(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks_.)
_From Friend to Friend_ (MURRAY) is the name given, from the first of them,
to a collection of eight fugitive papers, prepared for republication by the
late Lady RITCHIE during the last months of her life, and now edited by her
sister-in-law, Miss EMILY RITCHIE. Fugitive though they may have been in
original intent, these pages are so filled with their writer's delicate and
very personal charm that her lovers will be delighted to have their flight
thus pleasantly arrested. Lady RITCHIE was above all else the perfect
appreciator. _Horas non numerat nisi serenas_; the gaze that she turns
smilingly upon old happy far-off days looks through spectacles rose-tinted
both by the magic of retrospect and her own genius for admiration. London,
Freshwater, Paris, Rome--these are the settings of her memories; and we see
them all by a light that (perhaps) never was on land or sea, in whose
radiance beauty and wit and genius move wonderfully to a perpetual music.
In truth, however, these eminent Victorians of Lady RITCHIE'S circle must
have been a rare company; I have no space for even a catalogue of
them--Mrs. CAMERON, with her vague magnificence, pouring letters and an
embarrassment of gifts upon her dear TENNYSONS; the KEMBLE sisters,
LOCKHART, THACKERAY himself, a score of great and (to the kindly
chronicler) gracious personalities live again in her pages. I should add
that the volume is rounded off by a short story, a late addition to the
_Miss Williamson_ series, which might be called a pot-boiler, were it not
somehow incongruous to associate so gentle a flame with any such
activities. Slight as it is, _From Friend to Friend_ forms an apt and
graceful finish to the work of one whose life was given to the claims of
friendship.
* * * * *
_Fanny goes to War_ (MURRAY) should be read by those who also went and
those who didn't. It is a chronicle of the adventures of the First Aid
Nursing Yeomanry in Belgium and France--vivid; inviting wonder, laughter
and sometimes tears; fresh and delicious. The account of the first visit to
the trenches awakens memories. Viewed from this distance it seems all to
have been so picturesque, such fun! The humour of Thomas, the intelligence
and tact of the good French _poilu_, the awful moments and the wild jests
in between--these are all shown. The splendid humour with which "PAT
BEAUCHAMP," the author, bravely endured her own casualty with its
distressing effects is typical in itself of that spirit in the Anglo-Saxon
race which made the Teuton race wish it hadn't. In my view, the _obiter
dictum_ of an anonymous Colonel sums up the values of this ladies'
contingent better than does the preface of the distinguished Major-General:
"Neither fish, flesh nor fowl," said the Colonel on having the constitution
of this anomalous unit explained to him, "but thundering good red herring!"
Time was, I believe and hope, when I myself, passing through the Base Port
on leave and being full of life and daring, have sighted a lady-chauffeur
of a motor-ambulance and have thrown a friendly glance, even a froward
smile, at her. Waiving all questions of propriety, I hope that this was so,
and that the lady-chauffeur was no less than "PAT BEAUCHAMP" herself, in
the later stages of her career overseas. Though her only response may have
been to splash mud over me, I should feel happy, now, thus to have paid my
respects to this gallant and high-spirited lady. I count myself among the
company, battalion, division, corps and army of her admirers.
* * * * *
It certainly does not seem eight years, yet it must be fully that, since
JOSEPH CONRAD in _The English Review_ lifted a veil that lay between his
admirers and an interesting personality with the pleasantly discursive
papers which form the basis of the re-issued _A Personal Record_ (DENT).
Between then and now _Chance_, that masterly but difficult book, has by a
curious freak of public taste given Mr. CONRAD, hitherto the well-loved
favourite of the relatively few, a much wider constituency. To these late
comers, rather than to the older (and of course superior) Conradists, who
know it already, let me recommend this rambling, which is by no means to
say aimless, account of the wanderings of the MS. of _Almayer's Folly_,
some queer entertaining scraps of the author's family history, a
description of the encounters with the original _Almayer_, and those
vignettes of Marseilles which obviously were used as the background of _The
Arrow of Gold_. This record is one of those quiet friendly books that
flatter the devotee by a sense of peculiar intimacy with his hero. It is
also engagingly characteristic. Mr. CONRAD here unravels the fine threads
of his personal history and philosophy with the same artful reserve and
exquisite elaboration with which he evolves the creatures of his
resourceful imagination.
* * * * *
_The Life of Liza Lehmann_ (UNWIN), written by herself, and finished, as
her husband tells in a pathetic foot-note, "scarcely two weeks before her
death," is a book holding many special bonds of association with _Punch_,
not least the fact that her father-in-law, Deputy J.T. BEDFORD, was the
author of that _Robert, the City Waiter_, who was among the most famous and
popular of Mr. Punch's early creations. The volume that the writer has put
together is the record of a busy, successful and, on the whole, happy life,
passed in the company of interesting people, about many of whom Madame
LEHMANN has remembered some entertaining story. Chiefly, as is natural, the
persons recorded are the musical folk of the last half-century, from JENNY
LIND to Sir THOMAS BEECHAM; though in the allied Arts I was taken by a
pleasing and new anecdote of ROBERT BROWNING reciting _How they Brought the
Good News_ into an Edison phonograph, and overcome by loss of memory
halfway through the ordeal. One wonders if this rather surprising record
exists to-day. I am not going to assert that the non-technical reader may
not find the pages devoted to reprinted criticism rather over-numerous; old
newspaper files, like old theatrical photographs, too quickly fade. But the
author's humour endured; and I like to think that she could appreciate a
joke made at her own expense; witness her quotation from the gushing friend
who, at the moment of the first triumph of _The Persian Garden_,
overwhelmed the composer with the tribute, "_Do_ let me thank you! The
local colour is _too_ wonderful. I simply felt _as if I was at Liberty's_!"
* * * * *
To the jaded reader I recommend _The Road to En-Dor_ (LANE) as a book which
should undoubtedly stir him up. It is the most extraordinary war-tale which
has come my way. With such material as he had to his hand Lieutenant E.H.
JONES would have been a sad muddler if he had not made his story
intriguing; but, anyhow, he happens to be a sound craftsman with a
considerable sense of style and construction. And he has a convincing way
of handling his facts that compels belief in the most incredible of
stories. Lieutenant JONES was a prisoner in the hands of the Turks at
Zozgad, and to amuse himself and his fellow-prisoners he raised a "spook"
which in time gained such a reputation that it had the Turkish officials
almost hopelessly at its mercy. From being merely a joke his spook soon
began to suggest, to him a way of escaping from the camp, and then, in
conjunction with Lieutenant C.W. HILL, he worked it for all it was worth.
His record of their adventures and of the sufferings, physical and mental,
which they had to face is really astounding; but I fear it will be received
coldly by the psychist. Spiritualism, indeed, is treated with scant
respect, and whatever our own view of this vexed subject may be most of us
will admit that Lieutenant JONES has considerable reason for his strong
opinion.
* * * * *
In _The Green Shoes of April_ (HURST AND BLACKETT) Miss RACHEL SWETE
MACNAMARA has got together quite a lot of people and situations that other
novelists have used before. There is the fine young Irishman soldiering in
India, the soulless actress who marries and leaves him, and the splendid
Irish girl, his true mate, whom he weds in happy ignorance of his first
partner's continued existence. But the hero has a maiden aunt, with a story
of her own, and the heroine a terrific grandmother who are Miss MACNAMARA'S
creations, and as she makes wife number one lie like a trooper in order to
preserve the happiness of wife number two a _soupçon_ of freshness is
imparted to the _réchauffé_. Of course the well-meaning first wife is not
allowed to succeed in her efforts, and _Beau_ and _Perry_ (you would never
guess from that which was which, but in this case it doesn't matter) have a
very bad time indeed until, reassured by a friendly barrister, they settle
down again into wedded happiness. These are the confiding souls whom
novelists and lawyers love, and I can see Miss MACNAMARA, by-and-by,
getting quite a nice story out of someone's attempt to oust their eldest
son from his inheritance. I hope she will.
* * * * *
[Illustration: FAIRY TALES REVISED.
_Cassim Baba._ "AH! NOW I HAVE IT--'OPEN SESAME!' LUCKY THING I HAD THAT
COURSE OF LESSONS IN MEMORY TRAINING."]