BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

Evening Star, Issue 19388, 23 October 1926, Page 14

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

VERSES THE LONELY FARING. 0 my dear, my dear! If wo wore talking, If we were walking Tho old, old ways by the wizard stona I But it’s one comes only; ’Tis I go lonely, Walking and talking with myself alone! 0 my dear, my dear! I see 110111 your eyes, I hear as it flies Your song go round by the old hearth stone! But you come never By loch or by river; Far out I am faring alone, alone! Jessie Alackat. IN GALILEE. Herod the King came sounding through Capernaum gate with a revelling crew; Beyond his garden of sycophants, Ho saw but a thousand crawling ants. Judas the Mammonite masked his heart With a crooked smile in Capernaum mart, — And up tho street as he went his way, He saw but a thousand masks of clay. John the dreamer walked up and down The streets of old Capernaum town; And naught ho saw with his raptured eye But a thousand phantoms hurrying by. Soft as snow to Capernaum drew Jesus the Christ, and no man knew. He saw as in a painted scroll The ant, the mask, and tho phantom soul. But in and over and back of them all, He saw, by old Capernaum wall, The angel of each to whom was given To stand before their God in Heaven. Jessie Alackay. REAL NEW ZEALAND VERSE

grIORE JESSIE HACKAY A new book of verses by Miss Jessie Mackav, however small, is an event in New Zealand literature. She is no facile singer, but the sybil whose rare utterance springs upward from the depths of her trance. It must be waited for, but it is worth waiting for when it comes. There was a little book, almost forgotten now—the first —which was published in 1889. ‘ The Sitter on the Rail, and other Poems ’ followed two years later. Bundles of the small, paper-covered volume could be bought m a certain book shop at sixpence a copy a few years ago—a rich investment for whoever shall preserve them long enough. It revealed tho strength of Miss Mackay’s early interest in politics, which have never ceased to absorb her in their larger aspects, though she no longer confuses them with her poetry. It contained also enough genuine lyrics to convey the promise which was not fulfilled, in more than a fugitive way, until ‘ From the Maori Sea ’ appeared in 1908, seventeen years afterwards, and that also was a foretaste more than a book. Eighteen out of its nineteen poems were repeated, two years later, as part of the contents of 1 Land of the Morning,’ a far’ more important publication. The vintage has been smaller in the sixteen years that have since elapsed, but it is not less precious in quality. . ‘ The Bride of the Rivers, and other Verses,’ which now appears, contain.? twenty-one poems, republished from various sources, as compared with fifty-two in ‘ Land of the Morning.’ We are back to tho slim, paper-covered booklet. But that _is purely transitional. Someone will give us, some day, the ‘ Complete Poems of Jessie Mackay,’ and when that volume is published it will be the most important book, from the standpoint of pure literature, which any New Zea-lander-born has yob produced. Half the poems that are published in the best literary journals overseas would not bear comparison with those of this latest volume. What a gift this shy authoress has for delightful phrase. She writes a poem on South Canterbury—writes it for once for a mere special occasion; but South Canterbury was her birthplace, and in her second line she describes it “Brideand darling of the rivers.” The words are a caress upon the lips. She cries a keening for the deaths of Arthur Griffiths and Michael Collins (in the Gaelic, Art Bog and Michael Oge), and one line describes the whole tragedy of I the former’s end, baited to death by j those who should have been bis helpers: i “ Tho groat heart broke when the last ! cord frayed.” How simply and directly 1 she rises let a collection of first lines toll.

“ITp, ho! Ivan the Black!” “Who’s bound for Palestine?” “Lost, lost, lost, lost!” And with what sublimity can the opening bo; All days have boon the Judgment Day Since Time and Sin began. That ghostly court was tiered in air The day that man was man. Or with what magic? Two there loved in Lyoncsse,— Lost land of fire the billows hold. Ah, the fairy drink of Ireland! Ah, the waking in the Fire-land 1 Ah, the hollow British queening, And the bitter Breton keening! Ah, the queening of Isolde!

Imagination, drama, heauty of word and thought are all to he found in these verses. Their richness of sound and color makes the work of one honored British poetess of this last generation cold and statuesque by comparison, and where else, among living poets justly esteemed, can be found their variety? Ballad poem, descriptive poem, allegory, elegy, Maori war chant, all are here. When the thought itself is less than profound, how felicitous its expression can be! Art Beg and Michael Oge, Erne shall rise, God’s pence upon her like a dew from the skies. Rest here was none for you;,this did you crave— God’s peace flowing from -the altar of your grave! The verses are in tho Celtic tradition, and in any future anthology of Celtic verse tho best of thein would deserve a place. The ‘ Gathering Song of Donald the Black ’ re-echoes itself in ‘ A Maori Battle Song,’ but, except that one rhyme may lose force in its novelty, how vigorous is the adaptation: Up like the snow-waters, Rising and rushing! On like the loosened rock, Bounding and crushing! Up with you, ou with you, Lake-men and hill-men; Boys were you yesterday; This day you kill menl Patna, Patna, Ka Mate, ]ni!

There is nothing trite or conventional in Miss Mackay’s verses. But we cannot quote the whole hook. We shall merely mention ‘ For Antony,’ a dramatic contrast in eight lines which could hardly be surpassed for effectiveness and compression. The mysticism can bo too eibylline s ' on occasions, in re-

A LITERARY CORNER

quiring something like the faculty of second sight on the reader’s part to pierce its meaning, but that is rare, The point is that these are verses by a New Zealand-born poet, and New Zealand should be proud of them. If the twelve best poems that have been written by New Zealanders-born should bo impartially chosen, it is not difficult to believe that six of them would have $o corno from tho work of Miss Jessie Mackay, though they would not all come from this book. And of the Now Zealand-born writers, younger that she, whose “ ingathered sheaves ” forerun their tilth, we know none, unless it is Miss Eileen Duggan, who gives any sure promise of equalling her achievement. So that the value of this book is only commercially stated at half-a-crown. Simpson and Williams, Christchurch, publishers. MEW BOOKS ‘The Black Hunter,’ by James Oliver Ourwood (Hodder and Stoughton). Those readers who know Mr Curwood’s work at its best will bo glad of the assurance that this book is up to his highest standard. It deals with one of tho most interesting and romantic periods of history—that of the French occupation of Canada and the struggle between France and Canada for the possession of Quebec. As the author says in hk foreword, it is a period which embraced tho very birth of both the American and Canadian peoples. Mr Ourwood says that out of these days were born tho writer’s own ancestors, and that the unhappy and misled Mohawk nation gave to him an Indian maid, for a great-grandmother has been to him a source of unending pride, and this pride has grown into a desire to write of times in which, if he had been the arbiter of his own destiny, h© would gladly have liyed. Historical accuracy has been his aim, but it is no dry history. On the contrary, it is a highly exciting romance, in which the pages are crowded with love, fighting, and intrigue. Beautiful maidens, French and English soldiers and statesmen, scoundrels and men of honor, and Indian scalping parties all appear on the stage. The scenes shift from the gay city of Quebec, full of love and laughter, to the sombre woods where the Indian brave lies waiting for , his enemy. _ A tense drama is presented, and it is a record of events in a period fateful to tho British people. ‘ Yesterday’s Harvest,’ by Margaret Pedler (Hodder and Stoughton).—Miss Pedler has an assured place among the novelists of tho day. Her books are among the “ best sellers.” She is essentially a romantic writer, and ‘Yesterday’s Harvest’ is along lines that she has made familiar. _ Many women novelists have described the silent, lonely young man who has turned woman-hater because of some wrong that has been done in past days. We have one of this typo in the present book, but Miss_ Pcdler’s abilities as a writer place him in , a niche higher than that in which he is usually found. Amongst the greatest acts of humanity are renunciation, and one of its chief virtues is faithfulness. There are outstanding illustrations of these things in 1 Yesterday’s Harvest.’ It is a book full of color and charm, containing some convincing characters. An author docs not always live up to tho reputation of his previous works when lie writes a new novel, but this is not the case with John Buchan. This author maintains the high standard he set with 1 The Thirty-Nine Steps, ‘ Air Standfast,’ and ‘ Greenmantle.’ His latest book, ‘ The Dancing Floor,’ is a splendid story of romance and mystery. Air Buchan has a vivid imagination, and must go to a tremendous amount of trouble to acquire a knowledge of his subject before he sots out to write. In ‘ Tho Dancing Floor ’ ho introduces early Greek history, and moulds it to suit the story, which is original, and a fine study of modern youth. There is plenty of action, and tho reader’s attention is arrcstingly hold throughout, j Tho story tells how Sir Edward Leithen ' gains the confidence of a young Englishman who has been haunted all his life by a dream, and of a giiT, tho heiress to a Greek island, whose quixotic sense of honor makes her face alone a great peril. Tho destinies of these two young people are linked, and the high test to winch the courage of each is put makes a stirring tale. Messrs Hodder and Stoughton (London) are tho publishers.

‘The Key Above the Door,’, by Maurice Walsh (Angus and Robertson, Ltd.).—This is tho author’s first novel, and if, as should be tire case, he maintains or improves in subsequent books on the quality shown in this book,’ ho will go far. ‘ It is tho tale of Thomas King, of Loch Ruighi, in the province of Moray, and the story opens on the day on which ho_ first met Agnes D© Bure. To use his own language, on that day Neil Quinn, out of Ireland, and Alistair Alunro, out of Sutherland, came across the hills from Inverness in a sidecar outfit, and tho three of them spent tho forenoon trying to catch a mess of trout in Loch Rnigbi. They caught none, but they were drawn into a net of romance and adventure in keeping with tho great hills about them. Thomas King is a splendid Highland gentleman, endowed with unusual strength of character and hotly, ami Agnes De Bure is a lovely lady. There are several strong men in the book, some good and some the reverse, and tho action depends mainly on the circumstances of Agnes Do Bure’s life. The hook is full of life and vigor and adventurous incidents. It has tho romantic atmosphere of the Highlands, described with a graphic pen.

As a writer of mystery stories Air R. Austin Freeman would be hard to surpass. Ho has some fourteen novels and stories to his credit, and his latest, ' The D’Arblay Alystery,’ makes excellent reading. In this Dr Thorndyke, tho crime investigator, is again met with, and it falls to him to solve a most complicated murder mystery. A pleasing romance runs through tho story, which introduces an entirely now departure in the way of crime and criminals. The whole hook is a delightful change from the stereotyped stylo of tho average mystery story. Alessrs Hodder and Stoughton (London) are the publishers.

Alessrs Fisher Unwin are publishing vary shortly a. most interesting book entitled ‘lmperial Defence,’ Jby Lieu-tenant-Commander Stephen King-Hall, who will be remembered as the author of ‘ The Diary of a U Boat Commander ’ and ‘Western Civilisation in the Far East.’ In view of the Imperial Conference this book will make a wido append to the taxpayer, and a perusal of its pages will enable the man in the street to grasp the pros and eons of a subject which costs the country so much. A hook which is certain to provoke widespread discussion, both in theological circles and among thoughtful laymen, is Dr Warschauer’s ‘ Historical Life of Christ,’ announced for early publication by Messrs T. Fisher Unwin. The volume is dedicated to Schweitzer, of ‘ Quest ’ fame, and appears with an important preface from the penof Professor F. C. Bnrkitt, of Cambridge.

BOSKS IK DEMAND The following have been the “ best sellers ” in Dunedin during the past two weeks:— FICTION. R. Sabatini, ‘ Bellarion.' _ John Buchan, ‘The Dancing Floor.’ M. Walsh, ‘The Key Above the Door.’ Margaret Pedler.—‘Yesterday’s Harvest.’ lan Hay, ‘Half a Sovereign.' John Galsworthy, ‘The Silver Spoon.’ D. Byrne, ‘Hangman’s House.’ J. 0, Curwood, ‘The Black Hunter.’ There has been a demand for reprints and the cheaper classics. Peter Kyne’e ‘ Understanding Heart ’ has just arrived, and promises to be a big seller. GENERAL LITERATURE. Dale Harrison, ‘ Vanishing Trails,’ a very interesting and inexpensive travel ' hook. F. W. Up De Graaf, ‘ Headhunters of the Amazon.’ E. Mordaunt, ‘The Venture Book,’ travel. There has been a further demand for Lord Hamilton’s three volumes of reminiscences, ‘My Yesterday’s’ series. Volume 111. of ‘One-net Plays of Today’ is also in demand ‘The Diary of a Young Lady of Fashion ’ lias taken a new lease of life, and is selling well. THE ‘ ROUND TABLE 1 The ‘Round Table’ for September prepares its readers in more tnan one article for the Imperial Conference, and opens, in the ‘ Imperial Complex,’ with an examination of the constitutional problem. One of the first tasks of the Imperial Conference, it considers, will ho to define a new basis' for the conduct of the foreign policy of the Empire, on which at present there is a ! ‘ definite dislike of a committal.” A distinction must be drawn between external problems of local concern and external problems which are of Imperial concern, since the theory of a single foreign policy broke down ' before Locarno and disappeared altogether at it. The article concludes with a section on the position of the Governor-General. In “ Locarno and the British Commonwealth ” it is urged that the united force of the Empire must ho thrown, in the interests of peace, on the side' of the Leayne. In “ Post-war Tendencies in British Trade ” tho_ relative strength of British and American trade is set forth in figures, and it is shown how closely British commerce is connected with the Continent, for which connection trade within the Empire is as yet an impossible substitute; on the other hand, there is need for an Imperial economic policy, the object of which should be to develop the resources of the Empire. In ‘‘lndia: Politics and Religion ” the author has cause to write gloomily about any prospects of Hindu and Mohammedan reconciliation: but the brighter side of the picture is supplied by the “ amazing betterment of Indian finances.’’ The Australian and Canadian sections take up the Imperial Conference from yet other standpoints. In a rehearsal of recent .events with regard to Interallied debts, I the opinion is given that the United 'States has no intention of revising the i settlement, nor will England ever ask for a revision. The coal crisis in England and affairs in Ireland are reviewed, and ono South African article deals largely with the national flag issue. BIRTHPLACE OF RICHARD JEFFERIES HOUSE- ACQUIRED BY TOWN COUNCIL. The Swindon Town Council has decided to purchase the birthplace of Richard Jefferies._ For some time admirers of the Wiltshire novelist have been urging the local authorities to obtain possession of the house, which stands on the side of the road near the entrance to Coate Reservoir, rather more than a mile from the town, and they are gratified that their representations have fallen on sympathetic oars. The price which the conned is paying for the house and the adjoining twelve acres of land is £2,150, and it is proposed to develop the land as a pleasure ground. Jefferies worked in his youn" days as a reporter on the North Wilts_ ‘Herald.’ Ho first obtained public notice_ by his letters to ‘The Times,’ written in 1872, whoa ho was 24 years of age, and they were dated from Coate Farm, which is the house now acquired. He lived during his early married life at a house in Victoria street, Swindon, which now bears a panel recording the fact. Jefferies was very poor, and from 1881 until his death in 1887 he suffered from serious ill-health. For the last two years he was unable_ to hold his pen, and his hooks were dictated to his wife. A monument was erected to his memory in Salisbury Cathedral. ALFEEB THE BEAT A contributor to the ‘ Dublin Review ’ reminds us that Alfred the Great was a great writer as well as a great ruler:—Briefly stated, Alfred’s chief literary works were: An Anglo-Saxon version of the work of the historian Orosius (a well-known history of the world): a translation of Bedo’s ‘ Ecclesiastical History of England ’; a translation, with additions and comments of ‘ The Consolation of Philosophy,’ by Boethius; an Anglo-Saxon version of Gregory’s ‘ Pastoral Caro ’ —probably translated by Alfred’s Bishops, at his bidding, but the Preface is by Alfred himself; ‘Blossom Gatheringsfrom St. Augustine; the ‘Laws of King Alfred ’ (Alfred’s dooms); the ‘ AngloSaxon Chronicle,’ compiled and continued at his command; the ‘ Handbook,’ or ‘Enchiridion,’ which is described by Asser, but no traces of which have been found since the middle of the twelfth century. Some of the sayings of King Alfred are quoted;— “ No wise man should desire a soft lie if he careth for any worship hero from the world or for eternal life after this life is over.” “For a man’s goodness and high heritage are rather of the mind than of I the flesh.’’ “ Surely good report and good esteem are for every man better and more precious than ary wealth.” “ Fools think that everybody is as blind as themselves, and that none can see what they themselves cannot.” "He that” desireth Divine Wisdom cannot find it with pride.” “Nature joins friends together and unites them with a very inseparable love; but by means of these worldly goods, and the wealth of this life, we oftener make foes than friends.” “Two things honor and power can do if they fall into the hands of a fool; (hey can cause him to bo respected and even revered by other fools.” “If it be not in a man’s power to do a good deed, let him have the good intent, which is equally good.”

NOTES Mr Peter Davies has at last perfected his arrangements for an undertaking equally ambitious and attractive (states the ‘Observer’). It is nothing less than the first complete edition of Disraeli’s novels Several tales are added which have not hitherto been included in any collection—in particular the posthumous “fragment” of romance now buried _ in the great Moneypeny-Buckle biography like a Pharaoh in a pyramid. But there are other pleasures. The pre-destined editor of these twelve volumes is Mr Philip Guedella, whose introductions describing the circumstances in which each novel or tale was written -will he a running commentary on Disraeli’s mind . and career. There is now a definite promise of the acquirement, for the use of the British public in perpetuity, of the picturesque house, Oakwell Hall, immortalised as the “ Fieldhead ” of Charlotte Bronte’s ‘Shirley.’ Negotiations, however, have been going on, and it is intimated that the owners of the hall have promised to dispose of it for £2.500 (the difference between this and £3,000 to he regarded as a contribution by the vendors). An appeal will he made for subscriptions in order that the generous offer of the owners may be taken advantage of. Mr A. G. Bradley, in his ‘Exmoor Memories,’ gives us one glimpse of Tennyson, who was a neighbor of the Bradleys at their Isle of Wight home: —Ho caught mo one day looking over an illustrated edition of Goldsmith’s ‘ Deserted Village ’ in the drawing room at Farrinford. With characteristic and gruff brevity ho said in his, deep voice: “Do you like it?” I replied that I did. “ Then,” he said, “ you can have it,” And I have it still. A house of unique interest in New Zealand, since it was the first homo of the eminent novelist Hugh Walpole, will shortly disappear from Auckland. The house stands at 205 Parnell road, next to St. Mary’s Cathedral, and was the first vicarage of St. Mary’s. In it was horn in 1884 Hugh Walpole, now in the front rank of modern novelists. His father, then vicar of St. Mary’s, is now Bishop of Edinburgh. A very human Conrad, with his full share of the eccentricities of genius, is portrayed in a hook which has been written on him by his widow. In on© place she relates: “Poor Conrad had a had time with his teeth, which had now begun to worry him in earnest. He would try no remedy suggested, but kept his mouth full of cold water when the pain was bad. One night he lay with his poor head on my shoulder and his mouth full of water (I keeping awake and holding the glass ready to pass to him as he wanted it). Ho would fill his mouth, hand me the glass, and fall asleep, and the water would run all over me. I was soaked before the morning. When ho finally aroused himself sufficiently to be aware that he was uncomfortable, he declared that we had been sleeping in a damp bed.” His wife had always to be vigilant’lost the novelist’s bed should be set on firs owing to his habit of going to sleep with a book resting against a lighted candle, and she had to reconcile herself to the constant marking of all manner of papers, sheets, and table linen with cigarette burns. More remarkable was a habit which he had, when interested in talk at dinner, of throwing pieces of bread everywhere in an abstracted manner, hitting guests and their food alike.

As the result of a recent census at three children’s libraries it was discovered that among authors the favorites with boys were P. F. Westerman, Herbert Strang, Henty, Ballantyno, Dickens, Brereton, Stevenson, Kipling, Verne, Kingsley, and Conan Doyle. The girls put Angela Brazil first, and gave Shakespeare third place on their list. Here is the truth about ‘ East Lynne,’ never before recorded in print and vouched for by the anonymous author of ‘More Uncensored Recollections ’‘East Lynne’ is simply the true story of Lady Augusta Fane, one of the most beautiful women of her day, who ran away with Sir Arthur Paget from her husband, Lord Morley. She loft her little baby, but came back ten years later as a nurse, when the child, Lord Boringdon, was dying, and took care of him to the end, her brokenhearted husband recognising her, but never letting her know that he had done so. These facts my father had from Thackeray, who told them to Mrs Henry Wood, who founded ‘East Lynne’ on the story. An interesting link with Dickens is recalled by the British Board of Education’s proposal to establish a scheme for the administration of the Delaforco educational foundation in the parish of St. George the Martyr. The founder of this charity, Samuel Delaforce, loft £3,000, of which the interest was to be applied for the benefit of the poor of the parish, including those in St. George’s Workhouse, Mint street, Borough. This institution, then called the poorhou.se, as such was the home of Oliver Twist, and within its walls on a famous occasion ho “ asked for more.” The copper from which the gruel was ladled into Oliver’s basin is still in the possession of the borough council. The Dickens association is strengthened by the fact that ho_ lived at one time in Lant street, which is within a few yards of the Church of St. George the Martyr. And it was in the vestry of that church that lie allowed Little Dorrit to rest one night. Air A. G. Bradley says in his ‘ Exmoor Memories ’ that tno whole business of the Doones was the pure invention of Blackmorc. There never wore such people, and there was no tradition of them in the neighborhood. An old Exmoor rector told Mr Bradley that ho had never heard of such folk, and more, the rector had never heard of Bhickinore. But, of course, Mr Bradley is all wrong, and his ancient rector did not know what he was talking about. A correspondent of ‘ The Times ’ puts in evidence that cannot bo avoided or denied. He cites a Devonshire Directory published in 1857, twelve years before the appearance of ‘ Lorua Doone,’ iiiywhicb, under the heading “ Brendon,” it is stated that “ the district abounds with legends about robbers, called ‘ The Doones of Bagworthy.’ ” , The existence of the Doone legend before the publication of ‘ Lorna Doone,’ therefore, is definitely and finally established. There is an interesting hypothesis to the effect that these Bagworthy brigands wore in reality a Celtic remnant, driven into the wildest wilds by the Saxon invasion, and holding out in their valley at first, perhaps, as patriots, and then and ever after as pure thieves, till they were smoked out as a nuisance towards the end of the seventeenth century. Mr Jice Doone has written ‘ Timely Tips for Now Australians.’ which is published in London by the Empire Publishing Company. It contains a foreword by Sir Matthew Nathan, formerly Governor of Queensland, and is designed “for the use of and dedicated to those who go to build a nation.” Mr Doone has prepared a glossary, which includes these examples:— Bonzer—satisfaction. Gazob—fool. John—policeman. Knock-down—introduction. Ready-up—conspiracy. Squirt—revolver. To be the “Pure Merino”—to show good breeding. Ziff—beard. Bosker—appreciation. Dinkum—true or genuine. Groper—a West Australian. Urger—tipster. _ Wowser—a, strait-laced person. Yacker—work. Some of the definitions are open to question, and some of the words are not Australian.