REVIEWS

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 73, Issue 81, 5 April 1930, Page 18 (Supplement)

REVIEWS

‘•ALL THE KING’S HORSES,” by Louis Stevens (The Richards Press). The title of this book evidently gives the clue to this book: ‘‘All the King s horses and all the King’s men could not put humpty together again.” Humpty for Louis Stevens is the aristocratic society of Hungary which concentred on Budapest. The war smashed it beyond recall. This novel is a good story of a picturesque period, where society had not arrived at the developed stage reached by Western Europe. The story opens with New Year’s Eve i in the year 1914 and we are immediate; I!y introduced to an arisloeratic set where wealth is inherited or where not inherited the station of the poorer aristocrats is maintained by miserable means, in plain terms by immorality. The world of Vienna and of Budapest was a long way removed from Puritan England, and a tale told of this world which puts it all in could easily become a nasty book. There are too many such publishd to-day, but it is pleasing to say that Louis Stevens can write of life and yet discreetly draw the veil over unacceptable detail. In short, Louis Stevens writes as a gentleman for ladies and gentlemen. Count Koi.ay, the poor aristocrat who ;s kept going with funds by reason of his daughter Frida’s liason with the vicious Baron Zagon. When the old man finds out the source of his sustenance he shoots himself. Frida, the (laughter who would do thus much for her father, is not over-nice in her conduct towards her fiancee and essays an escapade with a big bodied coachman. Jeno, the fiancee, is a man of loose morals himself and Christi, the actress, is passionately in love with him until he finds some other interest. Baron Zagon, the wealthy landowner, is the deepest villain of the plot. He plays upon the religious susceptibilities of his gardener so to get his, the gardener's, daughter enmeshed. Yet despite the obviously low standards of conduct followed by these people, they each and every one of them have much good in them. Jeno takes the gardener’s daughter under his protection and provides her with funds to pursue her career as a dancer in Paris. He goes willingly to the war and eventually becomes penniless but remains a good gambler with life. Maritzka, the dancer, however, rises to fame and fortune to befriend in his reformed old age the one time ogre Baron Zagon. Frida marries her fiancee with whom she is not particularly in love and on his going to his regiment she becomes a nurse at the front. A high rule is. however, not for her for she divorces her husband aft"r the war and one suspects that his poverty is the cause of the break betu.-cn them, The s.ory is cram-full of interest, the movement is quick and unexpected. Politics and battles hardly come into the story. If anything, the characters are introduced too quickly, but the glances given to pre-war events are from a middle European viewpoint and are interesting on that account. I shall look forward in pleasurable anticipation t • receiving Louis .Stevens’ next book. "All the King’s Horses” is to be thoroughly recommended. —H.C.J. ’’QUEEN DICK,” by Alfred Tresidder Sheppard (Hodder and Stoughton). Richard Cromwell stands out unfavourably in comparison with his father, Oliver Cromwell, to the historian in search of dramatic and important events, but that does not dispose of Richard as a character. Mr Sheppard has appreciated the possibilities of Richard from the story-tellers point of view and so he takes his readers into the home of the Cromwells. The home at Huntingdon, and then at Elly, that still, snobbish little fen country cath edral town, where the pride of the cathedral ladies could always put Mrs Cromwell into a tantrums by their halting speech and condescensions. In that home we see the great Oliver for the man he was. Strong willed, gross, fond of horse play, a politician being all things to all men, a kindly, over-bearing bullying father; a religious ranter, a strong character if ever there was one. Bacon has remarked that the way to high place is by a winding stair and Oliver reached his high place, by a very winding way if ever a man did. Richard was often bewildered by his father's twists and turns. He was for the King, yet he beheaded him. He was for Parliament, yet he dispersed it. He was for the Constitution, yet he trod it underneath his feet. Yet to him does England owe a great debt. Even though he walked not in a straight path, he is not to be condemned for it. because there was no straight path along which he could have possibly walked. King Charles couldn't keep faith about anything or with anybody. Parliament couldn’t carry out the task which lay before it. The Constitution wouldn’t work. The dynamic which was Cromwell couldn’t brook these incompetent instruments to stand in his way, and in smashing his way through them he made history and became Lord Pro tcctor of England.

i .So far, so good. But two of his sons died of the small-pox and Richard the man who didn’t want to make history, a man for whom great events had no call, a man who only wanted to live and let live, became heir to the Lord Protector. After the great Cromwell’s death he ruled or rather sat in the seat of the ruler ot. England for nine months. But those who owed everything to the House of Cromwell were the hands stretched out to pull him from his' high place. When the nation turned aside and left him in the backwater of events he would do nothing to retrieve his position. He lived on th'* Continent for some years ami when he returned he found himself a stranger among his own children. Eventually this kindly soul found the peace he longed for in the home of his early love. He died having harmed no man. The story opens with a pr ilogue, wherein Swift, not yet Dean, carries the news to the military pensioners in Chelsea Hospital. The story is of a man who was not a “go-gel ter,” and the tale moves rightly in a leisurely way, unhurried even when stirring events form part of the chronicle. This book will be enjoyed by all who have an appreciation for character, and to those who have a knowledge of East Anglia the book will be doublv delightful —II.C.J. “YESTERDAYS IN MAOEILAND ” is to be published by Jonothan (’ape during the English spring. Andreas Reischek came to New Zealand in 1577 at the ins ance of Ferdinand von Hochstetler and was the associate of Haast Buller and Sir James Hector, in twelve years he explored the country from north to south as well as the surrounding islands. He was the first white man to be allowed to enter the King Country by King Tawhiao after the Maori wars. It has been translated from the German and edited by H. E. L. I’ridav. The publication of this book will be looked forward to with considerable interest by New Zealanders who will regard it as a document of first-class importance relating to one of the most interesting periods of our history. Roischek has undoubtedly been overshadowed by his associates an<| it will be pleasing indeed to have his records 1 resurrected for us. ‘‘SHEPHERDS IN SACKCLOTH.” by Sheila Kaye-Smith (Cassell..—As is usual in Miss Kaye-Smith’s novels, i the scene is laid in the counties of Kent and Sussex, that part of England where life moves slowly and whore folk still re’ain something of the primitive. The I author obviously is well acquainted .with clerical life, and she writes with a I considerable knowledge and insight into I the life of Anglican clergy, dissenting : preachers. evangelical bishops, ami citing parishioners. Clearly her material is first hand ami it is well and cleverly i put together. The picture is not a nice one although it is accurate and pointe.]. Mr Beiinet is vicar of Delmodrn. a village on the border of Kent. In every parish there is an .adult "enfant, terrible. ’ a lay Pope who has the power of the purse, if not of the keys. In this case it is the Lady of the Manor. Mrs Millington, whose niece Theresa forms the core of the book. Her love affair (sic) with George Houseman (a lay preacher who sells tea for a living and preachers lor love, and, in the view of his congregation, too much about love) is told perhaps all too franklv. But we obviously jive in an age of authors who do not worry about even some slight reticence. I hcresa dies—the result of her l ive affair and Air Bennet, Airs Millington, Houseman, the Bishop, till get to 10--‘’er-hcads. Anglo-Catholic practice, & ’the rights of vicars, episcopal regulations and censure, foim the last part of the book. The vicar’s wife dies, so does the vicar, the latter’s death following a somewhat heated interview with' the bishop regarding the matter of reservation, 1 repeat, the book gives a vivid picture of parochial life, and a verv true one. But I ask two questions; Is it necessary for so distinguished an author to write a novel so frankly sexual and morbid in character? Every minister of the church could fill a librarv with such eases, they prefer not to discuss them in or out of print. Ihis tendency has been obvious in other and earlier works. "Tininrisk lown.’-’ for example. It does no: appear that any useful purpose is served by such frank (ami unpleasant ) pictures of youthful indiscretions Secondly, lhe equally open discussion of Sacramental and Catholic, leaching appears equally unnecessary. The average layman is not interested in lhe 1 squabbles between recalcitrant “priests” I and low church bishops. One does not | wonder that the bishop became annoy-' cd at the correspondence concerninir ! Mrs Iggulsden. For a stark picture of the pettiness,' anarchy and law-breaking in the Church' of England to-day, there is little in contemporary literature to equal this. ]f the author’s object- is to expound ami uphold the Anglo-Catholic, position our judgment is that she has put for-I ward but a feeble case, if that is not the case one fails to see the object or

necessity for the lengthy pages devoted to it.* As "Shepherds in Sackcloth,” the vicar and George Houseman are skilfully drawn, the s.ory is true to life, but apart from the special interest to those who revel in such morbidity, one is still tempted to ask, Why? Isaac of York. FOR HARVEST This grass was not too small for You To carve its jade flutes slim and true, And every lucent leaf that stirs. Silently from Tliy misisters (Sunligh: and dew ami soft-haired rain) Draws beauty through each tiny vein. Ah. let such life mysteriously Ripen to shining fruit in me. And let Thy tall and holy grain Be bountiful in me again —Robin Hyde.