VANESSA.*
THE authoress of Thomasina is one of our cleverest and very pleasantest lady writers. There is no sameness in either her plots or her people, but she inspires a confidence—never hitherto be trayed—that the quality of sameness may be looked for in the lively interest, the simple truth to nature, and the pure English of all her stories. We recorded our enjoyment of Thomasina in these pages, when we reproached its authoress for having shirked her opportunity of defending stepmothers. She has treated our hint with the silent indifference of assured success, and passed by the bait which we flattered ourselves we had thrown with nice dexterity, without so much as a passing glance to give us hope for the future. But we owe her no grudge because she declines our offer of a subject, and record with pleasure our opinion that there is no falling-off either in the power or interest of her stories. Thomasina was less painful, but Vanessa is more interesting.
But notwithstauding our admiration of these stories, we do not think that the diagnosis and gradual development of disease, and the observation and registration of the increasing severity of the symptoms, is a legitimate sphere for fiction, any more when the disease is mental than when it is physical ; though an unhealthy, morbid interest in the details of madness is, we fear, the reason why this story has already reached a second edition. The subject is painful, without being useful. If the diagnosis of physical disease requires observation and experience in a high degree, that of mental disease, as much more subtle and intangible, requires it in a far higher degree ; and it is scarcely well for amateur * Vanessa. By the Author of "Thomasina." London: Henry S. King and Co. ud e n ts to venture into the sad and awful domain of insanity, and attempt the description of the foot-prints, so difficult even for the expert to trace, which ,mark its course from pas- sion to jealousy, from jealousy to mania, and from mania to .dangerous madness. It is, however, attempted, and with, on the whole, successful effort; and we watch the tottering of the reason to its fall, with a painful feeling of the reality of the description, and yet with a strong conviction that it is too solemn a subject to use for entertainment, too difficult for the unlearned to attempt, and too sharp an edged tool to he trusted in uninitiated hands. Besides that it is dangerous to represent so common a characteris- tic as conjugal jealousy as a symptom of disease culminating so rapidly in madness, our authoress has failed to impress us both with a sense of the depth of passionate devotion on the part of the patient likely to lead to a condition of easily excited suspicion, and with the warmth of nature on the part of the victim likely to excite such devotion ; so that the lesson she appears to teach, namely, that a very slight and, we should expect, transient passion may lead, in a tainted constitution, with awful rapidity to most tragical conclusions, travels greatly beyond the truth, and is far more alarming than the reality warranted by experience. One more objection we have to make to this episode of the story, namely, that the death of the patient follows too quickly upon the acute stage of mania. We never heard that, in the absence of brain-fever—and of fever we do not hear—insanity exhausts the constitution in a few months.
Of the story, apart from this phase of it, we have only one just ground of complaint, that its interest culminates in the middle. This, however, is a serious defect. The gloom in a tragedy should grow deeper and denser, relieved only by such lights as will make the darkness seem more striking ; and anxiety and perplexity should cluster more and more thickly about the incidents of a story, till everything is prepared for the denouement, when a flood of light may be allowed to break through the canopy of doubt and uncertainty, revealing the true bearing of incident and cir- cumstance, and bringing that happy and half hoped for, scarcely expected relief, that relaxes the tension of the heart, and brightens into smiles as the reader ceases from his anxious consideration and closes his book. The characters are very nicely conceived and sus- tained, and we notice one striking advance upon the drawing of those in Thomasina, that the men are nearly as life-like as the women. Nothing can be better than the boy friends, Henry and Dennis, and the gradual amelioration and humanising of the severe characteristics of their boyhood ; the proud independence of the one, and the stern unforgivingness of the other. The progress of jealousy in the third, and unhappily successful hero is sketched, we have already implied, with much delicacy and power. The reserved and devoted father, Mr. Mertoun, is also a natural pic- ture, and the relations existing between the two families are admirably drawn—the one rich, and coldly but conscientiously tendering assistance ; the other poor, and steadily declining it ; with a gentle bitterness on the part of the broken-down mother, with rough and youthful indignation on the part of the young peo- ple, excepting Amy—the chief heroine—who, of a self-indulgent and weak nature, desires the comforts and luxuries of her uncle's home. The courage which enables her to face the family opposition, and to desert her impoverished mother and humble lover in her de- sire to compass these physical good things, is not at all out of keep- ing with the timid, fearful submission to her cruel husband ; since both opposition and submission are born of a selfish desire to avoid as much suffering for herself as possible ; and her subsequent sub- sidence into a placid country life—the thing she would have hated in the days of youthful cheerfulness—grows quite naturally out of her experience of trouble, and terror of any possible return to it. Equally well drawn, though only a slight sketch, is the con- jugal relation between the sterling Mr. Wray, scientific in his tastes and loving his study, and the fashionable Lady Cecilia, his wife, gushing, insincere, and worldly, and proud of retaining in marriage, by an accident, the sound of the name of her noble family, —about which there is at first some confusion, which need not alarm the reader ; he will soon learn to distinguish the various readings of the lordly name ; "Raeburn" lathe title, "Rae" the family name, "McRae" the designation of the eldest son, and "Wray" the family into which the noble Cecilia has married. But the greatest power of the book is thrown into the picture of Helen, the energetic, uncompromising, warm-hearted, pungent-tongued ruler of herself and all the others ; who thus admits her weakness, and puts her finger on the cause of much uncharitable judgment. "I know that Henry and I are both intolerant ; the truth is, that as we do not mix with people to see them as they are, we have "Helen was in her own room, engaged in packing her goods, and she continued to stow away her books and clothes in the open trunk, while Mrs. Wentworth took a chair by the bedside, feeling that such an aspect of things was not encouraging. She began by asserting that her brother's full explanation had completely satisfied her of Miss Mer- toun's honourable and disinterested conduct ; but Helen had stopped her ears and hardened her heart against such allurements, and she rammed down another article of clothing between two books, with rather unnecessary vigour. I wished that you would let me send a maid to pack for you, or better still, to unpack your box again,' said Mrs. Wentworth. 'I must do ray brother the justice to say that he suffers more in the knowledge that he has deprived you of your position here, than from a sense of his own disappointment.'—'Do you not think that he deserves to suffer a little ?' said Helen.—qt is an ill-judged affair indeed : poor Edmund was always so impetuous. But he is young, and as soon as he can be brought to see that you do not reciprocate his attachment, I trust that he will get over it.'—'I do not doubt that he will got over it,' said Helen.—'And in that case,' continued Mrs. Wentworth, as her conviction gathered strength that Helen was in earnest in her refusal, and was not playing a double game ; in that case, Miss Mertoun, your leaving us in this way seems to attach snore importance to the affair than it deserves.'—' I do not want to attach any importance to it,' said Helen, 'but since I have got into a scrape, the easiest way of getting out of it is to go home. If I were to stay, Fanny's lively imagination would construe every letter I receive into an offer of marriage.'—' On the contrary,' said Mrs. Wentworth, I believe that your high tone will be of the greatest service in weaning Fanny of her taste for idle gossip.'—' I shall never influence any one in that sort of way,' said Helen. • I have not toleration nor sympathy enough for a governess, and if I do happen to do the right thing, it is sure to be done in an aggressive way. Besides, I have just discovered that I am really home-sick, and I could not settle down again to my life here in a satisfactory manner.'—' At any rate, Miss Mertoun, I should like to be able to tell my brother that you will not take the first train to- morrow. He is going up to London this evening, so that you will not be annoyed by seeing him again ; and the delay in your departure will en- courage him to hope that you have given up the intention of leaving me.'— ' I will take the mid-day train, if you like; although, if it is for the sake of sending Mr. Horton away under a false impression, it may imply an "apparent want of candour,"' said Helen, unable to resist the temptation to fire a parting shot, even although she had a hearty liking for Mrs. Wentworth, and was determined that they should part on good terms. Before her packing was concluded, Helen found it necessary to return to the school-room. since Fanny was receiving hard measure from her leisure to construct the idea of what they ought to be." The brothers, Tom and Allied. The discovery that she had pulled the wires
episode of her short trial of the life of a governess, undertaken in a spirit of knight-errantry—when she thinks her absence may induce Dennis to return to his first love—is full of ability and humour, and impresses us with the authoress's power to write in a much more spirited and amusing style than she generally attempts. We will conclude with an extract from this unimportant, but humorous episode, as it is highly characteristic of the hot- headedness and candid self-appreciation of the strong-minded Miss Helen. Mrs. Wentworth thinks she has discovered an intrigue between her brother and her governess :-
"'My brother has said nothing to me on the subject, but you will allow that I have some cause for anxiety when I find that Fanny has been carrying notes or messages between you ; and there is an apparent want of candour in the whole transaction which makes me very uneasy.' —‘ I understand that I have forfeited your confidence,' replied Helen, disdaining to justify herself, and therefore our engagement cannot terminate too abruptly. I trust that you will not object to my return- ing home to-morrow.'—' You are too hasty, Miss Mertoun,' said Mrs. Wentworth, possessed by the fear that such a step was only preliminary to the declaration of an engagement, or even of a secret marriage with Edmund Horton ; 'I am moat willing to make every allowance for the difficulties of your position, and to receive any explanation which you have to offer.'—' I have none to offer,' said Helen, stiffly : 'Mr. Horton may, as I said before, have something to explain, but I only desire to return to my mother's house.'—' If you insist on leaving me, I shall pay you a quarter's salary in advance,' said Mrs. Wentworth, but Helen rejected this offer with superb indignation. — Certainly not, Mrs. Wentworth : I will take my wages' —Helen disdained to make use of any more elaborate term — up to the day I leave your service, and not a farthing beyond it. I will never have it said that I was bought off with a bribe to save you from the dis- grace of having a governess for a sister-in-law.' Poor Mrs. Wentworth felt as much dismayed by Helen's indomitable spirit as if a kitten had suddenly developed the claws and ferocity of a tiger. 'The offer was kindly meant,' said she, 'and if it is really necessary that your engage- ment to me should terminate,'I can speak most highly of your qualifi- cations for any other situation.'—' Including my apparent want of candour,' retorted Helen.—Mrs. Wentworth wisely held her peace, and in a few moments Helen's irritation had subsided, and she apologised for it with characteristic frankness.—' I believe I spoke insolently,' she and you have a right to feel annoyed, although I do not consider myself to blame in the matter. Let us part, on the understanding that I have not temper nor judgment to make a model governess, and that I must cast about for some other vocation.'—' Indeed, Miss Mertoun, I have had the highest opinion of you,' said Mrs. Wentworth, with tears in her voice ; but Helen had never felt less disposed to cry.—' I do not think that I have done anything to forfeit that opinion, Mrs. Wentworth, and I shall always remember your kindness ; but I suspect that the girls will be happier, and may even learn more, with some humdrum, conventional teacher who has never gone off the beaten track.'—' I have been entirely satisfied with your teaching,' said Mrs. Wentworth, and I only regret that you should withhold the explanation which might clear away all difficulties.'"
Mrs. Wentworth then repairs to her brother, and returns anxious to make reparation :—
which set the machinery in motion for exiling the only governess whom they had ever liked aroused their indignation, and they upbraided her for being the meanest sneak who ever ate bread and butter.' Such contumely reduced Fanny to the lowest depths of misery and remorse, and it was in vain for Helen to assure her that she was as glad to go as her pupils could be to part with her.—' But I am not at all glad,' whimpered Fanny; 'I am very sorry that I ever said a word to mamma.'—' Do not believe her crocodile-tears, Miss Merton% said Alfred. 'Fanny has spited you ever since you came, and if she ever has a governess she likes, I shall take precious good care to find out that she is flirting with somebody, and get her bundled out of the house.'—' Then you will be the meanest sneak who ever ate bread and butter,' said Helen promptly, and as the laugh was turned against Alfred, Fanny escaped further obloquy."
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