THE LITERARY

Southland Times, Issue 20172, 7 May 1927, Page 13 (Supplement)

THE LITERARY

ROLLED IOTA

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WHEN PHAROAHS STRUTTED.— Parkman, the brilliant Canadian who recovered the story’ of Canada's early days and gave us the best picture we have of the American Indians of those days, has been called the best historian the English language has known because his impartial- j ity cannot be questioned. One has only to I read a few pages of Parkman, especially I “The Conspiracy of the Pontiac,” to realise ' how successful he is in avoiding weakening history by the display of personal brilliance; but I doubt if for the general public his books can have much appeal. He is even-handed, he is compact and thorough, but he is sober and even unexciting. Prescott rises to dramatic heights in his thrilling studies of those adventurers led by Cortez and Pizarro: but Parkman remains closer to the plain and so is read even less frequently in these days than the man who used Mexico and Peru as fields for works beside which much of the most thrilling of the modern clap-trap fiction is uneventful. History should never be dull. It deals with the greater moments in men's lives; sees them as arbiters and pawns, the directors and victims of great forces, raised bychance and struck down without warning, now bright in favour, now plunged into despair as the result of folly; heroic, altruistic. noble, proud, cruel, greedy, despicably ungrateful; the masters of emperors, the slaves of demagogues- but all living men ami. therefore, much more interesting than the abnormalities with which decadent minds crowd modern novels, hoping to convince us that sex appetite is the only force in the world that matters, that people go through life the slaves of sexual passions. One looks for the reaction from these mucky adventures, even the return of frank obscurity as being preferable to the filtK of these clever neurotics. That reaction, fortunately, is at hand. When men who have spent almost half a century toiling to blot out anything suggestive of a censorship of literature suddenly join the ranks ■ of those demanding these restrictions ! changes are at hand. In the United States the reformers have secured as allies inde- j pendent critics who a few months ago were damning every evidence of restrictive prudery. What has happened ? The sensa- 1 tion-mongers have gone too far. Will this reaction mean recovery? That is the interesting point. One has only to turn to the past to catch the reminder that decadence is difficult to arrest. Take the Pharoahs. Arthur Weigall, an archaeologist who knows how to be interesting when he writes, is giving the public now a work of remarkable interest and strange excitement, anti through its pages one can trace the rise of the Egyptian civilisation, its periods of mental power, and the oncoming of decad- I ence which, in spite of brief respites af- I forded by the intervention of violence, grad- | ually swept them aside and buried them, like their tombs under the sands. It is I difficult to associate the Egyptian of to-day | with the people who marched and built like conquerors, who worked and played like artists—the race rose to its pinnacle and absorbing too much of the rarified air fell back into the depths exhausted—but that difficulty emphasises the results of the fall. Each tomb delivering up its secrets has added to the storehouse of information, and, of course, the revelations of Tutankhamen's burial place must be influential in correcting and expanding the facts we have of that interesting period when Akhuaton turned from the hydra-headed religion of his fathers and worshipped a single god. with the sun, the giver of all energy, as ' the expression of his love; but the history i of the Pharoahs carrying us back thousands i of years before Christ includes events even | more as.ounding. The pages have been ' built up .’aboriously and controversy runs j so keenly among the Egyptologists that • most of the works dealing with this ancient ! history are too heavily documented and too I scholarly to appeal to the public. Weigall, ; however, knows how to reach the popular ' mind without los'ng his grip on the interest I of the scholars, and in this “History of the 1 Pharoahs,’’ the second volume of which is * just to hand, he has built up a narrative i that lives vigorously, largely due to the fre- i quency with which he uses the language 1 of the men who lived in those days and i recorded their deeds in hieroglyphics cut in ! the rocks. One of Weigall s achievements | has been the reconstruction of the chrono- j logical table of Egypt's dynasties. He puts forward his theory of the Egyptian method j of counting the regnal years, and his I argument seems to be unanswerable. Every i test to which it is put adds confirmation i and the fact that it solves some of the I puzzles that have baffled the Egyptologists adds weight to his case. To the lay mind the quantity and quality of the information collected are astounding, but it seems to me that the feat which Weigall has accomplished for the astonishment and delight of the public is the presentation of this information in such an attractive, such a dramatic form. Weigall is never dull. Ido not know if he is impartial, but that he is thrilling is not open to doubt. Orage, that brilliant fellow who edited The New Age in its best years, it was who said that the critic should not be a propagandist for the I book he enjoys. O. rage, Orage, but here is one who will persist in sin. and suffer banishment from the ranks of the critics to gain freedom to induce people to read a work he has enjoyed. “The History of the Pharoahs ’ belong to this order, and while I cannot hope to deal authoritatively with the matter, I can suffer my enthusiasm for the manner of its presentation to have rein, and if you are induced by my ramblings to read Weigall I will have done you a good turn. “The History of the Pharoahs” is published by Messrs Thornton Butterworth, London, whence came my copy. BLACK ARTS AND BLACKGUARDS— Douglas Dawn, a detective blessed with luck, the best attribute in the detection of crime, and skill in disguise rivalling that of Lon Chaney, was called in by the police J to assist in unravelling the mystery sur- I rounding the death of a Chinese doctor in • X ancouver and the disappearance of a ! police officer. These and other disconcert- j ing events were connected by the appear- I ance of a copper plaque suggesting a secret ! society of some sort, and it was not long ; before Dawn tracked the rascals to a hidden temple in the Chinese quarter of Van couver, there to discover them at pagan rites associated with Lao Tze. His astonishment rose to its pinnacle, however, when he saw a copper effigy of the god turn into a beautiful, living woman, who later he discovered to be Zenobia, beloved by Rande, a young man of great strength and courage, bent on rescuing her from the fiend who controls her. This is the purpose of “The Black Robe,” an absorbing yarn which takes its name from the chief of the murderous gang which combines pseudo-occult-ism with organised crime and profits hugely therefrom. Dawn is a super detective only

in the variety and completeness of his disguises, but one wishes that the author. Guy Morton, did not have him “blown” down the street so often when he was masquerading as a Hindu. It is really astonishing how often Morton uses that expression 1 when he is dealing with the movements lof Dawn as the Hindu. Apart from that ' the author has a bright style which carries ! the story through at a busy speed and I keeps the interest at high pitch. It would I not be fair to him to reveal the course of j the chases and its ending, but it is emin- ' ently satisfying and “The Black Robe” is • just the stuff for a winter’s evening before i a good fire, with enough wind about to ' assist the eeriness of the tale now and 1 again. My copy from the publishers, i Messrs Hodder and Stoughton. ; CHEATING FATE - Anthony Blake, American Rhodes Scholar, was given six 1 months of life as his maximum. A valve of I the heart was in the process of getting ; clogged and an operation to remove the mucous was out of the question, but any ! violent exertion might bring everything to ; a halt. Faced with these promises and I threats, Blake stepped into the adventures ,of "The Third Miracle.” Crossing a street coming away from the heart specialist’s : sentence, he decided to test the medical 1 theory, and skipping in and out of the heavy traffic gave himself plenty of violent exertion. It was the policeman on traffic fluty who nearly died; but Blake found [ himself doubled up with a pain which j suggested that the doctors were on the 1 right track. Chance led him to Regent’s I Park and there he met with Iris Hamilton, I who was the first miracle. In the storm • her uncle was murdered ami Blake picked j tip a dagger, lost by one of the two men Ihe saw running, which was a replica of the one plunged into the back of the inurd- ' ered man. Blake and Iris Hamilton become involved in a remarkable tangle of crime having international complications. Inspector Furneaux, a detective with a lively mind, takes up the case, but Blake is undoubtedly of immense assistance because unlike most heroes of the detective stories he avoids stupid blunders. The chance worked out by Louis Tracy in this yarn is full of interest, and acts follow in sensible sequence. The second miracle, of course, is that Iris loves Anthony and the third can be guessed, though the manner in which it is brought about remained unsuspected until the close. “The Third Miracle” has unusual points in it, and in detective fiction it deserves a prominent place. It is published by Hodder & Stoughton, London, whence comes my copy. THE SCOTS VILLAGE—In Glenfala, the t principal grocery shop was Donaldson’s. Run on conservative lines, it made a point of keeping to a high point of quality and so its owner was one of the most prominent men of the village R. Scotland Liddell has written on in "The Gilded Sign.” In his introduction the author discusses at some length the spellings used by writers of English to reproduce Scottish pronunciation, emphatically ruling out a number of their ideas as giving sounds so far removed from truth as to be ludicrous. The care Liddell shows in protecting his reader against error is carried into this charming story of the village with ns gossip, its backbiters, its tender sympathies, its sturdy independence. Although the story centres of old Donaldson, his son lan and Peter Duff, his vanman, the stage is comfortably filled with 1 the principal characters of Glenfala. It is the shrewd delineation of these people that makes "The Gilded Sign” such an enjoy--1 able work, breathing the very atmosphere 1 of the village, and presenting it as a living I organism. Old man Donaldson is a fine old I figure, as authentic as any to be found in ' the books dealing with Scottish vili lage life, not excluding Barrie. The author knows his scene intimately and he has belonged to it at some time or other—how else could he have caught the humour of the Glenfalans so surely! This is a story to be read by every son of Scotland, and it will be enjoyed by anyone who found pleasure in the earlv Barrie stories, with which it can safely chailengp a comparison. “The Gilden Sign” is published by the House of Cassell, whence comes my copy. HISTORY AND CHINA. Mr. H. E. Holland, the Leader of the Labour Party, enjoys the writing of pamphlets dealing with foreign countries and as they serve the good purpose of directing peoples attention to the questions they discuss, they serve a useful purpose. His study of Italy, for instance, was too partisan to be valuable, although it was useful. It was written with a heavy bias against Mussolini and it was unfortunate for Mr Holland that Zanibont confessed to having prepared to assassinate II Duce, after this pamphlet had made it clear that Zaniboni was the victim of agents provocateur. This obvious bias is shown in Mr. Holland's booklet on China. He seems to find it extremely difficult to find anything done by Britain in China worthy of commendation, while the Russians appear to be sure of his approval for most of their deeds. Mr. Holland’s booklet would be welcomed by Dr. Chen, a gentleman who more than once has shown a greater interest in the presentation of the best rather than the true story. It is published by the Clarite Press, my copy from the author. CHARLES LAMB ON BLAKE.— His poems have been sold hitherto only in Manuscript. I never read them; but a friend at my desire procured the “Sweep Song. There is one to a tiger, which I have heard recited, beginning—- “ Tiger. Tiger, burning bright, Thro’ the deserts of the night,” which is glorious, but alas! I have not the book; for the man is flown, whither I know not . . . But I must look on him as one of the most extraordinary persons of the age.- From "Letter to Barton, 1824,” in “Day Book,” compiled by E. V. Lucas. SAWDUST.—Compton Mackenzie is engaged on a novel which is to extend over six volumes. We are to have a new edition from the house of Cassell of George Macdonald’s romantic fiction. The stories announced for immediate appearance are “Sir Gibbie,” "Alec Forbes of Howglen,” “David Elginbrod,” "Robert Falconer,” “The Marquis of Lossie,” and “Malcolm.” With Macdonald, as with Trollope, there has been a notable revival in recent years, but naturally he is most asked for in. his native Scotland. A new novel which Cassell have ready is “Morris in the Dance,” by-Mr. Ernest Raymond, who just after the war wrote “Tpl! England,” and who recently gave us "Daphne BrunQ.”