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Freud Through Pink Glasses
Margaret Widdemer Delves Into Dark
Places Smilingly in "The Boardwalk"
By Heywood Broun ]
The seaside community of which
Margaret Widdemer writes in "The '
Boardwalk" (Harcourt, Bruce & Howe)
is at least kin to Sherwood Anderson's
"Wim'sburg, Ohio." But though each
writer finds similar counts against '
small town life, the treatment is vastly j
different. Mis3 Widdemer is a senti?
mental Freudian. Often one feels that |
she is searching out and revealing com- :
plexes only that she may show how one j
touch can make everything right again. '
Her remedy for persons beset and bur- '
dened by a numbing love is a little
more love, after the practice of the
Alpine monks, who rub a frozen trav?
eler with snow to revive him.
Her observations fall more regularly
Into the form of fiction than those of
Sherwood Anderson. SJie has a feeling
and a gift lor plot. It seems to us
that her first narrative, "The Change?
ling," might have been a short story of
the very first rank with a little more
skillful treatment. In it she has told
with a great deal of skill and imagina?
tion the tale of a vivid young girl in a
humdrum household who is devitalized
suddenly and completely when her
father discovers her kissing a young
beau and sends him about his business
?with a fierce flood of unbridled, angry
words. The mann../ in v>hich the shock
and shame of this incident tend to dis?
tort the girl's whole life and transform
her from an amazingly flaming person
to an awkward, bashful, colorless wom?
an is done with a high degree of art.
But the h*?ipy ending is somewhat
strained. The girl's recovery when
young man, years later, asks her to ?
marry him, but of sheer pity, is bung- i
ling in treatment, even though there is ]
sound Freudian sanction for belief in,
On the whole it is probably an excel?
lent thing that sentimental fiction is j
beginning to take account of Freud
and his theories. After all. the per- :
sons who are most likely to need some
knowledge of the possibility of devas?
tation in emotional subservience aie :
sentimental. Miss Widdemer can reach
them through such a book as "The I
Boardwalk," while Sherwood Ander- '
son would only freeze them in horror
with his "Winesburg, Ohio." More- '
over, if there is ever an excuse for
sentimentality it might well be found ,:
in the amazing resurrection which can
come to a dead soul through under-1
We find Miss Widdemer's de'erence
for the young aristocrat in her story
"Good Times" a little, trying. It irks
us to be told of "the weil groomed
iook of the boy even in his bathing
suit," nor are we impressed by "the
faint, fresh odor of cigarettes and
violet water that was shaken from his
coat." But in spito of this and other
louches which seem to us awry, there
is no getting away from the fact that
Miss Widdemer has a keen insight into
the community of which she writes
and that "The Boardwalk" is based on
observation. Moreover, she has an
agreeable gift for story-telling and the
crudeness of much of the book may,
perhaps, be set down as incidental,
since this is on the whole a worth?
while volume in n field still sparsely
explored by fictionists.
We have received from Brentano's
"The Wisdom of Woodrow Wilson." It
is a small book which can be carried
in a vest pocket.
Although W. H. Hudson's "Far Away
and Long Ago" (Dutton) has been out
for more than a year, we cannot re?
frain from taking occasion onco again
to recommend it to our readers. We
don't see why we should keep silent
about it simply because it is not new.
Our position is not unitke that of the
man who had never tasted or even
heard of alcoholic beverages until he
.'?us fifty years old', '.hen', by chance,
he was suddenly induced to try a large
seidel of dnrk beer. He drained it at
a gulp and, turning to his host with a
rapt look in his eyes, exclaimed, "How
long has this been going on?"
If complaint is made by clergymen
that the present generation is indif?
ferent and impatient toward religion,
the fault sometimes lies in the fact
that it is occasionally presented as a
gospel of defeat and despair. From the
Fleming H. Revell Company we have
received a book by John Henry Jowett,
called "Come Ye Apart," which contains
a prayer for every day in the year.
Under August 13 we find:
"My Father God, save me from de?
pending upon my own resources., Let
me not. lean upon my own understand?
ing. Let me not think myself sufficient
for any task. Draw me to the foun?
tain, ar.d let me abide by the eternal
springs." . . .
We wonder just how far any man
could go in fulfilling his duty toward
his neighbor if he began his August 13
in such a spirit.
A Letter From John Spargo
Moderate Socialist Denies That He
Deserted Free Speech During War
By. John Spargo
I have just read your recent review
of my "Psychology of Bolshevism,"
thanks to the fact that it was re- j
0 printed In the local evening newspa?
per. Since so much of the "review" |
has to do, not with my book, but with ?
what you assume to have been my rao- ;
rrives in writing it and what you allege
to have been my conduct, you will per?
haps pardon me if I try to remove some
You say: "He grows less logical ?
when he tries to explain why he as?
sailed the suppression of free speech
m Russia but refrained from criticiz?
ing what he regarded as suppression in
this country." It would be very inter?
esting to near from you just where
in the book tinder discussion I "explain
why" I "assailed the suppression of
free speech in Russia," or even ac?
knowledge having done so. 1 believe
. am fairly familiar with the contents
of the Little book. and. to the best of
my knowledge and belief, there ?3 not
a "line or sentence of such explanation
You quote certain words of mine,
descriptive of the position in which
"thousands of liberals and radicals"
found themselves, with the prefatory
remark that you "asBume" that 1 am
explaining my own position. Of that
position you say: "That, of course, it
un entirely logical, although debatable
position." Naturally. Any positior
upon which there was not perfec
unanimity would be debatable. I tool
one side of a very bitter controversy.
Quoting my condemnation of tb<
savagery of many of the sentences im
posed by our courts and the repressioi
policy in general, you say: "... i
seem a fair to assume that he made ;
public protest against these alleged in
justices at the time when he says the
were being committed. But as a mat
ter of fact Mr. Spargo made no sue
protests until a much later date."
"May I not," to quote a great Amer:
can stylist, say to you, Mr. Broui
that "as a matter o? fact" you are er
tirely mistaken? From the beginnin
of the war to date, I have, upon ever
occasion which seemed to me propt
and useful, made public protest again;
these evils. You say that it woul
sni-m to you that 1 "might have pe
formed a highly patriotic duty by sa;
ing 'this and that in the war I wi
aupport and this I will disown.'"
? toes not seem to me that the questic
;s quite as simple as that. In a gre:
war you are either supporting or y<
are not supporting the national caus
Yet, in the main, I think I agree wi'
you. At least, it seemed to me to 1
possible to give whole-souled suppo
to the war while disavowing, and ev?
actively opposing, certain dangero'
and reactionary policies connected wi
1 the war and its conduct. Thi , to tl
| best of my light and opportunity, I di
Voj are entirely mistaken in sugget
ing that I have only recently rna.
my protest public.
Since this Is a matter of some it
portar.ee to me?in that I attach co
siderabie importance to having r.
tidelity to a few fundamental pri
ciples known?you will, perhaps, p(
mit me to call attention to a few fa?
which can be easily verified:
1. Quite early in the war- in t
late summer of 1917 - when the Pc
;>le'a Council was being driven fr(
pillar to post and denied the right
bold it? meetings, 1 publicly protest
and denounced oar domestic Prussia
j.*m. In September of that year
writ? from memory) I not only t<>
graphed to Governor Burnquist
Minnesota, protesting against the ot
rageous suppression of frem ?pew
but later repeated my protest in i
presence at Minneapolis in ? public a
iress. Further, I joined In aski
President Wilson to use his influer)
to stop such r?pression.
2. When "The .New York Call" w
'iitrr*r\ feom the mailing privileges h?
rjf other papers, I not only mad? r
iT'f'Att publicly In many ftddrstfi
but also direc'iy to Mr. Burleson a
to President Wilson, I have repeat??;
done this In connection with otfa
%. la publie addresses given ta ma
cities, on many occasions, I have de?
nounced the sort of thing condemned in
my book. I am sure that a reference to
the files of papers in cities like Roch?
ester, N. Y.; Hartford, Conn.; Cleve?
land, Ohio, and other cities, would bear
out this assertion. I remember, for ex?
ample, that my appeal in Hartford for
open discussion, and my condemnation
of the policy of repression, created
something of a sensation, and was
played up in big headlines. I remem?
ber this instance because of the tor?
rent of abuse to which I was later sub?
jected by writers in many parts of the
4. I have again and again, in public
speech and in writing, condemned the
atrocious sentences upon Mrs. Stokes,
Mr. Debs, and others. I have done this
the more readily because I disagreed
with them. Free speech has always
meant to me freedom for the side I do
not agree with.
5. I inclose herewith two speeches
of mine, delivered when the spirit of
repression was most rampant. I ask
you to look over the marked passages
of these--especially that delivered be?
fore the Cleveland City Club ? and
then decide whether your critique
seems to you to accord with the facts.
6. While, for reasons set forth in
the little book, I have not believed I
'? could make "effective public protest"
i by joining in the various demonstra
i tions and movements carried on by an
| archists, pacifists, pro-Germans and
'> so on, I have at all times very deflnite
! iy set myself on record. My protests to
1 the President of the United States and
! to the Department of Justice have been
as definite and strong as I could make
i 7. In the case of the proceedings
against the Rand School, I volunteered
, to go to New York at my own expense
; to give testimony on its behalf.
Pardon this very long personal letter.
As a rule I do not pay attention to book
reviewers?feeling that h?; a book re?
viewer I can afford to ignore them. But
when you seek to fasten a sort of
"pussyfoot" legend upon me I cannot
refrain from protesting.
In reply to the second paragraph of
Mr. Spargo's letter we refer him to
pages '?? to 28 of "The 'Psychology of
Dr. Hadley Urges
Lives of Service
THH MORAL BASIS OP DEMOCRACY
By Arthur Twining Hadley. Yalo Unl
; verslty Pre*?, Now Havi n.
Service, unselfish and whole-hearted
' service, is the note which President
Hadley strikes most insistently in this
collection of Sunday morning talks to
j Vale student? and graduates. In an
address entitled "The Honor of the
Service" he points out that every busi
j ness and professional man owes his
?country a debt of service fully as
? sacred, although le?? tangible, than
i that of tho West Point or Annapolis
?graduate. The modern commercial
i world, unlike the army and navy, does
? not have a sharply and clearly defined
code of ethjea, but this circumstance
only makes it more, incumbent upon
the merchant or lawyer to look upon
his life work as an opportunity for
service, not as an opportunity for
An element of Christian idealism
I runs through President Hadley's
; thought and finds special expression in
?such addresses as "The Christian
? Standard of Succeas," "The Good Fight
of Faith" and "The Personality of
Jesu?." Two or three of the talks were
delivered after America's entranco
Into the war, and they breathe a spirit
of robust and compelling faith in the
righteousness of the Allied cause.
President Hadley's book expresses
sturdy, old-fashioned American ideals
in a lucid and pleasing style. It de?
serves and will doubtless attain the
powilarity of bit earlier works.
Drawing by K. A. f?'imuchlan.
? ' ' ?"- ' ' '-??* ? ? . I .. , , - , -
Philosophy of Maeterlinck
Adventures of the Belgian Mystic in
Realms of Fourth Dimension of Thought
By Benjamin De Casseres
The King of the Belgians goes; the
king of Belgian mystics comes. Both
have made their sublime gesture-?one
with the sword, the other- with the
pen. Maurice Maeterlinck, like Albert,
is already one of the immortals.
There is a fourth dimension of
thought. There are rare moments in
life when the latencies of the soul con?
verge and blend in a transient state of
consciousness; when the trickling
stream of thought gushes over the ob?
structing delta of Space, Time and Cir?
cumstance and mingles with the in?
finite sea beyond. It is at such mo?
ments that we catch glimpses of things
that threaten sanity. We are dazzled
by an influx of light, of knowledge.
Personality d%vindles to an infinitesimal
point. We see ourselves objectively, as
independent objects in space and time,
like the clock ticking on the shelf or
the moon in the sky. We have a feel?
ing that we have been everywhere, hut
no particular where. We grope back
to the terrestrial, glad to perform the
most humble task, rejoicing that the
ego has not been lost in that momen?
tary vision of infinite Being.
In that shining other-world whose
pulsating waves flow through the braitr
cells like light passing through crystal
dwell the gods of life, the fates that
dominate our lives. Inflexible, imper
turbablo, seeing but not feeling, hold
ing within their grasp the threads o
human destiny?the silken threads tha
hold our souls in leash?these muii
gods rule for aye. They understan?
and mock. They hear, but their lips ar
curled in scorn. The Greeks placet
them on Olympus, the Scandinavians it
Asgard, and Maeterlinck places them i?
the fourth dimension of thought.
There are some choice spirits
among whom we number the Belgia
mystic?who seem to have lived al
their lives in this subtle sphere. The
walk the earth and their feet are claj
out their "heads are ranged with th
stars. Their lungs are forever ir
flated with a divine ether. We littl
(vork-a-day beings who run aroun
their legs like mice around the base t
the Colossus of Rhodes draw in th
miasmatic vapors of planetary life an
are content. We sit in chairs and stai
at a blank wall; they sit before s
open door. Our vision is bounded I
the horizon; for them there is r
horizon. We listen to the gutter
of external life; they catch the vibri
tions of law and report the ebb ar
flow of aeons.
The materialist places his mind
the universe; the mystic places tl
universe in his'mind. Plotinus, Scho
enhauer, Emerson, Maeterlinck we ci
hardly think of as ordinary mortal
They seem with us, but not of us. r.
come under the influence of their clni
voyant gaze, to follow them in the
vertiginous flights above the striati
world of matter and motion is to e
perience simultaneously those sens
tions of exaltation and depressiv
which one feels in rising in a balloon
a sinking at the heart, a lightness
the head. There is a sundering of t
ligatures that bind us to the familii
The centripetal forces tug at our f?
and the centrifugal forces tug at o
head. The clogging clay wars agair
the smiling-sneering stars that su
mon from overhead. The welding re
tive is lost in a solvent absolute. T
individual withers and his soul is mc
and more. As a particle of salt is d
solved in water, so is a particular f?
dissolved in its eternal. Idea in st
hours. The succession of days a
nights collapses like a portable drinki
cup. Timo dwindles to a point, mat'
runs to fluid wastes, the stable t
moors and drifts away like cloud fie?
over a level summer sea.
The world is my thought is the,m
sage of "Wisdom and Destiny." 1
Belgian's soul has been touched
some divine despair. But he has fou
surcease within. He has diked his st
against the encroaching, flooding da
and reclaimed from the wild and It
less sea of circumstance a verdi
Und of beauty. Like Kubla Khan,
has decreed a lordly pleasure house
a mystic Xanadu. From tho gran
wall of limitations he has hewn
castle with turrets forever bathed
an opiate moonshine and around wh
the eagles circle and call.
The world passes through his br
and even the dross is purified. He \
see beauty in a beetle on tho wall,
will catch the days with their gri
and the nights with their lamentatii
and extract the beautiful as gold
extracted from the mud in the p
For the soul of tho seer is alcher
He will turn compost into beaten g<
He will refine smudge and smut. Fi
the lees of the wine of pleasure he i
brew a heady wisdom. He has an e
band at his beck and call. They la
by day and night in the smithy of
unconscious being. Thoro they io
tho weapons for his conscious hoi
There they mold helmet and sh
arid panoply. His mind is a drag
and all is fish that comes to it. "'
Bluebird" is a drama of unfleshed
We are bolder than we know
_.?*? .-.;.?- _i .1 - _.. A- *l_ ~_111
the Invisible. We are wiser than we
know, and our wisdom outruns the
centuries. Each man is ah epitome of
all men. Every bottom is a false bot?
tom. What we call limitation is lack
of perception, and when we say wo are
undone we mean we have capitulated.
For the seer?for Maeterlinck?there
are no limitations, and capitulation
they do not know. They build the
world anew every day. Each night
they slough off a limitation. Each day
they build a house, but they move
perpetually. They baffle the best laid
plans of demons and gods by meeting
demon and god halfway. The slings
and arrows of fortune pierce their
souls, but the tips are anointed with
chrism of wisdom. They dice with
life in death, as does the grief crazed
mortal, but they play with loaded dice.
They have lived imaginatively all men's
lives and fear no disaster.
Maeierlinck would have us know we
cannot escapo the predestined. To?
morrow is a curtained seduction, but it
stands sure. The last day shall reveai
what the first day purposed. The years
walk a lock?tep. Each thing breeds its
own raannei of death. And the trumr
of doom shall reveal the meaning o;
the prelude in Chaos, The individua
is held in the rigid grooves of fate
and what is to be will come. An;
other doctrine is blasphemous, or
worse, ridiculous. We are gibbeted or
Law. We are spitted on the Inevitabli
and our souls dangle over Chaos.
It is good that to most of us th"
future is a sealed book. The past i
! ever changing in the kaleidoscope o
memory; the future alone is irrevoca
ble. The day of our dsath is ap
pointed, and life itself is but an obla
tion to death. On the altars of th
Hours we offer ourselves up. The sot
is but an eddy- in the great world
stream, and the eddy has its appointe
| end as surely as the stream. ? min
that could have grasped the links i
the chain of causation of which Lir
coin, the Civil War and Wilkes Boot
were but the shadows could have pr
dieted at Lincoln's birth the tragedy i
i History is Force dressed up. Tl
curvetings of Law are beyond tho ii
I dividual stay, and the manner of tl
death of nations ?b dependent on tl
manner of their birth. We are pu
pets on an unknown stage, infusor
gyrating aimlessly in an unsound?
sea, midges sporting our day in tl
' sun of thought, atoms of desire, mot
: of the Eternal Energy. And M;
bloweth where Law liateth. So Maete
The great problem of human evil h
j confronted Maeterlinck, as it has co
: '"ronted Tolstoy and Ibsen. But t!
demands of the Sphinx cannot ruf
the feathers of the Belgian as it h
that of the Norwegian and the Ru
! sian. A mild but effulgent seren?
swims from the pages of his lat
plays and from "Wisdom and Destin
and "The Treasure of the Humbh
The misery, the evil, the injustice
the world trouble him as the win
j trouble the sea. They may lash t
surface into huge, tumbling billow
but in the dephths there reigns a ter
placidity. Serenity is born of insig
and insight must beget a contempt
the temporal order?that order beg
in desire and which is destined to e
| l? dostmir.
"To-day misery is the disease
mankind, as disease is the misery
mankind," says Maeterlinck. M
tosses around on his bed of pain a
his prayers are hurled back as ec
from the stars. He builds and
builds and his work is swept away 1
the beaver's dam. His soul, i
pounded in clay, wriggles toward fr
dorn only to discover that it has b<
wriggling out of a straitjacket int?
winding sheet. He builds a grandi
to-morrow on the ruins of to-day, ?
when to-morrow has corne and g<
j and turned ghost he builds again.
i Golden Age always lies in the futt
; He builds altar and cap?tol and dc
cates his soul to prayer. He su
1 and begs and defies and grovels, i
death circles like a kite above his cl
He believes he is going straight
his goal, straight to that far off div
event which Hope has builded in
azure future. But there is no i
ward or backward in life. Nature
no straight lines. Rhythm, nndi
tion, periodicity are the laws t
govern motion. The history of
dny is the history of all days, and
?<"ho builds on the shifting sands
the temporal builds futilely.
It Is this Heraclltean vision
human life that has obsessed the ?
of Maeterlinck. It 1b this Horla 1
has gripped bis soul in its lean
icy fingers. In those strange li
dramas, that ho has given us, and wl
are a fitting introduction to his "\
dorn and Destiny," we rend the ren<
conflicts that have cleft tho soul
this transcriber of visions.
Are they human, these peaked
emaciated figures that he has
houetted on his background of rfif
The moral world is but a thin c
that has formed over tho rolling
streams of elemental passion,
wan. drawn figures of the plays ?;
I upon this dangerous surface unmindful
i of the intoning flood beneath. Is it
play??or are the antics of these
' creatures the death-squirmings of a
j decadent race? A fetid air blows from
i the surface of life. Is this endless
' and purposeless gambol in Being an
j illusion, a dream rn the mind of a
I fallen god who sates himself with
sleep while his brain-puppets play out
the farce ? The willful days, that "?age
our despair, bring no answer. Those
pallid lights set in a naked, frosty
heaven have no word for us. Ine
soul of man preserves a crypthke
silence, like the old man in "P?lleas
et \l?lia"nde." His heart wreathes
Hope with the bayleaf and crowns
Memory with thorns. But it has no
answer. Our brain cells are catacombs
where lie our ancestors embalmed in
silence. They answer not.
The web of life is woven of con
! tingency and necessity, and the In
! evitable and the unknown ambuscade
! us at every turn. This endless willing,
! this eternal upswirl of souls from the
j abysms of nonbeing into the glare
?of a frowsy day; this ceaseless re
! galvanizing of corpses; these ambling,
jigging mummies that are tossed from
Eternity into Time and from Time
back into Eternity; these sweating
I packmules saddled with the rubbish jf
i decayed cycles and ancient durations;
these crumbling tabernacles of clay,
some demons, striated with their sins;
some saints, dragging ball and chain of
ancestral crime up -the steep Cordil?
leras of aspiration) young gods with
unexpected wings, predestined for
Walhalla, toiling in the galleys of this
Toulon; Calibans wallowing in the
gutters that rut their imaginations;
and never an end?the same, the same
and ever the same?how shall we fend
: ourselves 'gainst this "wreckful siege"^
'? asks Maeterlinck.
It is in his soul that he has found
the refuge against the world of cir
' cumstancea. The problem ?3 individual
Social schemes for tho regeneration o!
mankind only aggravate the diseas.
from which mankind is suffering. Th<
j deep-rooted ills of the soul cannot b?
; cured by a poultice. "We suffer littli
from sufferings itself; but from th<
; manner wherein we accept it over
: whelming sorrow may spring." This i
the keynote of hHs message. Menta
attitude is everything. The gale tha
wrecks the sneak-box fills the sails o
the barkentine and drives her towar*
i her goal. The trifles of the day un
nerve most of us. The wise man quiet
ly ignores them. Suffering is one-hal
self-love and one-half hallucinatior
? Hallucination is the normal state c
\ num. He makes up his mind in yout
to whimper, and whimper he does t
the end of his days. It is the futur
that affrights him; he puts into a hype
thetical to-morrow all the ills that fles
is not heir to. From the murk of hi
dreams he weaves strange and luri
i imps of evil. What is this future w
fear? Is is anything but a psych
jack o' lantern ? The future is th
avatar of the past, yesterday resu:
rected and expanded. Old Time wit
a visor on his cap to hide his idenity.
For the seer there is only an etenli
Present that canopies both the pa:
and the future. What didn't happe
yesterday never can happen. What
not feared never comes. He drains tl
minutes of their contents as they pas
He substitutes the abstract for the coi
fr?te and plashes in generalization
No time, nor place, nor circunistam
can hold him. He knows that, lil
Faust, he will be lost if he bid ar
one thing stay.
The vision of Maeterlinck is cosmi
He does not contend against evil; 1
rejects it by accepting it. He liv
above the stews. From his citadel
spiritual power he sends forth his dov
and they come back laden with precio
secrets. His soul paces the rampai
of Time and Space. He will partake
all things, but nothing shall claim hi
He is receptive, but unallied. There
in the soul of each of us, Maeterlin
!"!!s us, a repellent center, a mn;
flame 'round which the moths of <?
rumstance circle only to singe thi
wings or be consumed. Gusty chan
but flings the lire that burns in t
chalice of the sou-1 further and furti
into the encircling gloom. The w:
man stands upon the marge of t
great ocean of life and fixes his gn
ujfon the tumbling, seething, unduli
ing waters that stretch away to
illusive horizon. His ear catches 1
hoarse callings of expectancy and t
deep gutturals of defeat, and at
foot there circle and surge the wn
of an endless, futile labor. He is i
disturbed. He sees, as no man se
the tragedy, the comedy, the inutil
of it all. Darkness he sublimes
light, despair he transmutes into
stoic defiance. The average person a
from an angle of personality. The s?
sees from an impersonal center. T
world will fawu at his feet when
In the august and significant alien
of the soul, says Maeterlinck, is b
the wisdom that baffles destiny. Ph
ical pain must cower before the em
cipated mind. Was it not Socrates \
discoursed on immortality while he i
stiffening in death? Did not Epicu
in his mortal agony preach the st
mum bonum to his disciples? Th
silent refugees that disease and de
; stormed in vain were wrought out
j the spirit-sweat of cloistral hours; i
j here, in these darkling recesses of
; soul, in the oncellod silences, that
? real work of freedom is done; it is V
I that rest is won from the clangor
! days, and the balm that was not
j Gilead is found.
We reach these uplands of the sp
by infinite petty exertions, by thr?
ing our way through the labyrintl
? passes of whim and impulse. All thi
i conspire against the individual. TV
| is a Nemesis that seeks continuall;
! level us to the mediocre. Those
! cients, the Vulgar and the Famil
: would scythe us to their own sts
; ards. We are kneaded in the com:
' image, and our days are gross. We
i relics of the dead, effigies of the r.
playthings of ancestral tendency.
? things pay tribute to the shee
slumbering dead. Yet there is wi
us the spark that will not be snu
out. It is the I, the resistant cer
tho^undying defiant. It is by deve
ing the Ego, by an insistent codd
of Me, that we attain to a sor
Buddhahood. The adolescent Hon
culus of Faust was Maeterlinck's o
man in the ovum. The Infinite is
den in an atom, and the freeman
?vuescent in the slave. Housed
kenneled in our brains there is a
mio Self, a greater, grander, univt
Self, distinct and other than the
lucinated microcosm that skulks
whimpers through the bogey-bogus
Maeterlinck gives us no cowi
message. Flight is not self-mas
and the world cannot be subdue
the individual's will by shunning
blows. We master fate as the Japa
wrestler bests his opponent?by gi
way at every ooint. We should
battle; we should absorb. There i
way yet found of escaping the ill
life. The world is a counsel of in
fection. The trammel and tbe '
are not rejected by the seer. He i
have ballast. There is no back s
to the seventh heaven of spiritual
rlacency. Ho knows the cr?pus?
mood, and the whirring pinions oi
Black Bird have brushed his soul.
composition is the law of life,
from remorse and de^priir we
pound the nectars of wisqom. Fe;
brigand, but he carries a t
Snatch the torch and turn it on
face. Beneath the visor which
frightened you there is a ?mile,
scuttle the past. In the measure
a man allows the past to domin?t"
life in that measure will the ft
obsess him. To sit down by the stream '
of Time and weep over the gone-by is
worse than tragic; it is comic Embalm
the past in a smile.
Spinoza said: "Nothing shall disturb
me," and nothing did. Pyrrb" said:
"Nothing is true; nothing is untrue,"
and he died in peace. Marcus Aurelius
said: "Nothing matters," and nothing
did. "The world is divine," chanted
1 Emerson, and he was right. "The
world is evil and smells of grave
mold," said Schopenhauer, and he was
right. "Life is like a comedy by Mo?
li?re," said George Meredith. And
Meredith was right. Maeterlinck has
uttered "Yea" to all these men.
Each brain ia a premise. Everything
depends on the point of view; but
there are points of view that are
eternal and insisted on by the strong
men of the earth with profound irisight
from age to age.
Maeterlinck Is par excellence the man
of his time. His evolution has been,
from his first book of poems to his
later dramas, an evolution from the
mysticism of moods to the mysticism
of Walt Whitman and Nietzsche. Like
Goethe, he calls for more light?and to
the torch of consciousness he has him?
self added a few giant sparks.
By a French Scholar
BOtySHBVIK RTJ8BIA. By Etienne An?
tonelli. Alfred A. Knopf, New York.
Professor Antonelli, a distinguished
sociologist and economist, preserves in
l/rge measure the scholar's objectivity
of viewpoint even in dealing with such
a highly controversial subject as Bol?
shevism. The author served as a
French officer during.the war; he was
wounded at the Western front and
received the Croix de Guerre. Be?
tween him and the men who signed the
Brest-Litovsk peace there is naturally
an impassable gulf. But it must be
reckoned to his credit that he is
able'to base his criticism of the Bol?
shevik r?gime upon fact and not upon j
fiction, that he is able to retain the j
fine scientific instinct for truth even j
in discussing men whose actions and
principles he loathes.
Readers who feel that Russia should
supply an occasional variation to Will?
iam S. Hart's thrilling performances
on the motion picture sereen will be
disappointed in M. Antonelli's work.
Although he spent nearly a year in
Petrograd and Moscow as military
attach? to the French Embassy he has
few exciting personal adventure? to
relate. In fact,, he declares that there
were fewer robberies in Petrograd un?
der the Bolshviki than in Paris during
the pre-war period. The practise of
summarily shooting looters, instituted
by the soviet authorities, proved a
considerable aid in maintaining order.
In fact, the author found Bolshevism
in practise the very reverse of chaos.
It was rather a state of calm and
M. Antonelli describes the person?
alities of the Bolshevik leaders. Of
Trotzky, he says:
"Tall, slender, with bright, intelli?
gent eyes, with a nose arched above
a large and voluptuous mouth, an enor?
mous head of black, tangled hair, a
little Mephistophelian goatee beneath
a smooth shaven face, Trotzky, full of
importance and very active in a dis?
orderly but intelligent way, is an ex?
He describes Lunacharsky, the Bol?
shevik Minister of Education, as fol?
"With the thin, emaciated profile of
a, Slav Christ, mild, mystical eyes and
a gentle mind, which has more of art
than of strength of will, he is one of
tho most attractive types of the group."
The author contends that the Bolshe
viki gained and maintained their power '
by a mixture of duplicity, audacity and
demagoguery. By constantly outbid?
ding their political exponents they won
over enough popular support to accom?
plish the November revolution. They
successfully resisted all attempts to
oust them, partly by ruthlessly employ?
ing the machinery of government which
they had taken over against their ene?
mies, partly by spreading disinte?
grating propaganda among the war
weary troops whom the conservative
leaders vainly attempted to marshal
At the time when M. Antonelli left
Russia, in May. 1918, the "Red" army
had not come into existence and the
civil war was still an opera bouffe af?
fair, in which there was a good deal
more talking than'fighting. The author
does not discuss the developments of
the last eighteen months and the trans?
formation of the miserably organised
"Red" Guards into a formidable mili?
tary machine. So far as it goes, how?
ever, the work is excellent. It contains
far more fact and far less fancy than I
may be found in most books on the sub- |
ject. And at the present moment, when I
Bolshevism has achieved at least a tern-1
porary triumph within the old Russian !
Empire, it is fact rather than fancies
that we need.
Study of Christian
Efforts in Field
a rnrncH ybar book op sociai, |
JVSTICE3. Compiled by the Socioty of
tho Companions of the Holy Cross. E.
P. Outton & Co., New York.
This year-book is an attempt to sug- |
gest the piny of Christian and Catholic \
thought down the centuries on the !
great principles of social justice which
preoccupy the mind of to-day. The !
plan adopted, in making up this book, j
considers the social significance of
each great season, and in addition ?
usually takes the keynote for each j
week from the appointed epistle and
gospel, introducing the week with brief
devotions from the same source. :
These quotations are supplemented j
with efforts from the writings of i
Christian authors and statesmen of '
several centuries and they indicate the i
development of social justice. The
society has made excellent selections
from a host of religious works and
has edited a thoroughly practical
church manual. W. M. T.
MODERN PALI?S MANAGEMENT. Bv .T.
George Frederick. D. Appieton &. Co
Tho growth of modern business has
brought about a radical change in the
function of the salesmanager. For?
merly the chief requirements for this
position were selling ability, personal
magnetism, the capacity to inspire
salesmen with an abundance of "pep."
Now actual contact with salesmen and
customers has been reduced to a mini?
mum, and the salesmanager has be?
come primarily an organizer and an
executive, visualising the scope of his
business upon a large scale rather than
concentrating his attention upon petty
details. Mr. Frederick gives a thor?
ough analysis of the responsibilities of
sales management, concluding his book
with a description of a "selling cam?
paign," which gives an excellent idea
of the practical features of such an
activity. The work is almost unique in
its field and should prove interesting
to huslness man from many angle?.
Mr. Raupert Attacks
Ouija Board Evils
I THE NEW BLACK MAGIC. By J. God- I
frey Raupert. The Devln-Adalr Com- I
pany. New York.
A complete condemnation of spirit?
ism and its trappings, the ouija board,
planchette and other machinery of
necromancy, as enemies of moral and
spiritual good health, is the message
of the author of "The New Black
Magic." Mr. Raupert, a former mem?
ber of the British Society for Psychi?
cal Research, has written on spiritism
previously, but this latest book con?
siders the question from the stand?
points of science, history and re?
ligion. It Is an answer to the writ?
ings of Sir Oliver Lodge and Sir Conan
Modern science claims that it has
a "new revelation" in its ability to
receive supposedly reliable communi?
cations from the spirits of departed
human beings, Mr. Raupert says, and
' the truth is that Orientals claimed the
same accomplishment centuries ago;
then it was called black magic. He j
represents Lodge and Doyle as spokes- I
? men of this class of scientists. The
reasoning and spiritual powers of these j
men have been numbed, the author |
says, by overpractice of the very phe ? j
nomena they think they have disclosed i
to an ignorant world.
The argument sets forth the disap- j
proval with which the Roman Catholic
Church regards all efforts to com- |
municate with spirits. All sides of j
the question are repudiated by careful ?
, references the author has selected ?
from histories, scientific books and !
the Bible. The attack made upon all !
the branches of black magic is, there- !
fore, a strong one.
Mr. Raupert has also included a
chapter on the ouija board, in which
he denounces the ouija as a very great
danger of innocent and fascinating ap?
pearance. Two classes have taken up
the ouija fad, he says; those who con?
sider it a toy, and those who have
come to believe in it after it has
chanced to reveal some Dettv .
The dangers of ouija ??S tr??
threefold; tho mind is mad, "' W
the will is destroyed and ?Lfi.**^
pendent thing and the nerve.,' *
fected His own experiment,' 5
ou.ja board have proved to t?m.?k
it has never been found pa??LS
conclusively identifv the nil- *
spirit communicating; ihat th ^
sages are for the most part fril ,8*,
contradictory and intellectualk?^
less, and that there is a ???
effect upon the brain, the mor?*8*
the health of the experimento/"? *
_J. M. T.
"The Beloved Sinner"
Laeking in Interest
THE RET.OVEn SINNER n, ?
Bwete Macnamara .; 1? \, R?el.'
?sons. New 1'ork. u?'?tns
"The Beloved Sinner" achieves *\
inevitable failure of a work that r?
fuses to be either fish, flCsh or fow
When a present-day novelist disdain
to Weave more than a rudiment?
plot, and is content to record yet an??
the familiar lives of familiar "folk ,,,
may be Thought to have indicated
certain earnestness of purpose. Tk
ultimate validity of any and all |jf'
and her own presentation are to gj
her through. Miss Macnamara. how
ever, fails, in her superficial notatioi
of aspects, physical and spiritual, U
compensate for her rejection of the ir,
forest of a story. Her realism end? if
being ?true to life.? Where Archibald
Marshall, working in the same genera
material?an English country rectory
has, by an intense presentment of ac?
tuality, produced a successful realit
tic novel. Miss Macnamara has 0nl'
attained a specious smoothness of tei
ture, born of long practice in the me
dium. It was perhaps this same mis
taken idea of realism that caused he
transgressor to commit no more sen
ous crime than the running-up of t
heavy dressmaker's bill. Upon this arc
made to hang, in very obvious dijpr?.
portion, repentance, confession, for?
im ? ?? iiiii i.il ????? ? il M.h illinium.linn ni n ill lili HMI?lUIIIIUIIIIIIIKIIII
"AS ABSORBING AS A ROMANCE'
A BOOK OF PERSONALITIES
By ISAAC F. MARCOSSON
Author of "Peace and Business," "The Rebirth of Russia," "S. 0. S.
America's Miracle in France" "The Business of War," etc.
PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS, LETTERS AM
OTHER HUMAN DOCUMENTS
8vo. Cloth, $4.00 net.
Gifted with sympathetic vision, rare insight and
keen sense of the dramatic, Mr. Marcosson has mad
this intimate history of the Big Men and Women of on
day as absorbing as a romance. The book abounds i
humor, anecdote and rare revelations.
JOHN LANE CO. Publishers NEW YORK
lllilllllllllllillilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllhl: .1 i > .;; um.-1 m iiillllllllllUtllll
Six Years' Experience in Automatic Communication
By HESTER TRAVERS SM?TH
With an Introduction by Sir Wm. F. Barret. F. R. S., $2.00
Mr. Henry Holt, in the forthcoming new edition of hia standard work, "Oor
Cosmic Relations," writes: "Of books on Involuntary Writing 1 know no?
superior to Mrs. Travers Smith's 'Voices from the Void.' The book boib
down ?a active and varied experience of six yeara into it hundred mod?r?t?
pages, and it is all very interesting as well as instructive and suggeative."
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degrees of usefulness to the lay reader. This is one of only four to receive
the distinction of three stars.
4?V'?%? E.P.DUTTON & CO. TUJftff
By Sir EDWARD GREY
Few of the millions who breathlessly read of Sir Edward Grey*! efforts to
keep Europe from war could have thought of the man whose career **J
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United States as an authority on Fly Fishing. Yet his expression of the
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Mr. Colum's Version
Of Old Fairy Tale
THH ("URL WHO SAT BY THE ASHES.
By Pmirale Colum. Tho Macmlllan
Company, New York.
In this tale of the girl who tended
her goats until chance, her own un?
assuming virtues and tho help of a
kindly fairy made her the hrida of the
king's son Mr. Colum has created a
charming variant of the Cinderella
story which has long entertained safH '
pleased children all over the world.
The author has preserved the essen?
tial features of the original tale?tho
exacting stepmother, the haughty
stepsisters, the potent old woman, who
is charmed by the little girl's kind?
ness and courtesy. But Mr. Colum's
work has distinctive individual merits.
It is characterized by a constant play
of whimsical fancies and by notable
poetic beauty. Best of all, the author
has preserved the spirit of childhood
throughout. "Tire Girl Who Sat by the
Ashes" is never prosy or bookish; it
is always ndnntod to the enjoyment ;
snd understanding of the little folks j
for whom it is written. Tho charm
of Mr. Colum's story is enhanced by
Dugald Stewart Walker's quaint and
fantastio illustrations. I
4? Mr. Moody tells his ****'
he reveals Africa as throat* *
oanoramic camera, anpmW?
times in its fierceness and U$ ^
igery, in its tropic grandeur **
<n its overwhelming m.??"*
Ha? Bobb.-M.rrill Co., f*V&*