THE DEVOTED.

IF this novel was really written by Lady CHARLOTTE BURY, it is a considerable improvement upon her former productions. There is indeed no invention in the story, and very little art in its conduct ; some of the incidents have not the slightest relation to the others;

the events that occurred before the opening of the tale arc dis- tinguished by a grave burlesque that calls to mind the tragedy of Tom Thumb ; and the persons who do not represent the life in which the author has moved are drawn in obedience to the second commandment, and are like nothing in the earth below. But the weaknesses—perhaps the vices—of the aristocracy, have been carefully noted, skilfully discriminated, and embodied with truth and life ; the results of thought and observation are often visible; a knowledge of the fine arts is made to give variety and effect to the descriptions and reflections ; and the composition is in the ,main elegant and sustained throughout. The real object of The Devoted is to inculcate the maxim that happiness in this life is only attainable by love and religion. The author, doubtless, intended to impress this opinion by means of a story ; and she has attempted it by a number of persons whose respective characters modify the circumstances and events of their life. But she has only attained her object in two instances—if, strictly speaking, she has attained it in any. As the scheme of the novel really, if not formally, differs from that of any other we have lately met with, it will be cdnvcnicnt to differ a little from the usual form of critical notices in order to convey a clearer idea of the nature of the work. And we begin with that charac- ter who most successfully points a moral.

Lord Altamont is a nobleman of the old school, with high rank, large fortune, and an ancient and unblemished descent. He is very formal, very courtly, and very proud ; but his punctilious po- liteness often conceals his pride, and always prevents it from being grossly offensive. The author would seem to wish it understood that he is naturally silly and selfish ; whilst, to invest him with a due portion of romantic interest,there is a story told about him in early youth, in which he is made to jilt his future sister-in-law, and to be cognizant of the murder of her father, with some other stuff ‘of a similar stamp. But Lord Altamont, though not a conjurer, seems originally to have had good plain sense, which occasionally shines forth in his conduct and conversation ; and his selfishness is as much the result of his own artificial ideas of propriety and dignity, and of the unbending rigidity with which he is induced to uphold them through long habit, as from any innate hard- ness of heart. These effects of courtly and aristocratic educa- tion upon men of commonplace minds are admirably developed; and after his Lordship has outlived his political influences and po- litical uses, his acquaintance and dependents, having no real re-

rfor him, forsake him ; his grandson and his daughter die; id s afflicted by a stroke of the palsy, (three misfortunes, by

the way, that would cloud the evening of any man's days); is indebted to " the Devoted," whom be really does love, for what attention his age receives; and offers a memorable instance of the evils which result from lordly training, rather than of the moral the writer would inculcate.

Lady Elizabeth, daughter of Lord Altamont, and sometime Marchioness of Fitzarlington, is another and a capital character. She has been trained by her father in his own philosophy ; and is a perfect reproduction of himself, making allowance for the difference of age and sex, the modifying circumstances of a less formal state of society, and of the lady's more enlarged mind. To be powerful—to be influential—to till a space in the world's eye— are her ruling objects, to which she sacrifices love, and might sacrifice religion had she possessed any. She encourages the passion of her cousin, Mr. Delamere, in order to retain him as her slave : she resists her own love for the Honourable and Reve- rend Mr. St. Aubyn—the novelist's beau ideal of a minister of the Established Church ; and finally marries his brother, the Mar- quis of Fitzarlington, who we are told is a roue and whom we see is a clever, careless, not over-principled epicurean man of fashion. The true illustration of the writer's philosophy now would have been to show the hollowness of mere wealth and station in conferring happiness, the angry feelings that arise in Lady Elizabeth °from the indifference or infidelity of the Marquis, and the "craving void left aching " in a woman's breast from the want of the domestic affections. Our author adopts a more compendious method. The Marquis is accidentally drowned ; a son is born, and dies ; his mother fails into a con- sumption, and is converted only on her deathbed, by Mr. St. Aubyn. Sad misfortunes, unquestionabl.v, but having small relation to love and religion. The death of two marquises and one's own departure, in the prime of life lkok marvellously more like ac- cidents, than the inevitable evils resulting front defects of conduct. Mr. Delamere is the nephew of Lord Altamont. Ilis mother was the lady his Lordship jilted. His tvandfather, of course, was the Irish jontleman whose murder my Lord indirectly instigated, and to which he was accessory alter the fact. Mr. Delamere was born with a genius and a withered leg. When he is first intro- duced to the reader, he possesses uncommon beauty of face, great powers of mind, wonderful acquirements, and many accomplish- ments: he is sore on the subject of his lameness. After his cousin has shown signs of discarding him, he breaks out a la BYRON; equals BYRON in poetry, sensuality, vagaries, and vice, and excels him in Parliamentary speaking. But neither his conduct nor his conversation maintains his character for power, although his reckless selfishness is well brought out. The per- sons of the novel think Mr. Delamere mad, and the reader may probably come to the same conclusion. Certainly the notions of his more laboured disquisitions arc none of the soundest,—as when, for instance, he puts the prose of BULWER in juxtaposition with the poetry of MILTON.

Ethel Delamere is "thd Devoted :" and a very charming per- son she is, although rather overdone, in compliment to the title. She humours her uncle's oddities, and listens to his colloquial harangues; she bears with her cousin Lady Elizabeths haughti- ness and ill-temper; and what is worse than all, with the insane caprices of her brother. Ethel is in love with Mr. St. Aubyn at the beginning; and in despite of several suitors and her knowledge of his ardent and hopeless passion for her cousin, she still loves on to the close; when her constancy is finally rewarded, owing to her own virtues and the dying recommendation of the Marchioness Fitzarlington. This pair, it may be presumed, are the great il- lustrators of the moral ; but not very happy ones. The first love of both is crossed, and they are united only after the lapse of years, when time and sorrow have blunted their sensibilities and chilled their affections. The faith of the Devoted, indeed, sus- tains her through all her trials ; but the pattern divine is fre- quently led to neglect his congregation during the fervour of " Love's young dream." The truth to be deduced from the con- duct of St. Aubyn seems to be, that the celibacy of the Romanists is the right thing. The moral we draw from the whole is—love wisely, not too well.

These are the principal persons and their fortunes. There are many minor characters and incidents. A Jew—drawn from those reports of extraordinary misers which occasionally appear in the papers ; but Lady CHARLOTTE BURY has deviated from her penny a-line authorities, and by her additions produced a caricature. There is a deathbed confession of a murderer, that will weary the reader, as it does Lord Altamont. There is a scene at a low hell, something worse than the reality ; another at a pot-house, something better ; and several in the fashionable world, which have a greater appearance of truth; and, to close our analysis, an episode at a country-inn, where Mr. Delamere retires from his scenes of dissipation to write poetry and make unconscious love to the innkeeper's daughter.

Such are the substances and structure of The Devoted. Some novels are better, very many much worse; and if the consistency of the narrative sometimes hitches, the sustained elegance of corn position already spoken of renders it readable throughout. We have described Lord Altamont as the most finished cha- racter of the novel. Here is his full-length portrait.

The dinner at the castle was that day much enlivened by the arrival of the brother and sister. Lord Altamont sat between his daughter and niece, and seemed renovated into youthful gallantry, as he endeavoured to amuse them by anecdotes of past times, and to profess his respectful adoration of "the divine creatures," as he termed women in general. He was still, though no longer young, exceedingly handsome ; and if his manners had too much of manner in them, they were so graceful and his language so classically precise, that it was impossible for the veriest clown not to acknowledge that a charm was exercised over him whilst in Lord Altamont's presence, though he might not perhaps exactly be able to account for the spell, or even to like the thrall which kept him in his proper place. A species of feudal grandeur, now almost unknown, was observed throughout his establishment ; and the chaplain and the librarian, with an occasional humble visiter, sat below the salt. Trained to the ways of Delamere Castle, they presumed not beyond that point, which they knew, if overpassed, would shut the doors against them for ever. But there was in all this a gene which, it must be confessed, savoured as much Of tyranny as of high breeding ; and, in consequence, "few and far be- tween" were the visitors even of Lord Altamont's own times who came to sojourn with him. Men were not disposed to endure the commanding tone and haughty courtesies of one who, after all, tots but their equal ; and there had been a time, nay, it was not altogether passed, when " the divine crea- tures," as his lordship styled them, were rather more the objects of his attention than husbands and fathers deemed desirable.

Besides all this, there was a hindrance to the discussion of subjects of any high or varied interests, because not only were the politics of the day hateful to his tenets and opinions, but if any thing savoured of philosophical disquisition, he declared that such matters were fit only for the schools, and were unbecom- ing persons of high rank ; and that the introduction of what was called men of letters into society, so long forbidden in France, was one of the chit f causes of the revolution in that country and the confusion of ranks which now obtained in this. The noble art of horsemanship, indeed, sloth as it had once existed and was practised by the cavalier of the better times, was a recreation befitting the dignity of the higher orders ; but that, too, had degenerated into a mere grooming of horses, worthy only of a jockey's care. Gardening and planting he still allowed to be of august derivation. The arts also he protected, parti- cularly music, of which he was passionately fond.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE.

There is such a thing as love at first sight, deny it who may ; and it is not necessarily a light or transitory feeling because it is sudden. Impressions are often made as indelibly by a glance, as some that grow from imperceptible be ginnings till they become incorporated with our nature. Is not the fixed law of the universe, the needle to the pole, a sufficient guarantee for the existence of attraction ? And who will say it is not of divine origin ? The passion of love is so too, when of genuine kind. Reason and appreciation of character may on longer acquaintanre deepen the impression, "as streams their channels deeper wear ;" but the seal is set by a higher power than the human will, and gives the stamp of happiness or misery to a whole life.

A STATESMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

MS polities had been of the port wine times, and care had not wrinkled his brow. The business of importance of which he constantly talked had never interfered with that which he had always considered the primary business of life,—namely, to keep a good table himself, and to partake of that of others. He would not for the world have detained dinner ; and made an harangue, on the present occasion, on the hard case of cooks in general, whose efforts to please were frequently rendered nugatory by the ill-breeding of guests.

A PROSPEROUS MAN.

The scene changes to London. Lord Altamont was again placed in one of the highest posts of public life. His house was the resort of persons who envied and adulated lum—of all who sought to bask in the sunshine of his prosperity : whether they hated or loved the man, no matter ; they loved the result of his success, and coveted his brilliant fortune.

It is something to dwell in the atmosphere of a prosperous person. The prosperous man is readily known wherever be appears; there is an easy air about hint, which arises from the consciousness of being always welcome every- where. In a crowd he is followed, but not crushed ; room is made right and left for hint to pass along. Yet examine his countenance, and frequently under smiles lurks the mark of care : prosperity obtained is not prosperity secured. He looks about him with self-satisfaction, it is true; but not without an ex- pression of caution, lest any secret enemy he nigh to push him from his high estate.

THE. EFFECTS OF PLEASURE.

Every one has felt after a course of amusement how little they are inclined to drop again into the dull current of common life: a fever is on them ; they are weary—it may he of excitement ; yet they would toil on and pursue the phantom pleasure, wherever it may lead, rather than pause, rather than look at the past hours steadily, or allow themselves to make an estimate of their real value. The least bad part of dissipation is its actual idleness: its deadly quality is the apathy which it sheds over all the sober enjoyments of existence.

THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIAGE.

This was the first scene approaching to a quarrel which this newly-married couple had had ; it could scarcely be called a quarrel, but it verged towards that questionable ground on which quarrels usually commence. There is some- thing very terrible in this first matrimonial jar; it is a point of incalculable consequence to future peace in the conduct of married life; and let all women re- member that it is their interest to keep their temper in this first instance, what- ever they may do afterwards. It is also well to recollect that, even in the most fortunate marriages, the first year is not the happiest. There is much to be learnt of submission, of bending the will, in minor occasions and trivial circum- stances, on the part of the wife, which never happen during courtship. And then, there is the surprise of finding they are the serving, and not the served, in daily occurrences, to which it requires infinite wisdom and self-control to sub- mit. Yet this is much easier to some natures than to others; and although it may appear paradoxical, it is infinitely less difficult to those who do not passionately love than to those who do. The latter have not such an altitude to fall from, when they enter upon the realities of life, with all the trials of temper

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and all the infirmities of another human being to bear with, as those who sup- posed perfection in the idol of their worship, and who suddenly have the veil removed, and discover that the tissue of human nature is uneven. All this takes place the first year of marriage; let that year be well and wisely passed, particularly on the woman's part, and the rest will probably follow; but the first year of marriage is not the happiest.