FICTION.
THE TOLLHOIISE.f
WE have read a good deal in the papers of the effect of the war on country districts, of the strange variations between apathetic indifference and patriotic fervour. A writer in the April Contemporary Review tells as of one Scots parish where to his knowledge practically every able-bodied man of military age is with the colours, and of islands in the Western Hebrides where the whole manhood of the district is serving either in the Army or the Navy. And there are other districts, as many of us know, where the prevailing sentiment is—" If the Government wants us, let them fetch as." The author of The Tollhouse has wisely laid the scene of her graceful and touch- ing sketch of rural England in war-time in a village which represents the mean between the two extremes, so far at least as zeal for active service is concerned. For the rest, her village belongs in spirit rather to the mid-Victorian than to the modern type. That is to say, it is distinctly
old- fashioned in its politics, and is largely dominated by the aqnire and the parson. No doubt such villages do remain, but there must be very few nowadays where
• Study of Hdlirie••. By Stanley A. Coot. London A. and C. Black, 17s. ad. net.1 y The Td hone, By Eeelyn Bt. Lou. London: Smith, Elder. and Co. Da. ad.] the leaven of Socialism has not penetrated, where Dissent ie practically non-existent, and the London halfpenny Press is not on sale by nine o'clock. No county is mentioned, but internal evidence shows that the village is within easy reach of London by rail, and yet has contrived to retain its ancient simplicity almost unimpaired. We do not say that the picture is impossible : there are wonderful backwaters off the midstream of modern life in Surrey and Sussex. But we cannot resist the conclusion that the author has given us a com- poeite picture ; that she has described the events of the last eight months as they would have affected a village community thirty or forty years ago rather than as they have done to-day. The publishers' announcement which forestalls the inevitable comparison with Cranford and Mrs. Ewing's books only confirms us in this view. But if the exclusion of certain ubiquitous modern elements detracts from the lifelikeness of the picture, its charm and tenderness cannot be gainsaid. Mrs. St. Leger does not enter into serious competition with the exemplars mentioned above; her method is legitimately derivative, and at most we are conscious of a pleasant family resemblance—never of a servile imitation.
What we like best about this little book is its choice of a central figure. Mrs. St. Leger is as firm a believer as Mrs. Ewing in the chivalry and courtesy of the British soldier, but there is no endue insistence on the romance and pageantry of war. The squire's son dies nobly and his sister's lover escapes by a miracle. But the narrative as a whole is true to its dedication—" to the dear brave things who in the great war keep the lights shining at home." Foremost amongst these torchbearers is not the squire or the parson, but Mrs. Kidston, formerly nurse at the "house," and still in constant touch with the family. She lives in en old tollhouse on the outskirts of the village, in which she is easily the most prominent personage, not merely from her prestige as the trusted friend and confidant of "Miss Mary " and "Master George," but from her kindliness, shrewdness, and stout. laeartednesa. For Mrs Kidston belongs to the great and unforgettable race of " Nannies " to whom writers of genius so widely divergent as Dickens and Tolstoi have united in paying immortal homage—the one in Peggotty and the other in Natasha of the Mimoires. Such nurses are the very souls of unselfish devotion, by whom domestic service is raised to an heroic level, and who, when their earlier duties are ended and the nurse is promoted to be housekeeper, inspire a filial affection in their charges. And as the greatest writers have not failed to recognize the beauty of this type—though we cannot think at the moment of any great poet who has done justice to it—so has it been with the bravest of men of action. One of the last letters written by the gallant Captain of the ' Formidable' was to his old nurse. Mrs. St. Leger, then, has chosen well, and her portrait of Mrs. Kidston will recall golden memories to many of her readers. The war ben had its romantic heroines, but it is well that we should be reminded of what we owe to the homely and housekeeping women who tend the sacred fire of patriotism. Mrs. Kidston as good genius of the village, as prophetess and recruiting sergeant, is a stimulating and delightful personality. She was a better man than the parson, and he knew and acknowledged it hand- somely in their conversation on "Miss Mary's" bold action in going out to nurse her lover "Mrs. Kidston bustled about, and cleared the table, and Parson sat up to it and wrote out large that Miss Mary and Captain would be married at twelve o'clock on the list of December, and Sirenry and her ladyship would be pleased to see their friends to dinner afterwards at the house at one o'elook. "Tits grand,' Mrs. Ilidaton said, when Parson read it out, tipping back his chair, and smiling, pleased as we. suppose you approve, sir, don't you, of him ?' Parson nodded. • And of Miss Mary's going, you approve of that, sir ?' Parson put his head on one side and said nothing. Mrs. Kidston, equal to him, said, • You don't bold with young ladies on battle-fields; no more do I, but for Miss Mary, sir— you've heard, I suppose, how it was ' Parson grunted; you couldn't call it more than that, and 'twasn't enough for Mrs. Kidston. 'Maybe you've heard her adventures, sir, maybe she have told you the dreadful sights she saw, and it goes against the grain with a gentleman like you to think of Miss Mary—: =You are right, Mrs. Kidston, it does go against the grain; but I am not so blind and prejudiced, I trust, but what I can under- stand and sympathise with Miss Mary.'—' And approve, sire for when you come to think of it, what was it made Miss Mary go P 'Twos; something in her, I suppose; but what's that something called P'—'Heroism; I think,' Parson said.—'And what was it made the Captain ready to give up Miss Mary when he loved her,
air ? Heroism again P I expect. Yee, Mrs. Kidston, I expect
it was.'—'And you admire heroism, sir? Then you must admire Miss Mary, and if you admire, you approve! Oh, yes, you do, sir:— One part of me does, hire. llidaton ; quite whole-heartedly I admire, and when the Captain sad Miss Mary get hold of me, and together show me the beautiful side there is even to the horrors of a battle- field, I am rather forced to approve, for they have been there and I have not.'—' I see your meaning plain, sir,' Mrs. Kidston said • You could approve if it was all long ago, like Sirenry, but you can't approve as it's Miss Mary, and now.'—' Ilat's it, Mrs. Kidston, Parson agreed ; that's about the size of it. Long age there was a beautiful love-story I used to weep over as a boy. A woman called Evangeline went out to seek for her lover Gabriel, and I loved that woman, and I loved what she did; there have been others all down the ages, afar off, in romance and in history, who have done what Miss Mary has done, and for the same reason. And yet—'—' You'd rather Miss Mary hadn't done it, wouldn't you, sir? And so would I, to be honest ; but, then, it's Fear in us that makes us feel that way. Now Miss Mary hadn't got no Fear. She says there was nothing to be afraid of.'—'I know else does. She told me herself that every man she met was her friend —that there was no more danger for her out in France and Belgium than there is on a London crossing. In the face of =oh lova and heroism I feel that only a curmudgeon can disapprove.'—' And I'm sure you aren't that dreadful thing, sir, whatever it may be, So we'll leave it at that, sir. We are of one mind., I can see, as to battle-fields and young ladies keeping separate as a rule, but when it comes to the Captain—the Primrose Captain—and our Misr. Mary, why, then—'—' Why, then, Mrs. Kidston, we are dealing with something they possess, something fine in both their natures, which is the heroic quality. People who have got that have generally got to act different from the people who haven't got it; and the people who haven't got it can never hope to understand the people who have. It fixes a great gulf between.'—' I'm emu you're right, sir,' Mrs. Kidston said politely. 'Some of us in the village has good qualities, and some of us has bad, but the Family has heroin qualittee, as you say, sir, and that fixes the gall, I reckon.' Parson laughed and got up from his chair with the wedding paper in his hand ready to put up outside. He buttoned his coat and patted his chest. 'Bank feudalism, Mrs. he said; 'this village is still feudal, in spite of all my teaching. You have more influence here than I have, by a long way, so— Parson went to the door and looked at us aideways-5 so, I have offered my services as Army Chaplain, and hope soon to be ordered to the Front, thereby proving to you, Mrs. Kidston, that I, too, possess the heroic quality we so much admire in others!' Mrs. llidaton laughed. ' You can't be spared, air. 'Tie your duty to stay at home along o we, and you knows that so well as I do. You've got to show us the heroic quality in staying at home, you have ; I don't say bat what it's hard for some—that's where the heroism comes in for the likes of you. Besides, sir, the Bishop would never let you go, I've no fear.'—' I think his lordship will, if I can find an efficient substitute, Mrs. Kidaton, and I'm going to suggest you?"
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