The Life and Beauties of Fanny Fern Part 13

"Such are some of our impressions of f.a.n.n.y Fern, to which we may add, that she has the finest form of any woman in New York, and that no one of the names recently a.s.signed her in the papers is her true name. In ordinary circ.u.mstances, we should not have thought it right thus to describe the characteristics of a lady; our sole, and we think, sufficient justification is, the publication of statements respecting her, only less vulgar than calumnious."

XL.

THE OTHER SIDE.

The following review of Ruth Hall is from the pen of a talented woman, far above any feelings of pique or jealousy.

"Our first recollections of 'f.a.n.n.y Fern' are connected with her appearance in the Olive Branch a few years since. We were then entirely ignorant of her real name and position, nor did we, in common with the indifferent public, feel any particular interest or curiosity respecting them. The impression of the careless reader would have been that the spicy sc.r.a.ps bearing this signature were the production of some hoydenish school-girl, ambitious to see her writings in print.

With the supposition that they were the work of a young lady, was a.s.sociated an indefinite, but slightly painful feeling that the writer was not sufficiently endowed with female delicacy. While a perfect sketch, artistically wrought out, and disfigured by no defects of style or coa.r.s.e inuendoes, partially filled a column, the same column often contained another article, full of these blemishes.

Vulgar expressions and exclamations were often used, though when these writings were afterwards collected and published in a book, these were carefully pruned away. Some judicious friend had evidently guided the pen to strike out phraseology which would have been injurious if not fatal to f.a.n.n.y's rising fame. Whether this judicious friend was the 'Mr. Tibbetts' through whose agency her first work was introduced to the publishers, who received and forwarded to her all the proofs, reading the whole aloud to her as fast as it appeared in type, we are not able to say. Upon 'Fern Leaves,' and successive volumes, thus carefully pruned of what too plainly revealed a certain coa.r.s.eness in the habits of thought of the writer, the public has doubtless pa.s.sed a just verdict. With the fame thus won, and the independence thus secured, would that 'f.a.n.n.y Fern' had been satisfied.

"We do not intend to attempt an elaborate review of 'Ruth Hall.' As a novel it will not bear it. We have read it through twice without catching any clew to its merits or intentions as a work of art.

Disjointed fragments of what should be a beautiful and complete edifice, are all that meet the eye. As in the newly discovered remains of ancient cities, monstrous faces, caricatures of humanity, glare upon us when we look for 'the human face divine.' One cannot but feel that the mind of the artist must have been itself deformed to have designed such monstrosities. On looking over the preface, we perceive that the author disclaims the intention of writing a novel. We will therefore examine 'Ruth Hall' as an auto-biography.

"A work which appears before the world, heralded as such, with the evident intention of being so understood, should above all else, be distinguished for truth. Exaggerated, instead of correct descriptions, imaginary instead of real conversations and letters, which if genuine, have no point, and if fict.i.tious, no interest, should not have been admitted to its pages. The work abounds in these. If 'Ruth Hall' is 'f.a.n.n.y Fern,' then the incognito of the latter is forever laid aside.

Half the charm attached to her writings has already vanished. She is no longer a 'Maid of the Mist,' whose silvery veil conceals deformities and enhances beauties, but plain 'f.a.n.n.y Fern;' and 'Ruth Hall' is 'f.a.n.n.y Fern' described by herself. Let us look at this description.

"'Ruth Hall' is not without vanity. In the very first chapter, 'her lithe form had rounded into _symmetry_ and _grace_, her slow step had become _light_ and _elastic_, her _smile winning_, and her _voice soft_ and _melodious_.'

"Again on page 48th.

'It was blessed to see the love light in Ruth's _gentle_ eyes; to see the _rose_ chase the lily from her cheek; to see the old spring come back to her step; to follow her from room to room while she draped the pretty white curtains, and _beautified unconsciously everything she touched_.'

"We have not s.p.a.ce for farther quotations, but must refer our readers to the 59th, 61st, 70th, and other pages of the work, not forgetting the lengthy and flattering phrenological description commencing at page 278.

"Another very striking characteristic of 'Ruth Hall' is her want of filial piety. If we omit the evidences of this, half the book disappears. Whether the parents of her deceased husband, respect for whose memory at least should have restrained her pen, or her own relatives, become the subjects of her notice, vulgar ridicule and pointless wit are unsparingly lavished upon them. Whatever may have been the faults of those connected with 'f.a.n.n.y Fern's' past history, a decent self-respect should have withheld her from thus parading them before the world. It is well known to the public that 'f.a.n.n.y Fern' has been twice married, but all allusion to this circ.u.mstance is omitted in 'Ruth Hall.' How are we then to know that this suppressed history may not contain a partial justification of the course pursued by her friends? One intimate with her first husband, long ago informed us that she was a 'poor housekeeper,' and 'did not make him a comfortable home.' We have therefore been half inclined to sympathize with 'Mrs.

Hall's' lamentations over the missing accomplishment of bread-making.

"But for infringing on the sacredness of communications intended to be private, we could give a different aspect to other allusions in 'Ruth Hall.' Whatever may have been the defects of 'Hyacinth Ellet,' he has never publicly failed to 'know his father and his mother.' The gray hairs which 'are a crown of glory when found in the way of righteousness,' should have s.h.i.+elded an aged parent from the irreverent attacks of the daughter, and the hollow cough of an invalid struggling with a yet more pitiless foe, should have found its way to the heart of the sister. When the clods of the valley shall rest upon the heads of both father and brother, we shall not envy the emotions of 'f.a.n.n.y Fern.'

"'Ruth Hall' proves herself capable of ingrat.i.tude. Her earliest benefactor, the kind-hearted and benevolent man who first encouraged and rewarded her timid efforts, has not been safe from her attacks, even in the grave. Later friends have been as unhesitatingly deserted and abused. Well may they feel 'how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless' friend. By the aid of these, she stepped from obscurity into public notice, and now 'has no farther occasion for her stepping-stones.'

"But self-esteem, ingrat.i.tude, and want of filial piety, are venial sins compared with the irreverence for things sacred, which sullies the pages of 'Ruth Hall.' The conversation of the dressmaker, that of Mr. Ellet with his ministerial friend, the allusion to Hyacinth's description of the Saviour, with many other briefer pa.s.sages, had they been written by d.i.c.kens, would have been p.r.o.nounced impious. Written by a professed Christian, what then shall we call them? Filial disrespect and religious irreverence are blended in almost every page.

"But 'Ruth Hall' is represented as a model woman, and an exemplary Christian. All that 'f.a.n.n.y Fern's' descriptive talent could do to throw a charm about her character has been done. Whether the defects of the heroine thus unintentionally betrayed, may not lessen our desire to copy this model, we will leave the unprejudiced reader to judge. One deeply read in human nature has said,

"'Sweet are the uses of adversity Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in its head.'

"Knowing how 'sweet are the uses of adversity' rightly received and improved, we cannot but regret that 'f.a.n.n.y Fern's' adversity should have left to her so much of the 'venomous.'

"Out of four hundred pages in 'Ruth Hall' seventy-five are entirely blank. Had the remaining pages been left equally so, we believe it would have been better for 'f.a.n.n.y Fern' and for the world."

XLI.

THE GOOD-NATURED BACHELOR.

This individual, f.a.n.n.y Fern says:--"Is jolly, sleek, and rolly-pooly.

Lifts all the little school-girls over the mud-puddles, and kisses them when he lands them on the other side. Admires little babies, without regard to the shape of their noses, or the strength of their lungs. Squeezes himself into an infinitessimal fragment, in the corner of an omnibus, to make room for that troublesome individual _one_--_More_! Vacates his seat any number of times at a crowded lecture, for distressed looking single ladies. Orders stupid cab-drivers off the only dry crossing, to save a pretty pair of feet from immersion, and don't forget to look the other way when their owner gathers up the skirts of her dress to trip across. Is just as civil to a shop-girl as if she were a d.u.c.h.ess; pays regularly for his newspaper, lends his umbrella and goes home with a wet beaver; has a clear conscience, a good digestion, and believes the women to be all angels with their wings folded up. Here's hoping matrimony may never undeceive him!"

XLII.

CATCHING THE DEAR.--BY f.a.n.n.y FERN.

"A Roman lady who takes a liking to a foreigner does not cast her eyes down when he looks at her, but fixes them upon him long and with evident pleasure. If the man of her choice feels the like sentiment, and asks--'Are you fond of me?'

she replies with the utmost frankness, 'Yes, my dear.'"

You double-distilled little simpleton! don't you know better than that? Don't you know that courts.h.i.+p is like a vast hunting party?--_all the pleasure lies in the pursuit?_ That the sport is all over when the _deer_ is caught? Certainly; you don't catch an American girl 'doing as the Romans do.' _She_ understands the philosophy of the thing, and don't drop down like a shot pigeon at the first arrow from Cupid's quiver. If she is wounded ever so bad, she spreads her wings and flies off, alighting here, there, and everywhere; leading her pursuer through bog, ditch and furrow; sometimes flapping her bright wings close to his face, and then, out of sight--the mischief knows where--to return again the next minute. In this way she finds out how much trouble he is willing to take for her; and the way he knows how to prize her when she is caught would astonish your Roman comprehension, my dear.

"Now, I never saw a masculine Roman, but I will just tell you, in pa.s.sing, that American gentlemen go by the rule of contraries. If there are any of them whom you desire _most particularly not to be bored with_, all you have to do is to make a pretence of the most _intense_ desire for their acquaintance; and vice-versa.

"Bless my soul! you haven't got so far as A, B, C; you are in an _awful_ benighted state for a female. I labored under the impression that the Foreign Mission Society had attended to the evangelization of Rome. I'll have some 'col-porteurs' sent over, without loss of time--you little verdant Abigail! saying 'yes, my dear,' the minute you are 'looked at!' If I hadn't so many irons in the fire I'd attend to your education myself, you poor, ignorant little heathen!"

XLIII.

HELEN, THE VILLAGE ROSE-BUD.

The following tearful sketch was contributed by f.a.n.n.y Fern to the True Flag, under the name of 'Olivia.' It is one of f.a.n.n.y's sweetest efforts.

"You couldn't help loving our 'Village Rose-bud.' Not because she was beautiful, though those pouting lips and deep blue eyes were fair to see; nor because her form had caught the grace of the waving willow; nor for the gleaming brightness of her golden hair. But because her sable dress bespoke your tender pity for the orphan; and for the thousand little nameless acts of love and kindness, prompted by her gentle and affectionate heart.

"The first sweet violets that opened their blue eyes to greet the balmy spring, the earliest fruits of summer, and autumn's golden favors, were laid as trophies at her feet. For each and all, she had a gentle, kindly word, and a beaming smile; none felt that their offerings would be overlooked or slighted, because they were unpretending.

"Helen Gray's means and home were humble, but the apartment she occupied in the house of the kind Widow More might have vied for taste and comfort with many more expensively furnished. The tasteful arrangement of a few choice books and pictures; the flower-stand, with its wealth of sweet blossoms; the tiny porcelain vase, that daily chronicled the hopes of her rustic admirers as expressed in the shape of rose-buds, heart's-ease, mignonette, and the like; the snowy curtain, looped gracefully away from the window, over which the wild-rose and honey-suckle formed a fairy frame for the sweet face that so often bewildered the pa.s.sing traveller--many an hour did she sit there, watching the fleecy cloud; the fragrant meadow, through which the tiny stream wound like a thread of silver; the waving trees, with their leafy music; the church, with its finger of faith pointing to Heaven; and the village graveyard, where were peacefully pillowed the gray-haired sire and loving mother, whom she still mourned; and each and all wound their own spell around the heart and fancy of the orphan Helen.

"But there is yet another spell that holds her in its silken fetters.

Ah, little Helen! by those morning walks and star-lit rambles, by that rose fresh with dew, glittering amid your ringlets, by those dainty little notes, that bring such a bright flush to your cheek and add such l.u.s.tre to your eyes; you are a _plighted_ maiden.

"Harry Lee knew well how to woo, and win 'the village rose-bud.'

Master of a handsome fortune, he had early exhausted all the sources of enjoyment to be found in his native city. For the last three years he had been a voluntary exile in foreign lands; he had daguerreotyped upon his memory all that was grand, majestic and lovely, in natural beauty; all that was perfect in painting and sculpture. He had returned home, weary in the search of pleasure, sick of artificial manners and etiquette, longing for something that would interest him.

"In such a mood he met Helen. Her naive manners, her innocent and childish beauty, captivated his fancy. He was rich enough to be able to please himself in the choice of a wife, and the orphan's sweet gentleness gave promise of a ready compliance with every selfish desire. As to Helen, she had only her own heart to ask. All the villagers thought 'Mr. Lee was such a _handsome_ man.' _Mr. Lee thought so himself._