from the story, a large element of the interest is in the sentiments uttered, in motives of action rather than modes.

We could wish that his characters were less circumspect, less calculating, less conscious. They preach too much. Pamela is a little too tame, Clarissa almost too heavenly. Sir Charles is proper as a wax figure -he never did a mean thing, nor made a wrong gesture. But we must not forget that idealization was Richardson's real excellence, as it was his necessity.

Character. As a writer he possessed original genius. He held in his hand almost all the moving strings of humanity, and made them vibrate in harmony. In the duties of morality and piety, regular and exemplary. Conscience, with its auxiliaries, religion, law, education, proprieties, was an armed sentinal guarding the way of life. Gentle, benevolent, and-vain. His vanity grew by what it fed upon,—the flattery of female friends. He was always partial to female society. At thirteen he was the confidant of three young women; conducted their love correspondence, without betraying to one the fact that he was secretary and adviser to the others.

'As a bashful and not forward boy, I was an early favorite with all young women of taste and reading in the neighborhood. Half a dozen of them, when met to work with their needles, used, when they got a book they liked, and thought I should, to borrow me to read to them; their mothers sometimes with them; and both mothers and daughters used to be pleased with the observations they put me upon making.'

He has portrayed himself in his novels.

are characteristic:

The following sentences

The power of doing good to worthy objects is the only enviable circumstance in the lives of people of fortune.

'Nothing in human nature is so God-like as the disposition to do good to our fellowcreatures.

'A good person will rather choose to be censured for doing his duty than for a defect in it.

'Neither a learned nor a fine education is of any other value than as it tends to improve the morals of men, and to make them wise and good.

"The most durable ties of friendship are those which result from a union of minds formed upon religious principles.

'All our pursuits, from childhood to manhood, are only trifles of different sorts and sizes, proportioned to our years and views.'

(What great man, looking upon the everlasting ebb and flow of mortal things, snatching a kind of solemn joy from the giddiness which follows his gaze into the infinite, has not felt the same sense of pettiness, -that the world, at best, is but a melancholy place, full of wasted purposes and fading images?)

'A good woman is one of the greatest glories of the creation.

'It is a most improving exercise, as well with regard to style as to morals, to accustom ourselves early to write down everything of monent that befalls us.

"There is a docile season, a learning-time in youth, which, suffered to elapse, and no foundation laid, seldom returns.'

Influence. When a man of ideas is a good man, and uses his strength for a noble purpose, he carries out the great idea of God,-idealizes and beautifies life; multiplies humanity, justice, love, piety; increases the desire for excellence of manhood, of womanhood; and the powers of goodness which he sets afloat, go on with the irresistible gravitation of the universe, for the Infinite is behind them. The ethical novelist is such a benefactor. He unfolds the soul of things to our eye, translates morality from the language of theory into that of practice, brings the higher and lower principles of action into striking antithesis, and prompts our affection to the good, sharpens our antipathy to the bad. Hence Pope praised the Pamela as likely to do more good than twenty volumes of sermons, and an eminent divine recommended it from the pulpit. When we consider how readers had yawned themselves to sleep over the old school of chivalric fable, with what delight they turned to this first 'romance of real life,' how fashionable circles made it the theme of their enthusiasm, we can not doubt that Richardson opened up a spring of moral health—a fountain which, beginning to flow, should never dry. Men and women looked in, became acquainted with the best things in them, saw the unsummed gold which slept unseen, saw of what manner of spirit they were, and this new light changed them. Thus old Grecian story relates how Narcissus went about among the rude, ill-mannered swains of Attica, and thought himself but one of them, till one day by accident he saw in the water a face more beautiful than Aphrodite's or Apollo's, and was astonished to learn that it was his own, and that he too belonged to the handsome kindred of the gods. Henceforth he went another man, driving the swine a-field as if he were himself a god, scorning all unseemly and all ungodly conduct.

Perhaps the vice that Richardson chose to delineate does not admit, under modern taste, the slow anatomizing with which he exposes it. Owing, also, to their prolixity and poverty of style, his works have continually decreased in popularity. So essential is excellence of form to permanence of interest.

FIELDING.

Truth to English nature, and sympathy with manly quality, perform in Fielding, to a degree, the work of morality.-Bascom.

Biography.-Born in Somersetshire 1707; educated at Eton; studied law at Leyden, but quit 'money-bound,' before completing his course; returned to England, and at twenty commenced writing for the comic

stage; had abundance of health, plunged into jovial excess, took mischances easily; married at twenty-eight, adored his wife, retired to a small estate left him by his mother, feasted, gave dinners, kept fine horses, a pack of hounds, a magnificent retinue of servants in yellow livery, and in three years spent his inheritance and his wife's fortune; speculated in the Haymarket Theatre, and failed; finished his law studies, was admitted to the Bar in 1740, but was unsuccessful; continued to write for the support of his family, engaged actively in political controversy, always maintaining liberal principles; became a magistrate, destroyed bands of robbers, and earned the 'dirtiest money upon earth;' lost his wife while they were struggling on in their worldly difficulties, was almost broken-hearted, and found no relief but in weeping, in concert with her maid-servant, for the angel they mutually regretted ;' naturally ended by marrying the maid; departed for Lisbon in the summer of 1754,* to restore his failing health, and there died on the 8th of the ensuing October. He had sown to the wind, and he reapt to the whirlwind.

Writings. Joseph Andrews (1742), conceived with the design of turning Pamela into ridicule. Joseph is Pamela's brother, and resists the advances of his mistress, as Pemela had resisted those of her master. Pemela herself is degraded from her moral elevation, and is represented as Lady Booby, whom the parson is compelled to reprove for laughing in church. The strength of the novel is Parson Adams, who is learned, amiable, innocent. He is unsuspectingly simple, absent-minded; declares that he would willingly walk ten miles to fetch his sermon on vanity, merely to convince Wilson of his thorough contempt for the vice; consoles himself for the loss of a Greek author by suddenly recollecting that he could not read it if he had it, because it is dark. He drinks beer, smokes pipes, moralizes, and, when necessary, uses his fists with effect and relish. He is Joseph's friend, and both are models of virtue and excellence. They give and receive many cuffs, have basins flung at their heads, their clothes rent by dogs, their horse stolen, never have any money, are threatened with imprisonment; yet they go merrily on, with thick skins, keen appetites, and potent stomachs. Rude jests, tavern brawls, ludicrous situations, combine to turn the tragic of Richardson into the grotesque.

Jonathan Wild (1743); an account of a famous thief, who turns thief-catcher, and ends his career at the gallows. Its best character is

*Wednesday, June 23, 1754.-On this day the most melancholy sun I had ever beheld arose, and fouud me awake at my house at Fordhook, By the light of this sun I was, in my own opinion, last to behold and take leave of some of those creatures on whom I doted with a mother like fondness guided by nature and passion, and uncured and unhardened by all the doctrine of that philosophical school where I had learned to bear pains and to despise death.'-A Voyage to Lisbon.

the prison chaplain, who exhorts the condemned man to repent, accepts from him a bowl of punch, because it is nowhere spoken against in Scripture,' then resumes his ghostly admonitions.

Tom Jones (1749), the history of a foundling; his masterpiece. It was written during the first year of his magistrate life, and contains a vast variety of lifelike characters (most of whose faces are red), drawn chiefly from the daily experience of the police-bench. Western is a country squire, rich, fond of drink, ignorant, boorish, impatient of contradiction, and given up to every gust of passion; yet he has tenderness and tears, and when the wind changes, can be led like a child. Tom dares to fall in love with his daughter Sophy, who is 'the joy of my heart, and, all the hope and comfort of my age.' Immediately Tom must be thrashed, and Sophy shall be turned out to 'starve and rot in the streets.' She reasons, he storms; she changes her tactics to obedience and prayer-he is conquered:

'I am determined upon this match, and ha him you shall, damn me, if shat unt.' Now he can not rest till they are married:

"To her, boy, to her, go to her. That's it, little honeys, that's it. Well, what, is it all over? Hath she appointed the day, boy? What, shall it be to-morrow or next day? I shan't be put off a minute longer than next day, I am resolved. Zoodikers! she'd have the wedding to-night with all her heart. Would'st not, Sophy?'

The novel abounds in incidents and situations that are used only to bring out character. Thus, when Tom's arm is broken, Square the philosopher tries to console him by the stoical doctrine that 'pain was the most contemptible thing in the world,' but, in doing so, bites his tongue, and lets slip an oath. Again, the profound Square becomes the lover of Molly Seagrim, discovers that he was preceded by Tom Jones, who finds that he himself had succeeded to the accomplished Will Barnes, who still holds the first claim on her affections. The elder Blifil is grateful to his brother for assisting him to obtain the fortune of Miss Alworthy by marriage. A highwaymen robs Western's sister of her jewels, while he compliments her beauty. That lady appeals to her niece in pride of remembered charms, that have glided into the abyss and rearward of Time:

'I was never so handsome as you, Sophy; yet I had something of you formerly. I was called the cruel Parthenissa. Kingdoms and states, as Tully Cicero says, undergo alteration, and so must the human form!'

Partridge, of proverbial humor, engages in Latin dialogues with his maid, and during one of these is assaulted by his wife. He is Tom's faithful attendant, half barber, half schoolmaster, shrewd, yet simple as a child. He goes to the theatre for the first time, to witness the representation of Hamlet. In the account of his impressions, mark the accurate observer of human nature, and see the flesh and blood of other days:

In the first row, then, of the first gallery, did Mr. Jones, Mrs. Miller, her youngest daughter, and Partridge, take their places. Partridge immediately declared it was the finest place he had ever been in. When the first music was played, he said: 'It was a wonder how so many fiddlers could play at one time without putting one another out.' While the fellow was lighting the upper candles, he cried out to Mrs. Miller: 'Look, look, madam; the very picture of the man in the end of the common-prayer book, before the gunpowder treason service.' Nor could he help observing, with a sigh, when all the candles were lighted: 'That here were candles enough burnt in one night to keep an honest poor family for a whole twelvemonth.'

As soon as the play, which was 'Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,' began, Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence till the entrance of the ghost; upon which he asked Jones: 'What man that was in the strange dress; something' said he, 'like what I have seen in a picture. Sure it is not armour, is it?' Jones answered: "That is the ghost.' To which Partridge replied, with a smile; 'Persuade me to that, sir, if you can. Though I can't say I ever exactly saw a ghost in my life, yet I am certain I should know one, if I saw him, better than that comes to. No, no, sir; ghosts don't appear in such dresses as that neither.' In this mistake, which caused much laughter in the neighbourhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue till the scene between the ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave that credit to Mr. Garrick which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent a trembling that his knees knocked against each other. Jones asked him what was the matter, and whether he was afraid of the warrior upon the stage. 'O la! sir,' said he, 'I perceive now it is what you told me. I am not afraid of anything, for I know it is but a play, and if it was really a ghost, it could do one no harm at such a distance, and in so much company; and yet if I was frightened, I am not the only person.' 'Why, who,' cries Jones, dost thou take to be such a coward here beside thyself?' 'Nay, you may call me a coward if you will; but if that little man there upon the stage is not frightened, I never saw any man frightened in my life. Ay, ay; go along with you! Ay, to be sure! Who's fool, then? Will you? Lud have mercy upon such foolhardiness! Whatever happens, it is good enough for you. Follow you! I'd follow the devil as soon. Nay, perhaps it is the devil-for they say he can put on what likeness he pleases. Oh! here he is again. No further! No, you have gone far enough already; further than I'd have gone for all the king's dominions.' Jones offered to speak, but Partridge cried: 'Hush' hush, dear sir; don't you hear him?' And during the whole speech of the ghost, he sat with his eyes fixed partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth open; the same passions which succeeded each other in Hamlet, succeeded likewise to him.

When the scene was over, Jones said: "Why, Partridge, you exceed my expectations. You enjoy the play more than I conceived possible.' 'Nay, sir,' answered Partridge, 'if you are not afraid of the devil, I can't help it; but, to be sure, it is natural to be surprised at such things, though I know there is nothing in them: not that it was the ghost that surprised me neither; for I should have known that to have been only a man in a strange dress; but when I saw the little man so frightened himself, it was that which took hold of me.' 'And dost thou imagine then, Partridge,' cries Jones, 'that he was really frightened?' 'Nay, sir,' said Partridge, 'did not you yourself observe afterwards, when he found it was his own father's spirit, and how he was murdered in the garden, how his fear forsook him by degrees, and he was struck dumb with sorrow, as it were, just as I should have been had it been my own case. But hush! O la! what noise is that? There he is again. Well, to be certain, though I know there is nothing at all in it, I am glad I am not down yonder where those men are." Then turning his eyes again upon Hamlet: Ay, you may draw your sword; what signifies a sword against the power of the devil?'

During the second act, Partridge made very few remarks. He greatly admired the fineness of the dresses; nor could he help observing upon the king's countenance. 'Well,' said he, 'how people may be deceived by faces! Nulla fides fronti is, I find, a true saying. Who would think, by looking in the king's face, that he had ever committed a murder?' He then inquired after the ghost; but Jones who intended he should be surprised, gave him no other satisfaction than, 'that he might possibly see him again soon, and in a flash of fire.'