) have exerted to disguise the most bringing this to notice as an undoubtmiserable common-places in the ed work of Dr. Paley's, we think shape of a paradox.” that he suffers his zeal against the But he has left us one work, much church, by law established, to outstrip less generally known and read than it his regard for his friend's reputadeserves to be. which is truly original tion. He is by no means warranted in in its subject, in its construction, and decidedly ascribing it to Dr. Paley. in its details. We allude to his Ho- He produces no direct evidence; ræ Paulinæ. In this, he traces a new does not pretend that it was ever, in species of internal evidence for the any circumstances, avowed; and authenticity of St. Paul's epistles, by merely pleads general report. We observing the undesigned and less must be allowed to suspend, at least, obvious coincidence of allusions and our judgment on the subject. Interexpressions, with the narrative in the nal evidence, we think, is strong acts of the apostle. In his statement against the fact. An acrimonious spi. of the value of this species of argu- rit of controversy pervades the tract, ment he is clear and judicious. In foreign to Paley's general manner. pointing out the several passages At times, there is a puerile flippancy which furnish the proof, he shows a of remark. The argument is, in some most intimate acquaintance with St. parts, directed against all means of Paul's writings, the fruit of patient securing a conformity of faith in the investigation, and most close atten- ministers of any established church, tion. He is singularly ingenious in an opinion which Paley never mainhitting on a casual agreement, where tained, and the bare supposition of a common mind would have over- his holding which is an impeachment looked it. He appreciates with judg- of his understanding. We must conment, the true value of every head of tend, tlrat a discreet friend to his meevidence which he brings. He makes mory, who had no prejudices of his his deduction, just as far as that in- own to gratify, would not have been stance bears him out, and no farther; thus forward to give, on very dispuand, on proper occasions, he presses table grounds, the sanction of his his reasonings with convincing force. name to this production. Thus, he has furnished a mass of On the whole, Paley was an amiamost valuable evidence, which is pe- ble, and a respectable character, in culiarly his own, and which no one all the departments of life; one who else could have invented so well, or taught well, and defended ably, truths traced so clearly. He has given, too, which he firmly believed, and duties . an admirable model for similar inves- which he admirably practised. Supetigations on other subjects. Had he riours he has undoubtedly had in produced no other work, his fame those high talents and vast acquirewould have stood on no weak or nar- ments which dazzle and astonish; but row basis. still a place must be allowed him in Amongst the tracts and papers, the very foremost rank of eminence, with which Mr. Meadley has con- if the consideration of his actual abitrived to swell his volume, is a tract lities be combined with that of their on the question of subscription to the useful application; if his claim on articles published in 1774, in defence the applauses of mankind, be united of a pamphlet of bishop Law's. In with that on their gratitude, . . FROM THE QUARTERLY REVIEW, Amelie Mansfield. Par Madame Cottin. 3 tom. 12mo. Londres. 1809. NOVELS are read so generally, gard to our own expectations in real and with such avidity, by the young life. But real life is the very thing of both sexes, that they cannot fail to which novels affect to imitate; and have a considerable influence on the the young and inexperienced will virtue and happiness of society. Yet sometimes be too ready to conceive their authors do not always appear to that the picture is true, in those rebe sensible of the serious responsi- spects at least in which they wish it bility attached to their voluntary to be so. Hence both their temper, task. In several novels which we fre. conduct, and happiness may be maquently observe in the parlours of terially injured. For novels are often respectable families, there cannot be romantick; not, indeed, by the relation a doubt, that the warmth of colouring, of what is obviously miraculous or in certain passages, produces, in the impossible; but by deviating, though imaginations of many of their read- perhaps insensibly, beyond the bounds ers, disorders which are far from of probability or consistency. And being sufficiently corrected by the the girl who dreams of the brilliant moral maxims, the good examples, accomplishments and enchanting or the warning events. Of such grie- manners which distinguish the favous misdemeanors Fielding is no- vourite characters in those fictitious toriously guilty. Other writers. also, histories, will be apt to look with from whom better things might have contempt on the most respectable been expected, have stained their and amiable of her acquaintance; pages with indelicate details. But the while in the showy person and flatpractice is a shameful violation of tering address of some contemptible, good manners, and adınits of no ex- and perhaps profligate coxcomb, she cuse; for either the details are super. may figure to herself the prototype fluous, which is most frequently the of her imaginary heroes, the only case; or else the story should be sup- man upon earth with whom it is pospressed altogether, as one which will sible to be happy. Nay, if she should do more harm than good to far the venture to indulge her lover with a greater number of those who will private assignation, she knows from certainly peruse it. those authentick records that her conBut there is another way in which duct is sanctioned by the example of it may be apprehended that novels ladies of the most inflexible virtue. are frequentiy hurtful. The epic poem She may still plead the same authoand the romance of chivalry transport rity for her justification, if, for the us to a world of wonders, where su- sake of this fascinating youth, she pernatural agents are mixed with the render herself an outcast from her human characters; where the human station and her family. Whatever she characters themselves are prodigies, may give up, she has learned from and where events are produced by her oracles that no sacrifice can be causes widely and manifestly differ. too great for real love; that real love, ent from those which regulate the such as subsists, and ever will subcourse of human affairs. (l'ith such sist, between herself and the best of a world we do not think of compa- men, is adequate to fill every hour of ring our actual situation; to such cha- her existence, and to supply the want racters we do not presume to assimi- of every other gratification, and every late ourselves or our neighbours; other employment. And although from such a concatenation of mar- she may be prevented by fortunate vels we draw no conclusions with re- circumstances, or by the prevalence of better principles from exhibiting, ly a work of genius; but we regretted in her own fate, the 'catastrophe of a to find it in many respects very unmelancholy novel; yet, tinctured with like what we had promised ourselves such notions, she must, even in pros- from the author of Elizabeth; and we perily, be lamentably disappointed in now proceed to mention so much of her fondest hopes, and look with a the story and of the manner in which joyless heart to the society of or- it is told, as may point out on what dinary mortals, to the ordinary duties grounds our opinion is founded. and ordinary comforts of life; those The count of Woldernar had one duties which the sober minded dis- son and two daughters. By his son, charge with cheerfulness, and those the baron of Woldemar, he had a comforts in which they acquiesce grandson Ernest. He had grandchilwith contentment and delight. dren also by each of his daughters; But whatever may be the case for one of them was married to the with other novels, we were led to count of Lunebourg, father of the anticipate great satisfaction from the heroine Amelia, and of her brother perusal of Amelia Mansfield; for the Albert; and the other was married to title page informs us that it is the the baron of Geysa, and had a daughwork of Madame Cottin, the author ter Blanche. Now the old count of of Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia, Woldemar was exceedingly proud of one of the most beautiful, interesting, his family, which we are told, had and edifying narratives with which given electors to Saxony, and kings we are acquainted. It exhibits hu- to Poland; and having seen his chilman nature in a most engaging and dren married suitably to their diginstructive view; conjugal and pa- nity, he thought proper to extend rental love brightening the winter of the same care lo his grandchildren, adversity; and filial piety inspiring that after his death the blood of the an amiable girl with a fortitude which Woldemars might not be polluted, no hardships or dangers could sub- at least to the third generation. So he due. Nor are these the visions of made a will, by which he appointed imagination only. The author assures his grandson Ernest heir of his forus, in her preface, that the subject of tune and title on the condition of her history was true, and that both marrying Amelia. In case of refusal the virtues and the sufferings of the on her part he deprived her of her real heroine were beyond the descrip- share in his fortune, and the young tion. In fact, what in a novel might gentleman's hand was next to be ofbe considered as romantick fictions fered to Blance of Geysa on the same are not superiour to the noble ex- terms. If the young man himself amples which real life has exhibited should be refractory, he lost his claim of a wife, a daughter, or a mother's to his grandfather's inheritance love. Such examples have a power which, in that case, devolved upon ful tendency both to purify and exalt Albert, with the obligation of marthe character. And from the evidence rying Blanche. which Elizabeth afforded of a sound Having made this judicious settle. judgment and well regulated mind, ment, which he might as well have as well as of uncommon talents, we let alone, the old count died when should have conceived that any work Ernest was ten years old, Amelia which was sanctioned by the name of scarcely nine, and her brother Albert Madame Cottin, might, from that fourteen. While he was yet living, circumstance alone, be recommended all his grandchildren had been eduwith confidence for a young lady's cated together at his own house, an. library. arrangement which he conceived With these prepossessions we be- would facilitate his favourite plan. gan the novel before us. It is certain. But here he was mistaken. The a young people quarrelled at their romps; and Amelia could not bear the haughty spirit of Ernest, who appears to have been a spoiled child. One day in particular, he endeavoured to make her swear obedience to him as her future husband; for with the same prudence which seems to have directed all the measures of this far sighted old gentleman, they had, even when children, been informed of their grandfather's will. Amelia stoutly refused, and struggled to get free. Her brother came to rescue her. Ernest knocked him down with a large book, and then made her own pretty mouth bleed by his endeavours to stop her eries of murder. What was still worse, he refused, even at his mother's entreaty, to ask Amelia's pardon, pleading his right to insist on his wife's obedience. His mother, who seems to have had more sense than her father-in-law, though she had as much pride as if she had been of his own blood, very wisely sent her son to the university of Leipsick, without insisting on an interview between the young couple in their present temper; and Amelia, enraged at his want of submission, as soon as it was reported to her, swore an oath of her own, that he never should be hers, the direct counterpart of the oath which Ernest had dictated. In these dispositions Ernest and Amelia parted, and saw each other no more for many years afterwards. In the mean time, his preceptors at the university, though they acknow. ledged the superiority of his genius and his progress in his studies, complained of his haughty and inflexible spirit, and threatened, on that account, to send him back to his family. Provoked at the threat, he quitted the university by his own authority, and returned home. Here he did not find Amelia, who was living with her parents. His mother, who was now a widow, intrusted him to the care of a steady young man, who, though but six years older than himself, and accustomed to reprove him with free dom, had alone acquired an ascendant over him. With this companion she sent him to travel, and had the satisfaction of hearing that the most favourable changes were taking place in his character and conduct. But Amelia, steady to the aversion produced by their childish quarrels, lent a deaf ear to his mother's representations, and listened only to the accounts of his former misdemean There was, however, another cause, which contributed still more to her alienation from Ernest. She had fallen in love with Mansfield, a young poet, who, on account of his talents, was received by her parents with distinction and kindness, not as one who could ever think of aspiring to their daughter's hand, but as a man of genins. whom they admired and protected. We shall not follow all the progress of this courtship, which is very prettily detailed in a narrative of Amelia's. Only we beg leave to observe, that a well educated girl, who had any thing like a proper regard for her reputation, or a proper sense of her dignity, should have resented, as an insult, the proposal which her lover presumed to make, of meeting him privately in the evening, "under the great yew trees of the little park;" proposal the more improper, as theonly pretence which he alleged, was, that she might bid him farewell. In short, although her father, on his deathbed had insisted, and her brother had solemnly assured her, that her marriage with Ernest should be left to her own free choice, yet, without condescending to wait a year or two, till she might have an opportunity to judge for herself, if her cousin was, indeed, as amiable as he was now represented, she forsook all for love, and eloped with the poet. For this rash step she suffered severely; and here, we presume, the history is intended for a warning to those young ladies who marry in haste. That her family should renounce her, was only what she must have expected. Her brother, however, a though provoked at her indiscretion, tion was to gain her affections, and remained firmly attached to her; but then to abandon her with contempt. Mansfield, for whom she had made This was certainly a design which no such a sacrifice, and who had sworn one who deserved the name of genthat his love should end only with his tleman, could entertain for a moment; life, Mansfield grew unfaithful and yet with unpardonable inconsistency, profligate, forsook her at last, and was the author evidently intends that killed by a Russian officer in a quar. Ernest should be regarded as a man rel about an opera girl. From that of a high and generous spirit. period she lived at Dresden for three But as the wicked are often caught years in the most profound obscurity, in their own snare, so our promising having no comfort but her brother's youth became desperately enamoured tenderness, being permitted to see with Amelia, though he could not , Blanche once only during all that endure the thought of marrying time, and entirely disowned by every Mansfield's widow, or of wounding, other relation. by such a union, his mother's happiBut after this long season of dis- ness, to whom he was tenderly attress, happier days arose again on tached. And now the author put's poor Amelia. Her husband's uncle, forth all her strength in describing Mr. Grandson, a plain but respect. the struggles between love, pride, able old man, had retired to a de- and filial affection, and the gradual, lightful residence in Switzerland, but fatal triumph of love. Although where he lived in splendour on the Ernest never condescended to give fortune which he had made by com- any account of his situation, and, for merce, and invited Amelia to be the some time at least, declared, that to mistress of his house, and to inherit their marriage, there were obstacles his wealth. Warned as she had been which he knew not how to surmount, of the miseries arising from impru- yet Amelia permits his tender assidence, we may now expect that it duities. The good uncle, however, who can only be some external calamity never dreamed of any thing but an which is to disturb her repose. We honourable courtship, but who thought have no suspicion that she will ever it long in coming to a proper concluforget the good resolutions which sion, hastened the catastrophe which she expresses so beautifully in a let. he meant to prevent. Upon his reter to her brother. monstrances, Ernest declared that he In a dark and tempestuous night of would soon be free, and happy to February, Henry Semler and his at- marry Amelia, but declined an imtendants were saved by the exertions mediate union. He was ordered by of Mr. Grandson's domesticks from Mr. Grandson to quit the house inperishing in the snow, and wel. stantly; but Amelia was moved to comed with the utmost humanity compassion by his rueful counteand kindness to a safe shelter in the nance, and with inexcusable rashness, abode of wealth and beauty. Of this granted him a private interview at hospitality, Semler was unworthy. He midnight. Here he swore to be her came under a fictitious name for a husband, and she, as might be exmost unmanly purpose. He was no pected, forfeited her title to a station other than our old acquaintance Er- among virtuous women. But after all nest, the young count of Woldemar. his oaths, the fickle youth was per. Indignant that a man so low as Mans. suaded by his mother to renounce field should have been preferred to his mistress; and we have vow a tale him, he had stolen away from his of sorrows, in many places admirably companion, with the hope of finding told, and deeply interesting Amelia, some means to introduce himself to worn out with anguish, died at the Amelia as a stranger; and his inten- moment when the countess of Wol. VOL. II. |