SYDON1E'S DOWRY.*
THERE is a real pleasure in the sketches of accomplished artists which is quite distinct from the pleasure we derive from their more finished pictures,—the sense of power which is given by so slender means as a few hasty strokes with a pencil or pan, and also the facility in grasping the idea arising from the absence of all detail, the absence of everything which can possibly ba miaiuter- preted or divert the mind from the main expression of the draw- ing. There is something in a good artist's sketches which com- bines the pleasure of abstract thought in disburdening the atten- tion of what is at the moment not material to the conception, with the pleasure of art in individualizing the special idea by clothing it in a form specific enough to bring the situation vividly before the mind. When the late David Cox's water-colour draw- ings and sketches were exhibited in one collection, none struck the mind more forcibly than some of the roughest of all his sketches, for example, a bull in mere outline buffeting a storm on a bleak hillside. The whole expression and character of the piece, the fury of the animal at the driving elements, and the impotence of its rage, the wildness of the scene and the solitude made far more intense by the one living thing, were all expressed by a few rough characteristic lines. A finished picture of the same subject wduld have contained a hundred minute points which, even if in complete keeping, would either have delayed the flash of the effect on the mind, which was part of its impressiveness, or, still more, Sylosies Dowry. By the Author of mademoiseik mon; Denise, Av. London : Bell and Daldy.
diverted the mind from its unique and complete expression. In literature you may notice often the same pleasure peculiar to sketches or outlines which is not to be derived from finished and elaborate works, even though of equal merit. A situation clearly drawn, one or two leading characters clearly sketched in pic- turesque attitudes, the effect of manners, scenery, and religion dis- tinctly indicated, and you have an effect often far more likely to remain in the mind, because far more rapidly made in the first instance, and requiring far less strain to grasp in its completeness, than a story with many turns and a change of expression at every turn.
The author of Denise certainly has the power of sketching with great beauty and grace, and apparently not the same power of filling in. For this reason Sydonie's Dowry is even better than Denise. It is shorter, a mere tale, without any pretence at a novel, but it is not a common tale. All the peculiar excellencies of a good sketch, —unity and completeness of effect, simplicity and freshness of conception, the absence of everything like super- fluous detail, individuality without immaterial shading, group- ing effective without elaboration, are to be found here. The scene is principally laid, as in Denise, in the south of France, this 'time in the district of the Cevennes, and the principal characters have just enough of the Provencal richness and softness to render the graphic touches of local colour in the descriptions of scenery requisite as a background to the picture. Sydonie is a village girl, whose grandmother, her only relative, has the reputation of a witch, which, in point of evil at least, she had done enough daring the Reign of Terror by betraying her best friends to deserve. On the other hand, Sydonie has attached herself to the daughter of the only noble family in the village, an émigré who has returned and re-bought since the Revolution the little property that, having previously belonged to him, had been confiscated. This Mille. de Parthenon is a sort of Eugenie de Guerin, a saintly Catholic girl, not without vivacity and acuteness, whose mind takes refuge in her devotion to the Church from its own troubles rather than is naturally divot. Thioseparated from her equals on one hand by the awe felt for her wicked grandmother, and on the other by her own love for Mdlle. de Parthenon, Sydonie, who is by nature a sweet but lively village beauty, comes to have a touch of pride, refinement, and depth of character which is not proper to a mere peasant; and the idea, as we may call it, of the tale is a very simple one,—to draw the struggle of the various conflicting influences in her mind when a young peasant of much stronger character than her own, but with less of that subtle culture and refinement which girls so easily catch by intercourse with their superiors, falls in love with her, and very soon wins her heart. Nothing can be more delicate or better conceived than the picture of these two lovers and their relations to each other, —the pride of both, the struggle of Sydonie's conscious superiority in refinement against Paul Bridaine's clear superiority in mental force, the perfect trust which he succeeds in inspiring in Sydonie, the estrangement which springs up again from his own pride, when Sydonie's position in life is changed for the better, and the final reconciliation. The sketch is as simple as it is beautiful, and includes just enough and not too much of the village life and manners of a Cevennes village brightly touched off in the background. Here is the first conver- sation in which Paul's natf good sense first gets the mastery of Sydonie's conscious refinement and pride:— "'Truly I am not clever enough to talk to you ; you are too sharp for 113 common people,' said he, vexed. 'Usually I know well enough what to say to women, but you are not like the rest ; it comes from your knowing Mdlle. de Parthenon; and then your grandmother is not like other folks.'—' You are very right there,' said Sydonie, and this time she was -very grave.= Dues done! is she really a witch ?'—' I don't know. One would think so; certainly she knows charms, which she is going to write down, because when she learnt them she swore never to tell them; so she dare not speak them to any one, but she never promised not to write them.'—' That is a difference which is good for les savants, but as for me, I don't see it,' said PauL Sydonie looked at him. Oh, look at me as much as you please : I suppose I am a blockhead, as usual, but I can't help it!'—'No, you are right,' said Sydonie, struck by his honest good sense. All, you think so r he answered, surprised to feel quite proud of her approbation. 'So much the better. Well, I advise you to keep clear of all these secrets of in Roe— of your grandmother, I mean; they are not good for girls, and so Mdlle. de Parthenon would tell you.'— `That is true, and so does 31. le Card. But you think so little about M. le Cure !'—' Nor you, either, it seems to me. Does he not forbid the danze to his parishioners ?' Sydonie found the inconvenience of incon- sistency. She was longing to attack Paul for his want of due reverence to ecclesiastical authority, and here were the tables turned upon her. She made a gesture of vexation. Well, as for me I should say he would do much better to come and see us dance; then he would see there is not so much ill in it as he thinks, or he might preserve order:— • Row ! a priest look on at a dance !'—' Why not, if it be harmless ? My- self, I believe the priests so severe on our amusements only because
they long for them themselves. It is either that, or else they talk of what • they know nothing about. I cannot sit and hear these men thunder from their pulpits against things they have no experience of. M. le Card, now, what does he know of my life ? Did he learn our hearts in his seminary?'—' Taisez vows! you frighten me ! I think that if Mdlle. de Parthenon listens to him with respect we may ; and then his office—'
— ` I respect his office well enough. Do not believe me a pagan, Sydonie, but the office does not make every word the priest says truth. I own to you that if 31. le Cure said anything foolish (such things do happen sometimes) I should not respect it in the least!' Sydonie was silent, disconcerted. At last she said, There are so many ways of thinking ; how can one know which is right ? It is best not to trouble oneself about I don't waste my time in thinking; that is good for learned men, it does not concern me, but I can't believe a thing because I am ordered to do - Mlle. de Parthenon says, that since the pea-
sants have learnt to read they have also learnt to despise religion,' said Sydonie. There is no good in such talk as this. Yet,' she added, with a woman's desire to penetrate into the attractive and unknown region of a man's mind, ' one thing I seem to see, and that is, that you believe what you do believe, not because it is your duty, but because—in short,
because yen really do believe Certainly. What do you mean?'- `Mais—! There are so many things that one believes because one is told to do so.'—' Not I,' said Paul, brusquely.—' You said just now that I was dioote,' said Sydonie, looking up to him and lowering her voice. 'Now I will tell you why; I try to be doubly pious for myself and my grandmother ; you know she never goes to mass, she never confesses !'
She is a Protestant?'—' Heaven forbid !' exclaimed Sydonie. ' Oh, at any rate she is not so lost as that !'—' Oh, it is better than to be a hea- then ?' said Paul.= Why, the Protestants are heretics !" They pray sometimes, I have heard ; but I know nothing about You see I try to expiate her sins by praying and doing penance, as far as I can:— — ` Why, what an easy thing it must be to be devout.'—' How Since one can be devout enough for oneself and another besides You are mocking ; just like a man !'—' No, I am serious ; I never considered these things. I only know I can never do a bit of work well enough to please myself ; when I overlook our farm labourers, I think only of that; when I prune a tree, I attend with all my might to that, and it is never too well done. That is my idea ; but it seems that a little religion
goes a long way, since one can have it for oneself and another ! That is • what I think about - Men are always so proud of their ideas, as if
everybody had not ideas !'—' Oh, I have no time to sow that sort of seed! Of an evening I add up our accounts, or I read one or two old books that we have, but as soon as I sit down, somehow my eyes shut and I go to sleep. But for that I should think very often.'" We may add that all the minor characters are indicated with neither too much nor too little distinctness for the character of the sketch as a whole. The treacherous old grandmother and her accomplice the Fanieraire, Sydonie's aunt, Mdlle. de Parthenon and her father, and is grande Madeloun, are all very slight but very clear outlines. Indeed the whole piece is a pretty little car- toon taken out of Provencal life, showing more real art than can be extracted from nine-tenths of the novels of the most successful year.
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