MRS. BRAY'S COURTENAY OP WALREEDON.
Tun novel is about the best of Mrs. BRAY'S fictions ; because it happens to be thrown into the form .that best coincides with her own powers, which more incline to the essayist than the novelist. She has an artist's eye for the beauties of landscape and ofarchitec- tural monuments, as well as the knowledge which gives certainty and soundness to taste ; and she always places the scenes of her novels among localities with which she is familiar. Her acquaintance with history and manners is considerable ; and she is enabled to give a lifelike form to this book-learning, by a thorough knowledge of tradition, oral as well as written ; nor has she permitted living characters to pass by her unobserved. What more is required in Mrs. BRAY, is a living spirit in addition to the forms of life. Her style, especially in the more stirring passages,- drags its slow length along ; her reflections interrupt the march of events ; and, either from that circumstance or their own nature, wear an air of ser- monizing ; whilst the introduction of her persons and her incidents has too much the appearance of management—the reader detects the object of the writer, and sees the elements of the age instead of their vital combination. Mrs. BRAY not only wants the genius to create and vivify, but even the lesser power to fuse her materials.
This defect is visible in many parts of Courtenay of Walreddon, especially where the course of the narrative conducts to scenes of pathos, passion, or deep feeling; but in many parts the fault rather harmonizes with the book. The form of the story is autobiogra- phical; and from a long and somewhat inartificial introduction, we learn that Courtenay was a Cavalier of Charles the First's time, who amused himself in his declining years with writing the memoirs of his own life, inserting therein such incidents as occurred to himself during the Civil Wars, or fell under his observation with regard to West-of-England families. The jogtrot style, minute particularity of detail, and occasional prolixity of narrative, are therefore well enough in keeping with the gossipy character of an old man, who when a young one seems to have been much of a country gentleman.
From the scheme of the work it may be inferred that there is not great unity of action; and several subordinate tales are intro- duced. The story, however, has as much interest as the previous novels of Mrs. BRAY, and more coherence. The state of the Western counties during the Civil Wars—the peculiar position of the Church and churchmen, when Loyalists were expelled their pulpits to make room for strong Calvinists—the kidnapping of children with a view to their sale in those lawless times—and the existence of large gangs of gipsies, with the severe laws and popular feelings against them—are all made use of in Courtenay of Walreddon, and by one who has considerable knowledge of the subjects. These things, however, are closely enough connected with the fortunes of the hero • whilst the mystery of the heroine is well kept up, and at last resolved in a way which we suspect few readers of the novel will foretell, without violating all rules of novel- reading by looking to see how it ends.
There are some scenes of motion if not of power in Courtenay of Walreddon, which keep the reader in suspense till the termination is reached ; and the character of Cinderella the gipsy-girl, though very improbable, is a delicate conception delicately executed : Mrs. BRAY apparently designing to exhibit an innate purity and sim- plicity of mind which should triumph over all external circum- stances. These features, however, cannot be exhibited apart from their context. We must take two or three shorter samples.
A DISTURBED COUNTRY.
In this morning's ride I observed a marked alteration in many of the rural population we met on the road. Some of the farmers who crossed our path carried a massive club, shouldered like a musket, and looked sternly upon us. These, no doubt, were armed according to the defensive plan set up among the agriculturalists of the West, against either Royalist or Parliamentarian, who might come upon them for plunder. It obtained the name of "club law," and was very generally practised in these parts. These men passed us without speaking, not knowing who we were; but the stern brow seemed to indicate the absence of all fear, and the silence no wish to be the aggressor, or to begin a fray without cause.
The farmer's wives, who trotted on to market, covered their baskets with the long ends of their cloaks, as if they feared displaying their contents along the road; and the country-lasses, who carried their pails to the milking, did not now emulate the lark in her morning song, but rather hurried silently on, ever now and then looking back as if they feared something, and seemed, by their cheerless manner and downcast air, to mourn the loss of their sweethearts and brothers, who were away at the wars.
STATE OF THE WEST.
To paint the distraction of the Western counties soon after this period, would defy all my attempts at description. Here a family, loyal tar now, would, on the approach of some sudden alarm, become faithless. There, on the instant, would a father find himself opposed by a son, and that son at enmity with a brother; both, perhaps, acting under the influence of some temporary distraction: so that many renounced their principles without the concurrence of their judgment, and in several instances admitted within their gates the very rebels they had but an hour before defied. In some parts we heard of towns that had surrendered by a sudden panic ; of villages deserted by their fear-stricken inhabitants, at the very rumour of an assault ; whilst the old and the helpless were left sinking, starving, dying on the road. Some spent their last breath in cries for help or pity ; others in curses and complaints. The retreat of one army and the approach of another often caused a whole district to change its principles; and all from distraction—the very madness of fear.
FEMALE FRIENDSHIP.
I have heard it said by many, that friendship is a cold feeling when com- pared to love. It may be so with us men, but not I think with women. Men love each other on more selfish principles than women do. The passions, the politics, the mutual services of men, make them friends; but women become such from the pure impulse of their own hearts, when neither passion nor opinion nor obligation knits the bond. In conformity with this, they delight more than we do in the outward marks and signs of affection—the sympathies of gentle words, kind looks, and ardent expressions; whilst we demand the more essential proofs of friendship, not merely in profession, but in acts often of the sternest character. A woman's delicacy and strength of feeling rests more satisfied with the will to serve, and in the unspeakable joy of finding another existence in the heart of a beloved friend.
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