Mr Holcroft had been, for some years, imbibing principles, and forming a system in his mind, relative to political and moral questions, considerably different from those which are generally received, or at least acted upon by the world.
The interest which he felt in the success of these speculations, will be best expressed by extracting some part of a letter to a friend, written in February, 1790. He says, ‘The great object I have in view, is not the obtaining of riches, but the power of employing my time according to the bent of my genius, in the performance of some works which shall remain when I am no more—works that will promote the general good. This is a purpose I have so strongly at heart, that I would with pleasure sacrifice ease, peace, health, and life for its accomplishment: nay, accomplish it I will, unless cut off in the midst of my labours. It has been my pursuit for years, and you are my witness, I have never relaxed, never been discouraged by disappointment, to which indeed I hold men of real strength of mind to be superior.’ A clearer picture cannot be given of the motives from which the writer appears to have engaged in and prosecuted his task—the regard of good men hereafter, and a wish to promote the general welfare of mankind, by diffusing a system of more just and enlightened principles of action.
These rational and worthy motives are those which actuated Mr Holcroft’s whole conduct in the part he took in such questions: they are the only ones which he had at heart, and he never seems in a single instance to have wavered in his pursuit, by flattering the prejudices, or soothing the vices of any set of men, by cajoling or inflaming the multitude, or by adapting his views or language to those of the ignorant, the rash, or profligate. He was a man of too honest, and of too independent a turn of mind to be a time-server, to lend himself as a tool to the violence of any party; his habits and studies rendered him equally averse to political intrigues or popular tumults; and he had no other desire than to speak the truth, such as he saw it, with a conviction that its effects must be beneficial to society. Whether his opinions were right or wrong, is another question: I speak here of his intentions. But I am anticipating the subject; and also deviating from my plan, which was not to write a panegyric, but a history.
Anna St. Ives, a novel in 7 vols. appeared in 1792. It was much read at the time, and excited considerable attention, both from the force with which it is written, and from the singularity of the characters and sentiments. As a mere novel, it is interesting, lively, and vigorous. The natural or real characters it contains, are exhibited with great truth of conception, with strong and vivid colouring, and often with a great deal of whimsical eccentricity. The characters both of the proud, daring, impetuous, revengeful, capricious Coke Clifton, and of the sly, selfish, insinuating, cool, plodding, immovable Abimelech Henley, are master-pieces. The invention of either of these characters would stamp the author a man of genius. With respect to the first, however spirited the execution, the invention is beyond all doubt due to Richardson: Coke Clifton and Lovelace are the same being, and in fact are often placed in situations so similar, that the resemblance must strike the most cursory reader. Notwithstanding this, too much praise can hardly be given to Mr Holcroft for the life, the enthusiasm, and glowing fancy with which he has sustained this character, and applied it to a different purpose. As to Abimelech, he is all his own; and he is a person of such quaint and ill-sorted qualities, his humility and his insolence are so oddly jumbled together, his knavery is so artfully disguised, and yet so easily seen through, and he delivers all his purposes in such a strange jargon of cant terms and phrases, every one of which has some end, though their connexion is scarcely intelligible; in short there is such a perfect consistence given to the most crude and shapeless mass, and this in a manner so unlike any thing else, that it seems almost equal to the invention of a new language. That class of men who get introduced into gentlemen’s families; and who, by plodding, hoarding, fawning, and flattering the follies of their masters, make fortunes themselves, ruin, and then trample upon their employers, were never better represented than in the person of Mr Abimelech Henley. The steward in Castle Rackrent is not so very a knave by half.—The character of the Count de Beaunoir, though short, is managed with a great deal of humour and feeling. Mac Fane, the keeper of the madhouse, etc. are strong and real portraits.
But the principal characters in the novel, (at least those which were intended by the author to be the most prominent,) are not natural, but ideal beings. In fact, they are not so properly characters (that is, distinct individuals) as the vehicles of certain general sentiments, or machines put into action, as an experiment to shew how these general principles would operate in particular situations. Frank Henley, and Anna St. Ives, are the philosophical hero and heroine of the work. They are the organs through which the voice of truth and reason is to breathe, and whose every action is to be inspired by the pure love of justice.—Mr Holcroft, by embodying his general principles in individual characters, no doubt, gained some advantages, which he could not otherwise have done; such as shewing the possibility of his plan, by actually reducing it to practice, and also pointing out how persons convinced of the truths he wishes to impress, both may and ought to act in the present state of society. For instance, duelling is held to be criminal; and to shew that declining a duel is no proof of cowardice, Frank Henley, who receives a blow from Coke Clifton, will not fight with him, but the very next day leaps into the water after him, and saves his life at the imminent hazard of his own: thus by an act of true heroism rising superior to the prejudices of false honour.
But though the author has gained in point of argument by throwing his reasonings into a narrative form, perhaps he has lost in point of the general impression produced upon the mind. It was Mr Holcroft’s business to make his characters not only consistent, but interesting and amiable: and he has done nearly all that was possible to accomplish this end. But it seems as if the difficulty of the undertaking, from the very nature of it, was too great to be overcome. For in spite of all the appeals that are made to reason, and though we strive ever so much to suspend our invidious prepossessions, yet the old adage of ‘A faultless monster, which the world ne’er saw,’ continually obtrudes itself upon us, and poisons our satisfaction. It is true, our dislike may be irrational, but still it is dislike. That which, if left in generals, we might believe and admire, if brought to a nearer view, and exhibited in all its circumstances of improbability, we begin to distrust, and for that reason to hate: quod sic mihi ostendis, incredulus odi. Perfect virtue, the pure disinterested love of justice, an unshaken zeal for truth, regardless of all petty consequences, a superiority to false modesty, a contempt for the opinion of the world, when reason and conscience are on our side, all these are fine things, and easily conceived, while they remain, what they are, the pure creatures of the understanding, mere abstract essences, which cannot kindle too warm a glow of enthusiasm in the breast. But when these airy nothings are made reluctantly to assume a local habitation and a name, called Frank, or Anna; when they are personified in the son of a knavish steward, or the daughter of a foolish baronet; when they are petticoated, booted and spurred; when they are mounted on horse-back, or seat themselves in a post-chaise, or walk arm in arm through the streets of London, or Paris,—the naked form of truth vanishes under all this pitiful drapery, and the mind is distracted with mean and contradictory appearances which it knows not how to reconcile. When familiarised to us by being brought on the real stage of life, and ascribed to any supposed characters, perfect virtue becomes little better than a cheat, and the pretension to superior wisdom, looks like affectation, conceit, and pedantry. This effect must in some measure take place, even though the most perfect consistency and propriety were preserved: how much more then when the mind eagerly catches hold of every little flaw, to prove that the whole is a piece of acting, and to revert to its habitual feelings of nature and probability?—It is not difficult to personify the passions, so as to render them natural: that is a language which men readily understand. But of the difficulty of exhibiting the passions entirely under the control of reason, of virtue, religion, or any other abstract principle, let those judge who have studied the romances of Richardson. To have made Clarissa a natural character with all her studied attention to prudence, propriety, etc. is the greatest proof of his genius: yet even she is not free from affectation. In Sir Charles Grandison, he has completely failed: he has exhibited him either as an automaton, a puppet, or a self-complacent coxcomb, ‘ugly all over with affectation,’ whose own perfection, propriety of conduct, and fine qualities, are never for a moment out of his sight. Rousseau’s Julia, again, is something of a pedant, and cold, calculating, and insincere. I mention these instances to shew, that though I do not think Mr Holcroft has rendered his hero and heroine so attractive as he himself probably thought they might be made, yet it was not for want of genius, but from the impossibility of the undertaking. Frank Henley, though a much nobler-minded being than Sir Charles Grandison, yet stands in general in the same predicament. We admire his actions, but we do not love the man: his motives we respect, but with his feelings we have little sympathy. Indeed he is a character who does not stand in need of our sympathy; ‘A reasoning, self-sufficient thing, an intellectual all in all.’ He is himself a being without passions; and in order to feel with him, we must ourselves be divested of passion.
I have made these remarks to shew the difficulty of embodying a philosophic character in a dramatic form.
The dignity of truth is in some measure necessarily lowered by coming to us ‘in so questionable a shape,’ and nothing but a very powerful mind can prevent it from becoming quite ridiculous and contemptible. Mr Holcroft himself was perfectly aware of the prejudices he had to encounter, in order to exhibit his characters, so as not to be misunderstood. He has not indeed been sparing of the most pointed raillery upon the philosophic pretensions of Frank Henley, in the letters of his rival, Coke Clifton. And the best proof of the strength with which he has conceived, and pourtrayed his favourite character is, that notwithstanding all the other’s wit and eloquence, Frank is never once degraded in our esteem. He stands his ground firmly, and, upon the whole, has the preference, though it is not exactly such a preference as virtue ought to have over vice, wisdom over folly, or pure mind over sensuality and selfishness. An extract from one of Clifton’s letters, in which he describes Frank Henley, will give a tolerable idea of the characters of both.
‘The youth has some parts, some ideas: at least he has plenty of words. But his arrogance is insufferable. He does not scruple to interfere in the discourse, either with me, Sir Arthur, or the angelic Anna! Nay sets up for a reformer; and pretends to an insolent superiority of understanding and wisdom. Yet he was never so long from home before in his life; has seen nothing, but has read a few books, and has been permitted to converse with this all-intelligent deity.
‘I cannot deny but that the pedagogue sometimes surprises me with the novelty of his opinions; but they are extravagant. I have condescended oftener than became me, to shew how full of hyperbole and paradox they were. Still he has constantly maintained them, with a kind of congruity that astonished me, and even rendered many of them plausible.