82 



Review of Literature, 



[JAN. 



nor listen to his poems, nor even add liis name 

 to the subscription list. 



Flirtation, 3 vols. 12mo. 1827 Some 



fault, we believe, was found with what the 

 objectors called the moral tendency of the last 

 production of the lady whose new volumes lie 

 before us. This phrase, by the way now in 

 every body's mouth is miserably abused ; 

 the tendency of a book is strictly its drift or 

 design the object it aims at the effect it 

 directly, or indirectly produces. Effects must 

 have causes and results cannot be brought 

 about without combinations here be truths, 

 we hope. Now good and evil are in the nature 

 of things, but the knowledge of them is first 

 discovered by experience, and then admitted 

 by faith ; the results are recorded, and adopted 

 or neglected, according to the prudence or 

 imprudence of observers. Thus arise indivi- 

 dual maxims, and out of these, eventually, 

 the universal one, that vice brings its own 

 sting, and virtue its own blessing. But, 

 then, surely not for this is every descrip- 

 tion of what is base or indelicate, to be 

 forthwith set down as so much precept, such 

 description is often essential to exhibit what 

 is termed, and rightly termed, natural justice, 

 with any perspicuity and satisfaction. It is 

 not enough to tell the inexperienced, that vice 

 meets with its sure retribution the steps 

 must be shewn by which it does so ; and how 

 these steps are to be thus shewn without details 

 is more than we can discover. No doubt, 

 limits narrow limits the narrowest compa- 

 tible with the adequate execution of the object 

 should be fixed to these descriptions ; but 

 absolutely to exclude the detail, is to preclude 

 the accomplishment of the final and moral 

 purpose. You wish to warn, and words will 

 not do without facts, the heart must be con- 

 vinced, as well as the understanding be in- 

 formed and this cannot be done without the 

 details of facts. In the tale before us, the 

 natural career of levity, through the gradations 

 of flirtation to adultery is described, not only 

 faithfully, but we should say, effectively and 

 delicately, and in no way, that we can imagine, 

 likely to make disciples or convert the con- 

 dition of an adultress into one of enviable 

 admiration. The thing is described to de- 

 nounce it ; and as if that were not enough to 

 counteract possible ill effects, an exemplar of 

 the opposite character is pourtrayed with an 

 aspect the most enchanting, and colours the 

 most attractive contrasting simplicity with 

 affectation, feeling with frivolity, and nature 

 with art the fulfilment of all moral and social 

 duties with the utter neglect of them, in the 

 pursuit of admiration at the price of credit and 

 respect. 



For our parts, the last objection we should 

 dream of would be any evil tendency. In 

 our eyes the tale is marked what we rarely 

 find in female novelist* by a lady's senti- 

 ments by the qualities which distinguish a 

 lady's conversation the absence of coarse 

 allusions, and of all familiarity, at least, with 

 forbidden topics. The moral tone of the whole 



is lofty, and its standard of moral excellence 

 high. As a composition too, the execution 

 is easy and natural, occasionally betraying, 

 perhaps, a leaning towards finery, and an 

 effort at poetry, which ends in nonsense. 

 For instance " the sky-larks, poised high in 

 air gave out their triumphant melody of song, 

 which, in verity, seems music that is midway 

 to heaven ; and the fresh, sweet smell of the 

 new-turned earth sent forth that steaming 

 fragrance, which forms a part of the general 

 incense with which creation gratulates the 

 Creator," which reminds us, by the way, of 

 Addison's rooks whose croakings and caw- 

 ings he terms their morning hymns of gra- 

 titude to their Maker. En revanche, however, 



may be found morsels like the following 



which may be stolen, though we know not 

 whence " for truth, they say, lies in a well, 

 and those who look for it there, generally see 

 nothing but the reflection of themselves, to- 

 gether with all their prejudices and passions, 

 and so are not a whit the nearer their object." 



As to the story, the construction has nothing 

 very remarkable about it, except the evident 

 difficulty the author found in raising embar- 

 rassments. Her hero troubles her she wishes 

 to inflict upon him the pains and penalties of 

 repentance, without giving him enough to 

 repent of. She means to shew him excellent 

 at the bottom, because she elevates her heroine 

 to a point, which would make it monstrous 

 for her to love any thing short of virtue's self. 

 Yet, to exhibit a young man of rank and for- 

 tune, with all the means and appliances of 

 luxury at command brought up too, as young 1 

 people now-a-days are made men of at an 

 age when their fathers had scarcely left the 

 nursery to exhibit such a person as not 

 tasting the joys that are spread before him in 

 tempting voluptuousness, the writer knew, lay 

 far too much out of the pale of probability, 

 and therefore she, of necessity, involves him 

 in a liaison, but one which really is so 

 little offensive to the sternest perceptions, 

 that we have a difficulty in blaming him for 

 making it, and not less for the manner of 

 breaking it though that is made the chief 

 ground of his remorse. 



To give a mere outline Lord Mowbray 

 is introduced to us on his accession to a title 

 and immense estate, preparing to attend the 

 funeral of his deceased relative, in the family 

 vault, at the family castle. He appears a 

 little moody, and distrait, and occasionally a 

 sentiment breaks from him of a weariness of 

 life, and want of object, with dark hints that 

 lead us to anticipate some darker crime. 

 While residing at the castle, and superin- 

 tending repairs, he one day meets with a 

 lady on horseback, whose hat the wind has 

 blown off, which he assists her in recovering. 

 She is, of course, young, blooming, and beau- 

 tiful ; but she is off, and out of sight as rapidly 

 as a spirited horse can carry her. All inquiries 

 about her are useless, though made by a P'rench 

 valet, and he very soon forgets her almost. 

 Every day getting worse rather than better, as 



