The Sun.
London, England, 1841-12-01 00:00:00

FRASER' S MAGAZINE.

Almost all the prose papers in this:, Number
are of an anecdotical character, and will certainly
not be the less popular on that account, for anec-
dotes and personal reminiscences of eminent men,
however indifferently related, possess an attrac-

tion which few readers can resist. This is the
great secret of the unrivalled success of Boswell's
" Life of Johnson ;" and years hence, when the
present generation are but dust and ashes,- Lock-
hart's Memoirs of Sir Walter Scott, and Moore's
of Lord Byron, will continue to be equally at-
tractive for the same reason. But anecdotage
may be overdone, and we think there is here
somewhat too much of it. The first article en-
titled " A Summer Holiday " is pleasant read-
ing for a literary lounger, though we could have
dispensed with some of the personal notices of
Shenstone, who was at best but an indiffe-
rent poet, and, as a man, remarkable tbr
his touchy, restless vanity. Few
persons
can be curious to know about the tastes
and habits of such an author; whose " Pastoral
Ballads"---despite Johnson's praise—are already
far advanced on their road to oblivion. In some
incidental allusions to landscape gardening, sug-
gested by his " Summer Holiday," the writer of
this agreeable melange talks of Lord Boling-
broke's " temporary passion" for rural pursuits,
but adds, that he " had not passed through the
trials of life in a temper that. fitted him for a
garden." This is justly said. Bolingbroke was one..
of those feverish, aspirin.. spirits to whom the
comparative solitude of the country
is a perfect
hell, and who are never completely in their
element but when taking an active part in the
great business of life. In his reluctant retire-
ment aniong the Pyrenean mountains he fancied
himself a resigned philosopher, whereas he was
nothing more than a disappointed politician.
He wrote some elegant " Reflections on Exile,"
in order to convince himself and the world that
he was perfectly contented with his lot, and
would not exchange his tranquil seclusion for all
that ambition had to offer; but he was mistaken
in his estimate of his own -feelings, for he never
ceased to, sigh after the political power he bad
lost, and to speculate on the possibility of its
restoration. Bolingbroke was a great man, but
his was not the highest order of greatness. He
wanted soundness and elevation and dignity of
thought and sentiment. Despite its fervid and
enchaining eloquence, his philosophy is but
shallow, and conduces to no ennobling or satis-
factory results. It contains no nutritious prin-
ciple to feed and strengthen the mind. Strip
Bolingbroke of his sounding amplification of
style, and you shall see at once how 'superficial
was the matter which lie palmed upon the world
for philosophy. The " Greater and Lesser Stars
of Old Pall Mall" is another article made up
almost exclusively of anecdote. We quote a
brief personal sketch of Sir Richard Steele, and
of the last days of Purcell, one of the most emi-
nent musical composers this country ever.pro-
duced

Sir Richard Steele, who lodged at a perfumer's inPall-
mall, kept by a Frenchwoman, sometimes, as it was said
u
by Prior, perambulated St. James 6 Park, with an obsolete
toothpick in his mouth, and hands noiivs y
finances
provokingly liiiinniacneds
nowinhis forbadebreeches'hipmocltcheetsi,nwli when his
of a tavern din-
h
Der even for one, and that one Ins miserable self ! There
are many pithy stories recorded of these solitaries, and of
their gaiety and witty soliloquies under such privations ;
but as James Quin sensibly observed, they are most fit-
ting to relate after a man of the town has enjoyed a good
dinner, and is seated with his friends in the cheering
presence of a magnum bonum of. generous wine. To re-
turn to poor Purcell, whose lamented death was most
premature. He had been long engaged to join an anni-
versary meeting in Covent-garden, at which were pre
sent the managers of old Drury-lane theatre, and those
of Lincoln's Inn-fields; the celebrated comedian Lacey;
and many of the elite of those joyous times. Tom D'Ur-
fey took the chair; and there was much singing and
hilarity, so that Purcell did not leave the convivial party
until an hour after midnight, and then he had to walk
to his residence in Tufton-street, Westminster, and an
old friend accompanied him to within a few yards of his
home. This friend was Dr. Tudway, who declared that
Purcell, being an invalid at the time, had taken but little
wine, and returned home perfectly sober. The night was
stormy, and a sharp wind blew in from the Thams, and
drove the rain in Ins face. He had his private key of
the street-door in his pocket, but found that it was locked
by his shrew of a wife, who suffered him to knock for
more than half-an-hour, during which time he coughed
violently; but such was the temper of the unfeeling
virago, she would not permit the
. servant to open the
door, observing, "I am determined to (ire him of his
tavern-going habits." Her evil humour having at length
subsided, the door was opened, and he entered, but in so
exhausted a state that he sank into an arm-chair in the
parlour, and with great difficulty ascended to his bed;
and, alas! from whence, indeed, he was shortly removed,
but only to be borne to his grave in the neighbouring re-
pository for the illustrious dead, Westminster Abbey!
Not long after this Jezebel solicited subscriptions for the
publication of a complete collection of her husbands mu-
sical compositions, sacred and secular, and begged the
patronage of the benevolent " towards his most loving
and very afflicted widow!" And the benevolent public;
for want of knowing her real character, generously met
the appeal, and the work sold to a vast extent. blean-

while all that this rare genius obtained by the bargain
was an early grave in the cloister of the abovenamed
glorious structure, and an epitaph from the pen of his
friend the poet Dryden!

Speaking of George the Third, who in his
childhood resided in Pall-mall, the writer thus
mentions the simple fact of his accession to the
Throne :—" George the Second being gathered
to his fathers, the Royal successor, at once a
King in all the grace andingenuousness of youth,
as it might seem by angels hands, was placed on
the British throne, and with pious modesty, de-
clared himself a Briton born ! '—To talk of the
"ingenuousness" of George the Third, whose
nature throughout his career was utterly op-
posed to frankness or candour, is the sheerest
absurdity. Where, too, is the piety or modesty '
in his stating the plain fact that he was an Eng-
lishman 2 As to his being placed upon the throne
by " angels' hands," the angelic spirits had as
little to do with the matter, as they have with
most Coronations. The whole passage is a fine
sample of the mock-heroic in style and senti-
ment. The "Condemned Cells" furnishes us
with some curious and edifying particulars
of the public career of that eminent
conveyancer, Ikey Solomons, who carried
the love of his profession to a degree bor-
dering on enthusiasm. Never was man endowed
with a finer conception of the burglarious than
this gifted artist. Some envious cavillers have,
however, objected to him that his style, though
happy, was monotonous, and wanted versatility;
but that this was not so, is proved by the fact of
his having attained unrivalled celebrity as a
fence and a cracksman. It is lamentable to
reflect that this incomparable genius—who twice
did the Governor of Newgate, and hocussed two
police officers who were escorting him to Quod
in a hackney-coach—was sent to wear away the
autumn of his life, with a chain round both legs,
in the pastoral vicinity of Botany Bay ! It is
devoutly to be hoped that some future historian
of the "Jack Sheppard" school will rescue the
memory of this great man from the obloquy that
now covers it. "Anecdotes of Actors," are
mere common-place; and the ".History of Sa-
muel Titmarsh; isas lively and amusing as usual.