BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

Evening Star, Issue 23881, 10 May 1941, Page 4

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

VERSE THE DISCOVERY I think when first he looked on Darien Ho spake not then, so mightily did awe Descend upon tho wanderer heart of him, And viewing there tho sea that knew no law, Nor charted niagiery of mortal man, ' Nor breast of any ship nor trembling sail, Ho burned like God in the initial spell, Learnt then his fate and glory could not fail. Aye 1 When he looked on Darien his love. And saw tho winds march there in blueness shod, And all that vestal beauty waiting him, Ho was like every dreamer and like God. —Paula Hanger. DESTROYED BY THE HUN

HISTORIC BUILDINGS Very recently I wrote in sorrow of Fleet street’s Joss by the destruction in an air raid of the interior of St. Bride’s Church (writes “ Jackdaw,” in ‘ John o’ London’s Weekly ’). After our village' church, the inn! The old “ Cheshire Cheese,” a rendezvous of journalists, and the Fleet street Mecca of Americans, has in turn been badly burned, though not by Nazi fire. From that fate it had boon saved a few weeks earlier. Nevertheless, the Loudon correspondent of the ‘ Manchester Guardian Weekly ’ writes of the disaster to the famous chop room, unique in London, in terms of war. “ Under its low roof men of the region had celebrated the victories of Marlborough in Flanders, Nelson at Trafalgar, Wellington at Waterloo, and the triumphant end of the last Great War with the Germans. Many hoped to celebrate there the end of Hitlerism.” I sec no reason Nvhy this hope should not be fulfilled both in spirit and seeming. The Temple of the Pudding can be reproduced. This was proved when a facsimile of the room became a feature of tho Chicago World’s Fair. If I remember rightly, even tho famous parrot was lent. His successor, by the way, is safe. But he always makes me think of “ the ” parrot—that accomplished bird who on Mafeking night imitated tho drawing of 100 corks. Oddly enough, tho correspondent makes no mention of the “ Cheese’s ” other great figure, Dr Johnson, though of all his “ shrines ” this is the most famous. Is he sceptical of the Johnson tradition?—for it is only a tradition. If so, lam with him. The Doctor’s armchair upstairs may be genuine, but armchairs arc portable. His occupation of the short, uncushionod wooden bench on the right-hand side of the ehoproom fireplace may be a ‘myth. It is difficult to believe that from his houses in the Temple, Bolt Court, and Gough Square the great man never rolled into the “ Cljeese. ’* hut there is no proof that he ever did. I know of only two sources of the legend, and neither is a first-hand testimony. Tho earliest is Cyrus Bedding’s' ‘ Fifty Years*' Recollections,’ published in 1858, nearly three-quarters of a century after Johnson’s death. Redding, however, is perhaps carrying his memory back over the full “ fifty years.” Ho wrote: — “I often dined at tbc’Mitrc and tho Cheshire Cheese. Johnson and his friends, I was informed, used to do the same, and I was told I should see individuals who had met him there; and this I found to be correct.” Nine years later another Cyrus—Cyrus Jay —wrote more circumstantially in his hook, ‘The Law’: “What I have seen, what I have heard, what I have known ” :—“ I may here mention that when I first visited the house I used to meet several very old gentlemen who remembered Dr Johnson nightly at tho Cheshire Cheese; and they have told me what is not generally known, that the Doctor, whilst living in the Temple, always went to the Mitre or the Essex Hoad, but when he removed to Gough Square and Bolt Court he was a constant visitor to the Cheshire Cheese, because nothing hut a hurricane would have induced him to cross Fleet street.” It is clear that these two accounts have in a great degree a common origin, and that both are hearsay. If the doctor’s visits to the Cheshire Cheese could be described as “ nightly” and “constant” one would expect a greater volume of evidence, and it is strange that they should not bo once mentioned by Boswell. And the tale that he conceived an inveterate dislike of crossing Fleet street is, in the absence of direct evidence, incredible. Tho truth is that tho Cheshire Cheese has been a hot-bod of literary tradition, and this is all to its credit. A Victorian bard recklessly sang:— From Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, And the players of the age; From authors who to Jonson Give their first printed page, From Johnson, Lexiconic, Goldy and Garrick seize From them the Attic tonic They scattered at the Cheese. No analysis of this list of frequenters is necessary, and the inclusion by other radiant chroniclers of Herrick, Christopher Marlowe, and the dramatist Thomas Middleton, seems merely inevitable. In tlie ease of Ben Jonson we are even regaled with a story. It is said that it was in tho old Cheshire Cheese that a dispute arose as to who would most quickly make the best couplet. John Sylvester quickly pronounced this:—

I, Sylvester, Kiss’d your sister. Jonson countered with; 1, Ben Jonson, Kiss’d your wife. “ But that’s not rhyme,” said Sylvester. “ No,” said Jonson, “but it’s true.’’ One can accept without proof the names of such alleged frequenters of the Cheshire Cheese as those of Dickens, Thackeray, Wilkie Collins, LongfeHow, and Mark Twain. Not a few statesmen have forgotten their cares in the Cheshire’s pudding. The correspondent I have quoted refers to a lunch given by Lord (then Mr) Haldane to Joseph Chamberlain. In the party were Sir Edward Grey, Mr and Mrs Asquith, and Mr Augustine Birroll. But the Cheshire’s most distinguished guest was surely President Wilson. I have heard a story, which I don’t believe, that when the President talked to the parrot, that wise bird replied in a bored tone: “Who are you, anyhow?” That haunted room will rise, 1 am

A Literary Corner

NEW BOOKS ‘ THE GENEVA RACKET ’ SECRET HISTORY OF THE LEAGUE As is implied in its title, ‘ The Geneva Racket,’ from the pen of Mr Robert Dell, at one time special correspondent of the 1 Manchester Guardian,’ is an outspoken volume in the compiling of which the author docs not hesitate to “ lay on the big stick.” Statesmen of most of the countries that were members of the League of Nations during tho peak period of its troubles are criticised for sins both of commission and omission, and no attempt is made to spare British delegates who, it is alleged, showed lack of courage and foresight in not taking a strong stand against the series of capitulations to aggressive Powers that marked the League’s decline in influence during the years leading up to the outbreak of the present war. Although Mr Dell has been described by his publishers as “an unquestioned authority on the League of Nations,” keen students of international affairs will be prone to suspect that, in common with a fair number of modern correspondents, he is at times guilty of political 'bias and exaggeration in driving home his points. It is well known, for instance, that, from a military point of view, Great Britain was left weak through her sincere anxiety to encourage disarmament and sow the seeds of world peace —a step which at the time seemed thoroughly in accord with the principles of the party apparently representing Mr Doll’s own political opinions. In these circumstances some of his criticism is unjust. On the other hand, he is able to quote from authentic documents illustrative of the blunders that were made from time to time, and must be credited with a genuine desire to bring about an eventual remedy for the world’s ills. As his story of the sorry list of capitulations to Japan and the dictators of Europe rings basically true, it is noteworthy for its reference value. His final chapter on reorganisation of the League is wholly constructive and may yet command wide attention. Our copy of ‘ The Geneva Racket ’ comes from tho publishers,'Messrs Robert Hale Ltd. HUGH WALPOLE: ANOTHER HERRiES BOOK In ‘ The Bright Pavilions,’ Sir Hugh Walpole’s latest novel, the reader is taken back to the days of Queen Elizabet, and in it we have a yew chronicle of the Henries family. It tells in tho main of the adventures of two brothers, Robin and Nicholas Herries, who illustrate that mixing in the Herries blood of the spiritual and material that is the theme of other chronicles of the family. One of the brothers is very much on tho material plane, while the other longs for the •“ bright pavilions of Heaven.” This book gives a vivid picture of England in Elizabethan days, with its dreadful religious persecutions, the awful conditions under which the poor in London lived, the license and coarseness prevailing among the upper classes, and the endless quarrels and tragedies. Perhaps the most interesting passages in the book describe the last weeks of the jll-fated Mary Queen of Scots in Eotheringhay, with a realistic pen picture of her execution. There is much about Queen Elizabeth, and the story of her death is retold. Witch hunts, tortures, and other events incidental to the times are related. This book will make a special appeal to those who are interested in Elizabethan times. The publishers are Macmillan and Co. JEFFERY FARKOL ‘ Adam Pennefeather, Buccaneer ’ (Sampson, Low) is a new novel-by Jeffrey Farnol. This author retains his vigour. In this rousing tale of adventure, romane, death, and glory on tho high seas the author maintains tho standard he has set in numerous novels having similar themes. The hero is Adam Pennefeather, who forsakes England after tire unjust execution of his father, and sets out on a reckless adventure on the Spanish Main. Mr Farnol has written an exciting romance in which tho reader finds recounted many breathless incidents, in which some of his ship’s company were to meet great perils, many death, some few great fortune and success, two a wondrous happiness, and one triumph, greatness, heartbreak, and failure. ROMANCE IN THE DESERT Passion, love, and intrigue are tho ingredients with which Vere Lockwood compounds a romance of tho Near and Middle East under tho title of ‘ Eastern Dancer ’ (Herbert Jenkins Ltd.). The dancer is the glamorous Zorina, a native girl, who is not averse to abducting her rival (Janice Logan) when love for David Raith, an Intelligence agent of no overwhelming intelligence, enters the hearts of the two women. Raith follows the abducting party into tho desert, rescues Janice, and (such is the luck of a Secret Service man) “ flukes ” tho information he requires. The desert scene is fairly well handled and the story is an entertaining one of its type

confident, from its ashes, and there will be a celebration indeed. But even then f suspect that the present calamity will take second place in the annals of the Cheshire Cheese. One night, many years ago, the state entry of the pudding (whoso components have enever been fully revealed,, but have been nobly described as “ juicy beefsteaks, agreeable kidneys, fascinating oysters and larks, and delicious mushrooms, with wondrous apices ”). . . . Well—the pudding was dropped on the floor. One historian of the catastrophe wrote: “ The waiter, bringing in triumph the pudding, appeared on the scene with a smiling countenance. By some mishap his foot slipped, the pudding lost its balance and also slipped on the floor, broke into fragments, and gathered nothing on its way but sawdust as ,it tumbled and splashed along. There was a breathless silence. The proprietor, Mr Beaufrey Moore, dropped the upraised carver, stood speechless for a moment, and then went out and—the rest is silence.” But this time the rest will not be silence.