The Sun.
London, England, 1840-10-01 00:00:00

provision e Every one knows its origin. It sprint's
from the sharp prornptinc,ts of a hungry belly—is
the legitimate offspring of starvation ; aed has no
more to do with the Church, than Dr. Philpotts has
with the rich living of Stanhope, which he citing to
with such tenacity, and resigned some years since,
with such manifest reluctance. " A Shabby Gen-
teel Story" contains some graphic sketches of Mar-
gate—that paradise of the Cocknies, and evinces
humorous capabilities of no mean order. " A
Newspaper Editor's Reminiscences" is the work of
one who knows how to gossip with propriety. He
seems to be well acquainted with the majority of
modern French statesmen, and assures us that " the
laziest minister I have known as a man of business,
is Thiess." We arc surprised at this remark, for
we had always thought that little Thiers was one
of the most busy, bustling, and active politicians of
the day. Of Louis Philippe, he says :
" When he was Duke of Orleans, the sums which he
annually gave away in acts of charity, and in assisting
embarrassed tradesmen, were said to amount to more
than four thousand pounds sterling ; and yet at that
time there vi'‘ls great apparent mcaoness in the mode
of conducting his establishment. He frequently made
his own bargains in sale and purchase ; and would not
think he lost his time if, in selling a quantity of corn
or hay, he could by dint of bargaining get an extra
one per cent. The rations for his horses were ell
carefully weighed cut ; most of his servants were on
board wages ; and he contracted with a restaurateur
for the supply of his own table, and that of the house-
hold who were not on board wages, at so much per
head. Yet it was at this period that he showed such
generous encouragement of a young man, who is now
one of the greatest poets and dramatic writers of
France. This young man was a clerk in the office of
one of his stewards. Like most of his class, he de-
voted more time to poetic efforts than to the dry cal-
culations of francs and centimes ; and was frequently
censured by his employer for his negligence of the
duties of his office. The account of his poetic talent
and of his neglect of duty reached the ears of the Duke
of Orleans, who, entering the office suddenly one day,
found him with the manuscript of a play before him.
This is not. well, young man,' said Louis-Philippe :
you are pad for your time, which belongs to me ; and
your conduct is not consistent with the ideas of probity
and honour which you are said to entertain. If I were
to treat you severely, but justly, I should dismiss you
at once ; but I hear that you have relations dependent
upon you, to whom you are kind, and I fear your
poetry would not enable you to procure bread. You
cannot, however, remain here, to set an example of
idleness to the other clerks. If you really possess lite-
rary talent, I will put you in the way to cultivate it
with effect. Take a year's leave of absence, during
which, with your mind abstracted from all other pur-
suits, you may be able to write your play. Your salary
shall be paid to you as if you were still here. At the
end of the year come to me. I will read your produc-
tion, and consult others as to its merits, and, if it be
really good, will use my interest to get it brought out.
But give me your word that, it my opinion be unfavour-
able, you will then return to the duties of your office,
and for ever renounce all idea of a literary life; As the
story goes, and I believe it is authentic, the young man
did as the Duke desired ; the play was thought well of ;
Louis Philippe made a point of seeing it put into re-
hearsal ; it was acted with great success ; the fortune
of the poet was assured ; and Louis-Philippe has from
that day been his tried and steady friend."
Talking incidentally of Casimir Perier, the News-
paper Editor institutes a parallel between him and
Canning. We apprehend this will not hold good.
The former was a practical man of business—the
latter of wit and fancy. The one excelled in de-
tails—the latter seldom condescended to grapple
with them, but dealt in eloquent generalities.
Both were ambitious, but Canning could trim
and truckle upon occasions, whereas Casimir
Perier was as stubborn and unyielding as an
oak. " Edith Ludlow" is not destitute of a certain
interest, but it is too sentimental to suit our taste.
We have long lost our relish for languishing die-
away tales, and would far rather be made to laugh
than cry. " The Condemned Cells" is a series of
Newgate sketches, written in an earnest and in-
structive spirit. The " Approaching Coalition"
anticipates a junction between the moderate Whigs
and liberal Tories. There is nothing improbable
in this, for it is but a thin partition that divides
Lord John Russell from Sir Robert Peel ; and the
latter, we date say—being by this time heartily sick
of opposition—would gladly knock down the par-
tition altogether. Indeed, we have no doubt, that
if the Right Hon. Baronet were once freed from
his present shackles, he would astonish us one fine
morning by such a display of liberality as would
atone for all his past sins of omission and commis-
sion, and put Whiggcry to the blush. There is
no man so ready to go the whole hog in Reform,.
as your emancipated Tory. Do our readers doubt
this ? Let them remember the Duke's and Mr.
Baring's offers to carry Lord Grey's famous mea-
-1 sure, who only returned to their shackles and their
muzzle, when they found that they could not con-
vince Parliament of their zeal and honesty as Re-

ormers.

TAIT'S MAGAZINE.
The " Autobiography of an English Opium
Eater," which is one of the most curious series of
papers that have appeared in this Magazine, if only
tor the manner in which, unconsciously, as it were,
it developes the writer's peculiar idiosyncracy,
is continued in the present number. Mr. De
Quincey is a gentleman of extensive erudition, and
possessed of no slight powers of humour and fancy ;
but there appears to be something strangely morbid
and way ward in his temperament—we draw this in-
ference from his own account of himself—which, in
matters of feeling, seems to be constantly leach!' g
him astray. Thus, his autobiography is filed with
allusions to the cold, and even unkind, conduct put--
sued towards him by Wordsworth ; yet when we
come to examine the grounds of his complaint, we
find, even on his own unconscious showing, that
they have no existence save in his own imagination.
What, though the Lake poet did " turn away with
an air of perfect indifference," when he spoke to him
about " the natural appearances of sky or earth ?''
W hat though he did think slightingly of Miss
Lee's Canterbury Tales ; and " read and remembered
with extreme delight the novels of Smollett, Field-
ing, and Le Sage ?"—was this a reason why the
Opium Eater should take umbrage at him ; accuse
him of unfriendliness; and gravely state in print
that he " was equal in pride to Lucifer ?" The
whole story of Mr. De Quincey's quarrel with
Wordsworth—so far, at least, as we can make it
out from his own imperfect statements—reminds us
very much of Rousseau's indigation against the
world, because it would persist in holding opinions
at variance with those which he himself enter-
tained. One of the surest tests of a healthy mind
is the disposition to take men as you find them ; to
expect neither too much nor too little from their
friendship ; and in all cases of emergency, to rely
on yourself, and }ourself only. This the Opium
Eater does not appear to have thought of during
his intercourse with Wordsworth. He b, gal by
reverencing him as a sort of idol ; by deferring to
his opinion in ali matters relating to the imagination ;
and exacting from the man all that he admired in
the poet ; and now, because he finds that his idol
has feet of clay, instead of being composed wholly
of gold, as he had supposed, he becomes a down-
right Iconoclast, and breaks him into a thousand
pieces ! The sketch of the late Mr. Irving, with
whom De Quincey was well acquainted, is amusing,
but the praise is too extravagant. The apostle cf
the Unknown Tongues was by no means the great-
est orator of his age. His manner was impressive,
but his matter was very indifferent—in fact, little
better than stilted common-place. We heard him
preach once at Hatton Garden, but though his
discourse was above an hour long, we found nothing
in it for thought to feed on. It was not deficient
in striking imagery, but there was no substance in
it ; consequently it left no definite impression on the
mind. Here is the Opium Eater's account of

him :
" He was, unquestionably, by many, many degrees,
the greatest orator of our times. Of him, indeed, more
than of any man whom I have seen throughout
my whole experience, it might be said, with truth and
with emphasis, that he was a Boanerges, a son of thunder ;
and, in a sense, even awful and unhappy for himself,
it might be affirmed that he had a demon within him-
self. Doubt there can now be none that he was insane,
or partially so, from the very first. Not many weeks
after his first burst upon the metropolis, I had the plea-
sure of meeting him at a dinner party. He was in
exuberant spirits ; and he strode about the drawing-
room, before dinner, with the air of one who looked
upon himself as clothed with the functions of Jonah sent
to Nineveh, or of Paul upan a celestial mission to the
Gentiles. lie talked a good deal of phrenology, and
in the tone of one who had entirely adopted its great
leading doctrines. My head, with a very slight apology
for doing so, he examined : his report, being somewhat
flattering, I shall not repeat, further than that con-
scientiousness' was found in great strength, and ye.
neratioo.' which were the chief moral inclinations that
.; walked .10 ;
Ins it happened that our roads coincided for three miles
or more, we had a good deal of conversation. IA one