The Sun.
London, England, 1842-03-01 00:00:00

FI?ASER' S MAGAZINE.

There are one or two more than usually entertain-
ing literary sketches, or criticisms, in this Number;
and the best is " Hints for a New Book of Literary
Parallels," in which occur some clever, cursory re-
marks on Dante, Virgil, Chaucer, Milton, and Pe-
trarch. The writer, however, entertains, we think,
too high an opinion of Virgil's poetiCal powers, who,
master, as he undoubtedly is, of versification, labours
under a striking deficiency as respects vigour of ex-
pression, and originality of thought and invention.
With the sole exception of Dido—his most consistent
and animated portrait—he has no characters in
his tE'neitl—none, at least, that are in the slightest
degree marked by individuality. What is his " pius
2Eneas," but a maudlin, sentimental hypocrite, a
Methodist in his sayings, a scoundrel in his doings ?
Lucan has delineated character with infinitely more
truth and vigour, yet for one man that reads the
" Pharsalia," a thousand dote upon the " lEneid."
The writer's observations on Milton's language are just
and forcible. It is described as " moving with a mighty,
a stately, and a resounding step, at once majestic, and yet
sweet; at once ancient, and yet intelligible to every
pausing listener; the war-note of the giant, the
harmony of wisdom, and the sigh of beauty." But
this praise applies only to Milton's poetry ; his prose
—though it contains numerous splendid passages—
is stiff and pedantic, frequently confused and clumsy
in its construction ; and at all times it jars harshly
and painfully on the ear, like the grating of a file
upon steel. The " Forsthaus in the Soiling" is a
wild German story, exaggerated to an almost ridiculous
degree in description—as, for instance, where the re-
later details the impressions prodUced on his imagi-
nation by witnessing the opera of "Don Juan." In the
" Chapter on Dogs' we have an anecdote highly cre-
ditable to the courage and humanity of Mr. Duruset,
the singer, who, it seems, once saved the life of a poor
dog in the street, which was pronounced by the
crowd gathered about it to be mad, and was just
about to be murdered as such, - when its protector
interfered, at the hazard of being bitten by
the animal fbr his pains, or " pitched into" by the
disappointed mob. In the "Vagrant's Lodging-
House there is one graphic passage, descriptive of
the horrors of poverty. "Dickens in France" no-
tices with contempt and indignation the vituperative
criticism of Jules Janin—a well-known Parisian li-
terateur—on the novels of this popular author. In
the remarks on the "New Edition of Campbell's
Poets," the Reviewer, cursorily alluding to Ilazlitt,
says of him that "that he is an unsafe guide." This
is true, for his criticism, were almost all fashioned
according to the mood of his mind, while he happened
to be penning them; and he was seldom in the same
mood for half an hour together. In a fit of dyspepsia
he would discover nothing but absurdity in Cole-
, ririge's " Christabel ;" when his digestion was sound,
he would find out that it teemed with beauties. In
two points Hazlitt was consistent—in his love of
the old painters, and his democratic predilections.
From " Nimrod's Life and Times" we quote Mr. Ap-
perley's recollections of Wynnstay, its fashionable
company, and its private theatricals :
Young as I was, I was honoured by being admitted into the
dinner-room, siting by myself at a side-table; and on being
called by my godmother to approach her for some purpose,—
a glass of wine, it may be pretimed,—the following unfortunate
discovery was made :—" Bless me !" exclaimed her Ladyship,
" this boy cannot perform to-night; he smells of onions enough
to frighten away a Welshman !" The fact was, amongst ether
things on this side-table, placed there until wanted, was a plate
of young onions, considered rarities at Christmas; and rari-
ties must I have considered them, for I ate them all, and thus
was my dilemma occasioned. Orders, however, were given to
me to keep orange-peel in my mouth as the means of making
myself bearable ; and, with the exception of my failure, the
thing went off well ; the acting of " Young Sheridan," as he
was called, was very highly extolled. Itt 4ct, he was what is
now called the star. Amongst the visitors at W_hin:ley ynnstay, and
t frequently, was the still more renowned
She-
ridan himself, the author of the Critic, and nothing more is
scanting to establish any man's fame. I have a perfect recol-
' lection of his person and manners, as also Of hearing his lady—

Miss Lindsley that was—display her musical and vocal talents,
to the great delight of her hearers. Until lately, my acquai t-
wice with the name and family of Sheridan was confined to a
period when I was too young to appreciate the high talent with
which they are endowed, but which appears to have regularly
descended through at least four generations, and with little
diminution from that of the parent tree. In the company of
the late Tom Sheridan, when arrived at manhood, I never fell
but twice. On one of these occasions, the first, he was not
himself. A cloud appeared to rest upon and obscure his usual
brilliancy, and I was disappointed in my anticipation of the
pleasure he might afford me ; but on the second he made ample
amends. He was, to use a phrase much in vogue in those days,
" in high form ;" and although there were two other clerer
men of the party, neither of them equalled him in the ta'ent to
amuse, which he appeared to possess to its full extent.