that admiration which her vanity hopes for, is considered only as a handsome corpse; and if, to put a little life into her, some of her compassionate friends there should persuade her to lay on a great deal of rouge, in English called paint, she must continue to wear it to extreme old age; unless she prefers a spot of real yellow (the certain consequence of paint) to an artificial one of red. And lastly, I propose it to their consideration, whether the delicacy of an English lady's mind may not partake of the nature of some high-flavoured wines, which will not admit of being carried abroad, though under right management, they are admirable at home.

No 19. THURSDAY, MAY 10, 1753.

SIR,

To MR. FITZ-ADAM.

THE present age is overrun with romances, and yet so strong does the appetite for them continue, that as Otway says on a less delicate occasion,

every rank fool goes down.

I am not surprised that any sketch of human nature, howsoever imperfect, should attract the attention of the generality of readers. We are easily delighted with pictures of ourselves, and are sometimes apt to fancy a strong likeness where there is not even the least resemblance. Those great masters of every movement of the human mind, Homer and Shakspeare, knew well this propensity of our dispositions. The latter, from the nature of his

had more frequent opportunities of open

ing the most minute avenues of the heart. The former, though his province was more confined, has let no occasion pass of exerting this affecting talent. He has not only contrasted a vast variety of characters, and given all the passions their full play, but even in the stiller parts of his works, the similes and descriptions, every thing is full of human life. It is the Carian woman who stains the ivory; if a torrent descends from the mountains, some cottager trembles at the sound of it; and the fine broken landscape of rocks and woods by moonlight has a shepherd to gaze at and admire it.

'But it is not with such painters as these that I am at present concerned. They drew really from nature; and ages have felt and applauded the truth of their designs. Whereas our modern artists (if we may guess from the motley representations they give us of our species) are so far from having studied the natures of other people, that they seldom seem to have the least acquaintance with themselves.

'The writers of heroic romance, or the Loves of Philodoxus and Urania, professedly soar above nature. They introduce into their descriptions trees, water, air, &c. like common mortals; but then all their rivers are clearer than crystal, and every breeze is impregnated with the spices of Arabia. The manners of their personages seem full as extraordinary to our gross ideas. We are apt to suspect the virtue of two young people who are rapturously in love with each other, and who travel whole years in one another's company; though we are expressly told, that at the close of every evening, when they retire to rest, the hero leans his head against a knotted oak, whilst the heroine seeks the friendly shelter of a distant myrtle. This, I say, seems to us a little unnatural; however, it is not of dangerous example. There can no harm follow if unexperienced persons

should endeavour to imitate what may be thought inimitable. Should our virgins arrive but half way towards the chastity of a Parthenia, it will be something gained; and we, who have had learned educations, know the power of early prejudices; some of us having emulated the public spirit, and other obsolete virtues of the old Grecians and Romans, to the age of fifteen or sixteen, some of us later, even to twenty or one-and-twenty.

'But peace be to the manes of such authors. They have long enjoyed that elysium which they so frequently described on earth. The present race of romance-writers run universally into a different extreme. They spend the little art they are masters of in weaving into intricacies the more familiar and more comical adventures of a Jack Slap, or a Betty Sallet. These, though they endeavour to copy after a very great original, I choose to call our writers below nature; because very few of them have as yet found out their master's peculiar art of writing upon low subjects without writing in a low manner. mances, judiciously conducted, are a very pleasing way of conveying instruction to all parts of life. But to dwell eternally upon orphan-beggars, and servingmen of low degree, is certainly what I have called it, writing below nature; and is so far from conveying instruction, that it does not even afford amusement.

Ro

'The writers below nature have one advantage in common with the writers above it, that the originals they would seem to draw from are no where to be found. The heroes and heroines of the former are undoubtedly children of the imagination; and those of the latter, if they are not all of them incapable of reading their own adventures, are at least unable to inform us by writing whether the representations of them are just, and whether people in their station did ever think or act in the manner they are described

to have done. Yet the authors, even in this particular, are not quite so secure as they imagine; for when, towards the end of the third or fourth volume, the He or she of the piece (as is usually the custom) emerges into what they call genteel life, the whole cheat is frequently discovered. From seeing their total ignorance of what they are then describing, we on good grounds conclude that they are equally unacquainted with the inferior parts of life, though we are not able to detect the falsehood. Bath, one should imagine, the easiest place in the world to get a thorough knowledge of: and yet I have observed in books of this kind, several representations of it so excessively erroneous, that they not only shewed the authors to be entirely ignorant of the manners of living there, but of the geography of the town.

But it is not the ignorance of these writers which I would principally complain of; though of that, as a censor, you ought to take notice, and should assure our young men and young women that they may read fifty volumes of this sort of trash, and yet, according to the phrase which is perpetually in their mouths, know nothing of life. The thing I chiefly find fault with is their extreme indecency. There are certain vices which the vulgar call fun, and the people of fashion gallantry; but the middle rank, and those of the gentry who continue to go to church, still stigmatize them by the opprobrious names of fornication and adultery. These are confessed to be in some measure detrimental to society, even by those who practise them most; at least, they are allowed to be so in all but themselves. This being the case, why should our novel-writers take so much pains to spread these enormities? It is not enough to say in excuse that they write nonsense upon these subjects as well as others; for nonsense itself is dangerous here. The most absurd ballads in the streets, without the

least glimmering of meaning, recommend themselves every day both to the great and small vulgar only by obscene expressions. Here, therefore, Mr. FitzAdam, you should interpose your authority, and forbid your readers (whom I will suppose to be all persons who can read) even to attempt to open any novel, or romance, unlicensed by you; unless it should happen to be stamped Richardson or Fielding.

"Your power should extend likewise to that inun. dation of obscenity which is daily pouring in from France; and which has too frequently the wit and humour of a Crebillon to support it. The gentlemen, who never read any thing else, will I know be at a loss for amusement, and feel their half-hour of morning hang rather too heavy on their hands. But surely, Mr. Fitz-Adam, when they consider the good of their country (and all of them have that at heart) they will consent to meet a little sooner at the hazard-table, or wile away the tedious interval in studying new chances upon the cards.

" If it be said that the heroic romances, which I have recommended for their virtue, are themselves too full of passionate breathings upon some occasions, I allow the charge; but am of opinion that these can do little more harm to the minds of young ladies, than certain books of devotion, which are put into their hands by aunts and grandmothers; the writers of which, from having suffered the softer passions to mix too strongly with their zeal for religion, are now generally known by the name of the amorous divines. I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

I. T.'