(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
Countless readers, fusionists and others, will be glad to have Mr. HAROLD
SPENDER'S sparkling abstract of the more romantic passages in the life of
_The Prime Minister_ (HODDER AND STOUGHTON). The first half of the book
describes the upbringing and early battles of this man of peace, Rose
Cottage at Llanystumdwy with "Uncle Lloyd"--there is a touching picture of
the courage, wisdom and unselfishness of this grand old man--the little
attorney's office at Portmadoc, squire- and parson-baiting _passim_,
capture of Carnarvon Boroughs, guerilla tactics in the House, suspension,
recognition, pacifism, office, original budgeting, Limehousing (very
reticently indicated), social reform. Then War and the supreme opportunity
for the energy, persuasiveness, adroitness and determination which must
extort even from opponents the tribute of admiration. Not a dull page;
occasionally an obscure one. None of your cold and calculated criticism for
Mr. SPENDER. Have idols clay feet? Well, not this one, thank you. And it
is an attitude which enables him to convey to the reader something of the
irresistible personal magnetism of his distinguished friend, and the
courage which delights in riding the storm and is at its best in the tight
corner (one might suspect the PREMIER of holding the view that if there
were no tight corners it would be necessary to invent them). The summary of
the War period is admirably done. The history of events leading to the
formation of the second Coalition Government--and the third--is again
tactfully presented. It would be unreasonable to suppose that all of Mr.
SPENDER'S verdicts and estimates will be unchallenged by historians. But it
is unlikely that the PREMIER will find a more competent hagiographer.
* * * * *
A story that so far violates the conventions as to start with a mother
whose moral instability is a worry to her children, and a hero who longs to
be a practical builder despite a parental command to follow art--such a
tale can at least claim the merit of originality. Mr. J. D. BERESFORD would
be fully justified in claiming this and much more for _An Imperfect Mother_
(COLLINS). Here is an interesting, fascinating and certainly unusual story,
in which only two characters are of any real moment, _Cecilia_, the
imperfect mother, embodiment of the artist temperament, egotistical almost
to inhumanity, who abandons her dull husband and boring daughters to "live
her own life"; and _Stephen_, the son, who alone can give her a
half-sympathetic, half-resentful understanding. You see already the
cleverness of Mr. BERESFORD'S conception. Really, it is just this that
works (at least for me) its undoing. His characters are fashioned with the
nicest ingenuity; the positions into which he so dextrously manipulates
them compel your interest and delighted wonder; but never once do they
touch your emotions, and never once can you see them as anything but the
creations of a highly talented brain. This is the more strange because Mr.
BERESFORD'S people are as a rule so convincingly real. Perhaps to some
degree the effect of artifice is due to the author's exclusive
preoccupation with his central character. _Cecilia's_ husband, her
daughters, the home of her early married life, are shown to us only by the
light of her flashing personality; this withdrawn, they simply cease to
exist. On the whole, therefore, I should call _An Imperfect Mother_ a
highly entertaining example of pure intellect, admirable but uninspired,
which for my own part I enjoyed amazingly.
* * * * *
Though "E. H. ANSTRUTHER" (Mrs. J. C. SQUIRE) has called her latest story
_The Husband_ (LANE) one can hardly resist the feeling that this is rather
a generous description of the central character, who indulged in so much
philandering with one person or another that it is difficult to regard him
as more than a husband in, so to speak, his spare time. _Richard
Dennithorne_, I must believe, was a "ladies' man" in two senses, since he
is undeniably a very womanly conception of the all-conquering male, with
indeed more than a little of _Mr. Rochester_ in his composition. The story
tells how _Penelope_, the heroine, comes to live with her adopted aunt
_Margery_, of whom _Richard_ was the spouse (intermittent); how _Richard_,
at the moment absent upon amorous affairs, returned, and so fascinated
_Penelope_ with his masterful ways that she fled to London; how, almost
immediately after, she stultified her precautions, but saved the plot, by
becoming _Richard's_ secretary at his office in that city; and how,
finally, poor _Margery_ (who throughout monopolised my sympathy), having
generously expired, _Penelope_ and the ex-husband fell into each other's
arms. Of course there is a lot more than this really, so don't think that I
have spoilt the fun for you. As for the quality of the tale, this, I fancy,
may be better appreciated by women than men, since, as I have hinted, its
outlook is so essentially feminine. Mrs. SQUIRE writes with sincerity and
brings her characters to life. She needs, however, to remember that words
unwatched are dangerous. Such slipshod phrasing as "_young_ muscular
_youth_" must grieve the judicious, while the effect of the sentimental
interview on p. 99 was simply ruined for me through the unfortunate
suggestion conveyed by "her blood rose _in a boil_ to her face." The
italics are mine, but the proof-reading is (or should have been) the
author's.
* * * * *
_Miser's Money_ (HEINEMANN) brings Mr. EDEN PHILLPOTTS back to Devonshire,
and I wave my little flag to welcome him. Of late he has sometimes been a
shade too didactic for my liking, but here he gives us yet another plain
tale of his beloved moor, and he is instructive only in showing the danger
of too much money--a danger at which most of us can in these days afford to
smile. The _Mortimers_ were, one would have supposed, a clan unlikely to be
moved from their native soil by anything less convulsive than an
earthquake. But money did it. One of them was a miser, and when he
died--after a terrific gorge at his brother's expense--he left trouble
behind him. Some of his relations wanted more of his money than was good
for their souls, and one of them (actually) fought shy of receiving her
proper share. Altogether a pretty tangle, which was not unravelled until
the _Mortimers_ had resolved to try new pastures. True, they did not go
very far, but the disturbing influence of money is sufficiently illustrated
by the fact that it induced such deeply-rooted folk to move at all. If the
theme of this story is a little sordid it is relieved by its treatment from
any reproach, and faithful followers of the PHILLPOTTS' trail will enjoy
every word of it.
* * * * *
All that we ever hoped--some day, when the War was over--to hear about
those most fascinating mysteries, the Tanks, has been put together by Major
C. and Mr. A. WILLIAMS-ELLIS, under the title _The Tank Corps_ (_Country
Life_ Offices). Here are genuine uncamouflaged pictures of all kinds of
tanks, with detailed maps and descriptions showing their operations, as
well as stories not only of those that walked in orthodox fashion through
enemy villages "with the British army cheering behind," but of others that
disappeared entire in mud, or drove themselves unaided back to our lines
when too full of gas to be occupied, or scrunched up batteries of
field-guns, or cruised alone for hours, like the famous one called Musical
Box, among the enemy's communications, or crossed vast trenches over
bundles of faggots carried upon their backs. Every boy of the right kind
who inherits the proper zeal for mechanisms will certainly find in this
book the most absorbing of yarns. Not that the subject is treated in the
least lightly or frivolously, but, since the barest truth is here
incredible romance, the authors, soberly collecting materials from
despatches, diaries and so on, as well as drawing on their own obvious
first-hand knowledge, have achieved a fairy-tale of mechanics. That the
crews were no less wonderful than their machines we knew before, but the
writers' modest yet illuminating account of the difficulties under which
they worked is none the less welcome.
* * * * *
If you decide to go on _Circuits_ (METHUEN) with Mr. PHILIP CAMBORNE you
will find him an interesting and informing companion. His hero and heroine
are a Wesleyan minister and his wife, so completely out of tune with the
usual heroes of contemporary fiction that they are actually shameless
enough to be in love with one another from the first page to the last.
Though he shows a remarkable insight into the lives of Wesleyan ministers,
Mr. CAMBORNE declines the popular methods of sectarian fiction and refrains
from any attempt to proselytize. Instead we are simply given a clear and
often amusing account of what _Mark Frazer_ had to put up with in his
wanderings from circuit to circuit. Mr. CAMBORNE is modern in confining
himself to the history of a single family, but in outlook he belongs to a
past century. And I mean that for a compliment.
* * * * *
[Illustration: UNRECORDED HISTORICAL SCENE.--ROMULUS HEARS FROM HIS
CONTRACTOR THAT ROME CANNOT BE BUILT IN A DAY.]
* * * * *
Motto for the Wee Frees when attempting to conciliate the Labour Party:
Lib. and let Lab.