The Sun.
London, England, 1840-04-01 00:00:00

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

" Telling One's Troubles" is a fertile theme, worked
out with exceeding spirit and ingenuity—indeed it is
the best paper in this Number. The sketch of the
querulous " Ego" is as true to human nature as one of
Boz's ablest characters, and the incidental reflections
scattered throughout the article are replete with arch
humour. How true arc these remarks, and how neatly
turned, in point of style !-7" When we recommend the

miserable to tell their troubles, we should perhaps ad-
vise them to catch their friends first. It is as well when
you mean to take a man by the button, to be cautious
how he gets hold of your's instead. There are mour-
ners about town, whose hearts are so continually burst-
ing with a sense of innumerable grievances, that they
will allow nobody to relate a heart-rending story but
themselves—their's must be all the misery or none—
there's no slipping in a sigh edgewise with them. It is
desirable with sufferers of this class, to dash at once into
your agonizing narrative, before they can sob out a syl-
lable, or depend on it they will get the start ; and who
ever starts first in these cases, has the stage to himself
throughout the tragedy." Of the " Widow Marrie,ll
we need say nothing, as we have already given our opi-
nion of the work in its collected form of thrce vo-

luines. " Tangible Immortality" is too vague and
rambling. It is a series of detached passages strung
together without rhyme or reason. " Privileged
Persons" is by no means deficient in common sense, but
it is somewhat prosy. Had it been just half its present
cngth it would have been far easier reading. In Theo-
dore Hook's " Fathers and Sons" there is some racy
conversation between Colonel Bruff and his cunni,g
housekeeper, who, in her outrageous passion fur the gen-
teel, is bent on becoming Mrs. Bruff—which we feel
morally persuaded she will be, towards the close of the
third volume. " Nimrod in France" very happily de-
scribes a French postilion as a " stti-gerwris sort of ani-
mal." Nimrod is an accurate observ,r of all that lies
on the surface of social life in France ; but his remarks
want depth. In the reminiscences of " Gibbon and
Voltaire"some laughable anecdotes are told of the squab-
bles between these two great men. Despite his intense
ugliness, which bordered on the supernatural, Gibbon, it
is well known, was a personally vain man, and once
quarrelled with Johnson—as he is here shown to have
quarrelled with Voltaire—for calling him "an ugly
dog!" We quote the following sketch of the Dol-
drum Club, from the Editor's tale of " Fathers and
Sons" :
" At the Doldrum, the coffee-room (as the dining.room
of a club is universally called, it being the room in which,
except as a tail to one's dinner, coffee is never taken) was
by ten o'clock at night as dark as Erebus, and as still and
gloomy as if Trophonius were house-steward of the esta-
blishment, the waiters being instructed to diminish (for
economy's sake) the number of lamps, by which it was
earlier in the day enlightened, at the rate of from six to
one, thus reducing any kind of refreshment, which after a
prescribed hour in the afternoon might be required by
members who dine late or sup early, to a mere matter of
taste and feeling—ocular demonstration being wholly out
of the question; much to the disparagement, as a punster
would sa), of the ancient proverb (somewhat musty)
touching the advantage of light suppers. The Doldrum,
however, possessed all the advantages of fine rooms, and
everything else that shsuld seem to conduce to sociability,
and that interesting exchange of sentiment and opinion,
and all that sort of thing, which to people who are rich
and sentimental, and have none of the cares and worries of
every-day life to annoy and agitate them, is no doubt ex-
ceedingly agreeable ; but no—a dead solemn silence pre-
vailed throughout the rooms in the evening, and the ob-
jects most probably presented to view were—one man doz-
ing over a book at the side of one fire-place, another man
fast asleep over another book at another fire-place ; two
men equally lost in slumber, one on either side of a table
(the books having fallen from their hands), and another
gentleman awake, turning over a file of last month's
newspapers "

BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.
Tom Ingoldby's " Tale of a Shirt," though undoub.
edly it contains passages marked by all his accustomed
drollery, is not, as a whole, in his best manner. It is
too much spun out, and there is an appearance of effort
about it that detracts from the effect intended to be
produced. Mr. Ainsworth, in his present chapters of
" Guy Fawkes" devotes far too much space to the
legerdemain tricks of that arch-quack Dr. Dee, whom
Walter Scott—a far more wonderful conjuror--
has sketched so vividly in his " Woodstock?, We
have no great relish for these melodiiiinatic incidents,
though we must do Ainsworth the justice to say that he
has displayed much adroitness in his mode of handling
i
them. But why does he not infuse more of the warm
breath of life into his characters ? \Vhy bestow his
chief attention on incident, which at
best is, and must
ever be, but a secondary consideration in fictitious lite-
rature? In the generality of his tales, his personages,
with scarcely one exception, speak in the same cold,
correct style, and mimic life about as accurately as
those painted puppets which the showman pulls by con-
cealed wires. This should be guarded against, for
verisimilitude and individuality of dialogue are the very
salt of romance. The " Picture Bed-room "is a capital
ghost story the sort of thing to wonder and shod-
-der at over a Christmas fire-side, when the old hall
clock is striking. twelve, and the candles, not snuffed for
the last halt hour, are dim and cabbaged at the wick.
"An Impudent Monkey pert and sprightly enough. The " Two Cousins," with its detailssthout the cup-
board full of gold, and the concealed trap-door, would
tell well at the Coburg in the
,popularl form of a melo-
drama. We recommend Mr. itzball to attempt its
perpetration. He has a fine conception of the murder-
ous. In the " Soul Agent" we inlet with an inge-
nious surprise, where a dexterous vaiet disguises him-
self as the devil, in order to promote his master's
marriage with the daughter of a spit-fire German
baron. This is natural enough, for the devil has
more to do with matrimony than is generally st,
posed. " Stanley Thorn" and ``Colin Clink "main-
tain their interest unimpaired. " Watty Flaherty " is
an amusing Irish sketch. The " Portfolio Of Peter
Popkin "is chiefly filled with anecdotes. We quote
one or two that arc new to us :
Tom C— was eating oysters ; he took one into his
mouth that was not quite fre,h ,t ut not liking to eject i,'
be resolved to swallow it. On taking another in ithell
„
a by-stagger remarked, 'Torn, that is a flue ;talive-"
Pun mighty glad of it, fur the last was a
setikr.'"