Evening Star Newspaper, September 21, 1930, Page 100

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 21, 1930. REVIEW/ OF | PORTRAIT OF A DIPLOMAT: Being the Life of Sir Arthur Nicolson, first Lord Carnock, and a study of the origins of the Great War. By Harold Nicolson. Illustrated. Boston: Houghton Miffiin Co. N these modern days it is the sum of diplomatic procedures that constitutes history, an authentic international seizure of the essentials of world poli- tics. ‘This, the modern system of national agreements, accommodations, reci- procities that have been imposed by science itself through the marvels of communica- tion that have packed nations together into neighborhood of give-and-take, of conceding, of yielding, in the common interest of all. No more is it expedient, or possible, to fight out national quarrels. Instead, there has come the necessity of diplomatic agreements. No, not the old diplomacy of secret plots, of expert card- handling, of lofty “conclusions.” Today diplo- macy is a science, as government itself is—or must be—as engineering is, and chemistry and medicine. Harold Nicolson's study is an ex- ample of this new science of diplomacy. Pri- marily it is a study of his father's official career. And a beautifully affectionate and filial study it is, quite apart from the facts of public moment which it so capably projects. For something like half a century this father, Sir Arthur Nicolson, served the British Empire by way of the diplomatic foreign department. That term of service included the rise of those inter- national problems whose solution, in this case, was the World War. Therefore, the book is of direct value in its intimate and clear approach to the innumerable matters which, coalescing and enlarging, brought about the world ca- tastrophe. Mr. Nicolson begins the story of his father's cadet days of foreign service with a fine picture of England’s proud isolation. Then the action advances by way of points of snxiety—over in Egypt, across in Persia, west into Morocco, till a full “Near East” problem is set in many a puzzling factor. Then begins the story of “ententes”—now with France, now with Russia, now with Germany—crisis after crisis thrusting out along the way. -By way of these moments and hours of diplomatic urgency and strain, by way also of the daily service of Sir Arthur Nicolson, diplo- matic official at one geographical point or an- other, there emerges here in straight and un- derstandable manner much of the inside of national unrests and fears that led finally to war itself. Aside from the purely historic character of this study, the story of the young diplomat, growing older a little, in the service of England, comes to be a matter of curiously personal eoncern to the reader. A modest man, doing what he has to do much as most thoroughgo- ing people do their work, comes out here with actual history as the burden of his reportings, of history that comes alive in the hand of the reader, that means actuality and deep signifi- oance. Harold Nicolson is an engaging man as a writer. Direct, in a somewhat casual effect; amusing here and there, colloquial when this suits the turn, scholarly without question, biographic in the very best sense of that new concept of biographic writing. His introduction captivated me, as it will you. Listen: “Our own predatory period (England’s)—and it was disgraceful enough—dated from 1500 to 1900. During that period we were far more violent and untruthful than were the Germans during those 14 years which preceded the war.” For oenturies “England was sitting digestive in her armchair when Germany, young and hungry, was manifesting the unwisdom of adolescence. Before we blame Germany we must first blame “our own Elizabethans.” How fine truth can be! Did you know—do you know—that Harold Nicolson's wife is the author of “The Edward- ians,” an exceptional novel? V. Sackville West by writing name. THE GREAT JASPER. By Fulton Oursler, au- thor of “Poor Little Fool,” etc. New York: Covici-Friede. IKE any other of the conquerors, Jasper was “great” because what he wanted he took. And the Lord of Gifts had been good to him, making his takings easy. To be sure, the: old ones—the Alexanders and Caesars and _.apoleons, are englamored by time, steeped in the glories of historic achievements, set on high for no particularly good reason, but there they are. And Jasper is of their tribe. The same large and, I think, unconscious appropri- ations, the same marauding powers of mind and body. To be sure the ‘“great Jasper” is a street car motorman. And to be sure, once more, his field of despoliation a strip of the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The day, modern, very. and through it moves this pagan of de- sire and delight and conquest. Not at all that, te his own thinking. Jasper knew nothing of pagan, and only of Christian that which his plous wife doled out morning, noon and night in psalms and prayers and tears for his salva- tion. Jasper didn’t mind. It seemed to have mothing to do with him on his way of running the car and leading the other car hands and Jooking at the ladies. He did grow anxious @wer the little son, “dedicated” to the ministry by the devout mother. Direct, as a primitive man would be, Jasper stole his son and ran oway with him. Wait a minute. There was Bnother son of Jasper’s, fathered unsuspectingly Py the great man of the countryside, whose wife was of the nomad tribe, like Jasper. You will come upon him again when you read this fantastic tale, this great story of a man mis- placed in time, enormously belated in his ap- pearance upon earth. The matter progresses in a seeming craziness of situation and incidert gnd event. By accident, in the program of saving his son from the career of the cleyc, Jasper becomes a familiar of the Boardwalk at . Atiantic City in a role of incredible characger. #nd, indeed, at many a point the thing is ®imply unbelievable. Yet don't forget $hat Bere is an artist, a great one I call him, wio is The Life Story of a Diplomat—IFulton Oursler Writes a Thoroughly Entertaining Novel—Other Autumn Books. bringing forward into this bewilderingly in- volved day a primitive man, accounting for him upon that foundation of pagan uncon- sciousness of the great day in which he is liv- ing. The idea is an amazing one, for fresh approach, for artful reception and projection. The story itself is absorbing; I admit the splendor of it—that only a man close to genius could have done it. Think of turning the Eastern Shore, in 1930, to a pagan playground of Greek connotation. One question. Why, just why, bring Saul of Tarsus into it at the end! Why, Mr. Oursler? OUTLAWS OF EDEN. By Peter B. Kyne, au- thor of “The Pride of Palomar,” etc. Deco- rations by Harold von Schmidt. New York: Cosmopolitan Book Corporation. “I WANT a good novel”—a big, burly fellow of demanding front. A difficult order to fill, this. A “good novel” goes back to the great-grandfather of the applicant, to what he eats for breakfast, to the reasons why he wears spats or does not wear them—oh, to any one or many of the hidden sources of preference or repulsion. A difficult moment. “Give me something like—well, like Peter Kyne. He can write, that man can.” “Right here you are, my friend—and here is a brand-new Peter Kyne, ‘Outlaws of Eden’ Oh, by the way, Mr. Kyne is here in New York. Something wrong with his insides. Not much, I hope— probably not. Interesting, his talk about the California ranch and its yield of good stories and good stock. Oh, yes, about the new novel?” It is the old story, you see. Old as Adam and Eve turned out from the garden, neck and crop, because they tried to put one over on the law. To be sure, this Kyne adventure doesn't sound a bit like the Biblical recording. It wouldn’t. It is merely that the old theme is again impressed to service as it has already been so many hundred of times. Just two youthful relics, here, of the old days of feuds and free land-grabbings. Once their parents had been deadly foes, but this boy and this girl joined now in rebellion against the new order—laws and projects, reclamations, irriga- tion plans, puzzling legalities and the whole confusing to-do of strange approaches and ways. The story becomes, to be sure, a battle royal between the lone pair of youngsters and the intrenched representatives of the law. Well, you know just about what Peter Kyne would make out of this impasse. You can imagine the devices of attack and evasion, of hazard and escape. They are all here. Not a single one missing so far as eye can see. Love story, too. Certainly. “You’ll like this one. I'm sure you will.” “Uh—uh! I'm sure I will, too, if it is some of Peter Kyne's regular man stuff.” And the big man heaved himself about and left, under his arm a brand-new book, written by the novelist of his own heart. Just another one of the happy little chances that now and then send a slant of sunlight across the day. A new novel by the picturesque and romantic Peter Kyne. JOURNAL OF THINGS NEW AND OLD. By Arnold . Bennett, author of “Things That Have Interested Me,” etc. New York: Dou- bleday, Doran & Co. ARNOLD BENNETT has turned definitely away from novels, or so it seems, to assume the role of observer, recorder, philosopher even, and friend certainly. For, whether doing the one thing or the other, here is unfailingly the man of mind so open as to admit both sides of any matter without rancor for either. A mild and equable man, peculiarly fitted to make recavdings on the innumerable aspects of un- everitful existence. “A modern Samuel Pepys?” Not at all—unless the significance of that word “modern” admits the suggestion. Different brand, breed, time and circumstance. How- ever, it does not matter. Here is a book that is of the inside pattern of Arnold Bennett him- self—not exciting, not shocking, not black-and- blue from a wearing world—none of these things. Instead, here are calm outlookings, sane reflections, interesting observations upon all manner of current events and appearance . The accounting starts off on a high note— “London, New Year day—I resolved not to drink cocktails any more.” Surely a declara- tion calculated to suit the “antis” down to the ground. Its later expansion is not able to mar the fine effect of. the original announcement. London, under the genial friendliness of Mr. Bennett, discloses moods and humors of charm and entertainment. France and Italy, Ger- many, too, revisited, show their yesterdays and todays in contrast, through the present and past travelings of this smilingly tolerant way- ¢ farer. Fragments of personal experience, gathered from a vastly larger store, these sketches of men and places and customs pro- vide for readers when the mood is right an in- comparably satisfying adventure into the realm of everyday's doings, seen and interpreted by a poisaed and unpretentious philosopher of kindly and smiling eye. PRIVATE LIFE. By Paul Selver., New York: Harper & Bros. TWO friends. One a poet. Both literary in bent and to an extent in practice. Con- genial, open in disclosure, given to lomg #alks on life and letters and art, on worthwhile things generally. Did they know each other? Most certainly they did, as only chosen friends—man friends—can. Then, one day, the poet was found dead—murdered, past doubt. When Pollock, his comrade, took hold of the case—there was nothing to take hold of. In all these confidential hours there had been no personal disclosures on either side. A family? Home folks? Social contacts? Nothing—save a pocket notebook, and in this there were three addresses that might open some lttle door of _information. The story goes on with the pur- suit of these names, their owners, all women, very scantily and gradually adding a word here, a line there, respecting the life of this poet, Bellamy, for the guidance of the friend, Pollock. It hardly matters how the pursuit ends—and yet it does. It is the slow opening up of the hidden man to the eyes of his friend and confidant that counts so tremendously. So open and yet c¢o subtle is this disclosure, so concerned with externals and yet so engrossed with hidden depths is it that, in effect, the story can be turned outward upon any reader, upon any human in existence. For every life is a “private life.”” Every man is a com- plete stranger to the world, and often to him- self. A universal story that does not sustain any considerable diminution in its projection. Clearly fine work, to produce such effect. How- ever, if you are story bent go on with the read- ing of this strange tale, whose ending finally involves the other man, Pollock, questing the sources of his friend's violent death. Not a detective story in any sense, though it hints of one at the outset. Material for pursuit here, without question. But the aim is far bigger than that. It does distinct damage to the theory of the “private life” and its “sanctity” and the rest of the words. A tenacious stpry that stays by long after its reading is over. THE WALKING STICK. By C. E. Scoggins, author of “The Red Gods Call,” etc. Indian- apolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co. FRED HARPER was the single non-conformist of that little near-East village where he was born. The open evidence of such errancy was nothing more than the freak habit of carrying a cane as he moved about the streets. Deeper proof even than this was Fred's queer drift toward an artist’s life. Didn’t seem to take to business and trade as his father did, as all the rest of the folks did. Not to conform, to be different, is ever suspect, whether such divergence lies in the matter of neckties or in the overturning of a dynasty and the discovery of a world. However, the point here is that Fred Harper was not a bit like the rest of the hamlet. And this is the story—the story of the four corners agitated by the fact that it had an odd duck to deal with. Under such impulse Mr. Scoggins adds another Main street to current American fiction. A sunnier street than that other familiar one. Milder weathers sustain it. A kindlier genius presides over it. Not only understanding makes its way here, but a genuine warmth of partaking also goes into this blended picture and chronicle of the small community. And the story—that too familiar. The misfit youngster getting out and away, looking for some place where he would fit. New York, of course. And by way of this out- faring comes the adventure which every story by this author is and must be. It is a story of winning out on the part of the lusty Ameri- can youth—millions of him. A not uncommon story in these wide-open days of good luck and good grit. The unusual part, that which gives this romance a special place, derives directly from the quality of C. E. Scroggins himself. Here is, first of all, an adventurer of romantic stripe, whose artistry is cf a lenient line and soft colorings, whose studies of any subject bring out the common human traits that we all share. No angels, no devils. No tremen- dous heights and depths. A good story, a fin= ished story, always about the rest of us, whether we chance to live in Muncie, Ind., or in some Mayan tangle of a forgotten civiliza= tion. And this brings to mind again that “one of the best stories I ever came upon”—“The Red Gods Call,” by C. E. Scroggins. Born in Mexico, a traveler, an adventurer—a novelist of gifts and art, a most persuasive story teller, THE RAKE AND THE HUSSY. By Robert W. Chambers, author of “The Sun Hawk,” efc. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 'HE year, 1812 and thereabout. The back- ground, broadly spread, our war with Eng- land. The field of actual action, New Orleans and its outlying waters. The great figure of time and event, Andrew Jackson. But this is not designed to be history. Rather is it pure romance adventuring greatly under the inspira- tion of national conflict.- Robert Chambers likes that medium for imparting to fiction the effect of fact. Not only likes it but devotes himself to it in an earnest and competent study of historic settings for the frequently flamboyant behaviors of young love. Here is merely another example of the Chambers practice in novel structure. Privateers busy at sea, armies mak- ing war ashore down the New Orleans way— these supply the heightened excitement and strenuous action of war in its large and de- structive feature. .And here at the heart of the great to-do are the one hero and heroine of “The Rake and the Hussy.” He a reckless fighter and dauntless hero, Joshua Brooke. She a patriot girl of high courage and daring ingenuity of plan. If you have the Chambers habit, as thousands appear to have, you know what to expect of entertainment and stirring performance from the latest novel by this inexhaustibly lusty romancer, this prolific adventurer in the domain of romance so believably set and sustained as to carry on like truth itself. Books Received FICTION: THE CHARIOTEER. By John Presland, au- thor of “Mosaic,” etc. New York: D. Apple= ton & Co. PARLOR, BEDLAM AND BATH. By J. S. Perelman, author of “Dawn Ginsburgh's Revenge,” and Quentin J. Reynolds. New York: Horace Liveright. ST. PETER AND THE PROFILE. By John North, author of “Unmarried Life,” etc. New York: Duffield & Co. A STORM AT THE CROSS ROADS; And Other Stories. By Tristram Tupper, author of “The River,” etc. Philadelphia: J. B. Lip= pincott Co. POOR FAUN. By Charlotte Arthur. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. BEAU LOVER. By Carman Barnes, author of “Schoolgirl.” New York: Horace Liveright. AMERICAN SHORT STORIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENURY. Edited, with an introduction by John Cournos. Two volumes. Everyman's Library. Edited by Ernest Rhys. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. MOLL FLANDERS. By Daniel De Foe. Introe duction by G. T. Aitken. Everyman's Li« brary. Edited by Ernest Rhys. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. DETECTIVE STORIES: MURDER IN MANHATTAN. By Arthur Proce ter. New York: William Morrow & Co. THE TORCH MURDER. By Charles Reed Jones, author of “The King Murder.” New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. THE MARSTON MURDER CASE. By Wil- liam Averill Stowell, autho. of “The Mystery of the Singing Walls.” New York: D. Apple= ton & Co. POETRY: MINOR POETS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENURY. Edited with an introduction by Hugh L’Anson Fausset. Everyman’s Library. Edited by Ernest Rhys. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. OUT OF ERIN. (Songs in Exile). By Arthur Stringer, author of “Open Water,” etc. In- dianapolis. The Bobbs-Merrill Co. WHITE APRIL. By Lizette Woodworth Reese, author of “A Branch of May,” etc. New York: Farrar & Rinehart. TRAILINGS: A Rhymed Skeich-Book. Bj Jessie 8. Miner. New York: The Lantern Press. SILKEN THREADS: By Wilhelmina Stitch, author of “The Golden Web,” etc. Ne7 York: E. P. Dutton & ©o. More Firearms Made. JUST what gang warfare may have to do with it is not indicated, but firearms production in this country showed an increase of 5 per cent in 1929 over 1927. There were fewer revol= vers made, however, for the output of 224,768 was more than 4,000 less than in the previous year. Shotguns, too, with 573,306, were down, being nearly 50,000 under the earlier output. Rifles, on the other hand, with an output of 457,676, showed a decided increase, American O iptical Gains. - THE eyes have it, at least so far as trouble is concerned, if the figures on the production of optical goods may be used as an indicator, During 1929 the production of various glasses, lenses, frames and instruments concerned reached a total of $45,108,056, an increase over 1927 of 34 per cent. Only the production of colored lenses and glass eyes was lower during 1929, all other products showine a gain. A great book...of thrilling intevest weand absoluicly permanent value."”, WM. T. HORNADAY The Saga of the Grizzlies A Startling Departure from All Other Books OHN M. HOLZWORTH'S new book! Live thru the author’s unusual adventures. It will make you feel like a pioneer yourself...This is the only authoritative volume of its kind. Learn how the grizzl loves and hates and fights an hibernates... Photographs of 150 grizzlies in action. Taken at tremendous risk of life... 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