The Sun.
London, England, 1849-04-05 00:00:00

best tooth; and, to complete his distresses, the Serpent
claims his privilege to measure Madame Bonnichon for a
new pair of stays. The progress of Socialist civilization
has, in the next act, proceeded so far—it is the year
1853,—that all traffic by means of coin is forbidden; all
purchases are to be made in kind;' and ;trading com-
munication is only carried on by the exchange of objects.
The scenes which ensue are of the most ludicrous de
scription. The embarrassments of Monsieur Bonnichon,
who exchanges his boiler for some beef, and then, finding
that he has no receptacle to cook his meat in, sells his
beef for a boiler, and afterwards discovers that he has
again only his boiler without his beef are of the most
absurd order of caricature, but full of whim and provo-
cative of laughter; his purchase of a patty for a stuffed
crocodile, and the 'small change ' he receives out of this
object in the shape of an old chair and a table de nuit,
are subjects of immense fun to the Parisian audiences.
Monsieur Bonnichon is finally arrested by the Serpent
for claiming the purchased patty as his own, the use of
the possessive pronouns being interdicted by the authority
of the Socialist Republic, and proprietdires, or those who
call themselves so, being subject ;to the utmost rigour
of the law.' The scene of the trial, where Monsieur
Bonnichon is convicted of this heinous crime, is full of
witty satire against the doctrines of Proudhon. The
speech of the Serpent (Proudhon) as accusateur public
against Bonnichon, in which he denounces the use of the
possessive pronouns as a ' triste :aveuglement' an aber-
ration de I' egoism,' is the very essence of excellent cari-
cature. The counsel on the side of Bonnichon, under the
guise of Cremieux, in pretending to take his defence,
only abuses him still more; and the unfortunate expro-
prietaire is condemned. This scene is, perhaps, that
which is written in the liveliest strain, and with the best
humour throughout the piece; it certainly contains some
of the happiest strokes against the Utopian Republican
creeds of the day, and is consequently one of those most
favourably greeted by the crowded audiences of the
Vaudeville.' "

The legend of Aix—" The Dyer and the Dominican,"
which we noticed last month, is brought to a conclu-
sion in this number. The remarks which we made
upon the opening of this poem apply to the conclusion.
The manner is admirable, but the matter not deserving
of much commendation. The versification of this
second part of the legend is even more humorous and
effective than the commencement—for example
"All the world seemed alive, and prepared for display,
Being out for the day,
Save mine host of the tavern, who loved to be in—
For the tin.
Deacons, nuns, friars, cures, and bishops, moreover,
Issued forth from their clover,
To welcome the faithful who thronged to receive
All the goods the Pope promised to such as believe.
Now this Pontiff had issued dpastoral letter,
Recommending mankind, rich and poor, to five better;
And according the `just' that in Aix should appear,
This particular day,
Absolution in full for the following year:
That's to say,
By the way,
That his long-headed Holiness meant by the just,'
Such as had wherewithal to come down with the dust.
Ready cash I for the Church never took upon trust.
Furthermore, certain wonderful relics were sent
For the eyes of the flock !—thus the cataloge went :
The bless'd motto which Constantine saw from his tent;'
Rusty cork-screw of holy St. Bibo and flagon ;'
An idea of St. George, and some breath of the Dragon;'
The original score of St. Vitus's dance,'
With the skull of a rational being from France,'
All the bumps of the which were sufficiently strong;
Certain tears St. Flam shed, when he did something
wrong,
In the days of hot youth; and a Chinaman's gong;'
Bottled groans, duty paid, from the bottomless pit,'
With the government stamp: St. Cecilia's Kit."
All attested in form by his Holiness' name.
With the fisherman's seal duly fixed to the same."
This very quaint and original writer bids fair
to beCome one of the most amusing contributors
of Bentley's. The conclusion of the poem tells how
the luckless Dominican, escaping from . his bath of
cochineal, made his appearance in the cathedral in the
midst of a religious ceremony, to the horror and
alarm of the assembly, which apparition is almost
more astounding in its consequences than the reve-
nant priest of Thomas Ingoldsby, who, appearing in
his funeral garb before his thirty quondam brethren,
put the spectator in mind

" Of the Council of Trent
Engaged in reviewing the Diet of Worms."

The procession through the church is very effectively
depicted, and the change in the metre is admirably
adapted to the changed theme. We should perhaps
like it better but for its obliteration of that "one step"
which should divide the sublime from the ridiculous.
Nevertheless, as a piece of painting and as a piece of
versification, the description of the church-scene is
excellent, the description beginning—

" 'Tis noon! the faithful kneel, a mighty mass,
The golden Sun salutes each sculptured bier,
Lending his glory to the stained glass,
Whereon dim knights and pictured saints appear;

Grim effigies of flesh, long gone to grass,
With hands upraised, do seem to lend an ear
Devout. The organ thunders to the skies,
Or in a solemn, soft cadenza dies.
" Cluster'd around the altar in array,
A hundred tapers, of prodigious height,
Burn pale and lurid in the face of day;
To true believers in impressive sight.
A sort of Will o' th' Wisp,' some authors say,
To tempt to Rome, your errant Peuseyite.
The Pope, it seems, to catch such rats as these,
With' candle' baits his trap, in lieu of cheese.'
" Devoted cite, with tapers, head the throng,
As if condemn'd to penance. A long file
Of boys, in surplices, a shade too long,
Precede a corps of maidens veiled ; meanwhile,
In rich brocaded copes, the lords of song
Discharge their anthems through the mighty pile,
And, winking at the damsels as they sing,
Conceive they do a wondrous clever thing.
" Next, acolytes throw incense to the sky :
Anon the priests, in chasubles, implore
A blessing on the sheep attendant by;
'Tis all the faithful get, and nothing more.
A stalwart yeoman bears the cross on high,
In velvet clad, and lace that smacks of yore ;
The which rich mantle lets, through divers stitches,
Bless'd daylight, to a pair of leather breeches."

Another chapter of the "Memoirs of Chateaubriand,"
a very interesting continuation of the " Wayside
Pictures through France and Belgium," which relates
to the romantic and heroic war in La Vendee, " The
Bye-lanes and Downs of England," " Forgiveness,"
a tale by Alfred Crowquill, " Musical Notes for
March," Scenes on the banks of the Amazon," &c.,
complete the April number of Bentley.