Contribution Page

The pretension of this title is certainly very daring. No man 'to his own valet seems a hero;' and though it be uncourteous to affirm that a lady, even if qualified to rank as the tenth Muse, would not appear an absolute divinity to her confidante, yet we may be permitted to doubt whether the history of such a being, if faithfully related, would form any very interesting piece of biography. Nor is it easy to admit the possibility of merely imagining a series of events, in which, while all the requisites of fiction were comprehended, a title of such supreme import could be triumphantly vindicated. From the diffidence and the love of seclusion which enter so largely into the intellectual temperament, it has been generally found that the lives of the children, especially the daughters, of genius, are less chequered by vicissitudes than those of ordinary mortals; and this sensitive reserve cannot be banished from the female character without impairing one of its most attractive graces. Preoccupied with these reflections, it was not without some distrustful forebodings that we entered upon the perusal of the work before us. The personage about to be presented might prove to be another Corinne, going in public procession to be crowned 'i' the capitol;' or seated, al fresco, amidst a groupe of dilettanti, changing an extemporaneous dirge over the departed glories of Italy; or personating Juliet at a conversazione to complete the captivation of her lover; or executing some other scenic display utterly at variance with our tramontane notions of propriety. Or assuming a shape quite as questionable, the fair aspirant might take [276] the field as an helmed Amazon against all who should gainsay the political equality of the sexes, and the unalienable rights of woman; or stand forth like a sybil, 'in her prophetic fury,' to propound in mystic dogmas the atheism, or auto-theism of the Anglo-Florentine school. Happily these apprehensions were soon dissipated, and we were delightfully surprised to find in the character of Edith Avondel an union of whatever is noble in thought, refined in feelings, and correct in principle. Her genius is not of that impatient and rebellious kind which spurns at the existing institutions of society and delights in innovation: it is unalloyed by the feverish thirst for distinction, or by that morbid sensibility which, indulging in dreams of ideal perfection, repines at the ills incident to our mortal state, and shrinks from sharing the common lot of humanity. It is a pure and constant light, which adds lustre to her virtues while it cheers without dazzling all who enter the sphere of its radiance. The occasions on which it is manifested are rather shunned than sought by its possessor, who is of spirit too ingenuous and disinterested to cherish even the passion for fame,

That last infirmity of noble mind.

There is great merit in the conception of such a character; and in thus combating the vulgar prejudice which estimates genius merely as a means of emolument and renown; as a sort of professional qualification for artists, orators, poets and actors; as an endowment which would become extinct if it were not publicly exhibited, the author has not only destroyed a very fruitful source of error, but by imparting an unexpected interest to the work, has amply justified the boldness and apparent temerity of its avowed aim.

The story, in its gayer scenes, exhibits a brilliant variety of characters; and these are brought into play chiefly by an intriguante, whose artifices may be fairly matched with those of her busy prototype, Miss Edgeworth's finely-wrought tale, called Manoeuvering. The more serious passages to which these scenes gradually give place, as we approach the denouëment [sic], seize and retain strong hold on the attention, as well by the mystery that involves the main action as by the train of striking incidents by which it is developed. Nor is the skill of the author less conspicuous in the delineation of the principal personages.

We have not space for such copious extracts as would alone fitly exemplify the work, and shall therefore merely point out some passages of peculiar interest. Of this character is the family biography of the Fitzelms in the first volume; the interview of the Countess of Athol and Ann Fitzelm in the second; the circumstances connected with the sudden re-appearance of the Jew Zimri in a subsequent chapter; the recital of Sir Adelmar in the third volume, in which he describes his first meeting with Edith at Athens, and relates the incidents that led to their separation; his journeyings in Italy; and finally, the abduction of Edith and the hurried succession of events which brings on the catastrophe.

As a specimen of the style, however, we may select from the beginning of the work the following portrait of Edith, standing on the deck of the vessel in which she is voyaging to England with Captain Fitzelm and the Countess of Athol:

On the left of that pair, rather receding from the direct line, stood a second female, whose height had but just fallen short of that degree which exceeds the scale of loveliness. She was enveloped by a black velvet mantle, clasping at the throat, and drawn around her on her folded arms. She looked like Coriolanus, standing immovable and undaunted on the hearth of his enemy, whilst her eye, 'as black as death,' was immovably fixed eastward. But for the heaving of her bosom, she might have passed for the chef d'oeuvre of Phidias, her cheek was so colourless, her form so motionless; her profile was completely and perfectly rectilinear, the upper lip particularly short and curved, like those of the ancient statues. Her face was calm even to immobility - but it was the indication of a concentration of energy, of mental strength collected to one point, neither augmenting by additional force, nor dispersing by acting on light occasions; it was the seal of a decisive and sole dependence on self; it was the emanation of a feeling conscious of enduring the worst, with scarcely a hope from the future, and with no fear of it. In the high decision of that brow, sexual timidity had disappeared before the sternness of circumstances. There was a haughty receding from the view of others, a questioning of their right to regard her with the fixedness of observation, distinct from, perhaps entirely opposite to, the retirement of diffidence, or the blushing prayer of forbearance, asked by the drooping eye of shame. It was the expression of one who could die, but not complain - who asked neither pity nor relief from man - who veiled herself from the comprehension of others, impenetrable to all but herself and her God.

In conclusion, it is gratifying to observe, that however tempting the occasion might have been, the author has forborne to stimulate the public curiosity by a very trite expedient. Yet there are readers who may perhaps fancy that the transactions on which this story hinges, resemble in some circumstances an affair in high life which created much astonishment at the time of its occurrence, and is still well remembered. If such coincidence do at all exist, it must be purely accidental, and the event in question is to be viewed as by no means a solitary instance in our times of those 'strange mutations' which occasionally set at nought the sallies of the boldest adventurer that ever pricked forth in the fields of Romance. [complete]

Provided by Julie A. Shaffer, January 2000