* * * * *
[Illustration: _Officer_. "BUT SURELY, THOMPSON, IF THESE MUD-BILLETS
ARE ALL ALIKE YOU OUGHT TO REMEMBER WHERE YOU PUT MY HORSE----"]
[Illustration: _Batman_. "HERE HE IS, SIR."]
* * * * *
"Fireman wanted; consuming under 50 tons; wages 30s."
Under the present system of rationing, this demand for moderation does
not seem excessive.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Inspecting Officer_. "IT'S NO USE YOUR TELLING ME YOU
HAVEN'T GOT ANY POTATOES ABOUT THE PLACE. IF YOU HOLD THE END OF THIS
TAPE I'LL VERY SOON TELL YOU HOW MANY YOU HAVE HERE."
_Farmer_. "YE'LL BE A MAIN CLEVER LITTLE FELLOW, THEN. THEY WAS
TURMUTS WHEN I PUT 'EM IN LAST BACK END."]
* * * * *
=OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.=
(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks_.)
It is my deliberate verdict that Mr. E.F. BENSON is (as my old nurse
used to express it) "in league with Somebody he oughtn't." I hope,
however, that he will understand this for the extorted compliment that
it is, and not magic me into something unpleasant, or (more probably)
write another book to prove to my own dissatisfaction that I am
everything I least wish to be. That indeed is the gravamen of my
charge: the diabolic ingenuity with which he makes not so much our
pleasant vices as our little almost-virtues into whips to scourge us
with. All this has been wrung from me by the perusal of _Mr. Teddy_
(FISHER UNWIN). Even now I can't make up my mind whether I like it or
not. The first half, which might be called a satire on the folly of
being forty and not realising it, depressed me profoundly. I need not
perhaps enlarge upon the reason. Later, Mr. BENSON made a very clever
return upon the theme; and, with a touch of real beauty, brought
solace to poor _Mr. Teddy_ and consolation to the middle-aged reader.
I need give you only a slight indication of the plot, which is
simplicity itself. Into the self-contained little community of a
provincial society, where to have once been young is to retain a
courtesy title to perpetual youth, there arrives suddenly the genuine
article, a boy and girl still in the springtime of life, by contrast
with whom the preserved immaturity of _Mr. Teddy_ and his partner,
_Miss Daisy_, is shown for an artificial substitute. Baldly stated,
the thesis sounds cynical and a little cruel; actually, however,
you will here find Mr. BENSON in a kindlier mood than he sometimes
consents to indulge. He displays, indeed, more than a little fondness
for his disillusioned hero; the fine spirit with which _Mr. Teddy_
faces at last the inevitable is a sure proof of the author's sympathy.
* * * * *
You will hardly have traversed the passages of our underground railway
system without being hurriedly aware in passing of a picture in reds
and browns, representing a faun-like figure piping to an audience of
three rather self-conscious rabbits. This pleasing group does not
portray an actual scene from _Autumn_ (LANE), but is rather to be
taken as symbolic of the atmosphere of Miss MURIEL HINE'S latest book.
The faun, I imagine, stands for _Rollo_, the middle-aged lover of the
country, into whose happy life other, more human, loves break with
such devastation. What the rabbits mean is a more difficult problem. I
jest; but as a matter of fact I should be the first to admit that Miss
HINE has written a story that, despite a certain crudity of colouring,
is both unconventional and alive. The attitude of the characters
towards their parents, for example, is at least original. _Deirdre_,
the heroine, frankly despised her mother, to whom she owed a marriage
with the man whom she hated. The gift of a country cottage enabled
her to escape from him to rabbits (figurative) and the simpler life.
There, however, she fell in with _Rollo_, who loved her at sight,
and whose daughter, _Hyacinth_, adored her father, but quite blandly
deceived him about her own amorous adventures. A pretty tangle, you
observe, and I am not sure that I can wholly acquit the author of
some cowardice in her manner of cutting it. But undoubtedly _Autumn_
remains a story to read, and remember.
* * * * *
Since Mr. H. PERRY ROBINSON'S name must be familiar to most of us
by now as that of one of the very select company of journalists who
monopolise seats at the Front, one naturally turns with interest from
his daily despatches to a sustained narrative. His account of last
year's battle of the Somme, which he names _The Turning Point_
(HEINEMANN), is as lively and vigorous a recital as can well be
imagined of events hardly the less thrilling because already
well-known. Although he disclaims expert knowledge of strategies, he
is at least uncommonly well qualified to appraise the things he saw.
"Before July, 1916, our Army," he says, "was like a small hoy hoping
to grow up and be big enough to lick a bully some day. Told to attack
him before he felt sure of his own strength, the small boy would not
have been sorry to wait a bit longer, but the pressure against Verdun
and against the Russians had to be relieved, and so with steadily
increasing skill and confidence the attack was made, and day after day
fresh units proved themselves more than a match for the enemy." The
result was a series of victories--Mametz, Contalmaison, Pozières,
Guillemont, Thiepval, Beaumont-Hamel--and the writer is able to
associate with each immortal name the regiments there engaged, all
heroes, for "there were no stragglers." Indeed, if there is a weakness
in the book it is that the insistent recording of the individual
heroism of different battalions tends to become monotonous. But what
a fault! It is a monotony of British valour crowned by a monotony of
British triumph.
* * * * *
A point that will hardly avoid your notice in the plot of _In the
Night_ (LONGMANS), by Mr. R. GORELL BARNES (now Lord GORELL), is the
exiguous part played in its elucidation by the Great Investigator, who
(as usual) happens to be on the spot and able to place his services
at the disposal of the local authorities. It is, I suppose due to the
Sherlockian tradition these unhappy persons, the local detectives,
must always be supplemented by a superior and high-handed expert. I
think, from his preface, that the author does not quite share my own
taste in such matters, since he promises that his Investigator shall
keep no secrets and observe nothing withheld from the eye of the
reader. So faithful is the author to this undertaking that he
practically keeps his expert hanging about with the unenlightened
crowd, while another character, in light-hearted amateur enthusiasm,
does all the work. But of course, in a tale of this kind, the only
thing that really matters is the one question of spotting the
criminal, or who killed Cock Robin. Naturally I am not going to spoil
your fun over this by any officious whisperings. As you probably know,
the one safe rule in such matters is to concentrate upon Cæsar's wife;
and even in repeating this antique maxim I may have betrayed too
much. Forget it, and you may find what happened _In the Night_
a sufficiently intriguing problem to provide a pleasant bedtime
entertainment that will leave your subsequent repose unimpaired.
In deciding to add to what one may call the fiction of Metropolitan
Adventures, whereof _The New Arabian Nights_ may be regarded as both
the model and the prototype, the author of _The London Nights
of Belsize_ (LANE) has undertaken a task which is both easy and
difficult--easy because a sophisticated style and a lively imagination
are the only essential qualifications, and difficult because it
involves competition with a perfect galaxy of distinguished authors.
There is always room for more of it, however, and, if Mr. VERNON
RENDALL disappoints us, it is not merely because the standard has
been set unusually high. His style is smooth and assured, and, though
somewhat lacking in humour, his touch is light and pleasing. He begins
well and interests us in his principal character so that we look
forward with zest to the adventures of a personality which is
everything that this sort of fiction requires. Here unfortunately the
matter ends. _Belsize_, who promises so much, has no adventures worth
the name. It is true that he rescues the _Prince of Mingrelia_, runs
to earth a gang of highly-educated and æsthetic criminals, and does
other things that we properly expect such men to do. But there is no
excitement about his methods. Not to put too fine a point on it, the
author of _Belsize_ lacks the true imagination that makes the unreal
seem real--a very different thing from the imagination which merely
clothes realities in a garment of mystery. Notwithstanding this
defect, _The London Nights of Belsize_ should wile away an hour or so
very pleasantly.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Delighted Patriot (after three days' absence)_. "NOT
MUCH TO FEAR FROM U-BOATS IF WE CAN GROW FOOD AT THIS RATE!"
_Voice from, above_. "PLEASE WOULD YOU THROW OVER OUR LITTLE BOY'S
ZEPPELIN?"]
* * * * *
If _A Regimental Surgeon in War and Prison_ (MURRAY) does not create
so profound an impression as it would have done two years ago, the
reason must be that our capacity for disgust at Hunnish cruelty is
exhausted by the demands already made upon it. Captain DOLBEY was in
the Mons retreat and assisted at what he calls "the Miracle of the
Marne," and in writing of these events he shows a real knowledge of
both friend and foe. Taken prisoner under circumstances entirely
creditable to himself, he saw the inside of German prison-camps, and
suffered the indignities and horrors for which these places have so
justly become infamous. His experiences are described with an almost
judicial calmness. In one case of childish revenge I trust that the
sufferers were sustained by a sense of humour. When the picture of a
"Prussian family having its morning hate" appeared, the prisoners were
punished by having their deck-chairs confiscated. Mr. Punch, while
deeply regretting this vicarious expiation of his offence, cannot help
deriving some solace from the thought that he succeeded in penetrating
the hide of these Teuton pachyderms. When, for a change, Captain
DOLBEY received a kindness from German hands he acknowledges it
frankly. He also makes one or two suggestions which I sincerely hope
will be considered by those who are in a position to deal with them.
Altogether an illuminating book.
* * * * *