Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 60, Number 371, September 1846

In Short

This volume serves as a representative window into the Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine tradition, functioning as a cultural clearinghouse for its era. It juxtaposes heavy international reportage on Mexican political instability and French colonial efforts in Algeria with intimate, lighthearted stories about student life at Oxford and the foibles of becoming a gentleman yeoman. Through these varied essays and sketches, the periodical documents a society deeply invested in its own refinement, its imperial reach, and the strange, evolving habits of the contemporary professional classes.

The Story

The magazine opens with a defensive correspondence from Joseph Baseggio, an antiquities dealer in London who is writing to correct the magazine's previous slurs regarding his business ethics. This sets the tone for a collection that is as concerned with reputation and public discourse as it is with storytelling.

The narrative thrust shifts to Mexico, where the authors paint a harrowing picture of a nation crippled by superstition and endemic corruption. The text details the assassination of a Swiss consul—a crime uncovered only through the accidental discovery of a torn coat button—which exposes a web of conspiracy reaching into the highest offices of President Santa Anna’s administration. This grim political reality is contrasted with the "extravagant" religious pageantry of the Mexican people, whose veneration of icons and "alabaster dolls" is treated by the writers with a mixture of anthropological fascination and Victorian disdain.

Following this, the focus moves to Spain through the figure of Cabrera, a brutal Carlist rebel leader whose ruthless military campaigns in the Aragon region serve as a cautionary tale of civil strife. The narrative of his rise to power, his calculated cruelty toward prisoners, and the eventual public outcry in Valencia provides a stark, violent counterpoint to the domestic settings that follow.

The tone lightens significantly in the later sections, which offer a glimpse into the sheltered world of academic and social life. We follow the misadventures of Charles Russell, a gentleman commoner at Oxford whose near-drowning in a river accident forces his friends into a comedy of errors to keep the secret from his sister, Mary. This leads to a series of misunderstandings involving a tutor named Ormiston, whose perceived coldness is eventually revealed to be a product of deep, selfless generosity.

The collection concludes with a whimsical personal account of a man’s disastrous attempts to join the local yeomanry. His humiliation on horseback, his struggle with the physical rigors of military training, and his social anxiety regarding the woman he admires offer a relatable, human scale to the magazine’s broader scope. The final reflections on the "water-cure"—a popular health trend of the day—and a closing vision of a future where all citizens are well-fed and clean, provide a hopeful, if somewhat idealized, resolution to the issue’s diverse inquiries.

How It Unfolds

The grievance of the merchant. The issue begins with a letter to the editors from a merchant demanding a public retraction of accusations that he sells modern fakes as ancient artifacts.

The shadow of foreign instability. A lengthy investigation into Mexico details the assassination of the Swiss consul and the systemic corruption of the Santa Anna government, followed by a historical overview of the violent rise of the rebel leader Cabrera in Spain.

The domestic comedy of errors. The narrative shifts to the quiet, insular world of Oxford, where a student’s near-death accident creates a web of secrecy and social tension involving his sister and a misunderstood college tutor.

The path of the amateur soldier. An aspiring yeoman recounts his painful and humiliating attempt to learn to ride for the cavalry, detailing his physical distress and his desperate desire to impress a lady, culminating in his participation in a race at Musselburgh.

The search for physical and social purity. The volume rounds out with an account of a stay at a hydropathic clinic and a final, optimistic plea for public sanitation and education as the hallmarks of a civilized nation.

The People

Joseph Baseggio appears briefly as a man fighting for his professional integrity, representing the merchant class of the 1840s who were increasingly sensitive to the criticisms of the press.

In the political essays, President Santa Anna and the rebel Cabrera represent the chaotic, often bloodthirsty, nature of foreign governance, serving as foils to the "civilized" order the magazine expects in Britain.

Charles Russell is the central figure of the Oxford sketches; he is a man of privilege whose youthful recklessness is tempered by the protective instincts of his friend, the narrator, and his sister, Mary. Mary Russell serves as the emotional center of this subplot, navigating the complexities of social etiquette and familial worry. Ormiston, the college tutor, acts as the moral anchor; his secret, self-sacrificing financial support of the Russell family redeems the earlier misunderstandings regarding his character.

The author of the yeomanry sketch is a self-deprecating narrator who represents the "gentleman amateur"—a man who is physically ill-suited for the rugged demands of the military, yet who remains driven by the classic Victorian romantic desire to prove his worth in the eyes of his beloved, Edith.

In Its Own Voice

"The Swiss consul had been assassinated at noonday."

The authors use this crime in Mexico to illustrate the precarious and often lawless state of foreign diplomacy in the mid-nineteenth century.

"The doll’s wardrobe, with its precious stones, is valued at a million of dollars."

This detail underscores the author's critique of the immense wealth and perceived superstition embedded within the Mexican religious hierarchy.

"The extraordinary fascination which a red coat exercises over the minds and optics of the fair sex, appears to me a greater phenomenon than any which has been noticed by Goethe in his Theory of the Development of Colours."

The narrator of the yeomanry sketch uses this hyperbolic comparison to explain why civilians consistently lose out to military men in the pursuit of romance.

What It's Really About

The volume grapples with the tension between the stability of the home and the turbulence of the world. It asks what constitutes a "gentleman" and a "nation." The recurring focus on corruption abroad—whether in the political machinations of Mexico or the brutal civil wars of Spain—contrasts sharply with the domestic virtues of kindness, integrity, and self-sacrifice highlighted in the Oxford and yeomanry sketches. The magazine posits that a society is measured by its treatment of the individual, its commitment to truth, and its ability to maintain cleanliness, both in its literal water-supplies and its moral character.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the Victorian mindset will find this volume deeply rewarding. It provides an authentic experience of nineteenth-century journalism, complete with its characteristic mix of arrogance, wit, and genuine intellectual rigor. You will encounter a prose style that is dense, ornate, and consistently opinionated.

Those who enjoy historical social history will appreciate the specific details—the pride taken in a "perfect" breakfast, the disdain for "row houses," and the romantic obsession with military uniforms. However, the reader should be prepared for the period’s casual Eurocentrism and its often dismissive attitudes toward foreign cultures, which are presented as objective fact. The length of the essays can be demanding, and the prose occasionally assumes a familiarity with contemporary political figures that may require a bit of patience. Yet, the reward is a vivid, unfiltered look at the preoccupations of the past. What stays with you is the humanity of the individuals—the nervous student, the defensive merchant, the aspiring soldier—all striving to maintain their dignity against a backdrop of global change. It is a slow, thoughtful read that reminds us how much, and how little, the human condition has changed since 1846.