of London exclusives to undergo a whole course of precisely those alteratives, which the nature of his mental malady requires, but also of precisely those which, without that influence, he would have been horrified at the mere idea of being forced even to taste of; and the consequences of which are, infinite benefit to his mental health, and a corresponding improvement in his capacity of perceiving and enjoying the good that is every where about him.

The detail of this carries us to about the middle of the second volume; by which time it is evident that something very like a mutual passion has grown up, half-unconsciously on both sides, between Tremaine and Georgina, and not entirely unperceived, or at least unsuspected, by the excellent Evelyn. And here the work may be said to again change its character, and become what the reader has hitherto little expected from it, but what the writer has, doubtless, all along been leading us to ;-a discussion regarding the claims of religion on the reason and the faith of man; and which discussion is only interrupted, from time to time, by those incidents which help to bring it about naturally, and its influence on which incidents constitutes the sole interest of the rest of the story.

On Evelyn thinking that he perceives the mutual attachment which has for some time been forming itself (for certainly nothing was ever less formed by the parties themselves) in the minds of his daughter and Tremaine, he takes the first favourable occasion of questioning the former on the point, and finds that her views are precisely such as he would wish them to be ;-that, in fact, Tremaine is any thing but indifferent to her; but that certain fears which she has lately been induced to feel in regard to his religious views, have filled her with anxiety, which is increased rather than diminished by the increasing probability, from Tremaine's behaviour to her, that she is not indifferent to him. This almost immediately leads Evelyn to make inquiries for himself into the condition of his friend's mind on the above point; which he finds to be the worst possible.

"Atheism was the only evil opinion from which he was exempt. Deism, scarcely understood even by himself, and obscured by constant doubt; a poor opinion of human nature, scarcely distinguishing it from brute; a labyrinth of he knew not what notions, about a plan without any intelligible object, and a consequent necessity for order, the nature of which, however, he could nowhere discover, but which sufficed to make him utterly dis-believe God's moral government of the world, and at least not believe in the certainty of a future judgment;—all these were tenets, or rather no-tenets, which filled Evelyn's heart with horror! On the other hand, there was no assistance from authority or revealed religion,-in which, if he did not utterly reject it, he had lost all confidence, and from which he derived no consolation."

This unhappy discovery has scarcely been made, before a new person is introduced into the history, Lord St. Clair, through whose intervention, in the form of an offer of marriage to Georgina, the affairs of the lovers (for such they now are) are brought to a crisis, by Tremaine also declaring his passion, and offering her his hand,-at first, however, through the medium of her father; who, when thus called on, at once expresses his views as to the absolute ineligibility of a union which, but for the above discovery, would have satisfied his fullest wishes for his child. Tremaine is thunderstruck at this altogether un

expected reply-for though he had anticipated objections of another nature, this had never for an instant occurred to him. But he appealed from the father to the daughter; and his plea is at once allowed: for Evelyn believes that he knows his child, and that her views on this most important point will not be different from his. Accordingly, Tremaine repeats the declaration of his passion, and the offer of his hand to Georgina; and receives in return a frank confession of her love for him, accompanied by a determination—wavering at first, and shaken by the noble frankness and generosity of Tremaine, and the restrictions he offers to place upon himself, in regard to the subject on which they so fatally differ, but immediately afterwards confirmed and expressed with unalterable fixedness,-never to be his, till he can assure her that his religious views and feelings no longer materially differ from those on which she has all her life been accustomed to place her sole hopes of future, and even of present happiness. This resolution is approved and confirmed by her father; and the second volume ends with the consequences of it, in the sudden and mysterious departure of Tremaine, no one knows whither, and the serious and almost fatal illness of Georgina, which follows the struggles between her faith and her affections.

At the beginning of the third and last voluine, and at a distance of fifteen months from the period just referred to, the scene of the story again changes. The health of Georgina is apparently ruined, and she seems fast sinking into the grave; while that of her father is scarcely less affected by the sight of his beloved child, daily fading away before his eyes, and still they have no tidings from Tremaine, and no means of conjecturing either the cause of his absence, or the place of his retreat. Under these circumstances, and by the advice of a friendly physician, Evelyn determines on making a tour with his daughter to the south of France, partly to try the effects of a more genial climate upon her now delicate frame, but chiefly to divert her thoughts by a change of purpose and of scene. They accordingly arrive at a village near Orleans, where the beauty of the scenery tempts them to project a short stay; and in the very first walk that Evelyn takes from their little domicile at a fishing-house on the banks of the Loire, he encounters-Tremaine himself!

The story is at an end,--though not the book, by a very important part of it-in fact by that part of it for the due introduction of which all the rest was probably contrived and written. An immediate explanation of course takes place between the friends, as to the mistakes which produced Tremaine's sudden departure;—his occupations since that departure are alluded to, which seem to have consisted solely of investigations on the grand subject of their difference of opinion;-his present views on that subject are explained, and though much less unsatisfactory to Evelyn than they were, are still very far indeed from affording any thing but strong grounds for hope of what they may be ;and finally, they agree to meet the next day, on the spot where they now so unexpectedly find themselves together, and enter once for all into those discussions for which the so long pursued studies and inquiries of Tremaine seem to have now rendered him ripe, and on which his reason, no less than his feelings, have now made him so unaffectedly

anxious to be satisfied. In a word, and passing over all minor details, they meet-enter into several long and elaborate discussions on the principal points connected with religious belief,—namely, "The natural immortality of the soul;"" Providence"-its various divisions of protecting, sustaining, &c. and their connexion with fre-will; and finally, the proofs and arguments for a "Future State:" On all which points the overpowering reason of Evelyn shakes to their very foundations the fearful, but no longer cherished, doubts of his friend; and after three days of continued discussion, the former no longer hesitates to prepare his daughter for a disclosure of what has happened, since he no longer sees any reasonable grounds for doubting that, at no distant period, the views of Tremaine will be such as need not stand in the way of a union, which is so necessary to the happiness of them all. In the midst of these newly-revived hopes, and the reviving health which is the happy consequence of them, the work closes-leav ing the realization of them to the imagination of the reader.

"Well"-exclaim such of our readers as have been tempted to follow us thus far-"well-all this is intelligible enough, and no doubt vastly interesting to the parties concerned; but what is there so very extraordinary in it-for as such you seemed to announce the work to us?-We see nothing here, but a simple parson's daughter falling in love with an elegant and accomplished sceptic, and almost breaking her heart because her scruples of conscience make her afraid to marry him. While he, no less in love, and feeling himself little better off, is fain to become dévote to accommodate her;-and the rather, that he is double her age, and therefore likely to be looked upon as somewhat passé in that world of fashion in which he has hitherto cut so conspicuous a figure!-Surely there is nothing miraculous in all this, and in being able to relate it all in an intelligible manner, in the space of three volumes octavo "-Nothing whatever. But in being able to convert this simplest of domestic stories into a medium for exciting the deepest moral interest, added to the liveliest amusement, and at the same time into a vehicle for conveying to those whom they may concern (that is, to all the world) at once the most important and the profoundest of moral views, touching the whole conduct of this life, and the whole hopes of that which is to come ;-and to do this latter in a more striking and impressive, as well as a more clear and convincing way, than it was ever done before;-and, what is more than all, to do it for a class of readers who have more need of its being done for them than any other class whatever, and yet for whom it was never before done at all;—and finally, to do it all without for an instant departing from the truth of nature-without sacrificing a single trait of character, or falsifying a single point of manners-and withal, in a way that will compel readers to go through with it if once they begin, and that no reader, from the highest to the lowest, can go through with it without being wiser and better than he was before:-To do all this, we will venture to say, is something, if not miraculous, at least highly meritorious, and for which the anonymous doer, whoever he may be, deserves, and will assuredly receive, the gratitude of his fellow-beings. In fact, without pretending to anticipate the public voice in regard to Tremaine, we will not wait for the decision of that voice, but pronounce it at once to be a work of

higher interest and importance than any one of its kind that has appeared for a greater number of years than we need refer back to. În the first place, it is, notwithstanding the writer's somewhat fastidious deprecations to the contrary, nothing else but a novel. It is a novel, however, sui generis; though resenbling, more than any other class, that of which Miss Edgeworth's are the only truly valuable specimens we possess. It resembles those admirable works, inasmuch as it discards all romantic exhibitions of passion and sentiment, and depends, for its power of interesting the heart, and exciting the imagination, on its vraisemblance alone ;—it resembles them in its vigorous and at the same time refined and delicate delineation of character, and its absolutely unexaggerated truth of manners; and also in confining those manners to the present day;-it resembles them in the excellent moral lessons, touching the conduct of real every-day life, which it is not only calculated but intended to inculcate, and which, in fact, it cannot be read, by no matter whom, without inculcating;-it resembles those hitherto unrivalled works in all these particulars, and is (we will venture to say it) inferior to them in none of these, as far as it goes. It differs from Miss Edgeworth's Tales, in being absolutely free from that crying defect which the very warmest of her admirers (amongst whom we are proud to reckon ourselves) cannot either overlook or forget, and which, while it takes away from them that specific, homogeneous character, without which they cannot be regarded as perfect works of art, does what is still more important, in robbing them of the power of produ cing those admirable practical effects which their otherwise astonishing merits might command. We allude, of course, to the singularly complicated and artificial plots of Miss Edgeworth's stories. It cannot be doubted that these greatly injure the general effect of the works of which they form so important a part, by destroying their verisimilitude as wholes; while they do not produce any counterbalancing good, either by exciting the imagination or awakening the affections: or at least, if they do excite the imagination, it is to an evil rather than a good end; it is by keeping the mere curiosity perpetually on the stretch, and thus preventing the mind from dwelling with sufficient calmness on those developements of character, and illustrations of moral truth, in which, after all, the chief value of the works in question consists. These elaborately artificial plots of Miss Edgeworth's Tales, united with their otherwise perfect truth of delineation, give to them a mixed character, and prevent them from being regarded as either true pictures of what we are, or ideal ones of what we might or ought to be; leaving them hanging, like Mahomet's coffin, between the heaven of the one, and the mere earth of the other, without absolutely belonging to either. Now, in regard to the above particular, the singular work more immediately before us perhaps stands alone. At any rate, with all the separate truth of detail, as far as it goes, which belongs to the capital productions to which we have in part compared it, it has also a general truth of effect which they are without;-in fact, with some very trifling exceptions, the whole of Tremaine may be taken, so far as regards the reader, as neither more nor less than a portion of human life in the nineteenth century—with nothing in the slightest degree exaggerated, either in the events or the mode of relating them— nothing extraordinary in the characters introduced-nothing over

strained in the sentiments expressed-nothing striking or singular in the sources from which all these spring, or the ends to which they lead. And yet (and this, if we mistake not, is the only extraordinary part of the matter,) the whole perusal of this truly "Simple Story" will fix the reader's attention, fill his imagination, and satisfy his feelings, at least as much as any romance he ever read; always provided, of course, that he has escaped from the nursery of Leadenhall-street.

As any attempt at a lengthened explanation of the principles on which the above rare and difficult consummation has been effected, would lead us much farther than our limits will permit, we must content ourselves with referring it generally to the admirable maxim,-that good sense is the foundation of all good writing. There is more thorough practical good sense in these volumes, than in any others of the same length that we are acquainted with. They are, in fact, the very triumph of good sense over all ideal wisdom and virtue, all exaggerated and romantic sentiment, all artificial concatenations of events, and all impertinent, because impossible, delineations of character.

We have hitherto been speaking of Tremaine generally, and have therefore left unnoticed the elaborate discussion, in regard to religious matters, which occupies the greater part of the last volume; and for the introduction of which it is probable that the whole work has been constructed. We shall continue to do so for a moment longer. Added, then, to the above-named good qualities of Tremaine, is another which, as critics, we must be allowed to look upon with peculiar satisfaction, and which (it is barely possible!) may have cast about it an adventitious charm, which has more than duly heightened our impressions of its other merits. There is a freshness of hand upon it, which is truly delightful to us, in these latter days, when the spirit of commerce has crept into the confines of literature itself, and when novels, like naval stores, are supplied by contract. It is evidently a first production: at least there is no known writer (not even among the unknowns) to whom we should for an instant think of assigning it. Certain it is, that the writer, whoever he may be, adds to the excellent good sense which we have already spoken of, an elegant taste, very extensive acquirements, a deep as well as a refined and delicate acquaintance with the human heart; and a knowledge of society and manners as they exist at present in their highest stages, quite superior to that of any of his brother authors: for among authors he must be content to rank from this time forth, and to owe his best and proudest distinction to that character, whatever others he may be possessed of.

It only remains to speak of the lengthened discussions which form, in the eyes of the author of Tremaine, at least, the most, if not the only truly important part of this work. Without venturing to express any opinion whatever on the matters discussed (because no such opinion is called for,) we will not scruple to say, that the discussions themselves include even more talent than any other part of the work. In fact, they exhibit first-rate powers of argument, and, what is rarer still, more liberality and candour than we ever before remember to have seen allied to similar powers, when exercised on this subject. In a word, the discussions between Evelyn and Tremaine, on the Immortality of the Soul, on Providence, and on a Future State, are, without any exception whateve, the most full, complete, and satisfactory of any of a similar kind VOL. IX. No. 62.-1825.

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