MB. JAMES'S AllIIAH NEIL.
IT may be fancy, but we think Mr. James, rather suffers from the avowal of Isis mode of composing by dictating to an amanuensis; especially when we see from his numerous publications that he must talk fiction incessantly. In works where exposition of any kind is the characteristic,
and the merit depends upon the matter, a person with a command of language may dictate without injury to anything save the closeness of his style ; as Adam Smith dictated the Wealth of Nations. In such case the labour has been in the preparation—in the acquisition of the knowledge, the formation of the views, and the general arrangement of the exposition ; so that the book is already in the author's head, and as regards quantity perhaps very much more than the book in his notes. If a novelist underwent the same labour with his fictions, carefully plan- ning the whole before he began composition, excepting such happy pas- sages as might suddenly rush upon him, there might • be no objection to
dictating, beyond the general one that in works of imagination neither words nor imagery will come at will—" for there's a happiness as well as care." This kind of pains, however, either in preparation or revision, is not the habit of modern novelists; and in Mr. James's case we know that it can- not be, for he is, like Caesar, dictating to two at once, if not to three.* At all events, now that we have the key we seem to trace the effects of this sys- tem more clearly than ever. We can fancy Mr. James getting or making up a subject for a story—scene France, or England, or as it may be—time Civil Wars, or Louis the Fourteenth : with the knowledge of history Mr. James possesses, he would at once pitch upon the principal events and per- sonages that should be introduced into the fiction ; and then for other cha- racters " Why, in Arrah Neil or Times of Old, I will have a heroine of noble birth but brought up in humble life as a village maiden. There is in- deed no great novelty in this ; but then, I, G. P.R. James, will try to give a little more reason, (for haste will force me to break up the probability,) by having an Irish chieftain marry an English noblewoman, in the true Milesian fashion, by an abduction, and subsequently become rebel and at- tainted. I will also impart a metaphysical interest to the character of Arrah Neil, by making her seem at first half-witted; though it is only memory comparing the faint impressions of the past with the troubled times of the present. For a hero, there is Lord Walton—a Cavalier of course, grave, high-principled, and unconsciously loving Arrah in her poverty; and as for a villain, there is, equally of course, a Puritan, to be painted with all the black colours which the party violence of the times and the vulgar narrowness of succeeding Tories have attached to the race,— though Ezekiel Dry's possession of the papers, and his professing to pass as Arrah Neil's guardian, will seem taken from farce or broad -comedy, upon Mr. Bayes's rule of transversion. As a kind of " dens ex machine," Ancient Pistol shall furnish a hint; but Captain Barecolt shall be a man of courage and conduct as well as a most uncommon swaggerer. As for the rest, there will be a mob of gentlemen, officers and so forth, on both sides ; a good many hosts and hostesses, because they always figure in the days of Elizabeth and the Stuarts ; an elderly lady, widowed,"pious, and loyal; with a second pair of lovers, to come upon the stage when Arrah Neil and her fortunes are off."
Execution is the main thing in works of imagination. The veriest commonplaces of the "acting drama" and circulating library, treated by historical and metaphysical knowledge, would have formed a romance of some interest had they been properly put together and presented. But here the vice of the dictating or go-ahead plan of writing is visible. Mr. James seems never to have given himself the slightest trouble with a difficulty : when Barecolt is not present to solve the knot, the author cuts it himself, or rather leaves it entangled. There seeins no reason why Arrah Neil's birth should not have been communicated to Lord Walton or some of her relatives at first, as at last : but then the story could not have begun. The heavy spiritless execution—not, however, devoid of a mechanical species of force—is the main objection to Arrah Neil; and this is perhaps not owing to dictating, so much as to inces- sant dictating. Besides the non-necessity of so long concealing Arrah'S • Mr. James is publishing two fictions in periodicals, and Arrah Neil is the second or third book he has published within the year, besides attending to the collected edition of his works. birth, the story is loosely constructed and ill connected, as if no pains had been taken to make anything fit. A still greater objection is, that it is spun out—three volumes of task-work. Instead of scenes, Mr. James has been thinking of chapters ; constructing them continually of com- monplace incidents, and expanding even commonplace matter by diluted dialogue or description.
There are fewer passages than usual of what may be called good writing, or good scenes. That is the best in which Ezekiel Dry appears for the last time ; Barecolt having carried him off as a prisoner, and forcing him under threats of death to send for the papers which establish Arrah Neil's birth.
"The men rode away; and Captain Barecolt, after having secured the horses to two trees, took his pistols from the saddle, and rejoined his prisoner in the cave. There seating himself on the ground, with his long legs stretched out across the mouth of the excavation, he waved Mr. Dry with a commanding air to seat him- self also. It was easy to perceive that Captain Barecolt had been rendered some- what more grand in his own opinion by the last stoup of winewhich he had tossed off, with no more ceremony than if it had been a gill; and his captive, feeling that it might be dangerous to oppose him even in a trifle, instantly bent his hocks to the ground, being at the same time somewhat weary with a ride of more than thirty miles that morning. " Captain Barecolt first began by examining the priming of his pistols, the muzzles of which every now and then swept Mr. Drys person in a manner that made him very uncomfortable; but when this operation was finished, and the pistols replaced in his belt, the Royalist officer turned his looks upon Mr. Dry with a sort of compassionate contempt that was extremely irritating. 'Ah! Master Dry, Master Dry,' he said, both you and I know this wood very well. You often used to come here when you were an apprentice boy with old Nicholas Cobalter; and many a pound of sugar and salt have you hid away in that corner just behind where you are now sitting—many an ounce of pepper have you laid in the nook just over your head, till you could dispose of your pilferings.'
"Mr. Dry said nothing, but gazed at Captain Barecolt from under his bent brows with a look of hatred and fear, such as might be supposed to pass over his countenance if he bad seen the infernal spirit. "'Ay,' continued the officer, in a somewhat maudlin and sentimental tone, 'those were pleasant days, Mr. Dry, especially when you used to take a walk in this wood with buxom Mrs. Cobalter, when her husband went to London town; and she used to say if ever he died you should be her second, because you were tender of her feelings, and connived at her dealing with the pottle-pot more freely than her husband liked.
" 'And who the Devil are you ? ' cried Mr. Dry, furiously; forgetting all his sanctity in the irritating state of apprehension and astonishment to which he was reduced.
"'Ay, those were merry times, Master Dry,' continued Barecolt, without no- tidng his intemperate question, and fixing one eye upon his companion's face, while the other rolled vacantly round the cave, as if searching for memories or ideas. Yes, Master Dry, no one would have thought to see you the master of Longsoaken in those days. But it all came of the widow, and your stepping in, by her help, into all that old Cobalter left. Fair or foul, Master Dry, it matters not—you got it, and that made a man of you!' "And who, in` the Fiend's name, are you ? ' demanded the Puritan, almost springing at his throat.
"'I will tell you, Ezekiel Dry,' answered Barecolt, bending forward and gazing sternly in his face= I will tell you. I am Daniel Cobalter—ay, little Daniel, the old man's only nephew—his brother's son, whom you cheated, with the widow's aid, of his uncle's inheritance, and left to go out into the world with five crown- pieces and a stout heart: and now that I have you here face to face in Wilbury Wood, what have you to say why I should not blow your brains mat, for all that you have done to me and mule?
" Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, shrunk into nothing, while Barecolt continued to gaze upon him as sternly as if he could have eaten him alive. A moment after, however, the gallant captain's face relaxed its awful frown, and with a withering and contemptuous smile he went on. But set your mind at ease, worm ! You are safe in my scorn. I have done better for myself than if I had been tied down to a mechanical life. But take warning by what has happened, and do not let me catch you any more at these same tricks, or I will put my boot-heel upon your head, and tread your brains out like a viper's. There, sit there, and be silent till the men come back: for if I see you move, or hear you speak, you will raise choler in me.'
" The gallant captain then rose and stood for a minute in the mouth of the Cave, and then returned again, and seated himself, looking at Dry with a sneer- big smile. Now art thou hammering thy poor thin brains to find how Daniel Cobalter has become Captain Barecolt: but if thou twistest the letters into proper form, thou wilt find that I have not taken one from any man's name but my own. That is no robbery, Dry I' " Nay, I see 1 I see I' said the Puritan. "' Ay, dost thou so ?' rejoined Barecolt; then see and be silent ': and he leaned his head upon his hand, and gazed forth from the mouth of the cave. Presently, Captain Barecolt's head nodded, and his breath caine more heavily. Dry of Longsoaken gazed at him with his small eyes full of fierce and baleful light; but his face did not grow red or heated with the angry passion that was evidently working within him. On the contrary, it was as white as that of a corpse. ' Ruin he muttered in a low voice to himself= ruin !' and at the same time he put his right hand in his pocket, where he had concealed the knife. "But Captain Barecolt suddenly raised his head. ' You moved !' he said sternly. " ' It was but for my ease,' answered Dry, in a whining tone: this ground is very hard.' " Sit still !' rejoined the captain frowning, and then resumed the same atti- tude. In two or three minutes he breathed hard again, and then he snored; for he had drunk much wine and ridden far. For a few minutes Mr. Dry thought he Was feigning sleep; and yet it seemed very like reality—sound, heavy, dull. "' It must be speedily, or not at all!' he thought to himself: the other men may soon be back. Soft—I will try him '; and rising, he affected to look out of the mouth of the cave. Captain Barecolt slept on.
" Ezekiel Dry trembled very much; but he quietly. put his hand once more into his pocket, and drew forth the knife. He grasped it tight; he took a step for- ward to the sleeping man's side. Barecolt, accustomed to watch, started, and was rising; but ere he could gain his feet, the blow descended on his right breast; and, leaving the knife behind, Dry darted out of the cave.
"The blood gushed forth in a stream; but, with a quick and firm hand, Bare- colt drew a pistol from his belt, cocked it, took a step forward, levelled, and fired. Dry of Longsoaken sprang up a foot from the ground, and fell heavily upon the forest grass, with his blood and brains scattered round. " Ha l' cried Barecolt, ' ha! Master Dry—but I feel marvellous faint—very faint; I will sit down'; and, resuming his seat, he leaned back, while his face be- came as pale as ashes, and the pistol fell from his hands."
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