THE HESPERIAN.
3
c
this criticism is certainly deserved. Yet, as he is almost the
only writer to attempt an analysis of the characters of those
in his field of observation, and as he succeeds admirably in
this attempt, we cannot fail to enjoy whatever he has to say.
Wc shall be interested lookers-on as the story proceeds, and
.shall watch closely the rivalry of Tom Grcyson and George
Lockwood, and the conduct of the "skitt'hrk" Rachel. Wc
hope it will not terminate as a comparison with Mr. Egglcs
ton's other works would indicate. This would have Tom
converted and become a "Mcthody preacher," and Rachel's
decision would be in his favor. Yet wc must grant a certain
advantage to his style of plot. It seems perfectly m keeping
with the kind of society the author deptics. Miss Egglcston's
illustration gives evidence of aitistic taste and ability, but the
faces and custumes seem rather too classical for Illinois
"nearly a lifetime ago."
Mr. Howclls is undoubtedly an enthusiast in many of his
opinions, but he is at least very near the truth when he says
that Tolstoi is the greatest writer of fiction the world has
ever produced. It is the thing just at present to go wild over
all the fiction that Russia sends to us. This is a mistake, as
crazes usually are. Some of the most unpleasant and unprof
itable novels it has ever been our lot to read have come to us
from the land of Tolstoi and Tourguenieff, and these very
novels have been enthusiastically lauded by the critics, We
are only giving our opinion. The critics may, after all, be
right, but so long as the rest of our race is confessedly fallible,
wc are not willing to concede any supei natural insight to these
professional expounders of system, style and schools. To be
real or ideal, romantic or prosy, has little to do with the
merit of the fiction that will last. It is a something which we
have never seen satisfactorily explained a something in the
nature of a waiter, with which he endows the children of his
fancy, and which becomes apparent to the student of his
works. If one could generalize on this something, if it were
capable of being analyzed, the essence of the original could
not exist, and the charm of the masters, past and present,
would, be no more, for the essence itself would become com
mon property. There is no danger of this coming to pass,
however, for, we think, no one man can understand more than
the surface workings of the mind of his fellow, the general
and common character traits; and certainly it is not in these
that the charm of individualism rests. But wc are wandering
from our text.
In an ordinary, life-tim?, or even a half dozen of them, it
would not be possible for one to read even the works ot ac
knowledged merit' that the literature of our language affords.
This is the excuse we offer for not blushing that now, for the
first time, we have read Hawthorne's essay, we could almost
say his finest essay, "The Haunted Mind." He treats his
subject so easily, so dreamily, that wc do not realize that we
are considering one.of the most difficult to describe of all the
phenomena of the mind, the sensation one experiences when
first awaking from sleep, when one is in the borderland of
the two worlds we inhabit, the dream world and the one in
which we must dwell in during our time of wakefulness. Wc
can think of but one sensation as difficult to analyze, and that
is Poe's favorite one of being on the verge of recalling some
forgotten thing, yet being unable to do so. The time of the
night and the time of the year, the place, and all the attend
ant circumstances the author has selected aie just the ones
to bring us most completely under the strange spell. If one
could ever wholly enter into the weird' and beautifully imag
inative spirit of Hawthorne, it would certainly be in this
little sketch. Wc did not say that this is his finest essay,
and very self-confident would the person be who would ven
ture to place any one among his works, all so prominent in
the world's literature, zX their head. But certain it is tfiat
if, with our small knowledge of Hawthorne, we were to rec
ommend one, and only one, to a friend, wc would choose
"The Haunted Mind," fo'r it has given us more plcasurct'than
any one of the others.
DANIEL DERONDA.
Some one has said "The prevailing literary form or type of
the present age is undoubtedly the novel the narrative pic
ture of manners; just as the epic is the natural literary form
of the heroic or traditionary periods." This is verified by
the increasing number of novels constantly issued from the
press and eagerly devoured by the public. ' The novel is the
staple of numerous magazines and newspapers which boast of
a circulation of hundreds of thousands. It now appears in
cheap pamphlet form and is universally read all arc familiar
with it, from the street waif to the most distinguished schol
ars. "Navels are of the most varied character. They compose a
medley. Some are written in the lowest; some in the highest
style of composition. They must represent the various sorts
of people, and so while some are pure and elevating, others
are vulgar and immoral; some arc true to nature, others mere
affectation. Horace Mann says that "ninety nine parts in ev
ery hundred of all the novels extant arc as false to truth and
nature and to the affairs of men, as though they had been
written, not by lunarians, but by lunatics."
"Daniel Deronda" is a type of the highest class of modern
novels. The central figure is Daniel Deronda, the reputed
nephew of a Sir Hugo Mallinger, who, during Daniel's
youth, is a scholar of literary tastes and good habits. The
boy loves him with filial affection and lives a happy life on
the baronet's "romantic, homelike" estate. Sir Hugh treats
him as a son, furnishes him with a tutor and does all that a
wealthy worlding could be expected to do to make the boy's
life pleasant. Daniel asks one day about his parents. "You
lost your father and mother when you were quite a little one,
that is why I take care of you," replies Sir Hugo. Not a very
satisfactory answer this, but sufficient one would suppose, to
assure the boy that he was not Sir Hugo's son. But in the
course of his study the thought of his uncertainty concerning
his parentage and birth "falls like a flake of fire upon his im
agination." It tortures him and colors nearly every event
which touches his life. He goes to school at Eton and, after
completing his studies there, goes to Cambridge, where his
generosity prevents his giaduation. His chum, Hans Meyric,
having injured his eyes, Deronda, neglecting his own studies,
reads to him, helps him to gain the much desired scholarship
and fails in his own examination. On accountof this failure and
spurred by his dislike of university methods, he leaves Cam
bridge and finishes his education in Germany. His educa
tion cdmpleted, he goes into the chambers of London under
pretense of reading law. But making little progress in this,
he takes to boating on the Thames. One evening he sees a
figure on the bank of the river. It is that of "a girl hardly
more than eighteen, of low, slim figure, with most delicate
looking face, dark curls, large black hat, and- a long woollen
cloak over her shoulders. Her hands were clasped before her
and her eyes were fixed on the river with a look of immove
able statue-like despair." When he sees her make prepar
ations to drown herself, he Ian 3s and speaks to her. She
says, "you look good, perhaps it is God's command," to
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