The Literary Page.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10756, 30 April 1913, Page 1

The Literary Page.

NOTES ON BOOKS AND WRITERS OF THE DAY.

The announcement that at a recent meeting of the Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres in Paris a communication was made on the subject of manuscripts iorcnerly belonging to the library of Matthias Oorratus, King or Hungary, recalls a now l almost forgotten romance of books. The famous King of Hungary, who was in matters arf art and literature a connoisseur aqua! to Lorenzo Medici and the great patrons of the Renaissance, had gather»d together in the fifteenth century a »umptuous library in his palace at Buda. After his deal# it was, however, neglected : and in 1526, when the IVirks conquered the Hungarian capital. a considerable number or themanu»ripts were plundered and sont as a iropb.v to the Old Seraglio at Constantinople. From this time the library af Matthias Corvinus was invested with ».legendary importance. It was comoionlv beltoved that it contained many of the loet elastics, them the missing books of Livy's histories, unknown Greek authors and medi®val Hungarian texts.

stand him. No one was more merciful to a fool or more patient with a bore. He never talked down to anyone unless it was done manifestly for fun, and then it would be fun with no acid in it. Hfj went through the world with a philosophical cheerfulness and a serene Kindliness. It was difficult to discern in him an}' trace of the strain of sadness that pervades so much of his poetry." On one occasion wo find him talking "somewhat sadly of the existing state of letters in England, aud of tho indifference of the publio towards anything but exciting fiction." It may probably surprise some to learn that Arnold, " then perhaps the most distinguished man of letters in England," never made more than £SOO in any one year from Iris writing*.

A good stoiy is told in the " Manchester Guardian" of Lord Curzon's zeal for cpigraphio accuracy. Tho charming building of the old Bengal Citify wap the Calcutta home of Macaulay for four years in tlx? thirties of last century. Ten years ago the Government of Bengal put on the gatepost a tablet to this effect: "Here resided Lord Macaulay, Legal Member of the Supreme Council, 1834-1838.'' When Lord Curzon saw it on his next visit to Calcutta, he sat down and wrote with his own hand a long letter to the Bengal Government correcting the inscription in three particulars. First, said lie, it was not "hero" (on the gatepost), but "in this house," that the historian lived; secondly, he was not Lord, but Thomas Babington, Macaulay during his time in India; and, thirdly, the post lie occupied was " Law Member," not " Legal Member," of Council. The house has since been demolished to ma"ke room for the most luxurious clubhouse in Asia.

For these reasons ft desire to recover Jhe missing manuscripts became almost traditional among "scholars; and in U862 a Hungarian mission was permitted to make search in the Old Seraglio. But although a great many relumes which had originally formed hpt of the library were found. 1 none of ue priceless treasures of antiquity were After the RussoTiirkish war in 1877 the Bultwi presented; these colics to the University of Budapest as l return for the sword of honour which tad been offered to Omer Pasha by the Hungarian students. But although Uj. manuscripts still survive, they for hi Wily a miserable remnant of one of the most wonderful of Renaissance libraries; for the collection of King Matthias indubitably contained, in addition bo Latin, Hungarian and Oriental books, a considerable number of Greek itrthors. Nevertheless what remains, is is proved by M. <le Hevesy's paper referred to above, is rich in rare artistic beauties. Many volumes contain examples of the work of Florentine ilfcminators; and. what is even rarer, Eliminations by the Hungarian school.

Mr Alfred Noyes's visit to America has been attracting no little interest, especially as his arrival was preoeded by the widely circulated statement that ho is the only man now living who has relied upon verse writing as a means of support. One of the inevitable New York interviewers did not hesitate to put to him the question whether this was so. " Well, 1 think there is something in that," Mr Noyes replied with p. laugh. "At least, it is true that I have made a living out of verse. Perhaps it's because nobody else thought to try- I have not found it very difficult." Mr Noyes is described as "the last, sort of person one would pick for a poet.'"

■ The approaching publication of Captain Scott's journal adds. interest to sonin reminiscences of Captain Scott and Dr Wilson given in the March " Ccrnbill." The notes are from the pen of the editor.

ft is years," he writes, "since Captain Scott walked into this office *t six o'clock one autumn evening and laid, ' I am baok from the Antarctic, and I. want you to publish my book.' From that day began a friendship which grew closer with knowledge of the man. Loyal, steadfast, of oirystal honour and transparent frankness, ambitious for JnV country and -his' comrades, never for himself, full of. boyish; spirits, and as 'keen to grasp a scientific problem as to shoulder responsibility, he inspired confidence and loyalty. He had a look of both Parry 3>nd Franklin in his eye and bearing. Th«? mere landsman could imagine following such a leader anywhere." His perfect comradeship with Dr Wilson, the closed companion of his first expedition as ol the last, was, it is added, '' dolightfn! tn behold," as they sat together and disbursed various points iii the forthcoming book.

Literary men of eminence are not now as absolutely . important in the eyes of the world as they were a century ago, when to talk with Dr Johnson was an honour for a duchess, and Goethe's every movement was' reported upon by the German police. One of these police reports upon Goethe has been published by a German review, and. possesses an interest of its owtV" It., was 'presented to the Burgrare or Marienbad on tho occasion of Goethe's cure there in 1822. Goethe, the Nestor of writers," it ruus, w sftill sliows fit this advanced age (he was then sixty-three) the intellectual seriousness and solidity so characteristic of his writings. Quiet and reserved, he is only accessible to small group of bathers. . . . "During his walks

Oontho ' mmornlogim" indefatigably, and always carries a hammer for the purpose. . • Goethe the practical geologist shadowed bv a nine-teenth-century German policeman makes <a delightful picture.

The drawiny;s for the book were all from Wilson's hand, and one scene, the editor goes on to say. stands out unforgettably among less defined memories:

" Generally;" continues the report,

" lie passes the evening with Mdlie TTlricke, who by her singing and joyful talk seems to make him forget, at least for some moments, the sadness that has been, caused him by his unhappy marriage with his former housekeeper, called Yulpius. In his conversations upon various it can be seen that he has a particular predilection for the Greek, and various of his remarks show that he is concerned with the uncertain fate of the Greeks. (it was five years before Navarino.) As for the Catholic religion, not only does he speak of it with great moderation, but even with groat sympathy, going so far as to praise the edifying character of the Roman cult, which he opposes to Protestantism." Surely this is one of the most remarkable police reports in existence.

i lie (jueftion of the frontispiece to the first volume came up. It was proposed to give, a photograph of the Southern sledge party, led by Scott himself. Scott regarded it thoughtfnll.N > then suddenly looking up. said, at first tentatively, then with growing emphasis: | What do yon think, Bill? I don't think we ought to be there. The Southern party wasn't more than any other sledging party. No, we won't hare it. : "

And it as thrown out to take a more modest place in the text.

Captain Scott, we are told, had a Bat-urn] gift of writing clearly, simply •lid forcibly, hut he had had no experience of formal writing beyon-fl his log and his journals. Now that he set self to expand these and create a book he found the unaccustomed labour " a heavy piece of r-elf-imposed taskwork " : "He would appear in the office from time to time with a- new chapter finished, saying, 'This is a treadmill job, find it makes such dull work that 110 one is likely to read it,' and would gladly make it over to a friendly hand to make sure that in his own phrase, ' the hooks and eyes to many a random sentence' were in their right places." But others knew good work wlien they •fiw.it: and Mr J. M. Barrie. after per ding the " Voyage of the Discovery,"' exclaimed that the acoount of Vf'-'urig the ship free of the ice was the most thrilling story of adventure he had ever read.

The " Book Monthly" has an interesting l>aper on " Literary Blunders." Miss Marie Corelli is among the offenders. In the "Treasure of Heaven" one of her characters says: "After school nours I got ,111 evening job of u shilling a week for bringing home eight Highland lull-heifers from pasture"! A common blunder in poetry, it is also pointed out, is to make the female bird sing. Shakespeare (referring to a nightingale) saj T s: "Nightly she sings on yotid pomegranate tree, and "The nightingale if she shall s ,ing by day. . . . ' Milton also trips in this respect:

Wakeful nightmgaia, Sho all nightlong her amorous descant sung, boott- and Burns, both keen naturelovens, were always correot in this detail.

" Scott.'" concludes the writer, " escaped once from the jawe of the ioe. It was not given him to escape a second time " :

Sir Walter Scott once confessed to having a bad memory, but in dealing with the wo a] th of historical incidents in his books he is remarkably accurate. On occasion, however, lie is at fault. In " Ivanhoe" Wamba says: "I am a brother of St Francis.'' The Order of St Francis was founded in 1206 but >Y amba lived in the tiiM of Richard I. - 1189-1199. In the Heart of Midlothian,'-' Scott errs in some of his references to Bedreddin Hassan, of the Arabian Nights." As Thackeray copied the same mistakes into " Vanity I'air" he is also at fault. One of bcott a most picturesque incidents is that in " Waver ley,'' when Prince Charles Edward leads Flora M'Tvor out to the dance. Whether Scott erred knowingly cajmot be said, but a reliable authority has recently told us that " there is nothing so authentic as our knowledge of the fact that Prince Charles never danced at all."

" The powers of destiny seemed to ha v.' entered into a slow conspiracy against ihim. There seemed to be a touch of superhuman irony in the fate that let him struggle undaunted to his goal, yet step by step undermined his »rell-laid plans, to lav him low at the feist. helpless but serene, almost within aiand's-reach of the reserve that meant reviving strength and lifelong glory. The individual is crushed; but the same inexorable fate that crushed it fills the lives of all his countrymen, of all the civilised world, with liis imperishable Spirit."

, " About his memory will play a wider tend a greater splendour than the farywept lights of the Aurora that, the long night of the ages, novers aver the cairn liko 'a horo of old. he lies with his gallant comrades. Simple and true is their j&pftaph : To strive, to seek, to find, and ■lfaot to yield.''

Pope was wont to boast of his accuracy, but he blunders in translating tho " Iliad, " where he transforms Homer's "horned stag" into a "branching hind.'' Hinds do not possess horns. Campbell writes of aloes and palmtrees in Wyoming, but neither of these trees <,rows there. In " Paradise Lost '' Milton says: "Thick n* autumnal leaves that slrow the broola; in Vallambrosa. ' The trees of Vallambrosa, being pines, do not strow the brooks in autumn with their leavos A certain

In th© "Memories" of t,h<> Hon Sto?>hen Coleridge there is a very inberestng glimpse of Matthew Arnold. Among the oldest and most intimate friends of Mr Coleridge's father was Matthew Arinold, who was a constant visitor. {Among the poets whom Mr Coleridge lias known in the flesh he describes Mr Arnold as " by far the most interesting fend charming "

"Everyone loved him who reaJly ! English novelist, pub Bombay in Bonknew him: I never saw him put out, 'gal. .Not until the edition was primed or his serene urbanity for a moment was the mistaiai discovered, and rather ruffled; and in conversation I never | than '■a.crifice the edition, tho author, knew him become vehement, or even 'evidently of a humorous turn of mind, exhibit evidence of any stiong feeling had a slip oi paper nrinted. and insertor very earnest conviction. Y believe t-d in each copy ot the cditon, with the there are people who mistook his divert- words : " It nm.si bo _ understood. that ing, magnificent air for supercilious-i for the purposes of this story, and this but that was entirely to inistuide.'- j story ndy. Bombay is in Bengal."