NOVELS OF THE WEEK.*
IT is a case of " Eclipse' first, and the rest nowhere" this week, so incontestably superior is Mr. Stephen Crane's work to that of the seven other writers to be noticed below. Two at least of the stories have already seen the light in magazine form, " His New Mittens "—a touching story of a little boy who, yielding to the force of public opinion, disobeyed his mother's instructions, was punished on his return, ran away from home in a fit of resentment, and was brought back by a kindly tradesman—and the very striking and rather ghastly story which gives its name to the collection. This narrates how a good-natured, childishly vain coloured groom saved the life of his master's little boy from a fire caused by his own carelessness, but sustained such terrible injuries as to affect his reason, and disfigure his appear- ance to the extent of monstrosity. The boy's father, a skilful doctor, saves the poor fellow's life, and pensions him off, but the horror which "the Monster" inspires is so great that his guardians refuse to keep him, he breaks out, and creates a panic in the town, and finally, when the doctor has taken the monster back to his own house, he is repaid for his humanity by being boycotted by his neighbours. He loses his practice, his wife's parties are deserted, and a deputa- tion waits upon him to beg that he will consent to the removal of the unhappy negro. Throughout this strange narrative Mr. Crane is at his best. The description of the fire and the rescue is astonishingly vivid, and the, conflict in the doctor's mind between gratitude and repulsion, his duty to his son's rescuer and consideration for his family and friends, is brought out with peculiar poignancy. If Mr. Crane had never written anything else he would have earned the right of remembrance by this story alone. It is full of pity and terror, and leaves an indelible impression on the reader.
Miss Slade takes for the main motive of A Wayside Weed the well-worn situation of the betrayed and deserted village maiden, whose well-born and fastidious seducer vanishes into space at the prospect of any awkward consequences, leaving no trace of his identity behind. Miss Slade, however, spares us all melodramatic developments of this familiar situation. Annie Deane is far too gentle-hearted a creature to think of oaths of vengeance. She devotes herself single-heartedly to the good of her child, and when the boy grows up and at a chance meeting makes a favourable impression on his father, now a famous singer rather past his prime, she consents to an asso- ciation in which the elder man, broken in health, grows in- creasingly dependent on the affection and help of the younger. It is not, however, until Lindsay Le Quesne is practically dying that he reveals the secret of his parentage to his protege, and then reaps the Nemesis of his early treachery in seeing his son leave him to die alone. The relations between Lin Warrener and his homely, uneducated, but un- selfish mother are very charmingly drawn; indeed, the character of Annie Deane, the "wayside weed," is one that stirs sympathy and compassion throughout.
• (1.) The Monster, and other Stories. 33Stephen Crane. London: Harper and Brothers. [5s.]—(2.3 A Wayside Weed. By A. F. Slade. London: Hutchinson and Co. (68. —F) Naonifs Mzodue. By Lily H. Montagu- London: T. Fisher Unwm. . 6d.]—(4.) The Aftertaste. By Compton Heade. London: Greening an Co. I6s.]—(15.) Marked with a Cipher. By Winefride Trafford-Taunton. London: Downey and Co. [68.]—(8.) The Brand of the Broad Arrow. By Major A. Griffiths. London: C. A. Pearson. [613]—.(6.7LWar and Arcadia. By . Milford. London : F. v. Whits and Co. NJ—M.) Th4 Relieving Bishop. By Mavergall Bates. Londe*(
George Dal
Arcurmes Exodus is a curious and interesting study of the trials and aspirations of a clever young Ghetto Jewess, who, finding herself utterly out of touch with her surroundings, runs away from her home and her Jewish lover, and starts life afresh on her own account. As a member of a girls' club she comes under the influence of its founder and manager, a high-minded, generous woman of good birth, who finds an anodyne for her own troubles—her fiance had become insane —in hard work. Here, too, Clement Marks, a rich West-End Jew, an agnostic in regard to religion, who has—not altogether - from disinterested motives—determined to study labour problems on the spot, meets and falls in love with Naomi. She returns his affection, but a visit to his people reveals insuperable divergencies in manner, breeding, tradition, &c., and Naomi, realising the injury her marriage would inflict on him, releases him from her engagement, and goes back to the little Ghetto shop kept by her aunt. Ultimately she takes to nursing, and years afterwards meets her lover, a middle-aged, dissatisfied man, who has made an unhappy marriage, and wishes to renew friendly relations with Naomi, and to be allowed to visit her. This, however, she refuses to do, for she is not yet sufficiently sure of herself, and this curious, yet not unpleasing, story of aspiration and effort, of renunciation and self-sacrifice, ends with his friendly but final dismissal at the hands of the woman who loves him.
Without intending it Mr. Compton Reade has in The After- taste put a spoke in the wheel of the humanitarians who denounce the cruelty of fox-hunting. For if Squire Crucival had given his splendid thoroughbred its head, instead of turn- ing home from a meet of the South Durham hunt in protest against: this " pitiful sport," that noble animal would not have put its foot in a hole "half a yard deep," the Squire would not have been thrown and robbed of his cheque-book, the robber —a bankrupt Captain of Marines—would not have gained the wherewithal to make a fresh start in life, the Squire would not have married the Captain's stepdaughter, the step- daughter would not have eloped with a married man, and the Squire would not have turned street preacher or had his eyes gouged out by the savage Irish slum-dwellers of Ferreosham. This is really the only approach to a moral that we have been able to discover in a singularly unprepossessing and uncon- vincing narrative.
Again this week we have a novel of which the beginning is by far the best part. The first two or three chapters of Marked with a Cipher promise a story of rather exceptional interest, but, unfortunately, this promise is not fulfilled. Miss Trafford-Taunton seems not quite to have made up her mind whether the main interest of her novel shall centre in the musical career of her hero Jude, in the story of his birth, or in the misdeeds of his detestable younger brother. A murder and an accusation against Jude seem rather irrelevant to the plot, and his chivalrous refusal to establish an alibi for fear of compromising his (unacknowledged) mother turns out to have been needless, as no disagreeable questions are put when she comes to give witness on his behalf. The fact is that melo- drama and ordinary life are like oil and vinegar, and when an attempt is made, as in this book, to blend them the results are fatal to organic cohesion.
Melodrama pure and simple, on the other hand, adorns Major Griffiths's pages ; and very well he handles it. The Brand of the Broad Arrow opens with an exciting account of the escape of a convict from Portland. The subsequent ad- ventures of that convict, and the havoc he works in a family moving in the most exalted circles, we must leave the reader of Major G-riffiths's book to discover.
DI War and Arcadia Mr. Bertram Mitford gives a vivid pic- ture of the last Sioux troubles in the United States. We "gentlemen of England" who sit at home "at ease" generally forget the fact that almost within the last decade scalping, ghost dancing, and every kind of atrocity known to Fenimore Cooper were practised in the territories belonging to our cousins over the water. Let us hope that it was for the last time. Mr. Mit- ford gives a most exciting account of the adventures of his hero and heroine, and though we are bound to confess that the-" war" section of his novel furnishes much better reading, his Arcadia, too, is not without its disturbing elements. In the end, however, the sorely tried hero escapes from all his enemies, civilised as well as savage.
Mr. Havergall Bates attempts, in the most serious to show in The Believing Bishop what would be he effect if an English Bishop tried to follow the teaching of Christ literally. Perhaps, if it is permissible to touch on so spiritual a question in the columns devoted to fiction, we may venture to suggest that Bishop Rannsome took only one event in the story of the teaching of our Lord on which to model his "imitation of Christ." This event was, of course, the story of the ruler who " had great possessions." If, on the other hand, the Bishop had taken the parable of the tale its for his chief study, his life would have taken probably a different turn, for in the end we doubt whether the attempt to save his own soul is the loftiest possible aim for man in his spiritual life. And Bishop Rannsome, though he advanced his own spiritual life, undoubtedly did not do nearly so much good in carrying the message of Christ as he would have done had he not thought it his duty to limit his own human intercourse by living a poor man among the poor. At any rate, Mr. Bates writes his book with profound earnestness, and though there are many objections to be found to his rendering of the obligations of a Christian—for example, the complete over- turning of all civilisation by savage invasion if every Christian acted according to the exact letter of his creed—still, we can only be interested by his setting forth of the exact consequences of a life lived in accordance with this reading of the duty of a follower of our Lord.
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