1826.] 



She was of shorter stature than the most perfect 

 standard for a woman ; but her form was exqui- 

 sitely cast, combining lightness, and delicacy of out- 

 line, with the brightest and richest filling up. To 

 the gay and buoyant liveliness of youth, she joined 

 an archness, even an etpii'/^hrie of manner — a smile 

 lurking in the glance of the eye, and rippling upon 

 the beautiful 11)) — which betrayed a kind and degree 

 of talent seldom so much developed in such early 

 youth. Yet he who would, from these indications, 

 have deduced that she allowed the deeper and 

 stronger feelings to be drowned beneath the bright 

 and sparkling spray of wit and gaiety, would have 

 been far wrong indeed, in his estimate of her cha- 

 racter. On the contrary, she was one of that class of 

 persons — a class much more numerous than is gene- 

 rally supposed— who, being naturally of joyous, 

 clastic, and lively temperaments, give their apparent 

 energies to the light surfaces of thmgs ; and yet, 

 who possess, perhaps even more than, certainly as 

 much as, any other description of women, the fire 

 of strong feeling always burning beneath these 

 bright but less ardent coruscations — awaiting only 

 object and occasion to rail it into vivid (and to 

 some unexpected) life. Women of this description 

 are calculated, in a most eminent degree, to give 

 and to experience happiness, if united to a man 

 whom they love, and whom they respect ; but they 

 are also calculate<l to experience and to cause the 

 most extreme misery, if they be bound to a hus- 

 band whom they dislike, and hold in slight esteem. 



This attractive woman, at the unremitting 

 BOlicitions of her needy, worldly, and weak 

 fatiier, is induced to marry Lord Montore, 

 a cold, narrow-minded, ill-informed man. 



*' The marriage «>«« an ill-assorted one; for the 

 characters of those who formed it were wholly dis- 

 similar; their tempers were different ; and the at- 

 tachment (I can scarcely call it love) on one side was 

 repaid, not with distaste merely, but with contempt 

 also on the other. Woe to the marriage in which 

 a disdainful feeling exists on the woman's side! — 

 woe to bun towards whom it is felt ! — double, treble, 

 tenfold woe to her who feels it. 



She left her husband for a man site loved — 

 who did as too many of his sex have done, 

 and will do again. She thus describes 

 some portion of her feelings to Mr. Blount 

 when resting in a sequestered vale near 

 Spa. 



I paused during the first burst of agony, and 

 then took her hand, and spoke to her in the voice 

 of consolation. 'Oh! Mr. Blount I' she exclaimed, 

 • how I have loved that man it were vain to speak ; 

 my actions, my actions have shewn it. I gave up 

 for him my friends — I abandoned for him my home 



— I incurred for him guilt— I became for him ' 



her voice grew deeper and almost hollow as she 

 spoke, ' the object of scorn and burning shame — and 

 how am I requited ?' She paused for a moment, 

 and then continued — ' You cannot know, it is im- 

 possible for you to conceive what I have suffered, 

 what I suffer ; fretfulness, and coldness, and indif- 

 ference, and neglect. He seems, too, as if it were 

 he who had made the sacrifice, not I — as if it were 

 to him that it had cost every thing that can give life 



a value; — and once,' here again her voice sank, 



and her frame shook, ' and once, he almost up- 

 braided me with being what I have become for 

 him !' " 



The gradual alienation of Lumley's (the 

 man with wliom she eloped) feelings to- 

 wards her is well and progressively de- 



Domestic and Foreign. 



531 



tailed, his desertion of her, and her un- 

 timely death, are affecting and instnictive. 

 Antonia, the woman who was deeply loved 

 by Mr. Blount, is a fine and clearly-coloured 

 specimen of tliat character and (juality of 

 mind and beauty even now to be met with 

 in Italy. The woes of these lovers, arising 

 from Mr. Blount's want of principle and 

 decision of character, are highly wrought, 

 and the climax unlooked for, and dramatic. 

 His future life accords with the weakness 

 of his principles, and contains some useful 

 and forcible advice. 



We think tliat this work resembles too 

 closely, in the structure of many of its 

 parts, the author's former production. It 

 is evident that he is a man of very acute 

 and refined pcrcejitions, and well acquaintod 

 with the iinnost recesses of tlie heart, and 

 capable of tracing the labyrinth of feelings, 

 when the ])assion of love is the exciter, 

 or when feelings, originating from the 

 natural current being checked, or turned 

 from its course to flow into unnatural 

 channels, is the theme on whidi he writes, 

 lie depicts every aberration of woman, 

 from the coiu'te of right, with a minuteness 

 which looks as if he had studied and watched 

 the workings of the mind with more than 

 common interest ; and no woman on the 

 verge of ruin can do a wiser thing than read 

 his pages with attention. There are many 

 beautiful thoughts scattered through the 

 volumes expressed in poetically combined 

 diction, and throughout a tender and manly 

 feeling is inculcated which does credit to 

 liis head and his heart. Gilbert Earle had, 

 like all works, faults. Considerate people 

 thought that the delineations of some of the 

 feelings were too positi^■e. TJie same eiTor 

 is not so apparent in the present publication, 

 but it still exists. In the second volume, 

 page 61, is a description far too \\\iA and 

 peculiar to escape obser\'ation or censure ; 

 and we hope to see the colouring subdued 

 if an opportunit)' occurs. 



The style of the present work is the 

 Siime as that of Gilbert Earle, and ad- 

 mirably adapted " ad captattdum"— it is 

 glowing and not forcible — it is catching but 

 not very impressive — it produces a general 

 effect, but leaves no definite recollection of 

 the passages we admire as we read on. It 

 is a style abo\"e the florid and below the 

 real ornate, which conveys the ideas with 

 conciseness, brilliancy, and power, and every 

 sentence tunied with enough of rhythm to 

 produce euphony. This latter style the 

 author might attain with application, and 

 by corrections, after tlie \ividness of his 

 feeling, while writing, has subsided ; to ef- 

 fect this, he must not insert foreign expres- 

 sions, or permit frequent repetitions of the 

 same words, which he does often in con- 

 secutive paragraphs, and must oftener call 

 to mind Lord Byron's line on the hissing 

 of the English language. This work has 

 more fire than Tremaine, and stands In'gher 

 than Matilda or Granby. The aiithoi-, to 



3 Y2 



