CONSTANCE D'OYLEY
Is in some sort a didactic fiction ; the object of the author being to exhibit the effect of two kinds of female education, " the one careful and conscientious, the other artificial and dishonest in every particular." As respects the moral of a bad education, the author is successful. Isabel Hernshaw, the beauty and the coquette, whose principles have been tainted and her power over her own actions destroyed by her mother's training her to make a great match, is consistently and nicely painted ; whilst her conduct naturally produces her misfortunes. As Lady Hernshaw has not been able to corrupt her heart, and her character, or at least her way, is very charming, she retains her hold upon the reader's sympathy ; especially as her troubles are proportioned to her offence, whilst her offence itself arises from circumstances corresponding to the character of the persons who offend.
The pattern heroine Constance D'Oyley is less attractive in her- self, and less skilfully managed for the moral object aimed at by the author. Truthfulness is the quality Constance is to illus- trate : and, no doubt, she is truth-telling enough ; but her frank- ness sometimes looks very like ill-breeding ; her ways are rather brusque than odd ; she is too much of a flirt for a moral heroine, and wants the charm of Isabel's manner. Not that Miss Hern- shaw is immoral in the usual meaning. Seared by an attachment her worldly mother had broken off, maddened with the dread of a match into which she was forcing her, Isabel elopes with a weak- minded suitor of her friend Constance D'Oyley ; and her husband, after a wretched married life, commits suicide when his means are exhausted.
'The failure of the general moral lesson of Constance D'Oyley partly arises from the usual cause of failure in story-books : morality is too well rewarded. The strength of the heroine's principles not only enable her to achieve moral conquests in a field of misfortune open to all—to rise superior to the infidelity of her first love—to reap the satisfaction of discharging her parental and social duties— to procure for herself a high-principled husband, and even to risk his loss by generously aiding Isabel in her misfortunes : she must further acquire an immense property by her truthfulness and in- dependence; an old odd uncle, taken with her (sometimes un- necessary) truth, making her his heir, to the disappointment of several lying and servile relations. The story is not very complex, rapid, or deeply interesting ; the au- thor preferrirg to produce effects by dialogue and character rather than by incidents either single or in concatenation. The events— perhaps often rather the circumstances—are, however, well enough adapted to the matter, and the aim ; which, considering Constance D'Oyley merely as a novel, is to depict common country-life, of a grade above the gentility of a country-town, but scarcely rising to the fashionable aristocracy. This kind of society is cleverly sketched. We have it of all sorts, from the elaborate family-picture of the foolish gossiping country-gentry, just in a position to rise above the professionals of the country-town, to the passing sketch of the half-bred impertinent dandy of the modern school. Perhaps it is too naturally sketched ; and in two points of view. The idea which it presents of the female character is lowering, by the triviality, envy, silliness, scandal-'oving, marriage-hunting notions which it represents as the characteristics of the common mass of ladies, without exhibiting any redeeming feminine quality. In a critical point of view, the close imitation of nature sometimes pro- duces flatness. It may be laid down as a rule that dialogue in fiction which is not characteristic of the individual, or does not tend to some result, is out of place. When the subject and style of the discourse are both common, it is too trivial to attract the reader; who is immediately reminded of HUME'S opinion of the nature of tea-table talk.
The author of Constance D'Oyley is a well-read and a reflective person ; judiciously varying the narrative or dialogue by critical and moral remarks, which are often just, and do not look too ambitiously formal. The style is well adapted to the sort of book,— curt, easy, smart, and varying with the occasion. The writer, too, has a quick eye for points of character, and considerable felicity in touching them off; though perhaps with too little of goodnatured allowance, or of that comprehension which, taking in the whole, is less required to make goodnatured allowance. The following are examples of the social sketches.
A COUNTRY-PLACE.
It was a very .select neighbourhood. Sir George and Lady Hernshaw were first on the list. Sir George had made a great deal of money in some fortunate speculations ; Lady Hernshaw was clever, insolent, and well connected; every- body looked up to her.
The village was made up of a sprinkling of gentlemen's houses, scarcely deserving the name of seats, and a great abundance of cottages; but none of those little boxes with green verandahs and painted iron railings which dis- figure the approaches to London, and indeed to most of our country-towns. The neighbourhood did not recognize the existence of any person living in or very near the country-town, which was within two miles of their own vil- lage. Not that they themselves were many degrees less vulgar than such people ; for among them there was very nearly as much reliance on externals, quite as much lore of paltry mischief and wholesale scandal, as might be found in the narrowest street of the aforementioned town. There was by no means an immaculate freedom from ledger and counter in the very highest of these exclusives ; and, moreover, many of the townspeople kept a better carriage and dressed in richer satins than the elite of the village. It was habit : you cannot break into the charmed circle ; you must be born there.
OFFI ERS.
Then arose a discussion as to what was a lady's full dress ; in the course of which the officers showed themselves so well versed in the matters of muslin, and silks, that Constance frankly told them that her private opinion was that they had all served a year or two with Howell and James before they entered her Majesty's service. Captain Bohun smiled at this panegyric : for the rest, they laughed loudly, and told her she was very severe. " Come, now, let us talk of something wise," said Constance. " Who has read the Bridgewater Treatises ? "
Everybody laughed at the notion; it was quite amusing. Mr. Sinclair said he never read at all; which was very possible. Eustace asked who had written them ; and a very young officer told him he was fairly caught there, for who could have written the Bridgewater Treatises but a fellow named Bridgewater ?
"Perhaps," said Constance, "after this discovery, the gentleman will tell us who wrote the Letters of Junius?"
The young officer did not seem to argue by analogy ; for lie said, " Oh ! that was a secret ; he did not believe anybody knew." And then, after eyeing Con- stance for some time much as a little boy eyes a new rocking-horse which he would like to steal, he went up to Eustace and begged to be introduced to " that pretty creature."
" Mr. Heywood, my cousin, Miss D'Oyley."
These few words seemed to give him the privilege to play with her parasol, and to ask for her bouquet, and to pay her so many compliments, that if he had not been so very young, and so very silly, she would have been quite offended with him.
He might be about seventeen, with the manners of a child of five years old.. Notwithstanding the softness of his voice and appearance, he was a very wicked boy ; swearing awfully when ladies were not present, and gaming and betting high whenever he had the opportunity. He was a very hard rider, and the members of the — hunt had a great respect for him. He knew the broad- sword exercise, and all the notes on the guitar; and he could very nearly play the Barcarolle in Masauiello. He could drink maraschino in the morning, and smoke half a cigar without feeling very ill. Besides this, he had the honour to be nephew to Lord Westland, who was extremely proud of him. Near him stood his particular friend Captain Morton ; and as young ladies can never hear enough about officers, it may be as well to state that Captain Morton was a disdainful individual, and was wont, when any of his companions addressed him, to reply by a short ha 1—very like Henry the Eighth on the stage. He carried his head very much in the air ; and when the others were talking to the young ladies, he stood rather apart in an attitude meant to ex- press at once weariness and contempt.
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