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New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, May 14, 1922, Image 54

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The Sunday Tribune's News and Reviews of Books and AuthoH
A Bookmaii's Day Book
By Burton Rascoe
LTJNCHED with Otto Livcright, who was perturbcd by my irrevcretit
attitude toward psycho-analysis. I told him I thought it was prob?
ably a good thing that popular interest had been created in the
ideas about mind, hahit. personality and conduct which Hippocrates,
Plato, Plotinus, Paracelsus and the early churchmen knew and expounded
centuries ago, and that many unresourceful critics were doubtless grateful
to Freud for a new set of cliches such as "process of identification,"
"wish fulfillment" and ho on, which relieve mind of the tedium of thinking,
but that I thought there was too much unnecessary noise about the subject.
And, so far as I could see. I said, no one I knew who had heen "psyched"
had been appreciably bettered by it. "They all tell me they have derived
great benefit from it, but when I ask them: What benefits? they are rather
vague about them. These benefits, I suspect, are largely convcrsational.
The sort of people who used to tell how they were operated upon for
appendicitis or how they finally got their livers Into good condition, now
tell how psycho-analysis made new men or women out of them. Yesterday
ic was rhythmic breathing that gave them something to talk about, to-day
it Is psycho-analysis, and to-morrow it will be their thyroid and pituitary
glands." "But I know a man who was saved from suicide by a psycho
analyst," said Otto. "And I know a man who was saved from suicide by
a Brooklyn policeman and another who was saved from suicide by a
defectivc hemp cord. That provea nothing. All that the psjfcho-analyst
could offer your man was hope and reassurance, and that much any
?ympathetic friend could offer. It is probably the highest. justification of
psycho-analysis that it is become popular at a time when friendship,
fidelity and other hufnan scntiments are held as a sign of weakness. It
is a compensation, and compensation is an older word than Freud. The
therapeutic value of psycho-analysis lies precisely in the psycho-physical
truth from which arose one of the oldest and greatest institutions of the
Cathoiic Church, the confessional. This truth is that *>ne is rid of the
burden of sin when ho confesses it. It is the same truth which prompts
the mother to say to the child. 'Now, come and tell mamma all about it,
and she shan't punish you for it.' In the slang phrase it is, 'Now that
IVe got that off my chest I feel better.' It used to be called conscience,
and now it ia called 'a complex.' What puzzles me is that so many other?
wise intelligent people have to go through such an interminable rigmarole
to discover these simple things. When an intelligent friend of mine was
about to relate what his psycho-analyst discovered for hira ('brought into
his foreconscious,' as he phrased it), I interrupted him to guess what the
revelation was, and so accurate was I that he was incredulous; but these
things must have been obvious to every one but himself. Still, psycho
analysis may easily become a new religion, for the need of religion is
almost universal, and Freud's adherents may end by deifying him. And
I should be the last to deny any one the consolation of a religion which
meets his needs. Among the tenets of the Freudian creed, even if they
are not yet formulated, are hope, charity, tolerance and sympathy, which
are accepted as principles of the good life, however they are outraged.
I apologizo, Otto, if I have blasphemed your church." . . . Saw Bob
Benchley, Mrs. Benchley and their fine looking young son and I talked
with Horace Liveright, Marion Spitzer, Dorothy Nathan, Franklin Spier
and Susanne Sexton. . . . Pored over the pictures and text to-night.
of "The Outline of Science," which 1s the first of a valuable series of
illustrated books in non-technical language meant to inform the lay
reader of tho sura of knowledge scientists have amassed concerning man
and the universe. This ia a fascinating book which kept me up until long
past midnight. But I am glad that in the pressure of our brief and
harried lives we are all able to forget the heady knowledge that such
books give us. For it would perhaps not be well for us to be reminded
too often of that inconsequence we assume when we realize that the earth
is among the smallest of planets, in a void where stars are so far away
that the light we seo from the nearest of them started on its way to
earth when Homer sang in Greece. Like the imminence of death it is
knowledge we perhaps do well not to dwell upon too frer.nPT.tixr '
MAY 5 <
"DEMAINED at home moat of the day :
and read, Ruth and Robert Wlse
man, the architect, came out in thc
evening and we talked of the a>sthetic
theories of Jay Hambidge, Clive Bell,
Coulson and Henry, and we agreed that
a-sthetic theory is only a mental1
amuaement like metaphysics, valueless
alike to artiat and public. Bob told
me that he had proved by the mathe
matical formula? of Mr. Hambidge that
* tin can and a cortee pot are works
of art. He doean't care for the Munici?
pal Building, which, he aaid, is only
the convential triumphal arch turned
into an office building, and Manhattan
Bridge doesn't interest him as much
as Brooklyn Bridge, which he main
taina has more to commend it. We are
agreed, however, that forgetting ita
wedding cake detail the Woolworth
Building is a triumph of American
architecture. We diacuased the prob
1cm as to just how far the mind is
capable of disassoclating the percep
tion of pnre form from sentimental as
sociations and accumulated experience
and we coneluded that it is probably
impoaaible to attain a complete dis
aaaociation. I confessed that on the
occasion when I derived th? greatest
pleasure from the sight of the Wool?
worth Building (in a blue-gray dawn
when life was Just beginning to stir
ln lower Manhattan) there was mixed
up all sorts of things?sentimentality,
the sense of the infinite and the
triumph of human endeavor and the
building's resemblance to a gigantic
cathedral. After they had gone I read
"Warfare in the Human Body," by
Morley Roberts, whieh I found inter?
esting only in that chapter which has
to do with the origin of therapeutic
bathing. The book is so heavy' with
medical jargon that I found it difficult
to read.
1I7ENT to Prineeton this morning to
apend the wcek-end with Edmund
Wilaon jr. I have seen no university
more ideally locat#d than Prineeton.
It ia isolated and quiet, the landscapes
are beautiful, with rows of poplars and
bloaaoming dogwood, and the buildings
are, almost without exception, a pleas?
ure to the eye ih their adapted Gothic.
While we strolled about the eampus
we apoke of the lack of emphasis
placed in this country' upon the
aehievementa of our scholars and scien-.
tista, such as Michaelson, Millikan,
Breaeted, Couiter, Angell, Saliabury,
our great research workers, philolo
gista, chemiats, physiologists and biolo
giata. I regretted that Professor Gauss,
of the romance language department,
was away, for Wilson had told me how
he had influenefcd, taught and encour?
aged Prineeton undergraduates. It waa
Professor Gauss, he told me, who sent
"This Side of Paradise" to Scribner'a
with a note commending it.
After dinner Wilaon and I walked for
three hours along a country road, talk
ing about Jonathan Swift, whom we
conaider one of the greatest maatera
ot English proae. Wilson related to;
me many facts concerning Swift's life I
with which I waa unacquainted, par- ;
ticularly in regard to hia dealinga with j
Teraple and Bolingbroke. "You were j
wiong," he told me, "when you aaid
that Swift was animated always
by a high regard for truth. He was
inhiblted from telling the truth
i about the church for fear of losing
his income as a minister; end from
telling the truth on all sorts of oc?
casions for fear of losing favor with
his patrons who were in power. He
was a pathetic and tragic man, in
whom so many powerful emotions were
pent up that he was probably driven
insane by them. How much a man of
feeling he waa comes out in his poetry
and in his letters. He played for the
deanshlp of St. Paul's, but to get rid
of him they gave him instead tiie dean
ehip of St. Patrick'a. and he hated Ire?
land. It was out of this embittering
experience that he wrote 'Gulliver's
Travels.'" "But isn't it probable," I
countered, "that his high regard for
justice and truth and the fact that he
was prevented from criticizing certain
things only served to atrengthen hia
satirical gifta? Isn't it probable that
his very geniua, the geniua which
gave us 'Gulliver's Travels,' ?A Cer?
tain Propoaal,' and 'A Tale of a Tub,'
was heightened and aharpened by this
very fact that he was inhiblted in
other dlrectiona?" But Wilaon be
lieves that Swift would have been a
j greater man than he waa had he had
j greater intellectual courage. "At the
; very time when Voltaire and other
; men in Continental Europe were com
batlng prejudice and superstition and
? carrying on the work of human en
' lightenment, Swift was defending the
; dunderheads, playing up to popular
i prejudices, and attacking the cham?
pions of progress with all the sham
shibboleths beloved by the mob. This
only because it gave him raere power
with tho aristocrats he wantedio please.
He must have known that. he was
equipped to play as great a part in
: intellectual history as Voltaire, and
in (.he irony of his defeat in his old
age he must have regretted that he
; did not seize the opportunity." . .
| But here Wilson was arguing from a
? hypothesis which has always seemed
' to me to be merely speculative and
, rather barren, i. e., that had a man
j not done thus and so, and had he done
| this and that, he would have been a
! greater man. Possibly. But the fact
; is that Swift is Swift, a unique and
; powerful personality in English litera
11ure, the creator of some of the rich
I est products of the racial genius. He
might have been a greater force in
; political and economic thought, but
| would he have been a greater literary
I artist? Wilson's notion is like that of
; Van Wyck Brooks in regard to Mark
| Twain. Both Brooks and Wilson are
? scolding these men rather a Mt too
| late, I am afraid, and probably Swift
| and Twain were so constituted that
j they would not have proflted by the
scolding even if they were atill aliye.
TTriLSON and I took another walk
this morning and discuased E. E.
Cumminga'a "The Enormoua Room,"
James Braneh Cabell, Van Vechten,
univeraitiea, the characteristica of the
South and other topica. I told him I
thought certain paasages in "The
Enormoua Room" are notable acbitve
An Invitation?By Gene Markey
Hugh Walpole, the English novclist (in the Current "Bookman",, write* H. L. Mcncken, the critic, to come
and look England over in order to revise hia notions about English novelists and critics
Six Best Sellers
"Saint 7oro.ua." By Henry Sydnor
Harrison (Houghton Mifflin).
"If Winter Comcs." By A. S. M.
Hutchinson (Little, Brown).
"Thc Sheik." Bv Ethel M.
Hull (Small. Maynard).
"The Beautifui anrl Damned." By
F. Scott Pitzgerald (Scribner's).
"Lucretia Lombard." Bv Kathlecn
Norris (Doubleday, Page).
"The Great Prince Shan." By E.
Phillips Oppenheim (Little, Brown).
"The Story of Mankind." By Hen
drik Van Loon (Boni & Live'right).
"Painted Windows." By The Gen
tleman with a Duster (Putnam).
"Diet and Health.'' By L. H.
Peters (Reilly & Lee).
"Parody Outline of History." By
Donuld Otden Stewart (Doran).
"My Memories of Eighty Years."
By Chauncey M. Depew (Scribner's).
"Outlino of Historv" (ono vol?
ume edition). By H. G. Wells (faac
ments in the art of writing, but that
the book shows too many signs of
haste; it has too many meaningless
superlatives and badly used adjectives.
It ie, though, the work of a man with
n strange and interest ing gift for ob
servation. Wilson said that Cummings
seems uncertain in his method, espe
cially in his poetry, sometimes writing
an effective line, only to surround it
with lifeless ones. . . . Returned
to New York in the afternoon and went.
to the Boyds' for tea, where I found
Padraic Cohim, Miss Eleanor Whiting
and Guy Holt. We were talking about
James Joyce. when Padraic said there
were only twelve persons in all Dublin
who are not mentioned in "Ulysses"
and that the book is the size of and
looks like a telephone directory. The
Colums are going to the MacDowell
colony in Peterboro, N. H., where
Padraic plans to write a novel before
returning to Ireland. ... I was
telling them of an article on titles I
planned to write, and mentioned that
tho most perfect title I know of was
Edward Arlington Robinson's "The
Man Against the Sky," saying that
after writing that title tho poem was
superfluoos, because it told or sug
gested all. Padraic offered as a perfect
title "Hamlet, Prince of Denmark," but
I said that told no more than "Smith,
President of the Interboro Ice Cream
Company," and I maintained that
Shakespeare wasn't good at titles, hit
ting the mark only once, in "Love's
Labor's Lost," -which i3n't so very good.
Boyd offered "The Playboy of the
Western World' and Yeats's "Ideas of
Good and Evil," and then Padraic of?
fered a comprehensive one in St.
Thomas Aquinas's "Concerning God
and His Creatures." But I have espe
cially in mind such titles as "The
Vision of Piers Plowman" and "Swee
ney Among the Nightingales," which
are so good they express the whole
mood and content that are to" follow.
| Perhaps the best title I remember, next
i to Robinson's and Eliot's (all of whose
| are good), is Corbiere's La Rapaode
| Forainc et le Pardon de Sainte-Anne,
| which, like "The .Man Against the Sky,"
is a poem in itself. . . . To-night I
j read "Search," a good novel by Mar
| garet Rivers Larminie. It is an objec
j tive study on the same theme which
j so many contemporary novelists have
j treated subjectively?that is to say, it
j is an English "Moon-Calf" or "Road to
| the World," written by a woman who
writes intelligently and well.
?T^HIS morning I hit upon a real de
light, Samuel Eliot Morison's "Mar
itlme History of Massachustetts," a
well documented account of the clipper
ship and whaling days of Salem, New
buryport, Nantucket and Boston. From
this we learn that many of the for
tunes of our best families in New Eng?
land were laid by the most question
able of methods?cheating and smug
ling, piracy, slavery, shanghaing and
even murder. Poor, gullible plowboys
were lured to the sea by dazzling prom
ises and enslaved for life, never get
ting out of debt to their employers,
brutally manhandled, shanghaied from
one ehip to the other, often either to
end aa beaehcombera in Pacific islandi
"The Vanishing Point
By W. H. Chamberlin
Dawson. Cosmopolltan Hook Corpora
derived many spiritual benefits
from the war, but an improved
literary style cannot be listed
among them. In "The Vanishing
Point" h? clearly trespasses on the
preserves of Mr. E. Phillips Oppenheim.
The male characters in the story be
long to thc species of fictional super
man who can settle the destinies of
nations with a wave of the hand;
while the women possess the magical
beauty that can lure men to destruc-1
tion or inspire them to heights of
? ? *
The novel is badly littered up with
unreal stage apparatus. The back
ground of contemporary Europe, tragic
enough in itself, is incredibly twisted
and butchercd to make a melodramatic
holiday. The author ia lavish with
plots, counterplots and espionage.
With an eyo to exotic glamour the
author injects an nllowance of Hindu
blood into his heroine and introduces
We Reco
"E. H. Harriman: A Biography"
(Houghton. MIfflin). By George Ken
nan?Because it is an amazing recital
of epical events in the history of Amer?
ican big business ventures; as being an
intimate and interesting account of a
vigorous, resourceful and unusual per
sonality; and as being a book which
gives the reader, a knowledge of the
way certain political and financial af?
fairs are managed not to be found else
? ? ?
"Mr. Prohack* (Doran). By Arnold
Bennett?As being the mellowest and
moat delightful of all of Bennett's
novels; as being in a way a merging
of the method and manner of "Clay
hanger" and "The Pretty Lady"; and
as being a story you are certain to
? ? ' ?
"The First Million the Hardeat" I
(DoubledayA By A. B. Farquhar?As
being an almost incredibly naive auto
biography of a man who as a boy made ,
up his mind to become a millionaire, in- j
terviewed all the wcalthy men of New
York on the secret of atta^ning great |
wealth, went to work and achieved his
millions; as being a human document
of first rate interest, one which is
wholly and uniquely American.
or as drink-soaked derelicts of the 1
wharfs. Much of the glamour of the !
smoothly trimmed clippcr ships fades
before this recital of inhumanity and
injustice, but they were days also of
epical adventure. . . . To lunch
with Henry and Ann Sell and Miss I
Lucile Buchanan where we talked of
the sculpture of Brancusi, thc pro?
fessional youth 0f John A. Weavcr,
the literary lavishness of Ben Hecht|
and the Russian opera. Henry de
lighted us by observing that he waa
not moved by the "amorous box
cara" of Brancusi.Djuna
Barnes came in this afternoon and told
me a delightful anecdote concerning an
opera singer who, goaded by the im
pertinence of a woman poet whose
teeth were not all intact, suddenly said,
"I should so like to buy you a new set
of teeth." . . . To tea this after?
noon at the home of Olive and T. E.
Mount and met there Wiliam Mc
Fee and Mrs. Terence Holliday. McFee
iB a droll and delightful Scot who is
very deaf. ? He said people fancied that
he had an easy time of it aa a chief
engineer, but that he had to atick close
to hia job or any one of fifty other
men would be ready to step into his
shoes. "Passengers, for some reason,"
he said, "think I am fond of children,
and. they are alwaya turning their ofT
apring over to me. The defects of
training alwaya come out in a child on
the figure of the former Russian Pre?
mier Rerensky into the story.
The characters are all such as never
could conceivably be encountered on
sea or land. There is, first of all, an
American business man, who coneeivcs
the project of buying up all the in?
dustrial resources of Central Europe
in exchange for food. He is attractcd
by pie uncanny beauty of Santa Gor
lof, the half-Indian dancer, whose many
love affairs have all ended in tragedy?
for the other party.
Pursuing the elusive Santa, who is
wanted on a murder charge, he
stumblcs upon Kerensky and his wife.
An awkward emotional situation en
sues, for both Santa and Mme. Keren?
sky fali in love with the American
business man. The author resolvcs this
dilemma by sending Kerensky and San?
ta off to get themselves killed and then
brings the novel to an abrupt end.
Thore may be scenic possibilities for
Mr. Dawson's novel on the screen.
Judged even by the most indulgont
standards of light fiction it suggests
nothing so much as a nightmare.
"Search" (Putnam). By Margaret
Rives Larminie?As being the story
of a young Englishman's aspirations,
hopes, defeats and triumphs, viewed
dif-passionately and with keen insight
by a woman writer; and as being an
intelligent and interesting story.
* * *
"The Dark Hoiae" (Dutton). By I,
A. R. Wylie?Because it is a dramatic
atcry of pitiless circumstance which
throwa a number of people into un
happy. contact, temperament against
temperament, belicfs against beliefs;
and because it has pathos, pity and
beauty in the telling.
* ? ?
"White and Black" (Harcourt). By
H. A. Shands--As being a little prose
epic of American lifo in the South.
* * ?
"Mr. Antiphilos, Satyr" (Lieber &
Lewis). Translated from the French
of Remy de Gourmont As being a
new addition to the work of Gourmont
now available in English: as being as
quaint satirical conceit in that Gour?
mont purports to write the letters of
a satyr who appears in modern civili
zation and finds that civilization not to
his taste; and as being a book of
philosophical ideas charmlngly dis
guised as fiction.
shipbeard." . . . To dinner to-night
with Bob Nathan at the residence of
Dr. William Kraus, who told me that
"Glands Regulating Personality" is an
unauthoritative and unscientitic book,
which might causc great harm if it
became too generally circulated. "There
is not enough known about the glands
yet," he said, "to generalize concern
ing them, and certainly there is not
enough known about them to warrant
the publication of a book dealing with
them. What we actually know about
the function of the glands ia very lit?
tle indeed." . . . We went to see
"The Advertising of Kate," a comedy
whose most serious fault lies in the
fact that it proves two diflferent and
contradictory things.Note: The
printer won't set any more?this week.
"In many ways it is a stronger
piece of work than Miss Wylie
has given us before. In particu?
lar it reveals in the arudy of its
principal character an under
standing and a sympathy that
seem to ua phenomQially keen"
?The World.
$2.00 at any boahstore
E. t. Dattoa * Co., 681 5th Av.., N. Y.
Letter Box
"Children of Trangresalon"
Sir: Vou recently printed an article
by Thomas Dixon praising a book
called "Children of Trangression."
The author of "The Clansman"
should know the South, but I cannot.
agrno with him that this book picturcs
the real south.
Mr. Dixon assures us that the author,
Mrs, Tylcr, is herself "a Virginian of
the Virginlans," and praises her for
not dragging in psycho-analysis.
And it is, indeed, refreshlng to find
an author who does not tear up his or
her soul, but I must take issue with
Mr. Dixon when he says "her character
sketchos of the old regime are terrible
and pitifully merciless in their ac
Terrible and pitiful yes?but not ac
curnte - such things as Mrs. Tylcr de
scrihes may possibly have occurred,
but certainly they arc not typical of
the South, nnd it. seeni:4 to me un
fortunate that. a book like "Children
of Trangression" should be held up to
Northern readors, as a true pieture of
the South by a Southerner of Mr.
Dixon's rcputation. P. Y. HELM.
.y. y x.
First Novels
MY Dear Mr. Rascon:
H.im? one has called you the fore
moiit champion of tho most modern
tendencles ln conteninorary litera?
ture. It Is In this rolfi that I appeal to
vou, for ll seems to me that a literary feud
has been declared against one of the
healthlest signs *>f thc times. Tho book
revlewers havo declared war on thc auto
blographlcal novel.
Miss Ruth Stewart ln "Th<> T.iterary Re
vlew" of May 6. ln beginning hor revlew of
Hubbard Hutchtnson'n "Chantlng Wheels,"
says: "Immediately tha rcvlewcr begins
,to suspect tho worst, that hero is another
autoblographical traet. relatlng to tho dis
covory of the trond of the modern genera
tlon." And you, of all people, add to the
growlng antlpathy ln your Bookman's Day
Rook, fnr. under Aprll 3n, vou havo writ?
ten: "Road 'The Road to the World,' by
Webb Waldron, whlrh ia another novel re
eounting tho spirltual vlclssltudes of the
younit man who wants to be an author, and
la rather duller than most."
Now, what, I ask you, would you have
the young men wrlto about If not concern?
ing themselves? What better subjert is
there? Pereona'ly I do not seo how a
young man can writo about anything else.
It is tho one subject ho knows best, lt
whh what Is rnnst interesting to him, and
it U tho natural material for a first novel.
These young men aro beginning at tho
proper place, inside of themselves and
working out. Their second novets will
probably deal with their families. tho third
with their fr|enn>, sfter a while thev mav
got to their critics, and then <Jod help you I
A hundred novels and there would still
bo rountless phases of moon-calflshnes? or
of tho sensitlve bouI's contaet with the
world left untouched. Each confesslon
adds something new.
By startfng a. mov<-ment agsinst th i.i
sort of thing you aro damming up a whole
tldal wave of literature. Just because
Dell, Pltzgerald, Renet and some of these
boys got there lirst, are they to have the
monopoly? Are thoso introductlons the
tinal word In tho matter? Why, by the
timo 1 get around to writing the story of
my spirltual vlclssltudes I won't be able
tn find anybody willing to read it! I won't
lilnni" them n whole lot, but still it seems
ln a way unfalr.
You see, these young -writers <"pray God
I may bo one of them!) read all this criti
cal junk you and Canby and Vap Doren
pour out. and at times we are apt to tako
lt seriously. I fear it influerices us In our
thinking. Too muoh encouragomont and j
every neurnslhenio ln the country (and who !
Isn't?) will bo writing the one big book !
that ls said to be in every man. Even I
such a state of affairs would not be so
horrlble. It would be better than the re- I
suits of too little encouragement. tor lf
you keep up disparglng the autobiographi
cal cITort we will all change our mlnds and
take the Alexander Hamilton Course or
the I. C. S.!
lf that does not movo you let me make
one more appeal. Imagino a whole litera
ture of modestly velled prancing of the
perpenilicular pronoun. It ia coming ln
evltably, so you won't havo to lmaglne ;
very hard. Here It has been tiam:T)?d up
for generatlone. These young Amerlcans i
must net lt out of their systems before ;
they can get down to studying others as
they havo studied themselves. Supposlng j
they never get lo studying another per"- !
son, still thero remain mines. vast unex
plored continents tnaide these kids.
This century of psychology and intense
tntrospectlon is tho ono to bring it out. !
Look at Dostiovsky! Supposing .some'
crltlc told him to stop writing about dlf-|
ferent phases of himself: What an in?
dictment of civilizatlon, what a pieture of '
life and of society may we not seH; through i
the eyes of these young men! Perhaps'
you aro wrlthing already at the truth they
aro showing you; perhaps that is why vou i
aro objeotlng. HORACE C. COON.
Livingston Hall, Columbia Universitv.
* * *
This and That
Dear Burton: But (this is private, I
trust) "Crome Yellow" is realiy miracu
lous. Sorry. but Huxley supplants Beer- i
bohm. ln steps tho Incomparable Aldous. j
I brought back from town "The
Pootfc Mind." by P. C. Presoott, of Cornell,
the very outside cover of which gives me
Juv- ? ? . The introduction is good. and
I bellevo lt will turn out to be the best
thing of that kind ever produced. (Me
and my lllusions.) Something about poetry
by some one aware of prose if Slgmund is
But then I am a freak. I think that
Albert Mordell wrote the flrst intelligent I
book of poettc theory?"The Erotic Motlve
in Literature"?only lt wasn't Intelligent
particularly. And I hope "The Poetlc
Mind" will be pcrfec'.. Don't you wish I'd I
ge: over my Intultlve enthuslasm? Funny
though, I'm always right. And I love "a I
great many kimls of books. The only kind J
I don't are those that remotely approach !
or suggest in nny way anything ever wrlt- |
ten by Sherwood Antlerson, none of 'which i
I ve ever reau. It isn't Sherwood's fault
it s some unconsclous crime of my owri !
that I project on to him, but such ls the'
fact. All such gives me eptleps?v. And i
there may be others like that. To all of
them Aldous Huxley is the ono bright spot
in the known or un-Doyled unlverse.
Homage to the yictorians
By F. Scott FitzJferald
xmc orriDA.v. by shane Lealie. CharlM
Scrlbner'a flon*.
NOW, Shane Leslie ia the son
of an Anglo-Irish baronet.
He ia an old Etonian aryi he
is chamberlain to the Pope.
He Is half a mystic, and he is entirely
a cousin of the utilitarian Winston
Churchill. In him there is n stronger
sense of old England, I mean a sense
not of its worth or blame, but of its
being, than is possessed by any one
living, possibly excepting Lytton
It ia almost impossible to review a
book of his and resist the temptation
to tell anecdotes of him?how a hair
pin fell from heaven, for Instance, and
plumped into the King of Spain's tea,
of a certain sentimental haircut, of
the fact that he has been the hero of
two successful modern novels?-but
with such precious material I can be
no more than tant.alizing, for it be
longs to his biogrnpher, not to me.
He flrst came into my life as the
most romantic figure I had ever known.
He Viad sat at the feet of Tolstoy, he
had gone swimming with Rnpert
Brooke, he had been a young Engli3h
man of the governing clas?es when the
sense of being one must have been, a.-i
Compton McKenzie says, like the sense
of being a Roman citizen.
Also he was a convert to the church
of my youth, and he and another, since
dead, made of that church a dazzling,
golden thing, diapelling its oppressive
mugginess and giving the succession
of days upon gray days, passing under
its plaintive ritual, the romantic
glamour of an adolescent dream.
He had writterf a book then. It had
a sale?not the aale it deserved. "The
End of the Chapter," it was, and bought
by the snap-eyed ladies who follow with
Freudian tenseness the missteps of the
great. They misBed its quality of low,
hauntlng melancholy, of great age, of a
faith and of a social tradition that
with the yeara could not but have taken
on a certain mellow despair?apparent
perhaps only to the most aensitive but
by them realized with *
poignancy. eBlN
? ? fc -
TTfELL, he has written MMktt . .
-with a wretched, pw-,in **\
"The Oppidan." whieh to an Am ?__!
means nothing, but to LesKa '^'c,,?
triguing distinction that ha* *J *
since Henry VIH. An Oppid^Jg
Etonian who either lives ln . u *
doesn't?I am not quite <nire -??w
and what does it. matter, for ci. _|"
is all of Eton. Once, yttrg l"*
picked up a novel cftl'oti "(?-.? v2" '
and I st.ared fascinated ?t ?ha? , '
title. I ha-'e never read Hi uarv ?
tell of lt?Pm sure it -ras Wor,,.r'fM*
but what two words! ''"""
And tnat ls what Lealfa.
snould ne named?a taletfa,,
gray eoco-jn, where the EMUi^
fly sheds Its cocoon it ,,v.,
been cail?d "Gre7 Youth." .-?.., "'
it and you are earr^d baektn*-. '
of Shclley, or day long fighb ?**.*.
casiona'ly tragic, i . .-, fgtrf j^*
tion?., of Wellington' playitofi^.
of intolerable bullj ? _=. ' ,? ' j
nablc ragtrir.g*". And ntn ^ l
timately we are gho-9 n Kton of tr., ,.
90.-'. and t.he laat magnifiee&ca att
Victori?n sge is spread *-, frontif.
a play done before ? badowed txf&m
j of the past.
The book Interested me eSotanfJ
Mr. Leslie has a sharp cje <CT A
\ manners of hia age. lf he do#s ?;
p'umb t.he motivet of hia p?o?-? j
i his creations witl ...^n Bn%)rn_j
Strachey it is 1 ie he refen
ftner judgmenta to the court cf tfatl
| Celtic deity whic'-. he has aceepted fJ
hia own?and where the inscrstiigN
j of men is relinqu Bhed beyond "fjjM
to fade ir;to that more ImmeavM
; scrutability in which a!. final anj?pi
? and judgmenta lie.
Those who are interested in thep.
' patchwork quilt picture of Vid
England, which is heing grac?
pieced together from the memoria *
survivors and the satire of their aa
mentator?, will enjoy '"T: ?-? Oppids*"
Books of Yesteryear
By Adele De Leeuw
Maugham. Doran.
PHILIP CAREY had a club foot
and it affected his whole life
and his view of life. He
learned that when people were
angry with him their primal impulse,
seldom restrained, was to taunt him
about his deformity. He learned to
mask his sensitiveness, though he never
got over it. Because he couldn't join
in the sports of his own age, his boy
hood was spent largely in a solitude
that was only alleviated by his insa
tiable desire to read. Because he
cculdn't dance, his relations with girls
were peculiar, and he was driv^n to
rash, impulsive friendships that further
affected his life?not always for the
"Of Human Bondage" is a tremendous
thing, tremendously done: a remark?
able combination of the broadest
strokes and the most minute detail.
One feels that there 13 nothing un?
known about Philip, so painstakingiy
has his life been told. and yet there
are large gaps left to the imagination.
It is as plotless and apparently aimless
as life itself. Each momentary im
pression, friendship, emotion is of
paramount importance. Beliefs are
formed and discarded, friends made
and lost, passions flare and die, Bm
bitions rise, shift, change; affairs are
absorbing, come to an impasse, settle
themselves. Only at the end are we
able to look back upon the partly com?
pleted tapestry that the years have
been weaving. The colora have
blended; the pattern is forming. We
can imagine the finished pieture with
some degree of certainty.
Philip's years at English schools are
not, perhaps, so vividly told as Comp
ton Mackenzie or Coningsby Dawson
might tell them. But there comparison
ends. One wondcrs at the endless in
genuity that invented character after
character, breathed upon them and
made them live, allotted to each its
place and gave to each the benefit of
that marvelous descriptive ability that
is Maugham's. "Of Human Bondage"
might be the result of years of i
' curate observations, yet it is not 1
jtographic. It -: autbentic t,"^
I be biography. inspired enough ts *
fiction. One comes upon innumeraw
i homely incidents that pierce with titr
j truth, upon felicities of phrase ikti
I demand rereading. Philip r.ever ctaiw
j to be Philip. He is lovable, ainafif,
j pathetic, amusing;. puzzling, aftHh
'clear?and always himself. Thataltw
I is an achievement.
'T'HE only quarrel we are Wf?
heartedly inclined to pick *itk
1 Maugham is to ask why he ttiit
, Philip, who was clever, intelligent ?ad
jfastidious, fall under the speli oi !K?
I ungracious, unlovely ar.d uncultod
! women as he did? But the questiK il
answered before it i? articulated: %vs
; is human bondage. It is only arot-.?T
! one of those things people do tfca? *r?
comprehensible without being ??
Here is a life set forth \ .: '? "
Ibeauty and calmness. MaugfcM*
weeps cr la.ughs with Philip, bot 5**
' do. He maintains that difficoK t**
jtion betweeen sympathy and neotnHS
', From the time Philip is nir.e untii .<
| is thirty we are taken into his ?xut>
! ence more completely than any one am
^knew him could possibly have beei
i Though at times wa are " impatiers
! with him as he ls with himself, ??
.always feel that what is happer.ing?
inevitable. We are at home witi 0*
most unusual acquaintances; *e ????
! ticipate in the discussioas of art and
j religion and ethics with ease; ? #
fer and rejoice with him. rise and fall
with his fortunes, comprehend anddis
miss his passions, waver and dwiM
with him, and at the end feel the pM
! placidity and happy sense of W**!
! ocableness as does Philip, in the as**
i of his new decision.
While there are still such booU <?
i discover in 1922 as "Of Human 9SW
age," written in 1915, no slur on ?<*'
lern literature may go unchallcngei*
ROLAND PERTWEE'S Thrilling Story of Great Finance
and the struggles of two powerful groups of
Command ing Financiers
for the world's greatest prize.
A,gntty youngster, who is stone broke, becoraes involved. He
agrees to do a certain thing for $25,000.
Would you do wha2 h^ did for $25,000
and chiefly because you said you would, and in spite of the
tempting advances of a fascinatingly beautiful woman?
ln Canada from th* Maemillan Co. of Canada, Limited, St, Mmrtin't House, Toronto.
r_ -naagaaa wm m ? ? Kanan

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