The Sun.
London, England, 1833-12-12 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

LOVE AND PRIDE. 3 Vets.

11'11 I ITArRIi

aND Co., Loa-noPr, 1833.
Mr. I-look has the pen of a ready writer—no
man more so—and as long as he continues to
supply us with such admirable sketches as those
of Lord Snowdon or Mr. Wiseman, we care not
how often he steps forth in print ; but the fewer
he gives us of such tales as the " Widow" the
better. Homer sometimes nods, but he never
nods through a whole volume, as Mr. Hook has
done in this tale. From the first page to the
last, the " Widow" contains not one gleam of
genius. All is dull, trite, common-place, such
as would have supplied materials for a third-rate
farce some ten or twenty years ago. But if
it be destitute of talent, the story is by
no means sparingly besprinkled with con-
ceits. It is as full of small, pert af-
fectations as a frosty sky of stars. Mr.
Hook is impressive on " sticking-plaster
shorts," and irresistible on " pickled onions --
a clever species of wit, but which we do not
remember to have met with in Congreve or
Sheridan. The hero of the widow is, as usual,
a heavy mixture of sentiment and dandyism.
He has a laudable west-end abhorrence of all
" inferior inns," and is panic-struck at the idea
of being found in ccanpany with people who are
addicted to " hot punch," a party of whom, it
seems, were enjoying themselves in a coffee-room,
which dire necessity compelled him to
"resort to,
" in a way perfectly dreadful to him. They
actually to his horror and amazement" called
for " a roasted duck stuffed with sage and
onions !" The vulgar beasts ! How human
nature can reconcile it to her conscience, the
having turned out such abortions is inconceiv-
able. Yet to our thinking, his late Majesty's cellar
of snuff; fifteen hundred pair of silk stockings,
and God knows now many unparallelled coats,
waistcoats, and breeches, to say nothing of
juvenile wigs and false teeth, were quite as
vulgar. In the tale entitled " Snowdon," Mr.
Hook has had the good sense to discard many,
if not all, of his sickly affectations, and throw
himself on nature for support. He deals with
the ridiculous in the true spirit of comedy,
perhaps we should rather say farce—strips pride
of its gew-gaws—knocks its ricketty props from
under it—turns it inside out. The character of
the Marquis of Snowdon, a pompous, addle-
headed coxcomb, though full of mannerism—for
a greater mannerist does not exist than the author
of " Sayings and Doings,"—has a breadth and
raciness about it, that reminds us of Foote.
Mr. Hook " uses" the Marquis, "as if he
loved him," (as Isaac Walton persuades us to
do with worms on the hook) lingering fondly
on each rich absurdity, like a " sweet-heart" on
the magic no-meanings" of a billet-doux. He opens
on the character at once ; pounces on it with a
tiger-spring. How happily are we prepared for
what follows, by the Marquis's preliminary con-
fession of horror at his being considered
" uncommonly like Mr. Buggins, the actor 1" The
Mayor of Shuttleworth bight Wiseman—an
unaccountable patronymic for a Mayor—is an-
other felicitous sketch, bordering perhaps a
little on the extravagant, but not so as to de-
stroy its effect. In characters like these, Mr.
Hook leaves all the writers of the day at an im-
measurable distance. Hood comes nearest seri
him in broad humour, but he cannot draw from
life. His creations are the mere " quips and
cranks" of the fancy. As " Love and Pride" is
already in every one's hands, it is superfluous to
detail the plot, so we shall content ourselves
with the following extract (admirable in its way,
but by no means the best in the book) descrip-
tive of a dinner given by the Marquis of Snow-
don to the Mayor of Shuttleworth. We should
premise that the day having been wet, his Wor-
ship has, by a strange blunder, on the part of
his Lordship's groom of the Chambers, been
led into a belief that he might pull off his wet
clothes and put on the Marquis's—infinitely
to the disgust and affright of that emit:toady
distinguished personage ; and that the King
having consented to visit the Marquis, the
Mayor is sounded respecting the propriety of
inducing the Corporation of Shuttleworth to get
up an Address suitable to the great occasion.
The scene throughout is of the richest farce, and
we can fancy Liston playing the part of the
Mayor to admiration :
" The party at dinner consisted of Lady Hester, Mrs.
Everingliam (an humble companion), the Marquis, and
the Mayor. A vacant chair at the table was to be occu-
pied by Sir Henry Winscott ; hut as one of the rules—
fixed as those of the Medes and Persians—or, as the
Mayor would wave read it, maids and parsons—was, that
dinner was served punctually at the hour named, and
never was detained or delayed on account of the non-
arrival of any of the invited guests, be their rank what it
might. To this established custom of the house, founded
rather upon common sense than pride, was attributable
the agreeable circumstance, that nobody ever failed in
punctuality, who knew the rigid adherence to a law once
laid down in his family, which the Noble Marquis was in
the habit of maintaining.
" The dinner proceeded without one observation upon
the absence of Sir Henry, and, indeed, without any obser-
vations of any kind.
" ' Lady Hester,' said Mr. Wiseman, may I have the
pleasure of drinking wine with you ?'
" Lady Hester does not drink wine, Mr. Mayor,' said
his Lordship.
"• I thought,' said the Mayor, I saw her Ladyship
drinking some just now.'
With me, Sir,' said the Marquis, her Ladyship
sometimes does.'
" Lady Hester cast a commiserating look at her father in
behalf thtir guest.
" Well then, my Lord, what say you to a glass?' said
Wiseman.
" ' Give Mr. Wiseman some wine,' maid Lord Snowdon
to the butler.
" In vain did the Mayor hold his glass in his hand, in
vain endeavour to catch the eye of his noble host; he
waited for a minute or two, but finding no preparation
making upon the reciprocity system,' he swallowed
his own champagne, and continued eating.
" I was thinking, Mr. Mayor,' said his Lordship, who
felt it necessary to keep his visiter in mind of the busi-
ness to which he had been indebted for the honour of an
invitation to Lionsden, that the arldreases should be
presented by you at the head of the Corporation.'
" No, my Lord, I believe not,' said Wisetnan ; ' Your
Lordship will have to read them as our Recorder. You
know the Recorder is the servant of the Corporation ;
and as the proverb says, we are not the sort of people to
keep a dog and bark ourselves.'
" The servant of the Corporation !' faltered the Mar-

quis.
Exactly,' said Wiseman, ' our Recorder is very much
assimiloted to the Recorder of London ; only, my Lord,
the London Recorder is always a lawyer and understands
his business. Now, in your cade, we are too proud to
have you with us, without troubling you to do any work,
except by deputy ; but when an occasion of the present

kind offers, it would he an indignity to the King and
Queen to suffer the addresses to be real by a deputy
while the principal was pre.ent ; and as for the iNlayor's
reading them, that's total'y out of the question, because,
although as far as my own private feelings yocs, I should
not hesitate to do it, yet, you see, I must consider my
office and its privileges, with a view to the rights of my
soccecrw.'
" ' I see,' said the Marquis, ' it is inconsistent with
your dignity to condescend so far.'
‘" Exactly so, my Lord,' said Wiseman. Lady Hester,
shall I give you some of this dish before me ?'
‘" Hand those entrees round,' said the Marquis
to the servants, in an agony at the officious civility of his
civic superior.
" Still,' said Lord Snowdon, I think in my own
house I ought not to read them—l think it would be in-
convenient.'
" !' said Wiseman, 'on account of your eye-
sight, my Lord? Aye,—now if you would but wear
spectacles—the glass you use is of no service whatever,
compared with a pair of good spectacles.'
• • S •
" By this time dinner was ended, and having been
served a let Russ', the dessert remained, the only additions
to which were two ices. At this moment Sir Harry
Winscott was announced. Lord Snowdon waited till he
had re iched his eye, before he expressed the slightest con-
viction of his arrival: when he approached his chair,
the Marquis bowed ; Sir Harry bowed to Lady Hester
and sat down.
" Which ice do you choose, Sir Harry,' said the Mar-
quis, without moving a muscle of hie countenance ;
cream or water ?—What are they, Hall ?'
" Brown bread and grape, my Lord,' said the butler.
" I hug your pardon, my Lord,' said Sir Harry,(quite
aware that as he had missed his time he had no chance for
a dinner) ' I will wait a moment, if you please—ice when
one is hot, is net quite safe.'
"' I never am hot, Sir Harry,' said Lord Snowdon.
"' No, I dare say,' said Sir Harry, ' but when one is

late.'
" never am late, Sir,' tail the Marquis. ' Wilt
you take some wine ? '
" Presently,' said Sir Harry ; not having eaten any-

thing, I '—
" ' I did not inquire, Sir Harry, what you bad eaten,'
said the boiling magnifico.—' Take the , wafers to Sir
Harry Winscott.'
Wiseman, the Mayor, saw that something was wrong.
Lady Hester knew how to soften down the asperities, and
in addressing the last arrival, expressed with her looks
what even she, dear soul, would not have ventured to
speak with her tongue. The Mayor thought it delicate
to change the subject.
" It's very wonderful, my Lorti,'Zsaid the intrepid
Wiseman, how beautifully and correctly Art now-a-days
imitates nature.'
" ' Yes,' said, or rather bowed, the Marquis.
" Wonderful improvements, Sir,' continued the right
worshipful ; ' now, nothing upon this human eartla can
look more like natural hair than your Lordship's. Nothing
—only that I know what it is—would make any body be-
lieve that Vint wasn't your own hair.'
" ' Put the wine round, Hall,' said the Marquis ; yes.'
" And then, my Lord,' continued this dreadful persi n,
your way of combing it up a little, now and then—hey
—that carries on the deception—doesn't it, my Lady
Hester ?'
"The Mayor, on making this appeal, turned to the
fair daughter of the house, whose eyes were fixed upon
him with an expression of wonderment and fear ' • won-
derment as to how far he was inclined to proceed with
his fneeticc,. and fear for the visitation which her father
might inflict upon his sins against has personal sensi-
tiveness; ' the wig' being the very tenderest point upon
which any living creature could impinge, not even Hester
herself being permitted to know, or even believe, that it
was not all his own.'
" • I see, Miss,',said the Mayor, addressing her Ladyship,
you have got your eyes upon me.'
" The Marquis shuddered.
" You think these things of your pa's fit me uncom-
monly well.'
" ' Mr. Wiseman,' said his Lordship, writhing with
agony, Lady Hester has not had the advantage of an ini-
tiation into the arcana of my dressing-room. Help your-
self, Sir. Hester, dear, it is getting late.'"

CONCHOL 0 GIST'S COMPANION.
Lo.vno.v, 1833.

This is an elegant, attractive little volume ;
not a mere dry, technical essay on conchology,
but full of anecdote and picturesque description,
and giving also occasional snatches of very de-
lightful poetry. The account of the Alpine
horn, and the associations connected with it,
display considerable feeling and eloquence.
When we first took up the book, we thought—
such is the epicurean nature of our reflections
when the word " shell" is alluded to—that the
author was about to inflict on us a treatise on
oyster shells, varied perhaps with details re-
specting muscles, turtles, tortoises, and the
Ile ; but we have found ourselves agreeably
disappointed. The book is full of interesting
and novel matters of information.