ERMA'S ENGAGEMENT.* ERMENGARDE ST. BARBE, Erma's distinguished name in full,
is a very bright, beautiful, engaging, clever girl,—a thoroughly successful heroine for a pleasant novel, but a great failure as a type of the strong-minded woman made for independent action, willing and able to stand alone and on a footing with men. Not that our authoress—who, as far, at any rate, as intellect and opinion is concerned, has, we imagine, more or less unconsciously sketched herself—meant Erma to be a type of this kind ; but her book is clearly a defence of the rights and equality of women, and she has perhaps stultified herself in making her heroine just such a lovely, loving, dependent, worshipping woman as would have fulfilled an ideal before women's rights were dreamt of, and as would satisfy the most sensitive man in the present day, indignant at, or jealous or scornful of the " new-fangled notions " about the rights and equality of the sexes. Erma's Engage- ment does not disappoint the promises of Blanche Seymour, which we noticed in these pages some year and three-quarters ago. The same pleasantness and sprightliness, the same clever repartee abound, and there is the same absence of anything coarse or ill-natured to point the repartee. There is, too, the same power of suggesting personal and natural loveliness and beauty, without soiling it by too much handling, that we noticed then.
In some respects our authoress's second effort is a marked improvement, as it should be, though it so seldom is. The picture of narrow Evangelicalism, clever though it was, is withdrawn. And we cannot regret the absence of the exag- geration and heat which marred the otherwise perfect purity and good taste of this lady's first story. It is an improve- ment also that the second is not so crowded with candidates for the hymeneal altar, and that our interest is more centred in one or two—we have here only three instead of six marriages, and of these one is so merely incidental, that it does not add any sense of complication to the story. In fact, the weak point of the book is, perhaps, that it is a little too barren of incident,—too thin, and spread out over too large a surface. It would have been admirable in two small volumes. Indeed, if it had been possible for us to forget the form and size of the book, and then to predict them from its tone and style, we should have said its authoress had exactly that true appreciation of beauty and fitness, that tact in avoiding anything that could mar by adding a word too much, that sensitive shrinking from anything tedious, which would have dictated a decision in favour of one, or at most two perfect volumes. Nevertheless it is an exceedingly pleasant book, though we shall venture to point out some weak as well as some strong points in it.
Of Ermengarde and Beatrice we can only say that they are as nice, natural girls as one could wish to know, or desire one's friends to fall in love with ; bright, unaffected, intelligent—in Erma's case with an unusual depth and originality of thought—and we only complain that they adopt rather too much not exactly the fast, but the sharp style of conversation, which consists in a ready quotation of the current sayings of the day and a ready adoption of the current thoughts of the day, and which sometimes degenerates into a sort of good - humoured flip- pancy. For instance, " How do you know it is stupid ? you have never read it." "No ; and never mean to read it, —that is more ; but I know it is stupid. All books with small print on the margin are. They are suggestive of self-improve- ment, and therefore to be avoided." This is quite a correct picture of the lively girl of the present day, but not of so nice a girl as Beatrice, and it is she that delivers herself as above. There is, too, a tendency—of a similar kind—to adopt sharp sayings which have been said before, as when Erma observes, " Nay, books never bore me,—which is more than one can always say of one's friends." And another, to make incisive and fashionable, but rather shallow criticisms, which will not bear examination, as when the authoress herself says, " Everyone will admit that to take honours, or, in fact, to devote any except the smallest portion of time possible to intellectual pursuits, is the last thing a man goes to Oxford for in these days." Well, eighty-five men went in for honours—not merely a degree—in the final examinations at Oxford last month, and that only a half-yearly examination, and in classics alone ; but we quite admit that with between 2,000 and 3,000 men at the University that was vastly too few. Still it is enough to show that this habit of saying smart things, whether original
* Erma's Engagement. By the Author of "Blanche Seymour?' London: Tinsley Brothers.
or copied, tenable or otherwise, is a weakness, — one which her good taste and her candour will doubtless cure, as she gains the ear of the public, and feels, consequently, her increasing responsibility. Her other faults are of the same kind, that is to say, they arise from too short an experience of life, and too hasty conclusions, drawn from a quick observation. These are the foundations of her amusingly exaggerated views of the wrongs of women,—take, for instance, the following tirade, which contains only one undeniable proposition, namely, that I" marriage ought to be a state of mutual concession" :—
"' My own married life is the happiest possible—too happy to last, I often tell Philip ; but I have seen untold misery suffered by women yoked to nnsympathizing and uncongenial partners, or, more truly, masters, for, in an unsuitable marriage, the wife is a slave, neither more nor less.'—'I should never be a slave,' said Erma, a haughty flush rising to her face.—' My child, many a wretched girl has said that be- fore you, and has found her mistake. Marriage ought to be a state of mutual concession ; but too often the ' mutual 'is forgotten, and the con- cession is all on the side of the weaker one in the contract. When people are ill-matched, the wife, if she does her duty at all, and is neither a shrew nor a Gallio as to her husband's happiness—which you would not be—is and must be a slave, unless, indeed, her husband is an exceptionably just and honourable man—and the majority of men are neither just nor honourable where women are concerned. They have two codes—one for themselves, and another for us. Tall your mother what I have said to you, dear.'—Erma knew that it was all true."
As in Blanche Seymour, there is evidence of an intimate knowledge of women, both young and old. Nothing can be better than the sketch of the energetic, intelligent, and yet thoughtful Mrs. Harley, notwithstanding that the above very partial views of the matrimonial state are put into her month ; nor than that of the affectionate and refined Mrs. St. Barbe, spoiled and rendered absolutely cruel by that moral ;twist which an overweening and ancestral deference for birth and caste must produce in justice, reason, and common-sense, and which results, in this case, in nearly wrecking the happiness of a beloved daughter. But in knowledge of men our authoress has decidedly improved since she published her last tale, and of their ways and manners at least she shows herself a keen observer, while she is not an unfaith- ful discriminator of their characters. The cold, vain, thin- skinned and shallow, but conscientious Colonel Ashton, nicknamed " Crop " ; the affectionate, malleable, light-hearted, but empty-headed sportsman, Frank ; the grave, pleasant, sensible, ordinary Reginald ; and the two old fathers, Messrs. St. Barbe and Harley, are all good ; and even Mr. Erristoun, the Radical hero, with the only intellect amongst them that can master Erma's, is not nearly so imperfect as the union of Apollo, lover, states- man, and philanthropist would lead one to expect. But the real genius of the authoress comes out in her descriptions of family life, of which we must give two or three specimens. To begin with, here are two short passages which reveal at once the relations of mutual confidence between Mr. and Mrs. St. Barbe, and give us in a few words an amusing and life-like picture of their manners and characters :—
" 'Well!' exclaimed Mr. St. Barbs, coming into the dining-room, where his family was assembled at luncheon. It was his usual greet- ing, and seemed to be addressed to the company in general, and not to mean anything in particular. In reality it was addressed to his wife, who invariably responded, Well, dear Harry!' and there the colloquy ceased. It was their way of acknowledging each other's presence, and served as a sort of introduction to whatever might follow."
"The same little comedy respecting the horses went on almost daily. It was the only point on which Mr. and Mrs. St. Barbe ever had a differ- ence. The gentleman was the most submissive of husbands in all other respects ; the lady, of wives the most attentive to all his wishes, but she could not be induced to see that keeping the horses standing about from three to seven was not conducive to equine welfare. She never thought about the noble animals till she was close home, when she would ex- claim, 'Dear me ! I suppose I have kept the horses out too long. I hope your father won't be in ! Ho will be so angry with me! I always forget. if he only would let me have a pair of hired horses, not these precious creatures that want wrapping up in cotton-wool !' Then when she arrived, 'Is Mr. St. Barbe in, Harris ?' That patriarchal functionary knew the whole scene by heart. The amusing thing was that Mrs. St. Barbe dreaded her husband's very mild scolding as much as if he had sworn ferociously at her, or as if it had not been in her own power to prevent it. If to her question, put in a voice of assumed unconcern, Mr. Harris could answer, ' No, ma'am,' Mrs. St. Barbe breathed freely, and never gave the subject a thought again till that hour on the following day ; but if, with intense gravity, he replied, 'Yes, ma'am,' the lady invariably anticipated the coming remonstrance by a counter-remon- strance of her own. ! then I suppose he is angry about the horses being out so late. If he only would let me have a pair, or even one common hired horse, that is made for use, not show, how thankful I should be !' On the present occasion Mr. Harris's eyes involuntarily sought those of Beatrice, for her blue orbs never failed to sparkle with amusement at this frequently recurring domestic episode. Her mother
always went straight to receive her husband's scolding. It is an extraordinary thing, Helen, that you will keep the horses out for so many hours! It is no use my speaking. ("Not the least," irreverently thought his two daughters, who usually assisted at the scone.) I have
told you over and over again that no horses can stand being kept out so long,' et callers, et asters, et enters.—'I didn't know it was so late, Harry ; I really cannot keep on counting the minutes. Beatrice, why didn't you tell me ?'—`I forgot, too, mamma,' said Miss Beatrice, demurely. The gentleman sat down with an exclamation of despair. 'Harry, why won't you let me have a pair of hired horses ? I don't care to be drawn about by these creatures that are too valuable to go the length of their own noses.'—' The length of their own noses !' cried the gentleman, in disgust. They must call my horses the " Ever- goers," about London. As a matter of fact they are hardly ever in the stables!' This was a generalisation which would scarcely have borne looking into. ' Well, dear Harry, I'm very sorry. I won't have them out to-morrow ; I won't have them out again this week,—there,' and she kissed his forehead. He always received the caress with, ' It is too bad, Helen! It is, upon my soul!' She would stand with her hand on his shoulder for a minute, and then, meeting with no response, would turn to leave the room, when he invariably recalled her in a relenting voice. 'Where did you go, Helen ?' And they were turtle-doves again in a moment."
One more extract from many passages, descriptive of the impul- siveness of this excitable, affectionate St. Barbe family, we must give ; we only wish we had room for more, and for Miss St. Barbe's amusing letter from her maiden aunt's Welsh home. Erma had been siding with some poor Dissenting poachers, and expressing indignation at the severity of their punishment, and a resolution, when she came of age, to give the Dissenters a site for a chapel. Mr. Wynne, the clergyman, had appealed to her father :—
" 'My dear Frank, you never witnessed such a scene,' said Beatrice. 'Papa stormed, Mr. Wynne looked like the Grand Inquisitor, only language failed him to express his indignation, and mamma scolded poor Erma like anything. Then she told her to go and kiss papa, and say she was sorry, but he was too angry to be mollified, and would not kiss her, upon which she sat down on the sofa, and cried like a Made- leine. Then mamma, who is always in a state if Erma cries, cried too, and said we all combined to break her heart, and that Erma would not have a single eyelash left ; and I cried, and Charlie cried, and we all cried.'—' Good heavens!' ejaculated Frank, what a tapage --g Then, when he saw mother cry, papa relented and kissed Erma, and we all subsided.'—' And Wynne ?'—' Oh, I'm sure he said a De Profandis to himself while the storm lasted, for, used as he must he by this time to the family exoitability, I think he was fairly astonished at the scene that day, and thanked God that he was a bachelor. Afterwards Erma went up to him—don't you know her way ? half shy and half proud, and getting very red—and said she was sorry; so he was mollified, and gave her absolution.'—' And I suppose Uncle Harry was all right after- wards?'—' Oh yes ! and Erma went and sat on his knee, and he kissed her, and made ever so much fuss about her, and came into our room when we were going to bed to say 'good night' to her again, and all that'"
Of plot there is very little. The story turns upon the difficulties which arise because Erma's parents desire a marriage which will enable her to retain her property, while Erma has set her affec- tions on a working barrister and Member of Parliament, whose views are as objectionable to her parents as his impecuniosity and supposed want of high birth. There is one weak point in the story, but it is only in a subordinate part ; it is the amusing im- probability in the discovery, by Erristoun's future wife, first of his nephew, next of his missing sister's fate, and lastly of the sister's husband. One word more. Let us implore our unknown, but thoroughly appreciated and much admired authoress, to avoid for the future such a sickly pat name as " Queenie." She cannot guess how such little sentimentalities annoy sensible readers, at least undemonstrative persons, especially of the masculine gender.
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