BOOKS AND BOOKMEN.

Evening Star, Issue 12060, 2 March 1907, Page 4

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN.

Periwinkle.' By LiLy Grant Duff. London : John Slurray. Dunedin: Whitcombe and Tombs.

How many books have had as their heroine the beautiful, capricious, poetic girl married to the matter-of-fact husband! How many books aro there in which the soulful "heroine meets the soulful youth, and disregarding honor, husband, modesty, and all the rest of _ it, runs a-way and makes a muddle of life? And how many novels are there whose eetling is Society, Rotten Row, afternoon teas, motor cars, Cannes, Paris, titles, dressmakers, and cheap and nasty backstreet lodging-houses? We wonder. Yet every other book wo take up deals with these, and oh! how weaxyingthey are, how irritating, how petty. Wo assume there are many who liko to read them, else they would not be written, and there must somewhere be a number who feel interested in knowing that grown-up men and women, year in and year out, meet in lovely country homes to play bridge and billiards and hide-and-seek, to talk blatant nonsense, and eat dinners, and make work for tho Divorco Court. For ourselves, wo cannot enthuso over these things; we are unconscious of the least twinge of envy, and for idle men and women we have no liking. If these people who have a fascination for tho ambitious novelist could only be compelled to work and live rationally, it would bo better for themselves and better for tho world, and if—in the absence of good taste—a law were passed making it a capital offence to write novels on Smart Society, our moral and spiritual and mental atmosphere would be purified. All nr>vels of this stamp have for their pivot a breach or ..breaches of the Seventh Commandment ; all that is left for tho novelist is to manipulate Ids or her material freshly and entertainingly; failing that, wo get unredeemed nastiness and twaddle. Dinners, dress, theatres, wines, lords, duchesses, automobiles aro the same, and equally depressing, no matter where and wlton "thev are written about. To us they are uninteresting. For men and women we do care; for puppets and dolls and marionettes who say and do the same thinss in the same way in the same places we do not caro two straws. Miss Duff is clever and earnest and well-meaning, but 6he cannot mako us enthuse nor get us to like her characters. In a brief preface she savs: "This little book is not a treatise on morality, and should therefore net bo read bv persons under twenty-five or oyer thirty.'"' This may be an advertising trick to catch the hnnter after the forbidden, or merely a cryptic utterance that has tho appearance at least of much wisdom. Any way, we regard it as superfluous. Those who hunt through 'Periwinkle' for the salacious will hunt in vain. It is true the society is rotten, though that is not new. The "men and women are vicious, and their morals are in keeping with . th»ir characters, but these things have been said before to the point of boredom. Possibly tho youth under twenty-five may say "Rot!" and probably the man over thirty may answer " Ditto," but their verdict has already been ruled out of court. Periwinkle is a girl who believes she has no soul, though really she ha 6 a very line one. only, being the possessor of a pair of large" blue eyes, a clear skin, and an abundance of red-gold hair, she has more admirers than she Knows what to do with. Also, being a fairy, and destitute of the religious instinct as ordinarily understood, and having lots of money, her position in a luxurious society where men take married women to theatres and husbands take their wives' girl friends to suppers, she naturally is in some danger. However, irresponsible, unsettled creature of moods and child of nature as shb is, she marries an honorable, rich, characteristically stolid, unimaginativo Englishman who adores her, idolises her, awl makes a fool of himself and her. Of course she does not love him. although she accepted him with her eyes open, and Miss Duff may tiy as she will, but few, we imagine, will be got to think that Periwinkle had any cause of complaint. The wife pines and groans and moans and loafs and dawdles and idles, and winds up bv telling Tommy to run away wh.h her. Tommy does so; Tommy never has thought and never will; a woman, wlier&ver she is, is just a woman, only Periwinkle is the little something over. Tommy is not- half bad, and it is a pity Ik' didn't marry Pcriwinklo at first, instead of marring a "man's life before he did it—to say nothing of tho repulsive part of the business. • But Periwinkle is happy, and becomes very, very poor, and Tommy sticks to her, and they get better off. tuid Tommy dies, and. later on, so does Periwinkle. As a study in temperament ' Periwinkle' is interesting, though a trifle tedious and not very original, but as an insight in:o society and its ways it is hardly complimentary to society. We learn that a man who runs away with ar.othcr man's wife is still "at home" with tho b?st of his class, and quito familiar with their female' relatives; also that the Periwinkles are only cut by the least worthy. Then, too, wo gather that la/Iks smile at and shake hands with their husband's chauffeur and ask him in to make one with their other guests at bridge—all of which must come as a revelation to makers of books on etiquette and believers in the strictness and dexterity with which "correct" society ignores its black sheep. We think Miss Duff can do good work, but she will have to drop Periwinkles and Betties and Tommies and Pauls and Basiltons. She must get down to the realities of life and conduct, to the things that count, and 6hut out fashion plates and ladies' gossip and smart sets and moral perverts. No book is worth reading that leaves ono irritated, and that is. what 'Periwinkle' does.

Queen Alexandra's favorite romance is 'John Inglesant,' and the slender volume, says the ' Reader,' figures among the row of' books, which include the works of Shakespeare. Shellty, and Byron, introduced into the highly ornate design which makes Her Majesty's book plate one of the most original" and .suggestive owned by a modern Ijook-lover. The Queen's love of children has always caused her to delight in the better class of those books written specially with a view to pleasing ones. Her favorite story-teller is Hans Andersen, and of his exqnisite poetic fantasies Her Majesty prefers ' The Little Match Girl' and 'The Swineherd.'

Professor William Phelps, lecturing on the modern novel at Yale University, declared, the ' Tribune' correspondent says, that Russia led the world in novel-writing, beinjr followed by France and England. Ho regarded Mr nardy as the best of livine; English novelists, though of late years he had begun to write weary, futile :world-dramas.

Neither by its pretensions nor by its Bethods of warfare has ' The Times '. Book Club (says the 'St. James's Gazette') endeared itself to the British public. But wo i|ucstiop whether Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's revelation of its latest trick may not even bring a blush to the clieeks of its organisers. He publishes a letter from "Yours faithfully, "The Times' Book Club." in which that enterprising " clockfacfd gentleman" tries to use the author as its underground buyer. " There is, we believe, in the usual form of authors agreement, a. clause t<j the effect that the author may. purchase from the publisher copies of his book at trade prices, and itoccurs to us that you may have this right in respect of ' Sir Nigel.' Should that bo tlio case, we should 'as glad, if you see no objection, to obtain direct from" yon 1,950 copies, as 1,800, upon the usual trade terms." It was a most unfortunate "occurrence," for Sir Arthur happens to be a geiitlcman. Comment is superfluous. But xre doubt -wbetlier, in America or anywharo cUfc. a more shabby trick has been tried than this attempt to bribe authors into a. monstrous abuse of privileges granted in a contract as a matter of courtesy. 'The Times.' indeed, axe out of joint. A bookseller in Vienna Ras written to a cumber of well-known men, asking them to name " ten good book?." He received a number of answers, from which the following may be selected Freund selects, amongst other less wellknown works, Kipling's 'Jangle Book,' Macaulay's 'E6sayp,' and "Mare Twain's 'Sketches.' Count Lanckorowski gives, after certain classical works, which, he says, are " hors rancours," Burekliaidt'a '•Cnltaro of the Renaissance in Italy,' Lagaajat* 'Qenaaa. WrifcmW SW&batt

'Romances and Novels,' Merimee's 'Nouvelles,' Table's ' Origins de la France Conlomporaine,' Emerson's 'Essays,' Ruskin's ' Complete Works.' The count's selections are interesting, as showing rather a different field to that explored by even the most ardent English reader, who possibly has never even heard of sonic- of the works mentioned, or even of the authors. On 'The Times' Book Club and its methods Sir Gilbert Parke*, M.P., writes as follows: —"In a repent issuo qf the 'Evening Standard and St. James's Gazette' it was stated that I had signed a memorial, together with Mr A. B. W. Mason, Mr Masterman, and others, protesting against the attitude taken by 'The Times' Book Club in its controversy with the publishers.. Will you allow me'io.say that I did not sign the memorial, and am not in sympathy with the views expressed in it! I have not entered into tho controversy, but if I did I think I should find some substantial reasons for not sympathising with the principle of boycott first establistied bv the publishers, and with methods of publishing that, in some regards, are antiquated, however digiriiied; and I should probably endeavor to,show reason why 'Tho Times' might consent to a compromise, having vindicated a position which, if not without its vulnerable points, has not, to mv mind, been inimical to tho interest of authors. In any case,. I am certain that tho controversy will mark an epoch, and will lead to certain changes in methods of publishing which will be as dignified as anv other activities in great departments of" public life, and will bo advantageous to author, bookseller, and publisher alike. There is such a thing as being too dignified: and those who form themselves into trade unions must not be surprised if thev are subject to tho same criticism and attacks as aro delivered against labor unions. I have no idea that literature will be preserved or ennobled bv preventing a bookseller from selling a six-shilling book at any price he likes, provided ho pavs tho usual trade price. Those who are willing to sell books by famous authors at 6d, when tho six-shilling sale is over, should uot be so uxlignant when a bookseller having in large quantities wholesale sells at two or three shillings retail a book which has been read and US " Claudius Clear" says that Macaulay's intellect and learning were such as have hardly ever been equalled. One of the best things said about Trevelyans biography was that it served tho purpose of a warning against intellectual conceit. If a man regards his own attainments with complacency, ho may reflect that Macaulay knew ten times as much as he. If he prides himself on memory, ou speed, on the use of acquisition, lie may learn from Macaulay that, in comparison, ha is commonplace and second-rate. I do not suppose there was ever a memory like Macaulay's. A few instances may be given. When be was ei™ht years old he read Scott's 'Lay of the Last Minstrel' once. Ho was immediately able to repeat it canto by canto to his mother, lie said himself—and he was a very modest man — that if 'Paradise Lost' and the 'Pilgrim's Progress' vanished he could restore them fiom memory. Once when a young man he picked up a country newspaper in a coffee room at Cambridge, raid read two trivial pieces that filled the poet's coiner. After forty years he was able to repeat these pieces. " He seemed to read through his eyes. The page photographed itself at G:;ee"on his mind, and the impression retrained there. Most of us have to get up the things we can repeat by saying them over and over again to ourselves ors to others, but for Macaulay there was no such necessity. Tho one reading was enough, and it did not seem to matter whether he was interested in the subject or not. All things came to him with equal ease. He was never burdened or hampered by his memory. It filled his mind with the pleasantest and most illuminating associations.

After reading tho above a correspondent (Mr J. A. Clapham) wrote the editor of the 'British Weekly' as follows:—One, of my most valuable and highly-prized manuscriptsl' is Macaulay's parting address to the electors of Leeds before he left for ITndia. You refer to his conversation. He sat to my dear mother's right hand at a dinner party, and she said she never remembered to have heard anyone more clear in his enunciation, except it were I)r M'All, of Manchester, who was one of the greatest preachers of the first half of the nineteenth century. One of those who can. or could, repeat cantos of Sir Walter Scott is plad to know that Mncaulay could repeat the 'Lay of the Last Minstrel' after once reading- it. His memory was something wonderful! 'The Songs of the Sierras' created considerable interest on their publication thirty-five years ago. . The author is still alive and sixty-four years of age. If he has never quite repeated that popular success, he can look back upon a varied life. His adventures began with his christening, when he received the names of " Cincinnatus Keine." These he discarded, and adopted "Joaquin." (pronounced "W.wkeen"). At thirteen he went to seek his fortune in California. After a wandering life of seven years, having been twice wounded in war with the Indians, he came home to learn to be a lawyer. The next year he was an express messenger in the gold-mining district of Idaho, and left this to edit the 'Democratic Register' at Eugene. At tho' age of tTrenty-one he oiiened a lawyer's office in Canon City (Oregon), and, the new city being invested by hostile Indians, he headed an expedition against them into their own country, but was breaten back. From twenty-four to twenty-eight he was County Court Judge of "Grant County. Then came a visit to London, wheru he met Svrinburno and other great men, and was much lionised. 'Tho Songs of the Sierras' wero published when he was twenty-nine. Miller has lived for many years a few miles across the bay from San T» rancisco. The eighty-seventh anniversary of tho birth of " George Eliot," at South Farm, Arbury, Warwickshire, was duly honored. The house in which she was born stands in much the same condition as it did on November 22, 1819. Descendants ol those from whom she drew many of her characters still live in the districts of which she wrote, and one of her nephews —Canon F. It. Evans, son of "Tom Tulliver," of the ' Mill on the Floss,' and grandson of the original of " Adam 15ede " —is Rector of Redworth.

Mr Watts-Punton says : " George Eliot's fame has suffered from the ' swing of the pendulum' against that excessive laudation of which during life she was made the subject—if not the victim. A reaction against her was inevitable. But, as the only imaginative writer of her time who saw human life through the lens of the new cosmogony, and fearlessly . told what she saw, she has an assured place in the literature of England. And, besides this, it is in delineations of human character, in profound divings into ' the abysmal deeps of personality' such as results in portraits like that of Arthur Donnithorne, Dinah, Morris, Romola, Maggie Tulliver, Tessa, that she displays her, strength of hand—a strength which only the great masters display. She was no poet, to he sure; but in some of her probings into the deep sophisms by which man's soul shelters itself from the assaults of conscience—the stings of the ' ayenbite of inwyt,' as an old English writer calls these assaults—she ranks not only with the great novelists of the world, but also with the great poets. In the painting of Bulstrode in ' Middlemareh/ for instance, she enters into worthy competition with those few masters of tragedy who have ventured to use passive murder as the tragic mischief of drama. Not even Browning, in what is perhaps his masterpiice, Martin Relph, is more successful in dealing with this tremendous subject thai* George Eliot." In the latest volumes of the ' New English Dictionary' Dr Murray and Mr Henry Bradley give some very interesting examples of how words have come into the word extends our vocabulary. For instance, the discovery of photography has led to 234 words being added to the language. Dr Murray fixes March 14, 1839, us the birthday of the word " photography." It was pn that day that Sir John Herschel used it in a paper which he read before the Royal Society.'. The new vpid took #M>t in Fr»nc«,'"fliid two or

three months later, when Argo made his report to tho Chamber of Deputies concerning the pension of M. Daguerre, 4ie quoted " photographic " •as _ a generallyaccepted word, Mr Craigie traces the word " Renaissance " back to 1845, whon it was used by Ford, the father of Sir Claire Ford, in his well-known. ' Handbook to Spain.' The word had, however, appeared relating to architecture five yeara earlier in TYollope's ' Summer in Brittany:' Then John Buskin employed it frequently in his '.Stones of Venice,' yand soon it joined the family, not as a stranger, butras a familiar word in common use.