Charles Lamb is the central literary ghost, defined by his "lambent and playful wit" and his capacity to make the mundane seem extraordinary. In sharp contrast stands George Dyer, whom the reviewers dismiss as a "myth" and an absurdity, a man so hopelessly naive he could not possibly have existed in reality.

In the political accounts, the revolutionary Louis Brentano emerges as a figure of controversy, whose defense of his own actions is framed by the magazine as a hollow justification for tyranny and failure. Meanwhile, the magazine’s own editorial "voice"—personified by the elderly, crutch-wielding North—dominates the concluding dialogues. North is a man deeply attached to the past, viewing the current age with a mix of academic rigor and moral alarm. He is joined by Buller, Seward, and Talboys, who act as foils and sounding boards for his broad-ranging arguments. These men view themselves as the guardians of tradition, their discussions serving as a bulwark against the "anarchical" forces they see tearing the world apart outside their tent.

In Its Own Voice

"He has all the genius that could comport with oddity, and all the oddity that could amalgamate with genius."

The editors characterize the unique literary temperament of Charles Lamb.

"The paths of glory lead but to the grave!"

North quotes the famous line while initiating a somber discussion on the futility of human ambition and the necessity of a moral life.

"The Century had prepared the explosion that signalised its close--Impiety was the name of the Giant whom these throes of the convulsed earth had borne into the day."

North diagnoses the 1848 revolutions as the inevitable, violent outcome of a century’s drift away from religious and social order.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an argument for the preservation of the "Venerations of Time." It connects the small, idiosyncratic joys of literature—such as those found in Lamb’s essays—to the grand, orderly functioning of the state. The central question is whether a society can survive without a firm foundation in tradition and religious morality. The contributors express a profound fear that when the "gulf of infinite separation" between the soul and its Creator is opened by materialism, the result is not progress, but an explosion of chaos, political tyranny, and social decay. It is a defense of the old world against the "Giant" of revolutionary instability.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of ideas or the development of 19th-century criticism will find this volume deeply rewarding. It offers a fascinating, albeit opinionated, look at how the Victorians processed the seismic shifts of 1848 and 1849. The writing is precise, erudite, and occasionally sharp, reflecting the high-stakes cultural atmosphere of a magazine that viewed itself as a vital defender of civilization.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the book's period attitudes. The prose is dense, filled with classical allusions and a specific, mid-19th-century British self-assurance that can feel jarring. The political commentary is unapologetically partisan and occasionally borders on the reactionary, particularly regarding the French underclass. Furthermore, the dialogues—which occupy much of the final section—can be long-winded and require a good grasp of the era’s literary references to fully appreciate. Despite these difficulties, the book remains a compelling artifact. What stays with you is the palpable anxiety of a generation that felt the ground shifting beneath their feet, trying to hold onto the "solid oak" of tradition even as the world around them seemed to be descending into the "dark and narrow house" of history.