BOOKS AND WRITERS

Waikato Times, Volume 113, Issue 18929, 26 April 1933, Page 3

BOOKS AND WRITERS

A VICTORIAN IDYLL. INTERESTING LOVE-LETTERS. In a review of “The Love-Letters of Walter Bagehot and Eliza Wilson,” edited by their sister. Mrs Russell Barrington, Eiluned Lewis says:— “You see I cannot telegraph to you, as it would not be respectful, the laws regulating the society of betrothed persons were made before telegraphs, I suppose, and there is nothing about them In the code, and I fear it would horrify you." Thus wrote Walter Bagehot, Impatiently, to his Eliza in the year 1858. Will the love-letters of the present day, we wonder, refleot, like Dorothy Osborne’s 300 years ago, the stormsi anq* stresses of. the age? Or is the telephone—which Walter Bagehot would have found so great a solace —depriving posterity of our seorets? Will there, In faot, be any love-letters of ours worth reading? Mld-Vlctorlan Age Mirrored. The unruffled correspondence now before us mirrors the mid-Vlotorian age as a lake throws baok each detail of -a summer day. Walter Bagehot. barrister, banker, eoonomist and man of letters, was 31 when he fell in love with Eliza Wilson, one of the six daughters of the then Financial Secretary to the Treasury. The separation that occasioned these letters was brought about by nothing more desperate than Eliza’s headaches, which sent her to Edinburgh for a three months’ treatment of “rubbing"—apparently an early form of osteopathy. Bagchot’s letters, in spite of the pages of self-analysis natural to a man who has fallen In love for the first time, have much of the zest and conversational sparkle that mark his literary 'criticism. “By the interest and talk that are spent on your trousseau you seem to be likely to have apparel now which will be enough till the end of your life. I approve of this, as I shall save by it. Get me advise ei\during materials (canvas, I am assured, wears well), at any rate, If that is not advisable, which I am ‘too Ignorant to be quite sure of, something which will stand the wear and tear of life. It would be pitiable to be found in old age with only gossamer gowns. (What Is gossamer?)”

An Apology,

Sometimes he writes impetuously, and apologises next day:—“l hope I was not rude when I wrote to you last. I wrote it lato at night when my ‘spirits are • -somewhat excessive, hut I hope, dearest, you will believe I did not mean anything." Eliza was of a calmer temperament, as may be seen by her disapproval of Charlotte Bronte’s passionate heroines:—“l don’t think the majority of female writers give their female characters as much control over their feelings as well-conditioned women exercise. . . Miss Bronte made me feel quite savage and I could not bear the Idea of men reading her books.”

That she exercised the right t-ouoh with her ardent lover is clear from his references to her “most soothing notes." Nor have their “soothing" qualities evaporated after 75 years. "I ’can dwell now," she writes, “with such pure happiness on the gentle life we shall both lead.”

So we leave them to their wedding arrangements, their new house, “x T ery ■scrumptious. In the Italian stylo of architecture,” and the high noon of the mid-Victorian summer. ITow much colder and harsher the world has turned to-day I

BOOK ON NOEL COWARD. CRITICISED BY REVIEWERS. The London reviewers have not been favourably impressed by Mr Patrick Brayhrooke’s book, “The Amazing Mr Noel Coward." In Tho Observer Mr St. John Ervlne says that that its banality Is "almost unbelievable.” Ho observes Incidentally: “On his work, Mr Coward deserves a hook, and certainly a better hook than Mr Brayhrooke’s; but on his beliefs, any book about him ought not to be written for another ten years. Ho has not got hold of himself yet, and is still at the stage at which lie -thinks an Idea Is sound merely because it came into his head. Some of his critics assert Hint lie cannot, think, but that he Is merely quick-witted and lively, hut I doubt if they have much reason on their side. He has feeling, and R is generous feeling. Tf he can turn it into generous thought we shall see a dramatist of distinction, hut Mr Coward. more now Ilian ever, must be on his guard against facility. Me is too quick. He will do well In slacken sDeed, to stop and look and listen."

COMMENTS AND EXTRACTS.

WITH THE FOREIGN LEGION. MISCONCEPTIONS REMOVED. One feels that “The Man Who Liked Hell," by ex-Sergeant A. R. Cooper, sheds real light rather than limelight. In collaboration with Sidney Trenmyne, Sergeant Cooper writes a straightforward, virile account of his 121 years in French uniform. He docs not try to gloss over his own mis-deeds (nor does he glorify them). He does not exaggerate or under-es-timate the crudities and brutalities of life In his chosen corps; and he does throughout exhibit a fine loyalty to itlie Legion and to his own Independence of spirit. He removes some popular, even cherished, misconceptions. When Major Wren’s famous “Beau Geste” was translated by Cooper to a colonel in the Legion, it made that offloer very angry. “He was an ardent Legionnaire and patriot, and was muoh upset by what he 'considered the misrepresentations in the novel, and also puzzled to know how the author had obtained as much actual information as he had." As a matter of -fact, It was from Cooper himself that a good deal of It had unwittingly come. Poor Opinion of Englishmen. Cooper has a poor opinion of Englishmen in the Legion; ho says they are in general—lie admits that there are exceptions—“the / worst of the Legionnaires.” They are “drawn from the lowest types ... do not amalgamate well with the other soldiers ... do not easily 'acquire the spirit of the Legion . . are grumblers and malcontents.” THE TEN BEST NOVELB. AWARDS BY THE BOOKMAN. The Bookman prize for a list of the ten best novels of 1932 was awarded for the following:—“The Fountain,” by Charles Morgan; ‘“The Fortress,” by Hugh Walpole; “Brave New World," by Aldous Huxley; “The Burning Bush,” by Slgrld Undset; “The Case is Altered,” by William Plomer; “Without My Cloak,” by Kate O’Brien; “A Man Named Luke," by March Cost; "Chaos Is Come Again," by Claude Houghton; “Inheritance," by Phyllis Bentley; and “Death of Felicity Taverner," by Mary Butts. NEW ZEALAND AUTHOR. NEW BOOK PUBLISHED. Miss Nelle Soanlan has received advice that her new novel, “Tides of Youth,” the aeoond of the Penoarrow Saga, was published in London last week. Copies should reach New Zealand by the end of May. Miss Scanlan is spending a holiday in New Zealand before going hack to England. POTTED WISDOM. FROM THE NEW BOOKS. Women drivers wait for no man. * * * • One man's junk Is another man’s antique. • * * * Truth Is stranger than fiction, and publicity bunk is stranger than either. • * * * When a dog growls over his food he likes it, hut with a man it is different. * • • • “Here goes!" said the maid, as she paoked her box without warning.

Many a pood man has strayed Into the crooked path by following “the direction of the corkscrew.

The most superstitious man we know Is the fellow who won't play bridge because It means having thirteen 'cards.

* * * • There is no place like home when you haven’t the money to go out.

* * * *r No man Is a hero to his wife In the back seat.

When a man Is engaged to a girl he gives her bushels of kisses. After they’re married she has to be satisfied with pecks.

It ought to he some consolation to a widow to know that history often repeats Itself.

The average woman has hut few speaking acquaintance's; most of them are listening acquaintances.

Love is like a kitten, horn blind: but it takes only a few days to open Us eyes.