The Sun.
London, England, 1841-11-02 00:00:00

FR.4SER' S MAGAZINE.

In the statements respecting the battle of 'Wa-
terloo, which form the first article in the Nutn-
ber before us, the writer endeavours to prove
that the French army was more numerous by
some thousands than the English. He labours
hard to establish this point, and will no doubt
find many readers willing and eager to be con-
vinced of the truth of his arguments; but the
fact we believe to be, just what Sir Walter Scott
and other historians have stated—namely, that
the two armies were pretty equally matched in
point of numbers. It must not be forgotten,
however, that the very flower of the Imperial
troops were present at the action—tried veterans,
whom the peace had restored to France, and
who had distinguished themselves in most of the
great battles of Napoleon ; consequently, our
victory over such men cannot be too highly ap-
preciated. In one of his assertions, which he
repeats more than once, the writer is decidedly
in error. He states emphatically that the " battle
commenced at twelve o'clock." Now this is not
the case, for the Duke of Wellington himself--
who may be presumed to be pretty good autho-
rity—declared, when applied to on the subject
by more than one military man, that, to the best
of his recollection, the action commenced about
ten. The next article is a biographical memoir
of Theodore Hook, from which we extract a
passage or two :

Mr. Hook's memory was always miraculous. When
about eighteen he undertook for a wager to repeat the
names and trades upon the shop-fronts situated on one
side of Oxford street, after passing down a certain por-
tion of it. This undertaking he accomplished, failing only
in the due succession of one house. But it being after-
wards observed by one of the party, that Mr. Hook
might possibly have been partially acquainted with the
shops previously, he engaged, after the perusal of the
front page of a newspaper, to rehearse every advertise-
ment that stood in its columns. This he also performed
without a single mistake. Although Mr. Hook had
great animal spirits, he did not possess equal vivacity at
all times ;on the contrary, he was subject, as most men
of genius are, to deep and bitter depressions of mind,
most affecting to witness. Strange to say, of so gifted
and intelligent a being, he was superstitious to a painful
degree. He entertained an implicit belief in superna-
tural agency, and would listen to a ghost-story 'with a
pallid cheek and awe-inspired interest. Early in life he
wrote a novel called The Man of Sorrow, in which this
weakness was manifest ; and though, as his judgment
strengthened, he conquered much of this tendency, yet to
the last years of his existence he cherished many of his
early impressions. As a trivial instance, it may be
mentioned that he never would enter upon any undertaking
of importance, if he could help it, on a Friday. He had,
however, a remarkable insight into the weaknesses and
follies of others, and was not unobservant of his own. He
penetrated into the depths of the most wily; and de-
tected the small intents of little minds with the most
whimsical facility, dragging them from their shallow
hiding places, and laying them bare upon the surface
with infinite humour, to their owner's surprise and dis-
may. He held a professed enmity with what he described
under the expressive head of humbug—every evidence of
which he assailed with all the vigour of his powerful
ridicule, inexorably putting the right names upon wrong
things. It has been observed that Mr. Hook continued
his intimacy and friendship with Mathews, with few in-
termissions, up to the period of the comedian's death.
One interruption, however, there was, which threatened
to be fatal to their future good understanding. It oc-
curred about the year 1827, when Mr. Hook, in one of
his humorous veins, was irresistibly tempted to work
upon some traditional accounts picked up, of the strolling
players of other days (for the race must have been extinct
before he was born), and to publish their supposed
" sayings and doings" in that admirable series in the
story of Gervaise Skinner.
The " Journal of an Autumn in the Country''
is an entertaining melange of literary anecdote
and gossip, interspersed with brief critical re-
marks. Speaking incidentally of Lord Orrery, the
friend of Swift, the writer compares him to Bos-
well—a strange comparison, for the immortal
Bozzy is like no author we ever heard of, whe-
ther in ancient or modern literature. He stands
alone—a glorious Unit ! Again, we are told that
Warburton greatly resembled Johnson. In his
haughty arrogance, perhaps, he did, but in no-
thing else. Warburton was fond of paradox and
of abstruse theological speculations, which he
pushed at times beyond the pale of orthodoxy;
Johnson had no relish for paradox, and in matters
of divinity was more orthodox, if possible, than
an Archbishop. 'Warburton obtained fame
chiefly by his show of erudition, which was
prodigious; Johnson obtained it, less by
his scholarship, which was by no means
extraordinary, than by the innate force of his
genius. 'Warburton had some fancy, but no wit;
Johnson abounded in both. 'Warburton was in
no respect remarkable for his conversational
powers; Johnson was the most brilliant talker
of his day. There were many other points of
discrepancy between them ; but we have no lei-
sure to revert to then), so must hurry on.
" Budget of a Blue Jacket" is a narrative, penned
by one who was present at the time of the dis-
interment of the ashes of Napoleon, during which
solemn proceeding, we are told, "it is not easy
to paint the emotion of all present. General
Bertrand made an involuntary bound, as
though lie were about to throw himself into
the arms of the Emperor. Many sobbed convul-
sively ; others were sad and silent; but every eye
was moist." " A Chapter on Dogs" is smart and
lively ; and in the " History of Samuel Tit-
marsh" we have some satirical particulars of one
or two flash Joint-stock London Companies. 'We
shall be glad to see Mr.Titmarsh's reminiscences
of his ancestor continued, for they teem with
point and vigour. The last article is on the sub-
ject of the late publisher of this Magazine, whose
character is drawn with a friendly pen, though
nothing is advanced that is not strictly warranted.
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TAIT'S MAGAZINE.
After being discontinued for some months, the
" Memoirs of Jeremy Bentham" are here re-
sumed. Dr. Bowring is the editor, but we can-
not congratulate him on his success ; for the few
original passages furnished by him, with a vieW
of keeping up the unity of the narrative, are as
dry and matter-of-fact as a tradesman's ledger.
It must be said, however, to the Doctor's credit,
that, for the most part, he leaves Bentham to
tell his own story ; but, as Jeremy is a dull fel-
low, and his biographer a still duller., the combi-
nation of the two dullnesses becomes quite alarm-
ing, as much so, as if Hume and Macculloch
were to club together to write a fairy-tale ! Al-
luding cursorily to the celebrated Brissot, to
whom he was introduced when in Paris, Ben-
tham says that he " was a little weak man,
ignorant of the world. His influence was due
to a great fluency in writing. He kept
up a daily newspaper himself ; it was
a mighty small thing, but . he could be
depended on ; and he. became the organ of a
party that could depend on him, and on nobody
else. He really erected a public-opinion tribu-
nal of his own, which raised him to be the head
of his party. His conversation was not remark-
able." Brissot is here underrated ; but, indeed,
the whole passage betrays gross lgu,or4nce.

Mignet, in his philosophical history of the Re-
volution, expressly states that Brissot possessed
great activity of mind, and an accurate and ex-
' tensive acquaintance with the situation of foreign
Powers ; and Lafayette, who knew him well,
and of all his contemporaries was the least likely
to overrate him, bears direct testimony, in his
Memoirs, to his talents as a politician, and his
skill as a journalist. As for his being the only
man of his party who could be depended on,
this is ridiculous, and proves how utterly
unacquainted Bentham was with the cha-
racter of the Girondists. Roland and Vcrgniaud
were at least as trustworthy, if not more so, than
Brissot, and this was the general opinion at the
time. " Luigia Sanfelice" is an affecting story,
founded on fact, and referring to the period of
the overthrow of the Neapolitan Constitution by
the French Republicans. " Violet Hamilton" is
concluded, and reads off lightly and trippingly
to the last. " Chapters on English Poetry" ana-
lyze the poetical character of Shelley with much
force and subtlety. The " Student-Life of Ger-
many" is one of the few dull reviews we have
met with in Tait ; but this, perhaps, was un-
avoidable from the nature of the subject. It is
impossible, as the old adage says, to make a
silk purse out of a sow's ear. The " Old Man's
Melodies," is a poem so sweetly arid simply ver-
sified, that we cannot resist the temptation of
quoting it entire :--,
0 the blossoms of youth, and the blighting of years !
How dreary the garden of promise appears !
How vainly I look, when with age clouded o'er,
For the smiles and the voices that met me before !

But lives in my bosom the feeling, as young,
That then to the flowing of melody sprung,
When youth's careless bounding was saddened away
By the Flowers of the Forest, and Auld Robin Gray.
I have heard them at home, by the hearth and the
When night winds were dreary, or evening was still ;
I have heard them afar on the deep's mighty breast,
And their,melody moaning in woods of the West.

Ina land where the music of mine is unknown,

...
'Tis there I'm a stranger, and there I'm alone ;
But there's home in a tune, if the tune that they play
Be the Flowers of the Forest, or Auld Robin Gray.
There is trumping in war—there is piping in peace—
There is music for mirth, and for sorrow's increase—
There's a song for the young, merry-hearted, and bold,
And, blast be its music !—a tune for the old.

And in age I have friends that will listen with me,
Nor boast from the power of sweet sounds to be free,
But sadly be solaced, at life's closing day,
By the Flowers of the Forest; and Auld Robin Gray.

IJESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1841.