most artificial contrivance, and feems to amufe herself with faying, at every turn and doubling of the ftory, Now you think you have me, but I fhall take care to disappoint you.' This method is, however, liable to the following inconve nience, that in the search of what is new, an author is apt to forget what is natural; and, in rejecting the more obvious conclufions, to take those which are lefs fatisfactory. The trite and the extravagant are the Scylla and Charybdis of writers who deal in fiction. With regard to the work before us, while we acknowledge the extraordinary powers of Mrs. Radcliffe, fome readers will be inclined to doubt whether they have been exerted in the present work with equal effect as in the Romance of the Foreft.-Four volumes cannot depend entirely on terrific incidents and intricacy of ftory. They require character, unity of defign, a delineation of the scenes of real life, and the variety of well fupported contrast. The Myfteries of Udolpho are indeed relieved by much elegant defcription and picturefque fcenery; but in the defcriptions there is too much of famenefs: the pine and the larch tree wave, and the full moon pours its luftre through almost every chapter. Curiouty is raifed oftener than it is gratified; or rather, it is railed fo high that no adequate gratification can be given it; the intereft is completely diffolved when once the adventure is finished, and the reader, when he is got to the end of the work, looks about in vain for the fpell which had bound him fo ftrongly to it. There are other little defects, which impartiality obliges us to notice. The manners do not fufficiently correfpond with the æra the author has chofen; which is the latter end of the fixteenth century. There is, perhaps, no direct anachronism, but the ftyle of accomplishments given to the heroine, a country young lady, brought up on the banks of the Garonne; the mention of botany; of little circles of infidelity, &c. give fo much the air of modern manners, as is not counterbalanced by Gothic arches and antique furniture. It is poffible that the manners of different ages may not differ fo much as we are apt to imagine, and more than probable that we are generally wrong when we attempt to delineate any but our own; but there is at leaft a ftyle of manners which our imagination has appropriated to each period, and which, like the coftume of theatrical drefs, is not departed from without hurting the feelings.-The character of Annette, a talkative waiting-maid, is much worn, and that of the aunt, madame Cheron, is too low and felfifh to excite any degree of intereft, or justify the dangers her niece expofes herself to for her fake. We must likewife obferve, that the adventures do not fufficiently point to one centre: we do not, however, attempt to analyse the ftory; as it would have no other effect

than

than deftroying the pleasure of the reader, we fhall content ourfelves with giving the following fpecimen of one of those picturesque scenes of terror, which the author knows fo well to work up:

During the remainder of the day, Emily's mind was agitated. with doubts and fears and contrary determinations, on the fubject of meeting this Barnardine on the rampart, and fubmitting herself to his guidance, the fcarcely knew whither. Pity for her aunt and anxiety for herself alternately swayed her determination, and night came, before she had decided upon her conduct. She heard the castle clock strike eleven-twelve-and yet her mind wavered. The time, however, was now come, when she could hesitate no longer: and then the intereft the felt for her aunt overcame other confiderations, and bidding Annette follow her to the outer door of the vaulted gallery, and there await her return, she descended from her chamber. The caftle was perfectly ftill, and the great hall, where fo lately fhe had witneffed a scene of dreadful contention, now returned only the whispering footsteps of the two folitary figures gliding fearfully between the pillars, and gleamed only to the feeble lamp they carried. Emily, deceived by the long fhadows of the pillars, and by the catching lights between, often stopped, imagining the faw fome perfon, moving in the diftant obfcurity of the perspective; and, as the paffed thefe pillars, the feared to turn her eyes towards them, almost expecting to fee a figure start out from behind their broad fhaft. She reached, however, the vaulted gallery, without interruption, but unclofed its outer door with a trembling hand, and, charging Annette not to quit it, and to keep it a little open, that the might be heard if she called, she delivered to her the lamp, which fhe did not dare to take herself because of the men on watch, and, alone, stepped out upon the dark terrace. Every thing was fo ftill, that the feared left her own light fteps fhould be heard by the diftant fentinels, and fhe walked cautiously towards the fpot, where fhe had before met Barnardine, liftening for a found, and looking onward through the gloom in search of him. At length,

fhe was ftartled by a deep voice, that spoke near her, and the paufed, uncertain whether it was his, till it spoke again, and the then recognized the hollow tones of Barnardine, who had been punctual to the moment, and was at the appointed place, refting on the rampart wall. After chiding her for not coming fooner, and faying, that he had been waiting nearly half an hour, he defired Emily, who made no reply, to follow him to the door through which he had entered the terrace.

While he unlocked it she looked back to that fhe had left, and obferving the rays of the lamp ftream through a fmall opening, was certain that Annette was ftill there. But her remote fituation could little befriend Emily, after he had quitted the terrace; and, when CC 2

Bar

Barnardine unclofed the gate, the difmal afpect of the paffage beyond, fhewn by a torch burning on the pavement, made her fhrink from following him alone, and she refused to go, unless Annette might accompany her. This, however, Barnardine abfolutely refufed to permit, mingling at the fame time with his refufal fuch artful circumftances to heighten the pity and curiofity of Emily towards her aunt, that he, at length, confented to follow him alone to the portal.

He then took up the torch, and led her along the paffage, at the extremity of which he unlocked another door, whence they defcended, a few fteps, into a chapel, which, as Barnardine held up the torch to light her, Emily obferved to be in ruins, and fhe immediately recollected a former converfation of Annette, concerning it, with very unpleafant emotions. She looked fearfully on the almoft rooflefs walls, green with damps, and on the Gothic points of the windows, where the ivy and the briony had long supplied the place of glafs, and ran mantling among the broken capitals of fome columns, that had once fupported the roof. Barnardine ftumbled over the broken pavement, and his voice, as he uttered a fudden oath, was returned in hollow echoes, that made it more terrific. Emily's heart funk: but she still followed him, and he turned out of what had been the principle aifle of the chapel. "Down thefe fteps, lady," faid Barnardine, as he defcended a flight, which appeared to lead into the vaults; but Emily paufed on the top, and demanded, in a tremulous tone, whither he was conducting her. "To the portal," faid Barnardine.

"Cannot we go through the chapel to the portal?" faid Emily. "No, Signora; that leads to the inner court, which I don't choose to unlock. This way, and we shall reach the outer court prefently."

Emily ftill hefitated; fearing not only to go on, but, fince fhe had gone thus far, to irritate Barnardine by refufing to go fur

ther.

"Come, lady," faid the man, who had nearly reached the bottom of the flight, "make a little hafte; I cannot wait here all night."

"Whither do thefe fteps lead?" faid Emily, yet pausing.

"To the portal," repeated Barnardine, in an angry tone, "I will wait no longer." As he faid this, he moved on with the light, and Emily, fearing to provoke him by further delay, reluctantly followed. From the fteps, they proceeded through a paffage adjoining the vaults, the walls of which were dropping with unwholefeme dews, and the vapours, that crept along the ground, made the torch burn fo dimly, that Emily expected every moment to fee it extinguished, and Barnardine could fcarcely find his way. As they advanced, thefe vapours thickened, and Barnardine believing the torch was expiring, ftopped for a moment to trim it. As he then refted against a pair of iron gates, that opened from the paffage,

Emily faw, by uncertain flashes of light, the vaults beyond, and, near her, heaps of earth, that feemed to furround an open grave. Such an object, in fuch a scene, would, at any time, have disturbed her; but now he was fhocked by an inftantaneous prefentiment, that this was the grave of her unfortunate aunt, and that the treacherous Barnardine was leading herself to destruction. The obfcure and terrible place, to which he had conducted her, feemed to justify the thought; it was a place fuited for murder, a receptacle for the dead, where a deed of horror might be committed, and no veftige appear to proclaim it. Emily was so overwhelmed with terror, that, for a moment, fhe was unable to determine what conduct to pursue. She then confidered, that it would be vain to attempt an efcape from Barnardine, by flight, fince the length and the intricacy of the way she had paffed, would foon enable him to overtake her, who was unacquainted with the turnings, and whofe feeblenefs would not fuffer her to run long with fwiftnefs. She feared equally to irritate him by a difclosure of her fufpicions, which a refufal to accompany him further certainly would do; and, fince fhe was already as much in his power as it was poffible fhe could be, if the proceeded, fhe, at length, determined to fupprefs, as far as fhe could, the appearance of apprehenfion, and to follow filently whither he defigned to lead her. Pale with horror and anxiety, fhe now waited till Barnardine had trimmed the torch, and, as her fight glanced again upon the grave, fhe could not forbear enquiring for whom it was prepared. He took his eyes from the torch, and fixed them upon her face without fpeaking. She faintly repeated the queftion, but the man, fhaking the torch, paffed on; and the followed, trembling, to a fecond flight of fteps; having afcended which, a door delivered them into the first court of the caftle. As they croffed it, the light fhewed the high black walls around them, fringed with long grafs and dank weeds, that found a fcanty foil among the mouldering ftones; the heavy buttreffes, with, here and there, between them, a narrow grate, that admitted a freer circulation of air to the court, the maffy iron gates that led to the caftie, whofe clustering turrets appeared above, and, oppofite, the huge towers and arch of the portal itself. In this scene the large, uncouth person of Barnardine, bearing the torch, formed a characteristic figure. This Barnardine was wrapt in a long dark cloak, which fcarcely allowed the kind of half-boots, or fandals, that were laced upon his legs, to appear, and fhewed only the point of a broad fword, which he ufually wore, flung in a belt acrofs his fhoulders. On his head was a heavy flat velvet cap, fomewhat refembling a turban, in which was a fhort feather; the visage beneath it fhewed strong features, and a countenance furrowed with the lines of cunning, and darkened by habitual discontent.

The view of the court, however, reanimated Emily, who, as fhe croffed filently towards the portal, began to hope, that her own fears, and not the treachery of Barnardine, had deceived her. She

looked anxiously up at the first casement, that appeared above the lofty arch of the portcullis; but it was dark, and the enquired, whether it belonged to the chamber, where Madame Montoni was confined. Emily spoke low, and Barnardine, perhaps, did not hear her queftion, for he returned no answer; and they, foon after, entered the postern door of the gate-way, which brought them to the foot of a narrow ftair cafe, that wound up one of the towers. "Up this ftair-cafe the Signora lies," said Barnardine. "Lies!" repeated Emily faintly, as she began to ascend. "She lies in the upper chamber," said Barnardine.

As they paffed up, the wind, which poured through the narrow cavities in the wall, made the torch flare, and it threw a stronger gleam upon the grim and fallow countenance of Barnardine, and discovered more fully the defolation of the place-the rough ftone walls, the fpiral stairs, black with age, and a fuit of ancient armour, with an iron vifor, that hung upon the walls, and appeared a trophy of fome former victory.

Having reached a landing-place, "You may wait here, lady," faid he, applying a key to the door of a chamber, "while I go up, and tell the Signora you are coming."

"That ceremony is unneceffary," replied Emily, "my aunt will rejoice to fee me."

"I am not fo fure of that," said Barnardine, pointing to the room he had opened: "Come in here, lady, while I ftep up."

Emily, furprised and somewhat fhocked, did not dare to oppose him further, but, as he was turning away with the torch, defired he would not leave her in darknefs. He looked around, and, obferving a tripod lamp, that stood on the ftairs, lighted and gave it to Emily, who stepped forward into a large old chamber, and he clofed the door. As the liftened anxioufly to his departing fteps, fhe thought he defcended, instead of afcending, the ftars; but the gufts of wind, that whistled round the portal, would not allow her to hear diftinctly any other found. Still, however, the liftened, and, perceiving no step in the room above, where he had affirmed Madame Montoni to be, her anxiety increased, though she confidered, that the thickness of the floor in this ftrong building might prevent any found reaching her from the upper chamber. The next moment, in a pause of the wind, she distinguished Barnardine's step descending to the court, and then thought fhe heard his voice; but, the rifing guft again overcoming other founds, Emily, to be certain on this point, moved foftly to the door, which, on attempting to open it, fhe difcovered was faftened. All the horrid apprehenfions, that had lately affailed her, returned at this inftant with redoubled force, and no longer appeared like the exaggerations of a timid spirit, but feemed to have been sent to warn her of her fate. She now did not doubt, that Madame Montoni had been murdered, perhaps in this very chamber; or that the herfelf was brought hither for the fame

purpose.