Chapter XII: Front Matter (12)

My acquaintance with Crane was brought about by Mr. S. S. Pawling, partner in the publishing firm of Mr. William Heinemann.

One day Mr. Pawling said to me: "Stephen Crane has arrived in England. I asked him if there was anybody he wanted to meet and he mentioned two names. One of them was yours." I had then just been reading, like the rest of the world, Crane's _Red Badge of Courage_. The subject of that story was war, from the point of view of an individual soldier's emotions. That individual (he remains nameless throughout) was interesting enough in himself, but on turning over the pages of that little book which had for the moment secured such a noisy recognition I had been even more interested in the personality of the writer. The picture of a simple and untried youth becoming through the needs of his country part of a great fighting machine was presented with an earnestness of purpose, a sense of tragic issues, and an imaginative force of expression which struck me as quite uncommon and altogether worthy of admiration.

Apparently Stephen Crane had received a favourable impression from reading the _Nigger of the Narcissus_, a book of mine which had also been published lately. I was truly pleased to hear this.

On my next visit to town we met at a lunch. I saw a young man of medium stature and slender build, with very steady, penetrating blue eyes, the eyes of a being who not only sees visions but can brood over them to some purpose.

He had indeed a wonderful power of vision, which he applied to the things of this earth and of our mortal humanity with a penetrating force that seemed to reach within life's appearances and forms the very spirit of their truth. His ignorance of the world at large--he had seen very little of it--did not stand in the way of his imaginative grasp of facts, events, and picturesque men.

His manner was very quiet, his personality at first sight interesting, and he talked slowly with an intonation which on some people, mainly Americans, had, I believe, a jarring effect. But not on me. Whatever he said had a personal note, and he expressed himself with a graphic simplicity which was extremely engaging. He knew little of literature, either of his own country or of any other, but he was himself a wonderful artist in words whenever he took a pen into his hand. Then his gift came out--and it was seen to be much more than mere felicity of language. His impressionism of phrase went really deeper than the surface. In his writing he was very sure of his effects. I don't think he was ever in doubt about what he could do. Yet it often seemed to me that he was but half aware of the exceptional quality of his achievement.

This achievement was curtailed by his early death. It was a great loss to his friends, but perhaps not so much to literature. I think that he had given his measure fully in the few books he had the time to write. Let me not be misunderstood: the loss was great, but it was the loss of the delight his art could give, not the loss of any further possible revelation. As to himself, who can say how much he gained or lost by quitting so early this world of the living, which he knew how to set before us in terms of his own artistic vision? Perhaps he did not lose a great deal. The recognition he was accorded was rather languid and given him grudgingly. The worthiest welcome he secured for his tales in this country was from Mr. W. Henley in the _New Review_ and later, towards the end of his life, from the late Mr. William Blackwood in his magazine. For the rest I must say that during his sojourn in England he had the misfortune to be, as the French say, _mal entouré_. He was beset by people who understood not the quality of his genius and were antagonistic to the deeper fineness of his nature. Some of them have died since, but dead or alive they are not worth speaking about now. I don't think he had any illusions about them himself; yet there was a strain of good-nature and perhaps of weakness in his character which prevented him from shaking himself free from their worthless and patronising attentions, which in those days caused me much secret irritation whenever I stayed with him in either of his English homes. My wife and I like best to remember him riding to meet us at the gate of the Park at Brede. Born master of his sincere impressions he was also a born horseman. He never appeared so happy or so much to advantage as on the back of a horse. He had formed the project of teaching my eldest boy to ride and meantime, when the child was about two years old, presented him with his first dog.

I saw Stephen Crane a few days after his first arrival in London. I saw him for the last time on his last day in England. It was in Dover, in a big hotel, in a bedroom with a large window looking on to the sea. He had been very ill and Mrs. Crane was taking him to some place in Germany, but one glance at that wasted face was enough to tell me that it was the most forlorn of all hopes. The last words he breathed out to me were: "I am tired. Give my love to your wife and child." When I stopped at the door for another look I saw that he had turned his head on the pillow and was staring wistfully out of the window at the sails of a cutter yacht that glided slowly across the frame, like a dim shadow against a grey sky.

Those who have read his little tale, _Horses_, and the story, _The Open Boat_, in the volume of that name, know with what fine understanding he loved horses and the sea. And his passage on this earth was like that of a horseman riding swiftly in the dawn of a day fated to be short and without sunshine.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES AND NEWS

_Correspondence from readers on all subjects of bibliographical interest is invited. The Editor will, to the best of his ability, answer all queries addressed to him._

GENERAL NOTES

One of the great autobiographies, and a very important document for any one who undertakes the most rudimentary study of the English romantic movement, is the _Life of B. R. Haydon_, drawn from his journals. He was the friend of Keats, Lamb, Wordsworth, Leigh Hunt; he moved in many different spheres, among Dukes and politicians, and artists, and the debtors in King's Bench Prison. A man of boundless energy, an able writer capable of rendering his impressions vividly and with force, he was, indeed, everything but what he believed himself with passionate faith to be, what he even succeeded in persuading others that he was--a great painter. He was convinced--as firmly convinced as of the fact that two and two are four--that he was a genius as overwhelmingly great as Michael Angelo. He was, as a matter of fact, one of the second-rate romantic painters of the early nineteenth century, in some things a little better, in others a good deal worse, than his contemporaries in the same line of trade. The book is a fascinating study in psychology as well as one of the most vivid pictures of an interesting society. It is, therefore, unfortunate that it should now be a matter of some difficulty to lay one's hand on a copy. The first edition of the book appeared in 1853, the second and last some ten years later--more than half a century ago. We venture to express the pious hope that some beneficent publisher will reprint what is certainly one of the most peculiar human and historical documents of the nineteenth century.

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We learn from Mr. Leslie Chaundy, of Oxford, that he has purchased intact the whole library of the late Provost of Worcester. Dr. Daniel's collection comprises a great number of rare and interesting books, including, of course, all the volumes issued from the famous Daniel Press. A catalogue is, we understand, in course of preparation and will be issued shortly.

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October 31st saw the publication of the first number of the _Bookman's Journal and Print Collector_, qualified in a sub-title as _The Journal for the Trade, for Collectors, and for Libraries_. "Our aim," we read in the editorial, "is to be useful, not ornamental. Booksellers, publishers, librarians, and collectors alike from all parts of the country have agreed with the need for such a journal as this, and have given us generous support." The magazine contains reviews, a library supplement of "New Publications and Reprints of the Week," miscellaneous articles and notes on books and booksellers, prints and engravings. A useful feature of the journal will be the series of complete bibliographies of modern authors which it is proposed to publish. The first is devoted to the works of Hubert Crackanthorpe, who died in 1896, aged only twenty-six. Similar bibliographies of Masefield, Galsworthy, Conrad, Gissing, George Moore, and Merrick are in preparation. Those who wish to buy or sell books will be interested in the "Books Wanted" and "Books for Sale" columns of advertisements. Altogether, we think that this little paper will have no difficulty in substantiating its claims and will prove very valuable to all book-lovers.

Another interesting event in the world of books is the opening of the Chelsea Book Club at 65 Cheyne Walk. "It is being founded," we are told, "in the belief that in bookselling selection and specialisation are essential. It will aim, therefore, at having a stock of those books, new and second-hand, English and foreign, dealing with Belles Lettres and Art which appear to be most worthy of study and appreciation." A reading-room for the use of members will be attached to the club, in which lectures and exhibitions of works of art will be held from time to time. Those who wish to have further particulars as to membership, country book-service, lectures and exhibitions are asked to apply to the Secretary, 65 Cheyne Walk, London, S.W.3.

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At the sale, by Messrs. Sotheby, of the late Mr. W. J. Leighton's stock, to which we referred last month, a copy of Walton's _Compleat Angler_ (1655) fetched £21 10_s._; _The Pricke of Conscience_, fifteenth century M.S., £50; _Myrrour and Description of the Worlde_, printed by Laurence Andrews, _circa_ 1530, £72. Important auction sales in the month of November were Messrs. Sotheby's sale of the late Sir Frank Crisp's library and the sale of Mr. Christie Miller's library on the 28th of the month. We shall have gone to press before the results of the sale are known. What will be paid for Lot 81, we wonder_?--Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies_, the first edition, folio, 1623.

The Christie-Miller library contains many other books of extraordinary interest, among them three unique copies of works by Nicholas Breton: _A Smale Handfull of Fragrant Flowers, Selected and Gathered out of the Lovely Garden of Sacred Scripture_; _A Floorish upon Fancie_, _As Gallant a Glose upon so Triflinge a Text as ever was Written_; and _The Workes of a Young Wit Trust up with a Fardell of Prettie Fancies_. Robert Greene is represented by three unique copies, one of _Gwydonius_, and another of _Arbasto, The Anatomie of Fortune_; and the third of the earliest edition of _A Quip for an Upstart Courtier_, containing the passage, suppressed in all the later editions, in abuse of Gabriel Harvey and his brothers, which started the literary war between Greene and the pedant of Cambridge.

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ITEMS FROM THE BOOKSELLERS' CATALOGUES

It is possible, with a bundle of booksellers' catalogues, to waste more time more pleasantly than in any other way. As one idly turns the pages, catching sight here and there of a strange title or a book on some impossibly queer subject, one realises, more fully than one could do in years of social intercourse with one's fellow-men, how fantastic a thing is the human mind--a stable full of prancing hobby-horses for crochety horsemen to ride about the world. We can speculate pleasantly on the character of the practical parson who wrote the _Clergyman's Intelligencer; or, a Compleat Alphabetical List of all the Patrons in England and Wales, with the ... Benefices in their Gift and their Valuation Annexed_ (1745), for which Mr. Mayhew asks 5_s._ In the same catalogue is offered that curiosity in the history of science, P. H. Gosse's _Creation (Omphalus); an Attempt to Untie the Geological Knot_, published in 1857, two years before the _Origin of Species_. The title, _Ode to the Duke of Wellington and Other Poems, Written Between the Ages of Eleven and Thirteen Years_, by Robert Charles Dallas (1819), calls up visions of some tight-trousered infant prodigy; and we wish that the book were not an example of fine binding, and that Mr. Chaundy could part with it for less than 30_s._ Just above the infant, alphabetically and perhaps also in order of merit, we find the name of D'Adelsward, the author of a volume of poems (of which, in our ignorance, we had never heard) entitled _Les Cortèges Qui Sont Passés_. The volume, which was published in 1903, is bound in pink watered silk, and costs four guineas. We have a vision of something even more prodigious than the infant of 1819.

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Mr. Chaundy has a number of first editions of Disraeli's novels for sale. The very scarce _Contarini Fleming_ (1832) is priced at £6; _The Voyage of Captain Popanilla_ (1828) at 35_s._; _Vivian Grey_ (1826) at 21_s._; _Venetia_ (1837) at 20_s._ A first edition of Borrow's _Wild Wales_, in three volumes (1862), is offered by Messrs. Heffer, of Cambridge, for £9 _9s._ It is almost worth paying that for the sake of the description, at the beginning of the book, of the negro who sat on the walls of Chester, spitting into the void. You can have George Eliot for a good deal less. Mr. James Miles, of Leeds, has a _Silas Marner_ (first edition, 1861) for 25_s._ First editions of Robert Bridges are, we notice, priced a good deal higher than the later firsts of Robert Browning. _Eros and Psyche_ costs 15_s._ at Messrs. Heffer's, and _Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangan_ only 5_s._ The four volumes of the first edition of _The Ring and the Book_ (1868) cost one 32_s._ at the same bookseller's.

Similarly Conrad firsts are more precious than Bennetts, if we may judge from the fact that _Hilda Lessways_ (1911) costs 7_s._ at Mr. Chaundy's shop, while _Chance_ and _Victory_ (novels of Mr. Conrad's corresponding period), at Messrs. Heffer's, are priced at 12_s._ and 9_s._ respectively, and the precious _Almayer's Folly_ of 1895 costs £3 3_s._

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Mr. P. J. Dobell has already done good work in the field of bibliography. The catalogue published by him last year, under the title, _The Literature of the Restoration_, was a useful guide for all students of the period. He has now issued a supplementary catalogue of works connected with the Popish Plot.

Most of the pamphlets which he offers for sale are unknown to us; but here and there we light on an old friend. We can remember laughing heartily over _A Modest Vindication of the Earl of S[haftesbur]y, in a Letter to a Friend Concerning His Being Elected King of Poland_. The ironical eulogy of Shaftesbury with which the pamphlet begins is an admirable piece of satire. The Earl is praised for "his unshaken obedience to every Government he has been concerned in or lived under; his steady adherence to every religion that had but hopes to be established." It is interesting to note that in this pamphlet, written after the production of the _Spanish Friar_, and before the publication of _Absalom and Achitophel_, Dryden is regarded as a Whig poet. For the new King of Poland appoints "Jean Drydenurtzitz to be our Poet Laureate for writing panegyrics upon Oliver Cromwell and libels against his present master, King Charles II. of England." The deputy Laureate is no less a person than "Tom Shadworiski," or Shadwell, Dryden's most bitter enemy in the later years of the Plot. Mr. Dobell's price for the pamphlet is 7_s._ 6_d._ Two pamphlets in this collection refer to the fantastic rector of All Saints', Colchester--Edmund Hickeringill, one time chaplain in the Scottish regiments of the Commonwealth, and the author of the first retort to _The Medal, The Mushroom_, which was written and sent to press on the day following the publication of Dryden's poem--a feat of composition which he modestly suggests was due to divine inspiration.

_Great News from the Old-Bayly, Mr. Gar's Recantation; or, the True Protestant Renegade, the Courantier Turn'd Tony_, sounds interesting. Henry Care had the distinction of being the first to reply to _Absalom and Achitophel_. His _Towzer the Second_ was published three weeks after the appearance of the _Tory Satire_, for Care was a true blue Protestant in those days. "His breeding," says Anthony Wood, "was in the nature of a Petty Fogger, a little despicable wretch ... a poor snivelling fellow." He was a poor literary hack, and at James II.'s accession, "for bread and money sake, and nothing else," he went over to the side in power and turned his pen against the Protestants.

Three pamphlets deal with Roger L'Estrange, or "Towzer," as he was nicknamed by his enemies. But there is one enchanting ballad entitled "_A New Ballad on an Old Dog (Towzer) that Writes Strange-lee_," of which Mr. Dobell does not seem to have a copy. We could wish that we had space to quote it. But we have embarked on a subject which needs treating at length. The literary history of the Popish Plot remains to be written. A volume of extracts joined together by explanatory notes, biographical, political, and critical, would be a thing of absorbing interest.

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We notice, by the way, in Mr. Dobell's catalogue that _The London Mercury, or Moderate Intelligencer_, from December 24th to 27th, 1688, may be purchased for 5_s._ It is to be hoped that the intelligence of its namesake of to-day will prove more than moderate.

A. L. H.

CORRESPONDENCE

THE TEACHING OF ENGLISH

(_To the Editor of_ THE LONDON MERCURY)

SIR,--All schoolmasters and schoolmistresses will be grateful to you for your services to a great cause in allowing Mr. J. C. Stobart to talk at length on the teaching of English, but I was surprised to find myself selected as his scapegoat and "guillotined in distinguished company" (that of the old _régime_). My colleagues will be amused at that. Unfortunately Mr. Stobart is not a very skilful executioner. He tries to show that in my _English Course_ I have followed the traditional methods in "thoroughly normal chapters." And yet he does allow that I am "trying to shake off a yoke which is not entirely congenial" to me. It is more than ten years since I shook off the yoke which he describes as uncongenial. "The traditional method," he says, "begins with the copybook and proceeds by way of dictation and formal exercises to its goal in the essay." I do _not_ advocate the use of the copybook for the simple reason that copybooks insist on the Vere Foster type of handwriting, while I require from my pupils an artistic caligraphy which is opposed in every particular to the uniform ugliness of the old Board School and present Army Council standard.

Dictation I use most sparingly, though I certainly do prefer a boy to leave me with an elementary knowledge of punctuation and a slight acquaintance with the more normal forms of spelling rather than with a contempt for or slavish adoration of stops, and a phonetic system of spelling which is intelligible and phonetic to no one but himself. The reading that I advocate, both in my book and in practice, is not limited (has Mr. Stobart himself read _all_ the books that I recommended as useful for boys?), and the text is never obscured with comment. Where did he get this false information from? To definite grammar I assigned four and a half pages out of 500, which exactly expresses my opinion of its importance. Having misrepresented me in every detail so far, Mr. Stobart proceeds to attack me on two sides at once. "If you ask the schoolmaster why he makes his English the dullest subject in the syllabus, he will probably answer that he is preparing for the London matriculation." I am both a schoolmaster and the English examiner for the "Matric." I will pay Mr. Stobart's first-class return fare from his home to Tonbridge and board him for a week if he will visit my English classes and at the end of his stay retain that word "dullest" in all sincerity. I cannot believe that it is only I who enjoy these English hours so whole-heartedly. I certainly should find them dull if I were proceeding on "traditional" lines, either in my book or in the class-room.... I am next taken to task for daring to teach observation and originality. Mr. Stobart rather rudely (I wish he would practise gentleness and love himself) calls my methods here "a generous diet of cold minced hash." It is "up" to him to prove it. The point is, do I or do I not achieve observation and originality by my methods? Come down to Tonbridge, Mr. Stobart, and I will let you judge for yourself.

When, therefore, you suggest that every boy should learn how to express himself freely and to read widely, I can only reply that every boy has been doing so with very great advantage for years. You cannot picture a Public Schoolmaster so zealous for the purity of his own tongue that he treats a misplaced "and which" or "unrelated participle" as a personal affront. You cannot have been inside a Public School class-room for "donkey's years." I can show you scores as devoted to our classics as Whitelaw was to _Latin and Greek_?--Yours, etc.,

S. P. B. MAIS.
Tonbridge.

MACARONIC POETRY

(_To the Editor of_ THE LONDON MERCURY)

SIR,--The author of _Specimens of Macaronic Poetry_, published by J. Richard Beckley in 1831, is William Sandys, F.S.A. (1791-1874). He was a barrister of Gray's Inn, and a member of the law firm of Sandys and Knott, of Gray's Inn Square. He was born and died in London, and, in addition to the book mentioned above, was the author of _A Short History of Freemasonry_ (1829), _Christmas Carols_ (1833), and a few other books, a full bibliography of which will be found in _Bibliotheca Cornubiensis_. He was an enthusiastic musical amateur from youth, and further biographical particulars will be found in the _Dictionary of National Biography_.--Yours, etc.,

WINIFRED SPARKE.
Bolton.

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(_To the Editor of_ THE LONDON MERCURY)

SIR,--_Specimens of Macaronic Poetry_, to which reference is made on page 74 of your last issue, is chiefly remarkable for its interesting introduction to the subject and to the fact that most of the specimens printed are, or were at the date of publication, rarely met with.

The epic which you mention first is discussed on page 17 of the introduction, where it is said to be an imitation of Folengo. I have not been able to trace the author, but it bears many evidences of having been written by Folengo himself. The ode was written by Dr. Geddes, and the author of the old Scottish Testament was Wm. Dunbar, whose name is printed at the end of the verses in my copy.

Macaronic Poetry creates but little interest in these days, though there are still students who appreciate some of its qualities.

If "A. L. H." is interested, I am sure that an article on the subject would be read with very great appreciation even if that quality be confined to very few in number.--Yours, etc.,

B. BAGNALL.
43 Chancery Lane, London, W.C.2.

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(_To the Editor of_ THE LONDON MERCURY)

SIR,--What does "A. L. H." mean by "no" author's name is given? The _editor's_ of the book--or the author's of Mr. Andro Kennedy?

The latter is, of course, my compatriot, William Dunbar, but neither of my editions of him mentions this poem's having been printed in that particular book.

Also, your reviewer of Wilde, on page 91, begins, quite in error, saying that the book has no indication of how it came into existence or who chose them for republication. The wrapper, cover, and title-page, all three, say, "Being extracts from Reviews and Miscellanies" (one of those large white volumes on hand-made paper that smelt so of bad paste, published by Methuen in 1912); while behind the title-page is, "This selection has been made by Mr. E. V. Lucas." The best thing in it is, I think, the charming paragraph on Balzac, "A steady course of Balzac reduces our living friends to shadows and our acquaintances to the shadows of shades"--Yours, etc.,