NOTES FROM "A BOOKMAN'S DIARY"

Turnbull Library Record, Volume XV, 1 November 1962, Page 4

NOTES FROM "A BOOKMAN'S DIARY"

By P. A. Lawlor

FUGITIVE COMMENTS ON PAST MEETINGS OF "THE FRIENDS"

Some forty years ago I commenced to keep a diary in real earnest. In it I made notes of many of the interesting people coming my way, of events at home and abroad, occasional meanderings in thought, but mostly of my adventurings in Bookland. These diaries are now approaching the quarter of a million words stage, so that I deemed it wise recently to make a rough index of the typewritten pages. This index has enabled me to extract from the whole those references to the Turnbull Library and of "The Friends" that may be of interest in the 21st Birthday issue of "The Record".

The first entry concerns a letter I received from Mr. Clyde Taylor, dated May 4th, 1939, in which he set out his plans for the proposed establishment of an organisation to be known as The Friends of the Turnbull Library. Naturally I accepted his invitation to attend the meeting planned. It must have been a busy day, judging from the inadequate note I made as follows:

May 16th, 1939. —So once more I am an hen. sec.! This came my way at a meeting held at the Turnbull Library today to form the "Friends" group, the scheme for which was outlined to me by Clyde Taylor a few days ago. Most of the book enthusiasts of the city were there. Why do booklovers look so sad morose even? They should be the happiest people in the world. Naturally Clyde Taylor looked apprehensive but much less so when the meeting achieved its object. Johannes Andersen, though, was almost scowling; A. E. Currie, aggressive as though somebody had split an infinitive; Prof. Shelley with fierce challenging eye; Herbert Baillie, weary and old; V. R. Gunn as though every one present had borrowed a book from him; and Alan Mulgan as though he had missed his last bus to York Bay. Bert Ilott looked as alert as usual, though, and Archie Treadwell dared to display his customary good humour. However, the main thing was that all present were enthusiastic, particularly when glowing messages of approval were read from Sir Robert Anderson, Leigh Hunt, Tom Seddon, Guy Morris and others. A strong executive augers well for the future particularly with Ilott as president and Graham Bagnall my right hand man as secretary and treasurer. Good things must come of this meeting.

June 6th, 1941. —Had a visit today from Mr. J. Glasgow, a Nelson lawyer, who said that a Miss Tomlinson, friend and admirer of Sir Hugh Walpole, who died five days ago, proposes to give £125 to the Friends of the Turnbull Library as a Walpole Memorial. I discussed details with him and arranged for him to call on Clyde Taylor. July 3rd, 1941. —A ring from Joe Heenan asking me to call. He wanted a memorandum about the cartoons of leading N.Z. black and white artists, an invitation having been received from Canada for exhibits. The inquiry was signed on behalf of the Canadian Government by Alan Reeve, formerly of Wellington. Joe also asked me to call on Clyde Taylor at the Turnbull Library to give him an opinion on a recent purchase he had made of very early drawings by David Low. The collection was certainly a valuable acquisition. It represented some of his earliest work when he was drawing for the Chch. “Spectator” and other journals. One, obviously published in “The Bulletin”, was signed “Low M.L.”. Others were signed “D. Low” or “David M. Low”. Even at this early stage the genius of the artist was apparent. Clyde suggested that I write an article on the purchase for the Turnbull Record. (Note: The article, with relevant drawings, appeared in the Record dated July-Dee., 1941 (No. IV.)

July 29th, 1941. —Another meeting of “The Friends”. We are moving along nicely. I think much inspiration must come from our surroundings for in the meeting room is a wonderful collection of books about books. All are housed in beautiful Sheraton glass-doored cabinets. Turnbull was not only a bibliophile; he had an eye for fine pieces of furniture. I told them today how the late Robert Hogg had signed his last cheque in my office in payment of his Friend’s subscription. He was so ill and his hand so shaky that he had asked me to make out the cheque. I pitied him as he held his head in his hands before taking up the pen to add his signature. Clyde Taylor said that it was Hogg's membership of the Friends that had moved him to alter his will so as to leave his fine Scots library and collection of poets to the Turnbull. Previously he had willed the collection to the Assembly Library.

Taylor also announced that arrangements had now been completed re the Mis Tomlinson Bequest in honour of the late Sir Hugh Walpole. Alan Mulgan questioned whether Walpole could be regarded as a New Zealander seeing that he left this country when he was a child. Another member said it was on record that Walpole remembered the Tara-

wera Eruption in which case “he could not have been long out of nappies”. Of his many books only one, “The Wooden Horse”, had a N.Z. scene.

May 20th, 1942. —N.Z. booklovers will never forgive Hitler. I hear that during the past few months nearly 30,000 of the more precious books and MSS in the Turnbull Library have been “buried” in a ferro concrete building “Somewhere in New Zealand” so as to save them from possible enemy action. This has involved a huge but necessary expense and I am sure that Clyde Taylor will see that each of the evacuees is as tenderly cared for as though it were his own fish and blood. The Friends should form a special branch of the Home Guard to stand by in the event of invasion and defend our charges to “the last drop of printers' ink”, if not, at least to the last outside back cover.

July sth, 1945. —Wish I had time to give some of the atmosphere of yesterday’s interesting function at the Turnbull Library. It was the Silver Jubilee. Things went well mostly because genial Joe Heenan was acting for the Minister of Internal Affairs. Mr. Parry is up in Auckland for the welcome home to Peter Fraser. Certainly Parry takes an interest in the Library but nobody can equal Joe Heenan in dealing with writers and booklovers. Was there not a veiled hint in some of the speeches, though, that the Turnbull may be merged in a National scheme? Don't like this. We, The Friends, must guard our individuality at all costs.

A pleasant gathering after which we lined up in the main doorway and on the steps for a picture. June 12, 1946. —On Tuesday night we heard a splendid lecture by Professor Shelley, his subject, Elizabethan drama. I went there as a duty because I am on the Committee. I was rewarded. At times I have groaned in that Library as, sans cigarettes (no smoking allowed) and sans interest I have listened to dry lectures. On Tuesday night I forgot about the cigarettes. Was it Shelley’s great knowledge of his subject, his personality or showmanship? He made the whole thing live. He marched around the room, struck attitudes, scowled and generally acted what he was saying. It was immense. Even so I was sitting next to a reporter who slept and was inclined to snore except when I dug him in the ribs. Shelley noted and scowled.

July 12, 1946. —I have been trying to persuade Guy Morris to will his Katherine Mansfield Collection to the Turnbull Library, but he resents the fact that such bequests carry death duty. He now writes as follows: —

Dear Pat, —You’re a good scout and, far from laughing at you, I was quite touched by your idea of paying my gift duties for me. However, I distinctly do not like the notion of any private individual or group of individuals paying duties for me. To use Beauchamp’s surplus funds would not be so bad but I do think that there should be every chance of moving Labour in the matter.

August 14th, 1946. —Tonight at the Turnbull Library we had one of the best evenings on record. Small wonder for our speaker the bearded-like-a-pard giant, Robert Gibbings. Having spent a couple of hours yarning with him at my office a few weeks earlier I knew we would be in for an entertainment. If his lantern slides were occasionally wobbly, Gibbings was not. He told us in his delightful near-brogue of his recent travels in Oceania. It will be a great thing if Gibbings carries out his idea of writing a book about the Wanganui River.

July 7, 1952. —Last week the Friends heard Dr. Von Haast lecture on Shakespeare’s "Henry VI”. Von Haast is a remarkable old man. There he stood, well over 80 years, to speak for an hour-and-a-quarter without faltering. To illustrate the argument regarding the authorship of Henry VI, he spoke lengthy passages from the script. He did not merely recite them. He acted. He raved, and he even wept when the occasion demanded, and altered his voice to suit King and Counter. He entered into each part with such zest I thought it would be too much for his many years. Not so, he resumed the straight parts without a tremble.

My only argument with him was that he did not develop and clarify the age-old discussions as to whether Shakespeare really wrote the play. True, when I heard the dialogue it did appear to reach Shakespearean heights, except on one or two occasions, but it was undoubtedly Shakespeare. Nobody else could have written it.

August 30th, 1952. —Heard an interesting talk recently by Clyde Taylor on banned and proscribed books. He supplemented his address with a dozen or more beautifully bound pamphlets. Even so I felt like washing my hands as I glanced over the pages of Wilke's dissertation on women. What a Rabelasian crew they were in the 16th and 17th century! We had a discussion on the censorship laws in N.Z., a quaint set-up in which raw Customs officials report on anything "suspicious”. A proposal was adopted that a committee be set up to see if a lead could not be given in the matter of a sensible and adequate censorship.

October 14th, 1955. —Yesterday the Friends gathered for the opening of the temporary Turnbull Library, on the 6th floor of the ghastly Ford Building in Courtenay Place. Like attending the exhumation of a skeleton. Alexander Turnbull must have shivered in his shroud. Without the atmosphere of the grand old building in Bowen St., the Library is cold and cheerless. I must admit, though, that Clyde Taylor and his staff have made the best of what was offering. The methodical grouping of the shelves in wellordered ranks will appeal to students. The fluorescent lighting is effective, yet leather bindings lose most of their charm in its harsh glare. When I heard Dr. Stout say in his opening speech that the old Turnbull building should be pulled down and a new one erected, I shivered. Meanwhile a host of workmen are tinkering with the building in Bowen St., a third of the library is in the dungeons of Parliament Building, and another portion at Lower Hutt. Returned to my office in mournful mood but cheered up when I opened two parcels from London, one, Arthur Machen's “Notes and Queries’’ with an interesting inscription, and the other, Edwin Mitchell’s “Morroco Bound: Adrift Among Books’’, a nice copy with scribbled notes by Machen and Henry Savage.

October 30th, 1958.—Because I was in Auckland I missed one of the most important general meetings of the Friends, a special display of books, pamphlets and letters, including some rare and beautiful items from the library of Lord Cobham. I hear that the Governor General’s talk on the archives of his family was a most interesting one. We all admire this man, particularly for his capacity of imparting a philosophy of life, so perfectly wrapped up, as to be acceptable to all. His very words show that he is a deep reader, and, from what I hear, a lover of fine books. His presence at the Library should do much to spread the influence of our work as Friends.