WRITERS AND READERS

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 6492, 11 April 1908, Page 5

WRITERS AND READERS

(By “Liber.”)

In a accent issue of the “Century the versatile Andrew Lang writes: 'A bookish man is ‘hardly ever a "Cidressed man. If you will carry boo*» in vour pocket, sir’—said the present writer, with an eloquent aposiopesis. “Anomouesis” is as Polonies would hare bteveiisoTto friend, Jim Pinkerton (m •■The Wrecker”), have been to have happened across such a word. Steven.‘xmiaus will remember how that optimistic Liiscau Philistine fairly chortled with glee when he cam© across that good, catching phrase, “hebdomadary. while he vviu, looking up “hectagonal iu (he olfic© dictionary. “You’re a boss word,” I said. “Before you’re very much older ITI have you iu typo as long as yourself.” And sure enough, “prnkerlon’s Hebdomadary Picnics'* was on nil the ’Frisco boardings before a couple of clays had passed. Jim Pinkerton would never have appreciated Andrew Bang, but “Aposiopcois” would have made him revere his name. That he, not being learned in Greek derivatives, might not have known what “a.posiopiv.is” meant would not trouble him a jot.

Out of the way titles are apt to baifio the* bookseller's assistant who is not up-to-date, but a /Jew York ‘‘bookclerk' (there jue no “shop assistants ’ in. the iitatcoj has recently beaten the record. lie was a temporary clerk {1 nearly wrote “hand”) at Brcntano's, the famous book store on Lilian square, close by the Fifth avenue Hotel, and there came in a customer who asked for “d rauloin Schmidt and Mr Anstruthor,” which, as many of my readers are aware, is the latest literary effusion of that clover New Zealand born lady, who is known as the autnor of “Elizabeth and her German Garden/ - ' xou can judge the astonishment and jamuseiuout of the customer, when tlie 'clerk promptly replied that ‘‘she could hud them botn working up at cur new chore at Fifth Avenue and Twentyfifth street—they are no longer in our employ here/" The story is' vouched for as true by the “Publishers’ Weekly.” but personally i find it difficult of belief, for some four years ago ••-Liber" spent a whole day browsing round the shelves in Brentano’s, and came to the conclusion that never had ho mot booksellers’ assistants who were not only courteous, but who displayed an evidence of such wide reading and cultured literary taste. However, si non e vero e ben trovato. ’Tis a good yarn, even though it b© not true.

The flood of reprints continues and tlio convrights of some rather famous books are now falling in. Thus “pur Mutual Friend” went out of copyright at Christmas, and it will now bo added lo the cheap editions of Aiessrs Dent, Nelson, Macmillan, and other publishers. Just recently, too. the principal writings of Alfred de Musset wore open for reprinting without fee, -and before long tiiose of Dumas and Eugene Sue will bo public property. A leading French publisher has recently taken to issuing most artistically illustrated remints of works by the Do Goncourts, Marcel Provost, Alphonse and Ernest Baudot, Paul Hervieu, "Gyp,” Victor et Jules Marguerite, and other popular writers, and these can now be had at the very low rate of Ifr. 25c.—the Wellington price is one and threepence, q. ho books are beautifully printed, the only drawback being the too "tender” binding, in paper covers. The best way to deal with these “paper backs” is to have three or four of the books stoutly and plainly bound together In boards and then typewrite a title label to stick on the bach. That is what “Liber” does, and ho finds the device works very well.

I made brief allusion last week to the third and final volume of Mr Thomas Hardy's wonderful poetic drama “Tiio Dynasts/ - ’ I now gather that the volume covers the time from the crossing’ of the Niemen by the Grand Army under .Napoleon, on its fatal march to Moscow,* to the midnight after Waterloo—a space of three years almost to a day in historic reality, though made to seem less in the drama, as might bo expected. As the action includes the campaigns of Moscow, Leipzig, Vlttoria, and Waterloo, and thus deals with more events of magnitude than occur In the earlier parts, this on© is somewhat longer. The Duchess of Riciimoud’s fomaiitic ball at Brussels forms, of course, one of tho lifty-three scenes of winch tiie part consists, and no less than nine scenes are occuined with tne battle of .Waterloo itself. Altogether, on a hasty counting, from a hundred and thirty to a hundred and forty speaking characters appear, and a much larger number of •‘wanting’’ - ’ personages.

Everyone interested in the Napoleonic legend will, of course, secure a copy of Mr Hardy’s work, and as an item in a collection of “Napoieonianu” “The Dynasts" will have Its own value, apart from its literary merits. ■ It is not the hrst time tho famous ball at Brussel© has been described in English poetry, for who can forget Byron famous lines in "Child© Harold." which commence: "There was a sound of revelry by night. - "

Nor, in prose, shall wo easily forget Thackeray's brilliant description tin ‘‘Vanity .fair") of that memorable ball which the Duchess of Richmond gave’ on Juno loth, nor too, the pathetic and truly tragic note tho great novelist struck in the last four fines of his nil too brief reference to the great battle itself. These things will live as Tong as the English language survives, if Thomas Hardy is as lucky with hie great Napoleonic poetic drama ho will bo fortunate indeed. Talking about poetic drama the many admirers of Mr Swinburne may be interested to learn that his new drama of the Borgias, "The Duke of Gandia/’ is all complete in manuscript, ready to bo printed. Mr Swinburne never lets any work leave his bauds until the contents have taken their last lasting form. Accordingly, the correction of proofs is with him, a light task, though never a hurried one. By the way, apropos to Swinburne I notice in the‘last volume of "Book Prices Current" that a clean uncut copy of "Atlanta in Calydon” (hist edition, bien eutendu) brought no less than in - a London auction room last September. And yet it was published as recently as the 'fifties, by Chatto and Winclus (still Mr Swinburne's publishers) for the modest price of six shillings, and an equally well printed copy of tho; most recent edition can be had for a shilling less. It is difficult indeed to account for some of the vagaries and extravagances of the bibliophiles. Mr W. H. - Koebel, whose "Modern Argentina" won so much praise some few months ago, has published "-The Anchorage," a novel of which several London papers to hand this week speak very highly. The scene is laid on a New Zealand sheep farm, the hero a young "broken" Englishman, who is reclaimed by and marries a charming colonial girl. Mr Koebel, who is, I understand, a New Zealander by birth, has written two previous novels, "The Return of Joe" and "The Seat of Moods." Yet another story from his pen has been appearing in the "Graphic."