BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 9, 5 October 1907, Page 5

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

♦ CURRENT LITERATURE AND COMMENT.' VERSES OLD AND,NEW. ' , ' • THE HAMMERS. Noiso of hammers onco I heard, Many hammers, busy hammers, Beating, shapin, night and day, Shaping, boating dust and clay To a palace; saw it reared; Saw the hammers laid away. And I listoncd, and I heard Hammers beating, night and day, In tho palace nowly reared, Beating it to dust and clay, Other hammers, muffled hammers, Silent hammers of decay. —Ralph Hodgson, in tho "Saturday Roviow." . ' SONG. Tho tide was dark, an' heavy with tho burden that it bore; 1 heard it talkin', whisperin', upon tho weedy shore; Eacli wave that stirred tho sea-weed' was liko a closing door; 'Tis closing doors thoy hoar at last who hear no more, no more. My Giief, ■ No morol Tho tide was in the salt sea-weed, and liko a knifo it tore; Tho .'wild sea-wind went moaning, sooing, moaning o'er and o'er; Tho, deop sea-heart was brooding deep upon its ancient lore— I heard tho sob, tho sooing sob, the . dying sob at ise,roct dying sob at its core, My Grief, ,' It's core I Tho white sea-waves woro wan and ■ i gray its ashy ■ lips ■ beforo, .The. yeast within its ravpning ,mouth was red with' streaming goro; 0 • red sea-weed, 0 red- sea-wayes, 0 hollow, baffled-roar, Since one .'thou hnst, 0 dark dim' Sea, why callest thou tor more, > , My Grief, For morel —"Fiona Macleod," in "Tho Sin Eater:" CECIL RHODES. ■"So-little done," bravo heart, "so much to do!" Since- first the sun /and stars looked down to scan Tho coro of Nature's phantom-page; ant Man, This was the cry of workers such as you; Each strove and strove till sudden, bright in view, ' Tho rich fruition of tho striver's plan Shono far away beyond Life's narrowing span— • Shono while tho world was waving him' adieu. Great souls'live many an ; aeon in '■•■- Mail's brief-.years- 1 - ;■■■■' ';■,'• ' To him who dreads no spite of Fate or •■' Chance,': ■• : '-' ; '■,'.;■ '. ■ '~'■■ Yet loves :this Earth, an'dr'Man, and .starry '.'.'■*.' .'X •■■■ . . Life's swiftness is ;■ the- pulse of- Life's ; '. \romanco;- ■'-./. '-."'•i''-' . 'And'when the footsteps fall of Death's ~ ' ;'v advance.'.'v-.-v', ..' ".■-•'..•:. '•'.'■■•. .'-'•■■. •' '■ He-hears the feet; he quails not, : but ■: ; ihe hears.. -■/'<' '.'.'■:. ■■'.'■' .. '■'■"■ y:l '—Theodore Watts-Dun'ton., ; THE LITERARY /TRADE;; / WRITING FOR THE GROUND- . '-.' _'";';' ;. ...;;3LINGS. : " •" .:,;" r .\,-.- Most' people have given up being : indignant over;,the. decreasing pcrcetage of .worthy literature 'in- the ■ .'• ever-increasing mass ."of new books. Here and there, however, rage can-. :not bo:.kept-,:.under,. .Tho'latest.'as-. Bailant of tho pot boiler is M. Jacques Lux," the well-known French; critic, who;-discusses the old topic—it is as old almost as literature itself—in the. 'August "Revuei Bleuo." M. Lux looks back v'on. the influence .'once wielded by Michelet and Quinet, Taine and Rehan, when litoraturo . was the chosen trade of V a small .but, very, powerful class, and wonders'how; it can any longer possess, attraction for tho ambitious '-when everybody writes and,' what is more, everybody's productions appear in print; : Tho daily 'manufacture, of. '.'copy", has, he. says, become a business, arid ho instances one who has amassed a fortune by composing'tales'which sail as near ' the wind as ho can make them, and then has them correctcd : by. his wife. Literary men who cannot bring themsclyes'to...tickling':, the', oars,of the groundlings, ho says; must place thoir • opes .in'posterity. .>" -, Not much has. ever been said upon the other side of this standing charge against tho ' unnatural' nature of things," but there is something to ue said, and tho "Manchester Guardian" said- some of it. last month': "It is notonly the elect—to put th esitua•tion in juster perspective—who livo laborious days and know the bitterness of disappointed hope, nor is it only the vulgar who succeed. Thoro aro crowds of writers whoso readiness to oblige the: public knows 'no limits, but who, for. all their pliant dexterity, do not manage to. make more: than a very modest haul of fishes. ,On tho other , hand, there aro 'in every feneration some instances in which merit gets its deserts; while r your good mail, presumably, "at least gains the treasure'■. of a comfortable conscience. Literary men, are a good deal too romantic. Before complaining ..that the world is slow to listen to them, thev ought to explain precisely why they, want to be listened to.. If it is simply to make money,-then in a business-like world, .they must bow to, the canons of business.. '■'; They' have.no more solid grievance becauso the: public prefers fresji novels.-to frosh epics than tho birchmaker ; has ' because it prefers tho tawse to-the rod.'i; "There is only, ono way of drawing money, from.-people's pockets, if one bo nqithor tax-collector nor pickpocket —offering them what-'they want; and the writer .'who wants the money but will not give consideration is often just an inefficient business man. If, however, tho literary man's; anxietyis that his messago should reach the world,-his precipitance perhaps is the sign-of weak faith. He has his doubts whether: luck being what it is, his ideas will ever swim down to posterity or reach it before it is too late. But tho man of letters is here in no worse case than most of us who are not conceded tho privilege of condemning the universe because our little nlans tor repairing it have a-way of proving still-born. _ What he should do is not to complain or to strike romantic attitudes, but adopt the methods of successful politicans and other fousi- ' noss men. Did not Sir Joshua Reynolds send his sister round tho town in an old shoriff's coach so that people might ask and be told that it belonged to 'the eminent,painter'; and did not Hazlitt approve the ruse'- 1 ' There are few quick returns without - udvertysemont."