LITERARY CHAT

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 December 1904, Page 232

LITERARY CHAT

" Sons o' Men " is a collection of clever stories by a New Zealand author, G. B. Lancaster, who has been a frequent contributor to this Magazine. It is published by Mr Andrew Melrose. The Sons o' Men are station hands, surveyors, bushmen, and et hoc genus omne, who are introduced to the reader in the first story, " The Backbone of the Country," as they are hustled out of the whare on the Mindoorie Sheep Station, in Southland, by the overseer, Walt, to save the .sheep on the hills from a snowstorm. The author has a thorough grip of the subject selected, and describes in a vigorous nnd forcible style the storm and stress of life in the back-blocks of Southland. Here is a quotation : "' The back-country is a stern mother to the sons she has borne. Time by time will she strain them, and burden them, and test them, until each separate spirit stands up confessed in strength, or goes under, passing out from her power. But those that are true men love her for the want of ease she gives them." In " Mates " the same characters are engaged in a rattling gallop after wild cattle. In " Without Proof " the effect of living a solitary life in a rabitter's hut is shown in the madness and death of Tommy Derolles. " The Story of Wi " takes another phase of life. lane, the owner of Mindoorie, adopts the Maori child, Wi,

and has him well educated. Wi wishes to go into the Church to improve his people, and enters a theological college, but breaks out at last on the ground that all white men are liars. That the pakeha had cheated his trust. He had given the bible and withheld the application. Wi has fallen in love with a white girl and can't get her. "Hell-for-Leather '"' describes how Tony sat a noted buck-jumper of that name. From "On Bassett's Camp '' the following extract may be taken. " The bush breeds her workers for herself, she will ha\e nothing to do with the- rejects of other trades. And man by man the camp was of that powerful, swaggering, lighthearted type that will fight like bull-dogs, drink like dry sand, work like the demons of the pit, and play like children after school in the grave, gaunt 'bush wilderness that holds their lives." "Another Man's Liabilities " is a story of a surveycamp, which readers of this Magazine will remember. " Mother Macgregor " shows how a fine old bush woman nursed Harry Morrell when dying of drink, because he had won her heart by taking off his hat to her. He had been a gentleman some ten years before. There are a number of other stories on similar subjects. G. B. Lancaster is certainly to Ye congratulated in that " Sons o' Men " is one of the best collections

of Southern New Zealand stories yet written, and bears promise of even better work in the future. A little toning- down of the style adopted would perhaps be an improvement. But this will, doubtless, come. The book, we understand, has been well received at Home, and will certainly be widely read here. Messrs. Wildman and Arey tell me they expect the Colonial Edition shortly.

" The Extraordinary Confessions of Diana Please, Here ' Englished ' from the original shorthand notes in French of M. le Marquis de C , a friend to whom, she dictated them," is the voluminous title and description of another addition to Methuen's Colonial Library. It is by Bernard Capes, and was forwarded for review by Messrs. Wildraan and Arey. In his introductory note the author states that " Madame de St. Croix was a ' passionist ' as the French called Casanova ; and, indeed, she had many points in common with that redoubtable adventurer ; an unappeasable vagabondism ; a love of letters ; an ardent imagination ; an incorruptible self-love ; and lastly, what we may term, an exotic orthodoxy . If subscribing to the universal creed which makes man's soul his fetish, she worshipped an exacting god, she was at least always ready to sacrifice the world to gratify it, and now, no doubt, very logically sings among the angels. In the matter of her more notorious characteristics, M. de C , lest her part on ■earth should suffer misconstruction by the censorious, is so good as to speak with some show of finality. '' I deny/ he says, ' the title of adventuress to my charming and accomplished friend. It is nothing if not misleading. Every day we venture something for love, for hunger, for ambition.' "

The lady herself commences her confessions thus : " I owe my mother the most whimsical of

grudges, my existence. 1 will nickname her the Comtesse de l'Ombre, and so shall abuse no confidences in relating' of my debt to her and to ' Lovelace/ her collaborator in the romance of which i am heroine. She was very beautiful ; and he, an English cadet of distinction, was an aristocratic paragon." One of her earliest experiences was beinu 1 ab- a ducted by a sweep and made to do duty as his chimney boy. Her name of Diana Please was given her after her. escape from the sweep. Upon being asked her name she replied, " Diana, please," and the name adhered to her. Space forbids even outlining her adventures here, suffice it to say that they are distinctly worth the reading. The interest never flaus from cover to cover.

"The Princess Passes" is the title of a new book by C. N. and A. M. Williamson, which is well worth reading. It was forwarded for review by Messrs Wildman and Arey, and was published by Methuen. The book begins with distinct promise— the opening sentence certainly whets the appetite, and arouses curiosity. " ' To your happiness." i said, lifting my glass and looking the girl in the eyes. She had the L>T&ee to blush, which was the least she could do ; for a moment ago she had jilted me." Lord Lane, who himself tells the story, had met Helen Blantock, the success of the season in London, at Davos. He fell in love, and, as he says, Helen was kind. He was invited to a dinner at the Blantock's on his birthday, and during the meal Sir- Horace Jerveyson, " the richest grocer in the world," whom Lane imagined to be in love with Lady Blantock, Helen's widowed mother, announced that he and Miss Blantock were going to Scotland together. Lady Blantock followed up this startling information by twittering nervously that Nell and Sir Horace had been engaged a whole day. It was at this point that Lane drank to Nell's

happiness. Two friends, Jack Winston and his charming little wife, Molly, took it into their heads to comfort the love-lorn Lane. They drove him off to their home in a motor-car. " Such a dear, darling of a girl gave her to me/ she tells Lane, " a girl you would get on with splendidly."' Molly prescribes a tour through Switzerland with a guide and mule, and the patient takes the advice. During the trip he meets a boy travelling with two pack donkeys, and a woman to look after them. The boy attracts him particularly, though he is much annoyed, on one occasion in a crowded inn, that he Avill not permit him to share his room. They travel together for some time, and Lane meets an old acquaintance, a lovely Contessa, who is much interested in the mysterious-looking lad, with the beautiful eyes. The lad eventually proves to be the " dear, darlinti" gii'l/' who gave Molly the motor-car, and the end can be easily guessed. The story is capitally written, and well illustrated.

The " Boston Literary World " has the following- account of Mr. Doo ley's career, which should be of interest just now. "In 1898 happened two memorable affairs. One was the war with Spain, and the other was the appearance of ' Mr. Dooley.' Truly, the two heroes of '98 were Dewey and the philosopher of Arr-chey Road. And the philosopher has surpassed the soldier ; he has remained constantly popular. When we have forgotten what ships took part in the battle of Manila Bay, we shall still delight in the pages of ' Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War.' "In Chicago, in St. Patrick's parish, was Mr. Dunne born on July 10, 1867. As all good American boys do, he went to the public schools, and in 1885, at the age of eighteen, after his moderate schooling and some little knocking about, he entered the literary world by the

side door of journalism. Of course lie began as a reporter. Only the rich amateurs, or the lucky heirs to some newspaper property, begin as anything else. Many of the ablest newspaper men are reporters to the last. " In 1891 he was made city editor of the Chicago ' Times ' ; and from that time till 1898 he occupied various positions on various newspapers, after the manner of Chicagojournalists. In 1898, the year of his bound to fame, he was managing editor of the Chicago ' Journal ' ; and, like most other managing editors, he still found leisure moments for private practice. It is one of the principal duties of a managing editor to see that all the other members of the force work resolutely, dutifully. Many a bag of peanuts has been shelled in that autocrat's room. " Soon after the beginning of the war the biting humour of) Mr. Dooley found soft places in Washington, and particularly among the department of fops and fossils. Bombast, red tape, procrastination, incompetency, stupidity, ov.erzealousness, jealously — all these flaws and foibles were exposed, laughably yet mercilessly, by the Chicago Irish-Ame-rican. Especially funny and severe was he with the famous Board of Strategy. In fact, he brought that blundering body into national ridicule, and so thoroughly and inimitably that other writers, with a few inconsequential exceptions, granted him a monopoly, and the people at larse enriched their common sense. " Weekly the friends and foes of the war looked for Mr. Dooley's comments on the procession of events — looked as eagerly for those comments as for the despatches from Cuba and Porto Rico and the Philippines. And then the war ended ; and then it was whispered in divers rural side-stations of literature that Mr. Dooley would end. But no. Simply his present vocation ended. His philosophy is not like an arc-light — one steady, con-

centrated blaze ; it is more like the diamond, with its many-sided brilliancy. In plain words, Ir. Dooley proved that he could flash at every turn. ' Mr. Dooley in the Hearts of his Countrymen ' proved to be as witty and as wise as had proved 1 Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War.' "

In these clays of public libraries we do not buy many books, but we can still realise the truth of this extract from the " Boston Literary World " on the subject : The buying of books is something like the making oi Mends ; more often than not it is a haphazard business, delightful, precarious, fraught with great consequences, expensive, necessary, and sometimes most unfortunate. How many we must try before the one we really have been waiting for arrives ! How eagerly we take the newcomer with high hopes for the joy it is to bring us ! And how often we are disappointed ! Then, too, how deceitful appearances are ! The first glance, the name, the make-up, often repel us for a time, only to reveal at last hidden treasures of wise counsel and charming companionship which we would not have missed for the world. While the sudden acquaintance, picked up with so much enthusiasm, gradually discloses itself to be a vapid bore, or a sounding sentimentalist full of glitter and clap- trap. Or we may have known a book slightly for a long time, hearing its praises sung by our neighbours, remaining all the while incredulous to its belauded qualities, and come at last to realise its worth and take it to our heart for ever — the most treasured of possessions."

The following is an extract from an article in the " Literary News/ dealing' with the doubtful advance in literature : %< Thoughtful comparison between the novels of to-day and of fifty years ago shows for those of the

present greatly increased numbers (hardly a matter for congratulation), more ingenuity in plot and a certain facility in style ; yet the old-fashioned reader will look in vain for the high standards and single-minded purposes of those less complex days. Then right was right and wrong" was wrong", and if the heroines portrayed in the novels of those past generations were less clever and self-dependent, they at least ay ere pure-hearted, more really womanly, ar.d the men were more honourable, brave and more chivalrous than the characters which crowd the pages of our latter-day problem stories. Advancing- civilisation brings in its wake many counterbalancing evils, so may it not be possible that higher mental culture may mean a lowering of individual and national ideals ? It would seem this result is mirrored in the plays and novels of thetime !"

A recent number of the "' Publishers' Weekly " gives the followingexamples of the boorishness of Schabelitz, a Zurich publisher, who was an extraordinary character, but " a shrewd man of business, an excellent linguist, and a versatile writer. " " When he accepted the famous memoirs of Count von Arnim, he wrote on the post card with the acceptance the proviso, ' .1 reserve the right to correct your infernally bad grammar.' "To an aspiring 1 poet who had submitted manuscript he answered by post card : ' 1 do not care to be disgraced by printing your doggerel. I don't return the copy, because you didn't enclose enough postage. If you will forward it, together with the money this card cost me, I will send it to you ; but I don't think the stuff is worth the expense on your part.' " One of his post cards to a novelist reads about as follows : ' For Heaven's sake, come and take away

the umiaineable mass of paper you left here for me to look at !' An ambitious. historian was crushed by the following-, written, like all of his correspondence, upon a post card : ' You are making the mistake of your life. You don't want to study history, you want to learn how to write.' "

Books of genuine humour are scarce enough to be highly appreciated ; the following English review of " The Stone-Cutter of Memphis," by William Patrick Kelly, leads us to look forward to its early perusal : We can promise readers with a genuine sense of humour a rare treat in this volume. The scenes of the extraordinary adventures that befall Huni. the stone-cutter, are all laid in Egypt, in the seventeenth century before Christ, but they are pervaded by such a sense of modernity in combination with their classical lore as to be intensely ridiculous. Mr. Kelly has evidently all an Irishman's keen appreciation of the incongruous, and can turn an otherwise impressive situation into laughter with the best of his countrymen. The rollicking irresponsible disposition is markedly to the fore in his narrative. We owe him warm acknowledgement for much delightful merriment, and cheerfully pay our debt. His book can only be nerused, except by the most dunderheaded, to a constant ripple of laughter. Mr. J. Ayton Symington's illustrations quite enter into the humour of the text/

A book by a new writer has received the following eulogistic notice from an English reviewer : " ' Broke of Covenden/ by J. C. Hnaith. We should be very sorry if this remarkable book failed to receive the recognition it deserves. Tt came into our hards two months ago, and we have purposely kept it back in order to sive it a second careful reading' ; this we have now

done, and can heartily recommend it as an astonishingly able piece of work. Mr.- Snaith is known to us by name only, and the present reviewer has not come across any of his earlier work ; it is to be inferred, however, that ' Broke of Covenden ' is the author's first real bid for fame, inasmuch as his previous stories are not acknowledged on the title-page. It is a fine study of an old English family holding out against the democratic tendencies of modern life, only to be finally bent and broken by the uncompromising attitude of its chief representative. Mr. Broke had six daughters and one son ; he had trained them all to look upon themselves much i\< a mediaeval baron living in the eleventh century looked upon himself, the result being that his wife had constantly to request that he would ' forget your lance and poleaxe, and remember this is a civilised age ' ; his youngest daughter, however, summed it up more concisely by declaring that Don Quixote sometimes reminder] her of her father. Mr. Broke received his first heavy blow when his son married a milliner ; his youngest daughter being subsequently united to her tutor, the father begins to suspect that his house is falling about his ears. The subject Mr. Snaith has chosen has undoubted elements of both tragedy and comedy, but the comic elements are developed to the utmost, while the tragic are subordinated. The bo/ok is a long one, but (to use the inevitable ' cliche ') there is not a single dull page in it. Mr. Snaith's style is occasionally reminiscent of Mr. Meredith, and the episode entitled ' The Nobleman of the Novelette ' shows the influorce of Dickens."

From the following; review, here is a book which should be widely read, whether it is or not. " ' The Creed of a Modern Christian,' by Herbert E. Binstead. We have very great pleasure in wel-

coming this thoughtful work. Though confessedly written 'by a plain man for plain men,' it embodies and endorses many of the common objections to the faith of many Christians (e.g., the literal accuracy of the Bible, the Virgin birth of Jesus Christ), and yet embraces a Christian faith at once honest, sane, and manly. The attitude assumed by Mr. Binstead is very similar to that assumed by the great majority of thinking- men today ; that is to say, while differing on a great number of points from the orthodox belief, he still retains his love for and loyalty to the Church of Christ. It seems to us the book will do much good ; it certainly deserves to he widely read and studied. We liVe its simplicity,, its straightforwardness, its catholicity of spirit ; above all, we like the modest and unassuming wav in

which the author advances his opinicns."

Messrs. George JMewnes, Ltd., have recently published a work on the great painter Raphael by Edgcumbe Staley : " The most important part of this volume is made up of sixty-live full-page illustrations reproducing the more important works of the great painter. These are well done in black and white, some of them being really excellent ; indeed, it is possible to form some adequate idea of the special nature of Raphael's genius by studying these careful reproductions of photographs. Mr. Staley's introductory study of the life and work of Kaphael is thoroughly competent, and a list of the artist's chief works will prove useful for purposes of reference."