RECENT NOVELS.*
THOSE horny-handed sons of toil, the plagiarism-hunters, ought to be grateful to Mrs. May, better known to the world as Miss Georgiana Craik, for she has given them a fine oppor- tunity for displaying their skill as literary detectives without the trouble of undertaking those arduous researches which are so often necessary. While engaged in hunting down Mr. Rider Haggard, they were compelled to seek laboriously for incrimi- nating evidence between the covers of dusty tomes which were half-forgotten or wholly unknown ; but Little Lord Thuntleroy has been read and is remembered by everybody, and in Mrs. Binned's popular story the "active and intelligent" officers of literary law will find all the materials for their latest "case." The only drop of bitterness in their cup will be found in the fact that their task is too easy to be very interesting. The correspondences between Diana and the older story are so very obvious. In both books there is an irascible, ill-conditioned, and aristocratic old gentleman (the Earl of one story is the Baronet of the other), whose child (a young man according to Mrs. Burnett, a young woman according to Mrs. May) dies unforgiven for the crime of having married against the father's wishes. In both books the death of the offender has taken place before the story opens, and the action in Diana, as in Little Lord l'auntleroy, begins with a, message of invitation from the grandfather to the grandchild, and ends with the subjugation of the former, who frightens everybody, by the latter, who is afraid of nobody. Nor is this all, for the new book follows the old one even into corre- spondences of detail, and the first evening of Diana's visit to Wilmotes, Sir Henry leans upon her as he goes into dinner, just as Lord Dorincourt leans upon the little Cedric. All this sounds conclusively condemnatory to a reader of a review, but the reader of the book will find that it amounts to comparatively little. Such a simple and obvious idea as that of the enmity of two generations being ended by a third is almost common property; and though the skeleton of Mrs. May's book resembles that of Mrs. Burnett's book a little too closely, its covering of flesh and blood has a recog- nisable individuality. The masterful Diana Fielding is as much alive as any character in recent fiction, though some people may complain, not altogether without reason, that she- displays her vitality with unnecessary vigour. She is an attractive young lady, but she would be a good deal more attractive were she a little less rude all round. Sir Henry may deserve Diana's very outspoken criticisms upon his character and conduct, but a grandfather is a grandfather after all ; while her cavalier treatment of her lover, Dr. Brydon, and her would-be lovers, Mr. Stapleton and Cecil Rivers, is without a shadow of excuse. This, however, is a criticism of Diana herself ; not of Mrs. May's art as displayed in her creation, and the portraiture, as portraiture, can be warmly praised. Indeed, the story is from first to last decidedly suc- cessful. Towards the close there is a slight dragging in the movement of incident, which has previously been so well sus- tained; but if the book be regarded as a whole, it must be pronounced a more than usually clever and interesting novel.
When the identity of a writer is known to everybody, it is annoying to be compelled by literary etiquette to speak of him in an allusive round-about way as the author of this book or that ; and therefore Mr. Baring-Gould deserves the gratitude of critics for placing his name on the title-page of The Pennycomequicks ; though, as a matter of sentiment, they may regret that the first novel he has chosen directly to acknow- ledge should be so poor a specimen of his work. It has happened, curiously enough, that Mr. Baring-Gould has hardly ever written a single novel which can be said to represent his average ; his books stand either much above or much below the imaginary line by which that average is represented, and every one of them has been either a conspicuous success or a conspicuous failure. His latest novel, with its inexcusably silly title, is, we regret to say, one of the worst of the failures. The characters in The Pennyeomeguicks are as unnatural as they are unattractive ; the incidents are improbable, and yet deficient in that kind of interest which is sometimes secured
• (L) Diana. By Georgians M. Craik (Mrs. A. W. May). 3 vols. London
R. Bentley and Bon.—(2.) The Pcnnyeameguieks. By Baring-Gould. 3 1r018. London: Spencer Blanket and Hallam.—(3.) Marooned. By IV: Clark Rumen. 3 vols. London Macmillan and Co. —(4.) Her Own Counsel. By the. Author of "Dr. Edith Romney." 3 vols. London B.. Bentley and Son.—(5.) Apples*/ Sodens. By X. firamston. 2 vols. London: Wolter Smith and 11E1E6 ---(6.) Geoff. By Gertrude Forde. 3 vols. London: Hurst and Blackett.
by improbability; and the book abounds in long didactic passages inspired by that cheap cynicism which is as weari- some as it is unedifying. We feel in a vague way that Salome, the heroine, is a very estimable young woman who is very badly used by everybody, especially by the impossible old " uncle " who professes such warm affection for his adopted niece ; but to feel any interest in her is quite beyond the power of any average reader. The voluntary disappearance of the said uncle, the head of the Pennycome- quick family, upon which the whole story hangs, is a grotesque absurdity ; and the villain of the story, Earle Schofield, is a caricatured reflection of Captain Wragge in Wilkie Collins's No Name, even the pseudo-scientific talk about the iodine being slavishly reproduced. A few of the descriptions are, however, capital, description being Mr. Baring-Gould's forte, as it was Lord Byron's ; and some of the bits relating to Yorkshire folk-lore and tradition have an interest of their own, though they do not suffice to save the novel.
A writer with less popularity than is enjoyed by Mr. Clark Russell would find it a somewhat risky experiment to handicap a novel with a title like Marooned, which is certainly "not understanded of the common people;" and even the author of The Wreck of the 'Grosvenor' and The Golden Hope is careful to provide his readers with a preliminary extract from a nautical dictionary, in order to acquaint them with the fact that the verb "to maroon" means "to put a person ashore on an uninhabited island." Mr. Clark Russell thus foregoes an advantage which most novelists would be loth to abandon,—as, of course, we know, while engaged in the perusal of the first volume and the earlier chapters of the second, what is to be the fate of Richard Musgrave and the brave girl, Aurelia Grant, whom he has taken under his guardianship. The writer doubtless has a confidence, which is amply justified, that by mere skill of narrative and rapid invention of attrac- tive details, he can rouse and maintain the reader's interest without the element of mystery which would have been secured by concealment of the ordeal in store for his hero and heroine ; and though the goal is visible from the first, the reader's curiosity is amply excited by the progress of the strange events which lead on to it. With the exception of the experiences of the "marooned" pair upon the uninhabited West Indian island, the materials which have gone to the making of the book are fairly familiar to Mr. Clark Russell's readers. We have the brutal, barbarous, drink-inflamed captain, the diabolical mate, the sulky and finally mutinous crew, the thrilling incidents, and the remarkable natural phenomena which have so often done duty for our entertainment; but Mr. Clark Russell has such a happy knack of refurbishing and regrouping the well- known properties, that they have quite an air of freshness. The author's literary workmanship and narrative method are so uniform, that his novels must needs be placed in order of personal preference rather than of intrinsic merit. The pre- sent writer inclines to prefer to Marooned the two previous novels above mentioned ; but a contrary view has repeatedly been expressed in these columns. It is certain that in his own department Mr. Clark Russell is excelled by no one but himself; and if we were ignorant of other books from his pen, we should say unhesitatingly that we had never read a better sea-story than Marooned. A couple of small blots may be mentioned. We are led to believe that some important results will follow from the discovery of the pirates' lair, but nothing of any consequence comes of it; and it is impossible not to feel that a girl of Aurelia Grant's moral calibre would have shown a little more hesitation in jilting her Brazilian lover even in favour of her heroic guardian.
Speaking from a recollection which may have become some- what vague from lapse of time, we cannot think that Her Own Counsel is, as a whole, quite equal to Dr. Edith Romney, the novel by which the still anonymous author made her first appeal to the public. It was by no means a faultless novel, but the character in whom the interest was centred was a much more harmonious piece of portraiture than is the picture of the woman who occupies the most prominent place on the new canvas. By the time we reach the third volume, we per- ceive that we are intended to see in Eleanor Curtis, the beautiful daughter of the fashionable painter, a character not naturally ignoble, who has been warped and spoiled by a thoroughly pagan training. In the earlier portion of the book, there is, however, no hint that this is the author's conception ; and, indeed, Eleanor's whole conduct—especially with regard
to Alan Thorne, whom she tempts to dishonour by unwomanly lures, and when he has fallen, heartlessly spurns him—is that of a nature to whom the vilest baseness is not merely natural but thoroughly congenial. The inconsistency and unreality of this one character, of course, does much to vitiate the story in which she plays so prominent a part, though some of the subsidiary figures are really lifelike, and some of the situations—particularly those in the third volume—are un- mistakably powerful. There are some singularly happy touches in the description of Lady Bertha Conington's reception of the news that her dead husband had had a previous wife. She has cared for him but languidly, and her sensitive conscience is tortured by the thought that she is not grieving as she ought to grieve for the loss of a man who has given her his first undivided love. To know that the boon was not what she had imagined it to be, relieves her from the strain of attempting to force an emotion at a supposed call of duty, and she can live her life peacefully again. In fact, the book is made up of one set of passages like this, which are the result of true imagina- tion and observation of life, and other passages, unfortunately more numerous, in which the author is working along the lines of conventional tradition. We cannot refrain from adding that the suggestion of a living original in the unpleasant portrait of Mr. Curtis is too obvious to be in good taste.
Apples of Sodom is a fine novel, and it is a novel which is specially strong in intellectual and ethical interest. It is attractive enough as a mere story, and yet its interest as a record of incident is so largely subordinate to this other and higher kind of interest, as to make it unsafe to commend it unreservedly to the ordinary novel-devourer, though it may thus be commended without any fears or scruples to those thoughtful readers who welcome a story not less warmly because it provides them with material for reflection as well as for entertainment. Marcus Brand, a young man of con- siderable depth, breadth, and seriousness of nature, drifts into an engagement with Jenny Fermor, a shallow-hearted, small- brained girl, who is in every way unfit to be his wife. Shortly after his betrothal, he pays a long visit to the Continent, in the course of which he is thrown into the society of Armine Constable, and discovers that he has made an utterly mistaken choice. Being perplexed as to his duty, he makes confession to and asks advice from an older friend, who, believing that Armine's heart is quite untouched, and that Brand's feeling will probably prove transient, advises him to return home and fulfil his engagement. The advice is acted upon, and as soon as Brand has taken orders, he and Jenny are married. The union is not a conspicuous failure ; it is not talked about as an unhappy marriage ; but there is an utter absence of all real congeniality. Some years pass ; Armine comes to live in the neighbourhood of the Brands, and though Marcus at first avoids her, circumstances throw them together. The old passion is still dominant, but he holds himself well in hand, until one day when, in a moment of intense excitement, he reveals his secret. A flood of bitter repentance immediately overwhelms him, and he resolves that he will see Armine no more. Shortly, however, after this self-revelation, Jenny dies, and eventually he and his old love come together once more. It is in their experiences as man _and wife that the title of the book finds its explanation. Brand's remorseful remembrance of his momentary fall from loyalty has quickened his spiritual and moral sensibilities, and given his nature a new buoyancy which raises it into a rarefied atmosphere in which Armine finds it hard to live. "Marcus," she once exclaims, "has been my Arthur and Lancelot in one. I could breathe when he was Lancelot ; I can't breathe now that he is Arthur." Through much tribulation, the husband and wife are at last united in spirit as well as in heart ; but it is in the story of their dark days that the interest of the novel is centred, and the record of the widening of the little rift is written with real power and pathos. Apples of Sodom is, indeed, one of the strongest of recent novels.
Miss Gertrude Forde's new story is quite as interesting as any of its predecessors, and a good deal more cheerful than one or two of them, being a notably bright, comfortable book. The hero, a good-tempered, warm-hearted, wholesome young Englishman, belongs to a somewhat " mixed " family,—his father being a cynical agnostic, his mother a weak, hysterical woman who has allied herself with the Salvation Army, his elder sister an enthusiastic advocate of strong-minded crazes or "causes," and his elder brother a cold-blooded profligate of the vilest kind. Besides Geoff himself, the only ordinary member of this oddly assorted household is his younger sister Bertha, who has a passion and a genius for music ; and in order to enable him to obtain for her the musical training which her father has denied, Geoff sacrifices his life of ease and his modest allowance, and leaves England to seek a livelihood in the United States. We cannot say whether the details of Geoff's experiences as a cowboy are true to the life of the West, but the story is told with a great deal of vivacity, and most readers will incline to think it the best part of the book. Running parallel with the main action, which consists of Geoff's adventures and love-affairs, is a sub-story of his brother Darcy's rascally attempt to repudiate his marriage, which is, perhaps, a little improbable ; and the novel alto- gether is somewhat looser in construction than Miss Forde's work is wont to be. Still, the faults, such as they are, cannot be considered grave ; and as Geoff is thoroughly readable, they can easily be condoned.
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