had never been at
all; her little farthing rushlight of a soul and reputation having burnt
out, and left neither wick nor tallow. Death, too, has overtaken copious
Guthrie and circumstantial Ralph. Only a few know whereabouts is the
grave where lies laborious Carte; and yet, O wondrous power of genius!
Fielding's men and women are alive, though History's are not. The
progenitors of circumstantial Ralph sent forth, after much labor and
pains of making, educating, feeding, clothing, a real man child, a
great palpable mass of flesh, bones, and blood (we say nothing about
the spirit), which was to move through the world, ponderous, writing
histories, and to die, having achieved the title of circumstantial
Ralph; and lo! without any of the trouble that the parents of Ralph
had undergone, alone perhaps in a watch or spunging-house, fuddled
most likely, in the blandest, easiest, and most good-humored way in the
world, Henry Fielding makes a number of men and women on so many sheets
of paper, not only more amusing than Ralph or Miss Reid, but more like
flesh and blood, and more alive now than they. Is not Amelia preparing
her husband's little supper? Is not Miss Snapp chastely preventing the
crime of Mr. Firebrand? Is not Parson Adams in the midst of his family,
and Mr. Wild taking his last bowl of punch with the Newgate Ordinary? Is
not every one of them a real substantial HAVE-been personage now--more
real than Reid or Ralph? For our parts, we will not take upon ourselves
to say that they do not exist somewhere else: that the actions
attributed to them have not really taken place; certain we are that they
are more worthy of credence than Ralph, who may or may not have been
circumstantial; who may or may not even have existed, a point unworthy
of disputation. As for Miss Reid, we will take an affidavit that neither
in miniature nor at large did she excel the celebrated Rosalba; and
with regard to Mrs. Lennox, we consider her to be a mere figment, like
Narcissa, Miss Tabitha Bramble, or any hero or heroine depicted by the
historian of "Peregrine Pickle."

In like manner, after viewing nearly ninety portraits of Robert Macaire
and his friend Bertrand, all strongly resembling each other, we are
inclined to believe in them as historical personages, and to canvass
gravely the circumstances of their lives. Why should we not? Have we
not their portraits? Are not they sufficient proofs? If not, we must
discredit Napoleon (as Archbish