NOVELS OF THE WEEK.*
APART from the versatility of which The Mantle of Elijah affords signal proof—for this is a novel of politics and society in the early " sixties "—no attentive reader of Mr. Zangwill's new story can fail to be struck by the originality of the device which he employs to lend freshness to his plot, or by the curious though superficial resemblance of the personal " motive" to that of Mr. Anthony Hope's Quisantg. To take these points in order, Mr. Zangwill has antedated the movement towards Imperial expansion some forty years, and by an audacious anachronism rewritten in the episode of Novabarba the story of our recent relations with the Transvaal,
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The externals are elaborately disguised, Mr. Kruger being replaced by a Sultan of the Menelek type, but the economic and ethical significance of the situation remains the same. Secondly, we have in the marriage of the heroine, Allegra Marshmont, to Robert Broser, Mr. Zangwill's version of the same problem which has recently engaged Mr. Hope,—the intel - lectual fascination exerted on a brilliant, high-minded, roman- tic girl by a coarse-fibred, unscrupulous, virile demagogue. The resemblance, however, though striking, is entirely on the surface, for in The Mantle of Elijah filial devotion enters largely into Allegra's decision to cast in her lot with Broser, while in the sequel her loyalty is far more seriously impaired than that of Quisante's wife. Furthermore, the real hero of Mr. Zangwill's book is not the husband, but the father, a politician who combines the humanitarian views of John Bright with the aristocratic breeding of Charles Villiers, and by taking office under Lord Ruston (i.e., Lord Palmerston) does violence to the cardinal principles of the Manchester School to which he belongs. Broser, young, ambitious, and endowed with a rasping, strident eloquence like that of Lord Randolph Churchill, attaches himself to Marshmont with a loyalty which overbears Allegra's fastidious distaste of his vulgarity, and as the ablest and most effective exponent of her father's views, appeals irresistibly to Allegra's desire to be associated with their realisation. She marries him and is disillusioned, and though fitfully subject to the magnetism of his personality, by the cumulative force of association, tradition, and class feel- ing—for the aristocratic strain in her is stronger than she knows—she is steadily and irresistibly impelled to the final rupture. In accepting his hand Allegra was partly actuated by pity, for Broser had not long before lost his patient drudge of a wife, but chiefly because she thought that he was destined to wear "the mantle of Elijah," when in reality he had merely clambered into office by hanging on to the skirts of it. A lapse of some fifteen years occurs in the narrative, during which Broser has " boxed " the political compass, and • (1.) The Mantle of Elijah. By L Zangwill. London : W. Heinemann. [8e.]—(2.) PECCatfi. By B. W. Hornung. London : Grant Richards [68.]— (S.) in the Palace of the King. By P. Marion Crawford.. London : Macmillan and Co. [es.]—(4.) The Chase of the Ruby. By Richard Marsh. London : Skeffington and Son. Ds. ed.)—(5.) The Luck of Private Poster. By A. St. John Adcock. London : Hodder and Stoughton. [68.]—(6.) Vanity : the Con- fessions of a Court Modiste. By "Ma" London : T. Fisher Unwin. [es.]—(7.) A Napoleon of the Press. By Marie Connor Leighton. London : Hodder and StougBlacket t. [] hton. te.}—(3.) Mother-dkter. By Edwin Pugh. London : Hurst and exchanged the principles of the Manchester School for those of a blatant Jingoism. " Fighting Bob," as he is popularly known, supplies the chief driving power in a Cabinet which is once more embroiled with Novabarba, and forces on a policy of annexation, while his former patron, succeeding to an earldom, has become an extinct volcano in the Upper Chamber. Allegro., utterly estranged from her husband, finds solace in travel, and falls under the magnetic influence of a certain Ralph Dominick, a Jewish journalist and poet steeped in mysticism, theosophy, and Nietzsche, whose brilliant conversational gifts and romantic personality readily account for the sway he exerts over the sen- sitive, impressionable heroine. Their relations, though exciting Broser to acute jealousy, are maintained on the Platonic level, Allegra's fastidious nature revolting from any open scandal, and their final parting is natural and desirable enough. It is a pity, however, that it should be preceded by the grotesquely melodramatic scene in which Allegra is accidentally wounded by a poisoned arrow, and in the belief that she is dying, patches up a deathbed reconciliation with Broser, which is speedily shattered on her recovery. Finally, Allegra leaves her husband's house under the wing of her aunt, the witty, vulgar, but kind-hearted Duchess of Dales- bury. Though the novel often rubs one the wrong way, it is impossible .to deny the mordant satire of Mr. Zangwill's impeachment of pseudo-Imperialism, the wit and brilliance of his dialogue—disfigured at times, however, by cheap play on words—the vividness of his portraiture, or the eloquence of his descriptive passages. Mr. Zangwill has studied the politics and social life of his period with great care, but has not escaped one or two inaccuracies. Lord Palmerston's famous query was not " Are you better P " but " How's the old complaint P " and there never was a " Fops' Gallery " but a " Fops' Alley " at the Opera.
The plan of enhancing the discredit of a moral downfall by choosing a minister of religion as the culprit is one that has been somewhat cheapened by repetition. Yet one finds novelty and force as well as discretion in Mr. Hornung's handling of this painful theme. Instead of reserving the confession or the discovery as the climax of the story, he employs it as the starting-point. The opening chapters tell us how Mr. Carlton, the rector of a country parish, after con- ducting the funeral of the girl he has betrayed, is denounced by the girl's father, and his house wrecked by the parishioners. No element of humiliation is lacking in his downfall,—the hurried departure of his servants, the con- tempt of the worldly, the pained amazement of his devoted adherents, and, worst of all, the cynical sympathy of the old saddler who seeks to extenuate the sin with Adam's ancient excuse. But at the very climax of Carlton's degradation an unexpected opportunity affords him an entrance on the long and painful process of regaining his self-respect. The dead girl's father sets the church on fire, and Carlton extorts the admiration of his enemies by his reckless courage in checking the flames. Thenceforth, though suspended by his Bishop, he devotes his energies single-handed to the task of rebuilding the church. Mr. Hornung traces the history of his rehabilitation with a delicacy that never degenerates into mawkishness. The expiation of Carlton's offence, though the only lapse in an otherwise blameless life, can only be achieved by self-sacrifice and completed by his death. He wins but cannot accept the love of a good woman, and when his own relentless enemy, whose share in the first act of incendiarism Carlton had concealed, repeats his revenge on the completion of the church, Carlton loses his life in the attempt to rescue him. Peccavi is at once the most serious and the strongest novel that has issued from Mr. Hornung's engaging pen. We only trust that the public may not be deterred from the perusal of a striking and admirable story by the strangely unnecessary appeal for a fair hearing which his publisher has thought fit to put forth.
Mr. Marion Crawford, turning aside for the moment from his studies of modern cosmopolitan manners, has made another dashing excursion into the field of historical romance. In the Palace of the King, described in its sub-title as "A Love Story of Old Madrid," is a truly thrilling tale of the Court of Philip U. with Don John of Austria for hero. As the action is compressed within the space of twenty-four hours, it may readily be imagined that incident is preferred to analysis, and that the
author draws freely on his invention in the construction and elaboration of his plot. Put briefly, the story or episode relates how Don John, who loves and is beloved by Dolores Mendoza, daughter of the Captain of the King's bodyguard, marries her in defiance of the deadly hostility of the King and the wishes of Mendoza. To achieve his end he is driven to abduct his lady-love—with her consent—while the role of good genius is played by Dolores's blind sister Inez, who is herself in love with Don John. The portrait of the hero is, no doubt, idealised, but the sinister figure of Philip is finely drawn, and the passage of the devoted lovers from one peril to another keeps the reader agreeably engrossed from first to last.
The Chase of the Ruby displays Mr. Marsh's gift for sensa- tional melodrama in a state of volcanic activity. The hero finds, on his return from Africa, that by the terms of his uncle's will he has just four days left to recover from an actress a ruby ring as the condition of inheriting the said uncle's fortune. Failing this, the fortune goes to his cousin, who is of course the chief villain of the plot. Now the hero, who is engaged to be married to a highly eligible damsel, was formerly engaged to marry the actress. Of the other complex relations subsisting between the characters we need not speak. The four days are packed as full of jealousy, cross-purposes, assault, battery, and burglary as they can hold. The hero carries off the wrong ring, which is in turn stolen from him by the villain, and after a great deal of ingenious violence, culminating in a terrific struggle in the actress's flat, the wicked nephew is foiled at the eleventh hour, and the fortune is secured by his cousin. There is a good deal of theatrical ability in this extravaganza, and while Mr. Marsh makes no pretence to edify his readers, his pages are void alike of tedium and offence.
Mr. St. John Adcock follows up his volume of short stories, In the Wake of the War—episodes in the lives of the relatives and friends of soldiers on service in South Africa—with a vigorous romance of the war itself. The hero is a young solicitor's clerk at Barnet who, after being provoked into assaulting his employer, runs off to London and enlists. Adventures follow thick and fast on his arrival at the Cape. Taking part in Methuen's advance, he is captured by the Boers and escapes, saves the life of his cousin (and rival), finds and loses his father and a fortune, gains a commission, regains his patrimony, and returns to marry the girl he left behind him. Altogether The Luck of Private Foster is a lively and well-told tale on somewhat obvious lines, abounding in incident and coincidence, but laudably free from any desire to extenuate the horrors of war.
The vivacious " Rita " finds congenial scope for the display of her knowledge of feminine foibles in Vanity. The revela- tions of Madame " Frou-frou," an attractive young woman of reduced means who turns Court dressmaker, are evidently based on expert knowledge of the tricks of the trade, as well as the extravagance of fashionable customers. Occasionally the male reader may find himself de trop, but " Rita's " ingenious blend of sentiment and chiffons will undoubtedly appeal to the larger half of the reading public.
Mrs. Leighton's story, A Napoleon of the Press, traces with considerable skill the rise to fame and fortune of a youthful newspaper proprietor named Alfred Chantrey. The book is eminently readable, but it hardly comes under the head of fiction; it is rather a personal paragraph expanded into three hundred and twelve pages.
The method adopted by Mr. Pugh in his new and clever slum-story, Mother-Sister, may be not unfairly described as a compromise between the ruthless realism of Mr. Morrison's earlier manner and the moderate optimism of the author of No. 5 John Street. Mr. Pugh does not exclude sentiment, and obviously writes from close personal observation; but we have found his book on the whole fatiguing and rather grubby reading.
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