LITERARY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10927, 17 November 1913, Page 2

LITERARY.

* NOTES ON BOOKS AND WRITERS OF THE DAY. "By Suns and Stars" is tho titlo under which a small volume of verso by Julian Mitchell is published by Whitcombe and Tombs, Ltd. Some of the poems aro spiritod, and display a good command of diction and rhythm. There is also a wido variety in treatment, and the author on occasions shows th» inspiration of patriotic fervour. . Pupa may be cited as one of the pretties!, examples of his skill in deftly weaving fancies into melodious flow. Papa, if all the earth were gold, And all tho clouds wero pearl, And diamonds •kapi from each wave's tip, V.'hene breakers roll and curl. IE all tho bush were thick with gems That, dropped from every tree. K silver fell instead of snow, What would you buy for me? After vainly endeavouring to supply satisfactory response to such a repetition of exorbitant demand, paternal prido declares that had he tho love that all human hearts could contain he "would roll it in a ball and toss it in your lap," with which sample of poetical extravagance we will leave him. Harriott© Russell Campbell, author of "is it Enough?" may bo said to have begun her literary career at an early age, having written, she confesses, a volume of poems when sue was only eight years old. Once as a girl silo earned thirty dollars writing stories for a boot and shoo periodical. "L was'not exactly proud of that," she says, " but I have no doubt it was good training, as they had to bo very businesslike, and my taste ran to the poetic." She admits, " I like to write of things which 1 observed when I was a child or young girl with the light of later experience upon them." It is nob unlikely, therefore, that the description of the village in the opening chapters of "Is It Enough?" was suggested by memories of early associations. A twelve years' residence in tho Kaiser's dominions has impelled Dr Stanley Shaw to write a life of the Emperor, entitled "William of Germany." His short summary of how tho Germans are governed is as follows : "Heaven gave the royal house of Hohenzollern, as a present, a folk. Tho HohoJizollerns gave the folk, as a present, a parliament, a power to make laws without tho power of executing them." The author thinks that if England and- Germany only understood one another's systems of government a little better, " the delusion that the highest interests' of both [nations] are fundamentally irreconcilable, and that the policies of their governments are fundamentally opposed," would cease to exist. , As regards those episodes of the Kaiser's reign which have most stirred British feeling, Dr Shaw deals -at length with the Kruger telegram, and tries to prove, as others before have tried to do, that it had "nothing to do with the Emperor's ' impulsive' character"; but (observes the " Athenasum") after reading the whole chapter, and all Dr Shaw's evidence, we fancy that most people in England will still feel that the telegram was due to the Kaiser's impulsiveness, and to nothing else. Many pages are devoted to the Emperor's unfortunate letter to Lord Tweedmoutb. about naval estimates, and, according to Dr, Shaw, the Kaiser was so indiscreet as- to say outright that " Lord Esher had better attend to the drains at Windsor and leave alone matters he did not understand." Lord Esher was at the time Deputy-Governor of Windsor Castle, but the Imperial letter-writer does not seem'to have known his connection with committees of defence.

Mr Andrew Melrose, the well-known London publisher who ' has made, a specialty of fiction, made some interesting remarks in a recent interview on the subject of the growing subordination of the love-motive in the novel 'of to-day. "We have very few. novels submitted to us nowadays," ho said, "in which love, romantic or otherwise, is tho main motive. The love novel which is a love novel and nothing more, appears to be going out of fashion. A love interest still characterises the majority of novels, hut it takes a .secondary place." . The tendency to which Mr Melrose refers is obvious enough to anyone who compares tho average novel of the present with its predecessor of, say, a couple of decades ago; and it is certainly not one to be deprecated or deplored, since it simply gives evidence that the thoughts both nf novelists and of their readers have widened " with the process of the suns." Your up-to-date hero of fiction, instead of wasting all his time in mooning around the maiden' of his choice, is content to devote such attention to love-making as he can sparo from the business of leading public movements, or tracking down criminals, discovering or exploring new countries, founding new kingdoms, or perfecting world-shaking inventions, or whatever el6e his strenuous work in the world may be; and the up-to-date heroine, for her part, is wont to be just as much a person of character and action as her lover, whom she would certainly not encourage to waste his best years in making love to her, after the insipid fashion of so many romances of a bygone period. The great discovery of the modern novelist seems to be, in short, that nowadays, at any rate, it is possible for two"people to be.in love with one another without making siokly asses of themselves, and wasting their own time and wearying the reader with imaginary troubles when the etrenuous life of to-day is calling both of thsni to come out and hustle.

William o*rew Hwditt, who di«d suddenly a f»w we*ka ago *t Richmond/England, was the grandson of the famous essayist, and was himself an industrious worker in various fields of literature. His first pubhations wero a "History of the Origin and Rise of the Republic of Venice " (18o8), a work which has passed ' through three editions, and is still considered of value, and an account of British Columbia, published in the same year. But he soon found bis true bent, and for manv years in the sixties and seventies" he was one of the most prolific of editors of old English poetry, inlays and prose. He edited " bhakespeare's Jest Books" (1884), "Shake-. Bpeafe's Library," in six volumes; .'' Remains of the Early Popular Poetry of England" (1866), a " Handbook of the Porralar, Poetic and Dramatic Literature of Great Britain" (1867), Blount's "Land Tenures" (1874-1909), Dodsloy's "Old Plays" (1874-6), and (with others) Warton'a "History of English Poetry" (1871), as well as Montaigne and a number of Tudor and Stuart poets. His work ou "Shakespeare: the Man and the Poet," passed through three editions. In 1897 ho published volumes on "The Haahtts and " The Lambs," which had a mixed reception.

What is described as tie most fascinating and notable human document s°en for many years has just been discovered in Paris by a distinguished French author, whose work has received the crown of the Academy. - The writer after ten years' patient work, has brought to light a collection of letters written by Juliette Drouet, a French actress, to Victor Hugo. Bocoming devotedly attached to the great novelist when he first noticed her plaving a humble part in " Lucretia Borgia," Juliette followed him in hi 3 exile to Brussels, _ Guernsey and Jersoy, whers she inspired some of his greatest poems. Her letters to_ him—passionate and' tender, outpourings of her devotion—number in all 15,000, and of these a careful selection is now being prepared for publication by a committee, of French scholars. Tile entire copyright for the English language throughout tlio world Jia.s been secured •StauleyjPuuL/who has

engaged the services of a lady wellknown in London society and in literary circles aa editor and translator. 'Arrangements aro now being mado for tho loiters, which are not only among the most charming lore loiters ovor written, but also throw an invaluable, light upon tho character of Victor Hugo, to bo published simultaneously in London, Paris and each of the chief European capitals. Students of French literature to whom an opportunity of reading some of tho letters has been given, declare that tho new information and tho new point of view thus obtained is of intense value. A| notable monograph on Victor Hugo from the pen of the writer who is responsible for tho di*coY«ry will bo included with the memoirs. Mr Stanley Paul is already arranging for a serial of illustration* from the Victor Hugo Museum, to add to tho value of tho English edition. Mr William de Morgan was sixtyfour when ho wrote tho first chapter of " Joseph Vane©," and a year later, at tli'3 solicitation, of his wife, ho finished the novel and sent it to a publisher. It was rejected. It was written out in longhand. A manuscript of 280,000 words must have scorned appalling to the publisher's reader. It was suggested to Mr de Morgan that tho manuscript might liavo a hotter chance to bo read if it were typewritten. The work was put into the hands of an intelligent woman, and she was eoon complaining that tho p;irls employed in her office wero reading the manuscript and crying over it, •instead of copying it. She told this uimsual experience to a publisher, and ''Joseph Vance" soon afterwards was issued and mado a great success. Among tho ten Shakespearian plavs pnalyscd in Dr Stopford Brooke's latest volume is " Henry V.," tho stage production of which has just been interesting Australian audiences afresh. The following is a passage in which Dr Brooke outlines liis study of the King's character.— "Many think that Shakespeare painted Henry as the perfect King; as almost tho perfect man. lam surprised when I read that view. Shakespeare cat far too close to fact to represent Henry as entirely noble. He painted him as he was—tho crafty politician, tho steadfast, masterly leader of men; England's herc-warrior; merciful in peace, ruthless and resolute in war, mild to his own, fierce to his foes ae long as thay fought against him. . . . "He starts this bloody business for the sake of policy, not for any just cause. Ho fears tho nobility and all the fends left behind by his_, father's seizure crown. War will occupy their minds; they love war, and thoy shall have it. His father, dying, recommended that. And the last words of the play of''Henry IV.' show that the new King, to.secure his power, had already resolved to war with France. So, us. Shakespeare puts it, the Archbishop of Canterbury knew tho King's mind before he mad© his aolenva. argument; and the King's speech, - warning tho Archbishop not vo loose the does of war unless on tho gravest ground, was really a piece of hypocrisy, spoken to play tho part of a temperate, just anu thoughtful monarch, while all the time his craft had resolvad on war. . . .

"In what way, then, couM patriotism speak? How could Shakespeare in thic play exn.lt the glory of.England, when the war was, ho knew, first unjust and then fatal? Well the natural, the inevitable feeling of the mass of any people is to wish passionately that "its folk may have the better of its opponents. One might as well try to push back the tidal wave as the swell of this national emotion. Shakespeare shared in that passion.

The widow of Anthony Trollops's elder brother, Thomas Adolphus Trollops —himself a successful writer and a brilliant scholar—died in England during September. This Mrs Trollope wrote several popular novels and had the distinction of being the only new author from whom Dickens accepted a serial. He published "Aunt Margaret's Troubles" in "All the Year Kound."

Messrs John Long, Ltd v will shortly publish a new novel entitled " Light Fingers and Dark Eyes," by Vincent Collier, a new author. This-novel gives a very interesting account of th.9 early love adventure's of two business men. The scene is laid partly in Italy and partly in England, about both of which countries tlio author is well qualified to write.

Those who dwell on the mountains, or make their way thither whenever a holiday permits, will relish these spirited verses of Mr "W. N. Hodgson, published in tho "Spectator:"— Now men there be that love the plain With yellow comland dressed. And others love,tho sleepy vales, Where lazy oattle rest; But some rnon love the ancient hillfl, And thesQ have chosen best. For in the hills a man may go Forever as ho list, And see a net of distant worlds Where streams and valleys twist A league below, and seem to hold The whole estith in hia fiat, Or if he tread tJha. dales beneath A new delight is his, For every crest's a. kingdom-edge, , Whose conqueror he is, And every' fell the frontier Of unguessed empcries. And when the clouds are on the land In shelter he may lie, And watch adown the misty glenß The rain go marching by,' Along the silent flanks of fells "Whose heads are in. tho eky. And in tSre bills are- crystal tarns 'As deep as maidens' eyes, About whose edje at middle-noon The heavy sunshine lies: And d*»p therein the troll-folk dwell, Can rnako msn mmdrous wise. The gww of sprinjj is lik» a host Of watriers m g&&, And sumram he»th*r like a oloak Of purple on the wold, While autumn's ruewt bracken ia Monk's livery of old. Our lord ths sun knows every land, But moat he loves the fells; At morning break his earliest torch Upon their summit dwells; ..'^ At evo he lingers there to catch , -'<,_ The sound of vesper bells. Tha men who dwell among the hills Have eyes both strong and kind, For as they go about their works In Heaven's sun and wind, The spirit of tho stabliehed hills Gives them tha steadfast mind. An interesting number of the " Poetry Review" for August includes an article, "The Puzzle of Shakespearean Technic," in which Mr Stephen Phillips makes bold to "indicate one or two instances of what would certainly bo styled slovenliness of method and incomplete conception which would not be lightly dismissed on the score of profundity if the writer in question were any other but tbe indiscriminately idolised William Shakespeare." Mr Phillips devotes his critioiftins chiefly to "Hamlet," which he calls "essentially a melodrama and not a tragedy." He thinks that it is evident that Shakespeare " took the ' Hamlet' story without any very deep and ulterior psychical intention, but largely because with the eye of a showman ho saw at once the theatrical possibilities first of the Ghost and secondly of the play scene. Either of these inventions would carry a melodrama if effectively used, and both together thoy carry ' Hamlet,' with a fine success up "to. a certain point." Mr Phillips also thinks that Shakespeare in Othello's speech, beginning Soft you, a word or two before you go," "cannot leave this great passago without spoiling it." Marcel Pr«vost, ihe author of " Ma~ non Lescaut," besides being an industrious novelist, is also an ardent viticulturist, and he camo by bis vineyard quite by chance. _ Seaking the (seclusion of the country in which to finish ono of his novels, ho came upon a little cotta.go in a field near Nerac, which so njeased 3um that he bought it.. And

as his novels became successful ho added field to field, and before ho qmto appreciated his good fortune found himself tho proprietor of the largest collection of vinevards in tho district. The novelist grow so fond of hia hobby that for many yeans ho devoted all his leisure time in cultivating what are now acknowledged to ho tho richost vineyi&fas in tho department. A much-bethurnbed copy of Mary Johnston's story, "To Have ami to Hold," is among the relics of tho ill-fated Scott expedition now on exhibition in London. It is a strange coincidence that the book, when it was found in Captain Scott's tent, lay open at the chxptar, "We Go Out Into tho Night." A Dickenn enthusiast is contributing to "Tho Timor," a oeries _ of Articles describing a " piigrimago" ho undertook to scones made memorable the world over in the novels. lie starts with Rochester, so prominent in "Pickwick, " "Great Expectations," and "Edwin Brood." - The pilgrim put up, as a matter of course, nt Uio "Bull." "Tho Bull/' ho cays, "is not only the Bull, .but ib is tho Blue Boar, where Pip used to stav in the days of his and tlio beautiful old black-and-white houses in Eas'gate were the homes both of Mr Sap' Sea and of Undo Pumblechook. Tho red-brick house, worn and venerable, with its fascinating gables and corner:; and bulges, is tho Nuns' House, where Mies Twinkleten kept her seminary for young ladies; it is also, in spite of a transplantation to Bury St Edmunds, Westgate House, tho establishment of Miss Tomkins, in. which, on a memorable occasion Mr Pickwick allowed himself to bo imprisoned amid a grove of sandwich brvgs; and all these agreeable histories are inscribed upon memorial tablets, just as in. other towns are commemorated the homes of far less important poreons who wci-& once of real flesh and blood." "Wo start then at the Bull. And what a trno Pickwickian thrill it gives as wo drive under a low archway with a big, jolly yard beyond, and walk in, through .t mysterious little glass door. We feel an instant desire for rum punch surging through our reins, though we know that we should dislike it and that it would dislike us. Straight in front of us is a fine wide balustraded staircase, the walls hung with prints and copper warming-pans; and from the landing at tho top we may turn into the. very room once graced by the Clubbers, the Bulders, and the Snipsw, where Mr Tupman hopped and Mrs Budger bounced in a quadrille and Mr Jingle bearded Dr Slammer, of the 97th. We feel sometwhat as we do when in revisiting tho haunts of childhoood we Jmd everything just a little smaller, the colours a'little loss gorgeous, tho terrific ond unending passages a little more finite than they were seen through a haze. Evert as Dickens came back to find i,hat the High Street of Rochester was not as wide as Regent Street ,md the clock only a ' moon-faced' clock. Nevertheless, tho <rooin should come up to any reasonable expectations; and there, perched above us and blazing with the Royal Arms, is the 'elevated den' in which the musicians were securely confined. We may see, too, Mr Winkle's bedroom that was inside Mr Tupman's, and by a process of deduction —' next door but two on tho right hand'—we can discover Mr Pickwick's."

LITERARY QUARANTINE. LIBRARIES AS CENSORS. The action of the British libraries in banning a recently ptiblished novel has raised another discussion in the Mother Country regarding the relations of the writers, tho publishers and the readers to one another. On the one hand, there is a strongly expressed demand for. the freeing of literary effort from tho trammels of convention and conventional morality; on the other hand, there is insistence upon the right of young people and readers generally to be protected from the unwholesome stories which often are mixed indistinguishablv with the ordinary output of the publishing houses. "It is a great mistake," writes an American critic, "to suppose that all tho sex stories published nowadays are bad and that all are equally reprehensible. What we need is a sense of values and the power to discriminate, Robert W. Chambers is a drawingcard that brings a magazine's circulation into the millions. A master of subtle style, he covers moral decay with a perfumed varnish that all the oiergymen in the land cannot remove. But who objects to Robert Chambers on that score P On the other hand, Theodore Dreiser writes a deeply moving, utterly sincere story of an unfortunate woman who went wrong And because he tells the bitter truth about her, librarians refuse to keep the book on their shelves. Sudermann mixes up a mess of filth like the ' Song of Songs' or ' The Indian Lily/ seasons it with all the spices of his great ability, and thousands are sold to people who think they are reading the realities of life. But when Shaw tries to tell the world something it ought to know and does not know, tells it with absolute honesty, complete freedom from misleading innuendo, people cry, ' How disgusting!' and 'Mrs Warren's ; Profession' is, ruled off the boards!"

Mr H. 6. Wells, who has had books banned by some of the libraries, has come forward as a defender of the outspoken sex novel. "I hold no brief for really indecent books," he says, thing that authors should be at the " but I do feel that it is an intolerable mercy of tradera, who are ablo by th®ir action to <m& a nasty iAut oa their trerks »ad mvrwtesz. I do obj«et, too, the pswjpesiei'ous direction tho censorship ttk«». Th® prublio are, after all, the best censors, and I believe such censorship should be exercised in the homo. There are certain books, for example, that I would not leave about where my own children could obtain access to them, but these, I may mention, are not impure or doubtful books in the ordinary sense, but works which might inculcate a vulgarity of attitude or standard of life." Some years ago Mr Wells wrote emphatically regarding what may be called the sex problem novel. "What is the good of pretending to write about love," he eaid, " and of the loyalties and treaoberies and quarrels of men and women, if one must not glanco at those varieties of physical temperament and organic quality, those deeply passionate needs sud dis>tresses, from which half the storms oi human life are brewed? We m6au to deal with all these things." But Mr Wells, it may seen, has not touched the r&al problem. The objeotions that have been raised to his " Ann Veronica," and more lately to "The Passionate Friends," are admitted by most people to be unreasonable. The just protest is against stories which have no attraction at all to an intelligent reader and depend for a, market entirely upon their appeal to an ignoble kind of curiosity and to mere depravity. "The leading authors of to-day," says a London critic, '' are making a great mistake in adopting the demi-semi-uneavoury, semi-unsavoury, and actually unsavoury themes for their novels. It is no excuse to say these things como from life. Life contains all, but each man and woman can make it beantiful or bestial as they choose. I said the novel is now standing on its trial. This is evidenced every yoar by the terrible autumn deluge of scribblers, trying on. their jackdaw's feathers vainly to emulate peacocks. Cannot some of this wasted energy be diverted into a new channel? How many thousands of the ' New Seaeon's' are only fit for the bonfire? How many more are of the genus ephemeridaa, and need never Live been born? It would be better to persuade these misdirected and ill-paid people to give uj> a miserable calling.''-