whole story is told in letters, it strikes us | there is no touch of natural life in it from as being as impossible as it is cumbersome. beginning to end. The least critical reader knows that the Clarissa Harlowe is the daughter of a writing of such letters must have been im- wealthy gentleman, and is one of a possible. The twenty-four hours of the large and united family, with whom, up to day were not long enough for the transcrib- the period at which the story begins, she ing of all the words which men and women was loved, not only in family amity, but as are supposed to have thrown into their let- a favoured one, a pet, and an idol. She ters, written, - say, between Monday and has father, mother, brother, sister, and two Tuesday morning. Mr. Dallas will proba- uncles who have all adored her; and she bly tell us that if the letters so written be has had a grandfather who has left to her a in themselves charming, this inconsistency large fortune. She has also a friend, Miss should be held to be venial. Even with Howe, who worships her; and she has two this we cannot agree. The reader feels that lovers, one, the notorious Lovelace, who there is a trespass made upon his judgment is the villain of the book; and the other, when he is asked to accept that as true one Solmes, who is the object of her early which he feels to have been impossible. disgust. Of these two lovers, the first has But independently of that, letters so written managed to get himself refused by Clarissa's must in themselves be prolix, -prolix, sister, who is, nevertheless, frightfully jeal though a week were allowed for the writing ous when the lover transfers himself to of them. When two or three prolix letters Clarissa. The other is favoured by all the have given accounts, equally prolix, of the Harlowe family, as being one who will not same circumstance, Mr. Dallas has been give trouble, either by profligacy or in moable to omit one or two of the number; and ney matters. Clarissa, of course, loves the reader is so far spared. But the ques-Lovelace, though, throughout the whole tion should be one, not of sparing, but of delight; and a story told with prolixity is not delightful even when told but once.

We will attempt very shortly to analyse the story of " Clarissa," and to show, in doing so, that its faults, independently of its prolixity, are such as to forbid its ever being restored to general popularity. We will begin by admitting that the tale possesses in the highest degree the highest merit which a work of prose fiction can possess. It is pre-eminently pathetic. They who can make their way through it, and, even in the three volume form in which Mr. Dallas has given it to us, it is about twice as long as an ordinary novel, will find that their feelings are harrowed by the sufferings of the heroine, and that their indignation is stirred by the iniquity of the chief transgressor. Such cruel usage, and borne with such angelic heroism, — such barbarity, and planned with such devilish art, is not perhaps to be found in the whole range of novels with which our shelves and those of our circulating libraries are laden. And this great virtue belongs admittedly and of tradition so absolutely to "Clarissa," that its existence is in itself the strongest proof of the faults of the book in other respects. There is no virtue in novels so generally in demand as the virtue of pathos; and yet, though the existence of this virtue in "Clarissa" is admitted on all hands, although it has become an acknowledged fact in literature, neither men nor women will read it. They will not read it, because

with

story, so much is never admitted by her, — and protests loudly that she will have nothing to say to Solmes. Then the whole family go to work to force her to marry the man she hates, and make scruple of no tyranny to drive her to compliance. Her brother and her sister become fiends of malice. Her father removes himself away as an offended god, but as a god who knows no mercy; and her uncles are stormy, cruel, and devilish. Clarissa, in the meantime, manages to keep up a correspondence Lovelace, and at last elopes with him. Up to this point the mind of the reader is solely intent on getting on with his work. The whole story is told in letters, chiefly, up to this point, passing between Clarissa and her friend, Miss Howe. The minutest details are told, but all these details are unnatural. There is not a letter among them that any girl could have written in any age. Anna Howe herself is detestable. She has a respectable lover, whom she marries at last, and in respect of whom her letters are full of the most absurd abuse. She relates to her friend all her ill-treatment of this lover, down to the very words she uses. Yet not once does she profess affection for him. And yet she marries him. In depicting Anna Howe and her lover, Richardson has intended to be humorous, but even Mr. Dallas will not, we think, break a lance is defence of his author's humour. And, in describing the manner in which Anna Howe did get married and Clarissa Harlowe did not, Richardson has adhered to his stif

ungainly, puritanical idea as to women, that a woman till she is married should be ashamed ever to own that she loves. We may be told that such was the idea among well brought-up women of the time: but we venture to assert that the poetry, plays, and tales of the day tell us that this was not so; and that women then, if less demonstrative, and therefore less natural than now, were still known to speak their minds. Richardson desired to teach virtue as he saw it; and, in doing so, has repudiated all human nature, -as is done by so many who, in these days, endeavour to teach us virtue in godly but false little books, about godly Lat false little people.

comes most intricate, but the letters which tell the plot are continued throughout, and are so written that the reader is never for a moment permitted to feel that his story is being told to him by the person who should tell it. That young ladies should be laborious, persistent, and long-winded in their letters to their friends, is perhaps an idea so well established in the minds of novel readers, as to make it seem possible that eight or ten hours a day should be devoted to the purpose; but when young men about town, gay rakes, fellows who fight, and drink, and gamble, and notoriously spend their hours in the pursuit of pleasure, - when such as these are found to cover quires of paper daily, not only with their own productions to their own correspondents, but in copying them to send to others, and in copying the production of others to send to their correspondents, the patience of the reader gives way, and he feels that too much is demanded of him.

We may here point out the impracticability of telling, by means of letters between Correspondents, a story in which the details of life are to be given and the intricacies of a wide plot evolved. Novelists who have attempted this have usually begun their work with epistles which might possibly have been written, -with letters which as Clarissa elopes, and after various advenletters are not altogether absurd, - with tures with her lover, is taken to a house of simple statements of facts and expressions ill fame, and is there detained a prisoner of feeling and opinion, of wishes and fears; by Lovelace with the aid of a bevy of vile but they have invariably found themselves women, and by the assistance outside of driven to use the straitened form of narra- men as vile. In arranging this, Richardson tive with which they have provided them- has been forced to continue intricacies of selves in a manner of which epistolary cor- plot so minute, so detailed, so dove-tailed, respondence can know no real example, re- as to create continually the feeling of impeating whole conversations, and, on occa- possibility. Letters go astray, and don't sions, conversations which have reached the go astray, get into wrong hands, and into writer second-hand, heaping letter upon let- right hands, with equal improbability. A ter, one after another in the same day, and diplomate in the old days of diplomacy presuming at last that the writers of them cozening all Europe, a Talleyrand or a wrote as though they themselves were in- Metternich carrying out a scheme for imtentionally fabricating the novel which has posing or deposing an emperor, were as to be given to the public. Scott tried this nothing in intrigue to Lovelace managing mode of structure in " Redgauntlet," and the ruin of a young woman, whom, to do Scott failed. In this novel the great master him justice, he is generally quite ready to radually escapes from the narrow confines marry, and who has eloped with him clearly of familiar epistles to the still cramped mode with the purpose of marrying him. Plot of a diary, and from that to a narrative, thickens upon plot. Forgery, perjury, with which he ends his story; and even rape, and murder are executed or proposed with this resource ends a story that has with the freest volubility; and to every been spoilt in the telling. "Evelina" is such crime, or scheme for crime, women of perhaps the best instance we have of a novel the town, domestic servants, and ruffians told by letters; and this is so, not because hired for the occasion, are made privy with the letters are at all natural, but because no compunction. There could have been Miss Burney in concocting them has thrown no law in the land, and yet Richardson is over all idea of fashioning the letters to the writing of the reign of George II. It is minds and natural language of the writers, known to her friends that Clarissa is in the and has allowed herself to write them as hands of a villain; it is even known durthough she herself had forgotten her own ing the story that she is with villainous trammels. When the reader comes to women; but no one comes to help her. "Evelina in continuation," it is to him sim- Her devoted Anna Howe writes letters by ply the beginning of a new chapter. But the dozen, but never appears on the scene, Richardson has provided for himself no such even when she hears the whole story of her refuge from his difficulty as was found either friend's tragedy. During the greater porby Miss Burney or by Scott. The plot be- tion of this part of the book the reader

order that the labour may be over. Through- men have changed. The novels of the out the story there is no one to love or sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are even to like, save only Clarissa. The per- now absolutely unreadable by us, and we sonages with whom the reader will become do not think that any abridgment would acquainted are for the most part either make them pleasant to us. Those of the gloomy and tyrannical, or vicious and abom- eighteenth stand their ground with a cerinable. And with Clarissa herself the read-tain amount of life. We have acknowler forms no pleasant acquaintance. She edged that men desire to have Richardson never smiles, and we must admit, indeed, on their shelves, and almost persuade themthat she has little reason for smiling. She selves that they have read " Sir Charles. is always among wretches, and from first Grandison." But no force from the outto last we never see what Clarissa would side will draw people back upon them. We have been with pleasant friends around her, do not think much of the admiration of or with a lover whom she loved. Main- Diderot, of Scott, or of Macaulay, as extained misery may please through a short pressed for Richardson. The enthusiasm story; but the world of readers is averse of an individual, let him be who he may, or to being steeped in wretchedness through a the enthusiasm of a certain hour in that inlong series of volumes. dividual's life, is but slender proof of the excellence of anything. If we found that the volumes of Richardson were frequently taken down from our shelves, that the booksellers dealt in them widely, and that the novels were sold at the railway stores for a shilling apiece, we should think more of such evidence than of that of the GovernorGeneral, and Secretary, and Commanderin-chief in India, with their wives and families, as given by Macaulay to Thackeray in the drawing-room of the Athenæum. But we will not close these remarks, widely opposed as they are to the views of Mr. Dallas, without again expressing our admiration for the literary zeal of an Editor who has been willing to give so much labour and time to an old tale, simply because it

It has not been so much our intention to criticise Richardson's story, which as we have said, is indeed an old tale, as to call in question the conclusion of Mr. Dallas with the view of inquiring whether that which he has done will resuscitate a lost popularity. When Richardson wrote novels were scarce, and of those which were written few were deemed to be fit reading for young and modest women. That "Clarissa" should have been so esteemed somewhat astonishes us, as in no novel that we know is a fouler brood of low characters | introduced than in "Clarissa; but the moral teaching was supposed to be good, and the book was undoubtedly accepted. As we look back to the literature of past ages we see that the tastes of men and wo-has moved him deeply.

CHILDREN ABROAD.

lake, and I proposed to take the little girl, for
whose loneliness I could not help feeling a good
deal of pity, on the water.
She would like very
much to go, but she could not leave Minnie. As
I could not bear to deprive my little friend of
what was evidently a great pleasure, I asked
whether Minnie would be good, and having re-
ceived the elder sister's promise that she would,
I suggested taking her too, though an unknown
child of five in a boat is rather anxious work.
Minnie was perfectly good, and we returned in
safety.

[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] SIR,-I am reminded by your article on the children whom one meets with on the Continent of an American family whom I met with in a pension on the Lake of Geneva, where I spent two days. The party consisted of a girl of about twelve and two younger children; they had no nurse or servant. The eldest girl was left in charge, while the father and mother were, I believe, making a tour in Switzerland for a fortnight. I did not hear that any express cause had taken them away. The little girl's manage- I have often thought since of the eldest girl. ment of the younger ones was such as many a I wonder whether hers is an exceptional case, or mother might have envied. The boy and an- whether there are many American children like other little boy had been out playing till after her. The strange and, to English ideas, preposdinner was ready, and rushed in while we were terous notion of leaving a girl of twelve without at table. One of the young culprits was adjured any elder friend, and without any special recomby his mother several times in persuasive, drawl-mendation to the mistress of the pension, did not ing tones, "Do brush your hair, Tommy, you're surprise me more than the manner of the little not fit to be seen, do go and brush it." When girl herself, gentle, childlike, unassuming to the other appeared his sister said very gently, strangers; very gentle yet very decided to the "You have forgotten to brush your hair, Char-younger ones; staid and quiet she naturally was, lie, you cannot sit down to table so," and Char- but there was not a particle of self-conceit, or lie was off to make himself tidy. presumption, or self-sufficiency in her bearing.— In the evening we were going for a row on the I am, Sir, &c.,

E. G. T. F.

From The Saturday Review.
NATIONALITY AND RELIGION.

become identified with it, they have made it as it were part of their national being, though it has been first preached to them by men of some other race, and though its tenets have been such as, before the event, they might have been expected to cast aside with disdain.

ject it. We say most obstinately, because they reject Christianity while having better opportunities than idolaters, or even than WE supported, in an article a little time | Mahometans, of knowing what Christianity back, the doctrine set forth by Lord Ma- really is. The vast mass of Christians have caulay, Dean Milman, and others, that the no sort of ethnical kindred with the first Reformation of the sixteenth century was converts of Galilee and Jerusalem. They essentially a Teutonic movement. We are the descendants of men who worshipped showed how the reformed doctrines had Zeus, Jupiter, Woden, and the less famous been accepted by the great bulk of the Teu-Gods of those lesser nations which seem a tonic nations of Europe, and by very few sort of appendage to Greeks, Romans, and besides the Teutonic nations. We argued Teutons. In this case, and in many others, also that the acceptance of the Reformation nations have adopted a religion, they have by the Teutonic nations, by England above all, was owing to a certain conformity in its doctrines, and still more in the political incidents of those doctrines, with the national character of those nations, and with the circumstances of their former history. To us islanders above all, a system which called for no submission to a foreign Power, which allowed us to develop our insular feelings to their fullest growth, was naturally acceptable above all others. But we purposely kept ourselves from pointing out, fest we should be drawn away too far from our proper subject, that this phenomenon, according to which Teuton and Protestant are, in modern Europe, names which are all but interchangeable, is only one example of a large class of phenomena of the same kind to be remarked in all times and countries of the world. We leave it to divines and philosophers to explain the fact, but the fact itself is beyond doubt, that certain forms of religion do commend themselves in a special way to men of certain races, that they seem, as it were, better suited to their national character and circumstances, that they embrace them more readily and carry them out with greater zeal. We design nothing beyond a plain statement of historical facts; and we do not flatter ourselves that we are going to put forward anything that is at all new.

Some religions again, and some particular forms of the same religion, seem more easi ly to allow the free development of national life than others. The identification of nationality and religion reached its extreme point among the ancient Hebrews. Judaism was, simply and solely, the religion of the Hebrew nation. The Jew was ready to make proselytes, but such proselytes were called on to become Jews. The worshipper of the God of Abraham was to become, as far as adoption could make him, a son of Abraham. Mahometanism again is essentially a proselytizing religion: it is of its very life and being to be so. Now Mahometanism does not indeed require men to become Arabs, as Judaism requires men to become Jews; but it seems, when left to itself, to bring all its converts, as far as may be, to a certain level of national be ing. It seems to raise them to a certain point, and to keep them from rising above a certain point. It seems to stereotype a certain social and political state as its unBut a collec-conscious ideal. And, if it has not made all men Arabs, it has carried the Arabic language everywhere with it; the speech of the Koran has in some Mahometan countries displaced the native speech of the people, and in others it has been largely mingled with it. Comparing again Eastern and Western Europe, it is plain that in the East nationality and religion become identified in a way in which they do not in the West, A French Protestant is still a Frenchman; an English Roman Catholic is still an Eng lishman; nay, we have found out that even the Jew may, if he chooses, be admitted to civil, political, and social equality with the Christian of either Church. It clearly s not so in the East. Greek, Turk, Jew, Armenian, are words which express reli

tion of facts, however well known, plainly stated and put into their right relation to one another, is often of great use. It is of special use on this sort of subject, on which men's ideas are often greatly confused, led away in many cases by mere misunderstandings of nomenclature and historical geography.

One thing must specially be marked at starting, that the religion which history shows best to suit a particular nation is by no means always the immemorial faith of that nation, or even a faith which has had its origin among that nation. One example, the greatest of all, is enough. Christianity is of Jewish origin, but the Jews are just the people who most obstinately re