The Bookman

Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 123, 20 November 1926, Page 21

The Bookman

WALPOLE'S "HARMER JOHN"

THE QUEST OF BEAUTY.

(By K.S.)

"Harmer John." By Hugh Walpole. •',. London: MaemiUan. and Co. Hugh Walpole has gone back to Polchoster. A sign of relief and yet f With "The Portrait of a Man With Ked Hair,'' Walpolo left the literary world amazed. In what direction was he tending! We-couldn't tell. This writer who gave, as no other writer could give, a fleeting glimpse of that strange, weird world wo call melodrama Was very different from.the man who told us us of Jeremy Cole. We. reserved judgment and decided to wait for his next book. It has come, and Walpole has gone back to Polchester. But, oh, a very different Polehester. Hugh Walpole developed too rapidly. One would never have judged his "Wooden Horse" to be a first novel; it has all the signs of maturity. He has now passed the period of certainty and has mentally reached the stage when most. writers rest'on their literary laurels. Walpole seems .to be reconstructing his world. He appears to possess nothing solid on which to lay hold, to be pursuing a vague elusive "Something"; to be absolutely sure of nothing. He is as one between two worlds, not wholly of either yet very conscious of each. From which evolve two remarkable books, "Portrait of a Man With Bed Hair" and now "Harmer John." SELF-SATISFIED POLCHESTEK. "Harmer John1' has all the appearances of a straightout story (Walpole is a very keen advocate of a novel having a story), but between the lines one reads volumes. A Man In Quest Of Beauty—that, briefly, is • th.c theme. And this man, out of a night of crashing storm, comes to Polchester. Polchester, the cathedral town, full of its gossip, its tea parties, its petty intrigues, its social amenities —Polchester, in fact, .very human, very self-satisfied, yet with it great deal of the lovable about it. As a prelude to this theme of Storm and Beauty, this is admirable: — ". . . . A ferocious storm swept across our town. ... The sea seems suddenly to rise, and to wish to beat its way across the narrow peninsula, to sweep the fields and hedges with its -salt water: it calls the heavens to its assistance, the skies open, water pours out in torrents, the wind screams, shrieks, bellows—suddenly it knows that all is. vanity, shrugs its hoary shoulders, creeps back muttering, lifts its hand to the sky in a gesture of cynical farewell, and lies heaving, hoping for a more victorious day."

This is a world of self-satisfied Philistines, afraid of truth, for to them it is unpalatable, destroying self-complac-ency. It is the eternal irony of the Fates, that when one of vision comes among us wo stone him, then erect monuments and sing dirges to his sacred memory. Such is the fate of Har-' mer John (Harmer Johansen, a Swede). He is of singuarly fine type, noble, simple, and good, credulous to the n-th degree, though no fool in practical matters.' He comes to Polchester delighted with all he sees, captures the town with his fresh naivete, and sets up a gymnasium. But cultivating'the beauty of the body he regards as only one step towards the realisation of his dream. For "Harmer John" has- a wondrous* ilrcam and ideal—the Quest For Beauty. To that dream he devotes all his energies and aspirations.

THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE.

He trepidatingly makes suggestions for the improvement and development of Polchester's beauty. Faint suspicion begins to stir against him. However,' lie engages himself to a Polcastrian girl, Maude Penethen, and is universally approved as professing unbounded admiration for Polchester and its dignatories. At this time comes into the story Mary, Ine only daughter of John's greatest friend, the Eev. Tom Longstaff c. Years before, Lance Waring, Mary's prohibited lover, had died as the result of an accident, and a fow months later, Mary, a fine, honest girl, had joyously given birth to a son. Feeling that her presence was resented by ; "the congregation," and thereby injurious to her father, Mary had left him for a brilliant journalistic career in London. She now returns to Polchester, bringing with her her son, a bright, jolly colt of a boy. Polchester, needless to say, is horrified to speechleuneu.

John now discovers Seatown, Polehester'i dreadful soul-sickening slum. He is horrified to the depths of his being, and then and there is born the resolve to destroy it—to create in the stead of this "hell on earth" something of immortal beauty. This becomes'with him a mad, wonderful, turbulent obsession, allowing-him no rest or peace of mind. The condition of Seatown, the indifference of the churchgoing townsfolk to its condition, combined with their snubbing and cruelty to Mary, all tend to disillusion him as to the unique virtues of Polcastrians.

UNBEATJTIFUL FEMALE BEAUTY.

He begins to voice Ms opinions, and from then on he steadily descends into unpopularity. Polcastrians view his unfailing friendship with the Longstaffes askance, until Maude, a devinely beautiful half-baked little fool, demands that John choose between her love and the friendship of the Longstaffes. For to Maude, as to half the world, '"what people think" is the one and only religion of life; she could never marry an unpopular man. Her "ultimatum" comes as a shock to John. He cannot .comprehend her. "Is it not in time of trouble that we should remain by the side of a friend?" he naively ejaculates. Maude purses her pretty, conventional month and.stubbornly refuses to have anything to do with him.

Poor Harmer John! He adores that selfish, prettily ' childish, golden pate, with the entire naivete and passion of his constant soul. At length comes the parting of the ways, when he must choose between his earthly and spiritual loves —Maude and his dream of beauty. For to retain his position in the town, his popularity, his sweetheart, his life, he must give up his ideal, become indifferent to the stench of Seatown, smile when he would frown, grin hypocritically into Polchester 'a self-com-placent face, and eternally damn his own spiritual life. .

As to tho outcome it would be unfair to hint. This is a work of very realistic characterisation. Who of us does not know a Mrs. Bondt This smiling, malicious, "charming" manipulator of teacups and people's reputations t We renew acquaintance with Canon Bonder, Samuel Hogg, arid various other well-known Polcastrians. And are we not delighted with Miss Midgely! This little "red-robbin" of an old maid with her cynical honesty, sardonic humour, and ironic gift of seeing things (herself included) as they are.

The tale is well constructed though faultily conceived. The action and interest lag very perceptibly for about half iti pages, then something stirs as the infusion of new life. In the delineation of eerie, secret, underground working, and slowly-developing intrigue, be it in character or action, Walpole js unique since the days of the Brontes

and Wilkie Collins. Surprisingly enough, ho has developed a gift for epigram, and the book abounds with delicate Chopin-like touches of fantasy. One closes it with a sigh. An impression of beauty Temains—not sentiment. An indefinable something due to some unknown element, but essentially beauty.