The Sun.
London, England, 1834-01-08 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

TEE COQUETTE. 3 VoLs. LONDON, 1834.
The author of " Miserrimus "—a wild tale,
which was characterized by at least as much
absurdity as talent—has here ventured upon
new ground. He has quitted the realms of
romance for those of a more sober reality, but
though the change is in one sense for the better,
in another it is anything but successful. The
" Coquette " has not the over-wrought, exag-
gerated descriptions of " Miserrimus ;" but
neither has it the truth, the simplicity, the
straight-forwardness of real life. It is the mean
between the two. Its besetting defect is that
the author views life through the spectacles of
books, instead of relying on his own stores of
observation, or giving us the results of his own
practical experience. He is destitute of the
faculty of discrimination. He cannot indivi-
dualize character, or analyze motives. All his
personages, male or female, speak pretty nearly
the same language, bandying repartees one with
another, and throwing off' sententious aphorisms,
and shrewd moral reflections, that in many in-
stances are somewhat whimsically misplaced. From
many indications that are scattered through the
tale we fancy we can perceive that the author
has read Congreve with attention—that wittiest
of all our dramatists, who, whenever nature stood
in the way of point, never hesitated to sacrifice
the former to the latter. The last volume of the
" Coquette" is the best, because there a deeper
vein of feeling is struck out, and the incidents
grow one out of the other, with a more sequent
Propriety than in the earlier portions of the tale,
where, especially in the first half of the first
volume, they are huddled together, without the
slightest regard to consistency. People meet—
part—and come together again, who could
scarcely have done so under the circumstances,
without the intervention of something bor-
dering on the marvellous. They are as
incongruously associated, in fact, as the
personages in a pantomime. Having said thus
much in condemnation of the " Coquette," we are
in duty bound to exhibit its bright sides. It is
fertile in incidents and startling surprizes ; puts
forth many shrewd, and some profound, reflec-
tions ; seldom or never flags, and, above all, is
written in a style remarkable for its eloquence
and simplicity. It displays also deep feeling in
many places ; especially in the character of Julia
de Varmont, which is the redeeming feature of
the " Coquette," deepening as it becomes more
and more developed, in a way calculated to rivet
attention to it. The author is more happy;
more at home, in his female, than in his male,
sketches. The following is a favourable speci-
men of the more tragic spirit of the tale. It i
an interview between a husband, his wife, and a
mistress whom he has seduced and deserted, but
still loves :

" Belton turned to Miss de Varmont. Her knees sup-
ported her elbows, and her hands covered her face. He
gently raised her head; and he was shocked by the dread-
ful change her features displayed.
" You see,' she cried, in a phrenzied tone, ' what I
have become !—An object of shame to my fellows, and of
hatred to my brother. Oh, Belton ! Belton ! little did I
once think I was born to do the deed I have done.
Guilt is behind me, and infamy and remorse before me !
Oh, my friend, to what am I reduced ! But think not I
inculpate you. My crime is my own ; and I alone will
pay the penalty. Hear me, 0 God !' she exclaimed, with
an exalted fervour, as she cast herself upon her knees,
hear me, while I swear that in humility and woe, in
repentance and poverty, with no companion but my sor-
rows, and these hands for my servants, will I pass the
remainder of the life allotted me !'
" She rose, and continued with a deceptive calmness :
Think not my resolution the transport of an impo-
tent contrition, which a word from you can efface. None
can wade deeply in iniquity without gaining some expe-
rience. Mine is more extensive than you suppose. I have
learned that the temptation that looked so bright in anti-
cipation perishes in possession. I have learned that none
can continue to respect her who has failed to respect
herself. I have learned, too, to speak that which you
have only thought. Charles, how dearly I love you, my
sacrifice will witness, but, by Heaven that hears, and will
assist the contrite, I swear that to-morrow shall be the last
day we meet in this world ! Now, let me quit you—and
as a last reques', implore that you will not follow me.'
" Hastily and anxiously, as though fearful of being in-
tercepted, she advanced to the door. At aat instant it
flew open; and in the recess, stood Ellen and her child.
" She was pale and wan ; but on her hollow cheek was
the hectic flush of feverish agitation, and her eye was dry
and sunken, as though the streams that bad moistened it
were exhausted. Never had mental anguish more rapidly
devastated the loveliness of the female form ; she was but
the living spectre of the woman she had been.
" The mind of Miss de Varmont was previously
wrought to a state capable of receiving the most violent
and desperate excitations. At the sight of Ellen her
whole frame was convulsed, and unable to support herself,
she staggered to a seat, and covered her face with her
hands.

" ' Is this she,' cried Ellen, wildly, as she advanced to
confront
?her, 'is this she who has deprived me of my
husband Oh, serpent ! serpent !—Ungenerous, un-
grateful WOll3lll !-Could you offer no other return for the
credulous affection and hospitality of the friend of your
youth, but the eternal destruction of her sister's peace ?
Had you slandered, insulted, bitterly reviled me, I could
have consoled myself, and forgiven you. On a single
objectt I staked my all, and of that you have robbed me !
B think nut to escape the retribution you deserve. I
see remorse
increase. sihnenyo.ur aramour's eye—mark me, it will
and me that he Shunning alike you that have wronged him,
land, and live andasdreronged, he will fly to some distant
already within the in stlf.detestation. His wife has
and their friendless shafth that must lead her to her grave;
some heartless gu„'di'nPelests orphan, left in the power of
he ,Wweak, erring., sinful, may live to
lament the day that
born !--These are your deeds;
and oh, may a tvife's and
" At these words, Mhe.mdecter's curse repay you!'
and uttered a loud cry, EvevitraPint sprang to her feet,
er:,,passion of Ellen's smote
a respondent chord in bee
eellinbreast. Shaking, con-
vulsed, her dry eye fearfully
_g; her face blackened by
verb of either death
the conflict, she seemed to be or, ii,
or insanity.
~ ,
Oh, I feel it!' she cried • .
' violent) pressing her
hands against her breast, ' it is a horrid cu -
my veins, my heart, my soul !—lnfera"! It is in
demons, surround me—they goad, they tortnP"'i°n,, like
fall in world, and crush me into atoms !--.}l:?thr"--011,
" This frantic speech, and loud and discord:ma.'
wrung, by the agonies of a mind.- that remorse h:dlaug,
tered, firma this once gifted and feminine creature, hada:h
nat.
it
something sui.ernaturally horrible. But though for
moment, Ellen's mind immediately reverted to her oven