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The name of the authoress is new to the republic of letters, but the work before us gives her every claim to the rank of one of its fair citizens. - The fable of The Hypocrite turns upon the treachery of Leopold Courtney, towards his friend and benefactor, Edward Dudley; and the villainy of the ingrate is judiciously pourtrayed [sic], gradually expanding its atrocity with the rising fortunes of his generous friend. We shall not even sketch the plot, but leave our readers to the pleasure of its development in the novel itself, and we must remark, to the credit of the writer's ingenuity, that, dark as the crimes of The Hypocrite are, they do not involve the interest of the story in so sombre a gloom as the threatening title of the book leads us to dread. We do not seek works of imagination to deepen our conviction of mankind's wickedness, and to render the colouring of experience yet more melancholy. We certainly look for the light and shade of virtue and vice; but we would rather the bright hue should be most conspicuous, to cheer that [300] heart with the visions of fancy, which the realities of the world hath disappointed and depressed. Mrs Davenport has happily adapted her tale to this view of the subject. - She has presented to us the ungrateful and treacherous Courtney; but he is the only evil spirit she suffers to enter her paradise. - She conducts us through groves inhabited by angel-guests; and disinterested friendship, faithful love, and the most endearing domestic affections, meet us at every turning. - It is delightful so to wander; for we are conscious the hand that leads us is not that of age, whose eyes the world has opened to all the hated knowledge of the forbidden tree. It is the unsophisticated mind of one who has passed her life away from the heartless associations and artificial manners of the great; of one who judges of love and friendship from the dictates of nature alone, that we see moving over the surface of these pages, and creating its characters and incidents. The opening of the tale convinces us of this; and in the course of that opening, we also perceive the only essential defect in the work. - Dudley (who is in all other respects perfectly amiable,) marries, clandestinely, the daughter of his most confiding and best friend; and though a host of evils ensue, he never seems conscious that he has deserved any of them as retribution for his ungenerous, nay, ungrateful act - Mrs Davenport, throughout the whole of this transaction, gives too vast a privilege to the power of love. Both Althea and her lover transgressed their first duties by this marriage; and the consequences ought to have been regarded by Dudley as a just punishment for this offence. - He should have felt himself rather the occasion of the unhappy father's resentment and crime, than his victim. - Though we have noticed this trespass in the morality of the work, we are assured, from the general purity of its sentiments throughout the other parts, that Mrs Davenport would not have admitted this error had she considered it more.- The character of St Aubin, is perhaps, the finest in the book. - His friendship with Dudley is as admirable as it is rare, and is in every respect what friendship ought to be. - There is no affection thoroughly effective of its purposes, which does not possess the enthusiasm which belongs to that truly noble duke. - Ellen may be called a new character, as a novel-heroine, but it is perfect nature. - In her, we find unsullied innocence, principled virtue; and, with all the gaities of youth, a wisdom that compels us 'as we gaze to worship!' The episodes, (though perhaps, too numerous, are individually interesting. Each is separately a sweet little picture: but that which tells the story of the family at Homely Farm is the most delightful. The difficulties of Sybella and her sister, are life itself. Indeed, the great merit of the work is the accuracy of its pointing events and characters which may be found in nature. Each person is a distinct portrait of a human being, possessing a character, decidedly its own; and the incidents which build up the story arise unforced, and fall gracefully into their places, till all is harmoniously completed. We therefore laid down the last volume with regret, that we had no more to read; and while we offer this tribute to its merit, we cannot but conclude with the hope that we may soon have a similar gratification to record from the pen of the fair writer.

Provided by Louise Watkins and Julie Shaffer, January 2000