The Sun.
London, England, 1847-09-06 00:00:00

MAGAZINES—(CONTINUED.)
BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.
Cooper gives us the 11th chapter of " Captain
Spike" in this month's Bentley, containing the
adventures of Mulford, Rose, Jack Tier, and Biddy,
in their voyage from the rock. They go back to the
Swash and put Biddy on hoard without discovery,
after which Rose, Mulford, and Jack sail in the boat
for the Dry Tortugas and take possession of the light-
house. They have only been intalled a few hours
when a sail appears in sight, and as the ship ap-
proaches the island they recognise her to be " The
Swash." The most valuable paper in the present
number is a description of the sack of Rome, in May,
1527, by the Imperialists, under the Constable of
Bourbon. It is translated by Sir Alexander Duff
Gordon, from an original Spanish letter of the time,
directed to the Chancellor, Gatinara, and which is to
be found in the archives of Simancas. It will be
read with particular interest at the present moment,
when the Imperial Huns are again marching towards
Rome, if not with the aid, at least by the connivance
of a Bourbon, who prefers his own personal aggran-
dizement to the promotion of the interests of his
country and of the world. For eleven days the city
was sacked, " during which time," says the writer,
" the greatest cruelties were committed, the which
are so numerous, sir, that neither ink nor paper
would be sufficient to indite, nor any man's memory
capable to retain them." He thus proceeds to
describe some of these horrors :

" Sir, the cardinals who were in Rome, after having
ransomed their houses and their persons once, had their
houses and their property plundered: their persons were
seized, and they were dragged on foot by the soldiery as
vile malefactors through the streets, without so much as
a servant to accompany, or a horse to carry them. It is
impossible to imagine anything which could cause
greater grief. I do aver to you, sir, that I thought I
should have died thus to have seen that blessed gentle-
man, the Cardinal of Sienna, between eight or ten lanz-
quenets, a prisoner— on foot—naked—without even a
girdle—having only a short cloak to cover his nakedness.
These men had pillaged his house, and ransacked the
houses of the other cardinals, and had not left them even
the value of a ducat wherewith to supply their wants.
And, seeing that much people, with their linen, their
jewels, and their money, had taken shelter in these
houses, the cardinals did run much risk and peril: and
thus, sir, the soldiers must have got an enormous booty
by the sack of Rome, because, besides plundering all the
linen, the jewels, and the gold, they fixed a price on
every one's head, as ransom money. Men, women, and
children,—all had to pay ; many were tortured, nay,
many were killed with unheard-of cruelties.
" The Ambassador of Portugal, sir, was in one of the
strongest houses in all Rome, and, for this reason, as well
as on account of his position, much people, with their
linen, their money, and their jewels, had taken refuge in
his house, and the ranson of these people was estimated
at one million of gold. But the house was, nevertheless,
pillaged, and all the rest of the people made prisoners,
so that the Ambassador had not even a shirt or a
cloak left him, but went about in his drawers, and in
a doublet; nor had he, nor any else in his house, any
one thing left to them in this world. They made no
difference between Spaniards or Imperialists;-130 respect
was paid to any one. Rome will not be what it was
before for fifty years to come. The screams of the
a omen and children, sir, in the streets, were sufficient
to break a man's heart. In many parts there were
so many dead bodies that it was almost impossible to
walk; and, as they lay many days unburied, these
bodies, together with the carcases of the dead horses,
did cause such a pestilent smell, that for certain the
plague will much increase, unless, indeed, God bringeth
some remedy.
" There bath not remained, sir, one church, one con-
vent, one nunnery, which hath not been pillaged: many
of the clergy, many friars and nuns, have been put to
the torture, to force them to discover the money and
the linen which peradventure might have been con-
cealed in their houses. The nuns did scream fright-
fully while the rude soldiery were dragging them through
the streets, and ill-treating them;—it was enough to
melt a heart of stone.
" The church of St. Peter is utterly plundered, the
gold and silver containing the sacred relics taken
away; the relics scattered about the floor, so that
nothing can be distinguished. In this same church of
St. Peter many dead bodies do lie about within the very
chapel dedicated to St. Peter. Close to the very altar
there are pools of blood; nay, even the carcases of dead
horses are to be seen there."

" Brian O'Linn" is continued in this number, and
is to be concluded in the next. Mr. H. 101 l gives us
an amusing tale illustrative of the etymology of the
phrase "Neck or Nothing ;" and Hans Christian
Andersen, the Danish poet, furnishes us, under the title
of the " Neighbouring Families," with one of those
puerile prettinessas for the production of which he
is so famous. Turn we, however, from Andersen
to Albert Smith, and let us enjoy a hearty laugh at
the misadventures of Mr. Straggles, who has a day's
fishing. However much we may laugh at him, yet
we entirely concur with Mr Straggles in his opinion
of angling : it is indeed " the slowest twaddling any
rational man could believe he found amusement in."
The first paper and the last in the number are illus-
trated. The first, which is entitled " Mr. Richard
Jones and the Polka," is admirably illustrated by
Leech ; and the last, which is a brief but well-
written review, by Charles Whitehead, of Prescott s
" History of the Conquest of Peru," is illustrated
with a portrait (admirably engraved by Brown) of
Francisco Pizarro, from the original painting in the
Palace of the Viceroys at Lima.

DOMBEY AND SON. No. Xll. By Charles
Dickens.

The indifference of the eleventh number is more
than compensated by the extraordinary excellence of
the twelfth. Mr. Dickens begins to develop his
plot, and that with an art superior to anything of the
kind evinced in his preceding fictions. The incon•
gruous couple, Mr. and Mrs. Dombey, return to
their magnificent residence in London as devoid of
mutual affection as hauteur on the one side and con-
tempt on the other can possibly render a married
pair. Florence unconsciously deepens her father's
antipathy to herself by monopolizing the affections
of Edith, and thus rendering him jealous of his own
daughter. In a beautiful scene between poor Floy
and her mother-in-law, the following passage occurs
anent Diogenes the Dog :
to 4
theDiogenes,admission
fwasEdith, ftheend party,eve even
in
nd
deferencea t first
toh
objectedis
mistress's wish, had only permitted it under growling
protest. But, emerging by little and little from the
ante-room, whither he had retired in dudgeon.
he soon
appeared to comprehend, that with the most amiable in-
tentions he had made one of those mistakes which will
occasionally arise in the best-regulated dogs' minds; as
a friendly apology for which be stuck himself up on end
between the two, in a very hot place in front of the fire,
and sat panting at it, with his tongue out, and a most
imbecile expression of countenance, listening to the
conversation."
Resolved to celebrate the felicity of his nuptials
Mr. Dombey has a housewarming—politely inform-
ing his friends, by way of invitation, that It. Dorn-
bey would be at home on a certain evening. On a
certain evening, accordingly, a grand dinner party is
followed by a soirée. The proceedings commenced
by Mr. Dombey, " in a cravat of extraordinary
height and stiffness, walking restlessly about the
drawing room." Then enters an East India Director
"in a waistcoat apparently constructed of serviceable
deal by some plain carpenter, but really engendered in
the tailor's art and composed of the material called
nankeen." Next, a Bank Director, who talks dis-
paragingly of his little place at Kingston-upon-
Thames, with a little bit of a shrubbery, and a poor
little flower-bed or so, and a humble apology for a
pinery. " Mention being made of the Opera by Mrs.
Skewton," writes the historian, "he said he very
seldom went there, for he couldn't afford it. It
seemed greatly to delight and exhilirate him to say
SO ; and he beamed on his audience afterwards with
his hands in his pockets, and excessive satisfaction
twinkling in his eyes." Then, elderly ladies carry-
ing burdens on their heads, " with very precious
necklaces on very withered necks." Then " a young
lady of sixty-five, remarkably coolly dressed as to
her back and shoulders, who spoke with an engaging
lisp, and whose eyelids wouldn t keep up well." 'Then,
an old lady, " like a crimson velvet pincushion stuffed
with bank notes." The descent to the dining-room
is inimitable—" the young thing with the shoulders"
being bestowed, as an extinguisher, on the East India
Director—and seven mild men being shut out in the
stony-hearted hall. " When all the rest were got in
and were seated," says our author, " one of these
mild men still appeared, in smiling confusion, totally
destitute and unprovided for, and, escorted by the
butler, made the circuit of the table twice before his
chair could be found, which it finally was,
on Mrs. Dombey's left hand ; after which
the mild man never held up his head
again." While they are all sitting round the table,
handling their glittering knives, and forks, and
spoons, and looking, for all the world, like a grown-
up exposition of Tom Tiddler's ground, where chil-
dren pick up gold and silver, and while Mr. Dombey
himself is enacting Tiddler to perfection, the follow-
ing appalling anecdote is told—appalling, be it ob-
served, as applying with such awful emphasis to the
host and hostess. It is described in the happiest
style of an author than whom none has or ever had a
happier :
" Cousin Feenix was in great force, and looked
astonishingly young. But he was sometimes thoughtless
in his good humour—his memory occasionally wander-
ing like his legs—and on this occasion caused the com-
pany to shudder. It happened thus. The young lady
with the back, who regarded Cousin Feenix with sL7.ti-
ments of tenderness, had entrapped the East India
Director into leading her to the chair next him ; in
return for which good. office, she immediately abandoned
the Director, who being shaded on the other side by a
gloomy black velvet hat surmounting a bony and speech-
less female with a fan, yielded to a depression of spirits
and withdrew into himself. Cousin Feenix and the
young lady were very lively and humorous, and the
Young lady laughed sn much at something Cousin Feenix
related to her, that Major Bagstock begged leave to in-
quire on behalf of Mrs. Skewton (they were sitting op.
posite, a little lower down), whether that might not be
considered public property.