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    this week we have to notice his avatar as the editor and arranger of the Memoirs of the great tragedian Talma . Somebody has said that the lives of actors are the onl y readable biographies ; the life of one so eminent in his art and so historical in his friends , promises unusual interest ; while Dumas will take care that nothing be wanting on the score of " arrangement . "

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    FREDERIKA BREMER S LAST BOOK . An Easter Offering . By Frederika Bremer . Translated from the Unpublished Swedish MS . By Mary Howitt . Henry Colburn . > # , , « . , 1 « . -i a . A charming—an exquisite book , full of pleasant thoughts and gentle emotions , fitly named an Easter Offering , bringing as it does images of piety and peace into our domestic circles . It consists of a tale called The Light House , and rambling remarks on the present aspect of life in Denmark , under a somewhat ambitious title of Life in the North . We shall enrich our own carefully-selected department of Notes and Extracts with some pleasant passages from the latter , and for the present confine ourselves to the story .

    Ellina is taken as a young and dreamy girl from the beautiful Southern dales of Sweden , where she laughed and wept amid a large circle of affectionate friends , to the rocky home of her husband Axel in his eagle ' s nest on the wild western coast of Bohusan—an archipelago of naked grey cliffs surrounded by the roaring , restless sea of Cattegat . Years pass over . Seven , sons have blessed their union .

    But" Sickness , anxiety , much labour , in rough , and smooth , with but limited means , had greatly changed her both outwardly and inwardly . She was an agreeable woman still , but the bloom of her youth was over , and the soul , that soul which anticipated so much that was great and beautiful in life , which believed that it should advance from one brilliancy to another , till its whole world and life became transfigured in beaming light , this soul had long since said farewell to all its anticipations , to its dawning thoughts and hopes , in order to inclose itself within the innumerable web-like filaments of domestic

    cares and anxieties , daily repeating themselves like the waves upon the rock , like the shadow-side of the lighthouse , like the sighs of the autumnal wind . Ellina fulfilled her duties faithfully . But this did not make her happy . For , although the path of duty leads at last to happiness , as the six working days to the Sabbath , still , in the meantime , people may be unhappy . The deeper wants of Ellina ' s soul were not satisfied by this path . She felt as if something living and beautiful within her soul had been buried by degrees , as if it had been interred beneath the weight of earthly perplexities and petty cares . She seemed to herself sorrowfully changed .

    " Ellina was no longer gay ; she felt , at times , disposed to weep over herself . That is the way with an infinite number of women . They feel themselves capable of receiving life and all things in one great and beautiful whole . They believed that they should advance , were ascending in knowledge , in love , in joy as in an upwardtending metamorphosis . But the stream of life has carried them away to desolate regions . Their world has become oppressive . They are incased by earthly cares ; they are caught in the meshes of petty objects , of petty thoughts , and petty interests . They are themselves obliged to frame these very meshes . Then does life lose for them its splendour , and the mind its

    morning-brightness and elasticity ; then is the soul dejected ; then , not unfrequently , does the temper become soured , and the horizon ever more contracted , ever more gloomy . In some calm moment , they cast an upward glance and look around and within themselves , with sorrowful astonishment , and exclaim , ' ought this to be so ? Is life nothing more ? Was it for nothing else that I have existed ? ' And they remember the yearnings of their youth . ' Dreams ! ' say they then ; * heave a sigh and let fall a tear , and then go on again in the daily weaving and spinning—and spinning until they have spun their shroud , and that is the end of their day on earth . ' "

    The husband too , he has become changed . He lias grown reserved , sometimes harsh . He fears she spoils the children , and sends them away from her to school , that they may escape her influence . A strange feeling , almost of hostility , rises up between them : — " The will of the father overcame that of the mother ; but when he tore away the youngest son from her embrace—and he might have done it much more mildlyhe tore also asunder a tie which had bound her heart to his . Thus did Ellina feel it .

    " "When she was left alone , she felt herself very solitary . There were now no little arms to clasp themselves , morning and evening , around her neck ; no little head to kiss every night when she went to rest ; no joyful merriment through the day , which made her forget all that was wanting to her soul . " All this she now missed ; and the worst of it was , that Axel also was away , not merely from home , but also out of her heart . She felt it there so desolate , so dark , that she became afraid of it . Yes , it is very probable that she would have borne the boy ' s absence very differently , if she could only have preserved the image of her husband bountiful in her heart . " At this point of the story we had uneasy misgivings . We dreaded lest we were once more to

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    a woman ' s book . Woman in France during the Eighteenth Century . By Julia Kavanagh . 2 vols . Smith and Elder . This is an agreeable , an instructive , and , on the whole , an accurate book . It is eminently a woman's book , written by a woman for women ; and as such will probably command the circulation it merits . The subject is of one of complex and far-reaching interest which , demands , for worthy treatment , powers and acquirements greatly transcending those of the present authoress ; namely , powers of mental analysis and portraiture , of quick and deep insight , of broad and cautious generalisation , with a

    knowledge of life and literature—especially the formerat once comprehensive and particular . But if Miss Kavanagh is unequal to the execution of such a subject conceived in its real significance , she is by no means incompetent to the execution of a conception , lower indeed , yet still welcome , and which , when the prejudices and wants of the reading public—especially the "light readers "—are taken into account , may be said to be really more consonant with her desired object than a work of truer and profounder

    character . The position held by women in France Miss Kavanagh has successfully , and strikingly portrayed ; their influence she has not so well succeeded in indicating ; partly from the want of real grasp of the subject , partly from the vague and essayish tone which , runs through the work . This last remark indicates at once the great defect and the great merit of the book ; it is an essay on the part played by women in France . As an essay it is full , well

    planned , interesting , and preserves an unity seldom met with in works of so sketchy a character ; all the remarks , all the memoirs , have thus a distinct bearing on the general theme . But as an essay it loses all vitality , all dramatic movement , all biographical value , and becomes a book to be read and forgotten . Strangely indeed have the fine capabilities of the subject been sacrificed . Woman in France ! No ; rather let the title be , " Concerning women in

    France . " No woman breathes and moves through its pages . We hear , indeed , frequently—something too frequently— of the «• frivol ousness" of the women , but we see it not ; we hear of their debauches , but we hear not the flying champagne corks , the clatter of glasses , and the genial hubbub of laughter ; we hear of their " wit , " but where are the brilliant traits which were wont to ?« set the table in a roar ? " ave hear of their beauty , but we do not see it ; what pictures can be created by vague and general

    enumerations , cataloguing a woman ' s features ? who is to conceive from them the insolent Beauty , her rouged cheeks lending additional lustre to the daring luxuriousness of her eyes , her powder andpompons creating a charm piquant in its defiance of nature , and corresponding so well with her whole artificial tone of existence ? Miss Kavanagh cannot paint a portrait , though she has tried her hand several times in the course of these volumes ; and the same artistic

    deficiency is visible in her efforts at representing character . The women do not breathe , flirt , jest , philosophise , eat suppers , and go irreverentially to mass in these pages . At times we were disposed to attribute this want of life to the want of sympathy

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    listen to the wearisome story of a jemme incompnse and her harsh husband . We foresaw in Ellina the insufferable German heroine with vast aspirations and a soul frustrated in its holiest aims occupying itself meanwhile with the preparation of sausages . In this union of the aesthetic and the culinary the Germans are unrivalled . Their heroines struggle to compass the Infinite , and eat largely of sauerkraut ; their souls are wrecked , but their appetites remain . Life is a blank to them ; doch schmeckt das Essen i

    With heavy forebodings did we see Axel bring home three strange gentlemen to his desolate wife . When he held her tightly to his heart , and she remained cold in his embrace , we knew what was coming . One of those three strangers had a sympathetic soul , and would pour the balm of sympathy upon Ellina ' s wounds . Nothing could be plainer . Yet what is human sagacity ? We were wrong ; we were pitiably at fault ; no such denouement was contemplated by the authoress , no such puny moral was to be evolved . No ; something healthy , something tender , something true , lay within the story , and she has beautifully unfolded it . Listen

    !"Ellina stood upon a rock-terrace by the sea-side , close to her home . The night was beautiful , bright and delicious , such as September nights often are on the western coast of Sweden . A deep repose had come over nature after the storms of the previous days . The yellow leaves fell silently from the trees : the flowers being withered as their stalks , but the moonbeam kissed them , and gentle breezes passed , sighing over them . It was as if some power of love were now abroad and full of the spirit of beneficence and reconciliation . Even the billows of the Cattegatt seemed to be under the influence of its fascination , and rolled in softly , as if murmuring of love , and laid themselves upon the granite breast , which so often had fretted and broken their wild swell .

    " Ellina looked upon the falling leaves , the withered flowers , the gentle moonbeams above them , the fascinated billows , and an indescribable feeling of pain overpowered her . The woman who was otherwise so quiet , nowwrung her hands , raised them towards heaven , and exclaimed aloud , whilst the so long restrained and bitter tears streamed forth over her cheeks : — "' Ah ! I am merely a faded leaf—a withered flowerbut no glance of love rests upon me . Oh ! that I might fall as these ; might die before my heart dies , before I become embittered in feelings ! Father in Heaven ! take thou me to thy house , because all on earth is closed against me . My children are taken from me ; my husband loves me no longer . Youth , health , joy , desire for life , love , and hope , are all gone from me—gone for ever !'

    " But before the upraised arms had dropped , other arms had embraced Ellina , and a voice whispered iuto her

    ear : — " * What has gone , gone for ever ? ' " It was the voice of Axel . " But Ellina was too much excited at this moment to reply . She turned from him her tearful countenance and only wept , wept . «• He remained silent , but continued to hold her to his breast , that she might weep there . It was kind and manly of Axel . " When Ellina was calmer , he said : — ' Ellina , come with me to c our Rest , ' on Sprak Island . The night is beautiful , and—I should like to talk with you there . '

    " Eliina went silently , leaning on her husband ' s arm , down some steps in the rock , and into a little green skiff , the boys' boat , and called * the North Star , ' which , now impelled by Axel ' s vigorous pulls at the oar , sped lightly over the softly-heaving waves . " Both husband and wife sate silent , Ellina with downcast , tear . laden eyes ; Axel with his looks resting upon her . " Seated on the little rocky island , with the waves tumbling at their feet , and the moon serenely smiling down upon them , they pour forth what has long been pent up in their hearts—they own their mutual faults , and in the confession own their mutual love . Axel says : —

    " ' I am too proud , Ellina , perhaps , also , too sensitive to compel a love which is not given me of free-will . 1 have drawn back because you also did the same . But perhaps I have been—yes , certainly , I have been more austere , more distant than I wished to be , or was aware of . It is difficult , Ellina , to discover how many errors we fall into . But one thing is certain , it could not go on much longer as it has been for some time between us . Give me your hand : read in my heart ; see there what my intentions are , and let me read in yours ; tell me all —all your sufferings , all my faults , all which ' ' " * Oh , silence ! ' interrupted Ellina , and kissed away the words from Axel's lips . Say no more . Oh ! that I had but understood you before—had understood the

    wealth of your heart , and what your feelings were , and you never should have had cause to complain of me . But now—God bless you for what you have said I Axel ! we must begin to live anew for each other . Let our hearts be open to one another , let us never separate more ! Let it be as it may about our removal ( rom these rocks , it will still be well , that I know , because you have again removed into my heart , and I feel myself again at home in yours . And now see , I am your wife , your servant , your friend , whatever you will , my Axel . Come life , come death , suffering , sickness , care , I shall still be happy , and thank God in the certainty of your kindness , of your love : in the certainty that you are mine , and that I am yours for ever ! ' "

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    Is not this worth cartloads of ordinary French novels ? Is it not touching in its truth ? And then hear the " moral" : — " Ellina is no longer pale and Bufferinsf . She has now a blooming , middle-aged countenance , with the calm of happiness in her whole being , and she very frequently Sa « An ^ ° whfnthe first time of love is over , there comes a something better still . Then comes that other love that faithful friendship which never changes , andwhich will accompany you with its calm light through the whole o ( life . It is only needful to p lace yourself so that it may come , and then it comes of itself . And then everything turns and changes itself to the best . ' — ^ T _ . & _ . ^ - - ^ *^_ m li ! n an ^*¦*

    Thanks , Frederika , for thy charming lesson ! We all of us need to be told again and again that the love in our hearts is infinite , if we would but trust in it ; that the goodness of human nature is infinite , if we will but suffer it to obey its instincts , and not cramp it by spasms of amour propre and ignoble suspicions of others . Half the misery of life results from misunderstanding , andhalf the misunderstanding arises from the obscure doubt which lurks in our minds as to whether others are as good and loving as ourselves . If we sincerely believed others to be as noble as we know our own instincts prompt us to be , we should soon approach our own ideal .

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    April 13 , 1850 . ] gCftg Sratrpn ^_ ^^^ ^ M ^

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), April 13, 1850, page 63, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1840/page/15/