Text: N. P. Willis (?), Review of Graham's Magazine, Weekly Mirror (New York), November 2, 1844, vol. 1, no. 4, p. 63

[page 63, column 1:]

GRAHAM’S capital “Magazine” lies before us, and we are sorry to say we are too busy a man to enjoy the luxury of reading it. With a gaping paragraph unfinished on our table, however, we made time to glide over a story by “Fanny Forester” — that gifted incognita, whoever she be, possessing a fascination of narrative power, and a mingled feminine delicacy and tenderness that make her writings, to us, charming things as any written by female hand this side the water. This number of Graham is embellished by a portrait of versatile Mrs. Stephens, a very faithful likeness by Spencer. Our judgment of Mrs. Stephens's genius is so nearly expressed in the accompanying biography by Mr. Peterson that we, give a few of his leading paragraphs, in addition to the interesting particulars of Mrs. S's literary career:

Mrs. Ann S. Stephens was born in an interior village of Connecticut, and is now about thirty-three years old. The district where she spent her childhood is full of romantic scenery, and its influence on her can be traced throughout her writings. At an early age she married, and soon after removed with her husband to Portland, Maine. — Subsequently they changed their residence to New York, where they have ever since remained.

Her literary career began in Portland, and was purely accidental in its commencement. Among the first of her friends was John Neal, Esq., of that place, who early appreciated her genius. She projected, and for some time published “The Portland Magazine,” a work that was subsequently transferred to other hands, when her editorial charge over it ceased. It is not too much to say that its reputation arose chiefly from her contributions to it. After her removal to New York she engaged in writing for a more extensive circle of readers, and her fame now rapidly widened. The publication of “Mary Derwent,” for which she received a prize of $400, immediately placed her in the first rank of American authors. Since that period she has been one of the most fertile of the fictitious writers of the day. Her tales, sketches, and novels would fill several volumes if collected; bat we are not aware that any of them exist in print, except in the fugitive form in which they at first appeared, or were subsequently copied, in magazines and newspapers. This, however, is to be attributed to her own neglect; for she rigidly reserves the copy-rights of her stories; and has never yet been induced to present them in a collected form.

We shall not attempt a rigid analysis of Mrs. Stephens’ genius. This is always difficult, but especially so when the subject of criticism is living. We are so apt to be biassed by friendship — or deceived by the peculiar turn of our own minds — or misled by a tendency to severity on the one hand, or leniency on the other, that few, if any, have been able to do exact justice to the intellect of a cotemporary. But, on the prominent characteristics of Mrs. Stephens’ writings, all dispassionate critics will agree.

Her powers of description are of the first order. She has an eye quick to perceive, and a pen skilful to trace the prominent parts of a picture. Like a painter, she throws her whole force on the objects in the front, finishing the background with a few bold masses of light and shade. No writer, [column 2:] since Sir Walter Scott, has excelled her in this. We might point to many instances in her romances that justify our assertion.

Her plots are usually simple, founded on ordinary incidents, and developed in an easy and natural manner. She always follows truth, and is never grotesque. Though the denouements of a few of her tales appear forced; it would be discovered, we think on examination that they are founded on fact. Mrs. Stephens is fond of strong subjects; she has a sympathy with deep tragedy, and hence the startling; events of her stories.

In her more elaborate tales her whole force seems to have been thrown on the characters ; and, in consequence, we remember Cardinal Pole, Alice Copley, Mrs. Gray, Milina, and Anna Taylor, whet the incidents of the several stories, in which these personages move, are forgotten, or only remembered from being associated with the actors. Yet her characters are described rather by their appearances and actions than by their words.

Some one has said that genius is only the faculty of observing and noticing things which others disregard ; and, perhaps, this is as good a definition as it is possible to make. Mrs. Stephens is assuredly a woman of the highest genius in this view of the subject. Her observation is close and accurate. With the springs that move the human heart, she is thoroughly acquainted. Many of her characters — all her principal ones — are skilfully drawn ; indeed, with such fidelity that we suspect them to have originals in real life.

Her style, in her earlier writings, is sometimes too gorgeous, and would, now and then, bear softening. But of late she displays more chastened simplicity — the picture is toned down ; and we think for the better. There is a passion and earnestness about her manner which distinguishes her from her cotemporaries; she is more masculine and condensed in style than is usual with her sex. In her diction, regarded as distinct from style, she is a model. Indeed much of the graphic force of her descriptions arises from her skilful selection of words. This we have always regarded as a proof of genius. With men of the highest rank of mind, the thought and the word most fit to express it come instantaneously, like the lightning and thunderbolt.

The popularity of Mrs. Stephens as a prose writer of action has overshadowed her reputation as a poet. But this also is partially her own fault, for she has written compartively little in verse. That she is capable of it, however, no one who, has read her “ Polish Boy” can doubt ; and we have seen several lyrics’ from her pen, of exquisite beauty. Her imagination is even superiour to her fancy.

The personal character of an author, if a man, has small effect on his writings. ho would think Richardson to have been a bookseller, frugal of gains, and a haggler for copyrights? What do we see of the Latin secrecy in Paradise Lost? We might multiply instances. But with women it is different. They are so much like the creatures of impulse that they write more from the heart than from the intellect. No fair analysis of the genius of a female can be made, therefore, without taking into consideration her traits of character. Who, that has read Francesca Carrara, can mistake what sort of a personage Miss Landon was? Every body is as familiar with Miss Edgeworth as if they had met her for years at the same tea-table. Mrs. Stephens is, in like manner, revealed in her writings. She is impulsive, generous, self-sacrificing, strong in domestic attachments, frank, energetic, persevering. She is one of those persons whom difficulties rather inspire than discourage. In every sense of the word she is a true woman. She is passionately fond of flowers and of the fine arts; and indeed the love of the beautiful is one of her prominent traits.

A novel from the pen of this writer would be an acquisition to our literature. She has already written fictions of some length; but we hope she will go even further, and try her powers in a more extended flight.

The portrait accompanying this sketch is the most faithful likeness of Mrs. Stephens we have seen. But it is impossible for any artist to do justice to the play of her features, which constitutes so high a charm in listening to her conversation. How much it is to be regretted that the expression [column 3:] — that light from the soul within — can scarce. ly, if ever, be caught by the painter's pencil. The portraits of friends, which are pronounced faithful by strangers, but seem unfamiliar to us, would then be natural. There is something of this want in the picture before us.