(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
As in the enervating luxury of peace, so in the stern stringency of war
we have always a use, and a good use too, for the humourist. But he must
be a jester of the right sort; not bitter nor flippant, not over
boisterous nor too "intellectual." Humour for humour's sake is what we
want, and in these anxious hours something to make us laugh quietly and
unhysterically, if only by way of temporary relief. Mr. IAN HAY hits the
mark about eight times in every ten in _A Knight on Wheels_ (HODDER AND
STOUGHTON), which is not at all a bad proportion for three hundred and
nineteen pages. He has some delightful ideas, which, happily, he does
not overwork: a case in point is the brief but rapid career of _Uncle
Joseph_, who employs the most criminal methods in order to attain the
most charitable ends. The story is a simple one--youth, laughter and
love; and the motor car plays an important but not a tiresome part in
it. The author's attitude towards women is slightly cynical but very
lighthearted, and clearly he loves them all the time: indeed, I think
Mr. HAY, while alive to existing faults, loves everything and everybody.
In return most people will be prepared to love him. And he deserves to
be loved for the sake of a book which has a happy beginning, a happy
middle and a happy end, together with lots of incidental laughter.
* * * * *
"There is a teacup storm in the Close, I hear. The Dean altered the time
of closing the Minster for summer cleaning or some such trifle, and did
not consult the Chapter, which had already made its holiday
arrangements." This sentence, chosen at random from _Quisquiliae_, the
diary of _Henry Savile_, will do well enough to support my contention
that _Dr. Ashford and His Neighbours_ (MURRAY) is going to be a great
boon to the cathedral cities of our Midland shires. Under the form of a
narrative of social life in Sunningwell, Dr. WARRE CORNISH has elected
to arrange his views on religion, art, literature, politics and the
questions of the day, sometimes putting them into the mouths of his
characters and sometimes into the note-book of the afore-mentioned
_Henry Savile_, a leisured cripple whose disquisitions on letters and on
people are, if a trifle rambling, at any rate delightfully critical and
much more interesting and profound than certain others which flow
periodically from the windows of cloistered retreats. _Mr. Henry Savile_
quotes from the Classics perhaps a little too freely for the taste of a
decadent age, and his friends, _Dr. Ashford, Lady Grace_, the bishop's
wife, _Olive_, her niece, and _Philip Daly_, nephew of an archdeacon and
parliamentary candidate for Sunningwell, would be a little more amusing
if they were treated in a more Trollopian manner, and did not so
faithfully discuss the burning controversies of the time. But, after
all, the great excitement in _Dr. Ashford and His Neighbours_ (and I
really cannot advise any resident in--shall we say Mercia?--to be
without it) is the chance it affords for such questions as: Who is the
Dean? Does the author really mean Canon X? Are we living in Sunningwell,
or is it L----? Even I myself, in this metropolitan backwater, have made
one or two ingenious guesses, but wild taxicabs would not drag them from
me.
* * * * *
At this time of day to attempt criticism upon a new novel by MISS RHODA
BROUGHTON seems almost impertinent. The tens of thousands to whom she
has given such pleasure before now would probably be willing to read
anything that was put before them with the guarantee of her name.
Fortunately in the case of _Concerning a Vow_ (STANLEY PAUL) this
confidence would be by no means misplaced. I can say at once, with my
hand upon my reviewer's heart, that in freshness and vivacity and power
of sprightly character-drawing here is a story that need fear comparison
with none of its most popular predecessors. The vow of the title was
that exacted by _Meg Champneys_ on her death-bed from her sister
_Sally_, binding the latter not to marry _Edward Branley_. _Edward_, in
some fashion that was never made quite clear to me, had previously
jilted both the sisters. But this all happened before the beginning of
the book. In it poor _Edward_ is made so pitiable and heart-broken a
figure that I found it hard to credit his previous infidelities.
However, most of the other characters detested him, and said that
nothing was too bad for him; and as they themselves were delightful and
quite human people I am ready to suppose that they had their reasons. Of
course _Edward_ and _Sally_ were really in love all the time, and of
course too they find resistance to this impossible; though I must own
that their method of circumventing the vow reminded me dangerously of
the young man who used a cigarette-holder because he had been told to
keep away from tobacco. I speak flippantly; but as a matter of fact the
story of _Edward_ and _Sally_ is not free from tragedy, very simply and
movingly told. If _Concerning a Vow_ does not add to Miss BROUGHTON'S
popularity it will only be because this is impossible; it certainly will
do nothing to lessen it.
* * * * *
Illustration: _Barber_ (_to victim._) "WHAT IS YOUR OPINION OF THE
AEROPLANE AS A MILITARY ASSET?"
* * * * *
I think that Mr. W. R. TITTERTON is a little late in the day; his book,
_Me as a Model_ (PALMER), recalls happy memories of that past and
already romantic period when _Trilby_ was the talk of the hour and Paris
the centre of all Bohemian licence. Mr. TITTERTON has the DU MAURIER
manner, but his jocular skittishness, aided by asterisks, exclamation
marks and suspensive dots, has curiously little behind it. It is not
enough to-day to paint the gay impropriety of models and the
devil-may-care penury of lighthearted artists. _Trilby_ began the
movement, _Louise_ ended it, and Mr. TITTERTON is behind his day. I am
glad, however, to learn that he was so splendid a model. The students at
JULIEN'S fall back aghast before his magnificent figure, and now, in
every gallery in Europe, sculptures and paintings of Mr. TITTERTON are
to be seen by the vulgar crowd, very often for no charge at all; and
that, of course, is delightful for Europe. And, according to his title,
that is doubtless the final impression that the author wishes to convey.
I intend on my next trip abroad to search for Mr. TITTERTON in all the
galleries. My only means of discovery are the pictures of the author
with which his book is filled, and here, if the illustrator (a very
clever fellow) is to be trusted, I am frankly puzzled by the attitude at
JULIEN'S towards their model. There is very little in these
illustrations to justify it.
* * * * *
If I am not mistaken, _The Jam Queen_ (METHUEN) marks the first
incursion of Miss NETTA SYRETT into humorous fiction. In that, or any,
case, she has written a story which deserves a considerable success.
_The Jam Queen_ is to a large extent what would be called in drama a
one-part affair. There are plenty of other characters, many of them
drawn with much unforced skill, but the personality of the protagonist,
the Jam Queen herself, overshadows the rest. _Mrs. Quilter_ is an
abiding joy. There have been plutocratic elderly women, uneducated but
agreeable, in a hundred novels before this; but I recall few that have
been treated so honestly or with so much genuine sympathy. Mind you,
Miss SYRETT is no sentimentalist. Ill-directed philanthropy, Girtonian
super-culture, the simple life with its complexities of square-cut
gowns and bare feet--all these come beneath the lash of a satire that is
delicate but unsparing. Yet with it all she has, as every good satirist
should have, a quick appreciation of the good qualities of her victims.
Even _Frederick_, the pious, as contrasted with the flippant, nephew of
aunt _Quilter--Frederick_, with his futile institute for people who want
none of it, his blind pedantry, and his actual dishonesty in what he
considers a worthy cause--even he is punished no further than his actual
deserving. Perhaps in telling you that _Mrs. Quilter_ has two nephews,
an idle and an industrious one, I have told you enough of the scheme. It
is, after all, no great matter. _Mrs. Quilter_ must be the reason for
your reading the book, and your reward. She is real jam.
* * * * *
The tales Miss ETHEL DELL includes Within _The Swindler_ (UNWIN) pleased
me,
Not by their thrills or interludes
Of tenderness--these hardly seized me;
Not by their people, though the pack
Were amiable and pleasant creatures,
Barring the villains who were black
And villainous in all their features.
By none of these my pulse was jerked
Out of its normal calm condition,
But by the plots, with which I worked
A quite exciting competition;
A point was mine if, at the start,
I guessed the way a yarn was tending;
Miss DELL'S, if by consummate art
She failed to use the obvious ending.
The first two tales she won on; three
And four were mine; five hers; six, seven
And eight I got hands down; and she
Got square with nine and ten. Eleven
Is still unwritten, and I bide
Impatiently its birth, for that'll
Finally, so I trust, decide
The issue of our hard-fought battle.