the miseries of those infinite and laborious Edgeworth, however, we think, is not in any pursuits in which persons who pretend to very imminent danger of being disabled by be fasionable consume their days, would be this ingenious imputation; since, if we were but an unprofitable task; while nobody could to select any one of the traits that are indibe found who would admit that they belong-cated by her writings as peculiarly characed to the class of pretenders; and all that remained therefore was to show, that the pursuits themselves were preposterous; and inflicted the same miseries upon the unquestioned leaders of fashion, as upon the humblest of their followers. For this task, too, Miss Edgeworth possessed certain advantages of which it would have been equally unnatural and unfortunate for her readers, if she had not sought to avail herself.

We have said, that the hints by which we may be enabled to correct those errors of opinion which so frequently derange the whole scheme of life, must be given by one whose authority is not liable to dispute. Persons of fashion, therefore, and pretenders to fashion, will never derive any considerable benefit from all the edifying essays and apologues that superannuated governesses and preceptors may indite for their reformation;-nor from the volumes of sermons which learned divines may put forth for the amendment of the age;-nor the ingenious discourses which philosophers may publish, from the love of fame, money, or mankind. Their feeling as to all such monitors is, that they know nothing at all about the matter, and have nothing to do with personages so much above them; and so they laugh at their prosing and presumption-and throw them aside, with a mingled sense of contempt and indignation. Now, Miss Edgeworth happens fortunately to be born in the condition of a lady-familiar from early life with the polite world, and liable to no suspicion of having become an author from any other motives than those she has been pleased to assign.

teristic, and peculiarly entitled to praise, we should specify the singular force of judgment and self-denial, which has enabled her to resist the temptation of being the most brilliant and fashionable writer of her day, in order to be the most useful and instructive.

The writer who conceived the characters, and reported the conversations of Lady Delacour-Lady Geraldine-and Lady Dashfort (to take but these three out of her copious dramatis persona), certainly need not be afraid of being excelled by any of her contemporaries, in that faithful but flattering representation of the spoken language of persons of wit and politeness of the present day-in that light and graceful tone of raillery and argument-and in that gift of sportive but cutting médisance, which is sure of success in those circles, where success is supposed to be most difficult, and most desirable. With the consciousness of such rare qualifications, we do think it required no ordinary degree of fortitude to withstand the temptation of being the flattering delineator of fashionable manners, instead of their enlightened corrector; and to prefer the chance of amending the age in which she lived, to the certainty of enjoying its applauses. Miss Edgeworth, however, is entitled to the praise of this magnanimity :For not only has she abstained from dressing any of her favourites in this glittering drapery, but she has uniformly exhibited it in such a way as to mark its subordination to the natural graces it is sometimes allowed to eclipse, and to point out the defects it still more frequently conceals. It is a very rare talent, certainly, to be able to delineate both solid virtues and But it is by no means enough that we should captivating accomplishments with the same be on a footing, in point of rank, with those force and fidelity;-but it is a still rarer exto whom we are moved to address our instruc-ercise of that talent, to render the former both tions. It is necessary that we should also have some relish for the pleasures we accuse them of overrating, and some pretensions to the glory we ask them to despise. If a man, without stomach or palate, takes it into his head to lecture against the pleasures of the table-or an old maid against flirtation-or a miser against extravagance, they may say as many wise and just things as they please but they may be sure that they will either be laughed at, or not listened to; and that all their dissuasives will be set down to the score These three new volumes contain but three of mere ignorance or envy. In the same way, stories; the first filling exactly a volume, the a man or woman who is obviously without second half a volume, and the last no less talents to shine or please in fashionable life, than a volume and a half. The first, which may utter any quantity of striking truths as is entitled "Vivian," is intended to show not to its folly or unsatisfactoriness, without ever only into what absurdities, but into what guilt commanding the attention of one of its vota- and wretchedness, a person, otherways estiries. The inference is so ready, and so con- mable, may be brought by that "infirmity of solatory-that all those wise reflections are purpose" which renders him incapable of the fruit of disappointment and mortification resisting the solicitations of others,-of saying -that they want to reduce all the world to No, in short, on proper occasions. The moral, their own dull level-and to deprive others perhaps, is brought a little too constantly forof gratifications which they are themselves ward; and a little more exaggeration is adincapable of tasting. The judgment of Missmitted into the construction of the story, than

more amiable and more attractive than the latter-and, without depriving wit and vivacity of any of their advantages, to win not only our affections, but our admiration away from them, to the less dazzling qualities of the heart and the understanding. By what resources Miss Edgeworth is enabled to perform this feat, we leave our readers to discover, from the perusal of her writings;-of which it is our present business to present them with a slender account, and a scanty sample.

Miss Edgeworth generally employs;-but it is full of characters and incidents and good sense, like all her other productions.*

But we pass at once to the last, the longest, and by far the most interesting of these tales. It is entitled, "The Absentee ;" and is intended to expose the folly and misery of renouncing the respectable character of country ladies and gentlemen, to push, through intolerable expense, and more intolerable scorn, into the outer circles of fashion in London. That the case may be sufficiently striking, Miss Edgeworth has taken her example in an Irish family, of large fortune, and considerable rank in the peerage; and has enriched her main story with a greater variety of collateral incidents and characters, than in any of her other productions.

wit, and kind-heartedness of the lower Irish; and makes an acquaintance at the latter with one group of Catholic cottagers, more interesting, and more beautifully painted, in the simple colouring of nature, than all the Arcadians of pastoral or romance. After detecting the frauds and villany of the tyrannical agent, he hurries back to London, to tell his story to his father; and arrives just in time to hinder him from being irretrievably entangled in his snares. He and Miss Nugent now make joint suit to Lady Clonbrony to retire for a while to Ireland,- -an application in which they are powerfully seconded by the terrors of an execution in the house; and at last enabled to succeed, by a solemn promise that the yellow damask furniture of the great drawing-room shall be burnt on the very day of their arrival. In the mean time, Lord Colambre, whose wider survey of the female world had finally determined him to seek happiness with Grace Nugent, even with an humble fortune, suffers great agony, from a discovery maliciously made by Lady Dashfort, of a stain on her mother's reputation; which he is enabled at length to remove, and at the same time to recover a splendid inheritance, which had been long withheld by its prevalence, from the woman of his choice. This last event, of course, reconciles all parties to the match; and they all set out, in bliss and harmony, to the paradise regained, of Clonbrony; their arrival and reception at which is inimitably described in a letter from one of their postilions, with which the tale is concluded.

Lord and Lady Clonbrony are the absentees; -and they are so, because Lady Clonbrony is smitten with the ambition of making a figure in the fashionable circles of London; where her very eagerness obstructs her success; and her inward shame, and affected contempt for her native country, only make her national accent, and all her other nationalities more remarkable. She has a niece, however, a Miss Grace Nugent, who is full of gentleness, and talent, and love for Ireland -and a son, Lord Colambre, who, though educated in England, has very much of his cousin's propensities. The first part of the story represents the various mortifications and repulses which Lady Clonbrony encounters, in her grand attempt to be very fashionable in London-the embarrassments, and gradual In this very brief abstract, we have left out declension into low company, of Lord Clon- an infinite multitude of the characters and brony-their plots to marry Lord Colambre to occurrences, from the variety and profusion an heiress-and the growth of his attachment of which the story derives its principal attracto Miss Nugent, who cordially shares both in tion; and have only attempted indeed to give his regret for the ridicule which his mother is such a general notice of the relations and at so much expense to excite, and his wish to proceedings of the chief agents, as to render snatch her from a career at once so inglorious the few extracts we propose to make intelliand so full of peril. Partly to avoid his moth-gible. The contrivance of the story indeed is er's importunities about the heiress, and partly so good, and the different parts of it so conto escape from the fascinations of Miss Nugent, cisely represented, that we could not give an whose want of fortune and high sense of duty adequate epitome of it in much less compass seem to forbid all hopes of their union, he sets than the original. We can venture on nothing, out on a visit to Ireland; where the chief in- therefore, but a few detached specimens: terest of the story begins. There are here And we take the first from a class of society, many admirable delineations of Irish charac- which we should scarcely have thought charter, in both extremes of life; and a very natu-acteristic of the country in question: we mean ral development of all its most remarkable features. At first, his Lordship is very nearly entangled in the spells of Lady Dashfort and her daughter; and is led by their arts to form rather an unfavourable opinion of his countrymen. An accidental circumstance, however, disclosing the artful and unprincipled character of these fair ladies, he breaks from his bondage, and travels incog, to his father's two estates of Colambre and Clonbrony;- the one flourishing under the management of a conscientious and active agent; the other going to ruin under the dominion of an unprincipled oppressor. In both places, he sees a great deal of the native politeness, native

I now omit the original account of the two first tales; and give only what relates to the last, and most interesting, and characteristic.

the Fine ladies of the Plebeian order, who dash more extravagantly, it seems, in Dublin, than any other place in this free and commercial empire. Lord Colambre had the good fortune to form an acquaintance with one of these, the spouse of a rich grocer, who invited him to dine with her at her villa, on his way back from the county of Wicklow. The description, though of a different character from most of Miss Edgeworth's delineations, is so picturesque and lively, that we cannot help thinking it must have been taken from the life. We are tempted, therefore, to give it at full length.

"After a charming tour in the county of Wick low, where the beauty of the natural scenery, and the taste with which those natural beauties have been cultivated, far surpassed the sanguine expect

ations Lord Colambre had formed. his Lordship a stick. But where will I get your honour's hand t and his companions arrived at Tusculum; where he found Mrs. Raffarty, and Miss Juliana O'Leary, -very elegant with a large party of the ladies and gentlemen of Bray assembled in a drawing-room, fine with bad pictures and gaudy gilding; the windows were all shut, and the company were playing cards, with all their might. This was the fashion of the neighbourhood. In compliment to Lord Colambre and the officers, the ladies left the cardtables; and Mrs. Raffarty, observing that his Lordship seemed partial to walking, took him out, as she said, to do the honours of nature and art.'

"The dinner had two great faults-profusion and pretension. There was, in fact ten times more on the table than was necessary; and the entertainment was far above the circumstances of the person by whom it was given: for instance, the dish of fish at the head of the table had been brought across the island from Sligo, and had cost five guineas; as the lady of the house failed not to make known. But, after all, things were not of a piece: there was a disparity between the entertainment and the attendants; there was no proportion or fitness of things. A painful endeavour at what could not be attained, and a toiling in vain to conceal and repair deficiencies and blunders. Had the mistress of the house been quiet; had she, as Mrs. Broadhurst would say, but let things alone, let things take their course; all would have passed off with well-bred people but she was incessantly apologising, and fussing and fretting inwardly and outwardly, and directing and calling to her servants-striving to make a butler who was deaf, and a boy who was hair-brained, do the business of five accomplished footmen of parts and figure. Mrs. Raffarty called Larry! Larry! My Lord's plate there!-James! bread, to Captain Bowles!-James! port wine, to the Major.-James! James Kenny! James!' And panting James toiled after her in vain. At length one course was fairly got through; and after a torturing half hour, the second course appeared, and James Kenny was intent upon one thing, and Larry upon another, so that the wine sauce for the hare was spilt by their collision; but what was worse, there seemed little chance that the whole of this second course should ever be placed altogether rightly upon the table. Mrs. Raffarty cleared her throat and nodded, and pointed, and sighed, and set Larry after Kenny, and Kenny after Larry; for what one did, the other undid; but at last, the lady's anger kindled, and she spoke!-'Kenny! James Kenny, set the sea-cale at this corner, and put down the grass, cross-corners; and match your maccaroni yonder with them puddens, set-Ogh! James! the pyramid in the middle can't ye.' The pyramid in changing places was overturned. Then it was, that the mistress of the feast, falling back in her seat, and lifting up her hands and eyes in despair, ejaculated: Oh, James! James! The pyramid was raised by the assistance of the military engineers, and stood trembling again on its base; but the lady's temper could not be so easily restored to its equilibrium."-pp. 25-28.

We hurry forward now to the cottage scene at Clonbrony; which has made us almost equally in love with the Irish, and with the writer who has painted them with such truth, pathos, and simplicity. An ingenious and good-natured postboy overturns his Lordship in the night, a few miles from Clonbrony; and then says,

"If your honour will lend me your hand till I pull you up the back of the ditch, the horses will stand while we go. I'll find you as pretty a lodging for the night, with a widow of a brother of my shis. ter's husband that was, as ever you slept in your life; and your honour will be, no compare, snugger than the inn at Clonbrony, which has no roof, the devil

for it's coming on so dark, I can't see rightly.-
There! you're up now safe. Yonder candle's the
house.' Well, go and ask whether they can give
us a night's lodging. Is it ask? When I see the
light!-Sure they'd be proud to give the traveller
all the beds in the house, let alone one. Take care
of the potatoe furrows, that's all, and follow me
straight. I'll go on to meet the dog, who knows
me, and might be strange to your honour.'
"Kindly welcome!' were the first words Lord
Colambre heard when he approached the cottage;
and kindly welcome' was in the sound of the
voice, and in the countenance of the old woman,
who came out shading her rush candle from the
wind, and holding it so as to light the path. When
he entered the cottage, he saw a cheerful fire and a
neat pretty young woman making it blaze: she
curtsied, put her spinning wheel out of the way,
set a stool by the fire for the stranger; and repeat-
ing in a very low tone of voice, Kindly welcome,
sir,' retired. Put down some eggs, dear, there's
plenty in the bowl,' said the old woman, calling to
her; I'll do the bacon. Was not we lucky to be
up -The boy's gone to bed, but waken him,' said
she, turning to the postilion; and he will help you
with the chay, and put your horses in the bier for
the night.""

"No: Larry chose to go on to Clonbrony with the horses, that he might get the chaise mended betimes for his honour. The table was set; clean trenchers, hot potatoes, milk, eggs, bacon, and kindly welcome to all. Set the salt, dear; and the butter, love; where's your head, Grace, dear?' 'Grace' repeated Lord Colambre, looking up; and to apologise for his involuntary exclamation he added, 'Is Grace a common name in Ireland?' 'I can't say, plase your honour, but it was give her by Lady Clonbrony, from a niece of her own that was her foster-sister, God bless her; and a very kind lady she was to us and to all when she was living in it; but those times are gone past,' said the old woman, with a sigh. The young woman sighed too; and sitting down by the fire, began to count the notches in a little bit of stick, which she held in her hand; and after she had counted them, sighed again. But don't be sighing, Grace, now,' said the old woman; sighs is bad sauce for the traveller's supper; and we won't be troubling him with more,' added she, turning to Lord Colambre, with a smile- Is your egg done to your liking?''Perfectly, thank you.' Then I wish it was a chicken for your sake, which it should have been, and roast too, had we time. I wish I could see you eat another egg.' No more, thank you, my good lady; I never ate a better supper, nor received a more hospitable welcome.' O, the welcome is all we have to offer.'

May I ask what that is?' said Lord Colambre, looking at the notched stick, which the young woman held in her hand, and on which her eyes were still fixed. It's a tally, plase your honour-O you're a foreigner-It's the way the labourer keeps the account of the day's work with the overseer. And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute here between our boy and the overseer; and she was counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's over-worked.' Would you want any thing more from me, mother,' said the girl, rising and turning her head away. No, child; get away, for your heart's full She went instantly. Is the boy her brother?' said Lord Colambre. No: he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering her voice. Her bachelor? That is, her sweetheart for she is not my daughter, though you heard her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am afcard they must give it up; for they're too poor, and the times is hard-and the agent's harder than the times! There's two of them, the under and the upper; and they grind the substance of one between them, and then blow one away like chaff: but we'll not be talking of that, to spoil your hon.

our's night's rest. The room's ready, and here's the rush light.' She showed him into a very small, but neat room. 'What a comfortable looking bed,' said Lord Colambre. Ah, these red check curains,' said she, letting them down; these have lasted well; they were give me by a good friend now far away, over the seas, my Lady Clonbrony; and made by the prettiest hands ever you see, her neice's, Miss Grace Nugent's, and she a little child that time; sweet love! all gone!' The old woman wiped a tear from her eye, and Lord Colambre did what he could to appear indifferent. She set down the candle and left the room; Lord Colambre went to bed, but he lay awake, 'revolving sweet and bitter thoughts.'

prevent her pursuing her observations from the hand to the face, which might have betrayed more than Lord Colambre wished she should know, her own Grace came in at this instant- There, it's for you safe, mother dear-the lase!' said Grace, throwing a packet into her lap. The old woman lifted up her hands to heaven with the lease between themThanks be to Heaven!' Grace passed on, and sunk down on the first seat she could reach. Her face flushed, and, looking much fatigued, she loosened the strings of her bonnet and cloak. Then, I'm tired!' but recollecting herselt, she rose, and curtsied to the gentleman. What tired ye, dear?'

Why, after prayers, we had to go-for the agent was not at prayers, nor at home for us, when we The kettle was on the fire, tea things set, called-we had to go all the way up to the castle; every thing prepared for her guest, by the hospita- and there by great good luck, we found Mr. Nick ble hostess, who, thinking the gentleman would Garraghty himself, come from Dublin, and the lase take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a gossoon by in his hands; and he sealed it up that way, and the first light to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, a handed it to me very civil. I never saw him so quarter of sugar, and a loaf of white bread; and good-though he offered me a glass of spirits, there was on the little table good cream, milk, which was not manners to a decent young woman, butter, eggs-all the promise of an excellent break-in a morning-as Brian noticed after.' But why fast. It was a fresh morning, and there was a plea- didn't Brian come home all the way with you, sant fire on the hearth neatly swept up. The old Grace ?'-' He would have seen me home,' said woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a Grace, only that he went up a piece of the mounlittle skreen of white-washed wall, built out into tain for some stones or ore for the gentleman,-for the room, for the purpose of keeping those who sat he had the manners to think of him this morning, at the fire from the blast of the door. There was a though shame for me, I had not, when I came in, loop hole in this wall, to let the light in, just at the or I would not have told you all this, and he himself height of a person's head, who was sitting near the by. See, there he is, mother.'-Brian came in very chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came hot, out of breath, with his hat full of stones. 'Good through it, shining across the face of the old woman, morrow to your honour. I was in bed last night; as she sat knitting; Lord Colambre thought he had and sorry they did not call me up to be of sarvice. seldom seen a more agreeable countenance; intelli. Larry was telling us, this morning, your honour's gent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression from Wales, and looking for mines in Ireland, and of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune. I heard talk that there was one on our mountainA good morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope may be, you'd be curious to see; and so, I brought you got the night well?-A fine day for us this the best I could, but I'm no judge.' Sunday morning; my Grace is gone to early prayers, so your honour will he content with an old woman to make your breakfast.-O. let me put in plenty, or it will never be good; and if your honour takes stirabout, an old hand will engage to make that to your liking any way, for by great happiness we have what will just answer for you, of the nicest meal the nuller made my Grace a compliment of, last time she went to the mill.'"-pp. 171-179.

In the course of conversation, she informs her guest of the precarious tenure on which she held the little possession that formed her only means of subsistence.

Vol. vi. pp. 182-188.

A scene of villainy now begins to disclose itself, as the experienced reader must have anticipated. The pencil writing is rubbed out: but the agent promises, that if they pay up their arrears, and be handsome, with their sealing money and glove money, &c. he will grant a renewal. To obtain the rent, the widow is obliged to sell her cow.-But she shall tell her story in her own words.

"Well, still it was but paper we got for the cow; then that must be gold before the agent would take, "The good lord himself granted us the lase; or touch it so I was laying out to sell the dresser, the life's dropped, and the years is out: but we and had taken the plates and cups, and little things had a promise of renewal in writing from the land- off it, and my boy was lifting it out with Andy the lord. God bless him! if he was not away, he'd carpenter, that was agreeing for it, when in comes be a good gentleman, and we'd be happy and safe.' Grace, all rosy, and out of breath-it's a wonder I But if you have a promise in writing of a renewal, minded her run out, and not missed her-Mother, surely, you are safe, whether your landlord is absent says she, here's the gold for you, don't be stirring or present. Ah, no! that makes a great differ, your dresser.-And where's your own gown and when there's no eye or hand over the agent.-Yet, cloak, Grace? says I. But, I beg your pardon, indeed, there,' added she, after a pause, as you sir; may be I'm tiring you?'-Lord Colambre ensay, I think we are safe; for we have that memo-couraged her to go on. Where's your gown and randum in writing, with a pencil, under his own hand, on the back of the lase, to me, by the same token when my good lord had his foot on the step of the coach, going away; and I'll never forget the smile of her that got that good turn done for me, Miss Grace. And just when she was going to England and London, and young as she was, to have the thought to stop and turn to the likes of me! O, then, if you could see her, and know her as I did! That was the comforting angel upon earth-look and voice, and heart and all! O, that she was here present, this minute!-But did you scald yourself?' said the widow to Lord Colambre. Sure, you must have scalded yourself; for you poured the kettle straight over your hand, and it boiling! O decar! to think of so young a gentleman's hand shaking so like my own. Luckily, to 66

cloak, Grace, says I.'-Gone,' says she. The cloak was too warm and heavy, and I don't doubt, mother, but it was that helped to make me faint this morning. And as to the gown, sure I've a very nice one here, that you spun for me yourself. mother; and that I prize above all the gowns that ever came out of a loom; and that Brian said became me to his fancy above any gown ever he see me wear, and what could I wish for more.'-Now, I'd a mind to scold her for going to sell the gown unknown'st to me; but I don't know how it was, I couldn't scold her just then,—so kissed her, and Brian the same; and that was what no man ever did before.-And she had a mind to be angry with him, but could not, nor ought not, says I; for he's as good as your husband now, Grace; and no man can part yees now, says I, putting their hands to2T 2