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We are determined to assign to our old and valued acquaintance, Mrs Prudentia Homespun, a more conspicuous place than we can usually give to fictitious historians: nor is it from mere partiality to her, (though of such a partiality we should have no reason to be ashamed) but because we feel that, by introducing various specimens from this little narrative, we can form an article at once instructive and amusing. As we are not wont to deal in extravagant praise, any more than in intemperate censure, we shall not cry up the present novel as superior to all the productions of imagination, ancient or modern; we shall not assign it a perpetual place by the side of Fielding, Smollett, or Le Sage; but we shall say, with more appropriate praise, that the principal characters are well conceived, to exemplify the vices and the virtues which the writer intends to exhibit; that their conduct, in the situations devised for them, is consistent and probable; and that the sentiments of morality and religion, which flow either from the relater herself, or from the characters she has introduced, are such as are calculated to show truth in a conspicuous light, and to make a durable impression.

The Infidel Father may be considered as a history of that father, from his youth to his decease; displaying the miseries of an unprincipled life, and the punishment of false and pernicious maxims, by their immediate operation on the conduct of those who have imbibed them. Lord Glanville is a Deist, of the school of Voltaire and Rousseau; but one that adopts, with ready facility, most of the subsequent refinements of false philosophy. The whole of these principles he puts to the test of experience, in the education of a daughter; and the result is, that she despises alike his authority and advice; marries an [407] unworthy man, chiefly through resentful opposition to him; and, being finally both unhappy and dishonoured, concludes the awful, but too probable, tragedy by destroying herself in his presence. That this is actually a catastrophe of real life, with respect to an infidel son, if not a daughter, will occur to many readers; and will afford sufficient proof, that the author has not exaggerated the consequences of those wretched maxims which it is her object to expose. The good characters introduced into the novel are well contrasted to these dreadful pictures; and the practical Christianity of Mr Brudenell, and his lovely grand-daughter, displays in their true light the most useful social virtues, and the most unaffected humility. The episodical characters are, we think, a little overcharged; but when the author wishes that they may be so considered, she means, we conceive, to wish that the vanity, extravagance, and self-importance which have certainly infected the middle classes of society, may not quite have risen to such a height as her imagination has given them.

Mrs Prudentia begins her narrative by enquiring after her former readers, and giving some account of herself.

Conceiving that my readers are equally solicitous to hear of my welfare, I assure them, that, though I certainly grow older every year, I do not yet feel any symptom of the apathy and inactivity of old age. I am as anxious to obtain their plaudits now, as when I sent my first literary bantling into the world; and I shall be as much concerned to hear it whispered, that poor Mrs Prudentia has really written herself out, as if my former efforts to please had fallen dead from the press. P. 7.

We shall certainly be able to produce some proofs that the good lady has not written herself out; though we shall not presume so far to anticipate the taste of others, as to decide whether this novel will be equally favoured by public approbation with the former two. The four first chapters of this novel are employed in presenting the subordinate characters to the reader's acquaintance: it is not till the fifth that we meet with Lord Glanville, whom we consider as the leading character of a tale, intended professedly 'to show the superiority which religious principle possesses, when compared with a sense of honour, moral fitness, or a love of general applause.' We find his Lordship at first in the midst of his career; but the earlier part of his history is given by retrospect in the sixth chapter. On the occasion of introducing a truly modest and bashful beauty, who caught the attention of that nobleman (then Lord Malvern) at Oxford, the narratrix introduces some of her own maxims, in a very characteristic manner, and in a way that might be useful, if attended to by the young ladies of the present day.

[408] I will here acquaint my young reader with some obsolete maxims, formerly in general use, though, I believe, now so thoroughly antiquated, that the recollection of them is only preserved in old writings, and the chronicles of past times. It appears from these records, that it was actually once thought, that retiredness, seclusion, and reserve added to the power of beauty; and that the heart of man used to be assailed by sap and stratagem. 'If you put the lordly creature on his guard,' said our great, great, great grandmothers to their daughters, 'you teach him to resist your power; and if you do not carry his affections by storm at the first assault, your strength is so much impaired, that you cannot make a second attack; but if, at every interview, you steal upon him with the discovery of some fresh excellence; above all, if, instead of avowing your design against his liberty, you appear to retire from his observation, as if you feared that he was going to commence hostilities against you, you throw him off his guard, and he walks into your toils blindfolded.' I have modernized the sentiments, as well as the language, of our venerable predecessors, in the above quotation, which may be called rather a paraphrase than an extract; being convinced, that if I had given the speech verbatim, nobody would have understood what was meant by the duties of the holy estate of matrimony, instituted for mutual comfort; or what was implied by a young woman's early acquiring habits of obedience and domestic occupation. Yet I must observe, that in those days, there was not so large a stock of unmarried ladies upon hand, as since the idea of wife and helpmate have been disunited; and it is only out of pure compassion to the increasing quantity of very amiable, very accomplished, and very sweet-tempered young creatures, whom we hourly meet, dancing like loose-robed Graces, or singing like the warbling Muses, that I suggest the expedient of their becoming less prodigal of their charms. I know they will utter some smart sarcasm at the advice of a Mrs Prudentia; but I am not to be discouraged by a little pertness; and, as I frequently tell my young friends, I have not remained unmarried for want of good offers. Vol. i. p. 151.

The history of the infidel nobleman and this retired beauty, is that of a clandestine marriage intended to be disavowed, but of which sufficient proof is preserved, by the self-interested double treachery of one of the agents; of a subsequent desertion, terminating in seclusion and distraction; and leaving the delinquent apparently at liberty to contract that second marriage, which produced the daughter whom he educated in his own principles. His son, by the first and legal marriage, lives in obscurity; but leaves a daughter, who is educated by her mother's father, a most exemplary clergyman, and finally is acknowledged as the sole legal heir to the family estates of the Earl of Glanville.

We cannot undertake to compress this eventful history into a nut-shell; but we shall briefly point out that its principal objects are consistently effected. The young nobleman, who means [409] to entangle unsuspecting innocence in a false marriage, or what before the marriage-act was nearly equivalent, a marriage incapable of proof, is himself betrayed by a subordinate agent, who uses the certificate of it, for many years, as an instrument of extortion. He finds himself involved in one crime after another, and though tolerably successful in silencing the reproaches of the world, is never able to subdue an inward monitor, which torments him in every stage of his career. The daughter whom he educates with the greatest care and anxiety, on his own principles, asserts her independence, when grown up, in the manner the most painful to him; and the fatal catastrophe, already mentioned, is brought about by the fermentation of those very passions which he himself has fostered and encouraged. As an interesting part from which to select a specimen, we shall turn to that chapter (the xith) where the reluctant Earl of Glanville is compelled, by the firmness of Mr Brudenell, to receive the daughter of a son whom he had never owned, as his own legitimate descendant.

Sustained by the holy confidence which a well-spent life inspires, Mr Brudenell calmly advanced to meet the mean, debased, yet proud Earl of Glanville; who, poor amidst the hoards of superfluous wealth, timid, while possessing plenitude of power, and wretched while surrounded by every earthly good, now saw the veil torn away by which he had concealed the soul deformity of his cancerous guilt from the world, his idolized reputation blasted, and himself obliged to confess, not only with his tongue, but by his actions, the littleness of craft, and the imprudence of dissimulation. The Man of the World who has lived to see all his hopes blasted, all his arts discovered, and himself 'benetted' in his declining age, with the evils that he wished to avoid, will pity this great master of deception, while with affected kindness and real aversion, he received his grand-daughter from the hand of Mr Brudenell. Prepossessed with a conviction that he was compelled to do this act of justice, his native haughtiness had just fortified his weak spirits with the determination, that Sophia should pay dearly for Mr Brudenell's impertinent resolution of seeing her restored to the rights of her ancestors. But as he coolly stooped to bestow a faint kiss on the kneeling girl, her resemblance to the unfortunate Miss Aubrey struck him to the heart. Horror and remorse once more subdued the feeble resolution that arrogance had inspired. He folded his arms around his revived Sophia, while nature spoke in a shower of tears. Mr Brudenell had too just an idea of the Earl's character to commend an emotion, of which he perceived he was ashamed. Affecting to attribute this agitation to indisposition, he spoke of Sophia as an admirable nurse, and ready to share with Lady Caroline in those kind attentions which infirmity always requires. Sophia now attempted to describe her grateful sense of his Lordship's tenderness, and her hope of deserving the kind regard that she had already experienced from Lady Caroline; but she was too much affected to speak coherently. Indeed her expressions would have been disregarded. The tone of [410] her voice was too similar to that which Lord Glanville's perfidy had silenced in the grave, to allow him to think of any other object than that which overwhelmed him with compunction and despair. Vol. ii. P. 18.

As we cannot so far extend our specimens of this Novel, as to give any exact view of its conduct, we shall only add a passage in which a noble soldier, who is also a well-educated Christian, vindicates his profession against the canting slanders of philosophism.

We frequently march through defiles, under a burning sun, suffering every privation, and combating difficulties, which the least indiscretion on our part would render insupportable. If the soldier, then, felt no nobler impulse than a thirst for individual glory, would he not immediately hazard a painful wearisome life to obtain it, and rush madly upon the enemy who hover about us in small detachments, anxious to wear away our strength in unprofitable skirmishes? Would he stand under arms for many hours, patient and collected; while our watchful foe, alarmed at the formidable front we present, and fearful of attacking us, employs every device to allure us from the advantageous ground we have chosen? It is on these occasions, when I have seen my brave companions fainting with fatigue, yet uttering no complaints, burning with military ardour, yet passive as infant gentleness, that I have felt the superiority of that virtue which proceeds from principle, as opposed to the frothy effervescence of sentiment and feeling; and I have learned, not merely the value of military discipline and subordination, but the propriety and necessity that we should all be early instructed in the admirable rule of always regulating our actions by the desire of doing as we ought. Much has been lately said respecting our being creatures of habit, and many popular theorists build our virtues on no firmer ground; forgetful of this consideration, among many others, that contingencies will most probably arise to break those habits, and to form new combinations; whereas, nothing external can shake the deeply-rooted principle that is founded on a clear conception of what is right, and a certainty that we are accountable creatures. Let not our virtues depend upon our habits, but rather form them.

Dear Brudenell, you will say that these reflections savour more of the college than of the camp; but after several weeks of incessant fatigue, we enjoy comparatively a little ease, by the capitulation of one of the enemies' strong holds; and I have now leisure to contemplate the means by which that desirable event was expedited. These, under Providence, were, great circumspection, coolness, temperance, perseverance, self-command, and a generous sacrifice of individual feeling to public good. If I had now time to cherish any other sentiment than friendship and admiration of my brave compatriots, who cheerfully surrender their bodies to want, disease, torture, and death, and their minds to constant anxiety and wearisome exertions, to purchase peace, honour, and safety for their native country; O! Brudenell, if I could divest any thoughts from the present scene, I would execrate those drones of peace, rather let me say those pestiferous cankers, who, while [411] we protect their wealth from spoil, and their persons from danger, slander our exertions, and degrade the character of a British soldier; terming him a licensed marauder, who sells his own freedom, and trades in the blood and misery of his fellow-creatures. Vol. iii. p. 196.

We must now conclude. The specimens we have produced will enable the intelligent reader to judge of the general spirit of the work. It is the third that has come under our notice, written with a design to expose the false opinions of modern philosophers to detestation and contempt. The Vagabond, with great liveliness, held up to ridicule the second-hand system of wickedness, which Mr Godwin had the audacity to publish. The Memoirs of Modern Philosophers took a wider view of the subject, and amidst much extravagant, though not unsuccessful ridicule, conveyed many useful sentiments and instructive scenes. The present book particularly points out the dangerous effects of infidel morality, as taught by system, and substituted in the place of better precepts; and it does it with a spirit and propriety very honourable to the writer. The picture it exhibits is strong, yet just and probable; and if we do not venture to extol it as a Novel of the most perfect construction, we cannot hesitate to recommend it as a work of much interest in the serious parts, and much utility in the whole design. [complete]

Provided by Julie A. Shaffer, January 2000