December 26, 1918 
LAND ^ WATER 
17 
Recent Novels 
I AM inclined to think that in Martin, Son of -John, 
b}- Mr. [Miss, Mrs., or, perhaps, Master (?)] C. A. 
Nicholson (Sidgwick & Jackson, 6s. net), we have 
again our old friend the "complex" of the psjxho- 
analysts, on whom be peace. At all events, Jlartin 
is subject to hallucinations, murders his father, and writes 
a novel — all, in greater or lesser degrees, signs of mental 
eccentricity. What I cannot quite make out is what pro- 
duced the "complex" and what removed it. Martin's 
mother went to live for a little while with John, but, dis- 
trustful of his power to make her or her child happy, refused 
to "make an honest man " of him, a decision which distressed 
him very much. She accordingly supported herself by 
teaching languages in a school, sent Martin to John, who 
was a rich coimtry gentleman, occasionally for a visit, and 
eventually died, rather gratuitously, of starvation. All the 
time Martin was developing signs of eccentricity, and when 
he returned from Germany, whither he had gone on John's 
allowance, announced his intention of writing a novel. He 
referred mysteriously to the projected book as his child, 
which naturally roused the darkest suspicions in John's 
heart. These were, however^ . allayed ; and John, in the 
reaction of relief, tried to bribe an eminent publisher into 
putting the name of his firm on the title-page of the as yet 
unwritten book. Martin chose, for some reason, to think 
that this effectually prevented him from ever writing his 
blessed novel ; and so he chalked up one against John. 
Later, the unhappy country gentleman interfered, with the 
best motives and in the most fatuous manner, in Martin's 
love-affairs ; and as the lady chose to be almost equally 
absurd, the promising match was broken off. As a result, 
John found himself two down. Then, in a climax of fatuity, 
he revealed to Martin the fact of his parentage, without any 
preparation ; and Martin, feeling perhaps that this was too 
much of a good thing, knocked him down and half-strangled 
him. John, being in a weak state of health, succumbed 
easily. There ensue some delirious passages, in which the 
Furies that pursue Martin, several dogs, and a revolting 
young woman named Susie are the principal persons. 
Eventually, of course, Martin marries his Edith, and the 
Furies are dispelled, the manner and the- reason of their 
departure remaining obscure. The pity of it all is that . 
Master Nicholson (I feel I must protest somehow against 
the reticence of these initials) has imagination and shows 
occasionally a respectable power over words. But he is 
lurid too often, and he seems to think that when he tells us 
that his characters made impossible fools of themselves, we 
shall believe him on his bare word. 
V\'ith what relief I turn to Yoiilh Went Riding, by Mr. 
C. E. Lawrence (Collins, 6s. net), a jolly romance of knight- 
errantry ! There is, after all, something to be said for the 
order of society in which, when a man has an unusually 
sinister complex, you just cut off his head, instead of analysing 
his sickening dreams and making a pother about his marital 
relations. Mr. Lawrence's story is rather like The Forest 
Lovers, only it is not quite so languid in its characters or i<s 
style, and considerably more acid in its humour. Michael 
rides ont from his castle of Palentyrc, attended by the squire, 
Ferbeau, with the object of worthily winning his spurs ; 
and, in the course of his adventures, he rescues several dis- 
tressed damsels, meets a horrible wizard, gains the friendship 
of the noble-hearted outlaw, Gorm, and makes an enemy of 
the wicked Lord of Boutclere. In the end, he slays Boutclere 
in single combat, and marries Avrille, the daughter of the 
Emperor. Michael is not a prig, but a chivalrously 
ambitious youth, eager to be a hero, but willing to acknow- 
ledge his follies and his failures. Avrille is delightful, as are 
all the other diimscls who flit in and out of the story, Gorm 
is a generous and open-hearted brigand, Boutclere is a black 
villain, and there is a liberal allowance of skirmishing, tilting, 
ambushing, guerrilla warfare, and riding through the lonely 
forest at night. I do not suppose that the book will live 
for ever. I even doubt if it will outlive The Forest Lowers ; 
and it will certainly begin to be forgotten when William 
Morris's prose tales are still in a fresh and hearty youth. 
But it is a good book ; and oh, what a relief ! 
Mr. Bertrand Russell 
I suppose Roads to Freedom, by . Mr. Bertrand Russell 
(Allen & Unwin, 7s. 6d. net) and The Philosophy of Mr. 
B* rtr* nd R* ss* II, by Mr. P. B. Jourdain (Allen and 
Unwin, 3s. 6d. net) have a certain connection which makes 
it appropriate to notice them together ; but they are by no 
means books of the same sort. The second of them is a 
collection of extremely obscure jokes about logic and mathe- 
matics, which cites among its authorities tlie Principia 
Mathematica and The Huntitig of the Sndrk. I have found 
its perusal interesting as settling a doubt which has long 
perplexed me, the doubt whether metaphysicians sometimes 
foregather of an evening and talk humorous meta- 
physical shop over their pipes and whiskies. But Mr. 
Bertrand Russell, in proper person, is speaking in Roads to 
Freedom not to the members of his trade, but to anyone 
who will listen. It opens with a curious little apologia for 
the temperament of the idealistic reformer, in which it is 
hard not to see a reference to the part the author has played 
in the war ana a confession of at least over-emphasis ; and 
it proceeds to outline and criticise the four main theories 
which at present are being urged as cures for the unhappiness 
of the world — State Socialism, Anarchism, Syndicalism, and 
Guild Socialism. Mr. Russell is, of course, one of the ablest 
popularisers of abstruse theory in the world ; and this volume 
has the same lucidity and the same simple elegance of style 
which distinguished his collection of popular philosophical 
essays published early this year. These who are unable to 
understand what it is that the Anarchists offer the world 
and precisely how much of it is attractive, how much practic- 
able, and how much absurd, should read the extremely 
moderate chapter in which he finds the whole theory by no 
means so wild as it has been represented to be, and yet finds 
its principal tenet impossible in the end. His treatment of 
the other theories is equally just and cl6ar, though these, 
of course, are better understood by the ordinary reader. 
And, on finishing this book, one wonders regretfully why so 
moderate and so admirable an expositor of idealist causes 
should have chosen, whatever may have been his zeal to 
state the neglected case, to be so bitterly unjust towards 
his own country. 
The B.E.F. Times 
The B.E.F. Times, which is now republished in facsimile 
(Jenkins, 7s. 6d. net), is a remarkable paper with a remark- 
able history ; but in turning over its pages I have found 
no passage worthier of notice than the following editorial 
pronouncement in the issue of January 22nd of the present 
year : "We have heard so manj' tales from Hunland about 
what he is going to do to us now that he has fixed Russia, 
that it makes us think he is trying to forget what we are 
going to do to him. It is still our firm opinion that any 
Hun could be bought for a tin of bully and a slice of bread. 
Anyway, we- feel inclined to get mixed up with the prophets 
Elijah, John the Baptist, and Horatio Bottomley, and pro- 
phecy the general bust-up of the Hun at no very remote 
date, say, September next, provided all pull their weight." 
Then the offensive began, the printing-office was shelled, 
the type of the next number was "pied" more thoroughly 
than the most malignant printer could have managed by 
himself, and the B.E.F. Times came to an' end ; not, how- 
ever, before uttering a prophecy which required courage in 
surroundings where prophets of the end of the war were, 
if possible, more unpopular than anywhere else on earth, 
a prophecy which must have caused the editor's heart to 
leap within him when his shot proved to be within two months 
of accuracy. The rest pi the paper is written in an equally 
breezy and engaging manner. I have no space to quote all 
on which my eyes rested ; but I particularly liked tlie serial 
"For King and Country," in which the hero quarrels with 
his father, whom he assists, and who is an M.L.O., and rushes 
off in a suicidal mood to become an R.T.O. The gaiety of 
all the contributions is undeniable, though unexpected in 
the circumstances ; and this reprint is well worth having, 
not only to preserve as a "document," which it is, but also 
as an entertaining piece of literature. Petkr Bell. 
