The Splendid Spur<br />Being Memoirs of the Adventures of Mr. John Marvel, a Servant of His Late Maj by Arthur Quiller-Couch (libby ebook reader TXT) 📕

Captain Billy is not the worst, but perhaps the best is Joan, Mr. Quiller-Couch's first successful picture of a girl. A capital eccentric figure is killed (some good things are squandered in this book) just when we are beginning to find him a genuine novelty. Anything that is ready to leap into danger seems to be thought good enough for the hero of a fighting romance, so that Jack Marvel will pass (though Delia, as is right and proper, is worth two of him, despite her coming-on disposition). The villain is a failure, and the plot poor. Nevertheless there are some ingenious complications in it. Jack's escape by means of the hangman's rope, which was to send him out of the world in a few hours, is a fine rollicking bit of sensation. Where Mr. Quiller-Couch and Mr. Conan Doyle both fail as compared with the great master of romance is in the introduction of historical figures and episodes. Scott would have been a great man if he had written no novel but “The Abbott” (one of his second best), and no part of “The Abbott” but the scene in which Mary signs away her crown. Mr. Quiller-Couch almost entirely avoids such attempts, and even Mr. Conan Doyle only dips into them timidly. There is, one has been told, a theory that the romancist has no right to picture history in this way. But he makes his rights when he does it as Scott did it.

Since “The Splendid Spur,” Mr. Quiller-Couch has published nothing in book form which can be considered an advance on his best novel, but there have appeared by him a number of short Cornish sketches, which are perhaps best considered as experiments. They are perilously slight, and where they are successful one remembers them as sweet dreams or like a bar of music. All aim at this effect, so that many should not be taken at a time, and some (as was to be expected with such delicate work) miss their mark. It might be said that in several of these melodies Mr. Quiller-Couch has been writing the same thing again and again, determined to succeed absolutely, if not this time then the next, and if not the next time then the time after. In one case he has succeeded absolutely. “The Small People,” is a prose “Song of the Shirt.” To my mind this is a rare piece of work, and the biggest thing for its size that has been done in English fiction for some years.

These sketches have been called experiments. They show (as his books scarcely show) that Mr. Quiller-Couch can feel. They suggest that he may be able to do for Cornwall what Mr. Hardy has done for Dorset—though the methods of the two writers are as unlike as their counties. But that can only be if in filling his notebook with these little comedies and tragedies Mr. Quiller-Couch is preparing for more sustained efforts.

“Our hope and heart is with thee We will stand and mark.” J. M. BARRIE.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

THE SPLENDID SPUR.

CHAPTER I. — THE BOWLING-GREEN OF THE “CROWN.”

CHAPTER II. — THE YOUNG MAN IN THE CLOAK OF AMBER SATIN,

CHAPTER III. — I FIND MYSELF IN A TAVERN BRAWL: AND BARELY ESCAPE.

CHAPTER IV. — I TAKE THE ROAD.

CHAPTER V. — MY ADVENTURE AT THE “THREE CUPS.”

CHAPTER VI. — THE FLIGHT IN THE PINE WOOD.

CHAPTER VII. — I FIND A COMRADE.

CHAPTER VIII. — I LOSE THE KING'S LETTER; AND AM CARRIED TO BRISTOL.

CHAPTER IX. — I BREAK OUT OF PRISON.

CHAPTER X. — CAPTAIN POTTERY AND CAPTAIN SETTLE.

CHAPTER XI. — I RIDE DOWN INTO TEMPLE: AND AM WELL TREATED THERE.

CHAPTER XII. — HOW JOAN SAVED THE ARMY OF THE WEST; AND SAW THE FIGHT ON BRADDOCK DOWN.

CHAPTER XIII. — I BUY A LOOKING GLASS AT BODMIN FAIR: AND MEET WITH MR. HANNIBAL

CHAPTER XIV. — I DO NO GOOD IN THE HOUSE OF GLEYS.

CHAPTER XV. — I LEAVE JOAN AND RIDE TO THE WARS.

CHAPTER XVI. — THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD HEATH.

CHAPTER XVII. — I MEET WITH A HAPPY ADVENTURE BY BURNING OF A GREEN LIGHT.1

CHAPTER XVIII. — JOAN DOES ME HER LAST SERVICE.

CHAPTER XIX. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE HEARSE.

CHAPTER XX. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE LEDGE; AND HOW I SHOOK HANDS WITH MY COMRADE.