The Press. — London, England, 1855-07-14 00:00:00

670 purged of its pests. By a proper use of the blood feud, by vigorously supporting the weaker against the stronger classes, by regularly defeating every Bedouin who earned a name for himself, and, above all, by the exercise of un• sparing, unflinching justice, the few thousands of half naked bandits, who now make the land a fighting-field, would soon sink into utter insignificance. But to effect such end, the Turks require the old stratocracy, which, bloody as it was, worked with far less misery than the charter and the new code. What Milton calls " The solid rule of civil government" has done wonders for the race that nurtured and brought to perfection an idea spontaneous to their organisation. But the world has yet to learn that the admirable exotic will thrive amongst the country gentlemen of Monamotapa or the ragged nobility of El Hejaz. And it requires no prophetic eye to foresee the day when the Wahhabis or the Bedouins, rising en masse, will rid the land of its feeble conquerors. The two volumes now issued are beautifully illustrated with coloured and plain engravings, and an excellent map clearly defines the route of the able adventurer, who, in the requisite qualifications for his bold enterprise, appears to have surpassed all previous travellers. We hope soon to receive a continuation of the nar rative, as it will form, when complete, a standard authority on all points relative to the holy cities of the Prophet. Display. A Novel. By Mra. Maherly. Three Vols. London : Hurst and Blackett. Ws are glad to receive a novel which may not only be read with pleasure, but which invites and will bear criticism. We do not mean to assure the authoress that her work is " the best of the season," or to apply to it any of those nonsensical stereotyped phrases which seem penned only that publishers may select them for their advertisements ; but we shall pay her the much higher compliment of treating her book as worthy of more than mere passing notice. It is proper to say, in the first place, that " Display " contains nothing very striking either in plan or development. On the con trary, it is much like the multitude of fashion able novels which we have been accustomed to receive from the press whence it issues. The difference between them and " Display " is ra ther in degree than in type. We have much the same sort of characters, much the same sort of scenes, much the same sort of incidents ; but, whereas in those works there was often a want of that delicate finish which complete knowledge of society and artistic skill alone can impart, we have here one of the most ex quisite specimens of its class we have ever met with, not free from tbe faults of its class, but with all its merits in absolute perfection; in short, an admirable example of that hot house style of fiction which the artificial habits of high life and the desire of the public to know something concerning them have generated. Mrs. Maberly would probably never have written had not this style of novel been in vogue, for we cannot say that she gives much evidence of original talent; but what she does is so well done that she throws her less accomplished competitors into the shade. If the tint of her composition is faint, it is very pure, and charms us with that loc k of freshness and bloom which is often more attractive than striking colour. We can imagine a novel of society which should contain not one improbable incident or unlikely character, which should avoid sudden turns of fortune, and confine itself to the or dinary beaten path of common experience, but which should yet be positively fascinating from its truthfulness of portraiture. This, however, is not the style of our fashionable novelists in general, nor is it the style of Mrs. Maberly. She seems to think it necessary that conventional romance should enter into the composition of her story. and so in the opening chapters we catch glimpses of some mystery in connection with the marriage settlements of the beautiful Laura Malcolm. Her father, a West India proprietor, has the reputation of great wealth, though in reality deeply encumbered, and he gives his daugh ter's suitor, and afterwards her husband, Sir Aubrey Mannering, to understand that his child will receive 40,0001., while he gets the settlement secretly drawn up and the sum set down as 4,0001. only. He seems, however, to have been as capable of paying one amount as the other ; and the whole of the part relating to this fraud is improbable to the last degree, . .16 - .4•ll4"epa 4500.1k.e. THE PRESS. and the more improbable from the pains taken by the authoress to render every cir cumstance relating to it perfectly clear: This is a great mistake. The novelist in dealing with such deeds need not be as perspicuous as an Old Bailey counsellor. A degree of obscurity may be suffered to surround them with great advantage to the credibility of the story. But then the story must have some kind of proba bility in itself, and, above all, must for the purposes of fiction have an actuating motive. A hint of any transaction colorable on the face of it is enough, as the imagination of the reader will readily fill in the outline ; but when the transaction is in itself improbable, then the details by which au attempt is made to fortify it most commonly show its weak points, as a lie breaks down in the evidence called to support it. Masters of fiction are remarkable for the brevity of their explana• tions and the skill with which they hurry over those unravellings of a mystery not calculated to bear full exposure. Now, this story of the fraudulent settlement is not only most unlikely in itself, and in all its details, but it answers no purpose what ever in the proper development of the story. A miserly fellow like. Sir Aubrey would have equally begrudged paying Laura's bills, though he had not been cheated of her fortune ; and Mr. Malcolm would have met with no more favour from his wealthy son-in-law, in the midst of his embarrassments, though he had always acted Oil the square. In fact, this incident hampers the whole action of the tale ; it unnecessarily stains the character of Mal colm, and it so degrades, by ieflection, the state of his daughters, as to lower their moral position. Lady novelists, we have noticed, are fond of complicating their fictions with legal difficul ties. They could not get on more dangerous ground. They are sure to fall into some ridiculous errors, and expose their ignorance of the subjects they handle. If they must have plot—a necessity we do not re cognise— let them at least steer clear of that maze in which they are sure to lose their way—the in tricacies of the law. With the exception of this one blot, the action of the book flows on with delightful ease. We are introduced to personages with whom we soon get on familiar terms, and as from their character and their connection with each other we perceive that they cannot stand still—that they must move on—we are placed under a kind of pleasant constraint to follow their course that we may know to what goal it tends. The story in this way grows upon us—the action develops itself before our eyes— the second volume is better than the first, and the third much better than the second. Mr. Malcolm, who lives in fine style, has two daughters, and the book opens with the marriago of Laura, the eldest, who is pre sumed, from the splended fortune of her husband, to have made an excellent match. Their first quarrel is about money, and on the occasion of her father visiting her she solicits his interference. Mrs. Pringle, a character skilfully sketched, is an aunt of Sir Aubrey, who manages his house in the most thrifty manner possible : " Papa, what money have I really got? Do tell me. You managed everything about the settlements—l have not an idea what was in them. Am I to have no money at all, like a child that cannot be trusted ? I think I shall apply to Mrs Pringle, and ask her to lend me all the pennies she wins at picquet." " Laura," said her father, who did not feel quite com• fortable at the bitterness betrayed by her tone, "take my advice, and leave Mrs. Pringle alone. " " Well, but about the money, papa," answered Laura, pettishly; "you have not told me about the money. Am I not to have any all my life? Every lady I know has pin money." _ _ " Why, of course, yon will have money, Laura," replied Mr. Malcolm. " There was four hundred a year settled for your pin-money." . _ " Four blindred!" exclaimed Laura, stopping short in her walk, and looking her father full in the face, "why, that will never do, papa—it is nothing—Mrs. Blachford told me the other day that she had twelve, and yet she could not manage to keep out of debt." " She must manage very badly, then, my dear child," said Mr. Malcolm, with something very like a sigh. In her first London season Laura is ex travagant, purchasing without thinking of the means of paying, but at last, to Sir Aubrey's horror, the bills nome tumbling in, and he determines, while paying them, to make Laura SATURDAY, no allowance till her arrears are cleared off, buying for her himself what necessaries she requires : • - I sin really never to have another farthing I—not even money to buy bon•bons that I am ao fond of ?" cried Laura half playfully, as Sir Aubrey rose to leave the room She had no resentment in her disposition. A kind word then from her husband would have turned the whole matter into a joke. But Sir Aubrey had no kind word for any one when his money was in question. " i have given you my decision," he coldly replied. " I will certainly not allow myself to be ruined by the extrava gance of other people—l shall take my own course." " And I Aril take mine," said Laura to herself, as, start: ing to her feet, she watched, with crimson cheek, the re - treating form of her husband, as he walked towards the door and disappeared. A later scene between the ill-assorted pair is drawn in the most finished style. From London Sir Aubrey has resolved to go to Baden. Laura petitions for another week in town, but he reminds her of the hotel ex penses running on at Baden : " The apartments at the Angleterre are, I am told, the dearest in the town." " But they are the best—at least I think so, and close to the rooms," answered Laura. " Oh ! of course you inquired the prtoe," sneered Sir Aubrey. " I think, since you are so particular you might have done so yourself," said Laura, iu somewhat a contemptuous manner. . _ " I ! how was I to find out ?" asked Sir Aubrey ; " I never was in the place in my life. and never should have set my foot there, only for the waters, and they seem likely to cost me enough." " I wish you could drink in a small dose of liberality with them," said Laura, coolly examining a hole in her white glove. " I give you notice, Aubrey, since you have chosen to be keeper of my wardrobe, that I want some more gloves. " There is always some fresh want every day," replied her husband, sulkily, and taking up his candlestick to escape. " Oh, that is not all," said Laura, delighted to have found something to torment about, in return for Sir Aubrey's remark about the rooms. " I shall want no end of things as we go through Paris ; the toilettes pour les coax are totally different from any others—light, and fresh , and so clean ! You don't suppose lam going to wear any of my old, dirty, London finery there ! How long are we going to stay ?" " A couple of months T suppose. I shall lose all the grouse shooting," replied her husband, who never thought ofanything but himself. " Eight weeks," said Laura, thoughtfully, "then I must have at least eight bonnets—oh, at the very least eight, of crepe and tulle, without counting thicker ones, for the waters in the morning, and for wet days. " Good night, Lady Maunering," said Sir Aubrey, with a look of terror, as if the treasures of the mines of Golconda were about to be demanded of him. We have never met with more natural con versation than we find in this novel ; and, whether in the country, in London, or in Baden, the tone of society is admirably pre served, and the personages who appear upon the scene, though for but a few moments, to play a subsidiary part, aro charactered and costumed with the nicest propriety. Every one will recollect how much in Sir Edward Lytton's play of Money the figure of an old gentleman seated at. a side table contributes to the effect of the club-room scene by perpe tually calling for the snuff-box. A like kind of artistic skill is frequently visible in these volumes. Each figure is distinct, and evidently drawn with all the light and shade, the foibles and peculiarities of life. While Laura is thus running her career, her dissatisfaction with her husband continually increasing, her sister, the pretty, graceful Genevieve, is emerging from the bud to the blossom, from the girl to the woman. A short passage will show that Mrs. Maberly is not destitute of that reflective sentiment which always flows so engagingly from a female pen: It is difficult to believe the extraordinary glow of joy that illuminates the whole being of a very young girl just entering the great world. Without ascribing this to any one blameable motive, there is nothing more natural. A combination of a great variety of feelings makes up the impression. There is first the emancipation from the schoolroom and its routine of study, which involves a most delicious sensation of freedom. Next, comes the idea of equality—the companionship of others older than herself, which is very flattering to a young girl. She is no longer shut out from everything, and reminded on every occasion " that she is too young for this, or too young for that ;" she may now have her fair share of the amusements of the world, and feels herself a rational crea ture, whose opinion may now sometimes be admitted, in stead of having her very thoughts dictated to her as when she was a child. These, and a variety of other feelings of the same kind l suffice at first to bestow the wonderful delight which most 'fry young people experience on their first nitrous' isitO ~‹-ev•IP-4, * %N Arran ,. ,--..• • -