BOOKS

Otago Daily Times, Issue 9355, 20 February 1892, Page 2 (Supplement)

BOOKS

Falling in Love. By Grant Allen.—London • Smith, Elder, and Co. Dunedin: Wise, Caffln, and Co.

To prevent any misapprehension we hasten to say that the volume with the above taking title is only a series of short essayH on certain branches of science. Botany, geology, archicology, biology, &c., are represented, each by an essay on some fragment of its domain. There are in all 21 essays; and, wonderful to relate, each of the 21. is more or less humourous We have always liked Mr Allen's style of treating science subjects. His manner of treatment is level with our knowledge (or ignorance) of science—a doubtful compliment wearo very well aware. Yet the-writers arc few who, possessing presumably a tolerably extensive and thorough acquaintance with various branches of science, can yet write pleasant and profitable reading for those whose | knowledge is the extensive but shallow knowledge of the "general reader." Mr Allen, speaking for himself, says that he prefers his science like his champagne—as dry as ho can get it: yet with this natural appetite for the sincere milk of science he condescends to write for the market—that is, of course, for the many, whose inclinations are to the light and sweet. Scientists of the "dry" school, we understand, shrug their shoulders at Mr Allen's claims to be considered one of them. But this is probably because they are themselves unable to be anything but dry, and distrust anyone who is bright and light. Now Mr Allen has the faculty not only of seizing upon such scientific facts as are easily made presentable and interesting,, but even of finding fun in them, or at any rate of making fun out of them! Strange as it may seem we have found Mr Allen altogether too funny. It is not in the nature of things that any field of human knowledge should be the arena of so much boisterous playfulness as Mr Allen disports himself withal when he entertains us with the various ologies. To read his essays on " The Continent of Australia," " Food and Feeding," " Pre-historic Men," " Genius "(all sober enough subjects one would think) you might suppose yourself "assisting" at some side-splitting harlequinade. The Jokes come fast and furious, till at last you begin to doubt whether, after all, you do not prefer your science a little " drier." The amount of really humourous humour in this book is quite sufficient to season any science volume of the size—at, say, a joke per page octavo, which is quite as much fun as is decent in science, or tolerable anywhere. Unfortunately Mr Allen is under the impression that to hold the unscientific vulgar, he must be always funning— with what disastrous results to his humour may be conceived: this result, amongst others, that the style of the book presents more affinity to that of Mr Jerome than the author would be pleased to believe. If Mr Allen sets out with supposing that the many canuot take their science unless each spoonful is sweetened with the treacle of wit, he has done his work perhaps nearly as well as it could be done. But even then it is astonishing to find a man who really can write when he likes, tricking out his paragraphs with tags of periphrastic humour (the lowest Jdnd of all, except punning) which have long ago, by sheer wear and tear, lost, as fun, any force they have ever had. Thus, speaking of jute, he describes it as a thing " in whose sole manufacture the whole great and flourishing town of Dundee lives and moves and has its being." Again, he pronounces the banana as "more suggestive of a flavourless over-ripe pear than of anything else in heaven or earth, or the waters under the earth." There is no doubt a certain kind of humour (much affected, we believe, by Americans) in applying sacred words to profane But surely all parodies of the phrases above quoted have long ago lost any piquancy they ever had, and should now be tabooed by a writer who has the entree to the best English magazines. Apart, however, from this lault of vapid funning, Mr Grant's essays make very pleasant reading. .The first essay, "Falling in Love," has not even this fault." There fs a little fun in it—just enough, and that, too, of the best kind. Sir George Campbell, it appears, advocated some time ago in the pages of "Nature "a reform in our marriage customs. He would have marriages arranged by some competent authority, who would select men and women for each other on such principles as would be likely to produce the best possible offspring. Falling in love ! Nonsense ! How can young girls, who cannot choose a bonnet, be trusted to choose so important a thing as a husband ? Letthe State doitforthem with a view to improving the " breed." Such is Sir George's charming proposition, which leads Mr Allen to step into the arena and defend the good old plan of falling in love. This ha does on purely scientific grounds. Sir George points triumphantly to what has been achieved in the breeding of plants and animals—the rose, the racehorse, the sheep, the pigeon,—forgetting that to secure some particular point the general well-being of the plant or animal has been sacrificed. The rose best fitted to fend for itself in the struggle for existence is the hedge rose. How would a racehorse be if it' were turned out without its rug and its stable boy to fend for itself on the prairie? The sheep's brain has been made to run to wool and mutton, so that an animal originally one of the most sagacious is now one of the most stupid. No; it is bestbest for the race—that every youth and maid should follow nature, and select by the instinct that nature has implanted in them. Beauty j thinks Mr Allen, is, in the long run, the surest index to perfection. Therefore a girl is quite right to prefer the silky moustache, the broad shoulders, the straight and strong limbs, the well-formed, intelligent, and good-humoured features to any amount of money bags and ugliness—and this in spite of all that interested mammas and moral philosophers may say to the contrary. "In reality," says Mr Allen, 'beauty is one of the very best guideswe can possibly have to the desirability, so far as race-preservation is concerned, of any man or any woman as a partner in marriage. A fine form, a good figure, a beautiful bust, a round arm and neck, a fresh complexion, a lovely face, are all outward and visible signs of the physical qualities that on the whole conspire to make up a healthy and vigorous wife and mother." It is quite delightful to find a philosopher and scientist, in this sceptical century, who still believes in "love at first sight," calls it " the divinest and deepest of human in- ■ tuitions," and deems the man wise who listens to its promptings. This is an essay which all intelligent mothers will read with pleasure, no doubt, and profit. But any prudent mamma who has quite made up her mind as to what particular noodle's money bags or title she wishes to sell her daughter for, will find it wise perhaps to keep all such seditious science out of the damsel's hands. It would, we fear, decide her for the silky moustache, which, as prudent mammas know, is a thing which every sensible girl ought to set her face against.

The Slender Clue; or, The Mystery of MardiGraz. By Lawrence L. Lynch.—LondonWard, Lock, and Co. Dfinedin- Wise Caffin, and Co. Those who like the agony well piled up will bnd this detective story to their taste. Assuming the story to be at all faithful to life, American detectives are artists—the flower of heroism and intellect—who are received in the best society somewhat on the footing of successful generals. They are capable of the most devoted self-sacrifice in the exercise of their profession. The chief detective in the story is introduced to our notice in the first chapter just as he is leaving prison, where he has been voluntarily doing a period of hard labour ra order to worm from a fellow prisoner the secret of a certain notorious crime. There is a great deal of ingenuity displayed in the plot of this book. A clever and consummate villain is the pike de resistance. There is also a clever woman who tries a piece of impersonation which is bold enough to affront hi most readers the sense of probability. However, who looks tor probability in a detective story ? Credibile quid impqssibile.

Essays in Little. By Andrew Lang. London ■ Henry and Co. Dunedin : Wise. Caffin," and Co. We cannot say whether Mr Lang means the littleness to apply to the length of the essays, to their quality, or to the importance of the street. Bach essay is longer than the average essay of Bacon ; they all treat of interesting, though not all perhaps of important subjects: and they are all finished with the light and sympathetic touch which makes Mr Lang's writing such popular reading. The subject of the first essay is Alexandre Dumas (pere not fls). It is,'as he himself allows, a cu'ogy, not a criticism: it is an enthusiasm. " The past and present," he says," speaking of Dumas, " are photographed impenshably on his brain; he knows the manners of all ages and countries, the names of all the arms that men have used, all the garments they have worn, all the dishes they have tasted, all the terms of all professions— from swordsmanship to coach-building. Other authors have to wait and hunt for facts Nothing stops Dumas: he knows and remembers everything. Hence his rapidity, his facility, his positive delight in labour ; hence it came that he might be heard, like Dickens laughing while he worked." On Thackeray Mr Lang, as might be expected, speaks with very tender sympathy. Thackeray is the author's author, as Spenser is the poet's poet. He has not the popularity of Dickens or Shakespeare; but for those who have the sense of style Thackeray is the writer. By the way, it is curious to find an experienced literary man like Mr Lang repeating the foolish old assertion that Shakespeare is a popular writer in the sense in which this may be said of Dickens. Of no author can it be said so much as of Shakespeare that his reputation has been made by the enthusiastic eulogy •of scholars ; and to maintain that he is popular in the sense ot being much read by those who have no f eel- !. nS f or literature and style is one of the bits of loohsh Shakespeare cant so common nowadays. It requires next to no literary sense to taste Dickeus to the full: a very keen literary sense interferes, if anything, with the enjoyment of this most popular of authors. There are some indeed, who profess that they cannot read Dickens precisely because he offends their literary sense. With Shakespeare, again, some degree of literary feeling (or else representation on the stage) is absolutely necessary to

carry a reader through his plays: and exactly in proportion as the literary sense becomes keenor, do his plays give a keener delight. ■ For our own part, as mere literature (apart from stage representation), we should say ' that Shakespeare is one of the least popular of authors—caviare to the general, rather. Mr Lang's book contains in all 16 essays, all on literary subjects and all charming.