NOVELS.
THE INVA.DER.• MRS. Woons's new novel is largely a- novel of modern Oxford, and the progress of University life in fifty years as reflected in fiction could hardly be more strikingly illustrated than by comparing The Invader with Verdant Green. Here the male undergraduate is but a transient phantom ; of primitive Philis- tinism there are but few traces; the stage is chiefly occupied by dons and girl students, among whom the Amazon and. the bluestocking are equally represented and occasionally com- bined in the one person. These hard-working, cocoa-drinking, hockey-playing damsels, equally at home in science and slang, are very far from realising the ideal of Tennyson's Princess, yet they are not allowed to impair the abiding magic Of the ancient University city, and the fine tribute paid by Mrs. Woods in the following passage deserves to be added to • SU Invader. By Margaret L. Woods. London W. Heinemann. teal
the various acts of literary homage collected in a recent volume ;—
„Oxford is beautiful at all times, beautiful even now, in spite of the cruel disfigurement inflicted upon her by the march of modern vulgarity, but she has three high festivals which clothe her with a special glory, and crown her with their several crowns.
One is the Festival of May, when her hoary walls and ancient enclosures overflow with emerald and white, rose-colour and purple and gold ; a foam of leafage and blossom, breaking spray- like over edges of stone, grey as sea-worn rocks. And all about the city the green meadows and groves burn with many tones of colour, brilliant as enamels or as precious stones, yet of a texture softer and richer, more full of delicate shadows, than any velvet
mantle that ever was woven for a queen. Another Festival comes with that strayed Bacchanal October, who hangs her scarlet and wine-coloured garlands on cloister and pinnacle, on wall and tower. And gradually the foliage of grove and garden turns through shades of bluish metallic green, to the mingled splendour of pale gold and beaten bronze and deepest copper, half glowing and half drowned in the low mellow sunlight and purple mist of autumn. Last comes the Festival of Midwinter, the Festival of the Frost. The rime comes, or the snow, and the long lines of the buildings, the fretwork of stone, the battlements, carved pinnacles, and images of saints or devils stand up with clear glittering outlines, or clustered about and overhung with fantasies of ice and snow. Behind the deep blue sky itself seems to glitter too. The frozen floods glitter in the meadows, and every little twig on the bare trees. There is no colour in the earth, but the atmosphere of the rive• valley clothes distant hills and trees and hedges with ultramarine vapour. Towards evening the mist climbs, faintly veiling the tall groves of elms and the piled masses of the city itself. The sunset begins to burn red behind Magdalen Tower, all the towers and airy pinnacles rise blue yet distinct against it. And this festival is not only one of Nature. The glittering ice is spread over the meadows, and everywhere from morning till moonlight the rhythmical ring of the skate and the sound of voices sonorous with the joy of living travel far on the frosty air. Sometimes the very rivers are frozen, the broad bare highway of the Thames and the tree-sheltered path of the Cherwell are alive with black figures, heel-winged like Mercury, flying swiftly on no errand, but for the mere delight of flying."
But, after all, Oxford, though it inspires what are to us the most attractive passages in the book, only supplies the setting and background for Mrs. Woods's romance. She is not primarily concerned with the genius of the University or the higher education of women. Her object is rather to compose a free fantasia on the psycho-physiological data accumulated by French and American researchers in the dark domain of multiple personality. The theme is not unfamiliar to readers of R. L. Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, or of another and earlier work written by a spiritualist, of which the title, if our memory serves us aright, was The 'Vacant Mind. Mrs. Woods's treatment, however, is more modern and unsensa- tional than Stevenson's. There is no direct suggestion of the supernatural; but, by the avoidance of any physical transformation, the complications arising out of the dual ownership of the same body are intensified, and a working theory is supplied of the phenomena which in earlier ages led to the belief in demoniac possession.
The central figure and victim of the story is Milly Flaiman, who at the opening of the story is working for Greats. Milly, whose parents live in Australia, and who is immensely indus- ti ions, devout, and dowdy—though blessed with more than average good looks—has imperilled her chances of a First by overwork, and is threatened with a serious nervous breakdown. At this juncture her chum, Flora Timson, puts her into a hypnotic trance, and unwittingly evokes her alternate person- ality, in which she becomes the reincarnation of a notorious ancestress. Milly No. 2, or Mildred, is brilliant, fascinating, and witty, with a genius for dress, and completely enslaves the distinguished young don with whom she is reading for schools. Ian Stuart falls in love with Mildred, but he does not propose until she has been replaced by Milly, who accepts him gratefully, Mildred resuming her sway during the honey- moon. The alternating phases of personality last several months on an average, and in each case involve a lapse of memory ; but Milly from the first has a vague consciousness that in her absence she has been misrepresented and defrauded by the " invader," and this feeling deepens into one of acute resentment after the birth of her child, and still more as it is gradually borne in upon her that her husband prefers her rival. Mildred, on the other hand, despises Milly, and takes a malicious pleasure in reorganising her household, committing her to uncongenial engagements, and compromising her in advance by encouraging undesirable attentions. To put it bluntly, Milly is an honest woman and Mildred has in her the makings of a wanton. On the other hand, her husband is infatuated by the siren and bored by the faithful wife. As time goes on he fully realises the secret of the two personalities, but, while considerate and compassionate to the hapless Milly, grows increasingly desirous of the reappearances of Mildred. The antagonism between the two souls becomes more and more acute, but Stuart does nothing to assist Milly to assert her mastery and expel the " invader." Finally, as might have been anticipated from her antecedents, Mildred, wearying of her scholarly though devoted husband, elopes with a married man, and when Milly returns it is to find herself the mistress of an unknown lover. There is clearly only one way for her to revenge herself effectively on her rival, and she promptly takes it.
The book is extremely clever and admirably written. Several of the scenes are powerful, and one quite intolerably painful. But when all has been said in its favour, The Invader belongs to the category of gratuitous tragedy. Not only is the motive abnormal, but it relies on the interpretation of an abnormality which rests on extremely disputable data, while the working out is marred by inherent improbabilities. To mention only one, we cannot understand how Mildred, con- stituted as she was, could have endured the companionship of her donnish husband for a single week. Again, Mrs. Woods is far more successful in conveying the anguish of the honest Milly than in enabling us to realise the fascinations of the siren Mildred. Lastly, the narrative is lacking in relief. Mrs. Woods deliberately refrains from developing the ludicrous possibilities which reside in the plot; and the only cheerful character, Flora Timson, alias "Tims," is a grotesque rather than humorous figure. It is impossible to deny that the narrative has a certain engrossing quality, but personally we have no hesitation in expressing our regret that so much talent should have been lavished on a theme which makes neither for health nor happiness.
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