NOVELS.
THE WAY OF THE SPIRIT.* hi his "Author's Note" Mr. Haggard complains, though more in sorrow than in anger, of the attitude of those critics who, when an author attempts to step off the line chalked out for him by custom or opinion, are apt to drive him back with stones and shoutings. This, we gather, has been his experience in the past, and he evidently anticipates that it may be repeated in the case of his new story, in which, deviating from the
familiar trodden pathway of adventure," he has made an excursion into the realm of problem fiction, chiefly because the problem in question interested him. Mr. Haggard's protest is not unnatural, though there is a good deal to be said on the other side. It is one of the inevitable penalties of an author who achieves resounding success that the public to whom be primarily appeals should expect him to continue in the path in which that success was won; and the larger the public the greater the disappointment which any subsequent deviations excite. Mr. Haggard may console himself with the reflection that others have suffered from this tyrannical appreciativeness, which, we may add, has operated to the dis- advantage of writers who approached their task in a very different spirit from that which animates his romances. Thus the late Mr. George Gissing, whose earlier novels were of a uniformly pessimistic complexion, was considered by some critics to have done injustice to himself in his subsequent rare lapses into comparative cheerfulness. We have called this attitude tyrannical, and so it is in so far as it seeks to hamper individuality. Nevertheless, it is founded on a common- sense view which is backed by a good deal of experience,— that success in one direction is seldom accompanied by the capacity to succeed in its opposite. Non omnia possumus wanes. At the same time, we cannot help feeling that Mr. Haggard's misgivings are unfounded in the present case. There is, no doubt, a certain amount of " deviation " from the paths familiar to readers of his romances. But though the motive is new, the author's methods have not undergone any substantial alteration. Mr. Haggard has not become a disciple of Mr. Henry James, either in style or in psychology. The scene is largely laid in Africa ; the real heroine is an Egyptian Princess; exciting incidents abound ; there is some severe fighting ; and the story begins and ends on a tragic note. In a word, Mr. Haggard has been so liberal in his concessions to the admirers of his earlier manner that they should find little difficulty in acquiescing in the new features of his latest venture.
Rupert Ullershaw, the hero of the story, while still a boy at Sandhurst is entangled in a compromising attachment to the wife of his cousin, Lord Devene, an elderly cynic. Threatened with divorce and loth to ruin Rupert's career at the outset, Lady Devene poisons herself; and Rupert, sobered by the
* The Way of the Spirit. By H. Rider Haggard. London: Hutchinson and Co. [68.1 shock, seeks refuge from remorse in a strenuous life, with renunciation as its guiding principle. Twelve years later he
returns home, already a distinguished soldier, having graduated in that stern school of misogyny, the Egyptian Army, only to fall an easy prey to the bow and spear of his cousin Edith, a beautiful but worldly woman who is living as companion with his mother. Rupert, it should be explained, besides his distinction as a soldier and Orientalist, is the heir of Lord Devene, whose second marriage has proved childless, and Lord Devene, though cordially disliking Rupert, promises Edith a handsome fortune on condition of her marrying him. Edith has no love for Rupert; the only man to awaken that emotion in her heart is another cousin, Dick Learmer, a handsome but worthless "detrimental" who has gone into Parliament under the aegis of Lord Devene; but ambition and self-interest prevail, and Rupert marries her, starting three hours after the wedding on a dangerous secret mission into the Soudan, his abrupt departure having been brought about (not very credibly) by Dick Learmer's influence at the War Office. On his way to Egypt Rupert learns—with feelings that can readily be imagined—that Edith is Lord Devene's illegitimate daughter ; and on reaching his destination, as the result of chivalrously undertaking to escort the Egyptian Princess, his party are cut off by a hostile Arab tribe. The Princess escapes, and with her tribesmen rescues Rupert from the hands of his captors, not, however, before they have blinded him of one eye and hacked off one foot. Meantime the sole survivor of Rupert's escort has made his way back, and reported his death to the British authorities. Edith, on learning of her release, once more encourages the attentions of her cousin, and is actually engaged to him when Rupert, a maimed and unsightly wreck, returns to England to claim his wife. Mrs. Ullershaw repulses him in horror, and Rupert, without disclosing his identity to any one else, at once returns to the Soudan. There he lives on terms of.fraternal affection with the Princess until his wife, accompanied by the persevering Dick and Lady Devene, arrives on the scene. Jealousy, coupled with a belated realisation of the worth of her husband and the cowardice of her lover, prompt her to assert her rights, and the ensuing complications are only removed by a crowning act of villainy on the part of Dick Learmer, by which Rupert and his Princess are finally united in death.
A plot so rich in incident and movement hardly leaves the author room to devote to the leisurely analysis and develop- ment of character on which the success of his experiment must in the ultimate resort depend. The majority of readers will be content to regard it as a stirring tale, vigorously and picturesquely told, and to view the painful situation in which Rupert Ullershaw found himself more in the light of an in- geniously devised "hard case" than as the crisis of a spiritual drama. Besides, the particular illustration which Mr. Haggard has chosen to exemplify the conflict between duty and inclina- tion borders on the fantastic. We are more impressed by Princess Mea's savagery in the hour of revenge than by her gentleness as a ministering angel. And lastly, the steady accumulation of undeserved misfortunes on the hero's head becomes almost grotesque in its uniformity. But when all reservations have been made on the score of construction and credibility, the romance may be heartily commended alike for its sustained vigour, its robust imagination, and for the straight- forward, manly, and wholesome handling of a difficult theme.
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