The Sun.
London, England, 1849-06-27 00:00:00

LITERATURE.
EXCITEMENT : a Tale of our Own Times.
2 Vuls.
One circumstance greatly propitiates our favour
towards this fiction by an anonymous authoress—and
that circumstance is modestly mentioned in the pre-
face, to the effect that " the writer's share of the
profits is to be appropriated to the funds of a :charit-
able institution, An Establishment fur Gs ntlewomen
during Temporary Illness.'" That this benevolent
purpose may prove eminently successful, we acknow-
ledge ourselves to be really solicitous ; yet a feeling
of this character never interferes in any manner with
our estimate of a work merely as a literary com-
position. Interested as we should ever be in an
effort so peculiarly laudable, we should nevertheless
have abstained altogether from directing attention to
the performance, had we found it, on perusal, to be
unworthy of some commendation. For, supposing
the two volumes to have proved in a striking degree
devoid of merit, we should have found our heart go
against emblazoning its faults or its vvortbh ssnes in
the broad glare of criticism. Rather than raise such
an obstacle to the diffusion of the book, and con,
sequently to the enhancement of the funds of a
' charitable asscciatien like that of the establishment
for the aid of distressed gentlewomen during sick-
ness, we should have allowed the story to hays
passed unnoticed, and to have worked its way through
the ordinary channel of advertisements. As it is,
however, we have read the two volumes with no
small amount of entertainment; and for that reason
regard "Excitement" as no unfitting subject far re-
view. The narrative throughout is of a strictly
' domestic kind, notwithstanding the endeavour of the
writer to associate the attractions of her fiction with
those connected with the stirring political events of
the last three or four years—ranging from the Anti-
Corn-law agitation of 1845 to the revolutionary
movements of 1848. Whatever allusions have been
interwoven with the plot in reference to public
occurrences, to Parliamentary changes, and to Euro-
pean explosions, are so entirely of an incidental
thscription as in no manner to impede the progress of
the incidents, or to allay the curiosity excited in the
mind of the reader as to the fortunes of the imaginary
personages created by the fancy of the novelist. The
free-trade orations of Mr. Cobden and the demccratic
harangues of M. de Lamartine alike fail to diminish
the charm of inquisitiveness enveloping the fate of
Constance Devereux, the heroine, and of Edward
Tremaine, the hero of " Excitement." From
first to last the interest in time destiny
of the two principal characters of the
tale is cleverly and ingeniously sustained ; and that
we take it is a sufficient guarantee that the volumes
are readable. Nor is the end accomplished of securing
the attention from the outset to the conclusion by any
exsggeratsd efforts at the romantic. Occasionally, it
is true, the authoress merges into mere sentimentality,
but that is only at rare intervals; and on the whole
her production may be viewed as a natural and agree-
able fiction, drawn partly from her imagination,
which is inventive, and partly, we might say princi •
pally, from her " observation," which appears to be
shrewd and vigilant; Love is the staple of the story—
of course it is ! We should like to know, indeed,
what any fiction would be worth which was found to
be deficient in its reference to the tender passion.
No, no; Love, and Love alone, is the essential theme
of the writers of the Novel and the Romance. IL roism
may be all very well ; and Patriotism may be still
better; and Morality may be fascinating, as, thanks
be to God, it undoubtedly is, and as it will, with his
good blessing, always continue to be so long as the
human heart remains alive to the charms of the True
and the Beautiful. But Love! Love is the essence
of Fiction—its vitality ; the air it breathes, or
rather exhales. It is to fiction what na-
ture is to reality, what the blood is to the
body, what the sap is to the plant. And upon this
understanding the novelist will continue to chaunt to
the end of time with that merry blade, Sir Pandarus
((or whom see Troilus and Cressida, passim)—
" Love, love, nothing but love, sill more!
For, 0 Love's bow
Shoots buck and doe:
The shalt confounds,
Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry—Oh! oh! They die.
Yet that which seems the wound to kill
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives still."
So sang to the best of our recollection the Pandarus
of Shah-pore, when striving to entertain Helen and
her paramour. And so, too, have carolled all our
English novelists, from Richardson downwards—
from Clarissa Ilarlowe to Fanny Trevanion. Where
the writer of " Excitement " appears to us to
have displayed the least power of invention is in a
very subordinate point, namely, in the names of her
fictitious character. She finds no better name for the
rascal of the work than John Shepherd 1 and
the names of both the hero and heroine,
Tremaine and Devereux are familiar to every
reader of the works contributing to those
emporiums of intellectual amusement the cir-
culating libraries. Common place, however, as
the mere titles are, the personages are so far from
being common-4)11u, that they each possess a dis-
tinct individuality. The father of Constance, indeed,
Sir Stephen Devereux, is quite sui gen( ris. But
brute as he is, coarse as he is, swearing AS he does, not
unfrequently before his dsughter, and giving way to
all sorts of ferocious tantarums and diabolical pa
roxysins of fury—he is neither the squire of " Tom
Junes," nor the squire of "Barnaby Rudge." He is
one of a class yet distinct withal nevertheless. As to
the plot of the story we shall follow our usual custom
by allowing that to develop itself b the reader, with-
out any of those anticipations which tend SO mate-
rially to mar the effect of a production like the one
under consideration. Several of the scenes we may,
however, particularise as peculiarly dramatic. In-
stance—the rejection of Tremaine ; the incidents in
the gambling-houses in London and on the continen

the pic-nic the incendiarism ; the apopletic sei
zure ; and especially the account of the different
occurrences leading at last to the denouement. Is that
denouement fortunate or miserable ? Neither upon that
question shall we be explicit. Supposing the reader
to be incorrigibly curious, so curious indeed, that for
the life of him he cannot resist " skipping" pages and
chapters, so as to arrive more speedily at the result,
he can satiate his inquisitiveness as to the nature of
the close of "Excitement," by turning at once to the
end of the second volume, and by so doing, disperse
with our eclaireissement. Before closing our notice of
this very agreeable " story of our own times," we may
mention that without pretending to anything like a
prudish morality, its aim is good, and its influence
must prove eminently beneficial. It is no homily,
and yet it is as humanizing as a homily.
It is no sermon, and yet is its text visible through-
out—that of mutual forbearance. As a graceful con-
tribution to the fl..2ating literature of the age, " Ex-
citement" is far from being incommnendable. May its
addition to the funds of the charitable association be
as copious as its own spirit is kindly, natural, and
generous !