The Rector of Maliseet (1925) by Leslie Reid is an atmospheric mystery in the Machen and Blackwood vein. A young man takes up a post as the secretary to an eccentric cleric in a remote parish in the West, helping him compile a book about the legends of obscure saints. The rector’s household includes his aged mother, young daughter and a servant. The narrator is beguiled by the lonely landscape and also by the daughter.
The rector keeps two tall candles burning on the altar of his church at all times and also retires at times to a secret room in a disused wing of his house. In the course of his duties, the secretary discovers the legend of a medieval abbot of sinister reputation, whose abbey lies in ruins in a deep forest nearby, and sees a connection between the abbot and the rector.
Reid's prose is beautifully assured, gradually unfolding the mystery and strangeness with brief, subtle foreshadowings, and the descriptions of the lonely country are marked by keen and evocative observation. This is a highly accomplished first novel which remains largely unknown. I found it entrancing.
Reid wrote three other novels,
Saltacres (1927);
Trevy the River (1928); and
Cauldron Bubble (1934); and two books of non-fiction on geology and natural history,
Earth’s Company (1958); and
The Sociology of Nature (1962).
Saltacres has a more conventional and less mysterious plot: a young woman, a farmer’s daughter, is torn between the wealthy squire who offers marriage and another man she really loves. Although there are evocative scenes set in the marshes and on a holy island, and a stone circle is mentioned, the romantic tangle, which ends in tragedy, is the main theme. This is really Thomas Hardy country.
In
Trevy the River, a young man, the son of a miller’s daughter and a mysterious stranger, makes a living first as a farm labourer, then in a bookshop in a lightly-disguised Wells, Somerset, then as an under-gardener and under-footman at a country house. From childhood he has an affinity with the river that runs through the watermill where he was born, and whose name he shares: and this has led to village tales about him, with hints of the supernatural.
He also has a recurring dream of a hilltop with five pine trees upon its summit and, when he finds the hill, discovers that it is below here that his river has its source. He determines to follow the whole course of the river and has various curious encounters on the way. These episodes read like short stories linked together. The lyrical passages of delight in nature have a pagan element to them like those in the work of Algernon Blackwood. But the work is an odd sort of mixture of Dickens (adventures of an orphan) and this Blackwoodian mysticism. Even so, it is an original and distinctive book.
Reid's fourth and apparently last novel,
Cauldron Bubble (1934) is quite different to the other three. In Part 1, ‘The Mixing’, a young man, Lowrie Blane, hiking in the hills of the imaginary nation of Edwal makes for a remote inn at the ruins of the ancient Rhiannon Priory: this reads remarkably like Llanthony Priory, near Abergavenny. Here, he overhears a conspiracy for an uprising against Grendel, a nation to the east that has occupied the smaller country for 500 years. There is a contiguous country also to the west of Edwal, called Belmark, which is to support the revolt.
Some obvious parallels are clear here, but they are not exact. Edwal is geographically and culturally a thinly-disguised Wales, but with elements of Ireland in its history: for example, it is largely Roman Catholic, not (like Wales) Nonconformist; and its nationalist movement is more like that of Ireland too. Grendel is not exactly England, either: it is a republic. Nor is Belmark like Scotland, as might be supposed: it is more like Germany.
The atmosphere is at first quite like that of J B Priestley’s little-known romance of a Jacobite conspiracy,
Adam in Moonshine (1927), but not so whimsical: or of John Buchan’s slightly later Ruritanian novel
The House of the Four Winds (1935). There is to begin a breezy, adventurous tone, but this soon changes in the second part, ‘The Heating’, which is much darker.
Reid describes the well-planned uprising itself with crisp, convincing detail, and the book becomes tenser, more urgent. The idealistic hopes of a bloodless coup are soon disappointed. There are scenes of battle between the two sides in the capital city, with stark, unflinching detail about the casualties, like the first hand accounts of the First World War. The change from the lighter first part is a distinct jolt, and we see that Reid’s book is no high-spirited costume romp. This continues in the third part, 'The Cauldron Boils', when Grendel and Belmark are at war.
Leslie Hartley Reid was born in India on 17 November, 1895, the elder son of Robert Newby Hartley Reid of the Public Works Department, Madras, India. He attended Rugby school from September 1909 to 1914. He was a Lieutenant in the Royal Field Artillery, attached to a Trench Mortar Battery, and wounded in action. In 1921 he lived at Foxlease, Swanage, Dorset. He gained a Diploma in Forestry from the University of Toronto, and from 1922 worked for the Canadian Forest Service. (Source: Rugby School Register, Annotated, 1892-1921).
Earth’s Company provides a biographical notice on the dustwrapper which offers further details. Reid served in “France and the East in the First World War”, then worked in the Ontario Forestry Branch. “In 1928 he left Canada and took up teaching after gaining a degree in History at London University. Then came a teaching career of some twenty years, including thirteen at Stowe. In 1956 he retired.”
It adds: “He has been interested in Natural History since boyhood and after the Second World War began writing articles on geological and biological subjects for
The Scottish Field,
Countryman,
Contemporary Review, and
Quarterly Review. This is his first book of this kind.” That last phrase, of course, is carefully worded not to include his novels, which are not mentioned at all. Even so, they are worth rediscovering, and, of the four,
The Rector of Maliseet in particular.
Mark Valentine
Photo: From 'The Treasures of the Cope Chest' exhibition, Mark Valentine.
Mark, I recently wrote about Stella Benson's Living Alone and Gerald Bullett's Mr. Godly Beside Himself and several Washington Post readers emailed me to say that they could only find the latter in the second hand market for $75 and up. I commiserated, suggested trying a library or perhaps waiting for the book to be reprinted or digitized. I now have to tell myself the same thing since you've tantalized me with Reid's Rector of Maliseet and the only copies I can find online start at $125. As usual, another entrancing appreciation.
ReplyDeleteThere are currently two Mr Godlys on ABE for under $25.
DeleteYes, I'm sorry about that, Michael. And I really haven't acquired the whole stock of all copies! Good to hear you have written about those two books. I think both authors are a bit under-appreciated. Mark
ReplyDeleteMark - what is Earth;s Company about?
ReplyDeleteIt's about ecology, particularly the interdependence of things in nature, and the intricacy of the eco-system. A bit technical, but clearly drawing on the sense of wonder also seen in his fiction. Mark
DeleteIncidentally, just tried to find a copy of 'The Rector...'. It seems to be extremely scarce - and on Bookfinder, the only copies are selling at over £90
ReplyDeleteI'm not keen on p.o.d.books myself,but Gyan of India have a leather bound repro of Rector of Maliseet on Abe for £25 postage free. I have a similar repro of Violet Hunt's Tales of the Uneasy that they did which is a decent production.
ReplyDeleteI work at the Public Library of Cincinnati and am happy to report that we have the Rector of Maliseet in our collection. I'm going to retrieve it from the stacks on my break and it will be in queue on my reading list. I'm a bit more intrigued by your summary of Trevy River though to be honest. Thanks Mark.
ReplyDeleteExcellent, clearly a discerning library. Hope you enjoy it. Mark
DeleteThe protagonist’s romance with Miriam Clare was appealing and sometimes rang true as an evocation of first love!
ReplyDeleteReid has Leonard Carr, the narrator, write, as his feeling for her is developing, “…I may yet confidently state that all the inward and outward manifestations of the condition of being in love were there. The girl was constantly in my mind, and it would perplex me at times when I wished to conjure up her features before me, to find that I was unable to do so. She persisted on these occasions as a blurred figure, as though viewed through some opacity of misunderstanding” (p. 106). “I have laid stress on her femininity, and this, perhaps, is the quality in her that most exercised me” (p. 107).
I remember that.