LITERATURE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2949, 21 September 1910, Page 81

LITERATURE.

BOOK NOTICES.

•" Hawaiki, the Original Home of the Maoris." By S. Percy Smith, F.R.G.S. Dunedin, Christchurch, etc. : Whitcombe and Tombs. (Cloth, maps, illustrations, 55.) n 1891 the author of this book, Mr . S. Percy Smith, issued a circular inviting all those interested in Polynesian matters to join in forming a society having for its object the preservation of the records of the Polynesian races. The society was duly formed, and Mr Percy Smith was the first president, and has, we believe, held the position ever since, it is largely due to his efforts and those of other members of this society, that a keen interest is kept alive in. the manners, customs, mythology, and history of those native races which are only too surely dying out before the advance of the white man. The information thus received from all parts of the Pacific .';eems to indicate that there are fields still open in which much may be gathered. Mr S. Percy Smith is among the most, indefatigable gleaners., In 1897 he took a six months' voyagt among the islands of the Pacific, interviewing old men of the Polynesian races, and collecting and comparing their reminiscences and their legends, genealogies, and " logs." It is the result of this voyage, and other experiences, which are nlaced before us in the present work, now reissued in an enlarged form as a third edition. If Mr Smith has a fault as an historian it is that his work is too brief and condensed for the ordinary reader. Every page demands the closest attention, and it is necessary to refer constantly to what has gone before so that one may compare and collate as one goes along. His method is somewhat the reverse of that which generally obtains; the proofs are put first, and followed by a connected and condensed narrative. The chief question which he sets himself to solve is : " Whence come the Maoris?" Where was that Hawaiki which they claim as their original starting place ?" At one time many believed that it must be sought in the Tahiti Group, temporarily called Hawaiki in memory of some older place, just as we ourselves name new spots after the old. Further inquiries, however, proved that this home-name was given successively to many other islands — even to New Zealand itself, though here in conjunction with the word "tautau" (burning), probably on account of the active volcanoes of the Dominion. Judge Wilson traced the Maoris back to Rarotonga, but this was proved to be only another stopping-place on the way. The home-land was still further back. For 25 years Mr Percy Smith prosecuted his different inquiries in this direction. It would be obviously impossible in our limited space to follow the line of his argument step by step, and show how patiently he pursued every thread of evidence, until finally he traced the Maoris back to India, where he believes that they lived on the plain of the Ganges; whence they were driven by invading hordes and perhaps by some natural cataclasym, such as a flood. From India traditions say that they went in a fleet of 20 canoes to Java; thence to Fiji, Samoa, Tahiti, Rarotonga, Paumoto. Hawaii, and other islands. Many of their ancestors were great navigators, the extent of whose voyaging seems to us almost incredible, extending as it did eastward to Easter Island, and southward to the Great Antarctic* Ocean, where they saw and fully described icebergs and ••niruses. New Zealand was visited by hem and partly colonised long before the arrival of the famous "fleet" of six canoes, which first made land in the neighbourhood of East Cape and then coasted along to the places in which their crews finally settled. With these canoee Maori history is generally said to begin. It i& from the chiefs of these canoes that " the Maori aristocracy of the present day love to claim descent," . . . while the older migrations are with many tribes ignored or made little of." Mr Percy Smith commutes the period of these migrations by .calculating the genealogies of which the people have "hvays kept strict account and the and accuracy of which form their cole chronology. In preparing such tables in Europe it is usual to allow three lives to every 100 years, but in view of the early puberty of Polynesian races Mr Percy Smith decreases the age limit and allows four generations to each 100 years. By this system of calculation he places the original migration from India about Mhe year 450 B.C. and the arrival of the " fleet" in New Zealand at 1350 A.D.. with approximate dates between. It will thus be seen that he does not go back very far in his search for ." beginnings," having little data t< go on, and though his theory does not support that of Professor Manwairing Brown concerning the Caucasian origin of the race it does not contradict, it, nor does he give any opinion concerning Mr J. R. Logan's theories about the influence of ancient Egyptian and Semitic, civilisation on the race in very early times, antecedent to their abode* in India. Mr Percy Smith contents himself with going ba:k to the original " Hawaiki, tho home of the Maoris," though their traditions vaguely Doint still further back into the night of time But he does say very distinctly

that " the influence of a Semetic connection on the Polynesians is very obvious to any one who will study the language ;snd the customs. Nearly all those who have dealt with the grammars of the various dialects of Polynesia have been struck by the many similarities in struc--uro to be found between them and the Semetic forma. . . . But the number

of Semetic customs to be found prevail,'nc' among the Polynesians is perhaps inore striking than the lingual connections. ' —while it has frequently been pointed out that the Egyptian sun-god Ra finds its equivalent in the Polynesian Ra (sun), and that there are _eyident traces

of sun-worship throughout the islands. As we have already remarked, Mr Percy Smith is a most careful historian. He never lets his imagination run away with him, and all that he tells us is worthy of careful consideration. He says little of the mythology and folk-lore of the Maoris, which have been exhaustively treated by others, but he does remark that many of their gods and demi-gods were originally men, whose great deeds of war or peace earned for them this distinction. In particular he instances Maui, the greatest of all Polynesian heroes, who was a " deified ancestor." Indeed, there were probably many Mauis, named after the first, their deeds being incorporated into the miraculous story with which we are familiar. The same is true of Ronga and other socalled gods. Mr Percy Smith's book is illustrated with numerous photos, a map (showing routes of the different migrations from India to New Zealand), a genealogical table (showing 95 generations, chiefly obtained from Rarotongan sources, and extending back to 450 8.C.), and a useful index. It is dedicated to the memory of Abraham Fornander, District Judge of Hawaii, " the first Polynesian scholar to apply the Polynesian traditions to the solution of the origin of the race," from whose book many copious extracts are quoted. The whole work is a most valuable contribution to our knowledge of early Maori history and origins, and bears abundant witness to the painstaking research and genuine modesty of the author.

"The Dew of Their Youth." By S. R. Crockett. London : Hodder and Stoughton. Dunedin: Gordon and Gotch. (3s

6d, 2s 6d). This is one of Mr Crockett's charming stories in the style of " The Lilac Sunbonnet," in which an old-world love idyl, irei from complications of any kind, forms the central theme. Of course, the lovers have some difficulties to contend with, or there would be no story. Irma Maitland is a lady of high degree, and Duncan M'Alpine, " schoolmaster's son and uncovenanted assistant," is only of stout yeoman stock, but this is obviously a trial and not a problem, and is only created to be overcome. But the real heroine is not Duncan's sweetheart, but his grandmother, a spkndid old lady of the most vigorous type, all whose ways " were dominating without being domineering," who ruled " the house of Heathknowes in a manner that showed she must be obeyed, and there was an end of it. . . . In her eye was

a flash that would have cowed a grenadier. There was something masterful and even martial in her walk, in the way she attacked the enemy of the moment, or the work that fell to her hand." But she had a large and tender heart, to which every weakling was welcomed, and a brain " Miltonic "in its grasp. Her rule was a benevolent despotism, against winch neither husband, sons, nor grandchildren dared to rebel, and the* efforts of her unmarried daughter, Janet, to assert her will in opposition were humorously ineffectual. The story is dated some generations back, when smuggling was a more heroic pursuit than it is at present, and Irma*s ancestral tumble-down castle is the scene of some very spirited engagements between the freetraders and the " conveniently blinded " police. The scene is laid in North Britain, on the banks of the Solway, and has all the charm of picturesque scenery and local colour for which Mr Crockett is so justly noted.

" The Ruby Heart of Kishgar." By Arthur W. Marohmont. London : Hodder and Stoughton. Dunedin : Gordon a,nd Gotch. (3s 6d, 2e 6d).

The loss of a precious jewel dedicated to the worship or adornment of a heathen god. is not a particularly original foundation for a novel, but if the theme is not new Mr Arthur Marchmont's treatment of it is sufficient to merit high praise. He has a happy gift for sensational narration, the incidents follow each other with breathless speed, and indeed the whole action related in nearly 300 pages occupies only some two or three days, from" the moment when the ruby heart is stolen, almost from the neck of a beautiful society dame, to the hour of its mysterious restoration. The " stormcentre " of the plot is made to revolve round a young and spirited girl, the Honourable Mollie Pownatt. who is one of the guardians of the doubly stolen jewel, and in a manner responsible for its safekeeping, as she is lady-in-waiting to the Queen of Saxanhof, who includes " the ruby heart of Kishgar " among her state regalia. Mollie'e stepmother " borrow? " tilie gem. lose** it. and lest Mollie should be suspected. her lover arid sundry others undertake the search for its recovery. Of course, there are the usual number of persons bound together by some terrible oath, who are moving heaven and earth to ob-> tain the - : >»wel and restore it to Kishgar, and at least one man iosee his life in the attempt to protect Mollie: but the story is written in a light and cheerful vein, and the adventures and misadventures of the amateur detectives are amusing without being too impossible, while the unexpected denouement is highly dramatic and satisfactory.

LITERARY NOTES. Mark Twain's collection, of books has been presorted by hit? daughter. Mrs Clara Clemen* Gabrilowitsch, to the Free Library. Recdino- Connecticut. Her father took a front interest in this library durins: hie lifetime, and drew a cheque of 6000 dollars in :t« favour only a few days before his death.

''The Forerunner," a "Welsh novel by the Rev. Ehvvn Thomas, is to be published' shortly by Messrs Lynwood. This book, which gives a delineation of Welsh lifo d"jrine the seventeenth century, -was awarded the first, prize at the National Welsh Eistcddfodd.

A new volume of poems by the Hon. Elcanom- Norton, the great-granddaughter of the famous Hon. Mrs Norton, is Rhortly to bo published in the Vigo Cabinet Series. The third and eoncluding- volume of Mr Wilfrid Wilson Gibson's "Daily Bread" is

also to -be issued by Mr Elkin Mathews shortly. Tinder the title of "Mates and Other Dramatic Poems."

generally find that he is also a poet in his leisure moments. Mr Henry ale Vere Stacpoole wrote "The Blue Lagoon," and other excellent stories. Now he is publishing a volume of "Poeme and' Ballads" with Mr John Murray. The sea and its mystery, the forest and its charm, childhood and the genius of Paul Verlaine—of those and other eubjeots does our novelist-poet sing. About 60 years ago Disraeli prophesied that parliaments, were on the wane, and that the only two Powers which would survive were the Crown and the press. In modern Germany Lord Beaconsfield's prediction has been completely verified; while in Great Britain, if it is too early to appraise the power of the Sovereign, there is no doubt that the press is stronger than the Legislature.—Saturday Review "One fact must strike any reviewer of modern poetry," says the Spectator. "Not only is the level of technical accomplishment high, but the impulse to sing, to re-create the world in the terms of beauty, and to regard no part of life as- alien to the Muses, is strong and persistent. Th's does not mean that good poetry is common, for technical skill and the most ardent love of beauty are not sufficient to command the divine fire ; but it means that there is a wealth of the material from which poetry is born. It is a hopeful sign which our modern pessimists would do we!! to note. At few periods in our history have so many people from so many different points of view been writing verse, distinguished, musical, sincere, and origi nal."

Reference is made ia the "Life of Lord Glenesk" to Mr Crompton, who; hail lent large sums of money to the proprietor? of the Morning Post, o£ -which he ultimately became proprietor as he foreclosed. Cromptqn, was a paper-maker and cottonspinner at Bolton who had made a very large fortune, and in the forties and early fifties he was always ready to finance anyone using paper in great quantities. He was the "capitalist" of several short-lived publications, and he lent much money to the Sun newspaper. Crompton's most remarkable transaction was his deal with John Cassell, who was starting his "Pop 1lar Educator," and his "Working Man's Friend," and hi 6 "Popular History of England," and similar cheap publications. Crompton had lent CasseH nearly £70,000 before he sold him up, when the copyright and literary stock and printing plant passed to a firm of publishers and printers. The purchasers found it expedient to take Cassell into partnership, ns he had advertised his own name sol extensively in connection with his publications, which were just beginning to sell in hugia quantities. Thus originated the celebrated house of Cassell, Petter, and Galpin, of which Crompton was really the creator. Something like an "Academy," in the French sense, is being attempted in England. An academic committee of 27 has constructed itself out of the Royal Society of Literature and the Society of Authors. Its first endeavour will be "to maintain the purity of the English language and to hold up a standard of taste in style." But are these 27 the men to- do it (asks the World), in an age when nearly as many people write as read? They are men of fine taste indisputably, but they are scholars rather than authors. What popular influence has Mr Alfred Austin, though he can write charming and scholarly prose ; or Mr Lang, who has dabbled', in his dilettante fashion, with so many subjects ; or Mr Mackail, or Mr Raleigh, or Mr Verrall —what influence have any of these upon the millions whose standard of taste ia a halfpenny newspaper, and whose literary idols are Miss Marie Corelli and Mr Hall Caine? Yet it is among these people and the writers they make and pay that the purity of the language suffers. Mr Hardy, Mr Hewlett, Mr Conrad are writers who have some substantial work to their credit : but one would hesitate to 1 call even them 'popular,' and the majority iepresen& scholarship rather than letters." It may be added that Lord' Morley and Mr Haldane are included in the 27—the former of right undoubtedly—but Mr Kipling is omitted He is not "academic."

Human nature, naked and unshamed, is the subject with which Mr Bernard Shaw's dramas elect to deal. If the result is unlovely, that, Mr Shaw would a6sert, :,? not his fault, but the fault of human nature. "Nature is what you call immoral." he writes in one place; "I blush for it, but I cannot help it." In other words, his business is, as a dramatist, to tear off all those convenient blinkers which men and women put before their eye 6; to get rid of their so-called generous emotions ; to analyse their moral maxims; to show the hollownej-s of their social conventions. Perhaps t his is the reason why Mr Shaw's plays are "caviare to the general." They do not represent the men and women that one eees around one, with all their inherited prejudices and their occasional lapses into' emotion and sentiment, but understudies for the future man, wholly intellectual and quite self-seeking, who is, in other words, the Superman of Nietzsche. It is drama as written by a critic; and just as it is difficult to get a philosophical: system out of sheer criticism, so it js equally difficult to get drama out of purely negat.ve qualities.—Telegraph. There is brilliant work in "Celt and Saxon' (says the Westminster Gazette referring to Meredith's posthumous novel), and its publication is abundantly justified, but the hardiest Meredithian will be puzzled to divine its plot and conclusion. Possiblv the fact that Meredith himself left it "lying unfinished for a period of 40 vears is proof that he was puzzled, an.d that, having started out to write a novel which should illustrate the clash between the Celtic and Saxon temperaments, he -was conscious of the extreme difficulty of making it concrete and visible in the 'ortunris of' his characters. We have >oen this book described as an unfinished' sketch for a canvas, but that simile will not work. With an unfinished sketch before you, you can discover at least what the plot and design of the picture ie to be ; from the unfinished manuscript you can draw no conclusions. The 300 pages before ua start some half dozen themes with no apparent connection between them. There is the romantic story of the beautiful girl who threw over her Irish adorer and married an abhorrent and elderly Genman prince in sheer ambition to win a throne. Surely she was meant to establish her place among Meridithian fair women. Yet she never so much as appears in the 300 pages, and there is no part for her that we can even fueas at. It is even doubtful whether her rish lover ever cared for her, for he ateo starts aa entirely different story with

quite another kind of lady. Not the unfinished sketch, but a sheaf of notes from a sketch book, is what this novel suggests to us—trial portraits in various positions, brilliant studies more or less finished, landscape background, notes of death—splendid stuff" fo rthe student, by-the-bye, perhaps. to be grouped and sorted and fitted to some design, but each at present on . : ts separate leaf and serenely aloof from every other leaf. Here, perhaps, we exaggerate a little, but the question seriously occurs' to us as we read this book whether Meredith really wrote his chapters in separate compartments for his first draft, and trusted to some subsequent process to pull them together. And yet fragmentary, disjointed, inconclusive as it may be "Celt and Saxon" is the true Meredith and, in sheer wit and brilliancy of writing, riot far from the best. The story drifts vaguely, the characters come to no issue, the plot is past divining, but page after page delights us by its gaiety, its aliveness, the depth and' delicacy of its insight into the Irish temperament, and the English temperament. The Bulwer novels, in spite of their extraordinary variety , and the fact that some of them were published anonymously, were never failures ,and are still, we believe, read and re-read by good judges of literature. Melodrama so well constructed as ,"Night and Morning" and "Paul Clifford" will always be popular; "The La.st Days ;>f Pompeii" is both "touching" in its blind girl and an easy guide to classical, antiquities; while "The Last of the Barons" and "Rienzi" fill definite gaps in historic fiction. It is the more remarkable that other works like "Mv Novel" and "What Will He Do With It'?"—"The Cax tons" and "My Novel" brought; him in £3OOO each—concerned with the domestic emotions, are still widely read, for Bulwer shows prominently in hie fiction many of the Victorian virtues which we now regard as faults. Apart from the irritating practices of putting jokes in italics, giving people punning names obviously founded on, their business or profession, and destroying illusion by 6uch vagueness as the little village of L , Madame J , and tho date of 17— tba novelist 'wate always preaching and teaching, spoiling his story by dragging in some ulterior object, and putting unblushingly into, tho mouths of his characters lectures and discussions on •morals and metaphysics. The disowned, the misunderstood, the hidden genius, tha. disappointed lover, and the seared heart are too common in Bulwer. His melancholy moon ov single star supplying a dim light, for (ii.stresfcod souls reminds us of Byron Both writers have ma-intaincd their position o:i the Continent batter than at home.—At henceum.