Cross-Gartering
The Table of Truth. By Hugh Kingsmill. (Jarrolds. 38. 6d.) Tim art of the parodist is the malicious one of bringing 'the time and the place and the wrong loved one all together. If by any chance he does lead our Malvolios thinking nobly of the soul, to the right lady, they will be notably gross-gartered. But in the main it is the possible but improbable subject which prospers : Brownhig on Bred* Lytton Strachey on Jacob. Infelicity is the test.
By this test Mr. Hugh Kingsmill is an excellent wit if an unequal parodiSt. He is-quite right 'to croas7garter Mr. Wells writing " in broad outline " for " the plain man 7 on Miscege- nation ; he is quite wrong,. I think, to give us Mr. P. G. Wodehouse on the betting imbroglio that 'followed the Girls' Egg and Spoon Race in the village sports. Mr. P. G. Wodehouse is such a sublime dealer in Caricature that it is fatal- to give him any subject which by a stretch of the imagi- nation he might have taken for himself. It is a tribute to Mr. Kingsmilrs imitative faculty but. not to his parody that Mi.' WcidehOnse might very well have written this " Sequel to the. "Purity Of the Turf." The wrong subject is clearly called fOr Wodehouse going d la Recherche du .Temps Perdu, rewriting King's Regulations or even " doing " Surtees. The difficulty in dealing* with huniorists is that they are of all Writers most strongly entitled to their mannerisms.
Mr. Lytton Strachey calls for subtler treatment and while I do not think that Mr. Kingsmill has extracted the polite horror and naughtiness from this writer's style, he has written a delicious account of the discovery of interested motives in the conduct of Joseph towards -hiS brethren. Here are the
feline Strachey claws and the malign purr : • •
• " Was it truth, then, which Joseph found at the bottom of the well ? Well,' perhaps hardly that. Truth is net a commodity which a politician—even in his most embryonic stage—would be likely to recognise, if he happened to stumble on it. No, it was not Truth-which Joseph found*: it was something else ; something less recondite,' something much more useful : it was Tact."- • Frank Harris discovering that the secret of Carroll's 11's " namby pamby " humour lies in Carroll's impotence, is a good bit of exhibitionism. The loud-:voice and the emphatic manner are, of course, easiest to parody. Hence also the space given to Carlyle's views on certain modern writers: -Shaw is nnparo-
died but he is done proud by.. :- • - _
Shtupest:eyed of Sibiiiiferkr tall She*, wltii tongue to match, What of confusion or. omission is ,by -Spinster eve-per, eeivable in the. right ordering of. things, this wil.113haw perceive and proclaim in shrillest tones, very melodious to spinsters ears though to Mine-not absofutely •pleaisiant-isOunding, I must confess.- A visit to Oscar Wilde beyond the Styx produces some neat dismissals. Shaw and Wells are pleasantly disposed of. But the best piece of Oscar Wilde's devastation is_ at the expense of Mr. G. K. Chesterton. It is good Wilde too : " I uttered paradoxes as though they were platitudes. Chesterton uttered platitudes as though they' were paradoxes and persuaded men that in order to be original it was only necessary to , be obvious.. . . He praised beer with defiance for its taste, ei though it were customary to adore it for its colour, and defended respectability. with his back to an invisible wall, and seemed to be encircled • by outraged Mohammedans when he pleaded ter monogamy. . . .
Doctor Johnson on modern writers is less entertaining and the William Gerhardi trying to get his travelling expenses out of Caesar is thin. A Malicious exposure of the late Lord 'Birkenhead has its points ; but the mechaiais• ed truth-telling voice of another sketch is below Mr.. Kingsmill's best form. But as his best is so amusing, one merely complains that his appearance as a parodist orthodox or heterodox is not more frequent. I wonder why, since he gave us Carlyle on Lawrence that he did not also give us Lawrence on Carlyle ? He would surely haire Mr. Desmond McCarthy's bleSsing.
V. S. PRITCHETT
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