The Sun.
London, England, 1853-10-03 00:00:00

SERIAL STORIES.

Conspicuous among the serial stories published
on the Ist of October, is the first instalment of
Izack Lakadam,llAlexandre Dumas's . masterpiece.
The work, in its translated form, is exquisitely
"got up," and reflects the highest credit upon the
Messrs. VizetellY and Company's establishment.
France, an enormous circulation.
We anticipate. for this remarkable tale in England,
in sixpenny numbers, is commenced this
month, also, by Mr. Percy St. John, under the
title of Paul Peabody. It opens with agreeable
vivacity. Priam, too, commences a sporting nar-
rative—beingthan the " Life and Adventures of Dick
Diming, the
~Jockey." Mr. Lever's story of " The
Dodd Family hastens towards its conclusion.
fifloifn Charlesn
Meanwhile we have lying before us the new num-
ber, being the fourteenth instalment of the Writ-
ng wth
Knight'shs
noble English Cyclopedia.
‘i:Pslayofs ")D, and the Jetrhro portionol (beginning e&

MR. THAOKERAY'S NEW STORY.
The Newcomes. No. I. Edited by Arthur Pen-
dennis, Esq. Illustrated by Richard Doyle.
Bradbury and Evans.

A cordial welcome will be offered, we doubt not,
by many thousands, to this new serial—enhanced
as it is in interest by the pencil of Doyle, and
emanating as it does from the pen of Thackeray.
A twofold welcome—a welcome, moreover, that,
judging from the merits of the initial number,
lying now well-thumbed at our elbow, is not likely,
we would even already venture to predict, fated to be
followed up by disappointment. It is seldom,
indeed, that we can remember to have perused so
auspicious a commencement. In the opening
chapters of " The Newcomes " we recognise
more of the author of " Vanity Fair" than of the
author of " Pendennis." And this, although the
monthly title-page of the new fiction pleasantly
announces through the splendour of its familiar
yellow, that the work is issued to the public only
after passing under the editorial glance of good King
Arthur, some time student in the Temple. Never-
theless, though the narrative purports to have come
forth fresh' from the supervision of Arthur Pen-
dennis, it breathes less of the talent peculiar
to the history of that young gentleman than
of the genius conspicuous in almost every sen-
tence of its elder composition ... the 66 book

without a hero"—still incomparably Mr. Thack-
eray's undoubted masterpiece. There is less to
remind us in these initiatory pages of the " New-
comes"--of the narrative telling us all about the
vulgarity of Mr. Foker, and the yet more unre-
lishable oddities of divers other personages with
whom that horrid little gent is associated in our
recollection. There is more in the earlier portions
of the tale about to be told, to recal to our remem-
brance the delectable incidents of that great novel
relating to the machinations of Becky Sharp, the
sweet household virtues of Amelia, the innocent
good nature of homely Dobbin, the flawed but
manly temperament of Itawdon Crawley, and to
those other creatures of flesh and blood roving
among the booths of " Vanity Fair," sharing in
its hubbub, adding to its confusion, and tricked out
in its masquerade. Briefly—we recognise in num-
ber one of " The Newcomes," more power, more
freshness, a more winning excellence, and a
more genial philosophy than we could at any
time perceive, even at intervals, in the last
of Thackeray's serial productions. Since the ap-
pearance of the closing instalue at of Pendennis,
our novelist, it is true, has not been idle. He
has given us, during the interval, in three substan-
tial volumes, published all at once, the Auto-
biography of Esmond--that curiosity of author-
craft. Besides which he has penned those exquisite
specimens of criticism, his lectures on a certain
cluster of our English Humorists—and has been
delivering those lectures viva voce to large
audiences both in England and the United States.
Nevertheless we feel' disposed to hail his
re-appearance as one of the chief among our serial
novelists with an eagerness scarcely less earnest
than if he had been all the while dreaming away
his time in the Castle of Indolence. It is
simply thus, no doubt, because in this form—
namely, in the shape of a serial story—Mr.
Thackeray completed the most remarkable of all
his literary achievements. The inferior merit of
" Pendennis," as a work of art, we attribute to
the circumstance of its having been written under
the shadow of severe indisposition. We remember,
too, that in it we became acquainted with the
womanly and gentle Laura, with that noble'-hearted
law student, the friend of Arthur, and with that
inimitable old paragon of a worldling, Major Peu-
dennis. Recollecting these things, but especially
bearing the genius of " Vanity Fair" in our remem-
brance, we give all kindly greeting to these memoirs
of a most respectable family—" The Newcomes."
A delightful conceit is that first chapter which
gives us, which shall we say ? the core or the bloom
of the olden fables ?—we hesitate as to the more ap-
propriate phrase, scarcely knowing whether they
be fruits of wisdom or flowers of fancy—those dear
old fables of the birds and animals familiar to us
all from the days of our childhood. Mr. Thackeray
groups some of the best known amongst them toge-
ther, and then adds with a truthfulness half-solemn
and half-humorous—" So the tales were told ages
before lEsop : and asses under lions' manes roared
in. Hebrew ; and sly foxes flattered in Etruscan ;
and wolves in sheep's clothing gnashed their teeth
Sanscrit, no doubt." 'And in this way he
gives the preface of his narrative about the
" Newcomes." Among the chequered incidents of
that narrative he tells us " there will be black crape
and white favours —tears under orange-flower
wreaths and jokes in mourning coaches." And
so—" The Curtain Rises on a Drinking Chorus."
Such a chorus !—the "Coal-hole," or the "Evans's,"
or the " Cider-cellars" of a past generation! A
midnight scene, in which are circling about merrily
—" the goes of? stout, the Chough and Crow, the
Welsh rabbit, theßed. Cross Knight, the hot brandy
and water (the brown, the strong !), the Bloom is
on the Rye (the bloom isn't on the Rye any more !)"
Answer that, poor shade of Alexander Lee—some-
what of an anachronism. But, perhaps, an in-
tentional anachronism after all—for the satire of
the description is at this very time but too severely
applicable. Colonel Newcome's appearance in the
room reeking of spirits and tobacco, is exquisitely
described. The contrast is something delicious.
When the Colonel, in his charming innocence,
volunteers a song, " Wapping Old Stairs," and
sings it, and gets applauded—our author him-
self says, "It was like Dr. Primrose preaching
his sermon in the prison." Clive—as boy-
son —is already declared to be the hero
of the book ; but as yet our attention is
altogether engrossed by the history of the boy-
hood and the manhood of his father, the Colonel—
a character pencilled with loving tenderness by a
master hand— a character, too, every light and
shade of which is at once manly and beautiful. So
" The Newcomes"—a serial gracefully illustrated by
Doyle—adventures propitiously on its commence-
ment.

SPORTING NOTES.