LITERARY NOTICES.

ERNEST MALTRAVERS. By the author of 'Pelham,' 'Eugene Aram,' 'Rienzi,' etc. In two volumes, 12mo. pp. 411. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

THIS novel is but half finished. At the conclusion of the second volume, Mr. Bulwer remarks: 'Here ends the first portion of this work; it ends with what, though rare in novels, is common in human life; the affliction of the good, the triumph of the unprincipled. Ernest Maltravers, a lonely wanderer, disgusted with the world, blighted prematurely in a useful and glorious ambition; 'remote, unfriendly, melancholy;' Lumley Ferrers, prosperous and elated; life smiling before him; rising in the councils of the proudest and perhaps the wisest of the European nations, and wrapped in a hardy stoicism of levity and selfishness, that not only defied grief, but silenced conscience. If the reader be interested in what remains if he desire to know more of the various characters which have breathed and moved throughout this history he soon will be enabled to gratify his curiosity, and complete what the author believes to be a faithful survey of the Philosophy of Human Life.'

Such is the author's apology for one of the most dangerous and seductive books which it has ever been our fortune to read. Let us examine its plan. Alice Darvil, a beautiful child of nature, wholly uneducated and perfectly innocent, saves the life of Ernest Maltravers, an English graduate of a German university, who had sought shelter at her father's cottage. The murderous and revengeful barbarity of the father compels the daughter to desert him, and she is immediately thrown in the way of the student. Impelled by gratitude and pity, Maltravers shelters the destitute beauty, takes her to a country-seat, which he purchases on purpose, teaches her music, elevates her benighted and earthward mind to heaven, falls in love with, and seduces her! The father of Alice goes on from crime to crime, till his burglaries extend to the cottage of Maltravers' mistress, and his own child, who, in the temporary absence of her lover, is carried away beyond his protection. Maltravers returns, misses his Alice, grows melancholy, visits Paris in company with an impertinent and selfish acquaintance, Lumley Ferrers, falls in love with another man's wife, is rejected by her, quits Paris in disgust, goes to Italy, forms an affectionate, platonic attachment for another married lady, and then returns to London. In the meanwhile, Alice flies from her father a second time, with Maltravers' child at her breast. She seeks the cottage-scene of her early and unsophisticated enjoyments, finds it occupied by other tenants, and is finally thrown on the fostering protection of a saint-like banker, who makes her Mrs. Templeton.

While the foregoing events are taking place, Maltravers falls in love again, and as he is on his knees, kissing the hand of his mistress, Alice, who happens to be in the next room, enters, is heart broken, goes away and gets married, as aforesaid, Among other important characters now introduced, is the Lady Florence Lascelles, a great beauty, and a greater fortune, who scorns all the fascinations of rank, and falls so in love with Maltravers, that she writes to him ardently and anonymously. But as other beauties sometimes are, this one, though her whole soul is filled with

Maltravers, is also a coquette, and she gains the affections of poor Cæsarini, who is on a visit to London, in the desperate adventure of getting fame for poetry. Maltravers is flattered into a pseudo attachment for Lady Florence, which ripens into love. This excites the madness of Cæsarini, and the hatred of Lumley Ferrers, who, as cousin of the lady, had been led to believe that his own pretensions might be advanced in that quarter. Lumley now copies Iago, and makes use of Cæsarini as his Cassio, who becomes instrumental in effecting a break in the love-chain of Maltravers and Lady Florence. The latter sickens, and dies of a broken heart. Alice is made a widow, after having been made a lady, and Lumley Ferrers inherits her husband's title. The daughter of Maltravers and Alice is betrothed to his worst enemy, while the Cassio of the drama goes mad. Such is the state of things at the conclusion of the second volume, which suggests the explanation by the author, already quoted.

In reviewing this novel, we are struck with the consummate power of the writer. To an imagination raised to the very focal-point of burning, Mr. Bulwer unites the most penetrating intuition of those psychological relations, which are comprehended by master-spirits alone. The conceptions of his mind are invested by a transparent robe of spirituality, through which they are mellowed and disguised, like the beautiful timestricken edifices in the gold-dust atmosphere of Italy. A manifestation of this power is one of the strongest characteristics of genius; but it serves to veil deformities and disarm criticism. We are spell-bound while gazing on his creations. We are so fascinated by the enchantment, that we cannot be fastidious if we would. The true and the false are mysteriously blended together; and, as in every distortion of the natural, we are led, by a sort of metaphysical mirage, to be captivated more by misrepresentation than by truth. Ernest Maltravers is certainly a brilliant production. No other than Mr. Bulwer could have written it. It is full of passionate beauty; it is glowing with ardent aspirations for the beau ideal. It contains many just reflections on human conduct, and many valuable hints on education. We are willing to concede all this, and more. But its faults are too glaring to be passed over, for they are the premeditated faults of a skilful designer, who with an insincere spirit, would have the reader imagine them to be out-shadowings of his own nature, the very portraiture of his humanity.

We are not disposed to be hypercritical with Mr. Bulwer's writings; but we can no longer concede that which we have heretofore claimed for him, a purpose to hold up to the world the rewards of virtue and the consequences of vice. On the contrary, the tendency of his morality seems to be, that we are the victims of destiny, and that circumstances alone determine the phases of character, and prescribe the paths of virtue and vice. He attacks the sanctity of marriage with unholy zeal. In 'Ernest Maltravers' he inculcates the principle that illicit love may in certain cases be innocent, and that where true affection is, the bond of matrimony is unavailing. His morality has sometimes the coldness of moonlight, but seldom the radiance and the warmth of the sun; and it is owing to the separation of the affections from the understanding, the disunion of Love and Truth in his nature, that Mr. Bulwer delights in the hollow and unsatisfactory fascinations of his intellect, and is led astray by his self-hood to despise the religion of the heart. With all his genius, he is wide from the path of greatness. The deep well of German metaphysics, at which he has drunk so largely, may invigorate the mind and mystify the imagination; but the logical acumen which it imparts, does not direct to usefulness, nor lead to truth; and the discursive powers which range through its suggested labyrinths, come back at last to the goal they started from, weary and disgusted with unavailing efforts after good.

It is a truth, inseparable from the relative condition of man, that he could not possibly have had an idea of God, unless it had been revealed to him. After a revelation, we find in nature concurrent proof of his existence; but by a law of mental action, we transfer the truth derived from the revelation to the evidence which is around us, and flatter ourselves that we reason à priori from this source. Mr. Bulwer has a

glimpse of this great truth, and only a glimpse; for in the work under notice, be inculcates the sophism that the idea of the Creator could not arise in an uneducated mind. He does not perceive, that under the divine dispensations manifested in the Word, a revelation has already taken place, which is reflected from the face of nature; and that it is impossible for one, in this advanced state of man, not to read the record of the divine creation—not to mention the extreme improbability, that a child of fifteen should never have heard the name of God, when it is oftener on the lips of the uneducated than on those of the refined, though abused and taken in vain.

Our limits will enable us to glance at only one more of the prominent faults of this book. We refer to Mr. Bulwer's ideas on duelling. What do our readers think of such sophistry as this: 'There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be ever stronger than the world and its philosophy. Duels and wars belong to the same principle; both are sinful on light grounds and poor pretexts. But it is not sinful for a soldier to defend his country from invasion, nor for a man, with a man's heart, to vindicate truth and honor with his life. The robber that asks me for money, I am allowed to shoot. Is the robber that tears from me treasures never to be replaced, to go free?' Again: 'As in revolutions all law is suspended, so are there stormy events and mighty injuries in life, which are as revolutions to individuals,' It follows, of course, that a revolution may take place in the little kingdom man,' whenever his majesty sees fit. It is unnecessary to show up the monstrosity of such politics, and of that morality which, guided alone by worldly philosophy, makes it sometimes sinful, and sometimes not, to take the life of a fellow being, There are men enough in the world who will fight as they judge expedient; but Mr. Bulwer is the only one who has had the hardihood to defend the practice, as sometimes under the sanction of omnipotence. We had some remarks to make on the sudden transitions of character, as delineated by our author, which strike us as exceedingly unnatural. But we have already transcended our space, and only record an impression here, which must be apparent to every reader. On the appearance of the sequel to Ernest Maltravers, we may examine this fault at leisure.

MEMOIRS OF AARON BURR. With Miscellaneous Selections from his Correspondence. By MATTHEW L. DAVIS. In two volumes. Volume Two. pp. 449. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

THIS Volume will prove even more generally interesting than its attractive predecessor, heretofore noticed in this Magazine. The early pages are devoted to an account of Col. Burr's habits and character, as a man and a lawyer; a history of the rise of political parties in this state, with copious extracts from various letters written during the war of the revolution; an account of the Clinton and Schuyler parties; Burr's political position on being elected Vice-President, and his course in that office; and a report of false entries made by Jefferson in his 'Ana,' of conversations said to have been held with Burr. Farther than this, we have not found leisure to read attentively; but on glancing hurriedly over the remaining pages, we perceive that they are devoted to a detail of the most prominent and interesting events in the life of the notorious subject, interspersed with letters from various eminent Americans, and including a correspondence with his daughter Theodosia, a full account of the premeditated and disgraceful duel with General HAMILTON, his departure for England, the 'incidents of travel in Great Britain, France, Germany, and Sweden, and his return to New-York, in 1811. We shall take another occasion to refer more in detail to the work, and in the mean time commend it to the attention of our readers, with the single remark, that we see nothing in its pages to change our opinion that the murderer of ALEXANDER HAMILTON can only pass without censure while he passes without observation; and that the less his friends or apologists meddle with his memory, the kinder they will be to his reputa

tion.

AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE MEMBERS OF THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE. By the Rev. ORVILLE DEWEY. Published at the request of the Institute.

It was our good fortune to form one of the dense auditory before whom this excellent Address was delivered; and although we are unable to convey to the reader an adequate idea of the effect its verbal publication produced, we may nevertheless afford a ' taste of its quality,' by a few choice extracts. We were pleased, at the very opening, to perceive that the Address was not to embrace political questions, connected with the arts of industry, nor to be a compendium of minute statistics, relating to the Institute, and manufactures in general - a course so common on such occasions. Figures cannot lie,' perhaps, but they can do things quite as disagreeable. Mere statistics are dismal bores to great masses, oftentimes, in the hands of matter-of-fact, hum-drum speakers, oppressively full of information; reminding the hearer of Swift's elixir, 'which being drank, presently dilates itself about the brain of the orator, whence instantly proceed an infinite number of abstracts, summaries, compendiums,' etc., all reducible upon paper, and fruitful of the most potent oscitant qualities. How many new members of Congress, who felt it their duty to attend to the public weal, in gratitude to their constituents, have been wakened by the watchful sergeant-at-arms, after the house had adjourned, from a deep sleep which had fallen upon them, as they 'by parcels something heard, but not attentively,' of 'figure-works and statistics,' from some arithmetical debater! 'In 1834, Sir, before the passage of the law creating the 'North American Window-Glass and Putty Company,' owing to the high price of putty in the United States, there were in ten counties in the state of Mississippi, nine hundred and sixty-two windows and a half, utterly destitute of glass; and it is worth stating, as a remarkable fact, that of the three hundred and twenty-seven panes which were fastened with a cheap adhesive substitute, the large number of two hundred and eighty-three were utterly useless. That putty- I say that putty, Mr. Speaker — would not stick! And thus proceeds the bore statistical,* in a speech 'thin sown with profit or delight,' But we are keeping the reader from 'metal more attractive.'

After a felicitous exordium, descriptive of the scene which the Fair presented to the eye of the spectator, the writer proceeds to consider the connection between the arts of industry, and especially the mechanic arts, and the intellectual and moral improvement of

*Since the above was in type, we have met, in the scientific deliberations of the Mudfog Association,' reported by the bumorous Boz,' in the last number of 'Bentley's Miscellany,' with the remarks of two members greatly prone to these figures of speech.' They are too characteristic to be omitted here. The one stated, that he had found that the total number of small carts and barrows engaged in dispensing provisions to cats and dogs in the metropolis, was one thousaud seven bundred and forty-three, The average number of skewers delivered daily with the provender, by each cart or barrow, was thirty-six. Now multiplying the number of skewers so delivered, by the number of barrows, a total of sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers daily, would he obtained. Allowing that, of these sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers, the odd two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight were accidentally devoured with the meat, by the most voracious of the animals supplied, it followed that sixty thousand skewers per day, or the enormous number of twenty-one millious nine hundred thousand skewers annually, were wasted in the kennels and dust-holes of London, which, if collected and warehoused, would in ten years' time afford a mass of timber more than sufficient for the construction of a first-rate vessel of war for the use of Her Majesty's Navy, to be called the 'Royal Skewer,' and to become, under that name, the terror of all the enemies of England! This speaker was followed by an amateur philanthropist, of kindred parts, who had ascertained, from authentic data, that the total number of legs belonging to the manufacturing population of a town in Yorkshire, was, in round numbers, forty thousand, while the total number of chair and stool legs in their houses was only a fraction over thirty thousand, which, upon the very favorable average of three legs to a seat, yielded only ten thousand seats in all. From this calculation, it would appear not taking wooden or cork legs into the account, but allowing two legs to every person that ten thousand individuals, (one half of the whole popu lation,) were either destitute of legs at all, or passed the whole of their leisure time in sittin upon boxes!"

society. He shows that the mechanic, laboring at his work-bench, is toiling for the general improvement; that the man who designs and erects a noble structure, speaks to passing multitudes, who may never read a book, and helps to refine and human.ze the ages that come after him; that 'even he who makes a musical instrument, is laying up, in those hidden chambers of melody, the sweet influences that shall amuse, and soften, and refine many a domestic circle through life; and he, yet more, who can place upon our walls the canvass glowing with life, becomes the household teacher of successive generations.' The orator next repudiates the idea, that labor-saving machinery has ever been the cause of permanently injuring the working-classes; and this position he clearly establishes, by a variety of well-chosen illustrations. A few remarks succeed, in relation to improvements in matters of comfort and economy, of which advantage might be taken by American house-keepers. The French bed, consisting of two thin matresses of wool, upon a foot deep of hay or straw, is pronounced to be four times as cheap as ours, and twice as comfortable. One half of the fuel, too, which is burnt in this country, the writer avers, is literally thrown away, the heat passing into the dead wall of the chimney. This is doubtless true. The excellent stoves of Dr. NOTT, however, now so generally demanded in all parts of the country, from his capable successors, Messrs. STRATTON AND SEYMOUR, of this city, have done much toward awakening attention to the great economy of heat and fuel, which they exemplify and inculcate.

Labor, the writer justly contends, exercises and tasks the intellect; and he repels, with proper earnestness and force, the too common error, that the mind never labors, save over the written page or the abstract proposition. 'The merchant, the manufacturer, the mechanic, is often a harder thinker than the student. The machinist and the engineer are employed in some of the finest schools of intellect.' The tasks for which no such consideration can be pleaded, such as the dull, heavy labors of the hod, the writer humanely hopes some method may yet be found to relieve.

Could any thing be more admirably reasoned, or more beautifully set forth, than the arguments in favor of the true nobility of labor, contained in the annexed paragraphs:

"How many natural ties are there between even the humblest scene of labor, and the noblest affectious of humanity! In this view, the employment of mere muscular strength is eunobied. There is a central point in every man's life, around which all his toils and cares revolve. It is that spot which is consecrated by the names of wife, and children, and home. A secret and almost imperceptible influence from that spot, which is like no other on earth, steals into the breast of the virtuous laboring man, and strengthens every weary step of his toil. Every blow that is struck in the work-shop and the field, finds an echo in that holy shrine of his affections. If he who fights to protect his home, rises to the point of heroic virtue, no less may he who labors, his life long, to provide for that home. Peace be within those domestic walls, and prosperity beneath those bumble roofs! But should it ever be otherwise; should the time ever come when the invader's step approaches to touch those sacred thresholds, I see in the labors that are taken for them, that wounds will be taken for them too; I see in every honest workman around me, a hero.

"So material do I deem this point the true nobility of labor, I mean that I would dwell upon it a moment longer, and in a larger view. Why, then, in the great scale of things, is labor ordained for us? Easily, had it so pleased the great Ordainer, might it have been dispensed with. The world itself might have been a mighty machinery for the production of all that man wants. The motion of the globe upon its axis might have been the power, to move that world of machinery. Ten thousand wheels within wheels might have been at work; ten thousand processes, more curious and complicated than man can devise, might have been going forward without man's aid; houses might have risen like an exhalation,

gorgeous furniture might have been placed in them, and soft couches and luxurions banquets spread, by hands unseen; and man, clothed with fabrics of nature's weaving, richer than imperial purple, might have been sent to disport himself in these Elysian palaces. Fair scene!' I imagine you are saying; fortunate for us, had it been the scene ordained for human life! But where then, tell me, had been human energy, perseverence, patience, virtue, heroism? Cut off with one blow from the world; and mankind had sunk to a crowd, nay, far beneath a crowd of Asiatic voluptuaries. No, it had not been fortunate. Better that the earth be given to man as a dark mass whereon to labor. Better that rude and unsightly materials be provided in the ore-bed and the forest, for him to fashion into splendor and beauty. Better, I say, not because of that splendor and beauty, but because the act creating them is better than the things themselves; because exertion is nobler than enjoyment; because the laborer is greater and more worthy of honor than the idler. I call upon those whom ĺ address, to stand up for that nobility of labor. It is heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is broken down; and