LIONEL V; A.KEFIELD.
THE design of this work is conceived in the spirit of another age, when a loosely-regulated state of society naturally gave rise to various adventures among the more stirring spirits, and a taxer tone of public morality rendered disreputable conduct less an ob- stacle to advancement than it is at present. The plan of Lionel Wakefield is derived from such works as Gil Blas, Count liahonz, and Roderick Random : although its author has sufficient percep- tion of fitness to take his characters and incidents from present times. Like Gil Bias and Roderick Random, Lionel Wakefield narrates his own adventures; like them he goes through a variety of strange fortunes ; commits a number of scampish and despi- cable actions, although the writer seems unconscious of their tur- pitude; and finally, is married, rich, and reformed.
This imitation in the structure of his story would have been of secondary consequence, however, had the writer been intimately acquainted with the various grades of life lie undertakes to de- scribe—if indeed that knowledge would not of itself have sug- gested a fitting framework for its exhibition. But such is not the case, except in a few instances. The picture of a pleader's cham- bers, where Lionel begins his career as a law student, wants that easy certainty and vraisemblance which result from exact know- ledge,—the author appears writing vaguely on set purpose. The descriptions of the higher class of middle life, where the adventurer figures as a fortune-hunter, when he has deter- mined to forsake the law, and has nearly spent his slender patrimonial property, are gross exaggerations if intended, as fictions ought to be, to give a general representation, whilst they are deficient in individual truth. His account of his own adven- tures in connexion with authorship and the public press wants consistency ; his pictures of the press itself are drawn from hear- say, "mere prattle without practice." He is so unacquainted with life in the Bench as to err in the commonest details of the place; and his narrative of all that relates to politics and political characters is obviously derived from public rumour, not fashioned with skill or likelibiod, and distorted, moreover, to forward the author's political prejudices or personal predilections. It is not merely in literary ability that the author exhibits defi- ciencies, but in moral truth ; and this in his own character as well as in the success he bestows upon his hero. As we have said already, Lionel is a scamp. He not only occasions his father's death by his loose conduct, neglects his studies, squanders his patrimony, deserts a lady to whom lie was engaged, marries an- other whom he disregards, for her fortune, consorts with scamps of all kinds, and lends himself without compunction as a libellous tool, but he figures as a plaintiff in a trim. con. action, where the jury judiciously award him a shilling for suspected collusion, and afterwards is lodged in the Bench. Yet a man thus pub- licly disgraced, gets, we are told, into Parliament, without for- tune, merit, interest, or reputation, because the Extreme Radica's want a gentleman (I) to represent them. There he deserts his party, and resigns his seat for a sinecure; takes a place under the manager of Ministerial dirty work ; plays the part of Gil Bias when the favourite of Olivarez ; resigns with his " high-minded" master (!) on the latter being turned out; and, subsequently marrying his lordship's niece, settles down in wealth and respec- tability,—when, according even to the poetical justice of life, such a person would be far more likely to have ended his career in the workhouse.
All this, however, concerns the fictitious hero alone; but not content with these monstrosities, the writer must thrust forward his own opinions, and make an attack upon the views of the " philosophical Radicals ; " which is as absurd as his account of them individually is false, Justly indeed did HoaAes lay itdown as a rule, that a knowledge of morality is the first study for him who would represent life. In despite of all these faults, Lionel Wakefield is a good deal superior to the common run pf novels, and may be read through, even by those who are accustomed to test each part as it appears and to think over it. The author has ability and some worldly expe- rience; his incidents are numerous and varied ; his narrative brief if it cannot be called rapid, and his manner is always plain and literal—it is real to a high degree whore his matter happens to be true. Without any imagination, his characters are occasionally felicitously conceived ; that kind of life with which he seems most familiar, the life upon town, or of equivocal fashion, is. painted with some truth ; and his reflections are often judicious. Take a quo- tation or two as examples.
FRENCH versus ENGLISH.
I Very soon discovered that the impressions which I had received of French character and society were in many particulars exaggerated and incorrect. I know not whether it was the reaction of experience upon prejudice, but I thought this people by no means inferior to us in real kindness and courtesy, in proportion as they excelled us in good breeding ; but I am one of those who are of opinion that the latter quality is worth purchasing by the sacrifice of a little of that disagreeable honesty and sincerity upon which we seem to pique ourselves. There are few men so blessed as to possess more than two or three sterling friends altogether independent of fortune; nevertheless, I would not have it plainly intimated to me, although the condition of humanity assures me of the fact, that the rest of the world care not for my weal or wo except as it might affect their interests. It is not the characteristic of French manners to make a man painfully sen- sible of his natural or accidental defects, and herein I think their politeness has a deeper foundation than mere conventional fkinality : it is derived from that benevolence and consideration for others which form the source of genuine gond breeding,. I know not whether it may have been otherwise before the Revolution, but I never found a Frenchman measuring his civilities and atten- tions to me accordingly as he was advised of my rank and wealth. A gross and rude demeanour is not infallibly the symptom of a sound heart, neither is politeness inconsistent with good feeling : the history of French private life abounds in instances of unostentatious kindness and charity. Shall we talk of fincign swindlers and adventurers ? Let us look at home. French rauriens are supposed to be specimens of their kind, but I will back the genuine London blackguard against any nutuvais snjet that the Continent can produce. The fox consoled himself that the grapes which he could not reach must be sour ; in the same manner do we contemn as frivolity the enviable lightness of heart and capability of being amused by trifles which distinguish
our neighbours. I think they have little of that odious and malignant gossip which rages among us. The scandal of the Parisian coteries is compa- ratively of a very harmless character : it is more imereguated with wit than virulence, and is prompted rather by vanity than malice.
TIIE STRAIGHTEST SECT.
Mrs. Mapletoft was a religionist of the strictest sort. She held that the world was fast approaching its dissolution ; and gave me to understand that my conversion had taken place just in the nick of time. According to her doctrine, none could be saved who indulged in any of the pleasures of life ; and she de- cidedly assumed to herself the possession of a talent, with which many worthy persons fancy they are gifted, of interpreting the judgment of Providence both in public and private calamities. The most superfine fashionable dame could not be more exclusive in her ideas of persons corium it foot, than was this superlatively righteous lady in her notions of what constituted a claim to coun- tenance in the next world. From what I could collect, indeed, she seemed to be of opinion that few besides those of her own immediate persuasion had much chance of admittance. She herself had evidently a most comfortable confidence in her own adoption ; and seemed to assign the next place to Mr. Welibeloved and a gentleman who had proved his title by expending so much money on Missionary and Bible Associations, that he had none left to pay even his just creditors.
While Mrs. Mapletoft was eulogizing the last-named individual, whom she termed a signal and comforting example of grace, a visiter interrupted us, and a beautiful girl, announced as Miss Haverhill, entered the room. Mrs. Maple- tuft, after saluting her, introduced me as " one to whom the light had been re- vealed."
The young lady, instead of bowing, advanced close to me, pressed my hand, and gave me her blessing. She then turned to Mrs. Mapletoft, and, in a voice of anguish, exclaimed that she had been backsliding, and was lust for ever! I was shocked to hear her utter these words, and doubted not, from the counte- nance and manner which accompanied them, that she meant to imply her having fallen a victim to the arts of man. Mrs. Mapletoft, I thought, likewise seemed to expect some such disclosure; for she pursed up'her mouth, and with a serious, surprised air, desired her young friend to explain herself. Miss Haverhill burst into tears. As soon as she could articulate, she dis- burdened her bosom of the dreadful secret. She had been into the country with her family, who were, unhappily for themselves and for her, worldlings, and consequently outcasts: they had, in an evil hour, persuaded her to accom- pany them to a ball. The widow could not help lifting up her eyes at the bare mention of such a thing; but when the innocent young creature, pursuing her confession, said, with all the marks of remorse and despair, that she had not only been at the ball, but had actually danced and enjoyed the sinful pleasure, Mrs. Mapletoft regarded her mournfully and heaved a deep sigh.
" Tell me, cried the alarmed girl, " have I any hope of being reinstated? I have been miserable ever since, if that is of any avail. " Alas ! my child, answered the widow, " Satan could not have so much power over you if you were in a state of grace ; and without that, what availeth any thing?"
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