LITERARY NOTICES.

Southland Times, Volume I, Issue 49, 28 April 1863, Page 6 (Supplement)

LITERARY NOTICES.

(From Smith, Elder and do/Jj&fonihlp Circular.) ENTANGtfeMEfrrs #• a- Romance; ; • By; the Author .%£ '*■" Mr -Mepi !lOaste/\ &c. ; 2 yols.,; post Byp., pp. 356, 2ls;; A prettier provision for : Hi Entanglements'' '-; and . n fojr " '^^b^anSe*' ctfuld hardly be devised'^Kan'!a; sjpjry with three heroines. loat,fwhp are allinlove wi^fe ' *offe " many -thbiigb he, in . (return ]oyes ; but two of \ them— and enough, too, some may ' think. \ A smart ' reviewer, more prone to amuse his readers than to deal justly with the author/, might be tempted in such a case to indulge in a li.tle pleasantry? but in the first place we make: no pretensions to smartness, . ancT secondly the character; of the story is the reverse of mirthprovqking, and rather tragical *_ than otherwise. Insanity is a painful subject for artistic treatment, and if Shak~s~-~ peare had. not, by a few living, and tender touches, drawn ; the character of Ophelia, .and J3terne,that of Maria, 7 w,£ shpuld-have doubted if any attempt to portray : this affliction in a young and beautiful girl was justifiable, however capable it might be of artistic treatment. These examples, however, have shown that there is no ground too sacred on which geuius, if sufficient for the purpose, may not work its spells arid exercise its transforming power. We cannot, therefore, altogether blame the attempt, though an ambitious one, in any writer of modern fiction, to use the mystery of this mental and moral phenomenon, in common with other mysteries, for the purposes of his art. The indispensable condition is that it be done with a sort of reverence of which few novelists of the present day would, be deemed capable, and the want of which, whether otherwise equal to the task the reader must judge. for himself, cannot be charged upon the author of " Entanglements."

The story opens with a description of Bramblebridge Hall, a gloomy old place, not far from the seaside, scarred without by the inclemencies of wind and weather, thickly encrusted with mosses and lichens, and containing within mysterious rooms and corridors, with staircases and outlets, deserted garden terraces^ and gloomy retreats in the surrounding woods sufficient for a ]egend of the Hartz mountains. In this hall resides a Mr Downside with his supposed stepdaughter Esterel, who is the subject of mysterious influences, and at the period of her introduction to the reader has made a companion and friend of the gamekeeper's daughter, Marian, who is thus lifted out of her sphere without losing her native modesty and ' gentleness of disposition. Not far from the hall resides the third heroine of the story, Lady Winstay, whose cousin, Herbert, is in love with Marian, and at length betrothes her to himself in defiance of the opinions freely expressed by his proud relative. But Esterel loves Herbert with what eventually proves to be an insane passion, and at the instigation of Lady Winstay resolves to remove Marian from the neighborhood, which she is enab^d to do by appealing to the very disinterestedness of her affection. This being accomplished, Estexel and Herbert are thrown much into each other's Society, and his honest but pliable nature so worked Upon that he engages himself to Esterel. The marriage is hurried on by Lady Winstay, and as the wedding day approaches the scene shifts from the neighborhood of Bramblebridge Hall to London, where it is intended the ceremony shall take place.

But all this time Esterel is torn with doubts and fears suggested by a tender conscience, which the vehemence of her passion for Herbert is sufficient to hold in check. The marriage preparations are made through scenes of dread or remorse which often bring her to the verge of confession, the restraining power being at last — and in this lies the redeeming feature of her character — not her selfish love for Herbert, but her conviction that he has learned to love her, and could no more be anything to Marian. In these chapters the story grows intensely interesting 1 , and the climax is reached when Esterel's wedding dress is brought home by her injured friend, who had obtained employment as a dressmaker in London, and had been scut to the house not knowing for whom the marriage robe was intended. During the scene which ensued the overwrought brain of Esterel gives way, and she falls on her father's bosom, deprived of the light of reason, and is thenceforth lovingly tended by Marian, who takes her old place of devotion by the side of her misguided mistress.

In this incomplete outline of the plot, opportunities for effective writing may be discerned, such as incidents of more likelihood would not afford. For example :-—

The personal intercourse of the few days which intervened between the day of Esterel's cimval and that fixed for the -wedding, was felt by both the loversto be tmideal and disappointing. .'Lady AYinstay very seldom allowed Mr. Hillliouse to be alone with Esterel for "more than. a few moments at a timel There would tie plenty of opportunity for (hat afterwards, she said; and now business^must be atttended to. This •* business," this pomp and cir curastance, annoyed ! Mf. Hilhouse, and sickened and weaned Esterel ; but Lady Winstay maintained that if was good for both 'of them to haye 1 their wings daily clipt after this, fashion—a fashion which' made long and higli' flights impossible.; Perhaps they studied each other's faces the more for tils restraint put upon spoken interchange of thought. Esterel's Jook pained' her .. jpver'yi't' expressed, he thought, such an, overwrought state of mind and body ; she looked so fearfully' frail ; it seemed to him at times asvif he could see the consuming °'fire- -glowing' beneath the transparent r skin,: and r barcing in- the da^^'dejijth^oKliwi^oiirnral eyes. Over his ' Esterel felt: or fancied that there was a shadow ; a shadow of something in the past that stood between them. Marian never being long

abkeTitrfrom rEsterel's; thouglits,: Jt : .wash natural that she should fear and believe that Marian was often present-to, his. . L . n I [They were, iriTacf, 'each'gfte'ved'id" See' *tb.o other look different, so much less hippy than they had "lidped : each ignorant of the cause each, had for anxious wkcbiag of.iIO^rSMI.LSjp iOn Mr. Downside was heaped thelcnowle'dge of everybody's sins and sufferings, anxieties and fears ; and "he, poor man, besides all this, had to bear a secret and a ih^ayy ioad ; , unlightenid' by human help of sympathy: ' --a i-<- •-.•;••■> ■%■■■ . ! -■ \ j U n welcbme wedding /guests' were cbtne, unbidden, to be- present ,at' ( itiiis weddingfeast. $t such -guests as will always enter where truth and : innocence' afanot.

' How slowly-the days dragged on ! How long and varied an agony of conflicting ipassidns: EstereL soffered^in > each !. And 'h^rni^K(s!,',Nd wonder she looked more unearthly; w|th' jeach hionring, and said with each i morning, ; f^X cannot bear .another night I I ; must , tell, him all." Yet the everiing^of' the last day came, and she had held out in silence.

)j further on :-— * Se did not, think that she had made the slightest noise as she moved towards him. But does notythe silent fall of an unseen foot sometimes make the earth and air vibrate, and our being vibrate with it ? Do we not often feel and knpw a presence that we neither hear nor see. Perhaps it was thus with Mr. Hillhouse now; he looked up suddenly, a full look of love dawning in his eyes as they met hers; then he sprung up with a joyous word of 'welcome. . Putting her in the ; low chair he liad been occupying-, he settled himself on the rue; at her feet. Caressing the hand he had kept in his, he said,— *' They have kept you from me cruelly. I thought they were coing to do so even to-night. I was feeling very surly ; but trying to console myself with the recollection that after to-morrow no one could have a right to keep you from vie."

"Of what were you thinking," she asked "a few moments ago, when I came in? It was not of this, then ?"

She put her disengaged hand upon his head, and leant forward to look into his face.

" A few moments ago I was thinking of Marian Fay." He answered frankly, "I was thinking of the wonder of it ; the wonder that she should have thrown away what you, my princess, prizf! ! That you .should prize what a simple child like Marian threw away ! The marvels of love are indeed past finding out !" He was looking full in her face ? startled by a sudden change that came over if, lie asked, " What- is it, Esterel I What is the matter, dearest V

" Only that I think my heart is breaking !" she said softly. Perhaps because he should not see her face, she slightly leant her cheek upon his head. In this attitude she remained a few moments ; he covering her hand with kisses and murmuring soothing words.

Presently Esterel, lifting her head, looked him in the face again, asking solemnly.

" You caJl me, dearest 2 Ami dearest ? Are 3'OH sure you love me wholly? Me first and best of all women ?"'

"Ami sure! How can you ask me\ What can I swear by ? I love you, you first and best of all women ! you only, you wholly!" She could not doubt ; the passion of the tone, and of the look-carried conviction. She sighed a long, low sigh. Was it of sorrow or content ]

'* If Marian were to come back and say she loved you stil ? If I were to give you up to Marian and go away and try to bear it?" '

" You would pain me with pain bitter as death, and long as life," he broke in, impetuously, "and you would do no good to Marian. I cannot love and unlove at will. And I love you, Esterel ; with love such as J«never felt for poor little Marian — Jove such as I never felt before nor can ever feel again." " Lady Winstay has let her find out that Marian hin London. This knowledge is troubling her," he thought. " Are you satisfied, you strangest and dearest questioner?" he asked aloud.

She "bowed her head clown upon him ngain, and there was a Jong silence, broken by and by by Estetel'a saying dreamily-

" You could not love a woman whom you despised ? And yo\i would despise a woman who had deceived 3'ou ?" •>

It would seem as if those words, coupled with the hint of Mrs Fay's letter, might have suggested suspicion of the truth : but Esterel, in her lover's imagination, moved quite above suspicion ; and it happened that, instead of suspicion of the truth,' thoughts of passages in his past life were suggested to his mind hv Esterel's words : it was recollections of these which toned his answer.

"I could not love a woman whom I despised \ No, certainly. But I might not necessarily despise a woman who had deceived me. The how and why of such deceit so largely affects the question. One instance of deceit, one spoken or acted li?, rhay oftea be forgiven ; nay, sometimes, for such, a woman has been only loved the more ; in tender pity of the -weakness Ah at drove her to it as a last resource. But a long course of deception, or of concealment of the truth, carried on with the remorseless cruelty of which Lome women are capable, is quite a different matter ; is not to be forgiven, would turn the fondest love to the bitterest contempt and hate.''

" Is not to be forgiven, would turn the fondest Jove to the bitterest contempt and hate." Esterel repeated this, shuddering. " And how do women feel, I wonder ; and how do they bear to live, when they find love turned to contempt and hate?" she asked.

«' They bear to live excellently well. Such women do not feel anything much," he answered. " Such women cannot love much. Anything of what such women are; you catt have no idea !" «* How can you know?" she asked,; <'you may be quite wrong. I think women may be wicked,. and yet love with all their beinj. How bhould you know what women can or cannot do?"

He laughed half sadly, half bitterly. I' How can, ye/ know, my innocent dreamer ? I might well ' say. ' Alas ! ■ I know, too much of the world, and of the wickedness both of men and women.' j Some day you shall hear, if you wish it, 'all th? story of my life. But why do ( we i talk of such things how ? Let us think: of the f.ir future, not of the past,., You are shaking, raj' darling ! Why is this? ;Is it'cold, or some fanciful fear? What do. you .fear? , r ' ' *'Tp lose you !"; she answered — "to lose j'ou evenvat this last hbnr !'* \

■ The construction of the plot is not one that demands : variety of character, but it depends for its interest on the skill .<;.* the author in prolonging the

>£l j ■r,-:0.:j,-iu^ii.'i^":3yioJi. jc^OU 1 HO- : :J .-..'. J. .suspense, mingled, with remorse ana the fire of passion,* fey which Esterel is crushed to, the earth in the midst of what should li^ v bej^h<M happ^n^ss. T^e mystery oTthV heroine's parentage, and the story of .her father's life, ate reserved for the last, but a tantalising secretyisf kßOwn ; to exist from the commencement' and advantage is taken of it to suggest the supernatural, and excite the sentiment of wonder at times ; when* the lack of outward incident would perhaps be felt. "The characters are as far as possible from realities, and the whole story leaves an impressijon not unlike that caused by a vivid j dream. It is, in short, a finely Wrought specimen of the novelist's art practised on enchanted ground ; a tissue of ma- j terials deftly wove together, but in their substance such as we may describe in the words of Shakspeare — ''Of imagination all compact. 1 '