OUR NATIONAL CHARACTER IN THE MOULD

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22961, 12 February 1938, Page 1 (Supplement)

OUR NATIONAL CHARACTER IN THE MOULD

By BART SUTHERLAND

J7JXCEPT in oratorical and emotional moments the pioneer age is allotted a great deal of blame in moulding the national character of New Zealanders. Above all, the pre-occupation in early days with the things of this world is said to explain our failure to make outstanding contributions to literature and art. Let us consider some of these early influences that must be revealed ii we examine the distinctive qualities of the first settlers. They certainly had courage and the vision that invariably goes with it. Still more was there a spiritual element in enterprise when the settlers, arriving here, found no golden cities of their dreams, but the desperate need for "ploughing in" and building those cities themselves. There was also required a certain unspectacular courage which amounted to a mere plodding. This, together with a quaint Victorian way of building little wooden churches instead of more stately temples and the fact that the community was isolated for nearly a century. is brought down to a common denominator of dullness bv sophisticated people from overseas. A Disappointed Man A son of the famous Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, who had some intention of settling here in the very early days, left, n disappointed man. predicting that two centuries hence, should Knglish power be overthrown, only a few uglv buildinns and ruined engineering works would remain as memorials. In various

A Debt We Owe to the Pioneers

ways many visitors express the same opinion. We have had Russian ballerinas, lady novelists of the almost unimaginable "Grand Hotel" world, politicians, young men gossip writers and staid magnates. Their comment on our co'untry can be summed up thus: "The scenery is wonderful, but . . ." The most spiritual aspiration of patient plodding, in its later days of leisure, is a desire to act as the world's spring-cleaners. One of our own historians, l)r Beaglehole, has jsaid of us, politely, that our creative spirit has flourished, not in art, but in huniajiitarianism. Again, rather dull. And when people do shine to a limited extent, as in dramatic art, we have a criticism from one of the judges at a drama festival to the effect that New Zealanders are inclined to do this sort of thing tor social advancement. "And," she added, "1 think this materialistic outlook is probably a survival of the pioneering days." Roots of Grace But those who like to keep their illusions are still inclined to think that there were other elements that went into our creation A community that included a Samuel Butler among its early settlers should have the roots of grace; and to him might be added Charles Armitage Brown, a writer himself, and the friend of Keats, Alfred Domett, James Fdward Fitzgerald, Joseph Colbnrne Veel, and a lady who corresponded with Charlotte Bronte.

But there certainly was the other side. In our imaginative moments we like to picture a rough parlour, and the firelight flickering on faces —not quite so unregenerate as some of Bret Harte's

miners, perhaps—but at least lined by toil and the lack of immediate reward. And one of the company assembled would read for balm of the uproarious Mr. Pickwick or the cute Becky Sharp.

The monotony of "the unhasted life" would be relieved by the breathless pace oT "The Moonstone" or "The Woman in White."

Well—except in rare instance.-? —the scene in a pioneer homestead was not like that. The record of "The Albertlanders" explodes such pleasant ideas. "Very little reading was done," say the compilers of that authentic record; "there were but few books, and of what were possessed the greater number were long out of date. Home papers occasionally came to hand; the people generally were, however, too much absorbed in their daily affairs to give them very close attention. Practical Side of Things "Indeed, it was an almost unkown occurrence to hear anyone in the community make any reference to European politics or to literature of any kind. The practical side of things loomed large to the exclusion of the abstract and ideal." So that is tliat and must be fared. The editor of the Albertland Gazette, trying to make material and headway •against such a ba'-kgionnd gave up in despair in 1864. "By which time," he said, "I realised the fact that I was there at least a century to(. soon." Yet he had the vision and knew that in time a background and a culture would grow.

For these pioneers and their descendants, trained in practicality, are not such hopeless material as surface-ob-servers think. Did not George Kliot herself say that to the surface eye the Tullivers and Dodsons were uninspiring people? Yet she fashoined of their lives a supreme tale of the conflict between flesh and spirit.

The story of the Albertlanders themselves—of all the settlements—is an epitome of human courage, and js entirely spiritual. That putting on of kid boots and top hats as the only suitable way to approach the town perfect; and their subsequent laughter when they found that they must build the land themselves is sublime. In one of the arts—however amateurish—these old settlers did excel. If there is no record of their asking for books, at least one Albertland settler asked for his guitar to be sent out. And there was in I'aparoa a quaint Hardvan character who took both fiute and clarionet to church, dropping one if unsatisfactory, and taking up the other so that music should never die.

First Choral Society Auckland was one ot the first towns in New Zealand and Australia to form a choral society, starting oil splendidl.v with "The Messiah" in 185(3. Since then we have kept up the tradition well, and who shall say we are not devoted to the arts, for those seats are hard?

People—the makings of art —are always crude in their beginnings, and so are their first efforts. The century lost to the editor of the Albertland Gazette has almost passed, and already there are signs of tin evolution toward grace Within the past year or so we have seen work bearing the signs of a universal standard John Guthrie, for instance, has a touch of intellectual brightness And Robin Hyde in her latest book, "Wednesday's Children" is in a land almost of the fourth dimension, far removed from the drab photography of our earlier novelists. As for the public, in spite of alleged dullness, they are great readers, and it is safe to say that they will appreciate greatness when it conies—with or without the aid of a Ministry of the Fine Arts.

There will be a blossoming time; but art and appreciation alike will reveal their roots to be in the beginnings, the pioneering days.