HAROLD WILLIAMS

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22836, 21 March 1936, Page 4

HAROLD WILLIAMS

JOURNALIST AND LINGUIST

" Cheerful Giver: the Life of Harold Williams." By Ariadna Tyrkova-Wllliams. London : Davies. 16s. >

When Dr Harold Williams died in 1928 the world lost a remarkable linguist mid one of the greatest of journalists. In this inspired biography of her husband Ariadna Tyrkova-Williams has given us not only a sincere and unforgettable portrait of the man whose life she shared; we find here also a vivid and complete account of the years 1904-1918 and the disturbances and catastrophes leading up to the collapse and death of old Russia. To-day the eyes of all the world are turned on Russia, but to most people she remains an enigma. After reading Mrs Williams's intimate description of life in Russia during the first twenty years of this century it is possible that many will have a clearer understanding of this vast land of contrasts, which is still writhing in the pangs of its rebirth. The book opens with an account of Harold Williams's boyhood in New Zealand. He was about seven years of age when his unusual gift for languages first manifested itself, and we read with amazement that at the age of 11 he knew Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, German, Maori, and Italian. He grew up assimilating more languages. He intended, like his father, to become a clergyman, but this was not to be, and in 1900 he left New Zealand to study languages in the German universities, where in 1903 he was awarded his degree of Doctor of Philosophy. He always looked back with affection on his Berlin and Munich days, although his life there was a struggle against poverty; the problem of how to live on ninepence a day would at times have discouraged a less spiritual and optimistic character. While in Germany he occasionally did some work for The Times, and through this came in contact with a group of Russian Reformers at Stuttgart. It was here that he first met Ariadna Tyrkova, who later became his wife. In 1904 he went to Russia as the correspondent of the Manchester Guardian, and thus realised the great ambition of his life. Some time before he had written to a friend: "My chief ambition is to make a pilgrimage to Tolstoy. If by any piece of good fortune I can get to Russia before he dies I shall consider myself happy." He had not been in Russia long before he made this pilgrimage, but he was disappointed. All his life Russia had called him, and he felt that the liberation of this country he loved was the great cause he must work for. From 1904 until 1918 he lived there, and during this time was in succession a regular correspondent of the Manchester Guardian, the Morning Post, and the Daily Chronicle. He was also correspondent of the Finnish Helsingin Sanamat, and he wrote occasional newspaper articles. In addition to his newspaper work he wrote a number of articles on national questions, which were published in Russian magazines, and. also his important "Russia of the Russians. At the same time he continued to study languages:

Linguistic difficulties allured him. Philology for him was a necessity, a rest, a joy. If his brain was tired, if revolution and politics bored him, he would take up a new grammar, settle into a comfortable chair, stretch out his long legs, and sit motionless for hours, his brows close knit. . . • Philology helped him to understand men. Languages were his key to the mentality of the different races . . . his knowledge of them gave him rare assistance in understanding current politics when he was foreign correspondent in Russia, and later when he became foreign editor of The Times.

Yet he was sometimes unemployed. It is with astonishment we read that, in 1906, having decided that the Revolution had become stale, he wrote to his editor, stating that in his opinion he was no longer entitled to a salary, since Russia had ceased to be the centre of world events. His salary was, of course, discontinued. This incident is only one of many that reveal the essential honesty and simple unaffectedness of the man. Life in pre-war Russia was happy enough for Harold Williams and his Russianborn wife, herself a brilliant figure in the intellectual world of St. Petersburg. Some of the descriptions of life on her father's estate might have been lifted bodily from the pages of a Tolstoy novel, and one reads these enchanting passages with delight. Then came the Great War, and everything changed. And here inner simple, straightforward manner Mrs Williams shows us a most moving picture of war. on the Russian front, of which we realise not a great deal has been written. These are dark pages, which will make most readers aware with warm gratitude mingled with apprehension how little they know of real suffering. But if the war years were harrowing, the Revolution and civil war which followed were infinitely worse, for in the chaos which reigned there was neither law nor mercy, and when often fathers and sons were in opposite camps each man stood alone and in fear of his neighbour. During the time that the White Army was fighting the Red, Williams was Ihe Times correspondent in South Russia. He had been one of those who had urged allied intervention, and he fully believed in the ultimate victory of the White Army; it was a great grief to him, therefore, when Denikin's forces were defeated, and he returned to England "worn out, body and soul, feeling that he was finished." For some months he looked in vain for work—this brilliant journalist, who could speak over 40 languages, was forced to remain idle. This period of unemployment left a deep impression on him. His wife says: "One might apply to these long months in Harold s life in England, darkened by personal reverse and the bitter consciousness ol the world's blunders, the admirable verses which Maurice Baring dedicated to his memory: Upon the bread and salt of Russia fed. His heart with her high sorrow soared and H» kept 'the bitter bread and gave away The shining salt to all who came his way.

It was in 1921 that the editor of The Times invited him to write leading articles, and in 1922 he became foreign editor of this great paper. lhe limes team is composed of well-informed and experienced men, but Harolds chief and his colleagues must have found it difficult to realise that the paper had secured a journalist who combined encyclopaedic knowledge of the political leaders, characteristics, problems, and languages Ot the nations with the power of expressing that knowledge swiftly and accurately without consulting text books Intelhcence Departments, or files.' He loved The Times, and threw himself heart and soul into his work: " For him it was an instrument on which he could play variations on the theme which had possessed him all his life—the eternal struggle "wean Good and Evil," and his influence was far-felt, readers all over the Continent becoming aware of the new foreign editor and his wisdom and goodwill to all peoples. , Harold Williams once said to his wite. "If only we could shine even with a weak light during our own life. To.burn, but not to smoulder." It may truly be said that this wish was granted urn, and not only during his life, or he burns in the memory of many throughout the world.

Undated Book« W B Maxwell, the distinguished novelist and' publisher has written to he Times to plead that every book should earn its birth certificate; or. in other words, that all books should contain .1 notice giving the dale of lint publication. He points out that the want of this mfoimntion may seriously detract Irom the value of a book for its reader, and fioin the point of view ol the student. mn> even nullify it altogether. I'or the full enjoyment and appreciation of I enn.vsoii s " In' Memoriain." for instance, it is essential to know whether it was written before or after the publication of Darwin's " Origin of Species." De Mortuis . . . \ reviewer, savs the Birmingham Post, is Sometimes tempted to think there is too much autobiography, but lie as often congratulates himself because it is no hioTiiphy. Belter exnloit or expound the egotistical living than patronise offensively the famous dead,