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from her unjust charge against him, as he had not been her forf seducer. Just when Sophia is prepared to receive her lover in the most favourable manner, he is informed of his being drowned by falling overboard, and is filled with the deepest concern. While me is deploring, with the family, his untimely fate, she hears, by a letter from his brother, that he was saved by laying hold of a hen.coop which was thrown out to him. In a few hours Charles himself arrives, and is foon afterwards made the happiest of men by marrying the mistress of his heart.
The History of Charles Wentworth is full of inftru&tion : every page of it immediately relating to the hero is particularly fo: and those young men whose lively passions hurry them to dangerous indiscretions, may receive excellent lessons from bis letters: they may also receive the greatest encouragement to act upon every occasion with honour and with prudence. Charles Wentworth was punished for his follies; but as soon as he repented of them, and became desirous to atone for his past conduct by the propriety of his future behaviour, he was amply rewarded.
The account which is given of Guiana is curious. The editor assures us in the potes that it may be depended upon : adding that, ' every attempt to represent the felicity of a rural life, when all are deserting the country, and swarming to the capital, and when agriculture is on the decline, will, he ap. prehends, be considered as laudable.' • There are two letters introduced, by a Mr. Gordon, which cannot be overlooked by any reader of attention. Mr. Gordon's ferítiments seem to bear a strong resemblance to those of the fingular philosopher of Geneva, with regard to the diradvantages arising from society. " 'Tis the glory of civili. zation, Lays he, to have congregated the scattered inhabitants of the earth, and united them in towns and cities, those un. natural assemblies distinguished by luxury and vice ; happy, however, would it be if they were again dispersed in their sylvan cottages, and restored to their primitive simplicity and innocence : they have been assembled into cities to defraud, and into armies to murder each other; from hunters and fithers of beasts, they have been converted into hunters and fifhers of men: they have been wiser, but not more virtuous ; naturally innocent and ignorant, they have been instructed how to perpetrate fraud and injustice with greater ait, secrecy, and success; they have, indeed, formed a variety of laws to dircourage vice, but they first introduced it; and have invented many fevere punishments against the commission of crimes, but they first created the temptation to evil.'
· These passages are not unanswerable ; but we should go out of our way to animadvert upon them in this place.
VI. Constantia, or, The Difirefjed Friend. A Novel. 12me. Pr.
35. Johnston. THIS novel opens very whimsically with three lines out of
one of Hawihorn's songs in Love in a Village. The first part of the story is so perplexed, that we do not know . what the author would be at: the winding up of it, however, is clear and commendable,
A brave officer, left among the wounded at the battle of Dettingen, falls into the hands of a count Lacy, who entertains him as one of his family till he can be exchanged. Dur. ing his residence under his benefa&ior's hospitable roof, he and the count's daughter became enamoured with cach other,
and they are married. The count and countess only object to · The Irish officer's being a protestant; but he foon convinces
them of the errors of the Romis church, and they become defirous that their daughter should conform to her husband's religion. A young Parisian, having been rejected by the parents of the young lady, jealous of his happiness, informs against him as a heretic, and as a man who has poisoned the minds of count Lacy and his family. They are all thrown into prilon : during their confinement the counters dies, and her daughter becomes ready to be brought to bed. They are tried : count Lacy has his life and liberty given him, as he had been only guilty by countenancing the apostacy of his. children, who are commanded back to prison. They are foon afterwards brought to the stake. Mrs. — is there delivered of Constantia, who is snatched from the flames, and given to her grandfather the count.
This part of the story is pathetically related, and the pe. susal of it will serve to strengthen every true protestant's abhorrence of popery.
Constantia, thus rescued from the flames, is educated by her grandfather with the young count Lacy, and his fifter Bella, grand-children also to the old count, who dies when she is nine years of age. While Constantia lives with her coufins, Sir Thomas Trevor and Mr. Easeby, on their tour, come to Paris, and get acquainted with her and Bella. Sir Thomas fails in love with Bella ; but as he is afraid that his family will not consent to his union with her, he prevails on her to be married to him privately. Being sent for in a hurry, on account of his father's sudden and dangerous illness, he
leaves her, and in a short time ceases to correspond with her. Alarıned at his neglect, me refolves to come to England, and to find out the cause of it, having cngaged Conftantia to accompany her. They arrive in London, and are thrown into bad hands. One Green, a pimp to a lord, decoys them to his lord ship's seat succellively. Bella mc'es her escape in a man's dress, and is discovered by Mr. Easeby ask.ep in a wood, near his house. He does not know her, but brings her home as a fick ftranger. While Green is carrying Constantia after her friend to lord Langston's feat, the chaise is overturned, he therefore fets her behind him on his horse ; in attempting to cross a river the horse plunges; the catches hold of a tree, and recovers herself; the horse and rider are carried down the stream. Mr. Trevor, Sir Thomas's brother, finds her, and conducts her to Mr. Easoby, who afterwards marries her. Sir Thomas also discovers Bella ; and hears that her brother count Lacy, who is come to England in search of the two fugitives, had ftopped, from a pique, all his letters to Bella, and de. fained them froin her. The count attacks Sir Thomas, and dangerously wounds him ; he recovers, however, and all mat• ters are amicably adjusted. Constantia finds her grandfather
in an old clergyman, who has long lamented the death of a wife, and the loss of a son. [The son was the Irish oficer above mentioned, who died a martyr to the protcitant religion.] This worthy old divine writes an excellent lettör to the young people going to be married, which ought to be attentively perused by every young person, as it contains prccepts which cannot be too much commended. The following extract from it, for the whole is too long to be inforted in this article, will, we imagine, justify what we have faid of it.
"I am now rejoiced at the distresles you were involved in ; they have taught you more than all the schools of philosophy put together : you have seen here Heaven at the fame time it it is scourging us for our faults, may be promoting not only our real good, but our earneit deiires. Acquiesce in the dilpensations of Providence with a faithful and true heart, casting all your care on him who cares for you, since you are satisfied, that no foresight, no design of yoir own, could ever bring your affairs to the present happy conclusion.'
We have quoted these passages entirely for the sentiments conveyed in them, which might have been much more hape pily expressed ; and hope, that the author of Conftantia wili, in his next novel, if he is encouraged to proceed, tell his tale with less perplexity, and make his good things appear in a more graceful light. We have been often puzzled to find out his meaning, but are ready with candour to own, that his inten: tions as a man sufficiently apologize for his irregularities as & writer.
VII. Lucilla ; of the Progress of Virtue : Translated from the
French. 12*0. Pr. 38 Lowndes. THE design of this novel is more to be commended than
the execution of it : some of the characters are engaged in romantic, and rather unnatural adventures, but notwithstanding the extravagance in several parts of the volume, the whole may be safely put into the hands of that class of readers, for whose perusal it seems to be calculated.
Lucilla is a fine young girl, whose parents lived at Anxerne, in Burgundy. While she is very dutifully and affectionately endeavouring to console them for the loss of an only son, who had not been heard of, after having signalized himself in a battle in the favage desarts of the New World, they press her in such a manner to marry a man every way disagreeable to her ; that she, to avoid him, makes her escape to Paris, with Dangeot, her father's clerk. When they have resided about a month in Paris, during which they occupied separate apartments, Lucilla's father, accompanied by Fisiomon, the man designed for her, discovers the house in which they lodge. Lucilla elopes before they can get a fight of her. Dangeot is taken, but is released by his mafter, who accuses himself for having acted in so arbitrary a manner to his child. Dangeot throws himself into the army, and goes to the West-Indies. Lucilla is met by a Mrs. la Courton, who, delighted to find such a young innocent, carries her home, in order to dispose of her to the best bidder. In order to make her the fitter for her purpose, the keeps her from the fight of men, and does every thing in her power to corrupt her mind. By loose books, and licentious conversation, she studiously tries to shake her virtuous principles; gives her proper instruâions for making the most of her person, and lays a becoming stress on her deceiving and plundering the dupe who takes her into keeping. A M. Durichmont is the man who pays la Courton the money demanded for her, believing her to be her daughter. This young gentleman has a very prudent tutor who endeavours, at the same time, to reclaim his pupil, and to extirpate the wrong sentiments which la Courton had infused into Lucilla's mind. Durichmont is fo charmed with Lucilla's beauty and talents that he alınost wishes to find her virtuous, though he had actually purchased her for a mistress. In time,
by his refpe&ful behaviour, and the unwearied affiduity of his tutor, she becomes a very amiable character, and feels a real affection for her lover. Durichmont now thoroughly fatisfied with Lucilla's conduct, intends to marry her : D’Anville opposes his pupil, supposing her to be really the daughter of la Courton. Lucilla relates the history of her family, and by that relation finds that Mr. D'Anville, her lover's preceptor, is her uncle. Her father and mother are then sent for, and The feels no anxiety but for having driven her parents to despair by running away from them. In the mean time, Dangeot returns very rich from Martinico, and makes a most unexpected discovery, for he returns as a woman, and in a narrative, accounts for the disguise in which he appeared as clerk to M. Fume:erre, Lucilla's father. Soon afterwards young Fume. terre returns to the great joy of them all. He had been taken prisoner in Canada ; from thence he made his escape to Mar. tinico : at that place he was condemned to be hanged for a murder, but he proves innocent, and was saved by the intereft of Dangeot : he marries her. Fisiomon, hearing of the departure of Monsieur and Madam Fumeterre from Paris, con-, cludes that Lucilla is the cause of their journey, and follows them privately: but not being able to find them he is carried by love and pleasure to la Courton's : in her house he contracts a disemper which renders him eager to be revenged. He goes again to the house in search of the girl who had injured him. . The noise of a quarrel between them brings la Courton to them. He draws his sword, and wounds her. While he is attempting to run off, the girl alarms the family. He is seized and committed to prison ; and dies there from the loathsomeness of the place in which he is confined, superadded to his other disorders.
The outline of this story will, we doubt not, sufficiently corroborate what has been already observed concerning the extravagance in it. " The facts on which this work is founded have the merit of deviating from the common track.' This paffage is extracted from the preface; with the author's leave we will venture to affirm, that he thould have written fidions instead of faits : nor will we scruple to add that his fictions often revolt against probability. The novelist who deviates from the track of nature merits lituile praise.