The Sun.
London, England, 1826-12-08 00:00:00

FRIDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 8, 1826.

LITERATURE.

ALM A S, a Novel. Vole. —London, 1826.
" Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice."

This is an admirable novel, struck off with great spirit,
in the first style of fashion and Haut ton. We do not
know who the author is, but report ascribes it to the pen
of Lady Foley. One thing is pretty clear, that no author
or authoress of the present day need be ashamed of a work
so meritorious. Indeed we are assured that so highly was
public attention excited by its appearance, that the first
edition has.been subscribed among the trade to satisfy the
demands of the curious. The work displays a thorough
knowledge of human nature, in the delightful regions of
haul ton, and occasionally pictures the less obtridsive but
more endearing scenes of society in the middle ranks of
life,, with great force and delicacy. The characters intro-
duced are generally very ably drawn, and their numberand
variety sufficiently attest the experience of the author in..
fashionable' life. , It is stated, however, that the charac-
ters are not intended for certain parties, but repre-
ientative of each class described ; and this general
plan is less objectionable, though, perhaps, less pleasing,
to the lovers of scandal, fur it affords a greater latitude to
the genius of the author, than can be found in the limited
sphere of individnal character. The great object of the
work is to ridicule the absurdities daily exhibited by the
gay votaries of Almack's, and the tyrannical spirit displayed
by .the " Lady Patronesses " of that seductive establish-
ment, in their overbearing exclusion of some, and partial
reception of others, apparently for no better reason than to
prove the truth of the adage, that " kissing goes by
favour." Tho work possesses the great charm of beauty
of language, and a free and easy style, gaily illustrative of
the conversation and habits of fashionable society, which
are touched off with much happy raillery and vivacity of
imagination—
Painting the manners living as they rise."

The characters are strongly contrasted, and many of them
drawn with a masterly knowledge of the human, heart.
Among the men, we have the chivalrous but reflective
Montague—the frivolous and conceited Morflaunt—the
grave and learned Godfrey—the .pompous but plotting
politician Norbury—the common-place child of fortune
Birmingham' —the venerable Mildmay, glowing with the
milk of: human-kindness—the fashionable and dashing
Fitzallanthe lying Sydenliam—and a number of less pro-
minent worthies ; and, as for the fair heroines, we have
the beautiful and tender-hearted Barbara Birmingham--a
picture of lovely modesty, unsophisticated by art, and un-
spoilt by Abe dazzling prospects of an immense fortune—
then we have..the sprightly coquetry of Louisa Mildmay,
contrasted II the sensible demeanour of her sister Julia—
while the vulgar presumption of Lady Birmingham, ad-
mirably sets off the arrogant nobility of Lady ISforbury,
and the witty but satiric jealousy of her daughter, Lady
Anne, born too proud to be happy. Then come Lady
Hauton, the representative and empress of fashionable
folly at Almack's—and the Baroness Wallestein—an Eng-
fish Lady who married a German Ambassador, and thus
became priVileged to hate every thing English with an
aversion perfectly natural. As attendant satellites upon
these stars we have Mrs. Bucannon and Metcalf, perfect
go-betweens, but occasionally lost in the immensity of their
own importance—and Miss Bevil, who would have been
a falling star herself had she not prematurely assumed the
character of maid of all work. The Ladies Carlton we
shall leave to trace their pedigree front the mountain
heights of the Dukedom of Clanalpin, and proceed to illus-
trate our observations by extracts from the novel, which is
enriched with many happy, quotations, not learnedly drag-
ged from their unwilling haunts, but spontaneously burst-
ing in just in time, like Paul Pry, as old acquaintance, and
" quite correct."
The work being intended chiefly as a picture of high
life, the plot is a matter of secondary consideration, but
the fate of Barbara Birmingham is' looked forward to. with
intense interest, and communicatef an air of romanticity
to the story.
The novel opens with Colonel Lionel Montague going
to visit the family mansion of Atherford Abbey, then in-
habited by the Birminghams as tenants of his father's do-
main. His father and mother are both dead, and Mon-
tague, just returned with laurels from a ten years' absence,
could not resist the temptation of visiting the scenes of
his boyhood, though now deserted by those so dear to him.
It was a fine spring morning, and he went with melancholy
heart musing upon the happy past, and sighing at the
change which came over the place of his nativity; he felt
that--

The morn was up again—the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away in playful scorn,
And smiling as if earth contained no tomb.
And Lionel wandered slowly to the hall of his fathers—
but where were they gone ? His heart melted at the
idea, and he hesitated in his progress. Those who haye
been long away, linger on their return, with strange sensi-
bility, in view of what was once sweet home, before they
eau muster sufficient courage, to enter the old thresh Old
rendered so dear to memory by a thousand tender asso-
ciations.

• The chief relic of interest in the mansion to Co). Mon.
tague, was his mother's 'picture, which he surveyed with
emotion, and—
At
length forcing himself away, be burst into the next room,
which hail formerly been his mother's dressing-room. Here all
stood just as it used to do : the harp and pianoforte both open,
as if some one had lately been playing ou them ; the old chintz
arm chair turned to the fire, just as it had stood when his mother
rose from it, the last time he saw her, to bid him adieu ; nay the I
very screen, on which when a buy he had pasted caricatures, still
retained its place in the corner. As he advanced to the middle of
the rosin, gating around him in silence, his attention Was excited
by the sight of an easel, on which was placed an unfinished picture :
he could not mistake it, for it was the copy of his mother's portrait,
which had affected him In deeply only just before.
" Whose painting is that ?" said he to the two old servants.
" Oh, that is our young lady's doing, Sir ; this is her morning
room, this is where Miss Birmingham plays the music, and paints
the pictures. The ladies has only been gone about an hour to
Lord Norbury's, where they he to stay all night."
" Ay, it is a pity she ben't at home, Sir,"‘ cried old Molly,
" for she'll a nice young lady, and so respects the old family, and
. all that belongs to 'em.”
This young lady is Barbara Birmingham, the heiress,
whose sweet simplicity of character forms a.striking con-
trust to the gay
Louisa, anti her gayer sister the Baroness,
whose natural tastes were vitiated by the ' nrtificial plea-
stres of Paris. The following comparison is masterly :.--
the LoUlga
Wigi three years younger than Madame de Wallestein, and
thought her han
dsorner than the Baroness ; as on the other side
"tr""
gl'lleacy of her complexion struck the Parisians. Many
of the wets, a belie blonds 1 the same novelty of attraction, which
&piquant. brunette has withlas
looked lovely in any thing. . eavasLouisa had more eclat--she at-
tracted at first sight; Caroline 11.eli°u—ghe gained
by
being known, LcoseeeLeoline more expre
always gav, but simple ; ells
what she wore was sure to be Madame
•coquettish. Their
conversation and manner 1 becoming anti
had .
but Louisa charmed every limit the same difference : one more
r
CiWatteitein studied effect ;
vivacity, and the other snore equally graceful ;
fashion and admiration ; and a few,
plo! t
body, while her friend was better pleased
to turn the heads of a
chosen
pursued
%"Prit ; both were egos _ .
They were each by
ro-
mance upon the two beauties
Ycux Bleu: et lee'
but which hml a wonderful
Now, see the witty Louisa at an election'
yeux
ivro'u.nyi
alcthheohfaattilnLe
;dn_anyiotswmjmoteng:alfolilrtogtloetitea,
. are.
ball, quite

scandalized at perceiving the geode Barbara welcoming
her old but less fortunate schoolfellows :

" Pray observe %where shaking band* with all those vulgar
looking people: with what joy she greets that gauky red-faced
girl, in that odious jardini?re !—how eau she have such disgrace-
croniee ! Oh!' t. see ; it is that stupid Miss Barlow, the
daughter of the curate at Atherford."
" How strange it is," said Lionel, " that I admire her for the
very thing which excites your displeasure : it is that genuine good -
beartedness, that real simplicity of character, which makes her so
interesting a person, much more than ber beauty."
" Very true, my good philosopher ; but it was her good looks,
her soft complexion, and loving eyes, which made you first take
the trouble to hunt out all these excellencies of heart and charms'
of mind. Trust you all.for that; yen moral men alwaYe select
angel forms. Now do you think mental perks:lion, with a red
nose or a humped back, would ever, catch you? So your tirades
about intellect and virtue always go with me for nothiug—mere
humbug ; and that is what rules all the world."
Lionel could not help laughing.
The following passage exhibiattleep pathos, finely cow:
'mated with sentimental absurtifif
Lionel followed her through the drawing-room in silence,
and stood for some minutes gazing at the much-loved features
of his lamented parent. Louisa would not interrupt his melan-
choly musings. The piano was open, and 'she sat down •to it,
and almost mechanically sang those beautiful wards of Moore's,
in so plaintive a tone that it quite touched Lionel's feelings t—
" The harp that Once through Tiiress halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs is mute on Taro's tt ells,
As if that soul were tied.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that thrill no more."

" Alas! too true!" said Lionel half aloud, walking hack to
the drawing-room, that be might look once again at all the old
family portraits,—he seemed to be almost apostrophising his an-
cestors.

" Quite sentimental, I pretest," said Lady Birmingham, en-
tailing at this moment, wrapped up something like a Russian bear.
" ! Colonel Montague, I see what occupies you,—a sweet
picture really, and vastly like, I Inn told ; but you have not been
in the library yet, and I want you to see my new bookcases.
Your brother's collection of hook., ant told, is certainly very
Site ; quite choke in point of value, and learning, and all that
sort of thing, but sadly deficient in books of light reading : those
musty folios, you know, are really now quite out of vogue, so
have got a pretty collection of novels end light things from Col-
burn's, sad sonic rose-wood cases for them, that do vastly well,
and really are very ornamental."
As no one could poeeibly admire such an addition to a hue, old,
classical library, the whole party were 'dela as they followed Lady
Birmingham, who eleeronrd the books, as she bad before dont
the luncheon.

Louisa found an opportunity to whisper to
"In books, not authors, learusd is my lady."

The author is, perhaps, rather prodigal of French quota-
tions, or rather fond of expressing in French whit might as
well be said in English; but that, perhaps, would not be alto-
gether fashionable, and so we have the Baroness de Web
lestein eternally interlarding her •English with choice
phrases. For example— •

"Moat of the corpii, diplornatique have been here pour fair.
leur tour. Rien de norquant among lei • Antbassadrices. I
mean to eclipse them all; 1 ant much the youngest, and sans flat-
lerie, the only well-looking one. I shall. produce an effect, you
may depend upon it: my singing takew vastly with a certain set,
and all my romances are quite new here, where they are always
so bekindliand with, everything that come* front Paris, In Eng-
aunt il fame ;Ire toot, .ow 4ene.4o,44einnture,de itentesevraleeedd.ti
me. You remember the little etigUi. de Itosenvel : new
he is Wallesteira private secretary, uu Zr?, jail garcon d'une
tournure parfait., eget owl qui rait forme. The secretary of
legation it le Prince Alfred de Steinberg ; and the tngliah are
such ignoramuses about foreign titles, that, bemuse he is a prince,
they fancy he must be a person of vast importance: they always
place him in the newspaper before Wallestein, inuttediately after
the Royal Family."

We are at a loss which to admire most, the lady's. mo-
desty or her appreciation of the English character. The
ignorance attributed to the newspapers we take iu good
part, as it would puzzle a Philadelphia Lawyer to tell
whether a German Count or .his servant ought to have
precedence in the line, both names being composed of
mwch about the same number of long-legged consonants,
harshly ' divided by a solitary vowel, which vainly endea-
vours to extricate itself from such an assemblage of Goths
" full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Lionel and
Barbara become not more passionately enamoured of each
other than Louisa and Lord George Fitz*Him, second son
of Lord Allendale. Lord George is waiting for an oppor-
tunitY to declare himself to his lady fair. They are both
sitting at a work-table apparently reading, when Lord
George addresses her with whispering hesitation in the
following natural manner, beautifully characteristic of love's
emotion struggling for utterance, but afraid to speak. De
is proposing to visit his father in Dublin, and adds,

"I ;143 want to speak to him very much indeed, about some-
thing of groat consequence to me—to my future happiuess—to
my prospects in life--I mean." And he looked at her, us if he
would have read her thought in her glowing face.
Well," said Louisa, with almost breathless aniiety, "then
you mean to say that you are going to Dublin directly ?"
" No, not directly ; though I ought certainly, but I may not
be able to get leave yet. Still I think I must -go at last. Un-
fortunately, we younger brothers are not our own masters :
wish I could only tell you all, and make you Understand how I
nt a situated. But Killarney has been such a :spendthrift! My father
lies been almost too good to him, be has left himself so little in
his own power ; so thit you see, I have not much to depend
upon. lam sure you would like my father if you knew him—
' the good Lord Allandale as he is called.' I wish you knew
him, Louisa."

"-I wish I did," said she timidly, with a sigh. " The first
time he ever called me Louisa," was her secret thought, en passant.
" I wish to God .1 was independent !" said Lord George,
drawing his chair quite close to her, " and that I had not been
extravagant; but, when nue is young, one is so thoughtless!"
6' Alas ! but too true," thought the sorrowful Louisa, as the
tears stood in her beautifai eyes : but she coul not speak a word.
" Nay, do not weep, now," raid he, tenderly taking her, hand ;
"you have no idea how it distresses me ; I cannot bear to see a wo-
man weep. I did not mean to have said all this when I began,
though I have been thinking aLont it all the evening. I have
not read a word."

" Nor I either," thought Louisa.
He did not succeed on
this occasion, but at another
'
time he was more fortunate—it was in the street :
I, Do you know I tun delighted to have this opportunity," said
he ; " for I really wanted to speak to you."
" Did you, indeed !" said the unconscious Louisa ; " well then,
pray begin ; only first cross over.
" Can you at all guess what I out going to ask you?"
" Oh I something about Opera tickets, or Altnack's vouchers, I
suppose : or perhaps you want me tolend you the lost new novel."
with a l
loan."No,iitteett lNyhat I want roust be a gift ; I shall not be sa-
tisfied

"Ao explain, then ; you tiresome creature ! Tell me what it
is, and I will give it you directly : that is to say, if i can."
" It is but one thing that I want of you, my
dearest Louisa ;
and that you can and must give nit. Say but the word."
In an instant his Ineaning flashed full upon her, and all her
soul flew to her face • their eyes met, but hers sank abashed by
his ardent gaze.
" You understand me now, I AM sure ; give me but this little
hand. You know too well how tang you have had my heart."
She paused a moment for utterance ; her feelings almost over-
powered her ; and then said, in a low, yet perfectly articulate
tone

Take it, my dear Lord George; it is all I have to give Yell'"
The Author, perhaps takes too long in coming to Al-
nuteles, but the ulterest loses nothing by the delay.
-,‘ Almack's is a *men of tyranny,' said Lady Treeilian,

" which would never be submitted to in any country but. one of
such complete freedom that people are at liberty to make fools of
themselves. No:government would. aver have had the effrontery
to suppose that people would, on their knees, crave permission to
pay their money to a junto, self-elected, whose power incline hut
by courtesy ; who snake laws, and enforce them too, without any
sort of right. A cabal may attempt a monopoly, that I can un-
derstand ; but that sulAnissiou to it should be considered as a sub-
ject for congratulation, is, indeed, past my comprehension."
And again behold how the reigning glories of Alroac'k's
are prophetically consigned to poSterity--
' " This then shall he a tale fur future times, that in an age,when
the cry for liberty was loudest, when sovereignty was attacked,
anti all authority was contemned, there arose a secret junto, which
alone'reigned unopposed; which could alone enforce authority :
a junto as mysterious, that none can'penetrate its intricate arcane
a junto which, in its own emphatic. language, comprises the
whole world;' and with its talismanic spell, unites every potato
desideratum, in the one little word—ALmaceit."

We select 'at random, tut the following. is Worth perusal,
as proving that the " Lady Patronesses" 4tonopuliso 14.4.
charitableness as well as fashion:—

THY V1!1I7IWO-.1100K.
"'Tis doubt! 'tis darkneas! till ruipeuded Fate
Assumed 4er nod to close the gland debate."--YotING.

AU was now activity and bustle at Birmingham House, for the
approaching ball. Lady Birmingham bad committed the care of
herself and her eoneeienee, in the lbrm of her visiting-book, into
the bands of Lady Hauton ; and much and long had the Countess
to labour, in order to weed away all Lady Birmingham's real
friends and connexions from the important list. In, this refined
age, relationship goes fur nothing the freemasonry of set is
every thing. "So much do I think of it," said Lady Halton,
"that, 1 assure you, in a certain way I always cut my own mo-
ther; I never ask her to •ty clioisies. She it; not in the least des
aotres, and would be quite de trop, so I only admit her to my
squeezes. 'When 1 first married, 1 was young and inexperienced
one night, 1 remember, at Lady Norbury's, I was going up to
chat with my sister, Lady Richmond; but Hauton, who was al-
ways the finest of the fine, pulled me back : I have at last got
you into good company, my dear Georgians,' said he; ' and really
Imuet keep you there.' "

" Bless me !" said Lady Birmingham, quite naturally ; " and
Lady Richmond your ladyship's own sister too ; cud married to
a Peer ! How strange !"
•
" I should haire lost caste by being with her and all that sort
of set," said the Countess; "and really, if I have to do with it,
Lady Birmingham, your ball must be entirely compusetrof what
every body calls good company—of real ton. Now let me look
at your list."

Lady Trenton took it home with her, and returned it with pen-
cilled' notes and comments, opposite many of the names. AR
thus :

Humdrums; barely admissible though a 'Duke's
daughter but his Grace the Duke of Clanalpin
is nobody.
if you've many other grandees, don't ask them,
they are such frights.
Tresiliana. Countrified and useless, and the takes se much

4 Carhome.

3 Derweuts.

room.

* Sydenhams. Secoud rater ; but one sees them, and the gives
things, and will do to talk to the Royal Dukes.
Metcalf. Horrid creature, but every body knows her.
Bevil. Oh ! impossible to leave her out ; she must be
asked.
My aversion ; hut we must have her to get men.
High ti►he she should withdraw.

1 Bucanuon.
I Lerlie.

S Beaulkus. Hsindsome dashers. Of course to be asked.

2 Townshewls. If you ask them, make them bring Lord Appleby.
Wallesteins. No ball is any thing without her ; make her pro-
' - • • suit* to cow, anti Lorin lote-of inn:tom with
her ; they waltz so well.
I Mildmay. Quite ton, and ensures Lord George Pintails!).
Then Barbara was made really miserable, by the way in which
several of the oldest friends her mother bad in the world, were ri-
diculed. Of these were the three Miss Ctaypoles, excellent old
Maids, and Lady Ilauton wrote against their names, " Hop-pole,
May-pole, and Clod-pole ; the sooner you cut such sticks the
better : of all things avoid odd names and odd people, when you
give a party, as you would the pest."

The character of Lady Hauton is well pourtrayed, but
we cannot enter into it at length; the following is the
manner in which she rules her sister divinities in the
directory :---
" I manage all the ladies by a little tact, as thus :—I laugh
and amuse the Duchess when she is confined, or nursing; I flatter
Lady Plinlimmon ;--1 bully Lady Bellampnt ;—and I scold Lady
.Roeliefort. To you, my dear Baroness, I must speak reason, the
only art I shall ever employ to convince you, should weever dis-
agree in opinion ; which, however, Ido not expect. Bless me,
we are arrived ! what a lot of men, to be sure, all anxiety to know
their late !"

We are pressed for room, but the following extract is
striking, as showing that a lady of high pretensions who
ilirts with all, but too proud for any, may one day lament
her destiny and humble the pride of parents. Lady Anne
Norbury is like the Ass in the fable, placed between two
young Lords, for neither of whom she cares much if she
could get better, but in a fit of splenetic despair she gives
the one she lo.ves best an opportunity to pick up her hand-
kerchief, merely for the purpose of discarding him with
the prize,

To wipe the tear of envy with her gift !
" Is this your ladyship's final answer to me ?" said Lerd Kil-
larney, with some gravity.
" When I have given my hand to Lord Dorville, what other
answer cau you want ?" said the haughty fair one.

" Hands, and not hearts, seem to be the fashion to-night,"
replied Lord Killarney. "I do not envy those who cats be .04-
6ed either in giving, or in receiving them ; but perhaps Lady
Anne Norbury thinks that 'Le jeu cant la chandelle.' " He
made her a low bow, and retired immediately. Lady Anne turned
Scarlet, and hit her lips with vexation, till .the troublesome fond-
ness of Lord Dorville gave her fresh fond for irritation.
Lady Norbury, on her return home, was informed at the same
time of the two events that had taken place iu her family ; of
Lady Anne's refusal of her cousin, and acceptance of Lord Dor•
vine, and of Lord George's marriage being at last declared. tier
ladyship was much agitated. Lady Anne stopped the intended
lecture by seizing her mother's hand, cud exclaiming, "Spare
me, dear mamma! for pity's sake. lam unhappy enough, with,
out any comments. I refuse a Mini that I adore, out of pique, or
prudence, whichever you please to call it ; and I marry a man I
despise, for the, same reason ; and I know I shall be miserable.
Such is fate."

4. Or folly," said Lady Norbury coldly.
Lady Anne sighed. 4. The die is east," said she, "and I must
tuske the best of it."

" Lord Georg' could not help himself," observed the Countess,
haughtily. OTo lisva flirted, as he has done, without totalling
any 64; would have been unworthy of a gentleman or man of
honour. That girl, Anne, will tread in your shoes. I feel a
sort of certainty, that I shall live to see her Murchioneas of Al-
lendale. Killarney will never marry now !" Lady Anne did not
feel so certain about that. "My whole life has he'll a tissue of
disappointments," said the Canute's, as she wiped away a few
natural tears; "but this, this is the severest of them all !"

But we must conclude,—the length and variety of our
extracts bear testimony to the excellence of the work, and
the lively originality of its author. The following takes
place at Almack's
Away trudged the anxious .Lady Birmingham, as fast vs her
thick, rustling silk, and numerous blonde flounces would admit of.
There were several parties in the tea-room, but no Barbara: foil
of anxiety, her ladyship next proceeded into the entailer dancing•
room, to look there. The waltz lied just ceased ; there Wag I
group of gentlemen standing before a lady,
who was soistottin the
corner of one of the sofas, and when Lady Birmingham arr°"b
ed, she saw that it was indeed Barbara herself, and test Witt,
one hand she was holding her handkerchief to her eyes, and, the
other, a tell, fine..boking young man was firming to his lips;