BOOKS AND BOOKMEN A LITERARY CORNER

Evening Star, Issue 23349, 19 August 1939, Page 21

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN A LITERARY CORNER

VERSES MUSE-HAUNTED He heard, and dreamed the night-wind on The moon’s gold horn, was blowing, The music of far Helicon A-down Parnassus flowing. And with that strange sad ecstasy Of men who, slowly sailing, Behold a mermaid in the sea, Below their lantern-railing, ’’ Spark like a star within the wave— So he with yearning listened, While high above his shadowy cave The eye of Venus glistened. The hawk entowered in the sky, The lonely lord of heaven, At daybreak saw him solitary; And yet again at even. —Hugh M'Crae, in ‘ Poems.’ I | . SCARAMOUCH! . A bachelor, through every shire, f Upon a bouncing horse I ride, ‘'' From boots to brain a boy on fire, The glory of the countryside. Where’er I light me down I kiss The first man’s wife I chance to see; And if that wife’s man takes amiss My knuckles pay his face the fee'. Good wine’s a most delicious lap; And with the rest I drink on shares, Glass against glass; but, by no hap, Put out one doit. Such honour’s theirs! So. with my dinner, too: since why Should I, for natural relief, Give aught save “ Thank you, sir,” when my Unbaited stomach roars for-beef? Now that I’m young, my, heart’s inclined Towards the things that tempt to mirth— Bottles and girls of every kind, Flags and fiddles and good green earth. —Hugh M’Crae, in ‘Poems.’ SOMERSET MAUGHAM HONOURED A recent cable message stated that France had honoured Mr W. Somerset Maugham, the British dramatist and novelist, by awarding him the Legion of Honour. Mr Maugham’s connection with Prance began almost with his birth. His father, who died when he ’was 10 years old (his mother dying two years earlier) was solicitor to the British Embassy in Paris. He was a very ugly man, and his wife and himself -Srere known as Beauty and the Beast. Somerset Maugham’s grandmother on the maternal side had settled down in France after the death of her husband and wrote novels for girls in French. In his attractive and unusually intimate autobiography, ‘ The Summing Up,’ the noveltist records that after his mother’s death her maid became his nurse. “ I had till then bad . French nurses, and I had been sent to a French, school for children. My knowledge of English must have been slight. 1 have been told that on one occasion, seeing a horse out of the window of a railway carriage, I cried ; ‘ Regardez, Maman, voila un ’orse.’ ” Mr Maugham adds: “ I have never • had more than two English lessons in my life, for though I wrote essays at school, I do not remember that I ever received any instruction on how to put sentences together.” Yet he camo to acquire a most admirably terse and lucid style by a laborious imitation ol others—particularly of Swift and Dryden—and finally by developing carefully the qualities he found natural to himself. During his training for medicine at St. Thomas’s Hospital _ho went systematically through English, French; Italian, and Latin literature. The most thrilling moment of his life was when he began to read Goethe’s 4 Faust.’ He gave up medicine to become a writer, and, after the production of 4 Lady Frederick ’ was one of the most successful dramatists of his day. A cartoon in ‘ Punch ’ showed William Shakespeare biting his fingers in front of the boards that advertised his plays. Followed a period of novel writing, and then the books of travel, in each case with much appreciation from the public. To fit himself for his novelist’s role, Mr Maugham writes: “I studied the French, novelists more than the Eng- < lisb, and Laving got what I was capable of getting from Maupassant, turned to Stendhal, Balzac, the Goncourts, ' Flaubert, and Anatole France.” MANUSCRIPTS FROM KELMSCOTT A large collection of letters written to William Morris by many of the most famous men of his time has come to the British Museum under the will of the late Miss May Morris, who bequeathed to the museum her father’s sketch books, diaries concerning his Socialist ■ activities, manuscripts of many of his works and other papers. The collection includes 1 The Scribbler,’ the Morris family magazine to which, it is said, Kipling was a contributor, and many papers which throw light on the activities of the pre-Raphselite * circle and of William Morris’s Socialist

friends. Among the letters are some from D. G. Rossetti, Tennyson, Browning, Stevenson, and Yeats. There are also manuscript poems by Rossetti and Wilfrid Scawen 01' 1 •• ’ " -, d some humorous sketches, which i 1 'c caricatures of Morris himself, by Rossetti and Burne Jones.

VICTORIA'S BUND AUTHORESS APOSTLE OF HOPE AND CHEERFULNESS Recent discussions on the achievements of blind authors of other lands must have reminded many readers of the remarkable achievements of our own blind authoress, Miss Tilly Aston, who is living in her cottage in Windsor (says the Melbourne ‘ Age ’). ‘ Blindness-is Never Sweet’ is the title of one of her poems, but her indomitable pluck, coupled with fortitude and cheerfulness, have made it less burdensome to herself and to the blind people of Victoria generally. Afflicted with blindness at the age of seven, she at once set to work to overcome the handicap, and hers was a triumph of courage and bright faith. Among Miss Aston’s published works are ‘ Songs of Light,’ ‘ Singable Songs,’ ‘ The Woolinappers,’ ‘ The Straight Goer,’ and ‘ Old Timers,’ the lastnamed published lost year.. Miss Aston was the founder of the Free Lending Library for the Blind in Commercial road, Prahran, which supplies hundreds of blind people with literature. Her devoted work in the interests of her fellow blind earned for her the King’s Jubilee Medal, and one of her treasures is a letter from Queen Marv’s secretary acknowledging the receipt of a copy of ‘ Songs of Light.’ To quote her own words, •* Besides the work that brought me a livelihood there were two outstanding phases, oho an eager desire transmuted into an effort to raise the status of my fellow blind, the other an urge to selfexpression in that art .form most convenient to my estate—the art of words.” The amount of good that this exceptional woman has done for her own darkened community is immeasurable. Educated in Melbourne, she entered the University and subsequently took up teaching for a livelihood. For 12 years she was in the State Education Department as special teacher at the School for the Blind. Miss Aston drafts her works in Braille and then types them herself on a portable typewriter, which she has been using since 1910. The mastering of Esperanto has enabled her to. communicate with blind people all over the world. After touching on the drawbacks of blindness she concludes ‘ Blindness is Never Sweet ’ with this noble and stirring appeal; 0 Brothers in the darkl 1 have another-song for youl Arise 1 Above are the illimitable skies, And out beyond are boundless widths

of space, When you can run and win your mortal race! ’Tis shame to dream and loiter in the ’ sun Of ease and progress by another won. To take of everything and nothing give! Beat down the bars and cry, 0 let me live As others; let me toil and take my fill Of all life’s bestl Brothers, you can—and will! Miss Aston’s outlook on life is an inspiring example not only to her fellow blind, but to those of us who are blessed with all our faculties. DUMAS DISCOVERS MONTE CRISTD In 1842- the elder Dumas, in pursuit of a somewhat epic programme of travel, found himself in Florence at the villa of the Prince Jerome Bonaparte, youngest brother of the former Emperor. His son Napoleon, but better identified by his nickname PlonPlon, then a youth 0f.20 years, had just returned to his father’s house from Germany. Prince Jerome confided his son to the care of Dumas to see something of France. They decided there could be no better'beginning to such a journey than a visit to Elba. They travelled down to Leghorn in the Bonaparte carriage, and at once sought the waterfront for a ship to Elba. . . . They did the island thoroughly and then sailed off south to hunt for the small island Pianosa. Thence they were attracted by a “ sugar loaf ” rising some 300 ft out of the sea another 17 miles farther south. When Dumas asked the name of the island and he was told that it was Monte Cristo, it was the first time he had ever heard the name. Their own willingness to adventure led them to it. The island worked its spell on Dumas from afar. “ As we advanced,” he said, “Monte Cristo seemed to rise out of the depths of the sea and to gi’ow like the giant Adamastor. Never have I seen a more beautiful azure mantle than the rising sun wrapped about its shoulder's.” But, though Dumas came to Monte Cristo he never set foot on the island. Dumas at least wantcd'to sail around the island, for already his great idea possessed him. When the Prince pressed him for a reason for the trip, apparently so futile, he admitted that ho wanted to observe the rock a little, for, in memory of their trip together, he intended to write a romance and name it after the island. And that is how it happens that, though sterile and deserted, this island bears so romantic a halo in the eyes of voyagers in these waters, for Dumas fulfilled his promise and wrote ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’ and thus bestowed immortality on the name of this granite fang which otherwise offers nothing and means nothing. From ‘ Islands of the Mediterranean,’ by Paul Wilstach. Mr J. B. Priestley has been invited by the 8.8. C. to write a novel specially for broadcasting. The leadings will be given on Sundays from 5.40 to 6 o’clock from September 3 til] November 19. Mr Priestley will broadcast the first and last readings himself, and the book, which will contain some additional matter, will be published after the last reading. Ihe story will be called ‘ Let the People Sing,’ and will be about the England of to-day. ,

NEW BOOKS * THE FARMER'S WIFE ’ Mrs A. E. Brown, a New Zealander born, has written an original book. It is difficult to define it in a word. Her own sub-title, ‘ A Country Woman’s Calendar,’ comes near to a description of it, and nearer as it is amplified in a prefatory note: “These pages record some of my experiences on the laud between August, 1932, and July, 1933.” Strictly, however, the book is not a calendar, except that the seasons of the year are followed in it. And the experiences it records cover a much longer period and a much wider range of interest than the 12 months speiit on a farm, that period itself being only a fraction of tho writer’s varied experience of farms. All sorts of people keep diaries—why not a farmer’s wife? Lack of time would be a sufficient answer often; too much monotony to chronicle might be another objection. Mrs Brown has overcome both difficulties, tho first we suspect only by the insistence of her natural itch for writing; the talent that she displays could hardly be suppressed. Monotony she escapes by letting her mind and pen spirit her away from the farm before her readers can get tired of it, back to school days, to some item of news in the newspaper, the affairs of neighbours and callers, the changes of time, anything that interests her at all. Artfully she makes her children collaborators, and there is no lack of variety in ‘The Farmer’s Wife.’ Farm and gardening interests predominate, and to win a margin of profit—enough to sustain a family—from a small farm in depression time was itself a labour from which the bravest, given_ the choice, might have shrunk. This farm, wo gather, was in North Canterbury. But the author’s resourcefulness in getting away from it may be indicated by these chapter openings: Once many years ago, Dunedin experienced a very wet summer . . . The University students ...” • “Not tho Ruler for me but the ranker . . .” Thus in the year 1924 did John Masefield . . . In tho city there is a painted hoarding which exhorts the passersby to “ watch this roof stay green.” Actually, if monotonously, it does so remain. But the farm and garden, with their occupations, come first, and make it natural that we should be introduced at intervals to a recipe for “ a successful whitebait or asparagus batter,” a combined pikelet pudding,' or a hand lotion. They present the most natural reason for an enthusiastic little disquisition on Mendelism, and excursions, besides, that can hardly be called digressions. Mrs Brown is an artist. If her book had less substance it would be preserved by the literary equivalent of the fertiliser broadcast on her potatoes —charm; and a main element of her charm is her humour. We have no doubt there aro sound farm hints, as well as cookery hints in this book. Mrs Brown, the wife of an agricultural export, has known farms in North Canterbury, South Canterbury, the North Island, and Queensland. She managed a dairy farm, single-handed, on leased land for five years, while her husband practised his profession in another province. The full-page photographs with which it is generously illustrated add notably to the attractions of her book. Whitcombe and Tombs, Dunedin, publishers. PILLORYING AUSTRALIAN SOCIETY If one keeps in mind the adage that there is no. smoke without there being somewhere a flame, the grossly-exag-gerated'' picture of Australian society held up for ridicule in ‘ Pioneers in Parade.’ the combined effort of Miles Franklin and Dymphna Cusack, may be considered to have a foundation in fact. Viewed other than a hyperbolic excursion for the sake of so-called satire, the depiction of Sydney society reveals a shocking display of rudeness and bad manners. The authors have set themselves out to expose what is tantamount to a social “ racket ” and have not sheathed their claws in velvet as they unfold, in a sesquicentenary atmosphere, the incredible actions of Audrey du Mont Brankston, social climber extraordinary, and. title-seeker to boot. Her poor old husband George, one of the few really acceptable characters in the book, and a very “ modem ” daughter, Primrose, are forced to tag along behind Audrey, willy-nilly. It is difficult to believe in Audrey and her displays of “ manners ” when Lord Oravenburn comes on the scene, seeking things Australian to no avail. Hero is a title, and Audrey determines to bask in such glory as it may be assumed! to possess, and tho burlesquing of tho New South Wales sesquiceutenary celebrations begins with her determination. The story is supposed to be a satire, but it misses badly, and, missing; fails in another objective of providing real amusement. Australians are not likely to he in lovo with this tale, and New Zealanders are not likely to bo greatly interested 1 , despite tho fact that there might he a warning hint which could bo considered by people of this Dominion of what not to do next year when Centennial celebrations are in the air. Considered dispassionately there are passages of good! writing, but characterisation generally gives the impression of having been created for tho particular scene. Messrs Angus and Robertson are the publishers of the book, which is hardly likely to be placed high in Australian literature. DRAMA OF THE WHEATLAHDS A glimpse of life in the great wheatlands of the hill country west of the Rockies is given in ‘ The Golden Hills,’ a new novel from the pen of Robert Ormond Case. This is a full-blooded, action-filled story, containing plenty of excitement and suspense, despite certain commonplaces in plot essentials. However, the author rises above these commonplaces, and, making the most of his backgrounds, gives readers n

really worthwhile slice of adventure, well told. The story may brielly bo summarised ns a struggle between Pete Morland, one of the biggest wheatgrowers in the district, who opposes violently tho methods of one Holt Kingsley, a shrewd financier who is out to ruin the farming community. Pete is rather too good a hero, being selfsacrificing to a degree, even to the extent of being prepared to lose his all — a, very considerable all—so that others might benefit. However, the curtain falls on a happy scene -with the complete rout of the villain and his henchmen. Characterisation and descriptive writing are splendid, and the story is welt worth attention. Messrs Holder and Stoughton are tho publishers. POEMS BY HUGH M’CRAE Literary fashions are supposed to pass, but, to disprove it, lives Mr Hugh M'Orac, in Australia, a pure preRaphaelito. Poem after poem of his latest book, simply entitled ‘ Poems,’ might bo the work of William Morris, not yet dead. Here in 1939 are the old names, qr names like enough to them—‘ Avalon ’ and ‘ Camelot,’ ‘ Merlin,’ and ‘ Mawdor,’ ‘ Lorraine,’ ‘ Orleans,’ and ‘ Burgundy,’ ‘ Red John ’ and ‘ Rawbone Jill,’ the saino language “ vitaillc,” “ doit,” the same metro in ‘ Saint Joan,’ as in ‘ A Good Knight in Prison,’ though tho M'Crao drama in its grimness recalls rather ' Sir Peter Harpdon’s End.’ And why not this manner as well as another, since there is small fear of having too much of a good thing? Pre-Raphaelism may have been more than a fashion; it may still serva a need. There may be affinities in more than tho poetry. Morris painted, when he was young and wrote ‘ Tho Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems.’ Mr M'Crao draws. George Gordon M'Crae, Hdgh’s father and the

friend of Kendall, was a poet when those lyrics were better known than they are now. Kendall escaped the preRaphaelito spell' except as it was softened in Swinburne, but Gordon, in the ‘ Rhyme of Joyous Garde,’ fell full victim to it. There are vigour and colour and music in Mr Hugh M'Crae’s ringing rhymes, and those will always be stuff of poetry. Sometimes he recalls older fashions than the preRaphaelites, and a classic rightness, combined with a robustness, in many of his verses has its likeness in Hilaire Belloc. (For that matter who would_ be able to say, in a hundred years’ time, if ascriptions were lost, that Belloc’s ‘ Ballad of Val-es-Dunes ’ was not written by William Morris?) ‘ To Mary Gilmore ’ and ‘ The Gaberlunzie ’ are in Scots, and new appreciation is due to the resourceful rhymes of that playful tour de force, The Mimshi Maiden.’ which was reviewed in this column when it appeared separately. Not one word in this book reflects Australia, where Mr M'Crae has lived his years, if not his life, and though Nationalists might like to differ it is not one whit less poetry on that account. Angus and Robertson, Sydney, publishers. HOW THEY DID IT A very useful series of small books, published at Is each, has been issued by the Pallas Publishing Company, of lion don. They embrace the life stories of prominent men in the world to-day, such as Neville Chamberlain, de Valera, Hitler, Goering, Benes, Franklin Roosevelt, Gandhi, Stalin, Mussolini, and Anthony Eden. These little books give in concise form the leading events in the lives of the people with whom they deal. They are written in an interesting way, and, of course, they gave a groat deal of information about current topics. The authors are men, British and Continental, eminent in world affairs. ‘ THE VERGE OF SCOTLAND ' Representing the garnering and choice of impressions gathered over long and active years by William T. Palmer, F.R.G.S., 8.M.0.U., ‘The Verge of Scotland ’ is a delightful book, one that should provide hours of pleasure not only to those whose forbears came from the Border country, but to all who take an interest in country rich in historical association. As the companion volume to ‘ The Verge of Lakeland,’ Mr Palmer’s latest work describes the historic Borderland, following the Cheviots from Solway Firth to Berwick-upon-Tweed, the Northumbrian coast villages, and the dales down to Hadrian’s Wall, Scotland to the River Tweed, including the Jed, Ettrick Forest, Eskdaleimiir, the castles of Annandale, Carlisle, and the hidden villages in Bewcastle Waste. The narrative provides charming sketches of little-known country, of rare, natural beauty and great historic interest—a place of battle and siege, raid and invasion, of salmon and trout waters flowing through peaceable valleys, with many Roman and drove roads across the high ground to and from Scotland. Mr Palmer spent considerable time in studying the areas of which ho writes so well, both in years past and for the purposes of his hook. He has an intimate knowledge of the people farmers, shepherds, gipsies, workers, wanderers, and villagers. Summer and winter, day and night, he has travelled the Roman wall built to turn back the invading barbarians. Ancient and modern, nature and spoit appear in Mr Palmer’s pages. All sorts of characters have been met, and are faithfully described. “ The country of this Verge,” says the author, “ has a greater and more varied literature in poetry, legend, and history than any area I have yet dealt with, and it is provoking to discriminate between aspects of ancient and modern life, thought and action as i have had to do.” The book is splendidly illustrated, the photographs being in keep-

ing with the spirit of tho narrative. There are pictures of old cathedrals, ancient castle ruins, bridges, ruined abbeys, and of charming country scenes. Particularly interesting is tho view of the Roman Wall, near Housesteads, following tho cliffs. To-day the eastern 20 miles of tho wall has practically disappeared in industrial Tyneside, but from Chollerford on the north Tyne westwards the works are olten in good preservation; camps have boon cleared of rubbish; mile-castles and turrets are exposed and planned, and great stretches of masonry rebuilt north and south from scattered fragments collected within a few yards. Tho Wall, being a national monument and also vested in the National Trust, is secure from further depredation. The book is complete with ‘a map of the Verge, and with an index. The publishers are Messrs Robert Hale Limited, our copy coming from Messrs Hyndman’s Limited, George street. ‘ SLOW POISON ' The villain of John Rowland’s latest story, ‘ Slow Poison,’ is Dr uhlham Palmer, who was hanged about 100 yours ago, and much of the conversation reproduced in the story is said to have been taken from the reports of the trial. Palmer must certainly have been one of the greatest scoundrels in the history of crime, tor he rivals the mass murderers who have figured in the most sensational fiction. Mr Rowland’s narrative is an enthralling one, relieved by tho charming love story of Molly Webster, who was rescued at tho last moment from the clutches of the terrible poisoner, and whose testimony had a great deal to do with sheeting homo the crimes of Palmer. The publishers are Messrs Herbert Jenkins and Co, Ltd., Loudon * ROSTRUM ’ On the part of the general public there has been at times a mistrust of student thought. Yet, while the sobering influence of maturity does not have much part in undergraduate work there is no other quality that it should lack. To offset this disadvantage it may be adduced that student work is produced at a white heat, by men who have at their disposal tho time, opportunity, and desire for research and argument. In any case, the production of ‘ Rostrum,’ a New ■ Zealand University National Student publication, is of intense interest. This is the first lime a publication embodying the opinion of students and graduates of the four New Zealand universities has been released, and it is intended to publish it quarterly in future. Dealing with topical events, its general trend is reactionary, as might be expected. In every respect, however, it is a praiseworthy journal, and one that will be provocative of some deep thinking. Verse and art, in the form of lino-cuts, are represented in quality if not in quantity. NOTES Edgar Allan Poe, jun., whose mystery story, ‘ Tho House Party Murders,’ is announced, is a native of Baltimore, and is related to his great namesake through both sides of his family. Lady Watson, widow of Sir William Watson, the poet, has announced her intention of settling down in the United States. It is, she says, the “ one place on earth removed from the tumult of war.” Her two daughters will live with her. A new edition of Mr John Parker’s ‘ Who’s Who in the Theatre ’ will be published by Sir Isaac Pitman and Sons. The new work will haVo 2,000 pages against the 775 pages of tho first issue in 1912. Four hundred new biographies have been added, bringing the total to more than 3,000. Important among the new biographies is ‘ The'Prince Imperial,’ by Katherine John, to bo published by Putnam. The author is known as K. John for her reviews and articles in the literary weeklies. She and her husband met when they were studying at Cambridge and they were married while they both were undergraduates. He is a son of Augustus Jehu. The James Tait Black Memorial Book Prize, which is given annually on the award of tho professor of rhetoric and English literature in tho University of Edinburgh for the best novel or work of that nature published during the previous year, has been awarded for the year 1938 for the novels ‘ A Ship of the Line ’ andl ‘ Flying Colours,’ by C. S. Forester. Both were published in 1938, the one being a sequel of the other. , Queen Mary has become a sub-editor. Recently she spent much of her time correcting and amending proofs of a hook about the Royal family, 1 Royal Cavalvade,’ which is to be published this year. Queen Mary herself has written several interesting passages, including narratives about the private lives of members of her family.

A number of Maxim Gorki’s earlier short stories have been translated into English, but the collection which has been published by Cape is the first attempt to bring his best stories together in one volume. There are 15 in all, including the famous long story ‘ Creatures That Once Were Men,’ which appears in a new translation. Many of the stories have not hitherto been translated into English. They will be arranged as far as possible in the order of writing and cover the years 1894 to 1924. Aldous Huxley has written a foreword.

That grand old champion of unpopular causes, Henry S. Salt, died on April 20 at the ripe age of 87. Author, reformer, scholar, aud journalist, ho founded the Humanitarian League and was for 29 years its secretary. A stern opponent of all forms of cruelty, he conducted a sustained and trenchant attack on flogging in his book ‘ The Flogging Craze; A Statement of the Case Against Corporal Punishment,’ which has had a considerable influence on public opinion. Other books by him include ‘ Company 1 Have Kept,’ in which he records his long and intimate friendship with many of the great literary personalities of his time, and a striking study entitled ‘ Percy Bysshe Shelley.’ Dr Fraser Darling, author of that wonderful piece of animal observation, ‘ A Herd of Red Deer,’ spent some months last year with his wife alone on North Rona, a deserted island otf the coast of Scotland!. This steep rock, standing out of the sea, is no more than half a square mile in area, entirely without trees, and suffers severely from the rage of the wind. There is no landing place for boats, aud getting ashore and leaving the island arc equally dangerous and difficult, and can bo achieved only during the rare periods of calm. Dr Darling’s purpose in living on the island was to investigate the life history of the Atlantic seals, and some of his observations are reported in ‘ AVild Country,’ his new hook, published! by the Cambridge University Press.,