(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
A literature of _Antarcticana_ is gradually growing up, and the last
volume, _With Scott: The Silver Lining_ (SMITH, ELDER), is a notable
addition to it. Let me say at once that I opened Mr. GRIFFITH TAYLOR'S
book with some trembling because I saw the difficulties in the way of
its success. In the first place I recalled the simple dignity with which
SCOTT wrote of his exploits, and I felt that to fall away from this high
standard would be to fail; secondly, anyone writing now of this
expedition must to a certain extent travel over ground already covered.
These are the main difficulties which Mr. TAYLOR had to fight against,
and he has overcome them. To a writer of his fluency and particular vein
of humour it could not have been an easy task to put a right restraint
upon his pen. The only criticism I have to pass on his style is that it
could quite comfortably have done without the cloud of notes of
exclamation in which it is enveloped. Apart from its great scientific
value the main interest of the book is found in the light that it casts
upon the characters of the author's companions. His observation is
always shrewd and always kindly; you are left to guess his dislikes from
his omissions. Mr. TAYLOR was himself in command, during SCOTT'S last
expedition, of two parties, and of the work done on these journeys he
writes with the modesty characteristic of men who speak of dangers and
adventures in which they have personally taken part. One opinion of his
I cannot refrain from quoting; it is that the tragedy of SCOTT'S
expedition was caused by Seaman EVANS'S illness. "I believe that, short
of abandonment, the party had no hope with a sick man on their hands."
No tale of heroism that the War has given us can obscure the noble
loyalty of this sacrifice. And to-day, when some of us have neither the
time nor the taste for lighter things, there should be a grateful
welcome for a book that deals with men whose courage and endurance
remain the imperishable possession of our race.
* * * * *
Somewhere towards the end of _The Tragedy of an Indiscretion_ (LANE), we
arrive at the Court of Criminal Appeal, where, in the course of
unravelling the plot, one of the judges is moved to exclaim, "This is
the most hopelessly complicated story I ever had the pain of listening
to!" His lordship certainly has my sympathy. Personally speaking, the
first twenty pages of it nearly gave me a nervous breakdown, so wild and
whirling were the events into which it plunged. Let me start the thing
for you. _Ronald Warrington_, who was heir to the aged _Duke of
Glenstaffen_, eloped with _Mrs. Greville_, assuming for no very
understandable reason the name of his friend and secretary, _Essendine_.
So, the pair being established at an hotel, the supposed _Mr. E._ goes
to a station to buy an evening paper, is fallen upon by the real one,
and thrust into a train to attend the deathbed of his ducal relative.
_Essendine_ himself, entering the hotel to explain matters to the lady,
finds (1) that she is the wife who divorced him before marrying
_Greville_; (2) that she has just died of heart disease. Next, being of
a placidity almost inhuman, he decides to bury the corpse as that of his
wife, and not worry anyone with explanations. What he didn't know then,
or I either, was that another lady was at the moment gadding about
London in one of _Mrs. Greville's_ cast-off frocks, and pretending to be
that much-married female. And when in due course she is murdered, and
the strangely apathetic widower, _Mr. Greville_, who never set eyes upon
her, is arrested for the crime--well, you may begin to think that the
judge's remark was an understatement. What I should like to ask Mr. J.
W. BRODIE-INNES is, if this is his notion of an "indiscretion," what
would he have to say of a real social error?
* * * * *