s long before Mr. Freeman wrote)
access to records would certainly not have been superfluous. The actual
results of it are blocks of spiritless and commonplace historic
narrative--it is nearly all narrative, not action--diversified by
utterances like this of Malcolm III. of Scotland, "O my Edward! the deed
which struck my son's life has centred [_sic_] thy noble youthful bosom
also," or this of the heroine (such as there is), "the gentle _elegant_
Adelaise," "And do I not already receive my education of thee, mamma?"
It is really a pity that the creator of this remarkable peep-show did
not give references to her "records," so that one might look up this
"elegant" young creature of the twelfth century who talked about
"education" and said "mamma!" But this absolute failure in
verisimilitude is practically universal before Scott.

The works of the very beautifully named Regina Maria Roche should
probably be read, as they were for generations, in late childhood or
early youth. Even then an intelligent boy or girl would perceive some of
the absurdity, but might catch a charm that escapes the less receptive
oldster. They were, beyond all question, immensely popular, and
continued to be so for a long time: in fact it is almost sufficient
evidence that there is, if I mistake not, in the British Museum no
edition earlier than the tenth of the most famous of them, _The Children
of the Abbey_ (1798). This far-renowned work opens with the exclamation
of the heroine Amanda, "Hail, sweet sojourn of my infancy!" and we are
shortly afterwards informed that in the garden "the part appropriated to
vegetables was divided from the part sacred to Flora." Otherwise, the
substance of the thing is a curious sort of watered-down Richardson,
passed through successive filtering beds of Mackenzie, and even of Mrs.
Radcliffe. It is difficult for even the most critical taste to find much
savour or stimulus in the resulting liquid. But, like almost everybody
mentioned here, Regina is a document of the demands of readers and the
faculty of writers: and so she "standeth," if not exactly "crowned," yet
ticketed.

Work--somewhat later--of some interest, but not of first-class quality,
is to be found in the _Discipline_ (1811) and _Self-Control_ (1814) of
Mary Brunton. A Balfour of Orkney on the father's side and a Ligonier on
the mother's, the authoress had access to the best English as well as
Scottish society, and seems to have had more than a chance