(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerics._)
_The Snare_ (SECKER) impressed me as a tale emphatically prededicate to the
footlights. Actually, by the way, Mr. RAFAEL SABATINI has dedicated it "to
LEON M. LEON, who told me this story"--which, of course, only strengthens
my belief. Anyhow, it has every mark of the romantic drama--a picturesque
setting, that of the Peninsular War, rich in possibilities for the scenic
and sartorial arts; and a strongly emotional plot, leading up to a
situation that could be relied upon to bring down the house. I shall, of
course, not tell you the plot. It contains a jealous husband, an
injudicious wife, a hero and heroine, a villain (of foreign extraction) and
a god in the machine, who is none other than our IRON DUKE himself. And the
situation in the last Act offers as pretty a piece of table-turning as any
audience need desire. I wish I could explain how the DUKE plays with his
enemies, and finally--but no, I said I wouldn't, and I will keep my word.
Two little carpings, however. Surely it is wrong to speak of "catch
half-penny" journalism in the time of WELLINGTON. My impression is that the
journalists of those days caught at least fourpence by their wares. And I
confess to an emotion of disappointment when the heroine bounced up at the
court-martial and said that the hero couldn't have committed the murder
because he was "in her arms" at the time. Of course he hadn't been; and I
very much doubt whether any Court would have believed her for two minutes.
But leading ladies love saying it, so I suppose the very out-worn device
will have to be retained in the stage version. I look forward to this with
much pleasure.
* * * * *
That clever lady, ELINOR MORDAUNT, has collected into the volume that she
calls _Before Midnight_ (CASSELL) a series of short stories of a psychic
(though not always ghostly) character, which, while not very eerie, or on
the same high level, are at their best both original and impressive. The
first of them, which affords excuse for a highly-intriguing cover-picture,
is at once the most spooksome and the least satisfactory. That is to say
that, though it opens with a genuine and quite horrible thrill, the
"explanation" is obscure and tame. Far more successful, to my mind, is "The
Vision," a delicate little idyll of a Midland schoolmarm, to whom is shown
the death of Adonis and the lamenting of his goddess-lover. The writing of
this touches real beauty (the high-fantastic, instead of the merely
high-falutin', which in such connection would have been so fatally easy).
To sum up, though one at least of these "dreams before midnight" may quite
possibly become a nightmare after it, I fancy that, to all lovers of the
occult, the game will be found well worth the bed-room candle.
* * * * *
There are qualities in _The Bird of Life_, by GERTRUDE VAUGHAN (CHAPMAN AND
HALL), which cause me to look forward to this lady's future work with very
considerable interest. In the present novel she sets out the life story of
_Rachel_ up to a point boldly given as being beyond the conclusion of the
War, in which, by the way, both her husband and the man whom she ought to
have married are killed on the same day. The first eighty-four pages of the
book raised my hopes very high. They describe with great simplicity and
sympathy the thoughts and feelings, the romances and difficulties, of an
affectionate and lonely little girl living with her _Uncle Matthew_ and her
_Aunt Elizabeth_, and loving them both with a childlike fervour. There is
no exaggeration; the writing goes true to its mark, and the effect designed
by the writer is admirably well made. Then _Uncle Matthew_ dies and
_Rachel_ finds a new home in the Vicarage of _Mr. Venning_, a family man if
ever there was one, for he has fifteen children. From this point the
interest is slightly diluted, and the excellence of the book diminishes.
One does not recognise in the more mature _Rachel_ the girl one had
expected to find after one's initiation into the secrets of her baby mind.
She marries _Edward Venning_, and finds too late that he is, like his
father, made up of convention and narrowness. She plans a disappearance,
and leaves some of her belongings on the edge of a bottomless tarn. Then,
being hypothetically dead, she begins to live her life in her own way.
Later on she returns to _Edward_, "on approval for six months"; but this
period was apparently not sufficient to break the chain that bound her to
Another, and, the War intervening, she is left almost doubly widowed. I
feel that I have not quite done justice to Miss VAUGHAN'S book, but, on the
other hand, I am sure that she has not quite done justice to her
unquestionable talent.
* * * * *
A volume entitled _Friends of France: The Field Service of the American
Ambulance_ (SMITH, ELDER) has appeared in a happy hour to remind one, if
that were necessary, that in the great nation that awaits Mr. WILSON'S call
there have always been found some eager to give their services and, if need
be, life itself to prove their love for the other great Republic. I don't
think either you or I will grudge such an affection at this date, founded
historically though it may be on a mutual dislike of ourselves, and
consequently it is a very pleasant impression that is produced by this
record of American efficiency and courage in Red Cross work on the French
front. This being clearly remembered one need not be afraid to admit that
in detail the book will be of interest mainly to the friends of those
concerned, since the method of multiple authorship adopted necessarily
involves overlapping, and a good deal of the volume is given up to
monotonous, though undoubtedly well-earned, "tributes and citations" from
the French authorities. Neither is the bulk of the matter, most generously
illustrated though it is, particularly intriguing, for by now one is
sufficiently familiar with accounts of the removal of wounded under fire
and the sort of work at which these four hundred American University men
proved themselves so adept at half-a-dozen points between Flanders and
Alsace. Americans, long at odds with "ruthlessness" (and at last forced to
the inevitable logical conclusion in regard to it), may well be glad to be
able to point, amongst other creditable things, to this history of service
given without hesitation in acknowledgment of their debt to the
civilisation of the Old World; and we also shall be no less glad to
remember it.
* * * * *
It is perhaps natural that in _Winnowed Memories_ (CASSELL), by
Field-Marshal Sir EVELYN WOOD, V.C., one should look at first to see what
references they contain to modern events. On these matters, as on all
others covered by this volume, we are told nothing that is not invigorating
and to the point, and the tributes here paid to the fighting qualities of
our armies of to-day form a fitting conclusion to a book that is full of
sound sense and good cheer. Sir EVELYN has had a vast experience and enjoys
an evergreen vigour. What is rarer still, he has a kindly nature that
admits no trace of the disappointments he must from time to time have
suffered. As everyone knows, he was always an advocate of Compulsory
Universal Service for Home Defence, but he casts no stone at those who so
long and parlously delayed to learn their lesson. Like the true soldier
that he is, he seems to have no time or taste for those recriminations
which are best left to small political fry. And I rejoice that in a book of
such authority the note is largely one of happiness and hope.
* * * * *
"Owing to congestion on the railways there is a food shortage in Petrograd,
which has led some of the less irresponsible citizens to demonstrate during
the session of the Council of the Empire and the Duma."--_Daily Sketch._
Subsequent news shows that "less irresponsible" was not a misprint but a
prophecy.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Sympathetic Newsboy (to proprietor of Coffee Stall.)_ "WOT
YER TRYIN' TO DO WIV THE OLD 'OTEL, GUVNER? TAKIN' IT 'OME FOR FEAR OF
'AVIN' IT COMMANDEERED?"]
* * * * *
"It is claimed that about thirty Merman firms construct the Diesel
motors originally used for submarines."--_Daily Telegraph._
We wish these motors a speedy return to the fishy scenes of their origin.
* * * * *
"Several eligible sires for workmen's dwellings, of which some 300 are
needed, have been selected by the Southport Town Planning
Committee."--_Daily Paper._
They must not be confused with "the rude forefathers of the hamlet"
mentioned by GRAY.