Recent Fiction, II [pp. 205-211]

Recent Fiction.
simple passions and impulses of humanity, undisguised by modern conventions.
These Franks and Saxons are barbarians, not because of the rudeness of their
manners and style of living, for these
are not made prominent in the narrative,
being softened to an extent that will
make the judicious antiquarian grieve,
but because they act through fear, or
love, or hate, unmixed with policy, and
unrestrained by inherited self-control.
For this reason the bad are very bad,
and the noble are as boundless, in their
generosity and self-sacrifice, - the same
person may indeed be either bad or good
as the one side or the other of his nature
is appealed to, but at the moment the
ruling motive has free course. The
king, for instance, has no curb for his
passions, his cruelty roused by opposition is terrible, and yet appealed to by
Passe Rose's artless tale, his magnanimity is equally boundless. Rothilde, gentle maiden though she is, marks her victim for death without a tremor, and
even Passe Rose pauses not for an instant to learn the fate of her rival, whom
she has thrown over the battlement.
Brother Dominic, under the influence
of superstitious fear, is no more of a reasoning being than his ass; and lured by
the voice of the temptress, his yielding
is sudden and complete in spite of his
monkish frock. In short, these people
are children. Their brains can hold but
one idea, and that idea is followed with
absolute abandon.
Now, whether or not this be true to
the life of the time of Charlemagne, or
indeed of any time, it is good soil for
romance, and in proof of this statement
Passe Rose is convincing evidence.
Dealing with his unmixed colors, Mr.
Hardy has wrought a fiction that is like
a stained glass window, beside which
some of the modern realistic work looks
like a photograph. Which of the two
requires the greater art is not so simple
a question as'some critics would have
us believe. Though the ancients could
not make the photograph, the modern
glassmakers, with all the fine examples
of Gothic windows before them, confess
themselves unable to handle the pure
prismatic colors in the old, harmonious
fashion.
If we leave the question of the difficulty of making, and take for our test
the value of the product, we are forced
to admit that more of instruction, because more truth of detail, is generally to
be gained from the photograph; and yet
the one idea of the window is graven
deeper on the mind by its bright tints
than is possible in neutrals. The blue St.
George cleaving the green dragon with
red flames issuing from its mouth,against
a yellow background, may, if done as it
is done by the old masters in glass,
make a more vivid impression on the
mind than a Muybridge photograph of
the combat
Having allowed Mr. Hardy's method
of handling, we must yet speak of one
defect of execution,- that the climax of
the book comes before its end. It is
easy to see that Mr. Hardy thought it
necessary to show that no amount of
success could spoil Passe Rose, and that
she was as much concerned with the
welfare of the quiet jeweler's household
and the recovery of her foster mother
after her elevation as before. And yet
he needed not to be so distrustful of
his portraiture; Passe Rose would not
have been Passe Rose if she could have
been otherwise. The scene with the
king, led up to by all that had gone before, must by all rightfulness be counted
the end of the book. What follows is
as little relevant as the ending of the
children's stories, "And they lived in
peace, and died in grease, and were buried in a pot of ashes."
1889.]
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