LITERARY NOTES

Evening Post, Volume CV, Issue 89, 14 April 1923, Page 17

LITERARY NOTES

Received :—"The Third Winter of Unemployment," by various writers, from P. S. King and Son, Ltd., London; "The Joyous Pilgrim," by Winifred Boggs, from Herbert Jenkins, London; "Three Hundred Hints on Modern Dancing" by Edward Scott, from George Allen and Unwin, London.

Criticism., writes Mr. John Middleton Murray, in "Counties of the Mind," should opsnly accept the fact that its deepest judgments are moral. A critic should be conscious of his moral assumptions and take pains to put into them the highest morality of which he is capable. ' '

Mr. C. Ernest Faylo's second volume on "Seaborne Trade" is just out from the house of Murray. It is a record both of the effect of the submarine campaign and of the measures taken to maintain the flow of essential supplies. The author has had access to official documents in the preparing of this book, which, therefore, comes out with the highest authority.

One of the most interesting books ever written about France is "An Englishman in Paris," which gives a vivid picture of life in the French capital in the middle yes-m of the Isct wntwy, tt& author wm Albert Yaadaro, who know

Paris as few foreigners have ever known it. W'S are now promised a volume which should have an equal interest, remarks "John o'London s Weekly." It is the work of the late Henry Vignaud who was for many years Secretary of the American Embassy in Paris, and who recently died in his ninety-second year. M. Vignaud was himself of French descent and was. born at New Orleans. . A Moscow Soviet weekly says of H. G. Wells: "The chief feature of Wells as a writer and thinker is respectability. He- is respectable beyond, words; he drives'one crazy with his respectability, that most boring- of all things in this most boring of worlds." Maxim Gorky has completed a novel in which he has attempted to depict .the character of the Russian peasant. It is said to be a fearful indictment he has drawn. He contends, or has his personages contend, that the Russian peasant takes no greater pleasure in anything than in beating a woman or a child. The work is being published both in Russian and German. From the "Morning Post": The craze for' short titles seems to have abated somewhat. But a forthcoming volume i of essays from the pen of Mr. Hilaire Belloc may tend to reyive it, for his book is to receive the title of "On." The list of short titles which have already been published includes "She," "Eve," "Now," "Fan," "Tim," "May," "Leo," "Kirn," and "Why." There is a film story also called "You," and two or three years back an anonymous book called "Me" was published. But surely MiSs Mary Rinehart broke the record with "K." As there is a probability of Gay'» work*, "The Beggar's Opera," and "Polly," its sequel, being played in Australia, there is a chance that both may be brought to New Zealand. The success which has attended the revival of "The Beggar's Opera" in London haa been phenomenal, and its performance i:i these parts is. eagerly awaited. The story of "The Beggar's Opera" and "Polly," by Charles E. Pearce, author of "The Amazing Duchess," "The Beloved Princess," "Madame Flirt," etc., i will bo published immediately by Stan- | ley Paul and Co. All that is known his- I torically of Gay's masterpiece and its sequel is told vividly, state the publishers. It is no ■ dry collection of data and bare details, but an animated picture .of early eighteenth century theatrical I'ifs which enables one to realise the! surroundings amid which th,e operas were conceived. The book is packed with anecdotes,' and the amazing vitality of "The Beggar's Opera" is demonstrated in the history of its possession of the stage for nearly two centuries. The new facts relating to its sequel "Polly" are, very opportune and are of special in- j terest. j If you have not sine* the war read "The Islandere," "The Parting of the Columns," or "The Chant-Pagan," read them now and see how clear was tt» poet's vision and how far he was ahead j of his time, urges the "Christian Science Monitor" in an article on Kipling and his work. Read "The Edge of the Evening," and recall that on its publication in 1913 the idea of an elaborate German spy-system was ridicmed. Read "Th» Truce of the Bear," and remember' how absurd his critics in 1898 considered Kipling's distrust of Russia. Having done this, one cannot deny a farsightedness truly remarkable; and, finally, lest we prove ourselves as stubborn as those we now criticise, read "As Easy as A B C," whitten in 1912, and take to heart the warning against the danger of the growth of mob rule, which, unless we prepare to meet it, is likely to become the menace of the immediate future. Some astonishing feats are achieved by characters in fiction. Sir Anthony Hope, during a. discussion at Gray's Inn Hall, singled out for special mention the feat of Ouida's hero, who, when stroking the Oxford eight to victory, "outpaced all his crew in the rapidity of his stroke." Another of Ouida's characters—a woman this time—runs a horse at Ascot, wins the race, and then comes "proudly into the paddock, leading the winner of the. Waterloo Cup." Tattycoram, the jealofts servant in "Little Dorrit," trots about "with an iron box two feet square under her arm." One of Trollope's creations, Andy Scott, "whistles his way up the street, with a cigar in his mouth." Ponson dv Terrail pictures a nefarious personage "putting out a hand as cold and clammy as that of a snake." Another villain "raised his hat and disclosed two rows of dazzling white teeth," thus giving a performance as startling in its way as that of the afternoon caller who "followed a "small maid into an even smaller draw,ing-room." -Charasteristic passages occur in many letters of Lord Wolseley which are published in "The Letters of Lord and Lady Wolseley, 1870-1911," edited by Sir George Arthur. Writing, from Ismalia, a week before his night attack at Tel-el-Kebir,. he |said :—How much p'.ea-sa-nter is death from clean bullet wounds than from loathsome diseases! To be Killed in the open air, with the conviction that you are dying for your country, how different f/pm rotting to death in a hospital, or dying like a consumptive girl in an artificially heated room. I am no great lover of life, but I should like to do something for England before I die, and at best this Egptian affair cannot bo much. Besides, I should like to have one good triumph over those 1 who have striven hard to hunt me down for some years past. Recent discoveries in Egypt hare caused a perfectly unusual demand foi books of Egyptology. . Those dealing with the subject in a popular way 1 have come in for the best sale, because they give the kind of information which the average reader wants. More learned books on Egypt have, however, also dona very well, like Professor Flinders Petria's "History of Egypt," which is now appearing in a tenth and revised cdi tion. Dr. Petrie haa brought the edition up to date, and the labour which il cost to create and has cost to maintain may be gathered from the fact that it is the only work in any country which gives every dated monument and relio found in Egypt. Naturally, Dr. Hinders Petrie has been tremendously interested in the late Lord Carnarvon's discoveries, and he is shortly going to Egypt to study them on the spot. In his recently-published work on Journalism, Mr. Low Warren gives an amusing anecdote about the late correspondent of "The Times" in, China- :— On leave at the time in London, he was dining with ons of the proprietors of the paper, and during dinner his chief said to him, "Dr. Morrison, you must have met a number of interesting peopls in China. Have you seen anything &{ Li Hung Charts?" "¥««>" wns tH« reply, "I hive had several convene

tions with him."- "And what did he say to you " "Well, he is rath«r an inquisitive old gentleman, and one of the first things he asked me was how much ou paid! me for representing you." "Did you tell.him?" "Well, no; I replied, 'Your Excellency, my miserable pittance is too insignificant to mention in your august presence.' " "I did not realise," laughed Dr. Morrison, "that Mr. would not understand that this is the correct way to speak in China—where, when one is complimented upon one's home, one replies, 'My miserable hovel is only enriched by your august presence'—until Mr. leant over to me after ladies had left us and said, 'By the way, what do we pay j^>u?' I mentioned the sum, and he remarked, 'Not nearly sufficient; ire must see to it.' And they did."

The official list of the most successful authors in America has just reached the London "Chronicle." In fiction, Mi. Hutchinson leads the line with "This Freedom," and No. 22 on the list of 24 novels is the same author's "If Winter Comes." Fifth place is held by Mr. Hugh WalpoleV'The Cathedral." Then follows Mr. Sabitini's "Captain Blood," Miss Deltfs "Charles Rex," Mr. Keable's "Simon Called Peter," Mr. Farnol's "Peregrine's Progress," and Mr. Lockie's "The Tale of Triona"—seven British novelists iv a list of 24. ■ In nonfaction there are only three British authors out of 21 "best sellers"—Mr. Wells, with "Outline of History" and his shorter work, "A Short History of the World"; Professor Thomson's "Outline of Science" (sixth place), and Mr. Lytton Strachaey's "Quesn Victoria." Sir. Wells's books hold first and' twelfth places. Mr. Cove gets into seventh position with "Self Mastery."

To say that Dean Inge is one of the profound thinkers of the day, remarks the "New York Times," would be merely to iterate what is common knowledge. That lit should be nicknamed "The Gloomy Dean" is not merely unfortunate, because of the prejudice the jJJirase creates in the, mind of a reader; it is also a misnomer. The Dean's style may be ponderous—and is. But it is not gloomy. Ho; espouses Eugenics because natural selection is not operative among humans, and because rational selection is the only means of counteracting racial deterioration.. There is nothing gloomy about such a statement, albeit there is nothing sentimental. Gloomy he would be if he pointed to the deterioration and suggested no remedy, and the book throughout is vivified with- this same forward and upward-looking spirit. None of us can be the worse for reading the Dean, and most of us would probably be better for wrestling a while with his closely-knit sentences. If he teaches us nothing more than to tighten up some of our own loose thinking the exerciße will have been worth while^,

Hugh Walpole, the novelist, although aged only 38 years, has written his reminiscences for the American "Bookman." He declares that he ig "dated." He says:—Already I find that youngsters are interested when I tell them.that every day I rode from Piccadilly Circus -back to my rooms in Chelsea on a horsa omnibus, and, leaning over the front, discussed matters with the friendly old driver; that I have driven continually in hansoma; that I have often watched Fred Farren in the Empire Ballet from the shocking and. demoralising Promenade ; that I heard from Robert Ross's lips the true account of the last days of Wilde in Paris; that I saw Dan Leno in pantomime; that I watched the flight of the first aeroplane at Eendon; that I had tea with Thomas Hardy's first wife, that I wag at the first night ot Stephen Phillipa's "Herod" ; that I dined with Aubrey Beardsley's sister. . . .

Mr. W. L. George, the well-known English novelist, has some shrewd things to say about American women in his new book, "Hail, Columbia!" (Chapman and Hall)—impressions of the United States after visits occupying ten months. He says:—"lt is no exaggeration to lay down that, though not every young American woman" is pretty, she nearly always knows how to seem it. She is excessively well groomed; she takes of her hair and her hands a care that the average Englishwoman does not; she gives intelligent thought to her clothes." In the matter, of clothes and fasliion, "where the European woman suggests, the American woman proclaims:—lf I' may generalise so far as to say that the English attitude in woman is to sit down and look sweet until someone notices her, that the French attitude, is to edge away, but not too far, I suppose I may define the American attitude as a preparation to storming the mild fortress which is called the American man."

In his new book, "On a Chinese Screen," Mr. W. S. Maugham describes an incident which occurred at the ancient altar where the Son of Heaven, the Emperor, came to worship on the night of the winter solstice. He says:—Here at the very spot where the vice-regent of heaven and earth knelt down, Wiilard B. Untermeyer wrote his name in a fine, bold hand, and the town and State he came from, Hastings, Nebraska. So he sought to attach his fleeting personality to the recollection of that grandeur of which some dim rumour had reached him. He thought that so men would remember him M'len he was no more. He arrived in this crude way at immortality. But vain are the hopes of men. For no sooner had he sauntered down the steps than a Chinese caretaker, who had been leaning against the balustrade, idly looking at the blue sky, came forward, spat neatly on the spot where Wiilard B. Untermeyer had written, and with his foot smeared the spittle over the name. In a moment no trace remained that Wiilard B. Untermeyer had ever visited that place.

"Memories of a Hostess" has been compiled by Mr. M. A. De Wolfe Howe from correspondence left by Mrs. James T. Fields, the beautiful wife of a famous American publisher, who frequently entertained the literary celebrities of his time. Mrs. Fields died only eight years ago. The entry for 4th July, 1868, records that she attended a supper party after one of Dickens's readings. She writes:—"He rehearsed a scene described to him years ago by Dr. Eliotson, of London, of a man about to be hanged.' His last hour had approached as the doctor entered the cell of the criminal, who was as justly sentenced as ever a wretch was for having ended the life of his own illegitimate child. The man was rocking miserably in his chair back and forth in a weak, maudlin condition, while the clergyman in attendance, who had spoken of hi.n aa repentant and religious in nis frame of mind, was administering the sacrament. The wine stood in a cup at one side until the sacred words were said, when at the proper moment the clergyman gave it to the man, who was still rocking backward and forward, muttering, 'What will my poor mother think of this?' Finding the cup in his hands, he looked into it for a moment as if trying to collect himself, and then, putting on his regular old pothouse manner, he said. 'Gen'lemen, I drink your health,' and drained the cup in a drunken way. 'I think,'' said CD., 'it is thirty years"since I heard Dr. EHoteon tell me this, but 1 sHs-ll Hovev forget the hwrw that eeent inspired iv my mind,' '-'-