BOOKS AND BOOKMEN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue VI, 10 August 1901, Page 280

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN.

-THE VICAR OF ST. LUKE’S.” Owing, it may be supposed, to the lively interest afforded by contemporaneous history, there has not been the usual enormous demand for fiction, from the English public, during the last year and more. Consequently the supply has regulated itself by the demand, and the issue of novels from the English press has been considerably lessened. But even had that issue been more prolific than ordinary, such a book as "The Vicar of St. Luke’s" could not have failed to attract and retain attention. For it is a book of marked ability. The author or authoress—it says a good deal for the talent, and the kind of talent, the book displays, that it is not easy to determine the sex of the writer—comes before the public for the first time, and under a name that is clearly enough a pseudonym—Sibyl Creed. But Sibyl Creed has proved capable of producing a novel that is one among a thousand. The story is exceedingly interesting, but its interest is owing not to plot or dramatic incidents. Of the first there is none to speak of, and what there is of the second owes its force to its common-place environment of a parish schoolroom and a committee meeting. It is Sibyl Creed’s admirable skill in drawing human character, in describing the evolution and progress of thoughts and passions. and in narrating the mild incidents of every-day life that give so engrossingly interesting an air of actuality to "The Vicar of St. Luke's.’’ From the hero down to the most insignificant person, all the people of the story proclaim themselves living, breathing human beings, end the separate individualities of each are impressed on our consciousness by most accurate and delicate touches. The presentation of the very opposite characters of Bind and his wife is a really admirable piece of work: and not less than that can be said regarding the personalities of the Rev. Victorian Goring and the Rev. Francis Docker. The ritualistic Anglican vicar and his senior curate —the one a ritualist from taste plus conviction, the other from taste alone—are a capital set-off to each other. Goring. the unselfish enthusiast, with something of a strain of genius in him, and something of the Napoleonic power of swaying men. bids for our love and respect. Docker has to be taken on a lower plane, but there we find him an eminently likable individual, with his practical cleverness, his social dexterity and tact, and, nnder his languid elegance of manner and feeling, the power of being stirred up into generous defence of a friend. The fresh and charming personality of Elsie Lillie, with her love's young dream, comes into the story as a delightful bit of an idyll, and we feel s<>rry that the writer has thought it necessary to give so tragic an ending to poor Elsie's love and life. Indeed. in the manner of that ending there is an alien touch of melodrama, which seems not quite worthy of the rest of the book. The ignoble tragedy that Lena Morton works for herself out of her egotistical vanity and distasteful imaginings is wholly another affair. There "we see the tragedv of the fo. .ish self-absorbed girl to* the inevitable, the natural outcome of conduct that gives her no claim to our pity. For the writer has done nothing better in the novel than the skilful description of Lena's character, and of the development and growth of those feelings which she nourished to her own undoing. Space forbids me to mention here more of these admirably drawn characters, or to discuss the action of the store. Goring's final procedure, though perhaps the only strictly logical step to be taken by one holding his views and longing to have them sanctioned by Church authority, is not one likely to Bppval to the sympathies of the Protestant order of intellect. Also, we cannot quite feel that the Church, which has so evidently the sympathies of the writer of the book.‘holds position which that writer un■•■iUtlngly arrogates to her. But the few thing- which one mar take exception to in "The Vicar of St. J Ha ■

“LYSBETH.” To say that Rider Haggard has written this novel in his best style is tantamount to saying that it is very well worth reading. The style by' which he won his wide-spread popularity, the style in which he flings the reins on the neck of his spirited imagination and lets it prance about and gallop away wheresoever it will, is certainly not his best, though it may always continue to delight the heart of boys and girls, both young and old. In writing the story of "Lysbeth" he had little need to call upon his vivacious fancy, for the history of the Netherlands, when Alva and his Spaniards had it in their keeping, is a record of cruelty on one side and strong endurance on the other, more terrible and marvellous than anything fiction could supply. The lots of Lysbeth and her friends, indeed, do not exemplify the worst instances of Spanish oppression; but there is still in them more than enough of tragedy, pathos, and romance to make their recital very interesting reading. The whole tone of the novel is serious and dignified, rising at times into climaxes of powerful dramatic effect, and the spirit of the people, the social and religious atmosphere of the place and of the age, strike one as being faithfully- and vividly reproduced. The characterisation of the heroine and her friends and foes is very well done on the whole, and the story marches vigorously to its end, carrying the reader's unflagging interest along with it, "MY LWY OF ORANGE.” This book deals with the same country people and time as ‘‘Lysbeth’’ does. Alva and his Spaniards are here, besieging a Dutch town, and the hero, John Newstead, an English adventurer full of strange Spanish oaths, carries his sword and his troop of mercenaries from Alva to Orange. Subsequently, for the sake of the beaux yeux of a charming Dutch girl, he does prodigies of valour and cunning, and it seems to be chiefly owing to him that the tide of Spanish success in the Netherlands is definitely turned, and Dutch shoulders freed from the yoke of Alva and Philip. The tale races breathlessly along from start to finish, taking little count on the way of probabilities, eleven possibilities. But it is to the author's credit to state that he is able to make the reader take little count of them either, and find a good deal of entertainment in following the varying fortunes of the devil-may-care hero until they consummate in successful strategy, princely favour, and wedded bliss. "THE INVADERS.” The Boer war is very directly responsible for the tremendous situation involved in this lively feat of imagination. While the Boer war is at its most critical juncture, France and Germany take a base advantage of our country's being pretty well denuded of her trained defenders, to invade England. The insidious manner of that invasion, its paralysing effect, the fashion in which it is met and finally repulsed—it is all to be found written down in this book, and a very stirring narrative it makes. There is such a wealth of minute details in the account of the movements of friends and foes, sucl* elabortely vivid discriptions of attacks and repulses, as from the pen of a veritable eyewitness, and such a simple chronicling of natural incidents, that an air of quite remarkable vraisemblance is given to the story; and, in spite of one's hard and fast knowledge to the contrary, one is almost tempted to accept the invasion as an indisputable fact of history. Where all are heroes it is difficult to specialise the hero of the tale, but I expect the place of honour must be given to Tom Pratt, that marvellous Liverpool urchin, who is as slippery as an eel, as agile as a deer, as brave as a lion, as faithful as a dog. and as astute as a veteran diplomatist. We say, with heroically delivered England. "Heaven bless Tom Pratt! and may bis breed increase in Britain, so that Commanders-in-Chief and Prime Ministers may never lack, in their times of doubt and difficulty, wise fifteen-year-old counsellors to tell them how to use the armies of

the State, or to conduct her home and foreign policies aright.” "STREET DUST.” This collection of five stories, which takes its title from the first one, is, with the exception of "Gerry’s Garden," written in a painfully tragic vein. So much so, indeed, that one is tempted to th : nk that the authoress has somewhat piled on the agony. Even her most ardent admirers must admit that a tendency to exaggeration is not unknown in Ouida’s very clever writings. But the scenes of these four stories are set in Italy, and Italy is a very poor country, and among the very, very poor and ignorant in Italy, pitifully tragic things, and quite barren of any compensatory accompaniments.may be of more common occurrence than one trusts they are. Ouida’s bias against the Italian Government is clearly visible in some of these stories, but indeed there is in most of her books a suggestion that hers is a spirit rather in sympathy with the Irishman who was impartially “agin" all Governments. The stories are prettily and artistically written.

There comes to me from the publishers, G. Ricordi and Co., 265, Regentstreet, London, W., “A Song of Waiting," by Ellen Wright, and "Two Songs," by Teresa del Riego. The well-known song writer, Edward Teschemaeher, supplies the words of the first, which is published in the key of G and of E flat. The music has not a “catching” melody, but it is light, graceful and suggestive, and presents no special difficulties to either singer or accompanist. "Spring Gardens," the first of the "Two Songs," has a quaintly sweet melody to suit the quaint words of the old English ditty. A distinctly French flavour is appreciable in the music of the second song, "Eloge du Rire,” and accords well with the French words, by Catulle Mendes, and their somewhat inexact English rendering. "Two Songs" can be obtained to suit a soprano or tenor and a mezzo-soprano or baritone.

Another couple of songs received from the same publishers are "Wild Roses” and "Beneath Thy Window." both very easy to play and sing. Edward Teschemaeher is the author of the tuneful words of both the songs, While L. Denza has composed the

music of “Wild Roses," and E. di Capua that of “Beneath Thy Window.’* "Wild Roses," which is published inf three keys—F. E flat and C—has a soft, simple melody, rather sweet, but not very distinctive. In the Neapolitan serenade "Beneath Thy Window'* the air is of the pretty, tuneful order that always commands popularity, and hag a soft rippling accompaniment. This song is also published in three kevs, viz., G, F, and E flat.

In the July number of the “Pall Mall Magazine ’ Commander Cagni takes up the story of the "Polar Star" expedition. which was so far told in the June number by the Duke of Abruzzi, the Royal organiser and leader of the expedition. Cagni gives a simple but telling account of his sledge jeurneyj to a point nearer the North Pole than anyother explorer has ever reached. R- Neish’s article on "A Woman's Shopping is likely to prove interesting, not only to women, but to their men folks also, as throwing some illumination on a mysterious feminine pursuit. A Glasgow citizen describee with no undue partiality the smoky metropolis of the west of Scotland, illustrating it from characteristic photographs'. Other articles deserving of attention are "Opera in Germany and England ” a suggestive contrast: "How Long Will Our Coal Last?" by Professor Geikie; "Stowe: One of the Stately Homes of England." The fiction anil poetry is up to a fair mark. Among the first mentioned a story of Marriott Watson's is conspicuous from the fact that the whimsical Lord Charmian reappears as its hero. The illustrations are as usual excellent of their kind.