COMPTON AUDLEY, BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

IF our readers are curious to see the book of a genuine lord, we recommend them to borrow these volumes—not to buy them. If the author may claim to have conquered English grammar, he has not acquired any notion of propriety of language, or the true meaning or application of words. Instead of endeavouring to discover the qualities of things which lie undertakes to describe, and merely using language to express his perceptions, be passes over the hardest and most important part of the task, and clothes his random or abortive conceptions in any words that present themselves, but with a preference for the ,fine. The structure and the substance are worse than the form. Here and there may be found a just but tolerably well-worn sentiment, by no

means improved in its new shape; sometimes a weak point in a character is caught, though a whole character is seldom appre- hended; and passages are now and then set off by a smart remark, apparently picked up in society. As for art in any sense, or nature in its commonest sense=a transcript of something exist- ing—neither one nor the other will be found in Compton Audley.

Analyzed, three elements will be detected in the composition; derived from the real, the fictitious, and the ideal. Besides a few isolated or interwoven passages, the real consists of the Con- gress of Vienna, the battle of Waterloo, a tour in Canada, and a passing visit to the United States,—topics not very new now- a-days, but still possessing an interest if observed by a discrimi- nating mind ; but they are flat, feeble, and superficial in Compton Audley. There is also some low town life—for example, a bo- rough election, and a jobbing joint stock company's pleasure-trip up the Thames—which bear traces of the writer having seen the reality, though it is grievously distorted in passing through the medium of his mind.

The fiction of Compton Audley is intended to illustrate an evil that always will exist as long as selfishness and short-sightedness— a match of interest enforced by the art and authority of parents. The theme has been well used by the older Minerva Press novel- ists; whose pictures, absurd and namby-pamby as they often were, have not, perhaps, been without their use. Errors which, under the most favourable circumstances, destroy the happiness of a life, and may spread wretchedness and disgrace through families, have always an interest and a freshness, should they even go no further than truly depicting contemporary manners. But Lord WILLIAM -cannot give effect to his own good purposes : where Compton And- ley is not provokingly unnatural, it is sillily absurd. Dudley Ravens- worth, the lover, loses the good opinion of Constance, the heroine, by a series of unlucky contre-temps. Constance sees him battling with hackney-coachmen at early dawn, as the knight of a prostitute —not knowing that this prostitute was the daughter of a tenant of her father : Mr. Ravensworth, half-distracted at being seen in " such .a situation," goes to a low hell with a friend on the same morning to divert his thought, but is seized by the runners in an invasion of the premises, and figures in paragraphs : a similar ill-luck be- falls hint when attending the deathbed of Jane Ashford. While Ravensworth, after this, goes to Vienna, Waterloo, and America, Constance marries ; and the two parties meeting on his return, the reader may anticipate the result, but not as Lord WILLIAM has narrated it. No persons of common sense or common principle, much less of the pride and virtue which the hero and heroine are depicted as possessed of, could have acted as they are described: and the climax is worthy of the preceding parts. At the moment of her fall, the husband of Constance was actually dead of apoplexy, (a case for a Romish casuist, seeing that there was the essence of adultery but not the form); and on the marriage of the pair, the pattern Ravensworth neglects his wife, takes up with an opera-dancer, and after some other aristocratic matters of a like calibre—true, we dare say, in themselves, but badly told, and out of place in their application—the hero is shot in a duel; the hero- ine goes mad upon his body, and dies ; and the reader rejoices that all is over.

Throughout all this narrative, the total want of morality in the two principal persons is revoltingly conspicuous. Not that we charge Lord WILLIAM LENNOX with intending it : on the contrary, he seems to have had some ethical objects in view, if he could only have evolved them. But he has not intellect enough to have a moral sense, and many other people are in a like predica- ment. The conduct enforced by law and opinion suffices for the practice of the bulk of mankind : when they talk abstractedly upon the subject, they reproduce a book of sermons or of popular phi- losophy; and persons like Lord NORMANBY and Mrs. GORE, having the gift of portraying life as it exists, do not paint the morals of that life as disgusting, but only lax, because the persons hirmonize with the practices. But this " rule of thumb" does not suffice for new situations, or characters intended for heroic ; and many people, both in theory and practice, break down in applying the catechism or a code.

The ideal is not frequent in Compton Audley : chiefly used in panegyrics on great men, or the conspicuous events and persons of the fiction, it does not so much heighten and refine what is in nature, as lays on what Lord LENNOX thinks should be there. We take a few examples.

WELLINGTON AT ST. PAUL'S.

The inspired anthem of praise now echoed through the lofty aisles of the

Christian temple ; the full, deep, swelling tones of the organ went forth in murmured thunder; the hymns which Miriam sang or David tuned, the re- spondent chant and service, the inspiring sacred hallelujahs, filled the vast pile; and as the concluding benediction was given, all eyes were turned upon one man—upon him, the hero of a hundred fields, who never advanced but to cover his arms with glory, and who never retreated but to eclipse the very glory of his advance ; who, upon the banks of the Douro and Tagus, of the Ebro and Garonne, had won the hearts of nations; whose generous and lofty spirit inspired his troops with unbounded confidence, and taught them that the day of battle was ever the day of victory ; whose name will remain an impe- rishable monument, exciting others to aim at like deeds of patriotism; whose campaigns were sanctified by the cause, were sullied by no cruelties, no crimes; the chariot-wheels of whose triumphs were followed by no curses, and who upon his deathbed might remember his victories among his good works.

The memory of the contests, the sight of those who had survived the de-

struction of the battle-field, associated as all was with the duties of religious worship, was well calculated to inspire the purest feeling of veneration, and produce an influence on the mind approaching to sublimity. A spirit of holiness cast over every soul a glow of patriotism; and the service of the nation's thanks- giving was, on this great occasion, performed with a oneness of sentiment and feeling perhaps hitherto unparalleled. Of Constance Graham, the heiress of the before-mentioned fair demesne, we have at length to speak. Her countenance, though perfectly beautiful, and full of brilliancy and animation was naturally capable of great variety of ex- pression. There was on her brow a meditative tone, almost amounting to se- riousness, which it was difficult to reconcile with her general buoyancy and elasticity of character. But in this air of pensive thoughtfulness—a sort of shadow of joy—there was nothing that approached the sombre or the sad : on. the contrary, it was relieved and almost: banished by the smiles which rose in rapid succession, like handmaids, to her bidding, and " did their spiriting gently." There was a play of feature that revealed the inmost emotion of the soul: the cheek now flushing with pleasure, now pallid with thought ; [ An exam- ple of injudicious borrowing : Lord WILLIAM has heard of the paleness of ha- bitual thought, and confounds it with the transient gravity of a single act of thinking L] the brilliant eye, now alive with light, now deepening into repose, or melting with tenderness and feeling. Radiant with beauty, and overflowing with natural spirits, Constance Graham enjoyed an equanimity of temper d toute epreirve. Constance possessed an animated vivacity of disposition, breathing life and grace into every object it neared or touched; mingled, however, with a benevo- lence of feeling which served to retain that admiration which mere beauty so often fails to secure. Hers was that species of beauty which it is difficult to describe, and which sets at defiance the powers of the painter and the sculptor: it was that beauty, the most powerful charm of which consisted in expression; and there was, moreover, in the fair possessor of so many charms the most per- fect unconsciousness of their existence.

THE IRRESISTIBLE.

We have already described him as a tall, handsome boy ; nor had his man- hood " unbeseemed the promise of his spring." " Avec les hommes l'amour entre par les yeux, avec les femme, par les oreilles "; now, under either of these circumstances, Dudley would have been successful; for though not " the handsome man " that would have captivated the milliners in a country-town, his appearance was singularly prepossessing ; and he interested the feelings of all by the thrilling tone of his voice, the penetrating glance or melancholy gaze of his e'. e, the sense that was stamped upon his features and was shown in his conversation. It may be easily imagined that, with his natural gifts of mind and person, and with the advantages of good family, he was likely to be a man of note in any society. He possessed a hgure tall and athletic, symmetri- cal and active, a manly and intelligent countenance, and was an Englishman in heart and soul. His attention was not easily or lightly to be attracted, or readily won ; but once having fixed his regards, be was firm, confiding, and in- capable of change. His manners, too, had that peculiar felicity, that while they were full of cheerfulness and freedom, they enjoyed the power of instantly suppressing the slightest trespass of offensive familiarity.

We will close with a passage descriptive of the real.

A LORD ON ALMACK'S.

In what clime can be seen a more radiant assemblage of rank, of beauty, and of fashion, than grace these rooms? No one ever yet stood " amid the glitter- ing throng," and saw the galaxy of fair women shine around, the beautiful faces and noble forms of England's sons and daughters, without feeling assured that more beauty met the gaze at once than could be found together in any other part of the globe.

It has been the fate of the ladies-patronesses to be attacked from many quarters, and abuse has been heaped upon the institution. These attacks are natural enough, emanating, as they do. from disappointed parties. Though,

the power which the administration possesses is absolute and without appeal, i it is seldom exercised in a capricious manner. Much has been said of the "despotism of the autocrateases," of their personal dislikes, political biasses, in- dividual prejudices and partialities : but how can these influence their decision, unless, indeed, under a coalition cabinet? Their office is no sinecure : the trouble of opening, reading, and replying to a host of applications, is enough to try the patience of less irritable beings than lady-patronesses.

And what has made "Almack's " P—Fashion, fashion! a varnish which is much used for the purpose of imparting a false gloss. It is, like most other varnishes, of a poisonous nature, and produces the strangest effects upon the unhappy persons who use it. It causes " their tapers to burn to bedwise " when the sun rises. It occasions them to come to town for the winter at the sweet season when spring smiles in all her charms, and to go into the country for the summer just as the fall of the sallow leaf gives notice of the approach of winter. It makes them do many things that are extremely painful to them, and deters them front the pursuit of quiet, heartfelt enjoyment, from a dread of its petrifying dulness. Yes; the fascination of fashion is irresistible.