FICTION.

THE OPTIMIST IT is an acknowledged fact that the post-War world is strictly divided into two classes. There are those fortunate people known as "Moderns," who are most of them under thirty-five, though by force of temperament a few older men and women are admitted to their ranks. These are the Elect. On the other side stand those who were born before the

• The Optimist. By E. H. Delaileld. London: Hutchinson. [7e. 6d. net.)

last decade of the nineteenth century. These unfortunate persons, besides the burden of their years, have to suffer

the ignominy, bath in the domestic circle and on more official occasions, of having all their views stigmatized either as Victorian or—more damning still, if possible—Edwardian.

The Elect take these facts as the plainest matter of course, while the elderly bow their heads as resignedly as they can, applying the criticisms suggested by their own standpoint to the actions, speech, and writings of the younger generation. It is, however, not always recognized that in the ranks of the Elect there is a further and very distinct line of cleavage. There is the elder group, the mem- bers of which grew up about 1910 or even 1912—and thus took some part in the pre-War world as adults, or at least as adolescents. These mix the hard logic of their condemnation of the standard of ethics which, as they contend, resulted in so widespread a catastrophe, with a certain comprehension that pre-War ideals were not entirely unworthy, and remember sympathetically the wave of generous emotion which swept

the nation in 1914. The younger group of Modernists consists of the ever-increasing number of boys and girls who have grown up since the end of 1918, and who, having watched the War with the critical eyes of early youth, can find no good word to say about any of the conditions which produced it or carried it to its finish. Without going into the question

of birth certificates, we may judge that Miss Delafield—such is the punning translation of her maiden name, under which she writes—belongs to the elder section of the Modernists, for although she uses her power as author to select an extrema case as the representative of the " Victorians," she draws the portrait of her victim with a sympathy which her many admirers are hardly accustomed to find in her work. '!'he champion of the old-fashioned ideals of self-sacrifice and duty is a devout Canon of the Church, who believes that he holds his views as the necessary consequence not only of the Christian religion, but—a very different thing—of the direct teaching of Christ. He therefore conceives that anyone who differs from the teaching which he not only believes in, but carries out, must necessarily be committing a sin which it is his duty to reprove, and, if possible, repress.

The protagonist of modern ethics is Owen Quentillian, a writer of subtle essays, who after having been brought up in the house of Canon Morehard, returns to it on a long visit on the conclusion of the military service which he has detested so profoundly. Owen's views can be deduced from his con- versation with Valeria, the Canon's second daughter, who has broken off her engagement to him at the eleventh hour for

the laudable reason that she discovers she is very much in love with someone else :—

" ' Your father has never liked Captain Cuscaden,' said Quen- tillian, meditatively. ' I am afraid he will make things very difficult.'

I deserve it.'

Don't be absurd,' said Quentillian with severity. "This is that foolish idea of atonement and repentance, and all the other cheap salves to the humiliation of having made a mistake. Don't you see that it's all waste of time and energy, Val t You ought to be thinking of what you're going to do next and how you can do it with least wear and tear for us all. Life isn't a series of sins and punishments or virtues and rewards, as it is in one's nursery story- books. There are actions and their consequences—that's all.' "

That what may be termed the " old diplomacy "—domestic, of course—when applied to a crisis was most unpleasant for all concerned is proved by the following description of the events of the day after Valeria's revelations as to her affections and intentions :—

" The following day was one of singular discomfort and of private interviews that were held to be of the greatest necessity in spite of the fact that the participants always emerged from them in worse plight than they went in. The Canon saw Valeria in his study ; she came out eryina. Valeria sought Flora, and both wept. Quentillian deliberately demanded an interview from Captain Cuscaden, but was baffled in his design of a rational discussion of the three-cornered situation by Cuseaden's honest bewilderment at the mere suggestion of disinterested counsel."

However, in consequence of the advice of her sensible elder sister, Lucilla, Valeria is allowed to have her own way and escape from the super-intelligent Owen to a new life in Canada with her lover :—

" Quotations, collections, barren discussions, abstract ideals all lay behind her. In future her pm-occupations would concern the health and welfare of her husband and perhaps his children, food and clothing and warmth, pots and pans and the work of her own hands. And from the depths of her heart Valeria was glad."

It must not be supposed that the story of Valeria is of any- thing approaching paramount importance in the novel. It is merely an episode among the five which illustrate the main thesis of the book. This we take to be more than the painting of a faithful, if satirical, picture contrasting the false optimism with which the true Christian regards the ills of life with the sincere pessimism which is the obvious result of the freedom obtained from facing facts without the `` illusion " of earthly life being only one stage of existence. Miss Delafield's purpose seems rather to be the analysis of the results of a family of five children being brought up in the present day on the old-fashioned theory of the paramount position of the parent, applied with great tenderness by a widowed father. It must be confessed that these results are nothing less than appalling. David, the elder son, cuts the cable, and on the excuse of military duty takes no leave at the end of the War, and, save for an occasional letter to his favourite sister, Flora, holds very little communication with his family. Lucilla, the eldest daughter, has mothered her father, brothers and sisters from the beginning of her early 'teens. Subtly prompted by her father, she has given up all her ambitions for a fuller intellectual life and devoted herself to a career of that old-fashioned virtue, self-sacrifice, which is so highly disapproved of by the new ethics. It does not seem certain that it would have been possible for her to attain a more completely balanced personality, even if she had devoted herself to developing her own individuality ; but it may be safely predicated that, though probably more restless, she would have been happier. The story of Valeria has been hinted at above. She attains to happiness because her quondam fiance makes so gallant a struggle with her father's prejudices that she is allowed to follow her own path. Flora, the musical daughter, becomes so unbalanced through a magnificent effort of mendacity, by which she conceals the truth about David from the Canon, that she finally suffers from religious ecstasy and enters a Sisterhood. Anthony, the spoilt child who can never tell the truth, really has a happier life than the rest of his family, because he boldly allows his father to cast him off rather than give up the work which is offered him on a paper edited by an atheist. Thus, as the Modernist would say, you have a complete catalogue of the terrible effects of Victorian morality. It may be suggested on the other side that the Canon was, as stated above, an extreme case, and that his method of bringing up his children would have been called hopelessly old-fashioned even in the later 'eighties of the last century. Further, that nowhere does the Teacher, Whose Word the Canon followed, suggest that parental control should be carried to the extent of not allowing two grown-up daughters to sit up after about half-past ten, talking in their own bedrooms. However this may be, the children are more or less all unhappy, always excepting Valeria, while the Canon, quite unconscious that his misfor- tunes arc mostly of.his own making, bears them with a Christian resignation and optimism which are highly irritating to the reader. Lucilla, with almost superhuman wisdom, sums up the whole situation to Owen at the end of the third episode of the book :— " Lucilla '—it is Owen speaking= in justice to myself— although what you say may be true, if I have judged your father, it has been far more on account of his children—of what I have seen of their lives.'

' You were not called upon to constitute yourself the champion of his children. Valeria, even, had no claim on your championship. It was net you whom she loved ; and you, too, tried to make Val what she was never meant to be. . . . And when you speak of our lives, Owen, can't you see that Val and Flora and Adrian and I, and perhaps David too, have come to what we were meant for ? No one can stand between another soul and life really.'

' Isn't it true that to face facts means freedom ? That's why I'm not an optimist, Owen. I am willing to face all the facts you like. But you, I think, in judging my father, have only faced half of them.'

' You find me intolerant,' he exclaimed, half-ironically. Never before had such an adjective been presented to his strong sense of his own impartiality, his detached rationalism.

' Not exactly. Only, I'm afraid—a little bit of a prig.' She uttered the strange, unimposing accusation, not rudely, not unkindly, but almost mournfully.

Christianity has been accused of intolerance very often, and with only too much reason, but those outside the Churches who frankly claim to be agnostic often seem to me to be the most intolerant of all, of what they look upon as superstition. Why should you despise

my father for beliefs that have led him to lead an honourable life, and that have given him courage to bear his many sorrows ? '

' You have said yourself that the, facing of facts means freedom. I can see no freedom, and therefore no beauty, in living in illusion.'

' Not for yourself, perhaps. Illusions could never be anything but conscious, for you.' ' Nor for yourself, Lucilla,' he retorted, swiftly. ' But how does that entitle us to despise another for holding them ? ' she demanded quite as swiftly. Nevertheless, Owen detected a lessening of severity, in so far as she bad coupled them together in her speech."

It is difficult to understand why Miss Delafield, in a book in which she airs so many interesting problems, should have

thought it necessary to end on the banal note of a marriage between Lucilla and Owen. It may be true to life that into just such a marriage would Owen have drifted, and, of course, it is not possible to say that Lucilla would have been unlikely to fall in love with him, because the prophet who dares to advance this opinion in real life is almost always put to shame by finding his conclusions utterly falsified. But for the artistic balance of the story the death of the Canon would have been a far more fitting conclusion. We do not want the picture of Lucilla living with an aunt at Torquay and of

Owen coming to the rescue, not because he loves her, but because he is so lonely at S tear. It is not a ménage to which we can look forward with any confidence ; but Miss Delafield has contrived to make her characters sufficiently lifelike for the reader to ask himself as he doses the book, " If Lucilla and Owen have children, on what principles will they bring them up ? "