BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

Evening Star, Issue 23373, 16 September 1939, Page 17

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

VERSES THE MAYFLOWER STONE Back here in dear old England, A little treasured place Tells of far-off people Descendants of our race. The winds blown freshly where the waves Against the rocks are thrown, The sky is blue—the sun is gold— Above the “ Mayflower Stone.’' The tale of Bradford, Brewster, Of Winslow, Standish, too— Of Robinson, and others, Still thrills men, through and through. In some of Plymouth’s old-world streets Were homes which may have known Those gallant men whose memory lives 4 Marked by the “ Mayflower Stone.” And travellers from across the sea Seek out the spot with pride— For Plymouth with America By friendly links is tied. So peacefully she’s tucked away Yet never feels alone— That stretch of quaint old Barbican Where stands the “ Mayflower Stone.” —Lilian Garcl, in the ‘ Western Morning News.’ DAVID AND GOLIATH Let Goliath have his say. won, and will to-day. Let him wave his dreadful spear, David lived, and now draws near. See Goliath, mark his height! What turns David on his might? Valour lissom as a waver Running tiptoe up God’s stair. : Scrip and sling and shepherd erook, And five pebbles from the brook David sets against his spear, Shield and sword and armour gear. See Goliath, where he lies With the night upon his eyes! All the winds of vale and bill Chant of David and his skill. —Herbert Palmer, in ‘ John o’ London’s Weekly.’ CHARLES REACH AUTHOR OF OK* RREAT HOVEL . Charles Reade. the son of an Oxfordshire squire, exercised in his day an influence second perhaps only to Dickens (writes “ F.R.8.,” in the Melbourne ‘ Age ’). That ho was a brilliant epigrammatist, a master of melodrama, and a powerful imaginative genius most admit, yet in assessing his work (which included many plays and works of fiction) bookmen would seem to agree in limiting to one novel only hia claim to literary front rank. •In 1861 appeared his masterpiece, * The Cloigter and the Hearth.’ This book, which he wrote simply as an artist, came near to perishing at birth. As a serial it ran for a time in 4 Once a Week,’ but the. editor tampered jso mercilessly with the story that Reade withdrew it. The public response to the work had not been immediate, and Reade wrote bitterly: “A strangled baby found in a bonnet box in Piccadilly interests the public more than the piety of Margaret or the journey of Gerard to Rome.” It wanted the realist,, not the artist. , • Fifty years ago Reade said that for every one who read ‘The Cloister and the Hearth ’ a thousand would rend ‘ It’s Never Too Late To Mend.’ That is not true to-day. The rock of offence to the editor of * Once a Week ’ is become the cornerstone of Reade’s literary edifice. Vast in scope, exact in detail, it evoked from Conan Doyle the words: 44 It is like going through the Middle Ages with a dark lantern.” Not only is it packed with knowledge gleaned from the Bodleian, but years of meditation have rendered it rich with the reflections of a thinker who has much that is wise and feeling to say about life. What reader of it does not call up the pictures of the humble existence at Tergou, the ducal feast at Rotterdam, the flight of Gerard, the battle in the wood, the gruesome night at the Saracen’s Head, the terror at the burning mill? Meade’s claim to permanence will conic more and more to rest on this ono book. It gives the true measure of all his powers, and ranks with the few books of fiction that one mav call immortal. With such an achievement tne most ambitious might well remain content; there is only one regret—that the author, so learned in much, should have been so ignorant of the character ,of his own genius as to devote half his life to plays that are forgotten. In 1863 he returned to modern life with ‘ Hard Cash,’ an exposure of private lunatic asylums of a certain class. Six years later, in collaboration with Dion Boucicault, be wrote ‘ Foul Play,’ which paved the wav for Plimsoll, and the following year appeared ‘ Put Yourself in His Place,’ in which he chose trade unionism' as the object of criticism.

In 1879 occurred the death of Laura Seymour, his housekeeper since 1854. This told heavily on, lleade, whose health from that time failed steadily. On April 11, 1884* he died, leaving unpublished a completed novel, ‘ Perilous Secrets,’ which showed no falling off in his plot-weaving. If he “ flowered late,” as he put it, ho flowered beautifully, and in spite of his eccentricity and contrariness, is revealed as a truly beneficent soul, for at a great cost he sought truth and proclaimed it. to He enlightenment and blessing of his kmd.

A LITERARY CORNER

W. HA. FRAED'S CENTENARY The centenary of Praed’s death (says the Loudon 4 Observer ’) will recall to many the light-hearted vers de societe of which he was a master, and for which the Cambridge of last century was famous; it has taken a graver tone with the decay of rhyme, which was of the essence of the, game. Praed’s themes were the customary ones—calflove, the ballroom, and wistful reminiscence—not veiy far back in this case, for the poet died young:— Where are my friends? I am alone; No playmate shares my beaker; Soma lie beneath the churchyard stone, And some before the Speaker. And some compose a tragedy, And some compose a rondeau; And some draw sword for liberty, And some draw pleas for John Doe. And there was the Belle of the Ball (who ended as “ Mrs Something Rogers ”) : Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal; I spoke her praises to the moon, I wrote them to the Sunday Journal. Mv mother laughed; I soon found out That ancient ladies have no feeling; My father frowned; but how should gout See any happiness in kneeling? It all seems very far away from the grim topics of 1939. William Mackworth Praed was a barrister, a leader writer for the ‘ Morning Post,’ and a member of Parliament. The rarity of this form of genius in the House of Commons (remarks | The Times ’) warrants some tribute to'the memory of one who was perhaps the most accomplished of their number. “ A.P.H.” alone, with an indulgent and sympathetic constituency, maintains in Westminster the poetic tradition of an earlier ageAN APPEAL TO SCOTS The plea of 44 an American Scot ” for funds to bring the compilation of the Scottish National Dictionary to completion calls not only for the support of the wealthier individuals in our midst, but for some effort on the part of members of Parliament to secure State support. Parliament, after having paid £50,000 for the Codex Sinaiticus and given a grant towards the English Dialect Dictionary, cannot consistently deny Scotland some measure of support in this notable work; and a sum of £4OO is imperatively needed to keep the editorial staff engaged and to make a fresh start with printing. It has been computed that 2,000 subscribers of £ls would finance the project, but only 888 subscribers have materialised, and “ an American Scot ” makes the generous, offer that if 25 Scots can be found to subscribe £IOO he will contribute a like sum. America provided the funds for an 4 Older Scots but for the credit of the Scottish nation the major portion of the cost of the bigger work should come from Scots themselves.— 4 Weekly Scotsman.’ THE POET'S GRAVE “ I was wandering down the tiny street of the hamlet of Piddington in Oxfordshire when the churchyard caught my eye. It was a neglectedlooking patch, and there seemed little of interest in it,” writes Miss E. J. Bavin in the ‘ Dark Horse.’ “ I went in and gazed at a few tombstones, and about to go out when I noticed a stone in a far. corner. It looked no older than the others; the overhanging grass almost obscured it, and it had the yellowish tinge one associates with age. “ What called my attention to it was its unique shape—long and narrow, resting on a thin pedestal. I went over to examine it further, and saw that there appeared to be a verse inscribed on the side. The letters were faint, and I had difficulty in deciphering the words, but I was able to read them. They were :

Green acres, green come rain or shine, What tales you are; what tales we teU, Sweet English merchandise of mine That everywhere I keep ; Dear Stubborn land my fathers knew, The learning of your days is well, And I’ll be scot and lot with you When last I go to sleep. 44 Questions thronged my mind—Who was this man who loved his native countryside so much ? Who had written this poem that expressed that love so finely? 44 I moved round to the other side and two words solved the riddle—--4 John Drinkwator.’ _Of course! Who else could have written that verse? Who else could it be buried there in that little village where as a boy he visited his grandfather and grew to love this land? Had he chosen that unpretentious stone that looked so old in spite of its having only been there just over a year, so that the harmony of that' old churchyard should not be broken? 44 The only tribute I had to place on his grave whs three Oxfordshire sweet peas. How I wished to pick a bunch of poppies from the Piddington wheatfields he knew so well and place them, bright and glowing, on his tombl ”

The family of Thomas Wolfe, the American novelist, author of ‘ Look Homeward, Angel,’ who died several months ago, had a long search through his writings for a suitable quotation to serve as his epitaph. They finally selected the ’ following sentence, from his last book. ‘ The "Web and the Rocks,’ “ Death bent to touch his chosen son with mercy, love, am] pity, and put the seal ( ,f lininrr on him when ho died.” These ivmih will he carved on the stone which marks .Wolfe’s grave.

NEW BOOKS 'MAN OF POWER' LORO RUTHERFORD'S LIFE 4 Man of Power,’ the life story of Lord Rutherford, by Ivor B. N. Evans (Stanley Paul). As the dust cover says, 44 Lord Rutherford was recognised universally as the world’s greatest scientist,” Most New Zealanders know and are proud of the fact that he was born in New Zealand and graduated at Canterbury College. They would welcome the opportunity of knowing more about his life. It is unfortunate that of the 284 pages in this book, about two-thirds nro concerned with more or less detailed accounts of his researches. The book is thus practically unreadable to those whose knowledge of physics has not reached a bachelor of science standard. It is n t a book of the 44 popular science ” type, as the dust cover appears to suggest. Two chapters are devoted to Lord Rutherford’s life in New Zealand. It is' shown how his upbringing as a pioneer farmer’s son undoubtedly laid the foundation of his boundless energy and dogged perseverance in later life; but it seems that the author has drawn on his imagination to some extent in painting details. Of special interest is

mention of work done at Canterbury College on wireless. It is pointed out that had not Rutherford devoted himself to work on atomic physics ho would almost certainly have played a prominent part in the development of radio. Professor Appleton, one of the leading authorities on radio, studied under Rutherford at Cambridge. The book then deals in chronological order with Rutherford's life work on atomic physics; as a student under Sir J. J. Thomson at Cambridge, ns professor at Montreal, Manchester, and from 1919 as J. J. Thomson’s successor in charge of the Cavendish Laboratory at Cambridge. The author is certainly an admirer of his hero, but he docs not omit to make due reference to other scientists whose work was complementary to Rutherford's. This is one of the strong points of the book. It shows how from a consideration of former work, either of others or of his own. be was able to devise experiments, often remarkably simple, which led to spectacular results. It emphasises how averse Rutherford was to drawing hasty conclusions, and how seldom his conclusions required modification as the result of later work. The names of many prominent physicists are mentioned in the book. It is surprising how many of these were associated with Rutherford at one time of another.

Chapters are interspersed to deal with his personality, his cordial relations with his students, his home life, his war-time work or methods for the detection of submarines, .his influence in bringing together science and industry, and his efforts to help scientists exiled by the Hitler regime. The good points of the book are considerably marred by serious defects. In reading the work, presented in chronological order as tnero are different aspects being developed simultaneously, the reader must exercise great concentration to follow every aspect separately. He would be greatly assisted by crossreferences, but none are given. In some places the details are tedious, in others provokingly absent, and only about one reference to an original paper is given. Many descriptions are vague and w 0,, kl be meaningless to one unacquainted with the work. Sonic descriptions are quite misleading or even confused. Does the author himself understand them ?

'the phraseology is in places unconventional, to say the least of it. The use of scientific terms is loose—even inaccurate—quite unpardonable. The uflmber of printing mistakes, which might confuse the reader, is inexcusable. There are 11 illustrations—far too few in a book of this type and price. Some of the quotations given at length arc very helpful—others serve only as padding. In brief, the reader will feel that the author might have taken more care to show his admiration of Rutherford.—M.V.B.K. _ • B THE “ DORMOUSE " AGAIN Even those who are not familiar with the work of Frank King and his happy creation, the Dormouse, will thoroughly enjoy ‘ Dough for the Dormouse ’ —that is. if they like a good detective yarn with plenty of mystery, plenty of thrills, and not too many absurdities and improbabilities. For the uninitiated it may be cv’-'-imed that the Dormouse is a gentleman crook, who, with his partner, becomes involved in a scries most exciting adventures. Robert Hale Ltd. arc the publishers, ami our copy comes from Messrs Whitcombc and Tombs.

AN EPIC FLIGHT RETOLD BY CAPTAIN P. G. TAYLOR It is easily understandable that flyers become the victims of their [ emotions while' their longer flights aro in progress. The complete isolation from worldly matters, frequently with the world obliterated by a layer of woolly cloud below, and with the knowledge that life rests on the correct manipulation of hands and feet, must inevitably react on the thoughts and emotions of the pilot. This is vividly demonstrated in ‘Call to the Winds,’ written by Kiugsford Smith’s navigator, Captain P.. G. Taylor. In his two previous books, ‘ VH-UXX ’ and ‘ Pacific Flight/ Captain Taylor has given graphic and stirring accounts of long-distance flying, and ‘ Call to the Winds ’ maintains the high standard of its predecessors. The book is briefly surveyed by the author in a short prefatory note as ** the story of the last air-mail flight for New Zealand of the Southern Cross, a brief reference to the events which followed it, and which lead me to forget for a time ideas of air development and go flying with a Gull for amusement, hire, and reword.’ But this gives only a poor idea of the fund of biographical anecdote which fills the 220 odd pages. Few people will have forgotten the epic flight of the Southern Cross, when, with one engine disabled and the oil in the remaining two running low, “ the old bus ” limped back to Sydney after a transtasman attempt. Nor of how Captain Taylor saved the lives of his fellow flyers by clambering out to the dead engine to obtain oil with which to keep the others alive. This hairraising acrobatic feat is modestly told in ‘ Call to the Winds.’ To Captain Taylor an aeroplane is a living being with a will of its own to be humoured, but when perfect concord has' been attained between pilot and plane it becomes a creature which will conform to the master’s slightest whim. Ho is a man who has had many experiences in tjie air, and. so has been able to recall his recollections in retrospect. But, what is more, he has the gift of words with which to record them. His whole-hearted enthusiasm for the future of aviation oomiuunicates itself to the reader, who is enabled to appreciate the sensation of flight from the mere reading. * CYANIDING FOR GOLD* Behind the numerous books which have flowed from the pen of Mr lon L. Idriess there stands the confident personality of one who knows his Australian hackbloeks, and it is not surprising to learn that many of his backgrounds were obtained from practical experience gained while he. was engaged in prospecting. His earlier work on general prospecting was an admirable forerunner to ‘ Cyaniding for Gold/ an Angus and Robertson publication. In simple language, the author explains the process from A to Z. The highly successful method named by the title has hitherto been the almost exclusive domain of the expert, and the metallurgical chemist; now, this book brings it within easy reach of any man interested. ‘ WHEAT IN HEW ZEALAND ’ With over 50 years’ experience in wheat growing, Dr F. W. Hilgendorf, director of the Wheat Research Institute, is well qualified for the task he assumed in writng ‘ Wheat in New Zealand.’ In it ho discusses the characteristics of all the wheats now grown in New Zealand, the varieties most suitable to each district, and the best methods of growing them. Among a mass of information there is a short historv of the introduction of the grain to the Dominion, and of the changes that have taken place in sowing and harvesting, while tne volume closes with a complete statistical survey of New Zealand wheat production since 1851, including areas, yields, trade movements. and prices. Whiloombc and Tombs Limited are the publishers. ORTHODOX THRILLER ‘ The Silver Arrow Murder ’ is a thriller written on orthodox lines, with no particularly outstanding character, yet the author (Traill Stevenson) succeeds admirably in clouding the issue and keeping the reader in suspense until the last few pages are reached. Certainly the murder which forms the basis of the story is committed in an unusual manner, for not only is the victim’s heart pierced by a silver arrow, but ordinary feathered arrows have been shot into the body as well. First one and then another of the villagers is suspected by the investigatin'; detective inspector and n particularly uninspiring and too easilv surprised superintendent But it is really the detective inspector’s old grandmother who ultimately thinks out the solution. A good enough winter evening yarn. Our copy is from the publishers, Herbert Jenkins Ltd. NOTES Under the title of ‘ Dickens and Daughter/ Miss Gladys Storey has written a memoir of Mrs Kate Perugini (Dickens’s daughter). Miss Storey promised Airs Perugini that after her death she would tell the truth about Dickens’s much-discussed relations with her mother, and this book is the result. The publishers say that it includes anecdotes of Collins, Thackeray, and other contemporaries of Dickens. The First Edition Club’s annual exhibition of the 50 best books of the year was opened at London on June 6 by Mr Shane Leslie. The fifty chosen books of 1938 include four novels (one is 'Be a Gent, Little Woman. Be a Gent’), Virginia Woolf’s ‘Three Guineas,’ Carola Oman’s 1 Elizabeth of Bohemia/ and ‘ The Oxford University Chest.’ by John Betjeman. In the first volume of * Men of Power/ Fred Eastman tells a story almost incredible in a world to-day blase with the speed of modern communications and with diverting and diverse types of entertainment. The magazine which published the instalments of ‘ The Old Curiosity Shop ’ as they were written by Dickens, came to the United States by sailing ship. The interest in New York increased from week to week, and larger and larger crowds waited on the wharf to buy copies as soon as the vessel docked. As the story reached its close five or six thousand persons, worked up to a pitch of suspense, swarmed upon {lie wharf, and could not wait until the ship ..tied up. When they saw the captain on deck they called out across the narrowing water the question that burned in everyone's heart, “ Did little Nell die? ’’