Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 58, Number 360, October 1845

In Short

This volume of Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine functions as a curated snapshot of mid-Victorian intellectual life. It gathers literary essays, political commentary, travelogues, and serialized fiction into a single, cohesive monthly installment. By blending rigorous analysis of historical figures like Montesquieu with biting satire of the era's speculative "railway mania," the magazine captures a world transitioning toward modernity. It endures as a primary window into the preoccupations of the 1840s, offering a unique mixture of earnest scholarship, colonial-era military biography, and the restless, enterprising spirit of the British middle class.

The Story

The magazine unfolds as a multifaceted narrative of a nation grappling with its own identity and reach. It opens with a profound meditation on Montesquieu, framing him as the architect of the "philosophy of history." This sets a tone of serious inquiry that persists throughout the issue. The argument here is not merely historical; it asserts that by studying the underlying laws of human society—selfishness, envy, and ambition—one can understand the "hurricanes" of modern political revolution through the "storms in a teacup" of daily life.

From these lofty heights, the magazine pivots to the practical and the aesthetic. A review of M. de Burtin’s work on art connoisseurship serves as a guide for the aspiring collector, emphasizing that true taste is a discipline learned through trial, error, and travel. This emphasis on the tangible world is disrupted by the inclusion of a serialized memoir, Marston, which paints a grand portrait of the Napoleonic Wars. The story arc here is one of inevitable national triumph, where the "battle of the Ministry" in London is portrayed as being as decisive as the military campaigns in Spain. It champions the stability of British governance during a period of intense upheaval, celebrating the "great ministerial mind" of Perceval and his successors.

The narrative arc then takes a sharp turn into comedy and critique with "How we Got Up the Glenmutchkin Railway." This tale follows two desperate, opportunistic schemers who decide to conjure a fraudulent railway line in the Highlands to fleece gullible investors. They invent noble-sounding provisional committees and exploit the "misty" feudal fantasies of the English to drive up share prices. The story ends not in moral comeuppance, but in a successful "bearing operation," where the scammers cash out before the inevitable collapse of their own artifice, highlighting the rampant speculative greed that characterized the decade.

The magazine closes with a biographical tribute to Frank Abney Hastings, a British naval officer who sacrificed his career and reputation to fight for the cause of Greek independence. His story is one of tragic idealism, contrasting sharply with the cynical railway speculators. Hastings suffers under the rigid, often petty discipline of the British Admiralty, eventually finding his true purpose in the Mediterranean. The issue concludes on a reflective, elegiac note, blending travel sketches of Naples with a somber recognition of the fading glory of old empires, leaving the reader with the image of a world that is at once expanding toward a new future and mourning the loss of a romanticized past.

How It Unfolds

The philosophical foundation The issue leads with a dense, scholarly examination of Montesquieu, arguing that history is governed by general laws rather than chance. It posits that observing the petty jealousies of private life reveals the secret mechanics of national political revolution.

The aesthetic pursuit The editors transition to the connoisseurship of art, presenting a manual for those who wish to judge pictures with precision. The text moves from theoretical appreciation to practical advice on how to spot a "good picture" amidst the deceptions of the art market.

The political struggle Serialized memoirs transport the reader to the battlefields of the Peninsula, linking the success of the British army to the steadfast nature of the cabinet at home. It reinforces the image of a government that, like a great vessel, remains on course despite the storms of war.

The speculative farce The tone shifts to biting satire as two men create a fake railway company, exploiting public ignorance of the Highlands. This segment details the mechanical creation of a fraud, from the falsified traffic tables to the cynical recruitment of a "Chief" to impress investors.

The heroic sacrifice The magazine concludes with a serious account of Captain Frank Abney Hastings, whose professional life is defined by his conflict with bureaucratic authority. His naval career in the Greek service provides a stark, earnest contrast to the earlier satirical depictions of modern enterprise.

The People

Mr. Simpson, a down-on-his-luck mathematical tutor, represents the meek, fading academic class. He is a man who walks with "quiet caution" to avoid physical exertion, embodying the vulnerability of the un-moneyed professional in a society that lacks a safety net.

The unnamed schemers behind the Glenmutchkin Railway, particularly the one who acts as the secretary, serve as the personification of the era’s "get-rich-quick" spirit. They are motivated by pure opportunism and a keen awareness of the public's gullibility. They remain unchanged by their deceit, viewing the world entirely as a marketplace to be manipulated.

Frank Abney Hastings is the central figure of tragic integrity. Driven by a desire for professional honor and a commitment to the cause of Greek independence, he finds himself repeatedly thwarted by the rigid, spiritless regulations of the British Admiralty. Unlike the railway schemers, he seeks a higher purpose, but he is ultimately a man out of step with the cold, administrative realities of his time.

Sir Polloxfen Tremens, a man with "not a sixpence to lose," is the comic foil in the railway scheme. He is a pseudo-baronet who uses a fake title to dine out and gain social standing, perfectly capturing the superficiality and class-climbing anxieties of the mid-Victorian age.

In Its Own Voice

"It is only supposing the same malevolent or selfish desires working in every breast, directed against one object, and rendered irresistible from that very multiplication, and we have the envy of the coterie transformed into the fury of revolution."

This observation, found in the essay on Montesquieu, explains the author's theory that small-scale human nature drives large-scale political upheaval.

"There is no time to be lost, and the sooner we get out the prospectus the better."

In the satire of the railway mania, this line captures the frantic, thoughtless speed with which the speculators launch their fraudulent enterprise.

"Your lordship may, perhaps, find officers that will submit to such language, but I do not envy them their dearly purchased rank; and God forbid that the British navy should have no better supporters of its character than such spiritless creatures."

Writing to the Admiralty, Captain Hastings defends his honor against a superior, revealing his deep, albeit bruised, devotion to the service.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this magazine explores the tension between romantic idealism and cynical materialism. It questions the stability of human institutions, asking whether progress is driven by the "general laws" of history or by the erratic, self-serving actions of individuals. The issue consistently returns to the problem of judgment: how to distinguish true art from a manufactured product, true political wisdom from popular "mania," and true heroism from professional vanity. It reflects a society that is increasingly aware of its own artificiality, using the lens of history, satire, and biography to probe whether any genuine value can survive the pressures of a commercialized age.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the dense, inquisitive prose of the Victorian era will find this a rewarding, if challenging, experience. It is not a book to be skimmed; it demands an attention to the shifting tones between its disparate sections. You will move from the rigorous, occasionally pedantic arguments of high political theory to the rapid-fire, cynical dialogue of a farce, and finally to the somber, colonial-inflected biography of a naval officer.

The greatest hurdle for a modern reader is the assumption of a shared classical and political knowledge base; the authors assume you know the context of the Reform mania or the finer points of the Greek War of Independence. However, the reward is an unvarnished encounter with the 1840s. There is no modern filter here—no softening of the period's attitudes toward "Celts" or its rigid colonial hierarchies. You encounter the Victorian mind as it was, simultaneously capable of profound historical analysis and blatant, self-interested opportunism. What stays with you is the startling contemporary feeling of the "Glenmutchkin Railway" satire; the mechanisms of the financial bubble described nearly two centuries ago feel uncomfortably familiar today. It is a portrait of a civilization that, much like our own, was both brilliant and deeply prone to its own delusions.