Op. XVI

A Heritage and Its History. By

I. Compton-Burnett. (Gollancz, 15s.)

ONCE upon a time, after the invention of the rail- way and the telegraph, before the motor-car and the telephone, there lived on his totally featureless property a bachelor baronet, Sir Edwin Challoner. When the story opens he is sixty-nine years of age. With him, in closest affection and interdependence, live his brother Hamish and his wife Julia. They have two sons, Simon and Walter. The property is not entailed but Simon confidently expects that it will descend to him and in his devotion to it is indecently impatient of his elders' longevity. Walter has come down from Oxford (or, by a later discrepancy, from Cambridge) without a degree, with many debts and an inclination to write poetry. Julia has some money of her own and is conscious of her position as mistress of the house. 1.rieir nearest neighbours are two maiden sisters, Rhoda and Fanny Graham, aged respectively thirty-eight and twenty-six. Hamish dies and Sir Edwin marries Rhoda, seeking in her a replace- ment for his loss. The marriage is not consum- mated but Rhoda finds herself pregnant by Simon and bears a son whom Sir Edwin recognises as his and names Hamish. Simon marries Fanny and moves with his mother and brother into the Grahams' house.

Twenty years pass. Simon has a large family which includes a daughter Naomi. Sir Edwin lives on. It will be no surprise to Miss Compton- Burnett's readers that Naomi and young Hamish fall in love. The situation is explained to the young people and Hamish goes away, promising to resign the property to his real father. Simon's children grow up in straitened circumstances, aggravated by their father's disappointment in his prospects. Hamish returns with changed charac- ter; he promises his father-great-uncle to accept the heritage. Sir Edwin lives to be ninety-four. After his death Hamish appears with a bride many years older than himself whom he has met `by chance'; her name is Marcia. Marcia induces Hamish to relinquish the heritage. Hamish dies suddenly, childless, so property and baronetcy come to Simon.

This is the strong story which Miss Compton- Burnett unfolds in her sixteenth novel.

Or, rather, the reader unfolds it. Brief descrip- tions are given of the physical appearances of the character. There are in all eighty-seven lines of narrative. All else is conversation, carried on with a statuesque dignity of phrase which even the youngest children, after a few words of baby- talk, quickly acquire. It is always' difficult and sometimes impossible for the reader to know exactly who is in the room at any given moment, who is listening at the door and who is carrying on a separate private conversation with whoM at the same table. There is, for instance, a gnomic butler named Deakin who constantly breaks in.

Is he in fact always present in the big house? Miss Compton-Burnett sees menservants with the eyes of childhood. I would surmise that she has never directly employed one. Her butlers always, I think, display a resigned consciousness of their inferior position such as might have been revealed to a little girl in the pantry.

Then there is Walter, a deeply mysterious omnipresent character who pipes up from time

to time. There is no indication of his comings or

goings or of his daily occupations. The improba- bilities of the plot—as though Henry James had

written The Young Visiters—invite the reader to wild conjectures. In Simon's family there is a twelve-year gap between the first batch of children and the second. Can Walter be the father of the

youngsters with whom Simon feels the more at ease?

And what of Marcia? There seems to be a flash of affinity between her and Simon at their first meeting. But is it their first meeting? Were she and Simon lovers before she met Hamish? Did she undertake the task of marrying him in order to ensure his resignation of his rights? Will she con' tinue her relations with her cousin-father-in-law' paramour? And (startling suspicion) did she make away with Hamish at Simon's behest? Anything's possible in Miss Compton-Burnett's world.

The theme, as distinct from the plot, seems to be one of substitution. 'No one is instead of anY, one else,' says Julia. 'Everyone has his own place. The leading characters are all engaged in attempt' ing to fill the series of gaps caused by the older Hamish's death. Rhoda must take his place. Marcia must take Naomi's. But in the destined order of things Simon must somehow come it his heritage. Admirers of Miss Compton-Burnett's unique art do not need to be told of the delights of study' ing it. She demands sharp attention from he; readers and repays it by unfailing felicity and subtlety of expression. One complaint : she is not well served by her publishers. More than any living writer her war( is homogeneous. Why are her books given such Protean shapes when they cry out for a uniforol set?

A postscript. I had written the above and, despatched it. I took down an old favourite aau began to read. I found this passage :

`Well,' said Lord Ottercove, 'I have made a" honest woman of one of them. . .

`I do not understand you, Lord Ottercove.'

`I have made an honest woman of Eva.' `Explain it to me, please. I don't understand.' `I have married her.'

There was a pause.

Well-1 am very pleased. I must say you ha'''e chosen well and wisely. She will make a good Witt to you. I congratulate you both.' `I hope, Mrs. Kear,' Frank said, 'that yo.,, grudge against me is over. I trust that you wn . . . ever remember that the assignation of to worthy motives never helps but weakens an argir ment.'

Dickin talks rot, but always with conviction He would make a good lawyer,' said Ottercove: `Yes, or a great priest,' said Frank, obviously pleased with himself. '1 like to practise my orate' cal gift.' Miss Compton-Burnett? No, Mr. Williahl

Gerhardi in 1928.

EVELYN WAtis)