LITERARY COLUMN.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIII, Issue 28, 2 February 1907, Page 13

LITERARY COLUMN.

NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS. "Tho Illustrious O'Hagan." By Justin Huntly M'Carthy. London : George Bell and Sons. Mr. M'Carthy is a capital romancer, and is never dull, oven when he condescends to such 'well-worn materials as in his latest novel. The timo is the close of tho seventeenth century ; the hero, Philip O'Hagan, a handsome soldier of fortune, thirty years of age, who still retains sentimental memories of a girl companion of some eleven years earlier, no Iqss than a princess — the only child of the petty sovereign of "a nur.sery garden of a duchy" in Germany, who "carried quatterings on his shield that would havo turned tho wits of an English herald." Between tyie two there were insuperable barriers of birth, though O'Hagan (of course) could claim descent from 'a luio of kings ; and the prel^y and amiable Princess Dorothea had b§ch given in marriage to Max, the '■ hoggish Electoral Prince of Schlafingen. Philip, when tho story opens, was in Paris, one of the Irish Brigade in the service pf the discrowned King James, and a letter comes to him from an unknown lady telling him that the acequaintance of his early youth is in sore trouble," and ,that "there" is work for a oravo m,an in Schlafingen." It need not be styd that such an invitation was irresistible. Next hiorning Phijip tenders his resignation to "his colon.el, and starts on his mission of knight-errantry. ''If only John svere here!" ho s"ays.\Fohn was his twin-brother, another soldier of fortune, *as unlike in ' ch'a'rapter as similar in p6rs,on— so like that their closest intimates could scare distinguish one from the other. The two were closo friends and confidants ; but in this adventure he could havo neither friend 'nor confidant, for only a year before, tidings had come that John, who had left Britain under a cloud, had fallen to a Turkish bullet in the Morea. But no sooner has Philip' left Paris /than the identical John arrives, and finding that his brother has gono to Sehlafingen, follows him thither in disguise. Thea succeeds a somewhat tangled comedy of errors and " intrigue — John makes himself known to Philip and personates him whilo he go y es on an important mission. Tho comedy turns to tragedy before the chronicle is closed ; but the mission is successfully accomplished, and the Princess is rescued from the djragpn. There are some capital character 'studies in tho jbook, which is full of life and movement, and incidentally given some pnadifyipg pictures of tho manners ?nd customs of a petty German ,Cour£ of two liundred ago. "Sir Nigel." By A. Conafi Doyle. London : George B,ell and Sons. In this book" the author has reintroduced tho hero of "The White Cornpiny," "and given a graphjc sketch of his youth and early mnnheocj- "sir Nigel" (says' the' . . esitmiustor Gazette) js fresh ahd vigorous and gay, and what at lacks in careful suggestion of ajtuioiphere it gains in manliuoES. "Sir ip a spirited story of tho xcign of Edward 111., when tings and knights wore a-warring in Franco to some purpose. Not that Nigel Loving was anything but a equiro when ' ho left his heart at the feet of Mary Buttesthorn and went ' out into the world to earn riamo and fortune. Three deeds of valour ho promised hor, deeds that should be worthy of her great heart; and although tho gentle Lady Mary might not have smiled pn all thesdetails of those deeds, there is ho doubt /that B.ho' 'warmly welcomed tho messengers who brought her new* oi her herd's feats at arm 3. Women had many virtues thon .vhich they seem to leeK to-day j ariiong them, patienco was ono of tho chief." Mary waited with supremo faith for Nigel to accomplish nia acts of valour and como back to her.' She allowed tho yoars, and they were many, jto pass without v, murmur. But perhaps men were move faithful then, for certainly Nigel's fealty never wavered in those long years' pi probation, and his lady feigned side by sido with God and "bis King in the heart of tho adI venturous squire. On sea and on land Nigel performed prodigies ; he held bridges,' took castles, tracked spies, and aid all tho other valiant deeds expected pf men of his time and breeding. While ho wastes no effort on either his characters or his mise'on-acone, Sir Conan Doyle never fails to make either pffectivQ. His men are men indeed, and | they do their work and lake their pleasure in a frank fashion ; they do not hesitate before tho incidents which Sir Conan Dayle fears may strike the modern reader as "brutaj and repellent:" there is too much of the healthy anipiaJ about them, and h is just this treatment of hi 3 figures whicli giveß to . tho book the tone it requir.es. It is obviously in its period, though the fact js n.ever laboured. " The Heir." By Sydney Grier. London : ■ W. Blackwood and Son*. I Those readers (says the Spectatqr) who t will rejoice to think that %. Grigr has returned to bis romances of South-East- [ orn Europe will be more than a little disappointed to find th«it after about cix chapters hiji present story resolves itself into an account of the capture and deI tention of tlje principal dramatis personae by a band of brigands. The reader ha* at finst to string up .hja imagination to follow Mr. O-riorV prmte and particular brand of politlcs-rfye recognises with pleasure that imf lacab!© enemy of straight dealing. "Scyfhja," and tries to imagine th,p coflatry of "gmathia." After all this, it is somewhat provoking for him to be obliged to switch off his. ideas to the' comparatively commonplace »uffcringa of tho" future Epiporor of the East' during hi* captivity. Boforo h* haa bad time oven to formulate his ' pretension!), tho btro, hit sitter, and his next heir are all bf thcßi bcld to ransom by tho ban'ditc. Th<:jr straggles and eoiferjngs occupy threo-quafbrs of the book, and the story as foreshadowed in the first chapter never gets written at all. Perhaps the author merely means bis present book to'efaml as the first volume of a series \rhich is to deal with tho further adventures of Maurice Teffany, more correctly called Thoophanii, wfio is gloriously proved to Joe not oply " de etirpfe iinperatorum," but actually tlie rightful Emporpr pf the Eutt. "fiortensc: A Study of tho FuiureV' A llomance. By Lancelot Lone. Me'llioiun«•. Sands and M'Dougalj, The author of this book seems really to take hift (or her) work seriously — the reader will find it iinpouiblo. The writer of a forecast usually haa Rome iden of definite developments in social progress ; our present author does jiot socm to havo an briginal idea tc- offer. A family, cast nwny on a volcanic inland, Is discovered by a voyager in an " nerinl," and a young man who has lived thero from infancy iff taken to Sydney, where, by .virtue of a Vtust store of volcanic diamond*, hp is admitted into very exclusive society, nnd in the subject of embarrassing attentions trom many fashionable and beautiful women with ono of whpm ho is hh»Belf enamoured. Onco we seem to haye a hint of « purposo, where we aro told tluit tho Labour Patty, having many years ago nwept the polls in Australia, had ever since continued in power, and had raised the country to an unexampled height o:

prosperity. Here was a theme which might haye been developed, but no more ia said pjj the subject, and the social conditions of the future con be only ipferred froni a narrative confined to the doinga of ft "smart set" of millionaire men and women who amuse themselves with "aerials," electricity, and crystalgazing, and who patter x on occult themes after the fashion of the back-street sibyjs who are willing to reveal one's future for half-a-crown. We have hints of rampant vice, crime, and poverty in the regenerated Sydney, side by side with extravagant luxury^ and a mental development below mediocrity. The character talk ipceesantfy, but never make an illu- j minuting remark. There is no attempt at .construction— the tale is incoherent and i inconsequent, rambling aimlessly on to an ineffective closed A big uavVl battle off Sydney Heads, in which two fleets are annihilated, fails to stir tho pulse ov excite the imagination, The general dulness of the narrative is relieved by v few funny passages, but the humour is quite unintentional. Take ' for example, the following thrilling scene, where one of the ladies makes love to the modest hero : — " k Mr. Edgecvim.be, since first we met, I have not, 111 any way tried to conceal my feelings towards you. . . . There is no reason why a woman should conceal her preference. . . , Mr. Edgecumbe^ — Alan !' — she lingered softly on M? name — I have "not concealed mine. You must' know I love you. I loved you tho .first moment I saw you. Jf not just yet,' she pleaded (for b.e was again interrupting in the hope of sparing her), ' can I not Jbope thai ■wnea you learn to Jirio-w me' better, a time may conife when my love, my steadfast devotion^ will, if not wholly, in part at least, win its recompense?' " She was greatly agitated, tears stood in net* eyes, and with clasped hands she gazed appealingly up into his face. He felt the awkwardness of the position. Unwittingly ' he had led this woman to imagine that ho w-as free. How could ho spar© h%r pvide? How could he-6pare her pain? Oh, what a blind idiot he had been ! "'Miss Keene,' he replied, with troubled voice, 'I was quite unaware of this. I have always thought ot you as a dear friend, and 1 shall always legard, you with the feelings that one true friend hks for another. Let us forget what has paesod between us to-night; a,id in its place' — and 'he took her unresisting hand in his— 'let us plodgo a frier dship that shall survive all time' " This ia tho brightest passage 111 the book, and the^only one-, likely to rumnin in the memory". ' It re quite n. relief from the stodgy transcendentalism of the cryatal-gtizing ladies and the tinisoaio soliloquies of the irresolute hero. The uriimagina,tive author disposes of all th,a rival Competitors for Alan'e affections by the primitive method of killing thoui off, leaving only the predestined "Lady Cojonna"'' — the most lifeless puppst' of theni all. "The Thousand and One Nigh.ts: Tho Arabian Nights' Entertainment." Translated by Edward William Lane : Edited by Stanley ]LanePodle, M.A. (Volumjs Lxmdon: George Bell and Bone. We noticed fhe first two volumes of this book a few weeks ago. The third and fouTth arc now to hand, the latter with an analytical index, conipktjng one of the liandiait, cheapest, ' aud' most scholarly English versions available of this Oriental classic. The Pall Mall Magazine for January bsgins a new voluino, and also a new serial by 11. C. Bailey— "The God of Clay," ,a romance of the days of Napoleon Bonaparte, whese equestrian figtj?ei drawn by A. C. Michael, is a etrikidg feature of the decorated coyor. "The Makers of Bookis".is the first' of a senss of 'articles describing the interesting booksellers' quarters in London city. Dr. 11. A. HxisJ contributes a sticking illustrated article on "Crime Detection by ihe Camera," and there is the first of a seriSfl of Indian detective Etories'by Newman Wright'. "What Children Wont to Know, I .' by_ Agnes Deana Cameron, gives an interesting vj«w of tho workings of the child-mind an^ ihe naturo of the questionings with which it is bo largely .engaged. "Tlio Call of London^ by R. Elli,s Roberts, is' 9. [strong and vigorous poem, wjtji a genuino ring. Th,exo is fiction, illustration, and humour in abundance over and above what wo havo noted in the hundred and thirty well-filled pag<B. Steele Rudd's cover for January, re-prc-jwntalitig a variety actresa seated on a buckjumping kangaroo, has little fitness or ortwfic merit, and looks as if 'it was patched on to the background. Tljero is a' song, "The Press," by Akxatoder Kerr, considerably above the av.erige of such productions. The compiler of an antbojogy has 'one pf the mosjt' thankjlejsfl tpsks a literary man ,<!aji undertake, for no one plae would make precis^y ,ths same 'selection; nor,' in fact, w.ould b» were h© jto begin such a work 'anewCriticism in such a case muist therefore be "almoct (superfluous, though it need not bp aq fntjfe as Mr. Bayldon's l 'r,eyiew' J 'Qf Borlbrain SteVene's cofiectjon, which, by the way, he ecknowledgec to bo the best of its kind. But he abuses it through three pages, and not without coaraeneta. Tw^ce he uses th,e dcscriptiv.e term "tTjpe," and he further indulges in tho phrtujo "gkiting rot." A critic presumably understands tho meaning of the words L* uses. If Tj/Lt. Bayldon does, he is without excuie. A short story by Mrs. Malcolm Ross is a striking Example of effective compTession — vivid, but painful with just a of the thfatrical. A contributor from Broken Hill sends a capital budget of school happenings—ovidently genuine. We were almost passing over on* of tho best things in the magazine — Beaumont Smith's record of 'the life of Robert Brougli, of which a further instalment appears. The editor contiuoies bis recital of the wojbs of The Poor Panson." One feels almost that bjO Is overdojng it.. His hateful conntry sj;orekeop«i % con scarcely be a life-study. The illustrations on the whofe are im- I proving, and the issuo is a. nood one.