Blackwood

“ Blackwood spoke of you with a studied gentleness, as if unwilling to hurt your feelings; and Blackwood's farmers make not the remotest reference to you, and never once mention your name. And yet, in your High Farming Vindicated, you pour out on these gentlemen an inky flood of petulant impertinence. You speak of their statistics as "counter-statements" (p. 7.) to yours. Your vanity makes you think so. They never once allude to you; and if the article in Blackwood brought them to bear on the high farming theory, it might surely be the high farming of Mechi or Huxtable, as well as of Caird. ”

“ He just said it, swallowing his breath with a gulp upon the unfinished sentence. But he said it—somewhere else, and not here in the twilight street of little Bourcelles. For his sight swam somehow far away, and he was giddy with the height. The roofs of the houses lay in a sea of shadow below him, and the street wound through them like a ribbon of thin lace. The tree-tops waved very softly in a wind that purred and sighed beneath his feet, and this wind was a violet little wind, that bent them all one way and set the lines and threads of gold a-quiver to their fastenings. ”

“ After his return to England he contributed to ‘Blackwood's Magazine’ some verses entitled ‘Wayside Songs,’ and in 1857 attracted some attention by a paper ‘Infante Perduto,’ published in ‘Edinburgh Essays.’ He maintained his connection with ‘Blackwood’ throughout his life. ”

“ We are told that William Blackwood grew impatient of “humdrum bookselling”, and considering the spirited character of the man, it is easy to believe. That hardly explains the whole truth concerning the origin of “Maga”, however. The history of Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine might almost be considered the history of the struggle between two rival booksellers, Mr. Constable and William Blackwood. The personality of the man William Blackwood is no less interesting than the personality of his magazine, and indeed, his was the spirit which colored the periodical from start to finish. ”

“ It is easy to imagine that the man 26 who did not hesitate to criticise the “Black Dwarf” would not be overawed by the two mild gentlemen in charge of his pet scheme. William Blackwood’s ideal had indeed been to startle the world with a periodical which in modern terms we would call a “live wire”. And now with the magazine actually under way, it is not likely that a man of his stamp would sit by unperturbed, and watch one insignificant number after another greet an unresponsive public. ”

“ Blackwood, whose mother became Lady Dufferin, had gone to Angoulême, when just of age, at the end of 1791, in order to learn French. In December 1792 he went to Paris, and agreed to take a bag, which he was assured contained no letters, but merely domestic articles for an émigré at Brussels. At Paris, however, the bag was searched, and letters were found in it. Blackwood was taken before the municipality; but as the letters did not touch on politics, he was released on bail, a Paris merchant with whom he stayed being surety for him. ”

“ No practical word as to the work before them, or the duties of the new secretary, had yet passed between them. They walked along together, chatting as equals, acquaintances, almost two friends might have done. And on the top of the hill, after a four-mile trudge, they rested for the first time, Spinrobin panting and perspiring, trousers tucked up and splashed yellow with mud; Mr. Skale, legs apart, beard flattened by the wind about his throat, and thumbs in the slits of his waistcoat as he looked keenly about him over the darkening landscape. Treeless and desolate hills rose on all sides. ”

“ The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the flowers were out upon the lawn, and it was Spring.
An amazing longing in him woke and stirred to life. There was a singular itching in his feet. Something in his butler-heart began to purr. "Looking, eh!" he thought. "There's something I've been looking for too. I'd forgot about it."
"No one can make the silver shine as I can," he mumbled, watching the retreating figures, "but it is about finished now,"--he glanced down at it with pride--"and fit to set on the table. Why shouldn't I take a turn in the garden too?" ”

“ He paused and sighed. Wind stirred the rose trees just behind him. He went on murmuring in a lower tone; and as he spoke a sense of exquisite new beauty stole across the old-world garden. "It was--in the morning--very early," he said below his breath.
"At dawn!" Uncle Felix whispered.
"When the birds begin," from Judy very softly.
"To sing," Tim added, a single shiver of joy running through all three of them at once. The enchantment of their own dim memories of the dawn--of a robin, of swallows, and of an up-and-under bird flashed magically back. ”

“ He was a meek and solemn fellow really. Nature had dressed him in black, and he respected her taste by repeating it in his clothes. Even his expression was funereal, though his black eyes twinkled.
The servant-girl at once brought in his plate of soup, and he tucked the napkin beneath his chin and began to eat. From twelve to two the post was closed; his recreation time was precious, and no minute must be lost. After dinner he took his coat off and did the heavy work of the garden, under the merciless oversight of the Widow Jequier, his sister-in-law, the cash-box ever by his side. ”

“ The fire crackled faintly; the smell crept out like incense; the lines of smoke coiled upwards, and seemed to draw the tree-stems with them. Indeed they formed a pattern together, big thick trunks marking the uprights at the corners, and wavy smoke lines weaving a delicate structure in between them. It was a kind of growing, moving scaffolding. Saying nothing, Cousin Henry pointed to it with his finger. He traced its general pattern for them in the air.
'That's the Scaffolding of the Night beginning,' he whispered presently, feeling adventure press upon him. ”

“ Maria murmured to herself, addressing the faces in the water. She took the fragment Stumper handed back to her. All three, forgetting it was time for lunch, forgetting they were hungry, forgetting that there was still half a mile of lane between them and the house, gazed down at their reflections in the stream as though fascinated. Uncle Felix certainly felt the watery-enchantment in his soul. The reflections trembled and quivered, yet did not pass away. The stream flowed hurrying by them, yet still was always there. ”

“ I remember, once upon a time, in a coffee-shop, detecting a very smart fellow, who wrote some clever things in a Magazine published in Edinburgh by [Pg 77] one Blackwood, under the character of a military man, not to be anything of the kind, by his talking about ensigns in the fusiliers—all the world knowing that in the fusiliers there are no ensigns, but in their place second lieutenants. Let me set you right there, Bob; the facings your friend Brady exhibited to the wondering gaze of the Mallow tea-table must have been buff—pale buff. ”

“ Minks and his cousin continued idly talking. Their voices twittered like birds in empty space. The children had scattered like marbles from a spinning-top. Their voices and footsteps sounded in the cobbled yard of La Citadelle, as they scampered up to prepare for supper. Mother sailed solemnly after them, more like a frigate than ever. The world, on fire, turned like a monstrous Catherine wheel within his brain. ”

“ Her atmosphere enveloped him, the sense of attraction and repulsion became intense. She moved past him with the slightest possible bow of recognition; then, having passed, she turned.
She stood a little higher than himself, a step at most, and she thus looked down at him. Her eyes blazed into his. She smiled, and he was aware again of the domination and the sweetness. The perfume of her near presence drowned him; his head swam. “We count upon you,” she said in a low firm voice, as though giving a command; “I know⁠ ⁠... we may. We do.” ”

“ The less said about the poetry in Blackwood’s Magazine the better. Most of it is pretty poor stuff. It is strange, with men like Wordsworth and Coleridge and Byron living, that “Maga” should print such feeble verse—all the more strange when those responsible for the periodical were such venerators of intellectual power and so ably appreciative. 65 The Wordsworthian influence is largely reflected in much of the Blackwood verse, in fact the Wordsworthian love for the simple and the commonplace is reflected to such an extent that it assumes the aspect of the commonplace run to seed. ”

“ But before we can appreciate just how shocking Blackwood’s Magazine was, or why, it will be necessary first to remember the Edinburgh of those days, and the men who thought and fought in those pages, and the then state of periodical literature. 2
When we call Blackwood’s the first real magazine it is by virtue of worth, not fact. There were numerous periodicals preceding and contemporary with it. Most of them have never been heard of by the average citizen, and no doubt oblivion is the kindest shroud to fold them in. ”

“ There was not a stick of furniture large enough to hide a dog. Then he called over the banisters to Mrs Monks, but there was no answer, and his voice echoed down into the dark vault of the house, and was lost in the roar of the gale that howled outside. Everyone was in bed and asleep—everyone except himself and the owner of this soft and stealthy tread.
'My absurd imagination, I suppose,' he thought. 'It must have been the wind after all, although—it seemed so very real and close, I thought.' He went back to his packing. ”

“ Life has just begun!"
"Then we might as well sit down," suggested Uncle Felix, and suiting the action to the word, chose a nice soft spot upon the mossy bank and made himself comfortable as though he meant to stay; the Tramp did likewise, gathering the children close about his tangled figure. For one thing a big ditch faced them, its opposite bank overgrown with bramble bushes, and for another the sloping moss offered itself invitingly, like a cushioned sofa. So they lay side by side, watching the empty ditch, listening to the faint trickle of water tinkling down it. ”

“ The dusk enveloped them, the corncrakes were calling from the fields, the scent of honeysuckle and wild roses lay round her in a warm wave of air, yet at the same time she felt as if her naked soul stood side by side with this figure in the infinitude of space beyond the sunrise end. The golden stars hung calm and motionless above them. “That price”⁠—his answer fell like a summons she had actually expected⁠—“you pay to another, not to me.” The voice grew fainter, farther away, dropping through empty space behind her. “All dreams are but a single dream. ”

“ And the Pattern quivered and grew brighter.
'I am the story because I thought of it first. You, as a version of its beauty--a channel for its delivery--belong utterly to me. You can no more resist me than a puddle can resist the stars' reflection. You increase me. We increase each other.'
'You say you thought it first,' he cried, feeling the light he radiated flow in and mingle with her own. 'But who are you? Where do you come from?'
'Over there somewhere, I think,' she laughed, while a ray like fire flashed out in the direction of the Pleiades that climbed the sky towards the East. ”

“ They had looked in all the difficult places where a clever player would be most likely to conceal himself, yet in vain; there was no definite sign of him, no footprints on the flower-beds or along the edge of the shrubberies. The garden proper had been searched from end to end without result. The children had been to the particular hiding- places each knew best, Tim to the dirty nook between the ilex and the larder window, and Judy to the scooped-out trunk of the rotten elm, and both together to the somewhat smelly channel between the yew trees and a disused outhouse--all equally untenanted. ”

“ It is evident that Blackwood did not take pains to seek out any specious circumlocution in his criticism, and the idea that any man should criticise the Great Wizard of the North brings a catch to the breath and a tingling down one’s spinal column! ”

“ Her brother had finished his plate of soup, wiped his black moustaches elaborately, and turned his head towards the kitchen door with the solemn statement 'Je n'ai pas de viande,' when she descended upon the scene like a shrill-voiced little tempest.
'Bonjour Mesdames, bonjour Mademoiselle, bonjour, bonjour,' she bowed and smiled, washing her hands in the air; 'et comment allez-vous ce matin?' as the little band of hungry governesses rose with one accord and moved to take their places. Some smiled in answer; others merely bowed. She made enemies as well as friends, the Widow Jequier. ”

“ To know William Blackwood means to see his vigorous, unwearying figure through and behind every page. Lockhart knew him as well as any, and it is his able portraiture that follows: “He is a nimble active-looking man of middle-age, and moves about from one corner to another with great alacrity, and apparently under the influence of high animal spirits. ”

“ Already the room was clearer, and the radiance of their bodies fading into a paler glory. Jane Anne grew clumsier, tumbling over things, and butting against her more agile sister. Her thoughts became more muddled. She said things from time to time that showed it--hints that waking was not far away.
'Daddy's a wumbled Laplander, you know, after all. Hurry up!' The foolish daylight speech came closer.
'Give his ink-pot one more blow,' cried Monkey. Her body always slept at least an hour longer than the others. She had more time for work. ”