"THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE."*
CAN any one who read Malcolm have forgotten it ? We think not. The types of character pourtrayed in it were too distinct and individual, were, moreover, altogether of too original a cast to fade lightly from the mind, and the circumstances of the principal personages were too singular not to stamp themselves. strongly on the memory. For ourselves, we confess to having felt a strong desire for the promised sequel. We wanted desper- ately to know the fate of Lady Florimel, and to see what fortune, had in story for the old House of Lossie ; and although Mr. MacDonald has made us wait two whole years for the second part of his novel, we find ourselves taking it up with rather an increase. than an abatement of interest, a fact which, considering the amount of fiction which we have in the meantime read and criticised, in itself speaks volumes for the power of the writer. The cause of this is, that Mr. MacDonald's characters are real people. There is life in their every gesture, in their every tone of expres- sion, and he has also a wonderful way of depicting, as it were, the hidden nature of man or woman, and revealing to us things
been vaguely conscious, but which, of which we have, perhaps,
have never before taken distinct shape ; and the occasional intro- duction of metaphysical discussion into the thread of the story,. which is an unfailing characteristic of this writer, is in the present instance an additional charm. Returning to the quaint little town of Port Lossie and its fisher-folk, we find there all our old acquaintances, with certain changes, however, in the outward, condition of some of them. As in the former story, Malcolm. himself, as a living, breathing essence, pervades every portion of the tale ; but this time he finds a feminine counterpart in Lady Clemetina—that emancipated young woman, with her uncom- promising honesty of purpose, purity of Soul, and her,, though as yet undeveloped, singularly high type of spiritual nature, being exactly the one creature who can realise his exalted ideal of womanhood. With probabilities we have nothing to do, for the whole framework of the story is so exceedingly out of the common, that it is needless to speculate * The Marquis of LOSge. By CI eorge Mao Donald, LL.D. S volo. London: Hurd aud Blackett. as to whether any two well-behaved young ladies would, under any possible circumstances, admit a groom to their society, as do Lady Florimel and Lady Clementine; and we are worldly enough to lineation whether their doing so could be easily vindicated in any other way than by virtue of that consideration which the author permits us to use as their real vindication, though in to way offering it to us in that character,—namely, the real status in society of this paragon ; and it is impossible to watch the progress of his love-story, without being pursued all the time by a certain painful sense of unfitness, although we are spared what we so much deprecated on the former occasion, a certain disagreeable undercurrent of what seems to be unlawful passion. Yet, remembering as we do the feelings of the fisherman towards the Lady Florimel, it is scarcely satis- factory to find them casually alluded to as "almost the devotion of a dog." It would surely have been more artistic had we been allowed to perceive something of the difficulty which must have been felt before the quasi-lover could settle himself down calmly into his new but unacknowledged position. We must not, however, tell the secret of the story, but will content ourselves with pointing out some of its excellences. Malcolm's judgment on Lady Clementine, for instance, is admirable. Having first 'remarked to himself that he used to think every pretty girl must be a poetess, in virtue of her very being, but that he has come to know better, since he has before him two of the loveliest maidens he has over seen, and would lay a wager "there's mair poetry in auld man- faced Miss Horn nor a dizzin like them," he goes on to say :- "It's Bair upon a man to see a bonny wuman 'at has nab poetry, use inward lichtsome hormony in her. But it's dooms sairer yet to 'come upo' ane wantite common-sense Saw onybody over sic a gran' aicht as my Leddy Clementine? An' wha can say but olio's wool named, free the bert oot? as guid at the hart, I'll swoir, as at the eon I but eh me I to hoar the blether o' nonsense 'at comes oot atween thee twa bonny yetts o' music, an' a"cause she winna gi'o her hort rid an' time °much to grow bigger, but mann aye be sottin' at things right afore their time, an' her sin fitness for the job! It's sic a faithless kin o' a w'y, that! 'loud jist fancy I saw her gaoin' roon' the trees o' a simmer nicht pittin hiney Noe' the peers an' the peaches, cause she cudna lippon to Natur to ripe them sweet eneuch,—only 'at she wad never tak the hiney frao the bees. She's jist the pictur o'Natur' herser turnt some dementit. I cud jist fancy I saw her gaein' aboot amo' the ripe corn, on sic a nicht as this o' the mune, happin't frao the frost. An' I'll warren' no ao mesh in oor nets wad she lea' ohn clippit open, Rion the twine had a horrin by the gills. She's e'en lute pitifu' owro the sinner, 'at she winna gee him a chance o' growin' better. I won'or glen she believes 'at there's ae great thoucht abune a', an' aunoth a', an' roon a', an' in a' thing. She cudna be in sic a mist o' benevolence and parritch-hertit- nese, glen she cud lippon till a wiser. It's nao wou'or she kens naething aboot poetry, but the miserable sids au' sawdist an' leavin's the gran' kiddies sing, an' ea' sangs."
And can anything be better than the sketch of the "common- place, business-worshipping" steward, Crathie, who would have scorned to commit any recognised piece of dishonesty, but whose indignation is so extreme at the idea of proclaiming the faults of a horse he is commissioned to sell ; who contends that religion is one thing, and a very proper thing, but that business is another thing, and a very proper thing alifo, and that to mingle the one 'with the other is not merely absurd, but irreverent and wrong, and certainly never intended in the Bible, which must surely be common-sense ? Excellently, too, are the dawnings of conscience in this man described, as well as the results to which they lead him, while there is truth as well as humour in Malcolm's mode of administering comfort. " Fowk's terrible guid-natued, whan ye alloo 'at ye're i' the wrang. I do believe 'at when a man confesses till's neibour, an' says he's sorry, lie thinks mair o"im nor afore he did it." And he explains it thus :—" Ye see, we a' ken we has ,dune wrang, but we ba'ena a' confessed. An' it's a queer thing, but a man'll think it gran' O'S neibour to confess, when a' the time there's something he winna repent o' himser, for fear o' the Amaze o' haein' to confess't."
The deterioration in Lady Florirnel after she becomes Marchioness is also a very natural thing and very well given, and Mr. Mac Donald is skilful when he makes Malcolm doubt whether the dignity which she exhibits on certain occa- sions is inherent in his sister's nature, or whether it is merely a .consequence of her supposed poiition in society, and when he tells us how Malcolm discusses with himself whether it would be cruelty to destroy the false foundation upon which her com- posure rests, or whether it is not rather due to her that he should 'let the truth be known ; for his own rights in the matter he never takes into consideration, always viewing it as regards others, and especially those who are dependent upon him.
Malcolm's soliloquies, and his conversations with Blue Peter, Miss Horn, and others of his Scotch friends, are, indeed, the -cream of the book, Peter himself being a very well drawn
character. There is an amusing scene during his visit to London, when Malcolm inveigles him into the theatre, for the purpose of hearing his unbiassed opinion of what under no circumstances could he be persuaded to see of his own free.will—a play of Shakespeare's—and Peter takes "the 'loose o' ineequity " for a church :—
" This 11 be one o' the Lon'on Kirks, I'm thinking,' he said. It's a
mucklo place, an' there mann be a heap o' guid fowk in Lon'on, for as ill's it's ca'cl, to see sae mony, an' i' their cairritches, comb' to the kirk, —on a Sottorclay nicht, too. It niacin be some kin' o' a prayer-tneethe, I'm thinkinV Malcolm said nothing, but led the way to the pit- entrance. ' That's no an ill w'y o' gotherin' the bauboes,' said Peter, seeing bow tho in-comers paid their money. hao h'ard o' the plate bin' robbit in a muckle toon afore noo.'"
Even the decorations and the boxes do not startle the simple fisherman, who only thinks this gaudy place of worship English and episcopal ; but when the scenes begin to be enacted before him, and startled and horrified he discovers that he is in a play- house, he beats a speedy retreat, not only from it, but from London itself, and it is long before he is able to forgive Malcolm for his innocently-intended piece of deception. But there is another character, this time a feminine one, which claims our interest almost as much as any other, and which is very frequently in the foreground, as, indeed, no other place would suit her, and that is the mare, Kelpie, whose pranks and vagaries give so much employment to Malcolm, and strike terror into the hearts of all others who approach her, quite justifying his opinion that she is "an oonsanctified brute," and "to sell her ohn tell't what she's like, wad be to caw the Saxt Commaniment clean to shivers." The steward, however, has his own opinion on that point, and endeavours to bring the supposed groom to reason :— " That may be good doctrine i' the Kirk, my lad, but it's puro heresy I' the horse market. No, no ! You buys a horse as you takes a wife,— for better, for worse, as the case may be. A woman's not bound to tell her faults, when a man wants to marry bor. If she keeps off the worst of them afterwards, it's all he has a right to look for.' 'Hoot, Sir there's no a pair o' parallel lines in a' the corn- pairison,' returned Malcolm. ' Mistress Kelpie here's e'en ewer ready to confess her Fouts, an' that by gioin 'a testa o' them ; she winna bide to be spoired, but for haudin' aff o' them after the bargain's made, ye ken she's no oven responsible for the bargain. An' gion yo expo& me to hand my tongue aboot them faith, Moister Crathio, I wad as sane think o' sellin' a rotten boat to Blue Peter. Glen the man 'at has her to see till dinna ken to look oot for a storm o' iron shun° or lang tooth ony moment, his wife may be a widow that same markot-nieht. An' forbye, it's again' the Audit Commatfment, as weel's the Saxt. There's nae exception there in regaira o' horse-flash. We maun be honest i' that as wool's i' corn, or herrin', or onything ither 'at's colt an sell% atwoen man an' his neibor."
Which doctrine it might be well if possible to propagate a little more extensively, as also that other one which Mr. Mac Donald puts forward even more strongly,—that punishment for certain offences should fall equally upon each of the parties concerned, or rather, that the heaviest offender should bear the larger por- tion, instead of going free in the eyes of the world, while his victim is crushed to the earth. But it is Mr. Mac Donald's delight to bring forward vexed questions, and to shed upon them the clear light of a higher illumination, settling them, by implication, with the conscience of every man ; and this indeed is not one of the least interesting characteristics of this, as well as of most of his other fascinating, if somewhat homely stories,
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