The Letters of Amnabel Lee

Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 37, 30 March 1928, Page 6

The Letters of Amnabel Lee

My dear Elisabeth: "The priest will always be a priest, even though no church ordains him." Her own memorable sentence is applicable to Miss Maude Royden herself, whom quite soon we are to be privileged to see and bear. In her recent book "I Believe in God," this gifted lecturer and writer outlines so persuasively the grounds for her triumphant asseveration of her consciouness of the Divine that almost she persuades to be Christians those who dwell in the darkness of doubt. Very tolerant her charity, and extensive her phraseology as she sets forth ‘her creed of what might be termed modernised Anglicanism, Miss Royden being a potent force in the Old Land, and it is certain that our little Dominion will not fail in its gesture of appreciation and hospitality. The dear old subject of the matrimonial misfit never fails to lightly lure the thoughts of young men and maidens, old men and children, as witness the crowd that gathers to gaze with passionate attention at the outward and visible signs of a

} scrap" between Dill and his missis mn Tory Street. At present this perennial problem engages the attention of playwrights; and Mr. Robert Loraine shows power and imagination in his production of another of Strindberg’s plays unpleasant. The unattractive topic, is Mr. Kipling’s phrase, "the hatred of man for woman, the hatred of woman for man," and the exponents of the unhappy gospel a husband and wife penned up on a lonely island. To the island comes an unsuspecting young man, whom the tigerish lady forces into amorous intrigue, while all the time tragedy stalks in the offing, although the denouement strikes an unconvincing note of reconciliation between this distressing couple. More modern, if not more normal, and likewise "more suited to adult audiences," in the simple slogan of the picture proprietor, is "Regatta," another version of the _ triangle eternal, in which an Egyptian, persuasive, suave, and capable of exceedingly fiery spasms, tries his wiles with entire success upon the heart of an Englishwoman, beautiful, cultivated and of the great world. The lady vesponding with ardour, mayrriage is discussed with the alluring Oriental, the previous matrimonial tie apparently to be quite easily un-

tangled by an exceedingly accomo{dating spouse. It being represented to the chivalrous sheik, however, ‘that such a union would spell social ruin to the lady, the Gordian knot is cut by his spectacular suicide. All very entertaining, and entirely unedifying. Certain droll little books were published in the days when people of no importante desired to be taught how to comport themselves in what they termed the upper circles; these amusing compilations being termed "Habits" and Speech of Good Society," or something of the kind. Other times, other manner; and the modern version of this cult is the appointment, by a British Film Company, of a well-known society woman to act as social overseer in the production of the silent drama. A step in the right direction which it is hoped will be followed in America, remembering as one does disastrous solecisms committed in some unconsciously humorous production wherein was essayed the apparently hereculean task of reproducing men and manners in the stately homes of England.

"Pilgrims," by Ethel Mannin, enchains the attention of those interested in the many manifestations of the artistic temperament. The diagnosis of life in the studio quarter of Paris, with its faintly ironic touch, is pitiless and diverting. Truth and realism are stamped -on the description of these polyglot poseurs, who laugh and jostle and paint in this vivacious and up-to-the-minute novel concerning the world of art on the Continent. All very human and eonvincing, except the hero himself, whom Richard describes as a mug where women are concerned. Certainly somewhat of a laggard in love is this ultra-impressionistie young genius, who out-cubists Epstein in splashing portrayal of the colour of the world; and after some sordid explorations in the primrose path of the emotions, he loses his golden girl, who somewhat surprisingly gives herself to the lordly come-hither of a brilliant, Bohemian rake, who in profanity, ability and dirt is miles ahead of Mr. Locke’s Beloved Vagabond. While rambling through the best shop in town, with special favour I regarded an evening gown of black ring velvet, its slender flare of skirt and somebre distinction most agree-

able, the long slit of the V-cut corsage making attractive setting for white throat emergent; this to be purchased for the not inordinate sum of eight guineas, all further enhanced by a sprawl of decorative diamante where the hip was situated once upon a time. Also did I view in this exelusive emporium a gown of dull gold, cunningly contrived with sudden side pleats and graceful scarflike ribbons of black, lovingly clasped and crossed as they floated in the rear; this attractive garment being caleulated to arouse bitterness in those without the requisite purchase price, which is commensurate with its great merit. | Also was my eye riveted to flowers that rapturously glowed in a huge glass case, of shape and colour beside which the gentle Wordsworth’s primrose by the river’s brim would faint and die of diffident anaemia. Some there were meticulously manufactured from mother-o’-pearl, a nomenclature suggestive of caves and caverns and forsaken mermaids. In le grande tenue aecessories are of an importance quite infinite; and these flowers of shell are of exotic charm, particularly sprays of lilies-of-the-valley, bearing miraculous resemblance to those we have seen blooming under shady trees in some garden of our memory. To adapt Hood’s verseTaken up tenderly, lifted with eare.

Fashioned so slenderly, faint and so fair, and pinned to the framing fur collar, a cluster of these graceful stems is caleulated to give the last word in chie. | A cool, small water-lily also has much to commend it, appearing as though just gathered from some deep, still pool among the mountains. Which reminds one of a late photograph of the wife of the Secretary of State for the Dominions. Mrs. Amery is pictured standing outside the Hermitage in typical New Zealand seenery of snowy magnificence, and clasps to her graceful, sportsclad form a sheaf of those lovely lilies that grow on our own high hills; while in the near distance towers the splendour of Mount Cook, that Mecca of many dreams. Your

ANNABEL

LEE