NOVELS OF THE WEEK.* NOTHING is more striking about Mr.
Wells—whose speedy restoration to health will be earnestly desired by thousands of grateful readers—than his power of lending freshness and vitality to some well-worn formula in fiction. This was noticeable in his grim fantasia, The Invisible Man; it is even more marked in his handling of the familiar Rip van Winkle theme of When the Sleeper Wakes, a story of a man launched, after a trance of two hundred years, into what may be called the mechanical millennium. Note, however, that this is no Socialistic Utopia, like the mono- tonous reign of equality prefigured by Mr. Bellamy, any more than the awakened Sleeper is a dreamy, amiable onlooker like Rip. It is characteristic of Mr. Wells that he should make Graham, the hero of the story, an impulsive, nervous, but high-minded nineteenth-century man, the very pivot of the new system into which he is projected. Unhappy and unsuccessful in his nineteenth-century life, he has become during his trance, by the legacies of two friendly mil- lionaires and the operation of the law of compound interest, the wealthiest and, ex ipso facto, the most powerful man in the world. But his trustees — who from being a great financial "combine," have developed into the most powerful oligarchy the world has ever known, and have governed for many years in his name—have abused their powers, and at the crucial moment of Graham's awakening are face to face with a great social revolt. To serve their ends • (1.) When the Sleeper Whke : a Story of the Years to Come. By H. G. Wells. London : Harper and Brothers. E6s.]—(2.) The Individualist. By W. H. Mallock. London : Chapman and HMI. (as.)—(3.) The Philosophy of the Mar- quise. By Mrs. Belloe-Lowndes. London : Grant Richards. Ds. 6d.)—(4.) An Exiled Scot. By H. A. Dryden. London : Cliatto and (6s.]—(5.) The Blunder of an Innocent. By It. Marla Albanesi. London : Hutchinson and Co. [Ce.)—(13.) The Vibart Affair. By G. Manville Fenn. London : C. A. Pearson. (Cis ]—(L) England's Peril. Br William i.e Queue. London : F. V. Whits and Co. E5s.]—(.8.) The Rouse of Itimmon. By Mrs. Coulwin Hernalum. London : Ward, Lock, and Co. [35. 6d.)—(tL) Her Promise True. By Dora Russell. Loudon Dlgby. Long. and Co. (0s.]—(10.) The Secret of Sorrow. By Cecil Headlam. London : John Macqueen. ORO the Council resolve to make away with the Sleeper, but he escapes, joins the revolutionaries, and, after their triumph, is established in his new Empire, only to succumb after a short reign to the treachery of a certain Ostrog, the leader of the revolutionaries, the discovery of whose ruthless methods has prompted Graham to attempt the deliverance of his people. This, it will be admitted, is a far cry both from Washington Irving and Mr. Bellamy. Apart, however, from the ethical and economic aspect of his romance, Mr. Wells appeals powerfully to the curiosity of his readers by his elaborate and ingenious forecast of the external aspect, the architecture, traffic, dress, and entertainments, of London two hundred years hence. His pictures of the Titanic, cliff-like houses, of the moving roadways, the roofed-in streets lit by perpetual daylight, of "babble machines" that are to replace newspapers, and the miniature kinetoscopic dramas which will supplant literature, are executed with a circumstantial detail, a comprehensive grasp of the trend of modern invention, a display of scientific imagination, and a command of vivid description that the present writer has found painfully en- thralling. The account of Graham's escape through the monstrous labyrinths and engine-rooms, as it were, of the new London ; his impressions while witnessing the street-fighting between the forces of the Council and the revolutionaries ; and his experiences of the fearful fascinations and possibilities of aerial navigation and warfare,—all this is set forth with a vividness that renders the process of visualising not merely easy, but inevitable. Certain tricks of phrase and manner in- vite criticism; certain scenes hover on the dividing-line between the grotesque and the impressive ; occasionally Mr. Wells's invention is a trifle forced. But we have no desire to insist on the flaws in execution of so arduous a scheme. Mr. Kipling has revealed to us the romantic, the inspiring aspect of modern mechanics. But Mr. Wells has also done good service in helping us to realise the sinister and dehumanising possibili- ties that may reside in the control of that witchcraft which the Edisons and Rontgens of to-day are preparing for future generations.
The Individualist, portions of which appeared under a pseudonym—and in painfully small type—in the pages of the Fortnightly, is now put forth in book form with the name of Mr. W. H. Mallock on the title-page. Mr. Mallock's name is a guarantee for many valuable qualities—a polished style, an acute observation, a sense of beauty, and a vein of genuine satire—all of which are exhibited in the volume before us. Unfortunately, the defects of these qualities are more promi- nent than the excellences. Polish degenerates into studied prolixity: the characters perorate rather than converse. Observation runs to seed in the chronicling of unnecessary details, while the force of the satire is impaired by its acrid animosity. Take, for example, the exposition of the views of the altruistic prophetess, Mrs. Norham, at the opening meeting of the East-End Settlement :— " Loving cultured men, and palpitating cultured women, would introduce Schiller to the dustman and Shakespeare's sonnets to the dog-stealer ; whilst the seamstress would be inoculated with those gracious resthetic appreciations which should make her despise the best lodgings she was ever likely to occupy." This, be it noted, is the author's analysis, not that of any character hostile to the new system, and may serve to illustrate the bias and animosity of his critical method. The plot, which is chiefly set forth in long explana- tory and genealogical digressions, a crude and amateurish device for so expert a writer to resort to, is of entirely sub- sidiary interest. As a story, The Individualist is almost un- readable. The strength of the book lies in the series of portraits or caricatures of grandes dames and parvenues, in- tellectual cranks and politicians, social types and monstrosities. Tristram Lacy, the hero, is a man of forty who has done everything, but, to quote the words of his uncle, Lord Runcorn (a sort of composite photograph of Lord Beacons- field and Lord Salisbury), he "suffers from the intellectual disease of finding nothing worth doing.' He is elsewhere described as having "the temperament of a poet and a philo- sopher with traces of the temperament of a saint ; but corn. bined with all this were the tastes of the fastidious man of the world, and the ambition and practical energy natural to the man of action." While still a young man, however, he has lapsed into pessimism, agnosticism, and indifference ; and, rendered independent by the accession of wealth, refuses high office offered him by his uncle, then Premier. The extrication of this Prince Charming from his Castle of Indolence by the fascinations of various beautiful and attractive ladies of high degree forms nominally the aim of the romance. But we shall be much mistaken if most readers do not regard its final cause to be the desire to render intellectual philanthropy ridicu- lous in the person of Mrs. Norham. The artistic effect of the picture, as we have already said, is spoilt by an occasional lapse into burlesque, but some of the touches are exceedingly happy. When Mrs. Norham overhears "Poodle" Brancepeth —a cadging dandy—and his friend discussing gambling "systems," we read how she "listened to all this with a feeling of dreamy exasperation, partly caused by her disapproval of gambling, partly by the conviction which the language of the young man forced upon her, that this pursuit, which she dis- approved of not only as a moral teacher, but also—so she told herself—as a complete woman of the world, was, after all, very imperfectly understood by her." We have only to add that Mr. Mallock's elaborate prefatorial disclaimer of having written a roman is clef by no means mends matters, but rather invites attention to the alleged resemblances. Signs of imperfect revision are noticeable on more than one page. "Mrs. Contlevre " on p. 76 is presumably Mrs. Centlivre.
Comedy and satire are effectively blended in the entertaining series of dialogues to which Mrs. Belloc-Lowndes has given the title of The Philosophy of the Marquise. Three ladies, one French and two English, who have been schoolmates in their girlhood at Boulogne, renew their friendship as middle- aged widows with married or marriageable children. The scene is laid first in the town house of Mrs. Furleigh, the wealthiest and most worldly of the three, and then in the country house of one of her married daughters, a smart, slangy, and uncompromisingly "up-to-date" young lady. Mrs. Butler-Green, Mrs. Furleigh's impecunious sister, a pensioner on the bounty of her bachelor brother, with her three daughters, and a mixed assortment of semi-detached couples and detrimental bachelors, are included in the house-party, in which the Marquise de Rabutin—the French widow—shines conspicuous by her tact, her grace, and her bonhomie, amid the jostling crowd of selfish pleasure-seekers. The society to which we are introduced is the reverse of edifying, but Mrs. Belloc-Lowndes, while resolutely effacing her own personality, contrives that her characters shall reveal themselves in their true, and for the most part contemptible, colours with remarkable skill. The little book, in short, has frankness, audacity, and even wit, and challenges comparisons, by no means unsuccessfully, with "Gyp's" sketches on similar lines. The scenes at the Bishop's luncheon-party and in the newspaper office are admirable pieces of what we believe is called "high-class descriptive reporting."
Mr. Bryden, already favourably known by his South African stories and sporting sketches, has turned his local knowledge and historical researches to excellent account in An Exiled Scot. Ronald Cameron, the hero of this romance of old South Africa, is a young Highland gentleman who, after sharing the fortunes of Charles Edward on the march to Derby and the field of Culloden, escapes with the Prince in 1746, makes his way to Amsterdam, and sails with the Dutch East India Com- pany's Christmas fleet to the Cape, where the scene of his adventures is chiefly laid. The pictures of life at the Cape, during the early Dutch occupation, and in the Isle of France, and of encounters with pirates, lions, and savages, are executed with much spirit and skill.—The Blunder of an Innocent deserves a cordial welcome. Madame Albanesi has here given us a story of modern society in which the conversations are not only bright and entertaining, but natural as well. Anne Bailie, the innocent heroine who commits the blunder, is perhaps almost too good for this life, and her blunder—the refusal of her cousin, Lord Kingsbury, with whom she incontinently discovers that she is in love—is one of those things that probably occur far more often in fiction than in real life. Still, for the purposes of the story, Lord Kings- bury had to be entrapped into marrying the female villain,— the beautiful Bettine Sylvester. Bettine, the daughter of a poor actor, is the niece of Anne's father, who domiciles her under his own roof, where she promptly shows her gratitude by annecing all Anne's possible lovers. The figure of Bettine, brilliant, quite heartless, and really swayed to her own pre- judice by her jealousy of Anne, is most cleverly drawn. Even better, however, is the Dowager-Countess of Kingsbury, an old aristocrat of the Lady Kew type, though of a more amiable sub-species. For a first venture, as we take it to be from the absence of other titles beneath the author's name, this is a work of real promise.—We have all the preliminary para- phernalia of a first-rate mystery in The Vibart Affair, but when the mystery is reached, disappointment awaits the reader. The sensational elements comprise a murder, an attempted murder, a fire, and a drunken wife ; but the con- duct of the characters is singularly lacking in adequate motive.—England's Peril, Mr. Le Queux's latest essay, might be described in all senses of the preposition as " after " Fortune du Boisgobe. Mr. Le Queux has vigorous invention, but he is not impeccable in regard to detail. For instance, when a lady intends to leave the house at 2.30 a.m. to murder her husband, she does not make her maid sit up with her all night. Again, the usual disregard is paid to the proper use of courtesy title—that common pitfall of so many a society novelist—" Lord Ronald Casterton" being often called "Lord Casterton," and his wife always "Lady Casterton." Political intrigue and the betrayal of a new scheme of coast defence lend a lively variety to the narrative.—The House of Rimmon is a diffuse, involved, and rather tedious story of middle-class life in the Black Country. The canvas is overcrowded with figures whose identity is not distinguished clearly enough, and the general impression is much as if one were reading a novel by Mrs. Henry Wood minus her readableness.—In Her Promise True, Miss Dora Russell has had recourse to the hackneyed device of intercepted letters to procure the estrangement of hero and heroine. Belle Wayland, the heroine, runs away from her husband, Lord Stanmore, with the lover, Hugh Gilbert, from whom she had been separated, and Gilbert dies just as the decree nisi becomes absolute, and while the Indian chaplain is trying to marry him on his deathbed to Belle. The latter then returns to England, and dies on the birth of her baby. Thus the story, which is redolent of insipid sentiment, has not even the recommendation of being cheerful. —Sickly sentimentality, again, pervades The Secret of Sorrow, a story which neither carries conviction nor inspires interest.
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