BOOKS AND AUTHORS. LIBER'S NOTE BOOK

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 253, 13 July 1918, Page 11

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

LIBER'S NOTE BOOK

(By Liber.) Give a man a -pips ha> can smoke, Give a man a book he can read; And his home is bright with a calm delight Though the room be poor indeedi—James Thomson,

"The Woman in White." As readers of this column must by this time lie well aware, "Liber" is tm ardent admirer of soino of Wilkie Collins's novels. "The Moonstone" (ono of tlio beet "detectives" ever written), "TJie "Woman in White," and "No Name" (the lust-named, perhaps, specially iutercstiiij? to me jib having Clio ancient cathedral city of Torlc as its background), and tllf> fomewliat melodramatic "Armndale," are my favourites. I notico that a recent numbor of "Everyman" contains an interesting article on Wilkie Collins, a contributor, signing himself "liookworni," writing na follows :— "Thackeray nnd Edward FiliClerald wore tioth cntliusiastic admirers of 'Tho Woman in WJiitc, 1 a book that containu one of the best villains in English fiction, the eoftluoviKg. plausible, and ingenious Jtalian scoundrel, Count Fo*cq. Shortly after tho noye! was publiehed/its atithor receivod a letter from Lady Bytton, aomplaining that hie villuin waa a sreat failnre. 'When next you wnnt a oharaoter of that cort,' she added, "conio to mo. The man ib alive and constantly undor my faze. In iaot, he is my own husband." Bulwer-Lytton did not desorve the eminence, but the inoindimt proves the high rank as a villain which Count Fosoo at onqe assumed. Aa for the book itself, Dickene, who printed it in 'All the Tear Hound,' wrote to Wilkio Oollins that ho had Btopped in every chapter to notice pomo inslouc'e of inguuiiity or fiomo happy of writing, and Andrew Lang's later verdict was that it is, in Uβ way, a masterpiece: "From tho moment when the white woman fluttors across the moonlit- heath, within sound of the roar of London, till 'Laura, Lady Olyde,' stands veiled by her own tombstone, and looks across it at her lovor, there Is hardly a page in this hook but lives with its own mysterious life, and beckons you to follow till tho end. It Jβ a rare tiling amqng novel's of incident, ol secret, and of' adventure, to find one that you can read several times. But this is part of the merit of "l'lio Woman in White. , " I hear many confirmed novel renders pomplaining, these times of war, of the Shortago in the supply of new fiotion. But why not follow Ha/.litt's ndvico, and when a mow book comes out read nn old ono? There aro, I dare say, tens of thousands of reudew who grumble , because their favourite, say, Phillips Onpoiiheiin, dops not rivo tliein a now story every three months, who have never read "The Woman in White" or "The Jloonstone." And yet Wilkio Collins —at his best—is worth two dozen Oppenheima.' An American to France. In "Wingain the Night,", a volume of recent verso, by ono of the most graceful fli American poets, Alice Duer Millor, 1 iiiid a fine sonnet to I'rancc which I reprint below. It was not only in the United States that the-French character was—before the war—misunderstood and Franco us a mition eo woefully misjudged: 0 France with what a shsyned and jorry smile We now recall that in a bygone day Wo sought of you art, wit, perfection Hyle; You were to ns a playground and a. play. Paris'was ours its sudden Eteen odged spaces , And sweeping vietas to the iwniins: night, Brocades and jewels, porcelalno ami lnocsrr All theße we took for leisure and delight. ■ And all tho time -we should have drunk our fill Of Wisdom known to you and you alone. Clear eyed ■pejl'-knowMge, silent courage, will; And now, top late, we see these things are ono: That art is-sacrifice and self-control, And who loves beauty must be stern of ; soul. The.Choimondeleys. ' . . ';.;' Mary' eholmondeley, who' made a , decided hit with that clever novel "Kcd Pottage," but whose later stories failed eoinohow to advance her : eputation, has vritteii a family history, "Under Ono Eoof," which is described as a quiet, interesting chroniclo of lifo.in a. literary household of the Victorian .age. Tho Cholmondeleys lived at Hodnet Koctory, tho head of the family being a nephew of Bishop Ilpbcr. ■ Miss Maiy Cholmondeley is well known us tho author of "Bed Pottage." Her sistor Hester, who died at ho early ngo of 22, is less known, although her output was largo and her gift great.- English literary journals, reviewing "Under One Koof," quoto.ns tho best of Hester's verses the quatrain— , •'Still, as of old, Man by himself Is priced,, 1 ■ For thirty pieces Judas solJ Himself, not Christ." vlljcli figured as a. clmptcr heading in "Diana Tempest." Hester Gliolniondelcy wroto her own epitaph :— "A little candle,, feeble, blown aboutBy all life's winds of care, and gusts of • doubt, Flickered and swerved a time, and then went oiil." "Swank" and ''Swap," Tho new quarterly part of "Tho Ts T ow English Dictionary" records 20711 words,, nearly ten-times , iis many as I)jv.Johnson guvD in liis dictionary, 'and twico us many nn nrrf to be .found in "Tho Century Dictionary." Tho history of some of the short nnd thoroughly' English words is curious and instructive. Take, for example,, "swauk," ii word which to many Nms' Zealnndera, not unjustifiably, connotes with the. absurd air of "swagger" affected by men-who, more nobodies as civilians, afl'ect nn amusingly supercilious iiir when ■ in khaki, especially when "on (ho staff." Tho N.E.D. describes "swank" as. an old dialect word, noted in Bedfordshire in ISO 9, and in Northamptonshire in. 185:1. "Perhaps tho original notion is thai; of. swinging tho body," so tlmt tlio word is aptly applied to (ho ai'rognnt goose-stepping Prussian. "S>wni>" in ibo sense of "to filrikn" whs cominonlv' used in the medieval- roninnccs, though it is now obsolete -as a literary word. An Irish "Love Song. A collected edition of the works of that distinguished. Jrish writer, the "rebel poet," I'adraic Poairse, is being puldished by Maunsols, of Dublin. In u- review of (he second volume, "Songs of the Irish liebels and Specimens from nil Jrish Anthology," Kat'isrino Tynan points out that "PcaTse was nn entirely Bpirilual iniin, as littlo hampered by the body as any man could be, yet there is neither coldness nor prmWy in liis passionate lovo song of "Young Donal.". Tho girl in love sings to Donal: ".'Tie lute last night the beagle spoke of you,Tho snipe spolio of yon in the dcop of the bog; But you were gono like .y lone barna/ilo goose anioiii; tho woods. May you be without mate for ever until you got me! "When I go to tho Well of Lonelincsß ' I nit down ranking lamentation; Wlhmi I see tho world and see not my Ind Who bad the sha-rtow of amber mantling in hit! checks. "Yon is the Sunday I caw you love. Tlio very Sunday beforo Easter Sunday, When I was on my knees reading tho Passion, My two eyes were constantly giving j'ou love. "You havo taken East, you havo laltcn West from me, You have taken the path before mo and the path behind me, You have taken moon, you have taken sun from mo, i Aud great in my fear jou have taken God from me." The Bolshevik Record. In view 'if the fact that a prominent member of the Lnbour Parly in this country declared (he othor dny that tlio parly "stood for Bolshevik ideals," it is interesting to learn from Robert. Willon's recently published book, ".Russia's Agony," how Bolshevik ideals hnvu ' worked out in Bolshevik practice. Mr. Wilton writes:— " "Aua-rcliy in tlio Government was inultl-

plied a hundredfold in tho country. The workmen simply did not know how muoli to ask in wages and emoluments. Al one irreal rubber factory they brought, rv lumber of sacks with the request Hint they Y (mould lie, filled with money—the war pro- „ fits of Uirco ycars-r.r they would "put the directors into the sacks and drown . tliem.' . • . Mansions pillaged, farmsteads , destroyed, catOo maimed, landowners, 0 email and jrreat.. murdered or fugitivoe eiicn was tho common report. Even jirisa; oners of war took a hand in thn (jaitio. 1 ... I have huddled in a nrst-clriso coin- , t jiartment, poll mell with soldiers, nurses, and wounded men, tho only passenger with , a ticket, and soon heavy sacke of loot ' landing in our midst, preceded by fragr- - menta of glass and followed by the owners. - Food and goods trains werp systematically plundered by deserters. . '. At tho end of 1917 Russia's debts, unsecured by any assets, exceeded the colossal nuuro of £1.500000,000. Such were the net .reenlta ot the revolution. It had 'coal' over £4,000,01)0 a day." A Babu Poet. Amongst the ami sing "Diversions" with.which Mr. E. V. Lucas supplements the loading and title feature?' in his latest collection of essays, "A 'Bosvroll of Bagdad," ireviewed at length in last week's Dominion, is mi account of a Babu poet, .one Ramkinoo Dutt, "a retired medical officer on pension." This gentleman appears to have "dropped into verse," like'the immortal Silas AVegg, i:pon (ho suggestion nf an AngloIndian magistrate, Mr. ,T. ■ I). AVard, of Cliittagong. To this gentleman tho poot pays grateful Tribute in fopio verses (addressed to the Deity), in which occur the following remarkable. , lines (quite in the approved style of the latterday Imagist and vers lib're poets):— . I thank Thee for an idea. that. Thou has created in my breast On which through the faculty I met now ii very fresh art. Being -myself deriirpd by the Ghitta'gpiifr magistrate, Mr. J. 1). Ward. Got encouraged nrid commenced writing a few songs in'the English word. Mr. Eamkinoo Dutt is scarcely a Itabindrannth Tagorc, but personally I find "the first Asiatic poet to write in English," as he proudly entitles hiineelf, vastly more entertaining than the Rifted TngoTO, whose poetry is nowadays so much belauded. Thus, for instance, Mr. Dult's references lo .his conversion to Christianity: I gave up the heathenism ' And its favouritism Together with the JlinduUpi. I gave up the heathenism, Neither tho fanaticism Nor tho paganism Or my idiotism Gould enrich me with provision. "My idiotism" is surely, Eβ Polonius would have said, distinctly "good!" ■ The War and a Pack of Cards. In Bernard Adams's clever bonk. "Nothing of Importance," the author declares that after but a ehort period of trench life "tho mask of glory hud been stripped from the war." The best simile tho author could think of for it wae u pack,of cards: Life in this war ie u series of fvfiits so utterly diil'orent and disconnected that tho effect, upon tho aclori in the midst nf them is li!;o receiving a hand of cards from an invisible dealer. There are four suits in the pack. Spades represent tho dullness, mud, weariness, and sordiduees. Clubs' Bland for another side, the hu.uo.ur, the cheiM'futneas, the jollity, and gnndfollowship. In diamonds I too the glitter of excitement and adventure. ■ Hearts are a tragic suit of agony; horror, and death. And to each man the invisible dealer gives a succession of cards; sometimes they eeeni all black; sometimes they aro red and black alternately; and at times they come red, red, red; and.at the oud is tho ace of hearts. . . . At firat, my hand was chiefly bliuik, with a, sprinkling of diamonds; , later I received more-dia monds, but tho hearts" began tn enimv lie well; at last the hearts seemed to ho squeezing out tho clubs and diamonds. There were always plenty of Bnadcs. The time came, alas, when ilie author himself got the "ace of hearts." He was killed in action in January, 1!>I~. Stray Leaves. ' Mr. Frederic Coleman, the war correspondent, who was lecturing our hero a year or wj ago, went on to the l''ar Bast after leaving Now Zealand. The result is a book entitled "Japan Moves North; The Inside Story of the Struggle for Siberia," which Cassells are pub--An autobiography which should afford sumo interesting reading is Mr.. Alfred T. Watson's "A Sporting and .Dramatic Career." Mr. Watson was for many years the editor of the "Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News." How industrious he was as a journalist may bo seen by the fact that for many years hu occupied an important position on tho London "Standard" and vi'l found timo to write, the famous "Rapier" articles in the "Sporting and Dramatic, to contribute freely to "Punch" and tho "Saturday Keview," and. edif the "Badminton Library." For some years, I read, "ho would wriio 20,000 wows a week and sit at his desk for from twelve to fifteen hours on Sundays, and this at a timo whon lie was spending his days at raco meetings and tho evenings at the piny." There are some, capital theatrical, journalistic, and racing anecdotes in bis book, the colonial edition of which I shell await with much intorost - \ ... . . Tho , expression, dio in tho last ditch," has tieen heard a good deal of lato. Apparently, according to a correspondent of a London weekly, it had its origin in a passage in Burnet's "History of My Own 'rime." When, tho United Provinces wero in the utmost danger from tho .French, the young Prince of. Orange, who had very lately becoino Stndtholder, was pressed by Charles It's ambassadors, Buckingham and Arlington, to put himself entirely in tho King of England's hand;. This ira refused lo do. ""your, country U lust,' replied the. Duke; 'do not you seo your country is lost?' 'My country is in great danger,' answered the Prince; 'but there-is a snro way never to see it lost; and thai: is, lo dio in tho last ditch' —a saying that.bespoke .α-gnllant foul, full of nlVcction for his country, hope of siicces.-i, and a magnanimous resolution, come what would." A collection of war drawings by tho brilliant young Australian cartoonist, Will Dyson, now at the front, is announced. Tho artist dedicates liis draw-, ings to his comrades of the Australian Forces in a poem, which is described as poignantly and powerfully, realistic. That prolific and.popular novelist, Nat Gould, of whoso (-porting yarns over two millions of copies have, it is said, been sold, has written a new-story, "Tho Ijider in Khaki," in which the war—combined, of course , , with horse-racing—plays a prominent, part, a rascally German spy figuring prominently in the dramatis person ae.