BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.*
Jun now Miss Sarah Tytler's novels are coming in quick suc- cession ; but, so far, we fail to find any evidence of that ill- judged haste in production which has ruined the reputation of so many writers of happy promise. Beauty and the Beast is an admirably-told story, though not, we think, quite so captivating as St. Mango's City, which was reviewed in these columns a short time ago ; for the later book is almost entirely deficient in the pleasant and delicate humour which gave so great a charm to Miss Ty tler's chronicle of Glasgow life, and is, more- • Beauty and, the Beast. By Sarah Tytler. 3 role. London: Matto and Windt'.
over, somewhat lacking in the distinctness and grip of its immediate predecessor. As we write, we feel that Iris Compton and Sir William Thwaite, Honor Smith and Lady Fermor, are sufficiently alive and realisable ; but we doubt very much whether we shall remember them a year hence with the same clearness that we know we shall remember " auld Tam Drysdale," and Claribel, and Eppie, and those delightful old maids, the three Misses Mackinnon. Like another novelist whose best work we all enjoy so thoroughly—Mr. George MacDonald—Miss Tytler is most at home on the northern side of the Border ; and it is im- possible not to feel that she loses a subtle something which we can ill spare when she crosses the Tweed on a journey south- ward. For the positive qualities of Beauty and the Beast-we have nothing but praise ; but when all our praise has been un- grudgingly expressed, we cannot say that we would not will- ingly exchange the book for even one of the little stories con- tained in the volumes entitled Scotch Marriages.
We make the acquaintance of the Beast at the opening of the first volume ; and it must be admitted that at first sight be is nearly as unprepossessing as his nursery prototype, though even at this early stage we cannot help feeling for him a sort of liking. The scene is the parade-ground at Nhilpoor, where military discipline is being solemnly vindicated. Will Thwaite, a young private who has worked his way up to the rank of serjeant, has fallen from his good estate, and has so often for- gotten what is due to the position of a non-commissioned officer, that his offences can no longer be overlooked. He is to be re- duced to the ranks ; and the signal is given for the usual official to remove from the arm of his jacket the stripes which are the insignia of his grade, when all at once the culprit gives his already long list of offences a startingly-effective climax :—
" Till then, Will Thwaite had stood like a statue, though his face was sullen and lowering. But the moment he felt the offensive touch on his arm he sprang aside, and before any one could anticipate the action, tore the stripes from his coat by one wrench, and flung them right in the face of the Colonel, with a savage about : ' Take that from a better man than yourself !' "
Of course, there can be but one consequence of this. Will Thwaite is again placed under arrest, and sentenced to be flogged and then dismissed the service. He has an elder sister, the wife of a fellow-soldier, who is popular with the officers and their wives, and who spends her days and nights in intercession for the black sheep ; but the offence has been too flagrant, and her intercession is vain. The morning of punishment dawns, and with it comes a surprise. The Colonel of the regiment receives a letter from a firm of solicitors in London informing him that the culprit has succeeded to the rank and property of a grand- uncle, and is now Sir William Thwaite of Whitehills, adding that steps have been taken for procuring his discharge from a position which is inconsistent with his new dignity. This alters the position of things. The flogging of a baronet would be a grave scandal; and at au informal council of the officers it is ingeni- ously decided that as Priiate Thwaite, now Sir William, had ceased to be a member of the Army at the time his offence was committed, the sentence cannot be carried out. The new baronet is, therefore, a free man ; and for him the release is just in time, but for another it comes too late.
The anxiety of the last few days has been too much for the devoted sister, who is attacked by a fever, under which she soon sinks ; but dies rejoicing in Will's promise that under no cir- cumstances will he touch again the drink that has led to his degradation. As soon as Sir William has buried his sister, he starts for England, and is immediately installed at Whitehills by his staid old lawyer. Here Beauty makes her appearance in the shape of a Miss Iris Compton, the granddaughter and protegee of the wicked Lady Fermor. Beauty is gracious and kindly and sympathetic ; but she has no thought of love, while Sir William, the poor Beast, is at once hopelessly enslaved. For some time he keeps silence, and, unfortunately, when he speaks, it is at the least auspicious moment. His suit is rejected with a firmness that leaves no room for hope ;
and, with the recklessness of a nature which has been well
restrained, rather than well balanced, he proposes marriage to Honor Smith, the disreputable daughter of a still more die- reputable under-gamekeeper. This time his wooing is success- ful, and the pair—at once so well and so ill-matched—begin their wedded life at Whitehills. At first things run pretty smoothly, but soon a reign of discord begins ; and when at last Sir William in his madness breaks his promise to his dead sister, his ruin seems complete. It is at this point that Beauty appears as a helper and redeemer ; but for the story of the rescue—a very beautiful, powerful, and pathetic piece of writing —we must refer readers to Miss Tytler's pages. Nor will we further follow the narrative in detail. Poor Lady Thwaite, who never in her most reckless moods entirely loses hold of our sympathies, is drowned in the wreck of an emigrant ship, in which she is preceding her husband to a new home across the Atlantic ; and, after many days, Sir William, who has gained wisdom through suffering, wins the prize he once sought in vain. Beauty and the Prince, who was once a Beast, are married at last ; and though the record says nothing, the natural infer- ence is that, like the older hero and heroine, they "live happily ever afterwards."
It will be seen that the story is characterised by considerable freshness of construction, and the execution is throughout solid and painstaking. In an age when carelessness is so common, even among writers of repute, that it is hardly considered a fault, Miss Tytler maintains the older and nobler traditions of literary art, and never allows herself to slip into slovenliness. This suffices to give her work an air of distinction, but it is far from being its only title of honour. Her characters are conceived so clearly that she can make them live before us without recourse to that touch of caricature on which inferior novelists are wont to rely ; and her happy and effective grouping testifies to her mastery of what in pictorial art we call "composition." One or two of the scenes in Beauty and the Beast, notably the one in which Beauty and Lady Thwaite brave the Beast in his den, are really masterly ; and the chapter devoted to Iris Compton's ball is a very dainty and delightful piece of work. As we have already said, this is by no means the best of Miss Tytler's novels ; but it is nevertheless an able, interesting, and thoroughly wholesome story.
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