that critics need not be ashamed of recurring to novels for amusement are points with us long since decided; and it is owing only to th light or trifling performances of this sort, which are scattered every where in profusion, that a composition, where there is room for the full display of ingenuity and taste, hath been treated, of late years, with marked neglect.

How far the merits of Sophia St. Clare may tend to reclaim the honours of her degraded sisterhood, must now be the subject of con sideration.

We shall not abridge the story, as this would damp the curiosity of the reader; but we scruple not to declare our opinion, that it is ex tremely well told. Possibly we may trace, in one or two of our cele brated novels, some similarities which, in a few instances, should seem to detract from the credit of originality. The picture of the nunnery and the nuns has little novelty to recommend it. But its character is-nature and truth. In "Sophia St. Clare," however, we have several incidents and situations which are equally new and e striking. We were highly pleased with vol. ii. pp. 120-152. These pages are written with a masterly hand, and, of these, we give an extract; premising, that the Countess de Lusignan was the rival of Sophia in the affections of Lusignan.

"Sophia was the prisoner of the jealous Countess in a solitary castle. I have met with an adventure,' says Sophia; at the other end of the gallery is a small closet furnished with books and paintings-I was reading there in the Lusiad of Camoëns-and I had sunk into a melancholy reverie. A faint sound drew my attention. Looking up I saw a lady, who had just entered, and stood earnestly gazing at me. She saluted me with politeness; but her manner betrayed confusion and embarrassment. I left the closet; but the lady followed me to my apartment, and entered into conversation. I found my situation was known to her; and she acknowledged having sought an opportunity of speaking to me. ing my guest more attentively, I thought her extremely beautiful. She was pale and rather thin; but her eyes sparkled with uncommon lustre, and seemed by their penetrating glances to read into the soul. An air of melancholy dignity was spread over her whole person; and her voice sweet, yet mournful, touched the heart insensibly. There are inhabitants in the castle,' said she, you little suspect. Struck by her manner, I inquired what she meant. Promise me, then,' said the lady, your friendship and confidence. You forget," said I, smiling, "that friendship is not voluntary; whether you shall possess mine, depends more upon you than myself." "I have again seen the strange ladythe moment she entered, she ran and embraced me. I could not return her embrace. There was a wildness in her looks that shocked me. Her eyes had a lustre in them which it was even painful to support. At last she took my hand-" You must not wonder at the attachment I have conceived for you. You strongly resemble a sister, whom I tenderly loved. -Poor Elinor! she loved a man who was engaged to another lady. That proud woman, secure of her lover's affection, did not feel the less resentment towards one who presumed to be her rival. My poor sister

felt

elt its effects but too cruelly-she died by poison.' One idea seemed to occupy her mind that some danger threatened me, from the people who live in the castle. But the Countess," said I, "would not sanction an act of guilt-she cannot, surely, aim at my life." The Countess is violent, and hates you,' answered she, in a tone of suppressed emotion. 'Yet are there means of escape. I will conduct you to a convent near the castle, by a private passage which is known only to myself. The abbess is my friend, and will protect us both.' She came at the appointed time, provided with a lantern and a lamp, and was eager to depart. We left the apartment by a private door, and passed along several galleries to a small staircase, which we descended, and went out of the castle through a postern gate. We were now in a wood. The trees formed in one part a kind of recess. There lies our way,' she said, and advancing groped with difficulty through the thick foliage. At last we came to an ancient building; a door stood wide open: we passed through, and She shut the door with violence, and taking a entered a lofty avenue. key from her pocket, locked it and drew several bolts. She hurried on, and I was obliged to follow, or be left in darkness. At the end of the avenue she opened a small door, and discovered a chapel that seemed to be no longer used for the purposes of devotion. As I walked slowly along the aisle, I saw every where round me the emblems of death.-I saw, how all things human end; and my past misfortunes appeared to me, at that moment, like the fading images of a dream, soon to be forgotten!Leaving the chapel, we came to a low passage, and went down a flight of steps to another avenue, dark and lofty like the former. To my repeated inquiries, Whither we were going? she replied- That we should soon be with the nuns.' The avenue, winding in a circular direction, extended to a great length; vaulted underneath, it returned our footsteps in hollow echoes. Lost in gloomy abstraction, she seemed no longer to We descended another flight of steps. hear me when I spoke to her. Here, her emotion increased-she shook from head to foot, and leaned for support on a pillar. Alarmed, I seized her arm, and inquired whether she was ill? She made no reply. We were now under an arch, leading to a kind of dome; I stopped there, and protested I would go no further. You need not,' said she, we are arrived.' She then turned and looked at me-Holy angels! can I ever forget that look. Easy dupe,' said she, and at last my victim! I am the wife of Lusignan !'"'

The catastrophe is no other than we had reason to expect. Had the story ended happily, the moral would have been lost.

With respect to the characters, their prototypes may be frequently The nuns, Theresa and Urdiscovered in other novels or romances. sula, and Agatha, and Father Nicholas, are but faint reflections from some of the same name (if we recollect rightly), in Mrs. Radcliffe's Italian; and many of Mrs. Radcliffe's personages are here exhibited with their very attitudes and air. Witness-"A figure gliding past "A female figure emerging from me through the grove," [i. 30]. the wood;" [31]. "I heard a deep sigh near me-the figure again "The eyes of Father Nicholas glided away in silence;" [41]. flashed fire;" [72]. The character of Lusignan is ably supported;

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so is that of our heroine. Nor does her jealous rival act at all in-
consistently with herself. But the canvas is not sufficiently extensive
for an interesting exhibition of varied and discriminated characters.

We have now to perform the more agreeable part of our task, which is to bestow almost unqualified praise. For we declare, that not one sentiment has occurred to us any way exceptionable; and that the style and language are infinitely superior, not only to those of common novels, but of many which are read as the first productions of the day. In Letter vi. Sophia says:

"Here, in this solitude, no tyranny disturbs my quiet. I picture to myself serene days, unbroken retirement, an easy solitude. Nor let your gentle heart regret the sacrifice of my youth. The fair blossom of my hopes is already blighted. The chill breath of adversity has withered my prime, and I offer at the altar a poor and joyless heart. I thought of the world, such as it appears to the fortunate-its gay deceptions, its animating pursuits; the pleasures that sweeten, and the arts that adorn it

the kind affections, the amiable sympathies, benevolenee, friendship, gratitude; a sensation like envy arose in my bosom; and I hastened to reverse the picture. I contemplated the dark side of human life-the misfortunes that harass the virtuous, and the furies that haunt the guilty. To these I opposed the convent's silent scene. To the world, I shall in effect live no more. But that night of oblivion, that shadow of death, will not extinguish human sensibilities, human passions."-(P. 20, 21, 22).

The following are the sentiments of a highly cultivated mind, expressed with force and elegance,

"Common minds can never taste the extreme of wretchedness: they know not the struggle of the soul-what it is to live, and breathe despair."-(P. 29).

"The pride of philosophy suffers some diminution, when we consider the immense distance between that progress of intellect [which] imagina, tion conceives, and what we are really capable of attaining. The gran. deur and sublimity of those laws of the universe, which our reason strives in vain to penetrate, form a striking contrast to human misery and insignificance. Moralists declaim on the vanity of our passions; but, I be lieve, we seldom commit so many errors as in the pursuit of truth, or the idea which we are disposed to fancy such. We quit the plain path to be. wilder ourselves in the mazes of opinion; we sacrifice health and ease in the pursuit, and in what does it all terminate-in vague belief, uncer. tainty, chimera?"-(P. 164, 165).

The author, we suspect from her frequent allusions to dreams, is a little superstitious on this subject. In the language there are a few trivial errors, or inaccuracies; but, on the whole, we sincerely think the composition before us entitled to great commendation.-After having said so much of the performance, abstractedly from every consideration of the author, we should, in compliment to the "fair unknown," who (we are told) is a young lady, and just entering

upon

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upon her noviciate in literature," rise still higher in our strain of applause. We shall only add, however, that in the above specimens (which are neither the best nor the worst passages of the work), our readers will probably perceive, with ourselves, the promise of future excellence.

The Annual Register: or, A View of the History, Politics, and Literature, for the Year 1793. 8vo. PP. 1046. Rivingtons. 1806.

WE have long lamented the delay which has taken place in the appearance of this valuable production, the fame of which has been long established; that delay has given rise to attempts to substitute others in its place-attempts which have, no doubt, been attended with partial success in this news-loving age, in which novelty is so frequently accepted in the place of excellence, and regularity allowed to compensate for the absence of merit. But, if the Editors persevere in the same plan which they have pursued in the volume before us, if they allot an equal portion of subsequent volumes to historical details, and if they take as much care in the selection of materials, and in the composition of their narratives, as are manifest here; they neither need shrink from comparison, nor dread competition. Upwards of 400 pages are devoted to The History of Europe, comprehending a most interesting and important period, from the month, of August 1792, to the close of the following campaign. It is written with ease and elegance of style-that essential requisite in historical composition, the lucidus ordo, is uniformly preserved; an impartial spirit is displayed throughout, and much pains have been evidently taken, and much skill and judgment exercised, in separating facts from the mass of fiction in which they were involved. It is, in short, by much the best history of that period which has yet appeared. To us, who know what immense labour must have been undergone in the perusal of revolutionary tracts, and in separating the wheat from the chaff, before materials for a regular and methodical narrative could possibly be collected, the merit of the writer appears of a very superior cast.

"The volume now offered to the public," says the author in his Preface,brings to a close that important part of the history of the French Revolution, which induced us to depart from the general plan of this work, and enter into details of wider research and more circumstantial narrative, than the civil transactions of a foreign country can, in the ordinary course of events, be permitted to demand in such a publication. The remaining struggles of the Girondists with the Jacobins, from their overthrow of the Monarchy to their own political defeat and destruction, a short but busy interval, are here faithfully traced and illustrated. They make much of the bulk of the present volume. We have already, on a former occasion, fairly submitted to our readers, the motives which persuaded us to impose on ourselves a task of so much increased labour and difficulty ;

of

of a nature too, which was never likely to compensate in reputation, the rains bestowed to make it useful. But, since the date of our last Preface, the existing Governor of France has given a new interest to this period. He has, in a manner, immediately connected himself and his cause with the short-lived rulers of that day. In revising the decrees against emigration, the line of supposed criminality and innocence has been drawn at the precise epoch of the fall of Brissot and his faction. Up to that moment it is considered, that there was a legi imate and protecting government in the country: from that time all is regarded as a frightful chasm, till the asserted restoration of social order and domestic security under the Consulate. He seems also to have adopted the principle of their foreign policy, as it will be seen stated in the beginning of our sixth chapter, with this single exception, that as he has substituted an imperial despotism for the name of republican liberty and equality, instead of confederate democracies he has surrounded France with dependent Monarchies of his own creation.

"Another question on which we have endeavoured to throw the fullest light, is that of the fact of aggression in the late war declared against this Country by France. For the party which, by appealing first to the decision of arms, is in form the aggressor, is not always such in essence and in reality. Here, however, we trust that we have satisfactorily vindicated the justice of the British Nation. We have, indeed, been anticipated in the mean time by a very able and accurate writer, the Rev. Herbert Marsh, who has published an entire work on this subject. If we have not quoted his authority, it has not been from any affectation of dissembling our very high opinion of his merit; but in truth our readerswill perceive, that a very great part of our materials had been already prepared in the Chronicle and State Papers of the last volume, which he has himself used perhaps a little more largely than he has always thought it worth while to particularize; and the collection of the other documents of the same kind, in the present volume, had been not only made, but was in part actually printed, before his Essay appeared. For the rest, it will be found, we believe, that we have added, from our own sources of information (some of which we before incidentally pointed out for other purposes), several very important circumstances and facts which had escaped even his diligence.

"No good account has hitherto been given of the operations of the armies in the early part of the war. Such as could be obtained, have been carefully compared, and are here combined in a succinct, but, it is hoped, a clearer and more systematic view, than has yet been presented of the same events. The gallant, heroic, and for a time, the successful stand made by the loyal gentry and peasantry in various quarters of France, are reserved entire for the following volume, which has been some time in the press.

"On all these main branches of our historical narrative, it is confidently expected, that our readers will now receive, in the more perfect execution of the work, some consolation for the disappointments which they so repeatedly suffered, and so candidly and liberally overlooked in the time of its publication."

We have already declared our opinion, that the public will find ample