THE BOOKMAN

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 619, 22 March 1929, Page 14

THE BOOKMAN

Reviews! Sc Notes!

Have You Read This? Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, Professor of English Literature at Cambridge, recently chose for "The Daily Mail" a series of short passages. the “purple patches" of English prose. It is hoped that the series, reprinted here, will pleasantly refresh the memories of some and stir the fresh interest of others. THE ANGEL OF DEATH JOHN BRIGHT. Speech in the House of Commons on the Crimean War. Feb. 23, 1835. John Bright (1811-1889) was one of the outstanding statesmen and economists of the Manchester school which believed in Free Trade and freedom of competition, and opposed factory legislation and other social reforms. lie was President of the Board of Trade under Gladstone and held other posts, but withdrew from the Liberal Party m 1882 as a protest against Mr Gladstone's policy of intervention in Egypt. Bright was always a strong pacifist and the most famous speech of this great orator was delivered in the House of Commons in 1855 in opposition to the Crimean War. It is given below. I APPEAL, to the noble lord at the head of the Government and to this House; I am not now complaining of the war—l am not now complaining of the terms of peace, nor, indeed, of anything that has been done —but I wish to suggest to this House what, 1, believe, thousands, and tens of thousands, of the most educated and the most Christian portion of the people of *his country are feeling upon this subrct, although, indeed, in the midst of certain clamour in the country, they do not give public expression to their feelings. Your country is not in an advantageous state at this moment; t'rome one end of the Kingdom to the other there is a general collapse of industry. Those members of this House not intimately acquainted with the trade and commerce of the country do not fully comprehend our position as to the diminution of employment and the lessening of wages. An increase in the cost c° living is finding its way to the hom. and hearts of a vast number of the labouring population. At the same time there is growing up -—and, notwithstanding what some hon. members of this House may think of me, no man regrets it more than I do —a bitter and angry feeling against that class which has for a long period conducted the public affairs of this country. I like political changes when such changes are made as the result, not of passion, but of deliberation and reason. Changes so made are safe, but changes under the influence of violent exaggeration, or of the violent passions of public meetings, are not changes usually approved by this House or advantageous to the country. I cannot but notice, in speaking to gentlemen who sit on either side of This House, or in speaking to anyone T meet between this House and any of those localities we frequent when this House is up—l cannot, T say. but notice that an uneasy feeling exists as to the news that may arrive by the very next mail from the East. I do not suppose that your troops are to be beaten in actual conflict with the foe, or that they will bo driven into the sea; but I am certain that many homes in England in which there now exists b. fond hope that the distant one may Teturn —many such homes may be rendered desolate when the next mail shall arrive. The angel of death has been abroad throughout the land; you may almost hear the beating of his wings. There is no one, as when the first-born were slain of old, to sprinkle w*!th blood the lintel and the two sideposts of our doors, that he may spare end pass on; he takes his victims from the castle of the noble, the mansion of the wealthy, and the cottage of the poor an dther lowly, and it is on behalf of all these classes that I make this solemn appeal. Defoe’s England BEHIND the squalid and gilded eighteenth-century Britain presented to us by modern novelists, there was a well-ordered country pulsing with such regularity and intelligent direction in both primary and secondary industries that its only real economic problem was a want of people, not of employment. “There is in England more labour than hands to perform it,” wrote Daniel Defoe. The people of to-day might think the methods of agriculture of that age very backward, the means of transportation almost incredibly slow and tiresome, and the appliances in manufacturing industries primitive in comparison with those available now. There were many inconveniences, many evils, no doubt; but the inconveniences did not ride heavily on the shoulders of the people who were the real backbone of the country, and who were dexterous enough to make progress in spite of their lack of steamengines and oil-engines, electricity, motor-cars, concrete roads, and the rest. Indeed, the Britain of the first half the 18th century, at least, was a vigorous country that enjoyed a great deal of solid and satisfying comfort. That is evident from the picture that Has been left by the greatest contemporary authority on its economic condition. Curiously enough, that economist is also one of England’s great novelists. But the imaginative Defoe of “Robinson Crusoe,” “Captain Singleton,” and many other stories was very different from the assiduous commentator on Britain’s diligence in industry and trade. Crusoe” and the other tales have obscured the fact that Defoe was a notable practical economist. He wrote several treatises on commerce and allied subjects, and, above all these, he wrote “A. Tour Through the Whole Island of Great Britain,” in which he surveyed ■vdth enthusiasm and yet with aiscrimmaton the agricultural, pastoral and manufacturing industries of the counfry. He put into this book a great f.eal beside, including much that is Picturesque, and it became, in effect, » popular gnide-bock. The three pf tile book were published

in 1724-26. Eight editions were pubusned oy 1778. under various editors, who spoiled the book for twentiethcentury readers; but no other editions appeared until toward the end of 1927, although it has been u£etl often enough by historians and other serious students of Defoe’s period. It is an agreeable chance that the modern editor of the book, who has restored it to the state in which Defoe himself left it. is also a novelist ahd economist. Rather should one say that Mr G. D. H. Cole is an economist of fame who writes novels —detective fiction, at that —as a relaxation from economics. Mr Cole has studied the economic history of Great Britain so closely that he speaks with real authority about Defoe’s picture of his times. The picture had to be scrutinised carefully, for —Mr Cole is quite frank about it—Defoe was “one of the world’s greatest liars, with a peculiar art for making fictitious narrative sound like truth.” Defoe the economist was quite another man. This is what Mr Cole Ears about bim in that capacity:

Economic information is the one *ort of information that Defoe seldom or never invents. He knew too much about it, and it interested him too much, to make it a suitable subject for promiscuous lying. The reader need not suspect, because he finds out Defoe in a dozen antiquarian inaccuracies, that his facts about his own day and its business doings are equally unreliable. On these, where he can be checked from other sources, he usually comes out right. Defoe was an Englishman with a lively Interest in his own country before he wa3 a liar. He -was also essentially a middle-class Englishman, and it was the busy middle-class Englishman who appealed to him most. He had written on economic subjects before he was engaged by the Government as a sort of confidential agent, travelling about the country and reporting the state of opinion in all parts of it. It was on these journeys that he gathered the material which went to the making of one of the very tew really great descriptions of Britain and its people. It is amazing that such an excellent book should have been neglected for so many long years. Fortunately, that part of it which describes England and Wales has now been ineluded, in two volumes, in the admirable and cheap “Everyman’s Library” of J. M. Dent and Sons, Ltd., the text used being that of the expensive reprint of last year. Mr Cole has written an introduction to this edition also. To the economist and the historian, and to the average plain Englishman who is interested in the growth of his nation, the book is invaluable. At least one New Zealand reader has found it to be also a fine “dipping book,” because of the excel lent descriptions and curious stories in it. It has given him, too, a new view of Daniel Defoe. When the reader finds Defoe saying, at the end of a remarkable story, “how true this passage may be I do not undertake to enter upon the debate of,” he begins to realise that Defoe the novelist, the “liar,” and Defoe the inquiring traveller in Great Britain, certainly are two separate entitles within one skin. A.L.C.

Books Reviewed A MATRIMONIAL SQUARE F. E. Mills Young has discarded the eternal triangle and replaced it with a matrimonial square for her latest novel, “The Immovable Flame.” Set in South Africa, the field offers splendid opportunities for describing local colour, but that is only a background for: (1) The beautiful young heroine married to (2) a brutal d;unken husband; (3) the strong silent overseer who is violently in love with his master’s wife; and (4) one of the most attractive young heroes we have met in print for many a long day. Miss Mills Young sketches her characters with strength and assurance. They are not the usual glowing South African puppets forming shadowy outlines against the mysterious veldt, but human beings caught in the net her virile mind has set for them. And so we follow the love of two men for one woman, while the third looks on with hate and cunning. It is an excellent story from the pen of a woman who knows her territory and her characters. She writes with conviction and above all she writes a good story—for those who like stories with plots in them.

“The Immovable Flame.” the Bodley Head, London. Our copy comes from Dymock's, George Street, * Sydney. Interesting, but To be quite frank, “There’s No End To It” will not. appeal to lovers of high-class literature. It is described as a story of love and lawlessness, and it may be said that the description is a good one, though, perhaps, the lawlessness overshadows the love. The story concerns a girl who falls in love with her unscrupulous lather’s

mechanic. Her father has his own ideas about her marriage and intends her to marry his equally unscrupulous and very shallow partner. The mechanic, under the mistaken belief that he has killed a man, fears to offend the father, who knows his secret. Complications arise which make the story interesting but some of the language used is more risque than one has been educated to expect in these days when a spade is certainly called a spade by modern writers. At the risk of being regarded as old-fash-ioned, one cannot help saying that a story with many highly dramatic situations would not have been spoilt had a number of passages been omitted. “There's Xo End To It.” Xeglev Farson. Methuen and Co. Our copy from the publishers.

Of Ancient Origin Most of the games that capture the fancy in childhood are of very ancient origin. Who knows that the rollicking game of “Buck, buck, how many horns do I hold up?” where a schoolboy leaps on the back of another and extends one or several fingers is referred to in Petronius, when a boy climed on the back of Trimalchio and slapped him on the shoulders with his hand, laughing and calling out, Bucca, hucca, quot sunt liic? And who is aware that a variant of the game of “Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor,” where one’s fortune is told by a stalk of grass, plucked at random, was known in the twelfth century when flowers were stripped of their petals to reveal the fate of the curious? “The Games of Children,” by Henry Bett, M.A., contains a wealth of valuable research and information. From the dust of antiquity the vanished children of other ages rise up and step from the pages to watch ■with slow’ smiles the loved and familiar games still played by the children of to-day. “The Games of Children,” by Henry Bett, M.A. Our copy from the publishers, Methuen and Co., Ltd., London. Aboriginal Stories

With sympathetic insight into the working of the aboriginal mind, Mr. James Devaney, in “The Vanished Tribes,” has written a set of tales ■which should stimulate Australian attention to the fact that the continent’s native race is moving closer to extinction each year. The aboriginals, as our own Maoris, have a large amount of lore and legend which could be drawn upon by any writer, but Mr. Devaney has essayed a much more difficult task than that of chronicler. He has studied his people, and endeavoured to interpret their lives in his own way. Knowing their habits of thought and mode of life, he has been able to write a series of vital stories on simple themes. Relying only on quiet incident, he manages to endow the commonplace with importance, and, apart from giving entertaining sidelights on aboriginal life, he has succeeded also in writing his stories in graceful and simple style. “The Vanished Tribes,” by James Devaney. Our copy from the publishers, Angus and Robertson, Sydney.

The Way of a Maid. Though the family circle beamed its august approval, and her friends smiled their congratulations through their envy, Jill Halliday was assailed by a big doubt that her impending alliance to Arthur Todd Constable was going to be as successful as everybody said it would. Arthur was a rising K.C.„ on the threshold of a career, and Jill's marriage, for her, would be a veritable social triumph. Apparently, however, our heroine was one of those human young ladies who considered domestic felicity more important than social success, and as Arthur did not appear to offer much prospect of the former, it did not require a great deal of persuasion on the part of cousin Roger Halliday to make her change her mind and her choice of husbands. This, briefly, Is the story Miss Christine Orr tells in “Hogmanay.'* Miss Orr has written it in her usual delightful fashion, and it is one of the most readable of her books. “Hogmanay.** Christine Orr. Hodder and Stoughton, Ltd. Our copy from the publishers’ Australian representative. California's Golden Ag«, Mr Peter B. Kyne is one American writer who has mastered the Western novel. Each tale that comes from his pen is different from its fellows, yet all suggest the influence of wideflung country. Mr Kyne has delved (with profit to the reader) into the early history of California for material for his latest romance, “Tide of Empire,** a tale of the Anglo-Saxon colonisation that began in the mad gold da3’s of the second quarter of last century. It is a tale told around the fortunes of Dermod D’Arcy, who, from the first page to the last, is Irish and Likeable. “Tide of Empire.** Peter B. Kyne. Hodtier and Stoughton. Our copy from th* publishers’ Australian representative. Mr. Goller’s Mr. Moses

The author of “The Five Books of Mr Moses” lias a great resource in his knowledge of modern Jewish life and the timeless Jewish character, upon which time and change have worked with so little effect. His mastery of the Anglo-Jewish idiom, too, permits him to indulge freely in dialogue which is full of delight. Had he not tied himself to a rather improbable plot and, moreover, to a rather insignificant purpose, which fortunately he forgets as often as not. he might have written a novel considerably better than that, readable and enjoyable though it is, which is now under notice. It is worth reading for its own sake and for the sake of being able to measure the improvement tvhich it is not very risky to predict in his next. “The Five Books of Mr Moses.” Izak Goller. Methuen. Our copy from the publishers. Sophisticating Beauty A fair measure of popularity is assured any well written book dealing with the moulding and sophisticating of a beautiful girl, and her waverings between the downfalls and triumphs of life, because every woman has n?.d such experiences, and every man is more or less interested in them. Thus “The Ladder of Folly,” Muriel Mine’s latest novel, should sell well, though it cultivates long-used ground. The author of “April Panhasard” draws

ier characters carefully, and never allows herself to blur the outlines as '.er tale unfolds. Ann, who mounts le ladder through the shadows of dis.lusionment to her sun-kissed goal, omrnand one’s svmpath3 r and intense .nterest. Her experiences as the jhild of nature, on the path of primrose, and in the dark wood, form the fabric of a story that is cunningly woven and attractively tinted. “The Ladder of Folly” is not an outstanding novel, but it is Muriel Hine in her best form, and worth reading. “The Ladder of Folly,” by Muriel Hine. John Lane, The Bodley Head. Our copy from the publishers. MAY BEATTY’S MEMOIRS

QLYCF her return from j • abroad Miss May Beatty, | the well-known actress, has ! • received many requests I from admirers both in Aus- i j tralia and New Zealand, to I write a volume of memoirs. ! ! As her\ experience dates ( I from the early days of the j ! Pollard Juveniles, a com- f J bination of rare skill and j I talent still happily remem- I bered by many theatre- ! goers in this part of the j world, Miss Beatty's remin- ! iscences should form a \ valuable chapter in the j I theatrical history of Aus- j ! tralia and New Zealand. j j The comedienne , who was j j born at Christchurch, has ( entrusted the work of com- | piling and editing her book j to Mr. Eric Ramsden , j another New Zealander, and '■ ; a former member of the ! ; literary staff of THE SUN. They are now engaged on the I preliminary work at Syd- ! ney, where Miss Beatty is playing in “Hit the Deck.'* '

Poets 9 Corner

MORNING SONG Now awake the birds , and the sheep in the sleeping fields are calling, High above all the note of one lark purely rising and falling. Sparkles the light on the trees and the delicate dew bows the grasses, And like running clear water the slcy in the pines is caught, and then passes.

Now awakes my heart, and my thoughts through the faint air go winging, As swift as the -flash of the birds that silver the sunrise with singing. And clearer than sunlight and brighter than dew is the joy that sends laughter To my eyes and my mouth as I hear you come whistling—the dog running after. MYRTLE JOHNS. Auckland.

BOOKS IN DEMAND AT THE AUCKLAND PUBLIC LIBRARY FICTION “DARKENED ROOMS," by Philip Gibbs. “THE STRATEGY OF SUZANNE," by Mabel Barnes Grundy. “NEVER IN VAIN,” by Hugh dc Delincourt. “GRAND RELATIONS," by J. S. Fletcher. “SENTINEL OF THE DESERT,” by Jackson Gregory. “THE TWO BRIDES," by F. E. Penny. “PILLAR MOUNTAIN," by Max Brand. “WITCH HAZEL,” by W. Riley. “JENNIE GERHARDTby Theodore Dreiser.

“RETURN OF THE NATIVE," by Thomas Hardy. NON-FICTION “HEADING FOR THE ABYSS,” by Prince Liclinowsky. “FATEFUL YEARS 1909-1016," by Serge Sazonov. “GREEN MEMORIES," by Bernard Darwin. “SPOKESMEN,” by T. K. Whipple. “THE TRAGIC BRIDE," by V. Poliakoff. “LAST TWELVE YEARS OF JOSEPH CONRAD," by Richard Curie. “ON MEDITERRANEAN SHORES by Emil Ludwig. “THE PILGRIMAGE OF HENRY JAMES," by Van Wyck Brooks. “NAPOLEON," by Dmitri Merezhlcovsky. “THE LIFE OF GENERAL RAWLINS ON OF TRENT," by Sir Frederick Maurice.