The Library Comer

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19828, 30 April 1927, Page 13 (Supplement)

The Library Comer

By

“Bibliophile”

“Some boelfis are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and toma few to be chewed and digested.’’—Bacon.

“THE LUCKYBUG LODE.” (By ARTHUR PRESTON HANKINS. Cassell and Co.. London, i Beginning in a Californian prison, the scene of this story shifts to Mexico, and then back to California, relating the struggles which ensued for possession of a fabulously rich gold mine. There is much fighting, exceedingly rapid action, in fact all the el“ments which go towards a Western story ot the “red-blood” type. Without anything to mark it out above Ih<‘ usual run of such tales, it. will probably satisfy those to whom wild West books nwtke an appeal. “TRISTRAM OF BLENT.” (By ANTHONY HOPE. John Murray. London.) The fact that the old style of reckoning time, in use in liussia;-is twelve days behind the new style of the rest of Europe has often been a cause ot confusion to those who have had to make comparisons between the two. hut it is not often that the difference is eni ployed as a vital factor in the plot of a story. Mr Hope, however, uses it ;ts the key to a certain mystery in connection with the succession to the title and estates of an ancient peerage in England. Here there is none of that stirring dash of arms which he has given us in “The Prisoner of Zenda.” The battle this time is one of wits, but Mr Hope is as much at- home in this type of storv as ho is in the other, and the book makes a worthy addition to the list already standing to his credit. “JOHN FRENSHAM, K.C.” (By SINCLAIR MURRAY. John Murray, London.) A prosperous London lawyer, a former sweetheart who reappeared after several years-’ absence, and a wife who was quick to note the new situation are the chief characters discovered when this story begins. A triangle begins to develop, but fate intervenes before it is finally constructed. There are many tense episodes and the story is handled with real dramatic power. It is a good talc well told. “FIRST ENGLISH NOVELIST.” One lives and learns! The Newsagent and Booksellers' Review in a brief article on “Early Novels” made recently this astonishing declaration: — “Few people know that Richardson was the first English novelist . . . Fielding was our secund novelist in order of time. He tried to improve upon Richardson and for years there was a spirit of rivalry about. Sterne was later than either of the two previous named authors and it. is strange that after his day the novel dropped out of existence for over fifty years.” Well, Well! We turn up our dates:— Samuel Richardson 1689 —1761. Henry Fielding 1707—1754. Laurence Sterne 1713—1768. Fifty years (or over) from 176S—LSI8 (say 1820). During those fifty years no novels; not even a spirit of rivalry! The unlucky public had to rely for their light reading on the Ethical commentaries of Ann Radcliffe. Botanical works of Jane Austen. Mathematical treatises of Sir Walter Scott. Philological investigations of Maria Edgworth. Chemical experiments of Thomas Love Peacock. Life must have been dull for book readers then. BOOK WITHDRAWN. ABSURD KITCHENER STATEMENT A statement in a newly-published book to the effect, that Lord Kitchener’s private secretary was a German has caused the withdrawal, on the day following its issue, of Miss Roma Lister’s second volume of “Reminiscences, Occult and Social,” says the London Daily News. The War Office communicated with the publishers regarding the statement., and Messrs Hutchinson have issued the following:— “Our attention has been drawn to an absurd statement made in a book published by us to the effect that the writer was told that Lord Kitchener’s private secretary was a German. It is difficult to know to which secretary the remark refers, but it is equally untrue in every case. “We wish to .apologise publicly for any annoyance to which any of those of his private secretaries who are still living have been put owing to such a statement. “The book which was submitted to us was one of occult reminiscences and the paragraph objected to was added subsequently by the author. Wo have immediately withdrawn the book from publication. ’ ’ The book was withdrawn and will be issued later with the offending passage deleted. Miss Lister’s previous book of Reminiscences was published about six months ago. tinned. He favoured the gradual segregation of natives, such as existed already in Western Australia, within each tribal district.

THE HUMAN SIDE. In anticipation of the approaching flood of Beethoven centenary articles wu are being warned to “avoid the trivial,” and a caveat has been put in against the retailing of such ancedoteg as that of Beethoven having thrown a bowl of soup at a waiter. And yet is there not something to be said on the. other side? The success of Boswell's Johnson is largely a success of cumulative piling up of small intimate details. Arago made no mistake when he preserved for posterity a picture ol \ olta going into the’ bakers shops, buying large rolls and eating them unconcernedly in the street, as an illustration of a certain simplicity of character. It lias been urged with good reason that Morley's “Gladstone” falls some way short of perfection because Gladstone the man does not emerge. Sometimes, as Lord Rosebery has pointed out in the case of Chatham, there are no materials for a portrait of the human side, but this was not true of Gladstone. Macaulay would be quite inhuman had we not stories of him playing with his nieces or spudding dandelions. There is more of the true stuff of biography in William 111 gobbling up the whole of [the season’s first dish of green peas j while his not less greedy sister-inlaw looked on in dismay than in pages of solemn eulogy. We arc all for “the warts. ’ ’ arr “MADE TO MEASURE.” Apropos the Beethoven centenary, the “Choir” for March tells the amusing history of a “ghost” work by this composer, called “The Dream of St. Jerome.” The first cause of this piece wils a mingled adaptation by the conscienceless Tom M<K»re. as a sacred song, of the well-known theme (with variations) of Beethoven’s A flat Son ata (Op. 26). This “song” was called ’Who is the Maid—St. Jerome’s Love. Air —Beethoven.” Thackeray, in “The Adventures of Phillip,” speaks of being soothed, charmed, and ennobled by Beethoven’s “Dream of St. Jerome,” as delicately played by Charlotte—evidently alluding, though inexactly, to this production. The morning after this chapter of “Philip” appti«red in the “Cornhill” there was a demand in a large West End music shop for ‘The Dream of St. Jerome,” by Beethoven, mentioned in Thackeray’s ‘ • Philip.' ’ The proprietor was equal to the demand. Seeing the possibilities in Thackeray’s boom of this unknown piece, he < xplained that the “Dream” was out of print, but that copies should be ready tor the public in a few days, and forthwith set one of his men “who knew his Beethoven” to cook up something with all speed. Plates were engraved, the music printed off, and the piece came out, with a foreword telling who and what St. Jerome and his dream were The new “Dream” consisted of two movements—the slow one being the air of Beethoven’s sacred song “'.rhe Love of our Neighbour,” the second —more lively—being (owing to emergency) the Welsh air “Megan’s Daughter.” So was evolved Beethoven’s “ Dream of St. Jerome,” which may still puzzle the readers of ••Philip.” it must also have puzzled Thackeray, if he ever came across it. DEAN INGE DEFENDS HIS PEN. Replying as guest at a luncheon of the Society of Women Journalists to the toast of his health, Dean Inge re- , cently defended his action in writing fur the press. When ho first began to •write for the newspapers a bishop remonstrated witii him for making a great mistake and sacrificing his dignity, lie said (according to the London Daily Telegraph). Really, he could not see that any great distinction should be drawn between writing for newspapers that were read by all sorts and conditions of men and addressing a much smaller audience of the same kind from the pulpit or the platform. Writing, indeed, had the great advantage that one might be sure that what one had said would appear, without being subjected to misunderstanding by a reporter. Two years ago. in the United States, he had strange experiences with the journalists of that great country. The reporters wanted to know what he thought, ot the morals of the modern “flapper” as compared with those of her grandmother. “1 could only say,” said the Dean, “that the early indiscretions of the flapper’s grandmother 1 neither witnessed nor shared.” The American papers sent their correspondents to report his theological lectures, and they made such a hash of the first one that he thought they had sent their basebail reporters by mistake. We were becoming more and more a nation of readers, continued Dean Inge, and it became more worth while, on the. whole, to address people through the press than to talk to them, by word of mouth. Besides the ctiarge of lowering the dignity of his calling there were other objections he had to meet. He received angry letters calling him a. “blackleg’’ who was taking broad out of the mouths of worthy people who lived by their pens. Some of them contended that he did not make bargains with editors and therefore spoilt the market for them; while others complained that, being rich already,he ought not to want to make any more money. As to the first of these charges he did not think he had reason to complain of the way he had been treated by editors. Bui, as to being a rich man. his deanery was worth only £1,500 a year net, and he had four children who cost him £l,OOO a year to educate. That did not leave him much on which to keep up a house of 30 rooms and to rxtend that hospitality which was expected of hint