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It is impossible to give any specimen of the terrific scenes of Mrs Radcliffe, as their effect depends on the previous excitement of the mind. They are in general admirably contrived in circumstances of time, place, and other incidents, to excite awe and apprehension.. "A face shrouded in a cowl," says a writer whom I have frequently quoted, "a narrative suddenly suspended-deep guilt half-revealed—the untold secrets of a prison house, affect the mind more powerfully than any regular or distinct images of danger or of woe.' Mrs Radcliffe accordingly, by interspersing certain mysterious hints, gives full scope to conjecture and alarm, and aggravates the terrible, by leaving room to suppose that what she describes is little in comparison with what is afterwards to be revealed. By the involuntary expressions of her guilty characters, she presents them to our view as groaning under the consciousness of some dreadful crime, which is constantly present to their imaginations, but of which the remembrance does not prevent them from the perpetration of new atrocities. In short, in the hands of Mrs Radcliffe, not merely the trampling of a steed, and the pauses of the wind, but, in certain circumstances, even common footsteps and the shutting of a door become sublime and terrible.

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Of the three great works of Mrs Radcliffe, the Romance of the Forest, which was suggested by one of the Causes Celebres, is perhaps on the whole, and as a whole, the most interesting and perfect in its fable. Abounding less in powerful writing than either of the others, the story is more naturally conducted, and is clogged with fewer improbabilities. Indeed, the apparently supernatural circumstances are accounted for at the end of the romance in such a manner as scarcely to disappoint the reader, or to appear inadequate to the emotions of surprise and terror, which had been raised in the course of the work. The beginning of the romance is such as strongly to awaken interest; the mysterious flight of La Motte-the manner in which the heroine of the story is intrusted to him-the romantic forest and ruined abbey in which he takes shelter-his alarms for discovery-the arrival of his son-his visits to the awful tomb in the forest-the introduction of the wicked Marquis de Montalt, his deep-laid plots and sudden change of conduct towards Adeline, are all described in the most forcible manner. We are delighted with the wild and romantic seclusion of the abbey, and the spectral part of the story (if I may so express myself) is not exaggerated nor overcharged. There is scarcely to be found

in any work of fiction, a more beautiful picture than that of La Luc and his family in the third volume; and it shows that Mrs Radcliffe was capable of painting, not merely the general features of the personages in a romance, but the finer traits of character in a novel of real life. Clara de Luc is the most interesting female character in the volumes of Mrs Radcliffe. In the Romance of the Forest also we are less fatigued with landscapes, than in the Mysteries of Udolpho or the Italian. It is true, that the heroine Adeline is pretty liberal of her poesy, but in this case we are warned of our danger, and can avoid it; whereas in prose we have no previous notice, and are forced to observe the purple tints, and all the other tints which occur, or in the course of ages may occur at sun-rise or sun-set, lest we may unwarily pass over and lose any of the incidents.

It is to be regretted, that the last volume of the Italian, or that portion of it which relates to the Inquisition, has not been managed with more skill, as, by its improbability and exaggeration, it in a great measure destroys the very powerful interest which the other parts of the romance are calculated to inspire. Schedoni is wonderfully well painted; and his appearance, his mysteriousness, and

the notion with which we are strongly impressed, of his having committed horrible and unheard-of crimes, strongly excite our curiosity and interest. The Neapolitan landscapes in this romance are truly beautiful; nor are the scenes of terror less forcibly pourtrayed. How many accumulated circumstances of danger thrill us with alarm, in the description of the escape of Vivaldi and Ellena from the convent! How deeply are we impressed by the midnight examination of the corse of Bianchi, and the atrocious conference of the Marchesa with Schedoni, in the dim twilight of the church of San Nicolo! But, beyond all, the whole portion of the work, from where Ellena is conveyed to the desolate house of Spalatro on the sea-shore, to the chapter where she is conducted home by Schedoni, is in the first style of excellence, and has neither been exceeded in dramatic nor romantic fiction. The terror is not such as is excited by the moving of old tapestry, a picture with a black veil, the howling of the wind in a dark passage, or a skeleton in a corner, with a rusty dagger lying at its side; but is that which is raised by a delineation of guilt, horror, and remorse, which, if Shakspeare has equalled, he has not surpassed. A scene between Schedoni and Spalatro, before and after the former enters the

apartment of Ellena, with a design to murder her, is perhaps the most striking that has ever been displayed. The conversation, too, of the guide who conducts Ellena and Schedoni through the forest, after they leave Spalatro, and the whole conduct of Schedoni on the occasion, is admirably painted.

The style of Mrs Radcliffe is not pure, and is sometimes even ungrammatical, but in general it is rich and forcible. Her poetry, like her prose, principally consists in picturesque delineation.

On the whole, the species of composition which we have just been considering, though neither very instructive in its nature, nor so fitted, as some other kinds of fictitious writing, to leave agreeable impressions on the mind, is not without its value. To persons who are occupied with very severe and serious studies, romances of this kind afford perhaps a better relaxation than those which approach more nearly to the common business of life. The general tendency, too, of all these terrific works is virtuous. The wicked marquis, or villainous monk, meet at length the punishment they deserve, while the happy heroine, undisturbed by hobgoblins, or the illusions created by the creaking of doors, sobbing of the wind, or partial gleams of light, discovers at length that the ter

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