“Well, have I said enough by way of amende? No; for you want me to admire the honourable Coningsby. I should think more of his honour if, quite sensible of the wrong he was doing, he was not so fond of kissing the betrothed of his relation; and I should esteem and feel for that betrothed more if she was not quite so patient in being kissed. Werter kisses Charlotte when a wife; but not only it is not suffered by Charlotte, but it is a leave-taking by Werter, who is going out of the world.

“I own the weakness of this heroine derogates from what was intended to be an attractive character; and I am also disappointed in the hero. He never was meant to be very amiable, but he was meant to be very high; and he is so for a long time, so that the chief and, I own, a swelling interest attaches to his conduct on his return home, to find himself, as he will think it, dishonoured. We suppose the world will not be able to hide the delinquents from his vengeance—that he will kill them with a frown. Our opinion, too, of his doating love, and his unfailing constancy in his attachment, is so raised by what I almost think the most beautiful part of the book (certainly the best testimony of the power of describing affection hi the writer), that we commiserate and love him for it with unexpected sympathy.

“Then, again, as to himself. With such exquisite fondness and admiration—such a deep sense of wounded honour—such dreadful mortifications, both to his love and self-estimation—that we are to suppose, after immolating both victims to his vengeance, he would almost fly man, and still more womankind—what are we to say when, in one little fortnight, in the midst of a breathless thirst for retribution, a five minutes’ information that an old mistress loves him, makes him forget all his injuries, recover from all his wounds, and feel as light-hearted and happy a lover, and also as stainless a cavalier, as if he was fresh and untouched both in his affections and his honour?*

“After this, it will be useless to descend to minor things, otherwise I would touch upon the total uselessness of the introduction of such a character as Dudley. He seems intended at first for something; but whatever it was, it is soon forgotten, and he shrinks into mute insignificance.

“Yet, with all this, I again say that this is no common book, and the author no common man. Perhaps he is a very young one. If so, I think the reading public will be very much obliged to him when his fancy is a little more disciplined. If you know him, I shall be glad and proud to know him too, through your good offices.

“There are, however, some faults in syntax (probably from mere inadvertence), which ought to be corrected. He more than twice writes ‘It was him’ for it was he; and in page 313, vol. iii., in a sentence of sixteen lines of print, no less than nine participles present are all languishing for a substantive or pronoun, to carry them to a verb which should do something by way of action. Yet neither substantive, pronoun, or verb is to be found, and the participles are all left—jealous, knowing, drawing back, teaching, losing, looking, stooping, gathering, &c, with no one consequence attending them.

“Pray don’t think me pedantic in all this. Your own style is so clear, chaste, and grammatical, that you cannot quarrel with these notices, especially as they are mentioned only with a view to enable a man of evident talents to prevent himself from forfeiting the full benefit of them from mere carelessness.

“After all, I do not think the difference between us so very wide; for I yield to your favourite all the attributes you wish as to genius, and the power of seizing at least the ridicule of character, which he does, I think, quite as well, if not a great deal better, than perhaps all modern authors.

“With this I must say farewell, for my letter is called for.