BOOK NOTICES

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4384, 15 June 1901, Page 1 (Supplement)

BOOK NOTICES

NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS “An Imperial Ode for the Twentieth Century,” by Samuel Joffersom Bondon: Simpkin, Marshall and Co., Ltd. Price Is. The poetry of Imperialism has not hitherto risen above the level of respectable doggerel. That piece of frightful banality, “Tho Absent-Minded Beggar,” is doubtless responsible, by its striking of such a low key-note, for much of the succeeding rubbish that has been poured upon the market. Whatever may be the cause, the fact is indubitable; nor is there yet any appearance of the poet who can worthily express Imperialistic ideals. The ode now before us, beautifully printed though it is at tho office of tho Harrogate “Herald,” is in no sense worthy to be called poetry. Yet it is the production of a man whose previous essays in verse have been described by newspaper critics as “splendid,” “scholarly,” “of high literary merit,” and as having “the beautiful imagery and noble thoughts which are expressed in the style of Milton, Homer and Virgil.” • We quote some of Mr Jefferson’s lines inspired oy Twentieth Century possibilities— When this new century nears the end What work undreamed of shall be done, What secret pow’rs, by Science won. Shall lend their aid; tho Rontgen rays. Earnest of such, the mind surveys. The cinematograph And wireless telegraph Foreshadow faintly what shall be Ere ends the Twentieth Century. The Miltonic grandeur of these lines can hardly be said to be evident at a glance! Here, again, are some of the modern Homer’s soul-stirring descriptions of battles— , Throughout the Cape and fair Natal, Our scions there who dwelt • Have for the Empire boldly fought , Upon the blood-stained veldt. Britannia declined the aid Of India’s warrior host. Whom loyal Rajahs longed to lead To Amo’s distant coast. But this war, raging now, must ever bo Among all wars famed through futurity, For it beholds the warriors of our race Join willingly in warfare to displace . That Oligarchy of oppressors strong— The promise-breakers—who have armed, for long, , In cunning secrecy, to bring to naught Our power in Africa; vainly they wrought. From fair New Zealand brave contingents came To swell our hosts on Afric’s veldt; now Fame On her bright scroll emblazons daring deeds That Maddock and his heroes wrought. W’ho reads, In future days, tho record of these years. Shall see New Zealand’s name in pride appears. Perhaps so; but if Mr Jefferson were the historian, Colonel Madocks would hardly be identifiable. The author’s “splendid epic” on Columbus has been praised for its combination of historical accuracy with flights of poetic fancy; in this ode there is no such combination. The fairly accurate statement is

made, in execrable metre, that “The Maori Islands own Edward’s firm sway,” and the not altogether misleading information is conveyed that “e on there, at the Antipodes, our Union Jack waves proudly in tho breeze;’’ but the author is not .so felicitous in ids references to Australia and the Pacific Islands. IV hen, for example, he writes Our scions, on that glorious continent, Live not in smoky, crowded cities pent, he betrays a lamentable ignorance of the congestion of population in Me 1 - bourne and Sydney. A still more deplorable lack 'of historic accuracy la shown when lie tells of

The Friendly Isles, where long ago Brave Cook was murdered, scene of woe. Tlio average public school pupil of ton years of ago knows better than to plac e the scene of Cook’s murder in Tonga. That blessed word, “oligarchy” seems to hava a strong attraction for Mr Jenarson. It occurs about half a score of times in the course of the ode, and as a variant on it we have “oligarchic misled men,” whatever that may mean. Although wo have selected for quotation some of tlie iveaker passages, it is the sad truth that there is hardly a meritorious verso in tho whole of this lengthy ode. Tlie Jeffersonian Muse, no matter what it may formerly have- accomplished in tho Virgilian or Miltonic vein, appears now to bo only capable of teaching

“Staggering prose to stand, And limp on stilts of rhyme around the

land.” Can it bo the fault of tho theme? Or is it high treason tb suggest that all tho true poets are anti-imperialists ?

“Oddland, and Other Fairy Tales.” By Harry A. James. London: George Newnos, Limited.

This handsome volume of 350 pages will be welcomed by “boys and girls of ail ages.” The talcs, though they concern themselves chiefly with witches, fairies, Royal personages, etc., and record conversations' between birds, animals, and inanimate objects, therein closely following tho traditions of Hans Christian undersell and the rest, nave sufficient freshness and originality to recommend them to readers who may suppose themselves sated with fairy lore. Mr James has done his work with a good deal of literary grace, while at the same time making almost exclusive use of short and simple Anglo-Saxon word-,. There are in all twenty tales, and these are artistically illustrated by some scores of pictures. The printing is neatly done on thick paper, and the book is handsomely bound in cloth. We are indebted to Messrs Whitcombe and Tombs for a copy of this entertaining work.

“Pro Patria.” By Max Pemberton. Messrs Ward, Lock and Co., London : Messrs Whitcombe and Tombs Lambton quay, Wellington.

If there are any defects in the matter of literary style, any crudities of construction in this novel, the invigorate ing character of tne narrative and the rapidity of its movements will surely condone alt imperfections. It is at once interesting, and it holds the reader’s attention to the finish. Given a good subject, Max Pemberton is hard to beat as a storyteller, and he has discovered in a threatened French invasion of Great Britain by way of a tunnel under the English Channel a subject, which he treats in a dexterous and captivating manner. The incidents in the nanative are novel and surprising, and the hero—an officer in the Hussars—has many hairbreadth escapes. Tho opening scones are laid in France, where Captain Hilliard of the Hussars, discovers tho workings of the French Government in the construction of the tunnel. Tho work is being undertaken under the supervision of a former despised student at Woolwich named Jeffery, who entraps Hilliard, and is to imprison him. Hilliard escapes, and in order to sav e his country—the tunnel by this time is fast approaching completion—informs the War Office of the intentions of the French. The officers of the Intelligence Department sneer at Hilliard. They regard him as silly. They assert themselves that the workings Hilliard has seen are only coal workings, and they pride themselves in knowing all that France has done, is doing, or will attempt to do to injure Great Britain. But, as the editor observes, “the Englishman is slow to admit the grave perils in which circumstances might place his country,” and it is a finely pointed criticism of the War Office and its methods that Max Pemberton offers. Captain Hilliard is disgusted, ana resigns his commission in the army; but he devotes himself to the circumvention of the French and their designs upon his country. Ho is assisted by his iriend, a clergyman, and a Frenchman, and his daughter, whom he ultimately marries. How Captain Hilliard succeeds in defeating the design of the French to invade England on th e approaching completion of the tunnel, and tho narration of his adventures in so doin'* is brilliantlv told. Wo need not tell how the story ends. The characters are few, and their talk is crisp and clever. Here and there some truths are excellently expressed. We may be pardoned for quoting a few words of the great French designer; “What are your idlers worth? . . . Your ranters in Parliament, and your ranters out of it? What good do they do? Is the world the richer for them ? I guess not. Wipe ’em all out to-morrow with decent tomb-stones, and you and I won’t miss as much as a postage-stamp. No, sonny, it’s the workers, the men who think in iron and steel, who make countries!” After reading of all the perils through which Captain Hilliard passed, the reader will conclude that the age of chivalry is not yet gone—at least, in novels —and if that is the hook’s purpose, it may excite our military authorities to greater vigilance-

“The Prose Writers of Canada.” By S. E. Dawson. Lifc.D., Ottawa. (E. M. Renouf, Montreal.)

This is an able and comprehensive treatise on the literature and literati of Canada. The literature of the Dominion is not widely known—more’s the pity—and the names of the men and women who have made it are not as familiar as household words throughout the Empire. Dr Dawson’s work will do much to popularise the writers of Canada. Canadian literature and history began with the works of Samuel de Champlain, a brave soldier and a skilful seaman. Then followed Maro Les-

carbot, who sang his sweetest notes beside the rushing of the Bay of Fundy nearly two hundred years ago. In more recent years Canada has given to the world such names as Dr William Kingsford and Benjamin Suite, also Sir John Bonrinot, who wrote tlio ‘‘lntellectual Development of the People of Canada,” and “The Constitutional History of the Dominion.” Then there are Dr George M. Dawson, who is known throughout Europe and America as the writer of important work on the geography, geology, and natural history of the Dominion, and he, as well as Dr Robert Beli, JJr vVhiteavcs, Profe.ssor Macoun and others, have enriched Canadian literature by numerous contributions to scientific publications. Professor Goldwin Smith should not be omitted. He has been sent to Canada for the edification of its people and tho reproof of their literary mistakes. Among writers of fiction, Canada has produced Gilbert Parker, William McLennan, Miss Lily Dougall, Mrs Harrison, Mrs Coates, and Robert Barr (whoso first success was in Canadian story writing), and Grant Allen. Mr Dawson has done his work well. Some of his concluding words are not without application to the life and conditions of New Zealand:—“Our growth of late years has been rapid. \Ve have to guard against materialism and to watch lest literature be oppressed by the pursuit of practical science. W G see tho workers toiling and we hoar the din, but the world is saved hy tho dreamers, who keep the intellect of mankind sane and sweet by communion with the ideal.”