FICTION.
THE SUPERNATURAL AND- THE PSYCHIC. -
Unity. By J. D. Beresford. (Collins. 7s. 6d.)
The Red, Horse. By Christopher Rover. (Grant, Richards. 7s. 6d.)
Mariposa. By Henry Baerlein. (Leonard Parsons. 7s. 6d.)
TnE supernatural is an old though intractable friend of the novelist's art and we suffer reintroduction to it gladly ; but to that cousin of the supernatural, the psychic, though scientifically accredited and verified by research, we cannot give so warm a welcome. Commerce with ghosts is a severe-
test of character. but many are the heroines,; from Emily Valancourt downwards, who have survived it, even at the
cost of frequent vapours and much fainting. The psychic, on the other hand, is a solvent, not a test of character,. and
its manifestations, taming from within and being akin to hallucinations, are far less interesting in themselves than the
engaging methods adopted by apparitions. We feel that. Mr. Beresford would have made Katherine Louise Emily Willoughby more convincing if he had made her more con ventionally haunted ; the pair of _eyes that,- glimpsed for an, instant in a suburban- train, continually recurred to her!_ with yearnings, for unity, are a device that offends experience. and yet discourages fancy.. Longing for. a sense of identifica-.
tion she gave hertelf the name " Unity," and believed,, throughout a career that included two marriages and a fair share of success in all the arts, that the secret of unity lay Somehow hidden behind those eyes, the appearance of, which,, by the end of the book, suggests the menacing and distracting glare of headlights. No wonder when she met them again she found their compelling power almost irresistible.
Mr. Beresford can make more out of an unpromising situation than almost anyone else can. In this case, though he goes the most. difficult way about it, Making his heroine's obsession the accompaniment of an adventurous but wholly sophisticated life, he often succeeds in making it dramatic- ally telli g. The incredible scene in which the possessor of the eyes tells Unity's husband that it is for her to choose between them very nearly comes off ; but only because Mr. Beresford is so keenly sensitive to the tension between conflicting wills. His people are most alive when in the height of disagreement : the " strength " of the situation invigorates them, but directly it ceases to- be strong we become aware of ,a thinness in the ordinary texture of their lives, an inadeqUacy in their daily impulses and motives. Unity's egoism is presented not as a state of mind marked by restlessness or fretfulness or religious doubt, but as the condition of a nomadic existence—the egoism of a rolling stone, to which, by virtue of its itinerancy, moss is denied. A stone may start an avalanche if it falls in the right place, but Unity's destructiveness is not fortuitous ; it is ascribed to a weight and volume of character which the author does not bring home to us. This is a pity, for, as though it were something apart, the rhythm of the book rings out assured and clear above the uncertain notes of the theme.
There are two stories in The Red Horse, one concerned with the Russian Revolution,{ the other with the relations between the British Army and the French townsfolk on whom they were billeted during the War. Both are stories of more than ordinary merit, though the writing and technique show at times an unpractised hand. It is not easy, for instance, during: the first ten pages of " Revolution " to tell: whether the " It of the narrative is a man or a woman ; though much, in fact- everything, subsequently depends upon her sex. The story is massive and masculine in its moulding, related without undue sensibility, and with an attitude of mind that would be markedly Russian if it were not strongly influenced by common sense, A character of extraordinary tenacity and courage enabled Sonia to adapt herself to revolutionary conditions, and also to take of those conditions what advantage she could ; accordingly we have an account of the Bolshevik regime in Moscow that for sobriety, coherence, and perspective could hardly be bettered. Mr. Rover does not make it quite clear how Sonia's desire for at more complete spiritual life is served by her consenting to be the mistress of thefather of her exiled sweetheart ; but we feet that after what she had gone through she was entitled to some eccentricity in her ideals, It is a tribute to Mr. Rover's understanding of the Slav temperament that we are not outraged or even surprised by Sonia's act. He has caught that atmosphere, so familiar in Dostoievski, in which self-sacrifice and self-abnegation usurp the place of all other motives, working upon such as are prone to them like intoxication. Taken altogether, " Revoliition " is a grave, solid, considerable piece of work. " War Time" is less successful. Its outlines are blurred, and a certain stiffness in the dialogue makes the principal character seem more like a prig than he really is. Painful as his disillusionment is, we can scarcely sympathize with it. But in this story, as in the other, there is a sombre quality of truth-telling, a curiously unflinching preoccupation with happenings that are disagree- able but not sensational, that commands respect.
In Mariposa, on the other hand, we are plunged at once into light and splendour and joy. The history of the Spaniard who, fully conscious of her shortcomings as a dancer goes to London to make her fortune on the stage and then, stung by a scruple, abandons the one dance that would have won her popularity— this extravaganza Mr. Baerlein treats with pathos, humour, and high spirits. He has a touch that is his own, and although, ultimately; it does not compensate for lack of direction and confusion of incident, it-makes a considerable part of his book
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