The Sun.
London, England, 1844-02-01 00:00:00

-~

MAGAZINE DAY.

13L4CICWOOli:§ MAGAZINE,

.L.
Mr: Jesse's Late amusing work on "tieOrge Seinta
and.hts Contemporaries " furnishes tho -4tW,t
intelligent critical notic@ in PR
.o umber of
Bieckionott Thy lifitithVtr pourtrays Selwyn's dm-
Meter with t,
ascots-., out makes no mention
tit the fact that, with.
his acknowledged readi-
nem nparfee,-aptat '
%Nag
core, and in. his old age was as
..lush avoided, as he .had once been - courted
by the mercurial spirits of his day. We do not at
~ all wonder. at this, tor Many -de; (.I&wges best jokes
Were stuilied, ato he had d trick of drawling them
Ottt irt A 't-0y prosy fashion. Moreover, he was
• pothiiig kit a wit, and was limited to a degree
tim range' of his conversational powers.
.te Reviewer asserts that one of Selwyn's chosen
kielich 'ii Sheridan, but this is not the case, for, in
Ane first place, he regarded him f 1,3 a parvenu, and,
• sacondly, he was jealous of his wit and drollery, the
fame of which was fast eclipsing h's
_own. We ex-
tract from this sketchy criticism a passing notice of
the Miss Gunnings---the celekated beauties of the
days of George the Second :--
"To the astonishment; and perhaps to the envy, of the
fashionable Wald) those two unportioned young women made
Ra *St fili4ticlid matches of the season. The Duke of
aftilltOil fell in love with the younger at a masquerade, and
Hiside proposals to her. '.The marriage was to take place
'within some months ; but his passion was so vehement, that
in - two nights after he insisted on marrying her at the
moment. Walpole tells us that he sent for • a clergyman,
who however refused to marry-them without license or ring.
At this period marriages were frequently performed in a
very unceremonious and unbecoming manner. From the
laxity of the last, they were performed at all hours, fre-
quently in private houses, end sometimes even in gaols, by
pretended clergymen. The law, however, was subsequently
and propett• relsormen. The Duke and Duchess are said to.
hate been. married with a curtain-ring, at half-past twelve at
It, at May-fair Chapel. This precipitated the marriage
at Lord Coventry, a personage of a grave stamp, but who had
long paid attention to the elder sister Maria. He married
bQr about-three weeks after. Except that we are accus-
tomed to hear of the frenzy which seizes people in the name
• of fashion, we should scarcely believe the effect which
those two women, handsome as they were, continued to pro-
duce. On the Duchess of Hatidlten's presentation at Court
on her marriage, th 6 crowd was immense; and so great was
the curiosity, that the cotittiv multitude got on the chairs
and tables to look tit her. Mobs gathered round their doors
to see theni get into their chairs; people crowded early to
Pie tltOttes when they heard they were to be there. Lady
4Vtntry's shoemaker is said to have made a fortune by sell-
ing patterns of her shoe ;. and on the Duchess's going to
Scotland, several hundred people walked about all night
round the inn where she slept, on the Yorkshire road, that
they might have a view of her as she went off next morning.
Yet they appear to have been strangely neglected in their edu-
cation ; good-humoured and good-natured undoubtedly, but
little better than hoydans after all. Lord Down met Lord
and Lady Coventry at Calais, and offered to send her Lady-
ship a tent-bed, for fear of bugs at the inn. "Oh dear ."
Mid she, ". I. had rather be bit to death than lie one night
rein my dear•Cor." She is, however, memorable for one
etounkrie, which amused the world greatly. Old George 11.,
sOnversing with her on the dulness of the season, expressed
a regret that there had been no masquerades during the year,
UPI handsome rustle answered him, that she had seen sights
enough) and ehly one she wanted to see now was—" a coro-
hatioto The King, however, had the‘good sense to laugh,
a.* tapeated it good-humouredly to his circle at supper.
Lady.Coyentry died a few years after of consumption, at the
kge of twenty-seven. It was said that her death was has-
tened by the habit of using white lead as a paint, the fashion-
-able custom of the time."

" The Heretic" is a review of a translation of a
Russian novel of that name that has lately appeared
In print. It is carefully written, and the extracts are
numerous and well. selected. The " Prophecy of the
Twelve Tribes " is a short poem, which evinces no in-
considerable grace and strength of versification. It
is Signed " Havilah," and reminds us of Doctor Croly's
Mauler. " A Bewailment from Bath" is a mock-
Complaint by a spinster of the superior attention paid to
married women in England, and the neglect with which
old maids are treated. "Secession from the Church
of Scotland" is as uninviting and hackneyed as its
StNect, which_ is saying a great deal for it. " Sitting
for a Portrait" is an entertaining- and sensible com-
munication_ from the pen of a frequent con-
tributor to this Magazine, who invariably ad-
dresses himself to a fictitious friend, whom he quaintly
styles Eusebius. In the piesent chapters of " Mar-
stn; or, the Memoirs of a Statesman, e meet with
some graphic descriptions of the invasion of France,
in 1793, by the Duke of Brunswick—whose military
and diplomatic talents are absurdly overrated —and of
the subsequent disastrous retreat of the allied armies.
The tale improves greatly ininterest as it proceeds.

BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.
titlel f,r. Murray's metropolitan sketches, under the
or "'Physiology of London Life," are happily
klaPted for the perusal of country readers in the more
remote districts—if, indeed, there be such a thing as
remoteness since the institution of railroads—who
Fill' naturally be.anxious to read about that mighty,
plethoric Babylon of which they have heard such
karvels, and 'which they live in the hope of one
. dos visiting. The author, after describing the
quaint locality of Leicester-square, makes some
Pertinent allusions .to the astonishing spread of
London westward, and the incessant migration
of all would-be people of fashion in that
direction. 'rule "spread is indeed most marvellous, and
we should not wonder it; in the course of some twenty
or thirty years,- the West-end of the metropolis should
have established itself in the neighbourhood of Houns-
low. Already it is travelling with a determined stride
towards that suhurhrn snot; and the march of brick
and mortar is no more likely to come to a dead halt
than the march of intellect—of quackery—of capital
—or any other popular onward movement of
the day Speaking incidentally of Clare market,
Mr.
,Murray tells us that it is in the immediate
Vicinity of sundry- hospitals and churchyards ; but he
does not add—which he might have done with per-
fect truth—that when the wind blows from the east, that
- is to say, from the cemeteries right over the market,
it must impart a fine aroma to the butcher's meathere,
and greatly enhance its excellence in the eyes of epi-
- tures. The present chapters -of the " Scattergood
/'amily" are a decided improvement on the last. Mr.
Allied Smith is not very felicitous in dialogue, but his
barrative dialogue is almost uniformly interesting and
'animated. He prdsents us not merely with the outline
of a picture; but with all its minutest details, as in his
graphic sketch of the stage and green-room of a
minor theatre, where the actors and actresses are all
• crl their every-day dress, and a dramatist—of the
tremendous Fitzball school—is edifying them by the
Ilenisal of 16 last new melo-drama. In this vivid
description there is force without exaggeration. We
abould not omit to notice Leech's admirable illus-
' tiation of a small actor's garret, which is evidently
drawn from the life. "Dalton"—a fictitious name, we •
• resume—gives us a striking legend of the Lincoln Fens,
n his prose tale, "The Dummy," which refers to a
murder perpetrated there several years ago, under the
most revolting circumstances that it is possible to
conceive. The story is just. the sort of one to be
read, on a dark night in a chimney-corner, when the
!Lock is on the stroke of twelve, the candles are low
th •
eir sockets, and the wind is howling like the
. I'LL'ined in the
devil up the chimney. The moral may be ex-
words of Shakspeare
" Foul deeds will rise
1110' all the earth o'erwhelm them in men's eyes."
• The " Happy Family" has much quiet humour
liod irony, The author,, after duly considering the
Private lives and habits of several families who 'are
_laid by their friends to pass their lives in a state of
enviable .felicity, and• 'discovering, on examination,
that the statement is without foundation, comes at
711-gth to the conclusion that the only truly happy
tukilY in all London is that extraordinary collecti,n
13' cats and mice, and owls and ferrets, who
• be seen dwelling amicably together in a cage
!ti Trafalgar-square. The' author concludes by this
Just remark; " The grand secret must be let out. If
treatedtreated, they would be equally quiet, easy, and corn-
•ble."
the "English Captives at Caubul" is full,
Th-4,light be expected, of matter of exciting interest.,
Northern Tower" is a poem intended to be:
80"tnourous. It is, however
ti, dull by mistake. We quote
I°. e pleasing stanzas entled " Our Fathers ;"
" Our others! Time its record bears
To their unblemish'd fame,
And every olden spot endears
Some high and saintly name.
arth teems with memories of those
Whom ages guard in deep repose.
Calmly they rest, those grey old men
We fondly love to trace,-
With rev're7nt mein, and sage-like ken,
• • And cheerful beaming face;
With locks as white as riven snow,
And fturow'd, yet undaunted brow.
Where lonely stands the time-worn-church,
The little hamlet's pride,
There, stranger, ply thy curious search,
And oftentimes -beside
The crumbling edifice thoult see
Some rudely sculptured One'.
Despise it not that fragment brings
A moralising theme,
And o'er it, as the sunset flings
It A warm and passing gleam,
may a light to thee impart,
• Ti;dulgvh .a.m.akneto thought thine inmost heart.
eless2et we know that 'neath
That cenotaph has one
• To Whom we owe a wreath in death,
..._uAnd not ourselves alone,
11 t those who-can but prattle o'er
The greatness of their sires of yore!
A ar_. rior !--dan the patriot boast
soml-,llneage more proud?
patient monk !—Hath Learning's host
wisely been endowed?
.11(11 %'.e•nt times revive the spell
eir own day, it might be well I
~'eheld'y on rain !—'twas a fane
t Where o 2 aiquiet even, Would risentncllL- penitential s, (rain
°f godly en to
, heaven ..
.• what braids
who, - arrests thespoiler s sway?
•-. r heart but mocks it in decay?
A 1411,10- hour,
oe , Ily spent, nor few,
ru
4„ stggles of the mind for pow'r
" those highDol2.ls Oa (We; •

And we, unconscious of their might,
Detive the blessing, theirs by right.
Afactiel Outh
we blush to name ;
Art spreads an holocaust to sin,

And scorns a virtuous fame.
The darker ages do but prove
How weakly man recedes in love!
Our fathers !—foremost are ye still!

We echo but the sound
Of those rich notes of ancient skill,
So joyous, vet profound
'The tha d'et the past is thrditti
But dials the glory of our

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

The opening article in this Number, " Letters
from Hong-Kong and Macao," besides being lively
and spirited in the tone, is exceedingly well-timed,
and will be pretty sure to be read with interest,
public curiosity being just now specially directed to
everything relative to China. The author, it seems,
is but just arrived from Hong-Kong, whose -popula-
tion he states to have increased in a most surprising
ration for in 1840, when it was first ceded to the
British, it contained scarcely a population of 8,000
souls; and now, in 1843, it numbers upwards of
30,000 ! It is not a little curious that though the
Government-House, and other public buildings in..
liong-Kong are as yet but half-finished, the
"granite gaol" is completed, and furnished with
every requisite for the accommodation of those
who may feel disposed to qualify themselves for
Admission. " Young England" institutes a good
humoured, ironical contrast between the existing
generation and its immediate predecessor, and shows
how completely the learned children of the present
day put to the blush their ignorant fathers, and hints
at the expediency of the latter being sent 'to infant
schools, in order to place them on a more equal footing
--in point of knowledge—with their juvenile, unbe-
wiskered offspring. " Song of the Spirit of Poverty "
is by Miss Cooke. There are some vigorous thoughts
injit, but the subjt-ct is too repulsive for our taste. Poets
—lady-poets especially—should forswear such grim,
painful themes, which even the genius of Crabbe
hardly rendered endurable. " Narrative of a Visit to
to the Courts of Vienna," &c.' is by the Marchioness.
of Londonderry, who bewails in most lugubrious
terms the sufferings she endured from dirt and ver-
niin while steaming down the Danube. We can imagine
with what exquisite dismay the fair owner of Wynyard
Park must have contemplated the mercurial movements
of innumerable fleas—all in the healthiest condition—
while seated in her squalid den of a cabin, and derive
her sole consolation from the fact that the drenching
rain which came pouring in through the roof and
wetted her through and through, would also most
probably give her insect persecutors their death of
cold. The Marchioness writes clearly and with con-
siderable vigour, and the touches of aristocratic
fastidiousness that now and then quite unconsciously
escape her, are amusing, because characteristic. The
"Monster-fleeting" is a broad quizzical extrava-
ganza, describing a meeting of all the monsters in
creation, past and present, for the purpose of elect-
ing a president ; when, after much animated
discussion, a i " honsist Pennsylvanian," was elected
by general acclamation, as being theeatest monster
of all The,' Good Old Plan" is a Drench tale of the
days of the Grande Monarque, whose object is to
show the impoliey of subjecting high-spirited boys to
corporal punishment. " Behind the Scenes" con-
tains some able sketches of character. We quote the
following passage, which alludes to the conduct of
Prince Talleyrand during the memorable three days
-in Paris, in the Revolution of 1830:
" On the second day, the 28th, when the people were com-
bating against the Ding's troops for the possession of the
Hotel de Ville, while the air was filled with the old and
dreaded sounds, the cannon's roar, the tocsin'S boom, his
confidence in the success of the King's power of defence for- -
sook.hirn at once, and he then pronounced the memorable
sentence which has since become familiar to the readers of
French literature The cannon which is fired against the .
people cannot but shake the sovereign's throne.'
At the moment when the tocsin announced the triumph
of the people at the Hotel de Ville, he looked at the clock
upon the mantelpiece. It was then just upon the stroke of
five. ' A few minutes more,' exclaimed he, and Charles X.
is no longer King of France.'
" One good instance of his presence of mind occurred at
this very moment, for he turned to his valet-de-chambre,
and bade him immediately collect together the men-servants
of the hotel, and take down the words Hotel Talleyrand,'
which flaunted in large golden characters over the gateway,,
the feudal pride of other times.
" I still maintain the perfect conviction that, even up to
the very hour of which I speak, he was undecided as to the
course he would adopt ; he was evidently waiting for the
issue of the struggle. Public rumour has lent him a bon
mot, which is certainly in his style, although I was with
him the whole- day, and did not hear him pronounce it.
" Hark ! the tocsin ceases—we triumph!'
" We ! who, mon prince P
" Chat, not,a word! I will tell you that to-morrow.'
"If his secret wishes were really in favour of a new order
of things, with his habitual prudence, he made it a duty to
conceal them ; and he spent the whole of the second day
fixed at the windows of the drawing-room of the hotel, which
looks into the Place Louis Quinze, sending every now and
then his emissaries into the divers quarters of Paris, to bring
back accounts of the progress of the revolution. MM. de
Broglie, Bertin de Vaux, and Sebastiani, were with him,
and all, excepting the Prince, were of opinion that the King
would attempt, before the morning, to re-enter Paris at the
head of his troops. lie knew the character of the man too
well either to hope or fear this decision.
"On the 29th, however, when M, do Talley-rand began to
be convinced that the cause of the revolution triumphed, that
the Liberal Deputies, Casimir Fierier, Lafitte, Lafayette, all,
not only pronounced themselves in its favour, but sought to
direct the insurrection, and to place themselves at its head;
he felt at once the immense advantage that such a demon-
stration would give to the Chamber of Deputies over the
Chamber of Peers; and his only thought during the whole
day was to collect together, at his own house, the few men
of intelligence among the Peers of the opposition, in order
to balance, in the public opinion, by some patriotic declara-
tion, the influence already gained by the Deputies, from the
position in which theyhad placed themselves—that of De-
fenders of the Charter.'

"But all the efforts of the Prince were unavailing. The
great number of his friends, such as Pasquier and Mole, hesi-
tating to declare their opinions thus openly, in dread of the
return of Charles X., declined taking a part in the protesta-
tion of the Deputies. M. de Talleyrand was pained to the
quick by this want of decision, and foretold, with an accuracy
which has since become manifest, all the bad consequences
which would fall upon the Chamber of Peers from having
remained passive during-this eventful crisis."

THE SUN, LONDON, THURSDA Y MORNI Not, FEBRUARY 1, 1844

he employed the interval with the greatest assiduity in
kindling a 'curiosity iu the public mind concerning me,
which he inflamed to the highest. pitch :of- longing. When
he tbeught.t,hot sufilqiently arow.ed, and the moment ripe
for the event; li6 raintilVal 4 :c4.fli or his mana-
i.geriat trumpet - that rung thrOtigii tile. gifted ears
of all Paris. Thee night came, and c"1 "tiny
With it What my emotions were, it would be a vain
attempt to poartray; but I felt that the result decided my
-eareer,•that I should reinain'a Cavoured and admired plant in
this rich and coveted soil, or be nipped in the bud, and fall
withered and forgotten, into darkeA obscurity. Every thing
was most juobeiously arranged by the_ vigilant -and sagacious
difecteur, for he knew his Infest. would be greatly affected
by the public ilecisign, A direet;s.lewat was got tip for the
occasion, and it Walt so rit:lvi7,l that i did not appear until
the public impatience was wound tip is ati ahnoSt intolerable
point. It Was contrived that I should appear with a dose
• veil over my head and face, and which fell so amply down, as
nearly to conceal my person. ht this shrouded fern' 1 ap-
peared on the stage, near to the lamps, and stood thus for a
minute; whilst a- pantomimic colloquy was going on about.
me. The houSe was silent, and almost breathless with ex-
pectation ; my veil was theowne,bizek, and instantly every
opera-glass was levelled at my devoted head. I shrunk
under the intensity of the gaze, so fixed and piercing; I fan-
cied I was burning under the ardent stare- directed so steadily
upon me, As glass after glass was withdrawn,. the pent-up
feelings of the house found relief in loud murmurs of satis-
faction, as I was told, being too anxious to deterwine the
point for myself. My. dancing gave equal pleasure, and as
the 'ballet went on 1 rose in public estimation, till at the
• close 1 was called for, and received the heartiest tokens of
admiration and good-will, more than I either deserved or
expected; yes, far more. My success was, indeed, a prize
for me. How much had I net to fear from the experienced
judgment, the refined taste, of the . French public, and the
SurpasSing merit of my rivals! Taglioni was then at the
very height of her renown; the matchless creation La
S'yOide, had carried her reputation to the uttermost ends of
Europe, and her nightly performances at the Opera were
hailed with enthusiastic plaudits by her enraptured admirers ;
and truly her.execution was supeib and faultless. Graceful
as a swan, she glided majestically across the scene, leaving
in her wake mute wonder, and delight. No one compre-
hended her perfection more fully, no one enjoyed it more
heartily, than I did. Is it wonderful, then, that I trembled
taken I stepped forth, night after night, to contest with her
the coveted palm of superiority, and divide with her the
spoils of public favour?"

TAIT'S 111AUAZINE.
En Mrs. Gore's tale of " Blanks and Prizes,"
which is resumed in this Number, we find many of
those smart worldly touches of reflection which flerm
.so conspicuous a feature in her tales of fiction. The
.narrative,-however,-is not 'one of her hest, and of the
characters. introduced, there is scarcely one that she
has not already pourtrayed. Nevertheless, •it reads
otTeasily and trippingly enough ; and we have been
struck with the truth of.this remark :—" The kins-
folk of modern times are apt to resemble crocuses,
'Which expand like globes of gold in the sunshine, but
shut up their hearts again as soon as the skies are
overcast." The " Song of the Starved by Law," is
-a passable pqrody on Mr. Hood's "Song of the
Shirt," which it may be remembered appeared a few
weeks since in Punch. "Reininiscences of Mrs.
.opie "--which we are pleased- to see are to be. con-
tint ed—contain an account of an evening spent by
the authoress at Lady Cork's, in the memorable
pear 1814, where she had the honour of an introduc-
tion to Prince Leopold, who had then just arrived in
this country. The " Withered Flower," is a simple,
unaffected poem, but our readers shall judge for
themselves:— .
" They brought her from the city vast,
To this dim forest dell :
'Mould ease, they said, her pain to tread
The path she lov'd so well.
They led her forth by hill and spring,
And down the flowery ,den :
They deem'd her childhood's haunts world. bring
Her childhood back again.
The flower-buds glisten'd in the grass,
. The bird sung in the tree :
A few short summers since, alas !
She sung as blithe as he.
O toll me not, in summer time,
• Within this happy dale,
That lady's eye could long be dim,
• Her cheek could long be pale !
Yet momently they lost their light,
Like stars, when day's begun,—
Or bluebells sweet, which chill winds blight,
When summer days are done.
And, hour by hour, life'siwun sank low,
A sunset sad and bleak— •
For death crept quietly and slow,
Like twilight o'er her cheek.
'Twas now the golden autumn time,
The old age of the day,
Each flowery cup was folded up,
Beneath the parting ray;
When, as the Sabbath's dying light
Stole through the lattice in,
That lady closed her eyelids bright,
Upon this world of sin.
Each flowret ope'd its silken bell,
' When merry morning shone ;
But noon and evening came—yet still
She silently slept on.
The lilies grow beside her feet,
The violets at her head ;
An angel might not grieve to meet
With such a blessed bed.
They brought her from the city vast,
To this dim forest dell :
Here first it sprung, and here, at last,
The Withered floweret fell." •