arrangements, which the ardour of my youthful impetuosity could hardly brook at that time (love and youth will be precipitate)-some preliminary arrangements, I say, with the landlord respecting fixtures-very necessary things to be considered in a young man about to settle in the world, though not very accordant with the impatient state of my then passions-some obstacles about the valuation of the fixtures, had hitherto precluded (and I shall always think providentially) my final closes with his offer, when one of those accidents, which, unimportant in themselves, often arise to give a turn to the most serious intentions of our life, intervened, and put an end at once to my projects of wiving and of housekeeping. I was never much given to theatrical entertainments; that is, at no time of my life was I ever what they call a regular play-goer; but on some occasion of a benefit-night, which was expected to be very productive, and indeed turned out so, Cleora expressing a desire to be present, I could do no less than offer, as I did very willingly, to 'squire her and her mother to the pit. At that time it was not customary in our town for tradesfolk, except some of the very topping ones, to sit as they now do in the boxes. At the time appointed I waited upon the ladies, who had brought with them a young man, a distant relation, whom it seems they had invited to be of the party. This a little disconcerted me, as I had about me barely silver enough to pay for our three selves at the door, and did not at first know that their relation had proposed paying for himself. However, to do the young man justice, he not only paid for himself, but for the old lady besides, leaving me only to pay for two, as it were. In our passage to the theatre, the notice of Cleora was attracted to some orange wenches that stood about the doors vending their commodities. She was leaning on my arm, and I could feel her every now and then giving me a nudge, as it is called, which I afterwards discovered were hints that I should buy some oranges. It seems it is a custom at Birmingham, and perhaps in other places, when a gentleman treats ladies to the play,especially when a full night is expected, and that the house will be inconveniently warm, to provide them with this kind of fruit, oranges being esteemed for their cooling property. But how could I guess at that, never having treated ladies to a play before, and being, as I said, quite a novice at these kind of entertainments? At last she spoke plain out, and begged that I would buy some of "those oranges," pointing to a particular barrow. But when I came to examine the fruit, I did not think that the quality of it was answerable to the price. In this way I handled several baskets of them, but something in them all displeased me. Some had thin rinds, and some were plainly over ripe, which is as great a fault as not being ripe enough, and I could not (what they call) make a bargain. While I stood haggling with the women, secretly determining to put off my purchase till I should get within the theatre, where I expected we should have better choice, the young man, the cousin, who it seems had left us without my missing him, came running to us with his pockets stuffed out with oranges, inside and out, as they say. It seems, not liking the look of the barrowfruit, any more than myself, he had slipped away to an eminent fruiterer's about three doors distant, which I never had the sense to think of, and had laid out a matter of two shillings in some of the best St. Michael's, I think, I ever tasted. What a little hinge, as I said before,

the most important affairs in life may turn upon! The mere inadvertence to the fact that there was an eminent fruiterer's within three doors of us, though we had just passed it without the thought once occurring to me, which he had taken advantage of, lost me the affections of my Cleora. From that time she visibly cooled towards me, and her partiality was as visibly transferred to this cousin. I was long unable to account for this change in her behaviour, when one day accidentally discoursing of oranges to my mother alone, she let drop a sort of reproach to me, as if I had offended Cleora by my nearness, as she called it, that evening. Even now, when Cleora has been wedded some years to that same officious relation, as I may call him, I can hardly be persuaded that such a trifle could have been the motive to her inconstancy; for could she suppose that I would sacrifice my dearest hopes in her to the paltry sum of two shillings, when I was going to treat her to the play, and her mother too (an expense of more than four times that amount), if the young man had not interfered to pay for the latter, as I mentioned? But the caprices of the sex are past finding out; and I begin to think my mother was in the right; for doubtless women know women better than we can pretend to know them.*

ELIA.

2

DE VAVASOUR.†

THE catalogue of "Royal and Noble Authors" has of late years received many accessions; and if we are not misinformed, the present work furnishes it with still another. It is, in fact, pretty currently understood to come from the pen of Lord Blesington. The hunters after the marvellous will, doubtless, imagine, from the title-page of his lordship's work, that they are about to be indulged in all the ghostly horrors and mysteries in which the middle ages have been said to be so abundant. But in this they will be disappointed; for instead of "loathed melancholy," and "caves forlorn," they will be introduced to pageants, feasts, brilliant halls, bridal dances, and lovely women; in short, into the very heart of the high society of the fourteenth century. The fashionable circles of that age, it must be admitted, are somewhat different from those of the present day; but then they are, on that very account, more interesting and more worthy of description. The strangeness of their aspect cannot fail to be attractive, though we every now and then detect many curious points of similitude between our own and those early times. We learn, for instance, from the work before us, that the ladies were as studious of dress, and as much indebted to it, then as now; that there were, at the least, no fewer unauthorised liaisons in high-life than there are at present; and that the appetite for scandal and personalities was as insatiable as ever it has been, even in the nineteenth century. Lord Blesington has chosen a remote era, and has looked at it, not with an awe-stricken or reverential spirit, such as too often weighs upon us in our antiquarian enquiries, as if we were going to expound a dreary legend; but has carried to his investigation the light-hearted, and, we were about to say, insolent spirit of curiosity

*To be continued.

† De Vavasour: a Tale of the Fourteenth Century. 3 vols. post 8vo.

which characterises the modern temper; and accordingly he has drawn a picture, which we feel to be unusual, but are inclined to suspect may be true. His buoyant spirit would not suffer him to be imposed on: he has pushed aside the gloom which time has accumulated round the olden days, and has beheld a gay and laughing vision, to the brilliance of which he has attempted, and we think not altogether without success, to do justice in his pages.

In his preface, Lord Blesington confesses "De Vavasour" to be a first production; and adds, in reference to his views in writing it, that "he has endeavoured to adhere strictly to chronology, and to characterise, as faithfully as his abilities would permit, the persons who, during the period described, trod the field of war, or dallied in the bowers of love. The critics will say," he proceeds, "that there is a superfluity of eating and drinking, and fighting. But what were the occupations of chevaliers? feasting and fighting. What filled up the duties of their lives? devotion to the fair sex. If, therefore, these be the alpha and omega of the fourteenth century, the critic must be pleased to let feasting and fighting flourish." This extract from our author's preface will perhaps enable the reader to judge pretty nearly as well whether De Vavasour is likely to suit his or her taste, as would the most luminous abstract that we could furnish of its story, or the most laboured description of its characters. We shall therefore refrain from troubling our readers with these: and the rather, because, to say truth, clearness and vividness in the developement of either plot or character are not exactly the author's forte. He seems to have let his pen run gaily and easily along as if it was moving at least as much for its owner's amusement as for that of any one else. And, by the by, there can be little doubt that this is one of the most effectual recipes for constructing an amusing book, provided the materials to be worked upon, and the hand that is to work them, are fitted to each other, and to their purpose. If a gallant and courtly tale of chivalry be to the reader's taste, let her (we say "her," for it is evidently intended as a lady's book) read De Vavasour forthwith, and pass a judgment upon it for herself and friends, which will in all probability be at least as much to the purpose as any with which we could furnish her; since a romance is, after all, a production the merit of which is to be estimated by its success.

We must not forget to mention that an historical character is given to this novel, by introducing into it various real persons who figured during the period at which the scene is laid. Among these, the reader will be pleased to find sketches of Edward the Third of England, and his young Queen, of Pope John, and King Philip of France; but the most conspicuous and doubtless the most interesting of these, especially to novel-readers-for there is no other real person, even of those romantic times, with whom we associate so romantic an interest--is the gifted, the high-souled, and accomplished Petrarch. We are introduced to him at no great distance of time before his first interview with Laura, and we have a description of that interview itself, which was afterwards to fill the world with such passionate love-strains as have never since been equalled, in their way, and cannot be surpassed. Madame de Sade, the far-famed Laura herself, is also among the characters introduced; but she plays as frigid a part in the novel as she does in the poetry which has immortalised her.

Of a different description, however, is the love-affair between the hero and his mistress, Cecile de Cominges, whose character, we are compelled to say, is the best delineation in the novel. Indeed the strongest point of "De Vavasour" is to be found in its copious details of gallantry and the business of the heart. In these matters, even the holy father himself is made to appear rather more intelligent than is quite consistent with the solemnity of his character; and the whole account of the Cour d'Amour and its proceedings will, we have not the slightest doubt, be read with intense interest by many a curious fair one, anxious to become acquainted with its singular constitution and celebrated decisions.

We subjoin, as illustrative of the general tone of the work, the following scene between the hero and his mistress in disguise, who visits him when engaged in a secret political discussion. It should be premised that the lady possesses considerable interest in various quarters, which the Pope seeks to propitiate, by sending her, through her lover, a splendid present.

"Their debate was interrupted by a loud altercation. ter, Hawkwood?' said De Vavasour.

What is the mat

"A young cavalier declares he will force his way,' answered the worthy squire.

"Cut him down,' cried Reginald.

"Let him if he dares,' answered a well-known voice; and in rushed the handsomest youth that ever graced the walls of Avignon. He was dressed in black, after the Spanish fashion; and his hat, looped with brilliants, was surmounted by a plume of white feathers. Young sir,' said Reginald, smiling, your appearance is captivating: all that your dress wants I am authorised to give, for I suppose you to be the person expected by his Holiness. Look at this.'

'I

"The eyes of the youth sparkled with joy, on beholding the splendid gift: Reginald placed the chain around his neck, and the cross hung upon a beating heart. Reginald retired with the Spaniard to his private apartment. did not expect to meet Petrarch here,' exclaimed the stranger: I do not mind Pierre Roger: he has masqueraded it, many a time and oft, even here in our poor city of Avignon. But Petrarch is a modest man, and will think me a very improper person.'

"Do you think he has recognised you? I should imagine the brown colour and mustachios were sufficient disguise, especially with these false ringlets. I will announce to my friends that it was the Pope's wish you should know our secrets.'

"Your hospitality,' said the youth,' does not overwhelm me: would it not be kind, would it not be polite, to offer an apartment in your house to a stranger?'

"I trust,' said Reginald, aloud, that Don Alphonso will command every thing which this house can afford. Hawkwood, see to his Excellency's comforts.' He then left the chamber, and stated that Don Alphonso had been selected by the Pope for beauty as well as talents: for it may be necessary,' added he, to assume female apparel, for which no one is more qualified than our new associate. See, Petrarch, how high this youth stands in his Holiness's estimation: look at his own hand; and we know it is not every day that John gives such presents.'

Reginald then hastened to seek the handsome stranger. 'In truth,' said he, you are a most bewitching youth.'

66 6

Ay, Sir Reginald, give his black Eminence his due, and all poor sinners their's, I think I could win half-a-dozen hearts this evening, in this wicked town and, by the memory of the great Alphonso, who at Muradat killed, wounded, or eat two hundred thousand Moors,-I would kill or

wound as many female hearts as I could count minutes, and I would commence with no other person than our coy, pious prude, Madame Laura.' "Come, my lovely conqueror, we must adjourn to the council-chamber, and at present think of popes, and Romans, emperors and kings."

999

We will not forestall the curiosity of our readers by any further extracts from the pages of this work, which would be but an unnecessary occupation of our room, inasmuch as before the present Number of the Magazine appears, "De Vavasour" will, doubtless, be in the hands of the greater portion of the novel-reading public.

THE DUBLIN TABINET BALL.

A LARGE district of Dublin, commonly called "The Liberty," is occupied by the manufacturers of tabinet. This part of the city exhibits at all times a disagreeable aspect. It is a labyrinth of narrow lanes, composed of old and crazy houses, and is choaked with nastiness of every kind. Even when its enormous population is in active employment, the senses are shocked with much odious circumstance; but when labour is suspended, as is often the case, and the inhabitants are thrown out of employment, a spectacle of wretchedness is presented in this quarter of the Irish metropolis, of which it would require the genius of Mr. Crabbe for the delineation of misery to convey any adequate picture. In the last month the manufacturing class have been without occupation or food. I passed, not very many days ago, through the district in which they chiefly reside, and do not recollect to have ever witnessed a more distressing scene. The streets may be said to have swarmed with want. With starvation and despair in their countenances, and with their arms hanging in listlessness at their sides, hundreds of emaciated men stood in groups at every corner. They gaped on every person of the better class who chanced to pass them, with the vacant earnestness of famine; and when the equipage of some pampered and vain-glorious citizen rolled by, it was painful to observe in the expression of their faces the dumb comparison with their own condition, which was passing through their minds. The doors of the houses lay wide open, and, lighted up as they were with the new and brilliant sunshine of May, afforded an insight into the recesses of internal wretchedness. Their wives and children were seen huddled up together, with scarcely a shred of raiment upon their discoloured and emaciated limbs. Their beds and blankets had been transferred to the pawnbrokers; and of their furniture, nothing but the mere fixtures remained. The ashes round the hearth seemed to be of a week's standing; and it was easy to perceive that the few potatoe-skins, scattered about the floor, were the relics of a repast of no very recent date. Silence in general prevailed through these receptacles of calamity, except that now and then I heard the wailing of a child, who called with a feeble cry for bread. Most of these houses of affliction were deserted by the men, who stood in frightful gatherings in the public But here and there I observed the wan but athletic father of a family, sitting in the interior of his hovel, with his hands locked upon his knee, surrounded by his children, of whose presence he appeared to be scarcely conscious, and with his wild and matted hair, his fixed and maddening eye, his hard and stony lip, exhibiting a perso

way.