It is not, however, our object to give any enumeration of such works as come up in our minds to the standard we would erect for the regulation of the school of novelists. Whilst we endeavour to throw before our readers some rough materials for making their own decision on any work of invention which may come before them, perhaps it may better suit our character and meet our wishes also, not to appear too conversant ourselves in such questionable company; nor to set the dangerous example of wading through an infinity of pernicious trash, for the sake of arriving at a single honest, well-meant, and wellexecuted effort at instruction, in the garb of interesting and popular fiction. "Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto." It is sufficient for our present purpose, that upon the grounds above stated, we pass our sentence of acquittal, though not, we must add, of unqualified approbation on the Fashionable Tales of Miss Edgeworth. We see in them no appeal to the imagination of that wild and disorderly, that romantic or licentious order which is calculated to bewilder or ensnare it, or to raise it to a mischievous ascendency over the sober faculties of the mind: the images and the incidents presented to it, are for the most part of that obvious and ordinary kind, as scarcely to surprise otherwise than by the extreme liveliness with which they are described, and some occasional improbabilities in their introduction. Neither does an acquaintance with them imply or communicate any such knowledge of men or things, as we can consider in itself to be either guilty or unsafe. One object of contemplation is indeed presented to the imagination in these, as in Miss Edgeworth's former volumes, which deserves our renewed attention and discussion. She still persists in her hardy and unnatural purpose of presenting to us a world without religion. How far she means it in this instance to be an exact portrait of "Fashionable CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 132.

Life," we presume not to say. But this we will venture to say, that either she persists (let her call her resolution by what prudential name she pleases) to draw, in this respect, an unlike and unfair resemblance of theworld; or else she pronounces upon it, periodically, the severest censure thatever proceeded from the tongue or pen of satyrist or misanthropist. Bad as the world is, we are still inclined. to attribute to it some consciousness of the existence of such a thing as religion, some profession even, and occasionally some form of it; and consequently we must suppose the picture of the world, presented by Miss Edgeworth, to be so far out of drawing. And though it is true, in respect to much knowledge of such a world as hers, we might be inclined to qualify our denial of its guilt or danger; still we are almost tempted to believe that the error here carries to the imagination its own rectification; the poison its own remedy: "the bane and antidote are both before us." Indeed, did we not believe the entire omission, the absolute banishment and excision of the religious sentiment from the minds of her heroes and heroines, which Miss Edgeworth adopts upon principle, to be so revolting as we believe it really is to the commonest feelings and even prejudices of mankind, we should pronounce her volumes, from this circumstance alone, exceedingly unsafe. We shall have occasion to allude to the particular effects of this non-intercourse bill against religion, in our consideration of the Tales themselves. But in the mean time we cannot but say, that, so far from feeling any injury result to our own mind from the view of conduct wholly built, and systematically pursued upon the absence of religious principle of any kind, we are conscious rather of an opposite effect. Next to the improvement to be derived from conversing with those to whom religion is ever present as a governing principle, is that which we may obtain from contemplating a world where 51

it is pointedly excluded and forgotten. The sight of men absolutely living without God in the world," is of all others, even to an imagination decently regulated, the most affecting and appalling. Did we desire a spectacle the most cogent to "purify the mind by pity and terror," we should turn to such a sight; we should turn, that is, to the subjects of the "Tales of Fashionable Life." Human beings, men and women, professedly prohibited from uttering one sentiment in allusion to their Creator, or performing one action in obedience to his laws; their views, feelings, partialities, aversions, plans of life or thoughts of death, every thing, in short, which gives interest or vitality to man, standing in pointed disconnection and disruption from the religious principle-from the notion of an hereafter, from the very hypothesis of the immortality of the soul: all this we say gives us such an impression of the world" as we cannot but think salutary and improving. We become tired of pacing the unvaried vasty round of this terrene." We are sensibly impressed with the vanity and vacuity of worldly pursuits, when we see them in total relief" from every other.

The flesh and blood of animal, or sublunary delights, become evidently and convincingly insufficient to sustain our attention and our interest, when emptied of the bones and sinews of man's nobler destiny. We feel the enormous void left by the omission, and we feel a just degree of elation while we contemplate as ours a religion so necessary both for ornament and We behold, in short, in Miss Edgeworth's personages, what mankind would be and are without religion. We see them" spending their money for that which is not bread, and amusing themselves with that which satisfieth not." Our imagination" looks forward to the end of that which is to be abolished:" and nothing do we behold, not a character, not a principle, not

use.

a pleasure, not an employment, not a possession, not a hope, throughout the dreary desert of Miss Edgeworth's world, that is to survive the general conflagration. "The earth and all the works that are therein, will be burned up;" and we picture ourselves standing with the authoress of these volumes (should we both be happy enough to meet in peace on that side the grave) and mingling our satisfaction with her own, at the sight of her volumes and every trace of their contents melting into annihilation and oblivion.

We hope that nothing we have here said will be construed into a mere hypothetical arraignment of some supposed omissions:

Quas aut incuria fudit, Aut humana parum cavit natura. The omission to which we have al luded is open and avowed, adopted upon principle, for the attainment of open and avowed ends: and we are only doing our author and our readers the justice we promised them, of trying these volumes and their principle by our own test, and first as it respected their effect on the imagi nation. Having done this, and having thus far discharged our conscience of any participation in the possible results from Miss Edgeworth's plan, we proceed most willingly to commend both her plan

and her execution of it, so far as concerns our second test of legitimate fiction, viz. the moral lesson fit to be inculcated by it. The morals respectively inculcated by the three tales which compose these volumes will be best explained by Mr. Edgeworth, in his short but amiable preface to his daughter's

work.

This precept gave the first idea of the story of Vivian.

home: and where he learnt every thing bad, and nothing good that could be learnt at school." Vol. IV.

stage.

The Absentee is not intended as a censure upon those, whose duties, and employments, and superior talents, lead them to the capital; bu to warn the thoughtless and the unoccupied from seeking distinction by frivolous imitation of fashion and ruinous waste of fortune." Preface, pp. ii. iii. Vol. IV.

We shall now proceed to lay before our readers some account of the manner in which these several morals are exemplified in the tales to which they respectively refer.

First, Vivian comes forth, and occupies the whole first volume with a series of adventures, all in harmony with his appropriate opening motto," to see the best, and yet the worst pursue."

He is introduced under the tuition of a young but sensible and judicious friend, Russell, who carries him home from college, and returns him to the care of his widowed mother, Lady Mary Vivian, "a woman of fashion, but remarkably well-informed and domestic; and guilty but of one fault, that of taking too much care of this youth, who was her only son; over-educating, over-instructieg, over-dosing him with premature lessons of prudence; never suffering him to judge for himself, or act on his own decisions, &c." To remedy the ill effects of this system, she had at the age of twelve or thirteen sent him to Harrow school, which is selected, we think unfortunately, as a place, "where he was made ashamed of every thing good he had learned at

5. We are happy in believing, contrary to this fiction, that many schools, are not to be learnt at Harbad things which may be learnt at row, as it now is: and that many things also good which may not be learnt at the homes of ill-educated Vivians, may be learnt at that respectable school. But from some very bad school, we will rather say, Vivian was afterwards transferred to some not very good college, where however his mentor Russell keeps him out of gross enormities, acts the judicious, where Lady Mary had often acted the injudicious, adviser; but still contributes to the general result of indecision and imbecility. of judgment rather than of understanding in the mixed character of the unfortunate youth. Like most persons of real indecision, Vivian soon assumes an affected independence of opinion, and becomes exceedingly jealous of any opposition to his will. This leads him to his first overt act of youthful imprudence, viz. falling in love with Lady Mary's amiable and youthful elève, Miss Sidney; with whom, however, her ladyship's pride of virtue cannot quite prevail over her pride of rank, in suffering her son to be united in marriage. Her opposition clenches his determination, and then yields to it. Nothing is unsettled but the day; and in the mean time, Vivian travels. This. measure introduces us, together with him and Russell, still his friend, to Glistonbury Castle, inhabited by a silly, prating, antiquated courtier, yclept Lord Glistonbury, his lady, and two daughters, and the son, to whom Russell becomes tutor. The females of this family, the ascendants of his future fortunes, are, with the accompaniment of a governess, thus grouped. "Lady Glistonbury was a thin, stiffened, flattened, figure. She was accompanied by two other female forms, one old, the other young; not each a

(for Russell, it appears, had already, though wholly unconsciously, engaged the affections of the Lady Julia), Russell quits him, "leaves the world to darkness, and to Vivian." Lady Julia, in attempting to follow him, is arrested, and banished to a distant relation. And Vivian, stunned with disappointment, reeling in uncertainty, and assailed by every passion in turns, except the only appropriate one, obeys at length report, submits to circumstances, complies with entreaties, and marries Lady Sarah. But here the tragedy only just begins. "So, said Vivian to himself, at the moment when Lord Glistonbury persuaded him he had proposed to Lady Sarah,-so the die is cast, and I have actually proposed for Lady Sarah Lidhurst! Who would have expected this, two years ago? I would not have believed it, if it had been foretold to me even two months ago. But it is a very, very suitable match, and it will please the friends of both parties; and Lady Sarah is certainly very estimable, and capable of very strong attachment: and I like her, that is, I liked her yesterday, very much I really like her." And the fact is, Lady Sarah turns out very like-able. She becomes gradually disrobed of the stiff buckram suit, in which mind and body had been enveloped by her mother and Miss Strictland; she rises, with a species of mild lustre, from behind the sable cloud that had concealed every feeling, and amongst others, a very strong regard to Vivian himself, which had appeared before only by very strong fits; and in her society, had she been a little better taught by her education to manage, or Vivian to subdue, his irremediable volatility both of feeling and understanding, he might still have lived very happy ever after." But the sun, which rose in serenity, was soon to set in blood. On their return to London, Vivian, ever dispar sibi, becomes again the dupe of the weak Lord Glistonbury; and upon the promise of a place, which pecuniary

embarrassments had long rendered a most desirable object, he is persuaded, after a thousand pangs of disquietude, worse than a thousand deaths, to support Lord Glistonbury in a suit to the minister, and to renounce his conscience, his principles, his party. After this surrender, he had nothing further to lose but his life. And his first appearance in the House, after his disgrace, furnishes the occasion for this last catastrophe, by engaging him in a duel with his former evil genius, Wharton. His return home, "heavy and displeased," after sending the fatal challenge, is thus described :

"Left to his cool reflection, Vivian which the event of this duel might involve thought, with horror, of the misery into

all with whom he was connected, and all who were attached to him.-The affair was, of course, to be kept a secret from all at Glistonbury House, where Vivian was engaged to dine with a large ministerial party. He went home to dress: hoping to have a quarter of an hour to himself, he dismissed ber, saying, that he would ring when he wanted him; but, on entering his own dressing-room, he, to his surprise and mortification, found his wife seated there, waiting for him with a face of anxious expectation; a case of new set diamonds on a table beside

his sergant, who was waiting in an anticham

her. I thought you were at your father's, my dear!-Are not you to be at Glistonbury House to day?' said Vivian.

"No,' replied Lady Sarah. Surely, Mr. Vivian, you know that my father gives a political dinner, and I suppose you are to be there?'

"Oh, yes!' cried Vivian; I did not know what I was saying-I am to be there, and must dress,' (looking at his watch), for I have no time to spare▬▬.'

"Be that as it may, I must intrude upon your time for a few minutes,' said Lady Saral.

"Vivian stood impatiently attentive whilst Lady Sarab secmed to find it difficult to begin some speech, which she had prepared.

"Women, I know, have nothing to do with politics-She began in a constrained tone of constraint, she started up, and exvoice: but, suddenly quitting her air and claimed-

"Oh, my dear, dear husband! what have you done?—No, no, I cannot, will