" J. S."*
BOUN ERIE bears a name associated in its day with a pungent style of criticism, and he has apparently inherited, in some degree, the critical faculty of the genial statesman whose son and namesake he is. But to this quality of mind Mr. Bouverie adds others more distinctly his own. He has a genuine sense of humour ; he is a close observer of men and manners ; and he writes a careful style. We may add that, in our opinion, he has not miscalculated his powers if he thinks that he is capable of becoming an interesting novelist. This book we take to be an experiment. We think it a successful and an encouraging experiment. It is readable, and it is short. We read it with pleasure, and we put it down wishing it were longer. This is in itself no small praise ; and it becomes an even more decided tribute to the author's powers when we add that the book contains no sensation, next to no plot, and the irreducible minimum of incident.
The hero (in whose initials the legal reader will discern the modest confession of commonplaceness) is a young barrister of slender means and an inordinate bashfulness. He falls in love, and is too modest to avow it. He inherits a fortune, which makes him, in the pecuniary sense, marriageable. His incurable self-distrust still restrains him from proposing. His rival steps in successfully ; but before " J. S. " is made aware of his ill- fortune, his gun opportunely bursts, and puts him out of his misery :—
"Some with lives that came to nothing, some with deeds as well undone, Death came suddenly, and took them where men never see tie sun."
That, with such material as this, Mr. Bouverie's tale should be short, is perhaps not wonderful. The wonder is that it should be readable. The merits of the book are neither few nor slight. There is a real sense of natural fun, trained by observation, and carefully guarded from boisterous excess. There is the faculty of drawing real men and women, and of making them talk like human beings. There is a just and skilfully displayed indig- nation against prigs, bores, and snobs, and a humorous impatience of whatever is tiresome or ungentlemanlike. In a word, the members of Mr. Bouverie's society are ladies and gentlemen, and speak and act accordingly. Mr. Bonverie's sarcasm is reserved for what is rightly and essentially offensive. The blunders, the sufferings, and the comicalities of struggling but bashful merit are touched with a sympathetic leniency. Mr. Bouverie knows something of society, of cricket, and of law, and discourses of all three with acute but genial observation. Of those big subjects which generally exercise for the nascent novelist so terrible a fascination, he keeps commendably clear. After these sentences of introduction, Mr. Bouverie shall speak, in his own words, but in our italics. Of Lord Filham he writes : —" There was nothing, however, which so attracted him as dis- interested kindness, and in the course of the visits he had an opportunity of witnessing an instance of Florence's knight- errantry in favour of the social weakling." Of old china :— " A brush of his coat-tails knocked off the table a beautiful and valuable ()wither, I believe, necessarily implies the other) piece of china." Of an action for libel brought by an ex-Minister of the Crown against a political opponent :—" Apart from fun that was ponderous and technical, there was not much to amuse, and there was certainly much to regret." Of a pompous bore :— " Mr. Prescott was much pleased. Ile was pleased to hear the young man use words of a certain length and talk platitudes of an uncertain kind He was pleased at his air of deference And he answered, No apologies, I beg. A man of experience never objects to seeing—is always glad to see—a young man express himself in this manner. I trust, Mr. Stiles, your father is in good health. Hogbacked Stiles he used to be called.'" Of doctors :—" Bark tells me that I may be off at any time, • J. S. ; or Trivialities a Novel. By Edward Oliver Pleidoll-Bonverie. London Griffith, Farrar Okeden, and Welsh. 1888. or may live till ninety. When a doctor says that, you may dis- regard the last alternative." Of an old gentleman who prosed of historic cricketers :—" What rot that old chap talked about Alfred Mynn and walking twenty miles to a cricket-match ! I suppose I shall be saying exactly the same sort of thing about
Nab ' Steel and Alfred Lyttelton when I am brick-coloured, with white moustaches."
Thus far we have spoken only in praise. But it would be false kindness to Mr. Bouverie if we were to overlook one or two obvious faults. We have said that he writes carefully, and, indeed, in his humorous passages there is sometimes a little too much care. For example, we should recommend the excision of the preface, in which an ancient joke is presented in rather stilted form. " Vestments appropriate to the worship of the Goddess of Nicotine" is a laborious periphrase for a smoking-suit. And surely the times are too late for the reappearance of the unmusical man "who could just recognise 'God Save the Queen' if people stood up." After so venerable a jest as this, one looks instinctively for some allusion to the tune the old cow died of, introduced as a humorous novelty.
Some portion of the excessive care which Mr. Bouverie devotes to his humour might be profitably applied to his English. "Anxious of the infirmity and desirous of a cure ;" " The love of dressing-up dates from all our childhoods ;" " Questions which nobody has ever yet convinced the party who takes an opposite view of his correctness"—are not good specimens of English. But, after all, these are small faults, and easily mended. We hope that Mr. Bouverie will persevere, will provide himself with a plot, will invent some incidents, and will allow himself ample scope for the development of the interesting story which-we are sure ho is capable of writing. He has at least these three qualifications for the novelist's task,—a sense of humour, a power of analysing character, and the makings of a style.
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