Literary Chat.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 February 1901, Page 398

Literary Chat.

By Danvers Hamber,

Mr. Henry Seton Mbreiman, whose extremely popular novel, The Sowers, was followed by those equally successful works, With Edged Tools and In Kedar's lents, has in The Isle of Unrest, published by Messrs Macmillan and Co., and sent by Messrs Wildman and Lyell, of Auckland, given the reading public a particularly enjoyable story. This time Mr Merriman takes Corsica — that inexhaustible Tom Tiddler's Ground of romance writers — for the scene of his fascinating tale. Such an accomplished writer could have no difficulty in dealing dramatically with a plot of which a Corsician vendetta is the principal ingredient, so after reading a few of the earlier pages one asks oneself the question : " How good is this going to be ?" Without bek'aying too much of the story I may say that a thivty-year-old vendetta between the de Vasselots and the Peruccas brings sudden death to members of both families as well as to adherents of both sides, and desolation to the estates belonging to each family. A Colonel Gilbert, of the French Army, for reasons which it would be unfair to tell here, tries to purchase the valueless land from each side. How he fares the book must tell. Mr. Merriman excels in his character drawing, and he makes living personages of the old Count de Vasselot, Lory de Vasselot — a brave, dashing young officer of the French. Army, but still a Corsician — the Abbe Susini, Mademoiselle Brun, the charming girl Denise Lange, the fascinating Baroness de Melide, and the rather taking and certainly clever schemer, Colonel Gilbert. The Abbe Susini has much to do with the story, so I will quote this pen picture of him : — " The Abbe" Susini was coming now — a little fiery man, with

the walk of one who was slightly bowlegged, though his cassock naturally concealed this defect. He was small and not too broad, with a narrow face and clean, straight features — something of the Spanish, something of the Greek, nothing Italian, nothing French. In a word, this was a Oorsican, which is to say that he was different from any other European race, and would, as sure as there is corn in Egypt, be overbearing, masterful, impossible. He was, of course, clean shaven, as brown as old oak, with little flashing black eyes. His cassock was a good one, and his hat, though dusty, shapely and new. But his whole bearing threw, as it were, into the observer's face the suggestion that the habit does not make the priest." The description of the country is finely done, and Mr. Merriman's dialogue, as is customary in all his books, is smart and entertaining.

The Duke by Mr. J. Storer Clouston, a recent addition to Longman's Colonial Library, is a story of light and amusing nature, and Messrs. Upton and Co., of Auckland, should find a ready sale for it. The seventh Duke of Grrandon succeeds to the title through the decease in ten years of four others nearer in succession. Brought up and educated in Australia, he arrives home before he is expected, and the first man to call upon him is an adventurous friend from the land of the Southern Cross. As the outcome of a few minutes' conversation the real Duke agi'ees to change places with his friend for a month, he taking the position of private secretary. The friend, Jack Kavanagh, is an Irishman with a brogue,an embellishment of which the posses-

sov is in blissful ignorance until accused of it by a friend of the Duke's family. The fictitious Dnke has a splendid time for the month. He sees life, becomes engaged to two cousins, and spends money upon various members of the " upper crust " with a lavishness which they thoroughly enjoy. The latter are, of course, terribly indignant when the true state of affairs is revealed, but the spurious Duke is far beyond their anger, and the real peer takes rather a delight in their discomfitui^e. Mr. Clouston has written a very enjoyable novel. He is evidently a keen judge of men and women, and makes his characters very lifelike. The portraits of Marjorie Gaye and Mrs. Louvaine are excellently drawn, and a specially clever piece of work is Sir Pursuivant Debrette. Sir Pursie, who has the raciness of phrase peculiar to his kind, the author says: — " certainly had as little nonsense as anything that should still be human. Instead, he was possessed of strong aristocratic prejudices, sensible and conservative views on the dozen or so subjects within his horizon, an exact knowledge of horses and genealogy, and a power of silently repelling whomsoever he chose. A perfectly authenticated pedigree took him straight back toPoulkede Debrette of Senlac battle, he held an Ulster baronetcy, and he was endowed with an income sufficient to comfortably defray such charges of living as were not met by his late friend." The latter was the sixth Duke of Grandon, who confided to Sir Pursie's care the welfare of the successor to the title. Besices the motive of observing some people making themselves ridiculous, the real Duke has another end in view when he changes places with Jack Kavanagh. That has something to do with the character and memory of his father. + That versatile writer, Mr. Morley Roberts, has just published his latest novel through Messrs Longman, Green and Co. It is entitled Lord Linlithgoio, and comes to us from Messrs. Upton and Co., and from Mr. R. Mackay. Lord Linlithgow is a -

political novel, and one of the best of that sort. It is bright, it is smart, and it contains a plenitude of epigram. Whether Mr Morley Roberts' hero is drawn from Lord Rosebery 1 cannot aflirin, but the following description makes me think that the author had Archibald Philip Primrose, fifth Karl of Rosebery, in his mind's eye when he pen nod it: "No stranger and more fascinating personality than that of Liulithgow was ever at once the puzzle and the pleasure of the British nation. He puzzled those who thought, and was oddly pleasing to the crowd. lie almost always had the modest air of being lord of all he surveyed, and on the whole his modesty was genuine. Like all notable men, who are not at the same time fanatics, he was as conscious of his defects as of his qualities. For many generations his family had been noble, and yet he was so bo/nyrois by descent as not to have lost mental touch with the middle classes, who rule England. The later peerage, sprung immediately from finance and bitter ale, could not afford to be other than aristocratic and aloof ; the earlier, noted in Red Books by the indiscretion of kings and the . discretion of heralds, were, indeed, subdued to the ermine, and dwelt apart like stars. Liulithgow, or Colonel Halliday's " Sacred Ibis," walked in the safe middle things and classes, on a road which was indeed the broad path, and no mere line of division. In politics the broad way leads, not to destructiou, but to Downiug Street. He was a man of middle height, but looked taller when he sat. No beard obscured his face and the apparent resolution of his jaw. He shaved clean, and parted his hair in the middle. Judgment dwelt upon his broad brows, .and contemplation in his eyes, which were heavily lidded. He affected a solidity of demeanour even when his hands were clenched. His nervousness sometimes became almost pathological, and yet when he occasionally lot himself go in the Upper House his visible excitement was put down as acting, even by the few who composed

his devoted band of followers. He, indeed, had brains in plenty, but his interests were diffuse. Had he not believed that he was necessary to the welfare of the country, he would have found to do that hardly needed doing. But he was convinced that his hour would come.

His hold upon the people was as extraordinary as it was inexplicable. His popularity was based on much, or on nothing, as one looks at it. He owned a racing stud, and won popular races. He liked horses, but even if he had not cared lor them, he might still have aspired to the Derby. To please that portion of England's population which loves sport, is to have a strong hold on the electorate. To own the favourite for a big race, and to win, is to put money in the pockets of tens of thousands, and is certainly the most legitimate form of bribery. And Linlithgow liked being popular, just as he liked being all things to all men. It was, indeed, no acting which made him take a visible interest in all things.

Above everything, he was interested in the country and the Empire. In putting his money on Great Britain, he was convinced he had not backed the wrong horse. The World Empire Stakes might be run for at any time, and he wanted the horse ready, and what is more, he wished to train that likely animal himself. As things were going, it looked as if the time was at hand when he was to make a bid for the position of chief trainer. That was his sporting interest in the Empire.

But his sentimental interest was as great. His eyes filled with tears when he read some pages of history. He wrote many pages himself with enthusiasm. Pitt was his hero ; Pitt he understood. He understood most men and knew how to choose them, if they had any intellectual sympathy with him."

Though Lord Linlithgow gives his name to the book, perhaps the real hero of the story is Murray Harford, a young and busy politician, who gives an unswerving allegiance to Linlithgow, and for the sake of the party

performs an action which he loathes. The book is clever all through, and must add to the author's already hie;h reputation. Naturally there is a love story in it. This,, with politics and plenty of humour, make admirable reading. Though published late in a year memorable for many high-class novels, Lord Linlithgow will be considered one of the best of the good ones.

From Mr. R. Mackay, of Auckland, A Breaker of Laws, by Mr. W. Pett Ridge, a new addition to Bell's Indian and Colonial Library. Many brightly-written books and sketches have come from Mr. Pett Ridge's pen during the last ten years, but none have possessed more merit than this life history of a born criminal. In the opening chapter Alfred Bateson is discovered denuding a safe of the family silver. Talked to by the discoverer — a benevolent lady with a penchant for reform — he promises to give up his evil ways, and stick to hard but honest toil. With the gift of half-a-crown and the good advice he goes away a free man. Within ten minutes he is back again, and this time gets the silver. Bateson isnot all bad, but he cannot withstand temptation. His desh'e for evil-doing is in the blood. He marries a good girl whonever knows of her husband's failing, and when he does get caught — his luck in evading capture is great — after a most daring and clever burglary and is sentenced to a long term of imprisonment, his wife is told that he perished with a lot of other people through the sinking of a river steamer. His term up, he hurries off to Devonshire to seek his wife and child. The story does not end in the usual happy fashion, but Bateson rises magnificently to the occasion. The goodness in him tells at the finish. William Finnis is really a grandly drawn character. He helps Bateson constantly in every possible manner, knowing and disliking his propensity for crime, and at the same time filled with a deep and reverent love for the thief's wife. Finnis' admiration for Caroline is never

spoken of by the author, but it speaks silently and forcefully in the man's whole life. A Breaker of Laws is clever, and discloses a phase of life not generally touched upon by novelists, but Mr. Pett Ridge's known wanderings in the east and southeast of London have made him familiar with the type of people he writes about. There is a fair supply of humour in the book, and there is more than a touch of pathos.

Mr. F. Anstey provides Longman's Colonial Library with The Brass Bottle, a fantastical story sometimes reminiscent of the author's very amusing piece of topsy-turveydom Vice Versa. A young architect, Horace Ventimore, is asked by Professor Futvoye to attend an auction sale of Egyptian and Arabian curios. The Professor provides a marked catalogue, his limit being marked in the margin. Ventimore bids gallantly for the Professor, but in every case the price exceeds his limit, and not liking to go away empty-handed, finally purchases an antique brass bottle. He takes it home and opens it, and out pops, not a Slave of the Lamp, but Fakrash-el-Amrash, a mighty Green Jinnee. The released Jinnee does great things for Ventimore, brings him a rich client the day after his appearance, blocks the street with camels laden with jewels, silks and satins, turns a London lodging-house into an Arabian palace, and finally fearing that the Professor will publish the translation of the inscription upon the cap of the brass bottle, Fakrash transforms him into a one-eyed mule. Now Ventimore loves the Professor's daughter, and this latest freak of the Jinnee threatens to end disastrously for him. Somehow or other the Professor must be restored to his own shape, and finally that is accomplished, the price paid by Ventimore being tremendous. The bottle man does many friendly things for Ventimore, and also lands him into continual scrapes before he desires a change of venue. How the adventure ends I am not going to say, but all through the book is vastly amusing

reading. The interview between Vontimoro and the Professor— when the latter is in tho mule stage — is side-splitting. The Professor follows an argument by raising his right ear, drinks champagne out of a large ehiua jardiniere, draining it greedily, stamps and kicks, and generally behaves like the Blondin Donkey of the Griffiths' Brothers. Ihe Brass Bottle is forwarded by Messrs. U pton and Co. +. Miss Annie Wakeman is to be congratulated upon her book, The Autobioi/raphi/ of a Charwoman, a volume in Bell's Indian and Colonial Library, forwarded by Messrs. Wildman and Lyell. This life history of a daughter of the slums is a record of many sorrows and many tribulations, a pathetic recital of Betty Dobb's well-fought battlo against the tremendous forces opposed to her. "Do not expect," says tho author, " tho daughter of a dissipated mother and a cruel father to picture a life as beautiful as, with all its advantages, yours has doubtless been ; nor hope that this patient straggler of tho mews can fashion her words into a style as glittering as yours would surely be ; nor anticipate that sordid actions can be decked in a sheen of romance that shall captivate the drawing-room or charm a maiden's heart." Betty Dobbs has hidden no fault, of her virtues alone is she reticent, perhaps not knowing them. Even on her deathbed she had the remains of great personal beauty. She never made merchandise of it. Read her life and deny, if you dare, that this was heroic. Her maternity had no thought of self, She loved her children, slaved for them, went hungry that they might eat. She had boundless pity for all things helpless — animal or human. She was a sunny optimist, and her brave courage never failed. She delighted in music, and sometimes stole into the gallery of the Oovent Garden Opera House, away from care and hunger. She loved flowers, and they blossomed in the window often when the larder was empty. She was persistently industrious, [a jnatural cook, a born nurse.

Her voice was as soft as the cooing of a dove, and her touch as soothing as a gentle anodyne. And finally there was great personal dignity in this gentlewoman of the slums. Her class is comparatively unknown to colonials, but still the touch of nature within us all will help to an understanding of Miss Wakeman's clever, interesting and entertaining story.

A Secret of the Sea and Other Colonial Stories is the title of a volume of short stories written by " Lux," and published by Messrs. Simpson and Williams, of Christchurch. " Lux " has published some of these little tales iv the colonial press, but the majority of them are seen in print for the first time in this book. The tone is healthy throughout, and when there is a moral it is

a good one,

Messrs Upton and Co. send Mr. James Lane Allen's The Increasing Purpose, a volatile in Macmillan's Colonial Library. In America this cleverly- written book is published under the title of The Reign of Law. Mr. Allen had already made his name famous with the The Choir Invisible, A Kentucky Cardinal, Aftermath, and A Summer in Arcadij, and in his latest effort he again rises to an eminence which more than one American writer have attained during the last few years. Mr. Allen writes poetry in prose, he possesses a wonderfully picturesque style, and excels in making his characters living men and women. The story is of a Kentucky farmer's son, brimming over with religious fervour. His mission he feels is to preach the Gospel. He goes to a Bible College, and the doubts commence. The struggle between the opposing forces, the Bible on one side and science on the other is a heavy one. A woman intervenes, and David is helped by Gabriella to choose the road which is the right one for him. Mr. Allen has an intense love of the country, and the opening chapter of this book — Hemp — is a beautiful piece of word painting, of which I must

quote the following : " What is that uncertain flush low as the ground, that irresistible rush of multitudinous green ? A fortnight, and the field is brown no longer. Overflowing it, bringing it out of sight, is the shallow tidal sea of the hemp, ever rippling. Green ai"e the woods now with their varied greenness ; green are the pastures ; green here and there are the fields, with the bluish green of young oats and wheat; with the grey green of young barley and rye ; with orderly dots of dull dark green in vast array — the hills of Indian maize. But as the eye sweeps the whole landscape undulating far and near, from the lines of tree, pasture and corn of every kind, it turns to the colour of the hemp. With that in view, all other shades in nature seem dead and count for nothing. Far reflected, conspicuous, brilliant, strange ; masses of living emerald, saturated with blazing sunlight. Darker, always darker turns the hemp as it rushes upward ; scarce darker as to the stemless stalks which are hidden now, but darker in the tops. Yet here two shades of greenness ; the male plants paler, smaller, maturing earlier, dying first; the females darker, taller, living longer, more luxuriant of foliage and flowering heads. A hundred days from the sowing, and those flowering heads have come forth with their mass of leaves and bloom, and earliest fruits, elastic, swaying six, ten, twelve feet from the ground and ripe for cutting. A hundred days, reckoning from the last of March or the last of April, so that it is July, it is August. And now, borne far through the steaming air floats an odour balsamic, startling : the odour of those plumes and stalks and blossoms from which is exuding freely the narcotic resin of the great nettle. The nostril expands quickly, the lungs swell out deeply to draw it in ; fragrance once known in childhood, ever in the memory afterward, and able to bring back to the wanderer homesick thoughts of midsummer days in the shadowy, many-toned woods, over which is blown the smell of the hemp fields."

The two Christchurch papers, the Christchurch Press and the Lyttelton Times, have recently celebrated their half century of public usefulness, and as souvenirs of the occasion have published Jubilee numbers. Fifty Years of Progress in Canterbury is the title borne by the Press weekly number, which is itself a splendid example of the progress the journal so well describes. Replete with excellent illustrations and containing much valuable literary matter, this Jubilee number deserves the very highest praise. It is certainly one of the. best productions of the kind ever issued in the colonies. The Lyttelton Times number is also a deeply interesting specimen of colonial enterprise. The history of the earliest days of the paper is well told. The many difficulties were overcome magnificently, and from a very small beginning the Lyttelton Times has grown into one of the most influential papers in New Zealand. As a sort of curiosity souvenir the Times lately produced a fac simile copy of the first issue of the paper, dated January 11th, 1851.

Messes. Wildman and Lyell forward The Souse of Giants, written by Yorick Everett, and published by Messrs. Ward, Lock and Co. The book contains several stories, of

which the one giving the title to the volume is the longest. The Rouse of Giants is a well-written story, containing plenty of incident. The persons mainly concerned are spies, robbers of diplomatic mattors, Russian secret police, English medical students, and, of course, a charming girl. There is ample material here for a sensational story, and certainly the author has done well in working out the details. There is a breezy style about Yorick Everett's writing. The remaining stories — fourteen in number — are all brightly told, and therefore they are very readable.

From Messrs Angus and Robertson and Co., of Sydney, come .several of Mr. Henry Lawson's books, two volumes of Australian Bushranging, by Mr. Charles White, and The Kingswood Cooker// Book, by Mrs. H. F. Wicken, M.C.A. These books are sent through Messrs. Wildman and Lyell. Through Mr. R. Mackay, Messrs George Robertson and Co., of Sydney and Melbourne, send The Duke — noted above — and A Self-made Countess, John Strange Winter's latest addition to Messrs George Bell and Sons' Indian and Colonial Library. Further reference must be postponed until the March number of this Magazine.