BOOKS OF THE DAY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3995, 7 October 1930, Page 68

BOOKS OF THE DAY.

OF FIVE BIG MEN.

“ Dreamers of Empire.” By Achmed Abdullah and T. Compton Pakenham. Illustrated by B. K. Morris. (Cloth; 7s 6d net.) London: George G. Harrap and Co., Ltd.

Cecil John Rhodes, Richard Francis Burton, John Nicholson, Henry Montgomery Lawrence, Charles George Gordon. Surely five big men, in their way as famous at any other five Empire figures which could be named. The brilliant character, sketches which form the contents of this fine volume breathe the spirit of high adventure, introduce the reader to a maze of romance, entertain him with the outstanding personalities who occupy the stage, and at the same time give him glimpses of dreams which at one time were almost akin to those of fairyland. Life stories these with such original and courageous set-

ting as to place them in competition with the better class of historical fiction. The difference here is that real lives and hard facts are the literary material. These five were “ dreamers who enjoyed themselves thoroughly—dreamers whose dreams became reality after the twilight fell upon Arcady.” In this book the partners in authorship have done excellent work. They display a keen insight into the lives of the big men of whom they write, they appreciate the motives which spurred them on towards their goal, and if at times they show impatience and even harshness of judgment, it is only because they appreciate fully the bigger dreams of the bigger men. Very naturally, they are impatient with the meaner souls who would not or could not read the future. The big men “ went forward and carried on, with the few who would follow them, through, round, or over obstacles man-made or Nature-made—-i to build the pedestals for the looser, : safer minds, the successes.”

The first sketch is of “ Cecil John Rhodes, who dreamed of an All-red Africa and of a railway from the Cape to Cairo.” The dream of itself was an Empire asset, but the measure of achievement was almost a miracle. There were men in the time of Cecil Rhodes who counted him a meddler and a nuisance, but no one familiar with his work and subsequent events can estimate him aught but benefactor. Possessed of uncommon driving force, of boundless courage and resource, he dreamed and worked for Empire. So far as failure can be written on his deeds it must always carry the prefix splendid. His aim was perhaps too high for his time—certainly it was beyond the comprehension of many of the men who were temporarily charged with the serious business of Empire Government. Very early in life, he says, “ the wish jame to me to render myself useful to my country.” He wanted to extend the boundaries of the Empire. His reason appears to be amply sufficient: “ For the more of the world we inhabit, the better it is for the human race. . .

The absorption of the greater portion of the world under our rule means the end of all wars.” So, when he glimpsed thousands of ungoverned square miles and exclaimed, “ I want all this red! ” he merely desired to extend the benefits of civilisation. In the pursuance of his dream he became the friend of white man and black man, though he incurred clamorous hostility from some men of his own colour. It is true he amassed great wealth, and it is equally true that he used it in the service of his country. At times gigantic failure stared him in the face, but he plodded on, pledging his future energy and success for the attainment of the immediate object. In the face of disaster he could find it in his heart to say, “ I feel like Job, all but the boils.” And then, “ I honestly believe that my years of trouble have made me a better man. I am determined to go on with my work—the work of forming a railway junction with Egypt and the work of closer union in South Africa.” The tide turned, and he won ! further successes and renewed confidence

i from his countrymen. And he died ’whispering. “So little done! So much Ito do! ” To the dead man—“ the greatest Englishman in modern times ’’ — overwhelming honour was proffered. Tens of thousands, Dutch and British, passed his bier, and thousands upon thousands made the long, weary pilgrimage into the far Matoppos.

The cortege neared .its goal. It was greeted by more thousands and thousands. Black men this time. Matabele warriors in full ceremonial dress, shaking their spears, bestowing on the dead Briton the royal salute which never before had they bestowed on any but their own kings. He lies there . . . There, till the vision he foresaw Splendid and whole arise. And unimagined empires draw To council ’neath his skies. The immense and brooding spirit still Shall quicken and control. Living, he was the ’land, and dead, His soul shall be her soul! ¥ Ap A-

The next 40 odd pages tell the story of Richard Francis Burton, “ who dreamed in Seventeen languages.” This is indeed a romantic story of a man who abided by his own conventions and made his way into unknown and forbidden lands by sheer force of character and personal attainments. Richard Burton has been harshly judged, rightly perhaps, according to common standards. But here was an uncommon mar. who, had he been cast in ordinary mould, could never have overcome insuperable obstacles. He was not an Empire builder in the sense that Cecil Rhodes was, though he was instrumental in showing that a Briton could blaze the track of progress and reveal the hidden mysteries of the unknown world. For the nonce in each country he became one of that country. He was a master of many languages, but he was much more than that. He was a

pioneer, caring little for the praise or condemnation of his fellows. His life had its tragic side. He is known as the author of many works which are permanent. But his last finished work, on which he placed great value, “ The Scented Garden,” was burned by Lady Burton, liecause “ it shocked me.” Thus, after death. Richard Burton ■was cheated by his wife; as, during life, he had been cheated by envious, meansouled cavillers, by dirt-sniffing hypocrites; as, to this day. he is cheated by that sheepish thing called Public Opinion, which, forgetting him, sits, gaping and gullible, at the feet of lesser men, of self-seeking, self-advertising, self-praising explorers. . . .

But he was not cheated in his high dreams—nor in his high deeds!

John Nicholson, “ who, great in war. dreamed greatly of peace,” and Henry Montgomery Lawrence, “ who dreamed of justice,” have much in common, and the authors advise the reading of the Mvo biographies together. Much of their great work and many of their noblest deeds were wrought in India. Nicholson was a wonderful soldier, stern and just. He fell in battle and died simultaneously with the fall of Delhi.

“ Nikalsain is dead.” The news spread from end to end of India. It reached Peshawar. There the leader of the Nikalsain: cult of the Sikhs announced that life, after his idol’s death, was meaningless, and straightway cut his throat. “Nikalsain is dead!” —you can hear the dirge to this day in the Punjab, from Lahore to Multain and from the

Jhelum to the Sutlej Henry Lawrence was also a soldier. He understood India and her people, and he had a passion for justice. During long and difficult years he served his country with a sincerity and faithfulness unique and acceptable. He was a great administrator, and where he ruled he ruled with wisdom. He was described thus by a high official in the Central Government: “Henry Lawrence, the friend of every one who is down, the generous, the loved, who got a little more for every one, who fought every losing battle for the old chiefs, with entire dis regard of his own interests, left the Punjab amid an outburst of universal lamentation.” Like Nicholson Sir Henry Lawrence was killed in battle. His epitaph reads—- “ Henry Lawrence, who tried to do hie duty.”

Charles George Gordon, “ who always, in China, the Sudan, the Crimea, dreamed of the Christ.” Here is told the story of the heroic and patriotic Christian soldier. Gordon served in many fields always with distinction, but sometimes without official recognition. He was not a favourite with the War Office. His greatest achievement was in China, and he became known as Chinese Gordon. When he was sent to what proved to be his last command it is related that a high official who should have known better asked, “ Why has the Government sent a Chinaman to the Sudan? What can they mean by sending a native of that country to such a place?” For the man whose motto was “ Honour, not honours!” there was much suspicion and not enough understanding The fall of Khartum is well known. Gordon organised for the siege and held out to the last possible moment with his handful of men—he had pleaded for a relief force of not more than 200 men They came too late. When the last assault came Gordon was ten yards in the lead.

. . . the enemy had loosed a volley. Their shooting was not very good. Only one man was hit. His name was Gordon.

So he died; and the Malidists cut off his head and sent it through the desert in token of triumph. There was a smile on the lips of the head.

Perhaps it thought of Gordon’s letter in which he expressed'Tiis hope that he might be rescued and saved, lest the howling dervishes of certain sects call him a martyr and “make a tin Jesus out of me.” . . . Perhaps it thought of his last letter to his sister when knowing that death was near, he summed up his own'character: “I am quite happy, thank God, and, like Lawrence, I have tried to do my duty.”

Messrs Harrop have given to the public several books . of true adventure. “ Dreamers of /Empire ” will enhance their reputation* and give further confidence to their choice of subjects and authors. A LADY OF IDEAS. “ The Beloved Adventuress.” By Edmund B. d’Auvergne. (Cloth, Cs.) London: Nash and Grayson (per Dymock’s Book Arcade, Sydney). The characters in this novel, with one or two unimportant exceptions, belong to history—the history of 1762-96, when Catharine 11, “ the Semiramis of the North,” was Empress of Russia. The chief person is a beautiful adventuress named Betty, who, rising from position to position until she is sought in marriage by Philip Ferdinand, the Prince of Limburg Styrum, conceives the idea that she is heir to the Russian throne and sets about asserting her rights. The book deals with her refusing Philip Ferdinand, setting off for Oberstein, working to make an entrance into Russia, and, after sundry adventures in Italy and elsewhere, achieving her ambition, only to find herself in a trap. Such names as Gregory Orloff—the Empress’s paramour—the Palatine Radziwcll —a representative of the

Poland which Catharine was slowly but surely annexing—and the Letman Razumovski—through whom Betty traced her descent to the throne —are current in the tale. Also several events of history are narrated. But. somehow, the book makes little impression on one. Despite her intrigues, her ambitions, and her beauty, Betty is not a convincing figure, nor are the characters with whom she associates presented so as to seem real. The most natural figure of all, perhaps, is Franziska, the maid, though Domanski the Pole, who for a time is Betty’s lover, leaves a slight impression of life. The book is interesting as a picture of the times it portrays, but adds nothing to the already heavilystocked library of modern revivals of ancient history.

AN UNUSUAL TRIANGLE. “ The Shadow Husband.” By Karl Hans Strobl. (Cloth; 65.) London: Cassell and Co. (per Whitcombe and Tombs, Dunedin). This story, simple and naive to a degree, has a fascination and dignity which hold the attention. Its language is fluent and its characters, no matter how unusual, quite convincing. It deals with Bohemia, from where, until recently, very little literature found recognition.

The tale tells how Justus, the ne’er-do-well husband of Rina, steals some money from his father to pay his gambling debts, and, being smitten with fear for his crime, runs away. Eleven years later a man, so like him in appearance as to be his double, and to whom he has gambled away his name, his wife, his child, and the secrets of his married life, comes to the village and says he is Justus returned. He takes up life in Rina’s home. For a time there is estrangement between Rina and him, bur, gradually he wins her until she is happier than ever in her life before. At this juncture •certain enemies of the impostor, whose real name is Andreas, produce Justus himself, whereupon trouble enters into Rina’s life again.

The - charm of the tale lies in its straightforward,- almost childish attitude to life. Rina, whose portrait is admirably drawn, acts always in accordance with what to her is right. One feels no inconsistencies about her reunion with Justus, for it is obvious that she is doing only what her moral sense bids her do; and the fact that it hurts her to do it only makes the performing of it all the more necessary. Justus is a true vagabond, and Andreas a most likeable if unconventional fellow. The one or two side pictures which are sown through the tale, while being unnecessary to the plot, are nevertheless such a reflection of the ordinary village life they describe that they do not materially detract from the interest of the book as a whole. A DOUBLE BILL.“The Tram Ticket Mystery.” “When The Ghost Walked.” By C. K. Thompson. (Paper covers; 25.) Sydney and Wellington: New Century Press, Ltd.

The first of these thrillers answers the question: Who killed John Fultham? while the second centres around the mysterious personage of Parramatta Charlie, reputedly the worst-looking man in Sydney. In both the scenes of all the dirty work are laid in Sydney, the villains are the crooks, the heroes are the police, and the heroines two very presentable women of quite different type of beauty and of character. In the beginning of “ The Tram Ticket Mystery ” John Xavier Fultham is found murdered in his library. He was a retired banker of independent means, with an only daughter, Joyce. Investigation showed that he had been stabbed in the back with a dagger. When his body was found an arrow taken from a wall in his room was discovered stuck in the wound, while another arrow fixed a tram ticket to his desk. At the time the murder was committed a detective was on the premises, and he himself found the murdered man. The detective was investigating a robbery at the Fultham establishment. Between the time when the murder was discoverd by Detective Compton and the arrival of the superintendent and other police officers, the murderer had again entered the room and fixed the arrow in the desk. So there was mystery enough for the police to solve. The chief characters in the story are Miss Violet Fielding, alias several other names. She was a medium, and had some time previously married John Fultham. They had agreed to part, and since the parting Violet had amassed much wealth. She wanted badly to get her marriage certificate from Fultham, but he refused to part with it for less than £lO,OOO, which in these days of cheap divorces appears to be a very large amount. Dr Norwood had formed an attraction for Violet, who was reputedly worth £lOO.OOO. With Kenneth Neilson, a solicitor, the three endeavour to persuade Fultham to part with the marriage certificate. Fultham is found murdered, and the police arrest Violet. Then both Norwood and Neilson confess to having killed Fultham. The police are embarrassed by the two confessed murderers, and the climax of the story concerns the elucidation of the riddle*.

“ When the Ghost Walked ” introduces the reader to a different class of society. Margaret Gibson, “ Dark Cloud Maggie,” with an odd alias, is the heroine, and the crooks are for the most part Chinese, one of whom is very

rich, presumably from the proceeds of the dope traffic, A constable on his beat is knocked down and rendered unconscious, the cause being the fall of a dead body from a building abutting the street. The dead man had been shot with a rifle, but his clothes showed no trace of a bullet having pierced any part of them. Worked out, the theory of the police is he had been killed elsewhere, been redressed, and his body had been mysteriously attached by his braces to ~an iron spike near the up stairs window. He had been engaged in conducting a night club bearing the impressive name of “ The Mansion of Aching Hearts.” The question was: Who murdered him, and why ? Parramatta Charlie was implicated, but Parramatta Charlie had been dead a year. Charlie’s ghost had been seen, but the police could not be persuaded that ghosts commit murders. Hook Suey, the wealthy one, and Yet Yow are suspected, and matters are complicated by the disappearance of Maggie. As Spud Murphy, a police officer, thinks a good deal of Maggie, he goes in search of her at the home of Hook Suey. He receives a violent bump on the head, and is rendered useless. The Hook Suey mansion is a complicated place of residence, and for some time the police are baffled. Eventually Hook Suey and Yet Yow are tried for the murder of the former night club proprietor. Yet Yow, in the role of slave to his wealthy master, insists on taking the blame for the crime, though Hook Suey was obviously implicated. The story of the trial and the parts played by Spud Murphy and Maggie' close this readable thriller.