SOME RECENT FICTION.

Dominion, Volume 7, Issue 1907, 15 November 1913, Page 9

SOME RECENT FICTION.

THREE NOTABLE ENGLISH NOVELS. Threo quito notable new English novels lie on my table this week. Thede are Mr. Robert Hichens's "Tlie Way of Ambition" (Methucn, per Georgo Robertson); "Bendish," by Mr. Maurico Hewlett (Maomillan and Co.); and "yalenthie," by Grant Richards (Grant Richards, per George Robertson and Co.). All threo novels, particularly the two first mentioned, are a long way abovo tho averago run of recent fiction. Mr. Hichens gives us a careful, much —almost too much —detailed study of the combat between a naturally artistic temperament and a. temporary desire for worldly fame, which is tbe outcome of tho Society ambitions of a brilliant young musician's wife. Claudo Heath is before he marries Charmain Mansfield, of an acutely, almost morbidly sensitive nature. He has money, and leisure, and devotes himself to composing . music . of a purely high-class character. Ho marries, and the wife at once constitutes herself a pushful iinpressario—she would fain "present" her husband as the most popular of popular composers. The success achieved by a French operatic composer further stimulates her ambition, and Heath is by turns coaxed, cajoled, and finally driven into composing an opera to a libretto purchased by his wife, in opposition to the Frenchcompetition. Heath's personal musical tastes are not in. accordance with the class of opera which is demanded by the great American impressario who commissions tho work, and for a time he finds the task almost impossible. Tho wife, however, fairly drives him to work, and eventually, at New York, the opera, is produced. Tho libretto is a success; the leading singer is a success, but, alas, the opera, as an opera, is a failure, the bitterness of which, to Heath and his wife, is accentuated by tho fact that a rival production, by the detested Senuier, is successful. Then for the first time for several months, Heath asserts himself, and declares that he will in future go his own artisticway, recognising that his instinctive dislike, of the path into which ho has been forced by tho stronger willpower of his well-meaning but ambitious wife is now fully justified. There is a dramatic scene 'twist husband and wife, who retire to a quiet little villa at Algiers, the husband to follow his own fastidiously artistic tastes, the wife to find in a now-born love, untainted by worldly ambition, 'some solace for tho failure of her enterprise. She is beaten, and knows it. "I did so want Claude to succeed," she tells her mother in tho closing chapter: "I believe every woman wants her man to eucceed. But I shall never interfere again, nover. . . Weren't we—both he and I—extremists ? I may havo been vulgar in my desire for fame, but wasn't Claude just a, little bit morbid in his fear of lifo, in his shringing from puglicity?" And most readers of l the story will agree, I think, that Charmian hits off very fairly the faults in both natures. Like all Mr. Hichens's novels "The Way of Ambition" contains soinp very clever psychology. Tho novel should spesially appeal to musical people, but apart from its dominating musical motif, it-is a story full of clover characterisation, and shrewd and witty criticism of prssent-day lifo and movements. In London and Algiers, Mr. Hicheus has always been very much at homo. In his latest story ho invades New York the first time, and is just as successful 'n reproducing the "push" and "hustle" laden atmosphere- of tho City of Sky-scrapers and "Ragtime," as ho is in depicting a London or Algerian •background.- . Mr. Maurice Hewlett, thank good;noss,,hasreturned to earth—-his lastborn ' "Tho Lure of. Prosperine," was, you may remember, an excursion into the-occult and supernatural—and gives us a spirited and, in its way,-quite fascinating study of English iitorary and social life in Lord Byron's day. For "Bendish," jf not meant as an exact portrait, is surely modelled on the author of "Childe Harold," just as is the poet Gervase of tho story is a distorted portrait of Shelley. Also, in this novel, or disguised biographical study, appear, without any disguise, such well known literary celebrities of tho Byron period as Tom Moore, and Sydney Smith and tho. banker-poet, the ' bittertongued %am Rogers. Mr. Hewlett so cleverly mixes his '■ fiction with • his literary biography that the puzzled reader may at times bo well excused if- ho "dunno where 'o are," but such is tho vigour, tho go, the entrain of tho story, that even to to whom tho Byronic entourage is as alien as the Court circle of the last Mantchu Emperor, these later eighteenth, and early nineteenth century episodes and incidents, as resurrected by Mr. Hewlett, become astonishingly realistic. Byron, or "Bendish," cuts on tho whole, but a sorry figure, but, aftor all, after all tho eulogies of Tom Moore and the apologetics of Henley, Byron, as man, if not as poet, was over a posuer: not even "G. 8.5.," or Crummtcs the Great, better understood tho ait and valuo of self-adver-tisement. Tho Meredithiau influence, so apparent in "Mrs. Lancelot," is again strong in this latest Hewlett story. Had I time, and space, to spare I could, an I would, "parallel column" certain passages in "Bendish" with others, in, say, "Richard Foverel," and "The Egoist." This, surely is the sin-cerc-st testimony to the literary quality .of Mr. Hewlett's latest story. Its main fault, for tho average, everyday reader, is that it presupposes a certain acquaintance with tho political history and social and literary atmosphere of the period with which it deals, which tho ordinary novel reader does not, and cannot, be reasonably expected to possess. But, then, tho Hewlett novel, of,the later Hewlettian period, is not intended for the edification of tho averago, everyday, devourer of everyday fiction. "lieudish" is a brilliantly clever tour de force. It is a story to bo read, a book—not in the mean paper-backed edition which tho publishers ar,e pleased to send out—apparently for economy's sake —to the oversea reviewers, to be preserved, to bo put alongside, as it will bo on "Liber's" shelvos, the Byron set, which most booklovers possess, with "Tom Mooro's Journals," and Henley's essays. "Bendish" may net bo the "real Byron," but indirectly it casts certain Byronic 'shadows which are much more interesting than tho stodgy, purely biographical Byronic substance. But if you buy tho book, abjure, I pray yon, tho meanlcoking paper-locked edition. Any book worth buying at all is surely worth buying in a decent cloth-bound edition. I have but scant space to spare wherein to write of Mr. Grant lliehards's "Valentine" (London, Grant Richards; per George Robertson and Co.). . It is not so bright, so light, and airy, so almostly impudently vivacious a story as the publisher-author's first novel, "Caviare." It would seem as if Mr. Richiirds, having hit tho bull'seye of popular favour with a purely frivolous story, had determined to "try them" with something in a more serious vein. So it comes about that his now hero, Valentino Barat, tho son of a clover, eccentric and wealthy London architect, whilst amusing himself with week-ends in Paris—in which visits to Maxime's and the Montmartre cafes are prominent features —and plunging into wild betting transactions, followed, quito naturally, by j-ot wilder financial -transactions with moro or less benevolent gentlemen of Semitic origin, finally settles down into quite a sensible, and, indeed, most laudably virtuous person, who is horrified at tho bare idea of receiving a snugly substantial incoino from a huge building, the structural safety of which is in doubt. Mr. Richards disnlaYS considerable ingenu-

ity in gotting his hero' out of what,, for a time, appears to be a very "tight cornor." There is a Yankee mucli-dol-lared heroine, and, as in "Caviare," much agreeable gossip about music and menus —especially mentis —and tho whole story is tremendously modem. It is not a story to be carefully, studiously analysed. It is merely a fictienal entree. So long as tho palate bo pleased, why worry about the exact ingredients? That is the chef's affair, and in this caso tho chef "s'y connait" and has turned out a decidedly toothsome "plat." (Several other novel notices are held Oi'er.' For some time a rumour has been current in London literary circles that G. IC. Chesterton had become a Roman Catholic. Tho rumour was contradicted, not by G.K.C., but by his brother. I notice that,. in the course of an interview with Abbot Gasquet, president of the English Benedictine Mpnks, published in tho New York "Tribune," the Abbot, after delivering himself of tho opinion that Oxford and Cambridge were becoming more and more "atheistical' ! and that "the Anglican Bishops had lost all authority over their clergy and were quite frankly free-thinkers," proceeded to refer to M?. Clie*terton as follows: —"G. K.. Chesterton, tho famous entic, author, aii'd philosopher, is one of the English literary men who aie fast approaching the fold, of tho Roman Church. Mr. Chesterton has not yet become formally a Roman Catholic, but his belief is nearly complete, and many expect his final conversion within a very short time!" This should be a very interesting book, containing as it is Said to do, careful estimates of tho work of Camille Lemonnier. Georges Eckhoud, Rodonbach. Emile ' Vorhaeren, Maeterlinck, and others. Of the latter-day Belgian poets and their work there- is » fine article, I may here remark, in the little volume " Contemporary Belgian Poetry " (Canterbury Poets, Is.). The author is Mr. Jethro Bithell, who also edits a similar volume, in tlio same series, on latter-day French poetry. But those who can read French, and who are interested in the work of the young Bel-, gian group, should make a aoto of M. He\unan's book. One would have thought that enough and to sparo had been written about Oscar Wilde, but two more books, semibiographical, semi-critical in character, are announced for early publication. One is by Frank Harris, wh.o knew Wildo woll, and proved a good friend after the wretched man was released from Reading fjaol. Anything Frank Harris writes is Well wortH reading. The second book is by that much-dis-cussed person, Lord Alfred Douglas, whose relations with Wilde were the subject of proceedings in the English Law Courts a few months ago. Both books will no doubt provide some piquant reading, but the time las sUrely come when Wilde's personal career should be buried, and his fine literary work alone bo remembered and discussed.