THE STEP-SISTERS.*
A STRBMI (or rather canal) of respectable and elderly sentiment runs through this production which contrasts oddly with the roman- tic incidents which it embodies. The "author of Heatherbrae" knows that a novel ought to be a little thrilling, but has, apparently, lost the subjective capacity tojudge of what is thrilling, though re- taining a clear conception of the true objective elements involved. There are all the theatrical "properties" of a genuine old-fashioned romance, but we regret to say they do not inspire the actors who wear them with the appropriate feelings.
On first opening the book we saw with gratification that there was a haughty and reserved heiress of exquisitely sculptured face, and noble character, requiridg, however, much discipline to perfect it, and a lovely gentle step-sister (beautiful but not rich), whose soft and unselfish character conceals, of course, even a greater store of hidden strength than the high-born heiress. This was satisfactory ; s but when we discovered that there was also a rich Indian nabob, whose superficial cynicism covered a deeply wounded and occasionally bleeding heart, in consequence of the mysterious loss of an only son some twenty years previously ; and that a young man of the highest merit and virtue, deeply attached to the gentler heroine (the one we mean with the unsuspected strength of character), was not the son of his supposed father, but a stray individual of unknown origin and parentage, we gave ourselves up to romantic feelings and prepared to be excited. Moreover, there were obviously complicating interests of a high order. There are two distinct sets of rival lovers—a pair for each of the ladies, if not three for one of them—there was an im- pending ruin for the heiress and her father,—and an unfeeling step- mother; there is an Indian Begum of great passions and Oriental beauty connected with the early memories of the nameless and dis- inherited young gentleman who ajears suddenly at the Opera-house, flashes dim memories upon that youth's mind, and then takes flight with a savage husband to Madrid; and there is an earl, of business habits and predilections, who further stirs up the already seething caldron of romantic elements.
With all these elements of romantic hope, we confess to a grievous disappointment—and we confess to having deserved it. We did not sufficiently notice the suspicious indication that there was a maternal lady of highly elevated character on the look-out for moral discipline for both the step-sisters, and always a little inclined to "improve" the occasion. This motherly and subsequently childless lady gives the key note to the sentiment of the book, and all the rest is toned down to her faint and rather slate-coloured ideas and feelings. The roman- tic incidents fail utterly to be romantic. Even when at the proper moments the heroines being brought under the right " discipline" have feverish lips, and press their aching brows for a minute to the table, they can't keep it up. They habitually swing back in a mo- ment to the proper moderated equanimity of well-regulated minds. It is the same with the young men. They .suppress unreasonable aspirations at the right time with a sigh that is not at all inconsistent with the discharge of their somewhat unusual duties. They lose brides and inheritances and gain fathers with that perfect fortitude for which the Oxford poet aspires :
"Youth hears a voice within it tell Calm's not lire's crown but calm is well."
In fact, if we must confess the truth, the prizes intended to be striven for in this novel are the prizes which attract youth, but the sentiments with which the young people strive for them are the elderly sentiments of the maternal aunt. Naturally, the novel is tame, nay, more than tame ; in the midst of thickly complicated elements of romance, it is flat, it is arid, it is dead. Its gorgeous preparations for excitement and the dulness of the persons repre- sented, produces the same effect on the mind as the artificial Swiss scenery that used to attract children to the Coliseum ; there was the Swiss lake, the mountain-side, the tottering avalanche, the tame eagle chained upon it, and the free peasaut in the dress of William Tell upon its waters, who would sometimes with more energy than dramatic propriety cry out " You be'ave !" to the too excited puerile spectator. Just so flat and disenchanting is the conduct of the several excellent young gentlemen and young ladies in this work, who amidst the rapid rise and fall of several complicated fortunes, the tragic death of two fathers and one lover, the discovery of a childless parent by the parentless child, the excitement of hunting an artful and magnificent Begum through England, Spain, and Austria, and all the ordinary passages of tried and persecuted and successful love, preserve an admirable composure and unexpected gratitude for "discipline." We feel the more sympathy with the " author of Heatherbrae," because she—we conclude from her carious account of the law transactions that it is a lady—has failed, as it were constitutionally, and in a good cause. She is aware that the novel reader has a claim to a little high colour, and she strives with a true feeling of loyalty to satisfy the claim, only site really can't bring the young people up to the emotional mark. We confess it is a natural difficulty. It is easy to imagine an "Indian's revenge," or a lover bleeding to death on the eve of his marriage, or a bankrupt father bles%ing his child on his death-bed, or many other of the great conceptions of this novel, but not easy to care about them or persuade your readers that you care about them, when you have imagined *them. To a healthy business mind writing these works day by day, in chapters, it must be a superhuman effort to take up the deep current of feeling of the last chapter when " we left" Mabel with her feverish brow pressed on the sofa, or taking a glass of water with a steady hand in order • The 8gep-Siletere. By the Author of " Heatherbrae." 2 vole. L. Booth. to prove to the physician that she might go to her dying father—in the same key. .Even when "we" left her we were not very deeply sympathizing with. her; we felt she ought to have a feverish brow, and had prepared her for it, but we looked upon that brow only as a telling point. in the story. Since finishing the chapter the author has, perhaps, had her own doubts whether it is a telling point, and the writer's domestic arrangements, the fretful and dusty incidents of ordi- nary human life, have made Mabel's aching brow utterly unreal to her. Can it bewondered that next day on resuming the tale, afterthe funeral, she finds it utterly impossible to spin anything more out of that filial grief, and is even obliged to look to some new incident as the next stage of effect. Hence comes the natural propensity of a business novelist to accumulate external interests quite out of proportion to any internal interests, and to relieve herself of the necessity of returning to the same emotional mood by opening out another scenic effect. The process seems to us exceedingly natural, though we never saw it more curiously exemplified than in this work. There are four heroes and two heroines. Of the heroes one dies, and one, after a mild form of early disappointment, is married, with a punctilious regard to symmetrical effect, to a young lady hurriedly created for the purpose in the last few chapters, and all four are made to "group them- selves" again and again in different combinations with and without heroines, now in cheerful hope, now in desolate solitude, but nothing like "a good situation" will come of it. Neither beside death-beds, nor on Spanish balconies, nor in Austrian ball-rooms, is it possible for the reader to feel with them ; for, besides having no character at all, there is no one spark of feeling in the author's imagination, so that the harder she grinds the incidents together, the more obvious it is that there is no fire to come out. Under these circumstances we cannot but admire the high sense of a novelist's duty shown in this book. The ideal is true and great. And it is only to be regretted that one who has no insight into character and no command of ima- ginative interests, should attempt the task of weaving together cha- racter and imaginative interests at all.
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