Contemporary Authors , No. XI.—Miss Edgeworth. 501 
1822 .] 
As a play-writer she has been much 
less successful, though encouraged to 
that department of literature by no less 
a judge than Sheridan. The “ Comic 
Dramas” do not please in the closet, 
and their fate would not perhaps be 
more fortunate on the stage. But Miss 
Edgeworth has little reason to repine ; 
for by a decree of the muses of ancient 
date, the callings of dramatist and no¬ 
velist seem to be incompatible in one 
mind. Excellence in the one almost 
ensures mediocrity in the other. They 
demand, in fact, very opposite powers; 
requiring, in the one instance, condens¬ 
ation of incident and character—in the 
other, expansion. Fielding is the only 
novel-writer who has had any material 
countenance as a play-wright; so little, 
indeed, that in the latter capacity he is 
nearly forgotten. 
• There is, however, a met it of this 
lady, not yet noticed, we believe, by the 
public or her friends, but which to the 
lovers of novel-reading is no ordinary 
one—that of having drawn forth the 
author of Waverly. If this affects his 
claim to originality of design, it is, at 
least, no discredit to follow the foot¬ 
steps of Miss Edgeworth. She is the 
undoubted founder and finisher of that 
species of novel which introduces us to 
the peculiarities of a whole people. 
Miss Owenson powerfully seconded the 
attempt; both long precede the Scot¬ 
tish writer as to time; and both had 
brought Ireland and Irishmen into fa¬ 
shion, when he at length started up to 
perform the same good offices for his 
countrymen. He has, certainly not 
from poverty of genius, imitated the 
former lady closely, not merely in the 
general subject, but even in arrange¬ 
ment ; for he, too, tired of writing long 
stories, turned his attention, like her, to 
tales. The fact is remarkable. In 
many of the incidents there is likewise 
no small resemblance. A striking one 
of an Irish nobleman conceiviug it bet¬ 
ter to set fire to his mansion at once, 
than to receive an expensive party of 
visitors, is adopted in effect in the 
“ Bride of Lammermoor.” The whole 
of the scenes in and about the dilapi¬ 
dated castle of the “ Master of Ravens- 
wood,” are familiar to the reader in 
the pages of u The Wild Irish Girl” 
and * 4 O’Donnell,” in the luined habi¬ 
tations, faithful attendants, and family 
pride of their principal personages. 
Miss Edgeworth and her unknown 
pupil, though of various merits, have no 
reason to be ashamed of each other. 
The latter, in variety of powers, may 
excel his mistress ; but the chief claims 
of both to public favour, are grounded 
on the delineation of national character. 
On this point it would be difficult to 
say which has the superiority. He 
writes currente calamo ; she with more 
caution and deliberation; he is rapid 
and overwhelming; she more slow, 
minute, and accurate; he throws off 
his pages carelessly, seemingly secure 
of their being well received by the pre¬ 
sent generation, whatever they may be 
by the next; she appears to have her 
eye more steadily bent on futurity. He 
possesses greater powers of imagination 
and displays more stores of knowledge. 
He deals continually in the bold, the 
glowing, and the impassioned ; but 
after all, the scenes incessantly trench 
on the improbable, and the characters, 
striking as they are, seem too highly 
coloured. We see in them something 
beyond the common qualifications of 
men—too brave, too witty, too learned, 
too shrewd, too adventurous, too wick¬ 
ed, too good—too much, in short, the 
characters of a novel to be mistaken 
for nature; yet all so admirably done , 
that it is difficult to find fault with 
what is productive of so much amuse¬ 
ment. 
Miss Edgeworth, with a more cau¬ 
tious, perhaps less vigorous pen—and 
bold pens commonly get most into such 
scrapes—has in great measure avoided 
these extremes. She has not risked so 
much, and consequently failed less. 
Her personages are seldom overcharged 
in the drawing: they are less prurient, 
sometimes less entertaining, but cer¬ 
tainly more chaste in the keeping, than 
those of the great master of Scottish 
manners. She has gone into the actual 
—not ideal, world, to sketch persons 
whom we have met with there in gene¬ 
ral intercourse, and know again imme¬ 
diately on seeing thus exhibited. Like 
some of the paintings of the Dutch 
masters, if they are in themselves some¬ 
what ludicrous or singular, they are at 
least not caricatured. 
The unknown author having tickled 
the public into singular admiration, 
and desirous (very justifiably) to pursue 
for profit what he perhaps commenced 
for amusement, has been compelled to 
seek other game. Being rather hard 
run for incidents and personages to 
furnish a good story for the supply of 
the market, he necessarily draws from 
imagination what observation cannot 
supply. He takes a wider range in the 
world* 
