SOFTNESS, BY THE AUTHOR OF HARDNESS.

WHETHER tried by itself or compared with its predecessor, Softness is a failure. Either the author was exhausted by his first produc- tion and he is now substituting words and a knack of using them for more solid qualities; or, taken by the sound of a title—a not unlikely thing with him, we suspect—he has written three volumes for the sake of the antithesis of Softness and Hardness; or, stimu- lated by the attention his first novel may have excited, he has been too hasty in dashing off another.

The essential defect of Hardness as a fiction was its want of a story, and the absence of any qualities in its principal persons, or what are called its heroes and heroines, sufficient to excite much interest. But, for many readers, this defect was to a considerable extent supplied by various characters of mark, by the aristo- cratic hardness and indomitable will displayed by the old Earl, the relic of a past generation, as well as by the breadth and truth of many sketches, which, though they had little or nothing to do with the story, exhibited a clever satirical picture of contemporary life. Softness has the defects of Hardness, with very few of its redeem- ing qualities: the story is as slight ; the incidents, whether inhe- rent or incidental, have less interest ; the persons one and all are inferior in every thing which constitutes inferiority—their intrinsic

qualities, the strength of their delineation, their position in society, their generic character ; whilst the episodical portions have truth no doubt, but not a truth broad enough to have much attraction as mere pictures of manners. The attempt to impart something more of fable to the story has failed; for whilst the incidents for this purpose are of a romantic kind, the characters and conse- quences are of the present day.

Softness is the story of a rich young baronet with excellent intentions marred by the facility, or, in slang phrase, the "soft- ness" of his character. He dislikes the sea, but is persuaded by some of " his friends" to purchase a yacht ; and this yacht is wrecked, with loss of life, because one of his friends persuades him not to go about in a fog, against nautical opinions. He has no liking for field-sports, but he is persuaded to buy a stud ; and is nearly killed by going out on a horse which he thinks is unfit for the chase, but his friend persuades him to ride. He is in- different to driving, but persuasion induces him to sport four-in- hand • and, driving. carelessly, he runs over a poor girl and kills her on the spot,—a circumstance which, combined with the loss of an election in which he recklessly engages, improves his character.

Connected with the moral cure of Sir Thomas Champion is a love-story, that is crossed by means of a forged will and a forged letter. As it stands in the novel, the motive of forging the will is too remote and uncertain for the risk run ; and the forgery of the letter is too clumsy to have imposed even upon the "softness" of the hero. It is precisely one of those things which in a drama draw down a storm of hisses, when some absur- dity is too gross for the licence of the stage and the leniency of the audience. Springing out of this forgery, is an attempt at mur- der; which gives rise to some powerful writing, exhibitive of the after-feelings of the murderers; but as the intended victim did not take the poison, the fear and remorse were thrown away.

Of the characters, the hero of Softness is below the hero of Hardness, although he was no hero at all : the heroine is without the moral weakness of Mary de Burgh ; but, though an amiable young lady, and likely to make an excellent wife, she wants the marked lineaments necessary to sustain the interests of a fiction. Mike, an Irish servant ripened by a sojourn in the States, now and then tells a good story ; but, introduced on all occasions, he be- comes a bore. Mr. and Mrs. Meek, the forgers, are not badly drawn. The hypocritical religionist is a stale character in fiction, though not overdone in Softness. The sketch of young Meek, the London clerkly blackguard, is true, but of a lower social grade than young Meek ; which invests him with an air of farcical exag- geration. The other characters are natural, and evidently drawn by a man familiar with the world ; but they are too common. This author does not appear to understand that mere naturalness will not suffice in fiction : individuality must also possess some broad generality. The incidental discussions or reflections of Softness are of a prosier kind than in Hardness. The following is about the best—a discussion springing out of the election.

THE PEERS.

" it is certainly strange that out of such scenes [a general election] should arise such a body, but the debates in the Peers are better."

" Yes; because the best orators of the Commons often become Peers by the force of their genius fur oratory," observed the other : " and you are happy that it is so. The great principle which keeps an hereditary nobility at the head of the most commercial, the most energetic, the most independent, think- ing, and the most enterprising nation in the +a orld—a nation in which indivi- dual talent and activity have freer scope than in any other country—is the principle of adoptiveness. Its power, often unwieldy ; its courage, often care- less ; its esprit de corps, often ridiculous in individuals, but invariably the source of strength to a body it binds more closely together; its hold on the affections of the people, and its intimate connexions in the Church ; all give the mass of your upper classes a strength and solidity that enables it to defy the attacks of unsuccessful adventurers ; and the moment a man succeeds, it adopts him at once. 1 speak of the aristocracy not merely as the Chamber of Peers, but in its wide sense, the principal persona in the country."

" It exercises some discrimination, ton," said Sir Thomas; " it requires character with the aspirant for admission : unprincipled men, however able, cannot attain much power or consideration in England." " So much the better for you," replied the Prussian ; "but all those whose characters pass that ordeal your aristocracy absorb. Your country possesses, like all others, restless, dissatisfied spirits, whom it is equally dangerous to other countries to employ or to keep idle,—in the one case, they are acquiring in- fluence to be turned against the government; in the other, they are probably conspiring to overthrow it,—such men as naturally find employment in the army. With you, the unsuccessful ones are expended as captains in the Colo- nies; the successful become aristocrats ; the Radical G.C.B. becomes an oligarch when he looks at the supporters that have just been painted on his carriage. The merchant-prince of Liverpool is an aristocrat if he pleases : if he chooses to take a political part, both parties bid for him ; in no case does any one care if his father had swept the streets. Let the lawyer be ever so restless, ever so bitter, be is my lord when he reaches the bench ; and my lord in heart he remains. The poor but ambitious curate who succeeds becomes a Bishop and a Peer."

" And a something more," observed Sir Thomas. " He is received in the ranks of the aristocracy, not as an intruder, but as ao honoured and trusted brother. The Bishop is received in every gentleman's house in England with affectionate respect : the most vicious, depraved, reckless roué that ever dis- graced the aristocracy, —a man who would hold men's lives and women's honour as mere straws compared with the indulgence of his own uncontrolled passions— who would rink his own life with utter indifference—would laugh at the idea of such a consideration standing in the way of the indulgence of his vices,—that man dares not be disrespectful to a Bishop. The strong feeling of his own class, the only tribunal which be must bend to in cases that du not actually bring him within reach of the laws, is too strong to be resisted." " It has a wonderful self-sustaining force, your aristocracy ; it is more than the mere possession of property," said the Prussian. " On the Continent, in 1832, it was very generally supposed that scenes like the first French Revolution were about to be enacted in England; but the conduct of the English aristo- cracy prevented that. Any thing like the French emigration would have brought on a general convulsion ; but your nobles could not desert their post. The discontented talked and threatened, but whenever they appeared inclined to act, a firm front was shown by the friends of order. Nobody likes appealing to physical force against men who certainly will fight. You owe much to the firmness of your upper classes."

" In all our violent political contests," said Sir Thomas, " the real court of last appeal may be said to be the people ; but it is presided over by the gentry. In times of violent political excitement, adventurers come out to the front like tirailleurs, and make a great deal of fuss and noise ; but as the crash comes near, the individual skirmishers are cleared away, and the battle is decided by the collision of the great bodies."

This is a sketch of Mike's—

THE ENGLISH IN IRELAND.

" Faith, Sir," broke in Mike, "you'd never get on without hangin' in Ireland, I know that much!"

" I do not think you get on particularly well with it, Mike," said the doctor; "however, if it gives security to life and property it is valuable there. The in- flux of English capital and English habits is what you want." " You should see the English when they do come, Sir," returned Mike, laughing heartily. Down comes an Englishman when he's bought an Irish prapperty, and he brings a tbunderin' big lot of money with him ; and he think' bell change every thing, and make every man, woman, and child, measure by

his yardstick. V. Sir, the boys put their tongues in their cheeks, and an ever- lastin' pretty scramble they have for him. First and foremost, he's got all the poor 'Amin' to get the moat they can out of him Sure, he's as rich as a Jew,' they say, ' he'll never miss it '; and if he was as rich as all New York, they'd pick him as bare as a bone. Then he's the priest dead agin' him : ' Sure be a heretic,' says he ; he'll be wantin' to make Protestants of my beloved flock that was intrusted me to keep them as St. Patrick kept their fathers before them ; he'll be tachin' them to turn up their noses at the potatoes and the dunghills, and to kick the pig out of doors, and to give up the wakes, and the marriage-dinners, and all the diversions the poor creatures have. Spoil the Egyptians,' says he, to his flock; and 'a nod's as good Al a wink to a blind horse.' Then, Sir, he hasn't got his own clergy to back him, for the English Protestants aren't so strict as the Irish, by a long chalk : they don't be damnin' and awesrin' at the Papists, the way they do on our side of the herrin' pond. ' He's lukewarm,' says the minister ; ' I wash my hands of him.' Then he's got the quality agiu' him, too: for they all want to borrow money of him, or to sell him horses, or to get leases out of him for half nothin'; or to get him to give agencies, or the like, to their friends; and they take it onkind if he wont let them come over him in those little matters: there's the devil to pay with them ; more by token they don't like his English ways any more than the priest does. Then be has the polls agin' him : for he talks of makin' them do their duty as constables instead of swaggerin' about like soldiers, which is what those boys like ; they wouldn't demean themselves with thief-catchin. Then he's the Magistrates agin him, for he's mighty troublesome at petty-Reegions. Then he's the shopkeepers agin' him : for he'd rather pay fifteen shillings for a good article from London than a pound for a bad one in the country-town; and he larfa right oot when lie sees them dhriviu' about, as proud as paycocks, in their jauntin' cars. And then, what's worst of all, he's got all the women agin' him : for he's everlastin'ly discoorsin' agin' airly marriages."

If the materials of this writer are not exhausted, we should recommend him in future to try his hand at a series of tales, either independent of one another, or only connected by a slender string, after the fashion of Tom Cringle's Log. He appears to us deficient in the imagination and comprehension of mind necessary to a high- class fiction, unless accidentally assisted by his subject ; but his humour, his sense, his satire, and his power of seizing and depicting points of character, as well as a certain smartness of style, would enable him to produce an effective series of sketches from life,— always supposing that his matter is not exhausted.