The Viper of Milan: A Romance of Lombardy

So long as man retains his reminiscent interest in the past of which he is the product, so long will he continue to take possession of that past for the purposes of imaginative expression. And so long shall we have the historical as that form of fiction which of all is perhaps the most potent and the most perennial in its fascination. It is significant that at this precise moment when the historical novel shows so much apparent exhaustion, that there should appear such an example as The Viper of Milan , which, while actually the latest of its class, might almost be the first, so free is it from any trace of fatigue or affectation. Here is a novel in which the author writes of the past with as much sans-gêne as though she were writing of the present. She moves there so perfectly at home in the mind of her period that she does not need to note all those minor details which are its outer manifestation. She makes no attempt at an elaborate reconstruction of an epoch, but surrenders herself rather to that plastic spirit of an age which molds the souls of its men and women and makes them the channel of characteristic expression in thought, feeling and action. Actually, we know of no novel that gives a more concrete, vivid and brilliant impression of the Italy of the early Renaissance; but as a matter of fact there is a total absence of that set description which forms the staple of the ordinary historical novel. The method of the author is strictly dramatic and narrative, her story is given as exclusively as possible through dialogue and action. What description there is is wholly incidental, and there is never any slacking of the emotional tension, any interruption of the swift course of events for the sake of mere word-painting which, however gorgeous, is bound to be obtrusive. In all this, of course, Miss Bowen receives some assistance, some inspiration, as it were, from that particular phase of the past with which she deals. It would be difficult for anyone to write of Italy as it emerges from the Middle Ages without catching something in the narrative itself of that swift play of passion and impulse, of that tense, highly-wrought tendency to dramatic climax, which starts into life from the pages of the barest records of the period.…