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New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12621, 4 December 1926, Page 12

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John Galsworthy is No Lawyer THE reading public owe so much to Mr Galsworthy that criticism must inevitably be an ungrateful task. ‘‘The Silver Spoon ,, is an account of a libel action and a study of its effect on the various characters involved. The story is as well told as one expects from the author, and if the legal aspect is a trifle blurred, at any rate he errs in good company, writes Sir Charles Biron, chief magistrate at Bow street, London, in “T.IVs Weekly.” The law has always proved a stumbling block to novelists. Its presentation requires a pedantic acouraey naturally repugnant to the imaginative mind. Even Anthony Trollope, one of the greatest of all realists, made a sad mess of it. “The Silver Spoon”-action of Ferrar v. Mont arose in this way. Fleur Mont, the daughter of Soames Forsyte, anxious to push her husband, Michael Mont, a young M.P. of promise with a not very convincing scheme of dealing with unemployment, is making great efforts to 6tart a sa-

lon. Having, we are told, the collector’s instinct, all goes well until a paragraph appears in the “Chiff Chaff” column of a daily paper, which, without mentioning names, sneers at the husband and describes Fleur as being “an enterprising young little lady who loses no chance of building up her salon on th© curiosity which ever surrounds any buccaneering in politics.” Soames, who has read tho paper and been strangely perturbed, th© same evening, at on© of his daughter’s receptions, hears Miss Ferrar attacking her as “a ridiculous person” and “a snob without personality or wit,” and “who is exploiting her unfortunate husband.” He at once suspects with justice that she wrote th© offending paragraph. What does he do? It must be remembered that Soames is a solicitor of sucli eminence that he was able to retire upon a considerable fortune. He is devoted to his daughter. As a man of affairs he could realise that, having overheard a private conversation, he was in a delicate position, and. that th© last thing to do in his daughter’s interests would be to make a scene. Yet we are asked to believe that a man with hi* legal training would not merely do so, but risk an action for slander by calling Miss Ferrar “a traitress.” He even goes so far as to’ turn her out of a house which does not belong to him, of which lie is not even the host. As his daughter says. “Everything is queered.” His folly does not stop there; he actually goes and picks a quarrel with tho editor of the paper where tho paragraph appeared. Fleur has also been busy, and writes letters to various of her female acquaintances describing Marjorie Ferrar as “a snako of the first water” “and “without a moral about her.” Now, Ferrar was a wellknown figure in the smart set. That she had been turned out of a draw-ing-room was soon common talk, and tho letters became known. As she is in a position to prove them, all the materials are to her hand for an ae-* tion for libel. The lawyers are consulted, and a writ is issued. Soames acts for his daughter. If, in fact, he had retired—but I may he wrong about this—it is a little odd he should have taken out a certificate and so be able to act. The letters cannot bo denied; the only defence open is, therefore, justification, a very danI gerous one to set up, and which has j to he specially pleaded and all the particulars of justification set out. AH that Soames knows is that the plaintiff once flew to Paris with one gentleman friend and was generally supposed to lmve compromised herself with another, blit has no real evidence in liis possession. All lie can prove is that she has rend an objectionable book and acted a suggestive part in one of Wycherley’s grossest plays; and liis defence resolves itself into an attempt to shift the issue into an indictment of the fast set and modern morality as represented by the plaintiff, and rid© off on the prejudice so created. Sir James Foskisson is • instructed for the defence. His advice is excellent. “Eminently a case for an amicable settlement.” Mr Galsworthy, like so many laymen, has a vague mistrust of the law. The K.C. is represented as “breathing more freely” when his suggestion is not adopted. Me little realises how much of a busy barrister’s time is occupied in keeping his clients out of court against Ins own interests. As far as one can discover, no plea of justification is put in, hut the defence rely on extracting admissions lroni Miss Ferrar in tho witness-box under crossexamination. At tho trial she is represented as taken by surprise hy an awkward question. Slio refuses to answer. The inference is fatal to her character, and her case has to be abandoned. The situation is frankly impossible. Either the defence justified or they did not. Justification can only he raised by special pica, and the strictest proof is required, it is a most dangerous defence, and one never pleaded except ujioii tli© strongest evidence. It is incredible that upon the material in Sonmes's possession any counsel would have countenanced such a defence. Also, if justification had to be pleaded, ■ its details would have to l>e disclosed, and therefore Marjonn Ferrar could i not have been taken )\v surprise. j If (horn was no -urli plea. ! Honines’s tactics, apparently adopted 1 by iiis K.C., would have bceu imprac- v

tic-able. No counsel would be allowed to set up indirectly by cross-examina-tion a justification lie bad never pleaded. The actual cross-examination is very well done, as indeed is the whole account of the trial, but a distinguished leader would never have used the vulgarism of “Js it that you thought they touched the Haln , bonc, ,, and though a, small point, judges do not talk of “luncheon* 5 intervals. Poor Miss Ferrar was atrociously served by her counsel. They were hopelessly incompetent. The junior who drew the pleadings never joined Fleur’s husband as a defendant, although na such he was liable for her torts. Her leader allows Sir James Foskisson to smash her in a crossexamination ho rouhl Imve stopped at once. Not merely this, but. be made a grotesque blunder by putting her into the witness-box. The iib-el bad already boon proved. Jf there was no plea of justification, it was only a question of damagesI.' 1 .' If there wore, an advocato who knew his job would have vailed until the defence had called their evidence in support c.'f that plea, and then called the plaintiff, only if necessary, to answer it. Never was a ease worse handled. I cannot help thinking the reaction in | favour of Marjorie Farrar was largely tine to a general feeling that she had boon badly let down by her legal ad- 1 vigors*

WHERE LIFE IS EASY 1 wo Meals a Day Cost Less than Three

FORCE of circumstances due to the abstemiousness of the Costarrlcan compelled me to lead a double life soon after my arrival’in the country.

The friend who met me at th© railway station that dark wet night in August during the rains took me to the best boardinghouse in Alajuela (I have his word for it) in spit© of th© numerous hotels I saw on every hand. Luckily I had forwarded two parcels of books from Panama to lighten my suitcase, and these were awaiting m© in th© best bedroom. My bones were still aching from tli© night on deck of the 20-ton schooner from Boons del Toro to Puerto Limon,. and were crying out for a downy couch. The down I experienced was a sens© of direction only, for th© spring mattress, which might have yielded to th© gentle pressure of the knee of an African elephant, was an inch thick of wellseasoned lumber, softened by a palliasse that felt in the dark as if stuffed with th© remaining branches of the mother of th© mattress. For pillow, a little toy cushion served to soften the angles of the books I used to support my head. To permit my hip bon© to make an impression I removed one section of the inelastic sub-base, realising for

0 the first time in my life the etymology of the word board-in’-housc. [ Tumbling out of bed at sunrise was positively a now delight. Later on, l when 1 begun to know the country and its people, 1 envied the Costa rri- ’ can and his capability of sound restful a sleep oh anything horizontal, from i an 'earth floor to a stone bench in. the r park. To breakfast at 6.30 a.m. on a cup , of coffee and an ounce of bread 1 * found was the uutionajjnetliod of keep- , ing the brute quiet tali 11 o’clock, at which hour Central America quits work, shuts up shop, shutters and all—- » even the banks close —to indulge in a 1 second breakfast. Urotb, rice, black 1 beans, u trace of boiled meat, the awful green plantain or other vegetable and coffee. Dinner at 5 p.m. is the ' same, plus a mouthful of something 5 sweet; there is no special word in ; Spanish for dinner; the word they use means nothing more than a meal. In the capital foreign influence has elnbor- * ated both meals into six or seven i > courses of tid-bits. I Jf my brilliant intellect noticed | nothing at the time, my department [ of tho interior clamored insistently mi a rising crescendo, that life was lack- ' ing a third meal each and every day Two meals a day is tho custom in Latin countries, and may be respon- ; siblo for tho small amount of work ! done daily, and in a way for the low ; wages. This equation is convertible; 1 little work equals, low wages; and, low wages equals economy in eating., A labourer is paid half a dollar a day from (.lawn to dark, ami that is precisely what he is worth. Double his wages and he will eoanc to work on throe days a week. Three dollars a week provides him with all that lie wants, rent, food, and clothing; his dress consists of four x>ieces: hat, shirt, belt, and punts; when he disrobes at bedtime he removes liis hat. Small wonder I failed to find darning needles in any of the six general stores in Ahijucla; tho populace gees barefoot. No, I don’t do my own darning. The farinaceous food of the country is not bread, although the climate and soil at 0000 feet and beyond arc suit. f

ablo for wheat growing, and where wheat has been grown. A dozen times flour mills have been, established and have failed either through lack of wheat or because Congress raised th© duty on it to protect the more powerful importers of flour, who are potential lenders when the Government runs short of cash. Black beans, rioe and maize are the staples, of which maize is tho only on© elaborated, tho others nro eaten plan boiled. Maize is tho foundation of tho tortilla, a flap-jack that appears to tho eye like a toothsome pancake, but inwardly has the toughness of a rubber cash-mat. While staying at a country house two days’ ride from here, I was awakened every morning at 4.30 by a distant “grunt, grunt, grunt,” repeated at short in. tervals. At first I took it to be one of the many pigs that roamed the house (this is quite common in the country 1 ), but later on the cause of the sound was made manifest. It was the cook grinding the day’s soaked maize on_ a black lava slab with a lava rolling pin. Tho comic-strip artist has not yet arrived at the refinement of a' stone rolling pin; I commend the idea, to the fraternity. The crushed corn resulting from the cook’s labours, think

ns putty, is beaten into discs and cooked on an iron plate. ... * At another village, while dining at the presbytery, my teet met the dog under tho table. Bid it growl? Not that 1 could notice, on the contrary, it rose and scampered from the room, a big hlack squealing sow. Butter is a curiosity up-country and is not liked; it is kept under water and as the buttor-milk is left in it, the consequent rancidity is taken to he its natural flavour. Separator butter, however, may bo bought in the main towns at prices ranging from 75 cents to 1 dollar a lb. (looking is all dono bv boiling or frying, as there are no ovens except tlioso of the baker and pastrycook. Neither aro there any chimneys. There is but one open fireplace in the whole country, and that is in the house built for the British Minister; and then the country had to be combed to find tho bricklayer to build tho chimney. I once showed a pmturo of a cottage with an outside chimney to a nntivo and asked his opinion as to what it was; after a minute’s thoughtful study of it, he declared it must be a lighthouse. Tho kitchen range is a table covered with tiles and squared stones; tho fire is a wood lire; the smoke usually finds its way out through llio Arabian tiles on the roof. Then again sometimes it does not. The beautiful blue atmosphere that artists admire so much is only Costa Rica lighting the liro to make the morning coffee. Unless I specified the emu it would ho misleading to say my appetite wan that of a bird, yet the boardinghouse treated mo as a canary, but not for long. My inseparable travelling companion, a knockdown Primus, gave me bot meals in my office in another building, and my duplicity lasted till I occupied a house of my own. The strangest stalls in the market are the butehois. In Hue and Gabet’s “Travels in Tartar.v and Thibet.” written about a century ago. the description of the Tartar butcher methods will apply, almost ward for word, to the nresent ones in Central America. The meat is stripped from the skeleton and divided into muscles by tearing it apart. The meat stalls are hung with curtains of meat; with long rolls of undercut and pointed slabs of tho choicest section of the rump. There is no fat because tlie animals are too scrawny to have anv; moreover, the Costarrirnn does not 'ike it. V,hn( little fat is found goes to the snapmaker, and the cook fries everything in the imported synthetic fats made from hvdrogeiiised cotton-seed nil and such. Pork is treated the same wav, except, rt"* fet is rendered bv tho fntlesa frizzled pieces ing a raidv sale ns a delicacy called ‘Vhirhnrones” or cracklings. Smoked sausage exists of a, hardness that nothing short of r„ high spepd buzz-saw could cut into slices. Muvbe it is made of tho ears and hoofs. The invariable toughness of the 0110 meat of the country, beef, is explained bv the fact that outside the railways, all transportation is hv oxcart: young animals aro not slaughtered because then are potential locomobiles. So when a bollock loses its trnetivo power or an ancient emv its laet.ive newer, thov am deprived of what little life they still nosscss. and then aro passed into circulation. —EX-N EAV ZEALANDER. San ,Toso. Commander E A. Worslev’s “Under i S ! aii in tho frozen North” will be tho official story of the British Arctic Expedition of 11125, e

“The Constant Nymph” as a Play ABOUT half a dozen novels are prominent each year, because of special popularity, literary merit, or both. Among them an average of three contain qualities that demand adaptation for ttie stage. English book rights, £IOOO to £3000; American, the same or rather more; English and American stage rights, a few thousands;. film rights, £4OOO to £0000; translation rights, a few hundreds. That sort of rough anticipation can be made by the lucky writer of a best-seller (writes Alan Booth in the London “Chronicle”). It is, moreover, a conservative estimate, in all except the stage rights. Again and again it is assumed that a dramatic novel can be fashioned into a play, and that the book’s fame will help the box office. And nearly always something goes wrong. * The play just misses fire, admirer's of the novel are disappointed, the author’s share of the gross takings is much less than his agent has predicted. Turning a novel into a play (I except farces and “crook” dramas) is one of the most difficult endeavours in the craft of authorship. Films, with

their opportunities for descriptive changes of time and place, are a better medium. The story has been conceived in the form of discursive narrative, and seldom can it be telescoped, without losing focus, into three hours of dialoguo. Either the emotional appeal dwindles through lack of perspective, or else the characters are so changed as to be almost unrecognisable, while reproducing enough of their print to distort their new shapes. There may be others, but until now I can remember, since 1912, only one really successful play from an Euglish hook. That exception, indeed—Mr Arnold Bennett’s “The Great Adventure,” takcil irom his literary shocker “Buried Aiive”—had a finer artistry 1 in its dramatic form. I imagine that Mr Bennett, in doing his own adaptation took nothing from his novel ex- • cept the bare hones of the plot. ; On the other side of the ledger, comi parntivo failures are plentiful. Mr Thomas Hardy’s “Toss of the d’Urber- , villes,” Mr Kipling’s “The Light That Failed,” Conrad’s “The Secret Agent,” ' Mr Somerset Maugham’s “The Moon ■ t and Sixpence”—these are four among i’ many notable novels that behind the i footlights became unreal, melodramatic ' or merely dull. i Best-sellers with a more dubious claim to literature, sufler tlie transformation just as ]>ainfully (examples ■ arc “Jr Winter Cullies,” and “Tlie i Green Hat”); so do host-sellers that nowhere touch even the fringe of either literature or recognisable life, i All these instances show that when, i very rarely, a good hook makes a good play the adapters have done well. Such ail exception has now happened, in i “The Constant Nyinpli.” ' Miss Margaret Kennedy's novel pleased the million and delighted the ' lew. It was a study in fidelity upon a richly-varied background of temperament adolescence, suppressed passion, complicated emotions and musical genius. Most of us went to its first night with little hope that all this could be properly shown in three acts especially as the leading part was allotted to an actress who was overboomed when inexperienced and very young, and who afterwards had to portray milk-and-soda girls for several years. Wo received more than we deserved. The play gripped from the first moment, and never lost its hold. Miss Kennedy and Mr Basil Bean had included all tlie hook’s essentials, and yet the stage technicque was brilliant. The characters convinced, the action and psychology developed with smoothness and completeness. Almost as astonishing was the performance of Miss Edna Best. Given a chance to interpret somebody other than a nicelv pert ninny, she got inside tlie skin of a beautiful rule and beautified it. She became the Tessa of every reader’s imagination. “The Constant Nymph,” ns a plav, has a few minor flamboyancies, hut it is something like a miracle of adaptation. If you have read tiio hook, you will realise it the bettor on seeing the play; if not. you will be making a memorable discovery.