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We have already delivered our opinion concerning the literary talents of this writer, and also on the direction which she has frequently chosen to give her abilities. We find nothing in this performance that tends to change our judgement.

We observed, in our review of Walsingham, that while she confined herself to an exhibition of the surface of life she was not without success; but that when she attempted to dive into moral and political causes, she went far beyond her depth. We also remarked, that she excelled much more in describing feeling than intellect. The novel before us has confirmed us in the notion that we formed, that from Mrs Robinson we may expect pathetic descriptions much more confidently than either virtuous inculcation, humorous painting, sound reasoning, or just reflection. Her favourite characters are the creatures of sentimental refinement; and that sensibility not being fortified by moral principle, and enlightened by a clear and discriminating understanding, leads them frequently to the most unwarrantable actions. The author delights in presenting situations, in which passion, especially the passion of love, triumphs over virtue and reason. Though far from denying that such circumstances frequently occur in real life, we cannot see that to hold them frequently up to public view can answer any good purpose. Neither do we think that those are, by any means, the characters most worthy of imitation which allow excessive scope to sensibility. Sensibility is a quality of doubtful advantage to the possessor; it may be instrumental to benevolence and to happiness, but leads to vice and misery as soon as it becomes the master [40] instead of being the servant of reason and conscience. That which Mrs Robinson presents may be called a morbid sensibility; a constitution, or state of mind, rarely to be found among the virtuous and wise. If we once open a door to feeling as the excuse of every action which it may produce, we may bid farewell to morality, to order, and to every thing valuable in society.

Mary Wollstonecraft could plead her feelings in justification of her concubinage and her attempted suicide. Most females who began their career in the same way, and who may have afterwards arrived at a more advanced stage of profligacy, might plead their feelings as a justification of their conduct. We doubt not, that even Newgate has considerable supplies from the victims of sensibility; or, in other words, from those who are propelled by present impulse instead of being guided by duty. Perfectly coinciding with Mrs Robinson, that sentiment, to a certain degree, is necessary to virtue and to happiness, we cannot help thinking that she, very probably without intending it, inculcates sensibility much farther than is beneficial, and so far as would be hurtful to its votaries. We allow that she represents goodness in a just and amiable light; but her writings tend to soften and enervate the mind. These strictures apply to the tendency of Mrs Robinson's writings; those that shall follow respect her invention.

In all her fables the author shews herself to possess a lively imagination, but by no means habitually subjected to the controul of judgement. She delights in the marvellous, and is very deficient in the probable. Marvellous writing, indeed, is much easier than imitation of nature; consequently is commonly resorted to by those who wish to represent men and manners, without the power or opportunity of previous examination. Paradoxes in pretended philosophy, and extravagancies in fiction, arise most frequently from the want of knowledge and of genius. The giants of Amadis of Gaul, the ghosts of modern manufacturers of novels and plays, require infinitely less ability than Gil Blas and Tom Jones; than Sophia and Cecilia. We critics, therefore, think ourselves not uncandid when we ascribe unnatural and improbable fictions to the want of power to produce the natural and probable.

The following is the story of theFalse Friend: - Gertrude St Leger has been educated in Ireland as the orphan ward of Lord Denmore; at seventeen, brought over to the house of her guardian, a married man. The fine feelings of the young lady are so much affected by the kindness, and also the countenance and figure of my Lord, that she falls desperately in [41] love with him; an effusion of sentiment by no means relished by my lady, especially as she finds her husband very much attached to this sentimental Miss. My lady, to balance accounts, allows her feelings to operate in favour of a handsome parson; she elopes. A third lady, it seems, has the same sort of feelings, but is divided in her affections; one half of which belongs to my Lord, and the other half to the parson. Thus Miss Cecil is, at once, the rival of the sentimental Miss as the lover of his Lordship, and the rival of her Ladyship as the lover of his reverence. She persuades Gertrude to elope; why, we do not clearly perceive: Miss, however, soon returns, and finds Lady Denmore dead, and my Lord gone to the country to give directions for her interment: when, strange to tell! Gertrude entering into the room in which the corpse lay, drops the candle; in her confusion breaks the string of a harp, which makes such a crush as to rouze the dead Lady, who is restored to life, and elopes a second time with the Reverend Mr Treville, when she dies in good earnest. Miss Gertrude is (unjustly) believed an accessary to her death; and, though conscious of her innocence, disappears, to avoid a prosecution, and the supposed anger of Lord Denmore. After many hair-breadth escapes and perplexities, the detail and reasons of which we could not always comprehend, she is again brought back to Lord Denmore's house and favourable opinion. It now comes to light, that Gertrude, a supposed poor dependent, is heiress of a countless fortune. Sir William St Leger returns from India, and acknowledges her to be his daughter, born, after his departure, at Denmore Castle, her mother having been consigned to the care of his Lordship. Sir William, understanding from Gertrude, that there is a mutual affection between her and my Lord, intends to make all parties happy; but, on discussing the subject with Denmore, finds that Denmore's love to Gertrude was that of one who could not be her husband; for that he (Denmore) had been a FALSE FRIEND to Sir William, seduced the affections of his wife, and was actually Gertrude's father! Sir William and he fight, Denmore is killed, Gertrude dies of grief. While these matters were going on among the principal personages, the inferior characters are not idle. The clergyman first-named, Treville, afterwards (for an estate) Somerton, having caused the death of one unmarried lady, and one married lady, elopes with a second married lady, is, with his fair friend, drowned in sailing from Yarmouth (perhaps the writer meant Falmouth,) to Lisbon. There are five elopements, various rencounters, duels, and suicides; seven are killed (including [42] those drowned;) but the number of wounded and prisoners is not proportionably great, the former being only three, the latter five.

The catastrophe, as the reader will perceive, is very tragical, more so, indeed, than that of any performance that we have read since our perusal of the melancholy History of Tom Thumb, when the father, lover, mistress, and friends: Huncamunca, King Arthur, Doodle Foodle, and Tom Thumb himself, are all subdued by relentless death.

Amidst her tragedy the author does not forget her politics. A very worthless Peer (Lord Arcot) is introduced as a specimen of the peerage in general; as the very worthless clergyman, Somerton, is represented as a sample of the Clergy. Though we cannot coincide in the reasoning, that because there are wicked Lords, or Clergymen, the majority of those orders are bad, yet we think it not unnatural for the author to have concluded them so, as, perhaps, those Peers, or Churchmen, whom she might have an opportunity of intimately knowing, were not the best and most exemplary of mankind.

As novel reading is so very general, we wish that species of writing were much more frequently undertaken by persons disposed and able to render it the vehicle of sense, knowledge, and just principles of politics and morality. [complete]

Provided by Julie A. Shaffer, January 2000