A Literary Log

Southland Times, Issue 22351, 16 June 1934, Page 11

A Literary Log

Rolled

Iota.

BOOKS ON THE TABLE “ Valentine’s Days” .... (Viscount Castlerosse) “Whalemen Adventurers” (W. J. Dakin)

A JOVIAL PEER Entertaining Recollections These peers do sometimes give proof of outstanding merit. Here is Viscount Castlerosse in “Valentine’s Days” with recollections bristling with good stories. He seems to have lived a life which, so far at any rate, has provided him with plenty of amusement. He once went to the Four Arts' Ball in Paris dressed in skins. Returning to his hotel, he tells us that he nearly frightened out of her wits a maiden lady whom I met in my corridor. “My God.” she cried. “Yes. madam." I replied, “but strictly incognito," as I passed haughtily to my room. Staying in a little hotel in the south of Ireland, he found that his boots, which he had left outside his door, were uncleaned in the morning. He remonstrated. "Tell me.” I said to the servant, “why do you think I put my boots outside my door?” “I couldn’t say, sir.” was the reply, "unless, God forgive us, your honour was drunk.” The author of this entertaining memoir is a man of generous proportions, and was once wearing a green waistcoat when Sir William Orpen came to dinner. He looked at it with a sigh and remarked :— “Is this green thing a waistcoat?” I said, “Yes. What did you think it was?" “A tennis-court,” he said. Size gives to Lord Castlerosse a sympathetic appreciation of Lord Haldane’s feat. One night Haldane, by no means thin, dined in London with Lord Oxford. Lord Grey of Fallodon, and Lord Morley. They twitted Lord Haldane about his size and he replied:— “I am not physically unfit, and to prove it I will now walk to Brighton in my evening-clothes without more than two minutes’ halt in each hour, and when I arrive there will send you all a telegram. ’ He had no difficulty in achieving this feat. In London there is joking among the people who have serious business in life. Lord Castlerosse relates that he was tricked into informing of an august member of the Bachelors’ Club that his razor blades were excellent, only to find that this dignified personage had nothing whatever to do with that famous article, and resented the confession. Another club joke involves a certain Austrian diplomat who was even more unfortunate when he joined a London club. Entering the dining room—so the story goes—he saw the late Lord Clanricarde sitting alone at a table:— Now Lord Clanicarde was not only abnormal in his financial aspect, but was also particularly gifted physically. Without any warning. Lord Clanricarde * suddenly shot out his tongue and licked the end of his nose. Not content with this athletic exploit, his lordship wrapped a cutlet in a handkerchief and placed it in his pocket. The Austrian diplomat also noticed with horror that Lord Clanricarde was dipping a banana in coffee and then eating the deluged fruit. With a loud cry he rose from his seat and rushed screaming from the club, and was never seen again. I wonder if that could give any clue to the recent event in Nanking’s diplomatic circles. The credit for stories if often disputed and the circulator of them so prone to assume credit that should not be his that one can appreciate the story of Ashmead Bartlett, the war correspondent. Ashmead Bartlett, had just told Lord Castlerosse a story when Lord Birkenhead, who happened to be present, whispered in my ear, “I told him that story yesterday.” Lord Birkenhead then rose and left the room, and Ashmead remarked: “I heard what ’F. E.’ said, and it is quite true, but he forgot that, whereas he told me the story yesterday, I told him the tale last week.” I then asked Ashmead why he had not reminded "E. F.” of the fact, to which Ashmead replied. "I could hardly do that; you see. I’ve just sold him a motor car.” Ralph Nevill, Lady Dorothy Nevill’s son, told Lord Castlerosse how a certain Mr Harry Fane went to fight a duel in France, and chose as his second Mr Stuart Muirhead. They both stuttered. When they arrived at Boulogne, Mr Fane said to Mr Muirhead: “W-w-where are the c-c-cart-ridges?” “I’ve g-g-got f-f-five h-h-hundred In my c-c-cabin,” answered Mr Mulrhead. At this Mr Fane blanched. “My g-g-good f-f-friend.” he replied, "we are not g-g-going ph-ph-pheasant-shooting.” This is a book charged with entertainment and its popularity cannot be doubted. “Valentine’s Days” (John Murray, Ltd., London.) AGAIN NEW ZEALAND VERSE After a delay of two or three months New Zealand Verse has appeared again and looking very much better. It has a new dress, some gold lettering, and its production can stand comparison with anything of the kind in the country. Poets who contribute to N.Z. Verse can now be sure of an attractive stage. In this number the editor apologizes for the delay, but he promises regularity in the future. The standard of the verse is higher, too, and Southland has a special interest in this issue because it contains two lyrics from the pen of Daphne Godward, one included also in a little supplement r which is admirable for sending to'' friends. Daphne Godward, who wrote musical verse as a child, has an attractive lyric voice and it is a pity more is not heard of her. If N.Z. Verse persuades her to write more freely it will serve a good purpose. My copy from the editor of “N.Z. Verse,” Temuka. o—o—o LONDON’S DEMAND The following books were in demand in the latter part of April:— Fiction—A. S. Herbert’s “Holy Deadlock” (Methuen); Louis Goldings “Five Silver Daughters” (Gollancz); Mikhail Sholokoo’s “And Quiet Flows the Don” (Putnam); Ernest Raymond’s “Child of Norman’s End” (Cassell). Miscellaneous—Lady de Frece’s “Recollections of Vesta Tilley” (Hutchinson); A. M. W. Stirling’s “Life’s Mosaics” (Unicom Press); Viscount Castlerose’s “Valentine’s Days” (Methuen); “London in 1710,” translated by W. H. Quarrell and Margaret Mare (Faber and Faber). Robert Mason, whose first novel, “Murder to Measure,” appeared recently, works in a London publishing firm. Until four years ago he was a crime reporter on a Scottish newspaper. He is said to have thought of the plot of his story when walking in the Isle ’ of Arran, He is twenty-eight.

THERE SHE BLOWS Whaling In The South Although whaling, like all other ancient occupations, has been captured by the machines and expanded with such deadly efficiency that even competition is regulated, it retains enough romance to isolate it from most of the major industries of this commercial age. Where the old whalers used to sail the seas and work in rowing boats in their contest with their mighty prey, the chaser steams, harpoon gun in prow, and gives the whale virtually no chance to fight and little to escape. Where the trying out was done dangerously and laboriously on the old sailing ships or in some bay, the modern factory ship goes in to the whaling grounds and reduces the catch to oil on the spot. One of these factory ships will return with more whale oil than a whole fleet of the old windjammers. New Zealanders generally, and Southlanders in particular, are aware of the significance of these changes, but if they think that all romance has gone they are mistaken. Screaming winches, the deadly har-poon-gun, and the astonishing yields of the new era are not enough to eliminate the romance as William J. Dakin shows in “Whalemen Adventurers,” primarily the story of whaling in the southern seas. He writes much of Twofold Bay and of the hard old days, always vigorously and with an apparent affection for the “old sea dogs who sailed out of Sydney Cove 17911891.” To Sam Enderby belongs most of the credit for the extension of whaling into the southern seas about Australia. In 1876 he declared that there were good prospects of Sperm whaling “cast of Good Hope,” but the East India Company’s Charter, giving it a monopoly of the trade of the seas “east of the Cape” was an obstacle. In 1879 Enderby asked for permission to explore the Pacific for whales. It is interesting that his letter cites as evidence of the profusion of whales the fact that One of the whaling captains had been on a trading voyage to China and had seen more Spermaceti Whales about the Straights of Sunda and the Island of Java than he had ever seen before, so much so that he could have filled a ship of 300 tons in three months. Within a year the first ship was ready to sail. Sam Enderby did not ask a Government subsidy, or a special grant; all he sought was permission to proceed with his enterprise which he knew would develop a new branch of industry. His letter ends “if unsuccessful we shall pay for the knowledge.” That sentence of Sam Enderby’s letter the author commends to the attention of company promoters. Why not to the attention of all industrialists, primary and secondary? The Emilia went round Cape Horn and returned to England in 1790 full of sperm oil taken from the Pacific. She was a craft of some 280 tons. To-day the factory ships are 20,000 ton vessels, capable of bringing home over 100,000 barrels of oil.

This is the modem development and the individual to whom most of the credit for the modern whaling industry of the south must be given is Carl Anton Larsen, that great Norwegian sailor. He went south with a scientific expedition with the Swedish explorer, Otto Nordenskjold, and his wonderful rescue of his chief after their vessel had been crushed, attracted so much attention that when he sought to finance his first serious whaling effort in the Antarctic and found his countrymen too cautious, the Argentinians found the money. Larsen set up his whaling station in 1904 at Greytviken in South Georgia. Larsen retired in 1914 when he was 54 years of age, but he could not resist the lure of the south and in 1919 he was at work preparing for the assault which was to produce the phase of the giant factory ships. He acquired a Cardiff tramp, the Mahsoula and after conversion she was named the Sir James Clark Ross, after the navigator. She sailed with her chasers in 1923 and, after touching Hobart, went south with two years’ stores, carrying some Australian recruits, including A. J. Villiers, who has told the story of that adventure. Larsen took a thin-skinned tramp into those icestudded seas and brought her out safely! That itself was an achievement! Then came the second trip, on which Larsen died, well within the Antarctic circle, and with the knowledge that success was assured. The Sir James Clark Ross brought back 32,165 barrels of oil, the product of 427 whales. Other and larger vessels have come into the trade, the C. A. Larsen and the Kosmos, as giants, but the depression and the need for caution resulted in an agreement among the Norwegians to keep the fleets out of the antarctic in 1930-31 and in 1932. The English companies also came into an agreement to limit the number of whales killed in a season. This is the modem phase and it serves as the climax of a remarkable history of whaling in the south, a history which involves New Zealand as well as Australia and should therefore make an appeal to Southlanders. “Whalemen Adventurers” by W. J. Dakin (Messrs Angus and Robertson, Ltd., Sydney). o—0—-o STREET CRIES OF LONDON ' The recent sale at Christie’s of a set of Wheatley’s colour-prints depicting the Cries of London prompted the Morning Post to comment that most of the London street cries have died out since the day when Mr Wheatley drew his famous pictures. The musical “Sweet Lavender, Sweet Lavender,” still lingers on gipsy tongues, but very faintly, like the scent of some beautiful evening long since forgotten. We moderns have little patience with sentiment, the writer asserts. “Coal .. . Coal” may stab our preoccupied suburbs into some semblance of interest in the outside world, or a young houseproud wife may be shamed into energetic action by a challenging “Winders to clean . . . Winders”; but where are the melodious notes of yester-century: “Sweet China Oranges,” “New Mackerel,” “Scarlet Strawberries,” “Knives and Scissors and Razors to Grind.” “Po-ta-to, All-hot, All-hot, All-hot,” “Brandy balls, brandy balls, as big as St. Paul’s”? The bell of the muffin man can still occasionally be heard above the din of the motorist’s klaxon, but what of the milkman rousing us to a new day with the graceful “Milk Below, Maids”? The “Ole CIo’” man, who wore two or three hats on his head and a sack on his back, has been killed by respectable charity organizations. One of the few cries left that have any effect is heard when we are perforce bound to a chair at threatre or cinema: “Choaklets . . . Cigr’tts . . . Matches.” That alone is in the old tradition.

A TRAIL OF CHIPS Of his earliest days Elgar used to tell an amusing story. “When I was a boy in Worcester," he said, “I composed a little tune o£ which I was very proud. I thought the public should hear it, but my opportunities of publishing it were decidedly few. I saw my opportunity when my father was engaged in preparing the Handel parts for the forthcoming festival. Very laboriously I introduced my little tune into the music. The thing was an astonishing success, and I heard that some people had never enjoyed Handel so much before! When my father learned of it, however, he was furious.” Like many great men, Signor Mussolini can do with very little sleep. Indeed, he would agree with Napoleon’s allowance—“ Six hours for a man, seven for a woman, and eight for a fool.” Thus he finds time in his long day—it starts at six—not only to get through a great deal of work, but also to keep in touch with the literary and artistic world. Leaving the Palazza Venezia about eight he goes home to dinner. Before going to bed he regularly spends an hour and a-half reading—usually a work in some foreign language. His recent bed-time literature was Sir Charles Petrie’s book on Monarchy, of which he sent the author a detailed appreciation. * * * Perhaps the most interesting part of Vesta Tilley’s reminiscences recently published, deals with her early memories. When she began, the music-hall as we know it did not exist, and a woman was rarely, if ever, found in the audience. Her father was chairman of a hall in Gloucester, and when Vesta Tilley was little more than a baby he came across Dan Leno, who assisted his parents in a sketch and did a single turn as a clog dancer. The two families, writes Vesta Tilley, pooled their resources for a Christmas dinner. “Dan and I discussed the treat in store during the performance, and it seemed ages before we were all scurrying through the rain for home and our Christmas dinner. Arrived in our street, we were surprised to see a crowd of people in front of our house, and as we drew nearer to see our landlord and landlady safe in the arms of two policemen, who were trying to drag them to the police station. They, too. had been celebrating Christmas, and their enjoyment was so intense that the landlady had forgotten to cook our dinner." It was a long time after this incident that Vesta Tilley’s husband, Walter de Frece (who ran away from home and profession to marry her) wrote one of Dan Leno’s most popular songs, “The Shopwalker.” * * ♦ At a private party where Vesta Tilley performed before King Edward and Queen Alexandra, she was told by Prince Francis of Teck, who came to express the appreciation of the company, that the Queen was anxious to know whether Miss Tilley wore a wig, or if her hair was naturally short. She removed her wig and showed the Prince how she arranged it, and he departed to explain the mystery. * * * President Roosevelt’s book on the political situation was published last month. His work —“On Our Way”—is an exposition of the President’s plans, showing the logical connections which, it is claimed, justify the methods of the New Deal. This is the first book written by an American President while in office. Theodore Roosevelt wrote several books, but not during his presidency. * * * Literary gifts have been more common among the Ambassadors of America to Britain. The Adams family are an outstanding example, beginning with John Adams—who later succeeded Washington as second President of the United States —and incluuding his son, John Quincey Adams. Most famous of literary ambassadors was James Russell Lowell, but the list also includes John Hay and Walter Hines Page. ♦ * * * ♦ • • The four-page MS. of George Gissing’s preface to an edition of Dickens’s “Bleak House” fetched £5O at a recent London sale. £29 was paid for a first edition of Galsworthy’s “Villa Rubein.” * * ♦ The manuscripts of two Sherlock Holmes stories—“ The Adventure of the Golden Pince Nez” and “The Adventure of the Speckled Band” —fetched £l2O and £B2 respectively at a recent sale. * * * This year the value of the Nobel Prizes will be £8,130 each, compared with £8.516 last year. * * ♦ A copy of Mr Kipling’s “Schoolboy Lyrics,” written when he was at school, was sold in London recently for £195. * * * A Red Indian Chief, who is a student of Burns, has been visiting the Burns Cottage at Alloway with members of his tribe, according to the curator. The chief is said to teach Burns’s poems to his people and to encourage them to base their lives on the simple ideals of the poet. Ahem! VISION IN LITERATURE “The real defect of contemporary English literature, when we measure it against any accepted literary classic of any period, is lack of vision,” writes Mr John Gatehouse. “The vision of a writer—and every writer, poet novelist or dramatist must have vision—is, in its reverse aspect, his sense of reality, his capacity not only to understand the basic issues in the society of which he writes, but also to sense something deeper, more fundamental than this, to present problems and work out experiences which will always concern men, whatever the particular structure of the civilization in which they live. In all cases where man has aspired to highest literary effect we are conscious of this dual aspect of a writer’s vision, his sense of the immediate realities of a situation, and his power to superimpose upon that situation conceptions of human behaviour which transcend, in significance, the limitations of a particular structure of society.” SAWDUST The first sections of the Historical Dictionary of the American Language went to press in April. The editor, Sir William Craigie, Professor of English at Chicago University, worked for many years on the Oxford English Dictionary. Another dictionary, on which work has recently begun, is devoted to Afrikaans. It is to contain nearly 100,000 words. Herr Bruno Brehm, author of “That Was the End,” was bom in 1892 in Carniola, the son of an Austro-Hun-garian officer. During the War he served in the artillery, and was wounded and taken prisoner. Afterwards he studied art at a University and worked in a publishing firm, before devoting all his energies to writing.