TWO ILLUSTRATED BOOKS.* THERE is but one link of connection
between these two books, —the high quality of type and illustrations. There could not, indeed, be a greater contrast than that between the walk and conversation of the persons who man Mr. Emerson's houseboat, and the walk and conversation of the dukes and saints who dwell in what the Dean of Gloucester terms "Dreamland in History." The Dean would almost certainly look askance at one at least of Mr. Emerson's adventures on shore. Both books have, however, been got up with an eye to "effect,"—in the legitimate sense of that much-abused word. They are decidedly superior, both in literary and artistic merit, not only to ordinary gift-books, but even to works of the'de luxe order, which appeal to the constituency that is generally associated with drawing-rooms. Members of that constituency might do worse, moreover, than read Dr. Spence's work after Mr. Emerson's,—much as it is not in- advisable, after taking a long walk by a river-bank, to enter the great cathedral which is sure to be found at the end of that walk, and enjoy there a brief Coleridgettn "Sabbath of the soul."
Mr. Emerson is, as is now tolerably well known, a writer iri generis, and what he describes as "the simple record of my impressions and experiences whilst living with my friend T. F. Goodall on his houseboat on Breydon Water, in Norfolk," • (1.) Wild Life on a Tidal Water, t tho Ad/matures of a Houpaboat and her Cron.. By P. H. EmorRon. Illuatratod with 30 Photo.litohings, by P. H. Emerson and T. F. Goodall. London: Sampson Low nod Co. Drown/and in History : the Story of the Norman Dukes. By the Very Rev. H. D. M. Spence, DD., Dean of Gloucester. With Illustrations by Herbert Banton. London: William Isbiater, Limited. 1891.
is sure to be well received by all who were pleased—and here and there, perhaps, a little irritated—by his Pictures of East Anglian Life. As we have already hinted, we should have gladly been spared the flirtation and the love-making, which are hinted at rather than fully depicted, in such chapters as "A Lady in White," "A Lady's Letter," and The Lady in White Again," They are pervaded by affectation rather than by genuine feeling, and in this respect compare very unfavourably with:the story of a drowning accident which Mr. Emerson tells, and the tragic yet not too repellent realism of which is indisputable. Then we have an incident on Yarmouth pier, of which we shall only say that it has not even the piquant charm of an escapade, and is as much out of place here as a vulgarly "loud" London dress would be in a quiet fishing village. These are practically the only faults—and they are not very serious ones—which we have to find with Mr. Emerson's writing, which sometimes, and especially when it is most photographic, recalls the work of the late Richard Jefferies. Some of his phrases are better than happy, such as "a dreamy land of mists soaked with the most delicate dyes." Nor has he many equals to-day in the difficult art of describing a storm. He has, finally, a decided mastery of the horrible, as is shown in a gruesome fashion in his narrative of a crab in the act of tearing out a sole's eye: "When he was satisfied, he drew himself up to his full height and stood contemplating the rest of the head. Then I could plainly see the cold, cruel, triangular, inhuman face, with eyes set wide apart, with cruel hairy mandibles and chinless face, the whole expression being one of brutal lust, without one ray of light to illumine the dreadful countenance. Methinks had old ./Eschylus drawn a giant-crab plucking at the vitals of Prometheus, every one would have trembled as he read." Mr. Emerson also does full justice to the humour, mostly of the grim, unconscious sort, which is impersonated in the " characters " to be met with in the Norfolk broads. If Joey, who was the man-of-all-work on the Breydon houseboat, be, however, a fair specimen of them, it must be allowed that they are prone to laziness, dishonesty, and tippling. In spite, however, of the cleverness of Mr. Emerson's writing—and of higher qualities than mere cleverness—the abiding charm of this book lies in its photo-etchings. They are thirty in number, and reproduce every portion, or rather, every nook • and corner, of Mr. Emerson's subject. Yarmouth has, of course, ample justice done it in "Great Yarmouth Harbour," "The Quays at Dinner-Time," "Great Yarmouth from Brey- don," "A Yarmouth Row," &c. Then, among the etchings are included a number of sketches of life, and even of character, such as "Toil and Grime," and "Decayed Fishermen." All, or almost all, of these have a dim look, and suggest looking 'through a` glass darkly." This, however, was inevitable, and, besides, it is true to "wild life on a tidal water."
The Dean of Gloucester probably does not expect that this book, which he dedicates to the Queen, should be regarded as an important contribution to history. On the contrary, he refers to it as "these little studies on the seven Norman Founders of the Royal and •Imperial House of England." But there arrsorne books which serve the purpose of good popular lectures,—tbat is to say, they do not supply a royal road to knowledge, but they give life and a sense of freshness to that knowledge which, in Coleridge's phrase, lies "bed- ridden in the dormitory of the soul." Dr. Spence writes in what may be termed without offence a high-class Good Words style, and not that of a profound. and original historical investigator ; thus, his indirect hint that William and Lan- franc may have set forth on the conquest of England in the spirit of reformers can hardly be said to be a very successful one. But he tellsthe story of the Norman Dukes—of Rollo and William Longue-146e, of Richard Sans-Peur and Richard le Bon, of Robert le Magnifique and William the Conqueror —in that spirit of enthusiasm which one needs to spend a week in Rotten in order thoroughly to understand. Then Dr. Spence writes of the Norman Dukes with great tender- ness for humanity, especially for strong Viking humanity. His chapter on "The Vanishing Away of the Normans" —they did a great work not only in England, but in France and Italy, and then disappeared in the sense of being absorbed—gives the adequate amount of emphasis to a too little regarded branch of a great and fascinating subject. The Dean of Gloucester finds himself, as it ought to be unnecessary to say, thoroughly at home in the second part of his book, for in it he tells the story of the Abbey of Gloucester itself. The numerous illustrations of this book, which are executed by Mr. Herbert Railton, greatly enhance both the charm and the value of a book which has- been evidently a labour of love, and on which Dr. Spence is
very heartily to be congratulated.
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