166 Romances and Novels. 



very few works more calculated to corrupt both 

 the taste and the morals. That a man who bore 

 the sacred office should employ his talents in re- 

 commending a* system of libertinism; that he who 

 could so well delineate the pleasures of benevo- 

 lence and purity, should so grossly offend against 

 both; and that volumes which abound with such 

 professions of exalted philanthropy, should con- 

 tain so many pages on which a virtuous mind can- 

 not look but with disgust and indignation, are 

 facts more atrociously and disgracefully criminal 

 than the ordinary language of reprobation is able 

 to reach™ 



The last age is also distinguished by some pro- 

 ductions of a singular kind, partaking of the ex- 

 travagance of the ancient Romance, with some of 

 the attributes of the modern Novel. The Castle of 

 Otranto, by Lord Orford, better known by the 

 name of Horace Walpole, was one of the earliest 

 and most remarkable productions of this kind. 

 To the same class, though in many respects differ- 

 ent, belong the works of Mrs. Radcliffe. This 

 lady has formed for herself a department of fiction 

 which may be called new. She has been justly 

 styled " the Shakspeare of romance writers," 

 and displays a skill altogether unrivalled " in com- 

 municating terrific impressions from imaginary 

 causes." But it is a remarkable peculiarity of her 

 narratives, and greatly augments her title to praise, 

 that, while the scenes which she exhibits abound 

 with wildness and terror, yet they are so softened 



iv " What is called sentimental writing," says Horace Walpoie, 

 " though it be understood to appeal solely to the heart, may be the pro- 

 duct of a very bad one. One would imagine that Sterne had been a 

 man of a very tender heart; yet T know, from indubitable authority, that 

 his mother, who kept a school, having run in debt, on account of an extra- 

 vagant daughter, would have rotted in jail if the parents of her scholars 

 had not raised a subscription for her. Her son had too much sentiment 

 to have any feeling. A dead ass was more important to him than a living 

 mother." Wal^oliar.a^ vol. i. 



