NOVELS.

CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION.*

MR. BERNARD SHAW has adopted an original and thoroughly characteristic method of forestalling the treatment to which successful authors are often posthumously subjected. Of late years the practice of reviving, revising, annotating, and even condensing the works of former writers of fiction has attained the proportions of a veritable industry. But Mr. Bernard Shaw has no intention of trusting to posterity to perform this benevolent task. While still in his prime he has taken in hand the works of his literary nonage, and with a detachment that is almost uncanny, undertaken to act as his own chaperon, critic, commentator, and trumpeter. Thus we have first a pre- face describing at length the conditions under which he wrote, the novel, and the history of the magazine in which it appeared,

followed by an essay on the morals of pugilistic fiction, and a hitherto unpublished extract from a letter of Stevenson's. Then comes the novel itself. After that we have the novel turned into a stage play in blank verse, with a preface on the evolution of that metre, and lastly a final essay on " Modern Prize-fighting." There is nothing like this, that we are aware of, in all the annals of fiction ; but then there never has been any one quite like Mr. Bernard Shaw, and if the judicious reader will only skip the passages in which the author deviates into seriousness or the affectation of it, we can promise him plenty of entertainment in this strange medley.

The Stevenson letter alone is worth the cost of the book. It takes the form of a chemical analysis of the work, and runs as follows :—

" Charles Reads 1 part. Henry James or some kindred author, badly

assimilated ... 1 part.

Disraeli (perhaps unconscious) part.

Struggling, overlaid original talent ... 11 part.

Blooming gaseous folly ... 1 part.

That is the equation as it stands. 'What it may become, I don't know, nor any other man. Vixere fortes—O, let him remember that—let him beware of his damned century : his g■fts of insane chivalry and animated narration are just those that might be slain and thrown out like an untimely birth by the Daemon of the Epoch. And if he only knew how I had enjoyed the chivalry! Bashville-0 Bashville ! j' en chortle! (which is finely polyglot). '

Basliville, it should be explained, is a footman in the service of the heroine, Lydia Carew, an orphan heiress, of great beauty and culture, for whom' he cherishes an unrequited

affection, as Lydia has fallen in love, at first sight, with a professional prize-fighter. Cashel Byron, the pugilist in

question and the son of an actress, has run away from school, worked his passage to Australia, made his mark in more

senses than one in the eye of the Antipodean public, and returned to England to find a patron and backer in Lord Worthington, an enthusiastic supporter of the noble art.

Accordingly we find him installed, at the opening of the story proper, in a cottage on Lydia's estate, given out to be an invalid, but in reality in strict training for a prize-fight. The

• Cashel Byron's Prgession. By Bernard Shaw. Newly Revised. " Novels of his Nonage," No. IV. London Grant Richards. 'Gs.] situation is developed with that perfect disregard for conven- tionality, that constant resort to the unexpected, in which Mr. Bernard -Shaw has always delighted to revel, Lydia, for all her cleverness, being the last to penetrate. Cashel Byron's disguise, and, when recognition is forced upon her, defying the traditions of her caste with imperturbable equanimity. Yet though the characterisation is fantastically inhuman and unconvincing, the story is worked out with a readiness of wit and a gift, to use Stevenson's phi ase, of animated narrative that render the whole extremely diverting. There are moments that excite spasms of repulsion, and even disgust, but it is impossible to feel a deep resentment with a writer who approaches the

graver problems of life in such a way as never to move the emotions or stir the passions of the reader. The appeal is always to the intellect, for Mr. Shaw—as Disraeli is alleged

to have said when asked on what he took his stand—always stands on his head, and it is an uncommonly bard and clever head too. Of all the personages in this fantastic comedy, we agree with Stevenson in his preference for the infatuated footman, whose " insane chivalry " is most happily illustrated in the scene wherein he informs Lydia's cousin, Mr. Lucian Webber, of the antecedents of the man to whom she has given the entree of her house:— "'Are you sure of this, Bashville P ' he said. Do you know that your statement is a very serious one?'—' There is no doubt at all about it, sir. Go to any sporting public-house in London and ask who is the best-known fighting man of the day, and theyll tell you Cashel Byron. I know all about him, sir. Per- haps you have heard tell of Ned Skene, who was champion, belike, when you were at school.'—' I believe I have heard the name.'—' Just so, sir. Ned Skene picked up this Cashel Byron in the streets of Melbourne, where he was a common sailor boy, and trained him for the ring. You may have seen his name in the papers, sir. The sporting ones are lull of him ; and he was mentioned in The Times a month ago.' I never read articles on such subjects. I have hardly time to glance through the ones that concern me!--' Thats the way it is with everybody, sir. Miss Carew never thinks of reading the sporting intelli- gence in the papers ; and so he passes himself off on her for her equal. He's well known for his wish to be thought a gentleman, sir, I assure you.'—' I have noticed his manner as being odd, certainly.'—' Odd, sir I Why, a child might see through him ; for he has not the sense to keep his own secret. Last Friday he was in the library ; and he got looking at the new biographical dictionary that Miss Carew contributed the article on Spinoza to. And what do you think he said, sir ? "This is a blessed book," he says. " Here's ten pages about Napoleon Bonaparte, and not one about Jack Randall : as if one fighting man wasnt as good as another ! " I knew by the way Miss Carew took up that say- ing, and drew him out, so to speak, on the subject, that she didnt know who she had in her house ; and then I determined to tell you, sir. I hope you wont think that I come here behind his back out of malice against him. All I want is fair play. If I passed myself off on Miss Carew as a gentleman, I should deserve to be exposed as a cheat ; and when he tries to take advantages that don't belong to him, I think I have a right to expose him.' —' Quite right, quite right,' said Lucian, who cared nothing for

Bashville's motives. suppose this Byron is a dangerous man to have any personal unpleasantness with.'—' He knows his business, sir. I am a better judge of wrestling than half of these London professionals ; but I never saw the man that could put a hug on him. Simple as he is, sir, he has a genius for fighting, and has beaten men of all sizes, weights, and colors. There's a. new man from the black country, named Paradise, who says he'll

beat him ; but I wont believe it till I see Well,' said Lucian, rising, I am much indebted to you, Bashville, for your informa- tion ; and I shall take care to let Miss Carew know how you have—'—' Begging your pardon, sir,' said Bashville; but, if you please, no. I did not come to commend myself at the cost of another man ; and perhaps Miss Carew might not think it any great recommendation neither.' Lucian looked quickly at him as if about to speak, but checked himself. Bashville continued, 'If he denies it, you may call me as a witness ; and I will tell him to his face that he lies—and so I would if he were twice as danger- ous; but, except in that way, I would ask you, sir, as a favour, not to mention my name to Miss Carew.'—' As you please,' said Lucian, taking out his purse. 'Perhaps you are right. However, you shall not have your trouble for nothing.'—' I couldnt really, sir,' said Bashville, retreating a step. You will agree with me, I'm sure, that this is not a thing that a man should take payment for. It is a personal matter between me and Byron, sir.' Lucian, displeased that a servant should have any per- sonal feelings on any subject, much more one that con- cerned his mistress, put back his purse without comment, and said,' Will Miss Carew be at home this afternoon between three and four F '—' I have not heard of any arrangement to the contrary, sir. I will telegraph to you if she goes ont—if you wish.'—' It does not matter. Thank you. Good morning.'- ' Good morning, sir; said Bashville respectfully, as he withdrew. Outside the door his manner changed. He put on a pair of cinnamon gloves ; took up a silver-mounted walking stick which he had left in the corridor ; and walked from Downing Street into Whitehall. A party of visitors from the country, standing there examining the buildings, guessed that he was a junior lord of the Treasury."

By way of a pendant we may give an extract from the blank-verse drama. Bashville is supposed to be reading from the evening paper an account of the prize-fight between Byron and Paradise —•

"Luciew [to BAsirviLLE3 Skip to the final round.

BASUVILLE. Round Three : the rumn-s that had gone

about Of a breakdown in Byron's recent training Seemed quite confirmed. Upon the call of time He rose, and, looking anything but cheerful, Prochtimed with every breath Bellows to Mend.

At this point six to one was freely offered Upon the Dutchman ; and Lord Worthington Plunged at this figure till he stood to lose A fortune should the Dutchman, as seemed certain, Take down the number of the Panley boy.

The Dutchman, glutton as we know he is, Seemed this time likely to go hungry. Cashel Was clearly groggy as be slipped the sailor, Who, not to le denied, followed him up, Forcing the fighting mid tremoodous cheers?

LYDIA. Oh stop —no more—or tell the worst at once.

I'll be revenged. Bashville : call the police.

This brutal sailor shall be made to know There's law in England.

LUCIAN. Do not interrupt him : Mine ears are thirsting. Finish man. What next ?

BASHVILLE. Forty to one, the Dutchman's friends

exclaimed.

Done, said Lord Worthington, who sheaved himself A sportsman every inch. Barely the bet Was booked, when, at the reeling champion's jaw The sailor, bent on winning out of hand, Sent in his right. The issue seemed a cert, When Cashel, ducking smartly to his left.

Cross-countered like a hundredweight of brick —'

LIJCIAN. Death and damnation !

LYDIA. Oh, what does it mean F BAKIVILLS. The Dutchman went to grass, a beaten

man.'

Ly.nra. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Oh, well done, Cashel !

BASUVILLE. A scene of indescribable excitement

Ensued ; for it was now quite evident That Byron's grogginess had all along Been feigned to make the market for his backers.

We trust this sample of colonial smartness Will not find imitators on this side."

Refusing, as we resolutely do, to accept Mr. Bernard Shaw as an instructor or edifier, or, in short, to regard him in any other light than that of an eccentric comedian, we are by no means inclined to share his satisfaction at having been " switched off," so to speak, from fiction at the early age of twenty-six. Indeed, we only hope that the reception accorded to this revival may induce him to revisit and rework that prematurely abandoned field. Only let him be more chary of literary criticism in his excursuses, appendices, and critical apparatus. It is one thing to be unable to recognise the " mightiness" of Marlowe's time. But to proclaim that inability as a virtue is as though a man should boast of being

deaf.