THE WRITERS OF NEW ZEALAND.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9113, 19 December 1907, Page 4

THE WRITERS OF NEW ZEALAND.

«. <.By MRS E. M. DUNLOP.) [Auo Rights Ris-served.] No.ii. 'A pleasing instance of literary fellowswp is found in two volumes of verse .prepared and given to the publio some .seventeen years ago by William Pember Reeves and George Phipps WillwLms. The poems have evidently been popular, as they halve passed into Several editions. The one volume is suitably called "In Double Harness, while t&e oth&r is entitled "'Colonial Couplets." Many of these poems made their first appearance in. the columns pf the "Lyttelton Times" or the •"Canterbury Times." { _ The partnership is particularly suitJ ble, because George Pbipps Williams vidently possesses a humorous vein, [which contrasts admirably with the more romantic style of W. P. ReevesfThe poem by G. P. W^ia^, "How CWbJLtt« ***^ at th » pos V is admirably suited to recitation, for which it j» frequently ohosen, while L«t <>f lis Race," applied to a one-po&bsftp-be, is likely to evoke a great *pti^ .*^;_>ular sympathy, and we all •cho the wish — '•••■' One thou art, and one alone, AAA *hy time must soon arrive, j For the present I must own, Would thou wesrt at least a Five! Williajn. Pember Reeves, whilst sometimes indulging in a lighter vein, is most attractive when in reflective or heroic mood. Some of his poems are Wftutiful, and must give great plea•itfeib #nose who love Nature as manifeijt& Mr New Zealand. The Canterbury rhymes contain several very ©leasing; specimens of Ins yense. Of ttiw-f think I shall select "The tLrrersM Damascus..' „;...,. /ft-witt probably be conceded that the •scell-ence of a poem is more or less proved/ by its adaptability to common &#/.' -^ 6 desire our poets to ' express fde usi" in langu-age which appeals to oui fShcy, those ideas which we are i-TSare -vaguely haunt our spirits, and fof wliich we are unable ourselves to find fitting words. Our poet seizes oor fleeting fancy and crystalises it in Wiii^By' lanfguage, presenting it to us jn a complete form, which we in turn Inav use to give expression to our tkdughU- Tms is the justification for tw'wstenoe of our poet and the rea- "•# w!r*y every facility -should be grante<iSbyVthe Press for- his encousage--fri©nt7 .. I object to the contention sometimes advanoed that we have as yet no/New Zealand literature, because I find from constant experience . that brief quotations from dur poets supply expressions which cannot elsewhere be foundV I conclude, therefore, that several of cur writers have attained that "local colouring" which our critics /have often exhorted us to strive to attain. Who that know and love the beautiful rivera and streams which meander freely, -through our forest-clad country f»*biioiif' c feel the reality of this sweet •description in Reeves's poem: — la flight beneath the noonday sun To sheltering aisles of shade they run, Stealing witlun to lose the sky la lon£\OOol halls of greenery ; „*Udi wJusper soft as windless rain, To flash and 'scape the eye again. sparkle here, they ripple there, "Unseen they murmur everywhere. Asunder cleft, apart they -wind, Bright tangled silver disentwined. Herovblinds and burns the sunlight's sheen, There linger pools in twilight green, For Here the pleasant waters creep. I confess that I have often/ quoted from -this poem because it seems to fit *^actly7-t_he spirit of the scenes deBcribed. The complete verses are very beautiful and attractive, and show a true poVstic gift, haunting the . fancy and inspiring the reader to return and study " The Rivers of Damascus."" / The "Passing of the Forest" is »venmoTe appropriate/ now than when It fiSstappeared some years ago. It hae tseizecr "the spirit of the regret we all mustrfee,l at the despoliation of our f<^*' -lands. - •- ■ Wfell may these plundered And insulted kings, Stripped of their robe% despoiled, un- * cloaked, discrowned, * Draw down the clouds with white enfolding wings And l eqrt aerial fleece to wrap them round; Well; amy they hide their heads in mantle ■'* yEivJi '■"•■ ■ '- ' , s Since from their brows the leaves were v plucked away. ■'. f.&.T' .■...'■'. £one are the forest tracks where oft we rode Under the silver fern-fronds climbing slow; A bitter price to pay -Is : this for Progress — Beauty swept away. There is a poem by W. P. Reeves on a subject wm°b I .often wonder has not- attracted greater attention. He najs.ißbown that he fully appreciates the beauty and romance of " The /Convolvulus." ,7JEngland has its Tose, typical of flweethess and luxuriance; Scotland its " thistle of hardihood and endurance; Ireland its dear little shamrock of hope and faftcy."" New Zealand should have its typical flower, and that flower should be /the " white convolvulus." WhyP Because it is the type of undaunted energy, of irrepressible cheer, •of a perseverance which no hardship or Snisfortune can diminish, or of pluck and -spirit from which no ill circum£tan<**e, c/&n ,wrest a frown. Along the .dur«ly7high road, by every hedgerow, irver cliff and bank, among high fern, in ;* sKi^lyv'foi^stj, , or in the open countryV tiraiistih e WI M convolvulus, a hardy, iaeradtoable thing of beauty, sadly ■soiled perchance by dust- a.nd travel, but ever raising a cheerful smiling face, and ■r''.V...: ./.!■■ ,'■ - ' '■' '-=•--*

sending forth delicate tendrils and long ■ sprays, thickly beset with dainty bud and blossom. 1 Here is a hedgerow composed of iwus-tu-rtiums and Banks>ea roses. The gardener hae given it muck attention; surely there are no weeds springing up about it. But lo 1 what is this clinging dainty greenery, which rings itself around the ©terns of the roses and pushes wreaths of delicate pale buds? Here is a pure, white tender bloom j it is the white convolvulus. And here on this ferny Upland, in the open oountry? * 'There is> no dense greenery. Short stubbly brown fern is beneath our houses' hoof's. The summer sun is hot and there is little shade. Sheep have nibbled off nearly every green twig ; but sta,y, there is greenery, winding around the isfcems of the brown fern, and here peeping, smiling, creeping, running, tangling its own rippling greenery, laughs and plays "the /white convolvulus." It cannot be smothered ; it cannot be conquered ; it cannot be eradicated ; it sometimes blushes, for there ie a. pink variety; but it wins every battle and oomes uppermost. It is only spared the extreme wrath of the gardener because it is. so fragile and dainty that he scorns. to War against it. W. P. Reeves has perceived its poetry and beauty, and pictures the dainty thing in its most delightful haunt, the border of a forest pool. Other beauties are there, Beautiful all! But we passed them! thus, Passed to a snowy convolvulus! "White ih the air, o'er the watera flow, Shadowy, wan: in the wave Cup of aerial beauty, made, Touched by no tarnish of earth it swayed ; . And as it answered .the wind's light breath, An image waved in the, stream beneath. \ Till, touched by the twilight, the flower is I furled, * ; ' ' j And. 1 the shadow steals from the wator world. ] Reeves h-as viewed the flower as the symbol of daintiness!, fragility, freedom , and purity, but I would rain express its courage,' ite hardihood and endurance, j Beautiful in shade, enshrouded in loveliness; and drawing fresh moisture from j the forest spring, its beauty is en- \ hahced : yet with undaunted zeal it smiles trom the hedgerow and even on the dusty highway. I must be free as the wildest thing, In the leafy tangle to curl and cling; Free to laugh in the beams of day, Free on the blast to be borne away; And rapt and lost when my life is past In the shining spaces of air at last. . Our Canterbury poets loved the fellowship of fun, and many of their contributions reflect the comical aspects of New Zealand life. W. P. Reeves's " Disappointed Swagger " is very amusing—- ' : . -, 7 At .laet, in unexpected way, Came for the smarts a cruel ointment; He found a job! Alack-a-dayl Ah, then indeed fell disappointment! Then burst his mighty heart, before In storm and sunshine ne'er a nagger; He WENT TO WORK, for evermore A disappointed swagger. The prose .work of the Hon W. P. Reeves is represented by more than one interesting and useful contribution to literature. His book " Ao-te-Aroa : the Long White Cloud," is considered by many to be one of the best that has been written on New Zealand ; yet I doubt if his prose work gives quite so much pleasure as the simple poems which have been, perhaps the amusement of. his leisure moments. With very reverential pen I approach the contributions to bur New Zealand literature left by the Venerable Henry Jacobs, D.D., Dean of Christchurch, who arrived in Canterbury in 1850, and gave half a century of his valued life to New Zealand. The work which may be considered tb represent tho f ruit 6of his work in the field of poetry is found in " The Lay of the Southern Cross,"' which was ' published in England ih 1893. > The copy I have has been in my possession about & dozen, years. It has given me a very great deal of Teal pleasure, and I conclude that a large circle of readers has appreciated it. Probably," judged from a, strictly literary standard, many faults could be found/ but a sincere love of his subject and a iu,st appreciation of the impor banco of nis theme, raises the work above the cold standard which might suggest mediocrity. Very few of our writers have so. far attempted to utilise those bold and romantic themes which our story supplies. Dean Jacobs is certainly one of the most successful of these. He takes as his subject a theme which 16 as suggestive .as any poet could possibly desire. With simple zeal he tells the 6tory of Marsden, of his meeting with Ruatara, and the wonderful t results which followed, often soaring into the realms of poetic expression. The venerable Dean does not claim the poet's.crown, and explains in his preface that his verse has been a great pleasure and solace to himself _in his ' leisure moments, a pleasure which he ; trusts some others may also find in reading of events sd romantic, and cvi- ■ dencing in so great a measure "the Hand oLGod in History." The story as told _in verse by the Dean is very interesting. This alone isa point accomplished, for it is singular that so few of those who took part in the stirring events of e^rly New Zealand story possessed the gift or describing in an interesting manner-* the wonderful ' situations and extraordinary circumstances in which they found themselves. It almost appears as though the actors in events of so great import were stunned beyond the power or expression. At th c present time there is a great awakening, and many . appear to be moved to tell, ere it is too late, the story of the happenings they witnessed. Possibly peace and leisure have brought opportunity for reflection, memory and expression. Crosbie Ward was a popular writer,

who- contributed much in the middle years of the last century to the amusement and entertainment of the New Zealand public, and to the encouragement of literature. His position as part proprietor of the Lyttelton Times" gave him opportunities of which he made excellent use. He aleo edited tho " Canterbury Punch," which provided plently of eoope for the exercise of local wit. , ' One imagines sometimes that in earlier days a greater sense of humour oxisted than at present. Fun is a precious factor in alleviating the.exigencies of life, and a great sweetener both of tempers and of spirits. At the pre-, sent time we possess an element of this kind in the clever numoTOijs sketches which so frequently appear fa the newsEapers, and which so often provoke earty mirth. In earlier days more dependence was placed upon individual wit, which, although often personal, was generally excused. I wonder now many peoplo in New Zealand remember the witticisms of one whose name was Richard Lord, and whose quaint personalities often convulsed the then colonial readers.. _As far as I remember he was for a time writing for a Hawke's Bay paper, but he was in after years employed on the staff of the London " Punch." An instance of his peculiar style of wit recurs which made an imprression on my childish mind. He was particularly fond of a hoax, that is, of hoaxing other people, and caused to be printed some wild statements about the accomplishment of someone's pet parrot, which were, to his great delight, repeated with exaggerations by the rival paper, which usually affected a greater reserve. A perfect volley of jubilation was immediately fired off by Mr Lord, of which I have always remembered this striking verse. , Came to him that " Herald "' scribbler, Idiot he, and green as grase ; ' Quite believed the wretched bird had Bitten through an inch of brass. So far as I remember people used to look forward to Saturday's edition, and repeat the writer's witticisms with great enjoyment throughout the week. It oan easily be supposed that I have often myself tried my hand at verse, but I hav£ sometimes suffered unspeakably at the hands of editors, and most of all from those who liave had the kindest intentions. Once, in a country town, 'I published a poem, of which I was particularly proud, on Cecil Rhodes. Eulogising the simple life which the statesman often led,' I produced the line— His "bhe poor pallet and the simple fare. I had read somewhere that he slept on a camp bedstead. An hour after tbe delivery of the copy at the office of the paper, the printer's devil knocked at my door. I hastened out, and stood aghast to see my copy unrolled before me.' "Please, ma'am," said the boy, "Mr Tompkins cays, 'will you alter this?' He is afraid you have spelt it wrong." "Spelt it wrong 1"' I gasped. '" Where? What? When? How?" . "Here's the mistake, ma'am," said the boy, humbly. "He cays it ought to be spelt palate." . I pondered, and realizing, contrived to conceal my emotions. . "No, no," I said, gently, "it's all right. I knpw what it means: tell him to make his mind easy ; it is all right. Half an hour later the boy appeared .again. ! " Please, ma'am, Mr Tompkins sa-y^s he can't make his mind, easy There s really something wrong with the word, and ne don't like anybody should think you could make a mistake like'that. He says won't you please alter it to ' palate ' " " No,' no," I replied, beginning to feel a little exasperated. "Thank him very much, but tell him lt's^all right. I know exactly what I mean.". "Very well, ma'am," said the boy. He sighed somewhat sadly, however, and I felt that he was unconvinced. When I eagerly opened the paper on Saturday morning, however, and rah my 'eye down my verses, there I saw my idea, according to Mr Tompkins. Poor Cecil Rhodes 1 His the poor palate and 1 the simple fare! My editor had the courage of his opinion! Editors should never, however, be tempted to shirk their responsibilities, but should act as the genuine critics their position requires. In notice a growing tendency, especially in the north, only to publish selections from magazines, English and American, to the suppression ,of local efforts.. This seems t6 indicate a distrust of personal power to discriminate, of which we should be unwilling to suspect our New Zealand editors. '