MELTON DE MOWBRAY.

As a fiction, this book is almost beneath regard. What little of truth and capability the eletnents of the story possessed, is de- stroyed by the manner in which they are developed; the inci- dents have no likelihood in themselves or in the telling ; the comedy of the writer is dull, his tragedy ridiculous, and his pathos maudlin, except, in a rare instance, where the nature of the situation triumphs over the bungling artist. Nor can he be said to possess any of those qualities which sometimes set off a bud novel. his sketches of society are heavily touched off and awkwardly introduced; his descriptions are as literal as an ticker. tisement commencing "absconded," with a garnish of mock sentiment and millinery eloquence superadded. Here is a touch of his quality, in a picture of the hero; picked out, we should say, from many peges devoted to the same subject.

MELTos DE MOWIIRAI.

Sonic five feet ten in height, he could neither be lost in a crowd nor feel ashamed of Lis height upon entering a room his limbs, cast in the mould of grace and beauty, united lightness and activity with the firmness of strength ; his cheeks, through free from the rosy, unmeaning lustiness of youth, glowed with the tints of health ; teeth, small and regular, partially displayed their white enamel when he whispered to lady fair, joked with hia compeers, or debated with bis seniors—at other moments, the guattlian lips closed so firmly over the treasures they concealed, that, judging from these, one would have auguied a firmness of character at variance with the eyes ; these, large, dark., intelligent, and soft, wandered from point to point, now laughing merrily at some stroke of humour, now shedding their warm, almost voluptuous, warmth on some admiring beauty ; and if, within these dark and vrandeting orbs, there were sterner thoughts nod fiercer passions, these were veiled by the long and silken lash ; if they could be glazed by the tear and depth of feeling, such pro- bability was hidden by the mask of fashion, worn, like the armour of our an- cestors, from boyhood upwards. If any thing were in extremes, it was the glossy, uncompromising Wackness of the hair, which cluatered on the heath, and

thin gentle waves beside a high expansive brow.

Such was Melton de Mowbray," in his personal qualities. The outward garb is thus described; the matter being that of a barber and a tailor—the manner the writer's own.

Such was Melton de Illowbray ; one whom few amongst his own sex could pass and not observe; one who seemed formed for womatea idol, who, seen but once, was treasured in the memory for ever. So much for nature; and, ere we turn to the tine arts, so happily cultivated by those who cover, yet not con- ceal the outer man, we ought, perhaps, to have spoken of an ornament common in these days, but much less so in former times,—namely, a pair of moustaches. Yet, even in the present day, Melton de Mowbray's would have ranked in no common order, so widely did they differ from those disgusting hangeraon which rob the lips, and lap up soup like the fringes of a Scotch terrier : the dimpled centre of the tapper lip was clear ; the mouth, with all its silent language, was ever visibly audible, but two distinct and dark lines arched tpwards the corner of the mouth, and then, leaving that expressive point, turrei'd upwards with a graceful curve. So perfect was its contour, that we scarcely wonder at our giving the description with the words of art. To proceed : as the Jewish fashion ot wearing beards WM unknown, the neck was enveloped by a square of white muslin, which, in case of necessity, would have made a very comfortable tablecloth. Let not the exquisite of these days, strapped in a ready-made tie, sneer at the glories of the past ; the merit of a man was then his own, and not

• the Amputates or the washerworum's. •

As the ditty device of false collars had not been brought to light, the lover's wings which fanned the cheeks of Melton de Mowbray showed to the world that he wore a clean shirt beneath the ample &Ida of his white neckcloth ; and although this was crossed on the chest and confined by a gold race.horse with a jockey finely painted in enamel, partly owing to the well-formed neck, and grkatly to the master's hand, this mass of muslin sat as light and easy as if it had been moulded to the body ; no crease where none should be; no tumbled wrinkle betraying doubt or hesitation in forming the Gordian knot. • • • Next to the neckcloth sat a waistcoat of delicate buff, moderate in length, but notched at the bottom, in the fashion of our forefathers; who, living in the days of peace and plenty, wore waistcoats almost as long as a bishop's apron, but somewhat less decorous, being cut in the centre into two sides of a triangle, to give freedom to the limbs. A dress-coat, as now we should term it, of blue, with a plain gilt button ; breeches of spotless white, which clipped the knees like a garter ; boots, with tops of pearly cream-colour, worthy of the side' of Claude, or of Hoby's shop, and furnished at the heels with spurs, curved in the neck, completed the attire from bead to foot of Melton the Mowbray. The addenda of hat, thin white doeskin gloves, and jockey's whip mounted with gold twist, lay on the table.

The table, on which these articles " lay," was in Brooks's Club-house; the time of their repose was in the year 1791. The mother of their owner had eloped ; his father was a banker, with whom the son was not on very intimate terms. At the time of the opening, of the story, two purposes animate the bosom of Mr. Melton de Mowbray ; one of which is to win the hand and heart of a fashionable beauty, Lady Helen Fawndove; the other is to take vengeance on his mother's seducer. The chase of the lady, he pursues in earnest: lint is baffled, when on the point of suc- cess, by the ruin of his father, brought about by the novel incident of a partner's roguery. Transformed into a sort of trustee, to vim d up the accounts of the banking-house, accident brings Melton de Mowbray into contact with his mother's paramour. They fight; but under such equivocal circutnstances, that De 11iowbray is tried and found guilty of murder; and he is rescued from the gallows by means as absurd. as those by which he was condemned to it.

Atnid all the incongruity .4' plan and deficiency of execution, the seeming authorship of this book gives it a feature. It ap- pears to Us to be the work of an old Whig, who has hit upon this mole of putting forth his reminiscences ef the leading politicians and coxcombs of the day. Besides the interest, scanty enough,

attached to these memerials, the novel furnishes an idea of what a youth spent at Brooks's does for the mind : that is, it gives a superficial knowledge of the frequenters of the Club, leaving it

in utter and astounding ignorance ot every thing else. This o init n as to the authorehip is one of inference; but we will

in a flaw quotations give the reader some of the evidence on which it is founded, in sketches of three niarked men of 1791. There is, it is true, some chronological confusion in parts; and, in despite of their matter-of-fact air, they are within the compass of any clever dramatizes; but this author is neither a dramatizer nor clever.

TON.

Between Mowbray, his friends, anal the disco:welted Stilton, was a group of widely different calibre; men, marked amidst the talent of the age, and en- gaged in the discussion of those important measures which have since been care ried into effect by the N‘'higs and Tories of cur own time. The MO,t cut.vieurous was a short, stout man, who, from his breadth of back, and slouching, slovenly style of dress and figure, looked even shorter than he was ; his hair was cropped short behind and unpowdered ; his features were large and coarse; his manner ineleg int ; nay, he frequently indulged in the prolatie habit of puking his hands into his breeches or waistcoat pocket, and still more often committed the other vulgarity of thrusting his thumbs into the armsholes of his waistcoat ; and yet, it ware impossible to look upon the eyes which flashed from beneath their dark and shaggy eyetwows, or note the power and expeession which beamed around the mouth, and call or think him vulgar. Such was F'ox when silent : but hear him in the Senate—mark him as lie kindled with his theme—see him gasping, struggling to pour forth the retaining depths which choked his utterance ; till at length, as his clenched hand fell with a giant's force upon the trembling table, the floodgates of the mind were burst, and the nation now listened with awe to the overwhelming powers of argument which thundered from his lips ; now, was carried with the stream of stern and massive eloquence, or stood dazzled and transfixed by the flashes of hie wit,— witness this but once, and all was forgotten but the transcendant genius of a titan who seemed to have beeu formed in nature's widest contrast to his great and gifted rival. DUKE or NORFOLK.

On the right of Fox stood one who beat Charlie Iffinself in the girth of his corporation : if, indeed, he were the less conspicuous of the two, this arose from the suit of rusty, greasy black, which generally enveloped this great man. His features were far from wanting in intelligence ; but there was a swinish cast of eye, an unctious • sensuality about the mouth, befitting the man who could go to the Piazza and order turtle anti a haunch of venison for one. Like that of his neighbour, his build was bulky and inelegant ; indeed, both might be likened to the boiler of a steam-engine, on which, however ungrace- ful its form, no one can look without thinking of the power which is generated within. Gilroy, in drawing the Duke of Norfolk to the life, was wont to add some outward signs, anti always gave to his portentous waistcoat a double tier of pockets, from each of which protruded the neck of a bottle of port ; his Grace, in the language of the day, was a four-bottle man at least.

SHERIDAN.

On the left was one, restless, yet easy in his attitudes, alternately gay and

grave; now bending the powers of his mind to the granite work of which Fox Ira his might was laying the foundation-atone; and, it' the assistant could neither wield nor lay the massive block, he could at least handle the silver tiowel, and cement the work in humid; above all, lie could lighten their labour by wit.as bright, sparkling, and abundant as mica in the granite. There was no mis- tukiug the man; he stood alone in the galaxy of earthly genius, as one of that race which seems to form an exception to a general rule, and had, from.genera- tion to generation, talent and beauty as the heirlooms of their family: but poor Sheridan's days of beauty were departed ; difficulties, disappointment, and debauchery, had already planted their furrows in the cheek ; hectic patches had given symptoms of a broken constitution ; and the rosy blushes on the nose confessed a shameless devotion to the habits of deep conviviality: still, how- ever, there was the light and dancing eye, which marked hitn as the son of wit and humour; for the flashes of his ethereal spirit were never quite extin- guished until life bad fled ; and such was their exhaustless play, that if aught had tickled Sheridan's fancy, though sitting on a council of death, we suspect that he must have smiled, at least in the laughing crows-feet of his eye.

We may add, that the Duke of Noitrout is the man who, according to WRAXALL, never washed himself; the ceremony of • e Unctieur "—sic in otia.

abiution beieg perlornieel by his servants e hen their lord was unconsciously drunk. lie was a coarse detester in Parliament, though a powerful hitter; but not the man to be noticed by a mere litt6rateur; or if he hail been noticed, it would have been at greater length. The litterateur would have used up his read- ing; of which the author of Melton de Moutray seems to have little use.