i^o on Smollet^s wnttngs. y^«. 25. 



I now find myself becoming insensibly prolix, but, 

 let the excellence of my subject plead my excuse. 



QUEECH. 



ON SMOLLET's NOVELS. 



To the Editor of the Bee. 



For the talent of drawing a natural and original cha- 

 racter, Dr SmoUet, of all Englilh writers, approach- 

 es nearest to a resemblance of our inimitable Shake- 

 speare. What can be more chaste, amusing, or inte- 

 resting, than Random, Trunnion, Hatchway, Lisma- 

 hago. Pallet, the pindarick physician, Tom Clarke, 

 Farmer Prickle, Strap, Clinker, Pipes, the duke of 

 Newcastle, and Timothy Crabtree ? The last is in- 

 deed a close, imitation of Sancho Pan^a, as Morgan 

 is partly borrowed from one of Shakespeare's Welfh- 

 men ; but still both are the imitations of a great mas- 

 ter, not the tame copies of a common artist. Mat- 

 thew Bramble is a most estimable portrait of a coun- 

 try gentleman ; and admirably contrasted with his 

 sister Tabby. This novel was written when its 

 author was declining both in health and fortune ; yet 

 he displays all the spirit and vivacity of Roderick 

 Random ; and in some pafsages, such as that respect- 

 ing the Smith's widow, is irresistibly pathetic. All 

 which pafses on board the Thunder, is a series of 

 almost unexampled excellence. The night scene in 

 bedlam, in Sir Launcelot Greaves, is drawn with un- 

 common force of judgement and of fancy. In the 

 same publication, the ruin of captain Clewlin and his 



