RANDOM SHOTS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 197, 18 August 1906, Page 12

RANDOM SHOTS.

BY

Some write a neighbour's, name to lash; Some write — vain thought — for needful to please the country clash, And raise a din. For mc, an aim I never fash— I write for fun.

Enthusiasm is said to be a flower that perisheth quickly under the damp-rnin-T effect of adverse circumstance That° may he the general rule, hut it doesn't apply to the enthusiasm which pertameth to the football field. Being *bred in the winter, it seems to delight in roughing it, and when once established in a man—or woman—it thencely and for all time becomes a partner in the firm. In i act ' ii; loses no tlme ln assuming the reins of government entirely, and blow high, blow low, in foul weather, wet, or indifferently otherwise, leads its willing victim to the shrine of the hollow little leathern idol. The match at Alexandra Park last Saturday between Canterbury and Auckland was a cheerful and convincing instance. The rain it rained, and Boreas played it merrily—l am not vouching for the quarter, hy the way-~but though shivering as with an ague, and wet as a fish, the crowd abated its. ardour not one little jot, and saw it jput to what an ordinarily constituted fnortal would have considered a very "bitter end. One touching instance illustrative of the dizzy extent to which it is possible for the whole-souled devotee to enthuse is worthy of being chronicled. Just before the bell heralded the appearance of the heroes, a little family party arrived. It consisted of husband, wife, and a perambulator, containing [■.-hat was probably —judging by the apparent ages of the proud parents—the first-born to the heritage of its forbears' virtues. And this little caravan lined up at the rails with the rest, what time the elders of the party lost count of hours and minutes in the all-absorbing game, whilst the youngster was lulled between the gusts by the hoarse roar of the madding crowd. If that hopeful doesn't grow up to be a perfervid follower of football, then I'll swear off all belief in heredity. *_-4**_ , *l*4"'i4"l"*l"JOn the subject of dramatic compositions generally, and musical comedies in particular. I am not going to discourse seriously about the artistic or musical value of "The Lady Typist"—though I must say that I think it was very enterprising of Mr. Thomas Humphreys to write, compose, and stage the piece. But I am unconcerned just now chiefly with the remark that I have heard from several people, not only about this play, but about lots of others of the same type (I beg pardon, I didn't mean that for a joke), to the effect that they are not '•original." When you come to think of it, isn't it rather hard on musicians and humorists to demand that they shall always write things that no one has ever thought of before? As to humour, in the first place—has not the greatest of modern English humorists, Mr. W. S. Gilbert, publicly declared that all the good jokes have been made, and lamented in

str_____ over the irrevocable passHi* away of the good old times when "original" jesting was still possible? Yes, it must have been an easy sort of life for the "public buffoon" in those long vanished days when ""no one knew where Aaron was when M«sses put the candle out, and no one had discovered that a door could be ajar." And though I really can't agree with Mr. Gilbert that "the vein of jocularity in the present anno domini is worked distinctly out," yet I always sympathise with the people who have to supply jests for public consumption. After all, I don't believe that there could be any literary or intellectual feat equal in severity to the task of providing a mixed audience for a whole evening with jokes that they have never heard or thought of before. •_••_•._.._»_"_• •_* *_»<i"i? And then as to music. It seems to mc that absolute originality in music must be even more difficult to achieve than entire novelty in humour. Because though limits of form and the possibility of expression are not easily reached in music taking it as a whole, you can't pretend that the range of light opera or musical comedy is immensely wide. Our Auckland composer has chosen to write the kind of play which we have all seen something like, often enough, before; and it is not his fault that the general public has so got used to the tricks of the musical trade. Long acquaintance with Gaiety Girls, and Shop Girls, and Runaway Girls, and Circus Girls, and oth r girls in all sorts of dilemmas musical and otherwise, has so thoroughly accustomed U3 to the musical comedy style that we can anticipate what inevitably must come, next before we hear it. Of course, sheer and genuine originality is almost impossible now in any walk" of life. As de Musset says somewhere, "the man who plants cabbages imitates, too"; and so assuredly must the man who starts out _t this hour of the day to write a, musinal comedy. But, apart from this necessary general resemblance in style, and treatment and character of musical composition, I think it a very rash and illconsidered critic-ism to contemn any such work because it isn't startlingly original. It may be "reminiscent" of all sorts of things" we have heard before; but considering the number that we have heard, and the very narrow range of music that they necessarily cover, how in the name of reason could it be anything else? To write a piece of this class which would not remind us of all the other musical comedies that have been written, from the -Belle of New York" down to the "Earl and the Girl," would be to write something that would not answer to the definition oi a musical comedy at all. <_*._••_<•_•£._•»_•'_••_••_■ Talking about "reminiscences"—-or plagiarism, if you don't want to be quite so polite—l came across some interesting evidence on this subject the other day, connected with literature of another kind. Mr McLellan, who first hurst upon a startled world as the author of "The Belle of New York," has -written a play, "Leah Kleschna," which has for thetne the moral regeneration of a girl who has been brought up as a thief. A short time since a certain Mr ■aannan arose and informed the general public that he too had written a play on cW- ame and that "Leah KlesS.^caS 1 ":'-'-irom his composiW:.*o*_iy SS^ tua -r that in *kiei, a a fa *her -who was a y ute « "whom he trained to be

a. thief, and a hero Whom the daughter loved, and from whom she was sent to steal But Mr McLellan was also able advance such conclusive proofs of originality that even Mr Hanhan was convinced, and withdrew his .charge. This same Mr Hahnan had already had an experience with plays that might have made him more careful about charges of plagiarism. He lately produced in London a one-act play called "Which and Why,-" and a London paper promptly drew attention to the close resemblance of this piece to the well-known "Mice and Men," illustrating his views by printing extracts from the two plays in parallel columns. Yet Mr Hannan was able to prove that he had written his play ten years before "Mice and Men" was produced. There are many. other well-known instances of the same kind of literary coincidence. At one time Mrs Humphry Ward and Mr Zangwill were both writing for "Harper's," and in the same number of the magazine they introduced into their stories a scene laid at Orvieto, even the circumstances being very closely similar. Then there is the case of Sir Conan Doyle, who had heard that in a certain mountain inn two men were shut up for the winter, wholly cut off from the lower world by the snow. He began to imagine a tragic situation for them; what if one of them went mad or killed himself ? He had worked out a story on these gruesome lines, and was just about to write it when he picked up a volume of Guyxle Maupassant, and there he found the whole story, just as he had intended it to run. After this, who will venturo to talk about plagiarism in literature? Or for that matter, in musical comedy? It seems that sectarianism can still rim riot, even in this generally tolerant community. I observe that the Protestant Defence Association has seen fit to write to the Governor and to Mr- HallJones in regard to the religion of Sir Joseph Ward,, presumably representing the Association's objection to a Premier belonging to the sect to which its own principles happened to be opposed. Now, there are things in this world that both can and cannot be done". One of them is grossly to intrude upon a public man's private life, on the grounds of sectarian or political principle. To some people nothing is easier and more natural; but to others, and I sincerely hope they are in a majority, nothing is more certainly impossible. It is} of course, open to anyone to take what view he likes of a public officer's religion; but it is not open to him to make an overt protest against a circumstance that is not known to him through open channels. And this should be an elementary principle of civic ethics, to which no exception can be allowed. If Sir Joseph Ward were to en-

deavour to grant special to the Roman Catholics, I should be among the first to protest. But if it is a question of whether the Prime Minister should be a Roman Catholic, I say that that is not a public matter; and if someone tells me.that Sir Joseph Ward is of that religion, my only public answer ought to be: "I did not, do not, and cannot know anything of that." But I am afraid these reasons will hardly appeal to the Protestant Defence Association, which will forthwith argue that I, too, am a Roman Catholic. *_?*_**_**_**_*<_: *_"_yX*i_* Having preached inconsistency in others so often, may I plead to be allowed for once to be inconsistent myself? The fact is that once upon a time I was hardy enough to find only mirth in Esperanto, and I wrote one or two shots about it that while certainly quite lacking in any malicious intent, may have presented the appearance of ridicule. The other day 1 happened to be in an Auckland bookshop, when I espied a little grammar of the subject, and the sudden thought flashed across my mind: "Why not.give the thing a trial?. You are a Briton, and should love fair-play. What right have you to a prejudice against a language of which you are as ignorant as a Choctaw Indian?" And of a sudden I felt strangely humbled as I remembered that never yet has a new thing—no matter how magnificent its possibilities—failed to encounter ridicule merely because it was new. Conscience being stirred, I paid for the grammar, pocketed it, and returned home with a fixed resolution to give Esperanto a month's fair trial. At present I have given it between two and three hours, and I hasten to write that my views have undergone a complete change. After less than three hours [ knew more of that language than I have known of any other in three months, while I learned to count in it in three minutes, a feat that is assuredly impossible in any other tongue in the world. Moreover, it is rather a pretty language, and the appearance of the phonetic signs does little justice to its softness when read-aloud. *_?»_- 4*-* l"*_' •_**_- _?^_"i_* Now when at the end of less thp.n three hours I can make sentences more easily than a fifth form schoolboy can make them in French after fully a year, it does seem to mc that this is a subject that invites very close attention from pracical men in all civilized countries. !So I 'am glad to notice that the London Chamber of Commerce has now lent Esperanto its support, while Sir William i Ramsay and other scientists are among its sanguine supporters. And surely if a language can be not only "mastered," but learned thoroughly, intimately, and as you may say finally in six months at an hour a night, and that by thoroughly ordinary people, surely its possibilities as a commercial and scientific medium of expression are practically unlimited. Once I thought Esperanto was in the province of the cranks; now f realize humbly and with repentance that it is a splendid scientific instrument that has come to aid the diffusion of knowl.dffP. And that is why I preferred to acknotledge what I now consider my cn«r rather than to nourish a ioolish "consistency."