FOUR NOVELS.*
The Way of Transgressors is a quotation requiring for its com- pletion two words whose omission from the title of this book is significant of its contents, inasmuch as the hardness pro- verbially due certainly does not fall to the lot of either of the two transgressors therein depicted. One of them remains flourishing as a green bay-tree to the end ; and though some kind of retributive justice at last overtakes the other and more conspicuous offender, yet be has such ample previous enjoy- ment and success, and so much less to suffer than his innocent victims, that whilst the art displayed in his portrait qualifiea him to "adorn a tale," he can hardly be said to "point a moral" in the sense to be expected from the title. The lesson he does seem meant to inculcate is, that there is at some time or other in human life, a fixed turning-point on which all after-issues hang, which is obviously the case with Bertie when he is given his choice between the rich, insignificant Nellie, for whom he does not care, and the poor, but otherwise far superior Viney, whom he is in love with and engaged to ; for when he deliberately sacrifices his self-respect and chooses the wrong course, there commences a process of moral deterioration (envachissement, to borrow the expressive term in L'Assommoir), which continues steadily until the high-bred gentleman and man of honour has degenerated into a, forger, swindler, bigamist, and despicable scoundreL Fear of the discomforts attendant on marrying on a narrow income was the motive for the first step on the downward path ; and it is an original conception to represent him, some years later, as making experiment, by means of bigamy, of what the life he had dreaded would have been really like, and thereby discovering that he had been frightened at a mere bugbear, and let himself be influenced by ugly dreams of sordid poverty which were baseless. But though he comes at last to repent in a sort of way for what he has done, his feeling is more annoyance for having been a fool than any- thing else, and his remorse is all on his own account, and not on that of the unfortunate girl whom he deceived by a false marriage, the one whom he threw over shamefully, or the wife whom he neglects. And as it is unsatisfactory to sup- pose that anybody so utterly selfish and heartless as Bertie could be attractive enough to justify any lingering relics of admiration for him after he had been found out, the persistent hatred bestowed upon him by one individual alone, Viney's young sister Christian, is a trait in that cynical damsel with which, however little in harmony with her name, most readers of the story will feel a hearty sympathy. High spirit, unobtrusive strength, good sense, cleverness, and readiness to make the beat of troubles, are amongst the distinguishing features of the heroine, who is quite sufficiently charming to be easily forgiven for an occasional tendency to set the rest of the world to rights, which makes her slightly priggish. But, in spite of her gallant courage in facing her jilting, it is a blow from which she never recovers thoroughly ; and though her after-life is not thereby made miserable, it acquires, nevertheless, a tinge of gentle weariness and some- thing approaching to disdain, which is painted with a delicate and skilful brush that manages to impart a gracefully pathetic shade, whilst avoiding the actual blackness of melan- choly. The book is pleasant and fresh. Its minor characters have been studied carefully, as well as the more important ones, and grow upon the reader's interest by degrees, without attempting to take it by storm at their first appearance.
In the next new novel to which we turn, we again find an unfaithful husband figuring as the hero. Is this merely a coincidence, or is it a sign of change of fashion in the taste of story writers and readers ? Be that as it may, however,
• (1) The Way of Transgressors. By E. Rantoul Eider. London : Sampson Low and Co.—(2.) A Marioge de Convenanes. By C. F. Ireary. London : T. Fisher Unwin.— (3.) Mr. Spivey's Clerk. By F. B. Fletcher. London : Ward and Downey.—(4) The House on the Scar. By Bertha Thomas. London Sampson Low and Co.
A Manage de Convenance is a very clever and amusing character-sketch, which, though differing widely in some re- spects from the one given in As in a Looking-Glass, yet has a
far-off resemblance recalling it to mind, and making us fancy that Mr. Philips's well-known work may possibly have had some share in the production of Mr. Keary's. The principal person in this last is a Bohemian of the male sex, of a natural disposition considerably sweeter and more kindly than was Mrs. Despard's (he is, as he says himself, a good-natured brute who does not like giving pain, and does like giving pleasure), who draws his own portrait for the reader in a series of letters and a few diary extracts. These letters are written with a singular frankness, which is in itself a part of the self-revelation made, and tells perhaps as much in his favour as anything else in it. Perfect openness in correspondence is a much greater recommendation than the same quality in
entries in a private journal, because in the latter case there is no prima'-facie reason why the writer may not be a hypocrite to the fingers' ends as far as other people are concerned, whereas in the former the impression is conveyed of a soul which, whether good or bad, has at any rate the merit of habitually showing itself as it is, without a mask. And so the unreserve with which Arthur Norris discloses his inmost sentiments to his friends may very likely have a good deal to do with the inclination to liking with which one cannot help
regarding him, notwithstanding offences that are too serious for whitewashing, and leave no possibility of any more satis- factory termination to his career than its concluding tragedy.
Destitute of ballast in the way of principles, and steering his course by no more reliable compass than the whim of the moment, he makes a match that is in every way desirable, and, after a few months of married felicity, is led by a dream of "linked love and music" to rush headlong from "the thorny path of respectability" to a region where "the good
cease from troubling and sinners are at rest." Here he speedily discovers that the Bohemia of the artiste world is less enchanting than he had imagined, and means "rouge-pots
on your breakfast-table, dirty linen in your sitting-room, people always hanging about, never a moment of quiet, never a thing in its place, never a thought about extravagance, never a notion of genuine comfort." This unpleasant dis- crepancy between the real and ideal produces twinges that are laid to the charge of matrimony, the "wretched Evelyn" alluded to below being his wife :—
" I believe even now I should have been content to go on in the same way if that wretched marriage of mine had never inter- vened. It shook me out of my bearings somehow. It gave me the germ of all sorts of moral ideas which I had carefully shut out from my mind up till then. I had nothing of the nature of a conscience till then, thank God—or thank the other one, the Leader of the Opposition—and therefore I could feel no remorse. And now (that is the truth of the whole matter) I am a perpetual prey to remorse. I cannot get that wretched Evelyn out of my head. Why did she ever appear above my horizon ? "
Gambling and the brandy-bottle are the consolations to which he has recourse ; and presently murder is added to the long 31st of misdeeds for which he seems to think it is a sort of excuse to say that he has been one of those whose actions are "worse than their feelings, just as many people's feelings are much worse than their actions,"—though how an action can be worse than the feeling of which it is the outward ex- pression, strikes us as a matter needing explanation before that plea can be accepted as satisfactory. The other pro- minent person in the book is the poor wife, a natural, likeable young lady, whose letters (like his) are bright, pleasant to read, and happy in conveying the writer's individuality, and
with whom he seems to be in love more or less all along, in a curious sort of way, simultaneously with his passion for his mistress. It is noticeable that Arthur had apparently never heard of the Sixth Commandment, since he does not know that suicide is forbidden in the Bible.
When a garment is constructed of silk or cloth, so arranged and trimmed as to produce a new effect, nobody dreams of objecting on the score of want of novelty in the stuff. And that the same rule may apply to stories as well as clothes, is exemplified in the two next works to be considered, which are both quite readable and fairly interesting, although there is no particular originality in the materials composing them. In both alike is set forth the facility with which a plain,
unassuming, good young man was outshone in his sweetheart's eyes by a brilliant and anything but good rival. And in Mr. Spivey's Clerk this theme takes the form of an episode in the life of a London publisher's clerk (with some faint flavour of Tom Pinch about him), whose ill-starred love-making is worked into a graceful, smoothly flowing, little tale in one volume, wherein the events are well related, natural, quiet, and unforced. The House on the Scar is more ambitious, and deals in incidents of a sensational and highly improbable kind. Its hero is remarkable for the unswerving constancy with which he devotes himself to two objects—Art and his lady-love—notwithstanding that both are irresponsive, and decline to reward his persevering services with any mark of special favour. Faithful, excellent, and golden-hearted he undoubtedly is. But, at the same time, his readi- ness to play the spy on very slight provocation is not alto- gether agreeable, and his depressed acquiescence in being trampled on, and absolute lack of self-assertion, do not somehow excite the admiration due to the praiseworthy humility thereby indicated ; and, on the whole, one is not surprised either at the low esteem in which he is held by his family and friends in general, nor yet at the ease with which he is eclipsed by the resolute, energetic, masterful adventurer, who comes, sees, and conquers the heroine. Whether the bold buccaneer (whose identity is an open secret to the reader from a very early stage) really did entertain murderous designs upon his wife or not, is a mystery which might as well have been cleared up. And we would suggest that a person's unuttered meditations are not usually called " lucubrations ;" and that a sailor cannot properly be spoken of as "yearning to his lawless element" (the italics are ours).
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