BOOKS AN BOOKMEN.

Evening Star, Issue 14054, 8 May 1909, Page 4

BOOKS AN BOOKMEN.

‘Life of-Sir George Grey,’ Governor, High Commissioner, and Premier; an historical' biography. By James Collier. Christchurch and Dunedin: Whitcomb© and Tombs. The most fallible and unreliable judges a great man are his own contemporaries. Their verdict rarely counts and their judgment is seldom endorsed when posterity comes to sum up. The men who have known the hero at short range, who have seen and met him in the flesh, who have participated in the debates and controversies that he has shared, arc not the men best qualified to draw his fulllength portrait. At most, they can only give us detached and isolated glimpses, details of personal idiosyncrasies and failings, or draw him as he appeared to them. For the man, _his work, and its permanent effects an his own and succeeding generations we must bo content to wait. It is not necessary to multiply instances in point. Washington to-day is the greatest and most illustrious name in the history of his country; to numbers of his contemporaries, when he finally quitted the Presidency, he was the object of much abuse, and Ms retirement from public life was openly exulted in and declared to be to the advantage of the nation and people. There is not a statesman of note who has not been as much execrated as praised by his immediate age. The scorn and the adoration are alike distorted and unduly overdone. In literature, of course, it is a commonplace that the giants of our day were the pigmies of their own. The booksellers of the thirties of the nineteenth century not only did not stock the works, but some of them did not know the names of Keats and Shelly, and whether it be poets, or rulers, or statesmen, the truth is the same. The Napoleon who for the last twenty years has been the subject and object of a ceaseless succession of biographers, painters, poets, dramatists, and authors_ was forgotten in that France he loved (if he loved anything) a few years after his exile. “The news of his death, ’ says the Countess De Boigne. “ when cried _ by the newsboys in the streets of Paris, did not stir a ripple of public interest. The people heard it with indifference. Those who have been in personal contact with the hero are netcompetent to study him and his age either impartially or as a whole. Many vears must pass before the chronicler can get a true perspective, and only when tho° passions that were stirred and flamed have died down, and what was done can be weighed and measured, are we able to assign a Gladstone or Disraeli, a Seddon or Grey, his Mstoric niche. Hence it is nowadays that the verdicts of history are being rewritten. We axe not content to accept personal memoirs, human documents, ancient chronicles, classic manuscripts, as infallible, however interesting they be. The persons who wrote them vrere human; therefore they erred. All probably were partisans; some were notable to test the valne of evidence; hearsay and gossip attracted them, and their judgments are far from final. Possibly the business of white-washing our pet historic Of turning the cursed Claverhouse into the humane and chivalrous Christian soldier, is earned too far, but it is a tolerably safe assertion that men and women have been and are much the same fn every age; and, therefore, the absolute monster is not inherently probable save at rare intervals. Be this as it may, a statesman s contemporaries are not his best judges. Their histories are biased, either for or against, and in each the nan rator of necessity is hampered by his personal knowledge and personal sympathies. . Wftory. for example, of Mr Seddon is possible for many years while the frankly eulogistic “whole hoggers” axe hopelessly at sea. Men of dominating personality, masterful bearing, strong and arrogant paspons, no matter what their administrative and, legislative achievements are, cannot within a few weeks, months, or yearn cf --yheir death be historically weighed and tndgraphically summed up. We must wait until the roughnesses have been worn smooth by the healing touch of time- we must forget the petty smallnesses and irrimtmg littlenesses that so angered us when he was m the flesh; then, when the man and Ms work are regarded, say, fifty or a hundred years from now, the world mav be told, and told truthfully by the historian of genius, just how much these were worth to their own and, after generations. Sir Georg© Grey has been dead a little over ten years, but he was four years away from 3W Zealand as a retired, unknown resident in England before the end came. The toas is far too young to look for an adequato appraisement; there are too many left who knew Sir George Grey as well if not better than did Mr Collier. None the Collier has written a fascinating to eloquent, and an attractive biography* He never weanes his reader; he is bright' crisp, and fflmnmating; he knew his mte ject well, and he surveys him with admirahlo impartiality. There is no whiteTratomg an( j n0 halo. Sir George had faults grave, unruly, ugly faults—faults of temper, of intellect and character. We cannot _ wonder that not many “ got on with Mm,” that he had no friends, that the most loyal followers could not work with mm. He was simply impossiblesome would say “mad’’-and he dwindled and sank from his Mgh estate to a party shunned, derided, neglected. The seekers after news fought shy of Mm; legislators (we are referrino- to his in yawned, and left the Chamber when he stood up • the Press ignored, or ridiculed, or chattoN Mm. We all know these things, but knowing, themwe are not of these who sav that their verbatim setting forth would Jive ns a true presentation of “the people’s tribune. Sir George was a man bom out of duo season. As a dictator in the days of Imperial Rome his talents would hav-e a ad JS? a!th ough we are doubtful whether they would have worked for the betterment or disaster of the race But an autocrat in a democracy has no chance even when, as in Sir George Grey’s case, he himself largely helped to call that democracy into being. We are to-day in New Zealand living under legislation which for the meet part, had its origin in the ferule brain of Sir George Grey. He sowed the seed, the practical, Mr Seddon gathered in the harvest? And epiie of temper and passion and hatreds and magnificent rhetorical mouthing Sir George Grey will live in history as an Imperial statesman and an Empire-builder. His name will be mentioned with those of Durham, Bhodes, Milner, Cromer, Clive Hastings, Seddon, and others whose work ifi apt to be hidden hr the more popular and brilliant conquests of the soldier. We might, had w© space, question some of Mr Collier’s less important conclusions. We doubt whether Sir George Grey’s etmnpirutour in 1887 had anything to do with th” defeat of the then Premier (Mr Collier, for gome scarcely perceptible reason, avoids the use of names when discussing New Zealand politicians). Sir Eobert Stout was beaten for Dunedin East because he had allied himself with Six Juliua Vogel, and, in the opinion of a majority of his old supporters “gone back” on his own political faith! Sr George’s name was never mentioned, or, if mentioned, certainly not as a factor in the contest. We question the soundness £>f Mr Collier’s reference to Sir George as an orator. We know that it is customary to wax; enthusiastic in this relation. Personally, we heard Sir George Grey but once. The Garrison Hall, Dunedin, was packed and piled with struggling hundreds and the orator spoke for an hour” and ariialf’ It was,, if memory serves ns, most pitiably disappointing as an oratorical exhibition, and tong, long before he had finished the vast audience behind us had melted away, leaving empty space enough for hundreds! We think, too, that Sir George Grey was not so important a person in England a 6 Mr Collier implies. We find it hard to believe that “ when Seddon went to London ” the fact that “Grey renewed his acquaintance with him ” gave Seddon “ public countenance” can be a correct presentation. In the Jubilee year Mr Seddon, as the Dominion’s representative, would not need “countenance” from anyone save his hosts. However, these are mere differences of view point. The great thing is that Mr Collier has written a very fine life—judicial, candid, i ■ fait—of one of “ the makers of Australasia.”

’ St. Jude’s,’. By lan Maclaren. -London: 1 The Religious Tract Society. Dunedin : New Zealand Bible, Tract, and Book Society. The above is a collection of ten incidents in the career of Mr Carmichael as minister of St. Jude’s Church, Glasgow. It is atiiong the last work of tills gifted writer,’ great preacher, and good man. Mr Carmichael constitutes the connecting link between each incident, otherwise each stands by itself. If we remember rightly, they were first published in the ‘ Sunday at Home.’ It is not- necessary to do more than say that this neatly-bound, wellprinted, . and cheaply-issued edition treats of the minister and his congregation to indicate its scope. Humor, pathos, and high ideals, deftly handled and simply set forth, abound. ‘ St. Jude’s ’ should be read both for its author’s and its own sake. LORD BYRON AND GREECE. The centenary of Lord Byron’s first visit to Greece is to bo celebrated this year. The Greeks, among whom the name of the great English poet who died for Greece and for her cause is as greatly beloved and-venerated as the names of their national heroes, are preparing for this anniversary in a peculiar way. The Parnassus, which is the first literary society in Athens, will appoint a commission in order to choose from Lord Byrons’ works all the poems relating to Greece, and to arrange a competition for the translation of these fragments into modern Greek. The poems will then bo published. On March 15 M. Caclamanos, the head ! of the Press Bureau of the Foreign Ministry, and one of the most prominent literary men, presided at a conference organised by the Monde Hellenique on Lord Byron and his deeds in Greece. The conference was held in the hall of the Parnassos Society, and was attended by a largo number of people. M. Caclamanos related the particulars of Lord Byron’s first visit to Greece, recalling the poet’s impressions and his passion for the “ Maid of Athens” celebrated in his poems. He then dwelt at some length on Lord Byron’s second visit to Greece, and strongly opposed Ho theory that Lord Byron was really indifferent to the Greek cause, and visited the country because he was sick of life, and was in search of the excitement- which his temperament required. M. Caclamanos carefully analysed Lord Byron’s -intellect and character, and said that time had shown that the unexpected rising of the Greeks and their heroic struggles for liberty had impressed Lord Byron's mind and touched his heart to such an extent as to force him to come to their assistance. In speaking of England the speaker said'that she exerted herself to the utmost in aid of any noble or righteous even when it was op posed to her political interests. After a touching description of Lord Byron’s death at Missolonghi, he concluded as follows: —“ Lord Byron’s name has become as a Greek name—-as those of the most glorious of our national heroes. Our gratitude makes him ours. Our love immortalises him a second time.” In the course of the conference M. Caclamanos read some of the best of Lord Byron’s poems, and the chief incidents connected with the poet’s work in Greece were illustrated by limelight views. THE LATEST “GREAT BOOK.” Dr Robertson Nicoll’s latest “great book” is by Arnold Bennett. Whether the public will take the hint we cannotsay, but Dr Nicoll has made so many discoveries that have not been followed by fame for the discovered that we have doubts about Mr Bennett. True, the famous doctor discovered Barrie and lan Maclaren, but two swallow's do not make a summer. We are afraid that Dr Nicoll, like the rest of us, praises what he likes, and does it w'hole-heartediy. However, here, in part, is what he says of his verv latest “great book”:

I am prepared to maintain against all comers that at least one really great novel has been published in 1908, and I am deeply disappointed that somehow I missed the book when it appeared. ‘ The Old Wives’ Tale,’ by Arnold Bennett, is published by Messrs Chapman and Hall. The other evening, having a couple of hours to spare, I found this book at the top of a heap, and took it up to read. It kept mo busy and happy till two o’clock in the morning. How it is that I should have known so little about Mr Arnold Bennett’s powers as a novelist I cannot understand. I here is no book in the fiction of recent years that I should rank as equal to it. The first part is not the best, and readers are in danger of breaking off after about a hundred pages. If they do so they will lose a great deal. The story is a masterpiece, and it only lacks a touch of poetry to put it in the very front rank. —“Nothing Like It.”—

• . . It is obvious that such a theme needs very careful handling, and Mr Arnold Bennett has shown himself nothing less than a master. We follow with the deepest interest the course of these lives so strangely contrasted, and yet cominctogether into some sort of unity in the end. The merit of the book is that it gives a most, unusual impression of genuineness and truth. There is plenty of art in it, but, above everything, it is true in the sense not only of correctness, bnt also of completeness. The effect is produced by many little touches, the collective effect of which is overwhelming. Personally I should have liked certain details omitted, but Jt 18 obvious that the writer feels that he needs them for his purpose. Perv 6 which he holds towards Methodism is one of appreciative unbelief —the attitude of George Eliot to Evangelicalism. But it is with a singular justice and patience that the whole subject is treated. I come back again to the thorough and manifest truthfulness which is toe impression left bv the storv. Mr Bennett is possessed with the idea of tellmg the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. • He is almost too contemptuous ol epigram. You feel that he never tries to say anything remarkable, though he is constantly saying remarkable things. He is nobly impartial, and understands Constance and her husband just as ho understands Sophia and her husband. He writes of Pans as he writes of Bursom, _ and a special word of praise must Tk g k C! ! T . or 1 - us descri Ption of the siege, the hook nas its proper share of color and vivacity, buu the mam thing is that it is a real book. I have read none like it for a very long time, and am commencing a course Oi the author’s novels. MISCELLANEOUS. Mrs Humphry Ward in eariv life was a resident of a part of Greater Britain— Jasmar.ia. Sno was bom in Hobart, the lasmanian metropolis, while her father toe late Ihomas Arnold, was the Government Inspector of Schools. On the materr- J ! it- Ward is descended from Colonel >-orrell one of the early Tasmanian Governors. Her father mentions in His autobiograpny that he was accompanied on fme or his examination tours bv his little daughter Mary Augusta, so that if Mrs Ward ever write a novel with a lasinaman background she can draw upon memory.' 1 The habit of reciting poetry aloud in strange places has its inconveniences. M r vV 1 ' St « ad ~t el!s a stor y Of what befell Madame Novikoff (the famous “0.K.” of the seventies and eighties, whose memoirs have just been published under Mr Stead’s auspices), who once suffered from that habit, at Claridge s Hotel. She had rung the bell for the waiter, and then walked up and down her long room declaiming Tennyson’s familiar lines ; ° Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold, Ring out the thousand wars of old,’ Ring in the thousand years of peace! She paused, and saw, to her amazement that the winter had entered the room unoh! served. He looked at her for a moment and then said, with his broken German accent, bewildered: ‘I beg vour pardon mum, I was listening all the time, but I can t make out your orders.’ ”