MISS MARTIN'S ST. RTIENNE.

THE subject of this fiction is the civil war in La Vendee, the most ro- mantic and not the least sanguinary phase of the great French Revolu- tion. The scene of the principal incidents is laid in St. Etienne, one of the beautiful vallies of the Pays de Bocage, the seat of the ancient family of Larochenoire, the seigneurs of the district ; and the story opens at the commencement of the insurrectionary struggles of the Yen- deans against Republican tyranny. The Baron De Larochenoire orga- nizes and leads a band of peasantry from St. Etienne and the surround- ing country, and fights with them under Cathelineau, Larochejacquelin, and the other Vendean chiefs; while his only son, Roma:m, and Fonts- nier, a young Corsican, the accepted lover of his only daughter Ida, are comrades in the ranks of the Republican troops that occupy the village. It might naturally be supposed from this that a difference of political opinion so strong as to lead to such a result would be the chief source of emotion in the domestic interest of the story : but it is not so. Father and son, far from being estranged, do not even recognize the point on which they tacitly agree to differ ; and mother and daughter quietly re- sign themselves to what seems inevitable, without even entreaty or re- monstrance : the Baroness only exclaiming, "This is horrible!" when she sees her husband and son in hostile array against each other within sight of their own home. The dread of Revolutionary agents and tribu- nals, and the horrors of civil war, are, of course, ingredients in the cup of sorrow prepared for the doomed house of Larochenoire; but the suffer- ings caused by certain love-passages surpass in intensity and prominence all other pains in this chapter of calamities. And, what is worse, the causes of the misery appear insufficient ; it is almost gratuitous. Re- main is enamoured of Marie, the sister of Fontanier - who, doubting her lover's sincerity, had obeyed her father's injunction to take the veil : when the convents are broken up by the Revolution Marie finds refuge with the old Abbess at the chateau of St. Etienne : daily witness to Romain's devotion to her, and meeting in his mother and sister advocates of his cause, she feels strongly impelled to break the vows' from whose observ- ance the law has already released her ; but she will not hear of applying for a dispensation, though at last when it does arrive she avails herself of it, nothing loth. Fontanier's rival suitor for the baud of Ida, the Mar- quis De Ponaenars—a proud, courtly voluptuary—soon ceases to tor- ment him and the lady, for the Baroness herself becomes the object of his lawless passion : which intolerable outrage, strange to say, the brave Baron takes very philosophically. Fontanier, however, is furnished with another source of misery in a vindictive hatred that he cherishes against Romain, on a groundless suspicion that Marie has been dishonoured by him ; and, without having any proof, or even seeking for an explanation, he is about to take deadly vengeance on the brother of the girl he loves for an imaginary crime implying the frailty of his own sister. In short, the scenes most highly wrought up are sustained by a factitious excitement only : they are cleverly conceived and powerfully described for effect ; but they become unnatural from being either cause- less, resultless or inconsistent with the characters or circumstances con- nected with them. The leading personages are striking as pictures, but their actions do not always square with their characteristics, nor do they influence events : the main incidents of the story might have been con- ducted to the same conclusion with a wholly different set of persons. Neither are the historical events presented in that aspect under which they would appear to persons concerned in them, or viewing the fearful tragedy of the Vendean insurrection from the threshold of their desolated homes : the campaigns are well described, as by a chronicler ; the nar- rative is rapid and distinct ; but the reader is not enabled to enter fully into the spirit that animated the strife, or to account for the enthusiastic devotion of the peasants and their leaders by means of the fiction itself. No one who had not mead of Larochejacquelin and the peasant general Cathelineau would glean from St. Etienne an adequate idea of these and other of the Vendean chiefs ; and the atrocities of Carrier and his blood- hounds appear even less frightful in this near view of them than in the page of history Notwithstanding these defects of structure and treatment, arising from a want of dramatic power to exhibit character and events in action, Miss Martin has the art of narrating circumstances and depicting scenes and persons so effectively, that her three thickvolumes will find many readers, to whom their bulk will not be objectionable, and who will not be dis- posed to try them by so severe a test as that which her choice of subject renders inevitable to critical examination. The very merits of the fiction are such as to raise the standard by which to estimate them. The cha- racters on their first introduction are so nicely discriminated that one is led to form expectations which are not realized. The knowledge of life and human nature incidentally shown, coupled with good sense, fine tact, felicitous power of comparison, and a style distinguished by force and point as well as fluent elegance, produce a favourable impression of Miss Martin's ability as a writer. In dealing with subjects more within her own experience than this we should augur great timings of the autho- ress. Our only knowledge of her is derived from the present work ; in which, dedicating it to Miss Edgeworth, she claims to be known as "Maria Edgeworth's friend."

As an example of Miss Martin's discrimination of character, here is the portrait of

A COURTLY VOLUPTUARY.

"Is Be Pomenars as clever as he is considered?"

"To the full," said Madame Be Larochenoire; "be possesses far more talents than I allotted to him in the ideal I had formed of hnn. I expected to meet a man whose principal strength lay in brilliant persiflage, directed to the surface of things: he is all this, but he is something more besides. He gives proof of a clear foresight into every coming event, public or private; a vast range of mind, and immense stores of knowledge which he must have received intuitively, for he evidently is one who never toiled any purpose. His manner is very fascinat- ing; I have never met one of more perfect ton." lie is a dangerous subject," said Romain ; he seems to have turned all Tor heads. He came, he saw, he conquered!" "Not in the least," replied the Baroness. " I allow him all his advantages: I say he is clever and agreeable; but I have not said that he is one whom I could call a loveable person. There is a want of true nobility in his thoughts, of per- vading honour and sincerity, even when he is trying to appear most generous; and there is also a want of earnestness ineverything he says or does, which is fatal to his hopes of exciting interest."

" You have hit off his portrait admirably," said the Baron, joining in the con- versation; "but, Romain, there is more behind which my wife has not observed : of course he masks in her presence; for what woman ever yet was allowed to see a man's character in its everyday coat? In our tete-a-tete rides he betrays,. or rather he displays boastfully, his proficiency of the ethics of the sensualist; nothing is worth a thought except so far as it conduces to the pleasure of the moment. Love, women, war, glory, poetry, music, wine, and opium, are all placed on the same level—looked upon merely in the light of stimulating drugs in his mental pharmaeopceia. Some of them suit the taste of one man, the other that of another man. His doctrine is the most refined quintessence of proffigacy ! " "Refined quintessence ! " exclaimed the young chevalier, repeating the words with an expression of disgust. "The words may be applied to poisons as well as perfumes," said the Baron: "he is the most anomalous being I ever fell in with. With all his fine talents, he has no strength of purpose, beyond the short-lived, headlong determination to win whatever may be his object at the moment; and this lasts only while his passion lasts. The energy with which he combats obstacles during the reign of his mo- mentary passions, would, if applied to proper objects in moderate measure render him a great man, in these days, when every circumstance invites men of ealent to action. His levity spoils all." " I think I understand De Pomenars," said Romain: "his character acquires a transitory firmness from the impulse of his passions. It reminds me of the pil bra of sand which I have seen in Egypt: they move on, compact, solid, destruc- tive to all before them, while urged 'by the blast of the storm • but the calm is fatal to them; the moment the wind ceases, they fall to the earth, in poor, power- less atoms of dust."

'Miss Martin's mode of presenting historical facts and persons may he inferred from this picture of

CARRIER'S REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL

At a table which was still covered with the remains of the supper, and with wine-bottles, Carrier sat with Colonel Soret and his other guests, a few officers of the compagnie, and two or three members of the Revolutionary Commission, which sat under his presidency to try the Vendeans and Federalists of Nantes. One of these friends of the sanguinary Proconsul was that same Piniird, who, when twelve months afterwards they were about to expiate on the same scaffold the crimes they had together committed, turned upon Carrier with the ferocity of a tiger and attempted to assassinate him. Larochenoire looked steadily round from one to the other. Carrier was middle- aged; in person he was tall and large; his features were coarse and harsh by nature, and rendered still more repulsive by the habitual knitting of his shaggy eyebrows and by the deep lines marked by violent passions and by the unrestrained ebulli- tiODS of an almost insane rage which belonged to his temper. A physiognomist might have discovered indications of a disposition to vicious self-indulgence in his fullthick lips; a tendency which was further proved by the bloated appearance of his figure, and by the inflamed flush constantly on his face.

At the moment when Larochenoire came into his presence, the unsteady twink- ling of his eyes, together with his thick hurried speech, betrayed that he was verging on a state of intoxication. The close oppressive atmosphere of the room, laden with the fumes of wine, told of the excesses of their carouse.

The prisoner looked at him for an instant, and then, as his eyes turned from him, they rested, fixed in amazement, on the person who sat near him. That person was a woman of rare beauty; and awful as the hour was, Larochenoire could not avert his gaze from her whom he had known in far different scenes in other days. She was beautiful, save that her form was too luxuriously full; she was beautiful, but her brow wore a bold, defying air; • on her cheek a red feverish hue had usurped the place of the pure blush of matron modesty, and an unnatural wild-fire glittered in her eyes. Altogether her beauty was that dark, appalling beauty with which a dmmon might array himself to tempt a soul to damnation. Her dress was of the most classic Grecian shape; her neck, her shoulders, her arms were bare, except where veiled by her loose hair. She had been laughing loudly with one of the guests; but while Larochenoire looked on her, she turned towards him; their eyes met—slowly, fearfully, recog- nition grew into hers. She shrunk, and yet she could not turn from him—she seemed fascinated.

"Caroline D'Aumont," he exclaimed, with loathing and scorn in his voice- " Do I meet you here?" The description of the scene which we have given occupies much time; La- rochenoire saw it all in one instantaneous glance; his recognition of Madame D'Atunont and his involuntary exclamation passed before the terrible Proconsul set down the glass which he had put to his lips as the dauntless captive entered. -" Brigand, you die tomorrow," said Carrier. His prisoner remained coldly silent, and he added—" Do you hear? Vendean, you die—tomorrow you die." "Death comes slower than I expected," replied Laroehenoire, turning as if to cave the hall with the officer of the guard who had conducted him thither. "Stay," cried Carrier: "as the representative of the Convention which governs the greatest nation of the world, I deem it well to temper judgment with mercy— if you will merit my clemency by deserving services, I will grant you your life." On what terms ? " said Larochenoire.

"They shall be more favourable than you have any right to expect," replied Carrier: "that you should accept a commission in a regiment of the line, now employed against the insurgents of the Marais under Charrette."

You mean, that I should bring to your service the knowledge of the country and of our chief's positions which I acquired in the ranks of La Vendee? You mean to tempt me to betray the brave Cluirrette."

"So alone can you redeem your errors," returned Carrier; who in his drunken self-conceit already considered as certain his triumph over the honour of the Yendean chief.

"No man but you would dare to propose such dishonour to a soldier. I will die!" replied Larochenoire.

"Die, then, in your obstinacy !" said Carrier.

Turning his head, he was about to order the officer to retire with the doomed chief, when he was interrupted by Caroline DAumont. She had listened, with a cheek which every moment grew more white, to every word of the short dialogue between the judge and the captive. Once she half rose from her chair, and was about to speak; but the words were choked in her swelling throat. She seized a goblet, filled it to the brim with champagne, and drained it at a draught. In a mo meat the flame spread again over her cheek, her eyes flashed wildly, and she laid her hand on Carrier's shoulder, and with a forced smile of blandishment whis- pered—" Pardon him for my sake. He is my cousin. Say you will spare him." "It is impossible," replied Carrier, pushing away the dimpled hand from its hold, but not roughly, for brutal as he was he could not be insensible to the attraction of her allurements. "Your cousin must bear the fate he chooses."

"You must pardon him," she repeated, again seizing her tyrant's hand; and then, forgetting everything in the eagerness of her prayer, she cried, "You must not, you shall not murder him."

Carrier's ferocious temper was roused by this unguarded word, and a certain vague jealousy caused by her evident interest in Larochenoire, stung him: he

threw her from him with an oath, saying, "Hence, to your own chamber ! Be- gone, you"—

Whatever opprobrious name he might have given her was checked by his amaze meat. She sprang up, and striking her clenched hands with maniac violence on her bosom, she shrieked, rather than said, "This—this from you—from you—oh! I am bitterly punished."

"Beware!" said Carrier savagely; " beware ! even from yon, mad wretch, I will not bear such words: remember what you are, and what I am."

"I know it well," she exclaimed, hurried on by the ungovernable fury of hes temper, naturally violent, and now roused by every goading passion: "would that I could forget it !—no, I cannot forget, in time or in eternity, if there be indeed that dreadful eternity. I know what we are: you are Carrier, and I am your slave— I am the wretch who was so base as to purchase life by enduring your loathsome love, before my husband's blood, shed by you, was well dried on the guillotine."

The following observation is striking from its justness, nicety, and aptness of expression.

HOLLOW GAYETY.

The company had each their own cares; but they were firmly resolved to eon coal them, and therefore most brilliantly gay. They distrusted each other, and therefore were most attentive to maintain a mutual courtesy. They pos- sessed no feeling or interest in common, and therefore they kept themselves care- fully within neutral ground in the conversation, avoiding, with intuitive tact, every topic likely to wound, shunning discussion lest it should call up thoughts too deep. It was a delightful society had there been any one present to enjoy it. Their - conversation was the more rapid, the more graceful, the more airy and light, from the consciousness, present to each and all, that they were on a most unsound foot- ing; like the skater who dares not pause when he finds himself on thin cracking ice, and therefore darts on more lightly, quickly, and, as it appears to the un- learned spectators, more gayly.