LITERARY GOSSIP.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 5731, 28 October 1905, Page 14

LITERARY GOSSIP.

Messrs Blackwcod announce the early publication of ‘ The Siege and Capitulation of Port Arthur” by Mr Ellis Ashmead Bartlett, who was correspondent of the “Times” during tho investment.

Tho next Publishers’ Congress is to be hold at Milan, June, 1906.. Various prominent members of the guild are to read papers.

The record price of a copy of the first edition (1859) of Fitz Gerald’s “Omar Khayyam” is now £lB. “The former edition,” wrote Fitz Gerald, in 18C8, to W. B. Donne, “was as much lost as sold when B. Quaritoh changed houses.”

Mr George Moore, who has published nothing for some time, is about to bring out a new novel. It is to boar the not specially explanatory title of “The Lake.”

Tho following is a genuine specimen of American journalisto comment on a fatal accident. “If he got to the pearly gates lie must have broken in, for nothing could resist the force with which the mule kicked him upward.”

The documentary proof of tho marriage of Mrs Fitzherbert to George Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV. is to be printed for the first time, in a new book by Mr W. H. Wilkins. The. marriage was twice denied in the House of Commons and was never publicly acknowledged during the lady’s life. Other unpublished papers and letters of. great interest will be included in this volume.

The London “Globe” discusses the Question—ls there such a thing as cooling literature? The “Globe” avers that there is ami cites the following lines by Matthew Arnold, as “one of the coolest stanzas in the language.” The silent courts, where night and day Into their stone carved basins cold, Tho splashing icy fountains play— Tho humid corridors behold I Thomas F. Millard has been sent to Japan by “Scribner’s Magazine” to'report on tho present conditions of the commerce and industries of the country in view of the heavy load put upon it by tho expenses of carrying on the war. In the September number ho contributes an article on “The Financial Prospects of Japan,” in which ho discusses tho means which tho government must adopt to meet her obligations.

Messrs Greening and Co. announce as in preparation the following now fiction: “The Eleventh Commandment,” by H. C. F. Oastloman; “The Irony of Fate”’ by Alisa Aluriel Cross; “Tho Beloved of the Gods,” a -Hungarian novel by Baroness Orczy; “Tho Unknown Depths” by Elliott O'Donnell, the author of “For Satan’s Sake;” and “The Expiation of Eugene,” by Frederic H. Balfour.

Tho French-Canadian countryman is still known by the old terra “habitant,” and the following verse by Dr Drummond the Montreal physician poet is quoted by an American critic as a true portrait:— D« fader of me, he was habitant farmer, Ma gran’fadcr, too, an’ bees fader also, . , Dey don't mak* no monce. but dat isn t fenny. For it’s not easy got evrytring you mus’ know— All de earn' dere is somet’ing dey got eVryboddy DaPs plaintee good heal’, wat de moneo can't geev. So I’m workin’ away dere, an’ happy for stay dere. ■ On farm by de reever, so long I was leev. “The Voyagour and other Poems,” (Putnam’s), the work from which the above is quoted, is very favourably reviewed by Canadian and English papers also. Its illustrations are by Air I. S. Coburn, and are said to have tho same true spirit as the letterpressA recent number of the Xow York

“Tribune He view” names tho following works of fiction has having in the order of arrangement the largest sale of the week:—l. "The Garden of Allah,” hy Robert Hichens: 2. “Pam,” by Baroness von Hutton; 3. "Tho Divine Firo,” by May Sinclair: 4. “The Princess Passes,” by C. A. and A. M. Williamson; 5. “The Fool Errant,” by Maurice Hewlett; 6. “Constance Trescott,” by Weir Mitchell.

There was a pleasant exchange of international courtesies at Bath the other day. Tho local authorities placed a bronzo tablet on tho building of the Bath Literary Institute, thus commemorating three of its members, the poets Crabbe. Moore and Bowles. Where tho international clement came in was in the unveiling of tho tablet by M. Reno Huchou, of Nancy. This French professor has written an elaborate work on Crabbe. a translation of which is to be published early in the new year, and it was graceful of the Bath Corporation to make him, though a foreigner, a salient figure in the recent ceremonies.

A neat little portrait of De Quineey appears in a now book on the English Lake Country: Had you been in Edinburgh on a certain day in the early spring of the year 1850 you might have met a little undersized, slight framed man with a somewhat stealthy tread and shy, furtive glance—like one who dreads being watched or overtaken—stepping quietly along the streets. He is dressed in an overcoat, buttoned close to tho chin, beneath which is no other coat. At first sight you think him a youth. On a nearer approach you notice his hair is turning gray and that his fair complexioned face and massive brow are mapped all over with the finest of fino wrinkles.

There is a touching glimpse of Charles Lamb in a letter of Coleridge printed in a collection of epistles preserved' by Matilda Botham. Coleridge had crawled from his sick bed to see Lamb and “to afford him such poor comfort as my society might, perhaps, do in the present dejection of his spirits and lonenlinoss.”

“X had just time enough to have half an hour’s mournful conversation witli him. Ho displayed such fortitude in his manners, and such a ravage of'mental suffering in his countenance, that I walked off, my head throbbing with long weeping and tho unnecessary haste I made in fear of being too late, and tho having to act before tho curtain, as it wore, afterward; for tho more 1 force away my attention from any inward distress the worse it becomes after, and what I keep out of my pnind, or rather keep down in a state of undcrconsoiousucss. is sure to act meanwhile with its whole power of poison on my body.”

The firm of Isaac Pitman and Sons, with which'is now incorporated Isbister and Co., announce several new and interesting books as in preparation. Among these may be mentioned : “Seven Angels of the Renascence,” a fine art volume by Sir Wyko Bayliss; “Literary Anecdotes of the XlXth Century, a collection of stories about all the leading literary men from Thackeray onwards. This volume will show r some hitherto unpublished drawings by Thackeray. “A Biography of George Macdonald,” the Scots poet, preacher, and novelist, is another of the volumes promised. In Isbistor’s Colonial Library there will also be published three now novels. They are; “The King’s Achievement,” by Hugh Benson; “Princess Joyce,” by Keighley Snowden; and “The Secret of the Turret,” by E. F. Heddle. Sir Isaac Pitman and Sons do not go in very largely for fiction, but tho few novels they will publish are expected to attract more than usual attention.

Tho first instalment of the “Letters and Diaries of George Bancroft” is printed in “Scribner’s” for September. H introduces us to him in his European student days, early in the last century. He settled at Gottingen in 1818 to pursue his studies, but the letters contain much that an American not only a student, but a sharp observer of people and things in general, might have been expected to note. He saw Goethe, who praised Byron “in the highest terms, declared himself one of a large party in Germany who admired limi unboundedly and seized on and swallowed everything that came from him.” Tho young visitor did not fail to study the great man’s appearance, sending homo this vignette: “As for his person, Goethe is somewhat large, though not very, with a marked countenance, a fine clear eye, large and very expressive features, well built and giving at onoo a favourable impression. In his manners he is very dignified, or rather ho has a sort of dignified stiffness, which he means should pass for genuine dignity. He walks amazingly upright. I found him quite in dishabille. He had on an Oberrock—i. e., a surtout, but no waistcoat, a ruffled shirt, not altogether clean, a cravat like the shirt, fast inclining to dark complexion. His boots were of quite an ordinary cut. No Dandi would hare worn them.”

Apropos of the life of George AlacDonald .noticed above, an ■ American Literary review says:—lt js a debatable question whether tho present generation will feel any particular interest in a forthcoming biography of George AlaoDonald. “David Elginhrod,” “Robert Falconer” and “Alec Forbes” are no more than titles, if so much as that, to the readers of to-day. Taste lor novels of the kind does not at any rate exist now. A few poetical pieces by Alaodonald will survive in anthologies. Wo have received from Air Y. Tchertkoff, editor of the English branch of “The Free Ago Press,” a circular in reference to the publication of several of Count Leo Tolstoy’s works. In this Air Tchertkoff denies a rumour that the Coimt has written a story called “Village Life.” Writing as the Russian author’s literary representative he further says that “The Free Age Press” has in preparation four of Count Tolstoy’s works and “several smaller pieces.” For the rest we may let Air Tchertkoff speak for himself. He says:—One of the greater works is a story describing the tragical life and inner experiences of a revolutionist. Another is a critical essay on Shakespeare explaining the conditions responsible for the misdirected worship of his writings. A third is a paper on the present condition of the Russian peasant population, advocating the nationalisation o r tho land as the most urgently necessary step at tho present national crisis. The fourth is an article on the true significance of State organisation, pointing out that it is only through a general religious upheaval that the working people of all countries will bo able to free themselves from the State slavery under which they are now crushed. The smaller pieces are short stories or parables written for a collection of “Daily Readings” Tolstoy lias during tho last years been selecting trora various authors of all times and nationalities.

In order to appreciate the stress and vitality of Tolstoy’s literary work, one should take into consideration the tact that besides different theoretic subjects which he is continually _ working out in his private writings without as yet giving them a definite form for publication, he lias almost completely .elaborated a whole scries of stories or socalled novels written in the highest vein of his artistic power, and treating of the most central problems of life, the publication of which, however, he does not desire to take place before his death.

I may add that Tolstoy is at present enjoying as good health as can be expected at his age, retaining tho remarkable energy both physical and mental which has always distinguished him, and following with tho closest interest tho development of social events now taking place in his own as well as in other countries.

Mrs I. L. Meade’s new story, “Old Eeadymoney’s Daughter,” will be published shortly by Messrs Partridge.

Mr F. C. Smith, 8.C.L., Follow of Men on College, Oxford, and Mr N. W. Sibley, LL.M., are the authors of a work entitled “International Law, as interpreted during the Russo-Japanese War.” which was advertised to be published by Mr Unwin on Aug. 28. The New Y T ork “Outlook” publishes an appreciative review' by President Roosevelt of a book of verso, entitled “Tho Children of tho Night,” by Edward Arlington Robinson v It is well known, that on its first publication “Lorna Doone,” -which everybody has since read, was a failure, tho public and the critics alike failing to perceive the merits which later were patent to all. Two or three years ago a booklet called “The Doones of Exmoor” was published to prove that Mr Blaokmore had no bettor historical basis for his story than traditions of the Danes who lived in Devonshire in tho days of King Alfred. Lately, however, Mr J. Charles Cox lias been investigating local traditions, and in tho “Athenaeum” tells tho result is an interested article. This proves that Die Doones were very real people of comparatively recent times. For example, one resident of Poriock Weir, a fisherman of eighty-six years, when asked if he had ever heard of the Doones replied “Oh, yes; why, tho Reds of Culbonc parish w r ero a strong lot, and there were many of them, and when tho Doones took off their sheep there was a great fight, and John Rod beat the Doones and killed tho biggest of them. That was'always tho talk. Some said as Rid and Red were all tho same name, and there were Rids of Oare, but tho old talk was always about the Reds. There were two families of them long ago in two farms above Culbone. There was only one good Doone, and she were a woman called Lorna. John Red married her when she was, tho only Doone left; so there is a bit of Doone blood in the Reds yet.”

Discussing under tho heading '‘August Plays” the practice of producing stupid plays in the London theatres daring the season when the town is in tho country and the country in the town, and thereafter working them through the provinces as metropolitan successes, the “Times” has some remarks on an analogous custom among book publishers. It says: “Something to read in the train” almost always means something that the buyer at the bookstall would never think of reading under any other conditions. There are busy publishing firms which, clearly acting on some cynical idea of human nature, rattle out early in August half-a-scoro and more of attractive-looking redbound novels. Their quality is such that, were the readers staying at home, they would return them at first sight to the library; but the cynical idea has some truth in it. The holiday public seems agreed to leave its intelligence behind in its hat-bos. It wants “sometiling to read in the train,” “something to read on my holiday,” and it takes the trashiest it can find. Some people there may be who are compelled, in ordinary circumstances, to do most of their reading in tho train—tho underground train—in the cab, or on tho omnibus; it is only tho state of the London streets which prevents them from reading, Kkb Macaulay, as they walk; and they look forward to their holidays, even to that part of them which is spent in the train, as the opportunity to enjoy what they consider reading worth the name, to go through Shelly whole, or Moliere, or even Montaigne, every word of him. But they are exceptions. The publishers who shoot their rubbish in August show some commercial wisdom. They can afford to insult the intelligence of their public, because their public asks to have its intelligence insulted.