NOVELS.

THE BAD TIME94

Mn. BIRMINGHAM, as we have already had occasion to point out, occupies a unique position amongst Irish novelists. His books deal largely with contemporary politics from the stand- point of one who is an avowed believer in the justice of Ireland's demand for Home-rule. But while partibus Hibernia non iniquus, he is singularly free from the acrimony of partisanship. Himself a Nationalist, he is a most unsparing critic of the methods of the Nationalist agitation. With him the doctrine that the means justify the end is anathema ; and while always ready to appreciate the sincerity of extremists, he eschews fanaticism in all * (1) Tress and their Life Histories. By Percy Groom, M.A., D.Sc., B.Sc.. F.L.S., F.B.H.S. Illustrated with Photographs by Henry Irving. London; Cassell and Co. [25s. net.]—(2) Our British Tress, and How, to Know Them. By Francis George Heath. Kensington The Country Press. [10s. net.] ,t The Bad Times. By George A. Birmingham. London; Methuen and Co.

Os.] arms, unless. indeed, it be -the fanaticism of imparti- ality. Thus in the novel before vs he is so anxious to

render justice to both sides that he does not hesitate to ascribe high, and even heroic, qualities to a land agent. Hr.

Handers is no sentimentalist. He -carries out the orders of his employers—good, bad, and indifferent—with equal loyalty.

But he is a shrewd judge of Irish character, absolutely fear- less, -capable of a humorous detachment in his outlet*, and possessed by an amused contempt for the blundering consis- tency of English officials. Similarly Mr. Birmingham does not hesitate to credit Major Thorne, the Magistrate, a typical stupid English officer, with an act of splendid magnanimity towards

the man who had attempted to take his life. Per contra, the real villain of the plot is the Nationalist publican and gombeen-

man, Heverin, a human leech of the worst type, who takes an active part in the operations of the Land League, and while abstaining- from overt breach of the law, instigates to outrage the victims of his own avarice. Thus the book -presents the curious spettatle of a scrupulously honest attempt to do justice to a burning controversy in which the sympathy of the

reader is inevitably enlisted on the side of the extremists, whether Fenians, visionaries, ,er loyalists. The saying that there is no place in Irish politics for the moderate man is strikingly illustrated in the person of the nominal hero, . Stephen Butler, a Connaught landlord,,who enters-Parliament

in the " seventies " as a supporter of Isaac Butt. There is a. strong Nationalist strain in his blood—his grandfather had

bitterly opposed the Union and fought two duels with Castlereagh's gladiators—and he gradually gravitates towards Parnell and associates himself with the obstructionists at Westminster. But when the Land League is started Stephen is revolted by its methods, and supports his agent in resisting its demands, with the result that he forfeits his popularity, and comes into :abrupt .collision with the local leaders, -including one of the priests. Finally, he dies of a wound

inflicted by an assassin, who kills outright an innocent wanaan —the wife of a Protestant clergyman—in an abortive attempt to shoot the agent. To complete the tragedy, Rafferty, the old Fenian, is convicted on circumstantial evidence, and hung for a crime which he had done his best to avert. The story is

not altogether sombre, being enlivened by satire as well as humour; but it ends in a strain of almost unrelieved tragedy, in which the note of hopelessness dominates even those of pity

and terror. In the welter of conflict it is the honest and upright, the disinterested and innocent, who go to the wall, while the cynical and selfish, like -Lord Daiutree, or the treacherous and greedy, like ileverin the gombeen-man, save their skins. With characteristic detachment, Mr.

Birmingham gives the last word to 'Lord Daintree. In the letter written to his agent after Stephen Butler's death the abiding irony of the eternal Irish question Ands poignant

expression. After alluding to the resignation of Father Staunton, a priest of the old school who bad opposed the new agrarian movement, and the departure of Mr. Hegarty, the clergyman whose wife had been killed, he goes on :— ". I suppose the Dean sometimes dines with you now ? Next time he does you might ask him from me how recent events square with his theory of a wise and kindly Providence which overrules - human affairs. You and .I have got off nearly scot free, although we were, I suppose, more or less responsible for a good deal of the trouble. Snell, who perhaps deserved to suffer a little, is per- fectly contented and happy. He keeps adding to his really mar- vellous collection of old coins by means of the modern coin which you collect for him, rack-renting and evicting his tenants. On the other hand, Mrs. Ilegarty, a pretty little woman though supremely silly, and Stephen Butler, a model landlord, and, even from the League's point of view, something of a patriot, get killed. Sheridan, a dreamy sort of boy, driven half-mad by what he took for oppression, and Rafferty, who appears to have been quite innocent, are hanged for killing them. The good Dean's Providence had no business to connive at such proceedings. Even I, who am not particularly wise and not at all benevolent, could have managed much better if the guiding of events had been left to me. For the good of society in general I should have arranged for Heverin to be hanged. That fellow is a scoundrel, and will live to prey upon the people after our day is over. I strongly suspect that his little finger will be thicker than our loins ever were. I should also have hanged John Darcy and a couple more like him. Some of those blackguards must have had a hand in the shooting. It really vexes me to think that they have escaped the gallows. I foresee, with a feeling of consider- able disgust, that they will become leading politicians, and have unlimited opportunities for getting drunk. The condition of Ireland under their guidance is not pleasant to contemplate. Providence has a good deal to answer for.' Mr. Handers growled. He was a man who liked to roll out a good round oath, who had no objection to a doke with a :sacred subject. He'did not like what he called 'damned, cold-blooded profanity'; and Lord Dam- tree's letter letter seemed to him full of it. He felt all the more angry because the indictment et Providence was singularly damaging. The end of the letter puzzled him without restoring his good humour. 'What are you going to write upon Stephen Butler's tombstone? I suppose that quaker cousin of his from Belfast will want to display some singularly inappropriate text. I shouldn't wonder if he suggested "Hie end was peace !" By the way, is that a text ? You might ask the Dean to look it up. If I bad the settling of the matter, I should put—" Stephen Butler—the last Irish gentleman who was fool enough to be a patriot." There may be others, of course, in the future ; but by the time they turn up, people will have stopped reading our inscription. After all, he was a fool. I don't use the word in any offensive sense, merely as the world uses it. If by any chance old Rafferty is wrong about the " °Nacos lacus " and the Dean is right; if there really is a sort of general reckon- ing up, and we all have to put in an appearance on a Judgment Day, then 'I imagine Stephen Butler's particular kind of folly will turn out to be one of the -few things which it is worth a man's while to go in for-seriously. I've tried a good many sorts of folly in my day, and I've tried what's usually called wisdom. Most of them look pretty well now—on the stage with the coloured limelight on them—but if there is such a thing as daylight, I can quite imagine that the rouge and the rags will have An an- commonly shabby appearance.' "

We may add that this 1etrangely suggestive, though per- plexiug, book is dedicated to the most magnanimous of Irish patriots, Sir Horace Plunkett.