* * * * *
In "Richard Feverel," what a loosening of the bonds! What a renaissance!
Nobody since Fielding would have ventured to write the Star and Garter
chapter in "Richard Feverel." It was the announcer of a sort of dawn. But
there are fearful faults in "Richard Feverel." The book is sicklied o'er
with the pale cast of the excellent Charlotte M. Yonge. The large
constructional lines of it are bad. The separation of Lucy and Richard is
never explained, and cannot be explained. The whole business of Sir Julius
is grotesque. And the conclusion is quite arbitrary. It is a weak book,
full of episodic power and overloaded with wit. "Diana of the Crossways"
is even worse. I am still awaiting from some ardent Meredithian an
explanation of Diana's marriage that does not insult my intelligence. Nor
is "One of our Conquerors" very good. I read it again recently, and was
sad. In my view, "The Egoist" and "Rhoda Fleming" are the best of the
novels, and I don't know that I prefer one to the other. The latter ought
to have been called "Dahlia Fleming," and not "Rhoda." When one thinks of
the rich colour, the variety, the breadth, the constant intellectual
distinction, the sheer brilliant power of novels such as these, one
perceives that a "great Victorian" could only have succeeded in an age
when all the arts were at their lowest ebb in England, and the most
middling of the middle-classes ruled with the Bible in one hand and the
Riot Act in the other.
Pages:
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125