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The  Bookman 


■2- 


Digitized  by  Google 


Digitized  by  Google 


1 


THE  BOOKMAN 

ILLUSTRATED    LITERARY  JOURNAL 

VOLUME  II. 
August<Sbptembe|,  1895— February*  1896 


New  York 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
Fifth  Avenue  and  ^ist  Street 


GormuGHT,  tSifit,  »v  Dood,  Mcad  ahd  Company 


Digitized  by  Google 


INDEX  TO  VOLUME  II. 

AUGUST-SEPTEMBER.  1895— FEBRUARY.  1896. 


AMONG  THE  LIHRARIES. 
By  George  H.  Haker.  . 
By  Annie  Nathan  Meyer. 


»4o.  446.  $4* 
•  3S» 


BIBLKXiRAF'HV 

A  Hiijlio^rr.iphv  of  BiOrnaon  (with  Portrak>. 

\Vm.  li.  Carpenter.    .         '.         ]  . 
R.  jj.  BiacHinore  g  Boolca. 

BOOKMAN  BREVITIES, 

BOOKMAN'  S  TABLE,  THK. 
Ab"iU  l'ari». 
Alphabets, 


Antm*  PoeUB. 


'ng.The.  .  .  ,  . 

Artirt  in  the  Himal.'tyas.  AnT^  . 
b*«ieg  ui  t-.iiK U^ii  ni-»ti)ry. 

MOOK  o<  Atnk'tiLs  anJ  <  )iit"<>f-<l<><ir  Six  »rts,  The. 


BfAWBlnc  SiuuTtrsT 


cmia  *  okrucn  ot  Verae«.  a7 
tJoromUion  ot  L-oveT 


German  Emperor.  Vhe. 


Hawthorn  1  roe  antl  Other  Pt>ems,  The, 
ImaRinatioii  in  l^uuNtaix-  l'aintin>f. 
Journal  Mt  eniintcss  KraMiisku,  The, 
t,6tiil'i:i  NiKlits," 


Last  Poems 


Liorg  lohn  KusstMl 


t"  fames  l<uss<^i:  I,<iweil. 


London  (iarlanti.  A. 
Modern  Illustration, 


■Mont'V  IP.  I'oiltlLH. 


.  65 
.  li? 

6».  IS«.  "JT.  M<.  44«.  540 


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440 

53« 
535 
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My  Ivarlv  'I'ravrU  ami  .\ilvcntares  in  Ainerlci 


an  I  -Xsia. 


OxforJ  ami  Her  ColleKes,  , 
Our  .Square  and  Circle;  or. 
Little  London  House, 

Pittore  Posters,   . 

Honv  Tracks. 


The  Annals  of  a 


lychology  of  Number.  TbeT. 

jluaint  Korea. 


teyluti.iii  nt  i8«8.  The 


Roh.  rt  Mri'wnin^'s  Complete  Works 
t>election'.  Iroin  the  I'oetry  of  Robert 


ShaiteHpeare  s  He ruincH  on  llie  Stage. 
'~-        Kirn  —• 


snow 


Herrick. 


Aiiieric  in  Inilian  Taies. 
Souk*,  and  Other  Veri»e8. 


aiiil  tlic  Water  TiKer.  and  Other 


spirit  ot  l  udaiyTiiT 
»torie»of  the  Wai 


agner  Operaa. 


stuaies  ot  Men. 
a.tamt>niotr  . 
Thackcr.tv  •  a  Study.  . 
Two  Years  on  the  Alabama.  , 
Victorian  Antholoity.  A.  . 
Viol  ot  Love,  and  Other  Poem*. The. 
White  Wampum.  The. 


132 

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440 

333 


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»35 


BOOK  MART.  THE 

tiookselliiii;.    Ity  William  Heinemann. 


basierii  Lcf.i-r, 


.  .  1^  ^  TW.  440.  K*A 


i^ist  ol  Hwk-,  I'ublisluvl   Duriii),:  ihc  .Nlontfi— 
American,  Kngliith,  CoiHiiien'.al. 

Pope  Library.  1. 16.  .  /  ^  '^7.  »g 
t>ales  01  Books  in  order  ot  uetnand.  L>arlng  the 

Month.  ■         ■         .  71.  i6».  144.  ^s6.7ri.  S46 

Western  tetter.  .        .        .71.  160.  mi.  \m.  lv>.  kL 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS,  .        .      344. 445 

BOOKS  ANn  CULTURE.    By  Hamilton  W. 


3» 

11& 
aoi 
399 

501 


VII.  Prom  the  Book  to  the  Reader 
VIII.  Hy  Way  of  Illustration. 

1\.  rersonaiity.        I  . 

\.  Ui  ijeratiou  throtiirh  Ideas. 
XI.  "  The  Logic  of  Free  Life,'^ 
XII.  The  Imagination, 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMKNT. 
American,   English.   .Nhvccllaneous  (i 


traits,  etc  i. 


^ith  Por. 


8i,  169.  »»,  367,  458 


LONDON  LETTER.    Hy  W  R..bertson  Nicoll. 

titurt^e  .McrcJuh's  Maulfii  Speei  !i,  .   ^4 

i'he  Prospects  ot  tlie  Aiiminn  I'liblishiriK  -Sea- 
■OP;      ,       ■  .  -  .  . 

Ian  Maclaren  (witn  fac-stmiie  Autograph),        '.  jii 

NKVV  WRITERS 

Fuller.  Henry  li  (with  Portraiti.    1; 

Hi>tL'!ll{lAS.  ChauiKey  C  Uvilii  I'ortrau),  .          .  J74 

with  Portrait),     .  . 


yrovost.  Mar 

Wister,  Owen  1  with  I'ortraity 


NOVEL  N(rrKs 

Atlfrm.ith.  . 

A>{ainiit  ir.ittian  Natun- 


All  Men  ai e  l.i.u s. 


An  Errant  \V 

An  Irn.itrma; fvc 


■M  r  u  x'.i  .'r  s 


At  War  w.Va  I 
Heatri 


tit  lac.  ■ 

il.tvou  If-che. 


HiuK  li  I  i  r.tss  .StoriesT 


Car  bi  iii.-N.  Tli 


Char  lat, ills.  Tlir. 


Chronicles  ot  Count  Antonio,  The. 
C^itninie   Kadden  Expiains.  Major    Max  K; 
Tiound-s. 


C^rence. 


—  —  -  —      .  . 
Coining  of  Theodora.  The." 
Comedy  ol  Sentiment.  A. 
Corned  r  In  Spasma.  A. 


CorrnptlgnT 


Com 


lack  Fairy  Tale>  an. I  Folk  Tales." 


nmberland'^^'emletta.  and  other  Stories. 


Uiplomattc  Ui'^en  hantniciits 


Doctor  Gray  s  Uuc"»t 
ailsabeth'a  Vretendera. 


Fettered.  Vet  Free, 


I  ..It  : 


tiallKTiriL;  t 


r.ilo  from  Tonfjuin, 
J  I — ■ — I  ' 


lie nt li-nian  \" 


timl-loPNaken. 


d.  A.  and  Some  Other*. 


Gray  Roses. 


^or^^eman'.H  Woril.  I  lie. 


*y  I 

■terpert  Vanlennert. 


n  til  -  Fire  of  the  l'or>;e. 


n  Uisacon  s  Orders,  ami  Other  Storlei" 


n  Lighter  Veinl 


oneses  and  the  Asterisks.  The. 


TT 


K  thi   .>toi  ICS.   

Knight  of  the  White  Cn 


Ladv  Bonnie's  Experiment, 

  ^^--Jt  


A. 


l>ittle  Huguenot."  'I  hc.  ■ 
Little  Room.  The,  and  Other  Stories 


J^mir  Vaoation 


Lit) 


Man  and  His  Womankind.  A. 

— I  i J — I    1   V*  ■ 


Mad  .Madonna,  and  Other  Stories.  A 
Martyred  Fool,  The. 
Madonna  of  the  Alps.  A, 
Master-knot,  and  "Another  Story,"  The, 
Mistress  of  Ouest,  The, 
Monochromes. 

Nadya:  A  Tale  of  the  Steppes, 
New  Woman,  The. 
One  Who  I^ked  On,  The,  . 
On  the  Point. 
Paul  Hcriot  s  Pictures, 
Ouestion  of  Faith.  A, 
Russian  Fairy  Tales, 
Red  Cockade.  The, 
Red  Rowans. 
Sale  of  a  Soul.  The, 
Secret  of  the  Court.  The. 
Select  Conversations  with  an  Uncle, 
Sir  Quixote  of  the  Moont, 
Son  of  the  Plains.  A. 
Stolen  Souls. 

Storv  of  Bessie  Costrell.  The. 
Story  of  Fort  Frayne,  The,  . 
Sunshine  and  Haar, 
Tales  of  an  Engineer,  . 
Three  Imposters.  The,  . 
Through  Russian  Snows, 
Veil  of  Liberty.  The,  . 


-SZl 


-HZ 


i34. 


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INDEX. 


Veiled  Doctor.  The.  

Vniatte  Watt  h  tower.  The. 


_i4 


Virginia  C  '  iisin.  A.  and  Har  Hartwiir  Tales, 
Way  of  a  Maia.  rh.~ 


-Hi 


When  Charl>.-->  tiic-  First  wa?.  K-.ngT 


Zorai  J 


.132. 


_»ai 


PARIS  LETTER.   By  Robert  H.  Sherard, 

36%  »»7.  "5.  3«4.  4«3i  50s 

PORTRY. 

Axe  anil  Youth.    By  Phl'iji' Becker  Goctz  .  too 


Aiit'Jiiy  ari'i  L  icopatra  Hv  I'h.l-.jj  Moukcr  ( i'lett, 
Auiiiiiin    >"<nn.   An.     Hv    Kailianiie  fe»triion~ 


W.M-N,    , 

Bet wi-eii  t)n-  Li nr-t     Hv  Clii.t-Ti  Scoilanl  . 
Bl'-^t      all  the-  lUfsseJ.  The.    Hy  F"hn  K.  n.lrick 

Hani.:s,  .  .  . 

By  tin-  H""('.    Hy  yiiQiiia  Wntniwaid  Cloud. 
Uay  una  .N  lylit     Hy  1-  K>ria  Nl.u  iciKl,         .  I 
Eclio.    Hy  Kriink  Ufiiii)%tir  SluTman,      !  T 


KniKmatical  Molly.  Hv  HerlH  il  .M 

tiller  Hopkins, 

KUse  LlKTiJs.    Hy  truest  .MLUat! 

'■  V . 

Happmcss.    Ity  \' ir).r'n:a  w  i'>o'!  wara  (.  loud. 
In  raratliNC.    Hy  Meiirv  HaiJ  wm.  . 
Interliule.  An     Hv  Virvrinia  Woi.  lwaril  ("Imul. 


W.  Robertson  Nicoll. 
JooM  Lie  (with  Portrait). 

penter. 
Judgtneat  of  the  S«ce,Tbe. 


set 


Joy  Uomctii  in  the  Morning.    Hy  Charlotte  \V. 

Inurstcin.        .         .        .     "  . 
Love-Letter.  The    By^redcric  P.  SherniarT  ! 
Lover  to  hit  Verie.  The.     Hv  Ciny  Wetniore 

Larryl      .         .•     "     •  „ 
Mar»;:iial  Mote.  A.    By  Frunk  Dempster  Sher- 

luiin,    ,  , 

Sli'Kumtiier  in  the  Citv  iRast  Si<lei.    Hy  I'erley 

A  Child.  .  ■     _  ■ 

Ni^ht  Tai>estrv.    Hy  K.,bert  H.  W 
Nuit  lie  ^^epteln^lre■    Hv  (leorv;''  .M'nire,  ', 
Pas-^intf  ot  I'an.  1  he.    Hv  li  jv  Wetniore  farryl, 
Roma    kccentioruin   (lliu>tiateil).      Hy  Harry 

I  nurst'in  h'ei-k.  .  .  .  " 

SonK  ot  the  Kosy-croitii.  A.    By  W.  B.  Yeat». 
aoag-qream.  A    Hy  rredertc  V.  saerman. 
yaginwnci  Song.  A.   Hv  Hll»s  Carman.  T 
Vutiir  and  Vanri iiishel .     Hv  llarrv  Thurston 

I'e'k.       .  .  .  " 

War  i»  Kind.    By  Stephen  Crane,  . 
Watch  Therefore.    By  Herbert  MOIler  Hop. 

kins,  ....... 

Watcher.  The.  By  Herbert  Mniler  Hopkins,  . 
When  William  Shakespeare  Wrote  his  Plays. 

Bv  A.  T.  Schiiman,  ..... 
VThw  the  Birds  Ply  Home.    By  William  W. 

Campbell,  ...... 

READER,  THE. 

Alexandre  Dnmaa,  Pits  (with  Portrait  and  AU' 

tograph  Letter).   By  Adolphe  Cohn, 
Andrew  Lanx  as  a  Poet  (Illustrated).   By  Wil- 
liam Canton,  ...... 

Baron  Tauchnit*  (with  Portrait). 
Books  and  Culture.   By  Hamilton  W.  Mabte  : 
VII.  Prom  the  Book  to  the  Reader, 
VIII.  Bv  Way  of  Illustration. 

IX.  j'et!»onalitv        .   ,  ^ 

X.  Li'j'jratii.n  throiiKh  I  li  a».  ~         I  . 
Xl.  ••  The  Ix«ic  of  Free  Life.'*  . 
XII.  The  Imagination,  .... 
Brotherhood  ot  all  Creatures,  The  (Illustrated). 

By  \  H.  H  

Chat  with  Miss  Ethel  Reed,  A.  (with  Portrait  and 
Illustrations).    Bv  J.  M..  .... 

Criticism  of  Life.  The.   Bv  Edward  Puller, 
Dana  on  Journalism,  Mr.  (with  Portrait).   By  H. 

T.  P..  . 
Doane  Robinson.    By  Henry  Austin, 
Drumsheugh's  Love  Story.   Bv  Ian  Maclaren,  . 
DrumsheuKh's  Reward.    Bv  Un  Maclaren. 
Early  American   Almanac,  The  (Illustrated). 
.  By  W.  L.  Andrews.  .  ... 

Emilc  Zola  8  '  Rotnc  "   Bv  Arthur  Hornblow.  . 
Kx;HTiences  with  KditofN 

I.  KejoLte.i  Addre-isc-.  Hv  I  Ntacdonald  Oxley. 
II.  Accepted  Afldteisei  Hvj  Macdonald  Oxiey, 
George  Meredith's  Maiden  Speech.    By  W.  Rob- 
ertson Nicoll,  ..... 

Godkin.  Mr.,  and  his  Book.    By  H.  T.  Peck, 
Heinrich  von  Sybel.   By  Munroe  Smith,  . 
His  Literary  Practice  (with  Decorative  Head- 
piece).   By  Marguerite  Trai  v. 
How  to  Make  n  Living;  bv  Literature     By  W 
U>»enpor:  .\Jains     .  ' 
Ian  Maclaren  iwitti  hac  simile  Autograph). 


107 
479 

404 

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96 

««7 
4M 


103 


aBi 

138 
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4" 


3»J 

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3£9 

5&I 
405 

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110 

131 

34 
4«o 

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3"6 


Hi 


Hy 

By  Wiliiam  H.  C*r- 

.  aoo 

By  Stephen  Crane.  411 


Ww.  H.'C. 


Kate  Carnegie.  A  Novel.  (Illusti^ted  by  P.  C. 
Gordon.)    (To  t>e  continued  throughout  the 
year.)   By  Ian  Maclaren^ 
-Leopold  Sacher-Masoch. 
L^Vl^^^  Critics  : 
— 1.  VVilliaiiTTrrnestHctUcytwith  Portrait).  By 
H.  H  .Marriott  Wat.siin.  . 
II.  Hamilton  WriKht  Mabie  (with  Portrait  and 
Other  Illustrations).  Byjames  MacArthur, 
in.  Leslie  Stephen.   By  James  Ashcroft  Noble. 
IV.  R.  H.  Hutton.   By  Hugh  Walker.  . 
Maurice  Maeterlinck  at  Home  (Illustrated).  By 
Mai;deleine  Pidoux,  ..... 
Mikfration  of  Popular  Songs.  The  (Illustrated). 
"iy  Marrv  I'hur.slon  I'lM.k. 


322 


186 


Ne^cU;.  ted  Hn. iks.   c  V  kuary  8  "A  wanaererT 


39") 
4<>8 

104 

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By  M 


189 


53 


108 


W  K  ClirT.Td  

Nemesis  fur  Critics,  A.    By  I',  h...  ;  '. 

Old  Booksellers  of  New  York,  The  (with  Por- 
trait).  By  W.  L.  Andrews, 
On  Literary  Construction  : 
Pirst  Paper.    By  Vernon  Lee,  .  .18 

Second  Paj)er.  By  Vernon  Lee,  .  .  .  n« 
Oppositcs.  By  Hamlin  Garland,  .  .  .  ig6 
Paralysis  ot  German  L.itcrature,  Tne.    ny  six 

chgl  iH-iincit  ■■       r  -. ,  ,       i  . 
Poe's  Pordham  Cottage  (Illustrated).   By  Fred 

M.  Hopkins,     ......  14 

Prosi>ects  of  the  Autumn  PnblUhlng  Seaaon. 

Hv  W  ■  Kot>ert»on  Nicoll,      ■  .  .  ■  tlj 

Question  of  the  Laureate,  The  (with  Portraits). 

By  H.  T  P  ^n2 

Shall  and  Will.  Bv  Robert  Barr.  .  .187 
Shall  and  Will  Again.  A  Reply  to  Mr.  Barr.  By 

Richard  Burton.  .  ■  $03 

Visit  to  Drumtochty,  A  (Illustrated).   By  Fred- 
erick C.  Gordon,  .  a88 

RECENT  EDUCATIONAL  PUBLICATIONS,  w,  350 

REVIEWS  OF  NEW  BOOKS. 
A  Japanese  Marriage,  .... 

Almayer's  Folly,  .... 

Elook  at>out  Pans,  .... 

Canadian  Bibliography,  A.  . 
Carmina  Minora,  .... 

Cervantes, ...... 

Constantinople.  Ancient.  Medieval,  and  Modern 
Daughter  of^the  Tenements,  A, 
Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne,  The, 
Delectable  Duchy,  The, 
Don  Quixote.  ..... 

Edition  de  Luxe  of  "Auld  Licht  Idylls,"  The, 
Essays  in  Criticism.  .... 

Farewell  to  Mr.  Norrla.  A,  . 
Fathers  of  the  Forest,  The,  . 
Fiona  Macleod,  ..... 

First  of  the  Realists,  The. 
From  the  "Biljelot"  Press.  . 
From  the  Black  Sea,  through  Persia  and  India, 
Gait  RedivivuA.  ..... 

Gertrude  Hall  s  New  Volume  ("  Foam  of  the 

Sea"),  

Golden  Age.  The,  .... 
Gurneys  of  Barlham,  The, 
Gustave  Flaubert,  .... 
Half  a  Century  in  the  Church  of  England, 
Hedonistic  Theories.  .... 
History  of  the  United  States  From  the  Compro 

raise  of  iSja,  .... 
His  Father's  Son, 

la,    .  ...... 

In  Defiance  of  the  King. 
In  the  House  of  the  Interpreter,  , 
Introduction  to  American  Literature,  An, 
laps  at  Home.  The, 
Jude  the  Obscure. 
Letters  f>f  Matthew  Arnold,  . 
Little  Glory.  A  ("Lilith").  . 
Malav  Sketches,  .... 

Makers  of  New  Ivngland.  The. 
Marion  Crawford  s  New  Novel  ("Caaa  Braccto"), 
Meadow-grass.  ..... 

Men  of  the  Moss-hags.  The 
Miss  Grace  of  All  .Souls, 
MfKxly's  Ivodging  House, 
More  Juveniles.  ..... 

Mountain  l»vers.  The.  . 
Mr.  Mai  lock's  New  Novel  ("  The  Heart  of  Life 
Mr.  Yeats' s  Poems,       .        .        .  , 


My  Lady  Nobody. 
Napoleon  and  Wellingtoo, 

Natural  Rights, 


New  Volume  of  Tenement  Sketches,  A, 
Novel  of  Lubricity,  A.  . 
Novels  of  Two  Journalists,  The, 
Persian  Life  and  Customs, 
Pharaia,  . 


5»« 
4| 

"37 

»«7 
515 
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'37 
'J4 

3J4 

141 

510 
«35 

I  JO 

"3* 

4» 
48 

3*0 

I  JO 

50 
5»7 

416 
418 

S«7 
.US 
3»« 
5«9 
5»' 
4»7 
508 

»13 
39 
5^3 
3.8 

711 

116 

lit 
4>$ 
5« 
«3» 
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4»3 
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46 
47 
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4a7 
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INDEX. 


Psychology  of  Feelinsr.  The  . 
Ked  Uadt(e  of  CuuruKe,  The,  . 
Romance  in  Malnyn,  .... 
Rose  of  Dutchcr's  Coolly, 

St.  Paul  the  Traveler  and  the  Roman  Ciliitcn, 
SUter  Sonffs.  ..... 

Silnya  KuvaK^vsky.  .... 

SorrowK  of  Satan,  The, 

Some  Recent  Clansical  Bookii, 

Stops  of  Various  (juillft. 

Study  of  Death,  A,        .         .         .  . 

Sticce!i.sward,  ..... 

The  Amazin)^  Marriage, 

Third  Napoleon,  The,  .... 

Thistle  Stevcnsim,  The, 

Two  Histories  of  Literature,  . 

Vaitima  Letters,  The,  .... 

Wandering  Heath,  .... 

SOME  HOLIDAY  PUHLICATIONS. 


3»1 

212 
IS 

5»<> 
140 

il 
S2± 
t3& 
5»S 

3" 

no 

m 

ill 
339.  444 


ILLrSTRAT10>JS 
Anthony  Hoj>c  s  House, 
"Anchor    Tavern  at  .St.  Okk'».  The, 
Astronomical  Diary,  Fac-simile  of  an, 
Austin,  Alfred.  .... 
Austin.  Alfred,  Poet  Ijjureate, 
Hjnrnson,  Bjrirnsljerne, 
Hradbiirn,  John.  .... 
KoiiUkier,  M.  Uaston. 
Boyesen,  fljalmar  Hjorth, 
UrowninK.  Early  Portrait  and  Autograpl 

Roliert,  ..... 
Barlow,  Jane,  .... 

Black,  William  

Caine,  Hall.   Fron>  the  London  Sketch, 
Corner  of  Mr.  Mabie's  Studv.  A, 
Carmichael  had  Taken  his  Tuin. 
Carlyle'8  House,  Cheyne  Row,  Chelsea, 
Carlyle's  Study  :  The  Sour.d-pri>of  Room 
Crane  Dinner,  Cover  I>!sif;n  of  the. 
Crane,  Stephen,  .... 

Crockett,  S.  R  

Carman,  BlisM,  .... 
Cover  of  Bruant's  "  Dans  \m  Rue."   <De»iKn  by 

Steinlen),  .... 
Daudet.  M.  Alphonse,  . 
Dowden,  Kdward.  LL.D..  D  C.L.,  . 
Duncan,  Sara  Jeannelte  (Mrs.  Cotes). 
Dana,  Charles  A., 

"  Dishart,  Mr."  (From  "Auld  Lichl  IdylU 
Du  Maurier  s,  Mr.,  Best-known  Drawfnif, 

D  Arcy,  Ella  

Dobso'n.  Austin,  .... 
Doctor  MacLure. .... 
Dumas,  Alexandre  Fils, 
Dumas,  Fils,  F.ic-nimlto  of  Autograph  of, 
Kchegaray,  Jose, .... 

Fuller,  IL  H  

Flaubert,  Gustave,  at  the  age  of  ten. 
Field,  KuKenc,  .... 
Frontispiece  to  "  Mr.  R.-ibbit  .it  Home." 
Gait,  John,  .... 
Garland.  Hamlin, 

(iodkin,  E.  L.,  .... 
Goodhue,  B.G..  Fac-simileof  title-page  design^by 
Grace  Kimball  as  the  Princess  Flavia  i 

Prisoner  of  Zcnda,'' 
Gyp.  Comtesse  de  Martel, 
Gagnon,  I'.,  .... 
Gri'svcnor.  Edwin  A.,  . 
Harradcn,  Beatrice.  Two  Portraits, . 
Hall,  Gertrude,  .... 
Hawkins,  Anthony  Hope, 
Haggard.  11^  Rider, 

"  Harrison,  Lizzie  "  (From  "Auld  Licht  Id 
Henley,  William  Ernest, 


). 


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Hichens,  Robert  S., 
Hudson,  Thomson  ).,  . 
Hardy.  Thom.-»8.  . 
"His  Literary  Practice. 

to.        .        .  , 
Hotchkiss.  Chauncey  C, 
Hopner.  Charles  rL.  as  "  Chimmic  Fadden 
Ian  Maclaren  (Rev.  John  Watson 


Decorative  Headpiece 


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"  J'ai  Fait  Sauter  La  Banque, 

iohnson,  E.  Pauline, 
efferson,  Joseph,  as  "  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  . 
lipling,  Rudyard,  .... 
knight  of  Asia.  A."  (Sir  Edwin  Arnold), . 
"La  Marche  des  ij  Jours." 
Lang,  Andrew,  ..... 
"  Linger,  Longer.  L«>o."  Far-simile  of. 
Little  Duchrae,  The  Birthplace  of  .Mr.  CnK-kett, 
Lc  yucux,  William,  .... 
Lie,  Jon.is, 

I.^mpman,  Archibald,  .... 
Maarten  Maartens,  .... 
Maeterlinck,  Maurice.  Fac-simile  of  I>etter  bv. 

Mullock,  W.  H  

Macdonald,  Georg<>,  .... 
Maeterlinck.  Maurice,  .... 
Mabie.  Hamilton  Wright. 
"  .Many  a  Ploy  We  Had  Together," 
Meredith,  George.  .... 
Micawber's  Cottage.  M.. 
Modem  Life  Library  (A  Gallic  Girl), 
Morris,  Sir  Lewis,  .... 

Morris.  William,  .....   

Morton  Hall,       ......  32Z 

"  My  Study  Fire,"         .....  mo 

NorVis,  William  Edward,  .... 

Old  Barn  in  which  Jefferson  Conceived  the  Idea 

of  Dramatising  "  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  .  iM 

Peter  was  Standmg  in  his  Favourite  Attitude,    .  igy 

Poe"s  Ford  ham  Cottage,  .        .         .  u 

PrtfvosL,  Marcel,  ......  474 

Quiller-Couch.  AT...         .         .  ■  Hi 

Reed,  Ethel    By  Herself.  .  ^ 

Reed.  Miss  Ethel,  Fac-simile  of  Design  bv.  '.  JSI 
Reed,  Miss  Ethel,  Fac-simile  of  Letter  from,    _.  ijj 


Reed,  Miss  Ethel.  Fac-simile  of  page  from  "  The 


The 


Love  Story  of  Ursula  Wolcott,"  by. 
Rose.  Edward.  .... 

Sala,  (icorgo  Augustus, 
Scene  in  Drumlochtv  Village, 
Scott,  Duncan  Campbell, 
Scott,  Clement.  ..... 

"Shirley,"  Fac-simil"  of  page  of  MS.  of,  . 
Signed  book-cover,  Fac  simile  of,  . 
Sketches  by  Thackeray. 

Song  from  "  Pippa  Passes "  in  Robert  Brown 

ing's  Hand  writing,  .... 
Sothern.  E.  tL.  in  the  Coronation  Scene  in 

Prisoner  of  Zenda."  .... 
St.  Peter's  and  the  Tiber  from  the  Pincian  Hill.' 
Stevenson,  Robert  I-ouis.    From  an  Etching  by 

S.  Hollver  

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles, 
Tauchniti.  Baron.  .... 
Tennyson,  Early  Portrait  and  Autograph  o 

Alfred  Ixird,  ..... 
Tennyson,  Pac-similes  of  MSS.  at  Age  of  Four 

teen,  ..... 
Tirebuck,  William  Edwards, . 
Townsend,  Edward  W., 
*•  Uncle  Remus."  Illustration  from, 
Verlaine  at  Home.  Paul, 
Watson,  Rev.  John,  Fac-simile  of  Autograph 

lyctter  of.  ..... 

W«ts<m.  William, 
Wetherald,  Ethelwyn, 
White.  Percy, 
Wister,  Owen, 
Yeats,  William  Butler, 


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SOME  CONTRIBUTORS  TO  VOLUME  II. 


Adams,  W.  Davenport. 
Andrews,  W.  L. 
Baker,  George  U, 
Bangs.  John  Kendrick. 
Barr,  Robert. 

Banks,  Mrs  Nancy  Hustim. 
Baldwin.  Henry. 
Burton,  Richard. 
Carrvl,  Guv  Wetmore. 
Canton.  William. 
Carpenter.  William  iL 
Carman.  Bliss. 
Campbell.  William  iL 
Child.  Perley  A. 
Clifford.  Mrs  W  K. 
Cloud.  Virj^inia  Woodward. 


Cohn.  Adolphe. 
Crane,  Stephen. 
Darlow,  T.  IL 
Dawbarn,  Robert  IL  M. 
Delines.  Michael. 
Dods,  Marcus. 
Fuller,  Edward. 
Ciarland,  Hamlin. 
Goet/.,  Philip  Becker. 
Gordon.  Frederick  C. 
Heinemann,  William. 
Hornblow.  Arthur. 
Hopkins,  Herbert  MOller. 
Hopkins.  Fred.  M. 
Lee,  Vernon. 

Mabie,  Hamilton  Wright. 


Maclaren.  Ian. 
Macdoncll.  Annie. 
Mac.Xrthur,  James. 
Macleod,  Fiona. 
Mif9in,  Lloyd. 
Miiore.  George. 
McGaffev,  Ernest. 
Nicoll,  W.  Roliertson 
Noble.  lames  Ashcroft. 
Oxlcy,  i.  Macdonald. 
Peck,  Harry  Thurston. 
Pidoux.  Mngdeleine. 
Reranltz.  Virginia  Yeaman. 
Roosevelt.  Theodore. 
Scollard.  Clinton. 
Sherard.  Robert  tL 


Singleton,  Esther. 
Schuman.  A.  T. 
Sherman.  Frank  I>eim>stcr. 
Sherman.  Frederick  F. 
Smith,  Munroe. 
Tracv,  Marguerite. 
Trent,  W.  P. 
Thurston,  Charlotte  W. 
Wallace,  William. 
Walker.  Hugh. 
Wilde,  Norman. 
W.>od  berry.  George  E. 
Woods,  Katharine  Pearson. 
Watson,  IL  B.  Marriott. 
Yeats,  W.  H. 


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Gelder  paper  made  for  thia  edition  only.  Original  head  banda  and  tail  piecea  have  been  freely  need  with 

the  best  cfTects.  and  each  issue  has  its  special  cover  deai(a.  Bottttdla  flaaiMa  Jlipnn  vallum  with  ailit  rihboo 
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hook  lover.    PRICE  PEK  VOuUME,  $i.ao  NET. 

100  copies  each  of  these  two  books  printed  on  Japan  yelltun  at  $2.50  net. 

I.  — RUBAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KHAYYAM.   R«adcx«d  into  Eii|rliBli  V«ne  bf  Edw«rd  Fits- 

Gerald.    Second  edition  now  ready. 
This  is  not  a  mere  reprint  of  THE  BIBELOT  edition,  but  haa  been  edited  with  a  vlow  to  oiaMng  Fits- 
0«reld'a  wonderful  version  indispenaable  in  ita  preaent  OLD  WORLD  ahape. 

II.  — AUCASSIN  AND  NICOLETE.    Done  into  English  by  Andrew  Lang.    Second  edition 

now  ready. 

Of  th;  four  complete  tranalationa  into  Eng tiah  of  thia  exquiaite  old  French  love  atory.  that  by  Andrew 
Lranf  la  uaquaatlonabty  the  ftaaat.  Tha  "  OLD  WORLD  "  edition  reproducea  in  arietype  the  etched  tltle-paf* 
of  thia  acarce  London  aditieo,  pvintad  la  a  dalleate  Sapla  ink  oa  japaa  veUam. 

THE  BIBELOT  SERIES 

THE  BIBELOT  SSRIES  is  modelled  on  an  Old  atyle  format,  narrow  8vo,  end  beautifully  printed  in  italic 
on  Van  Oclder'e  hnnd-made  paper,  uncut  edge*  ;  done  up  in  flexible  Japan  Vellum,  with  outa.de  wrappere 
and  dainty  gold  seals.    Each  i««uc  haa  beaidea  an  original  cover  deaign  and  is  strictly  limited  to  715  copiea. 

v.— SONNETS  OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO.    Now  forthe  First  Time  Translated  into  Rhymed 
Ent^lish  by  John  Addinj^on  Symoods.    $1.00  net. 
A  p.  rtr.iit  of  Vittoris  Colonnd  has  been  given  la  artotype  from  a  deaign  by  Michael  Angelo,  printed  in 

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Geliriel  Rossetti.  $x.oo  net, 
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collected  edltloaa. 

IV. — FELISE.  A  Book  of  Lyrics  Chosen  from  the  Earlier  Poi ms  of  Aleernon  Charles  Swin- 
burne, including  "Cleopatra,"  a  Poem  Omitted  from  all  Editions  of  the  Collected  Works. 
$1.50  net. 

THE  CHILD  IN  THE  HOUSE.  An Imagiaaiy  P^itnit  bgr  Wftltw  Pnter.  Thinl  Edition 
liow  ready.    75  cents  net. 

It  seemrd  destrabie  to  issue  Pater'a  early  "Inaclaafy  Portrait"  III  a  ahnpa  and  atyla  that  would  be  at 
eoce  choice  AND  MODERATE  IN  PRICE. 

Baquiaitaly  priatad  oa  JAPiOl  VBLLUM,  aarvew  tSaio,  daaa  up  la  flaalbU  covara,  with  sealed  autaida 
wrawara  aad  braeada  allda  ease. 

THE  ENGLISH  REPRINT  SERIES 

The  Edition  is  as  Follows  : 
400  SmelT-Paper  Copiea  on  Van  Oelder'a  Hand-made  Paper,  done  up  in  Japan  vellum  wrappers,  uocntedffet, 

numbered  1  to  400.    Price  as  given.    NO  MORE  COPIES  WILL  BE  PRINTED 

I.  — GEORGE  MEREDITH    Modern  Lore,  with  Foreword  by  £.  Cavazz a.  1891. 

OtfT  OF  PltlNT. 

II.  — JAMES  THOMSON.   The  Ci^v  of  Dreadltil  Nighty  wltli  Itttyodoctiott  bf  E.  Cnvassn. 

1893.    Small  papei'f  $'4.00  net. 

III.  — ROBERT  BRIDGES.  The  Growth  of  Lore  with  a  Brief  and  General  Consideration  by 

Lionel  Johnson.    1894.    SiiiaU  pajter,  f'J.Off  ncf. 

HOMEWARD  SONGS  BY  THE  WAY.  A.  E.   Price  $1.00  net. 

This  little  book  haa  already  paaaed  through  two  cdltlona  in  Dublin,  and  in  It  there  Is  that  hig heat  lyrle 

note,  mystic  though  it  be  at  times,  that  places  these  songs  w  ill-,  '.'i-  select  few  of  to-day. 

There  were  issued  :  933  copies  in  small  q  i  iTin  ahape.  ch  ji —  iy  j-m  l-.  d  on  Van  Geldcr  paper,  with  orig- 
ioal  cover  desian  and  title  page,  each  book  wrapped  and  aealcU  in  the  atyle  Mr.  Mosber  haa  made  a  dis> 
 ^  ^Itlfl  


tiafuiahiac  featara  of  hia  aditleaa  over  all  ethon 


Book  lovara  who  are  not  yet  acquainted  with  Mr  Mosher's  editions  would  do  well  to  procure  hie  Kew  List— 

a  choice  little  affair,  unique  in  style,  mailed  for  a-ccnt  stamp. 

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tion and  piupuriiou,  uml  <»  just  pen  eption  of  dramatic 
value.  ■  .  .  Tho  incidents  itna  cbaracierii  are  very 
vividly  realized.  .  .  .  'The  Quest  of  the  Copper'  is  a 
Aerce  tale  of  battle,  and  stir.s  the  blood  as  tales  of 
battle  should.  .  .  l"r<>m  t  ie  hteraryf^ointof  V|aw,all 
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woiihi  sL-fm  as  if  Sottth  ACrie»lM4 foiwd mcbRMlder 

of  grc.4i  talent."' 

The  Postnt  Trttutritti       dMpefacely  alronK 

Iittl<!  book." 

N.  y  Tiittf  i  •'  Ho  writ.-s  iif  South  Alricii  with  tho 
Kure  knowledge,  the  sympathy,  and  almost  with  the 
vigor  ttwtMr.Kipling  beatowt  upon  bis  Hindustories." 


SOME  MEMORIES  OF  PARIS 

By  F.  AooLPHUs.  latno.  Gilt  Top.  fi.^a 

The  A'af'on  "The  mr>st  noteworthy  chapfers  deal 
with  the  a^iir.y  rrf  tht-  j^f  eat  city  in  iS;^  ;i.  .-X  vi  vul  de- 
scription IS  K'^cn.  .  .  .  Mi  .\ilolphiis  scoins  to  have 
oxi  oUi-:i;  'jpportunttii'S  fur  rjhservin^  wli.it  was 
going  on  during  these  critical  months,  and  to  have 
keptnie  eyes  open  to  the  dramatic  poesiUUtleaof  hto 
•nrraaadlngs." 

Jf.  Y.  Tims:  "Mr.  Adolpliiis's  voltune  is  «a  ex- 
osUant  OB*.** 

JV.  K.C«i<M»rrd'«/^Aii<r//i«r.*"BxiC«edifi£lyinte^^ 
estinir.  .  .  .  The  old  balUdurftiir  the  reign  of  Kapoleon 

III.  are  admirably  pictured,  and  then  the  scaiiea  at' 
tendant  upon  the  siege  and  the  existence  of  tito  Con* 
muoe  are  portrayed  in  vivid  langoage." 


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York  Lite. 

THE  HON.  PEIER  STIRLING 

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noble.  ...  A  timely,  maoly,  tbOronghbrad,  and  emi- 
nently suggestive  book." 

TAe  Aa/ioH  :  "  Floods  of  li^'h-  "ii  the  raison  d'tfre, 
origin,  and  method.s  of  the  d.ii  k  li^ure  thut  directs  the 
destiaiaaof  our  cities.  .  .  .  S<>  Ktronglv  iiaaifiaed  and 
loincally  drawn  that  it  satisfies  the  aeinand  for  the 

appeBrnnof  of  truth  ii;  ;ir;  ,  .  .  Tc'' I 'n^  scenes  and  in- 
iHlfTits  .inM  c)i-Ncrii!tioii-  Ml"  p^.liti,,  ,il  ork;ani?iition,  all 
lit  which  arc  IUl-i.iI  tl«lli»crij>;s  ot  li.'i.-  ar.<_!  f.ict  " 

/'//,•  A'rz'ir:r  t'f  A'm'ietfi- :  "  ]  I :s  rv I.it  ion s  with  wcvinen 
were  of  unc<inventi'<nnl  sinn  rit  ,-  and  Jepth.  .  .  . 
Worth  reading  on  8»-v<'r.il  amju rit>  " 

r/rf  Pi  t/  "One  of  the  strongest  and  moat  vital 
ch.ir  u  tors  th.it  have  appeared  In  our  Action. ...  A 
very  charmmg  love  story." 


THB  LITERART  EDSHiESS  OP 

U/illiam  Ev/arts  Be9ja/T\ii> 

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THE  BOOKflAN 

A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Vol.  II. 


AUGUST-SEPTEMBER.  i8qs. 


No.  1. 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMENT. 


With  the  appearance  of  the  present 
number,  The  Bookman  enters  upon  its 
second  volume,  and  we  may  be  per- 
mitted to  express  our  thanks  for  the 
verv*  friendly  appreciation  that  has  been 
accorded  to  it  by  the  reading  public  and 
by  its  literary  contemporaries.  To  make 
it  with  every  issue  more  and  more  wor- 
thy of  this  generous  judgment  is  the 
earnest  purpose  of  its  editors  and  pub- 
lishers alike. 

The  present  number  is  dated  "  Au- 
gust-September," in  order  to  make  The 
Bookman's  appearance  hereafter  coinci- 
dent with  that  of  nearly  all  tlie  other 
monthly  magazines — that  is  to  say,  a 
week  or  more  before  the  nominal  date 
of  publication.  Therefore  the  next 
number — that  for  October — will  appear 
about  September  25th. 

Mr.  Edward  W.  Townsend,  the  crea- 
tor of  the  inimitable  Chimmie  Fadden, 
was  born  in  Cleveland,  O.,  but  migrat- 
ing to  San  Francisco  when  he  left  school, 
he  made  California  his  adopted  State. 
He  started  to  study  practical  mining  at 
the  great  Comstock  Lode  with  an  elder 
brother,  but  the  fascination  of  news- 
paper life  took  hold  of  him,  and  after 
two  years'  apprenticeship  to  journalism 
in  several  mining  camps,  he  returned 
to  San  Francisco.  Here  he  wrote  long 
and  short  stories  for  the  San  Francisco 
Argonauiy  the  leading  weekly  on  the 
Pacific  Coast.  Finally  he  gravitated  in 
1892  to  New  Vork,  where  he  joined  the 
staff  of  the  Sun.  Shortly  after  his  en- 
gagement with  the  Sun  he  began  his 
tenement-district  studies.  The  series 
evolved  itself.  It  started  with  an  at- 
tempt to  write  a  '*  Sunday  Special,"  and 
one  story  led  to  another.    "  Hunt  up 


that  little  Bowery  chap  you  wrote 
about,"  said  the  city  editor  of  the  Sun 
after  the  first  sketch  appeared,  "  and  give 
us  some  more  about  him."  On  Mr.  Town- 
send's  replying,  "  He's  an  imaginary' 
character,"  the  city  editor  rejoined, 
"  Well,  imagine  some  more  about  him," 


EDWARD  W.  TOWNSEND. 

Mr.  Townsend  relates  how  the  follow- 
ing  incident  put  him  on  Chimmie's  track 
a  few  days  before  he  wrote  the  first  story 
for  the  Sun  :  "  I  was  visiting  a  mission 
where  some  ladies  were  giving  a  dinner 
to  tenement-house  children  which  I  was 
to  report.  I  noticed  one  little  fellow 
near  me  gulp  down  a  piece  of  pie  in 
about  two  bites.  The  young  lady  in 
charge,  who  seemed  to  be  on  very  good 


Google 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


terms  with  the  boys  and  assumed  a 
pretty  air  of  comradeship^  was  standing 

by  and  saw  the  pie  disappear.  She 
leaned  over  and  said,  with  a  bit  uf  the 
boy's  manner  for  good-fellowship, 
'  Woidd  you  like  another  jhccc  if  I  can 
sneak  it  ? '  His  eyes  brightened.  She 
brought  the  pie  and  placed  it  before  him 
with  a  little  ci mfidential  whisper,  as 
though  it  were  a  special  favour,  of  which 
he  was  not  to  tell.    As  she  did  so  the 

!)()V  leaned  over  and  kissed  her  hand. 
It  must  have  been  the  innate  gentleman 
in  him.  No  one  could  have  taught  him. 
It  may  be  that  he  had  seen  a  courtier  do 
it  on  some  Bowery  stage  ;  but  I  think  it 
was  just  his  own  natural  tribute.  That 
was  my  first  insight  into  the  Bowery 
character.  It  set  me  thinkinix,  ami  when 
I  wanted  to  write  a  *  special  '  I  used  the 
people  I  had  seen  there,  making  up  my 
own  story," 

Mr.  Townsend's  new  novel,  A  Daugh- 

l<-r  ,'f  the  Tfiu-tHi'iili,  was  finished  a  few 
weeks  ago  and  is  now  in  the  press.  The 
accompanying  portrait  is  from  a  new 
photograph  taken  for  Tin:  Bookman*. 
Mr.  Townsend,  by  the  way,  has  been 
asked  by  Mr.  Charles  Hopper  to  dram- 
atise Chimmic  FaJJen.  Mr.  Hopper  will 
appear  in  the  role  of  the  Bowery  boy 
during  the  forthcoming  season.  Mr. 
Townsend  is  one  of  the  few  pressmen 
who  does  not  believe  that  he  can  write  a 
play  ;  nevertheless  wc  are  sanguine  of 
his  success  with  Chimmi,-.  Ain<  >ng  other 
recent  literary  proflnc  lions  to  be  put  on 
the  stage  this  autumn  are  The  Story  of 
Besw  CostreU^  by  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward, 
which  will  appear  in  one  of  our  promi- 
nent theatres  ;  and  J  use  lichcgaray's 
&>n  of  Don  Jmn^  the  rights  of  which 
have  just  been  bought  by  Mr.  Richard 
Mansiield. 

The  recent  publication  by  Messrs. 
Macmillan  and  Company  of  Balzac's  Le 
Peau  dc  Chaj^rin  suggests  to  us  the  mag- 
nificent possibilities  which  this  novel 
contains  for  dramatisation  with  Rich- 
ard Mauslicld  as  the  hero.  The  Magic 
Skin,  or,  as  Mr.  S.nntsbury  prefers  it, 
T/tr  il'ilJ  A.ss' i  Ski/!,  is  a  representative 
drama  of  universal  human  experience, 
and  as  centred  in  the  tragic  figure  of 
Raphael  it  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  Mr. 
Mansfield's  art. 

In  the  last  number  of  The  Bookman 


we  inadvertently  alluded  to  Mr.  Eric 
Mackay  as  Marie  Cofelli's  son.  The 
Critif  points  out  the  error,  but  stumbles 
itself  in  stating  that  Mr.  Mackay  is 
Marie  Corelli's  brother.  Tlic  pr  iniis- 
ing  author  in  question  is  really  the 
son  of  her  adoptive  father,  Dr.  Mac- 
kay, a  London  physician.  Mr.  Mackay 
dedicated  the  volume  rtf  sonnets  entitlefi 
Love  Letters  of  a  Violinist  to  his  adopted 
sister ;  and  Mme.  Clara  Lanza,  in  a  re- 
cent literary  (auscrii-,  tells  us  !)ow,  when 
Lord  Tennyson  died,  Marie  Corelli  hope- 
fully expected  Mr.  Mackay  to  receive  at 
once  the  appointment  to  succeed  to  the 
laurel  crown. 

Colonel  Waring,  of  this  city,  figures 

very  prominently  in  the  newspaper  press 
as  a  cleanser  of  streets,  a  spender  of  ap- 
propriations, and  a  designer  of  duck- 
suits,  but  so  far  as  we  have  obser\'ed 
the  current  discussion,  no  one  has  yet 
considered  him  In  the  light  of  an  author, 
except,  of  course,  as  a  writer  on  sani- 
tary science.  We  therefore  take  pleas- 
ure in  rcnvinding  our  contemporaries 
that  to  him  is  to  be  ascribed  a  very 
pleasing  volume,  with  the  poetic  title 
The  Bride  of  the  Rhine ^  which  first  saw 
the  light  in  1878,  when  it  came  from  the 
press  of  J.  R.  Osgood  and  Company,  of 
Boston.  It  narrates  the  voyace  made 
by  the  Colonel  in  a  new  boat  down  the 
Moselle  from  Metz  to  Cohknz,  and  is 
replete  with  dainty  little  pictures  of  that 
interesting  region,  garnished  with  Ger- 
man poetry,  and  ending  with  a  verse 
translation  of  the  Mosella^  of  Ausonius ; 
this  last,  however,  by  a  friend  of  Col- 
onel Waring's.  This  information  will 
douhtless  catise  several  Tammany  edi- 
tors to  prick  up  their  ears,  and  feel  an 
unholy  joy  that  their  enemy  has  written 
a  book  ;  Init  we  inform  them  in  advance 
that  the  book  is  a  very  gt)od  one,  so 
that  through  it  the  Lord  has  not  deliv- 
ered its  author  into  their  hands. 

Dr.  Robertson  i^icoii  has  at  last  been 
prevailed  upon  to  ^ve  to  the  world  his 

large  stores  of  knowdedge  concerning 
the  Victorian  period  of  literature  in  a 
work  to  be  entitled  Literary  Anecdotes  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century  :  Jieing  Memoirs  to 
Sen'f  for  a  I.itfrarx  History  (yf  thr  J\  rioJ. 
This  work  isinlendcd  toilo  for  the  nine- 
teenth century  what  Nicoll's  Anecdotes 
of  the  Eighteenth  Century  did  for  its  pred- 


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A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL 


3 


ecessor.  It  will  contain  new  material 
about  almost  every  author  of  the  period, 
mainly  from  manuscript  sources  and 
partly  from  newspapers  and  periodicals. 
It  is  expected  that  the  work  will  be  pub- 
lished in  six  volumes,  and  by  the  time  it 
is  completed  it  is  hoped  that  it  will  fur- 
nish the  most  important  collection  of  pa- 
pers in  existence  towards  a  complete  lit- 
erary history  of  the  century.  Mr. Thomas 
J.Wise,  author  of  the  Jii/>liof^rap/iy  of  John 
Raskin,  will  collaborate  with  Dr.  Xicoll 
in  editing  this  important  undertaking. 
The  first  volume  will  be  published  be- 
fore the  end  of  the  year  by  Messrs.  Dodd, 
Mead  and  Company. 

Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling  has  after  all  de- 
cided that  he  will  not  go  to  India  this 
autumn.  He  is  at  present  staying  with 
his  father  at  Tisbury,  in  Wiltshire,  Eng- 
land. 

It  has  been  noticed  by  attentive  read- 
ers that  Mr.  Crockett's  name  always  ap- 
pears on  his  books  and  elsewhere  as 
**  S.  R.  Crockett  ;*'  and  no  sketches  of 
him,  so  far  as  we  know,  h.ive  given  his 
name  in  full.  Even  in  his  correspond- 
ence Mr.  Crockett  simply  uses  his 
initials.  Hence  it  may  be  of  interest  to 
note  about  the  Covenanter  novelist  that 
the  letters  "  S.  R."  stand  for  "  Samuel 
Rutherford." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  ad- 
mirers of  Professor  Theodor  Momm- 
sen  presented  him  last  year  with  a 
fund  of  25,000  marks  ($<»25o)  on  the 
occasion  of  his  Juhilaum,  a  good  por- 
tion of  this  sum  having  been  raised  in 
England  and  the  United  States.  It  is 
now  announced  that  he  hc.s  turned  the 
money  over  to  the  Berlin  Academy  of 
Sciences  to  defray  the  cost  of  preparing 
a  complete  r<>r///f  of  Greek  numismatical 
mscriptions. 

Mr.  Robert  S.  Hichens,  whose  lively 
satire,  TV/r*  Green  Carnation,  made  such  a 
distinct  hit  last  year,  has  just  issued, 
through  the  Messrs.  Appleton,  another 
clever  performance  entitled  An  Ima^^ina- 
live  Afan.  Mr.  Hichens  is  a  young  man 
of  thirty,  yet  he  has  already  crowded  a 
good  deal  of  hard  work  into  this  brief 
span.  Although  at  the  age  of  seventeen 
he  wrote  a  novel  which  was  actually 
published,  he  seems  to  have  been  most 


bent  on  a  musical  career  ;  but  he  wearied 
of  his  first  love,  and  took  to  journalism. 
He  has  a  facile  pen  for  lyric  writing,  and 
is  the  author  of  numerous  songs  which 
have  been  set  to  music.  His  first  short 
story  appeared  in  the  Pal/  Mall  Ma^^a- 
zine,  entitled  The  Collaborators," 
which  is  to  be  included  in  a  book  of 


I 


ROHKKT  S.  JUfHRNS. 

short  stories  to  be  published  before  the 
close  of  the  year.  In  1893  he  visited 
Egypt  for  the  sake  of  his  health,  and  it 
was  the  sight  of  the  Pyramids  that  in- 
spired him  with  the  idea  which  has  mate- 
rialised in  An  Itnaf^inative  Man.  The 
Green  Carnation,  written  upon  his  return, 
brought  him  into  public  notice — whether 
of  notoriety  or  fame  is  for  readers  to 
judge.  Mr.  Hichens  is  a  much-travelled 
man,  and  it  is  possible  that  he  may  cross 
to  these  shores  in  the  Uite  autumn.  He 
is  engaged  on  a  third  novel  of  London 
life,  which  threatens  this  time  to  add 
yet  another  to  the  women-novels. 

Among  the  opinions  of  the  ten  writers 
of  more  or  less  literary  eminence  who 
contributed  to  a  symposium  on  "The 


4 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


Place  of  Realism  in  Fiction,"  in  the  July 
Jfumaniian'aii,  the  best  and  clearest  ex- 
position of  realism  within  the  narrow 
compass  allotted  comes  from  Mr.  \V.  II. 
Mallock,  the  celebrated  author  of  The 
New  R<-f>uhlic,  and  whose  new  novel. 
The  J  I  cart  of  Life,  is  reviewed  on  another 
page.    '*  If  by  realism,"  he  says,  "  is 


W.   II.  MALLOCK. 


meant  the  artistic  reproduction  of  life 
literally  as  it  is,  or  of  even  .1  single  scene 
exactly  as  it  occurred,  realism  is  impos- 
sible and  even  unthinkable.  Art,  in  fact, 
is  a  process  of  representing,  or  attempt- 
ing to  represent  a  whole,  by  a  very  small 
number  cjf  selected  parts  ;  and  whether 
the  representation  is  true  to  life,  or  in 
other  words,  whether  it  expresses  a  real- 
ity, antl  is  in  any  deep  sense  realistic, 
does  not  depend  only  on  the  accuracy  of 
each  part,  but  on  the  general  impression 
which  the  parts,  when  put  together, 
produce.  If  M.  Zola  had  witnessed  and 
described  the  Crucifixion,  he  would 
prol>ably  have  devoted  more  care  to  de- 
scribing a  heap  of  filth  at  the  foot  oi  the 
Cross,  than  the  aspect  and  behaviour  of 
the  Sufferer  ;  but  he  would  not  for  that 
reason  be  more  realistic  than  the  livan- 
gelists,  who  omit  such  details  alto- 
gether," 


Whether  M.  Zola's  views  be  true  or 
false,  it  is  certain  that  his  romances 
are  still  in  demand.  Otherwise  we 
should  not  read  the  announcement  of 
an  edition  of  Une  Pa^^e  d' Amour  {Lrs 
Roui^on  Macquart)  with  one  hundred  il- 
lustrations by  Francois  Thevenot,  form- 
ing a  hands<)me  octavo  volume  for 
twenty-five  francs  !  La  Cun'e  has  al- 
ready appeared  in  the  same  style  and 
at  the  same  price,  and  A^a/ia  is  in  prep- 
aration to  range  with  these  two.  Hmile 
Testard  is  the  publisher. 

Among  all  his  books,  George  Moore 
regards  J//Xy  flftchcr  as  embodying  his 
best  work.  After  finishing  it,  he  wrote 
to  a  friend  in  this  country  :  "At  last 
I  have  written  a  reall)'  great  book.  It 
is  the  best — all  I  can  do."  The  novel, 
however,  had  little  success  in  England, 
and  none  at  all  in  this  cotintry.  Mr. 
Moore  was  in  despair,  after  which  he  was 
comforted  by  the  gradual  appreciation 
of  his  critical  work,  especially  his  Im- 
pressions and  Opinions,  and  also  by  the 
vogue  of  Esthi-r  Waters.  It  may  be 
whimsical,  but  we  really  believe  that 
much  of  the  neglect  from  which  Mike 
Fietiher  suffered  was  due  to  its  very  un- 
attractive title.  There  is  a  good  deal  in 
a  name,  as  any  publisher  can  testify 
from  his  own  experience. 

Mr.  Moore  likes  Americans,  and  espe- 
cially American  women,  whose  clever 
talk  amuses  him.  He  has  a  number  of 
correspondents  in  this  country  to  whom 
he  dashes  olT  rapid,  unconventional  let- 
ters, full  of  blots  and  blurs,  and  charac- 
terised by  an  utter  disregard  for  the  ac- 
cepted rules  of  English  orthography, 
for  Mr.  Moore  can  never  learn  to  spell, 
and  depends  greatly  upon  the  frientily 
proof-reader — in  which,  by  the  way,  he 
is  not  alone  among  men  of  letters.  Mr. 
Moore  is  still  unmarried,  and  resides, 
when  in  London,  in  the  Temple,  of 
which  famous  place  he  has  given  sev- 
eral interesting  pictures  in  his  novels. 
As  a  worker  he  is  indefatigable,  rewrit- 
ing and  polishing  to  the  last  moment. 
I'pon  Esther  Waters  he  spent  three  years 
of  hard  work. 

"  Maarten  Maartens"  occupies  a 
unique  place  in  English  literature.  A 
Hollander,  he  is  known  by  his  neigh- 
bours as  a  country  gentleman  who  shuts 


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A  LITEKARY  JOURNAL, 


5 


himself  up  for  hours  toj^ether  writ- 
ing I — while  he  has  leapt  to  fame  as  a 
writer  of  fiction  in  English.  Mis  new 
ncjvel,  My  LtiJy  Xo/uu/y,  is  reviewed  on 
another  page,  and  the  accompanying  por- 
trait is  taken  from  a  recent  photograph. 
He  has  frequently  vis- 
ited London  since  he 
became  famous,  and  is 
now  paying  a  more  ex- 
tended visit  to  "  the 
English  country," 
which  has  a  wonder- 
ful fascination  for  this 
foreigner.  "Assured- 
ly,'" he  says,  "  Lon- 
don resembles  a  mag- 
net in  the  way  in  which 
it  draws  men  to  itself 
from  all  parts." 

"  How  did  you  come 
to  write  fiction  ?"  he 
has  been  asked  by  the 
inevitable  inter\'iewer, 
*'  especially  fiction  in 
English  ?" 

"  I  had  been  to  Eng- 
land as  a  boy,  and  later 
I  travelled  a  good  deal, 
having  a  considerable 
amount  of  leisure  on 
my  hands.  It  was 
meant  that  I  should 
go  into  politics,  but 
I  am  thankful  I  have 
found  mv  activities  in 
another  direction — in 
literature,  that  is. 
True,  I  am  a  gradu- 
ated barrister,  but  that 
was  really  part  of  my 
training  for  public  life, 
and  I  have  never  prac- 
tised. Duringone  holi- 
day, then,  I  w^rote  in 
English  my  first  story, 
The  Sin  of  Joost  Ave- 
/ifii^h,  and  sent  it  over 
here  to  ascertain  if  any 
publisher  would  have 
it.  A  bold  proceed- 
ing, wasn't  it  ?" 

"  Well,  and  did  you  find  a  publisher  ?" 

"  I  hardly  expected  that  I  should,  and 
I  didn't,  but  eventually  I  published  the 
stor)'  at  my  own  risk.  Everybody  thought 
it  was  a  translation  of  a  Dutch  storj',  and 
I  fancy  that  a  misapprehension  to  this 
effect  still   exists   in  reference  to  my 


novels.  Many  people  regard  them  as 
translations.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  trans- 
lation of  them  into  Dutch  is  only  now 
being  made,  and  I  may  add  that  they 
are  also  being  translated  into  Ger- 
man." 


"  Vou  preferred,  from  the  artistic 
point  of  view,  perhaps,  to  write  in  Eng- 
lish ?" 

"  Yes.  Dutch  is  very  fine  for  higher 
prose  or  poetry,  but  for  lighter  litera- 
ture, I  think,  English  is  superior.  It  is 
more  flexible,  nimbler  ;  only  don't  sup- 


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6 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


pose,  as  I  saw  it  stated  somewhere,  that 

the  Dutch  pea'^ptn*-  know  English.  Oh, 
dear.  n->  :  but  it:.!  the  Dutch  are  verv 
j^O'-'l  linguists.  Mv  second  b<>*/r:.  .hi 
Old  .\rail s  Lai  f,  Bentley  p  ih!;>h-  i.  ...n 
»ith  ihe  exception  of  a  short  novel,  A 
Qutsiion^f  Toite^  he  has  !s>;ued  what  else 
I  have  written.  G'*! s  F<'cl  is  my  own 
favourite,  but  many  people  appear  to 
think  that  The  Greaifr  Gl0rj  is  a  better 
book. 

**  I  endeavour  to  write  stories,"  con- 

tinu»*'l  Mr  Maart-  ns,  "  which  shall,  as 
closely  as  I  can  make  thcro,  be  ret  lec- 
tions of  real  life.    The  extent  to  which 

I  succeed  in  that  i>  th-!  extent  to  which 
I  am  content  with  what  I  write,  and  the 
interest  the  books  have  created  has  natu- 
rally greatly  gratified  me.  The  more  I 
think  of  it,  th'-  more  I  am  amazed  at 
this  interest  ;  and  it  is  not  in  England 
only  that  it  exists,  but  also  in  America.*' 

**'Why  s!i'-uM  yoii  ?ay  that  ?" 

"  Well,  yuu  see  the  circumstances  are 
so  unusual — a  Dutchman  appealing  to 
Engli^h-^p'-akin-.^  p^r,pli\  In  writintj 
English,  too,  there  is  the  disadvantage 
of  betni^  unconsciously  betrayed  into 
Dut' h  f'.rms  of  t  xpression.  For  the 
rest,  my  position  stands  by  itself,  of 
course,  and  in  that  alone  there  is  an 
enormous  advantage." 

it, 

M.  Maeterlinck  has  just  linisbed  a  new- 
volume  entitled  Uh  Aikum  de  Ckansens. 
The  next  number  of  The  Bookmak  will 
contain  a  very  interesting  account  of 
Maeterlinck's  personality  and  of  his 
home,  written  f<»r  our  columns  by  Mme. 
Magdeleinc  Pidoux,  the  charming 
French  essayist,  whose  acquaintance 
with  Maeterlinck  is  of  long  standing. 

T!ic  ( ircular  sent  out  by  Messrs.  Punk 
and  Wagnalls  in  the  interest  of  "  Fo> 
netik  Refawrm,"  and  noticed  in  the  July 

number  of  TnK  Bookma.v,  has  not  been 
taken  very  seriously  by  any  one,  so  far 
as  we  have  observed  ;  as,  indeed,  why 
should  it?  The  Sun  ot  this  city  sug- 
gests that  if  a  simplified  form  of  writ- 
ing be  desirable,  we  should  all  take  to 
stenography  at  ont*  ide  which  the 
timid  bei^i linings  of  .Messrs.  Funk  and 
Wagnalls  certainly  seem  pale  and  in- 
effective. 

The  circular  informed  us  that  should 


one  hundred  leading  educators,  authors, 
and  journalists  agree  to  adopt  the  pro- 
posed list  of  spellings,  then  Messrs. 
I'link  and  Wagnalls  would  at  once  intro- 
i\-\< it  int't  x.\\'-'\r  vari'a.s  [nililioations. 
Should  they  secure  their  hundred  vic- 
tims, we  trust  that  we  shall  receive  a 
list  of  their  names.  By  the  way.  why 
stop  short  at  the  reform  of  our  orthog- 
raphy ?  English  orthoffraphy  is,  of 
cour^<-.  \  <-rv  irrp'^ular  and  illntriral.  bt:t 
SO  is  the  Eaglish  language.  Why  does 
not  the  able  Mr.  Marsh,  who  is  the  lin- 
guistic sponsor  of  Messrs.  Funk  and 
Wagnalls,  take  this  in  hand  }  Just 
think,  for  instance,  of  all  the  irre^lar 
verbs  upon  which  the  babes  and  suck- 
lings are  continnaHy  stumbling.  Why 
should  U  '  «  Mutinue  to  say,  **  I  go,  I 
went,  I  have  gone,**  when  we  K.uld 
easily  simplify  matters  by  making  it,  "  I 
go,  I  goed,  I  have  goeil"  ?  Why  not 
get  a  hundred  leading  educators,  au- 
thofN,  and  journalists  to  t.nkle  tliis  far 
greater  and  more  glorious  **  refawrm"  ? 
Of  course,  some  absurdly  scientific  per> 
son  will  sa\'  that  the  irregularities  of  the 
tongue  are  a  part  of  its  histon,-,  and  are 
of  the  greatest  value  to  the  philologist, 
besides  giving  force  and  picturesque* 
ness  to  thf  written  and  spoken  lan- 
guage ;  but,  ihcii,  this  is  also  true  of 
its  irregular  orthography.  Persons  who 
will  persist  in  S}>t  !linij  and  speaking  as 
our  ancestors  have  done,  are  quite  capa- 
ble of  thinking  the  mountains  and  val- 
leys of  Su'ttzerlaiKl  (-^ln ickingly  irregu- 
lar affairs  !)  more  beautiful  than  a  nice, 
regular  Kansas  prairie.  Why  should 
any  one  consider  their  opinions?  On 
with  the  "  refawrm  !" 

Some  one  should  start  a  school  fr^r  the 
instruction  of  authors  and  editors  in  the 
proper  use  of  the  auxiliaries  "  shall" 
and  "  will."  for  the  ktKnvlcdi^c  of  the 
dislinclion  between  il\cnv  sccnis  to  be 
vanishing  from  the  American  people. 
Amoni^  authors,  Mr.  Rirliard  Hardinp; 
Davis  IS  liie  worst  oHender  in  this  re- 
spect, and  we  wonder  that  his  sojourn 
at  the  Lehigh  and  Johns  Hopkins  Uni- 
versities failed  to  effect  a  reform.  A 
very  bad  instance  was  also  lately  seen 
in  the  letter  addressed  to  the  English 
public  by  the  Cornell  I'niversitv  Crew 
— a  letter  in  which  liie  misused  "wills" 
gave  a  finishing  touch  to  the  lamentable 
story  of  the  Henley  race. 


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A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL. 


7 


It  must  be  admitted  that  the  Cornell 
men  suffered  chiefly  there  for  the  sins  of 
others — first,  the  blatant  Courtney,  who 
put  heart  into  his  crew  by  assuring  them 
and  every  one  else  that  they  had  not  the 
ghost  of  a  chance  to  win  ;  second,  the 
absurd  person  named  Francis,  who  made 
a  spectacle  of  himself  on  two  memorable 
occasions  ;  and,  third,  the  English  um- 
pire, whom  they  innocently  supposed  to 
be  a  person  set  in  authority  over  them, 
as  is  an  umpire  in  this  country.  Inciden- 
tally the  world  had  a  chance  to  see  dis- 
played once  more  the  delicate  courtesy 
which  Englishmen  bestow  upon  defeat- 
ed rivals,  in  the  hooting  and  hissing 
with  which  the  Cornell  men  were  re- 
ceived at  the  finish  of  their  race  with 
Trinity  Hall.  English  fair-play  is  a 
precious  and  proverbial  thing,  but  it  is 
evidently,  like  many  other  precious 
things,  so  limited  in  quantity  as  to  be 
kept  wholly  for  English  use,  and  never 
by  any  chance  wasted  upon  the  perni- 
cious foreigner.  Thus  when  the  America 
first  won  the  famous  cup,  the  English 
generously  insinuated  that  she  had  won 
by  concealed  machinery  ;  and  last  year, 
when  Mr.  Gould's  Vigilant  lost  her  cen- 
treboard, the  English  press  intimated 
that  the  accident  had  been  carefully 
arranged. 

Messrs.  Longmans,  Green  and  Com- 
pany will  publish  Mr.  Stanley  Weyman's 
new  romance.  The  Red  Cockade,  on  the 
first  of  December. 

It  has  been  extensively  rumoured  that 
Mr,  Hall  Caine's  new  novel  goes  on  a 
royalty  two  shillings  a  copy  into  the 
hands  of  a  publishing  firm  into  which 
fresh  energy  has  been  lately  infused. 
We  understand  that  this  is  not  the  case, 
and  that  Mr.  Hall  Caine's  next  book 
will  be  published  by  his  present  English 
publisher,  Mr.  Heinemann. 

Professor  Edward  Dowden,  whose 
notable  book,  Nm*  Studies  in  Literature 
has  just  been  published  by  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company,  was 
born  in  1843.  He  was  educated  at  Queen's 
College,  Cork,  and  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  where  he  won  the  Vice-Chan- 
cellor's prizes  for  English  verse  and 
prose,  and  became  first  senior  Modera- 
tor in  Logic  and  Ethics,  and  finally 
Professor  of  English  Literature.    He  is 


also  a  Cunningham  Gold  Medallist  of 
the  Royal  Irish  Academy,  an  Hon.  LL.D. 
of  Edinburgh  University  and  Hon. 
D.C.L.  of  Oxford.  In  1889  he  became 
the  first  Taylorian  Lecturer  at  Oxford, 


EDWARD  DOWDEN,  LI,.D.,  D.C.L. 


and  in  1893  was  elected  Clark  Lecturer 
in  English  Literature  at  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge.  Among  his  chief  works  are 
Poems,  Studies  in  Literature ,  Shakespeare — 
His  Mind  and  Art,  and  The  Life  of  Shel- 
ley. He  has  also  edited  Shakespeare's 
sonnets,  Southey's  correspondence,  and 
the  poetical  works  of  Shelley  and  of 
Wordsworth.  As  V^ice-President  of  the 
Irish  Unionist  Alliance  he  has  taken  a 
national  interest  in  Irish  politics,  and  has 
strenuously  opposed  home  rule. 

We  understand  that  Mr.  H.  D.  Lowry, 
the  author  of  Women  s  Tragedies,  has  fin- 
ished a  novel,  to  which  he  has  given  the 
title  A  Man  of  Moods. 

% 

Mrs.  Margaret  Deland,  who  is  now  in 
Europe,  has  been  giving  the  finishing 
touches  to  a  new  novel. 

Mr.  Robert  H.  Sherard,  who  writes 
the  Paris  Letter  for  The  Bookman,  is  at 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


present  engaged  on  a  new  story  ciuilltd 
Untie  Clirisli>plu )-' s  Tii\}surt\  whicli  deals 
with  the  It  ii)ulalions  of  a  literary  man 
under  tlie  most  exceptional  Mnum- 
stances.  The  scene  is  laid  in  the  former 
English  province  of  Aquitaine,  and 
bound  up  with  the  plot  is  a  romantic 
love-story.  The  author  hopes  to  demon- 
strate with  this  novel,  as  with  his  Jioguts 
and  By  Rtghty  Not  Law^  that  analysis  is 
not  incompatible  with  popular  interest. 
The  book  will  be  published  in  the  au- 
tumn. 

In  his  new  volume  of  reminiscences, 
reviewed  on  anollier  page,  tlic  Kev. 
Harry  Jones  says  that  he  observed 
that  in  his  jniMm  ministrations  the 
book  which  was  the  favourite  with 
the  prisoners  was  Buchan's  Domestie 
Mt'dicine.  It  appears  that  its  description 
of  symptoms  was  prized  as  a  scientific 
guide  in  the  shamming  of  sickness  which 
led  to  a  relaxation  of  discipline.  One 
day  he  was  present  at  the  convict  choir 
rehearsal  when  the  warden  gave  out  the 
hymn, 

**  Come  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs 
With  angels  round  the  throne." 

And,  he  adds,  they  joined  in  them  with 
paiiietic  readiness.  On  the  same  day 
he  was  passings  through  the  school  of 
religious  instruction,  and  as  he  listened 
to  the  adult  scholars  reading  verse  by 
verse  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  he  found, 
to  his  amazement,  that  it  wa  ^  tluit  which 
describes  the  escape  of  Kahab  the  harlot 
from  Jericho. 


Mr.  George  Smith 
fof  Smith,  Elder  and 

Company),  "the 
Prince  of  Publishers,** 
as  Charles  Reade  is 

said  to  have  described 
him,  has  in  his  posses- 
sion many  curious  and 
valuable  mementoes 
of  distinguishecl  au- 
thors. The  entire 
manuscript  of  Brown- 
ing's /'///i,'  aiiil till-  Book 
was  presented  by  the 
poet  to  his  friend,  Mrs. 
George  Smith,  and 
there  is  also  the  com- 
plete manuscript  of 
Jane  F.yre,  which  Mr. 
Smith  bi ought  home 
with  him  one  memor- 
able Saturday  night,  and  became  so  fas- 
cinated with  the  story  that  he  was  unable 
to  drop  it  until  he  had  got  to  the  end. 
The  sketches  by  Thackeray  and  the  page 
f)f  manuscript  of  S/iir/r  \  herewith  repro- 
duced are  from  the  originals  belonging 
to  Mr.  Smith. 

* 

Apropos  of  Mr.  Oxley  Macdonald's 
article  on  *'  Rejected  Addresses*'  in  the 

present  numlu  r,  the  following  transla- 
tion from  the  Chinese  of  a  Celestial  edi- 
tor's rejection  of  a  would-be  contribu- 
tor's manuscript  may  be  of  some  inter- 
est :  "  Illustrious  brother  of  the  sun  and 
moon  :  Behold  thy  servant  prostrate  be- 
fore thy  feet.  I  kowtow  to  thee  and  beg; 
that  of  thy  graciousness  thou  mayst 
grant  that  I  may  speak  and  live.  Thy 
honoured  manuscript  has  deigned  to 
cast  the  lii^lit  of  its  august  countenance 
upon  us.  With  raptures  we  have  perused 
it.  By  the  bones  of  my  ancestors,  never 
have  I  encounter- 
ed such  wit,  such 
pathos,  such  lofty 
thought.  With 
fear  and  trem- 
bling I  return  the 
writing.  Were  I 
to  publish  the 
treasure  you  sent 
me,  the  Emperor 
would  order  that 
it  should  be  made 
the  Standard,  and 
that  none  be  pub- 
lished except 
such  as  equaled 


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A  UTBRARY  JOURNAL, 


9 


it.  Knowing  litera- 
ture as  I  do,  and  that 

it  would  be  impossi- 
ble in  ten  thousand 
years  to  equal  what 
you  have  done,  I  send 
your  writing  back. 
Ten  thousand  times  I 
crave  your  pardon. 
Behold,  my  head  is  at 
your  feet.  Do  what 
jou  will.  Your  ser- 
vant's servant. — The 
Editor r 

An  aggrieved  cor- 
respondent makes 
this  query  in  a  com* 
plaint  to  tlu-  London 
Literary  World  re- 
specting ft  return* 
e  d  manuscript: 
"Whether  it  is  not 
the  last  indignity  a 
poor  'rejected'  can 
suffer,  whether  it  is 
not  the  mockery  and 
outrage  of  autocratic 
power,  a  very  impu- 
dent tillip  of  the  nose 
from  the  Herod-seat 
of  judjjmcnt,  to  re- 
turn with  printed  slip  ^i.j. 
a  rejected  address,  V^'TT^ 
and  to  include  in  the 
envelope  a  {oUUogue  of  the  old-established 
firm*s  /itUieatiaHS  t** 

Fiona  Macleod,  the  author  of  TheMoui^ 
f,iiri  /.(K'-ri,  ihv  latest  Keynotes  volume, 
is  a  genuine  name,  and  not  a  pbcudu- 
nym,  as  has  been  conjectured  in  some 
quarters.  Fiona  is  the  diminutive  of 
Kionnaghal,  the  Gaelic  equivalent  of 
Flora.  Miss  Macleod  is  a  native  of  the 
South  Hebrides,  where  she  passed  her 
early  years.  She  btill  spends  part  of 
the  year  in  the  Highlands  of  her  native 
i)laee  and  nf  Artrylcshirr,  \vhi-r<-  tin- 
scenes  of  TAe  Mountain  Lovers  are  laid, 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  time  she  lives  near 
Edinburgh.  She  is  still  quite  young. 
Pharais,  by  the  same  author,  will  appear 
in  a  forthcoming  issue  of  Messrs.  Stone 
and  Kimball's  Green  Tree  Library. 

% 

With  the  July  number  of  the  Windsor 
Magazine  there  begins  a  rambling  <au- 
urie,  by  Anthony  Flope,  under  the  cap- 


m>.y0m^  fit^^  Z***^  • 


2^  ^f^jf^^  -4mA*.  ^Jf^  mutm,  mnn* 

^^^^^^  ^^t^i^S^^^^  ^b^M^^ 


tion,  "  The  Fly  on  the  Wheel."  One 
naturally  thinks  of  "Without  Prej- 
udice" in  tlu-  /',///  Ma/l,  and  of  "  The 
Book  Hunter"  in  the  /dler,  but  there  is 
something  in  the  vivacity  and  sparkle  of 
Mr.  Hawkins's  style,  as  well  as  in  the 
substance  nf  his  chatter,  which  differen- 
tiates him  from  either  Zangvvill  oi  Allien. 
It  is  the  author  of  TAe  Dolly  Dialogues 
we  have  here,  catchini^  up  the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  on  the  ga^  surface  of  soci- 
ety's stream,  and  making  merry  with  its 
quips  and  cranks  and  foibles.  As  an 
example  we  give  this  fantasy  of  "  Cupid 
and  the  Census  Man.*' 

Cupid  had  tried  hard  to  escape,  for, 
above  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  he 
hates  having  to  give  an  account  of  him- 
self. But  the  Census  man  was  very  de- 
termined, and  ran  him  to  earth  in  La- 
lage's  drawing-room,  a  place  which  he 
knew  very  well,  and  where  he  had  al- 
ways been  most  kindly  received.  The 
Census  man  came  straight  at  him  with 


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10 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


a  larpp  sheet  of  paper,  printed  in  manv 
columns,  a  portable  inkstand  and  a  quill 
pen. 

'*  Age,  please  ?"  said  tlie  Census  man. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Cupid.  "  Un- 
til you've  settled  the  age  of  the  world, 
you  see,  I  can  hardly  tell." 

"  But,' '  expostulated  the  Census  man, 
"  you  don't  look  more  than  a  few  years 
old." 

"  I  seldom  last  more  than  that,  you 
sec,"  said  Cupid. 

**  Shall  we  say  three  years  ?  ' 

"  If  you  like.     It's  rather  hnig." 

"  And  now  let  us  pass  on — " 

'*  It's  a  thing  I'm  very  apt  to  do,"  in- 
terrupted Cupid. 

"  To  the  next  head." 
You  mean  heart,'  *  murmured  Cupid. 

"  What  is  your  Profession  ?" 

"  My  Professions  are  unlimited,"  said 
Cupid, 

"But  you  can't  practise  an  unlim- 
ited—'* 

"  Of  course  not  ;  I  only  promise." 

"  Really,  yni  must  be  more  precise," 
sii.jlied  the  Census  man.  "  Now,  what 
am  1  to  enter  you  as,  Mr.  Cupid  ?" 

Cupid  thought  for  a  moment,  playing 
with  his  sheaf  of  arrows. 

"Shall  we  say  a  General  Dealer?" 
he  suggested. 

"Capital  !"  cried  the  Census  man, 
putting  it  down. 

•*  Though,"  added  Cupid,  "  I  am  also 
a  Solicitor." 

"  pualified  ?"  asked  the  Census  man, 
suspiciously. 

"  I  have  been  admitted  many  times," 
smiled  Cupid.  "  I  am  also  a  flancing- 
mastcr,  and  I  am  instrumental  in  get- 
ting up  a  great  many  bazaars,  picnics, 
and  other  entertainments." 

"  You  must  be  ver^  busy,"  obser\'ed 
the  Census  man,  writing  hard. 

"What's  the  next  question?"  asked 
Cupid,  smiling  again. 

Your  Persuasion,  Mr.  Cupid  ?" 

"  Irresistible,"  answered  Cupid. 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  that  sect," 
objected  the  Census  man. 

'Of  course,  if  you're  only  to  put 
down  what  you  happen  to  have  beard 
of — "  began  Cupid  s  in  .islically. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  See,  it  is 
down— '  Irresistiltle. '    And  now,  sir — " 

But  at  this  moment  Lalage  entered. 
Cupid  strung  his  bow,  and  the  Census 
man  fnri^ot  his  business  ;  SO  that  the  re- 
turn remains  incomplete. 


loseph  Cnnrad,  the  autlior  Al- 
ma) (r  s  Folly  (reviewed  in  this  number), 
is  a  Pole  by  birth.  He  is  a  young  man, 
wlio  some  years  at^o  entered  the  Knc:- 
lish  mercantile  service.  It  was  during 
his  voyages  as  a  sea-captain  that  he 
gained  the  knowledge  of  Malay  life 
which  is  shown  in  his  novel.  He  is  also 
well  acquainted  with  the  Congo  district 
and  with  other  parts  of  Africa. 

The  new  story  which  Sir  Walter  Bc- 
sant  has  written  for  publication  in  Cham" 
hers  s  Journal  in  the  early  part  of  the  new 
year  is  to  be  entitled  The  Master  Cra/tS' 
mam.  It  will  be  published  in  book  form 
on  the  first  of  May. 

Pierre  Loti's  new  book,  La  C,aliV/<^ 
was  begun  as  a  feuiUetvn  in  the  Paris 
JF/Jftf/vof  July  3d. 

M.  Henri  Rochefort  has  just  written  a 
short  novel,  entitled  V  Aurort  Bar/ale. 

Messrs.  Copeland  and  Day  believe  that 
they  have  discovered  a  new  poet.  For 
twenty  years  he  has  been  writing  poetry, 
and  but  few  of  his  friends  have  been 
aware  of  the  fact.  During  that  time  he 
has  written  t)nly  some  forty  poems,  all 
of  which,  however,  are  said  to  be  pol- 
ished and  finished  gems  of  literature. 
They  remind  one  of  the  manner  of  Her- 
rick'and  Crashaw.  The  new  poet,  we 
may  say,  is  a  successful  man  of  business 
and  a  noted  athlete. 

The  same  publishers  will  issue  soon 
The  Child  in  the  House,  by  Walter  Pater, 
which  was  originally  printed  privately 
in  England  at  the  Daniel  Press,  Oxford. 
There  were  350  copies  of  the  English 
edition,  which  were  sold  at  two  guineas 
each.  The  same  qtiantity  has  been 
printed  by  Messrs.  Copeland  and  Day 
on  specially  manufactured  paper,  and 
the  price  is  only  $1.50.  The  .\merican 
edition,  it  seems  to  us,  is  superior  in 
the  finish  of  its  general  form  and  style 
to  the  I'tiiilish  edition.  We  arc  pleased 
to  hear  that  Miss  Alice  Brown's  volume 
of  New  England  stories,  entitled  Mead- 
oti'-Grasty  published  recently  by  this 
firm,  is  meeting  with  a  wide  apprecia- 
tion. 

M.  .Mjihonsc  Daudet  h.is  little  sym- 
pathy with  the  "  New  Woman"  and  her 


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A  UTEKARY  JOURNAL. 


II 


asp  i  rations. 
•*  I  do  not 
see,"  he  said 
to  Mr.  Sher- 
ard  recently, 
"  what  wom- 
an will  gain 
by  this  en- 
franchise- 
ment. Zut ! 
if  a  woman 
wishes  to  im- 
itate man! 
A  woman,  to 
my  thinking, 
can  never  be 
womanly 
enough.  Let 
her  have  all 
the  qualities 
of  a  woman, 
and  I  for  my 
part  will  par- 
don her  for 
having  all  a 
woman's 
faults.  A  1 1 
the  women 
that  I  have 
loved  and  ad- 
mired have 
been  woman- 
ly women. 
T  li  i  s  move- 
m  e  n  t ,"  he 
continued, 
' '  is  one  of  the 
bad  things 
which  have 
come  to  us 
from  Ameri- 
c  a .  The 
•  New  Wo. 
man'  is, 
however,  un- 
likely, Difu 

nifrci  :  to  find  many  disciples  in  France. 
France  would  else  have  to  be  radically 
transformed.  Some  attempts  were  made 
in  that  direction.  Some  schools  were 
opened  where  male  education,  even 
male  dress,  was  given  to  girls.  But  it 
was  all  a  failure.    Et  Dieu  merci 

The  much-discussed  "  Victoria  Cross" 
of  77/f  Yellffiii  Book  is  a  Miss  V'ivien 
Cory.  She  lives  in  the  country  near 
London,  and  spends  so  much  time  in 
writing  that  she  has  no  leisure  left  to  read 
anything  but  a  little  Latin,  chieHy  Ovid, 


M.  ALPHONSK  nAt'llRT. 

from  which  she  draws  her  inspiration. 
She  was  led  to  adopt  her  itom  de  plume 
because  her  initials  are  V.  C,  and 
also  by  the  fact  that  she  is  the  descend- 
ant of  a  V.  C.  Roberts  Brothers  will 
publish  shortly  a  novel  hy  her,  entitled 
A  Woman  Who  Did  Xot,  in  the  Key- 
notes Series. 

Some  of  the  characterisations  of  cer- 
tain popular  authors  who  were  present 
at  the  Besant  Banquet  a  few  weeks  ago, 
as  reported  in  the  London  J.iferary 
It'or/d,  are  rather  sprightly  and  sugges- 


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1» 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


live.  Madame  Sarah  Grand  is  described 
as  '*  sphinx-like  and  handsome,  the  cham- 
pion fif  women  ;"  while  her  fiomestic  an- 
tithesis, Miss  Annie  S.  Swan  JMrs.  Bur- 
nett Smith),  is  presented  as  *^  a  picture 
of  health,  goodness,  and  common- 
sense."  We  have  *'  Mr.  Austin  Dob- 
son,  with  his  kindly,  good-humoured 
face  and  meditative  icri-y  rves  ;"  Mr. 
Israel  Zungwiil,  "sardonic  and  unfath- 
omable;*' and  Mr.  W.  H.  Rideing,  of 
the  A'orth  Antfrican  Revino  and  Thf 
Youth's  Companion  (who  was  then  in 
London),  with  "  healthy,  fresh-coloured 
face,  full  of  a  strange  "mixture  of  alert- 
ness and  reserve  strength."  Mr.  Hall 
Caitic:  "  uniquely  interesting,  wilii  his 
striking  appearance  has  a  fine,  old-fash- 
ioned c<Hirtesy,"  we  learn,  "  towards  all 
who  ask  to  be  introduced  to  hira  ;" 
white  Mr.  Barrie  "  has  a  shy  dislike  to 
being  introduced  to  strangers,  and  is 
apt  to  run  away  almost  immediately 
after  an  introduction  has  been  effected." 

The  Rev  John  Watson  (Ian  Maclaren) 
is  spending  the  early  part  of  his  sum- 
mer vacation  in  Switzerland.  After* 

ward  he  will  visit  Logiealniond,  in  or- 
der to  revive  his  memory  of  the  scenes 
of  Drumtochty. 

Mr.  Watson's  new  Drumtnrhtv  vol- 
ume, conlatiung  liie  rest  ot  his  Scottish 
Stories,  will  be  published  by  Messrs. 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company  in  October. 
It  will  be  entitled  The  Day  's  oj  Auid  Lang 
Synt. 

The  same  publishers  have  in  prepara- 
tion Mr.  Watson's  A  Doctor  of  the  Old 
School,  to  be  illustrated  with  numerous 
drawings  made  among  the  scenes 
whence  Ian  Maclaren  drew  his  inspira- 
tion. This  ought  to  make  a  book  of 
permanent  value  and  perennial  in- 
terest, for  Dr.  MacLure  is  the  linest 
p' una  it  in  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bwk^  and 
the  chapters  descrihlnv^  his  strenuous 
life  are  worthy  to  rank  with  the  master- 
pieces of  Scottish  literature. 

"  We  drove  to  Ballaglass  Glen,"  writes 
a  visitor  to  the  Isle  of  Man  recently, 
"  passing  various  scenes  on  the  way 
which  figure  in  The  Manxman.  After  a 
day  or  two,  we  all  found  ntirselves  actu- 
ally talking  ot  llic  people  in  J  he  Manx- 
man as  if  they  really  existed.  We 


passed  the  ivy-clad  cliurch  where  Kate 
and  Pete  were  married,  the  house  where 
Philip  stayed  with  his  annt,  the  mill  of 
Caesar  Cregeen,  the  deserted  tholthans, 
the  inns,  the  cottages,  where  hosts  of 
characters  dwelt  and  had  their  being. 
No  one  said,  '  The  imaginary  charac- 
ters tn  The  Manxman  do  this,  that,  and 
the  dther,'     It  was:  'Here  is  Kate's 
glen^  where  stie  sang  ;  this  is  where 
Ceesar's  Melliah  supper  was  held  ;  this 
is  Pete's  house.'    Mr.  H.dl  Calne,  our 
host  (he  wore  a  rough  tweed  knicker- 
bocker  suit,  and  broad-brimmed,  pictu- 
resque hat),  strode  on  with  untiring^ 
step?!,  or  l)arelieaded,  beneath  the  trees 
of  Ballaglass,  watched  the  darting  trout 
in  the  pools,  the  sunbeams  playing  on 
the  rocks,  the  white  sheen  of  the  water 
as  it  fell  and  sparkled  and  flashed  and 
sang  upon  its  way.    His  eyes,  full  of 
genial  mirth  or  haunting  melancholy, 
held  one  ;  his  rich,  deep,  musical  voice 
mingled  with  the  sound  of  the  flowing^ 

Waters,  and  interpreted  their  song,  or, 
as  we  drove  through  the  quiet  twilight, 
told  us  old  tales  of  the  ancient  Ibtonr 
kings,  their  feudal  powers  and  priv- 
ileges." ^ 

Lovers    of   that   delightful  book, 

White's  Natural  History  of  Sel!'ornt\ 
must  have  often  felt  the  need  of  a  final 
edition,  and  this,  we  may  venture  to 
say,  promises  to  be  attained  by  the  hand- 
some, illustrated  work,  in  two  volumes, 
whicii  Messrs.  D.  Appleton  and  Com- 
pany are  preparing  for  publication  in 
the  autumn.  Mr.  John  Burroughs  has 
written  a  pleasant  introduction  (and  no 
better  man  could  be  found  to  write  tan 
atnore  with  the  sulijert),  and  the  numer- 
ous illustrations,  lull  page  and  vignette, 
have  been  beautifully  reproduced  from 
photographs  of  the  local  scenery  de- 
scribed in  the  Natural  History  taken  by 
Clifton  Johnson,  who  visited  the  places 
expressly  for  that  purpose. 

It  is  refreshing  to  be  able  t  '  noiince 
three  works  of  fiction  by  American 
writers  which  are  believed  to  possess 
sterling  qualities  of  literary  workman- 
ship and  strength  of  imagination.  The 
Red  Badge  of  Courage,  by  Stephen  Crane, 
will  show  that  intrepid  and  eccentric 
young  genius  in  a  new  light  ;  In  Defi- 
ance of  the  King  is  a  romance  of  the 
American  Revolution,  by  Chauncey  C. 


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A  UTERARY  lOURNAL 


13 


Hotchkiss,  a  new  writer,  who,  like  Mr. 
Crane,  has  served  an  apprenticeship  in 
journalism,  and  IS  a  resident  of  New 
York,  and  whose  conscientious  and 
painstaking  liubits  of  writing  recall  Stan- 
ley Weyman's  similar  Industrious  man- 
ner ;  and  S/t'"!'-  Pastures,  hy  "  FliMn^r 
Stuart,"  the  nom  de piumc  <it  a  New  York 
lady,  whose  real  name  would  attract  at- 
tention instantly,  is  said  to  breath.-  the 
rustic  air  of  Mr.  Hardy's  UnJer  the 
GreeimooJ  7>«. 

These  three  novels  will  be  published 
shortly  by  the  Messrs.  Appleton,  who 
will  also  issue  Bram  Stoker's  story.  The 
W^iitter  s  Mm,  which  was  published  in 
England  in  the  spring,  and  which  we 
referred  to  as  an  interesting  work  in  an 
early  ntimberof  The  Bookman.  By  the 
way,  I'  laubert's  Li/e  and  CorrespotuUiue, 
which  was  to  appear  from  the  press  of 
this  firm  in  August,  may  not  be  ex- 
pected now  until  September. 

Mi's-^rs.  Lawronct'  and  BuUen  have  in 
preparation  an  edition  of  Thomas  Hood's 
weird  poem,  Tht  HautUed  Hmse,  for 
which  Mr.  Herbert  Railton  is  supplying 
the  illustrations,  and  Mr.  Austin  Dob- 
son  is  writing  an  introduction.  It  will 
be  published  in  America  by  the  Messrs. 
Putnam. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  that 

thr  story  of  Enoch  Ardeii,  as  it  stands 
in  the  poem,  is  in  every  detail  a  true- 
one.  It  was  related  to  Lord  Tennyson 
by  the  late  Mr.  VVoolner,  the  well-known 
sculptor,  whose  widow  has  the  manu- 
script of  the  stor>'  still  in  her  possession. 

Lilian  Whiting's  volume  of  collected 
poems,  already  announced  for  publica- 
tion by  Roberts  Brothers,  is  to  to  called 
From  DreamlanJ  Sent.  It  is  perhaps  not 
known  th;it  Miss  Whiting  was  started  in 
her  Utciary  career  by  Mr.  William  Pean 
Nixon,  of  the  Chicago  Inttr-Oiean^  to 
which  paper  she  bas  Since  bccn  a  regular 
correspondent. 

.\n  intimate  *"r-t  nd  of  Tlioinas  Hardy 
further  confirms  the  impression  m  irh- 
by  Hearts  Insurgent  as  it  is  appearing; 
piecemeal  in  Harper  s,  tliat  tlie  story  lias 
undergone  severe  pditini^.  Mr.  Hardy 
is  reported  as  saying  that  the  novel  as  it 
went  from  his  pen  has  been  so  canred 


and  emasculated  in  the  interest  of  maga- 
zine proprieties  that  when  it  appears  in 
its  original  form  as  a  hook  it  will  have 
the  effect  of  quite  a  new  worlc. 

Five  years  ago  the  Italian  novelist 
Giovanni  Yerija  wn«;  introduced  to  the 
American  public  through  a  translation 
of  The  House  fy  the  Medlar  Tree^  for 
which  ^^r.  W.  I).  Howells  wrote  an  ap- 
preciative foreword.  The  chaste  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity  and  the  delicacy 
and  refinement  of  feelini,'  which  per- 
vades the  story  attracted  wide  attention 
amoncr  those  who  welcome  fiction  in  its 
highest  IS.  These  readers  will  be 
pleased  lu  learn  that  the  Joseph  Knight 
Company  are  about  to  publish  a  volume 
of  sliori  stories,  by  the  same  author, 
with  the  title  lhiJ,  r  t/ir  Shadinv  of  ^-Etna. 
The  translation  has  been  done  by  Na- 
than Haskell  Dole,  whose  charming 
work  on  A  Madonna  of  the  Alpsv^  com- 
mended on  another  page. 

% 

Miss  Katharine  Pearson  Woods  has 
almost  completed  lier  new  novel,  John 
the  Beloved.  We  liave  read  the  first  part 
in  manuscii|)t,  and  can  speak  highly  of 
the  work  ;  indeed,  it  will  be  strange  if 
Miss  Woods's  pcrlurniance  does  not  take 
rank  above  anything  we  have  seen  in 
fiction  dealing  with  the  life  and  limes  of 
the  Messiah.  John  the  Bciot>ed  may  best 
be  described  briefly  as  an  attempt  to  do 
in  literature  what  Hofmann  has  done  in 
painting  ;  or,  as  one  has  put  it,  to  "  de- 
polarise^* the  life  of  the  Christ,  and  make 
people  realise  that  lit-  actually  was  a 
man,  and  not  what  Zangwill  dippantly 
calls  "  a  semi-divine  personage.' 

The  i-;ni;iis)i  P-'hikmav  once  invited 
an  author,  who  is  both  journalist  and 
novelist,  to  tell  its  readers  how  he  worked. 
His  reply  was  the  following,  scribbled 
on  a  crumpled  piece  of  paper,  which 
had  evidently  ouce  contained  tobacco  : 

JournalUni.  Fiction. 

s  pipe*,  I  hour.  8  pipes,  i  outice. 

%  boari,  I  idea.  7  oaoces.  t  w«cJc. 

I  idea,  3  pan.  9  weeks,  i  chap. 

3  pars,  I  leader.  so  chaps,  i  pen. 

3  pens,  I  noveL 

« 

The  paper  read  before  a  meeting  in 

I^ondori  of  ttu:  Associated  Booksellers  c»f 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland  last  April  by 
Mr.  William  Heinemann,  the  first  part 
of  which  is  printed  under  The  Book 


Digitized  by  Google 


14 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


Mart,  ought  to  receive  the  serious  atten- 
tion of  all  who  are  interested  in  book- 
selling, especially  in  view  of  the  agita- 
tion which  has  been  caused  recently  by 
the  action  of  certain  well-known  bt>ok- 
sellers  in  retailing  books  at  "  cut  rates." 


Mr.  Heinemann  is  one  of  London's 
younger  publishers,  and  his  rapid  rise 
in  what  he  considers  to  be  the  most  en- 
nobling business  of  all  entitles  his  help- 
ful and  salutary  words  to  a  careful  con- 
sideration. 


POE'S    FORDIIAM  COTTAGE. 


Here  lived  the  soul  enchanted 

By  melody  of  song  ; 
Here  dwelt  the  spirit  haunted 

Hy  a  demoniac  throng  ; 
Here  sang  the  lips  elated  ; 
Here  grief  and  death  were  snted  ; 
Here  loved  and  here  unmatcd 

Was  he,  so  frail,  so  strong. 

The  Poe  cottage,  at  Fordham,  about 
which  so  much  has  been  written  in  prose 
and   verse,  has   been   bought   by  the 


POE's  fordham  CT)TTAGK. 


from  a  nexv  fhotograpk. 

Shakespeare  Society  of  New  York,  and 
will  be  preserved  as  a  literary  landmark. 
This  will  be  welct)me  news,  not  only  in 
America  but  in  Europe  as  well — for  the 
admirers  of  Hdgar  Allan  Foe  are  world- 
wide. 

V'ery  little  is  known  of  the  Poe  cot- 
tage before  his  connection  with  it.  It  is 
a  very  old  building,  but  how  old  no  one 
knows.  It  became  the  home  of  the  poet 
in  the  spring  t)f  1846,  and  here  he  lived 
most  of  the  time  until  his  death  in  Octo- 
ber, 1849. 

The  cottage  is  located  on  the  Kings- 
bridge  Road,  at  the  top  of  Fordham 
Hill,  now  in  the  recently  anne.xed  dis- 
trict of  New  York  City.  Although  small 
and  old,  it  is  hardly  the  forlorn  affair 


that  it  is  generally  described  to  be.  It 
has  been  poorly  cared  for  in  recent  years, 
but  it  has  nevertheless  a  cozy,  pleasant, 
home-like  atmosphere  about  it.  It 
stands  with  its  gable  end  to  the  street, 
a  broad,  covered  porch  extending  alonjjf 
the  entire  front.  The  outside  of  the 
building,  instead  of  being  clap-boarded, 
is  shingled,  as  was  largely  the  custoin 
in  the  early  days  in  which  it  was  built. 

At  the  left  t>f  the  little  hallway  as  one 
enters  is  a  small,  old-fashioned,  winding 
staircase  to  the  rooms  above.  This  hall- 
way leads  directly  to  the  main  room  of 
the  house — a  goi>d-sized,  cheerful  apart- 
ment, with  four  windows,  twoopeningon 
the  porch,  and  between  which  stood  the 
poet's  table,  at  which  much  of  his  read- 
ing and  editorial  work  was  done.  In 
the  little  sleeping-room  on  the  left,  tow- 
ard the  street,  Virginia  Poe  was  sick  and 
died.  At  the  head  of  the  narrow  stair- 
way is  a  low  attic  room  where  Poe  had 
his  meagre  library,  and  in  the  seclusion 
of  which  he  did  his  more  ambitious 
work.  This  room  is  lighted  by  tiny- 
paned  windows,  and  the  sloping  sides 
of  the  roof  are  so  near  the  floor  that  one 
can  barely  stand  erect  in  the  room. 
Here  Poe  elaborated  the  musical  *'  Bells,  ' 
the  pathetic  "  Annabel  Lee,"  the  weird 
"  rilalume,"  the  enigmatic  "  Eureka," 
and  some  of  his  most  fanums  short 
stories. 

The  homes  of  Irving,  Bryant,  Long- 
fellow, Whittier,  and  those  of  many  other 
famous  American  men  of  letters  have 
been  preserved,  and  will,  no  doubt,  be 
saved  for  many  generations  to  come. 
It  is  fortunate,  intleed,  that  the  humble 
home  of  Poe  has  been  snatched  froin  the 
hand  of  the  destroyer,  which  has  so  long 
threatened  it.  The  day  is  not  far  dis- 
tant when  these  literary  landmarks  will 
be  among  the  choicest  possessions  of 
the  American  people. 

Fred.  M.  Hopkins. 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


IIENRV  H.  FULLER. 

Author  of  "Thk  Ci.ikk  Dwki.i.k.rs,"  "Wjth  the  Procession,"  f.tc. 

Heni-)'  B.  Fuller  was  born  in  Chicago,  Turning  from  distasteful  employment, 
where  his  father  and  grandfather  had  he  went  abroad  while  still  very  young 
lived.  The  family  removed  from  Mas-  to  study  music,  intending  presumably 
sachusetts  to  Illinois 
when  the  author's  fa- 
ther was  a  boy,  and  the 
)ajreat  city  now  lying 
along  Lake  Michigan 
was  a  village,  over 
which  the  shadow  of 
an  Indian  massacre  still 
hung.  His  father  and 
grandfather  were  mer- 
chants of  the  highest 
social  and  commercial 
standing,  and  the  for- 
tunes of  the  Fuller  fam- 
ily prospered  as  the 
town  grew. 

When  this  son  of  the 
third  generation  in  Chi- 
cago came  to  manhood, 
he  should,  in  the  usual 
order  of  things,  have 
followed  his  immediate 
ancestors  in  a  mercan- 
tile career.  There  seems, 
in  fact,  to  have  been  no 
other  thought  in  his  own 
mind,  as  he  went  into 
an  office  soon  after  his 
graduation  from  the 
Chicago  High  School. 
From  this  trial  of  busi- 
ness life  came,  no  doubt, 
the  knowledge  of  local 
commercial  methods, 
which  he  uses  to  such 
advantage  in  his  later 
novels.  But  no  count- 
ing-house could  long 
confine  a  creative  im- 
agination such  as  his, 
and  some  potent  drop 
of  the  blood  of  Marga- 
ret Fuller  may  have 
been  at  work — for  he 
comes  from  the  same 
stock.  At  all  events, 
the  outward  seeming  of 
Mr.  Fuller's  early  ex- 
perience is  the  familiar 
story  of  the  inevitable  resistance  of  to  adopt  it  as  a  profession.  This  pur- 
the  artistic  temperament  to  the  un-  pose  was  subsequently  abandoned,  but 
congenial — a  story  as  old  as  art  itself,    he  became  meanwhile  an  accomplished 


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i6 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


musician,  and  has  written — runiuur  says 
—the  score  of  an  opera  or  two. 

At  what  time  he  began  tn  write  fiction 
he  himself  could  perhaps  hardly  tell. 
Hints  are  ^tven  by  the  few  among-  his 
friends  who  know  him  intimately  of 
poems  that  were  lost  and  sketches  that 
never  saw  the  lljjht  ;  but  the  only  well- 
authenticated  fact  is  that  his  first  novel, 
T/w  ChciHilier  of  P(tisieri-V(in\  was  writ- 
ten while  Mr.  Fuller  w.is  still  engaged 
in  commercial  pursuits.  The  manu- 
script lay  long  unpublished  The  pub- 
lishers did  not  understand  it  ;  a  subtle 
something  in  it  apparently  eluded  their 
too  solid  s^rasp,  ;is  'Vj-  personality  of  the 
author  eludes  casual  acquaintance.  And 
when  the  book  finally  came  out  in  Bos- 
ton, it  was  in  a  small.  ex]H*rimentaI  wav, 
and  under  typographical  disadvantages. 
Moreover,  in  this  first  edition  **  Stanton 
Page"  was  given  as  the  name  of  the 
writer,  and  the  work  was  not  known  to 
be  Mr.  Fuller's  until  some  time  after  its 
publication.  At  length,  however,  the 
little  vohune  fell  under  the  eyes  of  Pro- 
fessor Norton,  who  sent  it  one  Christmas 
to  Mr.  Lowell,  saying  he  thought  it  was 
5om<-tlunv^  tliat  he  woul<i  like.  Mr 
Lowell  liked  it  so  much  that  he  sougiu 
out  the  author  with  words  of  praise 
•which  must  have  given  the  encourat^c- 
mcnt  needed  by  a  conscientious  writer. 
In  1893  the  book,  revised  and  enlarged, 
was  reproduced  by  the  Century  Com- 
pany, and  the  author  then  came  for  the 
.first  time  fairly  before  the  public. 

Mr.  Fuller's  second  story,  The  Chaie- 
Jaine  of  La  Trinity,  appeared  as  a  serial 
in  the  Cfnlury  during  the  same  year — 
1892 — and  has  all  the  general  character- 
istics, all  the  p.  ietir  ccnire  of  tlie  first  ; 
but  his  ihird  novel,  J  he  Ciijf  JJwilltn, 
bears  scarcely  a  trace  of  resemblance  to 
the  foreg^oing.  This  story  ran  serially 
in  Harper's  Weekly  in  1893,  while  the 
gaze  of  the  world  was  fixed  on  Chicago, 
'  that  immense  and  ciimplicated  place, 
capable  of  yielding  an  iniinity  of  cross 
sections,"  which  it  describes.  With  al- 
most its  first  line  there  is  an  ain  upt  do 
parture  from  the  author's  former  man- 
ner ;  a  change  from  dreamy  idealism  to 
vigilant  realism,  as  startling  as  though 
the  roll  of  alarm  drums  had  suddenly 
succeeded  to  the  music  of  lutes.  In 
/(■////  tlw  Proiiisioit,  however,  Mr.  Ful- 
ler'>  fourth  and  latest  story,  there  is  a 
moditrcation  of  this  severity.  The  real- 
ism is  no  less  unswerving  than  before. 


but  with  it  is  a  finer  intellectual  and  ar-> 
tistic  quality  than  may  be  found  in  his 

preceding  books,  or  in  any  other  Ameri- 
can work  of  its  kind.  Mr.  Fuller  has,  in 
fact,  come  very  near  to  writing  a  very 
great  novel.  The  story  is  a  study  of 
local  civilisation.  The  characters  with 
a  solitary  exception  are  the  products  of 
their  environment.  A  native,  the  au- 
thor looks  at  the  sitnatirm  from  the  in- 
side ;  a  traveller,  who  knows  liurope  as 
well  as  his  own  country,  he  treats  it 
*'  without  the  du  artlng  provincialism 
that  comes  from  a  settled  home  ;"  an 
artist,  he  paints  from  this  broad  double 
point  <*f  view,  and  the  picture  thus  cre- 
ated cannot  fail  to  exert  an  influence 
greater  than  itself— as  happens  now  and 
then  wit!)  a  wi»rk  of  art.  One  thing 
only  mars  the  impartiality  of  the  por- 
trayal. This  is  a  comparison  maintained 
throughout  the  book  between  European 
and  American  civilisations,  with  a  bias 
in  favour  of  the  Luropcan,  which  the 
story's  illustrations  of  it  scarcely  justify. 
The  author  may  nfit  have  been  conscious 
of  his  own  attitude,  or  he  may  mean  to 
make  amends  in  another  novel  dealing 
with  some  more  favourable  aspect  of 
local  civilisation  or  of  national  life. 
For  Mr.  Fuller  is  young — yet  under 
forty  and  such  creative  faculty  as  his, 
such  profound  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture, and  such  close  observation  of  social 
conditions  at  home  and  abroad  can 
scarcely  have  found  full  and  satisfying 
expression  in  two  or  three  books. 

This  vein  of  comparative  criticism  is 
sustained  at  first  hand  by  the  author 
himsell,  and  also  by  Truc.sdale  Marsliall, 
a  young  Chicagoan  who  returns  home 
with  a  predilection  fi>r  Enrr^pe.  The 
contrast  between  i  ruesdale  and  his  in- 
digenous elder  brother  is  of  the  subtlest, 
and  a  certain  scene  in  which  they  are 
the  actors  is  unsurpassed  in  modern  fic- 
tion. The  strife  between  them  is  not  a 
mere  encounter  of  two  angr}'  men  ;  it  is 
a  conflict  of  two  worlds.  AH  the  other 
characters  are  drawn  with  the  same  fine 
etching  pencil — just  a  little  larger  than 
life.  Mr.  Fuller  deals  with  types  rather 
than  with  individuals,  and  thus  awakens 
expectation  that  he  may  give  us  in  time 
a  novel  more  national  in  character  than 
our  literature  has  yet  produced. 

Humour  is  hardly  a  characteristic  of 
any  of  his  work,  and  searceh'  a  gleam  of 
it  sweetens  this  latest  book  ;  but  there 
is  wit  blazing  on  almost  every  page  in 


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A  UTERAR 

flashes  that  dazzle  and  sometlmof;  scorch. 
And  certainly  there  can  be  no  question 
of  the  brilliancy  of  his  style,  or  that  Mr. 
Fuller's  art  has  a  high  technical  value 
apart  from  everything  else.  Its  most 
conspicuous  qualities  are  clearness,  keen> 
ness,  fineiu-ss.  and  force.  But  he  may 
be  warned  of  the  peril  of  too  rapid  writ- 
ing :  for  in  his  two  last  novels — notably 
in  tlie  latest — there  is  a  certain  dis- 
turbing stress,  as  though  the  writinjr 
had  been  done  under  great  ncrvuus 
pressure,  with  insufficient  time  or  an 
overmastering  passion  for  the  work 
itself.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  so  ar- 
tistic a  i>oolc  should  be  wholly  a  work 
of  disintegration,  of  discontent  and  de- 
spair ;  that  its  final  effect,  by  reason  of 
its  greater  power,  should  be  but  an  in- 


JOURNAL,  17 

tensification  of  the  depres«,irtn  produced 
by  nearly  all  realistic  novels  of  the  day. 
If  these  books  are — as  the  apostles  of 
this  school  believe — the  truest  and  the 
best  pictures  of  our  life,  then  the  na- 
tional outlook  is  gloomy  indeed.  But 
many  earnest  thinkers,  both  writers  and 
readers,  do  not  believe  these  dark  pictures 
to  be  the  truest  and  the  best  that  can 
be  made.  They  claim  that  there  is  as 
much  good  as  evil  in  American  life,  and 
that  one  is  as  susceptible  of  realistic 
portrayal  as  the  other.  They  hold  that 
realism  should  sometimes  at  least  bring 
forth  a  work  based  upon  the  hopeful- 
ness, the  nobility,  the  tteauty,  and  the 
peace  of  human  life. 

Natuy  JiusioH  Banks* 


THE  WATCHER, 

At  Ids  window  in  the  wall, 
Where  the  mottled  moonbeams  fall. 
Sits  the  watcher,  all  in  white. 
Sleepless  through  the  sleeping  night ; 
While  the  turning  heavens  swim, 
And  the  distant  stars  are  dim. 
And  he  hears  the  solemn  swell 
Of  the  ivy-steepled  bell. 

Now  he  sees  the  creeping  mist, 
Palely,  powdered  amethyst,  ^ 
And  the  fire-fly's  flitting  spaiic, 

Where  the  shadows  cluster  dark  ; 
Through  the  moonlight,  far  away. 
Hears  the  watch-dog's  mellowed  bay, 
And  the  nimble  of  a  trains' 
Then  the  echoes  sleep  again. 

With  unseeing  eyes  he  sees 

Mist,  and  moon,  and  brooding  trees. 
And  the  drowsy  sounds  he  bears 
Fail  unheeded  on  his  ears. 
While  he  longs  in  hopeless  pain 
For  the  dreams  of  youth  again. 
And  the  tolling  of  the  bell 
Deepens  sadly  to  a  knell. 

Herbert  Miilier  Hopkins. 


Digitized  by  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


ON  LITERARY  CONSTRUCTION. 


I. 

The  craft  of  the  writer  consists,  I  am 
convinced,  in  manipulating  the  contents 
of  his  reader's  mind,  that  is  to  say,  taken 
from  tlie  technical  as  distinguished 
from  the  psychologic,  side  in  construc- 
tion. Construction  is  not  only  a  matter 
of  single  words  or  sentences,  but  of 
whole  large  passages  and  divisions  ;  and 
the  material  which  the  writer  manipu- 
lates is  not  only  the  sintjle  ini jiressions, 
single  ideas  and  emotions,  stored  up  in 
the  reader's  mind,  and  deposited  there 
by  no  act  of  his  own  ;  hut  those  verv 
moods  and  trains  of  thought  into  which 
the  writer,  by  his  skilful  selection  of 
words  and  sentences,  has  grouped  those 
single  impressions,  those  very  moods 
and  trains  of  thought  which  were  deter- 
mined by  the  writer  himself. 

We  have  all  read  Mr.  Stevenson's 
Cairiona.  I^arly  in  that  book  there  is  a 
passage  \i\  \\  hich  I  can  illustrate  my 
meaning.  It  is  David  Balfour's  walk  to 
Pilrig  : 

"  My  way  led  over  Moutcr's  Hill,  and  ihrou^'li 
an  end  of  a  clachan  on  the  braeside  amon^  tu-Kis 
There  was  a  whirr  of  looms  in  it  went  from  house 
to  house  ;  bees  hummed  in  the  x^'fit^'is  ;  the  neigb- 
bours  that  I  saw  at  the  doorsteps  talked  in  a 
fltranK^  tongue;  and  I  found  out  later  that  this 
was  Picardy,  a  village  where  the  French  weavers 
wrought  for  the  Linen  Company.  Here  I  got  a 
fresh  (iirfcti( 111  for  Pilrit;,  my  destin;uion  ;  and  a 
little  beyond,  on  ihe  wayside,  tatuc  by  a  ffibbct 
and  two  men  li.iii«ed  in  chains.  They  wcrt- dipi>ed 
in  tar,  as  the  manner  is  ;  the  wind  span  them,  the 
diains  clattered,  and  the  birds  hung  about  tbe  Un- 
canny jumping-jacks  and  cried." 

This  half-pacre  sounds  as  if  it  were  an 
integral  part  ui  tlic  story,  one  vi  the 
things  which  happened  to  the  gallant 
but  judicious  David  Balfiuir.  But  in 
my  opinion  it  is  not  such  a  portion  of 
the  story,  not  an  episode  told  for  its 
own  sake,  but  a  qualifier  of  something 
else  ;  in  fact,  nothing  but  an  adjective 
on  a  large  scale. 

Let  us  see.  The  facts  of  the  rase  are 
these  :  David  Balfour,  having  at  last, 
after  the  terrible  adventures  recorded  in 
Kidnapped,  been  saved  from  his  enemies 
and  <  ome  into  his  lawful  property,  with 
a  comfortable  life  before  him  and  no 
reason  for  disquietude,  determines  to 
come  forward  as  a  witness  in  favour  of 
certain  Highlanders,  whom  it  is  the 


highest  interest  of  the  Government  to 
put  to  death,  altogether  irrespective  of 

whether  or  not  they  happen  to  be  guilty 
in  the  matter  about  which  they  are  ac- 
cused. In  order  to  offer  his  testimony 
in  what  he  imat^ines  to  be  the  niiist  effi- 
cacious manner,  David  Balfour  deter- 
mines to  seek  an  interview  with  the 
Lord  Advocate  of  Scotland  ;  and  he  is 
now  on  his  wav  to  his  cousin  of  Pilrig 
tu  obtain  a  letter  Iruin  liini  tor  the  terri- 
ble head  of  the  law.  Now  if  David  Bal- 
four actually  has  to  be  sent  to  Pilric;;  for 
the  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Lord 
Advocate,  then  his  walk  to  Pilrig  is  an 
intrinsic  portion  of  the  story,  and  what 
happened  to  him  on  his  walk  cannot  be 
considered  save  as  an  intrinsic  portion 
also.  This  would  he  true  enough  if  we 
were  considering  what  actually  could  or 
must  happen  to  a  real  David  Balfour  in 
a  real  reality,  not  what  Stevenson  wants 
us  to  think  did  happen  to  an  imaginary 
David  Balfour.  If  a  real  David  Balfour 
was  destined,  through  the  concatenation 
of  circumstances,  to  walk  froni  l'"(!in- 
burgh  to  i'llrig  by  tiiat  parucular  road 
on  that  particular  day  ;  why,  he  was 
destined  also — and  could  not  escape  his 
destiny — to  come  to  the  gibbet  where, 
on  that  particular  day,  along  that  par- 
ticvilar  road,  those  two  malefactors  were 
banging  in  chains. 

But  even  supposing  that  Stevenson 
had  been  bound,  for  some  reason,  to 
make  David  Balfour  take  that  particu- 
lar day  the  particular  walk  which  must 
have  brought  him  past  that  gibbet ; 
Stevenson  would  still  have  been  per- 
fectly free  to  omit  all  mention  of  his 
seeing  that  gibbet,  as  he  evidently  omit- 
ted mentioning  a  thousand  other  things 
which  David  Bailuur  must  have  seen 
and  done  in  the  course  of  his  adven- 
tures, because  the  sight  iif  tliat  gibbet 
in  no  way  affected  the  course  of  the 
events  which  Stevenson  bad  decided  to 
relate,  any  more  than  the  quality  of  the 
porridge  which  David  had  eaten  that 
morning.  And,  as  it  happens,  more- 
over, the  very  fact  of  David  Balfour  hav- 
ing walked  that  day  along  that  road, 
and  of  the  gibbet  having  been  there,  is, 
as  we  know,  nothing  but  a  make-believe 
on  Stevenson's  part,  and  sn  there  can 
have  been  no  destiny  at  all  about  it. 


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Therefore.  T  say  that  this  episode,  which 
leads  to  no  other  episode,  is  not  an  in- 
tegral part  of  the  story,  but  a  qualifier, 
an  adjective.  It  acts,  not  upon  what 
happens  to  the  hero,  but  on  what  is  felt 
by  the  reader.  Again,  let  us  look  into 
the  matter.  Tliis  lieLciiiiiing  of  the 
Story  is,  from  the  nature  of  the  farts, 
rather  empty  of  tragic  events  ;  )  ci 
tragic  events  are  what  Stevenson  wishes 
us  to  live  through.  There  is  something 
humdrum  in  those  first  proceedings  of 
David  Balfour's,  which  are  to  tead  to 
such  hair])readth  cscapp?;.  There  is 
something  aul  licruic  cuuugli  in  a  youni; 
man,  however  heroic  his  intentioiis, 
poinc:  ^'^  •'^^^'^  f*>''  '»  letter  <.f  introduction 
to  a  Lord  Advocate,  But  what  can  be 
done  }  If  adventures  are  invented  to 
fill  up  these  first  chapters,  these  ad%'en- 
tures  will  either  actually  lead  to  some- 
thing' which  will  complicate  a  plot  al- 
ready quite  as  complicated  as  Stevenson 
requires,  or — which  is  even  worse — they 
will  come  to  nothing,  and  leave  the 
reader  disappointed,  incredulous,  un- 
willing to  attend  further  after  having 
wasted  expectations  and  sympathies. 
Here  comes  in  the  admirable  invention 
of  the  gibbet.  The  gibbet  is,  so  to 
speak,  the  shadow  of  coming  events 
cast  over  the  smooth  earlier  chapters  of 
the  bi)ok.  With  its  grotesque  and 
ghastly  vision,  it  puts  the  reader  in  the 
State  of  mind  desired :  it  means  tragedy. 
"  I  was  pleased,"  goes  on  David  Bal- 
four, "  to  be  so  Jfar  in  the  still  country- 
side ;  but  the  shackles  of  the  gibbet 
clattered  in  my  head.  .  .  .  Tlu  re  might 
David  Balfour  hang,  and  other  lads 
pass  on  their  erranos,  and  diink  light 
of  him."  Here  the  reader  is  not  only 
forcibly  reminded  that  the  seemingly 
trumpery  errand  of  this  boy  will  lead  to 
terrible  dangers  ;  but  tie  is  made  to  feel, 
by  being  tohl  that  Uavid  felt  (which 
perhaps  at  that  moment  David,  accus- 
tomed to  the  eighteenth-centuiy  habit 
of  hanging  petty  thieves  along  the  road- 
side might  not) — by  being  told  that 
David  felt,  the  ghastliness  of  that  en- 
counter. 

And  then  note  how  this  qualifier,  this 
adjectival  episode,  is  itself  qualified.  It 

is  enil»edded  in  impressions  of  peaceful- 
ae&s :  the  hill-side,  the  whirr  of  looms 
and  hum  of  l>ees,  and  talk  of  neighbours 
on  doorsteps  ;  nay,  Stevenson  has  added 
a  note  which  increases  the  sense  of  peace- 
fulness  by  adding  an  element  of  uncon- 


cern, t-f  foreignncss,  such  as  we  all  find 
adds  so  much  to  the  peaceful  effect  of 
travel,  in  the  fact  that  the  village  was 
inhabited  by  strangers — Frenchmen — 
to  whom  David  Balfour  and  the  Lord 
Advocate  and  the  Appin  murder  would 
never  mean  anything.  Had  the  gibbet 
been  on  the  Edinburgh  Grassmarket, 
and  surrounded  by  people  commenting 
on  Highland  disturbances,  we  should 
have  expected  some  actual  adventtire 
for  David  Balfour  ;  but  the  gibbet  there, 
in  the  fields,  by  this  peaceful  foreign  set- 
tlement, merely  puts  owr  mind  in  the 
right  frame  to  be  moved  by  the  adven- 
tures which  will  come  slowly  in  their 

due  time. 

This  is  a  masterpiece  of  constructive 
craft :  the  desired  effect  is  obtained 

without  becoininij  involved  in  other  ef- 
fects not  desired,  without  any  debts 
being  made  with  the  reader ;  even  as  in 
the  case  of  the  properly  chosen  single 
adjective,  which  defines  the  meaning  of 
the  noun  in  just  the  desired  way,  with- 
out suggesting  any  further  definition  in 
the  wrong  way. 

Construction — that  is  to  say,  co-ordi- 
nation. It  means  finding  out  what  is 
important  and  unimportant,  what  you 
can  afford  and  cannot  afford  to  do.  It 
means  thinking  out  the  results  of  every 
movement  you  set  up  in  the  reader's 
mind,  how  that  movement  will  work 
into,  help,  or  mar  the  other  movements 
which  you  liave  set  up  there  already,  or 
which  you  will  require  to  set  up  there 
in  the  future.  For,  remember,  such  a 
movement  does  not  die  out  at  once.  It 
continues  and  unites  well  or  ill  with  its 
successors,  as  it  has  united  well  or  ill 
with  its  predecessors.  You  must  remem> 
ber  that  in  every  kind  of  literary  com- 
position, from  the  smallest  essay  to  tiie 
largest  novel,  you  are  perpetually,  as  in 
apiece  of  music,  introducing  new  M/'w*'^, 
and  working  all  the  themes  into  one  an- 
other. A  raeme  may  be  a  description, 
a  line  of  argument,  a  whole  personage  ; 
but  it  always  represents,  on  the  part  of 
the  reader,  a  particular  kind  of  intellect 
tual  acting  and  being,  a  particular  kind 
of  mood.  Now,  these  moods,  being 
concatenated  In  their  progression,  must 
l>e  constantly  altered  by  the  other  moods 
they  meet ;  they  can  never  be  quite  the 
same  the  second  time  they  appear  as  the 
first,  nor  the  third  as  the  second  ;  they 
must  have  been  varied,  and  they  ought 
to  have  been   streiigiiiened  or  made 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


more  subtle  by  the  company  they  ha%'c 
kept,  by  the  things  they  have  elbowetl, 
4iind  been— however  unconsciously  — 
compared  and  'ontrasted  with  :  they 
ought  to  have  become  more  satisfactory 
to  the  wrii(  r  as  a  result  of  their  stay  in 
the  reader's  mind. 

A  few  very  simple  rules  might  be  made, 
so  simple  as  to  sound  utterly  childish  ; 
yet  how  many  writers  observe  them  ? 

Do  not,  if  you  want  Tom  to  seem  a 
villain,  put  a  bi^er  villain,  Dick,  by 
his  side  :  but  if,  for  instance,  like  Tol- 
stoy, you  want  Anatole  to  be  the  trum- 
pery wicked  Don  Juan,  put  a  grand, 
brilliant,  intrepid  Don  Juan — ^Dologhow 
— to  reduce  him  to  vuJpar  proportions. 
Do  not,  again,  break  off  in  llic  midst  of 
some  event,  unless  you  wish  that  event 
to  become  important  in  the  reader's 
mind  and  to  react  on  future  events  ;  if, 
for  some  reason,  you  have  brought  a 
mysterintis  stranjEfer  forward,  but  do  not 
wish  anything  to  come  of  his  mysteri- 
ousness,  be  sure  you  strip  off  his  mys- 
tery as  prosaically  as  you  can,  before 
leaving  him.    And,  of  course,  vice  versa. 

I  have  compared  literary  themes  to 
musical  ones.  The  novel  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  gigantic  symphony,  opera, 
or  oratorio,  with  a  whole  orchestra. 
The  essay  is  a  little  sonata,  trio,  some- 
times a  mere  little  soncf.  But  even  in  a 
song,  how  many  melodic  themes,  har- 
monic arrangements,  accents,  and  so 
forth  !  I  could  wish  young^  writers,  if 
they  have  any  ear,  to  unravel  the  parts 
of  a  fugue,  the  themes  of  a  Beethoven 
sonata.  By  analojjy,  they  would  learn 
a  great  many  things. 

Leaving  such  Teaming  by  musical 
analogy  alone,  I  have  sometimes  recom- 
mended to  young  writers  that  they 
should  draw  diagrams,  or  rather  maps, 
of  their  essays  or  stories.  This  is,  I 
think,  a  very  ttsefiil  practice,  not  only 
for  dimiuiihing  faults  of  construction  in 
the  individual  story  or  essay,  but,  what 
is  more  important,  for  siiowing  the 
oung  writer  what  amount  of  progress 
e  is  making  and  to  what  extent  he  is 
becomincj  a  craftsman.  Every  one  will 
probably  lind  his  own  kind  of  map  or 
diagram.  The  one  I  have  made  use  of 
to  explain  the  meaning  to  some  of  my 
friends  is  as  follows  :  Make  a  stroke 
with  your  pen  which  represents  the  first 
train  of  thought  or  mood,  or  the  first 
group  of  facts  you  deal  with.  Then 
make  another  pen-stroke  to  represent 


the  second,  which  shall  be  proportion- 
ately long  or  short  according  to  the 
number  of  words  or  pages  occupied,  and 
which,  connected  with  the  first  pen- 
stroke,  as  one  articulation  of  a  reed  is 
with  another,  will  deflect  to  the  right  or 
tlie  l«:ft  acrordinjT  as  it  contains  more  or 
less  new  matter  ;  so  that,  if  it  grow  in- 
sensibly from  stroke  number  one,  it  will 
have  to  be  almost  straight,  and  if  it  con- 
tain something  utterly  disconnected, 
will  be  at  right  angles.  Go  on  adding 
pen-strokes  for  every  new  train  of 
thought,  or  mood,  or  group  of  facts, 
and  writing  the  name  along  each,  and 
being  careful  tO  indicate  not  merely  the 
angle  of  divergence,  but  the  respective 
length  in  lines.  And  thetv  look  at  the 
whole  map.  If  the  reader's  mind  is  to 
run  easily  alonj;  the  whole  story  or  es- 
say, and  to  perceive  all  through  the  nec- 
essary connection  between  the  parts, 
the  pattern  you  will  have  traced  will  ap- 
proximate most  likely  to  a  perfect  circle 
or  ellipse,  the  conclusion  re-uniting  with 
the  beginning  as  in  a  perfect  logical  ex. 
position  ;  and  the  various  pen-strokes, 
taking  you  gradually  round  this  cirde 
or  ellipse,  will  correspond  in  length  very 
exactly  to  the  comparative  importance 
or  complexity  of  the  matter  to  dispose 
of.  But  in  proportion  as  the  things 
have  been  made  a  mess  of,  the  pattern 
will  tend  to  the  shapeless  ;  the  lines, 
after  infinite  tortuosities,  deflections  to 
the  right  and  to  the  left,  immense  bends, 
sharp  angles  and  bags  of  all  sorts,  will 
probably  end  In  a  pen-stroke  at  the 
other  end  of  the  paper,  as  far  off  as  pos- 
sible from  the  beginning.  All  this  will 
mean  that  you  have  lacked  general  con- 
ception  of  the  subject,  that  the  connec- 
tion between  what  you  began  and  what 
you  ended  with  is  arbitrary  or  acciden- 
tal, instead  of  being  logical  and  organic. 
It  will  mean  that  your  mind  has  been 
rambling,  and  that  you  have  been  mak- 
ing the  reader's  mind  ramble  hopelessly, 
in  all  sorts  of  places  you  never  intend- 
ed ;  that  you  have  wasted  his  time  antl 
Strength  and  attention,  like  a  person 
pretending  to  know  his  way  in  an  i  .tri- 
catemazeof  streets,  but  not  really  know- 
ing which  turning  to  take.  Every  one 
of  those  sharp  angles  has  meant  a  lack 
of  connection,  every  stroke  returning 
back  upon  itself  a  useless  digression, 
every  loop  an  unnecessary'  reiteration  ; 
and  the  entire  shapelessness  of  your 
diagram  has  represented  the  atrocious 


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fact  that  the  reader,  while  knowinj]^ 
what  you  have  been  talking  about,  has 
not  known  why  you  have  been  talking 
about  it — and  is,  but  for  ;i  number  of 
random  pieces  of  infonuatiun  which  he 
must  himself  re-arrange,  no  wiser  than 
when  you  bcg'an. 

What  wiii  this  lead  to  ?  What  will  it 
make  the  reader  expect }  What  will  it 
actually  brinp  the  reader's  mind  to  ? 
This  is  the  meaning  of  the  diagrams. 
For,  remember,  in  literature  all  depends 
on  what  you  can  set  the  reader  to  do  ; 
if  you  confuse  his  ideas  or  waste  his 
energy,  you  can  no  longer  do  anything. 

I  mentioned  just  now  that  in  a  case  of 
bad  construction  the  single  items  might 
be  valuable,  but  that  the  reader  was 
obliged  to  re-arrange  them.  Such  re- 
arrangement is  equivalent  to  re-writirig 
the  book  ;  and,  if  any  one  is  to  do  that, 
it  had  better  not  be  the  reader,  surety, 
but  rather  a  more  competent  writer. 
When  the  badly  arranged  items  are 
themselves  good,  one  sometimes  feels  a 
mad  desire  to  hand  them  over  thus  to 
some  one  else.  It  is  like  good  food 
badly  cooked.  I  think  I  have  scarcely 
ever  been  so  tormented  with  the  desire 
to  get  a  story  re-written  by  some  com- 
petent person,  or  even  to  rewrite  it  my- 
self, as  in  the  case  of  one  of  the  little 
volumes  of  the  Pseudonym  Series,  a 
story  called  A  Mystrry  of  the  Campagna. 
I  should  like  every  young  writer  to  read 
it,  as  a  perfect  model  of  splendid  mate- 
rial, imaginative  and  emotional,  of  no- 
tions and  descriptions  worthy  of  Meri- 
m^e  (who  would  have  worked  them  into 
a  companion  piece  to  the  wonderful 
Venus  a*/lie)y  presented  in  such  a  way 
as  to  give  t!ie  minimum  of  interest  with 
the  maximum  of  fatigue.  It  is  a  thing 
to  make  one  cry  merely  to  think  of ; 
such  a  splendid  invention,  such  deep 
contagious  feeling  for  the  uncanny  so- 
lemnity, the  deathly  fascination  of  the 
country  about  Rome,  worked  up  in  a 
way  which  leaves  no  clear  impression  at 
all,  or,  if  any,  an  impression  of  trivial 
student  restaurant  life. 

One  of  the  chief  defects  of  this  un- 
lucky little  book  of  genius  is  that  a 
story  of  about  a  hundred  pages  is  nar- 
rated by  four  or  five  different  persons, 
none  of  whom  has  any  particular  indi- 
viduality, or  any  particular  reason  to  be 
telling  the  story  at  all.  The  result  is 
much  as  if  you  were  to  be  made  to  hear 
a  song  in  fragments,  fragments  helter- 


skelter,  the  middle  first  and  beginning 
last,  played  on  different  instruments. 
A  similar  fault  of  construction,  you  will 
remember,  makes  the  beginning  of  one 
of  our  greatest  masterpieces  of  passion 
and  romance,  Wut/un'ng  Heights,  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  read.  .\s  if  the  step- 
relations  and  adopted  relations  in  the 
story  were  not  sufficiently  puzzling, 
Emily  Bronte  gave  the  narrative  to  sev- 
eral different  people,  at  several  different 
periods,  people  alternating  what  they 
had  been  told  with  what  they  actually 
witnessed.  This  kind  of  construction 
was  a  fault,  if  not  of  Emily  Bronte's 
own  time,  at  least  of  the  time  in  which 
many  of  tlie  books  which  had  impressed 
her  most  hatl  been  written,  notalily 
Hoffman's,  from  whose  Majorat  she  bor- 
rowed much  for  Wuthertng  Heights.  It 
is  historically  an  old  fault  for  the  same 
reason  which  makes  it  a  fault  with  be- 
ginners, namely,  that  it  is  undoubtedly 
easier  to  narrate  in  the  hrst  person,  or 
as  an  eye-witness,  and  that  it  is  easier 
to  co-ordinate  tlircc  or  four  sides  of  an 
event  by  boxing  them  mechanically  as 
so  many  stories  one  in  the  other,  than 
to  arrange  the  various  groups  of  per- 
sons and  acts  as  in  real  life,  and  to 
change  the  point  of  view  of  the  reader 
from  one  to  the  other.  These  mechani- 
cal divisions  also  seem  to  give  the  writer 
courage  :  it  is  like  the  series  of  ropes 
which  takes  away  the  fear  of  swim- 
ming :  one  thinks  one  might  always 
catch  hold  of  one  of  them,  but,  mean- 
while, one  usually  goes  under  water  all 
the  same.  I  have  no  doubt  that  most 
of  the  stories  which  we  have  all  written 
between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  twenty 
were  either  in  the  autobiographical  or 
the  epistolary  form,  that  they  had  in- 
troduction set  in  introduction  like  those 
of  Scott,  that  they  shifted  narrator  as 
in  Wiiihtrini:;  Hn\'hfs,  and  altogether  re- 
produced, in  their  immaturity,  the  forms 
of  an  immature  period  of  novel-writing, 
just  as  Darwinians  tell  us  that  the  feet 
and  legs  of  babies  reproduce  the  feet 
and  leg^  of  monkeys.  For,  difficult  as 
it  is  to  realise,  the  apparently  simplest 
form  of  construction  is  by  far  the  most 
difficult:  and  the  straightforward  nar- 
rative of  men  and  women's  feelings  and 
passions,  of  anything  save  their  merest 
outward  acts ;  the  narrative  which 
makes  the  thing  pass  naturally  before 
the  reader's  mind,  is  by  far  the  most 
difficult,  as  it  is  the  most  perfect.  You 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


win  remember  that  JuJie  and  Clarissa 
are  written   in   letters,  Wertker  and 

Adolphe  as  confessions  with  postscripts  ; 
nay,  that  even  Homer  and  the  Arabian 
Nights  cannot  g«t  along  save  on  a  sys* 
tem  of  narrative  within  narrative  ;  so 
long  does  it  take  to  get  to  the  straight- 
forward narrative  of  Thackeray,  let 
alone  that  of  Tolstoy.  For  a  narrative 
may  be  in  the  third  person,  and  may 
leave  out  all  mention  of  eye-witness  nar- 
ration, and  yet  he  far  from  what  I  call 
Straightforward.  Take,  for  instance, 
the  form  of  novel  adopted  by  George 
Eliot  in  Adam  Bede^  MiiHemareh^  De- 
roriifa  —  in  all  save  her  masterpiece, 
which  has  the  directness  of  an  autobioa;- 
raphy—ri*  Mill  on  tht  Fhts.  This 
form  I  should  characterise  as  that  of  the 
tmcl  built  up  in  sctnes^  and  it  is  well 
worth  your  notice  because  it  is  more  or 
less  the  typical  form  of  the  English 
three-volume  novel.  It  represents  a 
compromise  with  that  dithcult  thing, 
straightforward  narrative  ;  and  the  au» 
tobiog^raphical,  the  epistolary,  the  nar- 
ratioii-within-narration  dodges  have 
merely  been  replaced  by  another  dodge 
for  making  things  easier  for  the  writer 
and  less  efficacious  for  the  reader,  the 
dodge  of  arranging  the  matter  as  much 
as  possible  as  in  a  play,  with  narrative 
or  analytic  connecting  links.  By  this 
means  a  portion  of  the  story  is  given 
with  considerable  efficacy  ;  the  dialogue 
and  gesture,  so  to  speak,  are  made  as 
Striking  as  possible  ;  in  fact,  we  get  all 
the  apparent  lifclikencss  of  a  play.  I 
say  the  apparent  lifelikeness,  because  a 
play  is  in  reality  excessively  unlifclike, 
owing  to  the  necessity  of  things,  which 
could  not  have  happened  together,  being 
united  in  time  and  place  ;  to  quantities 
of  things  being  said  which  never  could 
have  been  said  nor  even  though*  ;  to 
scenes  being  protracted,  rendered  ex- 
plicit and  decisive  far  beyond  possibility, 
merely  because  of  other  scenes  (if  we 
may  call  them  scenes),  the  hundred 
other  fragments  of  speech  and  fr^- 
ments  of  action  which  really  made  the 
particular  thing  happen,  having  to  be 
left  out.  This  is  a  necessity  on  the 
Stage  because  the  scene  cannot  be 
changed  sufficiently  often,  ;itvI  )>reausc 
you  cannot  let  people  reniain  lur  an  in- 
stant without  talking  either  to  some  one 
else  or  to  themselves.  But  this  neces- 
sity, when  applied  to  a  novel,  actually 
mars  the  action,  and,  what  Is  worse, 
alters  the  conception  of  the  action,  for 


the  form  in  which  any  story  is  told  in- 
evitably reacts  on  the  matter. 

Take  AJ.i'n  PfJc.  The  hero  is  sup- 
posed to  be  exceedmgly  reserved,  more 
than  reserved,  one  of  those  strenuous 
natures  which  cannot  express  their  feel- 
ings even  to  themselves,  and  run  away 
and  hide  in  a  hole  whenever  they  do 
know  themselves  to  be  feeling.  But, 
owing  to  the  division  of  the  book  into 
scenes,  and  connecting  links  between 
tlie  scenes,  one  has  the  impression  of 
Adam  Bede,  perpetually  en  seine,  with 
appropriate  background  of  carpenter's 
shop  or  wood,  and  a  chorus  of  village 
r  1  ties ;  Adam  Bede  always  saying 
something  or  doing  something,  talking 
to  his  dog,  shouldering  his  tools,  eating 
his  breakfast,  in  such  a  way  that  the 
dullest  spectators  ma^  recognise  what 
he  is  feeling  and  thinking.  Now,  to 
make  an  inexplicit  personage  always 
explain  himself  is  only  equalled  by  mak- 
ing an  unanalytical  person  perpetually 
analyse  himself ;  and,  by  the  system  of 
scenes,  by  liaving  to  represent  the  per- 
sonage walking  immersed  in  thoughts, 
hunting  along  full  of  conflicting  feel- 
ings, this  is  tlie  very  impression  which  we 
get,  on  the  contrary,  about  Arthur  and 
Hetty,  whose  misfortunes  were  certainly 
not  due  to  over  much  introspection. 

Now  you  will  mark  that  this  divisioa 
into  scenes  and  connecting  links  occurs 
very  much  less  in  modern  French  nov- 
els :  in  them,  indeed,  when  a  scene  is 
given,  it  is  because  a  scene  actually  took 
place,  not  because  a  scene  was  a  con* 
venient  way  of  showing  what  was  going 
on  ;  and  I  think  you  will  all  remember 
that  in  Tolstoy's  great  novels  one  scarce^ 
ly  has  the  sense  of  there  being  any 
scenes  at  all,  not  more  so  than  in  real 
life.  Pierre's  fate  is  not  sealed  in  a 
given  number  of  interviews  with  Hel^ne  ; 
nor  is  the  rupture  between  Anna  and 
Wronsky— although  its  catastrophe  is 
brought  a!)out.  as  it  must  be,  by  a  spe- 
cial incident — the  result  of  anything 
save  imperceptible  disagreements  every 
now  and  then,  varied  with  an  outbreak 
of  jealousy.  Similarly,  in  Tolstoy  you 
never  know  how  many  times  Levine 
went  to  the  house  of  Kitty's  parents, 
nor  whether  Pierre  had  twenty  or  two 
thousand  interviews  with  Natacha;  you 
only  know  that  It  all  happens  as  it  in- 
evitably must,  and  happens,  as  most 
things  in  this  world  do,  by  the  force  of 
accumulated  action. 

Vemm  Zee. 


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^  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


MIDSUMMER  IN  THE  CITY. 
(East  Sidb.) 

Gray  pave,  gray  dust ;  a  blur  of  beavy  heat. 
It  seems  as  if  God*s  breath  had  never  been 

Blown  over  waves  of  crested,  yellowing  wheat 
Or  fields  wherein  rich  grasses  bend  and  lean, 
To  bless  this  dreadful  spot  with  dreams  of  green, 

Deep,  shadowy,  worid-old  forests,  cool  and  sweet. 

Gaunt,  staggering  houses  leer  upon  the  street 
Like  loathly  hags,  half-witches,  sometime  seen 

Or  guessed  at  in  some  midnight  mount^o-meet. 
Day  shows  its  shame  ;  night's  an  accursiSd  screen 
Whtfettiider  vile  things  slink,  obscure,  unclean. 

That  hide  at  the  first  coming  of  dawn's  feet. 

Black,  slimy  passages  worm  through  the  block 
Like  roots,  and  midway  burst  in  hideous  Sower 

Of  fetid  courts — foul,  formless,  vague,  that  shock 
Like  some  abortion  born  to  make  an  hour 
One  shuddering  remembrance  of  Heirs  power 

And  Heaven  itself  seem  but  a  dreary  mock. 

Look  down  into  this  evil  flower,  this  sink, 
This  loathsome  pit,  where  puny  children  crawl. 

What  breasts  could  give  such  bloodless  creatures  drink  7 
What  fiend  could  father  them  ?  If  that  were  all ! 
You  blench,  you  pale.   Is  God,  then,  out  of  call  ? 

Ah,  but  perchance  He  sleeps,  or  eats,  you  think  ? 

Nay,  look,  look  down.   What !  does  it  stir  the  hair? 

True !  souls  rot  there  like  bodies,  if  one  knows. 
'Tis  the  Sphinx-riddle.   Guess  it,  if  you  dare. 

The  answer  ?  This.   See,  yot^der,  where  there  goes 

A  ragged  child  that  hugs  a  ruined  rose 
With  eyes  of  rapture  innocent  as  prayer. 

J'friey  A.  Otild, 

JiTem  Y0rk  aty. 


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S4  THE  BOOKMAN. 

ANDREW  LANG  AS  A  POET. 


When  the  little  volume  of  Ballads  and 
Lyrics  of  Old  France  appeared  in  its 
dainty  white  and  gold  in  1872,  more 
than  one  lover  of  poetry  felt 

"  like  a  man  abroad  at  morn 
When  first  the  liquid  note  beloved  of  men 
Comes  flying  over  many  a  windy  wave 
To  Briuin." 

The  voice,  indeed,  was  not  wholly  new, 
but  it  was  young  and  singularly  sweet  ; 
and  in  it  there  were  cadences  the  fresh- 


ANUREW  LANG. 


ness  and  tenderness  of  which  were  of 
delightful  promise  at  a  moment  when 
Tennyson  and  Swinburne  were  devoting 
themselves  to  "  Queen  Mary"  and 
"  Bothwell,"  when  William  Morris  was 
wasting  brilliant  craftsmanship  on  the 
"  it^neid,"  and  Browning  was  revelling 
in  the  Hesperian  bowers  of  "  Red  Cot- 
ton Nightcap  Country."-  Mr.  Lang  has 
himself  somewhat  despitefully  imputed 
to  his  early  work  "  the  demerits  of 
imitative  and  even  of  undergraduate 
rhyme,"  but  while  one  may  admit  that 
the  poet  had  not  found  himself  \i\\zw  he 
penned  such  lines  as 

"  The  languid  sunset,  mother  of  roses, 
Lingers,  a  light  on  the  magic  seas," 

there  was  more  than  sufficient  in  Ballads 
and  Lyrics  to  justify  "  people  he  liked  in 


liking  them"  and  certain  unconsidered 
strangers  in  expecting  memorable  things 
from  him.  Confining  one's  self  to  the 
original  poems — though  the  transla- 
tions, which  fill  more  than  half  the  vol- 
ume, afford  admirable  proof  of  metrical 
equipment  and  poetic  sympathy — need 
one  do  more  in  the  way  of  evidence 
than  refer  to  the  gentle  tenderness  of 
"  Twilight  on  Tweed,"  with  its  "  water 
from  the  Border  hills,"  its  air  haunted 
by  the  ballads  "  borne  out  of  long  ago, " 
its  trout  plashing  beneath  the  blossomed 
tree,  and  its  glimpse  of  green  Eildon  ; 
or  to  the  fine  conception  of  "  They  hear 
the  Sirens  for  the  second  time  ;"  or  the 
spiritual  elevation  of  "  The  Lost  Path" 
—  that  forgotten  mode  of  ecstasy 
"  whereby,  as  Porphyrj'  saith,  his  soul, 
becoming  free  from  his  deathly  flesh, 
was  made  one  with  the  Spirit  that  is  in 
the  World?"  One  sonnet,  however,  I 
must  quote — aglow  with  the  yearning 
and  vision  of  the  poetic  twenties,  before 
Mr.  Lang  dallied  in  the  primrose  paths 
of  the  Ballade,  and  long  before  he  be- 
gan to  gibe  at  "  the  mavis  of  Lis  early 
morn."   It  is  called  "  Metempsychosis." 

"  I  shall  not  see  thee,  nay,  hut  I  shall  know. 
Perchance,  thy  grey  eyes  in  another's  eyes. 

Shall  guess  thy  curls  in  gracious  locks  that  flow 
On  purest  brows,  yea.  and  in  swift  surmise 
Shall  follow  and  track  and  find  thee  in  disguise 

Of  all  sad  things,  and  fair,  where  sunsets  glow. 

When  through  the  scent  of  heather,  faint  and  low. 
The  weak  wind  whispers  to  the  day  that  dies. 

"  From  all  sweet  art,  and  out  of  all  "  old  rhyme." 

Thine  eyes  and  lips  arc  light  and  song  to  me  ; 
The  shadows  of  the  beauty  of  all  timtf, 

Carven  and  sung,  are  only  sha|>es  of  thee  : 
Alas,  the  shadowy  shapes  !  ah,  sweet  my  dear, 
Shall  life  or  death  bring  all  thy  being  near?" 

Here,  too — in  verse  so  musical  that  in 
reading  it  after  rhymed  measures  one 
does  not  for  some  time  perceive  that  it 
is  rhymeless — we  have  the  poet  s  first 
conception  of  Helen  of  Troy.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  note  that  for  nearly  twenty 
years,  off  and  on,  Mr.  Lang  has  devoted 
himself  to  the  worship  of  that  imperish- 
able beauty.  His  most  important  work 
consists  of  her  story,  and  again  as  late 
as  1890,  when  he  collaborated  with  Mr. 
Rider  Haggard  in  one  of  the  most  strik- 
ingly picturesque  and  imaginative — and 
strangely  enough  one  of  the  least  appre- 
ciated—of recent  romances,  The  World' s 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Desire^  it  was  Helen  who  was  the  hero- 
ine. 

So  far  as  I  can  gather,  the  most  popu- 
lar of  Mr.  Lang's  poems  is  the  XXI J. 
Ballades  in  Blue  China  (1880).  They  are 
delightful  reading  ;  airy,  graceful,  hu- 
morous ;  the  freaks  and  fancies  of  a 
very  Ariel.    Recollect  the  melody  of  the 

Ballade  of  the  Midnight  Forest,"  the 
delicious  quaintness  of  the  "  Blue 
China"  of  the  reign  of  the  Emperor 
Hwang,  the  racy  piquancy  of  the  Bal- 
lade of  the  Tweed,  '  the  characteristic 
envoy  of  "  The  Royal  Game  of  Golf" — 

**  Prince,  faith  you're  improving  a  wee, 

And.  Lord,  tn.ui,  they  tell  me  you're ke«ai 
Tak'  the  best  o'  advice  that  can  be, 
Tak'  aye  teal  to  be  up  on  tlie  green  T 

how  we  laiicjhed  over  all  that  fifteen 
years  ago,  and  how  often  we  have  smiled 
since  !  But,  alas,  with  the  exception  of 
the  fine  sonnet  "  In  Ithaca,"  I  find  little 
that  fulfils  the  early  promise.  Two 
years  later,  however,  Jld^n  of  Troy,  in 
six  books — nearly  2500  litics — ^realised 
the  expectations  which  had  been  aroused 
by  the  reading  of  the  volume  of  1872. 

The  lines  of  the  poets  of  to-day  have 
fallen  in  pleasant  places  ;  an  ode  or  a 
ballad  suffices  to  create  a  reputation. 
One  can  almost  regret,  for  itt  salce,  that 
the  publication  of  Iliicn  of  Troy  was  not 
postponed  for  a  dozen  years.  What  a 
"  splash'*  it  would  have  made  in  these 
days  of  small  outputs  and  quick  re- 
turns !  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  rec- 
oncile the  great  army  of  the  disappoint- 
ed to  remember  that  so  noble  a  piece  of 
work  has  never  passed  into  a  second  edi- 
tion, and  that  in  the  survey  of  recent 
poetic  achievement  the  references  to  it 
are  by  no  means  as  plentiful  as  mice  in 
Patagonia.  It  may  be  that  age  has  with- 
ered and  custom  staled  the  infinite  vari- 
ety of  the  "  dream  of  the  world's 
youth  ;"  possibly  we  are  tired  of  phan- 
toms, and  hunger  for  the  womanhood 
of  our  time  ;  but  one  would  have 
thought  that  the  old  story  had  not  yet 
lost  its  spell,  especially  when  told  with 
the  beauty  and  power,  the  imagination, 
the  vivid  truthfulness,  the  emotion, 
which  lift  tliese  six  books  into  the  re- 
gion of  great  poetry. 

The  chiiin  I  have  made  for  tiiis  epic- 
in-little  is  a  large  one,  but  did  space 
allow  it  would  be  easy,  and  no  less 
pleasant,  to  substantu^te  it  by  quota- 
tion. In  this  case,  however,  any  reason- 
ably limited  extracts  would  resemble 


the  bricks  of  the  house-agent  in  Hier- 
odes.  From  the  first  appearaiu^  of 
Helen  with  Hennionep 

**  A  little  maiden  of  long  siunmers  diiee," 

nestling  against  her  bosom — I  had 
thought  Mr.  Lang  despised  children, 
but  what  poet  does  not  love  them  ? — and 
peeping  out  half  afraid  at  the  strangers, 
down  to  the  strang^ely  placid  time  when 
she  and  Menelaus,  once  more  together 
in  the  old  home,  beheld 

"  The  counted  years  of  mortal  life  go  by," 

the  story  is  full  of  rememberable  pas- 
sages. As  in  a  dream,  forgetful  of  the 
past,  spell-drawn  by  fate,  Helen  wan- 
ders forth  to  her  destiny,  innocent  itnd 
unconscious, 

'*Whcn  the  red  lose  of  dawn  outbumcd  tfie 

white  ;" 

and  this  dream-state  continues  throup^h 
the  long  voyage  by  many  an  island  fort 
and  haven,  past  red-prow'd  barks  Ggryp- 
tian,  the  rich  island-town  begirt  by 
war,  the  lonely  tunny-fisher  on  his  rocky 
watch-tower,  and  long  afterwards,  till 
Paris  slays  in  her  presence  his  own  son 
by  CEnone  and  CBnone's  curse  descends 
upon  her.  Then  by  the  will  of  the  evil 
goddess  the  cloud  rolls  away  from  Hel- 
en's memory,  and  she  knows  herself, 
and  sees  her  hoaie,  the  city  of  llie  rifted 
hill,  fair  Lacedemon,  and  hears  the  cry 
of  her  little  child.  This  lapse  and  tem- 
porary restoration  of  memory  are  the 
most  tragic  and  pathetic  incidents  in 
the  poem,  and  they  are  matched  by  the 
appearance  of  CEnone,  first  at  the  fu- 
neral pile  of  her  son,  and,  long  years 
afterwards,  at  that  of  the  father  who 
unwittingly  slew  him.  Of  the  same 
lofty  strain  is  Helen's  contempt  for 
Paris  and  her  seclusion  from  the  little 
world  she  lived  in. 

"  But  she,  in  longing  for  her  lord  and  home, 
And  &corn  of  her  wild  lover,  did  withdraw 
From  all  men's  eyes ;  but  in  tlie  nigbt  would 

roam 

Till  drowsy  watduuen  of  the  city  saw 
A  shadowy  shape  Uuit  chiU'd  the  night  with 
awe. 

Treading  the  battlements  ;  and  like  a  ghost 

She  stretched  her  lovely  arms  without  a  flaw 
In  abanie  and  longing  to  the  Argive  liosL" 

Nor  can  similar  praise  be  denied  to  the 

closing  scene  in  which  Menelaus,  after 
the  sack  of  Ilion,  bade  the  array  fall 
upon  her  and  stone  her  to  death. 


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a6 


THE  BOOKh4AN, 


"  But  each  man  stood  and  mused  on  Helen's  face. 
And  her  uodreaua'd  of  bcaatyi  tonight  lo 
nigh 

On  that  bleak  plain,  within  that  ni{n*d  place 

and  let  fall  the  gathered  flints  and  stole 

away. 

But  what  notion  does  all  this  give  of 
the  poem  >  None ;  in  these  cases  the 

critics,  like  the  auld  folk  in  a  bunker, 
"are  nae  gude  ava',"  and  the  epic  no 
less  than  the  golfing  is  discredited. 

In  18S5  Mr.  Lang  published  Rhymes  ^ 
ia  Mode,  and  in  1888  Grass  of  Parnassus^ 
and  of  these  I  have  left  myself  scant 
room  to  speak.  Among  some  beautiful 
poems  and  many  lovely  lines — witness 
these  rudely  torn  from  their  context — 

"  Between  the  green  ikf  and  the  grey 

"  Keside  his  friends,  on  the  grey  hill. 
Where  rains  weep,  and  the  curlews  shrill. 
And  the  brown  water  wanders  by 

"  Ilmh,  ah  kuthy  the  scythes  are  saying  /* 

and  such  poems  as  "  Alma;  Matres," 
"  Desiderium,"  "  Romance,"  "  Seekers 
for  a  City,"  "  Clevedon  Church,"  and 


"  Pen  and  Ink" — one  finds  that  the 
poet  has  reverted  to  the  merry,  dilet- 
tante, half-mocking  spirit  of  the  A" A*//. 
Ballades.  A  curious  significance  seems 
to  be  given  to  this  reversion  by  the  per- 
SOtial  note  in  '*  The  Spinet.*' 

"  A  jingliog  harmony  it  makes. 

My  heart,  my  lyre,  my  old  Spinet, 

And  now  a  nicrrKKy  it  wakc-s, 

And  now  the  music  mc.ins  '  forget,' 

And  little  heed  the  player  takes 

flowc'crthc  thoughtful  critic  fret." 

Worse  still,  in  Ban  and  Arrilre  Ban^ 
isstied  last  year,  Mr.  Lang  "  blasphemes 
the  preat  white  goddess  to  Iter  face"  in 
"The  Poet's  Apology.  '  Who  would 
have  suspected  this  in  the  author  of  the 
Ballad i  and  Lyrics  of  Old  France  ;  who 
can  forgive  it  in  the  author  of  Helen  0/ 
Trtyt 

"  Scanty  sacrifice  she  won 
When  her  very  best  she'd  done. 
And  at  her  they  poked  their  fun 

In  Reviews." 

As  if  that  mattered  a  single  particle  ! 

William  Canton, 


THE  LOVER  TO  HIS  VERSE, 

Little  lyric,  lightly  liltinej, 

Swiftly  speed  thy  flight  to  her, 
Armed  with  love  go  bravely  tilting. 

Strive  her  armoured  heart  to  stir. 
Tell  her  in  thy  soft,  impassioned 

Speech  the  story  of  the  night 
When  thy  t<  iuler  lines  were  fashioned. 

Born  of  love's  emluriiig  light : 
How  when  evening  deepened,  darkened, 

Sweeping  sunlight  from  the  land, 
You  and  I  together  hearkened 

For  her  whisper  of  command. 
Had  it  reached  us — then  together 

We  had  hastened  to  her  side, 
There  through  clouds  and  shining  weather, 

Calm,  contented,  to  abide. 
Little  lyric,  full  fruition 

Of  a  glailness  and  a  pain. 
Tell  her.  this  shall  he  your  mission, 

That  to  win  her  I  am  fain  ; 
That  to  woo  her,  storm  her,  sue  her 

In  my  heart  dim  pleadings  stir ; 
Singing,  ringing,  winging  to  her. 

Little  lyric,  soften  her  ! 

Guy  Wetmore  Carryl. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


«7 


DRUMSHELGHS  LOVE  STORY. 
By  thb  Author  of  "Beside  thb  J^mkib  Bmer  Bush." 


When  Leezabeth  brought  wnrd  that 
Dr.  MacLure  had  ridden  into  the  "close," 
Dnifflsheugh  knew  for  what  end  he  had 
come,  but  it  was  characteristic  of  Drum- 
tochty  that  after  they  had  exhausted 
local  affairs,  he  should  be  stricken  dumb 
and  stare  into  the  fire  with  averted  face. 
For  a  space  the  doctor  sat  silent,  because 
we  respected  one  another's  souls  in  the 
Glen,  and  understood  the  agony  of  seri- 
ous speech,  but  at  last  he  judged  it  right 
to  give  assistance. 

**  Ye  said  laist  nicht  that  ye  hed  some- 
thing tae  say." 

**  A'nri  comin'  tae't ;  juist  gie  me  twa 
meenuts  mair."  But  it  was  ten  before 
Drumshcutrh  opened  his  mouth,  al- 
though he  arranged  himself  in  his  chair 
and  made  as  though  he  would  speak 
three  times. 

**  Weelum,"'  he  said  at  last,  and  then 
he  stopped,  for  his  courage  had  failed. 

"  A'm  hearin',  Drum  ;  tak  yir  ain 
time  ;  the  fire's  needin'  mendin',"  and 
tlie  light,  blazing  up  suddenly,  showed 
anotticr  Drumsheugh  than  was  known 
on  Muirtown  market. 
I  "  It's  no  easy,  Weelum,  tae  say  ony- 
<  thing  that  gangs  deeper  than  the  weather 
an*  cattle  beasts. "  Drumsheup^h  passed 
bis  hand  across  his  forehead,  and  Mac- 
Lure's  pity  was  stirred. 

"  Gin  ye  hae  dune  onything  wrang, 
an'  ye  want  tae  relieve  yir  mind,  ye  may 
lippen  tae  me,  Drumsheugh,  though  it 
titch  yir  life.  A'  can  haud  ma  tongue, 
an'  a'm  a  leal  man/' 

**  A*  thocht  it  wesna  that,"  as  Drums- 
heugh shook  his  bead  ;  "a'm  jidgin' 
that  ye  hae  a  sorrow  tlie  Glen  disna  ken, 
and  wud  like  an  auld  trceud  tae  feel  the 
wecht  o't  \vi'  ye." 

Drumsheugh  looked  as  if  that  was 
nearer  the  mark,  but  still  he  was  silent. 

*'  A'  ken  what  ye're  feelin',  for  a*  cud- 
na  speak  masel,"  and  then  he  added,  at 
the  sight  of  his  friend's  face,  "  Dinna 
gar  yirsel  speak  against  yir  wuU.  We 
'ill  say  naethin'  mair  aboot  it.  .  .  . 
Did  ye  hear  o'  Hillocks  coupin'  iotae 
the  drift  till  there  wes  naethin  seen  but 
his  heels,  and  Gormack  sayin',  '  Whar 
are  ye  aff  tae  noo.  Hillocks  ?  '  " 
\      "A"  maun  speak,"  burst  out  Drums- 


heugh ;  "  a've  carried   ma  trihble  for 
mair  than  thirty  year,  and  cud  hae  borne 
it  till  the  end,  but  ae  thing  a'  canna  , 
stand,  an'  that  is.  lliat  aither  you  or  me  | 
dee  afore  a've  cleared  ma  name." 

"  Yir  name  ?**  and  the  doctor  regarded 
Drumsheugh  with  amazement. 

"  Aye,  ma  character  ;  a've  naethin' 
else,  Wcclum,  naither  wife  nor  bairns, 
so  a'm  jealous  o't,  though  fouk  michtna 
think  it. 

"  Noo,  gin  onybody  in  Muirtown  askit 
ma  certeencat  o*  a  Drumtochty  ncebur, 
gie  me  his  answer,"  and  Drumsheugh 
turned  suddenly  on  MacLure,  who  was 
much  confused. 

"  Nae  Drumtochty  man  wud  say  ony, 
ill  o'  yc  ;  he  daurna,  for  ye  ve  gien  hira 
nae  occasion,  an'  yc  surely  ken  that  yir« 
scl  withoot  askin'."    But  Drumsheugh 
was  still  waiting. 

"  He  micht  say  that  ye  were  juist  a 
wee,"  and  then  he  broke  oif,  *'  but  what 
need  ye  care  for  the  havers  of  a  market  ? 
Fouk  ill  hae  their  joke." 

"  Ve  said  a  wee ;  what  is't,  Weeium  ?" 
and  the  doctor  saw  there  was  to  be  no 
escape. 

"  Weel,  they  micht  maybe  say  be-i 

hind  yir  back,  Drum,  what  some  o'  them 
wud  say  tae  yir  face,  meaniu'  nae  evil, , 
ye  ken,  that  yc  were  .  .  .  carefu',  in' 
fart,  an'  .  .  .  keen  aboot  the  baubees. 
Naethin'  mair  nor  worse  than  that,  as 
a'm  sittin'  here." 

"  Naethin'  mair,  said  ye?"  Drums- 
heugh spoke  with  much  bitterness— 
"  an'  is  yon  little  ?  '  Carefu' ' ;  ye're  a 
gude-hearted  man,  Weclum ;  miser's 
nearer  it,  a'm  dootin',  a  wr;!t<  h  that  'ill 
hae  the  iaist  penny  in  a  bargain,  and  no 
Spend  a  saxpence  gin  he  can  keep  it." 

MacLure  saw  it  was  nota  time  to  spe.ik. 

"  They've  hed  mony  a  lauch  in  the 
train  ower  ma  tigs  wi'  the  dealers,  an' 
some  o'  them  wud  hae  liked  tae  hevcam 
a£f  as  weel — a  cratur  like  Milton  ;  but 
what  dis  Burnbrae,  'atcoonted  hisverra 
livin'  less  than  his  principles,  or  auld 
Domste,  that's  dead  an'  gane  noo,  'at 
wud  hae  spent  his  laist  shillin*  sending 
a  laddie  tae  the  College — he  gied  it  tae 
me  aince  het,  like  the  man  he  wes — or 
the  minister,  wha  wud  dee  raither  than 


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98 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


condescend  tae  a  meannesa,  or  what 

can  .  .  .  Marget  Hoo  think  o*  me  ?" 
and  the  wail  io  Drumsheugh's  voice 
went  to  the  heart  of  MacLure. 

"  Dinna  tak  on  like  this,  Drum  ;  it's 
waesome  tae  hear  ye,  an'  it's  clean 
havers  ye're  speakin'  the  nicht.  Didna 
Domsie  get  mony  a  note  frae  ye  for  his 
collctjc  laddies  ? — a've  heard  him  nn't — 
an'  it  wcs  you  'at  paid  Geurdie  Hoo's 
fees,  an'  wha  wes't  brocht  Sir  Geoive 
an'  savit  Annie  Mitchell's  life  .  .  .  ? 

"  That  didna  cost  me  niucklc  in  the 
end,  sin'  itwes  your  daein' an' no  mine  ; 
an'  as  tor  the  bit  fees  for  the  puir  schol- 
ars»  they  were  naethin'  ava. 

*<  Na,  na»  Weelum,  it  'ill  no  dae.  A* 
ken  the  hert  o*  ye  wci-l,  and  ye  'ill  stan' 
bv  yir  freend  through  fair  and  foul ;  but 
a  m  gaein'  tae  clear  things  up  aince  for 
a'  ;  a'll  never  gang  through  this  again, 

"  It's  no  the  Glen  a'm  thinkin'  aboot 
the  nicht ;  a'  wud  like  tae  hae  their  gude 
opinion,  an'  a'm  no  what  they're  consid- 
erin'  me,  but  a*  canna  giethcm  the  facts 
o'  the  case,  an'  ...  a'  maun  juist  dec 
as  a'  hev  lived. 

"  What  cuts  me  tae  the  hcrt  is  that 
the  twa  fouk  a'  luve  sud  hac  reason  tae 
jidge  me  a  miser;  ane  o'  them  wull 
never  ken  her  mistake,  but  a'll  pit  masel 
ricbt  wi'  the  ither.  Weelum,  for  what 
div  ye  think  a've  been  scrapin*  for  a* 
thae  years  ?" 

**  Weel,  gin  ye  wull  hae  ma  mind," 
said  the  doctor,  slowly,  "  a'  believed  ye 
hed  been  crossed  in  luve*  for  ye  telt  roe 
as  mtich  versel.  .  .  ." 

"  Yc're  richt,  Weelum  ;  a'll  tell  ye 
mair  the  nicht ;  gang  on." 

'*  It  cam  tae  m.i  mind  that  ye  turned 
tae  bargainin'  an'  savin',  no  for  greed— 
a*  kent  there  wes  nae  greed  in  ye  ;  div 
ye  suppose  a'  cudna  tell  the  differ  atween 
ma  freend  an'  Milton  ?— but  for  a  troke 
tae  keep  yir  mind  aff  .  .  .  aff  yir  sor- 
row." 

•*  Thank  ye,  Weelum,  thank  ye  kind- 
ly, but  it  wesnaeven  that  that  aVe  lived 

barer  than  ony  plomnan  for  the  best 
part  o'  ma  life  ;  a'  tell  ye,  beyond  ma 
stocktn'  a'm  no  worth  twa  hunderpund 
this  nicht. 

"  It  wes  for  anitlicr  a'  githered,  an' 
as  fast  ui»  1  got  the  gear  a'  gied  it  awa," 
and  Drumsheugh  sprang  to  his  feet,  his 
eyes  shinitig  ;  "  it  wes  for  luve's  sake  a' 
haggled  an'  schemed  an'  stairved  an* 
toiled  till  a've  been  a  byw  u  1  at  kirk 
and  market  for  nearness  ;  a'  did  it  a'  an' 


bore  it  a*  for  ma  luve,  an*  for  .  .  .  ma 
luve  a'  wud  hae  dune  ten  times  mair. 
"  Did  ye  ken  wha  it  wes,  Weelum  Y* 
"  Ye  never  mentioned  her  name,  but 

a'  jaloosed,  an'  there's  nane  like  her  in 

the  Glen.  .  .  ." 

**  No,  nor  in  braid  Scotland  for  me  ! 
She  'ill  aye  be  the  bonniest  as  weel  as  t>ie 

noblest  o'  wcemen  in  ma  een  till  they  be 
steikil  iu  dcith.  But  yc  never  saw  Mar- 
get  in  her  bloom,  when  the  blosSOm  wes 
on  the  tree,  for  ,\'  mind  ye  were  awa  in 
Edinburgh  thae  years,  learning  yir  busi- 
ness. 

"  A'  left  the  schule  afore  she  cam,  an' 
the  first  time  a'  ever  kent  Marget  richt 
wes  the  day  she  settled  wi*  her  mither 

in  the  cottar's  hoose  on  Drumsheugh, 
an'  she's  bed  ma  hert  sin'  tiiat  'oor. 
**  It  wesna  her  winsome  face  nor  her 

gentle  ways  that  drew  me,  Weelum  ;  it 
wes  .  .  .  her  soul,  the  gudeness  'at 
lookit  oot  on  the  warld  through  yon 
grey  een,  sae  serious,  thochtfu',  kindly. 

"  Nae  man  cud  say  a  rouch  word  or 
hae  a  ill  thocht  in  her  presence  ;  she 
made  ye  better  juist  tae  hear  her  speak 
an'  Stan'  aside  her  at  the  wark. 

"A*  hardly  ever  spoke  tac  lier  f^.r  the 
three  year  she  wes  wi's,  an'  a'  said  na 
word  o'  luve.  A'  houpit  some  day  tae 
win  her,  an'  a'  wes  mair  than  content  tae 
hae  her  near  me.  Thae  years  were  bit* 
ter  tae  me  aifter^vards,  but,  man,  a* 
wudna  be  withoot  them  noo  ;  they're  a* 
the  time  a*  ever  hed  wi*  Marget. 

"A'm  a-wcaryin'  ye,  Weelum,  wi' 
what  can  be  little  mair  than  havers  tae 
anither  man but  at  the  look  on  the 
doctor's  face,  he  added.  "  .\'ll  tell  ye  a' 
then,  an'  .  .  .  a'll  never  mention  her 
name  again.  Ye're  the  only  man  ever 
heard  me  say  '  Marget  '  like  this. 

"  Weelum,  a'  wes  a  man  thae  days, 
an'  thochts  cam  tae  me  'at  gared  ihe 
he.'t  leap  in  ma  briest,  and  ma  bludc  rin 
like  the  Tochty  in  flood.,/  When  a'  drave  ' 
the  scythe  through  tlic  corn  in  hairst, 
and  Marget  lifted  the  gowden  swathe 
ahint  me,  a'  said,  *  This  is  hou  a'll  toil 
an'  fecht  for  her  a'  tiic  days  o'  oor  life  '  ; 
an*  when  she  gied  me  the  sheaves  at  the 
mill  f  >r  the  threshin',  "  This  is  hoo  she 
'ill  bring  a'  guid  things  tae  ma  hameJ 

'*  Aince  her  band  touched  mine — a*  see  \ 
a  witlu-red  forget-me-not  amonc:  the  aits 
this  meenut — an'  .  .  .  that  wes  the  only 
time ;  a'  never  hed  her  hand  In  mine 
.  .  .  a'  hoddit  the  floor,  an*,  Weelum, 
a'  hev  it  tae  this  day. 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  UTEKARY  JOURNAL, 

» 


29 


"  Thcro's  a  stile  on  the  road  tae  the 
hill,  an'  a  hawthorn  tree  at  the  side  o't  ; 
it  wcs  there  she  met  me  ae  sweet  simmer 
evenin',  when  the  com  wes  turnin'  yel- 
low, an*  telt  me  they  wud  he  leavin' 
their  lioose  at  Martinmas.  Her  face  hed 
a  licht  on  it  a*  hed  never  seen.  *A'm 
tae  be  marrie't,*  she  said,  *  tae  William 
Howe  .  .  /  " 

Puir  lad,  puir  lad,  aifter  a*  jrir 
houps  ;  did  ye  lat  her  ken  ?" 

'*  Na,  na  ;  it  wes  ower  late,  an'  wud 
only  hae  vexed  her.  Howe  and  her  hed 
been  bairns  thcgillier,  an'  a've  heard  he 
WCS  kind  tae  her  father  when  he  wes 
sober  (weakly),  an'  so  ...  he  got  her 
hert.  A'  cudna  hae  changed  her,  but 
a'  micht  hae  made  her  meeserable. 

*'  A'  leaned  ower  that  stile  for  twa 
laag^  oors.  Mony  a  time  a've  been  there 
sin"  then,  by  nicht  and  day.  Hoo  the 
Glen  wud  lauch,  for  a'm  no  the  man 
they  see.  A'  saw  the  sun  gae  doon  that 
nicht,  an'  a'  felt  the  darkness  fa'  on  me, 
an'  a'  kent  the  licht  hed  gane  oot  o'  ma 
life  for  ever." 

"Ye  carried  ycrsel  like  a  man, 
thou£^h,"  and  the  doctor's  voice  was  full 
of  pride,  "but  yeVe  hed  a sair battle, 
Dr  im,  an'  nae  man  tae  say  weel  dune." 

Dinna  speak  that  wy,  Weelum,  for 
a'm  no  sae  gude  as  ye're  thinkin'  ;  frae 
that  oor  tae  Geordie's  illness  a*  never 
spak  ae  word  o'  kindness  tae  Marget, 
an'  gin  hatred  wud  liae  killed  him,  she 
wud  hae  lost  her  bridegroom. 

"  Gude  forgie  me,'  and  the  drops 
stood  on  Drumsheugh's  forehead. 
"  When  Hoo  cudna  pay,  and  he  wes  tae 
be  turned  oot  of  Whinnie  Knowe,  a' 
lauched  tae  masel,  though  there  isna  a 
kinder,  simpler  heart  in  the  Glen  than 
puir  Whinnie's.  There  maun  be  some 
truth  in  thae  auld  stories  aboot  a  deevil ; 
he  hed  an  awfu'  grup  o*  me  the  end  o' 
that  var. 

■  But  a'  never  hatit  her  ;  a*  think  a've 
luvit  her  mair  every  year  ;  and  when  a* 
thocht  o'  hertrachlin'  in  some  bit  hooste 
as  a  plooman's  wife,  wha  wes  fit  for  a 
castle,  ma  hert  wes  melted. 

"  Gin  she  hed  gien  me  her  luve,  wha 
never  knew  a'  wantit  it,  a*  wud  hae  spilt 
ma  blucle  afore  ye  knew  care,  an'  though 
ye  sees  me  naetnin'  but  a  cankered,  con- 
trackit  auld  carle  this  day,  a'  wud  hae 
made  her  happy  aince,  Weelum.  A' 
wes  different  when  a*  wes  young,"  and 
Drum  hcugh  appealed  to  his  friend. 
Oinna  misca  ycrsel  tae  mc,  Drum  ; 


it's  nae  use,'*  said  the  doctor,  with_a,- 
shaky  voice. 

•*  Weel,  it  wesna  tae  be,"  resumed  • 
Drumdieugh  after  a  little;  "a'  cudna 

be  her  man,  V  ut  it  seemed  tae  me  ne  day 
that  a'  niiLiii  work  for  Marget  a'  the 
same,  an'  nacbody  wud  ken.  So  a' 
gied  intae  Muirtown  an'  c;oi  a  writer — " 

The  doctor  sprang  to  his  feet  in  such 
excitement  as  was  hardly  known  in  ' 
Drumtochty. 

"  What  a  fule  ye've  made  o'  the 
Glen,  Drumsheugh,  and  what  a  heepo- 
crite  yc'vc  hiten.  It  wes  you  then  that 
sent  hame  the  money  frae  Ameriky  'at 
cleared  Whinnie's  feet  and  set  Marget 
and  him  up  bien  (plentiful)  like  on  their 
merrige,"  and  then  MacLure  could  do 
the  rest  for  himself  without  assistance. 

**  It  wud  be  you  tae  'at  started  Whin- 
nie apfain  alf'<™r  the  Pleuro  took  his  cat- 
tle,/ fur  he  wes  aye  an  unlucky  wratch,; 
an'  if  it  wesna  you  that  deed  oot  in  New 
York  and  savit  him  ten  years  ago,  when 
the  stupid  body  pit  his  name  tae  Pig' 
gie*s  bill.  It*s  you  'at  wes  Winnie's  far- 
awa'  cousin,  wha  hed  gotten  rich  and 
sent  hame  help  through  the  lawyer,  an* 
naebody  suspeckit  onything. 

"  Drumsheugh" — and  the  doctor,  who 
had  been  finding  the  room  too  small  for 
him,  came  to  a  halt  opposite  his  friend 
— "  ye're  the  maist  accomplished  leear 
'at's  ever  been  born  in  Drumtochty, 
an'  .  .  .  the  best  man  a"  ever  saw.  Eh, 
Drum,"  and  MacLure's  voice  sank,"  hoo 
little  we  kent  ye.  It's  an  awfu'  pecty 
Domsie  didna  hear  o'  this  afore  he  slip- 
pit  awa' ;  a*  can  see  him  straichtenin' 
himsel  at  the  story.  Jamie  Soutar  'ill 
be  michty  when  he  gets  a  baud  o't.  .  .  . 

Twice  Drumsheugh  had  tried  to  inter- 
rupt MacLure  and  failed,  but  now  he 
brought  his  hand  down  upon  the  table. 

"  Wud  ye  daur,  Weelum,  tae  mention 
ae  word  a'  hae  telt  ye  ootside  this  room  ? 

gin  a' thocht  5'c  wes  the  man  -"  And 

Drumsheugh's  face  was  blazing. 

**Quiety  man,  quiet!  Ve  ken  a* 
wudna  withoot  yir  wull  ;  but  juist  ae 
man,  Jamie  boutar.  Ye  'ill  lat  mc 
share't  wi*  Jamie." 

"  No  even  Jamie  ;  an'  a'm  ashamed 
tae  hae  telt  ycrsel,  for  it  looks  like  boast- 
in'  ;  an'  aifter  a*  It  wes  a  bit  o*  comfort 
tae  me  in  ma  cauldrife  life. 

"  It's  been  a  gey  lang  trial,  Weelum  ; 
ye  canna  think  what  it  wes  tac  see  her 
sittin*  in  the  kirk  ilka  Sabbath  wi'  her 
man,  tae  follow  her  face  in  the  Psalms, 


30 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


tae  catch  her  een  in  the  Saicrament,  an' 
tae  ken  that  a'  never  wud  say  '  Marget ' 
tae  her  in  hu  e. 

*' For  thirty  year  an'  maira've  studied 
her,  an'  seen  her  broon  hair  that  wes 
like  g^owd  in  the  sunlight  turn  grey, and 
care  score  lines  on  her  face,  but  every 
year  she's  comelicr  in  ma  een. 

"  Whinnie  telt  us  his  tribble  aboot  the 
bill  in  the  kirkyaird,  an'  a'  saw  the  marks 
o't  in  her  look.  There  wes  a  tear  ran 
doon  her  cheek  in  the  prayer,  an*  a'  .  .  . 
cud  hae  greet  wi'  her,  an*  then  ma  hcrt 
loupit  wi'  joy,  for  a'  thocht  there  'ill  be 
nae  tear  next  Sabbath. 

"  Whinnie  got  the  siller,  frae  his 
cousin,  ye  ken,  through  the  week,  an' 
settled  his  debt  on  Friday.  A'  met  him 
on  the  street,  an*  made  him  buy  a  silk 
Efoon  for  Marget  :  .  .  .  a'  pied  wi'  him 
lac  choose  it,  for  he's  Hitlc  jidgment, 
Whinnie." 

"  .\'  wes  in  the  train  that  day  maf:el," 
broke  in  the  doctor,  "an'  a*  mind  Hil- 
locks daffin*  wi'  ye  that  nae  wumman 
cud  get  a  goon  oot  o'  you.  Sic  fules  an* 
waur." 

**A'  didna  mind  that,  no  ae  straw, 

Worliim,  for  Marget  wes  ten  year 
younger  next  Sabbath,  an'  she  wore  ma 
goon  on  the  Saicrament.  A'  kent  what 
bocht  it,  an'  that  wes  eneuch  for  me. 

"  It  didna  maitter  what  the  Glen  said, 
but  ae  thing  gied  tae  ma  hcrt,  an'  that 
wes  Marget's  thocht  o'  me  .  .  .  but  a* 
danrna  clear  masel. 

"  Wc  were  siannin'  thegither  ae  Sab- 
bath"— Drumsheugh  spoke  as  one  giv- 
ing a  painful  memorj',  on  which  he  had 
often  brooded— "  an'  gaein'  ower  the 
market,  an*  Hillocks  says,  '  A'  dinna  ken 


the  man  or  wumman  at  'ill  get  a  baubee 
oot  o'  you,  Drumsheugh.  Ye're  the 
hardest  lad  in  ten  pairishes. ' 

"  Marejct  passed  thai  meenut  tae  th<* 
kirk,  an'  ...  a'  saw  her  look.  Na,  it 
wesna  sc<u  n.  nor  peety ;  it  wes  sor- 
row. .  .  .  This  wes  a  biiTi  hoosc  in  the 
auld  day  when  she  wes  on  the  tairm,  an' 
she  wes  wae  tae  see  sic  a  change  in  me. 
A'  hed  tae  borrow  the  money  throiic;li 
the  lawyer,  ye  ken,  an'  it  wes  a  techt 
payin'  it  wi'  interest.  Aye,  but  it  wes  a 
pleesure  tac,  a*  that  a'll  ever  hev, 
Wcelum.  ..." 

"Did  ye  never  want  tae  .  .  .  tell 
her  ?  "  and  the  doctor  looked  curiously 
at  Drumsheugh. 

"  Juist  aince,  Weelum,  in  her  gairden, 
an'  the  day  Geordie  deed.  Marget 
thankit  me  for  the  college  fees  and  l)ii 
expenses  a'  hed  paid.  '  A  lather  cudna 
hae  been  kinder  tae  ma  laddie,'  she 
said,  an'  she  laid  her  hand  on  ma  airm. 
'  Ye're  a  gude  man,  a'  see  it  clear  this 
day,  an'  .  .  .  mahertis  .  .  .  warm  tae 
ye.'  A'  ran  oot  o'  the  gairden.  A* 
micht  liae  broken  doon.  Oh  !  gin  Geor- 
die hed  been  ma  ain  laddie  an  Marget 
.  .  .  ma  wife. " 

MacLure  waited  a  little,  and  then  he 
quietly  left,  but  first  be  laid  his  hand  on 
his  friend's  shoulder  to  show  that  he 
understood. 

After  he  had  gone,  Drumsheugh 
opened  his  desk  and  took  out  a  with* 
ered  flower.  He  pressed  it  again  and 
again  tu  iiis  lips,  and  eacii  time  he  said 

"  Marget  '  with  a  sob  that  rent  his  heart. 
It  was  the  £orget«me*not. 

Ian  M 04 la r en. 

(7>4f  cmkAmMI) 


EXPERlExXCES  WITH  EDITORS. 


I.  Rejected  Addresses. 

Inasmuch  as  the  experience  of  the 
vast  majority  of  writers  begins  with  a 
series  (»f  scnl-harrowing  rejections,  w  hat- 
ever success  maybe  ultimately  attained, 
it  seems  in  accordance  with  the  fitness 
of  thint.;>  tliat  In  these  two  papers  of 
mine  the  editorial  refusals  should  take 
precedence. 

Editors  have  to  stifTer  many  hard 
things  at  the  pens  or  tongues  of  con- 
tributors.   There  are  few  among  the 


competitors  lor  their  approval  who  can 
he  Itrought  to  regard  them  in  a  dispas- 
sionate spirit  of  justice.  The  literary 
child  which  has  been  with  such  pains 
brought  forth — be  it  poem,  story,  essay, 
or  volume — is  so  dear  to  the  parent,  that 
any  failure  to  accord  it  due  appreciation 
is  nine  times  init  of  ten  taken  to  argue 
partiality,  prejudice,  or  crass  stupidity 
m  the  errant  editor. 

But,  as  every  editor  knows,  and  will 
not  be  slow  to  affirm,  this  is  far  from 
being  the  true  state  of  the  case.  There 


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31 


are  few  conductors  of  periodicals  who 

do  not  very  much  prefer  sendinpT  accept- 
ances rather  than  rejections,  it  is  only 
in  obedience  to  the  stem  dictates  of 
duty  that  they  so  frequently  decline 
with  thanks. 

The  very  manner  of  their  doin|^  this 
may  be  taken  as  sufficient  proof  of  the 
assertion.  Let  me  cite  some  illustra- 
tions from  my  own  budget.  Thus,  in 
the  early  days  of  my  apprenticeship,  be- 
fore I  could  lay  claim  to  the  merest 
shadow  of  a  reputation,  tlie  editor  of 
one  of  the  best-known  American  week- 
lies wrote  me  : 

"  We  akould  like  to  have  something  from  your 

pen  in  the  ,  but  we  do  not  find  the  enclosed 

article  av.i!!aV)ic  for  our  purpoM, aod  therefore  re- 

lurn  il  with  regret." 

Now.  here  the  smart  of  disappointment 
was  materially  mitigated  by  the  kind 
words,  with  their  cheering  suggestion, 
and  one  felt  that  one  at  least  had  had  a 
fair  show. 

The  same  soothing  effect  was  the  nat- 
ural sequence  of  the  following  note  from 
the  editor  of  a  leading  monthly  : 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  anabte  to  use  ymir  paper. 
There  is  much  truth  in  the  views  advaiiLed  in  it, 
hut  they  would.  I  fear,  prove  otfensive  10  many 
of  oar  readers." 

In  this  case,  as  in  th:it  of  the  article 
next  referred  to,  it  is  easy  to  see  what 
an  advantage  the  editor  has  when  the 
would-be  contri!)utor  is  at  a  distance, 
for  certainly  both  replies  would  evoke 
earnest  argument  were  they  given  ver- 
bally and  face  to  face. 

"Your  c;ircfully  written  articles  ought  to  find 
interested  readers  in  this  country,  but  after  delib- 
eration it  ha^  seemed  to  us  that  we  have  too Ollich 
matter  on  hand  to  justify  us  in  accepting  another 
aeries  of  articlct.** 

But  of  course  it  was'  no  use  arguing 

over  a  distance  of  some  hundreds  of 
miles,  so  the  decision  had  perforce  to  be- 
accepted  as  final. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  trying  ex- 
periences to  which  the  eager  and  per- 
sistent contributor  subjects  himself  is 
that  of  getting  the  editor  almost,  but 
not  altogether  persuaded  to  accept  liis 
manuscript.  Tiie  subjoined  editorial 
communications  will  make  clear  my 
meaning. 

Thus  from  the  editors  of  a  famous 
juvenile  monthly  : 

"  The  merits  of  your  story  are (ttUy  appreciated, 
and  the  ms.  is  retomed  only  because  is  already 


more  than  supplied  with  accepted  stories  of  adven* 
turous  or  exciting  character.  For  this  reason 
solely  we  let  the  Ms.  go  back  to  you." 

And  this  from  a  not  less  well-known 
weekly  of  the  same  character  : 

*'  If  I  were  not  so  well  stocked  with  stories,  I 
should  be  griad  to  keep  this.  As  it  is.  I  must  re- 
tiun  it.  hul  I  .shati  always  he  glad  to  see  anything 

in  our  line  that  you  may  write." 

Yet  another  from  the  same  kindiy 
pen : 

"This  is  a  goodetuHigh  to  print  article,  but  I 
do  not  feel  justified  in  adding  it  to  my  present  ac- 
cnmuiatlon.^ 

To  the  same  effect,  although  based  on 
a  different  reason,  is  this  rejection  from 
the  feminine  conductor  of  a  young  peo- 
ple's monthly  lately  defunct : 

"  I  am  forced  to  return  this  clever  little  story 
because  I  must  publish  the  MS.  of  yours  already 
on  hand  before  accepting  more.  Could  1  sit  down 
to  my  desk  some  fine  morning,  and  find  -^—^  a 
weekly,  many  pleasant  things  would  be  possible." 

A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile,  they  say, 
yet  if  there  be  any  balm  in  Gilead  for 
the  disappointed  contributor,  surely 
such  a  kindly  note  as  the  foregoing  must 
apply  it. 

Not  all  editors,  however,  administer 
their  negatives  with  such  consideration. 

Having  done  what  you  thouglit  to  be 
your  best  on  a  manuscript,  it  seems  like 
adding  insult  to  injury  when  all  the  re- 
sponse you  elicit  is  a  scrap  of  paper,  evi- 
dently a  torn-off  letter-head,  with  these 
words  hastily  scrawled  upon  it  : 

"Not  available— only  stories  in  request  ;" 

or  a  mere  lead-pencil  note  to  this  effect ; 

"Declined  with  thanks— too  long,  and  not  of 

sufficient  interest  ;" 

and  oh  !  how  the  following  made  one 
long  for  five  minutes  in  the  editorial 
sanctum  : 

•  We  are  obliged  to  return  your  MS.,  as  the  in- 
cident related  seems  to  us  to  be  improbable — " 

the  fact  being  that  it  was  an  actual  oc- 
currence in  the  life  of  a  statesman,  with 
whom  the  writer  was  well  acquainted. 

Let  me  bring  this  article  to  a  close 
with  two  experiences,  which,  perhaps, 
m  a\  prove  somewhat  out  of  the  ordinary 
run. 

The  first  was  that  of  having  a  book 
declined  by  a  prominent  publishing 
house  because  it  was  too  interesting  !  The 
statement  may  seem  incredible  on  the 
face  of  it,  but  here  are  the  ipsisiima  verba 
of  the  firm  : 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


■  "  The  stor)'  is  well  written,  and  possesses  con- 
siderable dramatic  power.  We  think  that  boys 
would  be  intensely  interested  in  it,  but  the  move- 
ment is  so  swift  and  the  incidents  are  so  engross- 
ing that  the  moral  purpose  falls  into  the  back- 
ground. The  book  undoubtedly  will  be  popular. 
Other  houses,  we  are  sure,  will  be  glad  to  get  the 

MS." 

A  kindly  prophecy,  which,  it  is  satisfac- 
tory to  be  able  to  add,  has  been  amply 
fulfilled. 

The  second  experience  well  illustrates 
the  value  of  pertinacity,  although  per- 
haps it  can  hardly  be  taken  to  furnish  a 
safe  precedent. 

An  article  upon  which  the  writer  had 
expended  an  infinitude  of  pains,  and 
which  embodied  his  most  profound  con- 
victions upon  a  subject  of  vital  social 
interest,  was  first  submitted  to  the 
monthly  review  which  seemed  the  most 
fitting  vehicle  for  its  presentation  to  the 
public. 

It  was  returned  with  many  regrets, 
because  "  so  much  matter  previously  en- 
gaged had  come  to  hand  that  we  dare 
not  accept  even  one  more  article  at  pres- 
ent." 

Just  six  months  later,  having  in  the 
mean  time  been  pruned  and  condensed, 
it  was  again  submitted,  only  to  be  sent 
back  with  the  same  reason  given. 

Another  six  months  went  by,  at  the 


expiration  of  which  it  was  announced 
that  a  periodical  on  somewhat  similar 
lines  to  this  twice-tried  review  was  about 
to  be  established.  The  article  in  ques- 
tion was  thereupon  despatched  thither, 
in  hopes  that  there  could  not  already  be 
such  an  accumulation  of  ordered  or  ac- 
cepted material  as  to  preclude  a  place 
being  found  for  it. 

Alas  !  the  answer  ran  as  follows  : 

"The  excellence  of  this  article  is  appreciated, 
but  circumstances  prevent  its  acceptance." 

And  what  gave  the  matter  a  humorous 
tinge  was  the  unsuspected  fact  that  the 
editor  of  the  new  periodical  was  the 
same  man  who  had  twice  before  pro- 
nounced adversely  upon  the  unfortunate 
article. 

One  more  half  year  passed,  and  then, 
impelled  by  a  yet  unquenched  faith  in 
his  right  to  a  hearing,  the  writer  sent 
the  manuscript  back  to  the  new  periodi- 
cal— and  lo  !  and  behold  !  his  persist- 
ency met  the  reward  it  surely  deser\'ed. 

The  article  was  accepted,  and  paid  for 
at  a  rate  of  compensation  higher  than 
he  had  ever  previously  received,  and 
this,  too,  by  the  very  editor  who  had 
thrice  previously  failed  to  find  room  for 
the  contribution  ! 

y.  Macdonald  Oxley. 


BOOKS  AND 
By  the  Author  of  '*  Mv  Study  Fire," 

VII.  FROM  THE  BOOK  TO  THE  READER. 

The  study  which  has  found  its  mate- 
rial and  its  reward  in  Dante's  Divine 
Comedy  or  in  Goethe's  Faust  is  the  best 
possible  evidence  of  the  inexhaustible 
interest  in  the  masterpieces  of  these  two 
great  poets.  Libraries  of  considerable 
dimensions  have  been  written  in  the  way 
of  commentaries  upon,  and  expositions 
of,  these  notable  works.  Many  of  these 
books  are,  it  is  true,  deficient  in  insight 
and  possessed  of  very  little  power  of  in- 
terpretation or  illumination  ;  they  are 
the  products  of  a  barren,  dr)*-as-dust  in- 
dustry,', which  has  expended  itself  upon 
external  characteristics  and  incidental 
references.  Nevertheless,  the  ven*  vol- 
ume and  mass  of  these  secondar}*  books 


CULTURE. 

"  Short  Studies  in  Literature,"  etc. 

witness  to  the  fertility  of  the  first-hand 
books  with  which  they  deal,  and  show 
beyond  dispute  that  men  have  an  in- 
satiable desire  to  get  at  their  interior 
meanings.  If  these  great  powers  had 
been  mere  illustrations  of  individual 
skill  and  gift  this  interest  would  have 
long  ago  exhausted  itself.  That  singu- 
lar and  unsurpassed  qualities  of  con- 
struction, style,  and  diction  are  present 
in  Faust  and  the  Divine  Comedy  need  not 
be  emphasised,  since  they  both  belong 
to  the  very  highest  class  of  literary  pro- 
duction ;  but  there  is  something  deeper 
and  more  vital  in  them  ;  there  is  a  phi- 
losophy or  interpretation  of  life.  Each 
of  these  poems  is  a  revelation  of  what 
man  is  and  of  what  his  life  means  ;  and 
it  is  this  deep  truth,  or  set  of  truths,  at 


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the  heart  of  these  works  which  wc  are 
always  striving  to  reach  and  make  clear 
to  ourselves. 

In  tlie  case  of  ncitlior  poem  did  the 
writer  content  himself  with  an  exposi- 
tion of  bis  own  experience ;  in  both 
cases  there  is  an  attempt  to  embody  and 
put  in  concrete  form  an  immense  section 
of  universal  experience.  Neither  furm 
could  have  been  written  if  there  had  not 
been  a  long  antecedent  history,  rich  in 
every  kind  and  quality  o£  human  contact 
with  the  world,  and  of  the  working  out 
of  the  forces  whic  h  are  in  every  human 
soul.  These  two  forms  of  activity  repre> 
sent  in  a  general  way  what  men  have 
k-arncd  about  themselves  and  their  sur- 
roundings ;  and,  taken  together,  they 
constitute  the  material  out  of  which  in* 
tcrpretations  and  explanations  of  human 
life  have  been  made.  These  explana- 
tions vary  according  to  the  genius,  the 
environment  and  the  history  of  racM» 
l>ut  in  every  case  they  represent  the  very 
soul  of  race  life  ;  for  they  are  the  spir- 
itual forms  in  which  that  life  has  ex- 
pressed itself.  Other  forms  of  race 
activity,  however  valuable  or  beautiful, 
are  lost  in  the  passage  of  time  or  are 
taken  up  and  absorbed,  and  so  part  with 
their  separate  and  individual  existence  ; 
but  the  quintessence  of  experience  and 
thought  expressed  in  ^reat  works  of  art 
is  gathered  up  and  preserved,  as  Milton 
said,  for  "  a  Hfe  beyond  life." 

Now,  it  is  upon  this  imperishable  food 
which  the  past  has  stored  up  through 
the  genius  of  great  artists  that  later 
giencrations  feed  and  nourish  them- 
selves. It  is  through  intimate  contact 
with  these  fundamental  conceptions, 
woriced  out  with  such  infinite  pain  and 
patience,  that  the  individual  experience 

broadened  to  include  the  experience 
of  the  race.  This  contact  is  the  mystery 
as  it  is  the  source  of  culture.  No  one 
can  explain  the  transmission  of  jpower 
from  a  book  to  a  reader ;  but  all  history 
bears  witness  to  the  fact  that  such  trans- 
missions are  made.  Sometimes,  as  during 
what  is  called  the  Revival  of  Learning, 
the  transmission  is  so  general  and  SO 
genuine  that  the  life  of  our  entire  so- 
ciety is  visibly  fjuickened  anu  enlarged  ; 
indeed,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  an 
entire  civilisation  feels  the  efTcct.  The 
transmission  of  power,  the  transference 
of  vitality,  from  books  to  individuals  are 
&o  constant  and  common  that  the}'  are 
matters  of  universal  experience.  Most 


men  of  any  considerable  culture  date  the 
successive  enlargements  of  their  intel- 
lectual lives  to  the  reading,  at  successive 

periods,  of  the  b(joks  of  insiufht  and 
power — the  books  that  deal  with  life  at 
first-hand.  There  are,  for  instance,  few 
men  of  a  certain  age  who  have  read 
widely  or  deeply  who  do  not  recall  with 
perennial  enthusiasm  the  days  when 
Carlyle  and  Emerson  fell  into  their 
hands.  They  may  have  reacted  radi- 
cally from  the  didactic  teaching  of  both 
writers,  but  they  have  not  lost  the  im- 
pulse, nor  have  they  parted  with  the  en- 
largement of  thought  received  in  those 
first  rapturous  hours  of  discovery.  There 
was  wrought  in  them  then  changes  of 
view,  expansions  of  nature,  a  liberation 
of  life  ^ich  can  never  be  lost.  This 
experience  is  repeated  so  long  as  the 
man  retains  the  power  of  growth  and  so 
long  as  he  keeps  in  contact  with  the 
great  writers.  Every  such  contact  marks 
a  new  stage  in  the  process  of  culture. 
This  means  not  merely  the  deep  satis- 
faction .1  1  delight  which  are  involved 
in  every  fresh  contact  with  a  genuine 
work  of  art ;  it  means  the  permanent 
enrichment  of  the  reader.  He  has 
gained  something  more  lasting  than 
pleasure  and  more  valuable  than  infor- 
mation ;  he  has  gained  a  new  view  of 
life  ;  he  has  looked  again  into  the  heart 
of  humanity ;  he  has  felt  afresh  the 
supreme  interest  which  always  attaches 
to  any  real  contact  with  the  life  of  the 
race.  And  all  this  comes  to  him  not 
only  because  the  life  of  the  race  is  es- 
sentially dramatic  and,  therefore,  of 
quite  inexhaustible  interest,  but  because 
that  life  is  essentially  a  revelation.  A 
series  of  fundamental  truths  is  being 
disclosed  through  the  simple  process  of 
living,  and  whoever  touches  the  deep 
life  of  men  in  the  great  works  of  art 
comes  in  contact  also  with  ihcse  funda- 
mental truths.  Whoever  reads  the 
viite  Comedy  and  Fuu$t  for  the  first  time 
discovers  new  realms  of  truth  for  him- 
self, and  gains  not  only  the  joy  of  dis- 
covery, but  an  immense  addition  of  terri- 
tory as  well. 

The  most  careless  and  superficial 
readers  do  not  remain  untouched  by  tlie 
books  of  life ;  tiiey  fail  to  understand 
them  or  get  the  most  out  of  them,  but 
they  do  not  escape  the  spell  which  they 
all  possess — the  power  of  compelling  the 
attention  and  stirring  the  heart.  Not 
many  years  ago  the  stories  of  the  Rus- 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


sian  novelists  were  in  all  hands.  That 
the  fashion  has  passed  is  evident  enough, 
and  it  is  also  evident  that  the  craving 
for  these  books  was  largely  a  fashion. 
Nevertheless,  the  fashion  itself  was  due 
to  the  real  power  which  those  stories  re- 
vealed and  which  constitutes  their  last- 
ing coiUribulion  to  the  world's  litera- 
ture. They  were  touched  with  a  pro- 
found sadness,  wliich  was  exhaled  like  a 
mist  by  the  conditions  they  portrayed  \ 
they  were  full  of  a  sympathy  bom  of 
knowledge  and  of  sorrow  ;  their  roots 
were  in  the  rich  soil  of  the  life  they  de- 
scribed. The  latest  of  them,  Cfount 
Tolsto/s  JiaHer  and  Man^  is  one  of 


those  masterpieces  which  take  rank  at 
once,  not  by  reason  of  their  mafifnitude, 
but  by  reason  of  a  lertain  beautiful 
quality,  which  comes  only  to  the  man 
vv  hose  heart  is  pressed  against  the  heart 
of  his  theme,  and  who  divines  what  life 
is  in  thf^  inarticulate  soul  of  his  brother 
man.  Such  books  are  the  rich  material 
of  culture  to  the  man  who  reads  them 
with  his  heart,  because  they  add  t<> 
his  experience  a  kind  of  experience, 
otherwise  inaccessible  to  him,  which 
quickens,  refreshes,  and  broadens  his 
own  nature. 

Hamliom  JK  Mabit, 


LONDON  LETTER. 
Georgb  Meredith's  Maidsn  Speech. 


The  Omar  Khayyam  Club  is  of  recent 
origin,  but  it  has  been  rapidly  and  un- 
usually successful.  It  is  an  association 
of  literary  rr. en  -vho  dine  together  once 
a  quarter,  and  who  profess  to  be  united 
by  a  mutual  devotion  to  the  Persian  poet 
Omar  Khayyam.  Among  the  leading 
spirits  are  Mr.  Edward  Clodd,  Mr.  Ed- 
mund Gosse,  Mr.  Augustine  Birrell,  Mr. 
Clement  Shorter,  Mr,  Henry  Norman, 
of  the  Daily  Chronicle^  and  others  scarcely 
less  well  known.  Members  are  allowed 
to  invite  guests,  and  many  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  of  the  day  have  been 
present  at  the  symposia.  A  great  attrac- 
tion has  been  the  striking  excellence  of 
the  after-dinner  speaking.  One  of  our 
members,  Mr.  L.  F.  Austin,  is,  without 
a  single  exception,  the  best  after-dinner 
speaker  I  have  ever  heard.  Mis  great 
literary  talents,  though  well  enough 
Icnown  to  the  comparatively  small  world 
of  journalism,  have  not  brought  htm 
prominently  before  the  reading  public, 
and  Mr.  Austin  is  a  man  who  disdains 
the  arts  of  self-advertisement.  Never- 
theless, some  of  the  brightest  and  witti- 
est of  contemporary  comment  and  criti- 
cism is  due  to  him.  And  he  has  latterly 
become  well  known  to  tlic  numerous 
readers  t>f  the  Skt-dh  by  a  signed  tausct ic 
which  he  contributes  to  that  journal. 
Mr.  Austin  has  been  for  a  considerable 
time  private  secretary  to  Sir  Henry  Irv- 
ing, and  he  published  some  years  ago, 


under  a  pseudonym,  a  work  on  that 
great  actor.  Witli  this  outcome  of  his 
powers,  however,  Mr.  Austin's  friends 
are  by  no  means  content,  and  thev  will 
not  cease  urging  upon  him  the  duty  of 
doing  himself  justice.  It  is  hard  work, 
for  he  is  apparently  a  man  without  any 
ambition.  Another  leading  member, 
Mr.  Edward  Clodd,  who  is  just  now  the 
President  of  the  Club,  is  also  eminently 
felicitous  in  his  little  speeches.  Mr. 
Clodd,  who  is  a  banker,  has  verj'  strong 
literary  sympathies,  and  enjoys  the 
closest  friendship  with  many  of  the 
most  distingtiished  among  living  au- 
thors. In  i.iv  country  hOUSe  at  Aid- 
borough,  in  Suffolk,  he  is  accustomed  to 
entertain  such  men  as  Sir  Waiter  Besant, 
Mr.  George  Meredith,  Mr.  Thomas 
Hardy,  Mr.  Barrie,  and  ?-n.iny  others. 
He  is  a  graceful  writer,  and  specially  in- 
terested m  the  popularisation  of  science. 
Several  of  his  books  have  been  very 
widely  read.  Nor  should  I  omit  to 
mention  Mr.  Henry  Norman,  the  literar)^ 
editor  of  the  Daily  Chr^ttide,  and  one  of 
the  most  versatile  men  in  the  world — a 
man  who  can  ilo  auylhing.  and  wlu)  does 
everything  he  attempts  well.  Mr.  Nor- 
man is  well  known  in  America,  where 
he  studied,  and  wiiere  he  enjoyed  the 
friendship  of  many  famous  people.  His 
journeys  and  studies  in  the  Far  EasV^  , 
have  given  him  a  place  of  almost  unique 
authority  among  political  journalists^ 


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while  asa  critic  and  student  of  literature 

he  stands  amonp  the  foremost.  His  col- 
lections of  first  editions,  particularly  of 
American  first  editions,  is  almost  un- 
rivaUed.  and  I  liave  never  had  pleasantcr 
afternoons  than  those  spent  in  the  ex- 
amination of  his  treasures.  Mr.  Nor- 
man does  much  political  work  for  the 
Chronicle,  but  his  special  task  is  the 
preparation  of  the  literary  page,  which 
he  has  made  a  great  and  recognised 
force.  The  Daih-  Chronicle  is  alrrnT^t  the 
only  paper  of  the  kind  in  England  which 
collects  and  publishes  original  literary 
information.  Few  things  escape  Mr, 
Norman's  vigilant  eye,  and  he  has  great- 
ly widened  his  field  lately  by  becoming 
a  member  of  the  Committee  of  \hr  S  ?- 
ciety  of  Authors.  In  his  capacity  he  has 
to  consider  the  complaints  of  writers 
against  their  publishers  and  against 
those  who  will  not  consent  to  be  their 
publishers.  Mr.  Norman's  brilliant  and 
charming  wife  is  well  known  as  the  au- 
thor of  A  Gi'  f  Mr-  ('!rf<,!fl!Mns^m\  Gal- 
lia. Sheis.il  present  deep  ui  the  prepa- 
ration (A  another  novel ;  but  1  must  not 
further  describe  our  speakers,  else  I  shall 
never  come  to  the  subject  of  my  letter. 

For  our  July  dinner  a  country  retreat 
is  chosen,  and  this  year  u  e  went  to  Box- 
hill  in  Surrey.  If  I  wished  to  show  an 
American  fnend  visiting  England  for 
the  first  time  the  best  side  of  the  old 
country,  I  should  take  him  to  Boxhill  of 
a  morning,  and  in  the  course  of  the  day 
bring  him  by  a  chosen  road  to  Guild- 
ford. This  would  show  him  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  England — perhaps,  I 
might  say,  the  most  characteristic.  On 
the  way  I  sIkjuM  be  able  to  point  out 
many  homes  of  literary  men,  for  Surrey 
is  more  and  more  becoming  their  fa- 
voured haunt.  The  greatest  of  them  all. 
Mr.  George  Meredith,  has  resided  for 
many  years  in  a  cottage  at  ^xhill. 
Throug^h  the  friendly  office  of  Mr.  Clodd, 
Mr.  Meredith  kindly  promised  us  what 
we  all  felt  to  be  the  distinguished  honour 
of  his  presence.  The  great  writer  has 
been  for  some  time  in  delicate  health, 
and  obliged  to  submit  to  a  severe  regi- 
men. He  was,  therefore,  to  appear  not 
at  the  dinner,  but  immediatelv  after. 
The  company  gradually  assembled  on 
the  lawn  of  the  Burford  Bridge  Hotel, 
tlie  place  where  Keats  wrote  part  of  En- 
dymion^  and  where  Robert  Louis  Stcven- 
SOQ  stayed  while  he  was  making  ac- 
quaintance with  the  idol  of  his  youth, 


George  Meredith.    Coming  up,  I  met 

Mr.  Thomas  Hardy  looking  somewhat 
worn  and  pale,  but  cheerful  and  cour- 
teous as  usual  ;  Mr.  Edmund  Gossc,  who 
insists  on  representing  himself  asa  mid- 
dle-aged man,  but  who  looks  younger 
than  he  has  done  for  years ;  Mr.  Cust, 
the  editor  of  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  ;  Mr. 
E.  T.  Cook,  the  editor  of  the  rival  even- 
ing paper,  the  ll'estminster  Gazette,  and 
many  others.  When  we  got  to  Boxhill 
I  was  delighted  to  greet  my  friend  Mr. 
Francis  Hindcs  Oroome,  who  had  come 
all  the  way  from  Edinburgh.  Mr. 
Groome,  who  is  a  leading  member  of 
the  staff  of  Messrs.  W.  and  R.  Cham- 
bers, is  the  son  of  the  late  Archdeacon 
Groome,  who  was  one  of  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald's most  intimate  friends.  He  has 
thus  a  special  right  to  appear  at  an 
Omar  gathering.  Mr.  George  Gissing, 
who  lives  about  seven  miles  from  Box- 
hill, and  whom  one  sees  too  seldom  in 
London,  was  also  there.  It  is  delight- 
ful for  one  who  recognised  Mr.  Gissing's 
genius  from  the  beginning  to  see  the 
steady  growth  in  his  reputation,  and  I 
think  the  recognition  is  having  its  effect 
on  his  work,  which  is  less  gloomy  and 
hopeless  than  of  old.  I  have  just  read 
in  proof  two  short  stories  of  Mr.  Gis- 
sing's which  are  to  appear  in  the  English 
Illustrated  JlfagoMine,  and  I  venture  to  say 
that  they  will  compare  favourably  with 
the  finest  achievements  in  that  difficult 
kind  of  work.  The  dinner  passed  oflf 
agreeably,  although  we  were  closely 
crowded.  But  the  evening  began  with 
the  appearance  of  Mr.  Meredith,  who 
was  received  by  the  company  standing, 
and  with  every  demonstration  of  en- 
thusiasm and  respect. 

As  Mr.  Meredith  came  into  the  room 
he  graciously  recognised  several  of  his 
old  friends.    Mr,  Shorter  conducted  him 
to  the  seat  of  honour  on  the  right  hand 
of  the  chairman,  and  he  made  a  striking 
figure  against  the  sunshine  streaming 
through  a  window  half  covered  with 
green   boughs.     lie  e.Kchanged  hearty 
greetings  with  Mr.  Hardy,  who  was  on 
Mr.  Clodd's  left  hand,  and  after  a  little 
the  President  welcomed  him  in  the  name 
of  the  Club.    Mr    Clodd's  speech  was 
singularly  happy,  light,  and  graceful, 
but  with  more  than  a  trace  of  deep  feel- 
ing.   We  hardly  ventured  to  expect  a 
formal  reply,  and  were  taken  by  surprise 
when  Mr.  Meredith,  with  a  very  good 
grace,  rose  to  his  feet  and  informed  us 


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36 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


that  he  was  now  makitijif  his  maiden 
speech.  He  did  not  say  much,  but  what 
he  said  was  exquisite  in  form  and  be- 
nignant in  feeling.  It  must  have  cheered 
the  veteran  after  his  loner,  hard  fight  to 
have  such  emphatic  proof  of  the  affec- 
tion and  veneration  with  which  he  is  re- 
garded hy  literary  Env^land.  Mr.  Mere- 
dith's beautiful  face  is  much  liner  than 
any  representation  of  it  I  have  seen.  It 
i?;  emphatically  aristocratic,  high  bred — 
in  short,  distinguished.  He  is  a  little 
hard  of  hearing,  but  is  able  to  make  out 
anyihint::  said  in  a  clear  voice,  and  he 
listened  with  evident  pleasure  and  satis- 
faction to  the  speeches.  Although  he 
has  to  live  by  rule,  his  general  health 
is  good,  and  there  is  every  reason  to 
hope  that  he  may  yet  give  us  much  of 
his  finest  work.  He  still  finds  g^eat 
pleasure  in  the  e.xen  ise  of  his  creative 
faculty,  and  is  understood  to  have  two  or 
three  books  more  or  less  well  advanced. 

We  then  had  speeches  from  Mr.  Hardy 
and  Mr.  Gissing.  Both  of  them  made 
the  same  speech,  although  each  in  his 
o  ,vn  way.  Mr.  Hardy  told  us  Mr.  Mere- 
dith read  the  manuscript  of  his  first  book, 
and  gave  him  friendly  encouragement. 
Mr.  Meredith  was  at  that  time  reader 
for  Messrs.  Chapman  and  Hall,  and  a 
more  conscientious,  patient,  and  encour- 
aging reader  never  lived.  What  a  treas- 
ure his  reports  on  maniiscripts  would 
make  !  A  brilliant  young  novelist  of 
my  acquaintance,  who  is  reader  to  a  Lon- 
don  firm,  writes  such  witty  notes  on  the 
manuscripts  sent  him  that  his  publishers 
carefully  preserve  every  one  of  them, 
and  declare  that  in  the  end  they  will 
make  a  better  book  than  any  he  has  writ- 
ten. Mr.  Hardy  modestly  described  his 
first  attempt  as  "  ver}'  wild,"  on  which 
Mr.  Meredith  ejaculated  "*  promising." 
Mr.  Hardy  went  on  to  say  that  if  it  had 


not  been  for  the  cncouragemrnt  he  re- 
ceived then  from  Mr.  Meredith  he  would 
never  have  devoted  himself  to  literature, 
and  that  from  the  time  of  their  first 
meeting  he  and  Mr.  Meredith  h.i<l  been 
friends.  It  is  well  known  that  Mr.  Mere- 
dith firmly  believes  that  Mr.  Hardy  is 
b'  V  r  l  comparison  our  best  n<>\  elist. 
Mr.  Gissing  had  a  similar  experience  tu 
relate.  His  first  novel.  The  Unclasstd^ 
was  r<ad  by  Mr.  Meredith.  It  is  a 
Strange  book,  known  to  ver>'  few  ;  but 
I  can  remember  how  deeply  it  interested 
me.  The  only  other  man  who  has  read 
it.  so  far  as  I  know,  is  Mr.  Hardy,  who 
warmly  admired  it.  It  is  daring  alike 
in  choice  of  subject  and  in  treatment, 
and  was  published  before  its  time.  There 
is  some  likelihood,  I  am  glad  to  hear, 
of  its  being  issued  again.  Mr.  Gissing 
told  us  how  he  had  an  appointment  with 
the  reader  of  Messrs.  Chapman  and  llali, 
who  amazed  him  by  his  accurate  knowl* 
edge  of  the  manuscript.  He  did  not 
know  at  the  time  that  his  critic  was  no 
less  a  man  than  George  Meredith, 

We  then  had  speeches  from  Mr.  Aus- 
tin, Mr.  Gosse,  and  Mr.  Cook.  Mr. 
Austin  excelled  himself,  his  tribute  to 
the  heroines  of  George  Meredith  and 
Thomas  Hardy  being  one  of  the  finest 
things  I  have  ever  heard.  Mr.  Gosse 
was  very  smart  and  amusing  ;  and  Mr. 
Cook,  although  he  had  only  five  min- 
utes to  catch  his  train,  contrived  to  say 
more  than  one  good  thing.  A  section 
of  us  who  wandered  back  to  London  to 
hear  the  first  news  of  the  general  elec- 
tion had  then,  as  Mr.  Cust  put  it  in  the 
Pall  yfall,  "  a  liver-compclling  run  for 
the  train,"  which  appropriately  closed 
the  Oriental  languors  of  the  evening.** 

If .  Kaixrtson  Aicoll. 
London,  July  27,  1895. 


PARIS  LETTER. 


I  trust  that  when  the  much-discussed 
School  of  Literature  comes  into  exist- 
ence, provision,  abundant  provision, 
will  be  made  for  a  Chair  of  Criticism. 
I  am  quite  in  earnest  about  the  matter. 
I  attach  grr.it  importance  to  what  the 
critics  say,  when  they  appear  to  me  to 


speak  in  good  faith  and  with  due  com- 
prehension. One  has  equal  contempt 
for  the  superficial  utterances  of  certain 
so-called^  critics  who  see  in  the  writing 
of  an  article  of  criticism  on  a  book  only 
the  opporttmity  of  displaving  their  wit, 
their  pungency — in  one  word,  of  spread- 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


37 


tog  out  their  tails.  Whenever  I  read  a 
cnticism,  I  try  to  learn  something  from 

it  ;  but  as  a  nilc  I  learn  nothing.  I 
read  that  so-and  so  is  ungrammatical, 
but  the  grammatical  error  is  rarely 
pointed  out  ;  or  that  such  and  such  a 
passage  is  of  French  construction,  with- 
out any  indication  of  how  it  should  read 
in  English  construction.  I  want  the 
critics,  as  the  French  say,  to  dot  their 
f's.  They  rarely,  if  ever,  do  so.  One 
wishes  to  learn  from  those  who  profess 
to  teach,  and  one  hardly  ever  does  so. 
This  being  so,  I  have  at  present  no  very 
great  respect  for  many  critics^  greatly 
as  I  respect  their  callinji^. 

Jos6  Maria  de  Heredia  has  of  late 
been  greatly  annoyed  by  a  Marseilles 
madman,  who  has  been  labouring  un- 
der the  idea  that  the  sympathetic  Acade* 
mician  had  placed  an  electric  battery  in 
his  (the  M.  M's)  inside,  and  the  result 
was  that  whatever  de  Heredia  did  he 
also  had  to  do.  Of  this  he  complained, 
though  for  my  part  I  should  be  very 
s^l.id  of  any  appliance  which  sliould  en- 
able me  lo  write  such  bonnets  as  dues 
Jos£  lilaria  de  Heredia.  The  madman, 
however,  complained,  and  pestered  the 
Academician  with  letters.  As  these 
were  left  unanswered,  the  madman  set 
out  for  Paris,  having^  previously  advised 
M.  de  Heredia  that  he  was  coming  to 
sees  him,  in  order  that  he  should  remove 
the  cbiioxious  electric  batter)'.  Do 
Heredia  informed  the  police,  and  the 
madman  is  now  in  the  "  special  infirm- 
ar>'"  of  the  Depot  prison. 

Jos6  Maria  de  Heredia  is  one  of  the 
most  voluble  talkers  to  be  met  with  in 
Parisian  society.  He  reminds  one  of 
Dumas  pere,  and.  like  him,  has  mulatto 
blood  iu  liis  veins.  And,  like  Dunius 
p^re,  his  conversation  is  always  so  in- 
teresting that  one  is  content  to  listen. 
His  cuUus  lor  literature  is  exemplary— 
outside  of  his  art  there  is  nothing  diat 
he  cares  for.  He  has  a  great  veneration 
for  the  French  Academy,  and  will  argue 
in  its  favour  with  Alphonse  Daudet  for 
hours  together.  Daudet,  however,  al- 
ways shakes  his  head,  and  will  not  be 
convinced. 

£mile  Zola  has  written  about  one 
third  of  Rome,  and  expects  to  have  fin- 
ished it  towards  the  end  of  January  next 
year,  at  the  rate  of  four  pages  of  manu- 
script a  (l.!v  He  says  that  the  bt)ok  is 
giving  ium  great  trouble,  as  it  involvc!> 

SiiD  10  so  much  reading,  and  he  gave 


me  a  most  formidable  list  of  histories, 
books  of   reference,  and  theological 

works  which  he  has  to  assimilate  for  the 
purposes  of  his  novel.  How  far  all  this 
assimilation  will  enhance  the  interest  of 
Rome  as  a  novel  remains  to  be  seen  ;  in 
the  mean  while  it  mav  be  noted  that 
Zola  himself  is  pleased  with  the  book 
as  far  as  it  has  gone,  and  as  far  as  it  is 
planned  out.  It  will  be  one  of  his  long- 
est works,  if  not  the  longest.  It  will  be 
published  in  Le  /oumai  first  of  all  in 
serial  form.  The  proprietor  of  that 
journal,  Fernand  Xau,  it  may  be  re- 
membered, offered  Zola,  during  his  stay 
in  T.ondon,  and  before  one  line  of 
Lourdes  was  written,  a  sum  of  20,000, 
money  down,  if  he  would  assign  to  him 
the  entire  rights  of  the  trio  of  novels  of 
which  Zola  is  now  writing  the  second 
volume.  Zola  refused,  futhough  the 
money,  found  by  a  leading  chocolate 
manufacturer,  was  ready  to  be  paid 
down.  He  said  that  he  did  not  care  to 
bind  himself  in  any  way. 

It  is  not  often  that  an  author  consents 
t(i  perform  in  one  ol  l»is  own  pieces,  and 
accordingly  special  interest  aitaclied 
itself  to  the  performance  of  La  J'<  nr  Jfs 
Coups,  at  the  Journal  niaLinee  on  llie 
i4tn  of  this  month,  in  which  George 
Courteline,  the  author  of  this  little 
piece,  performed  the  principal  role.  He 
acquitted  himself  very  honourably,  and 
was  much  ap}>laudcd.  George  Courte- 
line is  one  ol  the  few  real  humorists  in 
contemporary  French  literature,  which 
is  singularly  lacking  in  humour  of  any 
sort.  His  dialogues  and  short  stories 
are  models  of  the  best  French  wit.  He 
writes  largely,  and  not  without  some 
bitterness,  on  military  life  in  France. 
Uae  tan  see  from  liis  description  of  this 
life  that  he  has  a  great  grudge  against 
the  system.  Indeed,  during  his  five 
years'  sen-'ice  as  a.  cavalryman  he  suf- 
fered greatly  ;  to  the  extent,  indeed,  of 
a  ruined  constitution  and  a  depressed 
morale^  from  which  he  has  barely  recov- 
ered. He  is  a  very  melancholy-looking 
man,  pale  and  clu'tify  and  when  he  talks 
it  is  a  litany.  But  his  writings  brim 
over  with  the  best  fun. 

Speaking  of  humorists  reminds  me 
that  the  other  day  I  met  Alphonse  Al- 
lais,  who  was  very  full  of  some  grievance 
which  he  described  as  a  public  scandal. 
"  Why  don't  you  write  an  article  on  the 
subject       I  asked,  knowing  thai  he  has 

the  aar^  to  the  most  influential  papers 


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3« 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


in  Parts.  "  Alas  !"  he  said,  "  I  cannot. 
Nobody  takes  me  au  sMeux.    I  am  the 

'  funny  boy,'  and  can  never  speak  in 
earnest."  I  suppose  that  the  Grimaldis 
of  the  pen  also  regret  that  they  can 
never  lay  aside  the  cap  and  bells. 

Alphonse  Allais  is  another  of  the  few 
contemporary  French  humorists  whose 
wit  is  laughable  and  not  lewd.  He  has 
modelled  himself  on  the  English  and 
American  humorists  with  considerable 
success.  English  humour,  by  the  way, 
is  just  now  in  fashion  in  France,  and  in 
default  of  any  of  native  production  is 
likely  to  remain  so. 

PLK)r  Cliarlcs  T>eroy,  another  humor- 
ist, died  on  the  loth.  He  leaves  behind 
him  in  Colonel  Ifamollot  a  type  which  will 
survive  as  lon^  as  the  French  language 
is  spoken.  Colonel  Ramollot  {Aiii^lue, 
Colonel  Dodderer,  from  ramoili,  soft- 
ened) represents  the  imbecile,  foul- 
mouthed  officer  who  is  still  to  be  found 
in  military  circles  in  France.  Lcroy, 
who  was  slightly  lame,  never  was  a 
soldier,  and  sjtent  his  life  as  a  clerk  in 
the  offices  of  one  of  the  big  F-rench  rail- 
way companies.  Yet,  pikin  as  he  was, 
he  succeeded  in  evolving  a  type  of  offi- 
cer which,  although  a  caricature,  seemed 
so  true  to  life  that  Colonel  Ramollot  ts 
as  vital  as  our  Mrs.  Gamp,  or  Mr.  Pcck- 
snitt,  or  Daudet's  Delobelle.  His  first 
book  about  the  Colonel  was  a  great  suc- 
cess, and  for  ten  years  the  public  Iwught 
«p  eagerly  everything  that  Leroy  wrote 
about  his  hero.  The  demand  was  suffi- 
ciently great  to  induce  a  publisher  to 
arrange  witli  the  author  for  a  weekly 
brochure^  sold  at  a  penny,  containing 
some  adventure  of  Ramollot 's,  and  this 
weekly  publication  continued  for  some 
years,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  to  many 
of  us  it  seemed  that  Leroy  had  written 
all  he  had  to  write  about  the  absinthe- 
drinking,  swearing,  blustering  bully  of 
a  colonel.  Leroy  felt  this  himself,  and 
tried  for  success  in  other  fields  of  hu- 
morous literature.  He  wrote  several 
novels  and  sketches,  such  as  The  Dud- 
list's  Guide  to  Foul  Piny,  and  so  on,  but 
the  public  had  "  nailed  him  to  a  special- 
ity," as  M.  de  VogUe  put  it  in  his  ad- 
dress to  Paul  Bourget,  at  the  Academy 
the  other  day,  and  would  have,  from 
Leroy,  Colonel  Ramollot  and  nothing 
else.  It  is  said  that  Leroy  was  much 
harassed  by  this,  and  that  of  late  Col- 
onel Ramollot  had  become  a  Franken- 
stein to  him. 


Nordau  has  always  refused  to  allow 
himself  to  be  "  nailed  to  a  speciality." 

He  told  me  the  other  day  that  the  rea- 
son why  he  wrote  Degeneration  was  be- 
cause he  was  sick  of  always  hearing 
himself  spoken  of  as  the  author  of  The 
Con-'Ctttional  Lies  of  Our  Ci:  mention. 
Now  that  he  is  bcinjaf  spoken  of  univer- 
sally as  the  author  uf  J^f^ciu-i iitum,  lie  is 
wrilinji;  a  novel — liis  tiiirtl — and  will  not 
write  the  philosophical  work  which  he 
has  in  his  head  until  he  has  dissociated 
himself  from  the  speciality  of  philo- 
sophical writing.  lie  also  means  to 
succeed  as  a  dramatic  author.  His  plays 
till  now  have  been  wrecked  by  the  crit- 
ics, many  of  whom  were  offended  by 
DegeneremOH. 

He  lives  a  very  quiet,  simple  life  with 
his  mother  and  sister,  whom  he  has  en- 
tirely supported  since  he  was  sixteen 
years  old.  He  takes  pleasure  in  noth> 
ing  but  in  work,  and  neither  drinks,  nor 
smokes,  nor  goes  out  into  society.  He 
speaks  English,  French,  Italian,  Ger- 
man and  Hungarian  with  equal  fluency, 
and  can  converse  in  Russian,  Spanish, 
and  the  Scandinavian  languages.  He 
is,  moreover,  an  urbane  and  most  ami- 
able man.  One  is  glad  to  know  that 
he  has  had  more  success  than  comes  to 
most  men  of  letters  ;  indeed,  of  contem- 
porary writers  he  enjoys  perhaps  the 
widest  European  celebrity. 

It  is  a  ^gn  of  the  times,  it  may  be, 
that  the  new  director  of  the  Th/dire 
Libre  has  stated  in  the  course  of  a  re- 
cent inter\Mew  that  he  does  not  intend 
to  confine  his  repertoire  e.xrlusively  to 
realistic  jjieces,  choses  ve'cues.  He  means 
to  take  his  audiences  also  into  the  blue 
regions  of  the  Ideal.  Naturalistic  writ- 
ers seem  to  have  had  their  slices  of 
luck,  and  the  inevitable  reaction  has  set 
in.    So  much  the  better. 

I  saw  a  strikingly  characteristic  pho- 
tograph of  poor  de  Maupassant  tn  a 
shop-window  the  other  day,  and  went 
in  to  get  a  copy.  The  shopman  fetched 
me  the  one  out  of  the  window,  and  said 
that  it  was  the  last  portrait  of  de  Mau- 
passant that  he  liad  in  stock,  and  added 
that  he  did  not  intend  to  restock  Mau- 
passant photographs.  **  Nobody'buys 
them,"  he  said.  Maupassant's  books 
do  not  sell  well,  either,  it  appears. 

Now,  as  people  don't  buy  de  Maupas- 
sant's books  and  don't  read  him,  xf'tT^-j 
can  they  not  leave  his  name  alone  > 
Those  of  us  who  reverence  his  name  are 


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39 


constantly  beinp  irritated  by  the  preten- 

lions  (if  Iliis  or  that  scribbler  tf)  he  his 
literary  heir.  No,  there  is  no  English 
Maupassant,  there  is  no  Australian  Mau- 
passant, no  Shropshire,  no  Canadian, 
no  Channel  Islands,  no  Gibraltar  Mau- 
passant. It  isn  t  ill  liiem.  There  is 
only  one  Mau[)assant,  and  that  was  Guy. 
He  was  one  ol  the  greatest  writers  of 


prose  who  ever  lived,  and  of  fiction  he 

was  a  past  master.  He  knew,  as  few 
men  knew  it,  the  inner  workings  of  the 
human  heart.  And  he  died  mad,  and 
now  nobody  reads  his  books.  Let  his 
name  be. 

Hobert  11.  Sherard. 

Boulevard  Magenta,  Paris. 


NEW  BOOKS. 


ROMANCE  IN  MALXyA.* 

Not  since  Rudyard  Kiplin§f  sent  a 

thrill  of  delight  throiij^h  the  rca  !er ;  of 
two  continents  with  the  fresh  surprise  of 
his  discovery  of  India  have  we  received 
the  same  startling-  pleasure  from  the  ex- 
ploitation  of  a  foreign  country,  hitherto 
shut  oat  from  the  public  ken.  Seldom 
are  the  elementary  and  primary  Imman 
passions  of  the  far-off  denizens  of  the 
earth  brought  so  close  to  our  percep- 
ttveness  as  in  these  revelations  of  life 
as  it  is  lived  in  the  Malay  Peninsula. 
Doubtless  most  of  us  are  familiar  with 
the  inconsequent  Malay  who  knocked  at 
De  Quincey's  door  one  untoward  day 
and  thenceforth  transferred  his  pic- 
turesque image  to  the  distorted  world 
of  dreams  in  which  the  opium-eater  was 
so  long  imprisoned.  Our  sole  concep* 
tion  of  this  dusky  Oriental  has  been  like 
that  described  by  De  Ouincey,  "  the  sal. 
low  and  bilious-skinned  Malay,  enam- 
elled or  veneered  with  mahogany  by  ma- 
rine air,  with  his  small,  fierce,  restless 
eyes,  thin  lips,  slavish.  'Testnrcs  and 
adorations,  between  wtiom  and  us  an 
Impassable  gulf  is  fixed,  cutting  of!  all 
communication  of  ideas."  Over  this 
gulf  two  writers  have  now  thrown  a 
bridge  of  sympathy  and  interpretative 
insight  which  bringsus  i  n  to  touch  with  the 
Malay  race — a  touch  which  at  once  warms 
our  feelings  toward  them  and  enkindles 
our  imagination  with  fervour  and  de- 
light in  discovering  our  kinship  with 
these  dwellers  in  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  least>known  countries  in  the 

*  Alrnaycr's    Folly.     A  Story  of  an  Ea.stern 
Ri%'er.    By  Joseph  Conrad.    New  York  :  Mac- 
millan  &  Co.    ft. 25. 
Malay  Sketches.   B/  Frank  Atbelstane  Swet- 
J  tealiam,  OfBder  d'Acadenie.   New  York:  Mae- 
'  ailtao  A  Co.  $s.o(». 


East.    Gradually  the  veil  is  being  rent 

between  the  Occident  and  the  Orient, 
and  the  pulses  of  civilised  and  barbarian 
life  will  soon  beat  in  unison  as  one  pur* 
pose  and  one  goal  brinp  men  together 
and  as  knowledge  of  the  conditions  of 
mankind  becomes  universal. 

Believing  as  we  must  that  man  is  prop- 
er! v  the  most  interesting  subject  ')f  study 
U>  mankind,  the  attempts  to  awaken  an 
interest  in  this  almost  undescribed  but 
dee[)ly  interesting'  people  are  praise* 
worthy.  Both  books  are  written  by  men 
who  are  intimate  with  the  Malay  scenery 
and  Malay  character;  one  of  them  has 
spent  the  best  part  of  his  life  amonest  the 
people  described  in  his  pages  and  drama- 
tised in  the  fiction  of  thr  other.  "  The 
traveller,"  observes  Mr.  Swettenham 
truly,  will  come  in  time,  and  he  will 
publish  his  experience  of  Malaya  and 
the  Malays  ;  but  while  he  may  look  upon 
the  country  with  a  higher  appreciation 
and  paint  its  features  with  a  more  artistic 
touch,  he  will  see  few  of  those  charac- 
teristics of  the  people,  none  of  that  in- 
ner life  which  I  make  bold  to  say  is  here 
faithfully  portrayed." 

Mr.  Henry  Norman  devotes  several 
chapters  to  MalSya  in  his  picturesque 
record  of  travel  and  philosophical  ob- 
servation, The  Peoples  and  Politics  of  the 
Far  East^  which  bear  out  the  generalisa- 
tion of  Mr.  Swettenham  just  quoted, 
and  prove  that  a  superficial  treatment 
is  all  that  may  be  expected  from  the 
traveller.  It  would  have  addt  I  t  ) 
the  value  and  interest  of  these  Malay 
sketches,  however,  had  they  been  ac- 
companied by  a  map  of  the  Peninsula 
such  as  Mr.  Norman's  hook  contains. 
We  found  considerable  ditticuity  in  trac- 
ing the  landmarks  on  most  of  the  maps 
published,  and  we  are  indebted  to  Mr. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


Norman  for  the  service  which  he  has 

rendered  us  in  taking  pains  to  present 
the  physical  aspect  of  the  Malay  States 
in  a  graphic  manner.  Mr.  Alfred  Rus- 
sel  Wallace's  statement,  made  in  1869, 
that  "  to  the  ordinary  Kn irishman  this 
is  perhaps  the  least-knovs  a  part  of  the 
globe'*  is  still  liu  rally  true.  This,  of 
cfuirse,  applies  strictly  to  ihc  lower  part 
of  the  Peninsula.  In  1891  some  meagre 
information  was  imparted  by  Captain 
Foster,  R.E.,  in  a  little  handbook  "  con- 
cerning the  Straits  Settlements  and  the 
Native  States  of  the  Malay  Peninsula." 
Very  few  Europeans  have  travt^rst-d  the 
country.  Besides  Mr.  Norman,  only 
one  white  man-^  Mr.  BoztoIo— >ha$ 
penetrated  the  jungle  and  crossed  the 
Peninsula  from  sea  to  sea.  Mr.  Norman 
writes  eiilhusiaslically  of  his  journeys  in 
the  land  of  the  cocoanut  and  the  kris, 
•'  Few  districts  of  the  world's  surface 
ofier  at  the  same  time  so  picturesque 
and  so  novel  a  field  to  the  explorer.  It 
is  a  paradise  alike  to  the  sportsman,  the 
naturalist,  the  collector  of  weapons  and 
silver,  the  student  of  men  and  manners, 
and  tlie  mere  seeker  after  adventure. 
Of  all  my  travels  and  experience  in  the 
Far  East,  my  journey  across  the  Malay 
Peninsula  was  much  the  most  entertain- 
ing. In  fact,  so  far  as  mere  surround- 
ings make  happiness,  I  have  never  en- 
joyed so  many  moments  which,  like 
Faust,  I  would  have  prolonged  indefi- 
nitely, as  during  those  months  of  lonely 
and  far-off  wandering  in  the  heart  of  the 
unknown  tropics." 

But  it  is  to  Malay  Sketches  we  must 
turn  for  that  revelation  of  the  inner  life 
and  habits  of  thinkinq;  and  actinef  which 
has  contributed  through  a  scries  of 
idealised  photograi  hs  a  new  and  preva- 
lent form  to  liter<iture.  Tlie  idea  tif 
localising  types  of  character  in  certain 
comers  of  the  globe  which  are  rapidly 
succumbing  to  the  "  irresistible  Jugger- 
naut of  Progress"  has  been  extended 
even  to  the  Far  East.  Mr.  Swetten- 
ham  dwells  with  a  melancholy  pathos 
on  the  fact  that  while  the  Malay  of  the 
Peninsula  is  for  the  munient  as  he  has 
been  for  hundreds  of  years,  he  is  rapid* 
ly  approaching  the  point  where  educa- 
tion and  contact  with  Western  people 
must  produce  the  inevitable  result  of 

disintegratic>n  and  change.  This  is  the 
moment  of  transition,  and  with  a  large 
knowledge  of  the  Malay,  gained  by  win- 
ning his  confidence,  and  a  r^ady  sympa- 


thy with  the  race  which  has  opened  to 

him  the  hearts  of  the  i)eople,  Mr.  Swet- 
tenham  comes  to  the  rescue  with  his 
brush  to  paint,  somewhat  after  the 
manner  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,  the  scenes 
and  figures  which  liave  "  •;wr.-tly  crept 
into  the  bludy  of  his  imaginatu in"  be- 
fore they  are  swept  ruthlessly  aside. 
.'\ntl  what  he  tells  us  about  the  people 
of  his  affection  is  truly  wonderful  :  the 
mingling  of  savagery  and  kindness  that 
amounts  to  devotion  and  friendship  ; 
the  sad  ignorance  and  noble  conduct 
worthy  of  a  higher  illumination  ;  the 
barbartius  customs  and  tradiliuns  and 
the  refined  sensibilities  producing  fidel- 
ity and  love  \  the  strong  passion  and 
sluggish  apathy  ;  the  braverj'  and 
high  courage  ;  the  fierce  impulsiveness 
and  llie  "  amuk" — such  strange  com- 
mingling of  warring  instincts  and  con- 
trasting qualities  of  character  against  a 
background  of  the  most  exquisite  sce- 
nery, the  description  of  which  tantalises 
us  and  sends  the  blood  hctt  and 
cold  with  its  surpassing  beauty — all 
with  the  tragic  fire  of  life  and  death 
which  forges  another  link  in  the  chain 
of  romance  1  The  strange  recital  of  this 
unfamiliar  life  fairly  carries  us  from 
chapter  to  chapter  as  each  fresh  sketch 
or  story  reveals  new  imaginings  and  stirs 
our  sense  of  wonder,  which  so  rarely 
finds  such  a  feast.  What  gives  these 
sketches  more  than  a  pedestrian  value 
is  the  writer's  deep  sympathy  witii  his 
subject,  Vou  feel  the  pulse  of  pity 
throbbing  through  it  all  ;  lie  may  make 
you  laugh  at  tiie  Malay,  but  he  will  have 
you  respect  him — there  is  a  dignity  about 
the  Malay  as  he  is  treated  here  which 
keeps  him  on  the  level  of  our  common 
hopes  and  aspirations.  Nor  may  we  fall 
into  the  error  of  thinking  the  writer  a 
sentimentalist ;  be  is  a  scholar  and  a  sol- 
dier—one who  evidently  has  faced  death 
and  knows  its  fears,  but  whose  belief  in 
the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  the 
equality  and  fraternity  of  man  has  given 
him  the  best  point  of  view  from  which 
to  judge  liim.  "  Pure  love  to  every  soul 
of  man,"  one  has  said,  '  is  the  only 
basis  for  true  judgments  of  men." 

Malay  Sketches  has  appeared  at  a  pro- 
pitious moment,  when  Mr.  Conrad's 
novel,  Almayer*s  Falfy,  with  its  fine  analy- 
sis  and  careful  study  of  the  Malay  na- 
ture, tinged  with  the  white  man's  "  civ- 
ilisation'^ as  exhibited  in  the  half-caste 
Nina,  is  destined  to  excite  the  wonder  of 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


many  readers.  Almayers  Folly  discloses 
a  superior  force  of  imagination  and  a 
more  vivid  characterisation  and  descrip- 
tive power  than  Malay  Sketcha  ;  but  we 
are  grateful  for  the  latter  because  of  its 
intimate  t  quaintancewith  the  habits  f 
life  and  the  traits  of  character  which  in 
a  novel  are  simply  pictured  forth  with* 
out  larger  explanation  or  elaborate  de- 
tail, and  because  for  this  reason  it  satis- 
fies a  curiosity  which  the  former  has 
aroused.  In  the  .S^^/r/r^^  there  is  a  wealth 
of  descriptive  material  which  elucidates 
and  throws  light  upon  the  springs  of 
action  in  the  novel  ;  here  you  have  the 
crude  colouring  and  pigments,  there 
they  are  wrought  into  artistic  forms 
which  stand  forth  in  proportion  as  they 
are  related  to  the  dramatic  movement  of 
the  story. 

Alm^ers  FMy  is  unmistakably  a  seri- 
ous and  valuable  contribution  to  litera- 
ture. The  idea  is  not  only  original,  but 
the  subtle  development  of  the  central 
and  ruling  motive  is  splendidly  conceived 
and  carried  out.  The  gradual  sapping 
of  Almayer's  moral  and  mental  powers, 
the  unequal  contest  going  on  in  his 
mind  between  the  essential  selfishness 
of  a  weak  moral  nature  and  the  affection 
for  his  daughter  Nina,  l^orn  of  a  Malay 
wife  whom  he  married  for  the  dreams  of 
avarice  which  she  was  expected  to  real- 
ise for  him ;  the  sudden  gust  of  passion- 
ate  uprising  against  fate — which  shows 
the  dignity  there  is  even  in  the  ruins  of 
a  man— ere  his  hopes  sink  in  the  night  of 
absolute  despair  are  only  equalled  by 
the  same  masterly  portrayal  of  Nina — 
poor  Nina  I — ^in  whose  breast  there  slum- 
bered, despite  her  education  and  early 
training  among  her  father's  people,  the 
ineradicable  instincts  (jf  the  Malay  moth- 
er, which,  under  favouring  circum- 
stances, asserted  their  racial  strength 
and  encompassed  the  overthrow  of  the 
white  man.  Civilisation  had  not  shown 
its  good  side  to  her,  and  was  only  the 
more  despised  and  detested  by  contrast 
with  the  bravery  and  vigorous  manhood 
of  the  Malay  lover  for  wliom  Nina  al)an- 
doned  her  loved  and  loving  European 
father.  She  is  a  fine  illustration  of  what 
may  happen  to  the  Malay  in  the  transi- 
tion which  Mr.  Swettenham  sees  is  im- 
minent. The  phase  of  character  is  a 
revelation  to  us,  and  in  this  whole  story 
of  an  Eastern  river  we  are  impressed 
with  th^  fact  that  a  new  vein  has  been 
Struck  in  fiction.   It  is  a  work  to  make 


one  long  for  more  from  the  same  pen. 
In  the  novelty  of  its  local  colour,  in  the 
daring  originality  of  its  dramatic  force, 
in  the  fresh  disclosure  of  new  scenes 
and  characters,  in  the  noble  and  tmagi- 
native  handling  oi  life's  greatness  and 
littleness,  Almayers  Folly  has  no  place  in 
the  prevalent  fiction  of  the  hour,  which, 
like  a  flooded  stream,  sweeps  past  us 
into  oblivion.  It  leaps  at  once  to  a 
place  of  its  own — a  place  which  ought 
to  rank  its  author  high  among  novelists 
worthy  of  the  name  in  its  best  sense.  In 
the  scenery  and  atmosphere  of  the  story 
the  hand  of  the  artist  reveals  itself.  The 
sombre  and  languid  air  of  a  semi-civil- 
ised life  is  most  skilfully  conveyed — the 
dreamy  river,  its  islands  and  reedy  banks, 
the  thunder-storms,  the  thirst  for  the 
gains  of  civilisation,  and  the  contempt 
for  its  restraints,  are  vividly  impressed 
on  the  imagination.  Mr.  Conrad  has 
not  only  achieved  a  great  success  in 
realising  for  us  the  fundamental  truths 
underlymg  existence  in  a  land  and 
among  a  people  almost  unknown  to  the 
Far  West — he  deserves  it.  His  book  is 
one  to  be  read  and  re-read. 

James  MacArthur, 


MR,  MALLOCK'S  NEW  NOVEL.* 

Mr.  Mallock's  new  novel  is  well  adapt' 

ed  for  making  elegant  extracts  from  ; 
and  the  extracts  would  not  only  be  ele- 
gantly expressed,  they  would  be  fragrant 
with  delicate  scntin^ent,  anrl  suggestive 
of  profitable  trains  of  thought.  His 
novels  are  more  or  less  commonplace 
books,  in  which,  day  by  day,  he  jots 
down  reflections  and  aphorisms,  notes 
on  the  events  and  tendencies  of  the 
time,  and  sketches  of  character.  They 
are  thus  timely,  and  they  give  one  some- 
thing to  think  and  talk  about.  But  of 
permanent  value  there  is  nothing,  save 
in  a  few  of  the  reflections  ;  for  the  notes 
on  social  tendencies  have  been  gathered 
by  a  partisan,  a  philosopher  it  may- 
be, Init  a  philosopher  who  phili iso{)hises 
after  he  has  irrevocably  taken  his  side  ; 
and  the  characters  are  too  much  like*  in- 
teresting specimens,  collected  for  an 
illustrative  puipose,  to  weld  successfully 
into  a  story. 

It  is  a  serious  book,  The  Heart  of 
Life.    No  one  can  look  on  fiction  as 

•The  Heart  of  Life.  By  W.  H.  .Mailock.  New 
York :  G.  P.  Potmun's  Son*.  Ii.aa 


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4» 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


a  light  matter  who  has  attempted  to 

read  it.  Of  the  school  of  Mrs.  Hum- 
phry Ward,  appertaining  thereto  by  its 
p<inij)hlets  in  dialogue,  and  by  the  so- 
lemnity of  the  central  fiufure,  it  has  yet 
its  own  characteristics — a  bitterness  of 
conviction  on  the  points  where  Mr.  Mai- 
lock  feels  cocksure  for  one,  grace  of  dic- 
tion and  subtlety  of  sentiment  for  an- 
other. Mr,  Mallock  is  a  sentimentalist 
who  does  not  readily  find  a  home  for 
his  fpclint;s  to-day  :  and  his  fastidious- 
ness and  discontent  give  an  interesting 
flavour  to  anything  he  writes,  though 
these  are  not  good  equipments  for  a  nov- 
elist. He  very  naturally  endows  his 
hero  with  them,  but  alas !  he  endows 
him  with  little  cUe,  unless  it  be  a  par- 
liamentary air,  and  a  craving  after  sym- 
pathy for  his  shadowy  personality. 
Keijinald  Pole  is  an  aristocrat  by  birth  ; 
he  is  a  man  of  the  world  ;  he  has  lived 
much  abroad,  and  has  experience  of  Eng- 
lish parliamentary  life.  These  should 
imply  certain  definite  and  robust  quali- 
ties, but  Pole's  only  quality,  of  which  a 
reader  can  be  convinced,  is  his  unf  i  i  - 
gentility.  A  genteel  aristocrat  !  What 
a  blow  has  been  struck  at  our  ideals. 

Mr.  Mallock  evidently  started  out  with 
the  idea  that  Pole  should  be  no  milksop, 
and  went  so  far  as  to  make  him  be  in 
love  with  three  ladies  at  the  same  time 
— but  always  genteelly.  Xumhcr  one, 
whose  connection  with  him  had  been 
close  in  times  past,  is  now  married  to 
an  eccentric  husliand  ;  number  two  is  a 
fascinating  cousin,  Countess  Shimna ; 
number  three,  a  saintly  young  woman 
called  Ethel  de  Souza,  who  flatters  him 
tremendouslv  He  thinks  he  is  badly 
treated  by  all  of  them — by  Pansy,  be- 
cause from  her  husband's  house  she 
writes  matter-nf-fact  and  sensible  notes 
in  answer  to  his  sentimental  effusions ; 
by  Shimna,  because  she  marries  the 
w  -  'hUy  fianct'oi  her  girlhood,  after  cast- 
ing at  Pole,  as  at  all  tne  rest  of  the 
world,  some  fascinating  glances  ;  and  by 
Miss  de  Souza,  because  she  says,  though 
he  is  the  greatest  man  in  the  world,  she 
lov^  him  only  like  a  brother.  The 
selfishness  of  all  three,  because  they  do 
not  come  and  minister  balm  and  healing 
to  the  wounded  soul  of  this  flourishing 
young  politician,  is  a  terrible  thing  for 
his  soul  to  regard.  So  he  whimpers 
through  three  volumes— it  is  genteel  and 
modulated  whimpering — about  the  do- 
mestic hearth  he  would  like  to  preside 


at,  the  woman  who  would  sit  there  ever 

ready  with  the  ointment,  and  the  pray- 
ers he  would  like  to  sa^,  but  mustn't, 
because  he  is  an  interesting  agnosUc. 

Fiction  is  always  illustrat<*d  in  the 
mind's  eye  of  a  careful  reader  ;  and  Pole, 
till  his  shadowy  form  sink  into  oblivion 
for  ever,  will  sit  kid-gloved  and  with 
spotless  cambric  at  the  grave  of  those  old 
beliefs  which  go  so  well  with  a  long  de- 
scent, with  a  fine  park  in  the  West  of 
England,  and  with  office  in  the  Con- 
servative party.  We  are  grateful  to  the 
delightful  parson  financier  of  simple 
tastes,  who,  with  a  tale  of  investments 
in  Australian  mines  and  fourteen  per 
cent.,  gambles  away  his  friends'  thou- 
sands on  the  Stock  Exchange.  Canon 
Bulman  is  a  flaring  caricature,  but  if  his 
awful  fate  be  a  warning  to  amateur  de> 
tectives  of  his  order,  we  say  good  luck 
to  Mr,  Mallock's  mission.  There  are 
other  personages,  too,  that  give  variety, 
piquancy,  and  a  certain  up-to  date  ob- 
ser\'ation  ;  but  the  gentility,  the  air  of 
having  the  whole  gospel  of  good  society 

I  usted  to  him,  sap  the  worth  and  the 
manliness  of  even  so  able  a  writer  as 
Mr.  Mallock.  The  Heart  of  Life  is,  we 
suppose,  the  peaceful  love. of  wife  and 
chdd,  and,  if  possible,  the  simple  relig- 
ious faith  for  which  his  hero  was  ever 
searching.  On  this,  when  Pole  is  not 
his  exponent,  he  speaks  with  much  ten- 
derness and  beauty.  But  life's  heart- 
beats have  many  meanings  :  he  does  not 
know  them  all.  And  they  will  always 
be  faint  and  feeble  where  finnicking  gen- 
tility makes  poor  the  blood. 

Annie  Macdonell. 


GERTRUDE  HALUS  NEW  VOLUME  • 

"  If  I  cm  write  a  story,"  says  Mr.  H, 
C.  Bunner,  in  a  recent  number  of  the  Ccw- 
tury,  "  which  will  make  you  believe.  whUe 
you  are  reading  it,  that  when  my  hero  was 
strolling  down  Fifth  Avenue  to  attend  a 
meeting  of  the  Young  Men's  Kindergar- 
ten Club,  he  met  a  green  dragon  forty- 
seven  feet  long,  with  eighteen  legs  and 
three  tails,  and  that  the  green  dragon 
wept  bitterly  and  inquired  the  way  to  a 
cheese  shop— why,  tluit's  realism." 

Upon  this  principle,  no  doubt,  Miss 
Gertrude  Hall  is  a  realistic  story-teller  * 

*  Foam  of  the  Sea.  By  Gertrude  H«ll.  Bos- 
ton :  Robeitt  Bros,  fi.ook 


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A  UTBRAR] 

otherwise  one  might  be  led  to  ascribe 
to  F^m  0/  ike  Bnd  O&ur  Tales 

certain  characteristics  bordering  upon 
idealism.  They  are  sketches  of  tlie  im- 
pressionist school,  of  which  they  share 
the  faults  as  well  as  tlu;  virtues.  Tin- 
impressionist}  whether  in  painting  or 
literature  (it  is  not  without  significance 
that  impressionism  in  sculpture  is  an 
impossibility)  usually  has  a  story  to 
tell  ;  and  no  doubt  he  has  as  much 
right  to  tell  it  in  broad  splashes  of  colour 
as  by  means  of  millions  of  fine  lines  on 
wood  or  copper — -provided  always  that 
he  does  really  tell  it;  that  we  believe, 
while  we  are  looking  or  listening  in  the 
green  dragon  with  the  particularly  in- 
convenient number  of  leg^  and  tails. 

The  tale  (not  of  the  dragon)  which 
l^ves  name  to  Miss  ^Hall's  present  vol- 
ume  is  an  attempt  to  convey  the  impres- 
i.ion  produced  upon  her  own  mind  by 
the  sea  and  seacoast ;  it  does  not  seem 
necessary  to  say  the  Grecian  seacoast, 
though  she  has  resorted  to  Greek  myth- 
ology for  some  of  her  personages  and 
located  them  on  a  Mediterranean  island  ; 
the  resulting  impression  is,  however, 
thoroughly  American.  And  there  is  no 
question  that  she  makes  us  believe  in 
the  green  dragon  ;  we  feel  it  all,  the 
fascination,  the  savagery,  the  fulness  of 
life,  the  semi-divine  something  always 
just  beyond  and  forever  nnattainabte ; 
and  then  one  closes  the  book  in  some- 
thing of  a  pet  and  says,  "  How  could  I 
—I  fyield  to  so  poor  a  spell  as  that  ?*' 

Now  we  submit,  that  such  a  result  as 
this  is  not  worth  working  for^  and  that 
Miss  Hall  can  do  better — as,  indeed, 
she  has  proved  In  the  second  story  in 
this  volume,  "  In  Battlereagh  House," 
wlicrc  the  portrait  of  the  chaplain  is 
of  exquisite  tenderness  and  beauty. 
"  Powers  of  Darkness"  is  a  psychologi- 
cal study  of  a  young  woman  who  be- 
lieves herself  possessed  of  a  devil  ;  it 
shows  the  value  of  impressionism  in  art, 
inasmuch  as  a  more  careful  working  out 
of  details  would  have  lessened  the  force 
of  the  iHoi'.f,  or  perhaps,  we  should  say, 
''weakened  the  impression."  "The 
Late  Returning'*  is  less  meritorious ; 
*'  The  Wanderers"  is  a  pagan  tale  thinly 
veneered  with  Christianity,  and  ' '  Gar- 
den Deadly"  is  the  old  story  of  Circe, who 
might  as  well,  in  our  poor  opinion,  be 
let  alone  for  all  future  time.  There  is, 
however,  something  of  fascination  even 
in  this,  and  in  the  very  modernised 


pURNAL,  43 

Heracles,  with  his  club  and  his  boyish 
innocence ;  moreover,  we  desire  to  record 

our  gratitude  to  Miss  Hall,  who  has  suc- 
ceeded where  other  writers  have  failed 
(Marie  CorclU,  for  example),  and,  how- 
ever sensuous,  is  never  sensual. 

But  why,  oh  why  \  should  Miss  Hall 
**  sHng  English  all  over  the  ten-acre  lot," 
aslittlc  Frank  Minorwouldsay,in  another 
sense  ?  Is  it  essential  to  impressionism 
to  use  words  from  the  Jabberwocky  lan- 
guage? "  Some  lovelily  strange  devel- 
opment," "  indefinably  tormented," 
"  exquisitely  tantalised,"  the  sca'ii  "  in- 
numerable smile"  can  only  be  defended 
by  one  who  claims  Humpty  Dum|)ty's 
privilege  of  making  words  mean  what- 
ever he  chooses  they  shall.  And  **  taper- 
ing  off"  is  destructive  certainly  to  the 
impressionism  of  an  Italianesque  tale. 
We  have  great  charity  for  Miss  Hall,  es- 
pecially as  we  imagine  that  we  detect  in 
her  traces  of  the  influence  of — ^strange 
to  say — no  less  a  person  than  George 
Meredith.  The  following  passage  is  cer- 
tainly Meredithian,  but  the  phrases  are 
well  chosen  and  picturesque  :  "  The  lit- 
tle upstart  half-sister  must  surely  rue 
her  presumption  confronted  with  the 
honest  mirror  ;  divine,  if  you  pleased  to 
say  so,  the  young  half-sister — ay,  a  di- 
vine young  m- lister  of  drink  to  the 
higher  gods,  beside  the  Queen  of  Olym- 
pus herself!  Mistress  Berenice  could 
vanquish  her  by  every  feature  ;  the  habit 
of  victory  was  all  in  her  face  !"  Why, 
however,  not  simply  "In  her  face  ? 
Wherefore  that  little  word  "  all"  '  Miss 
Hall  has  by  nature  something  of  that 
novelist's  gift  of  phrase-making,  and 
also  something  of  the  weakness  through 
which  he  stereotypes  his  own  original- 
ity. Perhaps  Mr.  Meredith  can  do  this 
with  comparative  safety,  but  lesser  lights 
had  !)est  beware.  Would  that  Miss  flail, 
for  example,  might  cast  aside  all  wrights, 
and  the  affectation  which  doth  so  easily 
beset  us,  and  tell  the  tale,  trippingly  . 
upon  the  tongue,  with  simplicity,  and  in 
any  manner  that  suits  herself  and  her 
story,  so  that  it  be  in  English. 

Xatkaritu  PearsoH  Woods, 


S6NYA  KOVALeVSKY.* 

Between  1S60  and  1870  the  educated 
classes  of  Russian  society  were  occupied 

*StM.j»  Kov«l€vak]r :   Her  Recollections  of 


I 


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44 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


with  a  serious  question — the  discord  be- 
tween the  parents  and  children*— and  an 
epidemic  seized  upon  the  latter,  espe- 
cially the  girls,  of  fleeing  from  the  fam- 
ily r<K>f  to  join  the  yotitnful  community 
of  Nihilists  in  St.  Petersburg,  where 
the  young  people  lived  in  full  commun- 
ism. The  mirage  they  followed  was  a 
desire  for  the  freedom  and  progress  of 
their  native  land  hy  raising  its  intellec- 
tual standards.  Sonya  Kovalevsky  is 
one  of  the  products  of  this  unnatural 
plant.  Of  these  two  books,  the  Maemillan 
edition  is  the  more  attractive,  tor  judi- 
cious editing  has  relieved  both  memoir 
and  autobiography  of  monotonous  de- 
tail and  wearisome  verbiage.  It  also 
contains  an  interesting  chapter  on 
"  Rural  Pleasures,"  which  atYords  a 
glimpse  into  the  wild  and  picturesque 
forests  of  Russia^  and  adds  a  touch  of 
colour  to  the  book.  This  is  omitted  in 
Miss  Hapgood's  redundant  version, 
which,  on  the  other  hand,  gives  a  more 
intimate  analysis  of  Mme.  Koval^vsky's 
character.  This  edition  is  so  {rreatly 
overweighted  with  various  biugraphies, 
notes,  and  appendices  that  to  read  it 
suggests  an  oppressive  task  instead  of  a 
pleasure ;  yet  it  will  give  ttie  reader  a 
different  point  of  view. 

It  \%  never  safe  to  take  one  ad- 
miring woman's  testimony  of  another, 
for  women  are  prone  to  elevate  their 
worsliij)  of  each  other  into  a  cult  that 
blinds  them  to  temperate  criticism,  and 
despite  the  eulogies  of  the  Duchess  of 
Cajanello,  the  readers  of  her  biography 
of  S6nya  Koval^vsky  and  the  recollec- 
tions of  the  latter  must  receive  the  im- 
pression that  she  was  an  unlovable, 
iieadstroncf,  heartless  woman  ;  consider- 
ing no  one  ;  exacting  admiration  and 
service  from  all  with  no  desire  to  give 
in  return  ;  and  whose  actions  were 
always  determined  by  sel/ish  motives 
placed  under  the  description  of  duty. 
She  besi^an  her  independent  life  by  put- 
ting herself  into  a  false  position  by  one 
of  those  peculiar  **  fictitious  marriages" 

Childhood.  Translated  from  the  Russian  by 
Isabel  F.  Hapgood.  With  a  Biography  by  Anna 
Carloiu  Leffler,  Duchess  of  CajaoeUo.  Trans* 
latcd  from  ihc  Swedish  by  \.  M.  Cliw  Bayley. 
And  A  Biographical  Note  by  Lily  Wolffaohit. 
New  York  :  The  Century  Co.  $1.50. 

Sonia  Kovalt'vsky  :  I.  Memoir,  by  A.  C  Leffler 
(R(lprcn),  Duchessa  di  Cajanello.  II.  Keminis- 
ci  nces  of  Childhood  in  Russia,  written  by  beraelf. 
Translated  into  English  by  Louise  von  Cossel. 
New  York :  Maemillan  and  Co.  f  i.<5* 


so  popular  in  Russia  in  her  day,  and 
sorrow,  remorse,  and  various  unhappy 
episodes  succeeded  each  other  until  the 
yarn  of  her  existence  became  one  hope- 
less tangle  of  dark  threads.  It  is  true  that 
she  won  honours  ;  she  held  the  chair  of 
higher  mathematics  in  the  University  of 
Stockholm,  and  wrote  many  works'  on 
mathematics  and  science,  still  quoted 
to-day,  one  of  which  brout^ht  her  a  prize 
from  the  Institute  of  France.  She  was 
greatly  gifted  in  mathematics  and  sci- 
ence, but  totally  devoid  of  arsthetic  • 
tastes,  and  wiili  no  trace  of  the  artist 
or  idealist  in  mind  or  spirit.  Even  her 
partial  biographer  admits  this  :  "  r 
did  not  possess  a  finely  cultivated  sense 
of  beauty.  The  most  unattractive  land> 
scape  mij>;ht  be  beautiful  in  her  eyes  if 
it  suited  her  mood,  and  she  could  be  in- 
different to  the  most  exquisite  outlines 
and  colours  if  she  were  personally  out  of 
sympathy  with  the  scene.  ...  I  can- 
not help  mentioning  the  absence  of  all 
artistic  appreciation  in  a  nature  other- 
wise so  richly  jjifted.  She  had  spent 
years  ol  her  life  in  Paris,  but  had  never 
visited  the  Louvre.  Neither  pictures, 
sculpture,  nor  architecture  ever  at- 
tracted her  attention." 

S6nya  Koval^vsky's  life  was  a  tremen- 
dous failure  from  its  liet^inninj^  to  its  end, 
in  1891,  when  she  died  of  a  broken  lieart. 
She  realised  this  herself,  writing  in  her 
diary  :  "  It  is  a  great  misfortune  to  have 
a  talent  for  science — especially  for  a 
woman  who  is  forcibly  drawn  into  a 
sphere  of  action  where  she  cannot  find 
happiness."  Her  recollections  of  child- 
hood give  many  intimate  descriptions 
of  Russian  home  life,  but  they  are  not 
particularly  interestint^  nor  suggestive. 
Perhaps  they  have  lost  their  charm  in 
the  translation.  It  is  possible  that  these 
books  may  be  widely  read  as  a  sort  of 
pendant  to  Marie  Bashkirtsefi's  Jour- 
nal ;  but  the  old  question  is  sure  to 
arise — of  what  profit  ^llall  it  be  if  a  wom- 
an gain  knowledge  and  fame,  and  does 
not  enlarge  the  sphere  of  her  usefulness 
and  widen  her  sympathies  ?  Though 
Sonya  Koval6vsky*s  biographer  speaks 
of  her  "  exquisite  tenderness,'  there  is 
nothing  in  this  book  to  show  that  she 
ever  did  a  kind,  or  even  a  htjman  act. 
She  left  her  husband  at  a  malicious 
report  which  she  waited  not  to  investi- 
gate,  and  the  untruthfulness  of  which  in 
after  years  she  believed  ;  she  neglected 
her  daughter,  living  apart  from  her  that 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


AS 


she  miciht  continue  her  work  of  educat- 
ing other  people's  children  undisturbed  : 
and  would  not  interrupt  her  course  of 
lectures  when  sumnrnned  Id  the  licdside 
of  her  dying  sister ;  and  this  is  the  woman 
her  biographers  would  have  us  believe 
to  be  '*  a  marvel  of  mental  development 
and  beautiful  womanhood,  or  a  kind  of 
giantess  of  such  extraordinary  propor- 
tions tliat  y<ni  regard  her  with  wonder 
and  admiration"  ! 

Both  of  these  books  are  pervaded 
with  a  revolutionary  spirit,  which  may 
render  them  attraetive  lu  certain  minds  ; 
but  to  the  btudent  the  insight  into 
the  social  condition  of  Russia  and  the 
development  of  the  type,  especially  as 
relating  to  the  evolution  of  the  woman 
dominating  the  hour,  will  be  of  greater 
interest  than  the  analysis  of  Mme.  Kova- 
l^vsky's  mental  and  moral  construc- 
tion. 

JStfJkr  Si^gUhn. 


MY  LADY  NOBODY.* 

Never  until  now  perhaps  has  prose  fic- 
tion been  so  pervaded  by  that  sorrow  and 
mystery  of  human  life  which  produced 
the  great  epics  of  the  human  race.  One 
of  the  earliest  utterances  to  the  living 
of  this  feeling — Vas  Weltsihuurtz — came 
from  Russia,  in  the  voice  of  Tolstoy. 
The  same  note  was  sounded  in  Norway 
by  Ibsen,  in  Germany  by  Sudermann, 
and  in  Belgium  by  Maeterlinck,  until  it 
echoes  at  present  throughout  the  greater 
part  of  the  world  of  letters.  In  Eng- 
land, France,  Spain,  Italy,  and  America 
no  single  giant  mind  battles  alone  to 
wrest  the  unknowable  from  the  unknown 
as  these  strong  souls  are  battling ;  but 
the  general  trend  of  lesser  writers,  ac- 
cording to  their  strength,  is  in  the  same 
direction  of  deep  eternal  unrest.  This 
Struggle  of  the  natural  with  the  super- 
natural has  at  last  become  Dif  Zeitgeist 
— the  distinctive  spirit  of  the  age.  In- 
soluble spiritual  problems  are  now  so 
universally  intcnvovcn  with  fiction  that 
a  novel  dealing  with  what  is  soluble  in 
humanity  has  become  noticeably  rare. 

In  this  respect  nearly  all  the  writings 
of  Mr.  Maarten  Maartens  stand  apart 
from  those  of  the  other  leading  nov^ists 

•  Mjr  Lady  Notxxly.  By  Maarten  MttUteM. 
New  York  ;  Harper  &  Bros.  $1.75. 


of  the  day.  .\nd  nowhere  in  his  work 
is  the  characteristic  more  strikingly 
shown  than  in  his  latest  novel,  .\fy  Laif 
N^ilhhlv.  The  whole  ?tnrA'  lies  between 
clearly  dehned  lines  ot  actuality.  Its 
problems  of  both  right  and  wrong  fall 
within  the  domain  oYeverlastinfj  experi- 
ence. They  are  forever  susceptible  of 
natural  solution.  And  not  only  does 
the  anthor  deal  solely  with  the  known, 
but  he  deals  with  the  known  as  it  has 
been  established  in  Holland  from  of 
old.  All  the  characters,  with  two  ex- 
ceptions, are  Dutchmen  and  Dutchwom- 
en, who — whether  they  have  lived  out 
of  their  own  country  before  the  story 
opens,  or  leave  it  diirinj;  its  progress — 
remain  Dutch  to  the  core,  as  is  always 
true  <A  this  people  in  life.  The  tissue 
of  events  spun  about  the  actors  is  no 
less  characteristically  Dutch  than  they 
are.  The  story  marches  with  Dutch 
steadiness,  thoroughness,  and  compo- 
sure. The  very  light  flooding  most  of 
the  scenes  is  the  blaxiog  sunli^tof  that 
land.  The  vivid  colour  of  the  work  has 
the  gaiety  of  its  straight  borders  of 
flowerB.  Epigrams  are  planted  on  every 
page  like  the  rows  of  trees  along  its 
watercourses.  The  quietude  of  its  move- 
ment is  like  the  placid  lives  of  its  peo- 
ple. The  broadening  towards  the  end 
is  like  its  horizon  where  the  level  earth 
is  lost  in  sea  and  sky. 

In  drawing  all  eyes  upon  his  quaint 
little  land.  Mr  Maartens  stands  as  a 
moral  teacher — where  the  greatest  al- 
wajrs  stand— on  the  side  of  the  right. 

His  chnrnrt^-rs  reach  it  sometimes 
through  deep  and  muddy  water ;  some- 
times they  fail  to  reach  It  and  are  swept 

away  ;  but  the  lofty  aim  is  held  steadily 
an  sight,  and  the  causes  of  the  tragedy 
are  always  visible  and  always  natural. 
These  inevitable  consequences  of  the 
wrongdoing,  the  frailty  and  mistakes  of 
humanity,  furnish  the  shadows  that 
chasten  the  broad  sunshine.  And  one 
is  tempted  to  wish — for  art's  sake — that 
these  shadows  were  more  numerous  and 
deeper,  for  Mr.  Maartens' s  humour 
broadens  now  and  then  to  the  verge  of 
burlesque.  In  the  white  ieather  episode 
it  passes  the  line  of  legitimate  comedy 
into  a  farce  of  both  art  and  nature. 
The  scene  is  an  unsightly  blemish  upon 
the  dignified  beauty  of  ue  work,  and  it 
assumes  disproporticmate  importance 
for  the  reason  that  it  is  made  the  pivotal 
incident  of  the  story. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


To  find  fault  with  Mr.  Maartens  for 
the  over-abundance  o£  his  wit  seems  less 
fair  than  to  cavil  at  the  breadth  of  his 
humour.  And  yet  one  is  forced  to 
doubt  whether  whole  communities  any- 
where talk  so  largely  in  small  epigram. 
Granting  that  they  do  so  in  ITolland  — 
since  we  know  little  fictitiously  about 
that  country  outside  of  Mr.  Maartens's 
novels — the  wit  of  his  work  still  remains 
the  weakness  of  the  story,  as  well  as  its 
strength.  These  brilliant  things  which 
he  scatters  with  such  lavish  hands  divert 
tlie  reader's  serious  attention.  One 
wants  to  carry  a  pilgrim's  scrip, 
to  stop  on  almost  every  page,  and 
turn  back  now  and  again  to  gather 
them,  regardless  of  the  onward  move- 
ment of  the  story.  The  mastery  of  a 
foreign  language  which  enables  the  au- 
thor to  do  this,  to  dazzle  with  witticisms 
as  prisms  are  flashed  in  the  sun,  is  not 
the  least  remarkable  feature  of  Mr. 
Maartens's  worlc.  The  sole  indication 
that  English  is  not  his  native  tongue  is 
the  occasional  use  of  a  somewhat  more 
forcible  term  than  an  English  writer  of 
equal  refinement  would  be  likely  to  em- 
ploy. But  the  latter  defect  is  so  slight 
and  so  infrequent  as  to  be  unworthy  of 
mention,  could  it  not  be  pointed  out  as 
enhancing  rather  than  detracting  from 
the  unique  charm  of  his  writing. 

Mr.  Maartens  has  done  in  literature 
what  his  countrymen  did  in  history. 
He  has  cut  the  dykes  which  have  so 
long  hidden  his  own  country  from  the 
rest  of  the  world.  In  taking  us  into  the 
heart  of  Holland,  and  giving  us  a  word 
painting  far  more  effective  than  any  can- 
vas by  Van  Ostande,  he  has  dispelled  a 
widespread  erroneous  impression  of  his 
countrymen  ;  of  their  physical  charac- 
teriblicb,  ot  their  liabits  of  thought,  and 
manner  of  life.  For,  whether  this  im- 
pression arose  from  the  early  history  of 
the  Dutch  in  America,  from  satire,  or 
from  certain  national  traits  which  have 
disappeared  with  the  progress  of  civili- 
sation, the  impression  was  unquestion- 
ably almost  universal  among  Americans 
that  the  Dutch  were  the  impersonation 
of  respectable,  but  utterly  uninteresting 
dulness.  Mr.  Maartens's  fine,  delicate 
portrayal  comes  therefore  as  a  delight- 
ful revelation,  and  in  making  it  he  serves 
us  no  less  than  his  own  countrymen. 
For  whoever  shows  a  people  to  be  re- 
fined instead  of  coarse,  sensitive  instead 
of  stolid,  witty  instead  of  dull,  and  in- 


tellectual instead  of  iinintellectual,  has 
wrought  a  benefit  to  all  mankind. 

J^.  H,  B. 


NAPOLEON  AND  WELLINGTON.* 

Tt  is  strange  that  the  Napoleonic  re- 
vival should  not  sooner  have  produced 
at  least  a  volume  or  two  on  the  great 
captain  who,  among  English-speaking 
peoples,  at  any  rate,  is  popularly  regard- 
ed as  the  conquerorof  Bonaparte.  How- 
ever, we  have  now  before  us,  side  by 
side  with  the  stor\'  of  Napoleon's  de- 
cline, a  very  timely  monograph  supple- 
menting it  with  a  concise  account  of  the 
rise  of  Wellington  which  coincides  chron-  i 
ologically  with  the  progress  ot  that  de-  j 
ciine.  The  two  books  are,  therefore,  . 
practically  one,  and  may  be  very  profit-  ' 
ably  read  together.  It  is  an  interesting 
circumstance,  also,  that  they  should  be 
writt<  n  1  V  the  two  men  who  are  at  the 
present  time  regarded  as  England's  fore- 
most soldiers.  Lord  Wolseley  is  popu- 
larly known  in  England  as  "  our  only 
general,"  while  by  a  humorous  after- 
thought Lord  Roberts  has  been  styled 
**  our  only  other  general so  that  it  is 
not  a  little  interesting  to  see  what  view 
the  most  conspicuous  commanders  in 
England  to-day  take  of  the  most  danger- 
ous opponent  their  country  ever  had. 
Lord  Wolseley's  volume  deals  with  the 
career  of  Bonaparte  from  the  end  of  his 
Russian  campaign  to  his  final  defeat  at 
Waterloo,  and  starts  with  the  hypothe- 
sis that  throughout  this  whole  period 
Napoleon  was  no  longer  physically  and 
mentally  the  same  man  who  had  foueht 
at  Rivoli  and  Austerlitz.  Lord  Wolse- 
ley detects  in  the  execution  of  all  lus 
latest  strategic  plans  a  certain  incom- 
pleteness which  had  never  been  observ- 
able before.  He  dwells  especially  upon 
the  mysterious  malady  which  came  upon 
Napoleon  at  the  most  critical  moments 
of  his  last  campaigns,  at  moments  when 
his  still  brilliantly  faultless  plans  were 
about  to  achieve  success,  and  needed 
only  a  few  more  hours  of  vigorous  super« 
vision  to  overthrow  armies  and  alter  the 

*  The  Decline  and  Fall  of  Napoleon.  Bv  Vis- 
count Wolseley.   Boston ;  Roberts  Bros.  9t.ss. 

The  Rise  of  Wellington.  Bjr  Lord  Roberts. 
Bosion  :  Roberts  Bros.  $r.35. 

Napoleon.  liy  Alexandre  Duraas.  Translated 
by  John  B.  Lamer.  New  York :  G.  P.  Painain's 
Sons. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


47 


course  of  history.  It  was  in  these  su- 
preme momentSf  as  Lord  Wolseley  re- 
cords, that  a  sudden  and  irresistible  leth- 
argy came  over  the  Emperor,  making  it 
absolutely  impossible  for  him  to  continue 
on  horBeback  or  in  the  exercise  of  his 
command,  and  thus  forcing  him  to  leave 
to  subordinates  the  conduct  of  opera- 
tions that  needed  his  presence  and  au- 
thority for  their  success.  The  summing 
tip  of  the  whole  matter,  in  Lord  Wolse- 
leyopinion,  is  thai  had  it  nut  been  for 
the  decay  of  his  ph3rsical  powers.  Napo- 
leon would  have  conquered  a  peace  in 
1814,  so  that  Waterloo  would  never  have 
been  fought,  or  had  this  mysterious  ill- 
ness not  seized  him  at  Waterloo  he  would 
have  beaten  Wellington  and  outgener- 
alled  the  Prussians ;  Tor  Lord  WolseIey*s 
admiration  of  Napoleon's  capacity  is  ab- 
solutely unstinted.  "  I  believe  Napo- 
leon to  have  been  by  far  the  greatest  of 
all  great  men,"  he  emphatically  says. 
His  conclusions  regarding  the  outcome  at 
Waterlod  are  especially  noteworthy,  for 
the  orthodox  English  view  is  that  Napo- 
leon was  beaten  before  Bliicher  arrived, 
and  that  the  Prussians  only  succeeded 
in  turning  an  already  assured  defeat  into 
a  rout.   Uear^  however,  Lord  Wolseley  : 

"  No  one  can  be  better  aware,  no  one  can  be 
|MX>uder  than  I  am,  of  the  niagnt6cent  courage  and 
■»>dln<W  of  th«  Khiab  soldier  at  Waterloo; 
bat  when  ereiy  ■Uowmoce  b  made  (or  it,  Uk  hon- 
ctt  blstoflan  mnt  admit  that  it  wai  the  splendid 
audacity  of  the  Prussian  move  upon  St,  Lambert 
and  the  French  right,  due  to  the  personal  loyalty 
of  Prince  PKlcher  to  Wellington  and  in  opposition 
10  the  strategic  views  of  Gnelsenao.  tbat  deter- 
mined  tke      ef  Ni^okoa's  amy  at  Waterloo/* 

Lord  Wolseley  exonerates  Grouchy, 
whose  only  fault  be  considers  to  have 

been  a  too  close  adherence  to  his  orders 
in  not  following  the  "cann()n  thunder," 
as  did  the  successful  generals  in  the 
Franco-German  War.  He  also,  both 
directly  and  by  implication,  shows  how 
dumsily  Wellington  managed  the  pure- 
ly strategic  part  of  the  campaign,  being 
in  bis  preliminary  manoeuvres  utterly 
untnfonned  of  the  movements  of  the 
French,  and  blundering  about  in  a  fash- 
ion which  Lord  Wolseley  charitably  at- 
tributes to  the  inefficiency  of  his  staff. 
It  is  made  very  plain  that  such  success 
as  the  English  gained  at  Waterloo  was 
gained  not  by  generalship,  but  by  the  re- 
markable tenacity  and  stubborn  fighting 
qualities  of  the  British  soldier — av(M-(li(  t 
that  history  gives  upon  so  many  battles 


won  by  English  troops.  Tn  fact,  takitijr 
the  two  volumes  together,  it  may  be 
said  that  Lord  Wolseley  strips  Wellinfif'' 
ton  of  much  (»f  his  prestige  as  a  soldier  ; 
while  Lord  Roberts,  who  admires  his 
generalship,  paints  him  in  the  most  un- 
flattering colours  as  a  man,  throwing  a 
strong  light  upon  his  selfishness,  his  van- 
ity, his  meanness,  and  his  snobbery,  and 
displaying  him  as  one  to  whom  no 
friend  could  come  for  help,  who  turned 
his  back  upon  his  old  companions-in- 
arms in  order  to  pose  as  a  man  of  high 
fashion,  and  who,  years  after  his  cam- 
paigns were  over,  put  ofticially  on  record 
a  contemptible  slur  upon  the  brave 
men  who  had  won  for  him  his  victories. 

Mr.  Lamer's  translation  of  Dumas's 
Napdhn  is  probably  among  the  last  of 
such  books  that  we  shall  see  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  It  has  no  historical  value,  and 
is  interesting  only  because  no  account  of 

Napoleon's  career  can  be  uninteresting. 
The  translator  tells  us  in  his  preface 
that  he  undertook  the  work  as  part  of  a 
course  in  the  study  of  French  ;  and  it 
must  be  said  that  occasionally  it  reads 
like  an  exercise.  Mr.  Larner  is  very  much 
confused  in  giving  the  proper  Eng- 
lish form  to  foreign  names,  especially 
Russian  ones,  which  he  hads  in  the 
French,  speaking  of  "  the  House  of 
Bragance,"  for  Braganza,  leaving  ,/,•  in 
German  names  instead  of  replacing  it 
with  twif,  and  occasionally  lapsing  into 
ordinary  Gallicisms,  as  when  he  gives 
us  "  One  came  to  tell  Ney,"  etc.  {on 
vint)  on  p.  130.  And  why  does  ne 
measure  distance  in  '*  toises"  ?  '*  There 
was  between  them  ...  an  interval  of 
five  hundred  toises"  (p.  lao).  To  an 
English  or  American  reader  parasanga 
would  be  more  intelligible. 

r.  K. 


NATURAL  RIGHTS.* 

To  the  non-philosophic  reader  the  de- 
nial of  the  theory  of  natural  rights  may 
seem  a  distinctly  revolutionary  idea ; 
yet»  on  the  contrary,  it  was  by  the  pro- 
moters of  revolution  that  the  doctrine 
was  at  first  affirmed.  As  Professor 
Ritchie  shows,  in  his  admirable  histori- 
cal survey  of  his  subject,  the  theory  is 

*  Natural  Rights  :  A  Criticlcro  of  Some  Political 

and  F.iliic.il  Cnno.-ptions.  By  David  G.  Rilcbic. 
New  yori( :  Macrniltan  &  Co. 


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48 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


primarily  negative — "  an  appeal  from 
authorities  that  had  lost  their  sacred- 
ness,"  back  to  a  supposed  original  state 
of  nature,  in  wliich  man  had  been  pos- 
sessed ot  ■■  certain  unalienable  rights," 
which  were  the  foundations  of  those  ac- 
quired in  society.  It  was,  moreover, 
the  result  of  cssentiallv  the  same  spirit 
as  that  of  Protestantism.  "Calvin's 
(roneva  in  due  time  hroupht  forth  R(mis- 
seau  ;  and  English  Puritanism  on  Amer- 
ican soil  produced  the  Declaration  of 
Independence."  It  is  in  its  lU'ciative 
and  abstract  character  that  Mr.  Ritchie 
condemns  the  theory. 

The  first  halt  of  the  work  is  largely 
taken  up  with  this  historical  sketch  of 
the  theory,  and  though  it  is  but  a  skctcii, 
it  is  a  very  welcome  addition  to  the  lit- 
erature of  the  subject,  giving  as  it  does 
an  interpretation  rather  than  a  histor)'. 
What  we  still  desire  is  a  thorough  ex- 
amination of  the  opinions  of  the  Inter 
scholastics  and  earlier  modern  thinkers 
in  regard  to  the  meaning  of  nature  and 
natural  la7V.  Even  the  doctrines  of 
Hobbes  and  his  critics  sorely  need  a 
more  historical  discussion  of  their  sig- 
nificance, viewed  in  the  light  of  earlier 
theories. 

In  the  remainder  of  his  work  Profes- 
sor  Ritchie  gives  us  a  criticism  of  some 
of  the  particular  natural  rigfits,  such  as 
those  to  life,  liberty,  toleration,  and 
property.  If  it  is  necessary  to  find  fault 
with  this  portion,  it  is  only  because  wc 
feel  that  our  author  might  have  given 
us  something  better  than  criticism.  It 
is  true  that  his  criticism  conceals  con- 
struction, but  the  impression  left  is  dis- 
tinctly negative.  We  feel  our  natural 
rights  slipping  away  from  us  before  wc 
are  quite  sure  of  any  other  basis  than 
that  in  nature.  It  is  only  at  the  last 
that  the  moral  of  the  book  is  drawn,  and 
some  use  made  of  the  fruitful  analysis 
of  the  varied  meanings  of  the  term 
nature.  The  excellence  of  this  conclu- 
sion is  w!iat  malces  us  regret  it  had  not 
begun  sooner. 

Instead  of  the  theory  of  natural  rights 
based  on  the  absolute  independence  of 
the  individual,  we  here  receive  a  doc- 
trine more  in  harmony  with  the  trend 
of  modern  scientific  lliinking.  Sncietv 
is  considered  as  an  organism,  each  part 
of  which  exists  in  necessary  relation  to 
the  whole,  whose  good  alone  determines 
what  rights  shall  be  allowed  to  the  in- 
dividual— that  is,  utility  is  the  basis  of 


rights.  But  utility  is  not  interpreted  in 
the  old  abstract  sense  of  pleasure.  On 
the  contrary,  pleasure  is  good  only  in 
so  f.ir  as  it  is  useful  in  the  preservation 
and  advancement  of  society.  Mr. 
Ritchie  admits  the  apparent  vagueness 
involved  in  his  inability  to  determine 
more  definitely  what  is  useful  to  soci- 
ety, but  holds  that  it  is  inseparable  from 
tlie  very  idea  of  an  evolution  that  the 
end  cannot  be  fully  known  from  the  be- 
ginning. Society  itself  determines  what 
is  fittest  by  the  test  of  survival.  Hence 
"an  adequate  theory'  of  rights  and  an 
adequate  theory  of  the  State  must  rest 
upon  a  philosophy  of  history ;  and 
steady  progress  tn  political  and  social 
reform  cannot  be  made  unless  there  is  a 
willingness  to  learn  the  lessons  of  ex- 
perience, and  a  reasonable  reverence  for 
the  long  toil  of  the  human  spirit  in  that 
past  from  which  we  inherit  not  only 
our  problems,  but  the  hope  and  the 
means  of  their  solution" — a  principle 
no  less  valuable  in  philosophy  than  in 
politics. 

.  Norman  WUd€, 


THE  GOLDEN  AGE.* 

The  Golden  Age  is,  as  all  know,  the 
period  of  childhood.  In  vain  do  the 
"  grown  ups"  ask  "  Where  is  it  now,  the 
glory  and  the  dream  T  In  the  little 
volume  before  us— 4  book  very  attrac- 
tive to  the  ns  are  most  of  the  books 
issued  by  this  house — the  "  grown  ups" 
arc  nicknamed  the  *' Olympians,"  and 

such  is  tlio  title  of  the  Prologue,  which 
one  reads  with  that  delightful  sensation 
— as  of  a  mental  cold-water  bath — which 
is  occasioned  by  dipping  into  a  fresh 
and  sincere  bit  of  vriting.  The  author 
is,  evidently,  one  of  tiiose  who  speak  in 
their  natUFsd  voice,  the  ring  and  the  music 
of  it  unextracted  by  any  consideration  as 
to  whether  the  output  will  be  "  market- 
able"— a  consideration  which  sucks  the 
life-blood  out  of  half  the  writing  of  to- 
day. The  water-mark  of  spontaneity  in 
literature,  though  hard  to  describe,  is 
unmistakable,  and  it  is  stamped  on  every 
story  in  IVic  Golden  Age.  In  the  Pro- 
logue the  reading  Olympian  is  forced  to 
see  himself  as  the  children — the  children 
of  this  volume  at  least — see  him,  "  stifi 

•  Ttic  r.nl.fen  Ak;c.  By  Kenneth  GnfaantC. 
Chicago:  btone  &  Kigjball.    fi.ss  net. 


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A  UTBRARY  JOURNAL, 


49 


and.colourless,  .  .  .  equally  vvithuut 
vital  interests  and  intellipfent  pursuits." 
This  criticism  of  tlie  Olympians  is,  from 
a  youngster's  point  of  vievs,  logical 
enough,  but  it  is  not  childlike.  Chil- 
dren, fortunately,  take  people  very  much 
as  they  find  them,  and  they  are  far  tnore 
charitable  than  are  the  Olympians  them- 
selves. 

Mt)rci)ver,  Kenneth  Grahame  makes 
his  children  declare  that  "  these  hope- 
less and  incapable  creatures,  .  .  .  these 
elders,  our  betters  by  a  trick  of  chance, 
command  no  respect,  but  only  a  certain 
envy — of  their  good  luck — and  pity — of 
their  inability  to  make  use  of  it."  Chil- 
dren, most  children,  do  not  feel  in  this 
way,  as  is  evident  from  their  conduct. 
With  what  a  trust,  a  trust  almost  pa- 
thetic, do  the  great  body  of  little  folk 
regard  their  elders !  And  with  what 
lovtngkindness  do  they  overlook  such 
errors  as  tlieir  own  beloved  Olympians 
may  commit !  One  who  understood  this 
better  said,  "  Except  ye  become  as  little 
children  " 

Save  in  this  hostile  attitude  of  his 
young  heroes  and  heroines,  Kenneth 
Grahame  interprets  child  life  with  strik- 
ing sympathy  and  trtith,  and  at  this 
point  it  is  only  iair  to  quote  the  author 
himself.  He  opens  the  book  by  saying  : 
"  I^ookiniy  hack  to  those  days  of  old,  ere 
the  gate  shut  to  behind  me,  1  can  see 
now  that  to  children  with  a  proper  equip- 
ment of  parents  these  things  would  liave 
worn  a  different  aspect.  But  to  those 
whose  nearest  were  aunts  and  uncles,  a 
special  attitude  of  mind  may  be  al- 
lowed." However,  the  explanation 
hardly  explains,  since  the  children  of 
these  stories  are  pictured  as  happy, 
healthy  youngsters,  debarred  from  no 
natural  pleasures,  and  even  treated  with 
a  degree  of  indulgence,  considering  their 
roguish  tendencies.  Yet  this  note  of 
criticism  and  hostility  is  sounded 
throughout  the  volume,  marring  an 
otherwise  strong  and  true  representa- 
tion of  child  nature. 

So  delightfully  genuine  are  the  sym« 
pathy  and  livelin  ss  with  which  the  ex- 
ploits of  these  children  are  recorded 
that  the  reader  must  needs  hark  back  to 
his  own  chihlhood,  and  then  look  with 
kindlier  eyes  on  the  pranks  and  freaks 
of  those  who  dwell  in  the  Golden  Age. 
Herein  lies  the  true  value  of  the  book: 
it  |)Uts  the  Olympian  in  the  child's  place, 
so  tliat  he  catches  uuce  more  that  "  vis- 


ionary gleam"  which  has  faded  out  of 
his  own  life.  And  it  is  well  for  him  to 
be  reminded  that  there  is  one  light  for 
the  child  and  another  for  himself.  There 
is  no  *'  balance  of  power"  in  the  case  of 
adults  and  their  young  charges,  and  an 
arbitran,'  ruler  should  at  least  seek  en- 
lightenment. The  Goiden  Age  is  an  en- 
lightener  of  adult  stupidity. 

Several  of  these  stories  are  fine  stud- 
ies of  the  workings  of  a  child's  im- 
agination, reproducing  the  very  glamour 
in  which  the  Golden  Age  is  bathed. 
The  best  of  these  are  "  Alarums  and  Ex- 
cursions" and  "  The  Finding  of  the 
Princess."  "  Alarums  and  Excursions" 
is  a  charming  bit  of  word  painting.  We 
see  the  children  playing  at  Knights  of 
the  Round  Table,  and  following  far  a 
band  of  exercising  cavalry,  in  the  hope 
o£  seeing  a  very  bloody  battle.  When 
our  young  hero  finds  the  Princess,  an 
Olympian  is  sitting  beside  her  in  a 

pavilion. 

"  Hello,  Sprat  !"  he  said,  with  some  abrupt- 
ness, "  where  did  you  spritiK  from  ?" 

'*  1  came  sp  the  stream,  X  explained,  politely 
and  conapteheotively,  "and  t  was  only  looking 
(or  the  Princess." 

"Then  you  are  a  waicr  baby,"  he  replied. 
'  And  what  do  you  cbink  of  the  PrioceM,  now 
you've  found  her  ?" 

*'  I  think  she  is  lovely  "  (I  said,  and  doubtless  I 
was  right,  haviag  never  learned  to  flatter).  "  Bnt 
she's  wide  airaie»  so  I  suppose  somebody  baa 
kiaaedheri" 

The  first  story,  "  A  Holiday,"  is  one 
of  the  best  in  the  volume.  "  A  boy's 
will  is  the  wind's  will,"  and  the  boy, 
lightly  followlri;^  tlie  wind  wliitlierso- 
ever  it  leads  him^  runs  up  against  the 
hard  fact  that  law  and  license  are  incom- 
patible. In  this  chapter,  as  in  several 
others,  there  is  a  delicate  touching  on 
the  problems  of  life,  an  outreaching  and 
a  questioning,  which  lend  a  world-wide 
interest  to  the  unpretentious  tale  of  a 
boy's  doings.  In  *'  The  Secret  Drawer" 
and  "  The  Roman  Road''  we  find  again 
that  suggestion  of  something  deeper 
than  childish  adventure — a  momentary, 
shadowy  glimpse,  as  though  a  mist  had 
lifted  and  quickly  fallen  again.  "The 
Burglars' '  and  ' '  The  Blue  Room ' '  are 
full  of  young  laughter  and  roguery,  while 
"  The  Whitewashed  Uncle"  throws  out  a 
pretty  broad  hint  to  any  Olympian  who 
would  fain  be  popular  with  the  little 
people. 

"  Young  .\dam  Cupid"  and  "  What 
They  Tallied  About"  show  the  author 


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J 


5<» 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


s«)  wise  in  ihe  lore  «if  <  hilil  n.r.urr-  that 
lUe  chapter  "  Sawdust  and  Sin'  is  sim- 
ply amazing  in  its  error.  Here  a  con- 
i  t-it  possil»le  to  an  adult  only  is  foisted 
on  the  mind  of  a  child  with  a  result 
which  is  far  from  pleasing.  Fancy  a 
boy  of  tender  years  interpreting  the  con- 
duct of  a  Japanese  doll  (who  is  seated 
beside  a  glowing  wax  beauty)  as  follows  : 

'  Carried  away  by  his  passion,  he  fell  sideways 
across  Rosa's  lap.  <  )n(.-  arm  siu(  W  stittly  uinv.irilb, 
as  in  passionate  protct^uiiun  ;  bis  amorous  coun> 
icnance  was  full  of  entreaty.  Rosa  hesitated — 
wavered— and  yielded,  cnitbing  bis  slight  frame 
under  the  weight  of  her  full-bodied  nirrender.'* 

The  writing  Olympian  must  confess ! 

He  thought  this  out  in  liis  study,  and 
while  the  inspiration  of  his  insight  was 
far  from  him.   Children  do  indeed  have 

ideas  about  love  and  love  affairs,  but 
they  are  so  deliciously,  so  alarmingly 
innocent  and  quaint  in  their  conception 
of  such  matters  !  There  is  nothing  in- 
nocent about  this  passage. 

"A  Failing  Out"  and  "  Kxii  Tyran- 
nus"  are  the  only  stories  which  could 
send  a  lump  to  the  most  sensitive  throat  ; 
indeed,  the  author  seems  rather  to  have 
missed  hts  opportunities  for  tenderness 
and  pathos.  His  chief  power  lies  in  fit- 
ting to  the  reader's  eyes  those  glasses 
through  which  the  little  ones  look  out 
upon  tiiis  world  of  nnrs — glasses  made 
largely  of  imagination  and  innocence 
and  ignorance,  and  all  shot  with  rosy  and 
golden  lights,  but  sometimes  dimmed  by 
the  ruthless  fingers  of  stupid  Olympians. 
Atid  would  any  such  know  how  the  uni- 
verse looks  to  children,  he  is  recommend- 
ed to  see  it  through  the  pages  of 
Golden  Age. 

Virginia  Ytaman  Rtmmtz. 


'  HALF  A  CENTURY  IN  THE  CHURCH  OF 

ENGLAND.* 

The  new  humour  has  invaded  the  min- 
ister's study  and  cuts  its  capers  witli 
fantastic  delight  and  with  the  conceit  of 
a  jc»l!y  good  fellow  thrr>Mgh  the  pages 
of  clerical  reminiscences  which  sprout 
from  the  reverend  gentleman's  "  dead 
leaves  and  living  seeds."  I'loin  t!ie 
contents  of  a  deal  box  marked  "  D.  L.," 
which  properly  means  '*  Deputy  Lieu- 

*  Fifiv  Years ;  or,  Dead  Leaves  and  Living 
.•vieds.  By  Rev.  Harry  JoneS,  M.A.  New  Vork  : 
.Macmillan  &  Co.  $1.50. 


tenant, ■'  but  here  stands  It  "Dead 
Leaves,"  the  Rev.  Harry  Jones  has  dis- 
interred the  '*  jotted  memories  of  a  busy 
life,  though  (however  meaningless  to 
others)  tliey  arc  naturally  the  record  of 
much  that  has  been  keenly  interesting 
to  myself."  "  When  I  dr.iw  a  sheet," 
he  says,  "  from  this  papery  deposit  (as 
I  did  the  other  day),  it  strikes  a  spark 
intothetindi  r  l)i>x  of  recollection,  which 
soon  spreads  itself,  showing  clusters  t»f 
rekindled  aspirations,  experiments,  mis- 
takes, successes,  and  failures  long  past, 
though  luu  e  tiiey  had  their  effect  upon 
the  worker  himself,  let  alone  those 
among  whom  (for  good  or  ill)  he  was 
called  to  work."  But  among  th<*se 
"  dead  leaves"  there  be  some  that  "  re- 
tain enough  unfulfilled  vitality  (in  thv 
shape  of  warning  or  em  ouragement)  to 
deserve  the  name  of  '  living  seeds,.* 
And  I  ask  myself  whether  some  record 
of  efforts  macle,  errors  committed,  and 
impressions  received  during  a  long  min- 
isterial life  might  not  possibly  help  in 
the  steerage  of  two  or  three  younger 
lives,  and  tlitis  encourage  me  in  its  com- 
pilation.   At  any  rate,  I  will  try," 

And  the  result  is  not  without  a  tneas- 
nre  of  success.  Many  will  demur  ;it  (he 
facetious  tone  whicii  a  certain  light  hu- 
mour, sometimes  flippant  but  never  irrev- 
erent, imparts  to  this  interesting  record 
of  half  a  century  in  the  far  from  com- 
monplace biography  of  a  clerical  life. 
The  lavish  use  of  parentheses  which  he 
seems  to  adopt  for  his  "asides"  mars 
almost  on  every  page  a  most  excellent 
vehicle  of  style  for  an  unwearied  gar- 
rulousness  which  is  as  entertaining  as  is 
its  delightful  egoism.  The  result  is  ludi- 
crous at  times,  often  degenerating  to 
mere  smartness,  and  sometimes  confut- 
ing, as  thus  t  **  I  di<l  not  know  so  much 
of  Phillips  Brooks,  whom  I  visited  at 
r?ostnn,  and  who,  t!ie  last  time  1  saw 
him,  communicated  (as  did  also  Dr.  Asa 
Gray),  before  sailing  home  (he  refused 
to  take  any  part  in  the  service)  at  my 
church." 

For  the  nonce,  the  Rev.  Harry  Jones 

throws  aside  the  pn-fix  w  ith  his  clerical 
dignity  and  tlic  stalking-horse  of  sacer- 
dotalism and  steps  out  in  this  volume 
as  a  man  among  men  who  has  some- 
thing interesting  to  say,  not  too  wisely, 
not  too  well,  but  in  the  manner  of  one 
wlio  h.is  i;one  through  a  hard  day's 
work  and  is  now  chatting  amiably  over 
the  nuts  and  wine.    And  the  account 


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A  UTEKAK 

which  the  Rev.  Harry  Jones  (one  can't 
■^ay  plain  "  foncs"  of  a  cleri^vman) 
gives  of  himself  shows  evidence  of 
a  life  of  great  activity  and  ministerial 
indu>lry.  The  variety  of  his  labours 
<ind  the  vicissitudes  of  his  career — from 
preachinj^  to  Californian  miners  in  a 
pine-tree  forest,  to  clergy  at  Lambeth — 
invest  his  experiences  with  a  sort  of  wis- 
dom  which  is  largely  suggestive  if  not 
always  practicable  for  others,  and  which 
also  (Mothfs  his  style  with  an  abundant 
versatility.  One  is  reminded,  rather 
forcibly  sometimes,  of  Coleridge's  meta- 
phor that  e.xp'Tif'Ti.  r  is  like  the  stern 
lamp  of  a  ship,  wiucii  only  sheds  light 
on  the  path  already  traversed.  The 
value  of  the  record  of  any  life  will  al- 
ways be  in  proportion  as  it  contains,  to 
quote  Emerson,  **  the  power  to  inspire/* 
Perhaps  the  paucity  of  this  quality  is  to 
be  remarked  in  the  present  volume,  but 
there  is  a  bracing  air  al>out  it  as  of  one 
whose  lines  iiave  fallen  in  pleasant 
places,  and  whose  life  on  the  whole  has 
t>een  a  success,  which  is  contagious. 
With  all  its  faults — and  they  are  chiefly 
defc< of  style  and  a  tendency  to  take 
things  ligtitly  that  arc  usually  wiMghed 
seriously — it  is  a  most  interesting  and 
unusual  work  in  clerical  autobiography, 
a  work  that  deserves  to  be  widely  read 
if  only  for  its  robust  expression  of  a 
sane  and  healthful  personality. 


h\()\iV.  JUVENILES. 

Since  the  "  bundling  of  the  books"  by 
Mr.  Brooks  in  the  July  Bookman,  severed 
new  publications  have  come  to  hand 
which  will  help  to  eke  out  the  young  peo- 
ple's store  of  summer  reading.  The  first 
volume  of  a  new  series,  the  All-Over-the- 
World  Library,  by  tlie  indefatigable 
Oliver  Optic,  has  just  come  out  in  a  glori- 
ous cover  that  will  make  the  eyes  of  every 
boy  dance  with  purr  delight.  Across 
Jndia  ;  or,  Live  Bo^s  in  the  I'ar  East,  takes 
the  Belgrave  family  to  Bombay  and  Su- 
rah,  and  continues  their  journey  through 
Lahore,  Delhi, Cawnpore,  Lucknow,  and 
Benares*  visiting^  the  scenes  of  the  Sepoy 
Rebellion,  upon  which  and  other  sub- 
jects of  historical  interest  the  author  ex- 
pands in  his  rdle  of  informer-in-ordinary 
to  the  young.  Nor  does  he  fail  to  keep  up 
the  "  thrill"  of  excitement ;  and,  wheth- 


'  JOUKNAL,  s« 

cr  on  land  or  sea,  he  is  always  ready 
with  the  novel  if  incredil)le  element 
which  is  essentially  Optician.  The  story 
is  told  in  his  usualJlltmitable  manner. 
There  are  eight  illustrations — one  of 
them  representing  a  tiger  poised  on  the 
horns  of  a  bull  in  a  highly  realistic  style. 
(Lee  and  Shepard,  $1.25.) 

The  same  publishers  have  just  issued 
a  new  illustrated  story  by  Samuel  Adams 
Drake,  entitled  The  Watch  Fires  of  '76 
($1.25),  which  recounts  the  incidents 
and  vicissitudes  of  various  old  pension- 
ers who  fought  through  the  conflict  of 
the  Revolution.  The  aim  of  the  author 
is  to  tell  the  story  of  the  war  as  experi- 
enced by  the  actual  rank  and  file  of  the 
army,  and  this,  together  with  the  new 
material  and  historical  setting  which 
Colonel  Drake  has  brought  to  his  task, 
gives  his  book  a  novel  n.  I  fresh  interest 
for  boys  who  are  already  well  acquainted 
with  the  history  of  the  Revolution. 
Messrs.  Lee  and  Shepard  also  add  to 
their  War  of  181 2  Series  a  new  volume, 
entitled  The  Boy  Soldiers  0/  18 12  ($1.50), 
by  Everett  T.  Tomlinson,  with  many 
illustrations  by  Shute."  Thomas  Boo- 
/^/^  ($1.50),  a  sort  of  fairy  tale  or  gro- 
tesque, comes  from  the  same  firm.  It 
contains  "  a  complete  enough  account  of 
his  life  and  singular  disappearance/' 
after  many  curious  and  puzzling  *'  inci- 
dents and  accidents,"  soon  after  his 
twenty-first  birthday.  The  suggestion 
of  a  reappearance  on  earth  of  theTitans, 
who  were  banished  to  remote  islands  in 
space  and  to  subterranean  regions,  is 
attempted  in  this  stoiy  after  a  manner 
that  will  amuse  the  older  readers  as  well 
as  the  younger. 

As  a  boy  the  writer  can  remember 
with  what  pleasure  and  avidity  he  read 
biography,  and  especially,  although  la- 
ter in  point  u£  litiic,  Cariyle's  Lj/e  and 
Letters  of  Cromwell.  Messrs.  Harper  and 
Brothers  have  published  a  new  edition 
of  Dr.  George  H.  Clark's  Oliver  Crom- 
well ($1.35),  which  appeared  ori^nally 
in  1893  through  the  D.  Lotlircp  Com 
pany,  and  which  is  well  suited  to  tire  the 
boy  s  love  of  breve  and  manly  acts  of 
courage  and  daring  *'  It  is  a  book  of 
enthusiasm,"  says  Charles  Dudley  War- 
ner in  his  Introduction,  '*  a  warm-heart- 
ed vindication  of  a  great  man,  written 
with  a  clear  .\mericnn  cnmprrhrnsion 
of  the  principles  that  underlay  the  great 
liberating  movement  of  the  seventeenth 
century  in  England.  ...    It  will  be 


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52 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


found  intensely  interesting,  and  will 
awaken  a  glow  of  admiration  for  one  of 
the  most  sturdy  and  indomitable  spirits 
in  history.  Our  sympathy  i>  with  the 
modern  spirit  of  the  Commonwealth, 
and  we  feel  that  its  ruler  was  our  kin." 
Boys  love  these  very  virtues  above  all 
thinj:js  in  tfu  ir  ideals  of  the  "  ^Inrions 
men  of  tight  and  fame,"  and  Cromwell, 
who  in  "  the  list  of  world  heroes  stands 
near  the  top,"  is  the  kind  of  hero  which 
a  boy  will  worship  and  whose  character 
will  reflect  itself  on  his  plastic  nature. 

Sophie  May  knows  the  hearts  and  the 
minds  of  little  children.  This  has  been 
apparent  to  any  readerof  those  volumes — 
to  which  Jimmy  Boy  is  a  worthy  addition 
— in  Little  Prudy's  Children  Series  (I.ee 
and  Shepard).  Jimmy  Boy  is  a  human 
boy,  but  not  one  of  the  obnoxiously  bar- 
barous kind.  lie  possesses  all  the  ten- 
dencies to  do  wrong,  and  the  tempta- 
tions sometimes  are  a  little  too  strong, 
and  lie  succumbs  ;  but  there  is  an  active 
germ  of  honour  in  his  healthy  soul.  He 
is  not  afraid  to  acknowledge  a  fault.  It 
is  a  question  as  to  who  wtU  most  enjoy 


reading  about  the  adventures  of  Jimmy 
Boy,  the  little  folks,  who  will  see  in 
him  a  double  of  themselves  in  many 
ways,  and  appreciate  the  account  of  his 
scrapes,  or  the  "  grown-ups"  who  have 
lived  the  life  that  sometimes  seems  st* 
hard  to  Jimmy  Boy.  The  interest  in 
Jimmy  Boy  never  flags.  He  is  the  <  r.'/c 
small  boy  of  life  in  the  full  health  of  a 
fine  natural  character.  The  title  of  the 
story  may  not  attract  readers  beyond 
twenty  years  of  age,  but  they  should 
certainty  make  the  attempt. 

In  Max  Pemherton's  Thr  /mp) t^^mibiir 
City  ($1.25} — though  not  written  directly 
for  them — boys  will  find  a  pure,  whole- 
some story  of  adventure,  free  from  mod- 
ern cant  and  weariness,  and  full  of  the 
breath  of  healthy  e.x<  itement  and  in- 
trepid daring.  Max  Pemberton  success* 
fully  edited  a  leadinpf  boys"  periodical  in 
England  for  some  years,  and  it  is  inevi- 
table that  one  who  knows  a  boy's  needs 
so  well  should  appeal  through  his  im- 
aginative work  to  the  boy  in  all  of  us. 

An  Otd  Bey. 


NOVEL  NOTES. 


THE  STORY  OF  BESSIE  COSTRELL.  Hv 
Mrs.  Humphry  Ward.  New  York :  MacmilUn 
ft  Co.   7S  cenis. 

Bessie  Costrell  is  the  central  fifi^re  in 

a  story  altogether  different  from  any 
that  Mrs.  VVard  has  written  before. 
Many  critics  have  advised  her  over  and 
over  again  to  give  up  the  popular  so- 
ciaUand-religious-pamphlet  novel,  and, 
whether  at  their  instigation  or  not,  she  has 
entered  another  field.  The  new  story, 
simpler  in  subject,  is  really  far  more  am- 
bitious than  her  former  ones,  for  it  deals 
wirii  a  kind  of  life  where  Mrs.  Ward's 
culture,  and  her  acquaintance  with  the 
ways  of  thought  of  educated  and  in- 
tellectually aspiring  persons,  arc  of  no 
use  at  all.  Knowletlge  of  htimnn  na- 
ture, sympathy  with  what  has  hitherto 
been  outside  her  keenest  interests,  are 
the  requisites  for  success.  To  succeed 
here  is  to  be  a  real  novelist,  as  distin- 
guished from  a  descriptive  reporter  of 
more  or  less  temporary  phases  of  life 
and  thought.    It  is  astonishing  that  the 


wrilerof  KoberiElsmert^d  David  Grinr 

lia«;  succeeded  far  as  she  has  done, 
in  some  important  features  the  book 
must  be  pronounced  distinctly  good. 
There  is  no  tone  (if  patronage  in  it  : 
there  is  no  wailing  over  the  fact  that  the 
villagers  of  Clinton  Magna  have  few  as* 
pirations  after  higher  things.  There  is  a 
philosophical  acceptance  of  life  as  it  fre- 
quently is — stolid,  unideal,  and  sordid-— 
in  any  English  village.  If  surprise  at  this 
be  offensive  to  Mrs.  Ward's  admirers, 
let  our  hearty  acknowled^ent  of  her 
now  proven  humanity  serve  as  apology. 
The  writing,  too,  is,  we  think,  the  best 
she  has  put  into  a  work  of  fiction  ;  it 
is  more  compressed,  more  vigorous, 
and,  especially  where  scener)'  has  to  be 
described,  more  artibiically  effective 
than  she  has  led  us  to  expect  from  her. 
Nevertheless,  we  lay  down  the  book 
with  deep  dissatisfaction.  What  did 
she  write  it  for  ?  What  else  docs  it  give 
in  the  end  but  gratuitous  pain  '  Bessie 
Costrell  is  a  village  woman  who  is  given 


» 

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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


53 


an  old  man's  savings  to  guard,  i  hey  are 
considerable  in  amount.   She  steals  the 

mtmcv,  sovereign  bv  sovereip^n,  and 
drinks  and  treats  her  neighbours,  and 
when  all  is  found  out,  she  commits  sui- 
cide. The  tale  has  its  possibilities.  But 
to  make  it  a  tragedy  our  pity,  our  sympa- 
thy, or  our  indignation  must  be  roused. 
Temptation,  resistance,  final  surrender, 
remorse,  struggle,  and  despair,  are  almost 
the  inevitable  course  of  the  writer  who 
could  make  us  regard  this  as  anything 
save  a  sordid,  commonplace  talc.  Bnt 
Mrs.  Ward's  Bessie  Costrell  i,cems  only  a 
woman  with  intemperate  instincts  and  a 
weak  intellect,  whi)  succumbs  with  great 
ease  to  an  unlucky  opportunity,  and 
who  kills  herself  because  she  is  afraid  of 
the  policeman.  A  kind  of  feeble  love 
for  her  children  she  has,  and  some  awe 
of  her  stem  husband  ;  but  of  grief  for 
her  degradation,  or  of  understandinc^ 
how  she  has  made  shipwreck  of  an  old 
man's  life,  not  a  glimmerinj^.  Tragedy 
for  the  world  there  may  be  in  this  very 
poverty  of  nature,  but  it  is  of  a  kind  best 
covered  over,  for  it  hardly  once  stirs 
within  us  the  ^nriiymf^  moods  of  pity, 
of  indignation,  or  of  sorrow. 

AN  ERR.ANT  WOOING.    By  Constance  C«ry 
Harriaoo.  N«w  York :  The  Ceotarjr  Co.  9i«50b 

Were  An  Errant  H'of/ni;  from  another 
pen  than  Mrs.  Harrison's  it  would  be 
easier  to  review.  But  a  book  which  is 
not  a  first  one  must  be  measured  more 
or  less  by  the  author's  former  work, 
and  this  falls  far  short  of  the  standard 
established  by  TAe  Anj^/ofnamdts^  Sweet 
Bells  out  of  Til II (\  and  Bachelor  Mai<f. 
It  bears,  indeed,  marlu  of  immaturity 
that  are  wholly  unaccountable,  in  view 
of  the  large  amount  of  finished  work 
which  the  writer  has  published.  They 
come  near  to  conveying  an  impression 
that  it  may  possibly  be  a  first  novel, 
after  all,  be^un,  if  not  completed,  be- 
fore the  auiluir'i,  recent  exceileni  liter- 
ary manner  was  formed.  Nor  is  the 
treatment  of  the  theme  more  tinlike 
Mrs.  Harrison's  usual  methods  than  is 
the  selection  of  such  a  subject ;  for  the 
most  distinctive  charm  of  lier  work  has 
hitherto  been  its  freshness,  its  pre  emi- 
nent modernity.    This  is  entirely  miss* 

ing  in  Errant   W'voirt^,  a  rommon- 

piace  love-story  loosely  hung  on  the 
frayed  thread  of  foreign  travel.  And 
yet — no  matter  how  clear  the  conviction 


of  the  aulhi>r'i»  indiscretion — one  is 
forced  to  admire  the  courage  of  an  at- 
tempt to  describe  hard-beaten  European 
highways,  now  that  every  one  travels 
and  every  one  writes.  True,  Mrs.  Har. 
rison  has  done  it  nncommonlv  well. 
The  description  of  the  bull -tight  is  par- 
ticularly fine.  Bnt  fancy  trying  to  say 
anything  about  a  Inill-fiijht  that  has  not 
been  already  said  !  And  then  in  follow- 
ing the  espada  and  the  tttreaiors  through 
eight  or  ten  pages,  the  lovers  fade  com- 
pletely out  of  sight.  They  are  never  seen 
very  distinctly,  for  that  matter.  One  does 
not  come  face  to  face  with  them  through^ 
out  the  protjress  of  the  story.  The  char- 
acteri.sation  is  so  imperfect,  and  liie  tran- 
sition from  one  country  to  another  so  be- 
wildering, thatthereadermustfairly  rush 
after  the  travellers  to  catch  even  glimpses 
of  them  amidst  tiie  fo^  of  London  and 
the  dust  of  Madrid.  Sir  Piers,  the  elder- 
ly lover,  appeal^  at  this  long  range  to  be 
a  blond  and  amiable  sort  of  Rochester. 
Roger  WoodbiMv,  the  young  man,  is 
altogether  vague  ;  and  the  dark  and  the 
fair  maidens  to  whom  the  fair  man  and 
the  dark  man  arc  suitors  seem  more 
unreal  and  shadowy,  if  possible,  than 
the  men.  All  the  characters  talk  clev- 
erly, and  now  and  then  say  bright  and 
amusing  things,  which  are  eminently 
characteristic  of  the  author,  but  not  in 
the  least  so  of  themselves;  quite  the 
contrary.  "  Roger  might  as  well  want 
to  domesticate  Bartholdi's  Statue  of 
Liberty  as  to  marry  that  massive  Bn^- 
lish  girl,"  says  old  Mr,  Woodburv,  who 
cannot  possibly  have  said  anything  of 
the  kind,  beings  what  he  is.  And  the 
[fhilosophic  and  rather  pessimistic  views 
expressed  by  Polly  do  not  at  all  har- 
monise with  the  dim  impression  of  that 
young  woman's  individuality. 

The  principal  shortcoming  of  the 
work  may  possibly  lie  in  its  having  been 
miscalled  a  novel.  W  ith  the  shadows 
who  aimlessly  }>ervade  it  left  out,  it 
would  be  a  charming  book  ol  travel, 
with  interesting  side-l%hts  on  European 
society.  .\s  it  now  stands,  it  is  merely 
another  of  the  many  unsuccessful  at- 
tempts to  write  an  international  novel. 
Since  Mr.  Henry  James  first  made  it 
the  vogue  several  years  ago  he  has  had 
many  followers,  with  ever-diminishing 
success.  But  it  is  singular  that  among 
those  who  met  defeat  in  this  field  should 
be  Mrs.  Harrison,  who  has  won  such 
notable  succi»ses  at  home. 


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54 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


CHTMMIE   PADDEN   EXPLAINS.  MAJOR 

MAX  EXPOUNDS.  New  York  I  ndt 
Coryell  &  Co.    Cloth,  $i.oo  ;  paper.  50  cents. 

To  have  written  a  book  of  which  fifty 
thousand  copies  have  been  sold  in  less 
than  six  montlis  is  the  enviable  fortimr 
of  the  crcalur  of  Chimmte  Faddcn.  We 
say  "creator"  advisedly,  for  Chimmie 
may  "ot  be  altojajethcr  unknown  ro  us 
as  a  type  ;  but  it  was  left  lo  this  keen 
student  of  human  nature  to  develop  his 
character  and  "shoot  the  sou!"  into  tlu- 
Bowery  boy.  When  the  first  series  ap- 
peared in  book  form  we  saw  the  possi- 
bilities of  .i  l^^eat  popularity  in  It,  and 
under  ^um  iitorUs  in  the  March  Book- 
mam  we  reviewed  the  book  at  length  and 
pointed  out  its  characteristics,  and 
weighed  its  merits  and  demerits.  As 
the  second  series  sustains  the  interest  of 
the  first  in  equal  measure,  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  go  into  elaborate  criticism  again. 
Those  who  have  made  Chimmie's  ac- 
quaintance in  the  first  volume  will  wish 
to  renew  it  in  the  second,  and  those 
who  read  the  second  volume  for  the  first 
time  will  resort  to  the  previous  book ; 
indeed,  we  l)elieve  that  the  publication 
t>f  the  second  scries  has  stimulated  the 
sale  of  the  author's  initial  work.  In  the 
down-town  section  of  N'ew  York  we  no- 
tice that  the  first  series  of  Chimmie  Fad- 
den  ranks  among  the  six  best  selling 
books  of  the  past  month. 

Chimmie  is  still  chasing  after  "  dat 
bull  pup,"  and  smuggling  "  small  bots" 
for  Mr.  Paul.  But  it  is  the  presence  of 
innate  gentleness  and  cliivaln'  in  the 
rough-bred  Bowery  lati  evoked  by  Miss 
Fannie  which  again  touches  us  most 
deeply.  Itven  in  Chimmie  we  think  of 
Tennyson's  line  without  inciingruity  : 

"  Wc  needs  musi  love  Ihc  highest  when  we  see  it.  " 

And  it  is  this  fine  trait  in  the  tenement 
lad — the  compelling  Ix'Iict'  in  the  exist- 
ence of  the  inhc-rent  quality  of  gentle- 
man "beyond  the  barbed-wire  fence" — 
for  which  we  arc  most  grateful  in  Mr, 
Townsend's  work.  We  must  content 
otirselves  with  citinix  one  instance  from 
"  The  Wedding  of  .Miss  l  annie"  : 

"  I  never  Seed  no  rr.il  .uiKt  l^.  Imt  I  ^;uess  if 
(it'v'.'~  as  beautiful  as  I  hear  tell.  (Ir-n  dey  tiiusi 
look  like  .Miss  Fannie  when  Mr.  Burton  stepped 
up  and  took  her  from  her  fadder.  I  WHS  linkin 
as  I  looked  at  ber  tru  de  palm  trees  dat  I  bad 
lomeiing  t'  do  wid  bringia'  dew  togcddcr,  and 
ilat  if  Mr.  Burton  wasn't  good  t'  Miss  Fannie  I'd 
put  a  knock-out  pill  in  his  cockuil.  .  .  . 

"  When  dey  come  back,  t  says,  says  I :  '  How 


de  do.  Miss  Fannie?*  t  says,  and  de  Duchess 

she  calls  me  down  hard.  '  She  is  Madame 
KurlonR.'  savs  de  Duchess,  looking  like  shed 
take  a  fall  ouiter  mr. 

"Say.  what  do  you  tink  Miss  Fannie  says? 
.She  s  :i  dead  sport.  She  says  :  '  I'd  radder  be 
Miss  Fannie  t'  Ch.imcs,'  she  says,  like  dat,  sec-?" 

"  Major  Max  Expounds"  through  sev- 
eral chapters  in  Which  we  are  regaled 
with  his  cynical  wit  and  worldly  wisdom 
tinged  with  bonhomie^  and  a  few  other 
stories  eke  out  the  book  ;  but  when 
"Chimmie  Fadden  Explains"  and  makes 
his  exit,  the  lights  have  gone  out  for  us 
and  the  rest  is  a  vain  show. 

THE  VEILED  DOCTOR.     By  Varina  Anne 

ieSeraon  Davis.  New  York  :  Harper  k  Bim. 
1.25. 

The  I  died  Doctor,  having  been  written 
by  Miss  Varina  Anne  Jefferson  Davis,  will 
probably  have  some  sale  in  the  South  ; 
otherwise  it  is  a  most  unpleasant  stor)-, 
which  the  author  seems  to  have  had  no 
reason  for  writing,  and  which  there  is 
surely  no  reason  that  any  sane  person 
should  ever  care  to  read.  The  hero, 
Dr.  Wiclcford,  after  trials  and  troubles 
manifold  with  his  wife,  develops  cancer 
of  the  face,  and  to  avoid  her  ridicule  and 
the  comments  of  his  neighbours,  hides 
himself  from  the  world  behind  a  veil  of 
black  crape.  At  the  approach  of  death 
he  retires  into  his  sanctum,  and  inartimlo 
mortis  rises  and  attires  himself  in  his  best 
suit  of  black  broadcloth,  and  so  passe? 
away  into  the  unknown,  to  the  immense 
relief  of  everybody,  includin|r  the  uafor> 
tunate  reader.  The  scene  is  supposed 
to  be  a  town  which  even  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  century  was  behind  the 
times  ;  but  there  is  no  attempt  at  local 
colour  except  that  the  heroine  says  occa- 
sionally, "  O  la  and  once  "  vastly," 
otherwise  the  time  might  have  been  any 
time  and  the  place  anywhere.  But  one 
resents  most  of  all,  perhaps,  that  in  an 
avowedly  Southern  story  the  characters 
should  be  without  exception  so  thor- 
oughly second  or  even  third-rate,  and  so 
unmitigatedly  commonplace  ;  one  might 
pardon  the  absence  of  anything  inter- 
esting in  the  plot  or  characters,  but 
surely  Miss  Davis  ought  to  know  what  is 
com^fnaMe.  We  can  forgive  her  for  mak- 
ing lier  heroine  a  fool  and  a  liar,  and 
her  hero  a  prig  ;  but  we  submit  that,  as 
a  Southern  gentleman,  he  need  not  also 
have  been  a  brute.  "  l^erhaps  'twas  as 
well  you  rejected  my  love,**  '*  Madame 
Wickford"  might  well  have  said  to  him. 


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A  UTEKAKY  JOURNAL, 


55 


*'  but  wljy  should  you  kick  ine  tiuwa 
stairs  ?**   Ah»  why  indeed  ! 

ON  THE  POlSJr     By  Nathan  Haskell  Dole. 
Boston  :  Joseph  Knight  Co.  $i.oo. 

Ab  the  vitiated  air  of  a  ball-room,  full 
of  the  great  unwashed — we  mean  a  ten- 
cent  ball-room,  of  course — to  the  keen 
sou4h  wind  coming  across  "  leagues  of 
ice-cold  brine,"  so  is  Miss  Davis's  mor- 
bid production  to  Mr.  Dole's  On  the 
Point.  The  precise  genp^raphica!  habita- 
tion and  name  of  the  Point,  the  autiiur, 
with  his  usual  delicious  inconsequence 
— or  the  simulation  tliereof — has  omitted 
to  record  ;  but  it  doesn't  matter  ;  we 
are  enjoying  ourselves  and  him  so  much 
thai  nothing  matters.  Mr.  Dole  is  best 
known  to  the  world  as  the  translator  of 
Tolstoy,  and  as  a  very  charming  lyric 
poet  ;  in  this  volume  he  reveals  himself 
as  the  Pepys  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
only  with  a  remarkable  absence  of  self- 
conceit,  a  better  subject  and  a  finer  per> 
sonality.  There  is  some  attempt  at  dis- 
guise in  this  little  summer  Idyll  of  the 
autobiographical  character  of  the  Mr. 
Merritliew  who  tells  the  story  of  how  he 
and  his  family  occupied  the  governor's 
cottagre  "  On  the  Point ;"  how  they  ar- 
rived in  the  rain,  with  considerably 
more  baggage  than  the  traditional  "  big 
box,  little  box,  bandbox  and  bundle ; 
how  the  lighthouse  keeper  took  a  pessi- 
mistic view  of  their  chances  of  ever  get- 
ting anything  to  eat ;  and  how  they  set 
at  naught  his  predictions  and  fared 
sumptuously  every  day.  And  no  doubt 
many  of  the  incidents  and  all  tl>e  ro- 
mance are  pure  invention  ;  nevertheless, 
never  was  an  anth  .r's  personality  more 
clearly  revealed  ih.m  by  the  very  at- 
tempt at  hiding  it  !    Like  Tennyson's 

Old  Year,"  Mr.  Merrithew  is  "  full  of 
knavish  quips;"  he  is  also  given  to 
paronomasia  in  all  possible  languages. 
The  provokint^ness  of  him  comes  out 
about  as  clearly  as  anywhere,  when  he 
suggests  to  his  wife,  who  is  bemoaning 
the  refusal  c)f  the  captain  of  the  steamer 
to  stop  at  the  Point  for  thetn,  because  they 
cannot  supply  the  requisite  number  of 
full-pay  passengers — that  they  shall 
defer  the  trip  until  the  two  yonntjest 
children  are  grown  I  which  would  ccr 
tainly  settle  the  difficulty.  Better,  how- 
ever, tf>  be  absurd  than  ill  tempered  ; 
and  the  narrator  doesn't  at  all  object  to 
representing  himself  as  the  hero  of  a 


ludicrous  situation,  as  witness  his  famous 
efforts  to  '*  hitch  up." 

Vet  there  is  somcthinj^  more  in  the 
book  than  mere  wit,  or  even  Pepysian 
discursiveness ;  the  childlike  love  of  na- 
ture and  of  freedom  from  conventional- 
ity, and  the  general  freshness,  spon- 
taneity, and  wholesomeness  of  the  book 
are  based  on  something  sweeter  and 
stronger.  The  two  romances  are  very 
effectively  contrasted  ;  and  the  tragedy 
of  one  is  tenderly  handled.  Wr  are  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  author  is  going 
to  do  great  things  in  a  line  of  his  own 
yet  to  be  discovered  ;  meanwhile,  he  has 
done  a  very  pleasant  thing  in  taking  us 
with  him  for  a  summer  "  On  the  Point," 
And  we  must  not  omit  to  say  that  the 
book  is  small  enough  to  slip  comfort- 
ably into  a  coat  pocket ;  that  it  is 
icsthelically  bound,  with  a  cover  design 
of  a  wind- tossed  maiden  holding  on  to 
her  liat  in  quite  a  realistic  style,  and 
tiiatiiis  illustrated  delicately,  we  fancy, 
from  photographs  taken  on  the  spot. 

A  M.'VDU.NNA  OF  THE  ALl'S.  Translmcil 
from  the  German  of  H  Schultze  Smidt  by  Na- 
than Haskell  Dole.  With  photogravure  (rontts- 
ptoce.   Boston :  Little,  Brown  9.  Co.  |i.s$* 

Among  writers  of  fiction  who  have 

been  recently  rising  into  prominence  in 
Germany,  the  author  of  this  story,  we 
are  told,  has  a  distinguished  place.  If 
so  it  is  not  so  much,  we  should  imag- 
ine, by  reason  of  his  constructive  skill 
in  making  a  story  as  by  the  charming 
atmosphere  in  which  he  bathes  it.  The 
morbid  appetite  for  excitement  in  plot 
and  incident  will  find  nothing  here  to 
whet  its  voracity  upon,  but  there  is  in- 
stead a  quiet  domestic  tr;igedy  played 
among  the  eternal  hills  .uui  ever  beauti- 
ful regions  around  the  Lago  di  Oarda 
on  the  Italian  border,  which  exists  for 
the  sake  of  introducing  us  to  some  de- 
lightful pictures  of  Italian  landscape 
and  characteristics.  The  tale  itself,  with 
the  strutting  figure  of  Felice  Calluno 
and  the  woman  of  heroics,  his  wife,  is  a 
trifle  melodramatic  on  its  som!>re  side, 
but  when  these  two  are  out  of  view  and 
the  valleys  resound  instead  with  the 
laughter  and  songs  of  the  young  artists, 
all  life  is  gay  and  glad  with  their  per- 
vasive and  ineffable  youth.  It  Is  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  this  is  a  transiati(»n 
from  the  German  and  not  from  the 
Italian,  so  redolent  is  it  of  the  sunny 
south,  so  warm  in  its  colouring,  so  deli- 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


cate  and  subtle  in  its  appreciation  ol 
the  veiy  spirit  of  Italian  life.   After  all, 

the  charm  of  these  pages  lies  in  thu 
warm,  impetuous  rusJi  of  sweet,  lusty 
youth  in  its  heyday  of  three>aniI-tweoty 

summers  entering  fur  the  first  time 
u^n  the  land  of  its  aspirations,  inspired 
with  the  true  fervour  of  art.  Only 
once,  indeed,  are  you  a  lusty  lad,  fresh 
in  heart,  free  from  rare,  overflowlncj 
with  happiness,  hlarlin^  oft  wilii  un- 
spoiled vigour  on  one  of  the  roads  that 
lead  to  Rome ! 

THE   MASTER-KNOT   AND  "ANOTHER 
STORY."  By  Cooovvr  Dnir. 

KAFIR  STORIES.    By  William  Charles  Scully. 

New  York  :  Hcniy  Holt  Si.  Co.    75  cent* 

Two  more  volumes  have  been  added 
to  the  attractive  Buckram  Series.  These 

dainty  specimens  of  the  bookmaker's 
art  have  nothing  superfluous  about  them. 
Unstinted  praise  cannot  be  given,  how- 
ever, to  the  contents  of  these  volumes. 
"The  Master-Knot,"  a  story  told  in  a 
series  of  letters,  comes  to  an  unsatisfac- 
tory end.  The  reader  is  led  to  believe 
by  an  epilogue  that  the  incidents  nar- 
rated arc  true,  and  the  conclusion  w  ould 
seem  to  verify  the  facts.  Tlie  style  and 
characteristics  displayed  in  the  letters 
are  not  convincing  enough  to  be  natural, 
and  so  painful  is  the  conclusion  that  the 
advisability  of  imbliahing  these  epistles 
is  questionable. 

In  "  Another  Story,"  also  told  in  let- 
ters, there  is  more  to  entertain.  The 
author  shows  power  of  discernment,  and 
occasionally  rises  to  the  humorous. 
Especially  is  this  true  in  the  letters  of 
the  women.  The  style  is  racy  and  pos- 
sesses the  element  that  attracts.  Tiie 
story  reflects  a  phase  of  upper  New 
York  City  life.  The  concltision  is  a 
little  startling,  but  does  not  violate 
one's  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  as 
does  "  The  Master-Knot." 

Had  Mr.  Scully  linked  his  short 
Kafir  Talts  together  as  accounts  of  real 
events  in  South  Africa,  the  vnhtme 
would  possess  a  value  which  in  its 
present  form  is  lacking.  Mr.  Scully 
writes  with  a  large  familiarity  with  his 
subject.  But  the  narratives  do  not 
amuse— in  fact,  so  full  are  they  of  reve- 
lations of  the  barbarous  and  the  brutal, 
that  they  are  almost  revolting.  They 
would  be  wholly  so  were  it  not  for  the 
fact  that  the  human  mind  is  prone  to  be 


fascinated  by  the  cruel  in  narrative  form. 
But  bare  records  of  saiwges  wallowing 

in  bloodshed  and  beast-like  brutality 
have  uo  place  in  the  entertaining  func- 
tion of  fiction.    All  the  world  is  not 

composed  of  a  eollection  of  Mark  Tajj- 
leys.  If  it  were  Kafir  TaUs  would  be 
eagerly  welcomed. 

r)0(  -lOK  (iR.AY  S  Ql'F-.ST.     Hv   Franci.<«  U. 
Underwood.    Boston:  Lee  &  Shepard.  $175. 

A  nielanelioly  interest  is  attarlied  to 
this  work,  as  it  was  tiie  last  book  which 
the  late  Dr.  Underwood  wrote— indeed 
he  had  but  completed  it  a  few  days  be- 
fore his  death.  Dr.  Underwood  was 
never  po]<ular  as  a  novelist,  he  lacked 
some  of  the  essential  cpialities  necessary 
to  the  compounding  of  a  work  of  fiction, 
especially  did  he  lack  the  kind  of  imagi- 
nation which  renders  credibly  and 
clearly  the  personalities  of  its  characters, 
while  it  withdraws  that  of  the  author. 
It  is  true  that  in  his  novels  we  have 
sympathy  with  humanity,  an  intelli- 
gence of  obscure  virtue  and  endurance, 
and  an  ear  for  the  clash  of  spiritual 
armies  ;  but  in  none  of  his  novels  are 
these  qualities  put  to  such  excellent  use 
as  in  his  QuaMim.  For  obvious  reasons 
QuahMn  just  missed  doing  for  New  Eng- 
land what  A  IVindtno  in  Thrums  ha» 
done  for  Scotland  ;  the  latter  b  an  im- 
mortal hook,  because  it  is  a  work  of 
genuine  power  and  sympathy  that  comes 
with  genius  as  well  as  with  knowl- 
edge. Quabbin  will  long  remain  a  book 
to  be  remembered  and  read  again,  but 
it  lost  its  chance,  because  Dr.  Under- 
wood, with  all  the  wealth  of  close  obser- 
vation which  he  contributed  to  it,  was 
mure  a  man  of  literary  instincts  tlian 
of  literary  power. 

Doctor  Cray  s  Quest  shows  the  thought- 
ful and  informing  side  of  its  author, 
but  the  marks  of  a  painful,  painst«dcing 
literary  industry  and  literary  finesse  ar  • 
over  it  all.  The  characters  are  drawn 
with  considerable  ingenuity,  and  the 
backi^round  is  well  fdled  in  with  pic- 
turesque descriptions  of  the  domestic 
life  of  Little  Canaan  and  with  historic 
pictures  of  New  England.  Dr.  Gray's 
search  for  proof  of  the  innocence  of 
Florian's  father  is  the  mainspring  of 
the  story,  but  intermingling  with  this 
there  are  many  delij^htful  incidents  and 
episodes  which  alford  elucidation  of  the 
Yankee  character  and  wit. 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


57 


DIPLOMATIC  mSENCHANTMENTS.  By 
Edith  fifgelow.  New  York :  Harper  &  Bros. 
♦i.«5. 

Despite  the  trivial  nature  and  many 
faults  of  this  small  novel,  with  its  awk- 
ward though  descriptive  title,  it  teaches 
several  wliolesome  lessons.  Briefly,  it 
is  the  story  of  a  professor  of  political 
economy  in  a  New  England  university, 
who  rt-Leivcs  through  a  relalive  of  his 
ambitious  wife  the  appointment  of  min- 
ister to  Germany,  and  goes  to  Berlin 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  daughter,  and 
niece.  The  history  of  these  not  espe- 
cially interesting  people,  who  are  lifted 
from  their  natural  background  into  the 
glitter  of  European  life,  fortunately 
lasts  but  six  months.  However,  they 
give  the  author  opportunity  to  tell  the 
world  the  many  thinp;;s  she  knows  about 
the  functions,  etiquette,  social  experi- 
ences, and  types  of  character  in  Ber- 
lin. 

Mrs.  Higelow  has  been  very  successful 
in  drawing  the  character  of  a  Hungarian 

actor  endowed  with  genius  and  powers 
of  fascination,  though  cold  and  selfish 
of  nature,  *'  neither  a  villain  nor  a  saint. 
He  liked  to  be  loved,  without  too  many 
demands  of  reciprocity  being  made  on 
him.  His  life  was  decent  and  full  of 
arduous  effort,  and  his  love  of  his  art 
was  the  finly  real  passion  of  which  h  ■ 
was  capable.  He  did  not  make  it  ins 
business  to  make  fools  of  women,  but 
somehow,  almost  without  his  intending 
it,  he  caused  women  to  make  fools  of 
themselves." 

There  are  many  episodes  whirl)  are 
decidedly  commonplace,  and  such  hack- 
neyed and  inelegant  expressions  as 
"  unfeignedly  glad,"  "  stately  form," 
"  attenuated  diet, "'  "  she  had  come  up  from 
Seabright"  (to  New  York),  "  patterns 
of  manly  beauty  rolled  into  one,"  "it 
could  only  be  opined,"  frequently  star- 
tle and  antagonise  the  reader.  The  lit- 
tle story  shows,  however,  how  impos> 
sible  it  is  for  Americans  of  a  certain 
type  and  education  to  harmonise  with 
life  in  the  Old  World,  and  one  is  glad 
to  find  tliis  family  of  simple  tastes  re- 
turning to  the  shade  of  its  own  clni-tree, 
richer  and  not  embittered  by  ex  peri- 
cnce,  with  the  knowledge  that  their  de- 
sire for  diplomatic  and  social  advance- 
ment was  out  a  mirage,  and  ready  to 
begin  anew  and  with  a  greater  sense  of 
its  value,  the  old  life  to  which  they  were 
adapted. 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  gUEST.    By  Adeline 
Scigeant.    N«w  York :  D.  Applelon  tt  Co 
Cloth,  fi.oo  ;  paper,  50  cts. 

Quest  is  a  farm-place  in  the  iiortli  '  f 
England,  and  its  mistress  is  a  strong- 
minded,  deep-hearted  young  woman 
who  has  grown  up  on  it  witli  her  gran  !- 
father,  and  at  his  death  inherits  its  man- 
agement. With  her  healthy  beauty  and 
healthy  ways  and  strong  sense.  priiiL; 
pie,  and  feeling,  she  represents  rural 
life  at  its  best,  in  contrast  to  her  sickly, 
flaccid,  luxury-loving  but  beautiful  half- 
sister,  who  h  is  been  brought  up  in  Lon- 
don. The  ucightiuuriiig  squire,  a  good 
type  of  countr>'  gentleman  with  a  long 
pedigree,  falls  in  love  with  the  mistress 
of  Quest,  and  she  with  him.  This  initi- 
ates the  prolonged  double  trial  of  her 
life  which  the  novel  admirably  describes. 
For,  first  of  all,  the  mistress  of  Quest, 
knowing  that  Lady  Adela,  the  squire's 
mother,  would  not  like  to  see  him  marry 
a  farmer,  disguises  her  love  and  sacri- 
fices herself;  and  then,  her  half-sister 
appearing  on  the  scene,  detaches  her 
lover,  and  for  a  time  appropriates  him. 
The  course  of  events  by  which  things 
are  righted  is  finely  conceived.  The 
mistress  of  Quest  is  a  welcome  addition 
to  the  Women  of  ticliun. 

IK    DEACON'S    ORDERS,    AND  OTHER 
STORIES.    By  Waller  Besam.   New  York: 

Harper  it  Bros,  $1.25. 

.\  Volume  of  short  stories  by  Mr.  IJe- 
sant  is  always  full  of  variety  and  of 
pleasantness.  Some  of  those  here  are 
more  or  less  satires  on  modern  failings. 
"In  Deacon's  Orders,"  the  mania  of 
religiosity  is  held  up  to  scorn  in  its  not 
infrequent  alliance  with  depravity  ;  while 
in  "  The  Equal  Woman,"  Mr.  Besant 
abjures,  for  the  moment,  his  usual  good- 
natured  strictures  on  female  claims,  and 
gives  a  wholesome  glimpse  of  at  least 
one  woman  superior,  even  mentally,  to 
one  individual  man.  There  is  little 
comfort,  liowever,  in  the  ston,-,  as  the 
particular  man  was  an  unmitigated  fool. 
"  Peer  and  Heiress"  is  a  good  example 
of  his  agreeable  story  ;  "In  Three 
Weeks"  is  a  somewhat  poor  specimen  of 
his  unpleasant  variety.  But  in  all  these, 
and  in  the  others,  are  visible  the  au- 
thor's knack  of  happy  ingenuity,  and 
his  way  of  cleverly  turning  the  possibili- 
ties and  impossibilities  that  run  through 
his  brain  into  a  means  of  comfortably 
whiling  away  his  reader's  spare  time. 


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58 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


IN  LIGHTER  VblN. 

No  less  than  four  different  transla- 
tions, issued  by  as  many  publishing 
houses,  appeared  almost  simultaneously 
of  "  Gyp's"  Le  Mariage  de  Chiffon^  which 
in  itself  is  surely  a  token  that  Uiere  is 


GYP. 

Co««T«-ssii  nt  M*mtu 

something  wortli  reading  here.  L'nder 
the  title  Ckift*m*s  Jfarriai^'r,  the  Messrs. 
Stokes  :  Hurst  and  Company  ;  and  Lov- 
ell.  Corj-cll  and  Company  have  pub- 
lisheil  this  latest  romance  of  French  so- 
ciety at  a  uniform  rate  of  fifty  cents, 
bound  in  cloth;  the  Brentanos  brinijing  it 
out  in  tlu'ir  NLKlcni  Lite  Librar\\  under 
the  editorial  supervision  of  M.  Henri 
IVne  du  Bois  as  G\!.'.':\  Gi'^!  (price. 
$1.25^  with  artistic  cover  design  by  Scol- 
s«>n-Clark.  Messrs.  Lovell.  Coryell  and 
Cv^mp;iny*s  eviition  contains  a  fr^mtis- 
piece  portrait  herewith  reproduced.  A 
$ifnii"Cant  fact  is  that  the  Messrs. 
Slv^kcs's  is  the  only  edition  which 
claims  to  be  authorised  as  well  as  cc»py- 
righted.  the  translation,  it  is  said,  hav< 
\tig  received  the  enthusiastic  appn>val 


of  the  Comtesse  dc  Martcl  (Gyp).  As 
the  work  of  French  authors  is  recognised 
by  the  International  Copyright,  we  are 
curious  as  to  the  reflection  which  this 
throws  on  the  enterprise  of  the  others. 

Chiffons  Miirriai^f  makt-s  the  secon<l 
volume  of  the  Messrs.  Stokes's  Bijou 
Series,  of  which  F.  C.  Philips's  A  Ques- 
ts >t  of  Colour  was  the  first.  They  are 
daintily  bound  in  buckram,  printed  in 
clear,  readable  type,  and  contain  illus- 
trations.  The  series  is  an  imitation  of 
the  Messrs.  Holt's  Hnckram  Series — ^we 
prefer  the  latter — l)ut  tlic  dilference  in 
price  will  be  a  consideration. 

Corona  of  thf  Nantahalas,  by  Louis 
Pendleton,  is  a  romantic  little  drama 
played  by  a  solitary  American  girl  with 
onlv  an  unlettered  couple  and  a  deaf 
mute  for  company,  and  a  dangerous 
young  journalist,  among  the  wilds  of  a 
Southern  State.  It  presents  the  inevita- 
ble clash  of  cultured  simplicity  with  the 
conventions  of  nineteenth-century  dv- 
ilisatton — the  conflict  between  Hellenic 
ideals  and  the  complex  ways  of  modem 
life.  The  story  is  told  effectively,  and 
there  isan  idyllic  flavour  in  it  which  some- 
tiroes  almost  makes  us  fall  out  with  the 
author  for  preferring  the  form  which  he 
has  made  tlie  story  take. — Industrious 
Lydia  Hoyt  Farmer  has  made  the  Mcr- 
riam  Company  responsible  for  another 
new  book,  which  is  a  medley  of  satire, 
hum-'ur,  and  preachment,  marked  by 
shrewd  wit,  keen  observation,  and  broad 
characterisation.  Certain  New  York 
perioiliials  have  already  made  us  ac- 
quainted with  the  bulk  of  Aunt  Belimdys 
Pointi*/  Viev  and  A  Mciern  Mrs.  Mala' 
prop.  The  latter  lady,  *'  though  no  ton- 
noisseur  in  morals,"  prides  herself  "on 
being  a  bon  xivant  in  devotion,"  thinks 
Paris  '*  the  most  godly  city  in  unright- 
eousness." makes  Plato  responsible  for 
the  well-known  French  remark,  "  Aprii 
nous  le  dilute:"  and  Socrates  for  the 
words.  "  1  ought  to  ha\  e  died  at  Water- 
loo I"  whde  she  proposes  a  toast  in  the 
immortal  words  of  Napoleon  :  "  An- 
tiquity will  do  us  justice."  Mrs.  Mala- 
prop  is  just  a  trifle  far-fetched  some- 
times, but  the  reader  will  get  a  good 
deal  .^t  fun  out  of  her  bumptious  mis- 
takes and  crass  ignorance  dressed  in 
seeming  knowledge.— 7W  Women  ;  ♦r, 
Chtr  :  '-.(  Hills  a*J  Far  Au  ay,  by  LidaOs- 
Irom  Vanamee,  with  a  pK>rtrait  of  one 
of  them  ^is  it  the  author  ?)  is  also  pub- 
lished by  the  Meniam  Company,  and 


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A  LITF.KAKY  JOURNAL 


59 


is  designed  to  float  the  idle  moments  of 
an  idle  hour  lightly  down  the  summer 
tide.  The  writer  will  be  known  to 
some  readers  as  the  author  of  a  previous 
storj'.  An  Adirondack  Idyll.  These  three 
booklets  of  light  fiction,  published  by 
the  same  firm,  are  bound  in  cloth,  illus- 
trated, and  are  issued  at  the  uniform 
price  of  seventy-five  cents  per  volume. 

Messrs.  Lovell,  Coryell  and  Company 
have  attempted,  in  reissuing  their  edi- 
tion of  Mr.  Zangwill's  Oid  Maids'  Club, 
to  profit  by  the  interest  of  the  hour  in 
that  writer's  latest  novel.  The  Master. 
It  is  liberally  illustrated  with  comic 
sketches  by  F.  H.  Townsend,  and  to 
those  who  like  this  sort  of  pleasantry 
and  artificial  fun,  it  will  no  doubt  be  a 
welcome  contribution  in  light  literature. 
(Cloth,  $1.25  ;  paper,  50  cents.)  The 
same  firm  have  brought  out  new  editions 
of  Dearest,  by  Mrs.  Forrester  ;  John 
Ford  and  His  Helpmate,  by  Frank  Bar- 
rett ;  and  Oriole' s  Daughter,  by  Jessie 
Fothergill,  in  cloth  at  $1.00,  and  in 
paper  covers,  price,  50  cents.  In  their 
Lakewood  Series  (price,  50  cents)  the 
new  issues  include  Margery  of  Quether, 
by  S.  Baring-Gould  ;  MoriaJ  the  Mahat- 
rna,  by  Mabel  Collins,  the  author  of  thr 
recently  published  novel,  Suggestion  j 
and  The  Island  of  Fantasy,  by  Fergus 
Hume.  Betty  ;  a  Last  Century  Love  Story, 
by  Anna  Vernon  Dorsey,  has  been  added 
to  their  Windermere  Series  of  copyright 
fiction  ;  and  a  fifty-cent  paper  edition  of 
Mr.  Bailey-Martin,  by  Percy  White,  one 
of  the  cleverest  single-volume  novels  of 
the  year  1893,  has  been  issued  in  the  Bel- 
more  Series.  No  one  should  fail  to  read 
Mr.  White's  amusing  satire  of  Surbiton 
and  of  the  social  struggles  of  the  Bailey- 
Martins  ;  we  can  assure  the  reader  that 
he  will  be  highly  entertained  in  a  fash- 
ion, alas  !  too  rare  nowadays. 

The  Cassell  Publishing  Company  send 
us  the  following  paper-covered  novels  at 
50  cents  :  Should  She  Have  Left  Him,  by 
William  C.  Hudson  ;  Jean  Berny,  Stilor, 
by  Pierre  Loti  ;  and  Utterly  Mistaken,  by 
Annie  Thomas  ;  also  a  new  novel  by 
A.  W.  Marchmont,  B.A.,  entitled  Parson 
Thrings  Secret.  (Cloth,  $1.00.)  From 
Robert  Bonner's  Sons  we  have  received 
The  Meredith  Marriage,  by  Harold 
Payne,  and  At  a  Great  Cost,  by  Effie  A. 
Rowlands,  both  illustrated.  (Paper,  50 
cents.)  The  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 
have  brought  out  two  more  volumes  by 
Captain  Charles  King ;  one,  entitled 
Captain  Close  and  Sergeant  Croesus,  is  his 


own  ;  but  Captain  Dreams  and  Other 
Stories  is  a  collection  of  stories  simply 
edited  by  the  indefatigable  Captain. 
(Price,  $1.00.)  Too  Late  Repented,  by 
Mrs.  Forrester,  is  the  latest  accession 
to  the  same  firm's  series  of  Select  Novels. 
A  new  novel,  The  Mistress  of  Quest,  by 
Adeline  Sergeant,  a  favourite  "serial" 
with  popular  British  periodicals,  has  been 
added  to  the  Messrs.  Appleton's  Town 
and  Country  Library  (price,  50  cents), 
also  George  Gissing's  masterly  piece  of 
realism,  ///  the  Year  of  Jubilee,  which 
was  reviewed  by  us  (V^ol.  I.,  p.  122)  from 
the  Knglish  edition  a  few  months  ago. 

The  Arena  Publishing  Company  send 
us  /'//<•  Mystery  of  Evelin  Delorme,  by  Al- 
bert Bigelow  Paine,  which  purports  to 
be  a  hypnotic  story.  It  is  well  printed, 
and  is  included  in  their  handy  Side- 
Pocket  Series  ;  but  the  whitewashed  cov- 
er looks  cheap,  and  spoils  the  attractive- 
ness of  the  neat  design.  They  also  send 
us  Mr.  Everett  Howe's  Chronicles  of 
Break  0'  Day,  which  is  by  no  means  a 
new  book,  but  which  we  take  pleasure 
in  recommending  to  our  readers,  who 
will  find  much  wisdom  in  it,  and  a  close 
observation  of  certain  local  types  of  men 
and  manners,  which  will  afford  consid- 
erable amusement  as  well  as  cause  for 
mure  serious  reflection. 


6o 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


THE  BOOKMAN'S  TABLE. 


THACKERAY.    A  STUDY,    by  Adolphus  A. 
Jack.    New  York  :  Macmllbm  A  Co.  $1.50. 

This  painstaking  appreciatitm  of 
Thackeray  is  vitiated  by  one  capital  de- 
fect. Wide  human  sympathy  is  abso- 
hitely  essential  to  good  litcr.iry  criti- 
cism. Mr.  Jacic  sympathises  with  and 
understands  the  more  elevated  moods 
of  mankind,  but  there  are  certain  human 
phases  and  tempers  that  he  would  ob- 
literate entirely.  So  should  we  all,  if 
we  had  any  decisive  voice  in  the  mat 
tor  ;  ))ul,  unless  \vf  are  professional 
moral isls,  wc  thinK  that  so  lon^  as  ihcy 
are  part  of  life  they  have  their  legiti- 
mate place  in  literature,  pnn'idod,  of 
course,  decencies  and  proportions  be 
adhered  to.  Mr.  Jack  is  now  a  good 
moralist.  When  he  is  older  he  may  be 
a  good  critic. 

Of  Thaciceray's'  more  serious  claims 
to  be  rci^ardcd  as  a  classic,  lie  sixi-aks 
well,  and  therefore  not  superfluously, 
though  on  his  vivid  presentation  of 
charai  ter  perhaps  due  stress  is  not  laid  ; 
and  though  the  remarks  on  style  are  in- 
telligent, they  are  very  far  from  being 
the  last  word.  He  has  an  irritating 
habit  of  hitting  on  a  truth,  or  quoting 
an  accepted  theory,  and  then  drawing 
far  too  strong  inferences  from  it.  Of 
Tliackcray's  formlessness,  fcr  instance, 
it  was  right  to  complain  ;  but  he  does 
not  speak  for  many  besides  himself  when 
he  says  of  Vanity  Fair,  }\  ndnitiis,  and 
The  Ncwcomes  that,  "  published  as  a 
whole,  they  are  only  readable  with  diili- 
culty."  We  all  know  the  theory  that  a 
work  of  art  should  be  drawn  to  scale, 
constructed  with  the  regularity  and  pro- 
portion of  an  architect's  plan.  The  few 
books  that  adhere  to  the  theory  are  very 
pretty  ;  they  may  or  may  not  be  delight- 
ful to  the  imagination  and  the  soul. 
And  this  method,  this  rhythm,  this  per- 
fect proportion,  arc  their  existence  to 
be  tested  only  by  external  plan  and  ar> 
rangement  ?  Can  the  idea!  not  be  satis- 
lied  by  harniuny  of  tone  and  temper  and 
spirit  'i  It  must,  or  we  throw  overtxiard  as 
inartistic,  and  as  Mr.  Jack  would  piously 
say,  "  only  readable  with  dithculty,"  a 
good  many  of  the  world's  masterpieces 
' — Don  Quixote,  for  example. 

Concerning  Thackeray's  defects,  per- 
haps he  has  not  said  a  word  that  is  not 


true  ;  and  I  like  his  sturdily  unapolo- 
getic  attitude.    But  he  is  terribly  sol- 
emn in  his  judgments.    Sucli  rigid  se- 
verity would  be  becoming  if  Thackeray 
had  written  one  booit  every  five  years, 
and  nothing  else  between,  and  two  -»f 
these  had  been,  say,  The  Shabby  Genterl 
Story  and  The  Book  0/  Snobs.    But  Tback  - 
eray  was  writinj:^  continually,  in  e\if, 
mood,  in  ever}'  mental  condition,  and  if 
some  readers  invariably  take  htm  seri- 
ously, he  himself  did  not,  and  would 
have  laughed  at  them  ff)r  their  pains. 
We  all  have  our  own  way  of  spending 
the  unguarded  moments  of  < M;r  iiv*es; 
most  of  us  are  dreadfully  dull,  and  som-* 
of  us  ill-tempered.    Thackeray  chroni- 
cled his  on  paper — ^like  all  good  fellows 
of  hiixh  vitality,  caring  not  a  rap  for  his 
reputation  —  and  thev  were  generally 
amusing.    But  then  they  were  cert«unly 
s])ent  in  vulgar  or  commonplace  com- 
pany, and  his  satire  was  often  merely 
frivolous  and  shallow.    This  is  all  very 
true  ;  and  the  man  who  wrote  U(nry 
Esmond  and  llu  Neu>com(s  knew  it  best 
of  all.    To  weep  over  the  frivolities  of 
genius  that  has  had  high  manifestations 
is  a  woeful  waste  of  tears.     Decent  re- 
gret is  permissible  ;  but  depend  on  it. 
the  defects  regretted  have  been  used  in 
the  vcr\'  stuff  that  h<is  roused  our  ad- 
miration ;  for  genius  is  not  wasteful  in 
this  sense  ;  it  transforms  its  weaknesses 
into  painful  wisdom  ;  it  uses  somehow 
and  somewhere  effectively  the  whole  of 
itself.   In  a  morbidly  serious  frame  of 
mind  it  might  seem  fitting  to  pipe  the 
eye  because  Shakespeare  made  atrocious 
puns  and  invented  scenes  which  are 
downright  silly.     Let  us  be  thankful 
when  our  humour  bids  our  conscience 
stop  short  of  that.    And  though  Thacke- 
ray treated  royal  personages  and  peers 
of  the  realm,  and  those  misunderstood 
worthies  the  snobs,  in  a  way  that  has 
called  for  serious  explanation  and  re- 
monstrance from  Mr.  Jack,  and  though 
in  the  Irish  Sketch  Book  "  there  are  none 
of  those  wide  disquisitions  upon  society 
and  government  which  the  in  .rsttga- 
tion  of  a  particular  country  suggests  to 
writers  of  the  class  of  De  Tocqueville 
and  M  Taine,"  and  though  The  Shabby 
Genteel  Story  is  hopelessly  vul^r,  the 
conclusion  of  the  whole  is  that  it  really 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


61 


doesn't  much  matter.  The  main  ques- 
tion is  whether  TJiackcray greater 
qualities  will  Stand  the  test  of  time. 
The  lesser  fruits  of  his  exuberant  energy 
have  their  due  signiftcance  ;  but  to 
grieve  over  them  with  such  solemnity  is 
not  more  sensible  than  solemnly  denying 
to  Goldsmith's  compilations  a  place  in 
serious  historical  research. 

MV  EARLY  TRAVELS  AND  ADVENTURES 
IN  AMERICA  AND  ASIA.  By  Henry  M. 
Stanley.    2  vols.    Charles  Scribncr'i  Sons. 

Henr)'  M.  Stanley,  in  his  last  work, 

shows  the  self-confidence  and  self-ap- 
probation which  have  ever  marked  his 
public  actions.  The  first  volume,  tell- 
ing of  Mr.  Stanley's  experience  during 
two  Indian  campaigns,  might  have  been 
published  alone,  and  in  itself  have 
proven  worthy  of  notice,  not  because 
Mr.  Stanley  is  the  author,  hut  because 
it  is  a  fairly  concise  record  of  the  mas- 
terly way  in  which  General  Hancock  in 
1867  prevented  protracted  Indian  wars 
by  "  a  series  of  tactical  marches  through 
the  red  man's  domains."  This  was  the 
crucial  lime  in  the  colonisation  of  the 
great  States  of  Nebraska  and  Kansas. 
1  he  savages  were  holding  a  carnival  of 
bloodshed  when  Hancock  made  the  Ind* 
ians  come  to  a  full  stop  in  their  course, 
under  penalty  ot  effective  retaliation. 
Stanley  was  sent  to  the  scene  as  a  spe- 
cial correspondent  for  the  St.  Louis 
Giob€- Democrat.  The  meetings  with  the 
great  chiefs,  the  speeches  of  the  latter, 
and  the  incidents  of  early  military  life 
on  the  great  plains  are  of  historical  in- 
terest and  value. 

In  his  preface  Mr.  Stanley  justifies 
the  white  race  in  its  course  against  the 
savins  since  the  discovery  of  the  con- 
tinent, saying  that  "  they  [white  men] 
had  as  much  right  to  the  plains  as  the 
Indians."  He  also  speaks  of  "the 
semi-civilised  millions"  who  once  lived 
in  the  Mississippi  Valley.  Centra!  Amer- 
ica, and  Arizona,  and  proceeds  to  tiad 
)ustification  for  the  civilised  man's 
course  in  overwhelming  the  red  man  by 
the  hypothesis  that  the  latter  extermi- 
nated the  mound-builders.  It  would 
have  been  better  had  Stanley  read  the 
investigations  of  Fiske,  and  thus  have 
spared  the  reader  an  exhibition  of  ig> 
norance,  and  als(j  if  he  hacl  paid  some 
attention  to  the  work  of  Parkman  be- 
fore indulging   in   deductions.  Mr. 


Stanley's  reputation  must  rest  upon  his 
explorations,  and  not  upon  conclusions 
based  on  his  own  observations.  Of 
course  there  are  few  who  will  justify  the 
Indians  in  their.fri ^litt  il  cruelties,  and 
Parkman,  in  his  xlia  istive  treatment 
of  early  Jesuit  and  English  colonisation 
in  Canada  and  the  present  United  States, 
shows  from  the  Jesuit  records  and  let- 
ters from  French  governors  and  others, 
that  the  savages  were  from  the  earliest 
times  cruel,  not  only  to  the  whites,  but 
also  to  their  own  kind,  as  witness  the 
bitter  enmity  of  the  Iroquois  tribes  to 
the  Algonquin  nation,  resulting  In  the 
]>racti<^  extermination  of  the  latter  as 
a  nation,  But  the  early  settlers  were 
not  backward  in  repaying  cruelty  with 
cruelty.  It  was  only  with  the  advent 
of  the  American  republic  that  a  serious 
and  effective  effort  was  made  to  tem- 
porise and  to  live  in  peace  with  the  sav- 
age Parkman  said  that  the  Indian 
might  be  tamed,  but  not  civilised,  and 
the  truth  of  that  has  largely  been  dem- 
onstrated. 

The  interesting  feature  of  the  second 
volume  is  the  account  of  the  building  and 
opening  of  the  Suez  Canal,  written  when 
Stanley  was  the  correspondent  of  the 
New  York  Herald.  The  letters  also 
cover  the  history  of  the  Abyssinian  ex- 
pedition in  r86S,  and  then,  as  a  sort  of 
apprenticeship  to  the  Livingstone  ex- 
pedition, the  author  was  sent  "  to  write 
a  kind  of  guide  to  the  Nile,  to  visit 
Captain  (now  Sir  Charles)  Warren,  and 
give  an  account  of  his  explorations  un- 
derneath Jerusalem,  and  finally  I  was  to 
proceed  through  Persia  to  India."  This 
IS  all  a  beaten  track  now,  and  the  let- 
ters, as  anything  but  descriptive  of  the 
places  traversed,  are  of  slight  interest, 
and  not  in  any  way  remarkable. 

ALPHABETS.  A  Uaadbook  of  Lettering,  with 
Hittorieal,  Critical,  and  Practical  Deacripiions. 
By  Edward  F.  Sirang«.  New  York :  Macmil- 
lan  &  Co.  ta.7S- 

It  is  not  difficult  to  perceive  that  the 
mechanical  age  through  which  we  have 
been  passing  is  doomed,  and  that  the 
results  of  students'  toil  is  destined  to 
turn  the  tide  not  only  of  artistic,  but  of 
popular  standards.  To  appreciate  and 
discover  true  beauty  of  design,  one  must 
look  to  centuries  of  the  past,  when  the 
rr.iftsman  was  not  a  copyist,  but  an 
originator,  freely  expressing  and  repeat- 
ing the  beauty  that  he  felt  and  observed 


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62 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


around  him  regarding  form,  coluur,  and 

idea. 

This  book,  entitled  Alphabets  in  the 
Kx-Lil)ris  Series  of  the  Cliiswiek:  Press, 
adds  one  more  link  to  the  great  chain  of 
evidence  that  antiquarians  bring  for- 
ward to  prove  that  the  secrets  of  artistic 
invention  lie  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
(i^reater  inspiration  coming  from  Byzan- 
tine influence.  This  wilt  be  jjroved  by 
examining  the  various  illustrations  in 
this  volume,  and  noticing  how  lettering 
deteriorates  after  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. Compare,  for  example,  the  ap- 
parent carelessness  of  the  dale  1610, 
taken  front  English  furniture  (p.  159), 
with  the  *•  modern  fanry  types"  (p.  195). 
Even  a  superficial  glance  will  reveal  the 
grace  and  individuality  of  the  early  art- 
ist opposed  to  the  nnsympathelic  me 
chanic  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Again, 
compare  the  Dutch  type  of  1744  (p.  167) 
with  the  Gothic  capitals  from  the  tombs 
of  Henry  III,  and  Richard  II.  in  West- 
minster Abbey  (pp.  46,  50),  contrasting 
the  thirteenth  and  tittecntli  with  tliu 
eighteenth  century  ;  and  compare  the 
same  with  the  lettering  »>n  a  Spanish 
seal  of  the  fourteenth  century  (p.  41). 
Note  also  the  stiffness  of  the  well-de- 
signed capitals  by  Jan  Pas  in  1737 
(p.  -'51),  as  compared  with  those  by 
Geoff roy  in  1529  (p.  89).  I*"very  one 
who  enjoys  making  letters  will  hnd  his 
love  of  writing  increased  after  examin- 
ing such  beautiful  specimens  as  the 
Lumbardic,  Irish,  and  Anglo-Norman 
manuscripts  given  on  pp.  18-26,  and  the 
equally  beautiful  writing  of  Walter 
Crane  (p.  214).  The  book  contains  chap- 
ters on  Roman  Lettering  and  its  Deriva- 
tivcs,  the  Middle  Ages,  Beginning  of 
Printed  Letters,  etc.,  and  a  carefully 
selected  bibliography.  Several  pages 
have  been  given  to  the  criticism  of 
American  lettering,  which  is  deservedly 
and  highly  praised  by  the  author  (p.  196). 
He  also  reprints  a  specimen  page  from 
tlie  Kelmscott  I*rpss,  founded  by  the 
famous  poet  and  designer,  William 
Morris,  to  whom  this  century  owes 
much  ifor  the  revival  of  interest  in  ar- 
tistic typography.  Several  decorative 
title-pages  by  Walter  Crane  are  also  in- 
cluded, revealing  his  artistic  and  suc- 
cessful cfiorts  to  harmonise  lettering 
with  the  principal  features  of  his  pro- 
ductions. 

To  the  amateur  Mr.  Strange's  volume 
will  open  a  vista  of  novel  andTinteFesting 


resear<  })  ;  t he  student  will  fl nd  nnn  h  that 
he  already  knows,  retold  in  a  ddighltul 
manner;  and  the  artist,  designer,  in<; 
engraver, excellent  treatment  >if  the  lech 
meal  qualities  of  many  dirterent  alpha 
bets  and  their  suitability  to  various  ma- 
t<-rials  and  uses.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
the  author  will  supplement  this  book 
with  one  on  illuminated  manuscripts, 
for  which  he  seems  so  thorDiigJiIy 
equipped,  besides  havmg  to  such  an  un- 
usual degree  the  sympathy  of  printer 
and  publisher. 


iiUOKMAN  BHtVITIHS. 

It  is  only  recently  that  Jonas  Lie  ha> 
gained  an  audience  outside  of  Norway. 

inasmuch  as  the  way  to  general  recot;^- 
nition  lies  through  France;  and  although 
his  first  story  appeared  in  1870.  he  has 
quite  lately  been  translated  into  French, 
while  a  couple  of  his  books  have  just 
been  introduced  into  England.  We 
Iiave  a  rejidy  welcome,  then,  for  The 
Commothrts  Daughters  ($1.00),  which 
comes  from  the  press  of  Messrs.  Lov- 
ell,  Coryell  and  Company.  This  novel 
was  written  in  1889,  and  while  Lie  has 
written  much  before  and  since  that  date, 
English  readers  may  accept  this  exam- 
ple as  eharactcristir  of  a  novelist  who 
lias  much  in  common  with  Dickens  and 
Daudet.  Jonas  Lie  is  a  consummate 
storv-teller.  one  who  is  innocent — as  Mr 
Edmund  Gosse  tells  us  in  the  Introduc- 
tion to  this  translation — of  any  "  ism," 
and  professes  to  teach  no  "  gospel,"  but 
who  is  the  best  beloved  of  the  living 
novelists  of  his  fatherland.  But  the 
peculiar  genius  of  Jonas  I/u-  has  never 
been  better  exemplified  than  in  his  two 
volumes  of  eventyr^  entitled  Troid,  which 
appeared  in  1891,  and  which  under  the 
title  of  li'drd  Talis  from  Northern  Seas 
were  translated  into  English.  -  Some  of 
these  seafaring  tales  arc  masterpieces  of 
literature  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  preserve  in 
translation  the  pcculiar^tjc^  of  btyle  and 
substance  which  give  to  the  infinitely 
varying  art  of  Jonas  Lie  its  sublime  sin;  • 
plicity  and  exuberant  fancy.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  this  volume  will  also  find  an 
American  piddishcr.  and  that  more  of 
the  author's  work  may  be  introduced 
in  translation  to  American  readers,  for 
Jonas  Lie  has  as  distinct  a  place  in  liter- 
ature as  Bjornson  and  Ibsen,  and  in- 
deed he  ranks  at  this  moment  as  the 


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A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL. 


6j 


most  popular  nnvelist  in  Scandinavia. 
The  same  publishers  also  reissue  a  new 
edition  of  The  Heritage  of  the  Kurts^  by 
Hjornstjoriie  Hjoiiisoii,  at  the  same 
price^  and  with  an  introduction  by  Ed- 
mund Gosse.  Both  volumes  are  sub- 
stantially bound  in  artistic  covers. 

Two  more  "olumes  of  Macmillan's  Il- 
lustrated Standard  Novels  lie  on  our  ta- 
ble. John  Gait's  Annalt  of  the  Parish 
and  The  Ayrshire  Legatees  ($1.25)  form 
the  fourth  vol  ume  of  the  series.  With 
the  simultaneous  appearance  in  England 
of  Blackwood's  edition  (to  he  published 
by  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  in  Septem- 
ber) there  would  seem  to  be  sonie  reason 
for  resuscitating;  this  old  Scottish  annal- 
ist. Gait's  Scotland  was  less  fervent, 
less  sentimental  than  the  Scotland  seen 
in  Mr  Barrie's  work  or  Ian  Maclaren's. 
The  shrewder,  cannier  side  of  Scottish 
life,  with  more  worldlincss  and  less  ro- 
mance, is  depicted  in  his  pages.  Mr. 
Crockett  calls  him  "a  tired  man's  au- 
thor," and  he  has  described  Gait's  hour 
exactly  when  he  says  that  his  novels 
shoiilcl  be  taken  »ip  when  "  Shakspeare 
is  too  high  for  us,  and  even  Scott  too 
mij^hty  and  many-sided."  Canon  Ain- 
ger  writes  an  introdu(  tion  in  which  he 
gives  his  reasons  for  considering  the 
Annais  of  the  Parish  Gait's  masterpiece  ; 
The  Ayrshire  Legatees^  he  says,  is  a  kind 
of  Humphrey  Clinker  with  the  title-char- 
acter omitted.  The  illustrations  by 
Brock  are  excellent.  The  fifth  volume 
of  this  series  is  a  reprint  of  Morier's 
Adventures  of  Hajji  Baba  of  Ispahan^  the 
contents  of  which  provided  the  cultured 
reading  public  of  the  early  years  of 
the  century  with  merriment.  Repeat- 
ed new  editions  have  been  called  for 
since  the  time  when  it  was  a  popular 
favourite,  and  it  is  significant  that  of 
this  work  also  we  should  have  two  pub- 
lishers vying  with  eacli  other  to  please 
the  same  audience.  The  Hon.  George 
Curzon  introduces  the  Persian  story- 
teller, and  H.  R.  Millar  has  drawn  some 
forty  pen-and-ink  sketches,  suggestive 
of  the  Arabian  Nights^  which  greatly  en- 
hance the  entertainment  of  these  Orien- 
tal tales. 

Messrs.  Stone  and  Kimball  have  now 
issued  five  volumes  of  tlu-ir  admirable 
edition  of  the  works  of  Kdgar  Allan 
Poc.  The  fifth,  which  has  recently  been 
published,  begins  the  Tales  of  Adventure 
and  Exploration,  and  has  a  frontispiece 
portrait  of  Poc  taken  from  a  picture  by 


Oscar  Hailing,  and  copyrighted  in  189^ 
by  Amelia  Poe.  There  are  also  three 
illustrations  by  Sterner,  all  portraying 
scenes  in  the  narrative  of  Arthur  Gor- 
don Pym,  which  takes  up  most  of  this 
volume.  The  last  illustration  is  a  fine 
imagining  of  the  weird  and  ghostly  ad- 
venture of  the  canoe  and  its  occtjpants, 
hurrying  under  the  influence  of  a  ixnvcr- 
ful  current  over  the  milky  depths  of  the 
ocean,  with  the  white  ashy  shower  set- 
tling upon  them  as  their  boat  rushes 
with  increasing  velocity  into  the  em- 
braces of  the  cataract  ahead.  The 

new  volume  in  Messrs.  Roberts  broth- 
ers translations  of  Balzac  contcdns  Per- 
ragus,  Chit/  of  Ihi-  Dh)orants  and  The 
Last  Incarnation  of  Vaittrin.  (Price, 
$,  .50.)  Mr.  William  H.  Rideing,  be- 
sides helping  to  edit  two  important 
American  journals,  finds  leisure  to  tramp 
through  scenes  made  famous  in  history 
and  romance,  and  to  make  books  out  of 
his  tramps — and  bocjks  that  are  readable 
and  entertaining  at  that,  which  is  more 
remarkable.  In  the  Land  of  Lorna  Doone 
and  Other  Pleasure'  fr  f-'\-r'!>->i,>ns  in  Eng- 
iandf  to  give  the  book  Us  lull  title,  is 
welcome  reading,  for  when  we  are  de» 
barred  from  travelling  over  the  ground 
peopled  by  historians  and  romancers 
ourselves,  it  is  always  pleasant  and  prof- 
itable to  haunt  these  places  with  the 
torch  of  our  imagination  lighted  by  a 
trusty  and  genial  guide.  Besides  the 
runiance  of  Blackmore,  we  have  all  read 
books  which  have  made  us  curious 
about  Cunuvall  aud  the  Yorkshire 
Coast,  and  who  would  hesitate  to  en- 
ter the  charmed  circle  woven  by  Amy 
Robsart  and  Kenilworth  i  Most  readers 
will  think  of  Mr.  Rideing's  book  as  a 
summer  companion,  but  as  for  us,  we 
shall  lay  it  in  store  against  the  gray 
gloom  of  winter,  when  by  its  magic  we 
may  conjure  up  our  own  surroundings 
and  bid  the  elements  defiance.  The  little 
volume  is  a  combination  of  excellence 
in  paper,  print,  and  binding,  and  there 
are  wide  margins  for  notes  or  etchings 
of  suggested  thought  and  fancy.  It  is 
published  by  T.  Y.  Crowell  and  Com- 
pany, and  the  price  is  $1. 

Messrs.  Macmilian  and  Company  luive 
added  The  Fortunes  and  Misfortun,  s 
Moll  Flandiii  in  two  volumes  to  their 
fine  edition  of  Uefoe.  (Price,  $1.00 
each.)— Til*  Lyrieal  Poems  of  Perey 
Bysshe  Shelley  (price,  $i.co)  is  the  latest 
addition  to  'jThe  Lyric  Poets,  edited  with 


Digitized  by  GoQgle 


64 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


;in  introduction  by  Ernest  Rhys.  A 
beautiful  portrait  of  the  boy  Shelley 

serves  as  frontispiece.  The  same  t^rm 

have  published  the  first  volume  of  their 
Pocket  Edition  of  Charles  Kingsley's 
novels.  If)f(itia,  though  below  the  rank 
of  the  great  historical  romances,  will 
always  be  popular,  and  will  continue  to 
be  lauded  as  a  masterpiece  by  those  who 
do  not  see  the  difference.  This  volume 
is  what  it  purports  to  be,  a  pocket  edi- 
tion, but  we  would  have  sacrificed  a  WU 
tie  convenience  in  this  direction  to  have 
had  better  paper,  which  is  so  thin  that 
the  type  shows  through  ;  and  the  type 
itself,  though  readable,  is  too  small  to  be 
properly  distinct.  The  Messrs.  Macmil* 
Ian  rise  to  so  uniform  a  plane  of  excel' 
lenic  in  all  their  publications,  that  we 
are  all  the  more  moved  to  criticism 
when  they  make  an  error,  as  it  seems  to 
us  that  they  have  done  in  this  instance. 
The  price,  in   all   conscience,  is  low 

enough — 75  cents  per  volume.  These 

pul)lishers  also  issue  a  handy  volume  of 
Lamb's  Esaiys  of  Klia,  which  is  in- 
tended as  a  text-book,  and  is  laboriously 
weighted  with  notes,  which,  however, 
are  stowed  away  in  tlie  back  of  the  book, 
SO  that  the  general  reader,  if  he  is  not 
of  a  mind  to  have  Lamb  annotated  and 
elucidaterl,  may  read  EHa  without  in- 
trusion from  the  editors.     (Price,  50 

cents.)  Off  the  Mill,  by  G.  F.  Brown, 

B.D.,  D.CM-  ,  is  a  collection  of  not  un- 
interesting papers  on  Alpine  subjects, 
which  falTs  into  line  with  the  crop  of 
books  steadily  increasing  every  season, 
and  which  a  growing  demand  continues 
to  call  forth.  Most  of  the  articles  which 
compose  the  book  appeared  long  since 
in  magazine  form  in  England,  and  being 
accounts  of  an  earlier  state  of  things 
than  the  present  generation  of  Alpine 
climbers  encounter,  its  contents  by  con- 
trast will  afford  more  amusement  than 
information,  except  where  original  re- 
search and  observation  have  plav'  1  ;n 
important  part,  and  in  so  far  as  the  fas- 
cination of  the  eternal  hills  and  beauti- 
ful valleys  of  Pontresina  and  the  Enga- 
dine  is  unchangeable, 

A  volume  entitled  The  Ameer  Abdur 
Rahman  (which,  by  the  way,  is  not  the 
division  of  the  name  that  we  shouUl  otir- 
selves  have  adopted)  opens  the  Public 
Men  of  T<  ].iy  Series,  announced  some 
time  ago  by  Messrs.  Frederick  Warne 
and  Company.  its  appearance  was 
probably  hastened  by  the  recent  visit  of 


the  Ameer's  second  son,  the  Shahzadah, 
to  England ;  otherwise  some  of  the 

other  volumes  that  are  included  in  the 
announcement  would  have  been  of  more 
interest  to  the  American  reader,  at  least. 
The  life  of  Signer  Crispi  or  of  the  late 
Stefan  Nicolof  Stambuloff  would  be 
quite  as  timely  and  certainly  of  greater 
value.  However,  the  present  volume, 
which  is  written  by  Mr.  Stephen  Wheel- 
er, F.R.G.S.,  and  late  of  the  Punjab 
University,  is  excellent  reading  and  in- 
structive withal,  abounding,  as  it  does, 
in  curious  anecdotes  of  Oriental  life, 
and  giving  glimpses  into  the  almost  in- 
explicable workings  of  the  Oriental 
mind.  A  portrait  of  the  Ameer  and  one 
of  Dost  Mohammed  Khan  are  given. 
(Price,  Sj  -\v) 

We  have  received  from  the  American 
Baptist  Publication  Company,  of  Phila- 
delphia, Papers  and  Addresses  of  ^fa^tin 
B.  Anderson,  LL.D.,  in  two  very  hand- 
somely printed  volumes  ($2.50).  These 
are  edited  by  Professor  William  C. 
Morey,  aiv!  w'ill  be  of  especial  interest 
to  the  alumni  of  the  University  of  Roch- 
ester, over  which  Dr.  Anderson  so  long 
and  so  successfully  presided.  Perhaps 
the  most  readable  of  all  are  the  short 
addresses  to  the  students  of  that  seat  of 
learning,  because  they  show  many  of  the 
personal  characteristics  of  a  scholar 
whose  influence  was  always  strong  with 
his  undergraduates,  and  was  always  ex- 
erted for  noble  ends. 

Mr.  Grant  AUeo's  Story  of  the  Plants 
(40  cts).,  added  by  the  Appletons  to 
their  Lil)rary  of  Useful  Stories,  is  an 
extremely  attractive  little  book,  giv- 
ing in  the  most  lucid  style  a  succinct 
and  accurate  description  of  the  princi- 
pal phenomena  of  plant  life.  Techni- 
calities are  refreshingly  absent,  yet  the 
most  mature  mind  will  find  nothing 
paltry  or  trivial  in  the  treatment,  for 
Mr.  Allen  does  not  have  the  air  of 
■*  writing  down"  to  the  supposed  level 

of  the  unscientific  person.  Dr.  ChaU 

mer  Prentice  is  the  author  of  The  Eye  in 
Its  Relation  to  Health,  published  by  A.  C. 
McClurg  and  Company,  of  Chicago 
($1.50).  In  its  pages  the  writer  sets 
forth  certain  theories  which  he  bases 
upon  experiments  and  obser\'ations  of 
his  own,  and  which,  from  a  long  experi- 
ence of  certain  phases  of  optic  derange- 
ment, we  should  like  to  discuss  at  some 
length  ;  but  the  matter  is  of  too  techni- 
cal a  character  for  these  pages.  Suffice 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


it  to  say  that  some  of  the  chapters  are 
very  striking,  and  we  shall  look  with  in- 
terest to  see  how  the  work  is  received 

by   the   profession.  Messrs.  Little, 

Brown  and  Company,  of  Boston,  pub- 
lish a  book  by  Mr.  George  F.  Tucker, 


entitled  Your  ll'ill :  Jlow  to  Make  It. 
There  are  loi  pages  of  it  ;  and  we  can 
far  better  advise  our  readers  in  the  space 
of  a  dozen  words  how  to  make  their  will  : 
Go  to  a  reputable  lawyer  and  let  him 
do  it  for  you. 


A  BIBLIOGRAPH 

Bjomstjeme  BjSmson  was  born  De- 
cember 8th,  1832,  in  Kvikne,  up  among 
the  Dovre  Mountains  of  Norway,  where 
his  father  was  parish  priest.  As  a  lad 
he  had  literary  predilections.  There  is 
a  poem  from  his  eleventh  year  still  pre- 
served in  manuscript.  In  Christiania, 
before  he  had  entered  the  university,  he 
wrote  a  historic  drama  called  Vaiborg. 
This  was  submitted  to  the  directors  of 
the  Christiania  Theatre  and  accepted, 
but  was  voluntarily  withdrawn  by  the 
young  author,  who  in  the  mean  time  had 
become  aware  of  its  defects.  It  was 
never  produced,  and  beyond  a  few  verses 
has  never  been  printed.  Whether  as  a 
whole  it  is  still  extant  I  do  not  know. 
His  literar)'  career  may  really  be  said  to 
have  begun  in  1854  with  the  critical 
article,  a  review  of  En  Nytaarsbog  (A 
New  Year  s  Book),  in  No.  15  of  the  Chris- 
tiania Morgenbladet.  Bjornson's  earliest 
work,  subsequent  to  this,  was  in  the 
direction  of  literary  and  dramatic  criti- 
cism for  various  journals.  In  1856  he 
undertook  the  editorship  of  the  little 
weekly  journal  lUustreret  FoIkeblaJ,  in 
which  the  story  which  subsequently 
formed  his  first  book  began  in  June, 

1857.  to  appear  as  a  feuilleton.  The  tale 
Synndve  Solbakken,  the  first  of  Bjornson's 
peasant  novels,  and  the  beginning  of  a 
new  era  in  the  literary  history  of  Nor- 
way, was  published  in  book  form  that 
same  year.  Other  books  now  followed 
in  rapid  succession.  His  first  drama, 
the  little  one-act  prose  play  Mellem 
Slagene  {Between  the  Battles),  appeared  in 

1858,  and  later  the  same  year  the  heroic 
drama  in  verse,  Halte  Hulda  {Lame 
Hulda).  These  were  succeeded  by  the 
peasant  novel  Arne,  actually  published 
in  1859,  but  with  1858  on  the  title-page  ; 
in  i860  by  Smaastykker  (Small  Pieces), 
containing  five  short  stories  and  the  first 
drama,  all  previously  published,  name- 
ly :  Min  fdrste  Fortailling\^Thrond'\  ;  Mel- 
lem Slagene  y  Ei  /aarlig  friing  ;  Fader  en  ; 


'  OF  HJORNSON. 

Oerneredft ;  En  glad  Gut.  In  1861  fol- 
lowed the  tragedy  Kong  Sverre  (King 
Sverre)  ;  in  1862  the  dramatic  trilogy 
Sigurd Slembe,  called  by  Robert  Buchanan 


bjOr.nstjeknk  bjOr.nso.n. 


"  Bjornson's  masterpiece  :"  in  1864  the 
tragedy  Maria  Stuart  i  Skotland  (Mary 
Stuart  in  Scotland)  ;  in  1865  the  comedy 
De  Nygifte  (  The  Newly  Married  Couple)  ; 
in  1868  the  peasant  tale  Fiskerjenten 
(The  Fisher  Maiden)  ;  in  1870  the  first 
edition  of  his  collected  poems  Digte  og 
Sange  (Poems  and  Songs),  and  the  epical 
romance  Arnljot  Gelline,  his  longest 
poem  ;  in  1872  the  last  of  the  saga- 
dramas,  Sigurd  Jorsalafar  (Sigurd  the 
Crusader)  and  Fortallinger  (  Tales),  a  sec- 
ond collection  of  stories  in  two  volumes 


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66 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


containing  Arm  t  SymOpe  SelhakieH ; 

Jisrnbanen  og  Kirh,  :aarden;  Blakken ; 
Threndj  Fade  re  n  j  Otrturedtt ;  Tro/ast- 
ked ;  En  Lipsgaade  ;  En  nye  Feriffart ; 
J'  '  nejageren  ;  Kj  faarUg  Friing  ;  Kt 
Jariigt  Frieri  ;  Fn  glad  Gut  ;  Fiskerjen- 
ten ;  Brude-Siaaten.  In  1873  followed 
the  peasant  novel  Brude-SiaaUn 
Bridal  March),  reprinted  from  the  sec- 
ond volume  of  the  Taki  ;  in  1S74  the 
play  Kedaktoren  (The  Editor),  the  first  of 
a  seriei'S  of  dram.is  whii. h  deal  with  mod- 
ern social,  political,  and  religious  prob- 
lems ;  in  1875  the  drama  En  Fallit  (J 
Bankruptcy)^  <"'ne  of  the  most  popular  of 
all  of  the  plays  ;  in  the  drama 

Kongen  (  The  King),  and  the  novel  Magn* 
hild,  which,  like  Tlw  Editor  among  the 
plays,  marks  the  beginning  of  a  new 
direction ;  in  1879  the  novel  Ka^t^ju 
Afansana  (Captain  Mansana),  a  story  of 
the  war  of  Italian  independence,  and  the 
dramas  Leonarda  and  Det  ny  System  (The 
New  System)  ;  in  1883  the  dramas  En 
Ilaiiskf  [  A  Gauntlet)  and  Over  ^Ex  ne  (Be- 
yond tluir  Strength)  \  in  1884  the  novel 
Det  flager  i  Byen  og  paa  Harnen  {Flags  ar,- 
F/vif.x  in  Ci/y  and  }Idrl\,ur)  ;  in  1S85  the 
last  of  the  dramas,  (Jeograji  og  Karlighed 
{Geography  and  Ltrve)  \  in  1889  the  last 
novel,  Paa  Guds  I'eje  (In  G>'fs  Way)  ; 
finally,  in  1S94,  a  third  collection  o£ 
Stories  called  J\'ye  Ffir/affingfr  {New 
Tales),  which  contains  Absaions  Haar 
{Absalom's  Hair)  ;  Et  IStygt  Barndems- 
minde  {An  Ugly  Reminiuenfe  of  Child' 
hood)  ;  Mors  N tender  {Mother's  Hands)  ; 
Een  Dag  (One  Day). 

Besides  having  contributed  literally 
scores  of  articles  on  almost  all  possible 
subjects  tri  the  prinripa!  jonrnnls  C'f 
Norway,  Bjornsun  has  been  several  times 
directly  engaged  in  editorial  work.  Id 
1856-57  he  was  editor,  as  has  been  men- 
tioned, of  the  Christiania  weekly,  Jiius- 
treret  FolheMad^  called  during  part  of  the 
time  Fotl<!'!aJ>t  :  in  1S5R-59  ho  edited 
the  Bergensposten  ;  1859-60  he  was  co-ed- 
itor of  the  Christiania  Aftenbladet ;  from 
1866-7  I  lio  was  editor  of  the  ^W/  'ke- 
bladf  which  he  bought  in  the  autumn  of 
1869.  Twice  he  has  been  theatre  direc- 
tor— in  1858-59  in  Bergen;  in  iS(>5-67 
in  Christiania.  Ainonc;  other  adajua- 
tions  for  the  Chnsliauia  Theatre  ii>  an 
acting  version  of  Shakespeare's  Eing 
Henry  IV. ^  first  produced  in  iSf  ;. 

The  list  of  English  translations  of 
Bjcirnson,  but  particularly  of  the  novels 
mnd  tales,  is  a  long  one.   The  first  of  all 


the  works  to  appear  in  English  was 

Arne,  the  second  n  >vf  1  ;  as  the  title  runs, 
Ame  J  or^  Feasant  Life  in  Norway.  T  ran^ 
lated  from  the  second  edition  by  a  Nor- 
wegian [Thomas  Krag].   Bergen  [1861]. 
This  translation  was  noticed  in  the  Lon- 
don Athenceumy  April  2oth,  1863.    I  have 
never  seen  it,  nor  do  1  fancy  that  it  cir- 
culated widely.    It  is  not  quite  clear 
what  is  meant  by  the  second  edition,  as 
that  did  not  in  reality  appear  until  1868. 
It  was  left  for  the  second  translation  of 
Arne  10  bring  Bjdrnson's  name  adequate- 
ly l>efore  an  English  public.    This  ver- 
sion appeared  a?  Arne  :  A  Sketch  of  Nor- 
wegian Country  Life,    Translated  from 
the  Norwegian  by  Augusta  Plesner  and 
S.  Rut:<-ley- Powers.    London  and  New 
Vorky  1S66.    Other  editions  of  this  were 
publbhed  in  England  and  America. 
What  I  take  to  be  the  same  translation 
is  also  contained  in  Arne  and  the  Happy 
Boy,  Boston,  1872,  and  in  Life  by  the  Fells 
and  Fiords  :  A  Norwegian  SieUh  Ba^k^  by 
B.  B.,  London,  1879.    Subsequent  trans- 
lations are  :  Arne,  by  R.  B.  Anderson, 
B(>ston,  iSSi  ;  in  Lovell's  Library,  1S82; 
in  The  Happy  /'\>v  and  Arn<\  New  Vt  .rk, 
18S3  ;  in  Arne  and  Tlu  Fisher  Lassie^ 
translated  from  the  French,  London, 
1S89  ;  in  .-Irtic  and  'The  Fisher  Lassir.  1  v 
W.  H,  LK>w[Bohn],  London,  1S91  ;  Arne, 
by  Walter  Low,  New  York,  1S95.  Syn- 
Av  :v  Solbakken  appeared  first  as  Z<7rr  and 
Life  in  Norway^  by  Augusta  Bethell  and 
AuGfusta  Plesner,  London  [1870].  Other 
;  'HS  are  :  Synnove  Solbakken,  by  Julie 
Sutler,  London,  1881,  and  in  a  new  edi- 
tion, New  York,  1895  ;  by  R.  B.  Ander- 
son. Boston,  1881  ;  from  the  Norse,  au- 
thorized edition,  London,  1SS3;  in  the 
Seaside  Library,  lijSj  ;  as  Tlic  lyttrotJiai 
it  is  contained  in  Half  Hours  with  F'or- 
I r/  .^'^-r/^^7i.  liy  Helen  and  Alice  Zim- 
mem,  London,  i88o.    En  glad  Gut  ap- 
peared first  as  Ovind:  A  Story  of  Counhy 
life     Xoncay,  l>y  Sivert  and  Hlisabeth 
Hjerlcid.  London,  1869.    Other  transla- 
tions are  :  The  Happy  Boy,  Boston,  1869  ; 
by  H.  R.  G.,  Londi>n  and  Boston,  1870  ; 
byR.  B.Anderson,  Boston,  1882  [1881]  ; 
in  Lovell's  Librarj-,  1882  ;  and  in  the 
volume  with  Arne,  already  cited  (1883)  ; 
it  is  also  Contained  in  The  H^ippy  I.aJ :  A 
Story  of  J'cdidut  Lifi-i/iNi>>  7,',n,  and  Other 
London  [1882].    Ftfkr>  ■      n  has 
been  translated  as  The  Fisher  Maiden,  by 
M.  E.  Niles,  New  York,  1869,  included 
also  in  the  Leisure  Hour  Series,  1874  ; 
The  Fishing  GiH^  by  A.  Plesner  and  F. 


Digitized  by  GoQgle 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


«7 


Richardson,  Lonfion  [1870]  ;  T/a-  Fis/icr 
Gir/f  by  S.  and  E.  Iljcrlcitl,  London, 
1871  ;  r^e  Fisher  Maiden,  by  R.  B.  An- 
derson, Boston,  1882  ;  and  Th,-  Fisher 
Lassie,  by  W,  H.  Low,  in  the  volume 
with  Arne,  already  cited.  Brude-Slaaten 
is  Included  in  Life  by  the  Fell s  an  J  Fiords, 
previously  cited  ;  it  is  also  the  title  story 
in  the  volume  by  R.  B.  Anderson,  The 
Bridal  XTarch,  and  0th,  r  S/.-rin.  Roston, 
imt  ;  as  The  t^eddiug  March,  by  M. 
Ford,  it  is  in  the  Seaside  Library,  1882. 
Magnhild  has  l)ccn  only  once  translated, 
namely,  by  R.  B.  Anderson,  Boston, 
1883.  Kaptejn  Mansana  is  the  title  story 
in  Captain  Mansana^  and  Other  Stories,  by 
R.  B.  Anderson,  Boston,  1S83  ;  it  is  also 
in  the  Seai>idc  Library,  Det  flayer 

i  Byen  og  paa  Havnen  was  published  as 
Thr-  FI,- )  ilii;^t-  of  ths  K II rti  \\\  I  Iirincmann's 
International  Library,  London,  1892. 
Paa  Guds  Veje  appeared  in  the  same 
series  as  In  God's  Way,  by  E.  Carmkhacl, 
London,  1890  ;  it  is  also  in  Lovell's  Se- 
ries of  Foreign  Literature  [1889]. 

The  short  stor'u^s  have  appeared  in 
translation  in  journals  and  magazines 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
English-speaking  territory,  in  sources 
geographically  as  far  apart  as  the  Mel- 
bourne Argus  and  Harper's  Weekly.  No 
proper  bibliography  of  these  has  yet 
been  compiled,  nor  am  I  certain  that  it 
is  worili  compiling.  Versions  to  be 
noted  are  those  contained  in  The  Bridal 
MiUih,  an!  Other  Stories,  by  R,  B.  Ander- 
son, already  cited.  These  are  :  Jhrond  j 
A  Dangerous  Wooing  ;  The  Bear  Hunter  ; 
The  Father  ;  The  Eagle' s  Nest ;  Fi.tkhoi  . 
Fidelity  ;  A  FrobUm  0/  Li/e^  all  included 
in  the  Taies  of  1872.  Captain  Mansana, 
and  Other  Stories  contains  ;  The  RailroaJ 
and  the  Churcl^ard  from  the  Tales,  and 
Dust  {St9v)y  one  of  the  most  striking  oi 
the  short  stories.  In  the  volume  whose 
title  is  given  by  Goldschmidt's  story  The 
Flying  Mail  (Boston,  1870),  are  The 
Eagle' s  Nest  and  The  Father,  by  S.  and 
E.  Hjerleid  ;  The  FatJu-r  is  also  in  Nor- 
wegian and  S;ci-di>/i  I'lKins^  translated  by 
G.  A.  Daiil,  Bergen,  iS;.^.  In  JU/e  by  the 
Fc/rs  anJ  l'ior,i.\,  already  cited,  are  r  Th-- 
Churchyard  and  the  Railroad  ^  'The  Father  ; 
Faithfulness  ;  Thrond  ;  Blakktn  ;  A  Lift's 
Enigma ;  Checked  Imai^ination ;  The 
Eagle's  Nest;  A  Dangerous  lyooing j 
The  Brokers'  Quarrel ;  The  Eagle  and 
the  Fir.  In  The  Ifappy  TiJ,  ami  Other 
Tales,  previously  cited,  are  :  Tlu  Eagle's 
Nea  and    The  Ft^r.    Railroad  and 


Churchyard,  finally,  is  inchuled  in  the 
volume  with  Fair  Kate,  by  Paul  llcyse, 
in  the  Seaside  Library,  1882.  The  only 
series  of  translations  thus  far  puldished 
is  that  by  R.  B.  Anderson,  in  eight  vol- 
umes, BJor/istJerne  BfSmson' s  Works^  au» 
thor's edition,  Boston.  1881-83  ;  London, 
1S84.  The  contents  have  already  been 
noted  in  detail.  A  series  under  the  edi- 
torshiji  of  Edmund  Gosse,  published  by 
Macmillan,  has  been  begun.  Two  vol- 
umes have  thus  far  appeared,  both  this 
year — viz.,  S\n/iorr  SoU'akken  and  .  lr;/e. 

BjUrnson's  dramas  have  been  far  less 
generally  translated  than  his  stories  ; 
in  point  of  fact,  but  five  of  the  whole  fif- 
teen have  as  yet  been  put  into  an  Eng- 
lish garb.  De  Aygific  has  been  rendered 
twice  :  The  N^eicly  Married  Couple,  by 
Theodor  Soelfeldt,  London  [1868]  ;  and 
with  the  bamc  title  by  S.  and  £.  Hjer- 
leid, London,  1870.  A  version  of  Mary 
Stuart  in  Scotland  appeared  in  Siaf/Ji- 
naviut  Chicago,  1883-84.  Sigurd  Slembe, 
by  W.  M.  Payne,  was  published,  Bos- 
ton, 1888.  Orer  jFxme  appeared  as  Pas- 
tor Sangj  by  William  Wilson,  London, 
liSyj  ;  En  Hanshe  as  A  Gauntlet,  by  Os- 
man  Edwards,  London,  1894. 

Of  the  poems,  Arnljot  Gelline  has  never 
yet  found  a  translator.  The  lyrics,  as 
contained  in  the  novels  and  tales,  have 
usually  been  translated  in  their  proper 
places  in  the  text,  and  there  are  versions 
of  many  of  the  songs.  No  consider- 
able collection,  however,  has  yet  been 
made. 

Besides  the  foregoing,  to  complete, 

as  near  as  may  be,  a  bibliograpliy  in  Eng- 
lish, the  following  articles  have  been 
published  in  American  magazines :  in 
Scribners  Monthly  for  Febniar>-,  1S81, 
Norway's  Constitutional  Struggle  j  in  Har' 
per's  Monthly^  1889,  Norway  and  Its  Peo- 
ple, in  three  papers.  Last  of  all  in  the 
list,  a  pamphlet  in  English  on  the 
'*  Flag  Question"  was  privately  printed 
as  manuscript  in  1882,  and  sent  to  the 
editors  of  the  principal  journals  in  the 
seaboard  cities  of  the  Uniicd  States. 

Unlike  Ibsen,  Bjornson  in  the  main 
has  fared  badly  at  the  linn's  of  his  trans- 
lators. His  style  in  the  novels  and  tales 
is  so  lucid  and  unaffected,  and  his  vo- 
cabulary as  a  whole  so  easy  to  compre- 
hend that  it  seems  as  ii  it  ought  to  be 
the  simplest  possible  matter  to  render  it 
all  iiU')  graceful,  flowing  English. 
Therein,  I  think,  has  lain  the  principal 
difficulty.   The  very  rimplicity  of  most 


68 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


of  it  has  furnished  the  pitfall  to  trap  the 
unwaiy,  and  almost  all  of  BjOrnson's 

translators  liavc  ficcn  apparent! v  unsus- 
picious ot  the  actual  didiculty  of  their 
task.  Aside  from  the  fact  that  In  the 
process  of  turninj^  good  Norse  into  bad 
English  all  sorts  of  errors  of  commission 
have  been  made,  their  great  besetting 


sin  is  that,  misled  by  its  artful  ingenu- 
oasness,  they  have  attempted  to  better 
their  oritrinals,  willi  most  disastrous  re- 
sults. In  but  few  of  the  translations — 
those  of  the  late  Walter  Low  are  among 
the  best — have  we  Bjdniaon  as  he 
really  is. 

WilUam  H.  Carpenter. 


.  THE  BOOK  MART. 

For  BooxRSAoias,  BooKBUYBas»  and  Booksbllbrs. 


ROOKSELLIN(j. 

THE  bVali^M  AUUfiKll  IN  UKRMANV  FOR  THS  PRE- 
VENTIUN  OF  UNUERSKLLINO  AND  VOft  taOMOT- 

INU  THE  SALE  OF  BOOKS. 

(AbiidKd         u  addw  awla  Ik  L«indoa  bf  WOIShi 
liiiamwwi.) 

I. 

In  no  business  is  there  more  reason  for  some 
sort  of  uoderstaoding  among  its  members  tliao  in 
this  busincM  of  bookselliog,  because  only  thraogh 
an  iatimste  nademaadloc  is  it  possible  to  crcBie 
and  maintain  dial  raost  necessary  feeling  of  Inter- 
est and  enthusiasm  for  the  fascinatinj;  but  un- 
profil^iblc  business  in  which  wc  arc  cnj^aged, 
which  shtjulil  indurc  us  besides  iloitig  well  for 
ourselves,  to  du  sutncihing  also  {ox  tboee  who 
are  to  follow  us.  Bookselling  is  admittedly  not 
the  eatieai  of  trades — perliapa  it  is  the  most  diQ- 
cult.  It  requires  a  better  education,  wider  read- 
ing, and  more  disrretlon  than  any  other  retail 
business.  I  should  say  that  no  man  cati  be  a 
competent  bookseller  who  h.is  not  also  been  a 
reader  of  many  books.  A  bookseller  should 
know  the  niceties  of  style,  the  value  of  standard 
literature  as  well  as  of  momenury  sensation  ;  he 
should  appreciate  the  classics,  and  revel  also  in 
the  latest  fad  or  erase  of  the  hour ;  he  should 
have  a  small— sliall  T  say  a  nodding— acquaint- 
atx-c  with  almost  every  hirunch  of  human  know- 
ledge. It  would  be  well  {or  hini  !>>  know  some- 
thing^ about  the  best  authorities  in  the  fields  of 
law,  of  medicine,  and  of  science  generally.  It 
would  be  an  advantage  to  him  if  he  were  able  to 
tell  bis  client  who  is  tlte  first  autiioriqr  on  wliat- 
ever  snbject  the  client  might  consult  him  about. 
He  should  be  just  as  certain  what  to  recommend 
as  the  siand  ird  book  on  diphtheria  as  be  should 
know  which  Latin  Syntax  is  likely  to  meet  the 
requireiuciiu  uf  the  yuung  gentlemen  who  arc  in- 
vited to  join  the  recently  founded  local  boarding 
establishment  for  sons  of  the  clergy  and  gentry. 
He  should  be  able  to  recommend  to  his  leg^ 
friend  a  treatise  on  the  Law  of  Contract  just  as 
readily  as  he  should  be  able  to  say  to  the  artist 
who  visits  his  shop  ;  "This  is  the  book  which  you 
should  study  on  the  composiuon  of  pi>;nients. 

This  may  seem  Utopian  to  you.  iiiipossil.ile 
perhaps  to  expect  of  the  assistant  who  comes  to 
you  green  from  school — even  after  many  years  of 

etieat  insuuctioa.  It  may  be  an  impossibility 
r  any  nan  to  b«  entirely  a»  cMimmt  with  the 


literature  of  the  world  so  as  to  be  able  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  remember  the  st.mdard  work 
on  every  odd  and  awkward  subject — in  such  an 
extraordinary  way,  for  instance,  as  our  conjr^r,-, 
Mr.  {^aritcb,  has  mastered  almost  every  branch 
of  the  antiquarian  book  trade.  But  it  is  necessary 
that  we  should  have  booksellers  who  are  able  to 
compile  and  to  consult  bibliographical  material 
containing'  (or  which  siuNild  contain)  ail  tills 
special  knowledge. 

This  leads  me  to  the  theme  which  you  have 
asind  roe  to  discuss  with  you  this  evening,  vix.: 
the  way  in  which  an  organisation  which  might 
create  these  and  other  happy  changes  in  onr 
bosinesshas  aetnally  worked  etsewbeie.  has  in> 
spired  hope  and  confidence  in  a  sinking  business, 
and  has  (died  with  j>r;de  and  confidence  those 
who  must  always  be  rc^jarded  as  the  first  and 
highest — just  as  they  are  the  most  inteliigent — 
of  all  retailers  of  goods— the  booksellers.  1  am 
referring  to  the  SMiety  of  German  Booksell«ci« 
which,  under  the  name  of  the  "  BOrsenvereia  der 
Dcuischcn  Buchhttndler  2U  Leipzig,"  was  founded 
in  1S35,  and  has  grown'  to  be  the  centre  of  the 
book  tr.itle  of  almost  the  whole  coniiru  nt  of  Eu- 
rope. For,  although  the  itpccial  book  trade  of 
France  may  be  localised  in  Paris,  and  the  book 
trade  of  Italy  in  several  publishing  centres  SDCh 
as  Rome,  Naples  and  Milan  ;  that  of  Spain  la 
Madrid*  and  so  forth ;  stiii  Leipaig  is  tlie  centre 
from  wlUeh  Intercommunication  with  the  varions 
centres  takes  place.  It  has  become  the  pay-house, 
as  well  as  the  exchange  anil  forw.irdim;  ai;ency 
of  the  book  trade  of  the  world,  simply  and  solely 
through  its  superb  organisation — an  organis.iiion 
which  started  with  means  much  humbler,  from 
liMinnings  nnidi  leas  promising,  tiian  Uiose  which 
bring  so  Interesting  and  representative  a  body 
here  to-night. 

it  is  generally  laid  down  as  the  purpose  of  the 
"  BOrscnvercin  "  that  it  shall  devote  its  attention 
to  the  benefit  ol  the  German  book  tr<tUe  irre- 
spective of  personal  interests,  both  as  regards 
its  internal  organisation  and  its  relatiohs  to 
foreign  book  trades  as  well  as  to  all  allied  trades* 
and  &e  general  public  It  divides  its  actlvi^ 
under  fotir  heads. 

There  is  the  maintenance  nf  the  various  estab- 
lishments which  serve  for  meeting  purposes — for 
business  transacted  in  I.eii>/ig,  and  fOT  tlw  affile 
ment  ot  ail  annual  accounts. 

Then  there  is  the  drawing  np  of  the  rules  ac- 
cording to  which  the  book  tnida  generally  sliail 
be  wned  on»  liodi  wltk  rsgard  to  tiie  mmiamm 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURSAL. 


dnccHMit  that  the  booJcseller  is  eatitled  to  Itom. 
the  poblisher,  and  the  roaxiniDin  diwooot  that  the 

bookseller  is  to  uctonl  in  his  cvistnmer. 

Thirdly,  you  h  ive  the  Benevolent  Society,  for 
the  bench:  i<i  the  .ii;cd,  the  disabled,  and  .ilso  (he 
widows  and  orphans  ofail  who  are  connected  with 
the  book  trade. 

And  lastly,  there  is  a  special  branch  devoted  to 
the  encourafement  of  lub-organisatioiw  among 
local  boakscllers  in  every  impuriani  town  or  dis- 
trict, .ill  of  which  have  to  pledge  themselves  to 
ni.iii)t.iin  ill  [>rinciplc  the  rules  and  regulations  of 
the  "  lltJrscnverein."  but  who  among  themselves 
adapt  them  in  such  a  way  as  the  particular  cluMtiU 
of  tbeir  locality  demands.  This,  you  see.  is  a 
sort  of  local  government  under  the  general  aotbor^ 
ity  of  the  home  parliament. 

The  conditions  of  membership  of  the  *'  Bor^en- 
verein"  are  personal  integrity,  proof  that  thi- 
candidate  seeking  admibSKm  is  fjcnuincly  and  pro- 
fessionally cn^M^cd  in  the  book  trade,  either  as 
principal,  partner,  or  responsible  manaj^er  of  the 
btttiness  ,  and  lastly,  the  undertaking  to  submit 
oaconditionally  to  the  rules  and  regulations  of 
the  '*  BOrsenveretn,"  and  to  abide  by  the  decisions 
arrived  at  by  the  committee  in  general  meeting. 

The  entrance  fee  is  30s.  and  the  annual  sub- 
Bcripiiun.  ()s.  The  membership  IB  pciBOnal  and 
not  connected  with  the  ttrm. 

The  headquarters  of  the  "  B5rseoverein**  are 
located  in  the  "  fiuchbftadlerbaus  "—a  magniiceot 
palatial  botldtng.  It  consists  of  a  large  assembly 
hail,  .inJ  a  number  of  smaller  offices  and  apart- 
ments, and  being  the  rriia'c-z:,'itj — at  le.ist  during 
the  Easter  Fair — of  nearly  every  bookseller  in 
the  Empire,  has  assumed  almost  the  aspect  of  a 
dub  house. 

A  namber  of  clerks,  under  the  general  super* 
vision  of  a  responsible  secretary,  are  engaged  in 

the  offices  of  the  Association,  in  continual  corre- 
spondence with  the  three  thousand  members,  and 
also  in  the  cini pllation  of  the  B^rs^nS/a/f  der 
Deutschtn  Hmkhandier,  a  daily  paper  devoted  en- 
tirely to  the  interests  of  the  German  book  trade, 
which  contains  all  the  official  announcements  of 
the  committee  with  regard  to  rules  to  be  observed, 
as  weU  as  notices  of  forthcoming  meetings.  It 
also  contains  a  daily  list  of  all  books,  pamphlets, 
papers,  inusir.  m.ips.  piiblislied  in  Gcrmanv  ;  a 
weekly  li^t  of  foreign  publications — English 
French,  It.i'.ian,  Sc.indiiiavian,  Russian — and, 
from  lime  to  time,  lists  of  the  smaller  literatures  and 
less  accessible  book*.  There  are  also  occasional 
papers  relating  to  matters  ooitceming  the  book 
trade  genenlly  ;  not  only  to  the  bookseller's  busi- 
ness, but  to  the  publisher's  bu^iii!-'";,  .in  '  even  to 
the  allirrd  trades,  such  as  paperiu.tl^iug  .uid  print- 
ing. The  /i,ir:f)i!''iitl\s  open  to  every  member  <jf 
the  "  BorsiMiverein  '  for  any  communication  he 
may  see  fu  to  address  to  it. 

Before  1887.  the  discount  system  had  made 
such  ravages  in  the  ranks  of  discount  booksellers, 
that  its  abolition  or  continuance  became  a  matter 
of  life  or  death.  It  was  apparent  thai  the  self- 
lespect-ig  mcml;ers  of  the  trade  must  either  com- 
bine and  put  down  the  abuses  or  submit  to  a 
greedy  and  improi^deat  majoritj  and  be  crushed 
to  the  wall. 

It  was  then  that  the  present  rules  had  to  be 
drawn  op,  which  regulated  absolutely  and  definiiely 
the  discount  which  should  be  given,  which  de- 
fined  remainders,  and  which  claimed  for  the 
"  Bdrsenverein"  supreme  legislation  in  all  mai- 


tefs conccmiog  bosioess  disputes.  It  wan  Ui«l 
down  first  of  all  that  the  discount,  w!  ich  hud 

risen  to  as  per  cent.,  should  be  abolished  in  the 
ordinary  way,  but  that  u>  per  cent,  could  be  ac. 
corded  to  public  iostitulions  and  rrjjulAr  -  usU  nu  is 
for  cash.  If  any  booksetler  werv  reiv^rttxt  to  ilic 
'*  BOrsenverein"  for  havu)<  brv>kcn  this  rule,  the 
matter  was  to  be  inquired  into,  with  the  result 
that  if  the  case  was  proved  against  the  accusr^l  he 
was  to  be  turned  out  of  the  "  BOfae«veieio, "  which 
was  practically  the  losing  of  the  bookseller's  dvil 
rights 

Let  us  presume  that  in  some  ccuue  a  l  i.ick 
sheep  made  its  appearance  .itid  i^rtcre^l  a  l.ugc 
Stock  at  a  discount  to  the  public,  or  was  even 
fonild  giving  special  discounts  o|)«nly  or  secretly, 
thereby  actiacting  buyers,  who,  the  "iidrsen* 
vereln^  maintains.  sbouM  be  divided  in  proper 
proportion  among  the  different  l>o.  .kscllets  of  the 
place.  The  fact  of  the  discount  h.i\  ing  been  of- 
fered or  given  VM.uld  at  once  be  i  onmiunii  .ited  to 
the  bead  office  in  Leipzig,  whence  a  warning 
would  besent  10  the  offender.  He  would  then 
have  an  opportnoiljr  of  explaining  bis  conduct. 
If  such  explanation  was  satisfactory,  the  result  of 
the  i-r;-.;:ry  ivou!d  be  conitininii  .iie.l  to  the  infor- 
mant .md  there  the  matter  would  end.  If,  however, 
the  explanation  was  not  satisiactory,  or  no  ex* 
planation  was  forthcoming,  be  wouiU  tlan  be  de- 
prived of  the  ptivilefca  of  the  "  Bdrsenverein  ;" 
that  is  10  say,  an  aonoiincemctit  would  be  sent 
out  to  every  bookseller  and  publisher  throughout 

the  Empire,  stating  that  he  had  been  cxcludcil 
from  the  "  Bursenverein,"  and  calling  upon  every 
member  to  cease  doing  business  with  him  in  any 
form  or  shape  whatsoever. 

By  this  circular,  every  publisher's  account 
throughout  the  len^  and  breadth  of  the  land 
wcnild  be  closed  to  him ;  and  his  wholesale  agent 

corresponding  to  our  Messrs.  Simplcin,  Marshall 
and  Company  (from  whom  wc  receive  the  "  I-ilg- 
lish  Notes"  in  this  department) — would  at  once 
stop  his  account  and  his  Credit,  suing  him  at  com- 
mon law  for  whatever  stim  be  might  at  the  moment 
owe. 

So  stringent  are  the  iostmetJons  of  the  **  Bdr- 
senverein' on  this  subject,  that  any  publisher  or 
wholesale  agent  would  cxf>ose  himself  to  the 
same  treatment  as  the  offending  bookseller  should 
he  supply  him  with  goods.  He  would  be  warned 
at  first,  and  then  similarly  excluded,  with  the 
effect  that,  U  a  publisher,  no  reputable  bookseller 
in  Germany  would  stock  a  book  of  his ;  If  a 
wholesale  agent,  the  whole  of  his  business  would 
be  immediately  transferred  to  a  rival  firm,  of 
which  there  are  many  in  Leipsig. 


THE  POPE  LIBRARY. 

The  most  important  bibliographical  event  of  re- 
cent litnes  is  the  sale,  made  privately,  of  the  great 
library  beloii^jing  to  Mr.  N.  Q.  Pope,  of  Brook- 
lyn. The  entire  coileciion,  one  of  the  finest  in 
the  United  States,  cost  Mr.  Pope  about  $aoo.ooo, 
and  has  been  purchased  by  Messrs.  Dodd,  Mead 
and  Company.  It  is,  without  doubt,  the  largest 
purchase  of  old  books  ever  made  by  ,»nv  firm  or 
bookseller  on  this  side  of  the  .\tlantic,  and  wc 
know  of  but  one  larger  mailc  this  century,  that 
of  the  library  of  Earl  Spencer  in  Europe. 


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70 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


A  list  of  the  notable  books  would  be,  practi* 
colly,  a  catalogoe  of  the  library.  It  embraces 
some  ol  tbe  rarest  and  fineat  volnmci  of  the 
Engliah  literature  of  tbe  *ixteentl)  aad  tevciiteeoth 

centuries — folio  and  quarto  Shakspeares  and  ntt 
the  great  poets  and  dramatists  being  largely  rc[) 
resented.  While  it  cmtiut  bo  said  that  :my  col- 
lection is  pertect  in  this  respect,  the  Pope  Library 
comes  nearer  to  it  than  most,  and  includes  many 
eKtremdy  raluiU>lc  and  unique  books.  There  are 
two  Caxtona  and  leveral  Wynkin  de  Wordct.  la 
the  department  of  Aipericana,  or  booka  relating 
to  the  early  history  of  America  and  the  States, 
there  is  a  vi.Ty  i  hoif  e  (  (jl lertitjii  ;  ami  the  Knj^lish 
literature  and  poetry  of  the  eighteenth  and  nine- 
teenth centuries  are  finely  represented.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  great  writers  of  these  later  epochs 
IS  found  ia  tUs  collection  to  be  in  immaculate 
OMiditioii,  IWCQI  and  in  ftae  blndinga ;  in  fact, 
almost  all  the  books  in  this  library  are  nnekcep* 
tioiiahle  in  tliis  respect. 

Nut  the  least  iiiterestinR  jiortinn  of  tliis  winidei- 
ful  collection  is  that  of  books  with  illustrations, 
of  which  (here  are  large  numbers,  containing 
nany  thousands  of  inserted  plaHe* ;  80010  of  these 
die  work  of  Mr.  Assay,  who  was  an  adept  in 
extra  iUnstrating.  The  prints  in  these  boolu  are 
interspersed  with  most  interesting  autograpli  let- 
ters of  literary  men  of  all  times.  The  separate 
auti  igraph  letters  and  d  "utncnts,  althontih  tuimber 
ing  but  a  comparatively  Jew,  are  without  excepiioa 
those  most  prized  by  the  collector.  There  is  a  fine 
series  of  the  best  works  on  bibliography.  The 
French  liooks,  forming  a  minor  part  of  this  col- 
lection, comprise  some  of  ilic  most  lieautiful  and 
artistic  work  of  this  centtiry.  In  manuscripts  on 
velhim,  there  is  the  famous  Ch.irtf«  VI.  miss.il, 
which  contains  a  vast  mmiber  of  superb  nnni.i- 
tures. 

In  short,  the  three  thousand  and  odd  volumes 
which  would  go  to  make  up  a  complete  catalogue 
of  this  library  consist  lareely  of  the  most  illns- 
trioos  authora  in  poetry,  drama,  history,  art,  and 
bibliography  from  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century  to  the  present  date.  1  lie  library  is  now 
btiiij.;  arran^^ed  and  priced,  and  in  the  early  au- 
tumn will  be  offered  lor  sale  by  Messrs.  Dodd, 
Mead  and  Company  at  their  store  on  Fifth  Ave- 
nue. It  will  idSford  a  rare  opportunity  to  book 
collectors  and  to  libraries,  public  and  private,  to 
secure  books  that  are  rarely  found,  and  very 
many  of  which  are  not  obtainable  once  in  a  de- 
cade^ or,  indeed,  ever  offered  for  sale. 


EASTERN  LETTER. 

New  York,  August  I,  1895. 

Sales  in  the  first  week  of  July  were  rather  light, 
being  brokeri  by  I  inlepetnience  Day  ami  its  .il- 
tractions.  From  that  time  on,  however,  there  has 
been  an  increasing  business,  better  in  proportion 
.  to  that  of  tbe  last  few  months,  and  comparing 
favourably  with  July's  sales  in  previous  years. 
Mail  orders  have  particularly  in  many  cases  been 
for  quantities  instead  of  single  copies,  thus  indi- 
cating a  tendency  to  stock.  ul.;!e  even  the  city 
trade  has  had  its  share  of  improvement. 

Library  trade,  usually  very  quiet  during  the 
summer,  has  shown  considerable  activity,  not  only 
in  the  matter  of  orders,  but  in  lists  to  be  priced 


and  inquiries  for  catalogues,  suggestitig  an  early 
renewal  of  business  in  tut  department. 

Guide-books  to  the  sommer  resorts  in  the 
mountains  and  at  tbe  sea<sfaore  sell  readOy,  also 

Works  on  outdoor  rerrcation.  //.  ^f  /.>  h'npw  tlu 
Wild  /'lo-ctis  still  continues  its  remarkable  pop- 
ularity, while  of  the  later  books,  /iir.t'-,  l-.a  i,  >  n 
North  America  and  Familiar  l-U'i^'t-n  oj  J- u la  and 
Garden  lead  the  van. 

The  various  volumes  of  bii>torical  publications 
recently  Issned  contiaoe  to  meet  with  a  good 
demand,  while  thoee  of  btofraphy  are  little  called 
for. 

I  n  paper  l  '<  tund  hooks  there  has  been  issued  noth- 
ing of  especial  import.iTuc  (hiring;  the  month,  but 
the  works  of  Captain  Kin^t,  Lonan  Doyle  and  J.  M. 
Barrie  in  paper  covers  have  sold  readily.  Social 
Evthtthit  in  this  cheap  form  is  also  selling  well, 
and  tbe  pttblisbert  ran  out  of  it  lor  some  time 
while  reprinting.  A  marked  feature  of  this  snm- 
tner's  trailc  has  been  the  popularity  of  the  Puckram 
Scries  ami  sixteenmo  styic  of  bitoks.  In  .addition 
to  Henry  Holt  and  Company's  series,  mentioned 
in  a  previous  number,  is  F.  A.  blokes  Company's, 
inchxiing  Jn  the  Midtl  of  Alarms,  The  Fate  and 
tht  Ma$k  and  othera ;  abo  the  series  in  which 
several  single  volumes  have  been  pnbfished,  audi 
as  The  Play-Aclress,  by  Crockett,  and  7 he  Ken- 
tucky  Cardinal,  by  J.  L.  Allen.  In  fiction.  Be- 
side Ihe  Bonnie  Brier  lUuh,  The  Ad't-entures  of 
Captain  Horn,  The  IVoman  H'ho  Did  and  The 
J'risoner  of  21enda  have  sustained  their  popularity 
unabated,  while  Trilby  has  come  to  almost  a 
standstill  in  point  of  sale. 

The  new  titles  for  the  month  contain  a  number 
of  books  by  well>known  writers,  such  as  Tkt 
Story  of  Bessie  Cesh\!',  by  Mrs.  Humphry 
Ward  ;  Fort  Fr^n  n,',  hy  Captain  Charles  King  ; 
Afy  Lady  Noho  ty,  by  Maarten  Maartens.  and /4n 
Jmaii;inative  Man,  by  R.  S.  Hichens  ;  also  several 
editions  of  Chiffon's  Marriage,  by  Gyp. 

In  subjects  of  a  more  serious  character.  Jkga^ 
troHm,  FvunAitions  of  Belief,  and  OmiBnfs  «/ 
Si\i,i'  T':tt!.\'v  -Mc  selling  steadily.  Fiction  nat- 
urally leads  in  demand  at  (his  lime  ot  year,  as 
will  readily  be  seen  by  reference  tO  the  fmlowing 
list  of  most  called-for  books. 

The  Story  of  Bessie  Costretl.  By  Mrs.  Hvow 
pbry  Ward.    TS  cts. 

Beside  tbe  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Ian  Mac- 
laren.  $1.35. 

The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

T-he  Adventures  of  Capuiu  Horn.  Hy  ^  rank 
R.  Stockton.    .^1  50. 

Fort    Frayne.    by  Captain    Charles  King. 

The  Princess  Aline.    By  Richard  Harding 
Davis.  $1.25. 
The  Woman  Who  Did.    By  Giant  Allen. 

$1  00. 

Tryphena  In  Love.   By  Walter  Raymond. 

75 

Chimmie  Fadden,  Major  Max,  and  other  Stories. 
By  £.  W.  Townsend.  Paper,  50  cts, ;  dotht 
fi.oa 

Handbook  to  tbe  Birds  of  Eastern  North  Amer> 
ica.    By  Frank  M.  Chapman.  $3.00. 
Familiar  Flowers  of  Field  and  Garden.  ByF. 

Schuyler  Mathews.    Sr. -5. 

How  t  o  Kiuiw  the  Wild  Flowers.  By  Mrs. 
William  Starr  Dana.  Revised  edition,  pel, 
$1.75. 


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A  UTBRARY  JOURNAL 


71 


Degeoeration.    By  Max  Nordau.  f3-so. 
With   tlie   Procenioa.    By   H.  H.  Faller. 
$1.35. 

Princeton  Stories.    Uy  J.  L.  WUliams.  $1.0% 
Yale  Yar9S.   By  J.  S.  Wood.  $i.ooi 
Social  Evolatlon.   By  Benjamin  Kidd.  Paper. 
SS  cts. ;  cloth»  91.SO1. 


WESTERN  LETTER. 

Chicaoo,  AiiKim  1, 1895. 

The  month  just  concluded  was  as  uneventful  as 
July  peneraliy  is,  and  presented  very  few  features 
of  any  iiitereNt.  Hiisiness  has  been  very  si'nv 
throughout  the  monLh,  and  hardly  up  to  the  aver 
age.  The  demand  fnr  recent  literature  kept  up 
fairly  well,  and  although  financial  works  are  still 
selling  largely,  the  extraordinary  voRue  they  en- 
joyed a  few  weeks;  ago  nii  lurui  r  '  •  i: 

The  new  bi.iuks  published  Itily  were, 

from  a  business  point  of  view,  as  ]  i.  ,  ,i>  the  month 
itself,  and  not  one  of  them  wiis  even  moderately 
SOOOessful.  The  best  of  them— the  best  of  a  poor 
lot— was  TMe  Story  0/  Btssi<  CoslreU^  by  Sirs. 
Humphry  Ward,  whkh  has  not  reached  expecu- 
tions  so  far.  but  may  sell  better  later  on.  The 
various  editions  of  Chiffon's  A/arrim;/-,  which 
seems  to  have  been  the  /  in'hy  of  Paris,  have 
also  sold  well,  the  edition  put>iishcd  by  Messrs. 
Lovell,  Coryell  and  Company  finding  perhaps  most 
favour  in  the  eyes  of  the  W estcrn  public.  Messrs. 
Scribner's  cheap  reprint  of  Bitler  Sweet  and 
rtMO  were  in  good  demand  hy  the  country  tmde» 
and  win  doubtless  do  better  still. 

Western  bc)uksell<TS  are  now  busy  purchasing; 
supplies  for  the  autumn  trade,  and  the  travelling 
agents  of  the  various  publishing  huuses  report 
that  they  are  very  well  satisfied  with  the  results 
of  their  July  sales.  In  fart,  business  has,  so  far, 
exceeded  their  anticipation,  and  it  would  seem 
that  booksellers  are  regaining  a  little  of  the  con* 
firlcnce  that  has  been  SO  sadly  lacking  dufiog  the 
last  two  or  three  years. 

The  Kaine  of  golf  seems  to  have  come  to  stay 
with  us.  I  he  literature  of  the  same  is,  so  far  as 
this  country  is  concerned,  confined  tO  three  or 
four  booksi  for  all  of  which  there  ate  frequent 
calls.  Perhaps  the  moat  elaborate  treatise  on  the 
game  is  the  work  on  golf  in  the  Badminton 
Library,  but  the  most  popular  work  with  begin- 
ners, or,  for  that  matter,  the  initiated,  is  the  useful 
and  cheap  little  handbook  of  the  game  as  played 
in  America,  issued  in  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company's 
Athletics  Series. 

The  demand  for  outdoor  books  ts  still  great. 
One  of  ttie  most  successful  of  the  recent  bocrits  on 
onr  home  birds  Is  Chapman's  ffandho^k  t«  the 

J^i'  ih  of  Pastern  Ai'tul't  A m,-ri,-ti.  Judgini;  from 
the  ready  sale  it  is  meeting  with,  it  would  seem  to 

be  the  i)est  handbook  ott  tkesubject  as  welt  as  the 

most  pleasing. 

In  regard  to  the  leading  books  of  the  hour, 
Triiby  sold  better  last  month  than  it  did  in  June* 
stimulated,  no  doubt,  by  the  drama  of  that  name 

now  heinff  played  in  the  West,  />'-  >/</<  f'l,-  Bonnie 
Brier  Jiush  a^^ain  surpassed  its  l.isi  recnrd. 
Miinxman  and  all  of  Stanley  'W'evman's  books 
sold  well,  but  with  the  exception  of  The  Prisoner 
pf  Zenda,  which  went  as  fast  this  month  as  at  any 
time  since  its  publication,  the  other  works  of  An- 
dMoy  Hope  Bad  but  an  oidinaiy  sale.  S.  R. 


Crockett  holds  his  own,  and  his  beautiful  little 
story,  Tiie  I'hiy  Aetress.  which  heretofore  has  not 
sold  very  well  in  the  West,  seems  to  have  caught 
a  favourable  current. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  books  which  led 
the  sales  last  month : 

Tritby.    Ry  George  Du  Maurier.  $1.75. 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Ian  Mac- 
laren.  $1.25. 

Chiffon's  Marriage.    By  Gjrp.    50  cts. 

The  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.  By  F.  R. 
Stockton.  $1.50. 

The  Story  of  Bessie  Costrell.  By  Mrs.  Hum* 
phry  Ward.    75  cts. 

The  Manxman.    By  Hall  Caine.  $1.50. 

The  Priaoner  of  Zenda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

Handbook  to  the  Uirds  of  Eastern  Moitil 
America.    By  Frank  M   Chapman.  $3.(X>. 

The  Master     By  I.  Zangwill.  $1.75. 

An  Errant  Wooing.  By  Mrs.  Burton  Harrison. 
$1.50. 

The  Woman  Who  Did.   BvGrant  Allen.  %\Ayx 

The  World  Heauiiful.  liy  Lilian  Whiting. 
$1.00  and  |i  .25. 

The  Princess  Aline.    By  R.  H.  Davis.   $1  25. 

With  the  Procession.  By  Henry  B.  Fuller. 
$1.25. 

A  Little  Sister  to  die  Wilderness.  By  Lilian  BelL 
$1.25. 

Chimmie  Fadden,  First  and  Second  Series.  By 
E.  W.  Townsrnd.  Each,  paper,  50  cts. ;  clotl^ 
f  i.oo. 

Degeneration.   ByMaxKordao.  f3>sa 


ENGLISH  NOTES. 
LoMDOM,  June  34  to  July  20,  1895. 

In  the  last  report  the  hope  was  expressed  that 
the  lowest  point  of  depression  in  the  trade  had 
been  mched.   This  hope  has  been  realised,  for 

there  has  been  from  the  date  above  written  a 
noticeable  improvement.  This  is  the  more  ap- 
preciated as  the  prospect  of  a  dissidution  i)f  [*ar- 
iiament  usually  brings  business  almost  to  a  stand- 
mAI.  The  vulume  of  trade  generally  is  about 
normal,  but  the  detail  is  greater  than  ever.  So 
much  for  home  trade.  Abroad  English  Itteratore 
is  still  in  as  good  demand  as  ever,  judginc;  from 
orders  received  from  all  parts  of  the  earth,  and 
sometimes  fnim  very  remote  parts  indeed.  Who 
would  e.xpcct  an  order  ft>r  a  work  on  electricity 
from  a  petty  potentate  in  Java  ? 

The  number  of  new  books  and  new  editions 
is  considerably  less  than  last  month,  although 
many  excellent  works  have  appeared— works  that 
are  likely  to  live. 

S.  R.  Crockett,  Tan  Marlarcn,  S.  J.  Weyman, 
and  Cuiian  Doyle  apjiear  to  be  the  favourites  in 
the  fiction  departmeni.  Tiieir  books  continue  in 
Steady  demand  at  a  time  of  the  year  when,  as  a 
rule,  six-shiliing  novelsdo  not  form  a  very  impot^ 
tant  item  in  trade. 

Appended  is  a  list  of  the  leading  publicatioos 
in  demand  at  the  moment  of  writing.  It  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  tlie  sale  of  such  Standard  fa- 
\'ouritcs  .as  ISraddon,  Dickens,  Scott,  Hesant, 
Black,  Biackmore,  and  many  others  is  as  good 
as  ever,  but  in  this  list  are  included  the  more 
recent  issues.  The  same  remaik  applies  eqnally 
10  all  brandies  of  tilemtiire. 


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Trilby.    By  G.  Du  Mauricr.    6s.  4.  In  ihe  Midst  of  Alarms.    By  Barr.    75  cis. 

Beside  the  Boanie  Brier  Bitsh.    By  lan'Mec*  (Stokci..) 

laren.    6s.  The  Master.    By  ZanipriU.  $1.75.  (Harper.) 

The  Master.    By  1.  Zangnrill.   ts.  6.  Hon.    Peter  Stlrliaf.     By  Ford.  $s-SC^ 

loto  the  Highways,  etc   By  F.  F.  Montrtoor.  (Holt.) 
«e. 

The  Unnniir  of  SavcIIt.    Py  S.  L.  Yeats.    61.  BALTIMORE,  MD. 

The  Manxnj.m.    Hv  Hall  Caine.    6s.  ^  »»    «.  . 

Zoraida.    Bv  \V.  Lc  yiicux     f.s.  ^Bonnie  Uricr  Fiush.    By  Hadaien.  $1.15. 

Bog-Myrtle  and  Peat.   By  S.  R.  Crockett.   6s.  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  .      ^  ^ 

Under  the  Red  Robe.    By  S.  J.  Wcyman.    6s.  2.  A    Kentucky  Cardinal.     By  Allen.  fl.Oa 

When  Valmond  Come  to  Pontiac.    By  G.  .^H*rper.)  ^  „ 

Parker.  6e.  3.  A  Loat  Endeavoar.    By  Bootbby.    7$  cts. 

Gcraid  Everaley'a  FricodsUp.    By  J.  E.  C.  ttlaanillan.) 

Welldon    6s.                     «-       *  .»  ^  Pnnceton   Stories.     By   Wilbams.  ft.oa 

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The  Woman  who  Did.   By  Grant  Alteo.    3$.  ^  J}}"P^'L         ^    w  . 

,1^/,  6.  r  idclu.    By  Ada  Cambridge.    Paper,  $0  cis. 

Fifty  Years.   By  Rev.  Harry  Jones.  ^  (Appleton.) 
Duncan's  Investment  and  Speculation,  as.  6d. 

net.  BOSTON.  MASS. 

Li  Hungchang.    By  Prof.  Douglas.    3s.  6d. 

Lord  John  Russell.    By  S.  J  Rcid.    35.  6d.  ^  Bonnfe  Bner  Bush.  By  Maelarcn.  $1.25. 

Wild  EngUodof  To.day.  "By  C  I.  Cornish,  {Dodd.  Mead  &  C  o  ) 

I2S.  6d.  Adventures  <>f  t  aptain   Horn,    iiy  Siockloo. 

Social  Evolution.  ByB.Kidd.  s«*  w/.  "i'j '  "'i      .0  ... 

^  Chnninic  raddeo,  Second  Series.    By  Town» 

  scud.    Paper,  so  cts.;  cloth,  fixx).  (Lovcll, 

Coryell.) 

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SALES  OF  BOOKS  DURING  THE  MONTH.  ^    (Harper.)  8>   *  - 

The  Story  of  Bessie  Costrell     Hv  Mrs.  Ward. 

N'cw  books,  in  order  of  demand,  as  sold  between  75  cts.  >M.i.:niillan.) 

Julv  I  and  August  I.  6.  An  Experiment  in  Altnusm.   By  Hastings.  75 

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NFW  YORK,  UPTOWN.  ^  Degeoeration.    By  Xordau.   $3.5a  (Apple- 

1.  My  Lady  Nobody.  By  Maartcns.  $1.75.  (Bar-  ^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Madaien.  |K.a5. 

pef  )         „       ^  ,„           ^  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

a.  Imapinative  Man.    By  Hichcns.    fl.as.  (Ap-  The  Master.    I5yZangwill.    $1.75.  (Harper.) 

P'^^""  )  4-  Russian    Rambles.     Bv    Hapgood.  $i.5a 

^  A<lventures  of  Captain  HoTO.    By  Stockton.  (Houghton  Mifflin  ) 

♦1  50.    (Scribncr.)                    „      .      v  Story  of  Bessie  Costiell.    By  Mrs.  Ward. 

4.  Celibates.     By  Moore,    fi.50.    (Macmillan.)  75  cts.  (Macmillan.) 

5.  The  Gods.  etc.    By  Hobbes.   $1.50.   (Apple-  6.  Fort  Frayne.   By  King.  $1.25.  (Neely.) 

ton.) 

6.  With  The  Procession.    By  Fuller.  $1.35. 

(Harper.)  BUFFALO,  N.  Y. 

NEW  YORK  DOWVTOWV  ^  Story  of  Bpssie  CostrclL    By  Mrs.  Ward.  75 

•           *           *  ■  cts.    ( ^fac^1illan.) 

X  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  MacUren.    I1.85.  "^(DodTMcaf^ ♦•  '5- 

,w?.^mr^^.*'n1  rSi«  H««.    ll««toAfct«-  ^Bonnie 'Brier  Bush.    ByMadarcn.  $i.»5. 

^-.Adventure,  of  Captain  Horn.   By  Stockton.  •*    (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

ntLi™;.^-    H,  M««i-«    a. .»  4.  Dr.  Iiard.   By  Green,   so  cts.  (Putnam.) 

ton  )  5   Diplomatic   Diseochantments.     By  Biglow. 

4.  Fort  Frayne.    By  King.       25.    (Neely.)  ,   -rV.^liJJJni^J  ^n^u  ».         .v^  k. 

jTheMaier.   By  Zanfwiil!   $1.75.  (Harper.)  <».  The  Plated  C.ty.    ByPerrj  .   $1.25.  ^bcnb- 

Jk  Chiromie  Fadden,  First  Series.  By  Towoseod. 

Paper,  50  cts,  (Uvell.  Corydl.)  CHICAGO.  ILL. 

ALBANY,  N.  Y.  i.  With  the  Procession.  By  Futter.  fi.sou  (Har- 
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J.  Chiffon's  Marrisge.  By  *'Gyp."  50  cts.  (Lov-  (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co  ) 

ett.  Coryell.)                                      .  3.  Chiffon's  Marriage.    By  "Gyp."    50  cts. 

J§.  Story  of  Bessie  Costrdl.    By  Mn.  Ward.    75  (Lovt  11.  Corvell/i 

cu.    (Macmillan.)  4.  Prisoner  of  Zenda.    By  Hope.  75  cts.  {Holt.) 

^^vi-J.  '      -Sy' '                 .  Digitized  by  Gopgle 


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send.  Cloth,  $l.oo  ;  paper,  50  cts.  (Lovell, 
Coryell.) 

6.  When  Valmoad  came  to  Poniiac.    By  Parker. 
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CHICAGO,  ILL, 


I. 


Gallic  Girl.  By  "  Gyp."  $1.25.  (Brentaoos.) 
^  The  Master.    By  Zangwill.  $1,75.  (Harper.) 

3.  Adventures  of  Captain  Hom.   By  Stockton. 

Si. 50.  (Scribncr.) 

4,  Barras  Memoirs.    B7  Duruy.   $7.50.  (Har- 

per.) 

Jiff  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclareo.  9t.as. 
^    (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 
6.  Two  Women  and  a  Fool.   By  Cbatfield-Tay* 
lor.  9i.sa  (Stoae  ft  KtmlMl.) 


CINCINNATI,  O. 

I,  Kentucky  CardiaaL   By  AUea.  $1.00.  (Har. 

per.) 

^rBuniiic  Brier  Bush.    By  Madarea.  $1.35. 

(Dodd.  Mead  Co.) 

^^r* Adventures  of  Captain  Hom.   By  Stockton. 

(Scribner.) 

4.  Mr.  Bonaparte  of  Corsica.  By  Bangs.  $i.S5. 
(Harper.) 

The  Master.  By  Zangwill.  $1.75.  (Harper.) 

6«  The  National  MiHtary  Park,  Chickamau^^a. 
Chattanooea.  By  Boyntoa.  $1.50.  (The 
Robt.  Clarke  Company.) 


CLEVELAND,  O. 

I.  Master  Knot  and  Another  Story.  By  "  ConOTer 

Duff."   75  CIS.    (HoU  &  Co.) 
S.  Chiffon's  Marriage.  By  "Gyp,"  socts.  (Lov 

eW,  Coryeil.) 
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$1.35.    (  Stone  iS:  KimUall.) 
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(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
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send,   soots.  (Lovell,  Coryell.) 
6l  Shadow  of  a  Crime.     By  Caine.  $1.50. 

(Kaigbt.)  , 


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(Dodd.  Mead  A:  Co.) 

5.  Hispaniola  Plate.  By  Barton  $1.00.  (Cassel!.) 
$.  Wilh  the   Procession.    By  Fniier.  $1.25. 

(Harper.) 

4.  Vale  Yarns.    By  Wood.    $1  lo     (Putnam  ) 
jf.  The  .Master.    By  Zangwill.   $1.75.  (Harper.) 

6.  Princeton    Stories.      By  Williams.  $1.00. 

(Scribner.) 


HARTFORD,  CT. 

^*rStor>'  of  Bessie  Costrell.   By  Mrs.  Ward.  75 
CIS.  (Macmillan.) 
%,  The  Story  of  Fort  Frayne.  By  King.  #i.s$. 

(Neely.) 

The  Adventures  of  Captain  Hom.    By  StOCk' 
too.   $1.50.  (Scribner.) 


4.  Honour  of  SavellL   1^  Yeats.   Paper,  50  cts. 

(Appleton.) 

5.  Fidclis.    By  Ada  Cambridge.    Paper,  50  cts. 

(Appleton.) 

Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  $i.S5. 
(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 


INDIANAPOLIS.  IND. 

jK  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 
,jtf  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.    By  Stockton. 

$1.50.  (Scribner.) 
3.  The  Manxman.  ByCaioe.  $1.50.  (Appleton.) 
The  Stoiy  vi  Bessie  CostrelL   By  Mrs.  Ward. 
75  cts.  (Macmillan.) 
5.  Coin's  Financial  School.    By  Harvey.  Paper, 

25  ct.s.    (Coin  I'ub.  Co.) 
^  Chimmie  Fad<ien.    Second  Series,   liy  iown- 
Paper.  50  cm.  (LovcU.  Coryell.) 

KANSAS  CITY.  MO. 


By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

$f.00. 


Crockett. 


50  cts.  and 


ji(  Bonnie  Brier  Bush. 

(Dodd,  Mead  ft  Co.) 
2.  ^  f  K    Play-Aciress.  By 

^i^uinam.) 
jfi  Chimmie  Fadden.    By  Townsend. 

$1.00.  (LovcU.  Coryell.) 

4.  Life  of  the  Spirit  in  Modern  English  Poetry. 

By  Scodder.  $1.7$.   (Houghton,  Mifflin.) 

5.  Prisoner  of  Zeoda.  By  Hope.  7Scts>  (Holt.) 

6.  Dr.  Izard.   By  Green,   Paper*  $0  cts.  (Put- 

nams.) 

LOUISVILLE,  KV. 


By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 
By  Zangwill.  $1.50. 


^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush. 
(Dodd,  Mead  \  Co.) 

2.  Children  of  the  Ghetto. 

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I1.SO.   (Scribner.)  _   


MONTREAL.  CANADA. 


By  Madaren. 

By  Denney. 

By  Raymond. 
By  Ewart. 


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ti.50. 

|;i.25. 
$2.00. 
75  cts. 


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2.  Studies  in  Theology. 

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4.  Manitoba  School  Question. 

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Paper  edition.  (Methuen.) 

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LOS  ANGELES.  CAL. 

V  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Maclaren.  tt.ss> 

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$1.50.  (Scribncr.) 
3.  Ladies'  Juggernaut.     By  Gunier.     50  CtS. 
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AC  Iht  UuMt.    ByZangwill.   $1.7$.    (Harper.)  5.  Bog.Myrtie  and  Peat.    By  Crockett,  fl.sa 

J.  The  God»,  etc    By  Hobbet.   Is.sa  (Ap-  (Appleton.) 

pteton.)  6.  Coin's  FitwnciAl  SchooL   B7  Hnnvf,  9$  «tt. 

^  Hewrt  of  the  Woild.  By  Haggard.   91.35.  (Coin  Pub.  Co.) 

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NEW  HAVEX»  CT.  .  .  v 

I.  The  G(xls,  etc.    tiobbes.    $1.50.  (Apjuetoo.) 

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9.  A  Study  in  Prejndlcet.   By  Puton.   Paper,  3.  Two  Women  end  m  Foot.   By  CbetAdd-Tey» 

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3.  An  Errant  Wooing.  By  Mrs.  Harrison.  $1.50,  4.  The  Woman  Wtin  Did.     By  Allen.  $1.00. 

(Century  1  iRribfrts.) 

4.  In  Deacon  s  Orders,  etc.    By  Besant.    $1.25.  «  lionnie   brier  Bush.    By  Macl.iren.  $1.35. 

(Harper.)  ^     (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

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(Dodd.  Mead  .'s:  Co.  1 

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^  The  Master.   By  ZangwUl.   $1.75.  (Harper.)  ji^^  Degeneretion.    By  Noraen.   fj.sa  (Apple- 
4.  DcKencration.    By  Ndrdao.   I3.SO.    (Apple-  ton.) 

ton.)  5.  Mr.  Ronap.irte  of  Corsica.    By  Bangs.  $1.2:;. 

^  Chimmic  Fadden.     By  Towmend.    Paper.  1  Harper.^ 

50  CIS.   (Lovell,  Coryell.)  6.  Princess  Aiioe.    By  Davis.   |i.3$.  (Harper.) 
Mr.  iionaporte  of  Cornea.  By  Bangs.  $1.95. 

(Harper.)  SX.  PAUL,  MINN. 

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t>           r,        D    u      o    M    .            A  {Do^i,  Mead  &  Co.) 

^Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Madaren.     $1.9$.  ^Adventures  <.f  Captain  Hon.   By  SCOcktOd. 

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^Chimmic  Fadden.  Second  Scries.     By  Town-  3,  Tr>'phcna  in  Love.    By  Raymond.    75  CtS. 

send.    Paper,  50  cts.    (.Loveil,  Coryell.)  (Macmillan.) 

3.  Western    ArdUpelagO.     By  Pield.     |t.oa  ^  Maa««an.     ByCaine.    $1.50.  (Appletoo.) 

(Scribnrr )  ^.  Degeneiatioo.  By  Nordan.  I3.S0.  (Apple. 

4.  Suppressed  Chapters.    By  Bridges.    $1.95.  ^        >  ^  rr- 

(Scribner.)  6  ^I^.  jUcrarv  PSMiona.  By  HoweUs.  |i.«5. 

5.  Ladies    JuKgernaot.      By  Ganter.     50   cts.  (Haroer  ) 

(Home  Publishing:  C...^  ^  '  ^ 

6.  Black  Adonis.    By  Ro»».    50  cts.    (G.  W.  TOLEDO,  O. 

DiUmgham.)  ^          ^  ^taOc  Costrell.    By  Mis.  Ward. 

75  cts.  (Marmtd.Tn.) 

ROCHESTER,  N.  Y.  ^  Honnic  Hricr  Hush.    By  MacUren.  $1.25. 

.                         „                 ^  (D.xM,  Mead  \-  Co.) 

X  Bonnie   Brier  Bush.    By   Madaren.    $1.25.  ^.  Chimmic  Kaddca.     By   Townsend.  Paper. 

(Dodd,  .Mead  \  Co.)  t,o  ci%.    (Lovell.  Coryell.) 

XA'lventures  of  Captain  Horn.    By  Stockton.  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.    By  Stockton. 

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^  .Story  of  Bessie  Costrell     By  Mrs.  Ward.  5.  An  Errant  Wooing.    By  Mrs.  B.  Harrison. 

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6.  Into  the  Highways  and  Hedges.    By  Montrfi.  ^.Bonnie    Brier   Bush.    By  Msclarett.  |l.«5. 

ion.    Haper,  50CU.   (Applcion.)  ^    (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

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3.  Bog  Myrtle  and  Peat.    By  Croclwett.    $1  ;o 

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(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  4.  Children  of  the  Soil.    By  Sienktewicz.    $2. 00. 

9  Lilac  Sunboonet.   By  Crodcett.  9i.so»  (Ap*  (Little,  Brown  ^  Co.) 

picton.)  5.  Foundations  o(  Belief.  By  BaUour.  $s.00w 

3.  Manxman.   By  Calne.  St.50.   (Appletoo.)  (Longmans.) 

4.  Two  Women  and  a  Fool.        Chatfield-Tay-  /f.  Chiramie  Fadden,  second  ."series.    By  Town* 

lor.    $1.50,  net.    (Stone  ft  Kimball.)  send.    Paper,  50  cts.    (LovcU.  Coryeli.) 


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A  UTHKARY  JOURNAL. 


75 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  DURING  THE  MONTH. 


AMER 

THEOLOGY  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

Bbnson,  R.  M.— The  Final  Passover.  Vol.  II. 
The  Upper  Chamber,  Pan  3.   x6mo,  pp. 

xxv-55a,  $1.75  ...Longmans 

HiGvi.  C. — Neoplatonism.  i6mo,  pp.  iii— 35$^ 
$1.25  Young 

Black,  J.  S.— The  ChrisUao  CoDMioaiocsa :  Its 
Relation  to  Evolution  in  Morals  and  in  Doc- 
trines.   i2mo,  pp.  xi-244.  $1.25.  . .  Lcc  S. 

Clark,  A.  —  Fxundation-Stones  :  Fifteen  Les- 
sons on  itu-  Founding  of  the  Church  in 
England.    i6mo,  pp.  187,  8oc  Young 

CoLEMA.N.  L. — The  Church  in  America.  l3mo, 
pp.  3')i.  $2.50. ...   Poll 

DiGCLE,  J.  W.— Religious  Doubt:  Its  Nature, 
Treatment,  Causes,  etc.   ismo,  pp.  xil-371, 

$2.00  Longmans 

DoNOHOE.  T. — The  Irijquois  and  the  Jesuits: 
ihe  Slory  of  ihe  L:ilK>rs  of  ilie  Ciihnlic  Mis- 
sionaries among  these  Indians.  12010,  pp. 
xiT-a76,  $t.»5  w/^.Bnffa]o  Catholic  Pub.  Co. 
Eacar,  a.  R.— The  Cily  of  the  Living  God. 
l6roo,  pp.  224,  $1.00  Young 

Lazarus,  Josephink. — ^The  Spirit  of  Judaism. 

if>mo,  pp.  202,  $1.25  Ditild,  M. 

Leni  (A)  in  London  :  a  Course  of  Stnnuus  un 
Social  Snbjecta.   ismo,  pp.  v-23g,  $1.25. 

Longmans 

Lsotf  ARt>.  D.  L. — A  Hundred  Years  of  Missions; 

or.  The  Story  of  Progress  Since  Carey's  Be- 
ginning.   i2mo,  pp.  iii'43u,  f  1.50. 

Funk  &  Wagnalls 

McL&AK.  A.— Missionary  Addresses,  iimo, 
pp.  998,  tt.oo.  Christian  Pub.  Co. 

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THE  BOOKflAN 

A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Vol.  II.  OCTOBER.  189-,.  No.  2. 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMENT. 


Mr.  Hamlin  Garland  has  been  spend- 
ing some  months  among  the  miners  and 
on  the  Indian  reservations  of  the  South- 
west, studying  wild  life  and  getting 
local  colour.  The  last  advices  that  we 
received  from  him  reported  him  in  the 
land  of  the  Pueblos. 

About  Mr.  Richard  Harding  Davis, 
Claudius  Clear  writes :  "Some of  us  have 
personal  recollections  of  his  early  visits 
to  London.  He  was  then  a  very  young 
man,  but  had  done  capital  work.  The 
Van  Bibber  stories  were  excellent  in 
their  way,  so  good,  indeed,  that  I  have 
often  thought  Mr.  Davis  was  failing  to 
redeem  his  early  promise.  As  a  com- 
missioner for  Harper  s  Magazine  he  has 
travelled  far,  and  his  articles  are  com- 
petently done,  bright  and  sufficient,  but, 
so  far  as  I  have  observed,  without  any 
touch  of  genius." 

In  the  August  number  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly^  Professor  James  Schouler  had 
an  interesting  paper  on  "  President 
Polk's  Diary."  This  has  been  followed 
in  the  September  Atlantic  by  an  equally 
interesting  article  on  "  President  Pt>lk's 
Administration."  In  the  former.  Pro- 
fessor Schouler  drew  attention  to  a  valu- 
able manuscript  collection  in  the  Leno.x 
Library  of  New  York,  upon  which  he 
spent  much  careful  study  last  winter, 
and  in  his  second  paper  he  has  been  able 
to  throw  new  light  on  the  President's  ad- 
ministration and  his  action  in  the  Mexi- 
can War  from  important  testimony  fur- 
nished by  Polk's  own  diary.  Professor 
Schouler  is  still  engaged  on  the  final 
volume  of  his  History  of  the  United  States 
under  the  Constitution,  which  is  to  treat  of 
the  Civil  War. 


Dr.  George  Macdonald's  long-expected 
novel,  Lilith — a  review  of  which  appears 
on  another  page — is  published  at  last.  It 
is  known  that  Mr.  Macdonald  has  been 
in  very  poor  health  for  some  time  past, 
and  a  pathetic  interest  attaches  to  the 


GEOKUK  MACDUNALI). 


production  of  his  latest  work,  as  he 
seemed  to  be  anxious,  in  touching 
and  retouching  the  proofs,  to  give  the 
story  its  best  and  final  form.  George 
Macdonald  was  born  in  Aberdeenshire 
in  1824,  and  educated  at  King's  C(j1- 
lege  and  University,  Aberdeen.  He 
was  an  Independent  minister  for  a 
time,  but  resigned  his  charge  partly 


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82 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


on  account  of  failing  health  and  part- 
ly owing  to  his  theological  views. 
Poetry  was  his  earliest  work,  but  he 
jiublished  his  first  novel,  DariJ  El^^in- 
broJ,  in  1862.  AJcla  Cat/uart,  Alec  Forbes, 
The  Seaboard  Parish.  Malcolm,  The  Mar- 
Ill's  of  Lossie,  Castle  Warlock,  Robert 
Falconer,  Donal  Grant  and  Phantasies  are 
some  of  the  most  popular  of  his  novels, 
many  of  which  are  powerful  studies  of 
Scottish  life  and  character. 


JOsfe  KCIIKUARAV. 

The  Great  Galeoto  and  Folly  or  Saint- 
liness,  two  plays  in  one  volume,  just 
published  by  Messrs.  Lamson,  WoltTe 
and  Company,  makes  the  third  volume 
within  a  few  months  which  contain  the 
work  of  a  Spanish  writer  but  recently 
discovered  outside  of  his  own  territory. 
Out  of  over  fifty  plays  written  within 
twenty  years,  T/ie  Great  Galeoto  has 
been  the  most  popular  and  is  con- 
sidered the  best  of  Kchegaray's  work. 
Jose  lichegaray  is  sixty-three  years  old, 
and  until  about  twenty  years  ago  he  was 
actively  engaged  as  a  mathematician, 
travelling  in  the  course  of  his  profession 
from  one  post  to  another.  In  1874  his 
first  play,  /t/  /Jbro  Talonario,  written  in 
Paris  during  a  brief  exile,  was  put  on 
the  stage  at  Madrid,  but  not  until  he 
produced  Kn  el  pitfio  de  la  Espada,  his 
fourth  play,  did  he  win  over  unani- 
mously the  critics  and  the  public.  Since 
then  his  career  has  been  one  long  tri- 


umphal march.  Readers  will  find  in 
the  volume  just  issued  an  instructive, 
critical  introduction  to  Echegarays 
work,  and  in  The  Son  of  Don  Juan,  pub- 
lished by  Roberts  Hrt)thers,  an  interest- 
ing biographical  sketch  of  the  famous 
Spanish  dramatist. 

Signor  Verdi's  reminiscences,  which 
arc  now  far  advanced  towards  comple- 
tion, are  expected  to  be  among  the  most 
interesting  books  of  the  time. 

Art  note  from  Paris.  Scene  :  the 
Luxembourg  Gallery.  Dramatis  per- 
some  :  Two  Young  Lady  Art  Students. 
The  first,  who  has  been  in  Paris  six 
weeks,  is  acting  as  guide  and  mentor 
to  the  second,  who  has  been  in  Paris  six 
days.  They  stop  before  Manet's  paint- 
ing "  Olympic,"  which  represents  the 
nude  reclining  figure  of  a  young  woman, 
with  a  black  cat  in  the  foreground. 
Second  Young  Lady  Student  :  "  Oh, 
that's  a  very  striking  thing  !  What  is 
it,  dear?"  First  Young  Lady  Student 
(who  doesn't  know,  but  doesn't  like  to 
say  so)  :  "  Now,  my  dear,  look  it  up  in 
the  catalogue.  That  will  help  fix  it  in 
your  memory  ;  whereas  if  I  tell  you.  you 
will  forget  it  immediately."  Second 
Young  I^ady  Student  hurriedly  con- 
sults her  catalogue,  and  getting  the 
wrong  number,  reads  out  :  "  '  Portrait 
of  his  Mother,'  by  James  McNeill  Whis- 
tler." First  Young  Lady  Student  (im- 
pressively) :  "  There,  my  dear  !  Notice 
how  characteristic  of  Whistler  it  is  ! 
Who  but  Whistler  would  have  painted 
his  own  mother  in  such  an  attitude  as 
that?"  Second  Young  Lady  Student 
gazes  with  wide-open  eyes  and  makes 
notes.    They  move  on. 

A  new  work  is  about  to  issue  from  the 
press  of  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company  by 
that  most  <lelightful  of  all  modern  biog- 
raphers, Augustus  J,  C.  Hare,  whose 
Memorials  of  a  Quiet  Life  and  JVie  Story 
of  Two  Noble  Lives  are  with  many  other 
of  this  author's  books  doubtless  well 
known  to  our  readers.  In  The  Gurneys 
of  Karlham  he  has  told  the  ston,-  of  the 
famous  Quaker  family  of  which  Eliza- 
beth Fry  was  a  member,  based  for  the 
most  part  on  the  large  correspondence 
and  private  journals  which  reveal  the 
details  of  thfir  life,  especially  their  spir- 
itual life.    It  is  a  fitting  memorial  of 


Digitizei,  >  ,  v^jOOgle 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL, 


83 


the  conspicuous  part  which  this  group  oi 
brothers  and  sisters  played  in  the  relig- 
ious and  philanthropic  life  of  England 
during  the  first  half  of  our  century. 
There  are  over  fifty  portraits  and  other 
illustrations,  and  the  work  is  to  be  in 
two  volumes. 

The  German  Goethe  Society  has  un- 
earthed a  curious  old  volume  of  original 
manuscript  containing  youthful  songs 
and  epics  of  the  poet.  The  book  is  a 
small  volume,  measuring  3I2  by  5  inches, 
bound  in  boards  with  a  faded  linen 
cover,  and  gold  ornaments  in  the  cor- 
ners and  on  the  back.  On  the  title-page 
the  name  appears  in  German  writ- 

ing. At  the  foot  of  the  page  is  the  date, 
Leipzig,  1767. 

Mr.  William  Edward  Norris,  whose 
new  novel,  Billy  Belleiv^  is  noticed  on 
another  page,  has  been  engaged  in  writ- 
ing novels  for  nearly  sixteen  years.  Un- 
like the  orthodox  successful  author,  he 
achieved  success  with  his  first  attempt. 
"  It  was  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,"  he  told  a 
representative  of  the  Album  the  other 
day,  "  who  advised  me  to  take  to  litera- 
ture, and  to  whom  I  therefore  indirectly 
owe  my  success — such  as  it  is."  Mr. 
Stephen  was  at  that  time  editor  of  the 
Corn/till  Magazine  when  Mr.  Norris  con- 
tributed a  short  story  to  its  pages  en- 
titled "  M.  B6deau,"  which  attracted 
considerable  notice  and  moved  him  to 
give  up  his  practice  at  the  bar  (he  had 
been  called  to  the  Inner  TeTuple,  but  had 
never  practised)  and  adopt  literature  as 
a  profession.  "  Acting  upin  Mr.  Ste- 
phen's advice,"  he  says,  "  I  sent  several 
more  short  stories  to  the  Corn/till  and 
one  or  two  other  magazines,  and  some- 
what to  my  surprise  they  were  all  ac- 
cepted. Neaps  of  Afoney  was  my  first 
novel,  Mademoiselle  de  Mersae  my  sec- 
ond. The  latter  was  the  more  favour- 
ably received,  and  it  is  the  one  that  per- 
sonally I  prefer  to  any  book  that  I  have 
written  since.  No  New  Thing  and 
Matrimony  were  the  next  two,  and  I 
think  they  were  equally  successful,  if 
success  is  to  be  gauged  by  the  number  of 
copies  sold  ;  but  the  following  book, 
Thiilby  J/all,  was,  I  believe,  more  wide- 
ly read  than  either  of  the  other  four. 
Adrian  I  'idal,  A  Baehelor  s  Blunder,  My 
Friend  Jim,  Chris,  Major  and  Minor,  The 
Rogue,  Mrs.  Fenton,  Misad^'enture,  The 
Bajffled   Conspirators,  Miss   Shafto,  His 


Graee,  and  Billy  Bellru' are  the  names  of 
some  of  the  books  written  subsequently, 
but  I  shall  not  inflict  upon  you  the 
names  of  all  of  them.  Billy  Believe  was 
published  last  month." 

Mr.  Norris  was  born  in  London  in 
1S47,  and  is  the  younger  son  of  the  late 
Sir  William  Norris,  formerly  Chief  Jus- 
tice of  Ceylon.    He  was  educated  first 

■  — ——  ] 


I   —  i 

WILI.IA.M  EDWARD  NORRIS. 

at  Twyford,  where  the  Rev.  G.  W. 
Kitchin,  now  Dean  of  Durham,  was  at 
that  time  head  master,  and  afterwards 
at  Eton.  C)n  leaving  Eton  he  went 
abroad,  in  order  to  study  modern  lan- 
guages, partly  with  a  view  to  entering 
the  diplomatic  service  ;  but  on  being 
called  to  the  bar  a  few  years  later  litera- 
ture claimed  him.  He  works  about 
three  or  fv)ur  hours  a  day.  Nearly  all 
his  work  is  recopied  by  a  secretary — the 
author's  own  handwriting  being  exceed- 
ing small,  though  extremely  neat  and 
clear  ;  he  seldom  makes  alterations  on 
his  manuscripts.  Mr.  Norris  is  also  a 
finished  musician,  his  favourite  compos- 
ers being  Schumann  and  Chopin.  For 
some  years  he  has  been  a  widower.  His 
daughter,  an  only  child,  inherits  his  love 
for  literature  and  out-of-door  sports. 


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84 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


The  Rev.  Hastings  Rashdali's  book 
on  medbeval  universities  will  be  issued 
shortly. 

The  letters  written  by  Stevenson  to 
his  wife's  ^andsun,  Austin  Strong,  will 
appear  in  .V/.  Xn/ioias  under  xht  name 

of  Letters  to  a  Boy. 

# 

The  J'ailitna  /.rtf,-r\\  written  bv  Rub- 
ert  Louis  Stevenson  to  Mr.  Sidney  Col- 
vin«  will  be  published  on  October  i8th 
by  Messrs.  Stone  and  Kimball. 


carlylb's  iiousb,  cmbynb  row,  chblsba. 

Tliis  firm  will  also  publish  on  or 
about  the  same  date  Mr.  Clark  Rus- 
sell's new  sea  romance,  A  Three- 
stranded  Yarn,  which  completed  its  serial 
issue  in  the  September  Cosmopolitan. 
The  Gypsy  Christ  and  other  Taies,  by  Will- 
iam  Sharp,  to  appear  next  month  from 
the  same  press,  will  inaugurate  another 


dainty  series  of  sixteenmos,  which  is  to 
be  named  the  Carnation  Series,  from  the 
floral  design  upon  the  cover.    The  first 

Volumes  of  the  Enerlish  Classics  Series, 
which  Stone  and  Kimball  are  publishing 
in  conjunction  with  Messrs.  Methuen 
and  Company,  have  made  their  appear- 
ance in  the  form  of  Morier's  Adienturei 
of  Hajji  Baba  of  Ispahan.  Whatever 
niav  lie  the  interest  or  value  of  this 
mirth-making  work  of  a  bygone  day  to 
the  present  generation,  the  publishers 
have  at  least  produced  a  triumph  of  art 
in  book-making  that 
will  arouse  the  cupid- 
ity of  the  book-lover. 
We  understand  that 
only  a  limited  edition 
of  the  volumes  in  this 
series  will  be  pub- 
lished. 

# 

The  number  of  vis- 
itors who  have  already 
visited  the  Carlyle  Mti- 
seum  since  it  has  been 
opened  to  the  public 
should  be  gratifying 
to  the  committee  who 
have  taken  s«^  much 
pains  to  make  the  neg* 
lected  and  dilapidated 
house  a  wt>rthy  me- 
morial of  a  great  man 
and  a  suggestive  place 
of  pilgrimage.  The 
iiU(Hii;ent  Scottish  caretaker 
1.  utliy  shows  her  visitors'  book, 
w  ild  itb  more  than  si.x  hundred 
riitiio  in  three  weeks — a  large 
proportion  of  tlie  names  being 
American,  of  course.  The  com* 
mi t tee  have  done  their  work 
speedily  and  well,  by  the  aid  ot 
personal  friends  of  the  Carlyles  with 
good  memories ;  the  late  Mrs.  Alex- 
anilcr  Carlyle,  so  long  an  inmate  uf 
the  house,  having  been  of  special  as> 
sistance.  As  nearly  as  possible  it  has 
been  restored  to  its  condition  of  fif- 
teen years  ago.  The  old  wall  papers 
have  been  photographed  and  repro- 
duced, even  old  tireplaces  traced  and 
restored  ;  bits  of  furniture  and  a  few' 
pictures  have  been  brought  back  to  their 
former  places.  Indeed,  judging  by  tlie 
length  of  time  visitors  linger  over  the 
relics,  the  house,  for  all  its  bareness, 
would  seem  to  be  already  very  suggi'>- 
tive.    Some  Scottish  visitors  the  other 


GoogI 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


day  certainly 
stayed  lung 
enough  before 
the  sage's  hat, 
with  its  ruffled 
pile,  and  his  hat- 
box,  to  evolve 
from  them  a 
whole  philosophy 
of  clothes. 

Much  else  will 
be  forthcoming 
surely,  but  i  vt-n 
now  the  place 
calls  up  the  life 
of  its  former  own- 
ers. The  sound- 
proof room  has 
a  faded  map  or 
two,  and  s  o  m  c 
prints  that  speak 
of  the  days  when 

the  Cromuull  and 
the  Frederick  were 
beings  struggled 
with.  The  por- 
traits of  Sir  Hen- 
ry Taylor  and  of  John  Sterling's  sister  tell 
of  old  cherishetl  friendships  ;  the  photo- 
graph of  Carlyle  on  horseback,  tin'  art- 
ist's proof  of  Mrs.  AUingliani's  pDrtrail, 
and  a  water-colour  sketch  b)-  the  same 
artist,  make  tin-  bare  rooms  livinij.  Per- 
haps the  books  in  the  drawing-room 
have  most  interest  of  all,  though  they 
are  mostly  reference  books,  and  connect 
ed  with  no  special  work  of  his  own. 
Among  them  are  a  set  of  annual  regis- 
ters, another  of  the  Conr,  r.uttions  Lex- 
icon, Barrctti's  and  several  oilier  dic- 
tionaries ;  actually  two  three-volume 
novels,  one  of  Bulwer's,  and  Miss  Mar- 
tineau's  Dccrbrook  :  and  some  miscel- 
laneous modern  literature,  including 
what  are  probably  presentation  copies 
from  the  authors,  Ruskin,  William  Mor- 
ris, and  others.  When  the  zealous  com- 
mittee shall  have  succeeded  in  tracing 
and  procuring  more  of  the  furniture, 
pictuies,  and  books,  and  have  arranged 
the  manuscripts  in  cases,  they  will  prob- 
ably act  on  the  excellent  suggestion  of 
some  of  their  number,  and  make  the 
house  a  home  for  some  interesting  col- 
lection of  Chelsea  books  or  antiquities, 
and  a  meeting-place  for  learned  soci- 
eties. In  the  meanwhile,  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment is  due  to  them  for  all 
they  have  already  done. 


C.\KLVLt  S  STtUY  :   THE  SOL'.Sii-I'ROoK  KooJI. 


Samuel  Rutherford  Crockett  is  a 
broad-shouldered  giant  of  si.x-foot-foui^ 
with  blood  tingling  in  his  cheeks  antl  a 
mercurial  activity  and  exuberance  in 
every  fibre  of  him  which  suggested  to  a 
well-known  lady  novelist  the  neat  epi- 
thet, "  healthily  happy."  He  is  thirty- 
four  years  of  age,  and  was  bom  at  Lit- 
tle Duchrac  (Black  Crag),  in  Galloway, 
iiis  people  were  small  farmers  who  rent- 
ed their  land  and  worked  it  for  their 
maintenance,  and  as  a  boy  of  five  Mr, 
Crockett  took  part  in  the  common 
labours  of  the  farm.  The  Dee  Bridge, 
which  is  described  in  The  Raiders^  is 
close  behind  Duchrae.  He  went  to 
school  at  the  age  of  five,  walking  three 
and  a  half  miles  to  a  small  village  school 
at  Lauriston,  acccmipanied  by  his  dog, 
Royal.  When  tifteen  years  old  he  en- 
tered Edinburgh  University  with  a  bur- 
sary for  four  years  of  $ioo  a  year,  with 
which  he  eked  out  his  means  of  sub- 
sistence and  the  wherewithal  to  pay  his 
fees  and  buy  books  by  doing  journalistic 
work,  writing  paragraphic  reports  for 
the  Edinburgh  Daily  Kn  ietv^  and  later  by 
contributing  articles  among  other  papers 
to  the  London  Z><f//v  C///-r'?:/i7(-.  At  nine- 
teen he  obtained,  through  Jowett  of 
Balliol,  a  travelling  tutorship,  which  took 
him  all  over  Europe,  where  he  visited 


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86 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


many  historic  and  romantic  places  and 
made  the  acquaintance  of  several  celebri- 
ties, among  them  James  Russell  Lowell, 
his  pupil,  a  young  American,  happen- 
ing to  be  provided  with  numerous  let- 
ters of  introduction. 

While  thus  serving  an  apprenticeship 
to  the  court  of  the  world  Mr,  Crockett 


S.  R.  CKOCKKTT. 

sang  his  youth  in  a  little-known  vol- 
ume of  poems  entitled  Duhr  Cor,  and 
published  it  a  nom  lii-  pltiiiu-.  On 

his  return  to  Edinburgh,  Mr.  Crockett 
first  took  up  the  science  classes,  hut  after 
two  years'  application,  much  of  it  spent 
in  reading,  writing,  and  tutoring,  he 
turned  to  tlieology,  and  in  i.S<S5  was  or- 
dained a  minister.  After  working  at 
Dunfermline  for  two  mmuhs  he  was 


called  to  Penicuick  as  Free  Church  min- 
ister, and  six  months  after  his  arrival 
was  married.  He  retained  this  charge 
until  his  resignation,  about  a  year  ago. 

As  a  minister,  Mr.  Crockett  continued 
to  write  for  the  newspapers  and  periodi- 
cals. The  writer  remembers  very  well 
seeing  Mr.  Crockett's  name  in  Thf  Chris- 
tian Leader  (Glasgow), 
and  reading  the  tales 
which,  appearing  also 
in  the  colonial  papers, 
attracted  Dr.  Nicoll's 
attention,  and  resulted 
in  the  author's  collect- 
ing them  in  The  Stickit 
Minister.  Mr.  Crockett 
tells  how  they  first 
came  to  make  their  ap- 
pearance. While  con- 
tributing articles  on 
various  subjects  to  the 
newspapers,  '*  I  also 
wrote  sketches  and 
stories,"  he  says, 
"which  I  thought 
might  come  to  some- 
thing, and  kept  these 
lying  by  me.  It  was 
in  this  way  that  the 
first  half  of  The  Lilac 
Sunbonnet  was  written. 
I  was  also  writing  edi- 
torials on  theological 
subjects  for  religious 
periodicals,  and  one 
day  the  editor  of  The 
Christian  Leader  wrote 
to  me  and  asked  me  to 
send  him  an  editorial, 
which  was  wanted  at 
once.  I  had  no  time 
to  write  one,  and  I  told 
him  so,  but  at  the  same 
time  I  sent  him  one  of 
the  sketches  which  I 
had  in  my  drawer,  and 
asked  him  if  he  could 
use  that  instead.  It 
was  the  story  called 
'  A  Day  in  the  Life  of  the  Reverend 
James  Pitbye,'  which  is  in  The  Stiikit 
Ministrr.  1  didn't  think  that  the  edi- 
tor \vi>ultl  use  it.  However,  he  wrote 
me,  '  Never  send  me  anything  else.' 
So  I  continued  sending  him  these 
sketches,  and  they  met  with  a  great  deal 
of  appreciation,  and  were  widely  copied 
in  oilier  papers,  especially  in  Canada 
and  Australia.    Almost  all  the  tales  in 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


«7 


Thf  Stickit  Min- 
istfr  auJ  Some 
Common  M  f  n 
appeared  in 
this  way  in  The 
Christian  Lead- 
er. 

The  original 
of  the  charac- 
ter of  "The 
Stickit  Minis- 
ter" was  a  sec- 
ond cousin  of 
Mr.  Crockett's, 
who  took  a 
great  interest 
in  the  boy's 
reading  while 
he  was  at 
school.  It  was 
he  who  taught 
him  to  love 
Shakespeare 
and  Milton, 
which  he  used 

to  lend  the  young  truant,  who  would 
smuggle  them  into  his  bedroom  un- 
der his  clothes — for  Mr.  Crockett's 
people  were  strict  Cameronians  (Cove- 
nanters), and  he  was  rigidly  brought  up 
in  the  faith.  An  unshakable  loyalty  to 
the  faith  of  his  fathers  has  honourably 
won  for  him  the  title  of  "  the  Covenanter 
novelist,"  and  The  Men  of  the  Moss- 
Jfags,  just  published  by  the  Messrs.  Mac- 
millan,  is  written  from  a  Covenanter's 
standpoint  as  fairly  as  Scott's  Old Mortal- 
/>i  was  written  from  the  other  standpoint, 
the  Kirk  on  the  Hill"  of  The  Play- 
Actress  (which  was  written  for  amuse- 
ment while  the  author  was  deep  in  The 
Raiders)  is  the  Cameronian  kirk  at  Cas- 
tle Douglas,  a  distance  of  nine  miles,  to 
which  they  used  to  drive  on  Sundays  in 
a  red  farm  cart  with  no  springs,  for 
springs  were  taxed,  and  the  Crocketts 
were  not  rich. 

The  Lilac  Sunbonnct  should  have  been 
Mr.  Crockett's  third  book,  but  it  was 
delayed,  and  in  the  meantime  The  Raid- 
ers was  finished  and  published.  Al- 
though begun  in  January,  1893,  and  tin- 
ished  in  February,  1894,  the  actual  writ- 
ing of  it  occupied  only  two  months.  Be- 
fore starting  on  a  book  he  makes  copious 
notes,  and  when  writing  of  a  period  he 
reads  as  far  as  possible  every  book  pub- 
lished during  that  period.    When  the 


LITTLE  DUCHRAE,  THE  BIRTHPLACE  OF  MR.  CROCKETT. 


book  is  written,  he  writes  it  all  over 
again.  His  work  is  done  in  the  morn- 
ing. For  many  years,  summer  and  win- 
ter, he  has  never  missed  a  sunrise.  He 
is  usually  downstairs  and  at  work  by 
five  o'clock,  and  he  never  touches  his 
literary  w<)rk  after  nine  in  the  mt)rning. 
He  is  an  ardent  student  of  nature,  and 
prides  himself  in  the  exactness  of  the 
natural  history  allusions  in  his  books. 
"  My  idea  of  a  holiday,"  he  says,  "  is  to 
take  a  powerful  pair  of  field  glasses  and 
to  go  out  into  the  woods  or  on  to  the 
moors  and  lie  down,  and  for  hours  to- 
gether to  watch  the  birds  and  all  the 
living  things  that  pass." 

The  Messrs.  Macmillan  have  now 
ready  their  new  edition  of  The  Stickit 
Minister,  which  has  a  prefatory  poem 
bv  the  late  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  and 
upwards  of  fifty  illustrations  by  Mur- 
doch, Pennell,  .MacGeorgc,  and  other 
well-known  artists.  It  is  published  at 
the  popular  price  of  $1.50, 

A  novel  by  Mr.  Crockett,  entitled  A 
Galloii'ay  Herd,  has  just  been  issued  in 
book  form  by  Messrs.  R.  F.  Fen  no  and 
Company.  The  accompanying  portrait 
of  Mr.  Crockett  is  from  a  new  photo- 
graph taken  for  The  Bookman  by  T.  and 
R.  Annan  and  Sons,  Glasgow,  Scotland. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


Mr.  Frederick  C.  Gordon,  who  is  .it 
present  in  Logiealmund  (Drumtochty), 
has  just  sent  over  a  batch  of  drawinj^ 
upon  wh"u  h  he  is  engaged  for  the  illus- 
trated holiday  edition  ot  A  Doctor  of  the 
Old  School^  taken  from  the  BoHtue  Jtrifr 
Bush,  which  v  11  ticed  in  our  last  num- 
ber. They  have  been  pronounced  bv 
several  critics  who  have  examined  them 
to  be  exceptionally  fine  in  their  charac- 
terisation, and  wonderfully  true  to  life. 
The  picture  especially  of  Dr.  MacLurc 
matches  Ian  Madaren's  beautiful  ideali- 
sat  ion  of  that  character.  Mr.  Watson 
(Ian  Maclaren)  has  been  in  Drumtochty 
and  is  quite  enthusiastic  in  his  praise  of 
them.  He  particularly  likes  the  limning 
of  the  Doctor's  portrait  in  all  the  draw- 
ings. Hy  the  \va\ ,  Drumtochty  is  not  so 
far  behind  the  times  as  one  would  imag- 
ine. Mr.  Gordon  writes  that  the  first 
music  he  heard  in  tlie  village  was  the 
well-known  street  song  "After  the 
Bail.'* 

Literary  veterans  in  this  town  are  de- 
riving a  good  deal  of  quiet  amusement 
from  the  reported  antics  of  a  young 
author,  whose  very  marked  success  has  a 
good  deal  interfered  with  his  pliilosc  ,],hic 
poise.  This  yoiitii,  it  appears,  lT'^'  " 
to  taking  a  whole  box  at  the  theatre, 
and  then,  just  about  the  middle  of  the 
second  act,  enters  widi  much  cnipressc' 
mentf  and  walking  to  the  front  of  the 
box,  stands  and  surveys  the  house  with 
great  deliberation.  He  is  a  conspicuous 
figure,  and  at  once  the  whisper  runs 
about  the  house  that  this  is  the  distin- 
guished author  of  so-and-so.  All  eyes 
are  fixed  upon  him,  the  play  is  ftjrgot- 
ten,  the  young  girls  thrill  with  a  deli- 
cious sense  of  hero  worship,  and  he  him- 
self is  very,  very  happy  !  At pnlchrum  est 
{iif^tto  monstrari  et  dicier  "  Hie  est  J" 

Messrs.  Piatt  and  Bruce,  a  new  firm 
of  New  York  publishers,  have  made  a 
good  start  with  their  first  publication,  a 
volume  of  short  stories  by  Stanley  Wey- 
man,  of  which  over  seven  thousand  copies 
have  been  sold  in  three  weeks.  Be  it 
noted,  too,  that  with  the  exception  of 
two  stories  wliicli  appeared  in  an  ling- 
lish  magazine  only  and  have  since  been 
rewritten,  all  the  stories  in  The  King's 
Strafiif^e/n  are  new  and  are  ]iroti>cted  bv 
copyright  in  both  countries.  We  under- 
stand that  this  house  has  secured  a  novel 
from  Mr.  George  Du  Maurier  which  will 


be  profusely  illnstrated  by  the  author; 
also  a  new  story  by  Anthony  Hope, 
called  A  Foolish  Imfulse^  which  it  is  said 
will  rival  The  Prisoner  of  7'-r;.}\i  in  dra- 
matic interest.  Messrs.  Piatt  and  Bruce 
represent  the  Western  firms,  Messrs. 
A.  C.  McClurg  and  Company  and  Stone 
and  Kimball.  By  the  w  ay,  an  erroneous 
impression  has  been  received  by  the 
trade  that  Messrs.  Piatt  and  Bruce  are 
simply  general  commission  merrh^ints. 
We  wish  to  correct  this  by  staling  that 
they  are  publishers  in  their  own  right, 
anfl  that  their  representation  of  these 
Western  houses  is  a  matter  of  individual 
interest  only,  and  may  be  regarded  in 
the  same  relation  as  that  of  travellings 
salesmen. 

ft 

When  Mrs.  Barr  wrote  Friend  OHviety 

many  t  ritics  felt  tliat  she  had  reached  a 
higher  lev  el  than  in  her  former  novels. 
The  writer  remembers  reading  it  a?«  it 
appeared  serially  in  the  ptiges  of  the 
Ccntrn  x  ^f^1gazine ;  and  the  lofty  tone 
which  it  breathed,  the  noble  and  imagi- 
native handling  of  historical  characters, 
and  the  warm,  [nilsinijr  throb  of  humiin 
lite  which  impressed  them  with  reality 
gave  the  book  distinction  as  a  work  of 
art.  Since  then  Mrs.  Barr  has  been  en- 
gaged on  another  historical  novel.  Wc 
are  led  to  believe  that  in  this  forth- 
coming work,  Btrnuiit,  which  will  be 
pultlished  shortly,  she  ha";  written  a 
Worthy  successor  to  Friend  Oliiia.  Ber- 
niciii  has  for  groundwork  the  times  of 
(»t(i:m-  II.  of  England,  just  after  the 
dispersion  of  the  Jacobites,  and  George 
Whitefield,  the  great  revivalist,  figures 
prominently  among  the  characters. 

Mr.  George  Gissing,  whose  rcpntatlcn 
is  now  thoroughly  assured,  is  said  to  be 
busily  at  work  upon  still  another  novel. 
If  this  be  so,  we  should  like  to  waft 
across  the  sea  a  modest  petition  to  one 
whom  we  greatly  admire.  Will  Mr. 
(iissing  graciously  allow  his  next  hero 
to  adopt  a  new  form  of  speaking  to  the 
heroine,  and  not  continually  add re>s  her 
as  '•  dear  girl"  ?  We  stood'  it  heroically 
in  Denzil  Quarrier  ;  but  when  it  kept  on, 
for  book  alter  book,  down  to  the  Year  of 
JuH/ee,  in  which  it  fairly  ran  riot  In  the 
month  of  Lionel  Tarrant,  we  drew  the 
line.  "  Darling,"  "  love,"  "  pet,"  etc., 
are  not  verj'  original  epithets,  but  in  one 
of  Mr.  Gissing's  books  they  would  come 


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89 


upon  the  reader  as  a  startling  and  re- 
freshing noveltv. 

Perhaps  it  W(nild   be   too  much  to 
ask  him  to  give  us  another  type  of 
liero  ;  but  it  is  very  trj-ing  to  find  the 
jfune premifr  of  every  one  of  his  novels  a 
person  whom  one 

would  give  any-  r  

thing  to  kick.  An  • 
educated  boor 
like  Denzil  Guar- 
rier  and  a  pa- 
tronising egotist 
like  Lionel  Tar- 
rant have  really 
no  business  to  ex- 
pect any  reader's 
sympathy.  They 
only  represent 
different  types  of 
British  caddish- 
ness,  and  we  have 
had  quite  enough 
of  them.  We 
must,  in  fact,  con- 
fess to  having 
had  a  great  ap- 
preciation  of 
Glazzard's 
treachery  to 
yuarrier,  and  if 
y  u  a  r  r  i  e  r  had 
been  the  only  one 


to  suffer  from  it  we  should  have  held 
up  both  hands  and  feet  in  ghoulish  glee. 

Miss  Beatrice  Harraden  expected  to 
leave  California  for  the  East  on  the  141I1 
instant,  and  if  her  plans  have  not  been 
altered,  by  the  time  this  number  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  reader  she  will  have 
already  been  in  New  York  nearly  a  week. 
Miss  Harraden  made  many  warm  friends 
when  she  passed  through  New  V<»rk  on 
her  westward  journey  over  a  year  ago, 
and  she  is  sure  of  a  hearty  welcome  and 
congratulations  on  the  improved  condi- 
tion of  her  health.  We  take  pleasure  in 
presenting  the  accompanying  portraits  to 
our  readers,  which  are  reprocluced  frf)m 
photographs  taken  just  before  Miss 
Harraden 's  departure  from  her  friends 
in  the  West,  by  Lorenz,  Los  Angeles, 
Cal.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  these 
portraits  are  the  first  to  meet  with  the 
hearty  approval  and  consent  of  the  cele- 
brated author  of  Ships  for  publicati«)n. 
Miss  Harraden's  face  looks  sad  when  in 
repose, as  it  does  here,  but  she  does  not 
allt)W  her  friends  to  see  this  expression 
much.  Only  those  who  have  met  her 
and  talked  with  her  know  how  her  coun- 
tenance lights  up  with  the  sparkle  and 
vivacity  of  her  manner  in  conversa- 
tion. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


Mi>s  Katharine  Pearson  Woods's 
forthcoming  novel,  John  the  BeUmtd^  is 
now  completed  and  will  soon  be  in  the 
press.  A  stt)ry  nf  hers  called  Thr  Crown- 
ing  of  C*ndace^  which  will  remind  some 
readers  of  Charlotte  M.  Yonge' s  man- 
ner, will  begin  serial  issue  in  the 
man  early  in  November. 

The  Merriam  Company  announce  for 
publication  this  atitumn  two  fresh  addi- 
tions to  the  ever-increasing  volume  of 
English  translations  from  French  mem- 
oirs. Reco?frrti,^ns  of  the  Private  Li/e  of 
Napoiem^  by  his  valet,  is  to  be  in  three 
volumes,  and  Josephine^  Empress  of  tke 
French,  by  FiecU'rick  A.  Ohcr.  will  be  in 
one  volume.  The  numerous  illustra- 
tions in  both  books  will  be  an  attractive 
feature  of  the  work. 

By  the  way,  we  recommend  to  jadod 
readers,  Select  Conversations  with  an  Utuli, 
just  published  by  this  firm.  It  is  the 
work  of  ii  clever  young  writer  who  lias 
already  made  a  hit  in  London  with  his 
ingenious  stor>%  The  Time  Meuhtne^  re- 
cently published  in  Ameriia  Ity  the 
Messrs.  ilolt.  A  new  novel  of  his,  en- 
titled Tke  WofuUrful  Visit,  will  be  pub- 
lislicd  iinnu-<liatcly  Messrs.  Macmil- 
lan  and  Compaoy.  Mr.  Weils  is  an 
author  worth  cultivating  ;  we  shall  hear 
more  of  him  by  and  by. 

9 

We  have  seen  the  advance  sheets  of 
Bliss  Carman's  new  volume  of  poems, 
Behind  the  Arress^Xa  be  published  shortly 
by  Lamson,  Wolffe  and  Company,  and 
in  it  the  poet  seems  to  strike  anew  note. 
This  collection  of  poems  is  certainly  the 
most  ambitious  work  Mr.  Carman  has 
j'et  done.  The  borsk  is  beautifully  fash- 
ioned, and  ilie  decorative  work  by  Tom 
B.  Meteyard  gives  an  attractive  setting 
to  some  of  tlie  poems.  Mr.  Meteyard 
will  be  remembered  as  the  artist  who 
made  the  designs  for  the  inside  of  the 
ct:)vcrs  of  Songs  from  Va^;<ibinidia.  Read- 
ers of  Browning  will  perhaps  be  remind- 
ed of  his  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra"  by  the  fol- 
lowini^  stanzas,  with  whii  !i  Mr.  Carman 
concludes  his  long  poem,  "  Behind  the 
Arras,'*  which  gives  the  title  to  the  book  : 

"  O  hand  of  mine  and  brdn  of  mine,  be  youre, 

Whi'c  time  tiuiun-, 
To  ut-quiestf  .inii  icarn  \ 

Fur  what  best  may  dare  and  dmdgeMkd  yearn. 
■Let  soul  diccero. 


"  So.  fellows,  we  siiatl  raach  the  goaty  gate. 

Early  or  late. 

Ami  [i.irt  wlihiiut  rcnuirsc. 

A  cadence  dying  down  into  its  source 

10  xueeaR'%  ooorae ; 

"  You  to  the  perfect  tliydMnsof  llowciSMid  binb, 

Coloon  and  words, 

Hw  benit-benta  of  the  eartli. 

To  b«  remoulded  always  of  one  worth 

From  birth  to  birth  ; 

"  I  to  the  broken  rhythm  of  thought  and  man. 
The  sweep  and  span 
Of  memory  and  hope 

Aboiu  the  orbit  where  they  still  most  grope 
For  wider  acope. 

"To  be  through  thousand  springs  restored,  re^ 

With  l>iv<.-  iniljrucd.  (newed, 
Willi  in<  ri-iticniv  "i  will 
Made  strong,  perceiving  unattainmeol  still 
nroai  each  new  skill. 

**  Always  the  flawlcss  beanty,  always  the  chord, 

Vi[  the  ( >vcrword. 

I)oiiiii)ani,  ;>leading,  sure. 

N'o  tniiii  t<H>  <>mall  to  save  and  inalieeodore, 

2vu  good  too  poor  ! 

"  And  since  no  mortal  can  at  la»t  disdain 
That  street  refrain. 

But  lets  Ro  strife  and  care. 

Borne  like  a  strain  of  bird  notes  on  tbe  air. 

The  wind  knows  where ; 

"  Some  quiet  April  evening,  soft  and  Strange, 

When  comes  the  change 

No  spirit  can  deplore, 

I  shall  he  one  with  all  I  was  before, 

In  death  ooco  more.** 

It  is  said  in  England  tliat  Queen  Vic- 
toria's favourite  novelist  is  Marie  Corelll 
This  is  probably  bctauso  no  (nic  has  yet 
sent  to  the  royal  author  of  Our  Life  in 
the  ffigUamds9kCX)!ttip\btt  set  of  the  works 
of  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

The  London  Spectator  has  taken  to 

using  the  adverb  "deadlily."  It  even 
appears  to  like  it.  Miss  Gertrude  Hall, 
whose  favourite  is  "  lovelily,"  should 
establish  a  connection  with  our  contem- 
porary. 

The  recently  announced  appointment 
of  Lord  Wolseley  to  succeed  the  Duke 
of  Cambridge  as  commander-in-chief  of 

tiie  British  army  is  an  event  that  would 
ii'iMii  it  «  liave  no  literary  side  to  it  ;  but 
readf  r>  *A  Rudvard  Kipling  will  think 
that  it  lias.  Mr.  Kiplinp^  has  always 
been  the  earnest  partisan  of  Lord  Kob- 


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A  LITERAKY  JOURNAL. 


erts  (who  was  passed  over  in  making 
this  appointmcni),  and  in  both  his  Ind- 
ian tales  and  his  barrack-room  ballads 
will  be  found  innumerable  glorifications 
of  Bobs  Bahadur"  and  "  Little  Bobs," 
by  which  pet  diminutives  the  hero  of 
Kandahar  is  known  to  Tommy  Atkins. 
Conversely,  Mr.  Kipling  does  not  love 
Lord  Wolseley,  and  has  given  him  here 
and  there  many  a  sly  dig  through  the 
mouth  of  the  great  Mulvaney,  though  he 
never  mentions   him  by   name.  Mr. 


M.  Aristide  Bruant,  who  has  won 
fame  and  fortune  during  the  past  three 
or  four  years  by  singing  songs  in 
thieves'  art^ot  at  his  curious  place  on  the 
Boulevard  Rochechouart,  in  Paris,  has 
now  practically  retired,  and.  like  so  many 
other  quasi-Parisians,  will  spend  his 
later  years  in  his  native  provincial  town. 
His  songs  and  monologues,  of  which  he 
published  a  small  volume  some  time 
ago,  had  so  large  a  sale  as  to  induce  him 
to  put  forth  a  second  collection  under 


COVER  OF  BRl'ANT'S  **  DANS  I.A  RITK."     (PRSICN  BY  STF.INI.RN.) 


Kipling's  admiration  for  Lord  Roberts 
is,  however,  unfortunately  not  wholly 
reciprocated.  Last  year,  when  the  dis- 
tinguished soldier  returned  from  India 
to  England  to  receive  his  peerage  and  a 
good  berth  at  home,  Mr.  Kipling  cele- 
brated his  arrival  by  putting  forth  a  new 
ballad  with  the  refrain,  "  Bobs,  Bobs, 
Bobs  !"  which  disgusted  both  Lord  Rob- 
erts and  his  friends,  as  being  altogether 
too  familiar  a  greeting  for  a  great  soldier 
and  a  peer  of  the  realm. 

Mr.  Rider  Haggard  shares  with  Mr. 
Rudyard  Kipling  his  appreciation  of  the 
work  of  that  rising  young  author,  Mr. 
Guy  Boothby. 


the  same  title,  Dtins  la  Jiuf,  with  a  cover 
and  many  original  drawings  by  Steinlen, 
who  here  shows  that  his  artistic  clever- 
ness is  not  confined  to  the  affit/ie.  Each 
song  has  the  music  prefixed  to  it.  The 
whole  volume  is  one  of  some  two  hun- 
dred pages,  and  is  published  by  the  au- 
thor at  No.  84  Boulevard  Rochechouart 
at  three  francs  and  a  half.  It  is  a  most 
curious  and  original  book  from  both  the 
linguistic  and  the  social  point  of  view. 

Two  recently  published  epigrams  of 
the  late  Mme.  Barrotin  : 

"  The  invention  of  the  piano  derives  its 
chief  importance  from  the  fact  that  it 


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92 


THE  BOOKhlAU. 


has  so  immensely  eithanceU  the  value  of 
silence." 

In  travcllincr,  an  EntjlishiDan  wants 
to  see  ever)  thinp,  a  Frenchman  to  at- 
tempt everything,  and  a  German  to 
swallow  everything." 

The  first  of  these  recalls  Th^ophile 
Gautier's  famous  definition  of  music  : 
Cestk  sOetuegdii, 

W 

The  Macmillans  announce  IVAerc 
IIighii>ays  Cross  in  the  Iris  Library. 
The  author  is  Mr.  J.  S.  Fletcher,  whose 
Thort-au-like  work»  The  IVendtrful  U\t/>- 
fii(itkt\  and  a  stirring  romanrp.  rntitlcd 
\Vhtn  Charles  the  J'irst  was  A'im^,  Imlh 
published  this  year  by  Messrs.  A.  C.  Mc- 
Clurg  and  Company,  liave  introtltrrrd 
him  to  American  rea<iers.  Apropos  of 
the  review  on  '*  Romance  in  Malftya" 
in  the  last  number  <>(  The  B  '^kman, 
we  are  pleased  to  learn  that .  consider- 
able interest  lias  been  taken  in  Mr. 
Swettenham's  Malay  Sketihts.  On  the 
other  hand,  Almayer's  Folly^  by  Joseph 
Conrad,  has  not  yet  fastened  on  the 
public.  If  this  novel  does  not  take  its 
place  among  those  of  first-rate  powrr 
and  excellence,  still  it  has  great  quali- 
ties ;  picturesqueness,  poetry,  deep  hU' 
man  sympathy,  restraint,  and  literary 
ability  of  a  very  marked  kind.  The 
Style  has  an  Eastern,  languorous  beauty, 
but  it  lacks  the  swiftness  condnrivr  to 
the  interest  of  the  volatile  Western 
reader.  There  are  pages  of  singular 
fascination  and  tragic  di^scrij-tti'Ui  which 
Dc  Quincey  might  have  been  proud  to 
write. 

Mr.  Frank  Barrett  is  an  Entrlish  nov- 
elist whose  name  is  not  unknown  to  the 
American  reader,  but  his  work  has  not 
yet  received  that  attcntinn  which  one 
would  expect  it  to  command  in  this 
country.  His  new  book  about  to  be 
published  by  Messrs.  Macmillan  and 
Company  is  calculated  to  stimulate  a 
stronger  interest  in  this  author's  work. 
The  title,  by  the  way,  is  a  curiosity.  It 
njns  thus  :  A  Set  of  Ro^ucs^  "  namely, 
Ciiristopher  Sutton,  John  Dawson,  the 
Sefior  Don  Sanchez  Del  Castello  de 
Castellana,  and  Mull  Dawson  :  Their 
wicked  conspiracy,  and  a  true  account 
of  their  travels  and  adventures :  the 
mari'Iaqe  of  Moll  Dawson  l>v  a  sinful 
means  to  a  worthy  gentleman  ui  merit ; 
her  second  expedition  with  her  former 


roguish  companions  into  strange  places  ; 
her  atonement  to  Mr.  William  (Godwin 

(wherelty  slut  ri-nders  up  all  she  ever 
had  of  him  and  more)  and  selling  of  her- 
self to  Algerine  pirates  and  gomg  into 
I^arbary  a  slave ;  together  with  the 
tribulation  of  thnsp  who  led  her  to 
wrongdoing,  and  many  other  .surprising 
things  now  disclosed  for  the  first  time 
as  the  fiiithful  confession  of  Christopher 

Sutton.'* 

We  had  smiietliing  to  sav  in  the  last 
BooK.\iAN  about  the  ignorance  of  the 
proper  use  of  shall"  and  "  will"  dis- 
played hv  so  manv  .Xmeriran  writers 
who  ought  to  know  the  English  lan- 
guage better.  As  it  is  an  old  maxim 
th.it  fur  f\'erv  diseas(t  there  e.\i>t'^  some- 
where a  remedy,  we  have  lately  found 
an  admirable  little  treatise  on  the  dis- 
tinction between  these  two  important 
auxiliaries.  Its  author  is  Commander 
Craig,  of  the  Fnited  States  Navy,  now 
with  the  Concord  in  Chinese  waters.  It 
was  prepared  by  him  for  the  use  r.f  the 
cadets  at  Annapolis  ;  but  some  puiilish- 
er  should  take  it  up  and  g^ive  it  a  wider 
circulation,  as  it  is  an  exc^dlent  tract  for 
linguistic  sinners.  If  Mr.  Richard  Hard- 
infif  Davis  will  promise  to  read  it,  it  will 
pve  us  great  pleasure  tO  scnd  him  a 
copy  by  the  next  mail. 

Lord  .\cton,  the  newly  appointed  Pro- 
fessor of  History  at  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  of  whom  wc  gave  a  short 
ai  i  nunt  in  Thk  Bookman  for  April,  has 
been  delivetiiig  ]iis  inaugural  lecture, 
and  has  t.lunvu  the  qualities  that  might 
have  been  expected  from  a  scholar  of  nis 
pfftdlar  training  and  antecedents.  Pon- 
derous, obscure,  with  an  immense 
amount  of  undigested  teaming,  he  is  a 
portentous  combination  of  German 
heaviness  and  English  Dumnihcit.  His 
critical  capacity  may  be  gauged  by  the 
fact  that  in  his  lecture  he  grouped 
Mommsen,  Kanke,  Thiers,  and  Macau- 
lay  as  being  historians  of  the  same  rank  ! 
Even  the  English  rcwews  have  not  been 
able  to  take  this  very  seriously. 

Mr.  Charles  A.  Dana,  of  the  >Slvff,  has 
lately  shown  himself  in  a  new  liglit  hx 
contributing  to  Harpers  Wtekl)  some 
poetical  renderings  from  the  Russian  of 
Pushkin.  Mr.  Dan.a,  having  won  a  very 
marked  victory  in  the  preliminaries  uf 
his  libel  suit,  has  been  spending  the 


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93 


summer  in  Europe.  Ever>'one  is  rather 
glad  that  he  was  successful,  for  Mr. 
Dana  is  a  national  institution  ;  yet 
there  is  a  sort  of  unholy  curiosity  as  to 
what  would  have  befallen  him  in 
Washington  if  he  had  been  taken  (or 
**  dragged,"  as  he 
would  say)  to  that  city 
for  trial.  The  editor 
of  the  Evening  J^ost 
would  have  been  espe- 
cially interested  in  the 
result,  and  would  have 
written  some  of  his 
most  feeling  editorials 
of  ct>ndolence. 

The  .S"««and  the  Post 
are  probably  the  most 
individual  journals 
that  are  anywhere  pub- 
lished. People  read 
them  even  when  they 
disapprove  of  their  ut- 
terances, and  read 
them  all  the  more  care- 
fully when  they  disap- 
prove. It  is  curious 
that  while  their  gener- 
al standpoints  are  di- 
ametrically opposed  to 
one  another,  the  gen- 
eral effect  which  they 
make  upon  the  mind 
of  the  reader  is  pretty 
much  the  same — a  fact 
which  gives  point  to 
an  epigram  ascribed  to 
a  well-known  jurist, 
and  which  we  here  set 
down  with  apologies  to 
the  respective  editors, 
who  can  themselves 
hardly  fail  to  be 
amused  by  it.  The 
aforesaid  jurist  having 
heard  one  of  his  friends 
denouncing  the  gen- 
eral demoralisation  of 
New  York,  broke  in 
with,  •' Well,  what  can 
you  e.xpect  of  a  city  with  two  such  lead- 
ing newspapers — the  Sun  in  the  morning 
making  vice  attractive,  and  the  Post  in 
the  evening  making  virtue  odious  !"  The 
same  gentleman,  who  has  occasionally 
fallen  under  Mr.  Godkin's  chastening 
displeasure,  once  characterised  the  Post 
as  '*  that  pessimistic,  malignant,  and 
malevolent  sheet,  which  no  good  citizen 


ever  goes  to  bed  without  reading  !" — a 
saying  which  beautifully  combines  the 
antidote  with  the  bane. 

Bliss  Carman  was  born  at  Fredericton, 
N.  B.,  on  April  15th,  1861.    On  his  fa- 


ther's  side  he  is  descended  of  the  Car- 
mans  who  came  to  New  Brunswick 
from  Long  Island  and  founded  St.  John. 
His  mother  belonged  to  the  Bliss  fam- 
ily, also  Loyalists,  who  took  a  leading 
part  in  the  Revolution.  Daniel  Bliss's 
sister,  a  progenitor  of  his,  was  Emer- 
son's grandmother,  so  that  Mr.  Car- 
man's residence  in  the  Ignited  States  is. 


94 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


in  a  s<'ns«',  the  return  of  the  native.  lie 
Jfraduated  in  I'^Si  at  the  University  of 
New  Brunswick,  and  afterwards  studied 
at  ICdinbur^h,  Scothmd,  under  Camp- 
bell Fraser  and  Tail.  Mr.  Cannan  says 
that  Mr.  J.  M.  Barrie's  E^nburgh  EUvem 
comes  home  to  him  with  the  intimacy 


<!n]{0  £t  lUibto  fOB0  a  xcmi 
f  BoDem  0ort  of  ealnt.  fnliceti  . 
M  tt)f  ttixtnt  b<  coiil^  boast 


-  ^ 


to  pi)ilo0opb8  <n&oUKb  ^ 

Witixt  fDooTiIanl)  motttrce  came, 
®f  otttlanHtol)  tongnt  onD  tntse,^ 
9nli  bUqrIi  to  ptodsim  ^ 
QTlic  nhrbana  of  (tAtM.^-^  ^ 


engendered  by  his  knowledge  of  the 
men  of  whom  Barrie  has  written.  For 
two  or  thrc«  years  he  trad  for  the  law ; 
then  went  intv-*  the  fielvl  as  an  engineer, 
hut  reiumevl  to  his  studies  in  philosi>phy 
and  English  in  iS:^  under  Child  and 
Royce  a:  Harvard.  In  iStx>  he  went  on 
the  N«w  York  IkJ^j-.-kmiU  as  ortice  ed- 
itv^r.  and  restained*  there  nearly  three 
years.  Subsequently  he  as»bted  Messrs. 


Stone  and  Kimball  in  launchinij  the  Chup- 
Booky  which  took  its  rise  from  his  sug- 
gestion, though  its  attractive  form  and 
dress  were  due  to  Mr.  Stone's  j^ood 
taste.  Since  he  left  the  Jndtpeiuitnt  Mr. 
Carman  has  held  no  permanent  office. 
He  usually  spends  his  summers  in  N<)va 
Scotia  and  his  winters 
in  Washington,  D.  C, 
occasionally  visiting  his 
friends  in  Boston  and 
New  York.  Mr.  Car- 
man acknowledges  the 
great  liberators  in  liter- 
ature to  be  his  masters, 
among  whom  he  gives 
precedence  to  Emerson. 
Matthew  Arnold,  and 
Browning. 

Bliss  Carman's  first 
published  book  of  po- 
etry was  Low  Tide  om 
Grand Pr/{f\r'i.X.  edition, 
C.  L.  Webster  and  Com- 
pany, November,  1893 ; 
scc<Mul  edition.  Stone 
and  Kimball,  March, 
1894,  with  three  addi- 
tional poems).  His  next 
volume,  Si'H'^i  frotn  I'ag- 
ahondia,  was  written  in 
collaboration  w^ith  Mr. 
Richard  Hovey  (Cope- 
land  and  Day,  Septem- 
ber, 1894).  A  Smmmrk  ; 
A  Threnody  for  Kohcrt 
Louis  SteveMsontWas  pub- 
lished by  the  latter 
house  in  April  of  this 
year.  Hut  before  his 
first  book  made  its  ap- 
pearaiu  c  Mr.  Carman 
had  printed  for  private 
circulation  in  cheap 
broad  sheets,  in  June, 
1894.  a  ballad  entitled 
Saim/  Kariit.  It  is  a 
satirical  skit,  cleverly 
written,  but  of  a  per* 
sonal  nature  that  debars  it  from  pub- 
lication. We  are  able  to  reproduce  the 
pen-and-ink  title-page  design  by  B.  G. 
Go,xihue,  which  was  not  reduced  in 
electroivping  the  original. 

The  report  comes  from  London  on 
apparently  g(.KHi  authority  that  Mr. 
Gev»rge  MiH^re  is  about  to  marry  Mrs. 
Peari  Craigie  \}ohn  Oliver  H<]rt>bes), 


L  kj  .,^.,0  L,y  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


95 


whose  divorce  we  lately  chronicled.  l£ 
this  be  true,  it  is  a  perfectly  ideal  match, 

and  should,  wc  assert,  establish  a  prec- 
edent, so  that  hereafter  men  and  wom« 
en  writers  of  the  erotic  and  pessimistic 

school  of  fiction  will  marry  one  another 
rather  than  ordinary  mortals  who  are 
still  possessed  of  scruples  and  beliefs. 

Messrs.  Copeland  and  Day  are  about 
to  add  a  volume  to  the  literature  of  the 
tenement,  which  is  making  a  field  for  it* 
self  here  as  well  as  in  London.  Moody's 
I^od^in^'house  and  other  Tenement  Sketches, 
by  Alvan  F.  Sanborn,  is  the  result  of 
careful  research  and  observation.  Like 
Arthur  Morrison,  whose  Tales  of  Mean 
Streets  has  been  so  popular  on  the  other 
side  (published  here  by  Roberts  Bro- 
thers), Mr.  Sanborn  has  broup^ht  to  his 
work  the  training  and  experience  which 
his  ofliciat  labours  in  settlement  institu- 
tions, and  r\;u  1  i  illy  at  Andover  House, 
have  given  him.  He  has  also  travelled 
a  good  deal  and  has  studied  tenement 
life  in  London,  so  that  his  work  has  the 
savour  of  preat  expectation,  and  will  be 
eagerly  perused  when  it  appears.  Mr. 
Sanborn's  name  will  not  be  unfamiliar 
to  readers  of  the  Arena  and  the  Forum. 

Jaajiit  i  Damour,  and otiier  Stories,  trans- 
lated fri>m  the  French  of  Kmile  Zola  by 
William  Foster  .Apthorp,  which  we  an- 
nounced some  months  ago,  has  now  been 
published.  The  publisners  have  made 
the  binding  after  the  French  manner  in 
yellow  cloth,  with  the  title-page  repro- 
duced in  blacic  on  the  cover,  making  it 
a  delicate  piece  of  Vxxjk-work.  Most  of 
the  stories  in  the  book  have  been  trans- 
lated for  the  first  time.  A  new  volume 
of  poems  entitled  The  Magic  House,  by 
the  Canadian  poet,  Duncan  Campbell,  is 
also  about  to  issue  from  the  same  house, 
and  in  October  there  will  appear  the 
initial  volume  of  a  series  of  small  books 
of  verse.  The  scries  has  nut  yet  been 
named ;  the  first  volume  is  entitled 
£>umtm  Jum^  and  is  by  Richard  Burton. 

% 

The  name  of  the  new  poet  on  whose 
discovery  by  Messrs.  Copeland  and  Day 
we  commented  last  month  is  William 
Lindsay,  and  the  title  of  his  book  of 
poems,  which  will  not  be  published 
probably  until  November,  is  to  be  Apples 
of  Istakhar.  The  following  quatrain  in- 
dicates the  drift  of  his  title  : 


"  Lifr.  like  ihc  apples  of  old  Istakhar, 

A  fruit  h.ilt  sweet,  hnlf  biuer-baned  doth  lirinj; : 

ShaUe-curseU  and  sun  caressed  by  turns  they  are : 
Shode-euraed  and  sun-cmnessed  the  songs  I  sing.  ** 

**  My  Mother's  Picture"  is  finely  con* 
ceived : 

"  Out  of  nn  ova!  frame  ttxTc  tnoks  at  me 
Mv  ni'iihiT  s  fai  f  :  a  dawning  womanhoo<l 

SiTves  to  fiirich  it--  (,Mriisli  t^aict) 

\VilhiMrnc;.t  dream  o<  God's  grcait-r     lo  i  " 

Here  is  a  dainty  bit  of  New  England 
coquetry  in  verse  : 

**  I  tyed  Kate's  shoe,  she  fMuised  a  tytcle  space. 

And  shewed  to  me  ye  truant  sylken  lace, 
Lyftint;  a  tloum  e  of  flowering  brocade. 
And  iaivnie  skirls,  where  fragrant  tidours  played. 
'  Wilt  tye  my  shoe      she  asked,  and  paused 
ajMice." 

The  author  of  A  Dead  Man's  Diary^ 
Sorrow  and  Sonf^  and  A  Book  of  Strange 

Sins  has  written  a  stranp;^e  and  fascinat- 
ing little  volume.  "  In  God andthe  Ant^" 
says  Ian  Maclaren,  "  Mr.  Kemahan  has 
addressed  himself  to  the  problem  which 
exercised  the  minds  of  the  Psalmists  and 
lies  as  a  burden  on  the  most  sensitive 
thinkers  of  to  day.  He  creates  a  daring 
situation — the  arraitjnment  of  God  liy 
the  victims  on  the  other  side  of  the 
grave — ^and  uses  it  with  strength  and 
reverence,  with  earnestness  also  and 
conviction.  His  answer  is  that  which 
commends  itself  to  many  as  the  only 
light  on  the  darkness.  This  is  a  book 
to  be  read/* 

The  Joseph  Knight  Company  have 
just  jniblished  a  volume  cf)ntainin.G:  half 
a  dozen  remarkable  psychological  stories 
by  L.  Clarkson  Whitelock.  Mr.  Ed- 
mund C.  Stedman,  to  whom  A  Mad 
Madonna^  and  other  Stories  is  dedicated,  in 
gratitude  for  his  appreciation  and  en- 
couragement, is  enthusiastic  over  them. 
In  a  letter,  he  says,  writing  of  them,  "  I 
have  read  tliese  tales  with  singular  in- 
terest. They  are  really  prose  poems  of 
a  high  order." 

We  have  a  hearty  welcome  for  the 
dainty  edition  of  Dr.  Norman  Maclef)d's 
little  classic,  The  Star/int^,  with  which 
this  lirm  lias,  started  their  Round  Table 
Library.  The  four  half>tones  taken 
from  the  oric:inal  edition  are  exquisitely 
true  and  characteristic  of  the  parts  se- 
lected for  illustration.  Except  for  an 
edition  which  Anson  D.  F.  Randolph  anrl 
Company  imported  at  one  time  we  are 


96 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


not  aware  that  there  has  been  a  fitting 

edition  of  tliis  btnuitiful  Scottish  story 
brought  out  in  America.  The  little 
comedy  enacted  in  the  villajje  of  Drum- 
sylie  with  **  Charlie's  Bairn  ' — tli<*  talk- 
ing starling  who  siiit^s  "  Wha'll  lu;  King 
but  Charlie  !"  and  in  season  and  out  of 
season  cries,  "  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a' 
that"  —  is  one  of  the  most  tonchins^  and 
humorous  stories  of  Scottish  life.  It  is 
lon^  since  we  first  read  it,  but  we  read  it 
again  with  renewed  pleasure. 

m 

Fiona  Maclcod,  the  author  of  PJiarais 
and  of  The  Mountain  Linrrs,  to  wliich  at- 
tention is  called  among  our  reviews,  is 
qualified  by  birth,  early  association,  and 
long  familiarity  to  be  the  interpreter  of 
Highland  character  and  landscape.  A 
native  of  the  Western  Isles,  much  of  her 
childhood  and  girlhood  was  spent  in  the 
Inner  and  Outer  Hebrides. 

Her  first  book,  Pharais  (now  pub* 

lishcd  in  America  by  Stone  and  Kim- 
ball), was  published  last  year  by  Mr. 
Frank  Murray,  of  Derby,  in  his  Re. 
gent  Lilnary,  and  almost  simulta- 
neously with  another  volume  of  the 
same  series,  Vistas^  by  Mr.  William 
Sharp,  the  author's  cousin.  It  attracted 
almost  immediate  attention  from  sev- 
eral eminent  incii  of  letters,  winning 
praise  and  encouragement  from  Mr. 
George  Meredith,  Mr.  Traill.  Mr  Grant 
Allen,  who  wrote  of  it  with  enthu- 
siasm in  the  Westminster  Gazette^  Mr. 
Theodiire  Walls,  Mr.  W.  B.  Yeats,  and 
Mrs.  Katharine  Tynan  Hinkson.  Though 
it  hardly  gained  a  circulating  library 
popularity,   it  had  an  unusual  suc- 


cess for  the  first  book  of  a  young 
writer,  and  gained  for  Fiona  Macleod 
more  suggestions  from  publishers  than 
she  ran  fulfil,  for  she  likes  to  write  at 
her  leisure.  .\t  the  iin\e  of  the  publica- 
tion of  Pharais,  J  lu-  Mauntain  /.iff  r-s  wa^s 
partially  done,  but  she  was  able  tu  sub- 
mit no  more  than  the  **  Wind  Prolofru*" 
(now  the  first  chapter)  to  Mr.  Jf^hn  I-anc. 
of  London,  who,  however,  conditionally 
commissioned  the  book  thereupon. 

» 

Nothing  else  of  Fiona  Macleod's  has 
appeared  in  print  except  some  verses 
and  a  short  tale  called  *'  The  Anointed 
Man"  in  the  Evergreen^  the  new  Scfittish 
quarterly.  One  of  her  poems  appears 
below.  But  on  the  head  of  Pharai  she 
received  a  commission  from  Harper's 
Magazine,  and  a  collection  of  Celtic  epi- 
sodes, with  illustrations,  is  to  appear  in 
that  magaxine,  pr ols ably  before  the  end 
of  the  year,  under  the  title  "  From  the 
Ilebrid  Isles."  Her  next  book  is  to 
be  called  The  Sin-Eater.  It  will  be  is- 
sued early  in  October,  simultaneously  in 
England  and  America — in  this  countrj- 
by  Messrs.  Stone  and  Kimball.  It  con- 
sists of  ten  Celtic  tales  and  epi><»c5rs. 
The  longest  are  the  title  story  and  "  The 
Dan-nan-Ron."  The  backgrounds  are 
nearly  all  situated  in  the  Inner  or  Outer 
Isles  (lona,  Mull,  Skye,  or  South  I'isi, 
Uenbecula,  and  the  other  Outer  Heb- 
rides). There  is  one  small  section  called 
"  Tragic  Landscapes,"  comprising  three 
tentative  efforts  to  narrate  tragically  and 
movingly  yet  (in  the  first)  without  any 
human  interest  whatsoever,  or  (in  the 
third)  with  intense  human  emotion  con- 
veyed entirely  by  extraneous  sugges- 
tion. 


DAY  AND  NIGHT. 

From  gray  of  dusk,  the  veils  unfold 
To  pearl  ami  amethyst  and  gold— 

Thus  is  the  new  Day  woven  and  spun. 

From  glory  of  blue  to  rainbow  spray, 
From  sunset  gold  to  violet  gray — 
Thus  is  the  restful  Night  re- won. 

Fiona  Macleod  in  The  Ei  crgreen, 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


97 


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I  .i|.>rn:M.  iJkjt.  In- 

>«•«»>■•■  ti  i°t' 


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J  I.  V**-..   (  fil  l-  ••:  t 


E.  ASCMERBEnr.  A  CO. 

A'    i  l.lM.KS  SPKI  V  T  W. 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  POPULAR  SONGS. 


Lest  the  reader  should  find,  as  he  easily 
might,  some  ambiguity  in  the  title  of 
this  short  paper,  it  may  be  well  to  ex- 
plain, by  way  of  premise,  that  popular 
songs  are  here  taken  to  mean  only  the 
songs  of  the  day,  ephemeral,  trivial,  and 


of  little  or  no  musical  value — the  songs 
that  spring  up,  as  it  were,  in  a  night, 
that  are  sung  and  whistled  and  played 
for  a  few  weeks  or  months,  and  are  then 
forgotten.  The  songs  that  endure  for 
generations,  though  often  of  no  greater 


Digitized  by  Google 


98 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


intrinsic  merit,  are  more  truly  (icscril)tHl 
as  national  sonf^s;  for  the  national  sonp:  is 
liy  no  means  ni'c<  ss.irily  <  me  w  hose  wonis 
and  music,  or  even  the  circumiitunces  of 
whose  composition,  are  associated  with 
an  historical  or  patriotic  €  vent.  The  Jianz 
i/rs  J'tic/ifs,  for  instance,  is  most  truly 
the  national  air  of  Switzerland,  though 
it  is  nl\  a  lierdsinan's Strain  ;  and  Bay- 
ard Taylor's  poem  keeps  alive  the  fact 
that  on  the  eve  of  the  bloodiest  battle  of 
the  Crimean  War  the  Scotch  reftiments 
fed  tlieir  martial  spirit  hy  sintjinp;,  not 
the  stirring  music  of  their  grandest  bat- 
tle hymn,  Sttfts  vfka  hae,  but  the  simple 
strains  of  Annif  Laurie.  Just  what  j^ives 
vitality  to  some  of  these  songs  it  is  hard 
to  say  ;  but  the  fact  is  plain  cntjugh  that 
while  most  of  them  pass  out  of  memory 
witliin  a  vear,  a  few  express  in  s<ime  siih- 
lle  way  tiie  deeper  feelings  t)l  a  nation 
and  live  throughout  the  rest  of  its  history. 
Thus  Partant  pour  la  Syrie.  and  p/  /><;, 
and  the  Carmagnole.^  and  Yankee  Doodle^ 
and  Mar'ehing  through  Georgia  will  out- 
live tlie  FfciK  h  and  American  republics, 
while  En  r'v'nant  de  la  revue^  and  I*ere  la 
Vietoirej  and  Just  Before  the  BatUe^  and 
We  Dot^t  Wantta  Fij^lit  are  forgotten  in  a 
siny^le  generation.  And  the  n'ason  for 
the  immortality  of  the  one  ami  lor  the 
oblivion  of  the  other  set  is  about  equally 
mysterious. 

The  popular  song,  however,  in  the  re- 
stricted sense  of  the  word — the  song  of 
the  whistling  boy  and  tlie  str<'et  ])ian<)  — 
is  at  present  often  able  to  secure  a  brief 
respite  from  immediate  forgetfulness,  to 
cheat  oblivion,  and  secure  a  second  lease 
of  life  by  a  sjiecies  of  migration. 

In  these  days,  when  travel  is  cheap 
and  each  nation,  being  more  or  less  in- 
formed a1)Out  its  neighbour's  elointrs, 
finds  it  an  amusing  thing  to  be  inuiaiive 
and  cosmopolitan,  the  popular  song  is 
oneof  the  objects  that,  like  food,  fashions, 
and  literature,  are  amiably  borrowed. 
Thus  it  happens  that  when  some  ditty 
has  Ix  i  onie  siu  h  a  nuisance  in  the  land 
of  its  birth  as  to  make  its  public  rendi- 
tion more  or  less  unsafe,  it  suddenly  dis- 
appears^ and  almost  immediately  reap- 
pears in  some  other  country  where  it  is 
treated  as  an  attractive  novelty.  When 
it  springs  up  again  in  this  way  among  a 
people  whose  lantxiiac;c  is  nut  that  of  its 
author,  it  often  sutlers  a  sea-change  ; 
but  the  music  Is  usually  unaltered,  while 
the  transformation  of  ils  u  oi  ils  is  often 
very  characteristic  and  amusing. 


One  would  .say  a  priori  that  England 
and  America  would  be  the  greatest  bor- 
rowers of        Jiaitionittc.    As  Germany 
is  the  most  musical  land  in  the  world, 
and  as  France  is  the  home  of  the  caf^ 
ilsaiitatity  it  might  be  supposed  that  the 
h-njL^lish  "  music  hall"  and  the  American 
"  variety  show"  would  find  the  French 
and  German  airs  an  ine.xhausiible  store 
t»»  liorrow  fn>m.     I?ut  the  truth  c»f  the 
matter  is  quite  the  reverse,  and  for  two 
very  different  reasons.    As  regards  Ger- 
many, it  is  precisely        auNe  tlie  (Irr- 
mans  arc  so  musical  that  the  foreign 
conveyer  of  popular  songs  finds  so  little 
t(j  appropriate.    The  German's  taste  in 
music  is  so  educate<l,  and  he  takes  his 
music  so  seriously  as  to  make  nt>nsensc- 
songs,  such  as  those  of  our  country  and  of 
England,  appear  to  him  neither  amus- 
ing nor  agreeable.    They  are  simply 
monstrosities,  fit  only  for  eccentric  and 
Philistine  nations,  such  as  he  supposes  us 
to  be.    Tlie  Tingeltangel  plays  no  such 
important  part  in  the  economy  of  his 
amusements  as  does  the  cafe  ihiinl,i;;t  in 
the  diversions  of  the  French.    When  he 
listens  to  music,  it  must  be  good  in  it- 
self.   The  difference  is  well  seen  in  such 
an  establishment  as  Kroll's  Garten,  in 
Berlin — a  place  in  many  respects  akin 
to  the  Folies  Berg^re,  of  Paris.   It  is  an 
immense  beer  garden  ;  yet  its  open-air 
music  is  rendered  by  a  really  fine  orches- 
tra, supplemented  occasionally  by  sosne 
of  the  military  bands  of  the  garrison  ; 
while  in  the  adjacent  theatre  appear 
singers  of  international  celebrity,  who 
interpret  the  rdles  of  tlie  lighter  of  the 
grand  operas,  such  as  the  Afeistersini^er^ 
the  Troutpeter  von  Sakingtn,  and  the  F/y- 
/■//j,'    Dutchman.    In    fact,  the  German 
srliiom  lifMends   to  any   lower  (!(•]>: h. 
musically,  than  the  comic  opera  ;  and 
when  an  American,  an  Englishman,  or 
a  Frenchman  would  be  humming  The 
Band  Flayed  On  or  Gigolelte^  a  German 
contents  himself  with  a  bit  of  MillScker 
or  Suppe — something  far  from  classical, 
if  you  will,  but  by  no  means  cheap  and 
vulgar.    And  as  hedoes  not  himself  pro- 
ihu  e  ->iir  sort  of  jiopidar  song,  still  less 
docs  he  import  those  whirli   \v<>  have 
made.    Some  of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan's 
comic  operas  he  will  tolerate  (the  airs 
from  the  Mikado  were  rather  ]v)piilar  in 
Germany  at  one  time),  and  Mr.  Reginald 
De  Koven  is  not  unknown  ;  but  that  is 
thi-  limit  of  his  toh  r.tlii  m.     It  is  true  that 
in  the  numerous  Tingeltangels  our  comic 


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A  LITERAKY  JOURNAL 


99 


songs  arc  often  heard,  but  thry  rii  f  siinuj  tras.  An  instanc  e  of  this  is  the  Boiilanpist 
in  their  original  form  by  foreign  singers,  chant,  En  r  v' iiaiit  de  la  revue^  first  sung  by 
English  and  American,  and  are  listened  Paulus  at  tlie  Alcazar  d'Et£,  and  speed- 
to  by  the  Germans  in  the  same  spirit  in  ily  taken  up  all  over  France  by  the  par- 
which  a  visitor  to  Chinatown  enjoys  the  tisans  of  the  hrav  General.    It  was  at 


performance  of 


a  Monjrolian  orclicstru. 

popular  music 


once  cabled  to  this  country  (a  journal- 
istic  feat  achieved  by  the  New  York 


Hence  our  purveyors  of 
find  nothiiiij  of  tlic  kind 
in  Germany  to  appro- 
priate ;  but  with  true 
American  audacity  they 
tiave  gone  straight  to 
the  classical  music,  and 
from  It  have  filched  in- 
numerable themes.  It 
may  not  be  generally 
known,  for  instance,  that 
.innir  J^iuuiev  is  taken 
tlirccily,  with  a  mere 
change  of  tetnf>o,  from  a 
chorale  of  Bacli,  and  that 
Uown  went  AlcGinty  is 
stolen  from  another.  It 
is  an  amusing  fact  that 
Wagner  derived  the  so- 
called  bell->w<>Ay  in  Par- 
sifal from  the  same 
source  ;  so  that  we  have 
the  great  master  of  modr 
ern  music  drinking  from 
the  same  f>)untain  of  in- 
spiration as  the  author 
of  D&WH  went  McGinty  I 
Not  very  much  is  bor- 
rowed from  the  French 
either.  The  reason  for 
this  is  to  be  found,  I 
think,  in  the  musical 
characteristics  of  the 
French  tkansonettes.  The 
French  popular  music  is 
eminently  vivacious  ;  it 
has  a  sort  of  sparkle 
tliat  is  eminently  (railic  ; 
but  there  is  something 
about  it  that  makes  it 
rather  unattractive  to  an 
English  ear.  it  is  too 
jerky  ;  it  -lacks  rhythm 
and  melody;  and  it  does  not  easily  fix  lie  raid)  ^  and  was  heard  everywhere,  but 
itself  in  the  memory.  It  is,  in  fact,  rather  only  as  an  air,  no  words  ever  having  been 
thin,  and  irresistibly  suggests  the  nasal  written  for  it  in  Knglisli,  so  far  as  the 
tones  and  cracked  pianos  of  the  i'«7/;^<;/«  present  writer  is  informed.  A  later 
through  which  it  finally  passes  into  oli-  I'tcnch  success,  Perr  la  Vietoire,  also 
livion.  Ilcnce  it  is  not  often  borrowed,  '  created"  by  Paulus  at  the  Eldorado, 
the  exceptions  being  found  principally  in  was  at  one  time  a  good  deal  played  by 
semi-military  songs.  These  are  occasion-  military  bands  in  England,  where  it  was 
ally  transplanted  to  England  and  Ameri-  also  set  to  new  words,  but  as  a  song  it 
ca,though  the3r  are  there  not  sung,  but  ar>  had  no  success.  Therefore  the  fact  re- 
ranged  tor  military  bands  and  for  orches-   mains  that  while  we  borrow  French 


ma  iMii»  A^taannf  or  imncnM  sr  nr  fonmiakii  mmtA 


lOO 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


fashions,  Frenrh  raokcn*,  French  plays, 
and  French  novels,  the  Anglo-Saxon 
world  cares  very  little  for  French  popu- 
lar souths. 

Equally  unsuccessful  has  proved  the 
attempt  to  adapt  for  English  and 
Amencan  use  any  of  the  numerotts 

canzonetie  of  Italy,  and  for  the  same  rea- 
sons. Perhaps  the  last  attempt  to  make 
a  hit  in  this  way  was  that  of  Miss  Lottie 
Collins,  who,  after  the  song  which  is  es- 
pecially associated  with  her  name  had 
been  worn  threadbare,  announced  with 
a  good  dral  of  journalistic  trumpeting 
a  new  one  entitled  Marguerite  vj  Monte 
Carlo.  This  was  in  reality  an  English 
adaptation  of  a  Neapolitan  canzone  by 
the  popular  song-writer.  I*iedigrotta, 
first  sung  at  the  Salone  Margherita  in 
Naples  in  1892,  when  it  caug^ht  the 
fancy  of  the  poptilarr  imnnMisflv.  nnrl 
was  soon  sung,  whistle<l,  and  playetl  all 
over  Italy.  The  original  was  called 
Matf^arita  dc  Parete,  and  was  wrilt<  n  in 
dialect,  the  first  verse  being  as  follows  : 

Margariu  de  Parcte 
Era  a  sattft  d'  e  ligiiorie ; 
Se  pugneva  sempe  c  ddeie 
Pe  penzarc  a  Salvatore ! 

Marfjar! 
'c  pcrz*)  .1  Salvaturc  ! 

Ma  rommo  6  cacciatorc  ! 
Margari, 
Nun  ce  aje  corpa  ta ! 
Cbello  ch'  k  fatto  k  fatto, 
Nun  ne  parlammo  cchiik ! 

It  lias  a  i^oixl  deal  of  su  ln;^  to  it.  1)Ht 
in  spite  of  Miss  ColUn&'s  own  popularity 
and  her  persistent  efforts  to  make  it  a 
success,  it  fell  rather  flat,  and  never 
reached  the  street  piano. 

Not  many  of  our  popular  airs,  then, 
are  foreign ;  but  a  very  great  many 
of  onrv;  :!re  raMCfht  iip  by  the  Frfiich.  es- 
pecially liiose  songs  whose  Env^lish  words 
have  a  jingle  that  tickles  tlu-  (iallic  ear 
with  a  suggestion  of  eccentricity.  Such, 
fur  example,  is  an  absurd  but  rather 
tuneful  ditty,  now  much  in  vogue  in 
England,  though  not  yet  well  known  in 
this  country,  and  entitled  Linger  Loner 
Loo.  The  original  is  by  Messrs.  Youn  ;^^ 
and  Sidney  Jones,  and  it  so  amused  the 
first  Frenchman  who  heard  it  that  it  was 
almost  immediately  carried  to  Paris. 
l"mu  h  words  were  written  by  M.  Henri 
])rfvf us,  the  Fui^li^'i  rhonis  bring  re- 
tained, and  it  was  sung  by  no  If^s  a  per- 
sonage than  the  famous  Vvettc  (  Juilbert, 
and  utter  by  Mile.  Duderc  at  the  Folies 


Bergerc.  The  first  verse  of  th«*  French 
rendering  will  give  a  good  idea  of  U 
li^cnre  Anglaisistty  so  called  : 

Q.t  n'vous  amuse  pas  c'quc  j'dis  Xk 
Moi  non  plus  je  l  aUcsic, 
Mais  il  faut  him  par  ci  par  li. 

Chatiicr  (if  tout  <-t  1' rcsic. 

Mod  repertoire  c--t  f'i|ic!i«m 

A  c'que  di^'nl  !es  families 

Anui  ma  p'tite  EMglUk  cbanaon 

E«t  fah*  pour  Fes  jeunes  fill«s. 

I. curs  papas  ilin.nt  <  "f^t  plus  ticau 

Hicn  qu'  vms  n'  <  nniprciiic/  pas  mi  m-">l. 

Ell's  pcns'ront.  sur,  \'.\  ;>as  d  pl.iisir 

Du  momcnl  qu'on  n'  p«"Ut  pas  r^  uk;;r  ! 

"  I in\;er  lon^fr,  I.ucy,  lin^rr  /.'M^tr.  /.<'.'. 
//(•:.'  /  /(';'<•  /<>  !im:t  r,  l.uty,  //«^'rr  lomz  <»'  y'^U ; 
JJsti  tt  -i-hile  I  siiti^,  ah,  tell  me  yi>u' il  he  trme^ 
Lint^er  longer,  l,>tr^er  Aw^vr,  linger  Lm^fr,  Loc  f" 

The  Man  that  Broke  the  Bank  at  Monte 
Carlo  was  a  great  favourite  with  the 

I'^n  iK  h,  and  their  versif^n  of  it  was  n  cb>se 
paraphrase  of  the  English,  thouj^h  it  rep- 
resented the  breaker  of  the  bank  as  a 
woman  and  not  a  man.  The  title  >  if  it  was 
J  ai /ait  sauter  Ix  battque  <i  Monte  Carlo. 
As  a  i-ule,  the  music  alone  is  taken,  the 
French  wonls  havint;  no  reference  to  the 
original  ones.  Thus,  Daisy  Bell^  or,  as 
the  French  usually  write  it,  Detysey  Bell, 
furnished  the  music  for  a  rather  amus- 
inc:  s<'t  of  verses  by  M.  Dreyfus,  who  is 
an  Anglophobe,  in  which  le<:  Anglaises 
pour  rirc  are  vigourously  m  k  kcrl — their 
diet  of  f>i/te,l\  runisfi-rh.  and  oilier  viandes 
saignanteiy  their  prudery,  and  their  dress. 
A  verse  may  serve  to  amuse  the  reader. 

A  Paris  va  des  AnglaiMS 

L'air  sec,  avec 
Des  appas  ctimm'  dcs  punalses 
lies  dents  l^ngu's  et  jaun's  dans  I'bCC 
Sur  r  boul'vard  chacun'  circulc 
VAtu*  oomrn'  dun  foureau 
D*UQ  mat/arlan  ridicule 
Coifl6'  d'un  tout  p'tit  chapeatt  I 

Attrij^lktt    All  right! 
Rien  tie  Ics  emoiionnc  ; 

Allrii:ht!    All  rt^hr! 

Rien  III-  Irs  pa'->h  >I1  IK-  j 

KM  1*  uni  la  M'ch  ress'  <XmtC  planche 
Kit's  oni  aussi  sa  raidcur. 
ue  c'soil  la  s'maine  ou  t'dimanchc 
n  rien  offenie  teur  pioudeur ! 

The  chorus  of  this  had  almost  as  much 

success  in  France  as  the  original  enjoyed 
in  England  and  the  I'nited  States  ;  and 
up  to  the  present  time,  when  a  y^amin 
wishes  to  jeer  at  a  stray  Englishman,  he 
gn-f*ts  him  with  the  "  All  rii^lit  !"  which 
together  with  '*  Aoh  yes  I"  is  regarded 
in  France  as  the  shibboleth  of  the  Anglo* 
Saxon  race. 


8 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


lot 


As  mipht  be  expected,  Tarara-boom- 
tft-ay  exactly  suited  the  Ani^/tiisis/t's.  It 
had  scarcely  appeared  in  England  and 
America  before  a  French  renclering  was 
rushed  into  print,  in  fact  so  rapidly  that 
the  author  of  it,  M.   Fabrice  L^mon, 
failed  to  notice  the  ex- 
act title  of  the  original, 
and  altered  a  syllable, 
his  version  bearing  the 
name  Tha-mara-houin-Ji- 
//</;  but  it  was  a  great 
success,  being  sung  at 
one  and  the  same  time 
at  four  of  the  principal 
ttij'e's  concerts — the  Alca- 
zar, the   Horloge,  the 
Ambassadeurs,  and  the 
Folics  Bergfere.  Before, 
however,    any  French 
version  at  all  had  been 
made,  the  present  wri- 
ter, being  in  a  provincial 
town  in  Normandy,  read 
one  day  an  announce- 
ment of  the  local  theatre 
to  the  effect  that  on  the 
following  evening  a  new 
one-act  play  would  be 
presented,  with  the  re- 
markable title  Miss  Kiss- 
nt\\  in  which  the  forward 
manners  of  the  typical 
mees  An)^/aise  would  be 
held  up  to  the  reproba- 
tion of  a  virtuous  French 
audience.     It  was  also 
announced  as  a  special 
attraction  that  a  certain 
Mile.  Dufort  would,  in 
the  course  of  the  play, 
sing  the  ctTchie  chanson 
A nf^laisc,  7 'ha ■la-ra-bou m - 
Jer-^.     When  the  time 
came,  and  Mile.  Dufort 
appeared,  she    had   an  ^ 
immense  audience.  The 
first  few  lines  made  it  evident  (not  to 
the  audience,  however)  that  this  inge- 
nious young  woman  IukI  shrunk  from  the 
task  of  "getting  up"  the  lines  of  the 
genuine  version,  but  had  instead  con- 
structed a  set  of  verses  of  her  own  by 
piecing  together  all  the  Fnglish  words 
she  had  ever  heard.     The  first  verse, 
then,  ran  something  like  this  : 

Ticket  tramway  riergyman 
Biftcck  rumstcck  rosbif  van, 
Sandwich  whitebaits  lady  lunch 
Cb6ri-gobler,  wiskey-ponche  ; 


Ai>h-ycs  all  ri^hi  shocking  stop 
Pcl-C-I  why-noi  mnton-chop. 
Plum  kck  iniousic  steamer  boxc, 
Boulc-iloRue  hij;h-!ife  five-o'clocks. 
Tharara  bourn  dcr-i-,  etc. 

It  was  an  immense  success.   The  audi- 


• 

LaJl.arctiedesJ3joyps'' 


■AIIIOUmiAlir' EMIIE  SPENCER 

.'..1  k'.-    ••    I  :  •.  tniiicBfOlI  .       !• f  ••  iT  ■. 


ence  rose  at  her.  They  knew  that  the 
English  was  all  right,  because  they  them- 
selves recognised  a  gt)od  many  of  the 
words.  She  had  an  ovation  and  nine 
encores  ;  and  this  was  probably  the 
first  rendition  of  the  cdibre  chanson  on 
French  soil. 

It  has  already  been  noted  that  the 
French,  in  taking  «)Ver  the  English  popu- 
lar songs,  seldom  or  never  translate  the 
words  literally.  The  reason  of  this  is 
very  characteristic.  In  the  first  place, 
the  French  mind  is  too  logically  reason- 


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I03 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


able  to  relish  mere  nonsense  such  as  de- 
lights with  a  childish  joy  a  typical  An^lo- 
Saxon  audience.  Possibly  ihr  Gallu 
lack  ot  humour  also  stands  in  the  way 
of  an  appreciation  of  pure  absurdity. 
In  the  second  place,  the  French  have  an 
innate  literary  instinct  that  deinands 
precision,  neatness  of  phrasing,  and 
point,  in  even  the  lip^htest  verses  to  which 
they  are  asked  to  listen  ;  and  th«'  com- 
monplaces of  our  sentimental  ballads 
are  to  them  indescribably  inane.  Hence 
in  the  lines  that  they  write  for  our  popu- 
lar music  there  are  to  be  found  almost 
always  a  wit  and  a  meaning  to  which 
the  Kniflish  words  have  no  claim.  Yet 
in  another  way  the  balance  is  in  our 
favour  ;  for  an  unpleasant  Frcncli  trait 
almost  always  mars  their  verses — the 
fondness  for  strikinp^  the  note  of  the  im- 
cleanly  suggestive.  Our  English  words 
may  be  utterly  nonsensical,  their  senti- 
ment may  be  rommnnplac  e  and  its  ex- 
pression mawkish,  yet  both  words  and 
sentiment  are  clean  and  wholesome, 
the  nonsense  is  tfood,  honest  nonsense, 
and  one  never  carries  away,  after  listen- 
ing to  it,  an  unpleasant  taste  ;  and  this 
quality  in  our  popular  songs  and  popu- 
larsingersis  far  better  than  all  the  taint- 
ed wit  of  a  Dreyfus  and  a  IJaneux,  and 
the  inspired  Jiahlrrie  of  Yvettc  Guilbert 
and  Duhanu  l.  A  good  instance  of  how 
the  French  bedevil  an  innocent  piece 
of  fun  can  be  seen  by  comparing  the 
English  popular  song  Tin^-a-Iiii^  with 
the  French  version  called  Ung-a-lin^^ 
first  sung  by  Edm6e  Lescot  at  the 
Casino  de  Paris.  The  English  is  a  rol- 
licking bit  of  harmless  nonsense  ;  Init  uf 
the  French  version  there  is  not  a  single 
Stanza  that  I  should  venture  to  reprint. 

There  is  one  thing  that  seems  tpiite 
remarkable  in  the  popular  songs  of  the 
French  to-day,  and  that  has  a  deep  sig- 
nirtranre  of  its  own.  When  we  reflect 
upon  the  fact  that  France  is  now  in  real- 
ity a  great  armed  camp,  that  its  people 
are  waiting  with  a  feverish  an.xiety,  an 
intense  feeling  of  hope  and  fear,  for 
the  inevitable  hour  when  they  shall 
Strike  the  great  blow  to  avenge  the 
humiliati<*n  .if  1870;  when  one  remem- 
bers how  intensely  martial  is  the  .spirit 
of  the  whole  nation,  how  it  is  yearning 
fiif  it>  old  sii]iremacy  and  the  glory  that 
was  dimmed  at  Gravelotte  and  bedan, 
and  at  the  same  time  recalls  hciw  effusive 
llie  I'u  nch  tcmperameaL  i>,  it  is  simply 
marvellous  to  6nd  the  singers  of  the 


people's  songs  silent  on  the  one  theme 
that  lies  closest  to  every  patriotic  French- 

man's  heart  No  ballads  revile  trie 
hated  Prussian  ;  no  martial  songs  call 
for  the  hastening  of  the  day  of  reckon- 

ing;  no  new  Beranger  puts  into  the. 
lyrics  of  the  street  the  tierce  longing 
that  throbs  in  the  pulses  of  so  many 
millions.  This  very  silence,  ominous, 
universal,  is  the  most  prnfmmtily  im- 
pressive evidence  of  the  intensity  of  tlie 
flame  that  needs  no  outward  fanning  to 
keep  it  in  ,1  t^low.  "  The  shallows  mur- 
mur, but  the  deeps  ate  dumb  and  the 
underlying  thought  seems  to  be  this: 
that  to  recall  the  horrors  of  itSjo  would 
l)«!  humiliating,  unbearable  ;  while  tt) 
sing  of  what  all  hope  for  in  the  future 
would  be  <mly  to  play  the  braggart's  part 
in  the  face  of  possibilities  that  ni.ike  tht 
lightest  spirit  shrink  back  with  awe  irora 
their  contemplation. 

I  have  said  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
trace  in  any  popular  song  of  the  spirit 
of  revanche  ;  yet  here  and  there  a  word, 
a  phrase,  or  a  turn  of  expression  reveals  it 
as  by  a  flash.  One  of  the  most  striking 
illustrations  of  this,  and  perhaps  the 
boldest,  is  found  in  the  Marfhe  dti 
Tt  fize  /(Ui!  Sy  a  song  that  was  sung  all 
over  France  not  very  long  ago.  It  i^ 
professedly  only  a  comic  song,  narrating 
the  amiisinc;  experiences  of  a  '  .  'wfTi'sU 
who  goes  into  camp  to  perform  lus  thir- 
teen days  of  required  military  service; 
but  the  last  verse  strikes  a  different 
note  : 

yu.'uid  Ics  ireiz'  j  'Urs  sont  tcrtnints 
l-  ui'i'tTi*!  tious  dit  :  "'J'vous  r'nicrdc, 
Vou»  £tcs  di|{n's  de  tos  aiois ! 
A  I'appel  twer^  d«  la  Patrte 

Tous  vou**  viendm 
V.l  nic  iliroz  : 

*•  '  Lcs  Trci/c  Jours  nc  tremblciu  pas  ! 

Pour  icr'<'ii--xct  Ii--.  iiifiiv  ctranjiorfs 

\nu!i  saunins  tous  d.infs  lcs  combats 

Ni>us  baltr*  comm '  dc  vieux  militaiTCS  !'** 

Puis  nous  montrant  noire  drapeau 

'*  Sachez  mourir,"  dit-il. "  pour  sa  difenac !" 

V.i  Tgc'ti^ral  ^levant  son  chapeau. 

Nous  ciii  "A  bieotot  !    Vive  !a  France  !*' 

Th('re  is  a  world  of  meaning  lo  every 
Frenchman  in         it  hieH/St  f 

Another  of  the  ret  ent  j^etpular  songs 
in  France  is  also  very  signiticant — this 
one  not  for  its  words,  but  for  its  tnustc. 
It  is  a  song  that  I  have  alreari\  nu  n- 
tioncd — J'i're  ia  I'uioirt — first  sung  by 
I'aulus  at  the  Eldorado  in  the  winter  of 
1 891-9 J.  The  words  are  nothing — the 
reverie  of  an  old  soldier  ;  but  the  music. 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


arranged  by  Louis  Gannc  for  military 
bands,  is  in  a  way  a  wontlcrfuUy  effec- 
tive thin^,  a  sort  of  cantata,  whose  mean- 
ing all  I' ranee  interprctr<!  ;it  once.  It 
opens  witli  a  rull  ui  drums  and  a  trum- 
pet call,  as  heralding  the  military  char*- 
acter  of  its  motif.  Thm  cumos  a  lonsj^ 
Strain  of  melancholy  music,  sombre, 
pathetic,  rising  almost  into  a  wail, 
though  still  marked  by  the  military  ac- 
cent. To  the  listener  it  depicts  France 
in  her  humiliation,  beaten  to  her  knees 
by  the  merciless  invader,  betrayed,  de- 
spairing. Then,  as  the  music  almost 
dies  away,  the  muffled  drums  roll  stead- 
ily, and  a  firmer  note  is  struck.  France 
lives.  The  years  of  patience,  of  sacri- 
fice, of  preparation  have  come.  Strong 
er  and  clearer,  the  music  swells  again 
into  a  noble  march,  strong,  confident. 


courageous.  Clearer  and  bolder  ring 
out  the  notes,  faster  and  faster  and  rich- 
er and  grander  are  the  harmonies. 
I' r. nice  is  once  more  herself,  puissant, 
girt  lor  liattle,  invincible.  The  hour 
has  struck,  and  a  storm  of  drums  over- 
whelms the  car  in  a  great  crash  of  mar- 
tial melody,  with  the  trumpets  once 
more  ringing  out,  this  time  exultant  in 
the  fierce  joy  of  victory  !  It  is  the  musi- 
cal apotiieosis  of  la  revatuht.  Profes- 
sional musicians  may  call  it  a  poor 
thing,  i)ut  when  rendered  by  a  fine 
militarj'  band,  as  I  have  often  heard  it, 
it  has  always  seemed  to  n^e  inexpressibly 
thrilling ;  and  with  its  hidden  meanings 
it  must  quicken  the  pulse  and  stir  the 
blood  of  every  one  who  loves  France  and 
her  chivalrous  people. 

Harry  Thurston  Peck. 


NUIT  DE  SEFTEMBRE. 

La  nuit  est  pleine  de  silence, 

I'^t  dans  line  etrangc  Incur, 
Et  dans  uuc  tlDUce  indolence. 

La  lune  dort  comme  une  fieur. 

Parmi  les  rochers,  dans  le  sable, 

Sous  les  grands  puis,  d'un  calme  amer, 
Surgit  mon  amour  p^rissable — 

Falm  de  tes  yeux,  soif  de  ta  chair. 

Je  suts  ton  amant,  et  ta  blonde 

Gorge  tremble  sous  mon  baiser, 
£t  Ic  feu  de  I'amour  monde 

Nos  deux  cceurs  sans  les  apaiser. 

Ricn  lie  j)t  ut  (lurcr,  rnais  ta  bouche 

Kst  telle  ([u'liii  fruit  fait  de  sang  ; 
Tout  passe,  mais  ta  main  me  touche, 

£t  je  me  donne  en  fremissant. 

Tes  yeux  verts  me  regardent ;  j'aime 

Le  clair  de  lune  de  tes  yeux, 
Et  je  ne  vois  dans  le  ciel  m^me 

Que  ton  corps  rare  et  radieux. 

Oearge  Moore. 


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I04 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


MAURICE  MAKTKRLIXCK  AT  HOME. 


The  character  and  expression  of  Mau- 
rice Maeterlinck  are  not  easy  to  iinalysc 
nur  to  describe  with  a  few  bold  strokes 


MArKK  K  MAFTf RI.INCK. 

of  the  pen.  Ouite  contrary  t«»  that 
which  is  ordinarily  seen  in  an  artist,  who 
often  represents  in  his  j>erson  and  in  his 
life  the  antipodes  of  tluit  whicl)  he  is  in 
his  works,  the  younj;  Helijian  symbolist 
has  in  himself — in  his  physioijnomy  first 
i»f  all,  in  his  voice,  his  manner,  and. 
above  all,  perhaps  in  the  accumulation 


of  qualities  that  constitute  the  rgo — the 
personality  of  a  sonifhoJv,  like  a  pale  re- 
flection of  the  individual  character 
which,  vague  and  pro- 
—  found  at  the  same  time, 
distinguishes  his  artis- 
tic inspirations.  Con- 
sequently if  his  differ- 
ent works  are  clear 
only  to  a  restricted 
number  of  select  and 
initiated  spirits,  so  in- 
deed hisspeecli,  his  ex- 
pression, and  his  ex- 
terior personality  do 
n»)t  reveal  more  quick- 
ly the  secret  of  a  st)ul 
that  you  persist,  how- 
ever, in  wishing  to 
probe,  because  you 
feel  that  it  is  worth 
the  trouble. 

But  one  does  not 
wish  general  impres- 
sions, and,  above  all, 
psychic  impressions. 
One  wishes  precise  in- 
dications, clear  de- 
scriptions, a  sort  of 
passport  that  includes 
besides  the  lines  of  his 
face,  the  mo  Jus  z^ivenJi 
of  the  artist. 

First  of  all  there  is 
not  the  slightest  ro- 
mance in  the  genesis 
of  the  artistic  growth 
of  this  young  spirit, 
not  the  least  eccentri- 
city in  his  manner,  in 
his  dress,  in  his  speech, 
or  in  his  way  of  living 
to  furnish  entertain- 
ment to  the  readers  of 
the  Primesse  Afitlfint. 

Maurice  Maeterlinck 
was  born  at  Ghent  in 
the  autumn  of  the  year 
iS6j,  in  a  purely  (ihentish  family,  into 
which,  perhaps,  since  he  has  certain  bril- 
liant traits,  some  drops  of  Spanish  blood 
have  entered.  He  is  sprung  from  burgh- 
er stock  from  the  upper  provincial  burgh- 
er class  that  in  Europe  still  incarnates  in 
itself  the  immobile  prejudices  that  kill. 
Maeterlinck   has  a  brother  who  is  a 


Digitizei,  >  ,  v^jOOgl^ 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


notary,  and  he  himself  is  a  lawyer,  a 
position  he  occupies  to  meet  the  ordU 

nary  exij^encies  that  demand  that  you 
have  a  classtlied  profession.  But  as  he 
himself  says  quaintly,  "  That  doesn't 
bother  me." 


stretches  that  shut  them  in,  and  in  the 
silence  of  a  city  almost  inanimate,  he 

cauj^ht  his  manner  of  reserve,  almost  of 
disdain  for  noise  and  bustle,  which  is  the 
characteristic  trait  of  his  physiognomy 
and  which  inspires  the  tone  of  his  work. 


His  life  began  like  thaf  of  all  who  are  The  profession  of  lawyer  was  indeed 
not  hard  pressed  by  the  struggle  for  ex-  the  one  least  suited  to  this  thinker  with 
istence.    The  young  man  attended  the   closed  lips,  who  has  almost  notiiing  to 

Jesuit  College  in    the  most  orthodox    say  to  you. 

Catholic  city  of  all  Belgium.  While  Almost  always  the  human  mind,  in 
there  he  sacrificed  the 
study  of  mathematics 
to  that  of  literature, 
and  alon^  with  other 
comrades  indulged  in 
juvenile  inspirations 
under  the  cover  of  his 
black  desk  during  the 
algebra  class.  These 
make  up  the  sum  of 
his  college  pecca- 
dilloes. But  all  this 
characterization  is 
not  Maeterlinck,  who 
proti.iltly  more  than 
any  one  else  was  un- 
conscious of  what  he 
wished  to  be  or  was 
able  to  l)e,  and  did 
not  feel  himself  really 
pushed  to  scale  the 
heights  until  he  met 
at  Paris,  where  he 
spent  a  year,  the  great 
and  yet  unknown 
writer,  Villiers  de 
rile  Adam.  Qf  this 
admirable  poet,  whom 
Paris  has  known  so 
little  during  so  many 
years,  the  young  au- 
thor of  1/  Intrust 
speaks  with  a  respect 
and  an  enthusiasm 
that  redound  greatly 


to  his  credit. 

During  this  year  he  was  truly  the 
neophyte,  the  spiritual  son  of  this  ele- 
vated mind,  and  you  can  thus  naturally 
explain  the  li^ht  that  then  came  along 
the  proper  lines  to  the  young  citizen  of 
Ghent.  He  returned  to  his  native  Flan- 
ders inspired  with  a  new  spirit,  and,  fa- 
voured by  a  possibility  of  mterior  isola> 
tion,  he  was  able  soon  to  forget  the  hos- 
tile, ugly,  and  narrow  cage  wherein  the 
spirits  of  his  compatriots  were  housed. 

I  am  quite  convinced  that  on  the  banks 
of  the  solitary  canals,  on  the  waste 


order  to  creep  out  of  its  shell,  needs 

some  intellectual  aid  to  teach  it  to  make 
use  of  itself.  In  his  case  this  was  done 
by  the  reading  of  a  very  beautiful  book, 
Les  Flaireurs,  by  Van  Lerberghe,  an- 
other writer  of  Ghent,  who  directly 
prompted  in  Maeterlinck  the  courage  to 
write  his  first  book,  in  which  he  broke 
away  from  his  young  contemporaries. 

His  literary  life  began  thus  in  a  city, 
in  a  family,  in  a  milieu^  which  ought  not 
to  have  distracted  him  at  a!1  from  that 
which  he  was  going  to  see,  from  that 


io6 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


which  he  was  about  to  observe  in  the 
heart  of  visible  things.  Here  he  showed 
a  characteristic  touch.  Like  all  younjif 
writers,  he  had  neither  money  nor  a 
publisher.  Then,  in  (|iiite  an  original 
manner,  he  himself  priiUrfl,  with  a  press 
that  one  of  his  friends  owned,  the  first 
work  that  revealed  htm^  and  he  turned 
the  mechanism  that  gave  us  the  verses 
entitled  Torres  Chaudes. 

The  deserved  but  noisy  and  somewhat 
snobbish  fame  that  sprang  up  suddenly 
and  universally  about  his  first  writings, 
the  rapidity  willi  which  they  have  been 
circulated  abroad  and  translated  in  both 
hemispheres,  even  amonpf  people  of  far 
different  genius,  liave  destroyed  in  the 
poet  from  Ghent  neither  his  love  of  ac- 
(juisttion  nor  his  ver)*  sympathetic  sim- 
plicity, nor  (and  I  have  been  able  to  note 
It  with  joy)  the  arttst*s  disdainful  dig- 
nity. 

As  in  his  childhood,  he  still  lives  with 
his  parents  during  the  winter  in  an  or- 
dinary city  house  in  a  modem  quarter 
of  (rhent,  where  the  most  inpenious  re- 
porter would  not  be  able  to  glean  the 
smallest  suggestive  description.  A  hid* 
enus  dark-preen  wall-paper,  covered 
with  enormous  golden  lilies,  still  makes 
my  eyelids  wink  even  at  the  thought  of 
it.  The  dark-green  paper  speaks  much 
of  the  young  poet's  resignation  to  ex- 
ternal things.  In  the  summer  he  accom- 
panies his  family  to  Oostacker,  several 
miles  distant  from  (jheni.  Here,  in  a 
Flemish  cottage,  he  dreami.,  he  thinks, 
he  reads,  and  he  writes.  He  walks  a 
preat  d<;al  also,  and  accuses  himself  of 
never  hesitating  to  relinquish  his  pen  in 
favour  of  the  bright  sunshine.  Siuieter* 
linck  adds  that  he  is  an  early  riser,  wak- 
ing at  6  o'clock,  that  he  is  sociable  or 
silent,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  that  his 
habits  of  writinvj;  are  (juite  irregular. 

He  does  not  improvise  ;  besides  an 
improviscr  could  not  have  the  depth  uf 
expression  which  is  becoming  more  and 
more  pronounced  even  in  his  articles  for 
papers  and  reviews.  And  so,  if  I  can- 
not point  out  to  you  in  Maeterlinck's 
process  of  work  anything  particularly 
startling,  nor  in  the  history  of  his  life 
any  journalistic  distinction,  nor  in  his 
daily  habits  any  stupid  preoccujnition 
to  make  him  remarked,  you  must  know 
that  the  author  of  Les  Aveuf^les  is  phys- 
ically a  most  solidly  built  person,  and 
the  least  nervous  artist  in  the  world. 
A  contrary  report  is  current,  I  know. 


He  is  quite  tall,  and  his  whole  body 

breathes  out  health  and  perfect  poise. 
The  Flemish  breadth  of  shoulder  has 
stamped  his   race.     Nothing   is  more 
truly  healthful  than  his  phjrsical  being, 
nothing  more  calm,  more  thoughtful, 
and  even  more  cold,  in  the  sense  a  little 
erroneous  that  is  given  to  this  word, 
physiologically    speak'.np.       Poise  is 
there,  and  perhaps  also  that  which  you 
could  call  self-possession.    His  Flemish 
blood  would  lie  if  it  had  not  stamped 
on  his  face  this  mixture  of  disdain  and 
of  a  fierce  and  concentrated  expression 
— a  characteristic  of  his  countrymen — 
and  he  wrtuld  he  false  to  Belgium,  in 
his  own  person,  it  he  did  not  add  to  this 
nature  a  little  latent  raillery,  the  quiet, 
provoking;  satire  of   a  man   from  the 
demi-north  so  different  from  the  quick, 
light  malice  of  the  Gallo-Latin.  With 
these  general  traits  I  am  glad  to  remark 
the  deep  and  dreamy  melancholy  that 
softens  his  features,  and  a  smile  which 
is  very  genial  (for  his  mouth  could  not 
deceive),  refining  his   strong  Flemish 
jaw,  and  makes  young  and  almost  clea: 
that  which  the  contemplative  expression 
conceals.    His  face  hardly  shc)w.s  his. 
age,  and  yet,  like  almost  all  artists  of 
this  interesting  generation,  his  eyes  and 
forehead  show  the  advancing  growth  of 
spirituality.    To  complete  this  portrait, 
conceive  Maeterlinck  as  a  true  sports- 
man, skating  in  winter,  canoeing  in  sum- 
mer, and  bicycling  over  the  fertile  plains 
of  his  native  country.    This  constant 
exerc  ise  is  the  explanation  of  his  good 
health    a  great  lesson  and  a  much  great- 
er example  to  his  inactive  young  con- 
temporaries. 

I  also  learned  durinij  a  flying  visit, 
that  which  you  will  And  singularly  bare 
of  sensational  detail,  that  in  the  counttr 
the  author  of  the  Sept  Princesses  is  pas- 
sionately devoted  to  agriculture.  To 
the  deductive  spirit  it  will  be  clearly 
evident  that  Maeterlinck  is  a  true  ob- 
server, and  is  always  working  when  he 
does  not  write,  thus  bringing  him  closer 
to  Nature  and  inhaling  the  sweet  secrets 
of  her  creative  power. 

This  new  genius,  whom  the  active 
would  call  quasi-indolent,  has  already 
published  a  great  number  of  works  in  a 
short  time.  I  have  added  here  the 
chronological  list  of  his  works,  wbidi 
the  author  himself  gave  me,  and  ia  it 
are  not  included  his  numerous  articles 
in  magazines,  papers,  and  reviews. 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


You  must  have  read  the  very  curious 
preface  that  Maurice  Maeterlinck  has 

written  for  the  superb  translation  of  your 

gfreat  Emerson  done  by  a  woman,  a 
L>ulch  Belgian,  who  is  everywhere  con- 
sidered to  be  a  superior  intelligence, 
and  has  translated  into  French  your 
profound  American  thinker  without 
once    misinterpreting    the  original. 


There  is  a  great  harmony  between  the 
writer  of  this  preface  and  the  translator, 
which  makes  the  personal  value  of  each 

more  observable.  I  attarh  to  this  arti- 
cle, vvhicii  recalls  only  in  a  vague  way, 
the  classic  "  interview/'  a  fragment  of 
the  writing  of  Maurice  Maeterlinck. 

Magddane  Fidoux. 


AN  AUTUMN  SONG. 

Is  this  world  the  same  world. 

That  thou  hast  known  before? 
Is  thy  lieart  the  same  heart, 

That  sorrow  brooded  o'er  ? 

0  world,  so  kind,  so  beautiful, 
O  heart,  so  strong,  so  true, 

1  bid  you  sing  of  a  strange,  sweet  thing, 
Of  a  world  in  a  heart  made  new. 

Old  world,  old  world,  no  wonder  you  laugh. 

With  your  wealth  of  autumn  sheaves  ; 
No  wonder  your  forest  trees  rejoice 

In  their  myriad  falling  leaves  ! 
The  sheaves,  the  sheaves,  shall  be  garnered  in. 

Lest  the  children  cry  for  bread  ; 
For  the  leaves  ?    Let  them  die  !    They  have  lived  their  day, 

Let  them  now  live  tlieir  night,  instead. 

Old  world,  we  know  Whose  hand*s  at  the  helm 
Of  the  ship  that  carries  us  twain  ! 

Old  world,  who  cares  for  a  last  year's  leaf. 

When  spring  hath  come  again  ? 
Oh  !  a  myriad  leaves  on  a  single  tree, 

And  a  myriad  trees  in  the  land. 
And  a  myriad  griefs  in  each  human  heart : 

And  He  hotdeth  them  all  in  His  hand ! 

Is  this  world  the  t)ld  wcjrld 

Thy  heart  was  troubled  o'er? 
Is  thy  heart  the  old  heart, 

Now  sorrow  broods  no  more  7 

0  heart,  so  free,  so  loving-full, 
O  world,  so  glad,  so  true, 

1  give  you  a  song  for  the  whole  year  lonp, 
Of  a  world,  through  a  heart,  made  new. 

Kaihariiu  Pearson  Woods, 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


DRUMSHEUGH'S  REWARD.* 

By  the  Author  or  "  Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush. 


People  ten  us  that  if  you  commit  a 
secret  to  a  dweller  in  the  city,  and  exact 
pledpres  of  faithfulness,  the  confidence 

will  be  proclaimed  on  the  housetops 
within  twenty-four  hours,  and  yet  no 
charge  of  treachery  can  be  brouglit 
against  your  friend.  He  has  simply 
succumbed  to  the  conflict  between  the 
habit  of  free  trade  in  speech  and  the 
sudden  embargo  on  one  article.  Secret 
was  engraved  on  his  face  and  oozed  from 
the  skirts  of  his  garments,  so  that  every 
conversational  detective  saw  at  a  glance 
that  the  man  was  carrying  treasure,  and 
seised  it  at  his  will. 

When  one  told  a  secret  thing  to  his 
neighbour  in  Drumtochty,  it  did  not 
make  a  ripple  on  the  hearer's  face,  and 
it  disappeared  as  into  a  deep  well.  "  Aye, 
aye"  was  absolutely  necessary  as  an  as- 
surance of  attention,  and  the  farthest  ex- 
pression of  surprise  did  not  go  beyond, 
**That  wesna  chancy."  Whether  a 
DrumtorhM,'  ^j^p,  ever  turned  over  se- 
crets in  the  recesses  of  his  mind,  no  one 
can  tell,  but  when  Jamie  Soutar,  after 
an  hour's  silence,  one  evening  withdrew 
his  pipe  and  said  "  Sail"  with  marked 
emphasis,  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  may 
have  been  digesting  an  event.  Perhaps 
1  the  law  of  silence  was  never  broken  ex- 
[  cept  once,  but  that  was  on  a  royal  scale, 
when  William  MacLure  indirectly  let  out 
the  romance  of  Drumsheugh's  love  to 
Marget  Howe,  and  afterwards  was  for- 
given by  his  friend. 

Marget  had  come  to  visit  the  doctor 
about  a  month  before  he  died,  bearing 
gifts,  and  after  awhile  their  conversa- 
tion turned  to  George. 

"  Dinna  speak  aboot  ma  traivellin' 
tae  see  ye,"  Marget  said  ;  "  tiiere's  no 
a  body  in  the  Glen  but  is  behaddit  tae 
ye,  an*  a'  can  never  forpet  what  ye  did 
for  ma  laddie  yon  lang  simmer-time." 

**  A*  did  naethin*,  an'  nae  man  can 
dae  muckle  in  that  waesome  tribble.  It 
aye  taks  the  cleverest  laddies  an'  the 
bonniest  lassies ;  but  a*  never  hed  a 
heavier  hert  than  when  a'  saw  Geordie's 
face  that  aifternoon.  There's  nae  fecht* 
in'  decline." 

*  See  September  BooKMAif  for  die  flm  pert  of 
Ihb  etoiy,  entitled  "  Drnmsliciigb'i  Lo^e  Stoiy." 


"  Ye  mak  ower  little  o*  yir  help,  doc- 
tor ;  it  wcs  you  'at  savit  hira  frac  pain 
an*  keepit  hts  mind  clear.  Withoot  yon 
he  cudna  hae  workit  on  tae  the  end  r 
seen  his  freends.  A'  the  Glen  cam  up 
tae  speir  for  him,  and  say  a  cheery  word 
tae  their  scholar. 

"  Did  :i'  ever  tell  ye  that  Posty  wud 
gang  roond  a  gude  half  mile  oot  o'  his 
road  gin  he  hed  a  letter  for  Geordie 
juist  tae  pit  it  in  his  hands  himsel  ?  and 
Posty's  another  man  sin  then  ;  but  wba 
div  ye  think  wes  kindest  aifter  Domsie 
an*  yersel  ?" 

"  Whawes't?"  but  MacLure  lifted  bis 
head,  as  if  he  had  already  heard  the 
name. 

"  Aye,  ye're  richt,"  answerinc^  the 
look  of  his  friend,  "  Drurasheugli  u 
wes,  an'  a"  that  simmer  he  wes  sae  gen- 
tle and  thochtfu'  the  Glen  wudoa  liae 
kent  him  in  oor  gairden. 

**  Ye've  seen  hJm  there  yersel,  but  wud 
ye  believe 't,  he  cam  three  times  a  week, 
and  never  empty-banded.  Ae  day  it 
wud  be  some  tasty  bit  frae  Muirtown 
tae  gar  Geordie  eat,  another  it  wud  l>e 
a  buke  the  laddie  hed  wantit  tae  buy  at 
College,  an'  a  month  afore  Geordie  left 
us,  if  Drumsheugh  didna  come  up  ae 
Saiturday  wi'  a  parcel  he  hed  gotten  a' 
the  way  frae  London. 

'*  *  Whatna  place  is  this,  George  }  * 
an'  he  taks  aff  the  cover  an'  holds  up 
the  picture.  It  wud  hae  dune  ye  gude 
tae  nae  seen  the  lichtin  the  laddie's  een. 
'  Athens,'  he  cried,  an'  then  he  reached 
oot  his  white  hand  tae  Drumsheugh,  but 
naethin'  wes  said. 

'*  They  were  at  it  the  hale  forenoon, 
Geordie  showin'  the  Temple  the  Greeks 
set  up  tae  Wisdom,  an'  the  theatre  in 
the  shadow  of  the  hill  whar  the  Greek 
prophets  preached  their  sermons  ;  an' as 
a'  gied  oot  an'  in,  Geordie  wud  read  a 
bonnie  bit,  and  Domsie  himsel  cudna 
hae  been  mair  interested  than  Drums- 
heugh. The  deein^'— scholar  an'  the 
auld  fairmer.  ..." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  MacLure. 

"  Ae  story  Geordie  tclt  me  never  ran 
dry  wi'  Drumsheugh,  an'  he  aye  askit 
tae  hear  it  as  a  treat  till  the  laddie  grew 
ower  sober— aboot  twa  lovers  in  the  auld 


.  kj  .i^  Lo  uy  Google 


j4  UmtARY  JOURNAL. 


days,  that  were  divided  by  an  aim  o' 
the  sea»  whar  the  water  ran  in  a  constant 
Spate,  and  the  lad  hed  tae  sweem  across 
lae  sec  his  lass.  She  hold  a  licht  on 
high  tae  ^ide  hi  in,  an'  at  the  sicht  o't 
he  cared  naethin'  for  the  danger;  but 
ae  nicht  the  cauld,  peetiless  water  gied 
over  his  head,  and  her  torch  burned  oot. 
Puir  faithfa*  lass,  sh«  flung  hersel  into 
the  black  flood,  and  deith  jined  them 
where  there's  nae  partia'." 

*•  He  ttkitthat.  did  he?"  satdMacLure, 
with  a  tone  in  his  vdce,  and  looking  at 
Marget  curiously. 

'*  Best  o'  a'  the  ancient  things  George 
gled  him  in  the  gairden,  an'  ae  day  he 
nearly  grat,  but  it  wesna  for  their  deith. 

"  '  Na,  na,'  he  said  tae  George,  'a' 
coont  him  happy,  for  he  hed  a  reward 
for  the  black  crossin'  ;  laddie,  mony  a 
man  wud  be  wullin'  tae  dee  gin  he  wes 
luved.  What  think  ye  o'  a  man  fechtin* 
through  the  ford  a'  his  lifewi'  naekind- 
ly  licht?* 

"  Geordte  wes  wae  for  him,  an*  telt 

me  in  the  gloamin',  an*  it  set  me  think- 
in'.  Cud  it  be  that  puir  Drumsheugh 
micbt  hae  laved  an*  been  refused,  an* 

naebody  kent  o't  ?  Nane  but  the  Al- 
michty  sees  the  sorrow  in  ika  heart,  an' 
them  'at  suffers  maist  says  least. 

"  It  cam  tae  me  that  he  must  hae 
luved,  for  he  WPs  that  ron*iepdcr;itc  \vi' 
Geordie,  sae  wumnianlikc  m  his  manner 
wi  the  pi  Hows  and  shawls,  sae  wilie  in 
findin'  oot  what  wud  please  the  laddie  ; 
he  learned  yon  in  anither  place  than 
Muirtown  Market.  Did  ye  .  .  .  ever 
hear  onythinj^,  doctor  ?  It's  no  for 
dashtn'  (gossip)  a'  wud  ask,  but  for 
peety  an' nis  gudeness  tae  ma  balm/* 

"  Is't  likely  he  wud  tell  ony  mnn, 
even  though  he  be  his  ireend  ?"  and 
MacLure  miced  bravely,  "  did  ye  hear 
naethin'  in  the  auld  days  when  ye  wes 
on  Drumsheugh  ?" 

"  No  a  whisper  ;  he  wes  never  in  the 
mooth  o'  the  Glen,  an'  he  wesna  the 
same  then  ;  he  wes  quiet  and  couthy, 
ceevil  tae  a'  the  workin'  fouk  ;  there  wes 
nae  meanness  in  Drumsheugh  in  thae 
day^.  A've  often  thocht  nae  man  in  a' 
the  Glen  wud  hae  made  a  better  hus< 
ttsnd  tae  some  gude  wumman  than  that 
Drumsheugh.  It  passes  me  hoo  he 
turned  sae  hard  and  near  for  thirty 
Tears.  But  dinna  ye  think  the  rael 
Drumsheugh  hes  come  oot  again  ?" 

The  doctor  seemed  to  be  restraining 
speech. 


"  He's  no  an  ordinary'  man.  whatever 
the  Glen  may  think, ' '  and  Margct  seemed 
to  be  meditating.  *'  Noo  he  wudna  enter 
the  hoose,  an*  ne  %ves  that  agitat  that 
aince  when  a'  brocht  him  his  tea  he  let 
the  cup  drop  on  the  grsivel.  Be  sure' 
there's  twa  fouk  in  every  ane  o's — ae 
Drumsheueh  'at  focht  wi'  the  dealers  t 
an'  lived  like  a  miser,  an*  anither  that 
gied  the  money  for  Tammas  Mitcheirs 
wife  an'  nursit  ma  laddie.'* 

MacLure  would  have  been  sadly  tried 
in  any  case,  but  it  was  only  a  week  tigo 
Drumsheugh  had  made  his  confession,  j 
Besides,  he  was  near  the  end,  and  his 
hMrt  was  jnlous  for  his  friend.  It 
seemed  the  worse  treachery-  to  be  silent. 

*'  There's  juist  ae  Drumsheugh,  Mar- 
get  Hoo,  as  ye' re  a  leevin'  wumman, 
him  ye  saw  in  the  gairden,  wha  wud  hae 
denied  himsel  a  meal  u'  meat  tae  get 
thae  pictures  for  yir  .  .  .  for  Geordie. 

"  The  Glen  disna  ken  Drumsheugh, 
and  never  wuU  this  side  o'  the  grave," 
and  the  doctor's  voice  was  ringing  with 
passion,  and  something  like  tears  were 
in  his  eyes ;  "  but  gin  there  be  a  jids- 
ment  an*  .  .  .  books  be  opened,  theni  ^ 
be  ane  for  Drumtochty,  and  the  bravest 
page  in  it  'ill  be  Drumsheugh's. 

Ye're  astonished,  an'  it's  nae  wun- 1 
der" — for  the  look  in  Marget's  grey  eyes 
demanded  more — "  but  what  a'  say  is  • 
true.  It  hes  never  been  for  himsel  he.'s 
pinched  an'  bargained  ;  it  wes  for  .  .  . 
for  a  freend  he  wantit  tae  help,  an*  that 
wes  aye  in  tribble.  He  thocht  'at  it 
micht  .  .  .  hurt  his  freend's  feelin's  mnl 
pit  him  tae  shame  in  his  pairish  gin  it 
were  kent,  so  he  took  the  shame  himsel. 
A*  dauma  tell  ye  matr,  for  it  wud  be 

brakin'  bonds  alween  man  and  man,  but 
ve've  herd  enouch  tae  clear  Drums- 
neugh's  name  wi  ae  wumman." 

"  Mair  than  cleared,  doctor,**  and 
Marget's  face  glowed,  "  far  mair,  for 
ye've  shown  me  that  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  is  no  a  dead  letter  the  day,  an* 
ye've  lifted  the  clood  frae  a  gude  man. 
Noo  a'll  juist  hae  the  rael  Drumsheugh, 
Geordie's  Drumsheugh,"  and  i^;un 
Marget  thanked  MacLure. 

For  the  moment  the  heroism  of  the 
deed  had  carried  her  away,  but  ^as ''she 
went  homo  the  pity  of  it  all  came  over 
her.  For  the  best  part  of  his  life  had 
this  man  been  toiling  and  suffering,  all 
that  another  mi^ht  have  comfort,  and 
all  this  travail  without  the  recompense 
of  love.   What  patience,  humility,  ten- 


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no 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


derness,  sacritice  lay  in  unsuspected  peo- 
ple.   How  long?  .  .  .    Perhaps  thirty 

years,  and  no  one  knew,  and  no  one  said 
"  Well  done  !"  He  had  veiled  bis  good 
deeds  well,  and  accepted  many  a  jest 
that  must  have  cut  him  to  the  quick. 
,  Marget's  heart  began  to  warm  to  this 
'  unassuming  man  as  it  had  not  done 
even  by  Geordie's  chair^/ 

The  footpath  from  the  doctor's  to 
WJiinriie  Knowe  passed  along  tlie  front 
of  the  hill  above  the  farm  of  Drum- 
sheugh,  and  Marg'et  came  to  the  cottage 
where  she  had  lived  with  her  mother  in 
the  former  time.  It  was  empty,  and  she 
went  into  the  kitchen.  How  home-like 
it  had  been  in  those  days,  and  warm, 
even  in  winter,  for  Dntmsheugh  had 
made  the  w right  board  over  the  roof 
and  put  in  new  windows.  Her  mother 
was  never  weary  speaking  of  his  kind- 
ness, yet  they  were  only  working  peo- 
ple. The  snow  had  drifteci  down  the 
wide  chimney  and  lay  in  a  heap  on  the 
hearth,  and  Maiget  shivered.  The  sor-> 
row  of  life  came  upon  her — the  mother 
and  the  son  now  lying  in  the  kirkyard. 
Then  the  blood  rushed  to  her  heart 
again,  for  hne  endures  and  triumphs. 
But  sorrow  without  love  .  .  .  her 
thoughts  returned  to  Drumsheugh, 
\whose  hearthstone  was  cold  indeed. 
She  was  now  looking  down  on  his  home, 
set  in  the  midst  ul  the  snuw.  Its  checr- 
lessness  appealed  to  her — the  grey  som- 
bre house  where  this  man,  with  his 
wealth  of  love,  lived  alone.  Was  not 
that  Drumsheugh  himself  crossing  the 
laigli  field,  a  black  figure  on  the  snow, 
with  his  dog  behind  him  .  .  .  going 
home  where  there  was  none  to  welcome 
him  .  .  .  thinking,  perhaps,  what  might 
have  been  ?  .  .  .  Suddenly  Marget 
stopped  and  opened  a  gate.  .  .  .  Why 
should  he  not  have  company  for  once  in 
his  lonely  life  ...  if  the  woman  he 
luved  had  been  hard  to  him,  why  should 
not  one  woman  whom  he  had  not  loved 
take  her  place  for  one  half  hour  ? 

When  Drumsheugh  came  round  the 
comer  of  the  farmhouses,  looking  old 
and  sad,  Marget  was  waiting,  and 
was  amazed  at  the  swift  change  upon 
him. 

"  Ve  dif!na  expect  me,"  she  said,  com- 
ing to  meet  him  with  the  rare  smile  that 
lingered  round  the  sweet  curves  of  her 
lips,  "  an*  maybe  it's  a  leeberty  a'm  tak- 
in*  ;  but  ye  ken  kindness  breaks  a'  bar- 
riers, an'  for  the  sake  o'  Geordie  a* 


cudna  pass  yir  hoose  this  nicht  withoot 
tellin'  that  ye  were  in  ma  hert." 

Drumsheugh  had  not  one  word  to  say. 
but  he  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his  for 
an  instant,  and  then,  (instead  of  goings  in 
by  the  kitchen,  as  all  visitors  were 
brought,  save  qnly  the  minister  and 
Lord  Kilsptndie/  he  led  Marget  round 
to  the  front  door  with  much  ceremony. 
It  was  only  in  the  lobby  he  found  bis 
tongue,  and  still  he  hesitated,  as  One 
overcome  by  some  great  occasion. 

"  Ye  sud  be  in  the  parlour.  Marget 
Hoo,  but  there's  no  been  a  lire  there  for 
mony  a  year ;  wull  ye  come  intae  ma 
a:n  Viit  r  >om  ?  ...  A'  wud  like  tae  see 
ye  there,"  and  Marget  saw  that  be  was 
trembling,  as  he  placM  her  in  a  chair 
before  the  fire. 

' '  Ye  were  aince  in  this  room,  "he  said, 
and  now  he  was  looking  at  her  wist- 
fully ;  "  div  ye  mind  ?  it's  lang  syne/' 

"  It  %ves  when  a'  cam  tae  pay  oor  rent 
afore  wc  flitted,  and  ye  bed  tae  seek  for 
change,  an'  a'  thocht  ye  were  angary  at 
oor  leavin'." 

No  angry,  na,  na,  a'  wesna  angry 
...  it  cutst  me  half  an  oor  tae  find 
some  siller,  an'  a'  the  time  ye  were  sit- 
tin'  in  that  verra  chair  .  .  .  that  wes 
the  Martinmas  ma  mither  deed  ...  ye 
'ill  no  leave  withoot  yir  tea." 

After  he  had  gone  to  tell  Leezbeth  of 
his  guest,  Marget  looked  round  the 
room,  with  its  worn  furniture,  its  bare- 
ness and  comfortlessness.  This  was  all 
he  had  to  come  to  on  a  Friday  night 
when  he  returned  from  market ;  out  and 
in  here  he  won  11  c:o  till  he  died.  One 
touch  of  tenderness  there  was  in  the 
room,  a  portrait  of  his  mother  above  the 
mantelpiece,  and  Marget  rose  to  look  at 
it,  for  she  had  known  her,  a  woman  of 
deep  and  silent  affection.  A  letter  was 
lying  open  below  the  picture,  and  this 
title,  pnnted  in  clear  type  at  the  head, 
caught  Margct's  eye  : 

*'  Macfariaiie  and  Robertson,  Writers, 
Kilspindie  Buildings, 
Muirtown." 

Marget's  heart  suddenly  stood  still, 
for  it  was  the  hrm  that  sent  the  season- 
able remittances  from  Whinnie's  cousin. 
This  cousin  had  always  been  a  mystery 

to  her,  for  Whiiinie  could  tell  little  about 
him,  and  the  writers  refused  all  inlorma- 
tion  whatever,  allowing  Uiem  to  suppose 
that  he  was  in  America,  and  chose  to 
give  his  aid  without  communication,  it 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


Ill 


had  occurred  to  her  that  very  likely  he 
was  afraid  of  them  hanging  on  a  rich 
relation,  and  there  were  times  when  she 
was  indignant  and  could  not  feel  grate- 
ful for  this  generosity.  Other  times  »he 
had  lonijed  to  send  a  letter  in  her  name 
and  Whinnie's,  telling  him  how  his  gifts 
had  Ugfatened  their  life  and  kept  them 
in  peace  and  honesty  at  Whinnie  Knuvve  ; 
but  the  lawyers  had  discouraged  the 
Jdea,  and  she  had  feared  to  press  it. 

What  if  this  had  all  been  a  make-be- 
lieve, and  there  had  been  no  cousin  .  .  . 
and  It  had  been  Dnimsheugh  who  had 
done  it  all.  .  .  .  Was  this  the  object  of 
all  his  sacrifice  ...  to  keep  a  roof  above 
their  heads  .  .  .  and  she  had  heard 
bun  miscalled  for  a  miser  and  said  noth- 
ing .  .  .  how  could  she  look  him  in  the 
face  .  .  .  no,  she  was  sure  of  it,  al- 
though there  was  no  proof.  ...  A  grey 
light  had  been  gathrrint::  all  the  after- 
noon in  her  mind,  and  now  the  sun  had 
risen,  and  everything  was  light 

Any  moment  he  might  come  in.  and 
she  must  know  for  certain  ;  but  it  was 
Leesbeth  that  entered  to  lay  the  tea, 

1  kinc^  harder  than  ever,  and  evidently 
seeing  no  call  for  this  outbreak  of  hos- 
pitality. 

"  The  maister's  gaen  upstairs  tae  clean 
himsel,"  said  the  housekeeper,  with  a 
suggestion  of  contempt.  "  A'  saw  uae- 
thin' wrangf  wi' him  masel."  But  Leez- 
beth  was  not  one  that  could  move  Mar- 
get  tu  anger  at  any  time,  and  now  she 
was  waiting  for  uie  sight  of  Drums- 
» heugh's  face. 

^Hc  came  in  twenty  years  younger 
than  she  had  seen  him  in  that  dreary 

field,  and,  speaking  to  her  as  if  she  had 
t>een  the  Countess  of  Kilspindie,  asked 
her  to'pour  out  the  tea. 

"  Drumsheugh,"  and  he  started  at  the 
note  of  earnestness,  '*  before  a'  sit  doon 
at  yir  table  there's  ae  question  a'  have 
tae  ask  an'  ye  maun  answer.  Ye  may 
think  me  a  fonvard  wumman,  an'  ma 
question  may  seem  like  madnei>ii,  but  it's 
come  intae  ma  mind,  an'  a*ll  hae  nae 
rest  till  it's  settled." 

Marget's  courage  was  near  the  failing 
for  it  struck  her  how  little  she  had  to  go 
on,  and  how  wild  was  her  idea  ;  but  it 
v«ras  too  late  to  retreat^  and  she  also  saw 
the  terror  on  his  face. 

Drumsheugh  stood  silent,  his  eyes 
on  her  face,  and  his  hand  tight- 
ened on  the  back  of  a  chair/' 

*'  Is't  yott  .  .  .  are  ye  tne  freend  'at 

I 


hes  helped  ma  man  an'  me  through  a*^ 

oor  tribbles  ?" 

Had  he  been  prepared  for  the  ordeal, 
or  had  she  opened  with  a  preface,  he 
would  have  escaped  somehow,  but  all 
his  wiles  were  vain  before  Marget's 

eyes. 

'*  Ye  were  wi'  William  MacLure,"  and 

Drumsheugh 's  voice  quivered  with  pas- 
sion, **  an'  he  telt  ye.  A'll  never  forgie 
bim,  no,  never,  nor  speak  ae  word  tae 
him  again,  though  he  be  the  best  man 
in  a'  the  Glen,  an'  ma  dearest  freend." 

"  Dinna  blame  Doctor  MacLure,  for  a* 
he  did  wes  in  faithfulness  an'  luve," 
and  Marget  told  him  how  she  had  made 
her  discovery  ;  "  but  why  sud  ye  be 
angry  that  the  fouk  ye  blessed  at  a  sair 
cost  can  thank  ye  face  tae  face  ?" 

Marget  caught  something  abuut  "a 
pund  or  twa,  but  it  was  not  easy  to 
hear,  for  Drumshengh  had  gone  over  to 
the  fireplace  and  turned  away  his  face. 

**  Mony  punds ;  but  that's  the  least 
o't  ;  it's  what  ye  paid  for  them  a'  thae 
years  o'  savin',  and  what  ye  did  wi' 
them,  a'm  rememberin'.  Weelum  micht 
never  hev  hed  a  hoose  for  me,  an*  a* 
micht  never  hev  hed  ma  man,  an'  he 
micht  hae  gaen  oot  o*  Whinnie  Knowe 
and  been  brokenherted  this  day  hed  it  no 
been  for  you.  ^ 

*'  Sic  kindness  as  this  hes  never  been 
kent  in  the  Glen,  an'  yet  we're  nae  blude 
tae  you,  n^r  mair  than  onyhody  in  the 
pairish.  Vc  ill  lat  me  thank  ye  for  ma 
man  an*  Geordie  an'  masel',  an'  ye  'ill 
tell  me  hoo  ye  ever  thoclu  o'  showin'  us 
sic  favour."  Marget  moved  over  to 
Drumsheugh  and  laid  her  hand  on  him 
in  entreaty.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  her  in  the  face. 

'*  Marget !"  and  then  she  understood. 

He  watched  the  red  flow  over  all  her 
face  and  fade  away  again,  and  the  tears 
fill  her  eyes  and  run  down  her  cheeks, 
before  she  looked  at  him  steadily,  and 
spoke  in  a  low  voire  that  was  very  sweet. 

"  A'  never  dreamed  o'  this,  an'  a  m 
not  worthy  o'  sic  luve,  whereof  I  hev 
hed  much  fruit  an*  ye  hev  only  pain." 

"  Ye're  wrang,  Marget,  for  the  joy 
hes  gien  ower  the  pain,  an'  a've  hed  the 
greater  gain.  Luve  roosed  me  tae  wark 
an'  fecht  wha  micht  hae  been  a  ne'er- 
dae-weel.  Luve  savit  me  frae  greed  o* 
siller  an'  a  hard  hert.  Luve  kept  me 
clean  in  thocht  an'  deed,  for  it  was  ever 
Marget  by  nicht  an'  day.  If  a'm  a  man 
the  day,  ye  did  it,  though  ye  micht  never 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


hae  kent  it.  It's  little  a'  did  for  ye,  but 
ye'vedunea'thin^forme  .  .  .  Ifarget/* 

After  a  mument  ■  went  on  : 
**  Twenty  year  ago  a*  cudna  hae 
spoken  wi'  ye  safely,  nor  taken  yir 
man's  hand  withoot  a  ji^rudge ;  but 
there's  nae  sin  in  ma  luvc  this  clav,  and 
a"  wudna  be  ashamed  though  yir  man 
h«:arfi  me  say,  '  A'  luve  ye,  Marget.'  " 
/  He  look  her  hand  and  made  as  though 
he  wuuid  have  lifted  it  to  his  lips,  but 
as  he  bent  she  kissed  him  oo  the  fore- 
head. "  This,"  she  said,  "for  yir  great 
and  faithfu'  luve^' 

^They  talked  of  many  things  at  tea, 

with  joy  running  over  Drumsheugh's 
heart ;  and  then  they  spoke  of  Geordie 


ail  the  way  across  the  moor,  on  which 
the  moon  was  shining.  They  parted  at 
the  edpr.  where  Marget  could  see  the 
lights  of  her  home,  and  Drumsheu^h 
caught  the  sorrow  of  her  face,  for  him 
that  had  to  go  bock  alone  to  ao  emptj- 
house. 

"  Dinna  peety  me,  Marget  .  a'vc  bed 
ma  reward,  an'  a'm  mair  than  content.** 

On  reachinc^  homf».  he  opened  the 
family  Bible  at  a  place  that  was  marked, 
and  this  was  what  he  read  to  himself  : 
"They  which  shall  be  accounted  worthy 
,  .  .  neither  marry  nor  arc  given  in  mar- 
riage .  .  .  but  are  as  the  angels  of  God 
in  heaven.'* 

Ian  Jdiularen, 


ON  LITERARY  CONSTRUCTION. 


n. 

There  are  some  questions  of  construc- 
tion in  novels  connected  with  this  main 

question  of  the  really  narrative  or  par- 
tially dramatic  form  of  construction,  of 
the  directness  or  complication  of  ar- 
rangement. One  of  these  is  the  ques- 
tion of  what  I  would  call  the  passive  de- 
scription, by  which  I  mean  the  setting 
Up,  as  it  were,  of  an  elaborate  landscape, 
or  other  hackground.  before  the  charac- 
ters are  brought  on  the  stage.  The  ex- 
pression I  have  just  used,  *'  brought  on 
the  stage,"  shows  you  that  I  connect 
this  particular  mode  of  proceeding  with 
the  novel  in  scenes.  And  it  is  easy  to 
understand  that,  once  the  writer  allows 
himself  to  think  of  any  event  happening 
as  it  would  on  the  stage,  he  will  also 
wish  to  prepare  a  suitable  background, 
and.  moreover,  most  often  :i  chorus  and 
set  of  supernumeraries  ;  a  background 
which,  in  the  reality,  the  principal  chamc* 
ters  would  perhaps  not  be  :<  n  cious  of, 
and  a  chorus  which,  also  in  the  reality, 
would  very  probably  not  contribute  m 
the  least  to  the  action.  Another  draw- 
back, by  the  way,  of  the  construction  in 
scenes  and  connecting  links  is,  that  per- 
sons have  to  be  invented  to  elicit  the 
manifestation  of  the  principal  person- 
age  s  qualities  :  you  have  to  invent  epi- 
sodes to  show  the  good  heart  of  the 
heroine,  the  valour  of  the  hero,  the 
pedantry  of  the  guardian,  etc.,  and 


meanwhile  the  real  action  stops;  or. 

what  is  rnurh  worse,  the  real  action  is 
roost  unnaturally  complicated  by  such 
ude  business,  which  is  merely  intended 
to  g^ve  the  reader  information  that  he 
either  need  not  have  at  all,  or  ought  to 
get  in  some  more  direct  way.  Note 
that  there  is  all  the  difference  in  the 
world  between  an  episode  like  that  of 
the  gallows  on  the  road  to  Pilrig,  which 
is  intended  to  qualify  the  whole  story 
by  inducing  a  particular  frame  of  mind 
in  the  reader,  and  an  episode  like  that 
of  Dorothea  (in  MiidtemareKS  sharing 
her  jewels  with  her  sister  on  the  ver\- 
afternoon  of  Mr.  Casaubon's  tirst  ap- 
pearance, and  which  is  merely  intended 
to  give  the  reader  necessary  information 
about  Dorothea  ;  information  that  might 
have  been  (^uiie  simply  conveyed  by 
saying,  whenever  it  was  necessaiy, 
"  Now  Dorothea  happened  to  be  a  very 
ascetic  person,  with  a  childishly  delib- 
erate aversion  to  the  vanities.  This 
second  plan  would  have  connected  Doro- 
thea's asceticism  with  whatever  feeling^ 
and  acts  really  sprang  from  it ;  while 
the  first  plan  merny  gives  you  a  feeling 
of  too  many  things  happening^  in  one 
day,  and  of  Mr.  Casaubon  appearing, 
not  simply  as  a  mere  new  visitor,  but  as 
the  destined  husband  of  Dorothea. 
For,  remember  that  the  reader  tends  to 
attribute  to  the  personages  of  a  book 
whatever  feelings  you  set  up  in  him,  so 
that,  if  you  make  the  reader  feel  that 


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A  LITERARY  fOURNAL 


"3 


Casaubon  is  going  to  be  the  bridegroom, 
you  also,  in  a  degree,  make  Dorothea 
feel  that  Casauboii  U  to  be  the  bride- 
groom. And  that,  even  lor  Dorothea, 
is  rather  precipitate. 
Another  question  of  construction  is 

the  one  I  should  call  the  question  of 
retrospects.  The  retrospect  is  a  frequent 
device  for  dashing  into  the  action  at 
once,  and  putting  off  the  evil  day  of  ex* 
plaining  why  people  are  doing  and  feel- 
ing in  the  particular  way  in  which  we 
fimlthem,  on  the  rising  of  the  curtain. 
This,  again,  is  a  dramatic  device,  being 
indeed  nothing  but  the  narrative  to  or 
by  the  confidants  which  inevitably  takes 
place  in  the  third  or  fourth  scene  of  the 
first  act  of  a  French  tragedy,  with  the 
author  in  his  own  costume  talcing  the 
place  of  the  nurse,  bosom  friend,  cap- 
tain of  the  guard,  etc.  The  use  of  this 
retrospect,  of  this  sort  of  folding  back 
of  the  narrative,  and  the  use  of  a  num- 
ber of  smaller  artifices  of  fore-shortening 
the  narrative,  seems  to  me  not  disagree- 
able  at  all  in  the  case  of  the  short  story. 
The  short  stf>rv  is  necessarih'  much  more 
artificial  than  tne  big  novel,  owing  to 
its  very  shortness,  owing  to  the  initial 
ttoaaturalness  of  having  isolated  one 
single  action  or  episode  from  the  hun. 
dred  others  influencing  it,  and  to  the 
Donaturalness  of  having,  so  to  speak, 
xtduced  everybody  to  be  an  orphan,  or 
a  childless  widow  or  widower,  for  the 
sake  of  greater  brevity.  And  the  short 
story,  being  most  often  thus  artificially 
pruned  and  isolated,  being  in  a  measure 
the  artificially  selected  expression  of  a 
given  situation,  something  more  like  a 
poem  or  little  play,  sometimes  actually 
gains  by  the  discreet  display  of  well- 
carricd-out  artifices.  While,  so  far  as  I 
can  see,  the  big  novel  never  does. 

There  is  yet  another  constructive  ques- 
tion  abr  It  the  novel — the  most  impor- 
tant question  of  all — whose  existence 
the  lay  mind  probably  does  not  even 
S'i?pect,  but  which.  I  am  sure,  exercises 
more  than  any  other  the  mind  of  any 
one  who  has  attempted  to  write  a  nov- 
el ;  even  as  the  layman,  contemplating 
a  picture,  is  apt  never  to  guess  how 
much  thought  has  been  ffiven  to  deter- 
mining the  place  where  rae  spectator  is 
supposed  to  see  from,  whether  from 
above,  below,  from  the  right  or  the  left, 
sod  in  what  perspective,  consequently, 
the  various  painted  figures  are  to  ap- 
pear.  This  supreme  constructive  ques- 


tion in  the  novel  is  exactly  analogotis 
to  that  question  in  painting ;  and  in  de- 
scribing the  choice  by  the  painter  of  the 
point  of  view,  I  have  described  also  that 
most  subtle  choice  of  the  literary  crafts- 
man :  choice  of  the  point  of  view  whence 
the  personages  and  action  of  a  novel  are 
to  be  seen.  For  you  can  see  a  person, 
or  an  act,  in  one  of  several  ways,  and 
connected  with  several  other  persons  or 
acts.  You  can  see  the  person  from  no- 
body's point  of  view,  or  from  the  point 
of  view  of  one  of  the  other  persons,  or 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  analytical, 
judicious  author.  Thus,  Casaubon  may 
be  seen  from  Dorothea's  point  of  view, 
from  his  own  point  of  view,  from  Ladis- 
law's  point  of  view,  or  from  the  point 
of  view  of -George  Eliot ;  or  he  may  be 
merely  made  to  talk  and  act  without 
any  explanation  of  why  he  is  so  talking 
and  acting,  and  that  is  what  I  call  no« 
body's  point  of  view.  Stories  of  adven- 
ture, in  which  the  mere  incident  is  what 
interests,  without  reference  to  the  psy- 
chological changes  producing  or  pro- 
duced by  that  incident,  are  usually  writ- 
ten from  nobody's  point  ot  view.  Much 
of  Wilkie  Collins  and  Miss  Braddon  is 
virtually  written  from  nobody's  point  of 
view  ;  and  so  are  the  whole  of  the  old 
Norse  si^^,  the  greater  part  of  Homer 
and  the  Decameron^  and  the  whole  of 
Cinderella  and  Jack  the  Giant-Killer.  We 
modems,  who  are  weary  of  psychology 
— for  poor  psychology  is  indeed  a  wciiri- 
ncss — often  find  the  tack  of  point  of 
view  as  refreshing  as  plain  water  com- 
pared with  wine,  or  tea,  or  syrup.  But 
once  you  get  a  psychological  interest, 
once  you  want  to  know,  not  merely 
what  the  people  did  or  said,  but  what 
they  thought  or  felt,  the  point  of  view 
becomes  inevitable,  for  acts  and  words 
come  to  exist  only  with  reference  to 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  the  question 
comes,  Whose  thoughts  or  feelings } 

This  is  a  case  of  construction,  of  craft. 
But  it  is  a  ra^r  where  construction  is 
most  often  determined  by  intuition,  and 
where  craft  comes  to  be  merged  in  feel- 
ing.  For,  after  having  separated  the 
teachable  part  of  writing  from  the  un- 
teachable,  we  have  come  at  last  to  one 
of  the  thousand  places — for  there  are 
similar  places  in  every  question,  whether 
of  choice  of  single  words  or  of  construc- 
tion of  whole books^where  the  teachable 
and  the  unteachable  unite,  where  craft 
itself  becomes  but  the  expression  of 


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1*4 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


genius.  So,  instead  of  trying  to  settle 
what  points  of  view  are  best,  and  how 
they  can  best  be  alternated  or  united, 
I  will  now  state  a  few  thoughts  of  mine 
about  that  which  settles  alt  questions  of 
points  of  view,  and  alone  can  settle  them 
satisfactorily— the  different  kinds  of 
genius  of  the  novelist. 

I  believe  that  the  characters  in  a  nov- 
el which  seem  to  us  particularly  vital 
are  those  that  to  all  appearance  have 
never  been  previously  analysed  or  ra- 
tionally understood  by  the  author,  but 
are,  on  the  contran,',  those  which,  con- 
nected always  by  a  sort  of  similar  emo- 
tional atmosphere,  have  come  to  him  as 
realities — realities  emotionally  borne  in 
upon  his  innermost  sense. 

Mental  sciencemuy  perhaps  some  day, 
by  the  operation  of  stored-up  impres- 
sions, of  obscure  hereditary  potentiali- 
ties, of  all  the  mysteries  of  the  subcon- 
sciousness, explain  the  extraordinary 
phenomenon  of  a  creattire  being  appar- 
ently invaded  from  within  by  the  per- 
sonalities of  another  creature,  of  another 
creature  to  all  intents  and  purposes  im- 
aginary. The  mystery  is  evidently  con- 
nected, if  not  identical,  with  the  myste- 
rious  conception — not  reasoned  out,  but 
merely  felt,  by  a  great  actor  of  another 
man's  movements,  tones  of  voice,  states 
of  feeling.  In  this  case,  as  in  all  other 
matters  of  artistic  activity,  we  have  all 
of  us,  if  we  are  susceptible  in  that  par- 
ticular branch  of  art  (otherwise  we 
should  not  be  thus  susceptible)  a  rudi- 
ment of  the  faculty  wiiose  exceptional 
development  constitutes  the  artist.  And 
thus,  from  our  own  very  trifling  experi- 
ence, we  can  perhaps,  certainly  not  ex- 
plain what  happens  to  the  great  novelist 
in  the  act  of  creation  of  his  great  char- 
acters, but  guess,  without  any  explana- 
tion, at  what  does  happen  to  him.  For, 
in  the  same  way  that  we  all  of  us,  how- 
ever rudimentally,  possess  a  scrap  in 
ourselves  of  the  faculty  which  makes 
the  actor  ;  so  also  we  possess  in  our- 
selves, I  think,  a  scrap  of  what  makes 
the  novelist ;  if  we  did  not,  neither  the 
actor  nor  the  novelist  would  find  any  re- 
sponse  in  us.  Let  me  pursue  this.  We 
all  possess,  to  a  certain  small  degree, 
the  very  mysterious  faculty  of  imitating, 
without  any  act  of  analysis,  the  gestures, 
facial  expression,  and  tone  of  voice  of 
other  people  ;  nay,  more,  of  other  peo- 
ple in  situations  in  which  we  have  never 
seen  them.    We  feel  that  they  move, 


look,  sound  like  that  ;  we  feel  that,  un- 
der given  conditions,  ihey  would  neces- 
sarily move,  look,  and  sound  like  that. 
Why  they  should  do  so,  or  why  we 
should  feel  that  they  do  so,  we  have  no 
notion  whatever.     Apparently  because 
for  that  moment  an  l  t  i  t'sat  extent  wc 
are  those  people  :  they  have  impressed 
us  somehow,  so  forcibly,  at  some  time 
or  other,  they  or  those  like  them,  that  a 
piece  of  them,  a  pattern  of  them,  a  word 
(one  might  tlunkj  of  this  particular  vi- 
tal Spell,  the  spell  which  sums  up  their 
mode  of  being,  has  remained  sticking 
in  us,  and  is  there  become  operative.  I 
have  to  talk  in  allegories,  in  formube 
which  savour  of  cabalistic  mysticism  : 
but  I  am  not  trying  to  explain,  but 
merely  to  recall  your  own  experiences  ; 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  recognise  that 
these  very  mysterious  things  do  happen 
constantly  lu  all  of  us. 

Now,  in  the  same  way  that  we  all 
feel,  every  now  and  then,  that  the  ges- 
tures and  expression  and  tones  of  voice 
which  we  assume  are  those  of  other  peo- 
ple and  of  otlier  people  in  other  circum- 
stances ;  so  likewise  do  we  all  of  us  oc- 
casionally feel  that  certain  ways  of  fac- 
ing life,  certain  reactions  to  life's  vari^>us 
contingencies — certain  acts,  answers, 
feelings,  passions — are  the  acts,  answers, 
feelings,  passions,  the  reactions  to  life's 
contingencies  of  persons  not  ourselves. 
We  sey,  under  the  circumstances,  / 
should  do  or  say  so  and  so,  but  Tom, 
or  Dick,  or  Harry  would  do  or  say  sucli 
another  thin^.  The  matter  would  be 
quite  simple  if  we  had  seen  Tom,  Dick, 
or  Harry  in  exactly  similar  circum- 
stances ;  we  should  be  merely  repeating 
what  had  already  happened,  and  our 
forecast  would  be  no  real  forecast,  but 
a  recollectifin.  But  the  point  is,  that 
we  have  not  seen  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harn*' 
doing  or  saying  in  the  past  what  we  thus 
attribute  to  him  in  the  future.  The 
matter  would  also  be  very  simple  if  we 
attained  to  this  certainty  about  Tom, 
Dick,  or  Harry's  sayings  and  doings  by 
a  process  of  conscious  reasoning.  But 
we  have  not  gone  through  any  conscious 
reasonint^  ;  indeed,  if  some  incredulous 
person  challenges  us  to  account  by  anal- 
ysis for  our  conviction,  we  are  most 
often  unable  to  answer  ;  we  are  occa* 
sionally  even  absolutely  worsted  in  ar- 
gument. We  have  to  admit  that  we 
don't  know  why  we  think  so  ;  nay,  that 
there  is  every  reason  to  think  the  con- 


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A  irmtAkY  JOURNAL. 


trary  ;  and  yet  there,  down  in  our  heart 
of  hearts,  remains  a  very  strong  con- 
sciousiiess,  a  oonsciousness  like  that  of 
our  own  existence,  that  Tom,  Dick,  or 
Harry  would,  or  rather  will,  or  rather 
— ^for  it  comes  to  that — dees  say  or  do 
th  u  particular  tiling.  If  subsequently 
Tom,  Uick,  or  Harry  is  so  perverse  as 
not  to  say  or  do  it,  uiat,  oddly  enoup^h, 
does  not  in  the  least  obliterate  the  im- 
pression of  our  having  experienced  that 
he  did  say  or  do  it,  an  impression  inti> 
mate,  warm,  unanalytical,  like  our  im- 
pressions of  having  done  or  said  certain 
things  ourselves.  The  discrepancy  be- 
tween what  we  felt  sure  must  happen 
and  what  actually  did  happen  is,  I 
think,  due  to  the  fact  that  there  are  two 
persons  existing  under  the  same  name, 
but  both  existing  equally — Tom,  Dick, 
or  Harry  as  felt  by  himself,  and  Tom, 
Dick,  or  Harry  as  felt  by  us ;  and  al- 
though the  conduct  of  these  two  persons 
may  not  have  happeoed  to  coiAcide,  the 
condiict  of  each  has  been  perfectly  oi^ 
ganic,  inevitable  with  reference  to  his 
nature.  I  suppose  it  is  becatise  we  add 
to  our  experience,  fragmentary  as  il 
needs  mast  be,  of  other  folk,  the  vital- 
ity, the  unity  of  life,  which  is  in  our- 
selves. I  suppose  that,  every  now  and 
then,  whenever  this  paurticular  thing  1 
am  speaking  of  happens,  we  have  been 
tremendously  impressed  by  something 
in  another  person— emotionally  im- 
pressed, not  intellectually,  mind  ;  and 
that  the  emotion,  whether  of  delight  or 
annoyance,  which  the  person  hu  caused 
in  us,  in  some  way  grafts  a  portion  of 
that  person  into  our  own  life,  into  the 
emotions  which  constitute  our  life  ;  and 
that  thus  our  experience  of  the  person, 
and  our  own  increasing  experience  of 
ourselves,  are  united,  and  the  person 
who  is  not  ourselves  comes  to  live, 
somehow,  for  our  consciousness,  with 
the  same  reality,  the  same  intimate 
warmth,  that  we  do. 

I  hazard  this  explanation,  at  best  an 
altogether  superficial  one,  not  because 
I  want  it  accepted  as  a  necessary  pre- 
mise  to  an  argument  of  mine,  but  be- 
cause it  may  bring  home  what  I  require 
to  make  very  clear — namely,  the  abso- 
lutely sympathetic,  unanalytic,  subjec- 
tive creation  of  characters  by  some  nov- 
elists, as  distinguished  from  the  rational, 
analytic,  objective  creation  of  characters 
by  other  novelists  ;  because  I  require  to 
distinguish  between  the  personage  who 


has  been  borne  in  upon  the  novelist's 
intimate  sense,  and  the  personage  who 
has  been  built  up  out  of  fragments  of 
fact  by  the  novelist's  intelligent  calcula- 
tion. Vasari,  talking  of  the  Farnesina 
Palace,  said  that  it  was  not  **  built,  but 
really  born" — non  murato  ma  verametitc 
mt».  Well,  some  personages  in  novels 
are  built  up,  and  very  wdl  built  up ; 
and  some — some  personages,  but  how 
few  ! — are  really  bom. 

Such  personages  as  are  thus  not  built 
up,  but  born,  seem  always  to  have  been 
born  (and  my  theory  of  their  coming 
into  existence  is  founded  on  this),  to 
have  been  born  of  some  strong  feeling 
on  the  part  of  their  author.  Sometimes 
it  is  a  violent  repulsion— the  strongest 
kind  of  repulsion,  the  organic  repulsion 
of  incompatible  temperaments,  which 
makes  it  impossible,  for  all  his  virtues, 
to  love  our  particular  Dr.  Fell ;  the  rea- 
son why,  we  cannot  tell.  Our  whole 
nature  tingles  with  the  discomfort  which 
the  creature  causes  in  us.  Such  char- 
acters— take  them  at  random — are 
Tolstoy's  M.  Karenine  and  Henry 
James's  Ulive  Chancellor.  But  the 
greater  number,  as  we  mi^t  expect,  of 
these  really  born  creatures  of  unreality 
are  born  o£  love — of  the  deep,  unreason- 
ing, permeating  satisfaction,  the  unceas- 
ing  ramifying  delight  in  strength  and 
audacity ;  tlie  unceasing,  ramifying 
comfort  in  kindliness ;  the  unceasing, 
ramifying  pity  towards  weakness — born 
of  the  emotion  which  distinguishes  the 
presence  of  all  such  as  are,  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  our  individual  nature  and 
theirs,  inevitably,  deeply,  undyingly  be- 
loved. These  personages  may  not  be 
lovable,  or  even  tolerable,  to  the  indi- 
vidual reader—li'"  tn.iv  thoroughly  de- 
test them.  But  he  cannot  be  indifferent 
to  them  ;  for,  bom  of  real  feeling,  of 
the  strongest  of  real  feelings,  the  love 
of  suitable  temperaments,  they  are  real, 
and  awaken  only  real  feeling.  Such 
personages — we  all  know  them  ! — such 
personages  are,  for  instance,  Colonel 
Newcome,  Ethel  Newcome;  Tolstoy's 
Natacha,  Levine,  Anna,  Pierre  ;  Sten- 
dhal's immortal  Duchess  ;  and  those  two 
imperfect  creatures,  pardoned  because 
so  greatly  beloved,  Tom  Jones  and  Ma- 
non  Lescaut.  Their  power — the  power 
of  these  creatures  bom  of  emotion,  of 
affinity,  or  repulsion — is  marvellous  and 
transcendent.  It  is  such  that  even  a 
lapse  into  impossibility — though  that 


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rarely  comes,  of  course — is  overlooked. 
The  life  in  the  creatures  is  such  that 
when  we  are  told  of  their  doing  per- 
fectly incredible  things — things  we  can- 
not believe  that,  being  what  they  were, 
they  could  have  done — they  yet  remain 
alive,  even  as  real  people  remain  alive 
for  our  feelings  when  we  are  assured 
that  they  have  done  things  which  ut- 
terly upset  our  conception  of  them. 
Look,  for  instance,  at  Mr.  James's  Olive 
Chancellor,  It  is  inconceivable  that  she 
should  have  ever  done  the  very  thing  on 
which  the  whole  book  rests — taken  up 
with  such  a  being  as  Verena  ;  yet  she 
lives.  Why  ?  Because  the  author  has 
realised  in  lier  the  kind  of  temperament 
— the  mode  of  feeling  and  being  most 
organically  detestable  to  him  in  all 
womankind.  Look  again  at  Meredith's 
adorable  Diana.  She  could  not  have 
sold  the  secret,  being  what  she  was. 
Well,  does  she  fall  to  the  ground  ?  Not 
a  bit.  She  remains  and  triumphs,  be- 
cause she  triumphed  over  the  heart  of 
her  author.  There  is  the  other  class  of 
personage — among  whom  are  most  of 
the  personages  of  every  novel,  most  of 
the  companions  of  those  not  built  up, 
but  born  ;  and  among  whom,  I  think, 
are  all  the  characters  of  some  of  those 
whom  the  world  accounts  as  the  great- 
est philosophers  of  the  human  heart — 
all  the  characters,  save  Maggie  and 
Tom,  of  George  Eliot  ;  all,  I  suspect, 
of  the  characters  of  Balzac. 

Such  are  the  two  great  categories  into 
which  all  novelists  may,  I  think,  be  di- 
vided, the  svnthetic  and  the  analvtic, 
those  who  feel  and  those  who  reason. 
According  as  he  belongs  to  one  category' 
or  the  other,  the  novelist  will  make  that 
difficult  choice  about  points  of  view. 
The  synthetic  novelist,  the  one  who  does 
not  study  his  personages,  but  livfs  them, 
is  able  to  shift  the  point  of  view  with 
incredible  frequency  and  rapidity,  like 
Tolstoy,  who  in  his  two  great  novels 
really  is  each  of  the  principal  persons 
turn  about  ;  so  much  so,  that  at  first 
<.»ne  might  almost  think  there  was  no 
point  of  view  at  all.  The  analytic  nov- 
elist, on  the  contrary,  the  novelist  who 
does  not  live  his  personages,  but  studies 
them,  will  be  able  to  see  his  personages 
only  from  his  own  point  of  view,  telling 
one  what  they  are  (or  what  he  imagines 
they  are),  not  what  they  feel  inside 
themselves,  and,  at  most,  putting  him- 
self at  the  point  of  view  of  one  person- 


age or  two,  all  the  rest  being  given  from 
the  novelist's  point  of  view  ;  as  in  the 
case  of  George  Eliot,  Balzac,  Flaubert, 
and  Zola,  whose  characters  are  not  so 
much  living  and  suffering  and  changing 
creatures,  as  illustrations  of  theories  of 
life  in  general,  or  of  the  life  of  certain 
classes  and  temperaments. 

It  is  often  said  that  there  are  many 
more  wrong  ways  of  doing  a  thing  than 
right  ones.    I  do  not  think  this  applies 
to  the  novel,  or  perhaps  to  any  work  of 
art.    There  are  a  great  number  of  pos- 
sible sorts  of  excellent  novels,  all  ver)' 
different  from  one  another,  and  appeal- 
ing to  different  classes  of  minds.  There 
is  the  purely  human  novel  of  Thackeray, 
and  particularly  of  Tolstoy — human  and 
absolutely  living  ;  and  the  analytic  and 
autobiographical  novel  of  George  Eliot, 
born,  as  regards  its  construction,  of  the 
memoir.    There  is  the  analytic,  socio- 
logical novel  of  Balzac,  studying  the 
modes  of  life  of  whole  classes  of  f>eo- 
ple.    There  is  the  novel  of  Zola,  appar- 
ently aiming  at  the  same  thing  as  that 
of  Balzac,  but  in  reality,  and  for  all  its 
realistic  programme,  using  the  human 
crowd,  the  great  social  and  commercial 
mechanisms  invented  by  mankind — the 
shop,  the  mine,  the  bourgeois  house, 
the  Stock  Exchange — as  so  much  matter 
for  passionate   lyrism,  just  as  Victor 
Hugo  had  used  the  sea  and  the  cathe- 
dral.   There  is  the  decorative  novel — 
the  fantastic  idyl  of  rural  life  or  of  dis- 
tant lands — of  Hardy  and  Loti  ;  and 
many  more  sorts.    There  is  an  immense 
variety  in  good  work  ;  it  appeals  to  so 
many  sides  of  the  many-sided  human 
creature,  since  it  always,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  good,  appeals  successfully.     In  bad 
w^ork  there  is  no  such  variety.    In  fact, 
the  more  one  looks  at  it,  the  more  one 
is  struck  at  its  family  resemblance,  and 
the  small  number  of  headings  under 
which  it  can  be  catalogued.    In  exam- 
ining it,  one  finds,  however  superficially 
veiled,  everlastingly  the  same  old,  old 
faults — inefficacious  use  of  words,  scat- 
tered,   illogical   composition,    lack  of 
adaptation  of  form  or  thought  ;  in  other 
words,  bad  construction,  waste,  wear 
and  tear  of  the  reader's  attention,  in- 
capacity of  manipulating  his  mind,  the 
craft  of  writing  absent  or  insufficient. 
But  that  is  not  all.    In  this  exceedingly 
monotonous  thing,  poor  work  (as  monot- 
onous as  good  work  is  rich  and  many- 
sided),  we  find  another  fatal  elemmt  of 


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A  UTBRARY  JOURNAL. 


117 


sameness :  lack  of  the  particular  emo- 
tional sensitiveness  which,  as  visual  sen- 
sitiveness, makes  the  {Munter,  makes  the 
writer. 

For  writings — return  to  my  original 
theory,  a  one-sided,  perhaps,  but  cer- 
tainly also  true  in  great  part — is  the  art 
which  gives  us  tiie  emotional  essence  of 
the  world  and  of  life  ;  which  gives  us 
the  moods  awakened  by  all  that  is  and 
can  happen,  material  and  spiritual,  hu- 
man and  natural — distilled  to  the  high- 
est and  most  exquisite  potency  in  the 
peculiar  oi^anism  called  the  writer.  As 
the  painter  sa3r8 :  '*  Look,  here  is  ail 
that  is  most  interesting  and  delightful 
and  vital,  all  that  concerns  you  most  in 
the  visible  aspect  of  things,  whence  I 
liave  extracted  it  for  your  benefit so 
the  writer  on  his  side  says  :  "  Rrri  l  ; 
here  is  all  that  is  most  interesting  and 
delightful  and  vital  in  the  moods  and 
thoughts  awakened  by  all  things  ;  here 
is  the  quintessence  of  vision  and  emo- 
tion ;  I  have  extracted  it  from  the  world 
and  can  transfer  it  to  yonr  mind." 
Hence  the  teachable  portion  of  the  art 
of  writing  is  totally  useless  without  that 
which  can  neither  be  taught  nor  learned 
— the  possession  of  something  valuable, 
something  vital,  essential,  to  say. 

We  all  of  us  possess,  as  I  have  re- 
marked before,  a  tin^'  sample  of  the 
quality  whose  abundance  constitutes  the 
special  artist ;  we  have  some  of  the  qual- 
ity of  the  philosopher,  the  painter,  the 


musician,  as  we  have  some  of  the  qual- 
ity of  the  hero ;  otherwise,  philosophy, 

painting,  music,  and  heroism  uoulil 
never  appeal  to  us.  Similarly  and  by 
the  same  proof,  we  have  all  in  us  a  lit- 
tle of  the  sensitiveness  of  the  writer. 
There  is  no  on»-  dull  or  so  inarticu- 
late as  never  in  his  or  her  life — say,  un- 
der the  stress  of  some  terrible  calamity 
— to  have  said  or  written  some  word 
which  was  memorable,  never  to  be  for- 
gotten by  him  who  read  or  heard  it :  in 
such  moments  we  have  all  had  the  prnv- 
er  of  saying,  because  apparently  w^e  have 
had  something  to  say  ;  in  that  tremen- 
dous momentary  heiglitening  of  all  our 
perceptions  we  have  attained  to  the 
writer's  faculty  of  feeling  and  express- 
ing the  essence  of  things.  Rut  such  mo- 
ments are  rare  ;  and  though  the  sn\all 
fragments  ut  literary  or  artistic  faculty 
which  we  all  are  bom  with,  or  those  are 
born  with  to  whom  literature  and  art 
are  not  mere  dust  and  ashes,  can  be  in- 
creased and  made  more  efficient  only  to 
a  limited  degree.  What  we  really  have 
in  our  power  is  either  to  waste  them  in 
cumbering  the  world  with  work  which 
\\'\\\  give  no  one  any  j)leasure,  or  to  put 
them  to  the  utmost  profit  in  giving  us 
the  highest  degree  of  delight  from  the 
work  of  those  who  are  specially  en- 
dowed. Let  us  learn  what  good  writ- 
ing is  in  order  to  become  the  best  possi- 
ble readers. 

Veruom  Lei, 


HE  MADE  THE  STARS  ALSO. 

Vast  hollow  voids  beyond  the  utmost  reach 
Of  suns,  their  legions  withering;  at  His  nod. 
Died  into  day  hearing  the  voice  of  God  ; 

And  seas  new  made,  immense  and  furious,  each 
Plunged  and  rolled  forward  feeling  for  a  beach; 

He  walked  tiiC  waters  with  effulgence  shod. 
This  being  made,  He  yearned  for  worlds  lu  make 

From  other  chaos  out  beyond  our  night-- 

For  to  create  is  still  God's  prime  delight. 
The  large  moon,  all  alone,  sailed  her  dark  lake, 

And  the  first  tides  were  moving  to  her  night. 
Then  Darkness  trembled,  and  began  to  ipiake, 
Big  with  the  birth  of  stars,  and  when  He  spake  . 

K  million  worlds  leapt  into  radiant  light ! 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


BOOKS  AND  CULTURE 

Br  THE  Author  or  *'  Mr  Sruur  Fmi,"  "  Shout  Studibb  w  Litbrature,*'  btc. 


Vlll.   BY  WAY  OF  ILLUSTRATION. 

The  peculiar  quality  whuli  culture 
imparts  is  beyond  the  comprebeasioa  o£ 
a  child,  and  yet  it  is  something'  SO  deft, 
nite  and  engaging  that  a  child  may 
recognise  its  presence  and  feel  its  attrac- 
tion. One  of  the  special  pieces  of  good 
fortune  which  fell  to  my  boyhood  was 
companionship  with  a  man  whose  note 
of  distinction,  while  not  entirely  clear 
to  me,  threw  a  spell  over  me.  I  knew 
other  men  of  c;^reater  force  and  of  larger 
scholarship ;  but  no  one  else  gave  me 
such  an  impression  of  balance,  npenen« 
and  fineness  of  quality.  I  not  only  felt 
a  peculiarly  searching  influence  flowing 
from  one  who  graciously  put  himself  on 
my  level  of  intcllitrcncc,  but  I  felt  also 
an  impulse  to  emulate  a  nature  which 
satisfied  my  imagination  completely. 
Other  men  of  ability  whose  conversation 
1  heard  filled  me  with  admiration  ;  this 
man  made  the  world  larger  and  richer 
to  my  boyish  thought.  There  was  no 
didacticism  on  his  part  ;  there  was,  on 
the  contrary,  a  simplicity  so  great  that 
I  felt  entirely  at  home  with  him  ;  but  he 
was  so  thoroiip^hly  a  citizen  of  the  world 
that  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  w^orld  in 
his  most  casual  talk.    I  .t>:ot  a  sense  of 

the  larpeness  and  rii  hness  of  life  from 
him.  I  did  not  know  what  it  was  which 
laid  such  hold  on  my  mind,  but  I  saw 
later  that  it  was  the  remarkable  culture 
of  the  man — a  culture  made  possible  by 
many  fortunate  conditions  of  wealth, 
Station,  travel,  and  education,  and  ex- 
pressing itself  in  a  peculiar  largeness  of 
vision  and  sweetness  of  spirit.  In  this 
man's  friendship  I  was  for  the  moment 
lifted  out  of  my  own  rnulily  into  tliat 
vast  movement  and  experience  in  which 
all  the  races  have  shared. 

I  am  often  reminded  of  this  early  im- 
pulse and  enthusiasm,  but  there  are  oc- 
casions when  its  significance  and  value 
become  especially  clear  to  me.  It  was 
brought  forcibly  to  my  mind  several 
years  ago  by  an  hour  or  two  of  talk  with 
one  who,  as  truly  as  any  other  Ameri- 
can, stands  as  a  representative  man  of 
culture  ;  one,  that  is,  whose  large  schol- 
arship has  been  so  completely  absorbed 


that  it  has  enriched  the  very  texture  of 
his  mind,  and  given  him  the  gift  of  shar> 

ing  the  experi«>nce  of  the  race.  It  was 
on  an  evening  when  a  play  of  Sophocles 
was  to  be  rendered  by  the  students  of  a 
certain  university,  in  which  the  tradi- 
tion of  culture  has  never  wholly  died 
out,  and  I  led  the  talk  along  the  lines  of 
the  play.  I  was  rewarded  by  an  hour 
of  such  delight  as  comes  only  from  the 
best  kind  of  talk,  and  I  felt  anew  the 
peculiar  charm  and  power  of  culture. 
For  what  I  got  that  enriched  me  and 
prepared  me  for  real  comprehension  of 
one  of  the  greatest  works  of  art  in  all 
literature  was  not  information,  but  at- 
mosphere. I  saw  rising  about  me  the 
vanished  life,  which  the  dramatist  knew 
so  well  that  its  secrets  of  conviction  and 
temperament  were  all  open  to  him  ;  in 
architecture,  poetry,  religion,  politics, 
and  manners,  it  was  quietly  r^uilded 
for  me  in  such  wise  that  my  own  imagi- 
nation was  stirred  to  meet  the  talker 
half  way  and  to  fill  in  the  outlines  of  a 
picture  so  swiftly  and  skilfully  sketched. 
When  I  went  to  the  play  I  went  as  a 
contemporary  of  its  writer  might  have 
gone.  I  did  not  need  to  enter  into  it, 
for  it  had  already  entered  into  me.  A 
man  of  scholarship  could  have  set  the 
period  before  me  in  a  mass  of  f.icts  ;  a 
man  of  culture  alone  could  give  me 
power  to  share,  for  an  evening  at  least, 
its  spirit  and  life. 

These  personal  illustrations  will  be 
pardoned,  because  they  bring  out  in  the 
most  concrete  way  thiat  special  quality 
which  marks  the  possession  i  ulture  in 
the  deepest  sense.  That  quality  allies 
it  very  closely  with  genius  itself,  in  cer- 
tain aspects  of  that  rare  and  inexplicable 
gift.  For  one  of  the  most  characteristic 
qualities  of  genius  is  its  power  of  divina^ 
tion,  of  sharing  alien  or  div  -t  se  rxpcri 
ences.  It  is  this  peculiar  insight  which 
puts  the  great  dramatists  in  possession 
of  the  secrets  of  so  many  temperaments, 
the  springs  of  so  many  different  person- 
alities, the  atmosphere  of  such  remote 
periods  of  time ;  mriiich,  in  a  way,  gives 
them  power  to  make  the  dead  liv**  again  ; 
for  Shakespeare  can  stand  at  tiie  tomb 
of  Cleopatra  and  evoke  not  the  shade. 


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119 


but  the  passionate  woman  herself  out  of 
the  dust  in  which  she  sleeps.   There  has 

been,  perhaps,  no  more  luminous  exam- 
ple of  the  faculty  of  sharing  the  experi- 
ence of  a  past  age,  of  enterinfif  into  the 
thought  and  feeling  of  a  vanished  race, 
than  the  peculiar  divination  and  re- 
habilitation of  certain  extinct  phases  of 
em<>tii>n  and  thoucjht  which  one  finds  in 
the  pages  of  Walter  Pater.  In  those 
pages  there  are,  it  is  true,  occasional 
lapses  from  a  perfectly  sound  method  ; 
there  is  at  times  a  loss  of  simplicity,  a 
cloying  sweetness  in  the  style  uf  this  ac- 
complished writer.  These  are,  however, 
the  perils  of  a  very  sensitive  tempera- 
ment, an  intense  feeling  for  bcauiy,  and 
a  certain  seclusion  from  the  affairs  of 
life.  That  which  characterises  Mr.  Pater 
at  all  times  is  his  power  of  putting  him- 
self amid  conditions  that  are  not  only 
extinct,  but  fibscure  and  elusive  ;  of 
winding  himself  back,  as  it  were,  into 
the  primitive  Greek  consciousness  and 
recovering  for  the  moment  the  world  as 
the  Greeks  saw,  or,  rather,  felt  it.  It  is  an 
easy  matter  to  mass  the  facts  about  any 
^ven  period  ;  it  is  a  very  different  and 
a  very  difficult  matter  to  set  those  facts 
in  vital  relatjons  to  each  other,  to  see 
them  in  true  perspective.  And  the  diffi- 
culties  are  immensely  increased  when 
the  period  is  not  only  remote,  but  defi- 
cient  in  definite  rq^try  of  thought  and 
feelintr  ;  when  the  record  of  what  it  be- 
lieved and  felt  does  not  exist  by  itself, 
bnt  must  be  deciphered  from  those 
Works  of  art  in  which  is  preserved  the 
final  form  of  thought  and  feeling,  and 
in  which  are  gathered  and  merged  a 
great  mass  of  ideas  and  emotions. 

This  is  especially  true  of  the  more 
subtle  and  elusive  Greek  myths,  which 
were  in  no  case  creations  of  the  in- 
dividual imagination  or  of  definite 
periods  of  time,  but  which  were  fed  by 
many  tributaries,  very  slowly  taking 
shape  out  of  general  but  shadowy  im- 
pressions, widely  difiused  but  vague 
ideas,  deeply  felt  but  obscure  emotions. 
To  jjet  at  thr  heart  of  one  of  these 
Stories  one  must  be  able  not  only  to 
enter  into  the  thought  of  the  unknown 
poets  who  made  their  contributions  to 
the  myth,  but  must  also  be  able  to  dis- 
entangle the  threads  of  idea  and  feel- 
ing so  deftly  woven  together  and  fol- 
low each  back  to  its  shadowy  beginning. 
To  do  this,  one  must  have  not  only 
knowledge,  but  sympathy  and  imagina- 


tion ;  those  closely  related  qualities 
which  get  at  the  soul  of  knowledge  and 
make  it  live  attain  ;  those  qualities  which 
the  man  of  culture  shares  in  no  small 
measure  with  the  man  of  genius.  In 
liis  studies  of  such  myths  as  those  which 
gather  about  Dionysus  and  Demeter  this 
is  precisely  what  Mr.  Pater  did.  He 
not  only  marked  out  distinctly  the 
courses  of  the  main  streams,  but  he  fol- 
lowed back  the  rivulets  to  their  foun- 
tain-heads ;  he  not  only  mastered  the 
thouj^lit  of  an  extinct  people,  but,  what 
is  much  more  difficult,  he  put  off  his 
knowledge  and  put  on  their  ignorance  ; 
he  not  only  entered  into  their  thought 
about  the  world  of  nature  which  sur- 
rounded them,  but  he  entered  into  their 
feelincf  about  it.  Very  lightly  touched 
and  charming  is,  for  instance,  his  de- 
scription of  the  habits  and  haunts  and 
worship  of  Demeter,  the  current  impres- 
sions of  her  service  and  place  in  the  life 
of  the  world  : 

"  Demeter  haunts  the  fields  in  <;prin(r.  when  the 
youn^  lambs  arc  dropped  ;  she  visits  the  barns  in 
autumn  ;  she  takes  pan  in  muuini;  .hihI  binding 
up  the  corn,  and  is  the  goddess  of  sheaves.  She 
presides  over  the  pleasant,  signiticant  details  of 
the  farm,  the  threulng  floor  and  the  full  graoarr, 
and  atsada  beside  the  woama  iMOdiig  bfead  at  the 
oven.  WIdi  these  fancies  are  connected  certain 
simple  riles,  ihe  half  understood  local  of)servance 
and  the  half  bi-lirvcd  local  lejjend  rciii  tiii^  capri- 
ciously on  each  other.  They  leave  her  a  fragment 
of  bread  and  a  morsel  of  meat  at  the  cros«-roads 
to  take  on  her  journey ;  and  peifaaps  some  real 
Demeter  carries  thcni  away,  ai  she  wanders 
throDgh  the  conetry.  The  incidents  of  their  yearly 
labour  become  to  ihcm  acts  of  worship  ;  they  seek 
her  blessing  through  many  expressive  names,  and 
almost  catch  sight  of  her  at  dawn  or  evening,  in 
the  nooks  of  the  fragrant  fields.  She  lays  a  finger 
on  the  grass  at  the  roadside,  and  some  new  flower 
comes  up.  All  the  picturesque  implements  of 
cottntfv  life  aftt  hers  ;  the  poppy  also,  emblem  of 
an  cjthaustless  fertility,  and  full  of  mysterlotis 
juices  for  the  alleviation  of  pain.  The  country- 
woman who  puts  her  child  to  slt-fp  In  the  preat, 
cradle-like  basket  for  winnowing  the  corn  remem- 
bers Demeter  A'^'/<'■<Vr<'^'^'^'<,  the  mother  of  com 
and  children  alike,  and  makes  it  a  Utile  coai  out  of 
the  dress  worn  by  its  father  at  his  lalthuion  into 
her  mysteries. .  .  .  She  lies  on  the  groand  out-of« 
doors  on  summer  nights,  and  becomes  wet  with 
the  dew.  She  grows  youn^  ngain  every  spring, 
vet  is  of  great  age,  the  wrinkled  woman  of  the 
Homeric  hymn.  Who  becomes  the  imise  of  Demo* 

This  bit  of  description  moves  with  so 
light  a  foot  that  one  forgets,  as  true  art 
always  makes  one  forget,  the  mass  of 
hard  and  scattered  materials  which  lie 
back  of  it ;  materials  which  would  not 
have  yielded  their  secret  of  unity,  and 


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xao 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


vitality  save  to  imaj^ination  and  sympa- 
thy ;  to  knowledge  which  has  ripened 
into  culture  I?ut  thr  recovery  of  such 
a  story,  the  rccouiitruction  o£  such  a  fig- 
ure, are  not  affected  by  description 
alone  ;  one  must  penetrate  to  the  heart 
of  the  myth,  and  master  the  significance 
of  the  woman  transformed  by  idcaliba- 
tion  into  a  beneficent  and  much  labour- 
ing goddess.  We  must  go  with  Mr. 
Pater  a  step  farther  i£  we  would  under- 
stand how  a  man  of  culture  divines  the 
deeper  experiences  ol  an  alien  race  : 

'*  Three  profound  ethical  concepdoni.  three  lm« 

pressive  sacred  figures,  have  now  defined  them- 
selves for  the  Greek  imagination,  condensed  from 
all  the  traditions  which  have  imw  been  traced, 
from  the  hymns  of  the  poets,  from  the  instinctive 
and  unformulated  mysticism  of  primitive  mindn. 
Dcoieter  is  become  the  divine,  sorrowing  mother. 
Kore,  the  goddess  of  summer,  is  become  Per- 
sephone, the  goddess  of  death,  still  associated  with 
the  forms  aod  odours  of  flowers  and  fruit,  yet  as 


one  risen  from  the  dead  also,  presenting  on?  side 
of  her  ambiguous  nature  to  men's  tjloomicr  iin- 
cics.  Thirdly,  there  is  the  image  of  Demcicr  en- 
thrOlMd*  chastened  by  sorrow,  and  somewhat  ad- 
VMMtd  ia  ace,  bleasiog  the  earth  in  her  jof  at  the 
return  of  Kore.  The  myth  has  now  entered  ttpoa 
the  third  phase  of  its  life,  in  which  it  becomes  the 
property  of  those  more  elevated  spirits,  who,  m 
the  decline  of  the  Greek  religion,  pick  and  ch.x>se 
and  modify,  with  perfect  freedom  of  mind,  what- 
ever in  it  may  seem  adapted  to  minii^ter  to  their 
culture.  In  this  way  the  myths  o<  the  Gneek  rc^ 
ligion  become  parts  of  an  ideat,  vMble  embodi> 
mcnts  of  the  susceptibilities  and  intentions  "f  if  r 
nobler  kind  of  souls  ;  and  it  is  to  this  latest  phase 
of  mythological  development  that  tlie  Mghesi 
Greek  sculpture  allies  itself." 

This  illustration  of  the  divination  by 
which  the  man  of  culture  possesses  him* 

self  of  a  half  forgotten  and  obsctirely  re- 
corded experience  and  rehabilitates  and 
interprets  it,  is  so  complete  that  it  makes 
amplification  superfluous. 

ffarnit^*  nr.  MaKe. 


fiMILE  ZOLA'S  "ROME." 


A  new  novel  by  6mile  Zola  will  be 
published  in  Paris  early  in  November. 
It  will  be  the  second  of  the  great  French 
writer's  works  dealing  with  the  three 
cities,  Lourdes,  Rome,  and  Paris.  It  is 
now  nearly  two  years  since  LourJis  was 
published,  and  Zola  has  been  at  work  on 
the  second  book  of  the  scries — Rome — 
ever  since.  In  his  suburban  mansion  at 
Medan,  near  Paris,  he  has  laboured  al- 
most constantly  all  this  time,  and  now 
and  again  particulars  of  the  book's  prog- 
ress have  been  ^ven  to  the  world.  Its 
author's  visit  to  the  Eternal  City,  his 
sojourn  there  in  quest  of  documentary 
material,  his  audience  with  the  King,  the 
closing  of  the  gates  of  the  Vatican  at 
his  approach — ;t!l  tfu-se  and  other  sensa- 
tional details  have  tuund  tiieir  way  from 
time  to  time  into  the  public  prints,  and 
served  to  arouse  curiosity  in  the  novel. 
The  new  work  was  already  famous  be- 
fore Zola  had  written  the  first  line. 

A  few  weeks  ago  a  Viennese  journalist 
visited  the  French  novelist  at  Medan 
and  saw  Zola  at  work.  He  describes 
his  visit  as  follows  : 

"  It  was  a  warm  afternoon  in  June 
when  I  arrived.  The  servant  ushered 
me  at  once  into  the  library.  It  was  not 
my  first  visit  to  Zola,  and  I  found  the 
room  unchanged  except  that  in  one  cor- 


ner, lying  on  an  immense  gilded pru-difv, 
there  lay  a  magnificent^  illuminated 
missal  which  I  had  certaiiily  never  seen 

before.    This  evidently  was  one  of  the 

documents  of  the  new  work. 

"  Zulu  greeted  me  cordially,  as  is  his 
custom  towards  all  bis  guests.  He  told 
me  he  was  very  busy,  and.  in  a  tone  of 
disappointment,  said  that  the  new  book 
was  taking  him  longer  to  write  than 
any  of  his  previous  works.  As  a  rule 
he  is  a  very  rapid  writer ;  but  the  im- 
mense amount  of  notes  he  has  to  con- 
sult in  writing  Jiome  compels  him  to  go 
very  slowly.  The  book  will  be  printed 
in  about  one  hundred  instalments,  so  that 
it  will  be  about  as  voluminous  as  the 
most  important  of  his  other  works. 

"  I  found  Zola  entirely  preoccupied 
with  the  ideas  and  events  of  the  boolt. 
Very  soon  <i"ir  c  n\  e"sat!on  assumed  tho 
form  of  a  monologue,  I  taking  the  part 
of  a  silent  listener.  He  showed  me 
material  and  plans,  sketches  and  models, 
and  explained  the  aim  and  purpose  of 
the  whole.  Of  course  there  will  be  vari- 
ous changes  in  detail  as  the  book  pro* 
ceeds,  although  no  esscnti:;!  cli-incfes, 
for  Zola  is  a  man  who  can  thmk  in  ad- 
vance. He  erects  the  structure  of  his 
work  as  he  collects  his  material  and 
documents,  and  does  not  like  to  be  sur- 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


Erised  by  new  ideas  or  thoughts  after 
e  has  once  planned  out  the  scheme 

of  any  given  chapter.  From  the  mo- 
ment he  sits  down  at  his  desk  to  produce 
day  by  day  the  same  number  of  p^;es» 
he  executes  as  a  workman  what  he 
sketched  out  as  an  artist,  the  physical 
work  taking  the  place  of  the  psychical. 

"  The  young  priest,  Pierre  Froment, 
whose  acquaintance  we  made  in  Lourdes^ 
is  also  the  hero  of  the  new  book.  On 
his  return  to  Paris  after  his  pUgrimage 
he  has  published  a  pamphlet,  The  New 
Kome^  which  brings  him  a  request  to 
come  to  the  Vatican  ad  audiendinn  verbum. 
He  must  defend  himself  and  his  views 
there.  The  author  describes  his  sojourn 
of  several  months  in  Rome,  where  be- 
was  witness  to  a  love  affair,  which  is 
dwelt  upon  at  length  in  the  book.  But 
Zola's  main  object  in  writing  Rowu  is 
not  to  follow  Pierre's  career.  Lts 
Hcugon  Afacqunri,  his  former  novels, 
were  crowded  with  action.  Great  and 
small  events,  active  life  and  its  constant 
upheavals,  constant  incidents,  were  the 
very  essence  of  his  books.  They  were 
intended  to  be  living  history,  sHces  of 
nature  seen  through  a  temperament. 
But  with  the  new  book  Zola  has  put  on 
new  spectacles.  He  no  longer  looks 
through  a  temperament,  but  through  a 
range  of  thought.  No  longer  do  people 
and  things  stand  in  the  foreground,  but 
ideas,  for  which  people  and  things  are 
but  examples.  And  has  not  this  always 
been  the  programme  of  every  poet  ?  Did 
not  each  one  try  to  illustrate  his  thoughts 
through  his  figures  and  descriptions? 
And,  finally,  is  not  that  the  real,  genu* 
ine  formula  to  which  Zola  also,  perhaps 
unconsciously,  has  returned  ?  Not  the 
temperament  of  the  poet,  but  his  range 
of  thought  is  the  factor  ruling  the 
work. 

*'  What  are  now  the  ideas  which  Zola 
is  elaborating  in  his  new  book  ?  They 
centre  in  Leo  XIII.  '  Oh,  I  studied  the 
Pope,'  he  said  to  me.  *  I  followed  him 
from  the  start  to  his  present  greatness — 
during  his  education  in  Rome,  his  brief 

activity  as  nuncio  in  Brussels,  and  his 
work  in  Perugia  as  bishop.  But  his 
true  nature  was  not  revealed  until  the 
day  when  he  put  the  tiara  on  his  head 
as  Leo  XIII.  There  are  two  beings 
within  the  present  Pope,  the  inflexible 
defender  of  dogma  and  the  smooth  poll- 
tician,  ever  urging  the  policy  of  con- 
ciliation.   He  ignores  modern  philoso- 


phy and  believes  in  the  enlightenment 
of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  but  as  a  European 
factor  he  is  one  of  the  most  astute  diplo- 
matists living.  He  seeks  to  be  on  good 
terms  with  every  State  and  prince,  he 
reconciles  the  Holy  See  with  Germany, 
he  tries  to  conciliate  Russia ;  to  gain 
England's  friendship  he  enters  into  new 
relations  with  the  Far  East.  He  is  on 
good  terms  with  France,  and  acknowl- 
edges the  Republic.  Thus  he  is  the  liv- 
ing, great  defender  of  the  Vatican's  poli- 
tics. The  explanation,  the  development 
of  the  politics  of  the  Vatican  is  the  main 
substance  of  my  book.  This  policy  is 
the  striving  for  the  empire  of  the  world. 
Rome,  the  head  of  the  world,  the  ruler 
of  Rome,  the  Caesar  of  the  earth — ^that 
is  the  dream  they  are  seeking  to  realise, 
that  is  the  dream  felt  by  everybody  who 
treads  on  Roman  soil.  The  idea  of  an 
empire  of  the  world  thrives  here  because 
of  the  macfic  power  of  history-.  Em- 
peror auu  soldier,  republican  and  con- 
queror, priest  and  layman,  haveabsorbed 
this  idea  from  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place  and  given  themselves  up  to  it  body 
and  soul.  And  the  Pope  is  willing  and 
will  realise  it.  He  looks  ahead  to  the 
time  when  he  will  be  ruler  and  protector 
of  a  European  unity  of  States.  The 
United  States  of  the  World,  and  His 
Holiness  their  protector^ — is  not  that  a 
proud  ambition  ?  True,  the  first  step 
would  be  an  Italian  Republic  which 
would  acknowledge  the  sovereignty  of 
the  Vatican.  Who  knows  whether  it 
wUl  be  long  before  the  world  shall  see 
this  come  to  pass  ? ' 

"  Zola  paused  for  a  little  while.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  though  he  were  finish- 
ing the  course  of  his  ideas  in  his  mind, 
as  though  he  could  see  with  the  rapidity 
of  a  flash  of  lightning  the  picture  of  the 
future — his  prophecy  fulfilled. 

"  '  You  see,'  he  continued,  '  there  is 
an  everlasting  war  between  the  three 
powers — Pope,  Emperor,  and  the  peo- 
pie.'  And  with  a  French  cresture  he 
showed  me  the  example  on  three  fingers 
of  his  outstretched  hand.  '  If  the  Em- 
peror falls,  what  is  left  ?  Two  pow- 
ers that  cannot  do  without  each  other ; 
for  where  there  is  a  ruler  there  must  be 
somebody  who  is  ruled.  The  Vatican 
sympathises  with  the  French  republic 
because  it  felled  the  Caesar,  because  it 
advanced  a  step  in  the  direction  the 
Pope  wishes  for  the  development  of  Eu- 
rope.  Odd  as  it  may  sound,  the  most 


taa 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


monarchically  minded  of  all  munarchs, 
the  king  of  kings,  furthers  the  cause  of 
republics  and  regards  their  rise  with 
approval. 

"  *  And  you  see,*  he  began  again,  after 

havintj  nicdltatcd  for  a  short  wliilc,  *  in 
this  also  you  can  observe  the  strange 
double  nature  of  Leo  XIII.  With  one 
hand  he  reaches  out  for  the  crown  of  the 
world,  while  with  the  other  he  gives  his 
blessing  to  democracy.  When  he  was 
Bishop  of  Perugia  he  wrote  a  mandate 
which  wa^  slitchtly  socialistic  in  tone. 
Hardly,  however,  had  he  mounted  the 
papal  chair  when  he  poured  out  his 
anger  against  all  the  revolutionary  move- 
ments through  which  Ital^  was  passing 
at  that  time.  But  he  quickly  changed 
his  tactics  again,  recognising  whata  ter- 
rihle  weapon  socialism  might  become 
when  in  llic  hands  of  tiic  rnemies  of 
Catholicism.  He  refrains  from  inter- 
fering with  the  Irisli  quarrels,  he  uitli- 
draws  the  excommunication  he  had  put 
on  the  Knights  of  Labour  in  America,  he 
no  longer  has  the  books  of  Catholic  so- 
cialists put  on  the  index.  In  several 
encyclicals  he  shows  his  sympathy  for 
democratic  tendencies,  and  in  the  en- 
cyclical Rerum  Nm-arum  he  ';pe;iks  of  the 
situation  of  labour,  of  the  wage  earners, 


their  poverty,  their  long  hours  of  toil, 
their  poor  remuneration.   He  deprecates 

the  greed  of  capital  and  recommends  re- 
organisation of  society  on  a  more  honest 
basis.  He  shows  that  religion  alone  can 
solve  the  problem,  for  the  Poju-  believes 
that  the  spiritual  power  is  mightier  than 
worldly  power,  and  that  only  by  means 
of  the  former  can  he  reach  the  latter. 
Once  the  spirit  has  howed  before  the 
Church  the  body  will  yield  also.  Once 
the  people  has  become  used  to  seeing 
the  Pope  the  spiritual  judge.  st.Tnding 
high  above  all  parties,  whose  decision 
will  end  all  questions,  the  old-time  glory 
of  Rome  will  soon  flood  its  immortal 
hills  again,  and  the  fate  of  tlie  world  will 
be  decided  at  the  hands  of  thelmperator. 
Such  is  the  glorious  future  of  Rome, 
such  is  the  light  that  siamis  out  on  the 
h(_)ri/on  I  Rome  contains  three  great  in- 
stitutions, the  Palatine,  the  Vatican,and 
the  Quirinal.  In  all  three  I  shall  sym- 
bolise the  ideas  of  my  book  ;  in  them  I 
shall  symbolise  antiquity,  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  modern  Rome.  With  their 
help  I  shall  show  how  the  thought  of  a 
future  empire  of  the  world  was  ham  and 
where  the  thought  blossoms.  That's  what 
my  work  will  tell.'  " 

Arthur  Hernbi&UK 


EXPERIENCES  WITH  EDITORb. 


II.  ACCBPTBB  AbDRBSSIS. 

Having  in  my  first  paper  concentrated 

attention  upon  the  dark  side  of  the 
shiekl,  it  will  be  a  pleasant  change  now 
to  turn  the  thing  around,  and  Lais.c  a 
look  at  the  brighter  side. 

Granted  some  degree  of  literar\'  tal- 
ent, the  writer  who  is  patient  and  per- 
sistent enough  is  bound  to  meet  with  ac- 
ceptance some  time  in  some  quarter,  in 
spite  of  the  chronically  congested  condi- 
tion of  the  literary  mart. 

If,  however,  he  has  based  his  expecta- 
tions of  remuneration  upon  statements 
he  has  seen  as  to  the  number  of  cents 
per  word,  or  of  dollars  per  page,  paid 
by  periodicals  to  favourite  contributors, 
he  runs  a  great  risk  of  sore  disappoint- 
ment. 

My  first  experience  of  acceptance  was 
with  a  legal  periodical  of  high  rank,  to 


which  I  submitted  a  paper  embodying 

the  results  of  much  thought  and  labour. 
After  a  long  period  of  waiting  my  re- 
ward was  as  follows : 

"  Yoa  must  pardon  my  seeming  neglect,  but 
yonr  Mticle  is  one  of  twelve  now  Maiitiig  my  de> 
dslon  as  to  acceptance.   T  have  read  it  twke.  and 

with  considerable  doubt  have  finally  resolved  to 
give  you  a  bearing.  You  are  not  to  expect  pecu- 
mvry  (ompentatioK," 

I  was  bitterly  disappointed,  I  confess. 
I  had  hoped  {or  a  cheque  at  the  rate  of 
at  least  a  thousand  words,  and  not 
even  the  privilege  of  a  hearing  in  the 
pages  of  SO  renowned  a  periodical  ea> 
tirely  consoled  me  In  my  disappoint- 
ment. 

My  next  success  was  with  an  illus- 
trated weekly  magazine,  whose  editorial 

response  came  in  these  terms  : 

"  We  think  that  with  a  good  deal  of  editiog  we 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


can  make  me  of  your  article.   What  would  be 

your  price  for  it  f 

Made  wise  by  my  previous  experience, 

I  thought  it  best  to  leave  the  cjueslion 
of  price  entirely  to  the  editor,  and  am 

Slad  to  say  had  no  reason  to  regret 
oing  so. 

I  cannot  refrain  from  mentioning, 
however,  with  regard  to  the  **  good  deal 
of  editing,"  that  my  article  not  only  was 
published  precisely  as  forwarded,  but 
that  the  editorial  eye  missed  in  the 
proofs,  which  were  not  submitted  to  me, 
several  provnkins:  misprints  that  showed 
the  need  of  more  careful  "  editing," 

Apropos  of  the  matter  of  the  remunera- 
tion is  a  pleasant  letter  I  had  from  the 
manner  of  a  well-known  scientific  peri- 
odlcalto  the  following  effect : 

"  If  TOO  will  accept  for  your  article  an  honora- 
rinin  of  $—  we  shall  be  glad  to  takeiu  Weare 
well  aware  that  this  amotmt  isatfliall  onefer  tnch 
a  paper.  i>u(  unfortunateif  OUT rcioimea  will  not 

warrant  a  lur^rr  oflfer." 

Tlierc  was  such  manifest  sincerity 
about  these  words  that  only  a  huckster  in 
literary  wares  could  have  hesitated  to 
accept  the  oiler  they  embodied. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  an  editor, 
rather  notorious  for  driving  hard  bar- 
gains, wrote  first  to  enquire  whether 
my  story  was  intended  as  a  *'  contribu- 
tion, or  was  to  be  paid  for,"  and  on  my 
promptly  requiring  pay,  replied  that 
only  a  portion  of  ue  manuscript  could 
be  used,  and  for  that  portion  he  could 
not  allow  more  than  % — ,  the  conviction 
came  quickly  that  such  business  meth- 
ods were  better  adapted  to  dealing  in 
old  clothes  than  in  new  manuscripts. 

Whether  woman's  sphere  properly  in- 
dadea  the  editorial  share  or  not  may  be 
left  an  open  question  without  any  weak- 
ening of  the  assertion  that  she  lends  a 
charming  grace  to  it,  which  is'only  too 
often  lacking;;  in  its  masculine  possessors. 

I  have  before  me  some  acceptances 
from  feminine  editors  which  illustrate 
this.  These  two  arc  from  the  director 
of  an  erstwhile  prosperous  juvenile 
sionthly : 

"  Though  I  am  not  sure  of  my  orthography  in 
wrftiac  joar  oame  (the  spelled  it  *  Okley  I  en- 
joy accepdog  your  maotucripc" 

And  again  : 

"  I  Uke  ,  and  we  should  be  modi  pleased 

to  have  you  send  oa  a  photograph  of  the  locality 
coDceroed. " 

The  following  is  from  the  editor  of  an 
historical  periodical,  a  woman  whose 


death  a  few  years  ago  made  a  gap  in  the 
world  of  letters  that  has  not  yet  been 
filled: 

"  I  am  in  receipt  of  your  manoMrlpt.  aod  bara 
had  time  this  hurried  morniagto  run  mycyehai- 
tily  over  it— quite  enough  to  convince  ne  tbat  It 
wiupioveacharaiilogeoniributioa  to  oar  readen." 

Such  editorial  amenities  go  far  to  sus- 
tain one's  spirit  in  the  face  of  experi- 
ences like  that  which  I  endured  in  con- 
nection with  a  serial  story  submitted  to 
an  English  periodical  for  your g  j)eoj)le. 

The  manuscript  was  forwarded  earlv 
in  July  of  a  certam  year,  and  no  acknowl- 
edgment of  receipt  coming  to  hand  by 
the  end  of  August,  a  gentle  note  of  en- 
quiry was  despatched.  » 

No  answer  being  vouchsafed,  further 
enquiries  were  sent  at  intervals,  and 
finally  the  kind  assistance  of  friends  in 
London  was  sought,  who  made  personal 
efforts  to  obtain  some  satisfaction  for 
me,  but  without  any  definite  result, 
until  finally  in  April  of  the  following 
year,  nine  months  after  the  manuscript 
had  been  transmitted,  the  long-deferred 
acceptance  came,  coupled  with  the  grati- 
fying  announcement  tliat  the  serial 
would  begin  to  be  published  at  once. 
But  my  tribulations  were  by  no  means 
over.  Having  waited  so  long  to  learn  my 
fate,  I  never  imagined  that  Ishould  have 
to  wait  almost  an  equal  time  to  know 
my  fortune.  Yet  such  proved  to  be  the 
( as'v  Instead  of  payment  being^  made 
in  lull  on  the  appearance  of  the  first 
part,  as  I  fully  expected,  it  was  dribbled 
over  the  whole  period  of  publication  in 
monthly  instalments,  so  that  the  account 
was  not  finally  settled  until  full  fifteen 
months  after  the  manuscript  left  my 
hands,  which  could  nut  be  considered 
otherwise  than  very  tr)Mng. 

In  sharp  and  pleasant  contrast  to  this 
method  of  doing  business  may  be  placed 
that  of  a  very  widely  circulated  religious 
weekly  on  this  side  the  ocean,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  fair  example  :  Manu- 
script sent  January   14th.  Accepluuce 

received  January  iSth,  foUowed  by  a 

cheque  on  the  23d,  although  the  article 
did  not  appear  until  some  months  later. 

It  is  wonderful  what  a  lot  of  encour- 
agement  and  comfort  the  industrious 
writer  can  get  out  of  such  an  experi- 
ence, and  from  such  editorial  brevities 
as  this : 

"  I  like  your  article  vcrv  modi  indeed,  and siiall 
be  gUd  lo  use  it  at  once. 


Digitized  by  Google 


194 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


or  this  : 

"  I  thank  yoo  very  much  for  tendiog  me  the 
story  — sad  U  has  given  roe  a  great  deal  oC 
pleasore  to  reach  the  coaclnsioa  that  it  Is  a  story 
we  want." 

Precision  is  an  admir.ilile  thing  in  an 
editor,  but  there  may  he  occasions  when 
the  contribtUor  would  feci  inclined  to 
think  it  capable  of  being  carried  too  far, 
as  in  this  case,  for  instance  : 

"  Enclosed  please  find  $  for  469  lines  sdlto* 

rial  matter  in  March,  and  347  lines  in  Fdmary. 
for  whidi  Undly  sign  and  return  eoclostd  receipt 
fom/' 

Considering  that  the  paper  in  question 
was  making  a  net  profit  of  $50,000  an- 
nually, the  contributor  of  the  **  editorial 
matter"  could  hardly  be  blamed  for 
thinking  that  the  measuring  scale  need 
not  have  been  so  rigidly  applied,  and 
that  the  number  of  lines  might  have 
i>een  taken  as  470  and  350  respectively. 

The  advantage  of  having  won  the  con- 
fidence of  an  editor  finds  pleasing  illus* 
tration  in  the  following  note  : 


**  The  nannscript  is  received.  I  have  oot  read 
it  throngh,  hot  presome  it  will  answer.    I  Ibefc- 

fore  enclose  Cfae^ie.'* 

A«  tlie  manuscript  was  quite  a  lencrthr 
serial,  and  the  cheque  ran  well  intu  thretr 
figures,  the  delightful  promptitude  of 
the  benevolent  editor  may  be  easily  ap> 
preciated. 

Let  me  bring  this  somewhat  haphaz- 
ard budget  of  Accepted  Addresses  to  an 
end  by  citing  one  which  remains  unique 
in  my  experience,  although  I  have  bad 
my  full  share  of  others  containing  the 
precisely  opposite  request. 

"  This  article  is  very  good,  but  I  would  rather 
give  it  one  of  our  entire  pages,  wlilcb  would  call  for 
S500  to  2700  words.  Could  you  extend  this  article 
to  that  length  without  padding  it?   As  it  is.  ii 

counts  1750  words." 

I  need  hardly  say  with  what  g^lad 
celerity  this  editorial  behest  was  obeyed, 
and  how  ever  since  that  episode  this 

particular  editor  has  occupied  an  espe* 
cially  elevated  place  in  my  esteem. 

J,  MofdmsUd  OseUjf, 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A  LIVING  BY  LITERATURE. 


As  one  who  has  attained  a  certain 
position  in  the  literary  and  journalistic 

world,  T  am  sometimes  asked  to  advise 
young  men  and  women  as  to  the  best 
means  of  succeeding  in  the  profession  of 
"literature."  I  invariably  decline  to 
give  any  advice  on  the  subject.  Nay, 
more ;  I  invariably  endeavour  to  dis- 
Suade  the  applicant  from  making  the 
plunge  proposed.  ' '  If  there  is  anything 
else  Uiat  yon  can  do,"  1  say,  "  do  that ; 
do  not  on  any  account  turn  writing  into 
a  trade.  Almost  anything  is  preferable 
to  that.  If  you  have  prospects  in  busi- 
ness, follow  them  up  ;  if  you  have  a  taste 
for  the  mechanical,  utilise  it  ;  if  you 
have  a  feeling  for  the  Church,  for  medi- 
cine, or  for  the  law,  yield  to  it.  What- 
ever yon  do,  do  not  place  absolute  de- 
pendence on  your  pen." 

This  species  of  exhortation  is  the  out- 
come  of  twenty-five  years*  practical  and 
unceasing  experience  of  the  literary  life. 
That  experience  has  brought  with  it  a 
certain  measure  of  reputation,  and  tlie 
ability  to  support  myself  and  family  on 
a  certain  scale  ;  but  it  has  also  made 
clear  to  me  the  fact  that  to  live  by  **  lit- 
erature" is  a  growingiy  precarious  and 


disheartening  thing.  Nay,  in  the  quar- 
ter of  a  century  during  which  I  have 
plied  my  quill,  I  have  seen  the  profes- 
sion of  "  literature"  almost  wholly  de- 
serted. The  professional  literary  men 
and  women — who  have  made  any  mark 
— can  now  (apart  from  the  fictionists)  be 
counted  almost  on  the  fingers  of  two 
hands.  This  was  not  always  so.  Time 
was  when  a  small  army  of  people,  de- 
pendent wholly  on  their  pen,  set  them- 
selves to  supply  the  wants  of  the  public 
in  the  way  of  readable  volumes.  Their 
business,*  mainly,  was  to  condense  and 
to  popularise.  They  rendered  palatable 
the  discoveries  and  conclusions  of  dry- 
asdust  historians,  biographers,  geogra- 
phers, and  savants  ;  they  produced 
translations,  they  edited  classics,  they 
wrote  stories  and  manuals  for  young 
people.  They  stood  midway  between 
the  specialists  and  the  general  reader, 
making  the  former  intelligible  to  the 
latter.  They  performed  a  useful  func- 
tion, and  obtained  a  fair  reward.  It 
was  possible  in  those  days  to  thrive  on 
"  literature  ;"  many  made  u  tlieir  m/ZrVr, 
and  succeeded  in  it. 
What  is  the  position  now  ?  The  work 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


"5 


which  used  to  be  done  by  the  literary 
middleman  is  done,  almost  entirely,  by 

the  expert  and  the  amateur. 

1,  The  expert  no  lunger  allows  the 
professional  literary  man  to  stand  be- 
tween him  and  the  public.  He  does  his 
own  condensing  and  popularising.  The 
present  is  an  age  of  primers  and  band- 
books  dealing  with  every  topic  under 
heaven  ;  and  these  are  written,  for  the 
most  part,  by  men  and  women  who  have 
made  a  specialty  of  one  subject  or  more. 
The  historians,  the  biographers,  the 
geographers,  the  savants,  having  been 
approached  by  the  publishing  fraternity, 
now  condescend  to  talk  directly  and 
familiarly  to  the  crowd,  and  in  particu- 
lar to  students  and  young  people.  They 
are  enabled  to  do  this  by  the  fact,  not 
onl^  that  the  branch  of  knowledge  on 
which  they  discourse  is  familiar  to  uiem, 
but  that  in  most  instances  they  occupy 
official  positions  to  which  regular  in- 
comes arc  attached.  They  can  afford  to 
dash  off,  with  more  or  less  speed,  little 
manuals  into  which  they  compress  the  ex- 
perience and  the  teaching  of  a  lifetime. 

a.  Then  there  is  the  amateur — a  noun 
of  TTT  iltitude.  This  person  rears  his 
head  in  every  direction.  Sometimes  he 
Is  a  titled  dignitary,  who,  rejoicing  in 
the  possession  of  private  means  as  well 
as  literary  tastes,  diverts  himself,  or  ad- 
vertises himself,  and  even  adds  to  his 
pocket-money,  by  writing  more  or  less 
copiously  for  the  magazines.  He  and 
his  feminine  counterpart  are  especially 
conspicuous  in  the  monthly  reviews,  to 
which  the  possession  of  a  title  of  some 
sort  is  a  species  of  "open  sesame." 
Sometimes  —  indeed,  frequently  —  the 
amateur  is  in  business  ;  is  a  banker,  or 
an  accountant,  or  "something  in  the 
City."  Sometimes  he  belongs  formally 
to  another  profession  in  which  he*dab> 
bles — that  of  the  Church,  or  medicine, 
or  the  law.  Considerable  is  the  number 
of  beneficed  clergymen  who,  with  a  natu- 
ral desire  to  add  to  their  pecuniar}*  re- 
sources, enter  the  field  against  the  pro- 
fessional man  and  woman  of  letters.  A 
large  proportion  of  the  fiction  of  to-day 
is  written,  as  everybody  knows,  by  bar- 
risters. The  army  and  the  navy  are  also 
largely  represented  among  writers  of 
books  and  contributors  to  magazines. 
And — most  unkindest  cut  of  all — the 
gentlemen  of  the  Civil  Service,  for  the 
payment  of  wliose  salaries  we  poor  liter- 
ary folk  arc  taxed,  are  prominent  among 


literary  producers.  Though  a  grateful 
country  employs  (or  believes  it  employs) 
their  energies  from  lo  a  m  to  4  p.m.,  they 
still  have  suflicient  intellectual  and 
physical  force — lucky  men  !— to  turn 
out,  at  their  leisure,  a  remarkable  vari- 
ety of  publications,  on  which,  apparent- 
ly, a  good  deal  of  research  has  been  be- 
stowed. The  public  would  probably  be 
surprised  to  learn  how  many  of  the 
names  best  known  to  them  in  current 
literature  are  those  of  men  who  draw 
comfortable  salaries  from  the  public 
purse. 

I  am  not  complaining  of  all  this. 

Literature  is  the  most  democratic  of  in- 
stitutions, and  its  ranks  are  necessarily 
recruited  from  all  quarters.   I  do  not 
for  a   moment  argue  that  literature 
should  be  produced  only  by  a  literary 
class  or  caste.   We  must  welcome  it, 
when  it  is  worthy  of  welcome,  from 
whatever  source  it  comes.    The  country 
is  no  doubt  advantaged  in  the  long  run 
by  the  cerebral  activity  of  all  sections  of 
the  people.    The  result  is  an  enormous 
quantity  of  output ;  but  that,  no  doubt, 
does  but  supply  more  chances  of  discov- 
ering  what  genius  and  talent  we  have  at 
our  command.    In  the  same  way,  it  is 
doubtless  to  the  interest  of  the  public 
that  its  primers  and  manuals,  its  '*  popu- 
lar" books,  and  so  forth,  should  be  writ- 
ten by  experts,  rather  than  by  those  who 
simply  **gct  up'*  a  subject  by  way  of 
business. 

My  present  object  is  merely  to  point 
to  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  to  warn  the 
literary  aspinint  accordingly.    All  the 
gates  are  thronged  with  suitors.  There 
IS  no  longer,  in  effect,  a  literary  class. 
Everybody  writes.    There  is  fierce  com- 
petition on  every  side,    I  do  not  say 
that  an  unmarried  literary  man,  if  fairly 
strong,  industrious,  and  competent,  can- 
not contrive  to  keep  going  and  make 
ends  meet  ;  but  even  he  will  find,  as  he 
grows   older,  that  the  strain  grows 
greater — that  he  has  more  competitors, 
fewer  opportunities,  and  less  energy  to 
bestow  upon  his  work.    As  for  the  mar- 
ried man,  for  h\in  <  f  course  the  stram  is 
all  the  more  intense,  because  of  his 
heavier  responsibilities.   He  and  his 
must  live  ;  and  to  gain  money  he  must 
write,  or  compile,  or  translate,  or  edit— - 
if  he  can  get  the  employment— m  tne 
midst,  too  often,  of  domestic  tnals  ana 
his  own  ill  health.    This,  ncce5sanl>.  is 
fatal  to  good  work  ;  and  in  »»y 


Google 


126 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


means,  sooner  or  later,  intellectual  as 

well  as  physical  breakdown. 

I  am  aware  that  a  certain  number  of 
literary  men  and  women  are  at  this  mo- 
ment making  handsome  incomes  out  of 
the  supply  of  fiction.  Fiction  is  the 
one  product  which  pays  many  people 
■well.  A  few  arc  amas:>ing  fortunes  by 
it.  liut  reputations,  alter  waxing,  wane  ; 
and  the  popular  novelists  of  to-day  are 
Tint  always  the  popular  novelists  of  to- 
morrow. They  arc  apt  to  be  elbowed 
out  of  the  way  by  newer  and  robuster 
favourites.  Prices  are  apt  to  go  down 
ns  rapidly  as  they  have  gone  up,  and  the 
gods  and  goddesses  of  the  day  licJurc 
yesterday  are  in  some  instances  cast 
into  outer  darkness  The  remarkable 
present-day  vogue  of  the  novelist  will, 
we  may  expect,  tempt  many  a  young 
writer  to  devote  himself  to  iaiavcinativc 
work  ;  but,  however  clever  that  writer 
may  be,  he  may  find  himself  stranded 
before  long.  The  competition  is  strenu- 
ous ;  and  the  fortunes,  after  a'l,  are 
made  only  by  the  few.  In  tiie  lower 
ranks  of  fiction-writing  the  remunera- 
tion is  akin  to  that  of  tlie  penny  a-liner  ; 
and  few  occupations,  probably,  arc  more 
dreary. 

Tlie  young  man  who  thinks  to  live  by 
"  literature"  must  bear  in  mind  that  the 
profession  has  scarcely  any  "prizes," 
and  that,  save  to  a  handful,  it  presents 
no  prospect  of  "  peace  and  plenty"  in 
old  age.  All  that  llic  hard-working  ///- 
Uraieux  can  hope  for  is  that  some  day  he 
may  secure  a  permanent  appointment  as 
reader  or  editor,  or  both,  to  a  firm  of 
publishers.  He  might  be  glad  to  accept 
a  librarianship  ;  but  posts  of  that  sort 
are  withheld  from  him  because  he  has 
had  no  "  previous  experience"  of  their 
not  very  mysterious  duties.  In  the 
event  of  illness  or  other  misfortune,  he 
has  in  England  only  the  '*  Royal  Liter- 
ary Fund"  to  resort  to ;  and  then  he 
must  needs  go  cap  in  hand  and  sue  in 
forma  pauperis  ^  disclosing  all  his  private 
griefs,  with  the  result,  I  fear,  that  he 
will  receive  only  a  pittance  sttfficient  to 
stave  o£f  the  more  pressing  claims  upon 
him,  but  not  sufficient  to  set  him  wholly 
on  his  legs  again.  So  far  as  I  know, 
there  is  no  institution  from  which  a  lit- 
crarj'  man  can  obtain  a  loan  which  might 
enable  him  to  bridge  over  a  period  of 
calamity.  There  is  nothing  for  him  to 
do  but  to  apply  to  the  Literary  Fund, 
and  so  pauperise  himself  entirely.  I  am 


assuming,  you  observe,  that  untoward 
causes  have  prevented  him  from  "lav- 
ing up"  for  the  rainy  day. 

Still  more  melancholy  is  the  outlook 
for  the  HtcrafTi'  man's  widow  wliu  fus 
been  left,  unhappily,  without  any  means 
of  support.  The  annual  list  e>f  j^ensions 
on  the  Civil  List  will  show  the  literary 
aspirant  at  a  glance  what  he  iias  to  ex- 
pect in  that  quarter.  Of  how  many 
working  men  of  letters  liave  the  widows 
been  endowed  from  the  Civil  JList  dur- 
ing tlie  existence  of  the  fund  ?  It  does 
not  matter  how  distinguished  or  how 
numerous  may  be  the  signatures  z\- 
tached  to  a  peiiiion  ;  by  some  peculidi 
dispensation  the  pensions  do  not  often 
go  to  the  reallv  destitute,  and  they  go 
but  rarely  indeed  to  the  relicts  of  the 
men  of  letters  by  profession. 

All  this  tends  to  the  one  conclusion— 
that  no  one,  however  gifted,  however 
strong,  however  active,  should  depend 
upon  "  literature"  for  his  daily  bread, 
or  for  the  daily  bread  of  those  dear  to 
him.    Literature  cannot  be  cultivated 
upon  a  little  oatmeal  when  there  is  more 
than  one  mouth  to  feed.     Sir  Walter 
Scott  was  right  when  he  said  that  litera- 
ture was  a  good  crutch,  but  a  bad  stafi. 
The  staff  must  be  sought  elsewhere,  and 
preferably  in  a  calling  which  makes  lit- 
tle demand  upon  the  mind  or  the  phy- 
sique.   Literature  is  best  followed,  as 
Helps  wrote  his  Essays,  "in  the  inter- 
v.il^  of  business."    Lucky  is  the  man  of 
literary  taste  and power  who  can  devote 
his  leisure  to  the  pursuit  lie  loves  !  1' 
is  from  such  conditions,  undoublediy. 
that  the  best  results  a'rise. 

There  is  always,  of  course,  the  alter- 
native of  Journalism.  The  young  man 
who  either  cannot,  or  will  not,  devote 
most  of  his  time  to  the  ledger,  and  has 
a  similar  distaste  for  the  "  learned"  or 
mechanical  professions,  usually,  if  tiff 
ink  has  got  into  his  blood,  turns  to  news- 
paper wr.rk  for  the  means  of  l!velihoo<i 
which  **  literature' '  refuses  to  him.  Thai, 
practically,  is  inevitable.  Journalism  fur- 
nishes the  bread  and  butter  of  many 
whose  hearts  are  really  in  the  produc- 
tion of  a  higher  class  of  literary  matter. 
Unfortunately,  it  is  a  hard  taskmaster, 
and  it  is  jealous  of  all  rivals.  Its  re- 
wards, save  in  exceptional  cases,  are 
small,  and  it  is  apt  to  sap  the  energies, 
mental  and  physical,  of  all  but  the  most 
robust.  Good  incomes  are  derived  from 
it,  but  only  through  the  expenditure  of 


.  kj . o  i.y  Google 


A  UTBRARY  JOURNAL 


"7 


much  intellectual  and  bodily  force.  In 
general,  I  think  I  may  say,  it  leaves  a 
man  little  time  and  still  less  inclination 
to  tread  the  loftier  paths  of  literary' 
effort.  Many  a  fine  intellect  has  been 
frittered  away  upon  it.  Journalism  is 
relentless  in  its  demands  upon  the  best 
capacity  of  those  who  follow  it.  And, 
in  the  end,  when  the  ability  to  supply 
^ood  work  is  not  what  it  was,  the  un- 
happy newspaper  man — if  he  has  not 
been  in  a  position  to  exercise  the  virtue 
of  thrift — has  nothing  to  look  forward 
to  but  such  assistance  as  the  Newspaper 
Press  Fund  may  be  good  enough  to  dole 
out  to  him. 

I  adopt,  of  set  purpose,  a  pessimistic 
tone.    Tliere  has  been  a  great  deal  of 


talk,  of  late,  of  the  large  pecuniaj^  gains 
of  literature  and  joumalism.   The  talk 

is  true  of  a  limited  number  r  f  r  pie  ; 
it  is  absolutely  untrue  even  of  the  aver- 
age "successful"  man.  Young  mende- 
sirous  of  embracing  a  literary  career 
ought  to  be  told  the  truth.  It  is  a  raret^r 
demanding  wide  knowledge,  good  health, 
great  industry,  and,  above  all,  consid- 
erable fortitucic  ;  save  in  a  few  instances, 
it  yields  a  monetary  return  comparative- 
ly small.  It  is  a  very  harassing  occupa- 
tion,  and  especially  so  where  the  wri- 
ter's domestic  circumstances  are  unfa- 
vourable. It  is  a  trying  business  at  the 
best,  and,  at  the  worst,  deplorable. 

Jiawt^ort  Adams. 


PARIS  LETTER. 


Mr.  Benson  has,  I  see,  been  attacked 

for  writinc;^  somewhere  that  Lord  Ten- 
nyson was  not  a  man  of  agreeable  man- 
ners. I  do  not  see  why  even  the  most 
ardent  admirer  of  the  hite  T^aureatc's 
work  should  object  to  such  a  statement, 
which  in  no  way  diminishes  the  glory  of 
his  hero's  genius.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
Mr.  Benson  only  wrote  what  was  quite 
true.  Like  most  men  who  have  studied 
closely  the  human  heart,  Lord  Tenny- 
son was  a  misanthrope,  and  that  he  was 
so  is  only  a  proof  that  his  study  bad 
been  well  directed. 

I  was  talking  about  this  the  other  day 
at  my  mother's  house,  and  she  told  me 
of  the  first  occasion  on  which  she  met 
Tennyson.  That  was  more  than  forty 
years  ago.  Tennyson  was  then  living 
with  his  wife  and  a  lml>y — ^the  present 
Lord  Tennyson — at  a  house  in  Twicken- 
ham, "  a  gloomy  house,  surrounded  by 
trees.*'  My  mother  and  old  Mrs.  Words- 
worth were  staying  in  the  neighbour- 
hood with  Mrs.  (afterwards  Lady)  Ta}'- 
lor,  a  daughter  ot  Lord  Mounteagle's 
and  the  wife  of  Henry  Taylor,  who  was 
a  poet  him«>elf  and  wrote  a  life  of  Philip 
van  Artcvcldte.  The  Taylors  knew  the 
Tennysons,  and  Mrs.  Taylor  had  taken 
Miss  Wordsworth  to  see  the  new  Laure- 
ate. "  We  were  received  by  Mrs.  Ten- 
nyson, but  the  poet  did  not  appear  until 
Mrs.  Taylor  had  asked  that  he  mij^ht  be 
lent  for.  i-ie  came  into  the  room  look- 
tag  very  gloomy,  and  only  spoke  in 


monosyllables.    Mrs.  Taylor,  who  was 

a  brip^ht,  vivacious  Irish  woman,  rallied 
him  on  his  moroseness.  '  One  would 
say,  Mr.  Tennyson,'  she  said,  '  that  you 
are  not  pleased  tu  see  us.*  *  I  don't 
think  you  would  be  pleased  to  see  visit' 
ors,*  cried  Tennyson,  '  if  you  hired  the 
Times  for  one  hour  a  day,  and  the  visit- 
ors just  came  during  that  hour.'  Mrs. 
Taylor  then  said,  '  And  you  never  come 
to  see  us,  though  you  know  how  Mrs. 
Wordsworth  likes  to  see  you.  We  come 
here  four  times  to  one  call  from  you.* 
'It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk,'  said 
Tennyson,  morosely.  '  You  have  only  to 
order  your  horses  to  be  put  in  and  to 
drive  over  here.  When  I  come  to  see  you, 
I  have  to  go  to  the  expense  of  a  cab  or  a 
railway  ticket. '  He  afterwards  left  the 
room,  leaving  me  very  abashed,  for  he 
had  taken  no  notice  whatever  of  me. 
Mrs.  Tennyson  noticed  my  condition, 
and  came  and  sat  by  me  and  spoke  very 
kindly  to  me.  Mr.  Tennyson  was  not 
well,  she  said  ;  he  suffered  from  bilious- 
ness, and  his  manners  that  day  meant 
nothing.  She  was  sorry  that  I  had  come 
just  that  day,  because  when  Tennyson 
was  in  a  good  humour  he  was  so  de- 
lightful. •  You  cannot  imagine,  my 
dear,  how  pleasant  it  is  to  hear  him 
read  his  poetry  aloud.  He  reads  it  so 
beautifully.'  She  went  on  to  say  that 
he  was  a  most  g;ood-hearted  man  and  a 
most  atfectionate  father.  As  we  were 
driving  home,  I  told  Mrs.  Taylor  what 


Digitized  by  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


Mrs.  Tennyson  had  said  to  me,  and  she 
said,  *  Uh,  yes,  Tennyson  is  a  model  fa- 
ther. If  the  baby  is  heard  crying  it  b 
Tennyson  who  rushes  up  to  the  nursery 
to  comfort  it,  not  Mrs.  Tennyson,  and 
he  spends  most  of  his  tine  cyver  his  son's 
cradle.  And  I  hope,'  she  added,  'that 
the  baby  won't  erow  up  to  be  ;i  yellow 
man,  though  I  fear  he  niay,  ab  Tenny* 
son  smolces  his  pipe  all  the  time  he  is  in 
the  nursery,  and  envelops  his  heir  in 
clouds  of  smoke.'  "  This  was  Miss 
Wordsworth's  account  of  her  first  inter* 
view  with  the  late  Laureate. 

I  remember  now  that  my  father  used 
to  telt  me  that  when  he  was  a  boy  he 
once  met  Tennyson  at  a  dinner-party, 
and  that  he  was  very  frightened  at  his 
appearance.  Tennyson  was  at  that  time 
very  sallow,  almost  yellow,  and  had  long 
black  hair.  At  dessert  the  poet  bent 
across  the  table  and  addressed  my  fa- 
ther,  in  front  of  whom  was  placed  a  dish 
of  fruit,  and  said  :  "  Evolve  me  an 
apple."  "  I  did  not  know  what  he 
wanted  me  to  do,'*  said  my  father. 

I  see  that  the  proprietors  of  J^tit 
JourtuU  in  Paris  have  started  a  competi- 
tion for— we  won't  say  novelists,  but 
writers  of  fiction  available  for  publica- 
tion in  serial  form.  The  hitrhest  prize 
is  to  be  a  sum  of  tifty  thousand  francs. 
I  do  not  gather  that  the  competition  is 
exclusively  restricted  to  French  citizens, 
but  it  probably  is,  as  Petit  Journal  is 
nothing  if  not  Chauvin.  In  any  case  an 
English  novelist  would  be  ill-advised  in 
competing.  Ttie  French  Jeuiiletony  such 
as  would  M  suitable  for  a  paper  like  JU 
Petit  Journal,  is  an  article  of  manufac- 
ture tor  which  a  long  apprenticeship  and 
a  very  intimate  knowledge  of  the  liter- 
ary taste  of  the  French  masses,  a  trifle 
less  vulgar,  if  far  more  sentimental  than 
the  English,  are  necessary,  and  how  very 
few  succeed  in  this  branch  of  manufac- 
ture  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  not  more 
than  ten  writers  have  contributed  Jeuille- 
ions  to  Le  Petit  JourntU  for  the  last  ten 
years.  Till  now  manuscripts  submitted 
to  the  editor  have. always  been  read  by 
Mme.  Marinoni,  who,  of  the  working 
classes  herself,  is  a  good  judge  of  what 
appeals  to  them,  and  it  is  a  fact  that  this 
lady,  who  always  reads  the  manuscripts 
in  bed,  gives  them  her  most  careful  at* 
tention.  The  writer  who  can  succeed  in 
moistening  the  reader's  eyes  stands  a 
good  chance  of  success,  but,  of  course, 
the  villain  must  be  able  to  baffle  the  ex- 


amining  magistrate  till  the  very  last 
chapter.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the 
literary  quality  of  the  fet^Uletons  pub- 
lished in  Le  Petit  Journal,  they  have  at 
least  the  merit,  rare  in  these  days  io 
France,  of  being  decent  in  tone. 

On  the  part  of  the  proprietors  of  this 
journal  the  institution  of  this  competi- 
tion is,  doubtless,  dictated  by  a  desire 
to  reduce  expenses,  the  prices  charged 
for  their  stories  by  the  writers  who  till 
now  have  exclusively  occupied  the  res- 
de-tkaussie  of  the  Petit  Journal  being  ex- 
orbitant. Tenpence  a  line  is  the  usual 
rate,  and  Ricbebourg,  Man,-  and  Dc 
Mont^pin  get  from  jQ^ooo  to  ^4000  for 
mere  serial  rights.  I  expect  that  the 
management  of  Le  Petit  Journal  have 
calculated  that  one  efifect  of  this  com* 
petition  may  be  to  bring  down  their 
prices. 

The  anarchists  have  often  been  chal- 
lenged to  State  what  kind  of  a  society 
they  propose  to  put  in  the  place  of  the 
society  they  are  so  anxious  to  destroy. 
M.  Jean  Grave  has  accepted  this  dial* 
lenge,  and  has  just  published,  through 
Tresse  and  Stock,  in  their  Sociological 
Library  Series,  a  book  called  La  Sociiti 
Future,  in  which  he  depicts  society  as  it 
will  be,  after  le  grand  soir  has  cleared 
away  existing  social  institutions.  The 
picture—to  me,  at  least— is  not  a  very 
attractive  one ;  but  I  must  say  that  I 
greatly  admire  Jean  Grave's  couraee. 
He  has  just  come  out  of  prison,  after 
having  served  part  of  the  sentence  of 
two  years'  imprisonment  to  which  he 
was  condemned  for  writing  La  Soei/U 
Mourante  et  I'Anarchie,  and  from  which 
the  amnesty  released  him,  and  now  once 
more  affronts  the  authorities  with  a  scar- 
let<overed  book.  Jean  Grave  is  a  re- 
markable man,  entirely  self-educated, 
yet  endowed  with  wide  knowledge  and 
an  excellently  convincing  style.  His 
merits  as  a  writer  of  French  prose,  apart 
from  his  political  views,  were  abundant- 
ly testified  to  by  a  number  of  literary 
celebrities  who  were  called  as  witnesses 
for  the  defence  at  his  recent  trial. 

Oscar  Wilde' s  Portrait  of  Dorian  Gray 
has  reached  a  seventh  edition  in  Paris, 
and  is  still  selling  fast.  It  has  been 
hailed  as  a  great  work  of  art  by  ail  the 
French  critics,  and  Octave  Mirbeau, 
who  **  created"  Maeterlinck,  described 
it  as  the  most  powerful  /laidiririe  in  the 
cause  of  morality  which  he  had  ever 
read.   Wilde's  play,  Sabmi,  is  to  be 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


X39 


produced  ftt  th«  Thdltre  Libre  this  win- 

ter. 

Mr,  William  Wordsworth,  late  Presi- 
dent of  Elphinstone  College,  BcMnbay, 
passed  through  Paris  a  few  days  ago,  on 
his  way  to  the  English  Lake  District, 
where  he  proposes  to  spend  a  short  vaca^ 
lion.  Since  his  rrriroment  from  the 
Indian  Educational  Service,  Mr.  Words- 
worth has  been  living  in  Naples.  He  is 
the  author  of  much  unpublished  poetry, 
of  sufficient  merit  to  attract  the  preat 
recommendation  of  Professor  Duwden, 
who  strongly  urged  him  to  accept  an 
offer  from  Macmillan  to  publish  it.  But 
in  fear  of  comparisons  which  might  be 
instituted  between  his  work  and  the 
poems  of  his  grandfather,  he  has  pre- 
ferred to  keep  his  poetry  in  manuscript. 
He  is  by  no  means  the  first  victim  of  a 
celebrated  name. 

George  Du  Maurier  was  a  visitor  to 
Boulogne  the  other  day,  and  was  seen 
loolcingf  at  the  house  in  the  Grande  Rue, 
where  so  many  happy  days  of  his  child- 
hood were  spent.  Mr.  Du  Maurier  is 
spending  his  holidays  at  Folkestone, 
giving  the  finishing  touches  to  The  Mar- 
iians,  and  will  not  return  to  London  till 
about  the  fifteenth  of  next  month.  He 
will  spend  the  winter  at  his  house  in 
Oxford  Terrace,  where  Trilby  was  gen- 
erated. 

In  October  next,  Le  Figaro^  following 

the  lead  of  Le  Gauloit,  will  be  perma- 
nently enlarged  to  six  pages,  mainly  in 
view  of  a  1  a:  g  iy  increased  advertising 
connection.  It  is  proposed  to  give  more 
space  to  fiction,  and  the  enlarged  Fiearo 
will  lead  off  with  a  nom/elte  of  aoout 
twenty  thousand  words  from  the  pen  of 
Alphonse  Daudet,  who  was  one  of  the 
earliest  contributors  to  Villemessant's 
periodical,  at  a  time  when  its  formai  was 
that  of  the  Likrary  World. 

The  importance  attached  by  French 
newspaper  proprietors  to  fiction,  as 
shown  by  the  large  prices  paid  to  au- 
thors lor  serial  rights,  may  be  attributed 
to  the  fact  that  nine  out  of  every  ten 
purchasers  of  a  newspaper  in  France 
take  the  paper  for  the  sake  of  the /euiUe- 
Um^  and  possibly  also  of  the  faitS'tUmrs^ 
or  police-news.  I  have  heard  hundreds 
of  Frenchmen  say,  "  I  only  read  the 
faits-divers  and  the  JeuilUton."  Next  to 
the  feuilletonist,  it  is  the  **  city  editor" 
(in  the  Americp.n  acceptation  of  that 
term)  who  draws  most  money  from  the 
newspaper  cashier.   Pierre  Giffard,  for 


instance,  of  Le  Pttit  Journal^  draws 

j^3ooo  per  annum,  "  besides  his  lines." 

By  "  besides  his  lines"  I  mean  that, 
in  addition  to  his  salary,  he  is  paid  so 
much  a  line  for  everything  he  con- 
tributes to  the  paper.  This  is  the 
usual  arrangement  in  French  newspaper 
offices.  A  man  on  the  staff  of  a  French 
newspaper  gets  a  salary  of  so  much  a 
month,  and,  in  addition  to  this,  he  re- 
ceives so  much  a  line  for  what  he  con- 
tributes, the  salary  being  considered  a 
kind  of  leLainer.  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, French  journalists  are  miserably 
paid,  and,  as  a  consequence,  blackmail- 
ing in  all  its  forms  has  to  be  winked  at 
more  or  less  by  the  newspaper  proprie* 
tors.  On  the  other  hand,  journalism  in 
France  may  lead  a  man  to  the  highest 
places  in  the  State.  In  England  it  seems 
to  lead  many  to  the  Charterhouse,  some 
to  the  Civil  List,  and  only  a  few  to  the 
Consolidated  Funds.  For  instance,  a 
man  lilce  George  Augustus  Sala  in 
France  would  be  allotting  pensions,  not 
receiving  one,  and  a  beggarly  one  at 
that. 

Mme.  Tainc  is  seeing  her  husband's 
memoirs  and  correspondence  through 
the  press.  The  book  is  being  eagerly 
expected,  not  without  trepidation  by 
many  of  the  literary  mountebanks  for 
whom  Taine  had  so  profound  a  con- 
tempt. Taine  was  as  good  a  hater  as  he 
was  a  good  admirer.  To  what  a  point 
he  carried  his  admiration  for  what  he 
considered  good  literary  work  was 
shown  by  the  fact  that  on  his  death-bed 
he  asked  for  the  proofs  of  De  Her^dia's 
poems  to  be  sent  to  him,  as  he  felt  he 
should  not  live  till  the  book  was  pub- 
lished. "And,"  he  said,  "I  want  to 
die  with  a  little  music  in  my^Uirs.'*  On 
the  other  hand,  he  detested  the  Natural- 
ists, and  vowed  that  Zola  should  never 
be  of  the  Academy,  he,  Taine,  being  an 
Academician.  I  greatly  enjoyed  my 
visits  to  the  Rue  Cassette,  and  have 
spent  many  hours  smoking  Taine's 
cigarettes,  of  which  he  had  a  great  sup- 
ply always  at  hanr!,  and  listening  to  his 
conversation  on  men  and  matters  of  let- 
ters. 

I  have  seen  it  stated  in  the  English 
papers  that  Count  Henri  de  Regnier, 
the  poet,  is  engaged  to  be  married  to 
De  Hernia's  daughter,  the  poetess 
daughter  of  a  poet.  This  was  a  report 
started  a  year  ago,  and  is  not  true,  as 
far  as  I  know,  and  my  knowledge  is 


130 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


based  on  what  De  Regnier  himself  told 
me  not  very  long  ago. 

De  Her^dia  was  speaking  the  other 
night  in  my  presence  of  the  "certain- 
ties" for  the  next  elections  at  the  Acad- 
emy, and,  as  I  was  very  glad  to  hear. 


said  that  Andr6  Theuriet  would  soon  be 
wearing  the  palm-embroidered  coat. 
Theuriet  is  iout  indiqu^  for  the  Academy. 

Robert  H.  Sherard. 
123  Boulevard  Magenta,  Paris. 


NEW  BOOKS. 


THE  FIRST  OF  THE  REALISTS.* 

Mr.  Tarver's  volume  is  undeniably  to 
be  ranked  among  the  most  important 
books  of  the  year,  in  that  it  throws  open 


CUSTA%'E  FLAUBERT  AT  THE  AGE  OF  TEN. 


to  English  readers  the  sources  that  give 
a  clear  and  convincing  picture  of  the  per- 
sonality and  genius  of  a  writer  whose 
influence  is  at  the  present  time  para- 
mount in  both  French  and  English  fic- 
tion. The  appearance  of  so  elaborate  a 
work  in  English  is,  in  fact,  itself  a  sig- 
nificant proof  of  the  lasting  power  of  a 
writer  who  may  be  justly  styled  the  im- 
mediate founder  of  the  realistic  school. 

•  Gustave  Flaubert  as  Seen  In  his  Works  and 
Correspondence.  By  John  Charles  Tarver.  New 
York  :  D.  Appleton  '&  Co.  $4.00. 


Historically,  of  course,  realism  in  lit- 
erature is  generally  traced  back  to  Rous- 
seau, who  in  his  Confessions  furnished  a 
suggestion  and  an  example  of  the  tre- 
mendous force  that  exists  in  naked 
veracity  ;  and  the  application  of  this 
idea  to  fiction-writing  is  to  be  found 
primarily  in  the  novels  of  Marie-Henri 
Ueyle  (Stendhal)  and  of  Balzac ;  but 
even  in  Balzac  the  realism  is  often  in 
abeyance  and  the  work  is  coloured  by 
the  glow  of  a  great  and  flaming  imag- 
ination which  throws  upon  the  screen 
figures  larger  than  life  itself,  with  a 
splendid  yet  too  romantic  exaggera- 
tion of  every  trait  of  character,  so  that 
Baudelaire  complains  of  Balzac  that 
in  his  pages  everj'  one,  down  to  the 
very  scullions,  have  genius.  It  is,  there- 
fore, in  Flaubert,  rather  than  in  any  of 
his  predecessors,  that  we  are  to  find  the 
fruition  and  perfection  of  the  realistic 
theory  ;  while  the  influence  of  his  per- 
sonal association,  as  well  as  of  his  pub- 
lished work,  directed  the  early  labours 
of  Tur^enieff,  Daudet,  Maupassant,  and 
£milc  Zola. 

Gustave  Flaubert,  the  son  of  an  emi- 
nent physician  of  Rouen,  possessed  of  a 
moderate  fortune,  with  the  usual  educa- 
tion of  a  gentleman  and  endowed  with 
little  desire  for  a  career  of  physical  activ- 
ity, led  a  life  whose  external  events  give 
little  satisfaction  to  a  biographer  in 
search  of  curious  and  piquant  details. 
Moreover,  Mr.  Tarver,  in  the  volume  now 
before  us,  has  held  strictly  to  the  admira- 
ble theory  sot  forth  in  his  preface,  that 
' '  an  artist's  private  life  should  be  respect- 
ed," especially  "  when  so  many  personal 
acquaintances  are  still  alive  as  in  the 
present  case."  He  has,  therefore,  con- 
fined himself  to  an  attempt  to  set,  as 
vividly  as  possible,  Flaubert's  personal- 
ity before  the  reader,  and  to  produce  a 
satisfactory  and  convincing  study  of  his 
mental  and  literary  development.  For 


Digitized  by  Coogle 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


131 


this  purpose  he  has  drawn  principally 
upon  Flaubert's  own  works  and  upon 
his  most  interesting  personal  corre- 
spondence, of  which  the  /Jition  definitive 
was  published  in  1887  ;  making  use  also 
of  Mme.  Commanville's  introduction  to 
the  first  volume  of  the  letters,  together 
with  the  Sou-'fnirs  LitU'raires  of  Maxime 
Ducamp,  and  the  critical  and  personal 
estimate  written  by  Gny  de  Maupassant. 
These  nntliorities  have  been  thoroughly 
digested,  and  Mr.  Tarver's  own  temper- 
ate and  well-balanced  concltistons  will 
command  the  respect  and,  we  think,  the 
conviction  also  of  the  reader. 

Flaubert's  mental  history  is  a  ver>' 
curious  one.  As  a  boy  he  enjoyed  the 
most  rugged  health,  and  was  a  hand- 
some, sturdy  lad,  as  he  himself  tells 
Mme.  Amoux,  "  fresh,  perfumed,  breath> 
ing  life  and  love  ;'"  and  to  ttie  end  of  his 
career  he  had  a  deep  yearning  for  physi- 
cal beauty. 

'*  I  sboold  Iflce  to  be  ImMtoome,'*  he  wrote  In 

1S46.  *'  to  have  black  curls  fallings  over  my  ivory 
shoulders  liWt-  tlu-  Greek  youths  ;  I  should  like  tn 
strrjni;,  purt-  ;  but  I  look  in  the  glass  and  dis- 
cover myself  to  be  revoltiogly  commoapUce." 

Nor  was  his  mind  less  vigorous  than 
his  body.  Although  at  the  age  of  nine 
years  he  had  not  yet  learned  to  read,  he 
showed  an  eager  interest  in  the  folk-lore 
and  historical  traditions  of  his  province, 
and  from  the  P6re  Mignot,  who  took  a 
fancy  to  the  l>oy,  he  learned  much  of 
good  literature,  while  he  never  grew 
tired  of  listening  to  the  evening  talks  of 
his  father  with  his  fliends,  notmg  down 
with  preci  i'  its  keenness  any  absurdi- 
ties that  marked  their  conversation. 
The  creator  of  Mme.  Bovary  had*  in 
fact,  already  unconsciously  begun  to 
gather  material  for  his  great  drama  of 
provincial  life. 

.\t  the  age  of  twenty-two,  however,  a 
great  crisis  in  his  intellectual  develop- 
ment came  upon  him.  He  was  attacked 
by  an  obscure  form  of  brain  disease, 
perhaps  related  to  epilepsy,  and  on  his 
recovery  irom  its  ravages  was  a  differ- 
ent man.  His  whole  mentality,  as  well 
as  his  physical  appearance,  seemed 
changed.  He  became  strangely  mor- 
Irid,  with  a  sombre  dread  of  some  inde- 
finable disaster.  "  I  am  afraid  of  life," 
he  wrote  to  George  Sand  ;  and  in  spite 
of  three  years  of  uie  most  careful  treat- 
ment he  remained  gloomy,  nervous,  and 
intensely  irritable.    He  describes  his 


morbid  outlook  in  a  very  characteristic 

simile  : 

"  I  ha«i  a  complete  presentiment  of  life.  .  .  . 
It  was  like  a  sickly  smell  of  tookin^  escaping 
through  a  ventilator.  Ooc  does  not  need  to  have 
eaten  to  know  that  h  will  mate  one  tide" 

It  is  believed  by  many  that  this  dis- 
ease, though  it  came  so  early  in  life, 
marks  the  end  of  Flaubert's  creative 
period ;  and  Maxime  Ducamp,  who 
knew  him  more  intimately  than  any 
other  human  being,  asserts  ^though  Mr. 
Tarver  does  not  mention  this)  that  sub- 
stantially all  the  original  part  of  Flau- 
bert's later  work  had  been  conceived  if 
not  actually  sketched  before  this  time. 
However  this  may  l)e,  tlie  seizure  cer- 
tainly arrested  his  mental  development 
and  radically  altered  his  entire  tempera- 
ment ;  and  to  this  also  is  probably  due 
the  lateness  with  which  he  began  the 
actual  work  of  production,  for  his  first 
and  greatest  work.  Ma JaMU  Bovary,  was 
not  ])ublished  until  1S57,  when  the  au- 
thor was  in  his  thirty-seventh  year. 

This  wonderful  novel  was  brought 
forth  with  great  travail  and  mental  an- 

fuish.  To  write  was  indescribably  dif- 
cult  to  Flaubert,  who,  like  Balzac, 

tortured  himself  in  his  devotion  to  Style, 
writing,  rewriting,  excising,  waiting 
hours  for  just  the  right  word  to  come  to 
him,  and  often  at  the  last  ruthlessly  cut- 
ting out  paragraphs  that  had  cost  him  a 
week's  incessant  toil.  In  eight  days  of 
endless  labour,  so  he  tells  a  friend,  he 
had  finished  only  two  pages  ;  and  the 
agony  of  creation  was  intense.  Clothed 
in  a  dressing-eownof  extraordinary  pat- 
tern, he  would  rise  at  four  and  work  till 
ten,  snaxline  like  a  wild  beast  over  his 
de^,  groaning,  chanting  each  phrase  as 
he  finished  it,  and  sometimes,  when  just 
the  ri^ht  phrase  seemed  hopelessly  be- 
yond his  grasp,  bursting  into  howls  of 
despair,  with  lloods  of  passionate  tears. 
But  the  great  reward  came  to  him  at 
last.  Published  in  the  Ra>ue  de  Paris, 
and  then  in  a  book,  Madame  Bovary  be* 
came  the  sensation  of  the  year.  It  was, 
as  a  critic  has  said,  not  a  realistic  novel ; 
it  was,  rather,  realism  itself.  The  vivid- 
ness and  truili  of  its  every  character,  the 
compact  and  muscular  form  in  which  it 
is  cast,  the  absolute  perfection  of  its 
stvlc,  all  raised  it  to  the  rank  of  a  classic 
from  the  moment  of  its  completion. 
Only  one  thing  more  could  possibly  en- 
hance  the  sensation  which  it  produced, 
and  this  one  thing  was  not  wanting.  Dur- 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


iug  the  course  of  its  publication  in  the 
<z^/'0rMthegoverameatauthorities 
had  g^ven  a  formal  warning  to  the  au- 
thor ;  and  now  that  the  book  was  finished 
he  was  prosecuted  for  an  offence  aj^ainst 
morality.  The  prosecution  failed,  and 
only  resulted  m  {fiving  to  the  novel  a  still 
greater  vogue.  Not  many  years  after 
Flaubert  was  decorated  with  the  Legion 
of  Honour. 

Mr.  Tar\'er  furnishes  his  readers  with 
an  admirably  concise  summary  of  the 
plot  of  Madamt  JB^mry  /  and  even  those 
who  well  remember  the  orin^inal  can  read 
unce  more  with  interest  the  story  of  the 
young  woman,  weak,  sentimental,  shal- 
low, who  has  a  yearning  for  things  above 
her  station  and  for  the  experiences  of 
passion,  but  who  is  fated  to  dwell  in  a 
dull  country  town  as  the  wife  of  a  com* 
monplace,  uninteresting  medical  man  ; 
her  successive  lapses  into  vice  ;  her  ex- 
travagance ;  her  rejection  by  both  her 
lovers  ;  the  whole  sordid  tragedy  of  her 
suicide  and  death.  Mr.  Tarvcr  does  well 
to  point  out  the  essential  morality  of  the 
whole  novel,  which  is  in  reality  a  great 
sermon,  a  terrible,  almost  cruel  denun- 
ciation of  sin.  For  Flaubert,  so  far 
from  showing  any  tenderness  to  the 
woman  whose  life  he  limns,  makes  his 
hatred  of  her  at  the  last  startlingly  ap- 
parent. Line  by  line  and  stroke  by 
Stroke  he  accumulates  the  evidence  of 
her  falsity,  of  her  baseness,  of  her  las- 
dviotts  folly,  until  at  the  end  one  shud- 
ders at  his  pitiless  power  and  the  merci- 
less severity  of  his  revelations.  There 
is,  in  fact,  not  a  line  or  a  paragraph  that 
can  allure  to  vice.  One  might  say  a 
priori  that  a  work  which  in  France  fell 
under  the  censure  of  the  official  moralist 
must  indeed  be  bad  ;  but  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  the  real  brunt  of  the  at- 
tack upon  it  was  directed  by  ecclesiasti- 
cal influence  and  inspired  largely  by  the 
horror  which  many  persons  felt  on  read- 
ing a  single  passage— that  last  scene, 
where  Emma,  dying  by  her  own  hand, 
receives  the  extreme  unction  from  the 
priest.  But,  as  Mr.  Tarver  points  out, 
the  language  of  that  passage  is  all  but 
a  literal  translation  of  the  Paris  ritual, 
and  that  "  the  outrage  on  religion  con- 
sists in  the  artistic  skill  with  which  the 
whole  scene  is  led  up  to  and  developed. 
The  incongruity  between  Emma's  life 
and  the  ease  with  which  she  was  accept- 
ed  by  the  Church  in  her  last  moments 
is  brought  into  startling  relief.  •  .  . 


What  was  resented  was  not  Flaubert's 
irreverence,  but  his  stem  severity," 

Mr.  Tarver  translates  the  passage  in 
question  to  illustrate  his  argument.  We 
rrproduce  it  here,  as  showing  better 
than  almost  any  other  the  consummate 
art  of  the  novelist  and  the  compactness 
and  force  of  his  style,  whose  basic  quali- 
ties may  be  felt  even  in  the  English  ver- 
sion. 

' '  The  priest  rose  to  take  the  crucifix  ;  then  she 
stretched  oat  her  neck  like  a  thirsty  man,  audi, 
preMing  her  lips  oa  the  body  of  the  Man^God*  b«> 
stowed  apon  it  with  all  her  dying  strength  the  mo«t 
fervently  loving  kiss  that  she  had  ever  given. 
Then  he  recited  the  Mitereatur  and  the  Ina'u/.:<-n- 
Hum,  clipped  his  right  thumb  in  the  oil  and  hegan 
the  unctions  :  first  on  the  tycs.  which  had  so 
eageriy  coveted  all  the  pomps  of  the  world  ;  thea 
on  the  nostrils,  wkidi  Md  detieatdf  seeated  warn 
brecses  and  tmtuom  oimn ;  then  oa  the  mouib, 
whidi  bad  opened  to  tell  Ue«,  which  had  groaned 
with  pride  and  cried  out  In  debauchery  ;  then  on 
the  hands,  which  had  delighted  in  caresses  ;  and 
lastly  on  the  soles  i  the  feet,  once  so  nimble, 
when  they  ran  to  the  satisfaction  of  their  desirei^ 
•nd  which  woold  Mfsr  walk  again." 

The  whole  death  scene  is  appalling, 
for  Flaubert  pursues  his  victim  after  the 
brrath  leavra  her  body,  and  denies  her 
even  the  solemnity  that  dignifies  other 

deaths.  Her  watchers  quarrel  by  her 
side  ;  eating  and  drinking  make  the  vigil 
grotesque ;  and  her  requfom  is  the  filthy 
song  of  the  horrible  beggar  of  Bois 
Guillaume,  with  the  mask-like  face  and 
the  bleeding  eyes. 

Madame  Bovary  is  a  very  striking  illus- 
tration of  the  difference  between  true  real- 
ism and  the  excesses  of  the  naturalistic 
school.  Everywhere  Flaubert  is  reti- 
cent and  self-restrained.  Take  the  fa- 
mous scene  where  Emma  drives  about 
Ronen  with  L4on  Dupnls  in  the  closed 
cab — a  paragraph  suppressed  on  the  orig- 
inal appearance  of  the  story  in  the  Rtutu 
departs— 9nA  consider  how  a  naturalistic 
novelist  like  Zola  would  have  treated  the 
same  incident.  Instead  of  a  paragraph 
we  should  have  had  a  chapter,  and  wimt 
a  reeking,  unsavourj',  unspeakable  chap- 
ter it  would  have  been  !  Moreover,  Flau- 
bert's merits  are  seen  just  as  truly  in  his 
treatment  of  the  characters  and  events 
that  are  subordinate  to  his  central  theme. 
All  his  provincials — Charles,  the  immor- 
tal Homais,  the  crafty  peddler  Lheu- 
reux,  the  gentleman-farmer  Boul anger, 
the  country  notabilities  St  the  agricul- 
tural show — all  these  and  a  score  of 
others  are  sketched  with  a  wealth  of  in- 
cident fully  equal  to  Balzac's,  and  a 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


fidelity  beyond  even  that  of  the  French 
Shakespeare.  In  every  portion  of  this 
epoch-making  work  Flaubert  is  seen  to 
be  absolutely  apart  from  the  writers  who 
have  abused  and  corrupted  the  example 
of  their  grt-at  master,  and  who,  as  has 
been  strikingly  said,  see  only  the  beast 
in  man,  and  view  humanity  as  "a 
swarming,  huddled  mass  of  growling 
crt  ati.t  i  .  each  houndeci  on  by  his  own 
foul  appetites  of  greed  and  lust." 

It  is  impossible  within  the  compass  of 
A  review  to  dwell  any  longer  upon  Mr. 
Tar\'er's  excellent  work  or  upon  its  sub- 
ject. Suftice  it  to  say  that  he  has  dealt 
with  all  of  Flaubert's  work  in  the  same 
critical  and  sympathetic  spirit,  giving 
the  full  details  that  are  necessary  to  a 
comprehension  of  its  significance.  Es- 
pecially complete  and  satisfactory  will  be 
found  his  account  of  the  circumstances 
of  the  production  of  Sa/ammM^  that  re- 
markable story  of  ancient  Carthage,  so 
interesting  to  the  archaeologist  for  the 
minuteness  and  profundity  of  its  leam- 
ingf  and  for  the  gorgeousness  of  its  imag- 
inative effects.  The  whole  book  is  most' 
cordially  to  be  commended,  as  giving 
the  reader  a  clear  and  accurate  under-^ 
standing  of  the  work  of  one  who  directly 
inspired  a  literary  movement  that  is  the| 
most  vitally  far-reaching  of  any  that  oarj 
century  has  seen. 

Harry  Tkur^on  Peek, 


"  A  Li  i  TLE  GLORY."* 

*'  As  the  air  grew  black  and  the  winter  closed 
fwiflly  around  mc.  the  fluttering  fire  blazed  out 
more  luminous,  and,  arresting  its  fligtlf  bovered 
waiting.  .  .  .  Plainly  a  bird-butterfly,  n flew  widt  a 
certain  twallowy  doable.  Its  wioft  were  Tery 
large,  nearly  square,  and  flashed  all  the  coloon  of 
the  rainbow.  Wondering  at  their  splendour,  I 
became  so  absorbed  in  their  beauty  that  I  stumbled 
over  a  low  ruck  and  lay  stunned.  .  .  .  Fcarinfi 
then  another  iail.  I  sat  down  to  watch  the  little 
glory,  and  a  great  longing  awukc  in  me  to  have  it 
in  my  hand.  To  my  unspeakable  delight,  it  be- 
gan to  sink  towards  ne.  Slowly  at  firit,  then 
swiftly  it  sank,  growing  larger  as  It  came  nearer. 
I  fell  as  if  the  treasure  of  the  universe  were  giving 
itself  to  mc — put  out  my  hand  ui-  d  id  it.  liut 
the  instant  I  took  it  its  light  went  out ;  all  was 
dark  as  pitch  :  a  lieaJ  book  with  boafdf  ovtspread 
lay  cold  and  heavy  in  my  hand. " 

Some  such  catastrophe  as  this  is  the 
Nemesis  of  the  reviewer ;  it  is  especially 
likely  to  overtake  one  who  tries  to  ana- 

*  Lilith  :  A  Romance.  By  George  Macdonald. 
New  York :  Dodd,  Mead  &  Conpany.  $i.ss. 


lyse  and  estimate  such  a  book  as  Lilith^ 
which  should  be  followed  and  not  dis- 
sected ;  yet  that  one  may  stumble 
through  not  taking  heed  to  his  steps, 
even  though  the  way  be  enlightened  by 
the  best  of  books,  is  known  almost  too 
well  by  the  present  reviewer. 

It  was  a  delightful  surprise,  which  one 
scolded  one's  self  for  not  having  antici- 
pated, when  the  book  was  announced 
some  months  ago.  For  to  what  purpose 
has  one  been  a  student  of  an  author 
these  many  years,  comparing  diligently 
rme  book  •vvith  another  and  tracing  the 
meaning  of  a  fairy  tale  amid  the  every- 
day features  of  the  novel,  if  one  could 
not  perceive  that  his  heart  was  full  of 
the  story  of  Lilith,  and  foretell  that  he 
would  one  day  tell  it  in  full  ?  But  no 
prophet  could  have  foretold  the  moment 
at  which  it  would  at  last  reach  us  ! 

It  was  advertised  as  being  like  Phaif 
tasles,  and  so  it  is,  as  the  dreams  of  youth 
resemble  the  visions  of  an  age  which  is 
not  the  second,  but  the  first  and  only, 
the  eternal  childhood.  It  is  curious  to 
note  the  resemblance  and  the  dissimilar- 
ity ;  the  identity  of  the  character  of  the 
several  heroes,  Anodos,  and  Mr.  Vane, 
and  yet  the  growth  by  virtue  of  which 
one  has  become  the  other.  It  would 
scarcely  be  true  to  say  that  Mr.  Vane 
begins  where  Anodos  leaves  off  :  but 
certainly  he  goes  much  deeper  into  the 
eternal  verities  before  leaving  off  in  his 
turn.  The  final  chord  of  the  one  is  that 
of  youthful  expectancy,  "  Some  great 
good  is  coming  to  thee,  Anodos  that 
of  the  other,  "All  the  days  of  my  ap- 
pointed time  will  I  wait  till  my  change 
come,"  and,  '*  man  dreams  and  desires  ; 
God  broods  and  wills  and  quickens." 
But  this  characteristic  is  one  for  which 
the  author  did  by  no  means  plan  ;  it  is 
involuntary  and  inevitable;  and  as  it 
shows  growth  it  proves  life,  and  life 
proves  everything.    And  it  is  all  true  ! 

The  function  of  the  reviewer,  how- 
ever, Is  to  review  and  not  to  rhapsodise. 
Let  us  confess  at  the  outset  that  we 
seriously  object  to  the  hero's  name.  Mr. 
Vane  is  of  the  same  significance,  per* 
haps,  as  Anodos,  but  doe^  not  sound 
nearly  so  well.  And  surely  in  all  the 
tongues  of  this  modem  Babel,  one 
other  besides  Greek  and  English  or 
Latin  could  have  been  found  capable  of 
expressing  the  concept  of  instability  or 
*'  wherelessness."  Also,  at  the  first,  one 
is  rather  repelled  by  the  machtneiy  of 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


the  tale  ;  the  methods  of  rapid  transit 
between  the  worlds  of  three  and  of  seven 
dimensions  seem  unnecessarily  compli- 
cated and  even  undignitied  ;  the  latter 
term  applyincf  particularly  to  the  trans- 
formations ot  Mr.  Raven.  One  is  in- 
clined to  criticise  from  within  as  a  fellow 
of  the  craft,  and  to  say  that  the  author 
was  hampered  by  the  traditions  of  Fhan- 
tastes.  With  a  building  so  infinitely 
broader  and  deeper,  it  had  been  l)ctlcr 
to  construct  a  scaffolding  of  altogether 
a  new  and  different  pattern.  But  from 
the  effort  mentally  to  erect  such  a  scaf- 
folding for  one's  own  satisfaction,  -  'ic 
retired  a  gladder  and  a  wiser  person  with 
the  acquired  knowledge  that  even  the 
scaffold ini^  is  alive  and  growing  with  its 
roots  in  essential  truth.  The  mirror 
which  is  the  doorway  to  Mr.  Raven's 
couutry  Is,  as  he  explains,  "  the  j^erfect 
law  ot  liberty,"  into  which  a  man  passes, 
losing  sight  of  himself  altogether  if  he 
continue  therein.  And  for  the  gro- 
tesquerie,  in  what  other  form  than  the 
grotescjut?  can  eyes  not  fully  open  to  the 
world  of  seven  dimensions  behold  its 
truths?  How,  except  in  terms  of  the 
grotesque,  shall  things  too  wonderful 
for  us  find  expression  ?  Mr.  Vane  was 
at  his  first  meetintj  with  Mr.  Raven  in- 
capable of  seeing  him  as  be  afterwards 
beheld  him  in  his  dream.  It  was  his 
fault,  and  not  Adam's  or  the  author's. 

To  continue  the  comparison  with 
Fhantastis,  one  fancies  the  character- 
drawini^  not  so  indistinct ;  even  Lady 
Mara,  the  Lady  of  Sorrow,  dwelling  in 
the  House  of  Bitterness,  born  to  help 
and  to  bring  home  her  wandering  broth* 
ers  and  sisters,  though  she  explains  and 
justifies  many  traits  of  friends  long  ago 
introduced  to  us  by  Dr.  Macdonald, 
scarcely  impresses  us  with  the  vividness 
of  "  the  old,  old  woman  with  the  young 
eyes,"  through  whose  door  Anodos  went 
out  into  the  Timeless.  But  perhaps  we 
were  younger  then  !  Eve,  the  Lady  of 
the  New  Jerusalem,  is  very  shadowy  in- 
deed, however  beautiful  the  conception. 
And  the  Bags  are  far  iuferit^r  to  the 
Blockheads,  which  would  trample  on  the 
child  who  was  gathering  butterfly  wings 
until  Anodos  stood  them  on  their  heads 
and  left  them  helpless  I 

But  the  fault  of  indistinctness  can  by 
no  means  be  charged  against  Lilith  her- 
self ;  who,  whether  as  vampire,  leopard- 
ess, princess  or  penitent,  is  thrilling 
widi  life  to  the  tii»  of  the  closed  fingers 


under  which  she  has  held  for  thousands 
of  years  the  waters  she  reft  from  the 
desert.  Nor  is  there  in  all  literature — I 
say  it  deliberately,  aware  that  I  am  not 
myself  acquainted  with  all  literature — a 
keener  spiritual  analysis  than  the 
"  punition"  of  Lilith  in  the  house  of 
Mara.  *'  The  worm-thing,  vivid  as  in- 
candescent silver,  the  live  heart  of  essen- 
tial fire,**  which  crept  into  the  being  of 
the  princess  throni^h  the  black  spot  upon 
her  side  ;  the  hair  that  alternately  stood 
out  from  her  head  and  emitted  sparks, 
then  hung  and  poured  the  sweat  of  her 
torture  on  the  floor,  while  as  yet  no 
tears  came  to  her  closed  eyes  ;  the  invisi- 
ble water  which  lifted  and  floated  her, 
the  "  hnrrifile  nothingness,  negation 
positive"  that  enfolded  her,  the  recoii 
from  Death  Absolute,  Annihilation ! 
ITer  trium])h,  when  suddenly  her  eyes 
fixed  in  a  ghastly  stare' '  as  she  beheld, 
cast  from  an  unseen  heavenly  mirror,  the 
relleciion  of  that  which  God  had  meant 
her  to  be  side  by  side  with  what  she  had 
made  herself  ! 

It  is  a  relief  to  turn  from  so  sombre  a 
picture,  though  there  be  hope  beyond 
it,  to  consider  the  lilies  ;  one  would  say, 
**  the  Little  Ones."  Oh  f  the  dear  little 
Lovers  ;  surely  no  one  but  Dr.  Macdon- 
ald ever  succeeded  in  photographing 
essential  childhood  \  And  oh,  the  Mr. 
Vanes  of  this  world  who  would  use  the 
Little  Ones  for  conquest  and  the  founda- 
tion of  empires.  For  the  benediction  of 
childhood  is  to  aid  in  the  redemption  of 
the  world,  not  by  doing,  but  by  being. 
The  Little  Ones  are  indispensable  to  the 
story,  not  because  Lilith  would  have  de- 
voured  them,  but  because  it  is  a  story 
of  seven  dimensions,  which  is  the  meas- 
ure of  the  real.  And  it  is  with  a  sense 
of  discord  that  we  return  to  the  world 
of  shams,  of  masks  and  no  faces  under 
them  ;  a  world  which  puts  the  shadow 
for  the  substance,  unaware  of  that  other 
world  touching  it,  where  the  dimensions 
are  only  two,  the  world  under  the  do- 
minion of  the  great  shadow. 

It  is  well  to  be  reminded  of  the  being 
of  that  world  where  dwell  Mr.  Raven 
and  the  Lady  of  Sorrow  ;  that  world  but 
for  the  existence  of  which  Thoreau 
would  have  "  moved  out  of  Concord 
the  world  whose  trees  giuw  up  from  the 
ruins  of  our  ancient  churches  and 
through  our  kitchen  chimneys,  while 
our  wedding  marches  add  to  the  per- 
fume of  their  rose  trees.   Some  of  those 


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A  UTEKARY  JOURNAL 


135 


who  were  accustomed  to  worship  in  the 
ruined  church  go  there  still,  needing 
**  help  from  each  other  to  pfct  their 
thinkinj^  done  and  their  feelings  hatch- 
ed.'* But  they  have  found  that  each 
can  best  prny  in  his  own  silent  heart. 
And.  the  prayers  are  living  things,  birds 
or  flowers. 

15 ut  one  must  really  take  some  ac- 
count of  space  if  not  of  time  ;  and  re- 
viewing Ulith  is  like  reviewing  an 
Apocalypse.  Those  who  live,  or  at  least 
some  nf  them,  as  well  as  those  who  are 
only  coming  alive,  will  understand  Lilith 
• —  not  all  of  them.  There  are  many  true 
souls  for  whom  it  is  written  in  a  ton^-iic 
not  undcrstandcd  of  the  people  ;  and  to 
the  Greeks  it  will  be  foolishness,  to  the 
wise  of  this  world  sound  signifying 
nothing.  But  to  others  its  song  is  the 
old,  old  song  : 

"  Tbe  sun  ut  spinning  their  threada. 
And  tbe  clouds  are  the  dust  that  flies. 

And  tlie  suns  are  weavinj;  ihem  up 

For  ihc  time  when  the  sleepers  shall  rise. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Oh.  the  dews  and  the  moths  and  the  daisy  red, 
The  larks  and  the  glimmers  and  flows, 

The  lilies  and  sparrows  and  daily  bread, 
Aiut  tht  JomitAing  that  nobody  knotut'^ 


FIONA  MACLEOD 

Let  us  regard  Fiona  Macleod's  Fharais 
and  7!il^AfMiJ»AfM  Ztfiwrr  as  experiments, 
and  this  not  merely  in  concession  to  our 
halting  and  wavering  judgments.  The 
initiator  of  a  movement  is  entitled  to 
gratitude  over  and  above  that  which  the 
success  achieved  may  entitle.  These 
particular  books  have  something  in  them 
which  must  attract  certain  tempera- 
ments, and  which,  as  certainly,  will 
repel  others.  Let  the  experimenter's 
honour,  at  least,  be  claimed  for  Fiona 
Macleod.  Untempered  praise  is  com- 
fortless. Let  us  be  content  to  be  inter- 
ested, to  be  charmed  very  often,  and  to 
wait  for  more.   It  may  be  for  Fiona 

*  Pharais.  By  Fiona  Madeod.  CUoigo: 
Stone  ft  KimbaH.    $  i .  2  5  net. 

The  Mountain  Lovers.  By  Flooa  Madeod. 
Boston:  RoberuBros.  $i.oa 


Macleod  we  are  waiting,  it  may  be  for 
some  one  else.  We  have  been  waiting 
long.  Taking  the  books  at  their  lowest 
estimate,  then,  as  experiments,  they  are 
attempts  to  reveal  the  heart  of  a  foreign 
country  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  a 
tract  of  Scottish  territory  in  which  Mr. 
Barrte  and  Mr.  Crockett  are  aliens  as 
much  as  arc  tlie  dwellers  across  the  Scot- 
tish border,  a  country  of  a  difierent  lan- 
guage, and  of  a  different  accent  and 
vocabulary  when  it  uses  its  neighbour's 
tongue  ;  to  a  larp^e  extent  of  a  different 
religion,  different  ideas,  ditlerenl  (and 
fewer)  aptitudes ;  a  country  in  which, 
since  bardic  days,  poetry  has  expressed 
itself  but  seldom  in  written  words,  the 
home  of  a  people  at  once  highly  poeti* 
cal  and  unliterary,  Tourists  with  a  turn 
for  fiction  have  travestied  their  speech 
and  character ;  immediate  neighbours, 
between  whom  and  themselves,  even  in 
these  peaceful  days,  there  is  a  tacit  feud, 
have  found  in  them  endless  materials 
for  jokes.  Their  history  and  legend 
have  been  told  over  and  over  ac^ain  l)y 
appreciative  outsiders,  but  seldom  with 
the  native  flavour.  Their  poetry  is  lost, 
or  untranslated,  or  dishonoured  by 
vague  and  mawkish  English  words ; 
their  music  given  to  the  wmds  to  keep, 
the  winds  that  made  it.  Scott,  the 
Borderer,  skirted  the  country,  and,  poet 
that  he  was,  in  a  chapter  or  two,  a  char- 
acter or  two,  more  especially  in  a  song 
or  two,  spoke  out  its  heart.  Stevenson, 
Lowlander  of  the  Lowlanders,  by  his 
genius  and  sympathy  was  inspired  to 
make  Alan  Breck — as  Loti,  an  alien  in 
Brittany,  made  for  himself  and  us  a 
friend  in  Hon  Fr^e  Yves.  For  the  rest 
the  Celtic  Scot,  or  more  correctly — for 
this  is  no  mere  question  of  race,  and  the 
Celts  are  everjrwhere,  but  of  environ' 
ment,  history,  and  local  circumstance^ 
the  Scottish  Highlander  is  unknown 
siill,  till  he  travels,  and  amalgamates, 
and  leavens  the  race  he  mates  with. 
He  is  not  altogether  to  be  read  in  his 
more  articulate  Irish  brother  ;  he  has  a 
mind  and  character  widely  differing 
frm  his  Welsh  and  Breton  cousins, 
though  all  the  family  records  concern 
him.  The  notable  attempt  made  by 
Macpherson  in  the  htst  century  had  its 
ludicrous  sides,  which  help  to  explain 
some  of  the  ridicule  it  excited  in  the  lit- 
erary England  ruled  by  the  prejudices 
as  well  as  the  powers  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
and  though  tbe  BartUngebriUl  it  gave 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


rise  to  in  Gennany  was  sometimes  fool- 
isbf  yet  Ossian,  sham  and  real,  was  to 
Goethe  an  inspiration.   Its  spirit  trav< 

elled  throughout  Europe  with  a  speed 
and  force  that  almost  stamp  the  later 
English  poetry— save  Byron*s — as  in- 
sular, by  contrast.  The  modern  poetry 
of  nature  owes  it  an  unpjt  vable  debt,  and 
to  every  Celtic  lieart  ti  c  Ossian  rhap- 
sodies have  a  reality. 

The  talent  or  the  ambition  to  express 
himself  has  been  hitherto  much  lacking 
in  the  Highlander,  and  perhaps  poetry 
would  be  the  form  most  natural  to  him. 
But  Fiona  Macleod  has  made  the  at* 
tempt  in  a  Icind  of  poetic  fiction.  She 
attempts,  perhaps  luckily,  little  in  the 
way  of  plot  or  circumstance  of  time 
more  definite  than  this  in  Th€  Mountain 
Levers: 

*'  Ttie  tn«le  etid  of  AaatMl  Gih;1iri$t.  tiie  doom 

that  had  fulfilled  itself  for  Torcall  Cameron  ;  what 
was  either  but  apiece  with  the  passing  of  the  an- 
cient language,  though  none  wished  it  to  go ; 
with  the  exile  of  the  sons,  though  they  would 
fsiallveaod  die  where  their  fatbm  wooed  their 
mothem ;  with  tlie  oomiiic  of  stnuifen  and  strange 
ways,  and  •  new bewftdenng death  cold  spirit,  that 
h  i  J  M  respect  for  the  green  graves,  and  jeered 
h.1  a.;iticnt  things  and  the  wisdom  of  the  old — 
strangers  whom  none  h;id  si night,  none  wished, 
and  whose  coming  meant  the  going  of  even  the 
few  hill-folk  who  prospered  in  the  Machar,  the 
feriite^peMlowK  aod  putores  aloof  the  monntain 

The  ancient  language  has  been  pass- 
ing long ;  the  sons  began  to  wander 

long  ago.  Any  time  from  the  memor- 
able 1845  to  the  tourist-ridden  present 
would  serve  as  date.  And  the  story 
would  fit  any  age.  Two  young  lovers 
separated  by  the  feuds  of  their  houses, 
two  old  ones  bv  the  hate  bred  by  love 
wrongped  and  distorted,  and  the  irre- 
sponsible influence  on  their  lives  of  a 
child  and  a  dwarf  with  a  half-developed 
mind — there  is  little  more  in  it.  The 
dwarf's  search  for  his  soul,  the  child's 
ranks  and  elhn  singing,  love-making, 
irth,  peaceful  and  tragic  death,  such 
are  the  human  contents  of  the  tale, 
which  has  less  interest  as  a  story  than 
as  the  fulfilment  of  an  intention.  The 
incidents  and  characters  are  there  to 
mark  a  spirit,  the  spirit  of  a  humanity 
that  has  needed  no  luxurious  epoch,  lit- 
tle intellectual  or  priestly  training  to 
purify  its  soul,  that,  in  its  best  instances, 
save  under  strong  excitements,  is  ten- 
der, mild,  religious,  and  poetical,  and 
living  itt  near  and  sensitive  intimacy 


with  nature.  So,  at  least,  in  Th^-  Afvun- 
tain  Lovers  does  Fiona  Macleod  read  the 
Highland  character  and  genius  with 
greater  power  than  in  Pharais.  The 
strongest  of  all  the  Celtic  passions,  the 
love  for  earth  and  sky,  may  exist  with- 
out  much  first-hand  observation  of  na- 
ture, may  be  expressed  by  rhapsodies 
that  could  not  be  disentangled  into  the 
components  of  their  inspiration  ;  but 
Fiona  Macleod  does  mA  run  this  dan- 
ger. Here,  first  of  all,  has  she  attained 
to  genuine  power.  One  thing  we  have 
noted  with  doubt.  It  is  more  a  query 
than  a  criticism.  There  is  a  note  in  her 
writing  which  sounds  particularly  mod- 
ern— the  cry  of  the  woman  for  her  bur- 
den. Is  this  a  Celtic  revival  ?  Or  mere- 
ly a  rather  incongruous  bonowing  from 
present  discontents  ?  This  descent  of 
the  Scandinavian  pirate  on  the  isles  is, 
however,  an  interesting,  if  inharmonious 
disturbance  of  the  spirit  of  both  books. 

Her  story  no  more  purposes  to  reveal 
the  whole  character  of  the  Highland 
Celt  than  does  Hermemm  ami  Dffrotktm^ 
for  instance,  purpose  to  summarise  the 
Teuton.  It  breathes  merely  of  their 
poetical  sense  and  their  affections.  And 
the  writer  is  not  to  blame  if  a  suscepti- 
ble Southern  reader  go  in  vain  search  of 
Oona  and  Alan  and  Sorcha,  in  his  au- 
tumn holiday,  and  find  only  persons  of 
ver>'  different  pattern.  The  Highlander 
of  to-day,  as  of  yesterday,  has  such 
threads  in  his  character,  and  for  the 
purposes  of  pastora'  portryand  of  fairy- 
tale they  are  fitting,  besides  forming  an 
effective  contrast  to  the  shrewdness,  the 
sternness,  the  hard  energy,  of  the  Scot 
portrayed  in  popular  Lowland  fiction. 
We  do  not  moan  over  what  she  has 
omitted.  She  has  led  the  way  ;  and  in 
further  developments  the  music  of  the 
strathspey  may  mingle  with  the  love- 
song  and  the  coroni^  ;  we  may  catch 
glimpses  of  a  more  whole  and  varied 
Highlander  than  she  has  given  us — both 
wild  and  mild  ;  humorous  and  morose ; 
gentle  and  fanatic  ;  enthusiast  and 
pagan;  fiddler,  dreamer,  and  dancer; 
demonstrative  to  shame  any  decent  Eng- 
lishman, and  with  reserves  deep  as  the 
gullies  in  his  hills  ;  frugal,  enduring, 
patient ;  endlessly  indolent,  suddenly 
fierce.  Modem  life  has  reached  him 
now  and  remade  him  partly,  but  the  re- 
making is  still  only  skin  deep. 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  LlTtRARY  JOURNAL. 


137 


CERVANTES.* 

Mr.  Watts  must  be  counted  among 
the  happy  men,  for  he  has  been  loyal  to 
an  enthusiasm  for  a  great  man  and  a 
^reatbook  ;  he  has  spent  years  of  labour 
in  making  the  s^lory  uf  tliese  shine  bright- 
er, and  has  never  once  dishonoured  their 
grreat  names  by  slovenliness  or  pedantry. 
About  the  worth  of  such  work  as  his 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  the  legions 
of  writers  of  feeble  ori^nalities  might 
well  envy  him.  His  reward  he  may 
never  entirely  reap  ;  but  one  would  hope 
that  frequent  rumours  might  reach  him 
of  fires  lit  by  him  in  other  hearts,  or  of 
smouldering  ashes  rekindled  by  the 
torch  of  his  enthusiasm.  We  have 
few  good  translators  to-day,  and  Mr. 
Watts  deserves  a  clearer  cnrnmendation 
than  being  named  in  the  tirst  rank.  His 
Don  Quixote  is  among  the  notablest  ren- 
derings of  foreign  classics  that  England 
has  ever  produced.  We  have  ail  read 
the  immortal  book  in  other  versions, 
Shelton's,  if  we  were  fortunate,  or  Mot- 
teux's,  or  Jarvis's,  and,  even  if  we  are 
not  Spanish  scholars,  we  did  not  need 
to  wait  for  Mr.  Watts  to  see  the  wit  and 
the  beauty  of  the  romance.  But  he  lias 
certainly  made  us  faithless  to  the  Dan 
Quixotes  of  our  childhood.  The  senti- 
ment clinging  about  tattered  and  be- 
thumbed  old  volumes,  conned  by  several 
generations,  vanishes  before  this  pro- 
saically brand-new  book.  Faithful  and 
accurate  as  are  its  renderings,  and 
numerous  and  painstaking  as  are  its 
notes,  these  cold  virtues  cannot  chill 
us,  coming  as  they  do  in  the  company 
of  such  loving  enttiusiasm  lor  the  spirit 
as  well  as  the  letter,  such  zest  for  the 
colour  and  the  savour  of  the  original. 

These  books  may  be  treated  as  new. 
The  first  editions  were  strictly  limited. 
And  to  the  second  have  gone  much  revi- 
sion, a  little  compression,  some  addition 
in  the  notes,  and  considerable  enlarf^e- 
ment  in  the  biography.  This  best  of  all 
the  English  versions  is  one  for  the  gen- 
eral household  library  ;  for  the  publish- 
ers have  placed  it  within  the  reach  of 
most  who  are  wilting  to  make  a  little 

•  The  Ingenious  Gentleman  Don  Quixoie  de  !.i 
Mancha.  By  Miguel  Cervanics  Saavcdra.  D  1  c 
into  English  by  Henry  Edward  Watts.  4  vuls. 
New  Edition,  Revised.  New  York:  Macmillao 
&  Co.  $8.00. 

Miguel  de  Cervantes,  His  Life  and  Works.  By 
Henry  Edward  Watts.  New  Eklition.  Revised  and 
Enlarged.   New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Cu.  |3.so. 


sacrifice  for  books ;  and  what  other 

book,  save  Shakespeare,  is  tliere  that 
can  so  elfectiveiy  wrest  time  from  the 
greedy  grasp  of  the  worthless  rubbish 

of  the  day  ?  None  the  less  is  it  the  edi- 
tion for  tlie  scholar  ;  its  notes,  its 
learned  appendices  on  the  romances  of 
cliivalry,  on  the  chronology  and  the 
itinerary  of  Don  Quixote,  and  other 
mattes,  summarise  the  results  of  the 
best  and  latest  research  respecting  Cer> 
vantes.  But  one  thing  should  be  noted. 
That  notes  and  appendices  are  made  to 
be  skipped— after  the  examination  epoch 
of  one's  life — is  the  fervent  belief  of  one 
reader  who  nevertheless  read  all  these, 
and  who  found  entertainment  in  them 
when  he  was  in  no  mood  for  instruction. 
This  is  a  test  of  intelligent  editing,  that 
a  reader  with  a  merely  human  interest 
in  the  classic  should  l>e  tempted  to  share 
all  the  editor's  wanderings.  This  one 
takes  you  into  no  obscure  corners  unless 
he  knows  of  something  curious  or  inter- 
esting. So  much  for  a  translation  which 
made  an  honourable  reputation  on  its 
first  appearance,  but  which  merits  spe- 
cial mention  now  in  its  revised  and 
popular  form. 

Mr.  Watts  has  virtually  written  tlirce 
lives  of  Cervantes.  One  previously 
formed  the  first  volume  of  his  Don 
Quixote.  A  second  appeared  in  the 
'*  Great  Writers*'  series.  The  present 
is  so  amplified  and  revised  a  form  of  the 
first  as  to  be  almost  a  new  book.  A 
comparison  between  the  three  will  not 
show  much  difference  in  the  main  sec- 
tions, perhaps  ;  btit  besides  containing 
a  good  many  more  details  of  interest, 
and  discussing  more  fully  some  doubt- 
ful points,  the  latest  version  is  more  har- 
monious and  more  readable.  He  is  al- 
most an  ideal  translator ;  for  his  biogra- 
ph}'  it  is  impossible  to  say  as  much. 
But  we  can  say  tliat  it  is  a  delightful 
book,  that  it  warms  the  heart  with  its 
humanity  and  enthusiasm,  that  it  is  a 
worthy  retelling  of  a  most  romantic 
story.  He  is  a  special  pleader,  of 
course  ;  he  is  a  lover  who  hates  what- 
ever has  brought  harm  to  his  darling. 
He  has  prejudices,  and  he  says  liard 
things  when  they  are  uppermost.  The 
Spanish  neglect  of  Don  Quixote,  and 
some  French  translators  of  the  work 
come  in  for  sweeping  condemnation  ; 
while  Lope  de  Vega  he  almost  forces  us 
to  defend,  against  our  inclinations,  by 
the  heat  of  his  indignation.    But  his 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


partisanship  never  misleads.    \'ery  can- 

di<i  is  he  respecting  facts,  and  if  somc- 
tiines  lie  draws  too  large  inlcrenccs,  you 
need  not  follow  him.  It  is  too  soon  yet 
to  join  in  lii';  siis|)irions,  nay.  Iiis  cer- 
tainty, concerning  Lope  dc  Vega's  con- 
nection with  Avellaneda's  spurious  ver- 
sion  of  the  second  part  of  Don  Quixote. 
The  connection  is  not  proven,  and  for 
the  credit  of  human  nature  let  us  be 
careful  of  Lope's  shaky  honour  while  we 
can.  The  unpul)lishc(l  letters  of  Lope 
arc  kept  from  the  light,  it  is  said,  be- 
cause they  contain  "  scandal  about  Lope 
tlitj  pii<*st  rmd  Inquisit<.>r."  Mr.  W'.itts 
evidently  expects,  on  poor  evidence,  if 
he  confides  it  all  to  us,  that  they  contain 
the  full  explanation  of  the  urc. it  wrong 
done  to  Cervantes's  literary  honour— a 
pure  surmise,  but  with  nothing  disin- 
genuous about  it.  Lven  if  he  be  unjust 
there  is  no  great  harm  done,  he  possibly 
thinks,  for  Lope  was  in  all  surety  a 
mean-souled  creature  ;  and  then  he  had 
such  a  good  tinv  :  it  in  life  compared 
with  Cervantes.  Well,  Mr,  Watts  has  a 
fine  subject  in  man  and  book.  Of  all 
the  great  writers  of  the  world  with 
whom  we  have  as  close  an  intimacy, 
which  of  them  is  so  nobly  mated  with 
his  finest  work  ?  Galley-slave,  adven- 
turer, ta.x-ijatherer,  literary  hack,  his 
life  is  on  the  face  of  it  a  lung  series  of 
degradations.  Vagabond  he  was,  and 
wastrel  he  may  have  t>een  Hut  not  a 
rumour  of  him  has  come  down  to  us, 
and  not  a  line  has  he  written  but  stamp 
Kim  magnanimous,  crentle.  and  hrav<\ 
*'  The  most  engaging  personality  in 
all  the  world  of  letters,  '  says  his  Eng- 
lish biographer.  And  his  charm  and 
valour  are  kept  safe  forever  in  the  best* 
loved  book  of  the  Western  world. 


GALT  REDIVIVUS." 

The  revival  of  interest  in  the  works 
and  lite  ot  John  Gait,  testified  to  in  so 
remarkable  a  manner  by  the  issue  of 

the  Annals  of  (In-  Parish  and  The  Ayr- 
shire Lef^iitecs  in  the  Messrs.  Macmillan's 
Standard  Novel  Scries  during  the  sum- 
mer, and  now  by  the  initial  volumes  of 
tilt  Messrs.  Blackwood's  very  handsome 
edition  of  Gnlt's  novels  through  Roberts 

•  Annals  of  the  Parish  and  The  Ayrshire  Lega- 
tees.   By  John  Gait.    Edited  bv  D.  Storrar  Mel 
drum.  With  introduction  by  S.  ft*  Crockett.  Two 
voU.    Uoslun  :  Roberts  BrotberB.  %x.2%. 


Brothers  is  no  doubt  due  to  the  suc- 
cess of  the  present  Srnttisli  school  of  Ac- 
tion, and  of  its  Uti  majores,  Mr.  Barrie, 
Mr.  Crockett,  and  Ian  Maclaren.  Can* 
"H   Ainger,  who  certainly  dr»es  ample 
justice  to  Gait,  and  especially  to  the 
Goldsmithian  side  of  him,  but  who  yet 
somehow  suggests  the  idea  of  a  cultured 
and  polite  Englishman  doing  his  inetTec- 
tual  best  to  l)e  comfortable  in  a  hard- 
bottomed  Scottish  arm-chair,  tn  which  he 
has  planted  himself  in  obeiiienee  t<>  the 
rude  cordiality  of  "Sityedoon  I  "  makes 
a  special  point  of  this  in  his  introduc- 
tion to  the  Messrs.  Macmillan's  volume. 
Referring  to  A  ll'inJou'in  Thrums^  which 
he  rightly  regards  as  Mr.  Barrie's  master- 
piece, he  says  it  *'  owes  its  success  to 
the  dominance  of  character  over  plot — 
character  drawn  with  consummate  hu- 
mour and  pathos."    And  he  proceeds 
to  express  the  hope  that  "  Gait's  earlier 
study  of  lite  in  a  Scottish  parish,  m  its 
different  way  no  less  a  masterpiece,  may 
once  more  reeeive  a  welcome  pmpnr- 
tionatc  to  its  unquestionable  truth  and 
charm.*'     The  hope  deserves  and  is 
likely  to  be  realised,  but  h  t  there  be  no 
misunderstanding  of   the  true  signid- 
cance  of  its  realisation.     Beyond  all 
question  The  Annals  of  the  Parish  is  **  in 
its  differetil  way  no  less  a  masterpiece" 
than  A    ]ritf</t*7i>  in   Thrums.     But  the 
difference  is  really  an  absolute  contrast, 
for  it  is  the  cnntrast  between  Scotland 
of  the  old  Moderate  vlays,  and  Scotland 
as  it  has  been  spiritualised  and  morally 
rev>  ihitioniscd  by  the  Evangelical  party, 
which  secured  its  purely  ecclesiastical 
triumph  in  the  formation  of  the  Free 
Church  in  1843.    It  is  the  humour  and 
the  pathos  o£  A  IVind^*  in  Thrums^  The 
Stickit  Minister^  and  Beside  the  Benme 
Brier  Jiush  that  have  given  them  their 
]>'>pularity.    But  imagine  that  humour 
and  that  pathos  no  hmger  in  alliance 
with  the  intense  though  mystical  relig- 
ious faitli  ufiich  tninsformed  Chalmers, 
as  ii.  transtormed  liendry  McQumpha, 
the  young  minister  who  was  neglected 
of  men  but  n  ^t  of  beasts,  and  Dr.  Will- 
iam MacLure,  and  these  books  cease  to 
have  any  permanent  historical  or  psy- 
chological value.    Gait  could  not  liavc 
laid  bare  the  agonies  of  the  son  from 
Lonilon  ;  he  could  not  even  have  told 
the  story  (jf  the  glove.     On  the  other 
hand,  Mr.  Barrie  is  incapable  of  iriving 
us  Mr.  Cayenne — who  is  in  reality  a 
more  finished  production  than  even 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


»39 


Peregrine  Touchwood  in  St.  Ronan's 
If 'til — of  the  whole  episode  of  whose 
life  and  death  Canon  Ainj^er  (being  now 
on  safe  and  familiar  ground)  says  with- 
out a  tincture  of  exaggeration,  "  Had 
Oalt  always  been  up  to  this  level,  he 
\vt)uld  have  ranked  with  the 
greatest  names  in  English  fic- 
tion." 

The  revival  of  Cialt,  therefore, 
means  an  attempt  to  give  him 
his  proper  place  as  an  eminent 
if  not  a  great  British  classic — a 
place  beside  Goldsmith  and  De- 
foe. Both  Mr.  Ainger  and  Mr. 
Crockett,  therefore,  have  done 
well  to  emphasise  his  limitati(»ns. 
When  Gait  went  out  of  his  own 
experiences  to  manufacture  char- 
acter, he  made  great  mistakes. 
He  became  artificial  and  worse. 
Nor  is  Mr.  Crockett  the  only 
.admirer  of  Gait  who  finds  it  im- 
possible to  finish  T/if  »S/</<'u'//V  or 
Jiingan  Gilhaizie.  The  circum- 
stances, the  strain  and  stress,  of 
Gait's  **  hither-and-thither"  but 
on  the  whole  gallant  and  not 
ignoble  life,  impelled  him  to 
produce  a  great  deal  of  work 
which,  like  that  of  Scott's  latest 
years  of  desperate  hurry,  was 
unworthy  of  him.  Had  he  writ- 
ten a  tenth  of  what  he  has  done, 
it  would  have  been  on  the  shelves 
of  the  classics  ere  now.  The 
popular  view  of  that  tenth  is 
that  it  consists  of  The  Annals  of 
the  Parish,  2'he  J'rinost,  and  7'he 
Ayrshire  Legatees,  and  that  this 
order  is  also  the  order  of  their 
merit.  Mr.  Crockett  and  Mr. 
Ainger  agree  essentially  with  this 
view.  Vet  I  confess  to  cherish- 
ing a  greater  fondness  for  The  Pro- 
i'ost  than  for  any  other  of  its  au- 
thor's works.  It  does  not  contain 
such  a  variety  of  character  as  The  An- 
nals ;  but  it  is  more  coherent,  and  I 
think  also  more  consistent.  It  boasts 
one  descriptive  passage — the  account  of 

The  Windy  Gale,"  which  is  really  the 
high-water  mark  of  Gait's  prose  style  ; 
and  the  final  narrative  of  the  manoeuvres 
by  which  Mr.  Pawkie  secures  to  himself 
the  presentation  of  "  a  very  handsome 
silver  cup,  bearing  an  inscription  in  the 
Latin  tongue,"  is,  as  a  practical  exposi- 
tion of  the  creed  of  what  Mr.  Crockett 
happily  terms  "  coutiiy  self-interest," 


absolutely  unparalleled.  And  then  in 
The  Provost,  Gait  is  absolutely  true  to 
his  native  Irvine,  although  I  suspect 
Mr.  Crockett  does  not  make  sufficient 
allowance  for  the  influence  on  an  im- 
pressionable mind  of  the  novelist's  sec- 


ond home,  which  made  Carlyle,  the 
most  remorseless  of  all  literary  photog- 
raphers, note  "  the  air  of  a  sedate  Green- 
ock burgher."  I  should  say  that  The 
Anna/s  ami  7'he  /Vcrw/ stand  first  among 
Gait's  works — and  e»}ual — and  that  The 
Ayrshire  Lei^attis  makes  an  admirable 
third.  In  many  respects,  indeed,  Th< 
Let^atees  is  the  most  enjoyable  of  the 
three.  Cast  in  the  form  of  letters,  it 
can  with  perfect  ease  be  read  in  instal- 
ments ;  it  is  full  of  kindliness,  which  is 
based  perhaps  on  worldliness,  but  is 
none  the  less  genuine  or  comforting  on 
that  account  ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  and 
Mr.  Mickleham,  if  not  also  the  self-sufii- 


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X40 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


cient  Edinburgh  advocate,  Andrew  Prin- 
gle,  are  almost  as  deserving  of  being 

taken  to  heart  as  tlie  three  Mrs.  Bal- 
whidders.  Mrs.  Malcolm,  and  Kale. 

This  edition  of  Gait's  works,  judged 
by  the  volumes  which  have  made  their 
appearance,  is  deserving  of  very  hearty 
praise.  Mr.  Crockett  is  a  very  judicious 
and  cordial,  but  not  over-enthusiastic 
critic.  Mr.  John  Wallace,  who  illus- 
trates the  humour  of  Gait  with  an  ex- 
quisite touch,  has  only  given  a  taste 
of  his  quality,  but  that  is  very  appe- 
tising. Mr.  Meldrum  edits  the  novels 
with  his  usual  painstaking  care,  and 
contributes  a  well-written  account  of 
Gait's  too  streniiotts  b\it  not  passion- 
ate life.  But  wiiy  did  Mr.  Meldrum 
omit  that  most  delightful  incident — 
Gait's  return  to  Irvine  to  get  the  free- 
dom of  the  burgh  offered  to  him  by  his 
own  Provost  Pawkie,  in  a  speech  full  of 
"  good  sense,  of  tact,  and  taste,"  and 
devoid  of  "  the  sort  of  balderdash  com- 
mon on  such  occasions"  ?  At  last,  we 
have  an  edition  of  Gait  worthy  of  one  of 
the  greatest  of  all  masters  of  the  Scot- 
tish character  and  of  the  Scottish  lan- 
guage, whose  humour  was  as  real  as 
Scott's,  who  had  no  fellowsliip  with 
vulgarity,  and  artistically  eschewed 
what  Mr.  Henley  styles  **the  thick 
Scots  wit  that  fells  you  like  a  mace," 
and  which  perhaps  exists  only  in  the 
imagination  of  those  who  live  beyond 
the  Border  and  over  the  seas. 


SISTER  SONGS.* 

There  is  a  glittering  coloured  surface 
on  Mr.  Thompson's  poetry,  with  a  dis- 
tracting wealth  of  hybrid  design.  A 
reader  may  not  be  to  blame  who  gets  no 
further  than  the  surface,  who  either 
Stays  to  admire,  to  revel  in  shape  and 
hue  and  image,  or  who  flees  from  the 
sight  of  a  nightmare  pattern,  lawless, 
restless,  and  unfamiliar.  More  apparent 
than  in  the  earlier  volume  are  his  wealth, 
or  his  lavishness,  or  his  barbaric  splen- 
dour— whatever  name,  kind  or  unkind, 
you  call  the  quality  by — more  apparent, 
too,  his  loving  craft,  or  his  painful 
iaboriousness.   Of  even  delight  there 

*  Sister  Songs.  By  Francis  TbompiOfl.  Bo«> 
ton :  Copdand  &  Day.  Ii.so. 


need  be  no  expectation.  Of  spontaneity, 
in  the  design  and  detail,  there  is  little, 
I  think,  hut  would  speak  guardedly,  for 
spontaneity  has  not  always  simple  utter- 
ance. One  could  fill  long  pai^es  with 
perfec  tlv  well-grounded  complaints  re- 
garding a  craftsman  who  handles  his 
materials  with  love,  and  who  neverthe- 
less is  incredibly  careless,  who  loses 
himself  in  strange  confusion  of  delig^hts, 
and  forgets  the  oversight  that  breeds 
harmony.  The  critical  reader  may  be 
left  to  do  it  for  himself.  But  he  vi-ill 
not  have  judged  Mr.  Thompson  finaliy 
by  saying  he  dislikes  such  lines  as — 

**  Some  with  languors  of  waved  arms, 
Ftoctuotti  oared  their  flexile  way  ; 
Some  were  borne  half  resupioe 

On  the  aSrtal  hyaline." 

One  is  certainly  tempted  by  fatigue, 
or  by  enjoyment,  to  go  no  further  than 
the  surface,  than  what  delights  and  in- 
terests or  irritates  the  eye  as  it  reads. 
And,  whether  attracted  or  repelled,  in- 
human poetry  does  it  then  appear.  But 
his  poetry  is  not  this  mere  shell.  It  has 
an  outside,  hybrid  in  design,  flamboy- 
ant, erring  in  art  through  laboured 
searching  for  it,  original,  and  only 
wanting  in  strength  through  excess  of 
varied  vigour.  So  the  fa9ade  and  the 
doors.  But  there  is  reason  for  enter- 
ing. It  is  very  dark  inside,  bare,  not 
cheerful,  echoing  with  prayers  and 
songs.  These  are  not  difficult  or  alien, 
or  ambitious  ;  most  recognisable,  in- 
deed, are  they,  the  prayers  and  songs  of 
human  suffering.  A  strange  poem  is 
this  he  has  written  to  two  little  children, 
inchoate,  unfitting  its  subject,  complex 
and  dilUcultand  heavy,  where  light  sim- 
plicity seems  by  every  law  demanded, 
yet  moving  the  heart  as  does  hardly  an- 
other poem  of  to-day.  Before  this  he 
has  said  to  any  who  may  search  for  ht» 
face  in  the  other  world — 

*'  Turn  not  your  [read  along  the  Ur.mian  sod 
Among  the  bearded  counsellors  oi  God  ; 
•  ••••• 

Look  for  me  In  the  nutKiles  of  heaven." 

The  loved  and  the  sad  lover  are  here 
pathetically  contrasted — the  aerial  inno- 
cence and  irresponsible  grace  with  the 

ugliness  through  which  a  soul  has  passed 
that  has  bought  experience.  Says  he  to 
the  lady  of  Spring — 

*'  Oh,  keep  slili  in  iby  train 
After  t!ie  years  when  others  therefrom  fade» 
This  liny,  well-beloved  maid  I 


A  UTEKAKY  JOURNAL, 


141 


To  whom  the  gate  of  my  heart's  fortallce, 

With  all  which  in  it  is. 
And  the  shy  self  who  doth  therein  immew  him 
'Gainst  what  load  leaguers  battailousty  woo  bim, 

I.  bribed  traitor  to  bim, 

Set  open  for  one  kiH." 

And,  in  reply.  Spring's  lady  says  to  Syl* 
via, 

'*  mine  ImaMMrtatbiag 

Touch  I  lay  upon  thy  heart. 

Thy  Soul's  fair  shape 
In  my  unfading  mantle's  green  I  drape. 
And  thy  white  mind  ahail  rest  by  my  devising 
A  Gideon-fleece  nnld  life's  doety  drDnth." 

Yet  a  child's  soul  is  a  temple,  and  the 
dTisty  wayfarer  will  not  too  much  linger 

in  its  way. 

I  will  not  feed  rny  unpasturcd  heart 

On  thee,  i;reen  pleasaunce  as  thou  art. 

To  lessen  by  one  tiowcr  thy  happy  daisies  white. " 

But  the  child  has  given  him  what  can- 
not die  out  of  him  : 

*'  TUs  fngile  song  is  bat  a  cnrled 

Shell  out'gathered  from  thy  sea, 
And  murmurous  still  of  its  nativity." 

Even  a  reviewer  may  have  his  reti- 
cences. And  the  most  l>ieautiful  passage 
of  the  book  this  one  would  rather  tell  a 
reader  to  search  for  than  write  out  here. 
It  is  a  tragic  idyll  of  city  childhood,  an 
experience  seen  and  lived  throuijh  b\' 
one  lying  in  suffering  underneath  "  the 
abashless  inquisition  of  each  star. "  Mr. 
Thompson  builds  a  defence  for  himself 
with  many  distracting  and  arresting  lig- 
ures  on  its  outer  walls.  And  he  has 
need  of  it.  Once  penetrate,  and  there 
lies  a  soul  laid  bare.  Yet  he  passes  with 
some  for  an  impersonal,  inhuman  poet. 

This  tragic  contrast  between  child- 
h  .'ui,  jray.  free,  and  exquisite,  and  the 
maturity  u(  a  poet  with  experiences  ter- 
ribly bought,  is  the  main  theme.  There 
nre  other  incidental  points  of  interest. 
Among  them  is  his  doctrine  of  the  soul, 
that  it 

"  has  no  parts,  and  cannot  grow, 
Unfurled  not  from  an  embryo. 
Bom  of  foil  iiatnre,  llaest  to  oootrol,'' 

and  has  to  wait  for  the  body's  and  the 
tnind's  increase  of  power  er<^  it  fulfil  it- 
self. Another  is  his  expression  of  the 
irresponsibility  of  the  poet ' 

"  Where  the  last  leaf  fell  from  his  bough, 

He  knows  not  if  a  leaf  shall  grow. 

Where  he  sows  he  duth  not  reap. 

li       ii  r  th  where  he  doth  not  sow  ; 

He  sleeps,  and  dreams  fon^ke  tiii>  sleep 

To  meet  htm  on  his  waking  way. 

Vlsiaa  wfil  mate  bim  not  by  law  and  vow." 


Of  such  substance  and  texture  is  the 

poem — iinsintrable  songs  to  two  chil- 
dren, otfending  and  exalting  at  every 
Other  moment,  made  by  a  poet  who, 
with  an  intimate  knowlrJge  of  the  eter- 
nal simple  verities  that  appeal  to  all  the 
world,  sings  these  to  the  few,  a  poet,  let 
us  add,  resignedly,  or  gratefully,  but  - 
finally,  who  is  unteachable  by  critics, 
literary  or  otherwise. 

"  l.et  workaday  wisdom  blink  sage  lids  thereat ; 
Which  lowers  a  flight  three  hedgerows  high, 

poor  bat  I 

And  stiaiii^way  diaru  me  out  the  empyreal 
air. 

Its  chart  I  wing  not  by,  its  canon  of  worth 
Scorn  not,  nor  wrccic  tliough  mine  should  brew 
itminh." 


A  FAREWELL  TO  MR.  NORRIS.* 

We  are  obliged  to  confess  J;  a  we  en- 
tertain a  personal  gfrudge  against  Mr. 
Norris,  and  we  are  going  to  tell  the  rea- 
son why.  Some  fifteen  years  a^o,  when 
Mr.  Norris  came  before  rereading  pub- 
lic witli  liis  earliest  novels,  Mademoiselle eU 
Mersac  and  Heaps  of  Money^  we  began  to 
entert^n  a  very  strong  conviction  that  a 
new  novelist  of  great  power  and  origi- 
nality had  arisen  to  take  the  place  of  the 
mighty  men  who  had  just  passed  off  the 
scene.  This  conviction  was,  as  we  be- 
lieved, confirmed  and  justified  beyond  a 
doubt  when  Matrimony  was  given  to  the 
world.  Matrimony  is  a  really  great  book, 
not  onlv  relative! V,  but  absolute! v.  It 
has  keen  insight  into  human  nature,  a  re- 
markable power  of  stirring  the  heart  and 
enlisting  all  one's  sympathies,  a  wealth 
of  invention,  a  genuine  and  genial  hu- 
mour, and  a  vigorous,  muscular,  and 
finished  style.  Its  cliaracters  are  as  full 
of  life  and  reality  as  those  of  Thackeray  ; 
and,  like  those  of  Shakespeare  and 
Thackeray,  the  most  unimportant  per- 
sonages are  as  carefully  differentiated 
and  as  vitally  individual  as  the  protago- 
nists. The  wealth  of  creative  invention 
in  this  novel  is  wonderful.  The  elder 
Gervis,  witli  his  clever  cynicism  and 
depths  of  generosity,  the  shallow  and 
selfish  Nina,  the  frivolous  little  Princess 
with  the  everlasting  skeleton  in  her 
closet,  the  Polish  rascal  who  still  has  a 
sneaking  remnant  of  human  sympathy, 

*  Billy  Bellew.  By  W.  E.  Nonia.  N«w  York : 
Harper  &  Brothers.  #1.50. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


old  Flemyng,  the  bore,  Freddie,  Claud, 

and  Genevieve — these  are  not  imncfinary 
personages,  but  living  human  beings, 
as  much  so  as  Colonel  Newcome,  and 
Arthur  Pendennis,  and  Foker,  and  Bene- 
dick, and  Polonius,  and  Falstaff.  And 
so,  for  that  matter,  arc  the  old  po.ichcr, 
and  the  aspiring  young  brewer,  and 
the  French  critic.  .^f(itn'tnon\\s  a  book 
to  read  over  at  least  tw  ice  a  year  as  long 
as  one  lives. 

Well,  havinc;^  read  it  and  vastly  ad- 
mired it,  we  went  about  talking  Norris 
to  every  one  who  would  listen.  Here 
is  the  great  English  novelist  of  the 
latter  half  of  the  century.  Here  is  the 
hope  of  contemporary  fiction,  the  dawn- 
ing gli'i  y  f  our  literature.  Watch  and 
see  wliat  he  will  do  next.  So  many 
watchetl,  and  we,  the  prophets  ot  the 
new  cult,  watched  too.  But  alas  !  so 
did  the  publishers,  who  fell  npr.n  Mr. 
Norris  and  beguiled  him  with  bank- 
cheques,  and  caressed  htm  with  con- 
tracts, and  killed  him  with  kindness. 
Then  listened  he  to  the  voice  of  the 
tempter  and  the  clink  of  coin,  so  that  he 
sacrificed  to  Mammon  and  smothered 
his  talents  on  the  altar  of  ftinnfit  Prruniti. 
In  a  few  of  his  other  novels — Thirlby 
Hall,  No  New  Thing,  and  Adrian  Vidal— 
the  fire  still  burned,  but  the  era  of  pot- 


boilers had  begun,  and  we  turned  awaj 

from  the  spectacle  of  a  lirilliant  mind 
prostituting  its  genius  like  an  intellec- 
tual souteneur.  Major  and  Minor,  Tke 
Baffled  Conspirators,  Afareia,  That  Ter- 
rible Man — why  sum  up  the  melanchuiy 
list  ?    Oh,  the  pity  of  it  !  the  pity  of  it  ! 

And  here  is  the  latest  of  the  list,  read- 
able, entertainintr,  full  of  (  Icvpr  turns, 
but  full  also  ot  the  suggestion  ol  what 
might  have  been.  And  in  it  Mr.  Norris 
has  the  temerity  to  take  us  back  to  Al- 
geria again.  We  should  have  thought 
that  the  shade  of  Mademoiselle  de  Mer- 
sac  would  have  risen  up  and  wrested  the 
pen  from  out  his  hands.  We  are  not 
going  to  review  the  book,  and  we  shall 
review  no  more  books  of  Mr.  Norris. 
Out  cf  the  intensity  of  our  admiration 
tor  the  great  work  that  he  did  in  the 
days  before  he  was  transformed  by  the 
Circes  of  trade,  we  decline  to  call  any 
further  attention  to  the  painful  contrast  ; 
we  shall  leave  him  hereafter  to  the  un« 
disturbed  enjoyment  of  his  mess  of  jM  t- 
tage.  We  trust  that  the  pottage  is  rich 
and  savoury  and  abundant  in  quantity. 
It  ought  to  be  all  that,  because  it  repre- 
sents the  price  for  which  has  been  fltincT 
away  the  fruition  of  a  great  crcai;vc 
genius. 


NOVEL 

THE  LITTLE  HUGUENOT.  A  Romance  of 
the  Forest  of  Fontaincbleau.  N«w  York: 
Dodd,  Mead  &  Company.    75  cts. 

The  success  of  The  Impregnable  City 
assured  a  cordial  reception  to  any  later 
work  of  the  author  ;  l)ut  7"//,  /.//aV  Hugue- 
not needs  no  such  victorious  advance- 
guard  to  open  the  path  to  her.  She  is 
quite  stronc:  enough  to  stand  alone,  win- 
ning her  own  way  by  the  might  of  her 
innocent  wisdom  and  the  irresistible 
witchery  of  her  rare  beauty.  It  is  a 
very  real  presence,  that  of  this  girl- 
widow  of  eighteen  living  a  life  of  intel- 
lectual contentment  and  usefulness,  sur- 
rounded by  many  scholarly  men  and 
women — artists,  musicians,  poets,  and 
philosophers — whom,  as  like  draws  like, 
she  ha?;  gathered  about  her.  Their 
minds,  no  less  than  hers,  are  filled  with 
lofty  ideals  towards  the  accomplishment 


NOTES. 

of  which  their  united  powers  are  bent. 
There  is  no  sense  of  emptiness  or  dul- 
ness  in  t!ic  days  thus  spent  in  the  old 
chateau,  which  is  shut  away  by  the  si- 
lence and  the  shadows  of  the  Forest  of 
Fontainehle.ui  from  all  disturbitiix  sou:ul. 
all  soiling  sight  of  the  corrupt  court 
that  is  so  danf^erously  near. 

Time  hand's  heavier  there,  where  pleas- 
ure is  the  only  resource,  and  the  king  is 
weary  of  everything.  So  worn  and 
bored  that  he  gives  interested  attention 
to  the  talcs— which  have  hitherto  reached 
him  unheeded — of  this  secluded  young 
widow,  who  is  said  to  be  not  only  the 
most  pious  and  the  most  ?;potless,  but 
also  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  all 
France.  He  suddenly  decides  that  she 
shall  be  !>rought  to  his  court  whether  she 
be  willing  or  not.  But  he  hesitates, 
wanting  a  prete.xt,  for  in  SO  exceptional 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


«43 


a  case  as  this  even  Louis  the  Beloved 
recoj:^nises  the  net*<i  r.f  a  better  one  than 
the  divine  right  <>t  kings.  He  lias  it  at 
last  !  He  recalls  the  pretty  name  by 
which  she  is  best  known  anri  tlit-  heresy 
that  it  implies.  Jhe  messenger  selected 
to  seek  her  and  to  fetch  her  to  the  kin^ 

is  a  voiinof  officer  of  the  Royal  Gnarrl. 
Handsome,  dashing,  intellectual,  pol- 
ished in  manner,  thoughtless  rather  than 
('.(.litn'rately  dissohite,  he  sets  out  with 
an  armed  escort,  lie  goes  as  unhesi- 
tatingly and  as  gaily  as  if  the  enter- 
prise were  of  the  most  usual  descrip- 
tion. After  much  adventurous  wan- 
dering through  llic  forest  the  party 
comes  by  accident  upon  the  isolated 
chateau. 

At  this  point  the  poetic  charm  ot  the 
Story  culminates.  The  atmosphere  of 
romance  is  compUrtt-ly  realised.  It  en- 
velops like  the  incense  from  the  censer 
swinging  before  the  altar  of  the  chapel, 
wherein  the  beau  saf'ny/r  finds  the  lovely 
diatelaine  kneeling.  And  as  their  eyes 
now  meet  for  the  first  time,  and  love 
blossoms  in  their  hearts  with  that  first 
l^lance,  the  picturesque  descriptive  qual- 
ity of  the  work  is  subtly  transposed  and 
takes  on  a  psychological  aspect.  Little 
by  little  comes  the  awakening  of  the 
large  spiritual  element  of  the  young 
courtier's  nature,  which  has  never  been 
touched  Ixfore.  And  as  love  thus  en- 
nobles him,  it  also  develops  depths — 
hitherto  unsounded— of  warm  human 
tenderness  in  her.  Tims  as  the  day  fol- 
lows the  night,  the  lover  defies  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  king  in  renouncing  the 
object  of  his  errand.  His  love  sliall  not 
be  dishonoured,  though  he  buy  her  safe- 
ty with  his  life. 

The  interest  of  the  story  gathers  in- 
tensity as  it  goes  on.  The  imprison- 
ment of  the  lover  ;  tiic  treachery  ol  a 
member  of  the  girl-widow's  household  ; 
her  first  helpless  anguish  and  final  ap- 
peal to  the  hermit  priest  ;  his  noble  re- 
sponse ;  her  unquestioning  obedience 
to  his  direction,  even  th(nin;h  it  takes 
her  to  the  dreaded  court  and  the  feared 
king ;  the  impotent  jealous  agony  of 
the  imprisoiieil  lover,  u  lio  t«Mrns  of  her 
presence  in  the  patuee  without  explana- 
tion of  what  has  brought  her  there  ;  his 
terror  at  the  delayed  coming  of  the 
priest,  and  his  encounter  with  the  king 
combine  to  produce  the  dramatic  cUnouc- 
ment  of  one  of  the  most  charming  of  re- 
cent novels. 


GRAY  ROSES.    By  Henry  Ifariand.  Keynotes 
Scries.    Boston  :  Roberts  Brothers,  fi.oo. 

MONOCHRO.MES.   By  Ella  D'Arcy.  Keynotes 
Series.    Boston  :  Roberts  Brothers.  $1.00. 

One  of  Mr.  Frank  Stockton's  short  sto- 
ries celebrates  the  career  of  an  author  who 
was  almost  ruined  by  the  extraordinary 
merit  of  his  first  book,  with  which  all 
his  subsequent  work  was  compared  by 
his  publishers,  and  rejected  because, 
though  very  good,  it  was  not  equal  to 
the  other  ;  so  that  the  poor  fellow  was 
finally  obliged  to  write  under  a  pseu- 
donym in  order  to  make  bis  daily  bread. 
Something  of  this  same  penalty  for  an 
earlier  success  has  been  visited  upon 
Mr.  Harland,  w1h>sc  intensely  weird 
novel.  .-!<  It  was  /;,  lias  made  all  his 

later  work  seem,  to  the  critics  at  least, 
somewhat  tame  and  ineflTective.  Yet 
there  has  in  reality  been  no  falling  off 
in  the  merit  of  Mr.  Harland's  writing. 
On  the  contrary,  he  has  gained  in  tech- 
nique and  successfully  eliminated  the 
crudities  of  his  first  few  novels.  The 
present  volume  of  short  stories  bears  out 
this  dictum,  and  its  readers  will  find  it 
most  readable,  and,  in  fact,  re-readable. 
Mr.  Harland  has  apparently  an  ambi- 
tion to  figure  as  a  mild  sort  of  symbol- 
ist. In  one  of  his  stories  he  rriticises  a 
writer  wlio  uses  "  the  obvious  and  but 
approximate  word."  Hence,  it  may  be 
assumed.  Mr.  Harland  himself  selects  the 
words  that  are  less  inevitable,  but  more 
subtly  exact.  We  confess  that  after 
spendini^  a  good  deal  of  time  in  search- 
ing tor  instances  of  this  protounder  lin- 
guistic si)irit,  we  have  been  able  to  dis- 
cover only  a  few — but  that  may  be  due 
to  the  limitations  of  our  own  unsym- 
bolical  mind.  Also,  when  we  have 
found  them  they  do  not  appear  to  be 
ver)*  remarkable.  Thus,  on  page  i6o 
the  heru  '"  heard  the  rhythm  of  a  horse's 
hoofs. "  Here  *'  beat"  would  be  the  ob- 
vious but  only  approximate  word,  while 
**  rhythm"  is  the  felicitous  term.  Let 
us  give  Mr.  Harland  due  credit  for  it, 
remembering  what  a  difficult  task  it  is 
to  be  a  symbolist  while  still  writing  in- 
telligible English. 

We  think  we  notice  also  that  the  ati- 
thor  of  Grey  Jifises  has  taken  a  little  of 
the  colour  of  his  contemporaries.  The 
French  sketches  called  "  The  Bohemian 
Girl"  and  "  A  Re-incarnation"  proba- 
bly owe  something  in  the  way  of  uncon- 
scioita  suggestion  to  Mr.  Du  Maurier, 
while  there  is  not  a  doubt  that  the  way 


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144 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


of  pultinjjf  things  in  "  A  Responsibility" 
and '*  Castles  near  Spain"  is  borrowed 
from  Mr.  Ilarland's  frimd,  Mr.  Henry 
James.  Tliis  is  not  ai  all  intended  for 
censure.  Mr.  James  might  be  very  glad 
to  t'.iiher  oitlicr  of  these  clever  stories, 
which  are  indeed  distinctly  better  than 
some  of  that  author's  later  work.  It  is 
tile  su!)ifct  of  "  A  Responsibility"  tliat 
especially  interests  us.  Mr.  Harland 
tells  us  hovr  he  met  at  a  French  iabfe 
d  Mte  an  English  baronet,  who  exhibited 
;i  very  natural  desire  for  Mr.  Harland's 
ac(juainlaucc.  But  for  sumo  ruusun, 
which  he  vainly  tries  to  analyse,  Mr. 
Harlantl  drew  back  and  gave  him  no 
satisfaction — even  snubbed  him.  Vain- 
ly the  baronet,  in  a  dumb,  pathetic  way, 
Sought  to  break  down  the  barrier  which 
Mr.  Harland  sternly  set  between  them, 
but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Later,  in  Lon- 
don, they  met  in  the  street,  and  Mr.  Har- 
land only  bowed  slightly  to  the  baronet 
and  then  pursued  his  way.  Three  weeks 
after  this,  the  baronet  committed  sui- 
cide. He  could  not  live  without  Mr. 
Harland's  society.  We  are  not  sur- 
prised that  Mr.  Harland,  after  telling 
all  this,  ends  by  saying,  "  When  I  think 
of  that  afternoon  in  bt.  James's  Street, 
I  feel  like  an  assassin."  We  should 
think  he  would.  At  the  same  time, 
though  we  know  from  personal  experi- 
ence how  fascinating  Mr.  Harland's  so- 
ciety can  be,  we  should  not  have  thought 
it  quite  so  fascinating  as  nit  that  *,  or,  at 
any  rate,  we  feel  thai  most  English  baro- 
nets are  much  less  susceptible. 

Miss  Ella  D'Arey  (wliusc  name  wc 
take  to  be  a  pseudonym)  is  one  of  the 
few  writers  who  have  won  their  first 
favourable  recognition  through  the 
pages  of  The  Yd  lino  Book.  Her  stories 
are  original,  clever,  and  fascinating, 
and  if  she  does  not  soon  win  distinction 
in  a  larger  field  we  are  very  much  mis- 
taken. There  is  not  a  page  of  Mono- 
tkromes  but  gives  evidence  of  unusual 
power  and  at  the  same  time  of  technical 
skill  and  a  delicate  literary  touch. 

LVRE  AND  LANXET.    A  Story  in  Scenes.  By 
F.  Ansicy.  New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  $1.25. 

Mr.  Anstey's  is  the  safest  of  the  lighter 
books  to  recommend  to  holiday-seekers 
Even  rearl  under  less  tolerant  influences 
than  sea  and  moorland  air,  it  is  still 
highly  diverting.  Yet  Mr.  Anstey  has 
made  it  hard  for  himself  to  succeed. 
His  wild  extravaganza  is  based  on  the 


mixing  up  of  an  unhealthy,  conceited 

young  poet  and  a  veterinary  at  a  count  rj- 
house,  the  one  there  for  pleasure,  the 
other  on  business.    It  seems  on  the  face 
of  it  impossible  to  keep  the  thing  up 
for  more  than  a  scene  or  two  witnout 
foolishness.    And  each  fresh  develop- 
ment creates  a  new  difficulty,  an  im* 
probability   hardly   to    be    got  -ver. 
Every  now  and  again  the  reader  looks 
ahead  and  says,  Now  he  is  going  to  be 
merely  absurd,  and  the  fun  will  cease. 
But  his  ingenuity  at  least  keeps  pace 
with  his  readers'  anxiety,  and  through 
four-and-twenty  parts  he  pursues  his 
lightful  fooling.    Satire  is  too  serions  a 
name  to  call  it  by  ;  but  with  the  aid  01 
a  large  house-party  he  is  able  to  hit  off 
good-huniouredly  the  foibles  of  nearly 
all  the  prominent  society  types  of  to- 
day.   The  servants*  hall  and  house> 
keeper's  room,  too,  are  stages  for  the 
revelation  of  most   varied  character , 
while  in  the  drawing-room  the  literary 
young  woman,  the  sporting  young  wom- 
an, the  democratic,  autocratic  aristocrat 
with  a  dozen  missions,  the  stupid,  shy 
young  man  with  the  heart  of  gold,  and 
ever  so  many  more,  play  their  parts  to 
perfection.    Mr.  Anstey  generally  ex- 
presses average  ideas  in  his  satire  or 
fun,  but  his  sympathy  for  the  average 
and  the  obvious  point  of  view  cannot 
invariably   be   counted  on  ;  and  his 
generosity    to    Mr.    James  Spurrell, 
M.R.C.V.S.,  in  making  him  so  good  a 
gentleman  at  the  back  of  ail  his  horsey 
talk,  at  least  in  comparison  with  Mr. 
Galfrid  Undershell,  minor  poet,  would 
be  beyond  the  reach  of  most  popular 
satirists. 

IN  THE  FIRE  OF  THE  FORGE.  By  George 
Ebers.  New  York :  D.  Appletoa  &  Cfo.  Turo 
volumes.  $1.50. 

The  period  with  which  the  latest  trans- 
lation of  one  of  George  Ebers "s  novels 
deals  is  the  latter  part  of  the  thirteenth 
century  in  Nuremberg.  The  old  free 
town  was  enjoying  an  era  of  prosperity, 
owing  to  the  Emperor  Rudolph's  strong 
measures  against  the  roblier  barons,  mak- 
ing the  great  commercial  routes  com- 
paratively safe  for  the  trains  loaded  with 
merchandise  from  the  southern  cities, 
with  which  the  German  town  was  en- 
gaged in  trade.  The  times  were  remark- 
ably quiet  for  that  epoch,  owing  to  the 
justness  and  ability  of  the  great  emper- 
or. But  the  age  was  peculiarly  romantic, 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


145 


and  the  place  selected  for  the  action  in 
the  novel  has  ever  been  a  favourite  with 
novelists.  Ebers  ranlvs  among  tlie  llrst 
oi  the  romanticists,  and  none  is  less  pre- 
tention?;. His  work  contains  strong  re- 
flections of  the  German  spirit  of  senti- 
ment and  ingenuousness.  As  a  German 
he  knows  his  people.  The  home  love, 
trustfulness,  and  fidelity  of  the  German 
race  characterise  the  actors  in  the  ro> 
mance.  There  arc  thrilling  situations, 
Scott-like  descriptions,  and  portrayals 
of  scenes  that  would  delight  a  Dumas. 
The  author  knows  the  surest  way  of  en- 
listint^f  the  sympathy  of  his  audience  by 
making  right  triumph  over  wrong.  Old 
Nuremberg's  noblest  families  are  in- 
volved in  tile  adventures,  and  througli- 
out  there  shines  the  sterling  worth  of 
the  German  nature.   The  picture  of  the 

independence  of  an  old  German  munici- 
pality is  instructive.  The  story  is  al- 
ways interesting,  and  there  is  no  flag- 
ging of  interest  in  the  narrative.  The 
work  of  the  translator  has  been  so  faith- 
ful that  the  dciigluiul  Teutonisms  ot  the 
original  are  retained. 

THE  MARTYRED  FO<JL.    By  David  Christie 
Mumy.   New  York :  Harper  ft  Bros,  fi.as- 

"  If  efer  you  have  a  chance  to  hit  a 
chentleman,  hit  him  ;  you  can't  go 
wrong,  my  boy."  Ever)'  rich  man  is  a 
rogue,  every  poor  man  a  martyr.  This 
lesson  was  the  sole  heritai:je  left  by  Evan 
Rhys  to  his  son  Evan,  aged  seven.  Facts 
known  to  Evan  and  to  generations  of  his 
ancestors  gave  the  strongest  support  to 
this  lesson,  and  of  the  thousand  facts 
which  would  have  modified  it  he  was 
ignorant.  Through  the  tragic  death  of 
the  father  the  lesson  is  "  bitten  into  the 
young  soul  as  if  by  the  action  of  some 
corrosive  acid" — ineradicable,  never  to 
be  forgotten  for  an  hour.  In  all  fiction 
it  would  be  dithcult  to  find  a  more 
pathetic  picture  than  that  of  the  hard 
;  nrney  of  the  penniless  child  from  Mel- 
bourne, where  a  compassionate  aristo- 
crat had  taken  him,  to  Adelaide,  where 
his  father  lay  under  sentence  of  death, 
the  craving  to  be  near  the  walls  that  en- 
closed his  father  overcoming  every  im« 
ulse  of  fear,  or  hunger,  or  weariness, 
"he  story  never  loses  interest  for  a  mo- 
ment, though  it  is  necessarily  full  ot 
tragedy  ;  for  it  shows  how  ideas  such 
as  these  work  in  a  nature  true  and  capa- 
ble of  truest  devotion.  Reluctantly 
Evan  is  forced  to  see  that  a  question 


may  have  two  sides,  but  it  is  only  when 
he  is  inextricably  in  the  toils  that  he 
finds  that  the  men  who  have  made  a  tool 
of  him  are  "  traitors— liars  and  murder- 
ers  all." 

The  author  has  utilised  his  travels  and 
adventures — ^for  Christie  Murray  is  an 
adventurer  tasting  life  at  various  sources 
— in  Australia,  and  he  knows  how  to 
make  the  best  of  local  colouring  for 
dramatic  purposes.  At  bottom,  how- 
ever, he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  and 
his  novels  are  cosmopolitan  in  their  sym- 
pathies and  tendencies.  His  chief  de- 
fect arises  from  a  dangerous  facility  in 
writing.  We  miss  in  these  latter  days 
the  quiet  power  and  sane  quality  of  his 
earlier  imaginative  work,  which  prom- 
ised to  raise  him  to  the  rank  of  the  au- 
thor of  All  Sorts  and  Conditions  of  Men, 

THE  JONESES  AND  THE  ASTERISKS.  By 
Gerald  Campbell.    N«w  York :  The  Merrbm 

Co.  $t.25. 

This  is  a  series  of  monologues  by  dif- 
ferent members  of  the  Family  Jones  and 
the  Family  Asterisk,  reprinted  from  the 
St.  Janus  s  Gazette.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  we  should  think  more  of  them  had 
not  one  or  two  people  done  the  same 
kind  of  tiling  at  least  equally  well.  Mr. 
Campbell,  however,  can  be  amusing  in 
his  own  way,  which  is  in  broad  rather 
than  fine  satire,  but  always  well- 
mannered.  And  he  writes  as  if  he  knew 
his  ground.  The  Joneses  and  the  Aste- 
risks, seniors,  ar>'  the  most  disagreeable 
snobs  possible  ;  and  because  of  them  we 
bless  the  revolting  daughters. ' '  There 
is  something  in  Harry,  too,  which  gives 
hope  fur  the  next  generation  of  the 
Joneses. 

SELECT     CUNVER-S.\TIONS    WITH  AN 
UNCLE.    By  W,  G.  Well*.   New  York:  The 

Metriam  Co.  ^1.25. 

The  uncle  is  an  entertaining  familiar 
—or  was  before  his  garrulity  fell  from 
him  at  the  altar — and  we  cannot  be  too 
thankful  to  Mr.  Wells  for  introducing 
us  to  him.  His  judgments  were  pitched 
a  little  high  at  times,  and  puzzled  the 
Bagshots  of  his  acquaintance.  Forget- 
ting his  own  warning  about  the  folly  of 
bringing  ideals  into  daily  life,  he  went 
about  applying  his  ideal  common  sense 
to  things,  and  "  going  on"  because  they 
did  not  stand  the  test.  But  it  was  only 
his  habit  of  discoursing  ("one  must 
talk,  you  know"),  the  irresponsible  ex- 
cttrsiveness  of  a  man  who  has  learned 


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146 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


wisdom,  yet  will  not  forget  his  follies. 
For  these  we  love  him  ;  and  when  he 
goes  from  us  into  the  new  life,  fumbling 
the  ring,  we  feel  towards  him  as  did  the 
nephew  who  has  reported  him  so  excel- 
lently, much  as  though  he  were  a 
younger  brother, 

FIDELIS.  Hy  .\.Ja  CambridRc.  New  York  :  D. 
Appleton  &  Co.    $1.00;  paper,  socts. 

This  is  the  pleasantest  story  Miss 
Cambridge  has  written,  though  very 
likely  it  is  not  the  cleverest.  There  is  a 
kindly  mellow  tone  about  it  that  warms 
like  the  talk  t>f  an  old  friend,  even  when 
he  is  a  trifle  slow  and  tame.  Tlicre  are 
dull  passages  here — the  description  of 
the  hero's  literary  achievements  is  dull, 
and  the  story  is  loosely,  untidily  put  to- 
gether. But  we  are  really  and  humanly 
interested  in  the  persons  of  whom  it  tells 
— in  Adam  Drewe,  the  grotesquely  ugly 
hero  with  the  clever  brain  and  the  gener- 
ous heart,  and  in  every  one  of  his  friends 
and  protegees.  His  was  a  very  long 
love-story.  An  ugly  face  and  modesty 
stood  in  the  way  of  his  gaining  favour 
with  his  lady,  who  married  another. 
He  sought  antl  found  fortune  and  made 
friends,  and  became  beloved  in  Aus- 
tralia, but  always  remained  unsatisfied. 
She  was  not  young  when  he  comes  back  ; 
she  was  a  poor  and  neglected  widow, 
and  completely  blind.  Hut  he  was  no 
stranger.  He  had  written  his  books  for 
her  ;  and,  all  unknt)wn  to  him,  she  had 
read  their  meaning  aright.  Thencefor- 
ward he  is  wildly  happy  ;  and  even  con- 
fident enough  of  keeping  her  affection 
when  her  sight  is  restored.  Miss  Cam- 
bridge has  convinced  us  by  this  rather 
ill-told  story  of  a  deeper  understanding 
and  a  firmer  grasp  of  human  nature  than 
by  any  of  her  better-made  ones. 

ELIZABETH  S  PRETENDERS.  By  Hamilton 
A\At,  New  York :  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 
Paper,  50  cts. 

Here  is  a  story  to  be  confidently  re- 
commended to  the  novel  rea<ier  with  a 
grain  of  sense.  There  is  good  stuff  in 
it,  much  observation  of  present-day 
character,  and  lively  incidents.  Mr. 
Aide  had  no  very  easy  task  in  making 
us  like  Hlizabeth.  In  real  Lite,  after  a 
little  intimacy,  we  feel  we  slu)uUi  have 
got  on  famously,  even  if  she  had  snubbed 
us  ever\'  '^ay  ;  but  in  a  book  it  is  diffi- 
cult *'  "nore  than  respect  tor  so 
gri»  '6.    Yet  long  before  the 


end,  our  respect  is  mellowed  into  some- 
thing like  affection.    She  was  a  great 
heiress,  this  Elizabeth,  and  the  atlenlion 
paid  to  her  for  her  fortune  made  her 
cynical  at  an  age  when  most  girls  be- 
lieve in  the  disinterestedness  of  ail  who 
are  not  in  jail  for  picking  or  forging. 
Her  eyes  had  been  opened  from  a  ro- 
mantic dream  in  a  cruel  way  ;  surely  a 
les5   cruel    one   might   have  sufficed. 
Thenceforward  she  determines  the  world 
shall  know  as  little  as  possible  of  her 
wealth,  and,  as  she  has  artistic  ambi- 
tion, she  escapes  to  Paris  to  study.  The 
other  guests  in  her  pension  are  admirably 
sketched.    Indeed,  we  may  say  every 
character  in  the  book  is  a  reality,  though, 
after  the  gritty,  energetic,  and  honest 
Elizabeth,  none  is  quite  so  good  as  one 
of  the   fortune-hunters.   Lord  Robert 
Elton.    Lord    Robert   is   the  serious- 
minded  son  of  a  duke,  who  is  bound  to 
marry  money — an  ugly  young  man  of 
brains,  ambition,  and  awkward  man- 
ners, interested  certainly,  but  honest  as 
the  day,  and  very  amusing  to  the  read- 
er.   Eor  all  his  snappy  ways,  we  feel  as 
much  goodwill  to  him  as  to  the  young 
disinterested  American  artist,  who  kills 
the  heroine's  cynicism  at  last.  Baring 
is  a  little  too  like  Elizabeth  in  character 
for  the  union  to  promise  that  perfection 
of  happiness  we  desire  for  such  worthy 
persons.     Wholesome,  humorous,  and 
sensible  is  the  story  in  every  chapter. 
It  is  a  novel  of  character  of  uncommon 
power  and  interest,  and  the  faults  to  be 
found  with  it  are  very  little  ones.  Biit 
Mr.  Aide  should  give  up  the  habit  of 
using  italics  after  the  fashion  of  an  old- 
fashioned    lady's   letter.    We   like  to 
thrill  of  ourselves,  without  being  nudged 
to  it. 

GOD-FORSAKEN.    By  Frederic  Breton.  N'ew 
York:  (J.  P.  Putnam's  Sons.    Paper.  50  cis. 

This  is  a  story  with  an  object :  the 
object  is  to  convince  its  readers  that  IJ 
destroy  the  belief  of  an  emotionally  re- 
ligious nature  is  very  dangerous.  N*> 
story  ever  exactly  illustrated  a  thesis; 
and  this  one  does  not  at  all  points,  but 
certainly  quite  enough  to  keep  most 
readers  in  agreement.    The  heroine  ap- 
pears at  the  beginning  of  the  story  as  an 
emotional  Catholic  ;  the  hero  as  a  clear- 
headed, unemotional  scientist.  She  mar- 
ries him  without  feeling  for  him  any  very 
passii>nate  affection,  and  loses  through 
his  companionship  her  faith  in  the  supf' 


f 


Digitizei,  i_ ,  v^jO* 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


U7 


natural.  Tier  afTectlons  crave  an  outlet, 
and  thev  tind  such  in  her  passion  for  a 
Nofwegian  musician,  who  returns  her 
love,  but  with  capricious  intervals. 
Then  the  scientific  husband  grows  blind, 
and  she  becomes,  very  improbably,  his 
secretary.  The  situation  at  the  end  is 
difficult,  for  she  has  not  learned  to  love 
the  scientist,  and  she  is  torn  in  tu  u  be- 
tween her  unextinguished  affection  for 
the  mi:5ici.in  and  Iier  feeling  that  it  is 
wrong  to  go  back  to  him,  Mr.  Breton, 
wishing  her  to  retain  our  sympathies, 
felt  there  was  only  one  course  open  to 
him  ;  and  he  provides  for  her  an  escape 
by  sudden  death.  G^d^FersakenH  by  no 
means  a  first-rate  story.  It  is  full  of  a 
half-digested  knowledge  of  Norwegian 
literature  and  of  modem  social,  scien- 
tific, and  religious  theories.  But  it  is 
by  no  means  commonplace.  (Christina 
is  a  conceivable  luunan  being.  Iler  diffi- 
culties and  emotions  and  needs  are  real, 
and  we  cannot  be  indifferent  while  we 
read  her  story.  And  as  for  her  biogra- 
pher, we  are  altogether  convinced  that 
the  power  lies  in  him  to  write  far  better 
books. 

AN'  IM.XGINATIVE  MAN.  By  R(.h<  rt  .S. 
Hicbens.  New  York :  D.  Applcion  &  Co. 
•1.95. 

Whoso  desires  an  immunity  from 
work  that  he  may  have  time  to  dream 
his  dreams,  let  him  cumc  hither,  and  he 
will  learn  to  give  more  fervent  thanks 
for  his  daily  work  than  for  his  daily 
bread.  The  imagination  here  portrayed 
b  no  doubt  a  diseased  one  to  begin  with, 
but  the  reins  arc  laid  on  its  neck  till  it 
carries  the  hero  to  his  undoing.  That  a 
man*s  life-motive  should  be  to  find  an 
insoluble  enigma,  and  that  he  should 
believe  that  he  finds  it  in  the  Sphinx, 
certainly  seems  an  absurdity  when  baldly 
stated. 

"  If  I  could  only  find  a  riddle  that  I 
could  never  guess,"  Denison  had  said, 
sitting  in  his  library  in  Cadogan  Square. 
And  in  quite  a  weird  and  modern  fashion 
this  laLc&t  victim  to  the  relentless  rigure 
which  has  kept  its  watch  with  the  in- 
effable calm  patience  that  has  never  tired 
through  so  many  thousands  of  years  is 
broumt  face  to  face  with  a  great  enigma 
that  he  feels  he  can  never  understand. 

"  The  Sphinx  hivs  a  •iin-II  iipdn  all.  It  is  tiio 
strange  to  leave  no  iniprt-ssion  upon  anybody. 
But  to  Dcntson  it  hail  srt  nicd,  as  he  stood  before 
iU  tbe  Sometbiog  be  bad  waited  (or,  wooted,  aU 


bis  life.  The  immensity  of  Its  gaze,  the  terrible, 
unrelenting  passivity  of  its  attitude,  drew  him  as 
the  hidden  vie-  ilr.iws  the  holy  man  till  he  fallt. 

*'  This  watching  mystery  governed  him. 

"  Now  he  stood  in  the  moonlight,  gazing  at  the 
blurred  face,  till  a  d«toite  lUe  seemed  to  flicker 
into  its  eyes. 

"  He  felt  that  there  was  a  loul  behind  them  tbat 
Had  been  unguessed  by  men  tbrough  all  these 
ai;<s,  a  masterful,  unn  id.i'jle  soul,  profoundly 
thoughtful,  prnfoundly  Krave,  sternly  elevated— 
a  snul  ih.U  h<_-  w.intrci  to  wtirshij) 

"  He  watched  the  marred,  majestic  face,  and 
wove  wild  legends  round  about  it  as  the  night  wore 
on.  He  even  ceased  to  stand  outside,  like  a  de< 
tectitre,  and  observe  bis  own  mind's  proceduiv. 
Ht*  immersril  him«r1f  iri  the  (rfiiU'iidnus  dijjnity 
that  seemed  tu  sweep  tl>e  ai;es  tugcclier  and  put 
them  aside  as  niithin^j. 

"  And  as  he  gazed,  till  the  moonlight  faded,  and 
the  gray-tressed  dawn  slipped  over  the  Sands,  a 
iantaatic  passion  woke  in  his  heart. 

"  He  tiembled  wbHe  beaeknowtedfted  it,  as  the 
madman  may  tremble  when  the  first  faint  delusion 
slides  into  his  brain,  and,  half  aware  of  its  mon- 
strous absutdity,  he  has  yet  oo  strength  to  drive  it 
out." 

There  is  no  mistaking  the  high  imagi- 
native quality  of  such  writing,  and  there 

arc  finer  (.iescriptiotis  <if  tlils  ancient,  si- 
lent land)  with  its  mystery  and  sinister 
charm,  which  we  would  fain  quote  here 
if  there  were  space.  T!i  1  ook  is  an 
able,  if  a  painful  and  extremely  morbid 
one,  and  it  vividly  conveys  the  Icgiii- 
mate  spell  which  Egj'pt  lays  on  the 
imagination.  An  acute  bonhomie^  tinged 
with  the  instinctive  appreciation  of 
drama  that  vivifies  character,  stirs  an 
almost  unbearable  l.insrtror  of  cyni- 
cism, into  which  the  story  is  plunged. 
It  would  be  abnormaU  bizarre,  un- 
wholesome did  we  nf>t  keep  in  view 
that  the  whole  phantasmagoria  is  a 
fitting  background  to  the  distorted  im- 
agination  of  the  central  figure.  We 
very  naturally  expect  from  the  author  of 
The  Gr(£n  Carnation  a  constant  stream  of 
rhetoric,  satire,  and  epigram,  and  we 
are  not  disappointed.  After  discoiint- 
ini;  the  inherent  madness  of  Denison, 
wliit  li  exists  for  the  purposes  of  art,  Ah 
/iii<i;^inative  Man  stands  as  a  srathintj' 
satire  on  the  flood  of  everlasting  cackle 
and  intellectual  titillation  which  over' 
whelms  us  oii  ;ill  sides  like  a  deluge. 
It  will  well  repay  the  reader  to  feel  the 
keen  edge  of  this  alone. 

THE  STORY  OF  FORT  FRAYNE.  By  Cap- 
tain Charles  Kmg.  Chicago :  F.  Tennyson 
Neely.  $i.3$. 

So  much  romance  and  adventure 
are  crammed  between  the  covers  of 


Digitized  by  Google 


148 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


Captain  Kinj^'s  new  book  that  we  are 
compelled  to  cry  out  upon  the  author 
for  overcrowding^  his  story  with  a  super- 
abundance of  character  and  incident. 
Captain  KincT  has  the  facility  <'f  a  prac- 
tised story-tcllcr  ;  his  style  is  aj)t  to  be 
florid,  but  the  rapid  succession  of  excit- 
ing incident  and  thrilling  situation  fur- 
nish diversion  enough  to  condone  lor  the 
faults  of  style  and  construction.  Fort 
Frayne,  after  the  Civil  War,  was  a  place 
of  stirring  action,  and  until  a  few  years 
ago,  the  primitive  Conditions  which  made 
the  hardy  British-beating  stock  of  the 
colonists  in  the  East,  prevailed  within 
the  shadow  of  the  great  mountains. 
King  gives  us  frontier  life,  or,  rather, 
fort  life,  with  the  truth  and  accuracy  of 
an  eye-witness  and  a  soldier.  0£  course 
his  women  are  sweet-faced  and  gentle< 
hearted,  and  as  true  as  the  men  are 
brave.    In  the  hurried  flow  of  events, 


cfjmposed  of  Indian  battles,  financial 
crises,  loves,  joys,  and  disappointnients, 
a  bewildering  array  of  fine  characters  b 
paraded  before  the  reader  with  a  dexter- 
ity whch  gives  each  figure  its  niche  in 
the  gallery  of  interesting  things  sh  'Wn 
by  the  writer.  The  reader,  unlike  the 
carping  critic,  may  not  find  it  in 
heart  to  smile  at  the  melodramatic 
action  of  the  tale.  We  say  melodra* 
matic,  f<  »r  where  only  the  sjood  triumph, 
where  no  vice  is  allowed  to  flourish,  and 
where  all  evil  is  opportunely  crushed, 
one  suspects  that  the  author  is  playing 
to  the  ji^allery.  Still  if  there  be  no  con- 
summate art  in  the  narrative,  if  the  play 
of  motives  be  not  analysed  and  por- 
trayed with  an  Eliot-like  force  and  fidel- 
ity there  is  the  knack  of  tellinc;  a  stir- 
ring story  in  Fart  Frayne,  and  for  so 
much  v.i'  ari:  Ljratcful  to  tfic  versatile 
and  volutuinous  Captain  King. 


AN  INTERLUDE. 

Id  the  silence  and  shadow  of  leaves 

Bow  down  thy  head  and  rest ; 
Drink  of  the  dream  that  the  tree-top  weaves 

Over  the  earth's  warm  breast; 
The  tender  and  balmful  tfrass, 

The  broodinpf  motherhood. 
And  let  but  a  few  short  moments  pass 

In  learning  that  life  is  good  ! 

Somewhere,  with  tumtdt  rife. 

Is  a  world  of  sorrow  antl  shame, 
And  men  are  made  by  strife 

As  the  metal  Is  fused  by  the  flame  ; 
To-morrow  thy  feet  may  turn 

From  the  cool  and  calm  of  the  wood. 
But  forget  to-day  there  are  paths  that  bumi 

And  remember  that  life  is  good  ! 

Ay,  though  it  wounds  and  grieves  \ 

There  is  strength  in  the  lees  of  pain. 
O  heart,  be  still  in  the  shelter  of  leaves, 

And  tind  thyself  acfain  ! 
Find  thyself  and  be  glad 

Of  the  earth's  true  motheriiood, 
For  the  lesson  of  living  is  great  and  sad 

But  the  gift  of  life  is  good ! 

Virginia  Woodward  Ctmid, 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


149 


THE  BOOKMAN'S  TABLE 


ABOUT  PARIS.    By  Richard  Harding  Davis. 
New  York  :  Harper  »t  Hrothcrs.  $1.25. 

Whatever  else  one  may  say  of  Mr. 
Richard  Harding  Davis,  he  certainly 
possesses  the  great  virtue  of  being  read- 
able. His  infinitives  may  be  split  in 
two,  his  shalls  and  wills  hopelessly  con- 
founded, and  his  sentences  so  aslcew  as 
to  make  his  meanini*^  at  first  sight  alto- 
gether doubtful  ;  yet  the  root  of  the  mat- 
ter is  in  him.  He  sustains,  as  few  con- 
temporary authors  do,  the  one  great  test, 
which  is  this  :  that  having  taken  up  one 
of  his  boolcs,  the  reader  does  not  will- 
ingly lay  it  down  until  the  last  word  has 
been  reached. 

The  present  volume  is  tlic  third  of 
those  containing  Mr.  Davis's  impres- 
sions of  foreign  travel  ;  and,  like  the 
others,  it  is  bright,  observant,  and  en- 
tertaining. Persons  who  are  Still  in  that 
period  of  tlieir  development  when  a 
visit  to  Europe  is  a  delightful  novelty, 
love  to  get  together  and  compare  notes  ; 
and  to  read  Mr.  Davis's  books  gives 
one  the  sensation  of  reminiscence  with 
a  ver>-  clever  and  sympathetic  friend. 
In  this  book  Mr.  Davis  tells  of  the  streets 
and  show-places  of  Paris— especially  by 
night — describes  the  demeanour  of  tout 
Paris  on  the  occasion  of  Camot's  tragic 
death,  chats  about  the  scenes  attending 
the  Grand  Prix,  and  discusses  philo- 
sophically and  with  a  good  deal  of  hu- 
mour the  .\merican  colony  in  Paris. 
Mr.  Gibson's  illustrations  afford  a  wel- 
come relief  from  the  proverbial  *'  Gib- 
son girl,"  in  that  he  has  temporarily 
abandoned  the  puffy,  bull-headed  type 
that  he  usually  exploits,  and  given  us 
some  admirably  characteristic  French 
faces,  drawn  with  great  spirit  and  fidel- 
ity. With  his  usual  fondness  for  the 
author  of  the  book,  he  works  him  in 
again,  so  that  in  the  illustration  facing 
page  36  we  are  edified  by  a  portrait  of 
Mr.  Davis  drinking  something  out  of  a 
cup  and  looking  at  a  gtrl  with  apparent 
disapprobation. 

We  are  inclined  to  think  that  About 
Paris  is  a  little  thinner  in  quality  than 
its  two  predecessors  :  and  it  is  also  open 
to  a  little  gentle  criticism  tor  another 
quality  not  usual  in  Mr.  Davis's  work. 
As  arule,  his  line  is  that  of  a  genial  com- 
rade who  chats  over  his  experiences 


with  no  self-consciousness  or  pose.  In 

About  Pill  is,  however,  there  is  just  the 
slightest  savour  of  polite  condescension, 
as  of  one  who  knows  it  all  and  is  kindly 
imparting  a  few  crumbs  to  his  less  for- 
tunate reader.  This  we  feel  called  upon 
to  point  out  as  just  the  least  bit  amus- 
ing, in  view  of  the  fact  that  to  one  who 
knows  his  Paris  well  there  are  few  chap- 
ters in  Mr.  Davis's  book  that  do  not 
sufficiently  indicate  the  superficial  char- 
acter  of  its  information.  .\  young  gen- 
tleman who  actually  thinks  that  un  bock 
means  a  glass  of  bock  bier,  who  imag- 
ines that  (leneral  D<.)dds  was  "  ;i  thin- 
gerous  l^resideniial  possibility,"  and 
who  is  naif  cnuugii  to  think  that  there 
are  no  slums  in  Paris,  can  hardly  be 
taken  seriously  as  an  autliority  on  Pari- 
sian life  and  tliuughi.  However,  one 
does  not  go  to  his  works  for  instruction, 
but  for  amusement  ;  and  it  is  even  prob- 
able that  if  Mr.  Davis  continues  travel- 
ling and  obser\'ing,  he  may  at  some  time 
in  the  future  accjuire  quite  a  fair  amount 
of  knowledge  concerning  the  things  of 
which  he  writes. 

LONDON  NIGHTS.  By  Arthur  Synons.  Lon- 
<toii :  L.  C  Smhkcn. 

This  volume  of  verse  is  interesting 

wholly  apart  froiTi  its  literary  quality,  as 
showing  the  steady  growth  of  the  French 
influence  in  England.  As  Mr.  George 
Moore  is  the  English  disciple  of  Zola 
and  Huysmans,  so  Mr.  Symons  may  now 
fairly  be  taken  as  aspiring  to  the  place 
of  an  English  Haudelaire.  He  cultivates 
sensation  and  deliberately  exalts  the 
sensual  ;  and  in  his  rather  ostentatious 
shamelessness  he  recalls  his  Gallic 
model.  Ilis  literary  art.  however,  is  very 
unusual,  and  his  best  work  is  worth 
very  serious  study,  for  seldom  does  one 
find  a  poet  with  a  keener  perception  of 
the  values  of  words  and  of  tfie  fitting 
phrase.  In  quoting  him,  liowcvcr,  we  pre- 
fer to  turn  away  from  his  music-hall  ex- 
periences, his  "  chance  romances  uf  the 
streets,"  and  the  morbid  subtlety  of  his 
voluptuousness,  to  the  fine  verse  that 
gives  him  at  his  best  in  both  sul)iect  and 
treatment.  Two  bits  will  sufhcc  to  win 
the  reader's  admiration.  The  first,  on 
Yvette  Guilbert,  has  already  been  much 
copied 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


ISO 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


Thai  was  Yvettc.    The  blithe  Ambassadcurs 
•(_iliurr>  lh;s  Suii'l.iy  '.'t  tin   !  uic  i!cs  Fleurs  ; 
Here  are  (he  tlowcris,  lou.  living  (lowers  that  blow 
A  night  or  two  before  the  odours  go; 
And  all  the  flowers  qI  ail  the  city  ways 
Are  laughing  with  Yvette.  this  day  of  days. 
Laugh  wiih  Yvcitc?  Hut  I  must  first  forget 
Before  I  laugh  that  I  have  lieard  Yv(  itc, 
For  the  flowers  fade  \i<-:<'u-  her  :  sec.  iln-  light 
Dies  out  of  that  poor  check  and  leaves  it  white. 
And  a  chill  shiver  takes  me  as  shesingB 
The  pity  of  unpitied  human  things  ; 
A  woe  beyond  all  weeping,  tear*  that  trace 
The  very  wriakles  of  the  last  grimace. 

The  second  is  less  serious,  but  very 

dainty  : 

A  gypsy  witch  has  glided  in. 
t      She  takes  hier  seat  beside  my  fire ; 
Her  eyes  are  innocent  of  sin. 
Mine  of  desire. 

She  holds  me  with  an  onknown  spell. 

She  folds  me  in  her  heart's  embrace  ; 
If  this  be  love  I  cannot  teli  : 
1  watch  her  face. 

Her  sombre  eyes  arc  happier 

Than  any  joy  that  e'er  had  voice  ; 
Since  I  am  happiness  to  her. 

I  too  rejoice. 

And  I  have  dosed  the  door  again, 
Against  the  world  I  close  my  heart ; 

t  hold  her  with  my  spell ;  in  Vain 

Would  she  depart. 

I  hold  her  with  a  surer  spell, 

IkyMiid  h<  r  magic  and  above  ; 
If  bcrs  be  love,  I  cannot  tell. 
But  mine  is  love. 

gUAlNT  KOREA.    liy  Louise  Jordan  Miln. 
New  York :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  9i.7S. 

Mrs.  Miln  j^rave  us  last  year  one  of  the 

most  amusing  books  of  recent  travel, 
U'/i(n  we  were  Strolling  Flayers  in  the 
East  Now  she  has  written  another 
which,  in  many  respects,  is  quite  as 
pood.  Prrha]!*;  '^lie  is  no  more  <)bser\*- 
ant  lliaa  oihcr  travellers,  but  site  knows 
how  to  make  a  very  rare  use  of  her  ob- 
servation when  li<  r  pen  is  in  Iter  hand. 
She  lias  a  quality  lew  of  thcni  seem  to 
possess  ;  we  mif^ht  call  it  wit,  but  if  we 
\vcn>  rli.Tllnii; -d  \vc  could  ni^)t  sustain 
Iter  reputation  for  it.  Very  likely  she  is 
only  vivaciotis  and  entirely  unaffected, 
and  with  an  aversion  lopomposity.  She 
does  not  appear  at  her  best  when  there 
are  weighty  subjects  to  be  discussed — 
and  poor  Korea  is  so  situated  that  the 
weigfity  affairs  of  •^rvfral  States  cann<»t 
be  ignored  in  speaking  ot  it.  Still,  if 
her  views  on  China  and  Japan  may  not 
satisfy  politicians,  tfit  y  are  licr  nu  n. 
formed  in  the  East,  and  they  are  bright- 


ly, candidly  exprcssea.  Whatever  is 
picturesque,  whatever  appeals  to  her 
emntions,  she  crin  see  and  describe  ."Ad- 
mirably. The  chapters  on  Korean  wom- 
en, on  the  Korean  amusements,  on  some 
curious  Kin<  <  ustoms,  art-  (Irlitrh.tf;)!. 
This  "  quaint  kingdom  o(  the  morniag 
calm,"  as  she  calls  it,  fascinated  her. 
You  feel  that  Mrs.  Miln  has  been  there, 
and  her  way  of  telling  what  she  remem- 
bers is  like  the  conversation  of  a  good 
talker  in  a  company  where  there  is  no 
need  to  jn»sf.  Globe-trotters  for  **  copy" 
get  wearisome  after  a  while,  but  we  can- 
not help  feelinf^  Mrs.  Miln  would  not  soon 
degenerate,  and  wisliing  s!ic  may  wan- 
der still  and  may  let  us  hear  from  her 
frequently.  Quaint  Kprea  is  a  good 
holiday  tK>ok. 

PONY  TRACKS.     By  Frederick  Remiogton. 

New  York  :  Harper      Urothcrs.  ^3.00. 

This  is  ( >iK-  <  if  ilie  nn'st  charming  b<i"k? 
of  the  season,  not  because  of  any  great 
literary  excellence  in  the  short  stories 
which,  to  the  number  of  fifteen,  makeup 
the  volume,  but  because  there  is  about 
them  the  freshness  and  breezy  unconven- 
tionality  of  the  West,  while  the  vigourand 
occasional  crudeness  of  the  better  class 
of  people  to  be  met  there.  It  is  in  the 
illustrations  that  the  work  especially  at- 
tracts. Men,  horses,  and  cattle  are  re- 
presented in  ihc  spii  tied  manner  iliat  has 
distinguished  Remington's  work  in  (he 
magazines,  and  in  the  execution  of 
which,  with  perhaps  the  exception  oi 
Thulstrup,  he  is  unsurpassed. 

Xo  section  of  interest  in  the  West  has 
escaped  the  author's  observation,- and 
his  strange  and  adventurous  experiences 
are  well  wonh  telling.  He  has  roved 
among  the  row-pnnrhers  of  the  South- 
west, w  here  the  dread  Apache  ruled  in 
the  fastnesses  of  mountain  and  desert; 
on  the  plains  of  the  Dakotas,  wliere  the 
last  contlict  with  the  Indians  occurred  ;  a( 
the  forts  ;  behind  General  Miles  on  long 

and  forced  ridfs — everywhere,  in  fact, 
w  here  the  American  may  still  revel  in 
great  red-shirted  freedom  which  has  beco 
puslu  d  so  far  to  the  mountain  wall  that 
it  threatens  soon  to  expire  S4jmcwhere 
near  the   top.    The  selection  T^ii^jjj^ 
turcsquc  subjects  tor  the  full-page  ilill^ 
trations  gives  the  l>est  j^ossible  ide.'t  of 
this  country  and  its  people  in  the  wild 
and  woolly  West.    The  book  is  hand- 
«;n;ne!y  printed    on    heavy  paper  and 
bound  in  good  stout  covers. 


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A  UTEKAKY  JOURNAL, 


OUR  SQUARE  AND  CIRCLE :  OR.  THE  AK- 

KALS  OF  A  LITTLE  LONDON  HOUSE. 
By  "  jack  Ea»cl."  New  York  ;  Macmillan  & 
Co. 

It  seems  an  unc^raclous  task  tii  find 
any  fault  with  this  chect  lul  author,  who 
so  confidingly  takes  for  granted  the  in-> 
terest  of  the  public  in  his  most  trifling 
domestic  arrangements  and  his  ideas  on 
almost  every  subject  under  the  sun.  It 
must  be  said,  however,  that  many  of 
thee  details  ami  ideas  are  among  the 
things  which  are  only  valuable  to  the 
owner.  But  if  the  reader  is  not  repelled 
by  an  extreme  discursiveness  of  style, 
he  will  find  here  many  reallv  valuable 
hints  and  warnings  on  the  subject  of  set- 
ting up  house,  and  much  jileasant  gos- 
sip on  an  almost  unlimited  variety  of 
sul>jects.  It  is  an  open  secret,  by  the 
way,  that  the  author  of  these  entertain- 
ing sketches  is  Mr.  Charles  L.  Eastlake, 
Curator  of  the  National  Gallery,  Lon- 
don. **  Jack  Easel"  will  also  be  iden- 
tified as  Punches  sometime  **  Roving 
Corresponden  t.  ** 


BOOKMAN  BREVITIES. 

The  Messrs.  Macmillan  publish  an 
elaborate  memoir  of  5jir  Samuel  Baker, 
written  by  Messrs.  T.  Douglas  Murray 
and  A.  Silva  White,  and  dedicated  to  the 
Otieen.  It  contains  si.x  illustrations 
and  nine  maps,  all  admirably  executed, 
the  latter  of  much  interest  and  value  to 
students  of  African  geography.  The 
memoir  is  written  with  much  liter- 
ary skill,  and  forms  a  just  tribute  to 
the  energy  anrl  ability  of  a  man  whose 
work  has  been  of  immense  value  to  Eng- 
land and  to  civilisation.    (Price,  $6.00.) 

In  the  Eni^lish  Men  of  Action  Series, 
Mr.  Archibald  Forbes  tells  the  story  of 
Sir  Colin  Campbell's  life  and  military 
services  in  his  usual  nervous,  concise, 
and  vivid  style.  The  book  gives  the 
reader  an  excellent  opportunity  to  re- 
view once  more  the  story  of  the  Crimean 
War  and  of  tlie  Indian  Mutiny.  It  is 
published  iiy  the  Messrs,  Macmillan, 
the  price  beiog  75  cents. 

In  a  compact  vohime  of  ^95  pages  the 
Rev.  William  Hayes  Ward  has  made  an 
interesting^  collection  of  the  most  strik- 
ing tributes  to  Abraham  Lincoln  from 
his  associates  and  others.  The  vein  of 
zemiDiscence  which  runs  through  them 
makes  the  book  most  interesting  read* 


ing.  The  publishers  are  Messrs.  Thomas 
Y.   Crowell  and  Company,  of  New 

York. 

The  Public  Men  of  To-day  Series, 
published  by  Messrs.  Frederick  Warne 
and  Company,  which  we  have  already 
had  occasion  to  mention,  has  now  been 
aus.,nnented  by  a  ni  tst  e.xcellent  and 
timely  vc)]nm<  (/n  l.i  Ilung  Chang,  from 
the  pen  of  Professor  K.  K.  Douglas,  and^ 
by  another,  even  more  interesting,  on  \ 
the  late  M.  Stambuloff,  by  Mr.  A.  Hulme 
Beaman.  We  heartily  commend  thera 
both  to  our  readers,  and  shall  have  oc- 
casion ti>  re\  ie\v  the  second  of  them  at 
greater  length  in  a  subsequent  number 
of  The  Bookman. 

Mr.  Frank  Graham  Moorehead  is  the 
author  of  a  small  book  published  by  the 
Nixon-Jones  Printing  Company,  of  St. 
Louis.  It  is  entitled  Unkn(mH  Facts 
about  Will- known  Pfoplc.  .\fter  perus- 
ing some  of  the  facis  we  arc  inclined  to 
inquire,  "Unknown  to  whom?"  That 
Grover  Cleveland,  for  instance,  wasnnce 
Mayor  of  Buffalo ;  that  he  was  twice 
elected  President ;  and  that  Mr.  George 
Dn  Maurier  is  the  author  of  a  novel 
called  Trilby-  are  facts  that  might  be  re- 
garded as  known  to  persons  even  less 
erudite  than  Macaulay's  schoolboy  ;  but 
this  is  a  criticism  upon  the  title  only, 
for  the  book  itself  is  really  a  judicious 
condensation  of  a  good  deal  of  useful  in- 
formation about  contemporary  persons, 
many  of  whom  are  as  yet  to  be  found  in 
onl\  one  of  the  existing  encyclopaedias. 
Foreign  personages  nrp  ver)-  fairly  repre- 
sented, though  we  notice  a  few  omis- 
sions. The  biographies  are  arranged  in 
alphabetical  order. 

The  Kev.  Dr.  Henry  M.  Field  writes 
very  entertainingly  of  a  visit  to  the 
provinces  dciminated  by  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway  in  a  book  which,  with 
the  title  Our  JVesiem  Archipelago,  is  pub- 
lished by  the  Messrs.  Harf^rand  Broth- 
ers. Those  persons  who  are  contem- 
plating the  same  very  delighUul  journey, 
with  an  extension  to  Alaska,  shou'.  l  cer- 
tainly take  Dr.  Field's  volume  with  them 
or  read  it  before  going.  Twelve  excellent 

illustrations  supplement  the  text.  The 

Robert  Clarke  Company,  of  Cincinnati, 
send  us  a  most  complete  guide  to  the 
Chtckamauga  National  Mnitary  Park, 
written  by  the  competent  pen  cif  General 
H.  V.  Boynton.  It  is  prepared  with 
reat  care,  and  gives  the  most  minute 
etails  relating  to  the  great  battles 


i 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


fought  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Park. 
(Price,  $1.50.) 

Messrs.  Macmillan  and  Compnny  go 
on  prosperously  with  their  Illustrated 
Novels  Series.  The  last  volume  we 
have  received  contains  Thomas  I,ove 
Peacock's  J/a/</ J/tirw// and  Crotchet  Cas- 
tle (Si. 25).  Mr.  Saintsbury  is  quite  at 
home  in  criticlsinvx  siirli  a  writer  as  Pea- 
cock, and  if  we  are  to  have  a  standard  edi- 
tion of  his  work,  no  better  writer  could 
be  found  to  stand  by  him.  Nothing  will 
ever  make  Peacock  popular,  but  he  is  use- 
ful to  unscrupulous  journalists,  as  his 
clever  phrases  can  be  borrowed  without 
the  smallc^^t  risk  of  detection.  The  Mac- 
millans  arc  making  a  tine  series  of  these 
books,  and  its  popularity  should  be  en- 
during. We  have  also  i[>  note  two  fur- 
ther additions  to  the  edition  of  Balzac 
published  by  the  same  firm,  name- 
ly, The  Chouans  and  At  the  Sign  of  the 
Cat  and  Racket  (per  vohime,  $1.50),  and 
the  itiiiLli  vulutnc  of  tlie  dainly  edition 
of  Defoe,  which  contains  the  famous 
Journal  of  the  PIa;^uc. 

Two  more  volumes  of  Mr.  Hardy's 
novels  have  been  added  by  the  Messrs. 
Harper  to  their  new  edition  of  this  au- 
thor's work.  They  are  A  Pair  of  Blue 
JSyes  and  7W  on  a  Tower  (per  volume, 
$1.50).  The  latter  is  a  story  of  a  lov- 
ing woman,  terribly  tried,  doing  wrong 
because  the  force  of  circumstances  is  too 
Strong  for  her,  but  who  is  pure  and  good 
in  spite  of  her  fall.  It  will  be  seen  at  a 
glance  that  the  subject  has  close  affini- 
ties with  Tess  ;  indeed,  we  find  that  when 
this  novel  was  published  some  thirteen 
years  ago  it  did  not  escape  the  oppro- 
brious epithet  of  '*  improper,"  from  Mrs. 

Grundy,  as  affecting  morals. ^  Messrs. 

R.  F.  Fenno  and  Company  have  made  a 
collection  of  stories  redolent  of  mystery, 
ghosts,  and  strange  secrets,  one  of  which, 
"  The  Secret  of  Goresthorpe  Grang;e,"  is 
by  Conan  Doyle.  The  volume  bears 
the  appropriate  title  Strange  Secrets,  and 
its  contents  are  readable  and  entertain- 
ing.— The  Making  of  Mary,  by  Jean  For- 
syth, published  in  Cassell's  Unknown 
Library,  is  an  amusing  story  steeped  in 
theosophy.  Poor  Mary  made  a  bad 
thing  of  her  previous  incarnations,  and 
she  is  still  a  very  unfinisiied  piece  of 

work  when  we  take  leave  of  her.  

Readers  of  that  vivacious  novel  The  Grass- 
hoppers, published  a  few  months  ago,  will 
be  glad  to  read  Mrs.  Dean's  A  SpfenJid 
Cousin^  which  also  appears  in  the  Un- 


known Library."  -In  the  Antonym  Li- 
brary— a  similar  series  of  booklets  issued 
bv  the  Putnams — a  new  volume  has  just 
been  published  which  contains  "  The 
Honour  of  the  Flag"  and  seven  other 
short  stories  by  the  popti'  ;r  chronicler 
of  the  sea,  Mr.  VV.  Clark  Rubsell. 

Messrs.  Crowell  and  Company  have 
sent  us  the  first  volume  of  their  Off- 
hand Series,  which  is  daintily  yet  sub- 
stantially bound.  Old  Man  Savarin  and 
other  Stories  contains  for  the  most  part  a 
coUecti'in  of  French-Canadian  tales  by 
the  Canadian  writer  Mr,  F.dward  Will- 
iam Thomson.  Mr.  Tfiomson  has  a 
picturesque  style,  and  he  shows  miich 
versatility,  as  well  as  dramatic  power, 
in  the  narration  of  his  stories.  Some  of 
them  are  very  touchinp^  and  all  cf  tfiem 
are  entertaining.  They  have  a  Iresh 
and  delightful  flavour,  which  wins  the 
attention  of  the  reader.  The  same  firm 
have  iiist  published  a  delicious  little 
le  by  James  Otis,  not  unknown  to 
readers  of  St.  Nicholas,  in  which  maga> 
zine  a  serial  of  his  is  now  appearini^. 
How  Tommy  Saved  the  Barn  (50  cents) 
tells  a  story  of  three  little  city  waifs  who 
spend  a  holiday  at  a  Maine  farm  and 
celebrate  themselves  in  a  heroic  fashtoo, 
not,  however,  untrue  to  life,  amid  the 
novelty  of  their  experiences.  The  litT!e 
volume  will  especially  appeal  to  those 
who  take  an  interest  in  the  beneficent 
work  being  accomplished  by  the  Fresh 
Air  Fund. 

Katharine  Pyle  has  issued  through 
Messrs.  E.  P.  Dutton  and  Company  a 
collection  of  rhymes  of  the  Slovenly  Peter 
order,  with  effective  drawings,  whiclx  are 
calculated  by  the  lessons  of  thrift,  clean- 
lincss,  and  obedience  drawn  fri«m  her 
'orrible  tales  to  quicken  the  moral  sense 
of  her  young  readers.  The  KaMit  fViteA, 
and  other  Ta/es  ($1.50)  contains  a  round 
dozen  of  those  amusincT  caricatures,  and 
is  well  printi'd  and  encased  in  a  substan- 
tial bindini:.  ]]7iat  I  T,>/,!  /}<'>cas  {$1.21), 
by  Mary  E.  Ireland,  is  published  by  the 
same  firm.  It  is  a  story  for  mission 
workers,  and  was  suggested  to  the  att' 
thor  by  seeini^  during  her  long  associa- 
tion with  missionary  societies  the  need 
of  a  book  for  reading  aloud  at  their 
meetings — a  lively,  suggestive,  contin- 
ued stor)',  constructed  so  as  to  be  read 

in  monthly  instalments.  Messrs.  D. 

Appleton  and  Company  have  published 
a  collection  of  stories  by  Hezekiah  But- 
terworth  in  their  Town  and  Country 


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A  UTEKAKY  JOURNAL.  133 


I.thrary,  some  of  which  have  not  been 
priated  before.  In  Old  New  £ngla$td 
contains  a  baker's  dozen  of  stories,  found- 
ed on  tales  which  the  author  used  to 
hear  when  a  boy — stories  told  on  old  red 
settles  by  chimney  fires — which,  he  says, 
"  ll«ve  always  haunted  me  at  such  times 
as  my    mind    wandcrrfl    back    to  the 

j)ast. ' '  Tail's  of  Soldiers  and  Civiiiaus, 

{)%•  Ambrose  Fierce  (paper,  50  cents), 
has  been  reissued  by  Messrs.  Lovell, 
Coryell,  and  Company  in  their  series  of 

American  Novels.  The  J.  B.  Lippin- 

cott  Company  publish  Fate  at  the  Door, 
by  Jessie  Van  Zile  Belden,  in  a  delicate 
white  buckram  bindinjc  with  ornamental 
design  stamped  in  blue  on  the  cover. 

In  his  preface  to  Tkt  Goidcn  Book  of 
C^eruige  (Macmillan  and  Company), 
Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  tells  how  his  in- 
tentions with  regard  to  this  book  of 
selections  became  modified.  At  first  it 
was  to  contain  only  Coleridge's  very 
best.    But  these  poems  were  so  few,  and 


not  representative  cnoutjh  nf  thr  mind 
of  the  poet.  So  he  included  some  de- 
lightful ones  of  the  second  class.  Stilt 
Coleridge  was  not  all  reflected  ;  there- 
fore a  few  more  not  so  good  were  in- 
serted, because  they  had  "  not  only  a 
strong  personal  interest,  but  also  illus- 
trated his  desultorv  and  wandering  verse 
— drittmg  phantasies  of  song  .  .  .  orig- 
inal in  form,  unshaped  by  art,  yet  shaped 
enough  to  make  iis  rep^ret  that  he  did 
not  pursue  the  new  veins  he  opened,  and 
mould  their  metal  into  a  finished  sculp- 
tnre."  A  complete  and  sympathetic 
criticism  of  Coleridge's  work  is  summed 
up  in  this  editorial  statement.  The 
St  lection  is  indeed  as  good  as  could  be 
made,  unless  some  prose  passages  from 
the  Friend  had  been  induded  in  the 
Golden  Book.  Mr.  Brooke's  introduction 
is  an  admirable  essay  ;  and  it  is  gratify- 
ing to  see  with  what  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion he  speaks  of  the  Coleridge  re- 
searches of  the  late  Mr.  Dykes  Campbell. 


THE  OLD  BOOKSELLERS  OF  NEW  YORK. 


**  There'*  nothing  hath  enduring  youth. 
Eternal  newncM,  strength  noTullag, 

Except  old  books,  old  friends,  old  truth 
That's  ever  battling— stilt  prevailing." 

Among  the  Nassau  Street "  bookshops 
of  olden  time,"  whose  alluring  signs 
no  longer  salute  the  eye  of  the  passing 
bibliophile,  was  that  01  John  Bradburn, 
who  came  to  this  country  in  1820  from 
County  Westmeath,  Ireland,  where  he 
was  bom  in  1805.  He  began  his  career 
as  a  vender  of  second-hand  books  some 
ten  years  later  than  William  Gowans, 
and  in  the  same  humble  way.  Armed 
with  a  basket  filled  with  hooks  of  tr;  vfl 
and  works  on  navigation  he  invaded  the 
wharves  and  ships  of  the  city,  and  drove 

a  thriving  trade  with  ships'  captains  and 
mates  just  home  from  a  cruise  and  with 
money  burning  holes  through  their 
freshly  lined  pockets. 

Mr.  Tiradburn's  first  place  of  business 
was  on  tlie  southcasleni  corner  ot  Fulton 
aod  Nassau  Streets.  In  iSsaor  1853  he  re- 
moved  to  the  northwestern  corner  of  Ann 
and  Nassau,  where  he  remained  until 
be  retired  from  active  business  in  1868. 
Thr  old  book  shops  of  his  day  were 
commonly  supplied  with  outside  shelves 


and  counters,  which  were  laden  with 
books  and  pamphlets.  Here  loungers 
with  literary  tastes  eoni^reg  iied  the  live- 
long day,  sipping  knowledge  as  the  bee 
sips  honey,  and  forming  a  feature  of 
New  York  City  Street  life  which  has 
passed  almost  entirely  away. 

Mr.  Bradburn  dealt  largely  in  second- 
hand law,  theological,  and  medical 
books,  and  his  shop  was  a  veritable 
boon  to  impecunious  students  of  theo- 
logical seminaries  and  academies  of 
medicine  and  to  Ijriefless  attorneys  and 
counsellors  at  law.  Books  of  a  less 
Utilitarian  character,  but  possessed  of 
more  cliarms  for  the  bibliophile,  also 
found  their  way  to  his  shop  ;  and  the 
patient  searcher  for  rarities  might  at  any 
moment  metrt  with  one  tucked  away 
among  the  volumes  clad  in  prosaic  legal 
calf  which  lined  his  shelves. 

When  first  I  knew  this  veteran  of  the 
old  book  trade  he  was  a  pleasant-faced, 
elderly  man  with  an  air  of  prosperity 
and  contentment  about  him,  in  puzzling 
contrast  to  the  surronndinpT?  of  his 
dingy,  contracted,  but  typical  old  book 
shop.  The  book  business  prospered  so 
well  with  Mr.  nra<ll)urn  that  he  was  able 
to  make  investments  in  such  choice  Man- 


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'54 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


hattan  real  estate  as  Central  Park  and 
Fifth  Avenue  lots,  the  "  unearned  incre- 
ment" of  which  in  course  of  time  made 
him  well-to-do. 

There  is  not  much  ozone  about  old 
books,  nevertheless  dealing  in  them  ap- 
pears to  be  conducive  to  longevity. 
C.  S.  Francis,  to  whom  we  h^ve  still  to 
refer,  died  at  the  age  of  eighty -five  ;  and 
I  have  had  lately  the  gratification  of 
sending  Mr.  Bradburn  my  congratula- 
tions upon  his  attainment,  on  April  5th. 


1 


JOHN  BRADBl-RN. 


1895,  of  his  ninetieth  birthday,  in  good 
health  and  the  full  possession  of  his 
faculties. 

O  ne  of  Mr.  Bradburn's  near  neighbours 
was  John  Pyne,  a  **  man  of  many 
friends,"  who,  we  are  told,  resembled 
Joseph  Sabin  in  this,  that  he  never 
smoked  or  used  alcoholic  liquors.  Mr. 
Pyne  removed  from  Nassau  Street  to 
the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Astor  Place. 
Not  meeting  with  the  success  he  had 
anticipated,  lie  returned  to  his  former 
stand,  but  found  that  many  of  his  old 
customers  had  drifted  away.  He  finally 
abandoned  the  second-hand  book  busi- 
ness and  entered  the  Register's  office  of 


the  City  of  New  York,  where  he  re- 
mained until  his  death,  in  1894. 

In  Nassau  Street,  between  Fulton  and 
Ann,  was  the  book  shop  of  T.  H.  Mor- 
rell,  at  one  time  the  rallying  place  for 
antiquarians  interested  in  old  New  York 
and  Revolutionary  histor)-.  Mr.  Mor- 
rell  was  more  conspicuous  as  an  *'  extra 
illustrator"  than  as  a  dealer  in  rare 
books,  although  he  had  acquired  a 
knowledge  of  and  trafficked  to  some  ex- 
tent in  the  latter.  His  pronounced 
penchant  was  for  books  on  the  drama. 
New  York  City,  and  the  American  Revo- 
lution. Although  the  books  he  extra 
illustrated  were  for  sale  when  com- 
pleted— unless  executed  to  order — he 
lavished  upon  them  all  the  skill  and 
taste  of  an  experienced  and  enthusiastic 
amateur.  His  knowledge  of  the  class  of 
prints  to  which  he  confined  his  attention 
was  thorough,  and  he  inserted  in  his 
books  the  choicest  and  rarest  that  he 
could  procure.  When  necessary  he  had 
them  repaired  and  restored  by  George 
Trent,  that  unequalled  adept  in  the  art 
of  cleaning,  mending,  and  inlaying 
books  and  prints,  and  then  consigned 
the  volumes  to  the  skilful  hands  of  the 
binder,  William  Matthews. 

A  lasting  monument  to  Mr.  MorrelTs 
zeal  and  industry  is  the  copy  of  Ur.  F"ran- 
cis's  Old  A' no  York,  which  he  illustrated 
and  e.\tended  to  nine  volumes.  This 
book  finally  came  into  the  possession  of 
Mr.  J.  H.  V.  Arnold,  and  at  his  sale  was 
purchased  by  Joseph  Sabin  for  Robert 
L.  Stuart  at  a  cost  of  $230  per  volume. 
It  contains  over  twenty-five  hundred 
prints,  water-colour  drawings,  and  auto- 
graphs, and  among  the  latter  are  either 
letters  or  signatures  of  all  the  mayors  of 
New  York  up  to  the  time  the  book  was 
completed.  It  is  by  far  the  most  exten- 
sively illustrated  copy  of  any  book  upon 
New  York  local  history,  and  will  proba- 
bly never  be  equalled,  for  there  are  no 
prints  which  have  become  so  scarce  as 
those  which  relate  to  old  New  York. 
The  lithographic  plates  in  Valentine's 
Manual^  which  earlier  collectors  affected 
to  despise  and  hesitated  to  use,  have  be- 
come Hobson's  choice  with  the  "  extra 
illustrator"  of  this  fair  city  of  Gotham 
of  to-day. 

Mr.  Morrell  had  always  betrayed 
strong  dramatic  proclivities,  and  he 
finally  donned  the  tragedian's  garb. 
His  formal  entrance  to  the  stage  was 
made  in  the  character  of  Cardinal  Richc- 


Digitized  by  GoogI 


A  UJEKAtiY  JOURNAL, 


lieu,  and  he  selected  Phila  loh  liia  as  the 
scene  of  the  first  and,  as  I  am  informed, 
last  public  exhibition  of  his  histrionic 
ability. 

A  few  steps  further  up  Nassau  Street 
(No.  140)  broufi^ht  the  book-hunter  on  his 
nmblesto"  Old  HolHngswoith's,"  who 
afterwards  mii^^rated  to  the  east  side  of 
Broadway,  near  Great  Jones  Street.  He 
dealt  in  prints  and  old  magasfaies  ;  and 
although  his  shop  was  a  mere  cubby- 
hole, it  was  well  lor  the  book  or  print 
collector  to  make  in  it  occasionally  a 
tentative  cast  of  his  drag-net. 

Around  the  comer,  iu  Fulton  Street, 
was  the  store  of  Timothy  Reeve  and 
Company,  who  dealt  exclusively  in  im- 
ported rare  and  standard  books,  which 
they  sold  at  retail  and  to  the  trade  gen- 
erally throughout  the  country.  They 
relinquished  business  in  i866,  and  were 
suctceiled  by  the  present  firm  of  S.  B. 
Luyster  and  Company. 

•Xllan  F.bbs  was  located  on  the  west 
side  of  Broadway,  near  Fulton  Street. 
His  specialty  was  high-class  and  hand* 
somelv  bound  English  books.  In  187c, 
with  his  family,  he  took  passage  lor 
Europe,  and  was  lost  on  the  City  of 
Boston. 

C.  S.  Francis  should  have  had  an 
earlier  place  in  these  sketches.  He 
came  to  the  city  in  1826  and  opened 
a  store  at  189  Broadway,  near  Dey 
Street.  From  there  he  removed  to 
252  Broadm'ay,  under  the  famous  old 
Peale's  Museum,  For  many  years  his 
store  was  the  lieadquarters  for  men  of 
letters  and  lovers  of  books.  His  broth- 
er,  D.  G.  Francis,  who  succeeded  him 
in  business,  although  advanced  in  years, 
has  only  within  the  last  few  monuis  re- 
linquished the  management  of  the  old- 
est established  book  store  in  this  city. 

Mr.  C.  S.  Francis  published  the  first 
American  edition  of  Aurora  Leigh  ;  and 
the  writer  has  in  his  possession  Mrs. 
Browning's  note  in  relation  to  Mr.  Fran- 
cis's acquisition  of  the  copyright,  which 
reads  as  follows  :  "  Having  received 
what  I  considered  to  be  sufficient  re- 
muneration for  my  poem  of  Aurora 
Ltigh  from  Mr.  Francis,  of  New  York, 
it  is  my  earnest  desire  that  his  right  in 
this  and  future  editions  of  the  same  may 
not  be  interfered  with."  This  warning 
to  tmpassers  is  prominently  displayed 
in  the  edition  published  by  Mr.  Francis 
in  1857. 

C.  B.  Richardson,  bookseller,  and  pub- 


lishcr  of  the  Historical  Magazine ,  VkA- 
XsLtd' s  History  0/  the  Rehdlityn,  and  a  num- 
ber of  Southern  books,  occupied  with 
the  old-established  firm  of  book  auc- 
tioneers. Bangs.  Merwin  and  Company, 
a  building  at  No.  594  Broadway,  near 
Houston  Street.  Mr.  Richardson  suf- 
fered a  partial  loss  of  his  st(jck  in  a  con- 
flagration on  the  19th  of  September,  i  S64, 
which  at  the  same  time  destroyed  many 
rare  volumes,  the  property  of  Thomas 
Aspinwali,  U.  S.  Consul  to  London,  the 
collector  of  many  of  the  choice  books  of 
the  late  S.  L.  M.  Barlow. 

Astor  Place  was  for  some  time  and  un- 
til <^uite  recently  a  bookselling  and  pub- 
lishing centre.  Here  were  established 
John  Wiley  and  Son,  whose  business  con- 
sisted largely  of  the  importation  of  books 
bou|^ht  to  order  in  Europe.  Mr.  Lenox 
obtamed  through  their  agency  his  beau- 
tiful copy  of  the  Mazarin  Bible,  the 
finest  of  the  only  two  copies  of  this  mon* 
ument  of  typography  that  have  ever  been 
brought  to  this  country. 

The  figure  of  *'  Old  Cronin"  bending 
beneath  the  weight  of  the  ponderous 
folios  and  quartos  in  which  he  princi- 
pally dealt  has  been  for  many  years  a 
famiUar  spectacle  in  the  down-town 
streets  of  New  York.  He  still  lives  and 
plies  his  trade,  although  I  am  told  that 
he  has  become  quite  blind.  Another 
singular  character  incidentally  and  spas- 
modicaUy  engaged  in  the  old  book  busi- 
ness was  "Jimmy"  Lawlor,  who  kept 
an  uninviting  litile  shop  at  the  lower 
end  of  University  Place.  For  a  time  he 
enjoyed  a  virtual  monopoly  of  a  fruitful 
source  of  book  supply.  He  would  pur- 
chase by  the  cubic  foot  the  contents  of 
old  garrets,  and  probably  bought  many 
of  his  books  l)y  the  pound,  together 
with  the  household  pots,  kettles,  and 
pans.  The  valuable  books  that  occa- 
sionally turned  up  in  these  job  lots  cost 
him  very  little,  and  were  cheap  to  his 
customers  if  he  charged  a  profit  of  1000 
per  cent.  Acquisitions  from  this  source 
required  careful  collation  on  the  part  of 
the  buyer  ;  still  it  was  surprising  how 
much  knowledge  of  books  Mr.  Lawlor 
picked  up  in  the  course  of  Jiis  business 
career. 

Other  booksellers  of  New  York  thirty 

to  sixty  years  ago  were  M' El  rath  and 
Bangs,  Calvin  Blanchard,  Samuel  Ray- 
nor,  Charles  B.  Norton,  and  John  Doyle 
whose  signboard  modestly  declared  his 
place  of  business  in  Nassau  Street  to  be 


Digitized  by  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN 


"the  moral  centre  of  the  intellectual 

world." 

The  old  book  shops  of  the  metropolis 
before  the  Civil  War  were  for  the  most 
part  small  and  unprptcntious  ;  but  pood 
books  and  rare  ones  were  constantly  to 
be  found  in  them  by  alert,  persevering, 
and  intellii^t  iit  collectors,  aiul  in  those 
days  it  did  not,  as  it  unfortunately  does 
now,  require  the  bank  account  of  a  milU 
ionaire  to  go  book-hunting  or  salmon- 
fishing. 

Indulgence  in  fond  recollections  of  by- 
gone days  is  considered  an  infallible 
sign  of  approaching  senility,  and  wv  are 
assured  that  the  present  days  are  a  vast 
improvement  upon  any  that  have  preced- 
ed them.  Doubtless  thev  arc— with  ex- 
ceptions— for  the  book  hunter  with  a 
slender  purse  beyond  at!  question  has 
seen  his  best  days  in  this  or  any  other 
land.  Alike  from  the  Quay  Voltaire, 
Piccadilly,  and  Nassau  Street, 

"   the  !at)]fii  trc.isiirc  liccs. 

frrown  r;ircr  with  the  rieeting  vc.us, 

In  rich  men's  shelves  ihey  uke  their  ease." 

— Au>iKt*s  BoDOMs  Elzxvhs. 

Nevertheless,  according  to  Edmund 

(rosse.  there  is  a  pleasure  still  attendant 
upon  the  collector  in  his  poverty — a  hap- 


piness he  shares  with  gentle  Elia  (whom 
for  his  bibliomania  w  e  I'-ve  the  more), 
namely,  "  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  buy- 
ing what  he  knows  he  can't  afford.** 

When  the  first  of  these  <;ketches  ap- 
peared I  was  confronted  with  this  quer}' 
from  an  old  and  respected  member  of 
tlie  bookselling  fraternity  :  "  What  is 
the  use  of  writing  about  these  men  ? 
They  were  simply  dealers,  and  bought 
and  sold  books  as  so  much  merchandise 
for  profit,  and  that  was  all  there  was  to 
it."'   Not  quite  all,  my  ^ood  friend.  An 
old  book  shop  is  an  instructive  place 
oven  to  visit,  and  we  spend  our  time 
over  many  books  the  contents  of  which 
arc  less  profitable  reading  than  are  the 
pages  of  a  well-made  bookseller's  cata- 
logue.   1  am  loth  to  believe  that  one 
can  pass  his  life  among  books,  even  in 
the  way  of  sordid  trade,  without  imbib* 
ing — it  may  be  in  only  a  superficial  man- 
ner— a  modicum  of  the  wit,  wisdom,  and 
philosophy  they  contain,  and  thereby 
becnmincf  a  less  commonplace  fraction  i  f 
the  mass  of  humanity.   But  this  may  be 
only  a  bibliomaniac's  fancy,  liable  to  be 
shattered  by  tiie  first  passing  breath  of 
common-sense  criticism. 

//'.  X,  Andrews, 


BARON  TAUCHNITZ. 


Althougfh  the  name  of  the  German 
publisher  who  died  on  August  i3tli  was 
familiar  to  the  English-speaking  public, 
the  precise  nature  of  his  connection  w  ith 
our  literature  was  not  equally  under- 
stood by  them.  To  most,  the  well- 
known  Tauchnitz  edition  suggested 
handy  pocket  volumes  of  their  most 
popular  authors,  which  they  could  read 
with  the  added  sweetness  which  is  given 
to  forbidden  fruit. 

Baron  Tauchnitz  came  of  a  familv  of 
publishers  who  did  much  to  spread  a 
knitu  ledcre  of  the  classics  and  of  their 
own  literature,  and  he  carried  on  their 
work.  Towards  the  end  of  the  last  cen- 
tury his  iim  le  set  up  in  T.eip/it;  a  press 
noted  for  the  cheapness  and  elegance  of 
the  works  which  issued  from  it,  and  the 
business  was  continued  by  a  son  who 
died  only  some  ten  years  ago.  It  was 
in  1837  that  the  nephew,  the  late  Baron, 
established  his  publishing  business,  also 


in  Leipzig,  and  in  tS.jt  that  he  began 
printing  the  works  of  English  authors, 
and  so  did  an  immense  service  to  Eng- 
lish literature  by  widening  the  range  of 
appreciation  of  it.  It  is  natural  that  at 
the  moment  of  his  death  the  generosity 
towards  I'ni^lish  and  .\nierican  writers 
with  which  he  carried  out  this  undertak- 
ing should  be  most  commented  upon. 
When  the  Tauchnitz  edition  of  British 
authors  was  betjun  there  was  no  inter- 
national copyright,  and  there  was  none 
for  several  years  later  ;  but  all  along,  the 
German  publisher  obtained  the  authors' 
consent,  and  paid  them  tor  it.  That 
this  consideration  on  his  part  rewarded 
him  amj.ly  when  international  cnpyricrht 
came  to  be  established  there  is  no  doubt ; 
but,  from  the  first.  Baron  Tauchnitx  had 
an  ambition  beyond  the  filling  of  his 
own  pocket.  We  believe  that  in  his 
original  prospectus  he  proclaimed  an  in- 
tention of  making  the  first  step  towards 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


'57 


an  extension  of  the  rights  of  copyrii;ht, 
and  of  publishing  his  edition  in  accord- 
ance with  these  rights.  With  the  liter- 
ar)'  relationship  lietween  England  and 
Germany  which  he  established  thus, 
there  arose  a  relationship  still  more  de- 
lightful between  tlic  English  authf)r  and 
the  German  publisher.  This  was  shown 
by  his  dedication  of  his  thousandth  vol- 
ume, in  1869,  "To  my  English  and 
American  authors,  as  a  token  of  esteem 
for  the  living  and  a  tribute  to  the  re- 
membrance of  the  dead,"  and  by  his 
celebration  of  the  publication  of  two 
thousand  volumes,  twelve  years  later, 
with  Professor  Morley's  well'known 
History  of  Eni^Ush  Litcraturf  in  the  Rt-ii^ii 
0/  yictoria.  The  good  feeling  on  the 
other  side  is  amply  discovered  in  the  let> 
ters  from  English  authors  contained  in 
the  Fiinfzi)^  J^^hn-  tier  Vfrla^^shanJIiin;^ 
JSernhard  TauchnitZy  which  appeared  as 
a  jubilee  volume  in  1887. 

These  letters,  which  are  signed  by 
the  most  eminent  names  in  Victorian 
literature,  are  interesting  and  pleasant 
reading  :  pleasant  because  of  the  ex- 
hibition they  give  of  friendship  and 
trust  on  both  sides,  and  interesting  be- 
cause in  many  cases  the  correspond- 
ents spoke  out  more  freely  than  they 
might  have  been  inclined  to  do  in  ad- 
dressing an  English  publisher.  Charles 
Reade,  for  example,  who  was  intro- 
duced to  Baron  Tauchnitz  by  Thack* 
ciay,  wrote  expressing  his  reliance  in 
.the  good  faith  of  the  publisher,  anl 
added  :  "  Only  this  I  beg :  let  me  be 
paid  according  to  my  sale ;  for  in- 
stance, if  you  sell  fewer  copies  of  me 
than  of  Mr.  Thackeray,  pay  me  less  ;  if 

Jrou  sell  more,  pay  me  more.  Vour  col- 
ection  is  a  notable  one.  It  contains 
many  authors  who  are  superior  to  mc  in 
merit  and  reputation,  but  it  also  con- 
tains the  entire  works  of  many  writers 
who  do  not  come  up  to  my  knee."  Dick- 
ens, too,  was  warm-hearted,  as  this  note 
shows.  '*  I  have  too  great  a  regard  for 
you  and  too  high  a  sense  of  your  hon- 
ourable dealings  to  wish  to  depait  from 
the  custom  we  have  already  observed. 
Whatever  price  you  put  upon  the  book 
will  satisfy  me."  The  author  of  Lothair 
wrote  with  equal  cordiality,  but  in  a 
wholly  different  style  :  "  The  sympathy 
of  a  great  nation  is  the  most  precious 
reward  of  authors,  and  an  appreciation 
that  is  offered  us  by  a  foreign  people  has 
something  of  the  character  and  value 


which  we  attribute  to  the  flat  of  pos- 
terity. I  accept  your  liberal  enclosure 
in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  offered,  for  it 
comes  from  a  gentleman  whose  prosper- 
ity always  pleases  me,  and  whom  I  re- 
spect and  regard.'*   The  whole  of  the 


BARO.N  lAtCHMU. 


correspondence  is  a  standing  testimony 
to  the  frankness  and  delicacy  with 
which,  for  all  that  some  may  say,  the 
transactions  of  author  and  publisher 
may  be  conducted. 

Christian  Bernhard  Tauchnitz  was 
bom  on  August  35th,  1816.  In  1837  he 
entered  business  for  himself,  and  in  1843,, 
having  turned  his  mind  to  the  ^reat 
undertaking  of  his  life,  he  visited  T«on- 
don  and  laid  his  project  beff)rc  the  Eng- 
lish authors  whose  works  he  proposed 
to  publish.  The  broad  lines  on  which 
an  agreement  was  arrived  at  were  :  (i) 
Payment  to  English  authors  ;  (2)  exclu- 
sive authorisation  of  the  Tauchnitz  edi- 
tion for  the  Continent ;  (3)  no  importa* 
tion  of  the  Tauchnitz  edition  into  Eng- 
land or  her  colonies.  Over  three  thou- 
sand volumes  of  the  "  Collection  of  Brit> 
ish  Authors,  Tauchniu  Edition,"  have 


^    i^  jd  by  Google 


158 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


been  issued  since  its  inauguration.  He  o£  the  Upper  Chamber  o£  the  Saxon 
was  created  a  Baron  in  1877  by  the  late  Diet ;  he  was  also  British  Consul-CFen- 
Duke  of  Cobttt^f  and  he  was  a  member   era!  for  the  kingdom  of  Saxonj. 


THE  BOOK  MART. 

For  Bookreaders»  Bookbuykrs,  an©  Booksellers. 


BOOKSELLINa 

TKB  SYSTSM  ADOPTID  IN  OUyANY  VOR  THE  PR»- 
VENTtON  OF  UNDBRSKLLIKC  AND  fOR  FROMOT- 
im  tUS  SALK  OP  BOOKS. 

<Abridf«d  frm  mi 


II. 

The  radden  abolitioa  of  ditconnt.  which  bad  in- 
creased from  loto  15  per  cent.,  and  then  to  20  and 
even  25  per  cent.,  naturally  gave  ri«e  to  a  good 
deal  of  dissatisfaction  among  a  certain  portion 
of  the  public,  who  tried  to  insist  on  the  continu- 
ance of  the  accustomed  terms  ;  and  in   places  it 
■eemed  for  a  while  a*  if  the  local  bookseller  could 
not  resitt  the  preMuie.  Therefore,  it  was  necM" 
»ary  that  he  should  he  protected  by  the  corpoiaie 
body  whose  commands  he  obeyed    For  that  fmr- 
pose  a  carefuUy  prepared  circular  was  given  liim 
for  disiributitm  amnnp  his  clienis.     In  it  the  pub- 
lic were  put  into  possession  of  the  facts  of  the 
whole  case.    It  was  pointed  out  that  a  local  book- 
seller was  of  inestimable  advantage  both  CO  tbc 
public  and  the  author,  because  the  former  was  Cil- 
abled  to  examine  regularly  all  new  publications  as 
they  came  from  the  pre>;  ,   v,b;!e  the  latter  was 
certain  to  have  his  work  uciually  submitted  to 
every  possible  purchaser.    It  is  also  slated  that  in 
order  to  get  a  living  profit  on  a  small  turnover,  the 
bookseller  most  charge  full  price,  and  that  it  is 
therefore  necessary,  in  order  to  protect  the  Inter- 
ests not  only  of  the  book  trade— the  publisher  and 
the  bookseller— but  also  the  iTitcre'T<;  n'  rhe  author 
and  his  public,  to  m.ike  all  discount-giving  illegal. 
By  no  other  means  could  the  existence  of  tlie 
small  local  man  be  assured.    It  is  natural  that  a 
large  concern  with  a  large  turnover  can  work  rel- 
atively cheaper  than  a  small  concern  with  a  small 
tamover.  and  the  larger  the  turnover  the  cheaper 
could  the  thing  be  done — so  that  the  whole  busi- 
ness would  ultimately  be  done  by  a  few  giganti" 
distributing  machines  working  with  the  cheapest 
labour  available.     But.  argues  the  '  B&rsenve- 
rein"— and  very  rightly  it  seems  to  me, — the 
more  widely  you  distribute  a  publication,  aud  the 
more  IntelllRently  you  offer  it  to  the  publie,  the 
larger  will  be  its  sale  :  and  the  larger  its  sale,  the 
cheaper  can  the  publisher  make  it  and  sell  it. 
Therefore,  bv  the  in<  rc.i'-c  I  sale  brought  about  bv 
the  painstaking,  inteltigcni  local  bookseller,  will 
the  public  gain  likewise  in  the  end  :  because  there 
will  be  everywhere  a  tendency  to  cheapen  the 
selling  prices  of  booksi— an  advantage,  surely,  for 
the  classes  as  well  as  the  masses. 

As  I  have  just  said,  author  and  publisher  are 
benctitcd  by  this  system  as  welt  as  the  bookseller, 
and  Ultimately  the  public  :  because  every  new 
book  is  actually  and  intelligently  put  on  sale  in 
every  corner  of  the  Empire.    It  is  not  left  to  the 


chance  of  a  possible  customer  seeing  a  possible 
advertisement.  You  know  yourself  best  h-.iv 
many  sdea  arc  Io.st  by  that  most  fatal  of  aiiswt-r> 
••not  la  stock."  The  local  bookseller  in  Ger- 
many, particularly  in  smaller  towns,  has  ma 
establishment  which  every  educated  person  in  tbe 
place  visits  from  time  to  time— weekly  gencraUj, 
on  the  arrival  of  the  Lcipiig  parcel.  He  inspect* 
the  newest  pu:  1  i  >i n  sees  them  within  a  fe«r 
days  of  their  issumg  from  the  publishers.  He  is 
able  to  handle  them,  to  examine  them,  and  to 
select  from  them.  Need  I  assure  you  that  lot 
thb  advantage  he  has  at  length  become  perfecy 
satisfied  to  p.iy  the  price  which  gives  a  decenl 
living  to  his  great  benefactor  and  friend,  the  lool 

But  while  so  regulating  the  .ittitudc  of  the 
book  tr.idc  toward  the  public,  the  *"  Borscnverein  ' 
applied  itself  at  tbe  same  time  to  the  regulation 
of  the  conditions  which  should  exist  between  pub- 
lisher and  rionks^riicr.    It  laid  down  that  in  order 
to  carry  on  a  decent  and  profitable  badness.  Ae 
bookseller  must  be  allowed  a  certain  percentage. 
Publishers  arc.  ibcrcforc,  required  to  give  at  least 
a  minimum  discount  off  all  books;  or  other  . 
tliey  shall  infonn  the  public  that  the  bookseller  is 
entitled  to  something  extra  by  way  of  commission 
over  an  d  ar>ove  the  advertised  price.    At  ail  haz- 
ard, and  by  every  means  Ihe  bookseller's  position 
must    be  secured.     Without  him  the  publisher 
could  not  reach  his  customer  ;  without  him  the 
student  must  frequently  be  without  a  guide  and  a 
friend  in  his  difficult  and  bewildering  choice.  It 
was  recognised  as  essential  that  the  profits  of 
V  n  ksellers  should  be  adequate  and  fair,  bccmse 
tn.ly  by  a  decent  reward  was  it  found  possible  to 
attract  a  sufficiently  educated  class  of  young  men  to 
the  business.    Many  assistants— I  might  almost 
say  most  of  the  assistants— In  booksellers'  shops  in 
Germany  have  matriculated  at  one  of  the  univer- 
sities, and  seldom  if  ever  do  you  find  an  assistant 
who  is  not  capable  of  compiling  a  catalocoe.  for 
instance,  to  satisfy  the  exigent  requirements  of 
the  Librarian  of  the  British  Museum.     The  small 
bookseller  and  his  studious  assistant  are  the  ma- 
kers of  those  wonderful  bibliographies  and  cata- 
logues which  are  the  pride  of  the  German  book 
trade,  the  comfort  of  the  student,  and  the  testi- 
mony of  an  intelligent  affection  for  a  business 
which  has  many  splendid  rewards  besides  tlie 
rcwarti  of  iTioney. 

The  conimiiiee  of  the  "  Biirsenverein"  is  kept 
in  close  relations  with  its  members  through  its 
daily  organ,  the  Birsenhlatl.  I  believe  there  is 
haraly  in  the  world  a  more  carefully  studied,  a 
more  widely  read  paper  (for  its  circulation)  than 
the  B9tsenhktU.  It  Is  read  by  the  principals  and  by 
every  one  of  his  assistants  day  by  day.  It  is  di"? 
cussed,  and  on  account  of  its  splendid  indepen- 
dence and  authority.  It  is  rsapecied  with  «a  aloMMt 
ridiculous  awe. 


Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


The  "  BOnenveKio"  also  imm  mmmlly  • 
Directory  of  all  its  laembers.  and  of  every  firm  fn 

connection  with  the  German  1  >  k  ir a  Ir-,  nnt  only 
in  (icrmany.  bul  also  abroad,  lorir.iiig  an  enor- 
mous vohinit; — not  so  very  tnuch  less  bulky  than 
the  London  directory.  And  there  arc,  further,  a 
nanberof  publioLlioas  such  as  the  ArcAivfs  and 
ffhtpty  •/  the  German  Book  Trade,  of  which  six- 
teen volumes  have  eo  far  appeared,  a  catalogue  of 
the  library  of  the  **  Borsenvcrcin,"  which  is  one  of 
the  finest  bibliographical  libraries  in  the  world,  as 
well  as  numerous  other  publications,  all  of  them 
relating  to  the  interests  of  the  book  trade. 

The  "  BSrsenverein'  has  recently  established  a 
bfmnch  depAt  in  New  York,  briogiag  the  Arneri* 
GU  Gemtan  book  trade — not  inoonsiderable,  T  as- 
sure you,  when  nnr  •rmembcrs  that  'v  Vi  rk 
itself  has  the  third  largest  German-speaking  pop- 
ulation in  the  world— nnder  the  twajr  of  the  home 
government. 

I  nittst touch  upon  another  branch,  and  a  most  itn- 
poftmi  one,  of  the  activity  of  the  "  Bdrseovereio." 
1  mean  its  most  effideot  and  excellent  charitable  lo- 
stitutions,  as  well  as  the  provision  it  makes  for  old 
af^e, sickness, and  undeserved  difficulties  in  business 
of  all  its  members.  It  has  at  its  disposal  a  vt  r\  1  .i-^^c 
fund,  which  has  accumulated  partly  from  the  very 
modest  fees  imposed  on  membets,and  partly  from 
haailsoiiie  doaatioos.  It  is  now  one  of  the  largest 
charliks  in  Germany,  and  is  abtetolceep  anyn  um- 
ber of  its  members  from  actual  destitution  and 
p->verty.  In  addition  to  this  general  fund,  there 
IS  also  a  fund  for  widows  and  orph. I  :  s  <  if  MUMnlirr-. 
and  an  affiliated  benevolent  society  for  the  lower 
assistants  and  their  families,  as  well  as  those  who 
are  in  any  waf  even  remotely  oonnected  with 
bookselling. 

The  local  organisations  and  societies  send 
annually  representatives  to  Leipzig;  to  attend  the 
committee  meetings  which  take  place  during  the 
Easter  Fair.  The  Easter  Fair  is.  in  fact,  the 
nmdnvous  of  all  engaged  in  hook-selling.  Pub- 
lishetB  and  bookaellen  meet  en  emnarade,  exchange 
▼iews,  settle  their  scores,  carry  forward  books 
which  are  out  on  sale — a  system,  by  the  way, 
which  is  more  largely  practised  in  Germany  than 
with  us — and  part  again  with  the  consciousness 
that  they  are  full  and  equ;il  members,  all  of  them, 
of  a  sound  and  splendid  republic. 

Of  course  this  annual  gathering  has  an  enor- 
mous inflnence  on  the  s^rit  of  the  whole  book 
trade.  It  creates  an  extraordinary  feeling  of  com- 
radeship and  of  good  fellowship.  Plans  can  be 
formed,  suijgestions  made,  difficulties  smoothed 
over  ;  ditficuliies  such  as  unfortunately  crop  up 
even  in  so  peaceful  a  walk  of  life  as  that  which  we 
gentlemen  have  adopted.  All  this  can  be  done 
with  no  unnecessary  waste  of  patience,  time,  and 
writing,  without  an  intermediary— directly  from 
mouth  to  mouth. 

The  idea,  of  course,  of  an  annual  meeting  of 
this  description  is  less  practicable  in  F.n^dand,  and 
would  hardly  be  desirable  with  us  Our  publish- 
ing bosiaess  is  so  centralised  in  London  and 
Edinburgh,  and  so  few  books  are  published  else- 
where ;  also  our  bookselling  trade  is,  at  present, 
at  least  (and  I  look  upon  this  as  one  of  the  gravest 
aspects  of  the  present  condition  of  your  trade),  so 
centralised  in  large  towns  that  publishers  and  at 
least  the  larger  bookseller  are  brought  into  con- 
tinual and  fairly  close  contact.  Moreover,  we 
English  pabliyhers— In  default  of  the  B9rttHHaH 
as  a  mediam  of  daily  exchange  between  ourselves 


and  our  clients ;  in  default  of  a  ragnlar  date 
of  settlement  (as  in  Germany,  at  Michaelmas 

and  Easter,  effected  at  a  public  exchange  in  as 
business-like  a  way  as  stock-broking  settlements 
arc  carried  on  at  our  Royal  Exchange) — visit 
through  our  travellers  the  country  book  trade, 
and  are  in  that  way  brooi^t  Into  a  soit<rfeom- 
municaiioo*wkh  our  CMStomenu  Our  cimvellen 
are  welcomed  and  received  kindly  by  the  country 
bookseller,  while  the  Gt-rttian  traveller  is  abhorred 
8n<l  detested  atnotiLj  his  clients  (if  he  has  any),  so 
that  there  is  hardly  a  reputable  publisher  in  Ger- 
many who  employs  travellers  in  the  same  sense 
as  we  English  pnbHshera  do.  Yet  I  am  sure  the 
right  thiag  Is  to  meet  and  to  exchange  views  and 
to  help  one  another  as  far  as  one  can.  T  for  one 
do  not  envy  the  person  who  is  engaged  in  so  en- 
dubling  a  business  as  ours,  living  as  he  does  in  the 
the  companionship  of  great  minds,  past  and  pres- 
ent ;  1  do  not  envy  him,  I  say,  who  feels  that  in 
such  a  calling  and  in  siKh  a  cause  there  is  no 
higher  obligation,  no  othM  parpoae,  than  that  of 
making  profit  at  the  expense  of  his  neighbour;  a 
process,  moreover,  which  from  a  roI!crtivc  point 
of  view,  at  least,  is  simply  the  taking  of  money 
out  of  one  pocket  and  putting  it  into  the  other, 
but  is  assuredly  not  the  right  road  to  the  making 
of  riches  and  the  creating  of  a  oommonteealth. 

Protect  your  interests,  your  collective  inter- 
ests, as  they  did  in  Germany  eight  years  ago,  un- 
der dlfficuUles  greater  than  are  yours  at  the  prr  s 
ent  moment  ;  insist  On  a  living  profit,  and  put 
down  those  who  arc  frivolously  dissipating  your 
financial  possibilities.  Among  such  an  assembly 
of  men  there  can  be  no  difficulty  la  finding  half  a 
doien  who  will  bind  themselves  together  and  who 
win  unite  to  fight  for  this  common  cause.  My 
one  feeling  of  sorrow  and  regret  Is  that  the  move- 
ment is  not  at  present  shared  Largely  enough  by 
members  of  my  branch  of  our  business.  Perhaps 
I  am  over  sanguine.  One  is  often  wrong  when 
one  feels  Strongly  and  with  oonvietion  and  enthu- 
siasm about  a  thing.  It  seems  to  me  that  our  old 
historic  publishing  housed  are  doing  themselves— 
but  chiefly  you — a  wrong  in  their  -ttituiif  of  in- 
difference  to  the  condition  of  the  fmnksellf  r.  li  Jt 
they  will  all  come  in  when  they  s(  r  that  \  u  ire 
determined  to  have  your  way,  jtist  as  their  sleepy 
eom/rhts  did  ia  Gmmany.   L'umon  faii  la  forte  I 


EASTERN  LETTER. 

New  YottK,  September  t,  189$. 

Unquestionably  the  most  interesting  and  active 
feature  of  the  book  trade  during  the  last  month 
has  been  vacations,  for  in  the  early  part  of  Au< 
gust  business  generally  reaches  its  lowest  ebb. 
The  month  started  off  with  an  unusual  lull,  but 
later  s.ilcs  improved,  and  the  month  as  a  whole 
compared  favorably  with  that  of  the  previous 
year. 

While  this  applies  particularly  to  the  retailers  and 
publishers  of  miscellaneous  literature,  the  makers 
of  holiday  books  have  been  busy  shipping  their 
orders,  which  on  the  whole  look  well  for  the  sea- 
son. These  lines  do  not  differ  materially  from 
those  of  previous  years,  consisting  largely  of 
i6mos,  i2mos,  illustrated  editions  of  popular 
novels,  and  novelties  in  the  way  of  calendars  and 
booklets.  The  large  flat  table  books  of  former 
years  are  now  tardy  seen,  and  the  cheap  board- 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


i6o 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


bound  jovenilos  are  rapidly  disappearing,  their 

sale  bciii<  nmslly  coniineil  lo  the  dry-goods 
houses  and  small  towns  I  he  l.itter  part  of  Au- 
gust has  shown  the  Lustomary  revival  in  school 
books.  Every  year  shows  a  iailing  o0  of  busi- 
ness in  the  hMids  of  the  retailer,  as  the  lext-book 
publisher*  are  gradually  lecuriog  direct  oo-opera>- 
tianwith  the  consumer  through  th^  boards  of 
education.  Of  recent  educational  books  which 
are  especially  popular  may  be  mentioned  Fryc's 
series  of  (ieo);raphies,  H.irt's  J/,iii,if\'i'k  c;  (  V>w- 
poulton  and  Rhetoric.  Ruh'e's  L\u-nfhus  Nepos 
and  Arrowsmith  and  Whicher's  First  l.attM  R^aJ- 
ings.  Orders  from  libraries  have  continued  good 
for  diis  season  of  the  year,  and  the  number  of 
lists  to  be  priced  indicate  an  early  Increase. 

The  summer  trade  in  j)apL-r- bound  hooks  is 
now  ]iractii  ally  over.  While  odd  volumes  have 
had  a  large  sale,  the  various  scries  as  a  whole 
have  not  been  as  successful  as  in  previous  years. 
No  new  books  of  especial  importance  in  this  style 
have  been  reoeotljr  issued. 

The  annual  publication  of  Chautauqua  books  ts 
now  ready  and  is  meetinv;  with  its  customary 
popularity  :  'J'hinkiu.: .  J  iiini  -,  oiui  I hnng.Xiy  Dr. 
fe,  W.  Scripture,  being  the  most  successful  volume 
in  point  of  sale. 

Fiction  has  been  the  mainstay  of  the  trade  for 
the  past  month,  and  under  this  heading  two  titles, 
namely.  Bi'siJr  the  Bonnie  Brier  Hn$h  and  The 
Prtu>iier  of  Znida,  have  far  outsold  all  others.  The 
latter  has  shown  in  the  city  and  vicinity  a  marked 
increase  since  its  dramatisation.  Other  ot  the  older 
works  still  continuing  in  demand  are  The  Manx- 
laatt.  The  Liiat  Sun^mne/.  The  Adventures  q/ 
Oifitam  Horm^  and  Coffee  and  Hefartee,  Ak»ut 
Paris,  by  Richard  Harding  Davis,  illustrated  by 
Charles  Dana  Gibson,  undoubtedly  stands  first  as 
a  probable  seller,  while  The  Little  J/u^uenvt,  by 
Max  Penibcrton,  and  The  Veiled  Doetor,  by  Va- 
rina  Anne  Jefferson  Davis,  are  already  having  a 
large  sale.  Stanley  I.  Wcyman  has  given  us  two 
new  books  entitled  From  the  Memcirs  of  a  Min- 
ister of  France  and  The  Kind's  Stratagem,  for 
which  first  orders  have  been  good. 

The  fotlowinK  list  of  the  most  popular  books 
during  the  month  is  so  entirely  composed  of  fic- 
tion as  to  iodleate  the  genenl  relaxation  of  the 
season  : 

The  Prisoner  of  Zcnda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush,  liy  Ian  Mac- 
iSVen.  I1.25. 

The  Story  of  Bessie  Costrell.  By  Mrs.  Hum* 
phrv  Ward.    75  cu. 

The  King's  Stratagem.  By  Stanley  J.  Wey* 
man.     50  cts. 

Cliifli  [1  s  Marriatje.    By  "  Gyp  ''  ^octs. 

Chimmie  Faddcn,  Major  Max,  and  Other  Slo« 
ries.  By  E.  W.  Townsend.  Paper,  50  cts.; 
cloth,  ti.oa 

The  Woman  Who  Did.    By  Grant  Allen. 

$1  0>-3. 

The  Adventures  of  Captain  Ilom.  By  Frank 
R.   Stock  [11,      $1  50. 

The  Gods,  Some  Mortals,  and  Lord  Wicken- 
ham.    By  John  Oliver  Hobbes.    $1  50. 

My  Lady  Nobody.  By  Maaneo  Maartens. 
•t.75. 

The  Lilac  SunbonneU   By  S.  R.  Crockett. 

$1.50. 

Coffee  and  Repartee.  By  John  Kendrick  Bangs. 

so  cu. 


The  Manxman.  ByHallCaine  $1.50 

Mr.  Bonaparte  of  Corska.  By  John 
Bangs.  $1.25. 

The  Veiled  Doctor.  By  VarioaAnne 
Davis.  $1.25. 

Bafabtaa.   By  Marie  ConllL  $1 


WESTERN  LETTHR. 

CmcACM,  tieplcmber  I,  1S95. 
Business  during  the  first  half  of  August  wjoi 
very  dull,  reaching  what  willprobably  be  the  low- 
waicr  mark  for  the  year.    The  last  two  wcHcs, 

however,  showed  a  tendency  toward  n  rev'v.il. 
and  sales  have  increased  steadily  up  to  the  iimc 
of  Wtilfng.  From  now  on  wc  may  exp'ei  t  a  decided 
improvement.  In  surveying  the  month's  busi- 
ness there  is  not  imtch  that  calls  for  special  ciitn- 
ment.  The  most  striking  feature  has  been  Uie 
continuance  of  the  extraordinary  demand  whidk 
has  manifesieil  itself  throughout  the  sumn-rr 
months  for  the  popular  fiction  of  the  hour  Ite 
favourites.in  this  class  sold  splendidly  and  were,  in 
factt  the  mainstay  of  the  month  s  trade.  Several 
good  orders  for  miscellaneous  books  have  been 
received  from  public  libraries.  Country  orders 
for  autumn  trade  are  just  beginning  to  come  in, 
and  are.  so  far.  fuirly  satisfactory  in  regard  to 
quantity. 

From  the  bookseller's  point  of  view,  quantity 
rather  than  quality  distinguished  the  books  pub. 
Hshed  in  August,  only  two  or  three  of  them  meet, 
ing  with  more  than  moderate  success  Mallock  s 
The  Heart  of  Life,  and  The  tittle  LLuguenot  by 
Max  Pemberion,  were  the  best  of  these,  an  i  both, 
especially  the  latH-r,  arc  bein«  much  enquired 
for  at  present  .I/i  /  ,f,/V  .\  .  ./i .  Maarten  Maar- 
ten's  new  storA-.  which  apiKfared  late  in  July,  sold 
remarkably  well,  as  did  also  Gilbert  Parker's 
When  y almond  Came  to  PMtiae.  An  Imagimitixe 
Man,  by  Robert  Hichens,  is  having  a  fair  run. 
As  an  indication  th.it  summer  reading  is  nrt  c>-'n- 
fined  lo  fiction  alone,  we  may  mention  that  ihe 
sales  of  such  books  as  Drummond's  Ascent  ef 
Man,  Nordau's  Degeiu  r,ili,!n,  and  Kidd's  Serial 
Evolution  made  a  very  good  showing.  Beside  the 
Btnme  Brier  Buth  led  the  van  in  the  month's 
sales,  with  The  Adventures  of  (  .//./»«  Uom  as  a 
jjood  second.  1  he  Manxman  had  a  good  sale, 
and  Tlu-  Storv  of  Bessie  Costrell  went  better  than  it 
did  in  July.  Conan  Doyle's  books,  especially  the 
detective  stories,  sold  well,  and  Yale  Yarns, 
PriHcetan  Stories^  and  Harx  ard  Stories  were  much 
in  lequeM.  loterest  in  books  on  Hypnotism  and 
Mental  Science  is  still  strong,  and  74r  Lmv  ef 
Psychic  Phenomenal ,  which  has  probably  had  the 
best  run  uf  any  txM.k  on  this  subject,  is  now  in  its 
ninth  edition. 

The  Colonial  period  of  our  history  is  one  that  is 
of  peculiar  interest  to  wiiat  may  be  called  the 
better  class  of  readers,  and  books  by  writers  who 
have  made  this  field  their  own  are  always  sure  of 
a  ready  sale.  Indeed,  the  success  of  such  books 
as  (■<  .'.  //;,;/  Davi  and  Dames  and  Through  Col<f 
tinii  /'.'.'/  :  ',m  and  Three  Heroines  of  AVt.'  En^- 
land  K^'mance  was  one  of  the  features  of  the 
holiday  trade  last  year.  Lovers  of  the  litera- 
ture of  this  period  will  be  pleased  to  know  that 
both  Alice  Morse  Earle  and  Annie  Holllngsworth 
Wharton  have  books  in  preparation  for  the  holi- 
days, which,  judging  from  advance  announce- 
ments, will  equal  in  interest  aoytiiing  cither  writer 
has  yet  produced. 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


The  folio  wing  list  o(  books  which  said  best 
last  month  incloaes,  as  wUl  be  mm,  roost  of  the 
old  iavourices : 

Betide  the  Bonnie  Brier  Buih.  Bjr  len  Mac- 
laten.  $1.25. 

The  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.  Ry  F,  R. 
Stockton,  50. 

The  M.in.xrnaa.    By  Hall  Caine.  $1.50. 

Trilby.    By  George  Du  Maurier.  $1.75. 

My  Lady  Nobody.  By  Jdaartea  Maarteds. 
3»  75- 

An  Ifluglaative  Man.   By  R.  S.  Hkbcni. 

#1.25. 

When  Valmond  Came  fo  Pontiac.  By  Gilbert 
Parker.  1^1.50. 

The  Story  of  Beisie  Coetrell.  By  Mra.  Ham- 
phrv  WanL   7S  ctt. 

The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

Tlie  Princess -■Mine.  Hy  R.  H.  Davis.  75  els. 
The  Woman  Who  Dul  Hy  Grant  Allen.  $1.00. 
Mr.  Bonaparte  of  Corsica.  By  liaaga.  $1.35. 
The  Little  Hugueoot.  By  Max  Peoiberion. 
7$ew. 

The  Heart  of  Ufe.  By  W.  H.  Mallock.  $1.25. 
Witb  the  Proccseioa.   By  Henry  B.  Fuller. 
fi.25. 

riie  Master     By  I.  Zanstwill.  $1.75. 

An  Errant  Wooing.  By  Mrs.  Bunon  Harrison. 

ENGLISH  NOTES. 

LoNDO.N,  July  22  to  August  17,  iSfjS. 

The  period  above  indicated  commenced  with  a 
slightly  improved  trade,  which  was  roainuined 
for  about  a  fortnisht.  Foreign  trade  remains 
steady,  and,  as  a  whole,  satisfactory.  This  class 
of  business  does  nut,  as  a  rule,  fltirtuate  very 
much  :  at  least, not  so  noticeably  as  other  br,inchcs. 

J'l  il'n',  '/''iBy,  Trill'}',  is  the  cry  from  all  parts  of 
the  kingdom  The  sale  of  this  work  is  without  a 
precedent  in  the  history  of  the  one- volume  cditi<m 
of  a  popular  novel  Every  copy  of  the  edition  de 
Inxe  of  the  irorlt  wss  soM  before  pobllcation. 

The  Badminton  Afa^aTlm  starts  well  and  sup- 
plies a  want,  in  this  country,  at  iiuy  rale. 
Chamlxrs' s  f^<itrii  1!  and  the  other  popular  maga- 
zines, such  as  Str.in.l  Magaztnf,  Quiver,  tl'aman 
at  Ifomf.  etc  .  show  no  signs  of  falling  oflf. 

There  has  been  a  very  free  enquiry  for  the  new 
volume  of  the  Badminton  Library.  Sea>fisbing  is 
the  subject  of  which  it  treats,  and  the  publication 
of  the  volume  is  very  well  timed  All  works 
dealing;  with  Sports  and  pasliirif  ,  li  i  .  c  their  season 
just  now.  Possibly  these  keep  the  trade  alive 
until  the  time  srrives  for  the  rcaaacmbling  of  the 
schools. 

The  interest  still  evinced  in  the  Hero  of  Trafal* 

gar  is  noticeable  from  the  reception  given  to  the 
new  volume  of  **  English  Men  of  Action,"  by  J. 
K.  Liughtun,  dealing  with  N'l  lson.  The  critics 
pronounce  this  to  be  a  very  remarkable  and  orig- 
inal worli.  which  nay  acoooot  for  iu  very  free 
sale. 

It  is  reported  In  the  trade  that  three  of  the  lead- 
ing writers  of  the  day  have  disposed  of  the  serial 
rights  only  of  their  new  works  to  American  mag- 
azines for  .1  sum  which  must  make  some  of  the 
immortal  writers  of  the  seventeenth  and  eigh. 
teeoth.  aye,  and  of  the  oinetccath,  centories  turn 
in  their  graves. 


Appended  is  a  list  of  the  newer  publications 
which  are  most  in  request  at  the  time  of  writing. 
Fiction  predominates,  as  usoaU  and  probably  will 
always  do  so.   The  6s.  novel  may  now  be  etm- 

sidercd  as  a  well-established  item  of  trade.  The 
tlemanil  for  the  life  of  Stambouloff  shows  the  in 
terest  taken  in  any  matter  dealing  with  Easie'rn 
Europe,  and  the  inclusion  in  the  list  of  H.  Nor- 
man's work  on  Japan  and  China  speaks  for  itadf. 

Trilby.    Ry  G.  Du  Maiirirr.  6s. 

The  Master.     Hy  I.  Z.itu; will.  Os. 

The  .Manxman.     Hy  Hall  Cainc.  (js. 

The  Lilac  Siinhonnet.    Hy  S.  R.  Crockett.  6s. 

The  Honour  of  .Savelli.    By  S.  L.  Yeats.  6b. 

loan  Haste.   By  U.  Rider  Haggard.  6s. 

Magfnllicenc  Yuung^  Man.    By  John  Strange 

Winter,  fjs. 

Into  the  Highways,  etc.     Bv  K.  F.  Montresor. 

6s. 

Besitlc  the  Bonnie  Brier  iiush.  By  Ian  .Mac- 
laren.  6s. 

in  a  Gloucestershire  Garden.   By  H.  N,  £Ua< 
combe.  6s. 
Gerald  Everstey's  Fricndsliip.   By  Rev.  I.  E. 

C.  Welldon.  6s. 

The  .Adventures  of  Captain  Ho  n.  By  F.  R. 
Stockton,  6s. 

An  Imaginative  .Man.    By  R.  S.  Hicheos.  6s. 

The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.  By  A.  Hope.  3s. 
6d. 

The  Woman  Who  Did.   By  Grant  Allen,  js. 

6d.  ntt. 

Lovely  Malincouri.    Hy  Helen  Mathers.  3S.6d. 
Pep  the  Rake.    By  Rita.    3s.  6d. 
Sea  Fishing.    (Badminton  Library.)    10s.  6d. 
The  Pheasant.   (Fur  and  Feather  Series  )  5s. 
Social  Evolution.    By  B.  Kidd.   $s.  net. 
SlaniboulofT.    Ry.  A.  H   Reaman.  6d 
Peoples,  etc.,  of  the  Far  Fast.     Hy  11.  Nor- 
man. 2IS. 

Fifty  Years.    By  Rev.  Harry  Jones.  48. 
Nelson.  (English  Men  of  Action.)  ss.  6d. 


SALES  OF  BOOKS  DURING  THE  MOiNTH. 

New  books,  in  order  of  demand,  as  sold  bciwcrn 
.■\ui.;ust  I  and  September  i,  1S95. 

We  guarantee  the  authenticity  of  the  following 
lists  as  supplied  to  us,  each  by  leading  booksellers 
in  the  towns  named. 

NEW  YORK,  UPTOWN. 

/f  Bonnie  Brier  Bosh.    By  Madaren.  fi.sjl 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
My  Lady   Nobody.     By   Maartens.  $1.75. 

(Harper.) 

3.  Heart  of  Life.    By  Mallock.     $1.25.  (Put- 

nam.) 

4.  The  Gods,  etc.  By  Hobbes.  $1.50.  (Applelon.) 
„fr  The  Master.    By  Zangwtll.  $1.7$.   (Harper.)  ^ 
6.  The  Little  Huguenot.    By  Pcmbcrtou.  75  cts.  Ap 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.)  ^ 

NEW  YORK.  DOWNTOWN. 
^.  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  %\,%^.'^ti\ 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  T 
JK,  Princess  Aline.    By  Davis.    $1.25.    ^Harper.)^  , 

3.  Strange  Secrets.  Ry  Doyle  and  Others-  Pnpei;  J 

50  CIS. ;  cluih,  $1.00.    (Fenno.)  ^ 

4.  Story  of  Bessie  CostrelL  By  Ward.  7S  cts.  •  - 

(Macmillan.)  ■, 

5.  Wild  Ass's  Skia.  By  Babac.  $1.30.  (Mac-  - 

millanj 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


b,  Hmn^i  Life.  Bj  Mallock.   Is.as.  (Put- 

ALRANY.  N.  Y. 

^  My  Lady  Nobody*  Bjr  MmtUM.  $1.75.  (Har« 

per.) 

a.  Hon.    Peter  Sterling.    Bjr  Ford.  I1.50. 

(Holi.) 

The  Master.    By  ZanRwill.   $1.75.  (Harper.) 

4.  Not  Counting  the  Co»t.    By  Tasma.    50  cis. 

(Applclon.) 

5.  Pteuore  C^dhic.   Bj  Porter.  $t.oow  (Oodd, 

Bl««d  ftCo.) 

6.  Lyre  and  Laaoet.   ByAflttcf.  |s.ts  (Ifao- 

millaQ.) 

BOSTON,  MASS. 

Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Miclanm.  $I.*S' 
I  Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
Jit  Adventures  of  Captain  Hoffn.   By  Slqckton. 
$1.50.  (Scriboer.) 

3.  Mr,  Bonnpniteof  Conlcn.  By  Bnn|».  9x>SS> 
Jlinrpnr.) 

4.  Oitmmle  Fadden.    By  Townsend.  CloCh. 

$1  J-  ;  p.iper,  50  ct.s.    (Lovell,  Coryell.) 

5.  Dcjtcneration.     Hy  Nordau.     $3.50.  (Apple- 

ton.) 

6.  Story  <A  Bessie  Cosudl.    By  Mrs.  Ward.  75 

CIS.  (MaanlUan.) 

CHICAGO.  ILL. 

^  My  Lady  Nobody.    Bjr  Mnnttecna.  |i.7S* 
(Harper.) 

X'  Boaal«  Brier  Biuh.    By  Mndaien.  fi.S5. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
j^.  Adventures  oi  Captain  Horn.   By  Stockton. 

$1.50.    (Scribner  ) 
4.  The  Little  Huguenot.    Uy  Pembcrton.    7";  us. 

( Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
jif'  When  Valmond  Came  to  Pontiac.    Hy  Parker. 

$1.50.    (Stone  &  Kimball.) 
6.  With  tbe  ProceMion.    By  Fuller.  %i.V>. 

(Harper.) 

CHICAGO,  ILL. 

^  Mv  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maarteni.  Si.7S> 

(Harper.) 

jt[  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.    By  Stockton. 

fi.50.  (Scribner.) 
3.  The  Master.    By  Zangwill.    $1.75.  (Harper.) 
Jf,  Whca  Valmond  Came  to  Pontiac.    By  Parker. 

fl.SO.    (Stone  &  Kimball  ) 
jg:  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maciacen.  fi.a5. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
6.  Dc-Kencration.   By  Nordan.   l!3.S<t«  (Apf^e 
loo.) 

CINCINNATI,  O. 

Ji^Bonnie  Brier  Hush.     By  Maclaren.  fl.SS. 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 
a.  Kentucky  Caidinal.  By  Allen,  fr.oo,  (Har. 

per.) 

y  Story  of  Beesle  Coatrell.  By  Ward.  75 

(Macmfllan.) 
^  My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maartens.  |i.7$« 

(Harper.) 

J^.  ,\dventure«;  of  Caplain  Horn.     By  Stockton. 

$1.50.  (SrribtK-r,( 
6.  With  the    Procession.     By  FuUer.  $1.25. 
(Harper.) 

CLEVELAND.  O 

X.  Water  Tramps.    By  Bartieu.  $t.oo.  (Put* 
nam.) 


^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maciaren.  (tJIS> 
(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co. ) 

3.  Shadow  of  a  Crime.    By  Caine.  $1.90. 

(Knighl.) 

4.  Kentucky  C^naL  By  Allen.  tx.oa  (Har. 

per.) 

5.  In  the  Midst  of  Atams.   Bf  B«fT.    7S  Ctt. 

(-Stokes.) 

y.  Adventures  of  Captain  Hem.    hf  SlodMon. 
$t.sa  (Scribner.) 

DENVLR.  COL. 

M  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maciaren.  $1.2$. 

(Dodd»  HeMi  &  Co.) 
X'  Adveninrcs  of  Captain  Horn.   By  Stocfcion. 

It.sa  (Scribner.) 
jgi  My  Lady  Nobody.  By  Maartem.  tr.yS- 

(Harper) 

4.  Stories  of  thr  Foot  Hills.  By  GndMBl.  tl.ns* 

(Houghton.  Miiflin  &  Co.) 

5.  Degeneration.   By  Nordan.  $3*30.  (Apple- 

ton.) 

«.  Under  the   Man    Fig.     By  Dnvle.  $I.t5. 
(Houfbton,  Mifflin  A  Co.) 

HARTFORD.  CT. 

jr.  Adventure*  of  Captain  Horn.    By  SlocklOtt. 
$1 .  ^  (Serlbnete.) 

5.  From  a  New  England  Hillside.     By  Pottt. 

Paper,  25  cts.  (Macmillan.) 

3.  The   Little   Huguenot.    By  Pembnrton.  7S 

cu.   (Dodd.  Mead  A  Co.) 

4.  Story  of  tbe  Planie.  By  Allen.  40cli.  (A^ 

pleton  ) 

j(  My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maartene.  $1.90. 

(Harper.) 

Jf.  Bonnie  lirier  Bush.    By  Madareo.  $i.2S' 
(Dodd»  Mead  dt  Co.) 

KANSAS  CITT.  MO. 

^Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  $E.«S« 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maartem.  %UT%, 

(Harper.) 

^  The  Master.    By  Zangwill.  $1.75.  (Harper.) 
jf:  Prioceie  Aline.   By  Dnvia.  •!.>$.  (Harper.) 
3  UUie  Snnboonet.   By  Crockett.  $r  (Ap- 

pleton.) 

6.  Tlie  Manxman.  By  Caine.  Si  50.  (Appleton.) 

LO.S  .\N'GELES.  C.AL. 

1.  Chiffon's    Marriage.      By    "  Gyp."     75  CM. 

(Stokes  ) 

jt.  Adventures  of  Capuin  Horn.    By  Stockton. 

f I  50.  (Scriboer) 
^.  TlieMaMer.   By  Zangwill.   ii.7$>  (Harper.) 
Bonnie  Brier  Bmib.    By  Mnetaren.  ff.ss. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

5.  Woman  Who  Did.    By  Alien.    %i.oo.  (Rob- 

erts.) 

6.  Phantom  Death.    By  Clark  Russell.    75  cts. 

(Stokee.) 

LOUISVILLE,  KV. 

^.  Princess  Aline.    By  Davif.    il.tS.  (Harper.) 

2.  Under  the  War  Flags  of  r86l.    By  Pickafd. 

81.50  (Dcaring.) 

3.  The  Veiled  Doctor.    By  Davis.   $1.25.  (Har- 

per.) 

Wbeo  Valmond  Came  to  Pontiac  By  Parker. 
$iSa  iStone  ft  Kimball.) 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  UTBRARY  JOURNAL.  163 

JBf  AdventilKl  of  C«pUin  Horn.    By  Stockton.  .ST.  I'M  L.  MINN. 

ti.50.   (Scrlbner.)  .    „  •     ti   1      n    i>  . 

^  Bonnie   Brier   Bush.    By  MacUren.   |l.2S.   ^  Sf'*',  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.)  ^  -i?*^'*' *      ^       .  , 

^  «.  The  MaasnMi.  By  Came.    $1.50.  (Appleton.) 

NEW  HAVEN,  CT.  ^  The  Mwier.    By  Zangwill.    $1.75.  (Harper.) 

»        M  1—^  n-  n..„,„^rt*.    D.MM>        Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.   By  Stockloo. 

T.  In  OW  Neir  England.  By  Botttfwortli.  Paper.  ^  (Srrjbner.) 

50  m.    (Appleton.)  /vr    I   N  5.  Pris'uu-r  of  Zcn.la. '  Bv  Hope.   75  cis.  (Holt.) 

^-  £^   ^"^n.*M^-JiL^^i«     6.  Yale  Yarn*.    Bv  Wood.  $x.oo.  (Putnam.) 

jfr  Mv  I..i<1y  Nobody.    By  Maartent.  »         \  / 

(Harper.) 

4.  In  Deaeon's  Ordera.  By  Beaant.    $1.95.                        TOLEDO.  O. 
(Harper.) 

^  AdTenniras  of  Captain  Horn.   By  Stockton.       My  Lady  Nobody.     By  Maartens.  9i.7S« 

ft.i^n.    (Scribner.)  (HarperJ 

Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Madaren.    $1.25.  ^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren,  $t.«5. 

■  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  (Dodd.  ATcad  Co.) 

3.  Chimmie   Fadilrn.      Hv    Tuwnscnd.  SO  cts. 
PHILADELPHIA.   PA.                             (Lovcll.  Coryell.) 

J*- Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.   fl.SS.  4-  Siory  of  Bessie  Costrell.    By  Ward.  75  cts. 
(Dodd  Mead  &  Co.)  (MacmUlan.) 

^  The  Master.    HyZanRwill.    $1.75.    (Harper.)  5-  An  Errant  Woolog.     By  Harrison.  |l.$a 

^Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.    By  Stockton.  '""'^^•}-     -      ^  ,,  «,  .  » 

lti.50.   (Scribner.)  Pri«oi»r  of  Zenda.  By  Hope.  7$ct».  (Holt.) 

4.  Billy  Bellew.    By  Norris.    $i.SO.  (Haiper.) 

^  My  Lady  Nobody.     By  Maaitena.    fi.7S-  WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

(Harper.) 

6.  Chimroie  Fadden.     By  Townsend.     soctt.  ^  Mv  Lady  Nobody.    Bv  Maartens.  $1.75. 
(LovcU.  CoiyeH.)  (Harper.) 

PORTLAND.  ORE.  "^^^  ^*!"^  "  ^XP- "  >»-»5- 

tanos.) 

t.  Two  Women  and  a  Fool.    By  Chatfield-Tay*  ^  Adventures*  of  Captain  Horn.    By  Stodcton. 

lor.    $1.50.   (Stone  &  Kimball.)  ti.50.  (Scribner.) 

^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.   By  Maclaren.    #!.*$•  4.  The    Golden    Afte.     By   Graham.  $1.25. 

(Dudd.  Mead&  Co.)  (Stone  &  KimbalL) 

3.  The  Woman  Who  Did.    By  Alien.   |t.oo.  5.  The  Veiled  Doctor.   By  Davis.  $1.25.  (Har- 

(Roberu.)  per ) 

4.  Sawdust  Doll.   By  DeKoven.  $¥.«$•  (Stone  61.  Story  of  Bessie  CostrelL    By  Mi*.  Ward. 

&  Kimball.)  7S  ctS.  (Maenillan.) 

5.  The  .Master.    By  Zangwill.    $1.75.  (Harper.) 

Jk  Adventures  of  Captain  Hom.   By  Stockton.  WORCESTER  MASS. 

$1.50.    (Scribner.)  * 

SAK  FRAN-CISCO.  CAL.  ^  ^dS.  M^ad  &  CO 

1.  The  Lark     Bv  RtuKess    sets.   (Wm,  Doxcy.)  2.  Letters  of  Celia  Thaxter.    $1.50.  (Houghton, 

^  When  Valmond  d  1  k  t    Poniiac.   By  Parker.  Mifflin  ) 

$1.50.    (Stone  &  Kimball.)  3.  Wild  Fl  -wcrs  of  the  N.  E.  Sutes.    By  Whit- 

3.  An  ImaKinatilfO  Man.    By  Hicheni.    $I.S$.  inn.    $4  5^  (Putnam.) 

(Appleton.)  ^  Adventures  of  Captain  Hom.   By  Stockton. 

>r  The  Master.  By  ZangwilL  St.?}.  (Harper.)  ti.so.  (Scribner.) 

^My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maartens.    |i.7$.  S-  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet.   By  Crockett.  $1.50. 

(Harpers.)  (Appleton.) 

ft.  Defceneration.    By  Nordait.   $3.S0>    (Apple.  JB.  Mv   I.idy  Nobody.    By  Maartens.  #1.7$. 

ton.)  (Harper.) 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  DURING  THE  MONTH. 


AMERICAN. 

THEOLOGY  AND  PHILOSOPHY.  Moxom.  P.  S.— From  Jerusalem  to  Nicac  :  the 

BiJicK,  J.  S.— The  ChrisUaa  Consciousness,  its  Church  in  tbe  First  Three  Centuries.  i«mo, 

Relation  to  Evolution  in  Moi^sand  in  Doc-         VP*       tt-SO.  Robert* 

trine,  lamo.  pp.  xi-244.  $1.25  •  Lee  &  S.^^gnwAHAK,  COVLSON.— God  and  tbe  Ant.  I r,mo. 
GUERnrK,    H.  A. — Myths  of   Nnriht-rn  Lands.  paper,  pp.  48,  25  cents  Ward,  Lock 

i2mo,  pp.  ii-319.  It. 50.  .American  Book  Co.  Leonard,  D.  L.-A  Hundred  Years  of  Missions. 
HoTKIlt^  E.  WAnnVKN.— The  Religions  of  In-  or  the  Story  of  Progress  Since  Carey's  Be- 

dia.  8to.  pp.  x<>3i9.  Ginn  •       ginning,  lamo.  pp.  iii-430,  $1.50.  Funk  &W. 


164 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


Hylk,  llii,KBt;.Ki  E. — Philo  and  Holy  S<  ri|iiurc  , 
or,  the  yuoutioos  o(  Philo.  laDno.  ^p.  312, 
doth.  l4.or  MacmilUn 

ScKincKK,  F..  W.— Thinking,  Feeling,  Doing, 
lamo,  pp.  304,  cloth,  #1.50, 

Flood  &  Vincent 


FICTION.  G.,  G. — Spurting  Sioric*  nod  Sketdics.  i3rDo. 

_  .  ^,    c-          .      \t  J    PP-  vi-268,  $2.2<;   *^rnbner 

Baldwin.  Mrs.  Ai.krkd.— The  Story  of  a  Mar-     /  .  -i^  - 


FlMlfcK,  Makv. — Twcnty-hve  Lciivrit  on  Eogiisn 
Autboiv.   uno,  pp.  U-406,  f  150. , .  .Gfiggs 

PoMVTK,  jKAN.'The  Making  of  Mary.  tnM». 

pp.  xvii-17},  dotk,  50  cents.   Cassc:) 

FowLKR,  He.nrieti  a  Edith  — The  Young  Pre- 
tenders.   i2mo,  pp.  iv-iji, 


riage.    lamo,  pp.  317.  $1.50. . . 

Balzac,  H  he. — A  Start  in  Li(c.    tamo,  pp. 

viii— 421,  ^itSn  >■  Robeits 

Balzac,  H.  dc— The  Chouans,  tnmilated  by 

Ellen  Marriage,  with  introduction  by  George 
Sainisbury.    isinu,  pp.  270,  $1.50. 

Macoiilnn 

Beaumont,  Makv. — A  Ringby  Lsm  and  Other 
Stories.   f6mo,  pp.  v-ssa,  75  cents. 

MacmiUan 

Bklden,  Jks^ir  Van  Zilk.'— Fate  at  the  Door, 
lamo,  pp.  v-a40.  ii.oow  Lippincott 

Boi  KLER,  Mai  TIF.  M. — Shut  In  ;i  Story  of  the 
Silver  Croiis  and  Other  Stories,  ismu,  pp. 
iv-a56,  cloth,  $1.00;  Sundard  Pub.  Co. 

bKKTOii,  Frederic. — God  Foraalten.  ismo.  pp. 
viii-354,  $1.25  Putnam 

bkuWN,  Alick. — Meadow  (irass;  Talcs  of  New- 
England  Life.    t6mo,  pp.  v-3t6.  $1.50  mt. 

Copeland  &  O. 

Bl' 1  TFRW* .k  I  li ,  I[f  /!  KlAii  Thr  Kni^hts  of 
Liberty:  a  i  ale  of  the  Fortunes  of  La  Fayette, 
lamo,  pp.  225,  f  1.50  •  Appleton 

BvTTBRWOltTit,  Hbekkiah.— In  Old  New  Eng- 
land;  the  Romance  <jf  .1  C  olonial  t'lrcHide. 
lamo,  pp.  vii-2&i,  $1.00 ;  paper,  50  rents. 

.\j)ljIeton 

Colter,  Mrs.  Hattik  E.~The  Master  of  Deep, 
lawn.   i2mo.  pp.  952,  $1.25. 

Amcr.  Hap.  Pub.  Soc. 

Ckaic;ie,  C. — ^An  Old  Man's  Romance.  iSmo, 


Lippincott  "Vi^ALr,  J. — Annals  of  the  Parish  and  the  Ayrshuc 
Legatees,  with  Introduction  by  S.  R.  Cn»ck« 
ett.  3  vols.,  I6m0i  pp.  RCiii-'R2l;  xi->x:. 
%2.'^^'>  Roberts 

llABRtKiu.N,  J.  (and  others.) — Where  Were  Lb« 

Bo;s?  and  Other  Short  Stories  from  Omu 
iirjr.    t6mo,  paper,  pp.  x-io^,      <  cnts. 

Outing  Pub.  Co. 
Uaruv,  T.— 'A  Fair  of  Blue  Eyes.  New  cditioa. 

8vo.  pp.  vii-4S3,  fi.so  Harper 

Hav<.<).>i»,  Arricis   G. — The   Monk  and  the 
Prince.    12010.  pp.  ii-371.  f  1.00. 

Foote  h  Davics  Coh 
KiNcsLBV,  Henry. — Leighton  Court;  a  Conntrr 
House  Story.   i6mo.  pp.  aso.  f  !.<». 

Scribner» 

KtNt:.  C— The  Story  of  Port  Frayne.  lamo,  pp. 

ii-310,  cloth,  $1.25  Neelf 

Kl.N<;.  C. — Captain  Clo?!*  nnd  Sergeant  Croesu> 
i2mo,  $1.00;  paper,  50  cents. ....  Lippincott 

Lkan.  Mr-s.  Francis  (formerly  Florence  Mar 
ryatV  At  Heart  a  Rake,   ismo,  pp.  ii-34r. 

$1.00. ...   Casseil 

M.v  i.Eoii,  Fiona.— The  Mountain  Lovers.  t6mo, 

pp.  222,  $1.00   Roberts 

Makowkr,  S.  V. — ^The  Mirror  of  Mtisie.  itaioi, 

pp.  163.  $1.00  Roberts 

.tx'K.   W.    Hi;rrf-I.i.. — ^The  Heart  of  Life. 

i2nio,  pp.  ii-397.  $1.25    PulDam 

Marsh,  R. — .Mrs.  Musgrave  and  her  Hasbaod. 
lamo,  pp,  liKaoS,  $1.00;  paper,  so  cents. 


......  Appleton 

"!:^*'  •'•'5  -'^V  " '    •J:fJ*'^»':?  t    ^  Mor.kr,  JA.-Tbe  Adventures  of  Hajji  Baba.  of 

Ispahan,  with  introduction  by  C.  Curtoo. 
i2mo,  $1.25  Macmtlltn 

Mc»i  r,  E.— The  01(J  Settler,  the  Squire  and  I /ttle 
Peleg.  2010,  pp.  302,  $1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 

U.  S.  Book  Coi 

MvRray,  Con.  T.^The  Miller  of  Glanmife:  an 
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annis  VI-XIII.  (29.   Sept.   i68i-lj.  Aug. 

if>S9),  edente.  J.  J.  Beribier.  Tom.  II. 

45  ^r. 

Merooires  du  G^n6ral  Rapp,  (ditioo  annotie  par 

D,  Lacroix.    3  fr.  50  c. 
Moi;rin,   E.~R^its   Lorraines :    histoire  des 

Dues  de  Lorraine  et  de  Bar.    3  fr.  50  c. 
RssTREt^o.  v.— Los  Cbibchas  antes  de  las  Con- 

quista  cspafloKt.    25  fr. 
WiNCKLKK,  H.-  Viilker  und  Suaten  des  alien 
Orients.  VoL  «,  Part  i.  7m.  50  c. 


CONTINENTAL. 

SCIENCE,  ART,  ETC. 
BBNri'tKT,  M.— Die  Seclenkunde  ala  reioe  Er- 

fahrungswissenschaft.    6  M. 
EnsFBLD,  O. — Untersuebuogen  ausdero  Gcsam- 

mtgfbiete  iler  Mvkolngic,  Part  12,  24m. 
Croiset,  A. — Histoire  de  la  litterature  grecque. 
Piriode  attique:  Eloquence,  histoire,  phi> 
losophic.    8  fr, 
DcpoN,  M  -  Minr«  «ous«marinea.  Torpillcs.  ct 

Torpcdos.    2  fr. 
Fekr,  F.—Le  CbaddantR>Jataka.  4  fr. 
Grasserie.  R.  pf  la.— L'Origine  des  Radnes 

des  l.angues.    10  fr. 
Ji;«AiNMLLB,  H.  D'Arbois  db.— Cours  de  Lit^ 

t^raturs  celUque,  VoL  8.  8  fr. 
Michael,  E. — FUhrcr  fUr  Pilzfreunde.  ?m. 

Revillout.  E. — Lettressur  les  Monnaies  ^gypt- 
itones.  9$  fr. 

Saintionon,  F.  de. — Nouvclle  ih^oriedesmaites: 
le  movement  diflfer^ntiel.    6  fr. 

SSIDBL,  A. — Handbuch  der  Shambala-Sprache 
in  Usambara.  Oentsch-Ostafrilca.  4  M. 
50  c. 

Stumme.   II.—  Dichtkunst  una  Gedichte  der 

Schiuh,  3m. 

TAfPOLBT,  E. —  Die    roraanischen  V«nr«adt* 

srhnftsnamcn.    6  M. 

Weber,  L. — Ati:icrfnntea     3  M. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 
Beksics,  GisTAVK. — La  Question  Roumaine  et 

la  Lutte  des  races  en  Orient.    3  fr.  50  c. 
Garofalo,    R. —  La    Superstititlon  socialiste. 
5  fr. 

Gennevrays,  a.— Un  CbAtean  o&  I  on  s'amose, 
3fr.  * 

Gerv.\ert,  F.  a. — L.T  Mctopce  antique  dans  ie 

chant  de  i'Eglise  latine.    25  fr. 
Gravb,  J. — La  Soci^tA  future.  3  fr.  50c. 

Hooi-s,  }.— Keats*  Jugend  u.  Jngendgedtchte. 

3  M.  &oc. 

Journal  (Le)  de  la  belle  Meundiftre.    3  fr.  50c. 
Mafi,,  P  -Celles  qui  savent  aimer.    3  fr.  soc. 
TuoPK,  H. — Der  Ring  des  Frangipani,  mil 
Zierkeisten  von  H.  Thoma,  tsm. 


Google 


THE  BOOKflAN 

A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Vol.  II.  NOVEMBER.  189^.  No.  3. 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMENT. 


It  has  been  generally  understood,  and 
we  have  ourselves  stated,  that  Mr.  Du 
Maurier's  new  novel  is  to  be  called  The 
Martians.  His  publishers,  however,  in- 
form us  that  The  Martian  is  the  correct 
title. 

Mr.  James  Lane  Allen  has  just  fin- 
ished the  second  part  of  A  Kentucky  Car- 
dinal, to  be  entitled  Aftertnath.  The 
Messrs.  Harper  have  decided  to  publish 
it  in  book  form  at  once,  and  its  appear- 
ance may  be  looked  for  shortly. 

The  King's  Stratagem,  a  little  volume 
of  short  stories  by  Stanley  Weyman, 
issued  through  the  new  firm,  Messrs. 
Piatt  and  Bruce,  and  published  in  Sep- 
tember, reached  a  sale  of  10,000  copies 
inside  of  four  weeks. 

The  Literary  World  has  contributed  to 
our  list  of  amusing  typographical  errors 
by  alluding  to  Mr.  Stedman's  forthcom- 
ing Victorian  Anthology  as  the  Victorian 
Anthropology.  When  the  editor  saw  this 
in  type  he  probably  felt  like  committing 
anthropophagy. 

We  desire  to  call  Mr.  Charles  Dudley 
Warner's  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
name  of  the  famous  Moorish  city  is  not 
pronounced  "  Tetiian."  Mr.  Warner's 
uncertainty  on  this  point  made  one  of 
the  lines  of  his  little  poem,  "  Bookra." 
in  the  October  Harper  s  unmetrically 
broken-backed  and  painfully  scazonic. 

Professor  Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen, 
whose  sudden  death  was  announced  last 
month,  was  a  very  prominent  and  in- 
teresting figure  among  American  men 
of  letters.  His  vigorous  personality, 
his  bluff  and  sometimes  brusque  ways, 
and  his  great  literary  fecundity  made 


his  name  everywhere  known  to  a  wide 
public.  Beginning  his  literary  career 
as  a  romanticist,  he  fell  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Turgenieff,  and  from  that  time 
adopted  to  the  full  the  realistic  theories  ; 
yet  he  never  assimilated  them  in  his  own 


HJALMAR  HJORTH  BOYESEN. 

work,  for  the  novels  that  he  wrote  in 
his  later  years  never  sounded  the  true 
note  of  life,  and  he  had  evidently  in 
abandoning  the  romantic  creed  given 
up  more  than  he  had  received  in  re- 
turn. As  a  poet,  his  verses  failed  to  at- 
tain the  level  of  his  best  prose,  and  are 
now  probably  little  read. 

Professor  Boyesen  was  at  his  best  as 
a  critic  and  expounder  of  literature. 
His  literary  essays  have  a  delightful 
freshness  and  naturalness,  and  are  al- 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


ways  characterised  by  taste,  feeling,  and 
perfect  sanity.  He  had  a  wide  acquaint- 
ance with  foreign  men  of  tetters,  and 
was  profoundly  read  in  a!!  dcparTmcnts 
of  pure  literature,  especially  in  the  Scan- 
dinavian and  modem  German  ;  so  that 
he  hmiisxlit  to  the  critic's  task  the 
breadth  of  view  and  fulness  o\  knowl- 
edge that  are  too  often  lacking.  As  a 
popular  Icctiircr  he  was  al>o  n  inark- 
ably  successful,  having  a  power  of  per- 
sonal magnetism  that  held  his  audiences 
captive  anil  inspired  them  with  intense 
conviction.  His  friends  fi  lt  a  deep  re- 
gret that  for  some  years  past  he  had  de- 
voted SO  much  of  his  time  to  fugitive 
and  ephemeral  production  ;  and  as  the 
great  critical  history  of  Scandinavian 
literature,  which  he  had  long  aspired  to 
write,  was  never  actually  begun,  there 
must  be  added  to  their  sense  of  personal 
loss  the  feeling  that  be  died  before  the 
maturity  and  fruition  of  his  highest 
powers  had  been  attained. 

Professor  W.  M.  Sloane,  after  finish- 
ing his  life  of  Napoleon,  should  publish 
an  appendix  containing;  tlic  new  mate- 
rial which  he  discovered  in  the  course 
of  his  researches,  but  did  not  include  in 
his  excellent  work.  For  instance,  he 
unearthed,  in  the  governmental  archives 
at  l*aris,  certain  letters  of  Pauline  Bona- 
parte, which  he  was  too  verecund  to 
give  to  tlic  world  in  a  magazine  that  is 
largely  read  by  the  Young  Person,  but 
which,  nevertheless,  reveal  some  very 
curious  and  rather  remarkable  fat  ts 
about  the  vk  intime  of  the  great  Corsi- 
can.  If  published,  they  would  show 
with  startling  clearness  the  truth  of 
Taine's  contention  that  Napoleon  was 
in  reality  a  belated  type  of  the  mediaeval 
Italian-^  Borgia  three  centuries  over- 
due. 

The  Messrs.  Scribner  have  begun  the 

publication  of  a  very  interesting  bio- 
graphical series,  which  is  tu  include  the 
typical  and  historic  women  of  the  colo- 
nial and  revolutionary  days,  and  thus 
incidentally  illustrate  the  domestic  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  different  sec- 
tions of  the  country — I'uritan,  Knicker- 
bocker, and  Cavalier,  The  first  v<tlunic 
of  tlie  series  is  by  Mrs.  Alice  Morse 
Earle,  who  has  taken  as  her  subject 
Maii;aret  Wiiithiop,  the  wife  of  Gov- 
ernor John  Wiuthrop  of  Massachusetts. 


The  next  three  volumes  will  deal  with 
Martha  Washington,  Dolly  Madison, 
and  Mercy  Otis  Warren,  the  sister  of 
James  Otis. 

The  new  romance  upon   which  the 

Dutch  n<»\  eli>^t.  Louis  Couperus,  has  been 
engaged  is  entitled  Weltjrutien^  and  has 
just  been  issued  by  Heinrich  Mindeo. 
(if  Dresden.  It  is  said  to  be  a  story  "i 
fascinating  interest,  which,  while  beiag 
complete  in  itself,  also  forms  a  sequel 
to  that  writer's  former  production,  Ma- 
jesttit,  published  in  an  English  transla- 
tion last  spring  under  the  same  title, 
Majtstjy  by  the  Messrs.  Appleton. 

m 

Mr.  George  Saintsbury,  wliosc  Cor- 
rcctfii  Impressions  was  published  here  by 
Messrs.  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company  last 
J.inuary,  has  been  appointed  Professor 
of  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature  in 
the   University   of    Edinburgh.  Mr. 
Saintsbury,  who  is  fifty  years  ^  f  age. 
was  educated  at  Kint^'s  CoHetje  School, 
London,  and  at  Merton  College,  Ox- 
ford.   He  was  a  master  at  the  Manches- 
ter Grammar  School  in  i>^6S,  at  Eliza- 
beth College,  Guernsey,  from  iS6ii  to 
1874,  and  at  Elgin  Educational  Institute 
from   1874  to   1876.     During  the  last 
twenty  years  he  has  devr^ted  himself  ex- 
clusively to    literary   and  jt)urnalistic 
work,  and  has  been  closely  allied  with 
the  literary  department  of  the  Manches- 
ter Guardian,    lie  is  one  of  the  best  and 
most  genial  of  living  English  critics. 
A  portrait  taken  from  his  latest  ph<H'>- 
graph  appeared  in  the  March  number  of 
The  Bookman. 

Mr.  SaiiUNliiir\'  w  ill  be  the  Mibject  of 
a  critical  paper  in  a  series  of  estimates 
of  the  chief  living  critics  by  eminent 
writers  to  appear  in  Thf  Bookm.^n. 
The  first  of  the  series  begins  with  this 
number,  in  which  Mr.  hT  B.  Marriott 
Watson  writes  of  Mr.  W.  E.  Henley. 
Articles  will  follow  on  R.  II  Mutton, 
of  the  S/>ti/ti/(>r,  Leslie  Stephen,  .\ndrejr 
Lang,  and  others.  Under  the  title 
"  Neglected  Books  ;  Apjieals  for  Con- 
sideration," there  commences  in  iliis 
number  also  a  series  of  articles  by  lead- 
ing; critics  on  the  claims  of  lidoks  which 
they  think  have  been  unreasonably  neg- 
lected. Frederick  Greenwood,  S.  Bar* 
ing-Gould,  Dr.  Robertson  Nicoll,  and 
others  are  among  the  contributors. 


.  kj  .i^Lo  uy  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL, 


A  new  novel  by  Miss  Lily  Dougall, 
entitletl  A  Qitfsiion  of  Faith.,  is  announced 
to  appear  shortly  from  the  press  of 
Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Com- 
pany. Miss  Dougall  aroused  expecta- 
tions l)y  her  first  novel,  Bcf^j^ars  All,  pub- 
lished by  the  Messrs.  Longmans  about 
three  years  ago,  which  have  scarcely 
been  fulfilled  in  her  later  productions. 
We  regret  this  because  we  feel  that 
Miss  DougiUl  is  capable  of  sustain- 
ing the  reputation  of  her  first  novel  if 
she  were  not  so  weighted  down  by  that 
bugbear  of  the  lady  novelist,  the  desire 
to  preach.  In  Beggars  All  and  What 
Necfssity  Knmvs  siie  showed  unusual  im- 
aginative force,  literary  quality  of  a  rare 
kind  in  fiction,  and  the  power  to  create 
startling  situations.  But  whatever  Miss 
Dougall — who,  by  the  way,  is  a  Cana- 
dian— touches,  she  adorns,  and  the  fresh- 
ness of  her  thought  keeps  pace  with  a 
manner  of  writing  which  is  at  least  win- 
ning if  not  always  entertaining. 


Great  things  are  expected  of  Mr.  An- 
thony Hope's  new  serial.  The  title 
fixed  upon  at  present  is  Phrozo.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  a  Greek  island  which 
has  been  bought  by  a  young  English 
lord.  The  inhabitants  conspire  to  slay 
the  new  proprietor.  Phrozo  is  a  Greek 
beauty  with  whom  he  falls  in  love.  The 
rest  is  not  obvious — Anthony  Hope  is 
too  clever  for  that ;  and  those  who  have 
read  the  story  speak  of  it  in  the  most 
enthusiastic  terms  as  the  best  serial  they 
have  ever  seen. 

Mrs.  W.  K.  Clifford,  who  writes  the 
first  article  of  the  series  on  "  Neglected 
Books,"  which  appears  on  another  page, 
first  became  known  to  fame  as  the  au- 
thor of  Mrs.  Keith's  Crime,  a  novel  much 
talked  of  in  its  day,  but  since  somewhat 
eclipsed  by  the  popularity  of  her  Aunt 
Anne.  Besides  these  two  character 
studies,  she  has  written  several  striking 
stories  of  slighter  bulk,  notably  :  H'ilii 
Proxy,  Lox'e  Letters  of  a  Worldly  Woman, 
and  The  Last  Touches.  She  has  a  new 
novel  in  the  press  entitled  A  Flash  of 
Summer,  which  she  has  largely  rewritten 
since  its  appearance  as  a  serial  story  in 
the  Illustrated  London  JVeios.  She  is  the 
widow  of  the  late  Professor  W.  K.  Clif- 
ford, one  of  the  most  brilliant  mathema- 
ticians of  the  century. 


One  of  the  busiest  of  young  writers  in 
London  is  Mr.  William  Le  yueux,  who 
is  in  charge  of  the  literary  ilepartment  of 
the  Globe.  Since  the  publication  of  his 
very  successful  Great  War  in  Fnf^land  in 
i8g7,  which  is  in  its  ninth  edition,  he 
has  made  considerable  preparations  for 
several  novels  and  stories.    Zoraida,  a 


WILLIAM  LE  grEUX. 


romance  of  the  harem  and  the  great  Sa- 
hara, recently  published  by  the  Messrs. 
Stokes  and  noticed  on  another  page,  is 
in  its  third  edition  in  England.  Before 
writing  this  romance  he  made  several 
journeys  among  the  Arabs,  where  his 
knowledge  of  Arabic  stood  him  in  good 
stead.  Stolen  Souls,  a  society  novel,  will 
also  be  published  sliortly  by  the  Messrs. 
Stokes  ;  and  the  author  has  another 
novel  now  in  the  press,  entitled  The 
Temptress,  the  scenes  of  which  are  laid 
mainly  in  New  Caledonia,  the  French 
convict  settlement,  and  partly  in  Paris. 
The  story  deals  with  a  gang  of  French 
swindlers,  of  whom  the  "  temptress"  is 
the  leader.  Other  books  of  Mr.  Le 
Queux's  are  Guilty  Bonds  and  Strange 
Tales  of  a  Nihilist. 

Once  in  a  while  the  newspapers  pub- 
lish an  account  of  some  gentleman,  re- 


Digitized  by 


173 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


spected,  wealthy,  happy  in  his  domestic 
lifr,  and  with  no  shaHow  of  a  scandal 
hanging  over  him,  who  steps  casually 
out  into  the  street,  suddenly  disappears 
from  sight,  and  is  never  seen  again. 
Something  like  this  occasionally  hap- 
pens also  in  literature.  A  book  is  publish- 
ed which  every  one  reads  and  whirh  Lj'ives 
promise  of  a  ^ood  career  ior  its  author. 
The  time  arrives  when  it  would  natu* 
rally  be  reviewed  and  spoken  of,  and 
take  a  recognised  place  amoncr  the  suc- 
cessful publications  of  ihc  year,  and 
then  suddenly — it  disappears.  No  one 
reviews  it.  X'>  one  speaks  of  it.  It  is 
seen  on  the  shelves  of  no  great  book- 
seller. So  far  as  any  critical  recognition 
is  concerned,  it  is  lost  to  sight  and  swal- 
lowed up  in  mysterious  oblivion.  An 
instance  that  we  have  in  mind  is  the 
very  unusual  and  striking  piece  of  real- 
ism entitled  Dr.  J^hillips.  It  was  ]Mib- 
lislied  some  six  years  ago,  and  il  exists 
to-day  in  half  a  dozen  cheap  reprints 
that  continually  sell  ;  but  the  present 
writer  has  never  yet  seen  a  review  of  it, 
nor  has  he  ever  heard  one  single  person 
mention  it.  Vet  it  is  a  really  remark 
able  piece  of  work — ^vivid,  acute,  in- 
tense, and  in  its  later  chapters  power- 
fully tragical.  Thousands  of  persons 
have  read  it  with  absorbing  interest. 
Why  is  it,  then,  in  one  sense,  non-ex- 
istent ? 

We  know  why,  and  we  are  going  to 
explain,  because  the  explanation  is  so 

interestinij,  sniaekini;  as  it  does  of  trap- 
doors and  secret  passages  and  unseen 
forms  lurking  behmd  the  arras  and  all 
the  other  mysterious  things  that  delight 
one's  sense  of  the  rt)mantic.  The  novel 
deals  with  a  certain  stratum  of  Jew- 
ish society  in  London — the  ultra-ortho- 
dox, ef>mmercial,  narrow-mindci!,  Chris- 
tian-haling set — and  it  is  written  with 
a  minuteness  of  knowledge  tiiat  is  fairly 
startling,  reproducing  as  it  docs  with 
photographic  accuracy  the  least  details 
of  domestic  and  social  life  down  to  the 
chatter  of  the  parlours  and  an  enumera- 
tion of  the  dishes  eaten  at  the  card-par- 
ties, until  as  we  read  we  can  almost  smell 
the  fried  fish  and  see  the  grease.  It  is 
a  marvel  of  revelation,  and  it  c^reatly 
otiendcd  ihc  Jewish  portion  of  the  com- 
munity when  it  appeared.  We  do  not 
see  wh\'  it  sliould  have  done  so,  a^;  it  is 
lesb  repulsive  in  its  way  than  George 
Gissing's  treatment  of  the  very  similar 


non-Jewish  class  of  Londoners  in  his 
Year  of  fiihi!,-c.  But  it  did  ;  and 
straightway  intluciices  were  set  to  work 
to  involve  it  in  a  great  impenetrable 
silence  tliat  should  blight  it  at  its  birth. 
It  is  wonderful  how  effectively  this  has 
been  done  ;  for  while  the  book  has  been 
read  by  many,  it  has  been  nntired  by 
few  ;  and  to-day  it  cannot  be  purchased 
save  in  a  cheap,  paper-covered  edition 
on  the  stands  of  the  second- hand  deal- 
ers. There  is  something  really  uncanny 
about  thih,  and  even  in  writinjj  of  it  we 
feel  much  as  Bluebeard's  wife  must 
have  frit  when  she  thrust  the  rusty  key 
into  the  lock  and  opened  the  creaking 
door  of  the  forbidden  chamber.  Vet  the 
very  weirdness  of  the  incident  is  fas- 
cinating, and  it  all  goes  to  show  that  in 
these  days  it  is  not  Isaac  of  York  who 
is  hurried  off  to  Torquilstone  to  be 
plunged  into  a  noisome  cell  ;  but  it  is 
rather  Isaac  himself  who  waylays  FfWit 
de  Boeuf  and  entertains  him  with  the 
pincers  and  the  thumb-screw. 

Apart  from  this  special  interest  which 

it  possesses.  Dr.  Phillips  is  to  be  noticed 
as  the  lirst  novel  to  be  written  confess- 
edly from  the  inspiration  afforded  by 
George  Moore.  Its  authofp  **  Frank 
Danliv."  is  a  lady  who  was  an  early  and 
intense  admirer  of  Mr.  Moore.  She 
called  him  her  "master,"  and  he  still 
speaks  of  her  as  his  "  pupil,"  though 
they  are  no  longer  friends.  This  book, 
Dr.  Pkillips,  was  written  under  Moore's 
eye,  and  when  finished  was  taken  by 
him  to  Mr.  Vizetelly,  the  publisher,  with 
a  very  strong  commendation  of  its 
merits,  Mr.  Vizetelly  read  it  over  and 
saw  its  power ;  but  owinij  to  certain 
crudities  of  expression  and  the  unneces- 
sary coarseness  of  some  of  its  detuls, 
he  refused  to  publish  it  as  it  was.  It 
was  then  revised,  and,  much  to  its  ad- 
vantage, the  most  objectionable  features 

wi're  partially  excised.  Mr.  \'izetelly 
then  published  it  with  the  result  de- 
scribed above. 

Since  that  time,  for  reasons  which  no 
one  seems  to  untlerstand,  a  great  cool- 
ness has  arisen  between  Mr.  Moore  and 
his  brilliant  disciple  :  and  a  few  months 
ago  when  Celibates  appeared,  '  I  rank 
Danby"  made  a  most  elaborate  and 
very  aggravating  attack  upon  the  book 
over  her  own  name  in  the  Saturdaj  £<• 
vifw.   Mr,  Moore  is  too  old  a  hand  to 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


173 


write  answers  to  ordi- 
nary critics  ;  but  this 
stab,  coming  as  it  did 
from  his  own  "  pupil," 
was  tot)  much.  He  re- 
plied in  llie  next  num- 
ber of  the  Rn-i^o,  emp- 
tying all  the  vials  of  his 
scorn  upon  his  "  pu- 
pil's" head.  He  dis- 
owned her  as  unworthy 
of  him.  He  accused 
her  of  ignorance  of  the 
English  language.  He 
twitted  her  with  her 
personal  obligations  to 
him.  He  insinuated 
that  she  was  only  a 
Philistine.  He  even 
called  her  a  coarse- 
minded  person.  Alto- 
gether it  is  a  very  pretty 
quarrel  ;  but  it  is  a  sad 
beginning  for  the  crea- 
tion of  a  great  Moore 
school  of  fiction. 

Apropos  of  Mr.  Vize- 
telly's  alterations  in  the 
original  text  of  Dr. 
Phillips^  a  very  interest- 
ing paper  might  be 
written  on  the  clianges 
which  publishers  have 
made  in  manuscripts  of 
famous  books  as  an  es- 
sential  condition  of 
their  acceptance.  The 
latest  instance  that  we 
know  of  is  to  be  found 
in  the  I/iazrnly  Twins. 
Madame  Sarah  Grand  had  elaborated 
the  medical  particulars  of  Edith's  ill- 
ness in  that  novel  to  such  an  extent 
that  even  Mr.  Heinemann  (who  is 
not  easily  shocked)  felt  it  necessary 
to  interpose  ;  and  so  the  chapter  in 
question  has  much  less  resemblance  to 
a  treatise  on  dermatology  than  it  had 
when  it  left  the  author's  hands.  Bear- 
ing in  mind  the  unusual  bulk  of  the 
novel,  and  the  remarkable  frankness  of 
what  remains,  one  cannot  but  feel  that 
the  reading  world  is  much  indebted  to 
Mr.  Heinemann's  editorial  good  sense. 

Miss  Gertrude  Hall,  whose  Foam  of 
the  Sea,  ami  Other  Stories  was  recently 
published  by  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers, 
is  a  daughter  of  Madame  Edna  Hall, 


GERTRUDE  HALL. 

the  celebrated  vocal  teacher  in  Boston. 
Miss  Hall  is  a  native  of  Boston,  but  her 
academic  years  were  spent  in  Europe, 
where  she  lived  for  nine  years,  chiefly 
at  Florence.  A  volume  of  Verses  by  her 
appeared  in  1890  ;  Far  from  To-day,  in 
1*592  ;  and  Allegretto,  in  1894.  She  is 
also  responsible  for  the  Translations 
from  the  Poems  of  Paul  Verlaine,  pub- 
lished by  Messrs.  Stone  and  Kimball 
last  spring. 

Mr.  William  Edwards  Tirebuck,  whose 
new  novel,  Afiss  Grace  of  All  Souls,  is 
reviewed  on  another  page,  is  an  English 
novelist  who  is  not  so  well  known  on 
this  side  as  he  deserves  to  be.  .Mr.  Tire- 
buck  was  early  associated  with  Mr.  Hall 
Caine  in  the  literarv  movements  of  the 


Digitized  by  Google 


174 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


in  the  Charleston  River  !  But  when  it 
comes  to  European  topography,  it  really 
is  astonishing  to  stumble  upon  such  an 
error  as  that  journal  recently  committed 
in  reviewing  /"//f*  Grasshoppers,  when  it 
actually  spoke  of  the  book  as  giving  an 
interesting  picture  of  "  society  in  Hol- 
land," and  of  Herr  Hansen  as  "  a  Dutch- 
man." Evidently  the  Spectator  has  a 
private  atlas  of  its  own,  on  which  Ham- 
burg is  included  in  the  Netherlands. 

If  it  were  only  geography  in  which 
the  esteemed  English  went  astray,  one 
might  overlook  it  ;  but  here  is  an  Eng- 
lish publisher  announcing  a  life  of  Ad- 
miral Farragut,  and  speaking  of  liim  as 
"  the  great  Confederate  admiral  and 
in  Dr.  John  Nichol's  book  on  English 
literature  we  find,  among  his  list  of 
American  women  writers,  Mrs.  S.  M.  B. 
Pratt,  Nora  Percy,  Alice  Welling  Rol- 
lins, Helen  Mackay  Hutchinson,  Owen 
Insley,  and  Mrs.  Zadcl  Barnes  Gustapon  ! 


W1U4AM  EUWAkDb  TIRKBUCK. 


day,  and  although  he  has  been  out- 
stripped by  the  author  of  The  Manxman, 
we  have  still  high  hopes  of  his  ultimate 
success  and  popularity. 

M.  Breal,  the  distinguished  French 
archjcologist,  in  a  lecture  lately  pub- 
lished, speaking  of  the  etymology  and 
history  of  the  Etruscan  word  usil,  says 
that  it  appears  in  the  Latin  Anrelia,  and 
in  the  name  of  the  French  town  Orleans, 
adding  incidentally  that  it  has  crossed 
the  Atlantic  pour  baptiser  I'un  des  Etats 
de  la  r/publi(]u(  Aniericaine  ;  from  which 
it  is  evident  that  this  very  learned  man 
thinks  New  Orleans  a  State.  How  like 
an  archa;oIogist — especially  a  French 
archaeologist  ! 

After  all,  one  does  not  expect  much 
knowledge  of  American  geography  from 
a  Frenchman,  or  from  an  Englishman 
either,  for  that  matter.  Hence  we  are 
not  surprised  to  find  the  Spectator  speak- 
ing of  the  battle  between  the  Monitor 
and  the  Merrimac  ViS  having  been  fought 


This  sketch  of  Mr.  Anthony  Hope's 
house  represents  the  exterior  of  16  Buck- 
ingham Street, 
Strand,  close  to 
Charing  Cross 
Station,  which 
contains  the  den 
where  he  puts  on 
his  working  coat 
(the  one  with  the 
hole  in  the  sleeve) 
and  sits  down  with 
the  punctuality  of  a 
bank  clerk  to  the 
work  of  the  day. 
"  I  reach  here,"  he 
says,  "  at  a  quarter 
to  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  work  on 
till  four  in  the  after- 
noon, or  even  later. 
I  do  not  set  myself 
any  fixed  task  to 
be  performed  each 
day,   but  work 
rather  by  time,  and 
take  what  Heaven 
sends.  I  am  a  quick 
worker,  and  though 
I  never  re-write,  I 
revise  carefully,  and 
am  very  fidgety  over 
my  wor k .  "  He 
reads  little.     "I        anthonv  hope's  house. 


Digitized  by  Coogle 


A  UTEKAKY  JOURNAL, 


175 


have  so  little  time 
for  reading. 
When  I  can  read, 
I  prefer  novels, 
and  my  favourite 
authors  are  Mere- 
dith, Kipling,  and 
Stevenson.  I  am 
also  fond  of  Nor- 
ris's  work."  As 
a  boy  he  was 
greatly  impressed 
by  Banyan's  Pil- 
grim's Progress, 
which  he  used  to 
take  to  bed  with 
him,  and  fall 
asleep  to  dream 
of  Apollyon,  and, 
later,  when  at 
school,  he  became 
a  great  reader  of 
Ballantyne,  h  i  s 
favourite  being 
The  Three  Middies. 
He  rarely  reads 
poetry,  and  more 
wonderful  still, 
has  never  written 
a  verse  of  poetry. 

with  the  soli- 
tary exception  of 
a  valentine." 

Mr,  Anthony 
Hope  Hawkins 
was  born  in  Hack- 
ney in  1S63,  and 
his  life  has  been 
uneventful  — 
'*  humdrum,"  he 
calls  it.  A  Man 
of  Mark,  pub- 
lished in  18S9  at 
his  own  expense, 
was  his  first  book, 

and  was  not  a  financial  success,  though 
its  recent  republication  has  made  ample 
amends  for  its  first  reception.  At  this 
time  he  looked  on  the  bar  as  his  career 
in  life,  and,  far  from  thinking  of  litera- 
ture as  a  profession,  he  simply  wrote  for 
amusement.  Father  Stafford,  published 
in  1890.  was  his  second  book,  also  a 
financial  failure  ;  then  followed  the  writ- 
ing of  short  stories  for  the  .S7.  James's 
Gazette,  several  of  which  were  repui>lished 
in  the  volume  entitled  Sport  Royal.  Air. 
Witt's  \Vido7v,  published  in  1892,  was 
more  successful  ;  A  Change  of  Air  and 


Half  a  Hero  were  published  the  follow- 
ing year — Half  a  Hero,  by  the  way,  has 
just  been  reissued  by  the  ISlessrs.  Harper 
in  a  new  edition  ;  then  he  wrote  The 
Prisoner  of  /en da,  winch  established  his 
reputation.  Subsequent  books  of  his 
arc  The  Holly  Dialogues,  The  God  in  the 
Car,  The  Indiscretion  of  the  Hu chess,  and 
at  present  he  is  engaged  on  a  series  of 
romantic  stories,  the  scene  of  which  is 
laid  in  an  imaginary  Italian  republic  in 
the  Midtlle  Ages. 

Mr.  Hope  has  been  the  recipient  of 


Digitized  by  Google 


116 


THE  BOOKMAhl. 


several  flattering  invitations  to  spend  a    qualities  which  none  of  the  actors  can 


lecturinpj  tour  in  America  ;  but  we  have 
it  on  his  own  authority  that  he  has  re- 
fused them  all.  *'  Some  day,"  he  says, 
*'  1  may  po  ;  but  there  is  plenty  of  time 
for  that." 

interestinjsf  to  note  that  the  two 
most  popular  with  the  reading 
during 


It  is 

hooks 
public 

the  past  year 
have  also  fur- 
nished the  ma- 
terial for  two  of 
the  most  popu- 
lar plays.  Iril- 
by  and  T/tf  Pris- 
oner of  ZcnJii  in 
the  hands  of  the 
dramatist  have 
been  having  a 
run  almost  if  not 
quite  equal  to 
their  literary 
vogue.  The  rea- 
sons for  this  re- 
versal of  the 
usual  rule  are 
quite  diverse. 
Mr.  Paul  Pot- 
ter's play  has  re- 
c  e  i  V  e  d  very 
warm  commen- 
dation for  its 
own  merits  ;  yet 
we  think  that  its 
success  is  hardly 
due  to  its  intrin- 
s  i  c  excellence. 
The  subtle  qual- 
ities of  Mr.  Uu 
Maurier's  novel 
are  not  and 
could  not  be 
transferred  to 
the  stage ;  and 
the  play  would 
almost  certainly 
not  appeal  to 

any  one  who  had  "  photograph  by  Sarony 

not  read  the  book.  It  would,  in  fact,  ing  and 
hardly  be  intelligible  to  a  person  un- 
familiar with  the  novel.  Vet  as  every  one 
does  know  the  novel,  the  play  succeeds 
because  it  gives  piclorially  the  same 
story.  Those  whc»  liave  wei)t  with  Tril- 
by and  laughed  with  Zou  Zou  and  the 
Laird  like  to  see  the  scenes  put  before 
them  picturesquely,  and  lliey  read  into 
it  from  their  memories  of  the  book  the 


in  reality  exhibit  by  their  art.  Vet  any 
one  who  sees  the  play  and  really  thinks 
that  it  is  satisfactory  in  itself  must  be 
a  person  who  has  missed  the  esoteric 
excellence  of  the  novel. 

Thf  Prisoner  of  Zen  da,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  dramatised  by  Mr.  Rose,  is  a 

fine  play  abso- 


.MK. 


SUl  llKRN  I.N  rilE  LOkO.NAi  liiN  M  l.NKl.N 
ZKNUA." 


lutely ;  and  even 
those  who  know 
not  the  book,  if 
there  be  any 
such,  cannot  fail 
to   find  the 
drama    one  of 
vivid  interest. 
The    novel,  in 
fact,  is  one  that 
was  made  for  the 
stage,  and  so  in- 
tensely dramatic 
are  its  incidents 
that    the  play- 
wright  had  an 
easy   task.  It 
would  have  been 
difficult,  in  fact, 
to  make  a  dull 
version  of  it,  so 
stirring,  ingeni- 
ous, and  vividly 
objective  is  the 
story.   The  play 
is  admirably 
acted,  but  Mr. 
Sothern  is  obvi- 
o  u  s 1 y  over- 
weighted by  the 
unwontcdly  he- 
roic part  that  he 
essays.    As  Ru- 
dolf, playing  the 
king,  he  is  not 
only    far  from 
kingly,   but  he 
scarcely  conveys 
the  impression 
of   high  breed- 
reckless  daring.     In  the  cor- 
onation scene    he    comes    the  nearest 
to  the  ideal,  with  his  helmet  and  the 
added  height  given  him  by  his  built-up 
heels  ;  in  the  other  parts  of  the  drama 
he  has  a  way  of  standing  with  his  neck 
bent  forward  and  an  expression  of  meek- 
ness that  is  not  far  from  being  abject. 
In  the  interview  with  Hentzau,  who  is 
admirably  presented  in  all  his  dare-devil 


riCE  rRIM.iNER  OF 


Digitizee, .  ,  v^jOOgle 


A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL. 


177 


force  and  recklessness,  Mr,  Sothern 
makes  one  quite  uneasy  by  the  painful 
contrast  that  he  offers  to  the  bold  swash- 
buckler. His  best  work  is  in  the  prison- 
scene,  where  he  is  relieved  from  the 
necessity  of  looking  heroic,  and  merely 
grovels  in  his  straw  and  moans.  Here 
his  acting  is  exceedingly  effective. 

By  the  way,  some  high  theatrical  au- 
thority should  lay  down  a  definite  law 
as  to  the  dramatic  purposes  of  broken 
English.  At  present  the  stage  conven- 
tions are  confusing.  Take  Trilb\\  for 
instance.  In  the  studio  scene  Madame 
Vinard  speaks 
delicious  French- 
English.  This 
would  seem  to 
imply  that  the 
dialogue  is  sup- 
posed to  be  in 
English.  But 
the  grisettes,  and 
Antony,  and  the 
rest  of  the  crowd 
speak,  on  the 
stage,  English 
that  has  no  trace 
of  accent.  Does 
this  represent, 
con  ven  tionally, 
that  they  are 
speaking  French  ? 
If  so,  why  should 
Madame  Vinard 
not  do  the  same  ? 
Moreover,  Z  o  u 
Zou  occasionally 
indulges  in  actual 
French,  as  does 
also  the  Laird ; 
therefore  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  pre- 
vious conversa- 
tion must  have 
been  in  English. 

Yet  can  we  assume  that  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Latin  Quarter  all  use  our  language 
like  native  Englishmen  ?  Altogether  it  is 
very  puzzling,  and  rather  detracts  from 
the  illusion.  A  consistent  rule  would  re- 
quire all  persons  who  are  supposed  to 
be  speaking  French  to  read  their  lines 
in  broken  English,  in  order  to  give  the 
Gallic  colour ;  or  else  declare  there 
should  be  no  broken  English  at  all. 
Will  some  dramatic  authority  please 
to  take  this  matter  up  ? 

Mr.  Edward  Rose,  who  has  been  suc- 


UKACE  KIMHAt.l.  AS  THE  PRINCESS  Kl.AVIA  IN 
PRISONER  OF  ZENDA." 

From  a  photoKraph  by  Sarony. 


cessful  in  dramatising  The  Prisoner  of 
Zenda  in  collaboration  with  the  author, 
is  already  known  as  a  successful  dra- 
matic author,  and  also  as  an  actor.  He 
is  a  man  of  versatile  talent.  He  is  the 
dramatic  critic  of  the  London  Sunday 
Times,  and  his  charming  descriptions  of 
the  "  Stately  Homes  of  England,"  in  the 
Illustrated  London  Nnos,  have  attracted 
wide  attention.  It  was  Mr.  R(»se  who 
dramatised  Anstey's  fanciful  story,  llce- 
Versa,  and  he  wrt)te  a  j>lay  called  Ai^at/ta 
Tylden,  which  was  put  on  the  Haymar- 
ket  by  Mrs.  Langtry.   He  has  done  more 

important  work 
than  this  ;  but, 
says  a  represen- 
tative of  the  Lon- 
don  Sketchy  "  it  is 
of  Zenda,  as  he 
familiarly  calls 
it,  of  which  he  is 
willing  to  speak, 
and  will  allow  no 
reference  to  his 
previous  work," 

'*  I  received  the 
book  from  Ar- 
row smith  one 
evening, "  so  Mr, 
Rose  tells  the 
story,  "  and  hap- 
pened to  com- 
mence its  perusal 
at  once.  I  read 
on  till  bed-time, 
and  then  took  the 
book  to  bed  with 
me.  Well,  I  fin- 
ished it,  and,  as 
I  lay  thinking 
over  it,  instead  of 
going  to  sleep,  I 
said  to  myself, 
'  Here  is  the  very 
story  for  a  play  !  '  It  seemed  as  though 
it  had  been  written  for  the  purpose  al- 
most. The  characters  and  incidents 
grouped  themselves  naturally  into  acts. 
It  seemed  quite  plain  sailing.  At  this 
time,  I  must  tell  you,  I  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  Mr.  Anthony  Hope  ;  but 
next  morning  I  wrote  to  Arrowsmith 
for  his  address,  and,  when  I  received  it, 
I  wrote  to  Mr.  Hope,  asking  him  if  he 
would  agree  to  let  me  dramatise  the 
story.  He  consented,  and  that  is  how 
the  work  started.  I  must  say  I  never 
met  an  author  with  whom  it  was  so 


THE 


Digitizei,  i_ ,  v^jO 


178 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


pleasant  lo  have  dealinp^s.  Plenty  of 
them  cann«)t  believe  otherwise  than  that 
the  story  in  the  play  must  stand  exactly 
as  it  is  in  the  book,  quite  rej^ardless  of 
sta^e  requirements  ;  but  Mr.  Hope  is 
not  one  of  these — 


EIlWAkll  KiiSE. 


"  '  Oh,  but  look  here,  Rose,  interject- 
ed Mr.  Hope,  '  you  know  very  well  that 
all  your  su^pjestions  were  of  the  most 
reasonable  cliaracter  ;  I  could  not  possi- 
blv  take  exception  to  them.' 

'•*  AVcll,"  continued  Mr.  Rose,  "  there 
were  some  very  interesting  things  that 
happened  in  that  moat,  but  we  had  to 
do  without  them.  That  was  a  pity,  but 
I  do  not  think  there  was  any  way  out  of 
the  difficulty.  As  for  the  rest,  the  story 
is  pretty  closely  adhered  to  until  we 
come  to  the  coronation  scene.  That, 
too,  was  impossible  to  represent  on  the 
stage — at  least,  it  was  impossible  to  do 
justice  to  it,  and  anything  less  would 
have  cheapened  the  performance.  How- 
ever, 1  thought  over  the  matter  very 
carefully,  as  here  was  an  opportunity  for 
a  remarkably  effective  spectacular  dis- 
play. Now,  I  am  glad  to  say  that  this 
scene  will  be,  I  think,  a  feature  of  the 
representation.    The   guests   are  seen 


going  to  the  grand  ceremony  and  return- 
ing from  it.    Although  the  coronation 
itself  cannot  be  seen,  I  do  not  think  the 
public  will  really  miss  ven,'  much  in 
having  to  imagine  it.    The  procession 
affords  a  really  gorgeous  show,  and  the 
dresses  are  super-magnitlcent.  Vou  know 
that  the  scene  of  the  imaginary  kingdom 
of  Ruritania  is  really  laid  in  Germany, 
so,  as  far  as  possible,  the  uniforms  and 
dresses  are  of  a  Crerman  character.  For 
the  rest,  I  think  you  know  all,  and  I 
really  believe  I  have  nothing  else  to  tell 
you. 

"  '  Oh,  yes  I  there  is  something  else,' 
put  in  >Ir.  Ht)pe.  '  The  truth  is,  Mr. 
Rose  is  altogether  too  modest  a  per- 
son, and,  in  sounding  my  praises,  he 
has  neglected  his  own  performances. 
The  fact  that  I  acquiesced  in  all  Mr. 
Rose's  suggestions  in  regard  to  his 
dramatisation  of  the  play,  you  will 
take,  I  hope,  as  an  expression  of  my 
strongest  approval  of  his  work  in  that 
direction,  liut  there  is  another  thing 
which,  as  I  have  said,  he  neglected  to 
tell  you.  There  is  a  prologue  to  the 
play,  and  that  prologue  is  entirely  the 
work  of  Mr.  Rose.  I  think  it  is  an  ex- 
cellent idea,  for  the  prologue  contains 
the  explanati«»n  of  those  circumstances 
in  the  story  which  it  would  not  be  easy 
to  furnish  on  the  stage.'  " 

Mr.  Blackmore's  new  Exmoor  romance. 
Slain  by  thf  Jh>on<Sy  will  be  published  by 
Messrs.  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company  on 
November  loth.  It  is  not,  as  has  been 
stated  elsewhere,  a  setjuel  to  his  famous 
story,  but  it  has  to  do  with  the  same 
place  and  period,  and  some  of  its  char- 
acters are  identical  with  those  of  Ix^rna 
Doonc — the  renowned  John  Ridd,  for 
instance,  reappears  at  a  critical  stage  of 
the  story,  'i'lirce  other  tales,  hitherto 
unpublished  in  book  form,  are  added  to 
the  volume. 

I.orna  Doone,  with  which  Mr.  Black- 
more's name  is  most  often  associatetl,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  he  has  written  a 
d«)zen  or  more  works  of  fiction  since  its 
pul)lication  in  1869,  was  not  the  author's 
first  venture  in  literature.  Nine  years 
previous  he  had  essayed  poetry,  of  which 
he  published  several  volumes,  and  a 
translation  of  the  first  two  of  Vergil's 
Geoff^icSy  under  the  title  The  Farm  and 
Fruit  of  Old.     His    first    novel,  Clara 


Digitized  by  G 


A  LITEKAKY  JOUKNaL. 


'79 


J^au,^han,  written  in  1852,  was  not  printed 
until  1S64.    Mr.  Blackmore  does  not  en- 
courage talk  about  his  manner  of  work, 
and  seems  to  care  more  for  his  trees  and 
plants,  which    he   insists  are  the  real 
things  ;  his  writing  is  done  of  an  even- 
ings, during  which  time,  so  careful  and 
painstaking  is  his  method,  he  may  com- 
plete no  more  than  a  paragraph  at  a  sit- 
ting.  This  substantiates  the  story  which 
some  one  relates  of  him  how,  on  inquir- 
ing for  the  house  of  Mr.  Blackmore,  the 
author,  no  one  seemed  to  know  him,  until 
a  gleam  of  intelligence  entered  the  mind 
of  one  person,  who  replied,  '*  Perhaps 
'tis  the  fruit  man  he  means  !  Follow 
along  the  wall  to  the  gate,  sir,"  and, 
sure  enough,  it  was  Mr.  lilackmore  who 
was  thus  described.    Mr.  Rlackmorc  has 
also  a  strong  unwillingness  to  let  his 
readers  look  upon  his  face  ;  as  he  puts 
it  with  characteristic  humour  which  has 
a  grimness  about  it,  "  It  appears  to  me 
that  any  man  sticking  himself  up  to  gaze 
at  his  own  title-page,  and  so  blinking  at 
his  readers,  lowers  himself  by  his  self- 
elevation.    I  keep  out  of  all  such  curi- 
osity.   If  I  can  say  a  thing  to  please  the 
public,  there  is  pleasure  on  both  sides  , 
but  as  for  labouring  to  look  to  please 
them,  what  is  the  wise  man's  dictum  on 
the  subject  ?    '  More  people  know  Tom 
Fool  than  Tom  Fool  knows.*    Let  him 
first  know  himself." 

Mr.  Blackmore  is  nearing  seventy,  and 
has  spent  most  of  his  life  in  the  countrj', 
passing  his  days  in  that  atmosphere  of 
"  princely  serenity"  which  pervades  all 
his  work.  Though  of  Berkshire  birth, 
he  comes  of  a  Devonshire  family,  and  his 
boyhood  was  spent  in  Devon.  lie  grad- 
uated at  E.xeter  College,  Oxford,  and 
studied  law  at  the  Middle  Temple,  but 
soon  forswore  law  for  letters.  His  home 
has  long  been  a  few  miles  out  of  London, 
in  the  valley  of  the  upper  Thames,  where, 
behind  a  great  brick  wall,  he  is  surround- 
ed with  fruit  trees  and  flowers,  and  min- 
gles the  delights  of  literature  and  market- 
gardening.  Here  he  lives  a  retired  life  in 
one  of  those  enviable  backwaters  of  life 
where  he  is  sheltered  from  Fame's  troub- 
lous waves,  and,  when  in  need  of  change, 
goes  a-fishing.  Seldom  is  he  seen  in 
London  or  by  his  fellow-authors.  The 
writer  remembers  reading  some  years  ago 
how  Mr.  Blackmore  and  Mr.  William 
Black  met  at  St.  Stephen's  Club,  in  Lon- 
don, and  how  the  latter  author  delight- 


ed his  senior  with  the  story  of  his  being 
toasted  at  a  dinner  while  in  this  country 
as  "  Mr.  Black,  gentlemen,  the  greatest 
of  living  novelists,  the  author  of  Lorna 

Apropos  of  what  we  said  in  a  recent 
number  of  Mr.  Crockett's  Christian 
names  and  their  connection  with  the 
well-known  Covenanting  divine,  Samuel 
Rutherford,  it  may  be  news  to  many  to 
learn  that  the  autliorof  Linna  Doonc  is  a 
descendant,  on  the  maternal  side,  of  Dr. 
Doddridge,  author  of  the  famous  Rise 
and  Fall,  and  that  Mr.  Blackmore's 
middle  name  was  given  him  in  conse- 
quence, his  full  name  being  Richard 
Doddridge  Blackmore. 


H.  RIDFJl  H*iV.*eT. 

At  a  dinner  of  thf  A: 
London,  given  jr.  h  »t«  :  * 
Haggard,  Sir  Wil::-  S.^-"- 
members  with  s..rr«r  -.i^ 
tions   on  h:« 

"  The  first  :c  >  -  - 

nwir.    Tbe  >:--• 
in  a  sir.i:  ?   r  1 
while  i>t  - 
mv  rrc*  rma  x 
IS  fit: 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


firm  prip,  by  which  I  mean  that  if  you 
bc^iii  ihem  you  simply  have  to  ^o  on 
withlhem."  Mr.  Riiler  Haggard's  Joan 
J/iistr,  which  is  noticed  (n\  another  page, 
is  a  new  departure  by  this  sanguinary 
author  in  fiction.  The  portrait  of  Mr. 
Haggard  on  the  preceding  page  is  taken 
from  a  recent  photograjih. 

The  author  of  T/ie  Simple  Adifnturfsof 
a  J/rw  Sahihy  which,  by  the  way,  as  Mrs. 
Cotes  confesses,  is  founded  on  fact,  is 


r 


SARA  JEANNKTTE  DUNCAN  (MRS.  COTKS). 

the  subject  of  a  chat  in  tlie  October 
number  of  the  Idler,  which  for  sugges- 
tiveness,  wit,  and  bonhomie  is  one  of  the 
finest  piecfs  c)f  (iialogue  we  have  seen  in 
interviewing  for  some  time.  Mrs.  Cotes 
has  just  returned  to  Calcutta,  which, 
she  says,  "  is  a  good  place  to  write  in. 
Life  is  one  long  holiday — I  speak  as  a 
Mem  Sahib,  of  course,  not  as  a  collector. 
And  there  is  such  abundance  of  mate- 
rial in  Anglo-Indian  life — it  is  full  of 
such  picturestjue  incident,  such  tragic 
chance."  Mrs.  Cotes  has  left  behind 
her  an  Indian  novel  which  is  in  Mr. 
Watts's  hands,  and  wliich  will  make  its 
first  appearance  as  a  serial  in  one  of  the 


magazines.    Mrs.  Cotes  was    bom  in 

Canada. 

• 

Mrs.    Cotes    relates    the  following 
humorous  incident  with  regard   to  the 
spelling  of  Hindustani.     "  I    have  felt 
uncertain  about  the  spelling  of  Hindu- 
stani words,"  she  savs,  "  ever  since  a  re- 
tired  Anglo-Indian  wrote  to  me  frc»m 
Bournemouth,  enclosing  a  list  of  forty- 
one  mistakes  in   The  Simple  AJrrn/ures 
of  a  Mem  Sahib.    He  had  passed  a  num- 
ber of  examinations — he  mentioned  them 
— and  proved  ever)'  case  by  the  Hun- 
terian  method,  which  is  arranged  on  prin- 
ciples that  spell   'Cawnpore,'    '  Kahn- 
pur.'  for  instance,  and  '  Lucknow,'  '  I-akh- 
nau.*   J/<-w  ^'(//////'j  Hindustani,  in  which 
the  forty-one  mistakes  appeared,  is  less 
scientific,  but  it  answers  very  well — the 
natives  understand  it" — which  is  con- 
clusive. 

Messrs.  Little,  Brown  and  Company 
have  been  verj'  successful  with  their 
edition  of  Dumas,  and  have  just  added 
six  new  volumes  to  the   series.  The 
Messrs.  Dent,  of  London,  publish  this 
edition  in  England  for  the  Boston  firm, 
and  they  have  also  made  an  arrange- 
ment to  issue  an    English  edition  of 
Messrs.    Little,    Brown's  Sienkiewicz 
Polish  romances.     An  important  and 
unusually  interesting  art  njmance,  from 
the  French  of  (Jeorge  Sand,  will  soon 
be  published    by  this  house,  entitled 
The  Master  Mosaic- 1 1  'orkers.    1 1  is  a  stor)- 
of  Venice  in  the   tinie  of  Titian  and 
Tintoretto,  who  figure  prominently  in 
the  work.    Apart  from   the  vivid  and 
glowing  descriptions  which  it  gives  of 
St.  Mark's  and  the  art  tragedies  centred 
about  it,  the  story  itself  is  one  of  ex- 
quisite beauty  and  great  power. 

Messrs.  Fleming  H.  Revell  and  Com- 
pany have  started  a  dainty  series  of 
ljoi>klcts,  bound  in  delicate  leatherette 
boards,  with  illustrations.  The  Renais- 
sance Series,  as  it  is  called,  contains 
stories  by  Miss  Mary  E.  Wilkins,  Rosa 
Nouchette  Carey,  and  David  Lyall. 
Brother  Lawrence  and  The  Swiss  Guide, 
an  allegory,  by  Dr.  Parkhurst,  are  in- 
cluded in  this  series,  which  is  deser\-- 
ing  of  a  wide  circulation.  The  same 
firm  have  just  published  Mr.  Bok's 
"  Young  Man's  Book  for  Young  Men," 
with  the  finger-post  title,  Successward. 


'  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


i8i 


Two  notable  books  in  missionary  lit- 
erature are  about  to  issue  from  the  press 
of  Messrs.  Revell.  One  of  them  is  en- 
titled From  Far  Formosa,  and  from  the 
advance  sheets  which  we  have  seen  it 
appears  to  be  a  book  of  extraordinary 
interest  and  information.  Dr.  MacKay, 
who  for  twenty  years  has  been  a  mission- 
ary on  the  island  and  who  knows  Formosa 
better  than  any  other  living  man,  is  able 
to  give  the  reading  world  that  knowledge 
of  the  conditions  of  life  in  F"ormosa 
which  the  China-Japan  War  has  made 
us  curious  to  learn,  but  which  for  the 
most  part  has  been  meagrely  attained 
for  lack  of  reliable  information.  Apart 
from  this,  the  record  of  Dr.  MacKay's 
work  will  stamp  him  as  a  hero  among 
missionary  pioneers,  and  the  book  will 
undoubtedly  take  a  foremost  place  in 
the  literature  of  the  subject.  The  other 
book  which  we  refer  to  is  an  account  of 
the  missionary  labours  in  China  of  John 
Livingston  Nevius,  written  by  his  wife. 
Both  these  books  are  profusely  illus- 
trated. 

Balzac's  popularity  would  seem  to  be 
on  the  increase,  judging  by  the  editions 
which  are  continually  surprising  us  by 
their  appearance.  There  are  at  least 
four  new  editions  on  the  market  this  au- 
tumn, and  now  we  learn  that  Messrs. 
Roberts  Brothers,  elated  with  the  suc- 
cess of  Miss  Wormeley's  translations, 
are  about  to  commence  operations  on  a 
sumptuous  edition,  crown  octavo,  uncut 
edges,  to  be  complete  in  forty  volumes 
and  limited  to  one  thousand  sets.  An- 
tique paper  will  be  used,  and  each  vol- 
ume will  contain  several  Goupil  gravures 
from  drawings  made  by  prominent 
French  artists  who  have  entered  on  the 
work  as  a  labour  of  love  for  the  great 
French  master.  This  undertaking  will 
involve  an  immense  expenditure,  but 
the  Messrs.  Roberts  are  confident  of 
success.  Thirty-five  out  of  the  forty 
twelvemo  volumes  of  Balzac,  translated 
by  Miss  Wormeley,  have  now  been  pub- 
lished ;  and  their  reception,  the  publish- 
ers say,  has  been  most  encouraging  and 
beyond  their  sanguine  expectations. 

The  new  and  handsome  edition  of 
Henr}'  Kingsley's  novels  which  Messrs. 
Ward,  Lock  and  Bowden  are  exploiting 
has  reached  this  month  its  twelfth  vol- 
ume, which  contains  The  Boy  in  Grey^ 


and  Other  Stories.  It  is  not  surprising 
that  the  resuscitation  of  Kingsley's  work 
(which,  by  the  way,  has  always  been 
considered  by  the  first  critics  of  the  day 
to  be  superior  to  that  of  his  brother 
Charles)  should  be  meeting  with  success. 
Few  editors  in  London  are  so  keen  to 
scent  the  popular  taste  as  Mr.  Clement 
K.  Shorter,  who  edits  this  edition  of 
Kingsley.  An  added  attraction  in  the 
present  volume  is  the  biographical  sketch 
of  the  author  by  his  nephew,  Maurice 
Kingsley,  which  in  itself  makes  interest- 
ing reading,  and  is  a  valuable  contribu- 
tion to  the  biography  of  the  subject. 

The  author  of  that  remarkable  story, 
T/ie  Rousing  of  Afrs.  Potter,  of  which 


Mr.  Ilowells  speaks  highly,  has  attempt- 
ed a  unique  publication  for  children 
which  that  strikingly  original  designer, 
Miss  Ethel  Reed,  has  made  doubly  cap- 
tivating by  her  charming  designs,  one 
of  which  we  take  pleasure  in  reproduc- 
ing. The  Arabella  and  Araminta  Stories^ 
by  Gertrude  Smith,  will  make  one  of 
the  most  irresistible  nonsense  books  for 
children  which  has  been  issued  for  a 
long  time.  Miss  Mary  K.  Wilkins  has 
been  so  delighted  with  the  work  that 
she  has  taken  a  share  in  the  joy  of  its 
production  by  writing  an  introduction 
for  it.  Messrs.  Copcland  and  Day  are 
the  publishers,  which  is  a  guarantee  for 
the  picturesque  and  singular  attractive- 
ness of  the  bookmaking  expended  on 
this  curious  publication. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


We  are  to  have  three  translated  works 
of  Max  Nordau's  very  soon  from  the 

press  of  Mr.  F.  Tennyson  Neely — name- 
ly, The  J' arte  of  Fetiinj^ ;  or^  Deceitjui 
Ematians^  a  comedy  of  sentiment ;  The 
Ailment  of  the  Century,  and  llie  Ri^^ht  to 
Moft^  which  will  be  published  at  $1.50 
each.  The  same  firm  announce  2he 
Land  of  J*romiset  by  Paul  Bouri^et,  to 
contain  fifteen  original  \voo(!-«»!iirravincfs 
for  the  same  price.  J  he  A'/'c  -1 1^- 
Aw,  by  Robert  CIiaml>crs,  i  ul)lished 
some  time  ai^n  by  Mr.  Neely,  has  just 
made  its  appearance  in  England,  where 
it  seems  to  be  meeting  with  cordial 
praise  from  the  critii  s.  TIic  saleable 
qualities  of  Captain  King's  work  is  well 
known,  so  that  it  is  not  wonderful  to 
sec  liis  /,  /  /  Froym  appear  in  a  sixth 
edition  already. 

A  battle  royal  is  raging  intermittently 
in  England  over  the  merits  and  demerits 
of  Mr.  William  Watson  as  a  poet.  The 
champions  of  Mr.  Watson's  greatness 
are  Mr.  Traill,  Mr.  (irant  Allen,  and 
especially  Mr.  R.  II.  iiutton,  of  the 
Spettator,  all  of  whom  assert  his  right  to 
be  ranked  as  tlie  noblest  among  living 
English  pocLs,  and  who  greet  each  new 
product  of  his  Muse  with  a  chorus  of 
ndniirhiLC  exultat'h  rn.  On  [lie  other  side, 
the  advocatus  diaboli  is  the  editor  of  the 
Salurde^  Remew^  in  whose  columns  ap- 
pear  bi.ists  of  lofty  scorn  under  such 
uncomplimentary  headings  as  "  Mr. 
William  Watson,  Minor  Poet."  The 
Jteiui'ii.-  sin-ers  at  his  pretence  of  classi- 
cal learning  ;  says  that  his  inspiration 
is  all  second-hand  ;  that  "  his  genius 
is  not  vigorous,  full-blooded,  indepen* 
dent,  Imt  feeble,  anfemic,  derivativ**, " 
and  tliat  the  Speciaio/  s  praise  is  un- 
measured and  insane,  and  worthy  only 
of  the  uncritical  pen  of  a  reckless  log- 
roller  !" 

# 

Thus  the  flight  goes  merrily  on  ,  and 
though  no  one  says  so,  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  the  prize  of  battle  is  really  the  va- 
cant office  of  Poet  Laureate,  to  which 
Mr.  Watson's  friends  have  high  hopes 
that  he  will  succeed.  He  has  already 
won  otlicial  recognition  in  the  recent 
grant  to  him  by  the  Government  of  au 
annual  pension  of  ^100  ;  and  there  is 
good  reason  for  thinking  that  the  laurel 
crown  may  yet  be  his.  The  controversy 
is  undoubtedly  embittered  by  the  per- 
sonal animus  of  the  Saturday  Xevuw 


against  the  SptctaUfr  ;  for  now  that  the 
elections  are  over,  the  alliance  between 

the  two  is  relaxed,  am!,  as  in  m.nny 
other  political  friendships,  an  underly- 
ing dislike  is  coming  to  Uie  surface, 

# 

Lnnkin^'  at  the  whole  contest  from  an 
impartial  American  bianUpuiui,  \vc  iliink 
that  as  a  purely  literary  question,  the 
Sf<rctator  is  more  nearly  in  the  right  than 
the  Jiiaturda/  Jicticw.  It  is  true  that  Mr. 
Watson  is  a  rather  bookish  poet,  and 
that  his  most  splendid  similes  smell  of 
the  lamp ;  that  he  sometimes  mistakes 
trochees  for  spondees  (as  who  does  not, 
in  writing  English  elegiacs  ?),  and  that 
there  is  little  or  no  passion  in  even  his 
finest  work  ;  yet  when  all  has  been  said, 
he  is  still  a  writer  of  very  noble  and 
stately  lines — a  poet  of  exceptional  ele- 
vation, taste,  discretion,  and  melody. 
It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  while  im> 
living  versifier  could  come  after  Tenny- 
son without  suffering  from  the  compari- 
son, Mr.  Watson's  appointment  as  Lau> 
reate  would  be  received  everywhere  with 
respect ;  and  this  is  surely  very  high 
and  unusual  praise. 

Here  are  some  of  his  recent  lines  tliat 
justify  the  warmest  eulogy,  and  that 
give  a  very  excellent  idea  of  his  quality 
when  at  his  best.  The  first  is  from  his 
JUymn  to  tht  Sta^  of  which  the  fine  pre- 
lude appeared  in  Tufi  Bookman  for 
June : 

"Man  th.a  !>  L;.Lllt'd  w'lih  ])]■<  '11  fines  aad  bar- 
dcnrd  ycc  more  wuh  his  vasmess, 

Horn  loo  great  far  bi«  eodSt  never  at  peace  «rilh 
bin  goal  ; 

Man  wbom  Fate,  his  vktcn*,  mapianiiiKMis, 

deflieat  in  triumph, 
Molda  as  a  captive  king,  mewed  in  a  palace 

divine  : 

Wide  its  leagues  of  pleasancc  nul  atup.c  ui  par- 
view  its  windows  ; 
Aiiily  falls,  in  its  courts,  laughter  of  fountains 

at  play  ; 

Nought,  when  the  barpen  are  harping,  antimely 
remindt  Mm  of  durance ; 
None,  as  be  litt  at  thefeaat»  wbbper  Captivity's 

name. 

But  w'hjM  )k-  ;>.irk'>' witb  SjlcAce,  withdnw  for 

awlulcr  uiiiillciided. 

Forth  to  the  bcckoaiog  world  'icape  tor  an 
boar  and  be  free, 
Lo,  hii  adventaioua  fancy  coercinjt  at  once  and 
provoking, 

Rbe  the  uotcalable  walls  built  with  a  word  at 
the  prime  ; 

Lo,  immoliile  as  statues,  witli  pitiless  laccs  of 
iron. 

Armed  at  each  obstioaic  gate  Btaad  tbe  impaafr 
able  gvsntit" 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


WII.MAM  WAISON. 
I.  AgfJ  v-   1.  Aged  ly.    y  Aged  j6.   4'  At  the  present  day. 

The  second  is  from  his  much-admired 
sonnet  on  England  : 

*'  How  Ent;land  once  before  the  days  of  bale, 
Thronc<l  above  trembling,  puissant,  grandiose, 
calm. 

Held  Asia's  richest  jewel  in  her  palm  ; 
And  with  unnumbered  isles  barbaric  she 
The  broad  hem  of  her  glistening  robe  impearled  ; 
Then  when  she  wound   her  arms  about  the 
world. 

And  had  for  irassal  the  obsequious  sea." 


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As  The  Bookman  goes  to  press,  the 
daily  papers  are  giving  currency  to  a 
report  cabled  from  London  to  the  effect 
that  Lord  Salisbury  has  decided  to  ap- 
point Sir  Edwin  Arnold  to  the  vacant 
Laureateship.  It  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped 
that  this  rumour  is  untrue,  lest  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking world  come  to  feel  that 
the  days  of  Nahum  Tate  have  re- 
turned. 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


ST.  PETER'S  AND  THE  TIBER  KRUM  THE  MNCIAN  HILL. 


ROMA  RECENTIORUM. 

Strange  blending  of  the  old  and  new, 

Of  all  that  men  have  thought  and  done, 
The  right,  the  wrong,  the  false,  the  true, 
The  past,  the  present,  all  in  one. 
Here  sleep  the  mighty  pagan  dead 

Where  now  stands  forth  the  crucifer. 
And  many  a  temple  rears  its  head 
To  tell  of  Christ  and  Jupiter. 

Where  once,  before  the  naked  Gaul, 

Rome's  infant  power  swayed  and  shook. 
Here  on  the  stately  Capitol 

Now  swarm  the  hordes  of  Mr.  Cook  ; 
While,  gazing  down  the  Sacred  Way 

By  hoary  Vesta's  ruined  wall. 
The  cockney  tourist  chirps  to  day 
His  ditty  of  the  music-hall. 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


W  here  Claudia  mocked  the  rabble  rout 
And  laiif^hf'd  its  helpless  rage  to  see, 

Now  i;ii,^'^K's  as  she  flits  about 

StMn--  prrt-faccd  minx  Itoin  C'iiit  <>[)<•«  ; 
And  where  threat  Cjesar  pasM'<I  in  ^•ate 

And  n  licrr  Catullus  kept  his  liyst, 
Now  potters  vvitli  uncertain  sj^ait 
The  blear-eyed  archijologist. 

Here,  too,  one  time,  the  pallid  nuns 

Calletl  on  the  saints  with  timorous  trust, 
While  from  the  hills  the  ape-faced  Huns 
Grinned  with  the  joy  of  blood  and  lust. 
Now,  though  the  Roman  maids  no  more 

The  fierce  barbaric  host  expect, 
Their  hapless  city  quails  before 
The  modern  ilun — the  architect. 

Builder  and  tourist,  Hun  and  Gaul, 

Like  flies  in  some  stupendous  dome 
Flit  harmless  by  ;  not  one  nor  all 

Can  mar  thy  majesty,  O  Rome  ! 

They  rome,  they  go,  they  pass  away, 

While  still  undimmed  thy  si>lendours  shine  ; 

To  them  belongs  the  fleeting  day, 
But  all  the  centuries  are  thine. 

To  see  at  dawn  the  hills  of  Rome 

Ablaze  with  gold  and  amethyst ; 
To  watch  Saint  Peter's  distant  dome 
Swim  in  the  evening's  silver  mist — 
This  draws  aside  a  curtain  vast, 

And,  as  the  kingly  dead  appear. 
The  murmuring  pulses  of  the  past 
Reveal  the  heart  of  History  here  ; 

For  Age  transmuted  into  Youth 

Dwells  on  this  consecrated  spot ; 
Here  speaks  from  God  the  voice  of  Truth, 
Here  dwells  the  Faith  that  changes  not. 
The  world's  desire,  the  nations'  dower. 

Find  here  their  one  eternal  home~ 
Glory  and  grace  and  deathless  power, 
Blent  in  the  mighty  name  of  Rome  ! 

Harry  Thurston  Pnk, 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


LIVING  CRITICS. 
I. — William  Ernest  Henley. 


To  appraise  a  living  writer  is  at  all 
times  a  clifTicult  task.  His  proximity  is 
disconcerting,  and  the  very  rheums  and 
humours  of  the  age  which  has  fathered 
him  must  necessarily  obsess  the  presum- 
ing critic.    We  should  attain  a  little  per- 


MTILMAM  ERNEST  HENt.EY. 

spective  ere  we  aspire  to  judgment  ;  and, 
even  so,  remoteness  argues  merely  a  dis- 
passionate desire  of  fair  play,  and  is  no 
warranty  for  a  sure  opinif)n.  The  in- 
congruity doubles  when  one  sets  forth 
to  criticise  a  critic,  and  to  reverse  or  en- 


dorse his   authoritative  verdicts.  Mr. 
Henley,  in  particular,  is  no  person  for 
this  impertinence.    Though   it  is  as  a 
poet  he  has  the  highest  claim  upon  i;^ 
now,  and  as  a  poet  he  will  take  rank 
hereafter;  yet  he  has  certainly  made  a 
deeper  mark   upon  his 
generation   as   a  critic 
than  any   of  his  con- 
temporaries. Mr.  Lang, 
who  once  reigned  fxara- 
mount,  has  long  since 
discarded  his  influence, 
and  there  is  none  left 
to  dispute  Mr.  Henley's 
royalty.     To    few  did 
name  and   fame  come 
more    reluctantly.  It 
was  not,  indeed,  until 
the  foundation  of  the 
Siois  Observer   that  he 
held  any  repute  except 
among  a  handful  ;  and 
even  at  the  present  m<> 
nicnt  his  name  sounds 
unfamiliar  in   the  ears 
of  the  wide  public.  Yet 
he  is  beyond  questiun 
the  most  formidable 
presence  in  English  let- 
ters to-day.    I  am  not 
here  dealing  with  hira 
as  a  poet,  but  merely  as 
a   critic   of  literature. 
As  such,  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  his 
authoiity  has  slowly 
undermined    the  pres- 
tige of  the  middle  Vic- 
torian ideals.     In  a 
sense  he  is  the  ftmnda- 
tion  of  a   new  period. 
That  these  words  are 
none  too  extravagant  is 
proved  by  his  present 
position  as  the  arbiter 
of  a  distinct  school  of 
fiction.     For  one  who   is  no  novelist 
himself  this  is  a  considerable  perform- 
ance, quite  apart  from  the  merits  of 
his  influence  ;  and  certainly  the  achieve- 
ment gives  him  a  right  to  very  seri- 
ous consideration.     By  a  number  of 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


187 


young  writers  he  is  regarded  with  tlie 
affection  and  reverence  that  a  high  prit  st 
mi^ht  claim.  He  has  ordered  for  them 
their  notions  of  art,  he  has  disciijliind 
their  energies,  and  he  has  even  been 
able  to  impose  upon  them  frequently  the 
mannerisms  of  his  own  prose  stvlr.  Rut 
the  limits  of  his  influence  are  not  set  even 
here.  His  ideals,  his  aspirations,  and 
his  i;o(le  have  penetrated  elsewhere,  and, 
if  we  consider  gravely,  are  even  now 
leavening  the  body  of  literary  thought 
outside  his  own  immediate  circle. 
The  history  of  a  movement  is  never  the 
liistory  of  one  man  ;  but  as  it  is  Mr. 
Henley  who  has  Ix^rne  the  brunt  of  the 
battle,  and  wlio  has  (iirected  the  strate- 
gies, it  is  to  him  that  the  credit  of  the 
revolutioa  is  largely  due.  Historians 
v  ill  Some  day  find  the  present  period  of 
Engli&h  literature  of  remarlcable  inter- 
est, not  so  much  for  its  products,  as  for 
the  conversion  which  has  fallen  within 
the  last  twenty  years.  The  theory 
which  is  known  as  *'  Art  for  Art's  sake" 
bas  been  long  preached  to  deaf  ears,  but 
the  ears  are  opening,  and  in  whatever 
regard  it  is  held  by  lay  minds,  there 
seems  little  doubt  but  it  will  inspire  and 
persuade  the  writers  of  the  future.  The 
great  service  which  we  owe  to  Mr.  Hen- 
ley is  his  very  faithful  adherence  to  this 
creed.  He  has  consistently  foui^ht  and 
suffered  for  it.  He  has  spread  the 
propaganda  through  every  available 
channel,  has  trumpeted  dehance  at  his 
opponents,  and  has  been,  of  a  truth,  the 
veritable  protagonist  ot  this  cause. 

In  this  conflict  two  mental  properties 
have  served  him — the  one  an  absolute, 
even  an  arrogant  faith,  and  the  other  a 
reckless  courage.  These,  more  than  any 
other  characteristics,  as  I  conceive,  com- 
pose the  man's  individuality.  With  liiis 
individuality  he  has  been  able  to  flin^^ 
his  influence  over  the  young  men  witli 
whom  he  came  in  contact,  whether  per- 
sonally or  til  rough  his  critical  writings. 
They  browsed  in  the  rank  pastures  of 
t!ie  old  Si^ois  Observer,  and  came  fat  and 
tuli  to  the  market.  Tlicy  took,  colour 
from  his  phrases,  and  he  pounded  into 
them  ris^hteous  views  upon  literature, 
by  which  alone  they  might  be  saved. 
There  are  few  backsliders  in  the  faith 
oveti  after  these  several  years,  and  a 
heresy-hunt  amon^  them  would  be  fruit- 
less. For  the  insistence  of  the  man  is 
intense,  even  in  his  writings,  which 
might  well  have  suffered  from  the  dis- 


passion  of  cold  print.  If  you  would  esti- 
mate his  qualities  as  a  critic,  this  fever 
of  conviction  must  (irst  be  remembered. 
.\s  I  read  him,  his  spiritUcd  equipment 
for  the  task  is  both  elaborate  and  singu- 
lar. Soaked  to  his  marrow  in  the  litera- 
tures  of  the  modern  world  - -English, 
F  rench,  Spanish,  to  say  no  more — he  has 
rather  absorbed  them  than  they  have 
engrossed  him.  Outside  and  above  this 
gluttonous  digestion  is  something  wholly 
native  to  himself,  in  a  manner  insular, 
as  distinct  from  mere  Gallomania  as  Mr. 
Swinburne  is  distinct  from  De  Miisset  or 
Burns  from  Beranger — something  para- 
mount and  specific,  the  actual  and  indi- 
vidual essence  of  the  man  himself.  In  all 
his  critical  writings  you  may  trace  this 
almost  barbaric  enrontery,  this  bwesark 
arrogance  e)f  pi-rsonality.  Mr.  Henley 
is  a  stark  man  in  oil  his  profesj>ions,  and 
starkest  of  all  is  he  in  his  abundant  pas- 
sion for  life.  It  is  this  which  separates 
him  by  a  whole  class  from  the  other 
critics  of  his  time.  They  sound,  if  I 
may  say  so,  niminy-piminy  beside  his 
stout  Vf>ice.  N'ot  but  what  lliey  have 
principles  and  creeds  and  dogmas  to  hold 
by,  but  these  are  less  manifest,  are  not 
So  frankly  embraced,  and  derive  from 
later  ascendants.  The  combination  of 
SO  primary  a  religion  with  such  remark- 
aide  |)owers  of  mind  is  striking  enough 
to  arrest  attention.  The  force  and  the 
sheer  strength  in  Mr.  Kipling  I  take  to 
have  captured  Mr.  Henley's  sympathies 
on  the  one  hanri  ;  while  it  is  perhaps 
most  of  all  the  extreme  artistic  address 
which  Mr.  Stevenson  brotit^dit  to  his 
work  which  attracted  his  rollaborator  in 
another  instance.  I'inaliy,  and  to  add 
a  further  incongntity,  his  appreciation 
is  extended  to  work  which  is  merely  fan- 
tastic and  insubstantial,  oftentimes  tlie 
wildest  imaginings  of  the  Keltic  mind. 
On  the  other  hand,  and  to  round  this 
inadequate  picture  as  well  as  may  be, 
such  work  as  Mr.  Howells  and  his  fel- 
lows expend  their  lives  upon,  is  wholly 
antipathetic  to  him,  as  a  dozen  articles 
may  witness.  It  i>  the  accidents  of  pas- 
sion, the  natural  phetiomena  of  an  unre- 
strained life — whether  in  act  or  emotion 
— that  draw  him.  For  weakness  he  has 
no  mercy  ;  an  old  maid's  version  of  life 

is  to  hirn  for  a  jest  ;  a  translation  of 
human  energy  into  the  mild  byeways 
and  stagnant  currents  he  can  scarcely 
credit.  Herein,  as  it  seems  to  me,  lies 
perhaps  his   great  defect.    His  own 


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THR  BCX)KMAN. 


th«*r»ry  is  so  tenarioiisiy  held,  so  vehe- 
iHciUly  lidended,  and  so  aggrei»ikivciy 
ubtrudc-d,  tliat  he  has  no  room  to  offer 
further  lit  sfutality.  Hut  at  the  same 
lime  it  must  be  remembered  that  that 
theory  is  peculiarly  wide  and  generous. 
Till'  ct^^uism  of  his  faith  may  be  staunch 
and  even  bigotetl,  but  that  faith  is  quite 
catholic.  Metaphors  and  similes  make 
but  a  cumbrous  comparison  ;  yet  in  a 
certain  way  Mr.  Henley's  critical  insight 
recalls  the  flare  of  an  electric  light. 
There  are  queer  patches  of  blackness 
outside  the  path  of  the  illumination, 
passages  of  darkness  along  the  angles  ; 
but  within  these  confines  the  white  light 
cuts  its  way  rudely,  sharply,  and  with 
pitiless  sr\'t'rity.  Alnncf  the  sphere  of 
the  irradiaiiun  ihe  wiiiie  Hare  is  mcrci- 
1 -^s  in  its  scrutiny  ;  every  fault  and  flaw 
i>i(  k'  d  out  as  by  magic,  every  virtue 
is  assigned  its  value.  For  sheer  illu- 
mination of  insiffht  within  these  broad 
boundarii-  s  Mr  ! It  iil(  \ ,  si  >  fat  a-^  T  know, 
has  no  peer  ulive.  It  is  true  that  the 
strong  hold  he  has  upon  his  primary  in- 
stincts >.>m»  ii:n(  >  derange*  the  propor- 
tion his  judgments — as  when,  for 
exanijjle,  he  is  unjust  to  riiackeray 
for  being  tOO  little  of  a  man  and  too 
fond  of  tea-party  fiction  ;  but,  contrari- 
wise, his  appreciations  are  the  surer  and 
the  more  generous  when  they  are  be- 
stow 111. 

With  this  strong  devotion  to  the  litera- 
ture of  fundamental  human  nature  go 
also  other  predilections,  hardly  less 
strong.  He  loves  gaiety,  he  is  en- 
amoured of  a  paradox,  and  he  will  for- 
give a  great  deal  for  nervous,  strenuous 
Knglisfi.  These  prepossessions  are  ex- 
hibited in  his  own  pr<^)sc  style.  Just  as 
he  bears  too  hardly  upon  the  foibles  of 
Thackeray.  sv>.  too.  he  exalts  Disraeli, 
the  ii<>veli>l.  consiiierablv  a*>ove  his 
proper  place.  Fhe  reas<>n  is  obvious. 
He  loves  a  trickster ;  the  picaresque 
amuses  him  :  ami  the  g.iietv.  l!ie  inso- 
lence, the  A  /.vA'Vi.v  of  thai  Oncntai  mind 
touch  him  to  tenderness ;  so  much  so 
lii.it  lu'  L.in  even  j>.trvl  >n  r)i>r.ifli's  terri- 
ble Englt>ii,  (mssiag  it  over  with  a  >ar- 
donic  grimace.    And  this  very  human 


frailty,  this  frieiiflty  i:i(!n!i.,o  tu f   r  the 
personality  of  the  writer  ratiicr  liian  ^ 
ruthless  judgment  upon  his  writing,  h 
perhaps  another  small  flaw  in  Mr.  Hen- 
ley, the  critic.    But  again  the  gaiety, 
the  fierce  intellectual  «est  which  mix 
lead  him  into  such  an  error,  .iitij  U'  com- 
>t<->  by  sharper  and  broader  dis-- 
(1  iiii Illations  elsewhere.    The  lapses,  io 
fine,  are  trivial,  the  performance  as  a 
whoh'  is  remarkable.    1  know  feu  tli':r::i 
as  fine  in  modern  critical  writings  as  a 
score  of  passages  which  I  might  pick  oat 
of  Vines  and  Rt-vifiL  i,  iho^o  fral^mertt^ 
**  recovered  from  the  shot  rubbish  o< 
some  fourteen  years  of  joumaltsa.'* 
Here  is  no  place  for  quotation*  nor  am 
1  concerned,  in  this  brief  apprf-riation, 
with  Mr.  Henley's  Kngii.nh  style  ;  ber 
the   mastery  of  words,    the   flow  of 
thoiif^'ht.   the    wit,   the   inj^-cnuity,  the 
extraordinary  insight,  and  the  admir- 
able knowledge  displayed  in  that  slen- 
der volume,  are  for  irmcmbrance  al- 
ways.   And  not  the  least  notable  of  hii 
characteristics  is  his  extensive  learning, 
I  should  judge  that  he  never  lust  an  iai- 
pression,  and  it  is  certain  that  an  aathor 
once  read,  is  ticketed  and  docketed,  and 
relegated  for  ever  to  his  position  in  lir. 
Henley's  mind.    His  memory  is  a  liter 
ary  diciionar}'  in  which  he  turns  to  t^ 
proper  page  on  the  instant,  and  if  heem 
at  all,  the  error  is  never  one  of  fact,  or 
even  of  inference,  but  rather  of  preju- 
dice.   The  rampant   assurance  of  his 
mind  and  his  superb  autocracy  consist 
strangely  with  n  perfect  delicacy  of  de- 
tail.   He  has  eyes  lor  the  raresit  toudi, 
and  his  fidelity  is  conscientiously  scru- 
pulous.   Thrre  is  no  man  to-i!a\  t!;.i* 
has  a  better  or  a  sounder  lover  ot  let 
ters  ;  and  there  is  no  man  to  whom  mod- 
cm  literature  owes  so  huge  a  debt.  Fur 
the  most  of  critics  write  very  pleasantly, 
and  maybe  very  justly.    We  iiavc  many 
Mr.  Birrells  with  us.  But  their  criticism 
is  no  more  than  ink  and  paper,  vcni 
amiaule  to  read.    Mr.  Henley's  quaii^- 
cations  lie  deeper.    He  has  not  only 
written  :  he  has  educated. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


NEGLECTED  BOOKS. 
C.  F.  Keary's  "  A  Wan dbr£r/' 


Among  comparatively  recent  books 
that  hav«  been  neglected — undeservedly 

so,  that  is — is  to  be  cuunted  Mr.  C.  F. 
Keary's  A  IVandirer^  published  in  i&SH. 
The  writer  chose  for  himself  in  this  his 

first  excursion  into  a  region  outside  that 
of  history  or  antiquarianism  the  pseu- 
donym of  H.  Ogram  Matucc  which,  I 
untlcrstand,  is  in  some  twisted  way  the 
Grt!fk  for  a  cl«:rk.  Tlius  the  crilicN  iiave 
au  chance  ot  recognising  the  author  of  a 
t>ook  on  Primitive  Btlief  and  of  another 
on  The  Dawn  of  /fistory,  and  the  modest 
iittle  volume  in  dull  red  cover  was  over- 
looked. But  though  he  has  since  writ- 
ten  a  couple  of  (  lever  novels,  and  is,  I 
see,  about  to  venture  a  third,  he  has,  in 
my  opinion,  done  nothing  better  than 
this  first  of  his  books  that  had  any  lean- 
ing towards  fiction.  There  is  a  certain 
likeness  to  HeiiK-  in  his  cast  of  mind, 
Still  more  perhaps  tw  Jean  Paul,  and  fic- 
tion, as  we  usually  unilerstand  the  word, 
A  l^'andircr  can  hardly  be  called.  It  is 
father  a  series  of  connected  impressions 
and  "travel  picture?,"  but  so  real  are 
they,  so  vivid,  and  yet  so  restrained,  that 
the  reader  has  while  he  reads  a  strange 
sense  of  movement,  nf  Iteini^  earned  for- 
ward, not  physically  only,  but  spiritu- 
ally, as  his  companion  takes  him  by  the 
arm  in  a  manner  that  is  dreamy  rather 
than  f ainilinr,  and  points  otit  the  land- 
marks by  the  way.  They  are  landmarks 
of  thought  as  well  as  of  space,  and  such 
a?  those  only  with  smtls  to  understand 
are  likely  to  take  pause  before  and  be 
thankful.  Nominally  the  book  is  the 
account  of  a  year's  wandering  in  the  life 
of  an  emancipated  clerk  ;  but  as  the  wri- 
ter himself  says  at  the  end,  ' '  A  year  may 
be  an  epitome  e.f  life  ;  and  one  man's 
life  of  the  life  of  all  the  race." 

Almost  everywhere  the  personal  cle- 
ment is  preserved,  but  it  is  never  ob. 
truded.  Tlie  writer  tells  yoii  of  the 
books  he  carried  with  him  as  travelling 
companions,  and  how  his  own  experi- 
ences fitted  him  to  receive  the  lessons 
they  had  to  give.  This  passage,  for  in- 
stance, both  gamers  up  the  experiences 
of  many  months  spent  in  walking 
through  Germany,  and  serves  as  intro- 


duction to  what  he  is  going  to  say  about 
Faust : 

'*  .Markets  :  old  women  sictitig  roiind  behind  tbcir 
fruit-baskcta  in  tbe  wide,  paved  market-place :  or 
those  stand  markets  where  the  fisher-folk  move 

about  ,ini(j:i^;  their  st:tlls,  an(5  ronntry  pceipic  ex- 
pose itu  ir  wares  from  b.irgciiiii  ihc  writer  ;  barns, 
with  .ipeii  (!o<ir  bchuid,  through  whkli  jiatch  of 
suniigtil  (alls  upon  the  heaped-up  golden  corn, 
and  the  dusky  figures  of  the  threshers  stand  out 
against  k  i  peo|i^e  joKging  to  tbe  town  with  their 
pigs  and  their  fowls ;  or  goose-boys  and  goose* 
girls  ilriving  their  flocks  into  the  stiibljlir  fit-tds  ; 
men  reaping  or  sowing  ;  the  li^^ht  of  a  wiiiduw 
S'litiiti^  thri  u^^h  leavi;s  :  a  world  is  it)  all  these 
thini^s.  Siijhts  such  as  these  belong  more  to 
humanity  as  a  whole — or  seem  to  do  so — than  the 
sights  I  had  beeo  used  to  in  my  former  life.  Our 
country  life  even,  with  Its  gigs,  its  dogcafta  and 
smart  grooms,  its  stud  horses  come  out  for  exer- 
rise,  its  shooting  parties,  is  not  so  simple  and 
human." 

These  sisxhts,  Mr.  Keary  says,  formed 
[or  him  a  vision  of  life,  and  "  it  was 
oni}  because  my  mind  had  been  steeped 
therein  that  I  could  understand  the  poem 
[the  second  part  of  Fausi\^  that  i  was 
reading." 

Elsewhere  he  describes  how  the  visions 
of  n.Tiite  rr.me  upon  you  when  you  steal 
at  tuiliglit  into  some  old  cathedral. 
"  Within  was  a  lighted  altar  and  deep 
shadows  all  round.  I*\ir  away  like  a  star 
shone  a  single  lamp  before  the  image  of 
Our  Lady.  But  it  must  not  be  sup- 
posed  that  there  is  any  trace  of  thetoric 
or  straining  after  efiect.  The  style  is 
throughout  singularly  even  and,  if  any« 
thing,  rather  too  restrained. 

Once  he  passes  the  boundary  into  pure 
fiction.    This  is  in  the  story  of  a  certain 

D  a  rat/ — one  who  all  his  life  has 

been  elreamintjof  ftitiire  triumphs  in  lit- 
craturu  atid  in  lite,  and  who  sinks  into 
his  last  sleep  with  the  suppressed  mur- 
mur >f  the  world's  applause  ringing  in 

his  l.uii  ies. 

'*  There  was  a  murmur  indeed  not  far  from 
his  curs  It  was  the  murmur  of  the  waves  which 
bad  been  creeping  closer  and  closer  as  be  sank 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  heavy  opium  sleep. 

Did  they  wish  to  hi  ar  u  h  it  he  was  thinking  about, 
or  to  let  him  kne'v  that  ill  n.itute  did  not  hold  so 
mueh  alcxif  fr-.iin   lntu    .is  v.w  1  had  done? 

They  drew  nearer  and  nearer  ;  they  kissed  his 
hands  and  withered  checks,  and  rippled  in  his 
hair.    They  lifted  bis  bat  from  his  head  and 


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I90  THE  BOOKhMN. 


,  it  from  one  to  another,  yet  gently  withal, 
thoogh  It  was  but  a  poor  napless  ihin^;  ;  and  then, 
uiili  a  snri  of  rcsiK-ctfui  imiH-rtincnce  they  lifted 
iij)  thf  l.ipjMis  of  his  cii.ii  aiiij  peered  into  his 
jHJckcts,  And  ;ii  List  they  pa.sscd  over  him  alto- 
gether, and  ran  higher  up  the  beach,  aotil  some 
larger  waves  amie  and  Imed  D'^—  op  on  their 
shoalden— aod  jct  lie  never  awoke. 

*'  A  bell  began  to  toll  from  the  dituot  village, 
semlinK  faint  i-chrics  acruss  the  bay.  More  lij^his 
(..tiitc  uut  unUcr  ihc  iiiouitlain.  ,iii<J  a  lar^'c  planet 
rose  from  behind  it  and  looked  bri^lulv  over  the 

water  towards  poor  O  ,  whom  the  changeful 

tide,  finding,  I  suppose,  that  the  dreams  and 
liopes  and  sorrows  bad  gooe  clean  out  of  liim, 
left  presently  upon  a  ridge  of  sand,  wliere  twice  a 
«I ay  it  throws  a  nuittitudc  of  other  shells  which  it 
has  unkindly  torn  from  their  quiet  beds  below." 

These  quotations  alone  would,  I  think, 

show  that  A  IVamierer  is  a  rrmarkablt' 
book,  a  book  to  be  read  and  thought 
over,  to  be  kept  and  not  borrowed.  It 


is  subtle  and,  above  al!.  re'^iful.  Mr. 
Keary  has  evidently  put  much  of  his 
heart  and  soul  into  this  record  of  days 
which,  if  they  were  not  wholly  happy, 
he  would  not  for  worlds  forget.  Pro- 
fessor Huxley,  who  read  the  book  by 
chance,  without  knowing  who  was  its 
author,  was  so  much  struck  by  it  that 
iic  rctcrrcd  to  it  again  and  again,  and 
had  some  intention  of  reviewing  it  in 
the  Nindeenth  Century.  But  it  was  a 
busy  time  with  him,  and  perhaps  he  did 
not  come  upon  a  quiet  hour  in  which  it 
occurred  to  him  to  do  it  :  anyhow,  A 
Waudertr  found  its  way  to  his  shelves, 
and  to  the  shelves  of  a  few  others  who 
were  struck  by  it,  And  stayed  there- 
neglected. 

Mrs,  W,  K,  Clifford, 


WHEN  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE  WROTE  HIS  PLAYS 


Methinks  it  was  a  merry  scene. 

This  London  Town  of  long  ago  ; 
The  chaste  Elizabeth  was  queen 

(Who  caused  her  cousin's  blood  to  flow)  ; 

The  co  irtii  r  sought  his  wit  to  show, 
And  voici  il  his  artificial  lays  ; 

The  Thames  was  mightier  than  the  Fo — 
When  William  Shakespeare  wrote  his  plays. 


The  lasses  were  alert,  I  ween, 

'  In  sparkled  gaud  and  ribboned  bow, 

To  greet  the  lads  upon  the  green 
And  to  the  hddle  trip  the  toe  ; 
Proud  dames  were  wont  the  dice  to  throw  ; 

Perchance  the  plotter  got  the  praise  ; 

The  fawTiinpf  friend  was  oft  the  foe — 
When  VVilliain  Shakespeare  wrote  his  plays. 

The  query  of  the  world  has  Ix  cn. 

Was  William's  manner  quick  or  slow  ? 
His  doubtful  face,  was  it  serene — 

Or  flashed  with  introspective  glow  ? 

Alack  !  of  him  we  little  know, 
And  of  that  little  most  is  haze. 

Did  other  bards  the  palm  bestow — 
When  William  Shakespeare  wrote  his  plays  ? 


ENVOV. 


Ah,  passing  old  shall  England  grow 
I'^i  e  such  great  poets  walk  her  ways 

As  in  the  stately  times,  T  irow, 

When  William  Shakespeare  wrote  his  plays  ' 


A,  2\  S(humam, 


Digitized  by  GoQgle 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


191 


MR.  DANA  ON 

Mr.  Charles  A.  Dana  is  undoubted- 
ly the  most  conspicuous  exponent  of 
Amerkran  journalism  to-day  ;  it  is  per- 

I  h&ps  not  too  mu(  h  to  assert  that  he  is 

the  most  interesting  figure  that  the  de- 
velopmeiit  uf  journalism  has  yet  pro- 
duced. We  have.  Of  course,  no  opinion 
to  express  in  the5>e  columns  of  the  vari- 
ous causes  that  he  has  championed,  o£ 
the  views  that  he  has  at  any  time  ex- 
pressed, or  of  his  motives,  liis  coiisis- 
tencj,  and  bis  intellectual  sincerity  ;  but 
rej^rded  solely  as  a  writer  for  the  mil' 
lion  and  as  a  moulder  of  public  senti- 
ment, his  work  deserves  the  most  seri« 
ous  and  thoughtful  consideration. 

Mr.  Dana's  equipment  for  the  edito* 
rial  profession  is  as  unique  as  is  his  per- 
sonality. Receiving  while  a  young  man 
the  thorough  classical  training  that  was 
long  one  r>f  the  most  noble  traditions  of 
New  England,  his  early  associations  lay 
among  the  literary  patricians  of  his  gen- 

I  eration,  whose  intimacies  he  shared,  so 

that  he  was  enrolkd  in  that  high-mind- 

'  ed  if  unpractical  group  who  made  the 

historic  failure  at  Brook  Farm.  Haw- 
thorne, Curtis,  Channing,  Riple}%  Al- 
cott,  and  Margaret  I*  uUer  were  his  ptr- 
somil  friends,  among  wliom,  however, 
he  maintained,  as  he  has  always  done, 
own  distinctive  individuality  un- 
changed. From  Horace  Greeley,  a  man 
<.f  4t  very  different  training  and  men- 
tality, he  also  received  many  practical 
lessons  during  their  association  upon 
till'  editorial  staff  of  the  New  York 
Tribuiu — an  association  that  was  broken 
because  Mr.  Dana  refused  to  subordi- 
nate his  own  views  to  the  vacillating 
policy  of  his  chief.  As  Assistant  Secre- 
tary of  War,  in  the  most  icarful  period  of 

j  the  great  civil  contest,  he  developed  his 

,  executiv'e  talent  and  got  the  training  of 

a  man  of  a^airs  at  a  time  when  human 
character  was  tested  as  in  the  white 

\  heat  of  a  furnace.    His  hiter  years  have 

been  spent  at  the  head  of  a  great  jour- 

I  Dal,  with  digressions  into  pure  literature 

and  encyclopaedic  researi  h  ;  while  the 
most  extensive  foreign  travel  and  om- 
nivorous reading  have  both  eliminated 
every  trace  of  provincialism  from  his 
mind  and  sf  trf  t  it  with  the  literary 
treasures  u£  uurty  centuries. 


JOURNALISM. 

In  the  case  <A  many  another  man  this 
training,  while  it  would  have  made  him 
powerful  in  many  spheres  of  intellectual 
activity,  would  also  have  made  him  quite 
impossible  as  a  i'"irnalist.  Convention- 
ality would  have  lettered  him  too  heavily 
to  allow  him  to  keep  step  with  the  march 
of  the  popular  mind  ;  his  culture  would 
have  stood  as  a  thin,  impenetrable  wall 
between  him  and  the  great  unlettered 
public.  And  it  is  just  here  that  Mr. 
Dana  seems  to  us  so  utterly  unique  as 
to  make  it  unlikely  that  he  will  ever  find 
a  real  successor.  Other  men  will  be 
as  widely  read  as  he  and  as  cultured  ; 
others,  again,  will  be  as  individual  and 
racy  ;  but  we  can  scarcely  expect  to 
find  again  the  culture  and  the  experi- 
ence and  the  rarely  humoruus  orig- 
inality all  assimilated  and  blended  to- 
gether in  the  mentality  of  a  single  man. 

Mr.  Dana's  long  life  makes  him,  in* 
fact,  a  link  between  two  schools  of  jour' 
nalism.  His  own  career  began  in  the 
intensely  personal  period  of  American 
newspaper  evolution — the  period  whose  • 
worst  features  have  been  mercilessly 
photographed  for  us  in  t!ie  pages  of 
Mat  tin  ChuzzUwit.  Colonel  Diver  and 
Jefferson  Brick  were  living  realities  in 
those  days  when  foul  epithets  and  hid-« 
eous  slander  filled  tlie  columns  of  even 
the  greatest  journals,  and  when  editors 
were  lashed  in  the  street,  only  to  record 
their  own  disgrace  as  affording  welcome 
materials  for  a  new  sensation.  Mr. 
Greeley,  with  all  his  undeniable  gifts, 
was  only  a  glorified  specimen  of  this  tvpe 
of  editor.  A  man  without  any  scholas- 
tic training,  with  a  gigantic  contempt 
for  the  graces  of  life,  and  with  a  total 
lack  of  the  dignitied  restraint  that  is 
often  the  most  effective  element  in  con- 
troversial writing,  he  threw  himself  iiymn 
his  newspaper  opponents  like  a  wild 
beast,  so  that  the  columns  of  the  Tribune 
often  recalled  tn  those  who  knew  him 
well  the  profane  yells  and  violent  dia- 
tribes that  sometimes  made  his  editorial 
chamber  resemble  the  lair  of  a  hyena. 

In  these  days  we  are  getting  every 
day  farther  and  farther  away  from  the 
traditions  of  Greeley,  and  the  elder  Ben- 
nett, and  Prentice,  and  Webb  ;  while  the 
example  set  even  in  those  early  years 


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192 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


by  men  like  William  CuUeu  Bryant  is 
now  becomini^  the  rule  in  the  newer 

*  journalism.  Personality  in  its  extreme 
fr»rms  is  now  jjenerally  relegated  ihv 
newspapers  of  the  Far  West,  aiul  lor 
the  readers  of  the  East  it  has  reached  the 
stage  of  Inirlesque  in  such  imaginary 
creations  as  the  Arizona  Kicker.  Mr. 

*  Dana's  own  urbanity  never  allows  him 
t<(  thi'  IcHi^ihs  of  many  of  his  t-arly 
contemporaries,  yet  his  journalistic 
methods  have,  nevertheless,  been  strong- 
ly influenced  by  the  older  license,  pre 
serving  much  of  its  irreverence  and 
directness,  and  stopping  short  only  at 
the  threshold  of  private  life.  His  ret- 
irence  is  only  rttlativc,  and  to  a  forciijn 
journalist  the  columns  ol  the  .S//// would 
still  appear  appallingly  personal  ;  yet 
compared  with  tht;  freedom  of  speech 
that  prevailed  fifty  years  ago,  certain 
definite  limitations  are  always  plainly 

*  to  be  seen. 

Mr.  Dana  is  by  nature  and  hy  i  lmii  e 
a  free  iancc — a  sort  of  Ishmael  of  jour- 

*  naiism.  It  delights  him  to  be  in  oppo- 
sition, and  perhaps  most  f)f  all  to  lead  a 
forlorn  hope,  dashing  gallantly  amid 
the  smoke  of  conflict  at  the  breastworlc 
of  some  doughty  foe.  His  resources  of 
controversy  are  absolutely  unlimited, 
and  to  him  is  always  applicable  the 
great  line  of  Lucan,  that  while  the  suc- 
cessful cause  may  please  the  t^f  ds,  ihe 
cause  that  is  lost  is  the  one  that  pleases 
Cato.  One  could  almost  imagine  that 
hard  as  lu-  fought  for  the  election  of 
Mr.  Tildcn,  for  instance,  he  must  still 
have  felt  a  secret  joy,  a  sort  of  profes- 
sional joy,  so  to  speak,  at  his  defeat, 
since  it  i^ave  so  magnificent  an  occasion 
for  llie  <lisi)lay  of  Mr.  Dana's  peculiar 
talents  in  the  four  years'  battle  that  he 
waged  a.^ainst  the  arhninist ration  of 
President  Hayes.  The  unceasing  stream 
of  invective  that  he  poured  out  upon 
that  unfortunate  official,  tlie  R.djclaisian 
ridicule  with  which  he  overwhelmed 
him,  the  perfectly  marvellous  ingenuity 
that  he  displayed  in  turning  every  move 
nf  the  administration  into  contempt, 
liavc  absolutely  no  parallel  in  the  his- 
tory of  American  journalism  ;  and  his 
snccess  is  seen  in  the  undoubted  fact 
that  at  last  even  the  Republicans  them- 
selves felt  no  pride  in  their  victory,  but 
spoke  and  acted,  even  publicly  and  olli- 
cially,  in  an  almost  apologetic  fashion. 
It  is  at  this  late  day  permissible  to  say, 
without  treading  on  the  forbidden  field 


of  politics,  that  practically  all  .Anu^ri- 
cans  have  come  to  recognise  the  upright- 
ness, purity,  and  dignity  of  Mr.  Hayes  s 
ndr,  and  to  regard  it  as  a  most  salutary- 
contrast  to  the  scandalous  record  of  the 
secontl    administration    of  President 
Grant  ;  but  such  was  the  power  of  Mr. 
Dana's  invective  that,  at  the  time,  all 
this  was  scarcely  evident  even  to  Ur. 
Hayes's    party    friends,  so  searching, 
overpowering,  and  irresistible  were  the 
newspaper  assaults  upoo  the  President 
at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Dana  and  his  fol- 

ills  controversies  with  private  individ- 
uals have  been  equally  remarkable,  and 
the  whole  country  wakes  up  with  .m  ex- 
pectant air  whenever  it  becomes  known 
that  he  has  girded  up  his  loins  for  another 
fight.    His  methods  of  attack  are  his 
own  and  quite  inimitable,  for  they  are, 
from  their  nature,  unanswerable.  A 
Western  editor  offends  him,  and  Mr. 
Dana  at  once  dubs  him  a  "  liel>etudinous 
crank,"     Now   "  hebctudinous"  is  a 
word  of  which  probably  few  of  the  read- 
ers of  the  Sun  have  ever  heard,  and  it 
attracts  attention  and  curiosity  at  once. 
Mr.  Dana  then  follows  up  his  first 
stroke  by  a  series  of  articles  on  hebc- 
tndinosity,  and  on    the  psychological 
cifect  of  hebetudinosity  on  the  "  intel- 
lectuals," with  illustrations  drawn  from 
the  writings  e.f  the  editor  in  f|iiesti"n 
Showers  of   paragraphs,    squibs,  and 
semi*serious  observations  coruscate  in 
the  Sun's  columns  every  day  for  weeks, 
until  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacinc 
the  hebetudinosity  of  the  unfortunate 
victim  is  a  household  word.  Another 
eciit'  f  ;!i  Cincinnati  becomes  invtdved  in 
a  si:uilar  c«.»tilest,  and  Mr.  Dana  t^ikes 
an  entirely  different  line.    He  gravxly 
dvd)s  his  opponent  "  Deacon,"  and  de- 
scribes him  leeliugiy  as  a  truly  good 
man,  but  one  who  is  unfortunately  ua- 
der  tin-    control   of   wicked  partners, 
who  use  him  as  a  cloak  for  their  evil 
deeds.    The  Sun  then  teems  with  specu* 
lations  as  to  the  personality  of  those 
wicked  men  and  the  nature  of  the  power 
they  excri  over  the  Deacon.    Mr.  Dana 
pretends  to  think  that  one  of  them  is 
descended  from  Kidd  the  pirate,  and 
long  and  serious  discussions  ensue  ou 
this  point,  coupled  all  the  while  with 
respectful  and  plaintive  regrets  over  the 
baleful  influences  of  the  nefarious  pair, 
and  an  undercurrent  of  respectful  sym- 
pathy with  the  afflictions  of  the  truly 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITHKAKY  JOURNAL, 


jajood  man  whose  reputation  they  are 
destroying.  By  this  time  the  wliole 
country  is  in  a  broad  grin,  and  there  is 
nothing  left  for  the  "  Deacon"  to  do 
but  to  withdraw  from  the  contest  with 
as  good  a  face  as  he  can.  Still  another 
tipptment  Mr.  Dana  imagines  to  be  con- 
stitutionally men- 
dacious, but  to  be 
struggling  hard 
against  h  i  s  infir- 
mity with  varying 
success.  The  Sun 
daily  chronicles 
the  progress  of  the 
struggle,  and 
gives  readings 
from  an  "  aletho- 
meter,"  which 
Mr.  Dana  sup- 
poses to  be  used 
by  his  adversary 
to  record  his 
lapses  from  the 
truth.  These  are 
a  few  of  many  ex- 
amples that  might 
be  cited  to  illus- 
trate the  variety 
and  play  of  a 
singularly  original 
imagination, 
which  is  seen  not 
only  in  his  contro- 
versies, but  in 
everything  that 
comes  from  his 
pen. 

In  his  serious 
writing  there  is 
the  same  fertility, 
and    here    is  dis- 
played  also  his 
consummate  mas- 
tery of  the  English 
language,  with  ail 
its    manifold  re- 
sources ;  for  he  in-  By 
variably  and  in- 
stinctively selects  exactly  the  right  word, 
the  most  effective  phrase,  the  most  terse 
and  nervous  form  of  sentence.     His  vf)- 
cabulary  is  worthy  of  long  and  serious 
study,  for  it  is  the  vocabulary  of  one 
who  has  at  command  the  whole  range 
of  our  native  speech,  from  the  stately 
English   of  the   Elizabethans  and  the 
elegancies  of  the    Addisonian  writers 
down  to  the  quaint  and  forcible  pro- 
vincialisms of  New   England  and  the 


latest  bit  of  modern  slang.  N'o  one  has 
a  keener  sense  of  word-values,  and  no 
one  is  fonder  of  reviving  some  good  old 
word  that  has  long  been  obsolete,  but 
for  which  our  present  vocabulary  has 
no  good  equivalent.  Nothing  gives 
him  more  delight  than  to  use  one  of 


CHAKI.F.S  A.  DANA, 
pcrmissiiin  «>f  S.  S.  McClure. 

these  long-f(jrgotten  terms,  and  then  to 
have  some  rash  correspondent  take  him 
to  task  for  it,  whereupon  Mr.  Dana 
will  point  out  in  his  columns  that  the 
word  in  question  can  be  found  on  such 
and  such  a  page  of  Skelton  or  Richard 
Hooker.  With  native  American  coin- 
ages it  is  the  same  ;  and  every  one 
knows  that  it  was  through  the  columns 
of  the  Sun  that  "mugwump"  an<I 
"  crank"  passed  into  the  vocabulary  of 


X94 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


all  English-spr.iking  peoples.  His  lin- 
guistic arscnai  is,  in  fact,  supplied  with 
weapons  forged  in  every  land  and  every 
age ;  and  he  will  smash  nn  adversary 
with  an  Homeric  battle  axe  or  riddle 
his  defences  with  a  modem  rapid>fire 
pun  with  ('(jii.il  re.idiness  and  dex- 
terity. It  is,  in  reality,  only  those  as 
widely  read  as  Mr.  Dana  himself  who 
can  thoroughly  appreciate  to  the  full 
liis  rrmarkatilc  stylistic  rrsoiircfs  ;  and 
in  his  most  spontaneous  and  apparently 
frivolous  productions,  the  scholar  will 
find  with  a  dolii^lited  rcrotrnition  a  thou- 
sand subtle  echoes  and  suggestions  of 
the  world's  great  classics.  To  g^vc  a 
concrete  example,  it  was  only  the  other 
day,  on  the  eve  of  the  Cornell  contest 
at  Henley,  that  the  Sun  gave  utterance 
to  a  sort  of  i)rose  dithyramb  of  exliorta 
tion  to  the  Ithacan  crew,  muclied  in 
tlie  drollest  vein  of  comic  rhapsody,  and 
crackling  with  modern  slang.  Every 
one,  except  perhaps  some  stray  Pliilis- 
tines,  read  it  with  delight ;  yet  unless  a 
person  were  familiar  with  the  Homeric 
Hymns  much  of  its  subtle  vein  of  parody 
would  be  absoltitch'  lost  to  him. 

Most  striking  of  all  is  the  immense 
vitality  and  vivacity  of  his  writing.  An 
inexhaustible  spirit  of  fun,  tricksy, 
mocking,  and  effervescent,  runs  through 
all  his  worlc  and  impregnates  it  with  an 
almost  boyish  yVvV  Jc  :  ir/  r.  This  prone- 
ness  to  levity  is  to  man\'  a  condemna- 
^  tion  of  the  writer.  An  English  journal- 
ist's hair  would  fairly  stand  on  end  over 
some  of  tlie  thinp;s  that  appear  in  the 
editorial  columns  of  Mr.  Dana  s  news- 
paper— ^at  the  unfailing  jest,  the  gleam 
of  hiimotir  Thrown  upon  even  tlie  most 
serious  things  of  life,  at  the  spirit  which 
sees  fun  in  everything  from  a  theologi- 
cal controversy  down  to  the  consular  re- 
ports. It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  no 
such  editorials  could  ever  appear  in  any 
but  an  American  newspaper ;  yet  this  is 
the  very  cream  of  the  whole  matter.  It 
is  precisely  in  these  things  thai  Mr. 
Dana  is  so  typically  American  ;  and  the 
whole  temperament  that  has  been  heti^ 
so  imperfectly  described  is  the  faithful 
and  accurate  embodiment  of  our  nation- 
al spirit,  of  the  spirit  of  modern  Ameri- 
ca, in  ail  its  humorous  levity,  its  quick 
assimilation,  its  irreverence  and  audac- 
ity, and  at  the  same  time  with  all  its  un- 
derlying fund  of  real  earnestness  and 
energy  and  power. 
These  considerations  give  especial  in- 


terest to  a  little  volume  that  has  lately 
issued  from  the  press  of  the  Appletons,* 
containing  the  text  of  three  lectures  de- 
livered by  ^^r.  Dana  on  the  subject  r-f 
newspaper-making.    The  first  was  given 
before  the  Wisconsin  Editorial  Assod- 
ation,  at  Milwaukee,  and  treats  of  **  The 
Modern    American    Newspaper;"  the 
second  was  delivered  to  the  students  of 
Union  College,  and  has  to  do  with  **  The 
Profession   nf   Journalism        and  the 
third  was  prepared  for  the  celebration 
of  Founder's  Day  at  Cornell  University, 
and  has  for  its  subject  "  The  Making  of 
a  Newspaper  Man."    In  them  all  Mr. 
Dana  is  at  his  best  in  both  style  and 
manner — lucid,  easy,  speaking  directly 
to  the  f>oint,  with  a  delightful  fund  <~^{ 
anecdote  and   illustration  ;    while  tiic 
genial  urbanity  of  his  tone  charms  one 
like  the  sunshine  of  a  summer  morning. 
He  tells  of  the  details  of  newspaper- 
making,  of  the  mechanical  processes, 
the  press-work,  the  illustrating,  of  the 
manner  of  man  who  is  best  adapted  to 
succeed,  of  the  preliminary  training  that 
is  most  practical,  of  the  ethics  of  the 
profession,  and  speaks  also  of  the  ideals 
that  a  journalist  should  cherish. 

It  is  rather  as  casting  light  on  Mr. 
Dana's  own  opinions  than  for  any  really 
practical  end  that  one  reads  these  inter- 
esting lectures.  Mr.  Dana  himself  has 
a  healthy  lontempt  for  the  notion  that 
successful  journalism  can  be  taught  by 
rule  and  precept,  rather  than  by  nature 
herself  and  by  experience.  It  is  not  by 
taking  mii<h  thought  that  the  iour- 
nalislic  iiisUiKi  can  be  acquired,  but  in 
SO  far  as  it  is  not  born  in  one,  it  can 
be  develo|K'd  Ijy  (observation,  exam- 
ple, and  personal  contact  with  its  past 
masters.  Mr.  Dana  himself,  for  exam- 
ple, has  so  influenced  and  moulded  his 
own  staff — his  "  bright  young  men," 
as  he  likes  to  call  them— that  every  one 
of  them  is  himself  a  sort  of  pocket  edi- 
tion of  his  chief,  knowing  perfectly  his 
point  of  view,  and  actually  writing  after 
his  own  fashion  ;  so  that  even  when  Mr. 
Dana  is  in  Paris,  or  Mexico,  or  Jerusa- 
lem, no  reader  of  the  Sun  would  ever 
suspect  his  absence.  Yet  it  is  also  true 
that  when  these  same  writers  whom  l.e 
has  thus  inliuenced  drift  oft  into  other 
papers,  they  lose  almost  at  once  the 
characteristics  of  their  chief,  Antaeus- 
like  growing  weak  when  separated  from 

*  Tlie  Art  of  Newspaper-Making.  By  Charles 
A.  Dana.   New  York  :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.  Ii. 


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»9S 


the  source  of  their  original  inspira* 

Hon. 

A  few  extracts  from  the  lectures  will 

serve  to  emphasise  certain  sii^niticant 
features  of  Mr.  Dana's  own  style.  The 
first  has  to  do  with  the  value  of  classi- 
cal training : 

'■  I  am  niysdf  a  partisan  of  th<-  slrirt,  old- 
fashioncii  classical  education.  The  man  who 
koows  Greek  and  Latin,  and  knows  it — I  don't 
mean  who  bas  read  six  books  of  Vergil  for  a  col- 
lege examinittion,  but  the  man  who  can  pick  upVer- 
gilor  Tacitus  without  Koin^to  his  dictionary,  and 
the  roan  who  can  rea<l  the  Iliad  in  (ircek  without 
boggling — an<i  if  he  can  read  .Aristotle  and  Plato, 
all  Ike  better— that  mao  niay  be  trusted  to  edit  a 
newspaper.'* 

The  question  of  printing  illustrations 
in  the  daily  papers  being  one  that  is  a 
good  deal  discussed  at  the  present  time, 
the  following  passage  is  worth  quoting  : 

"They  have  gone  so  far  as  to  invent  a  press 
which  prints  ptctores  in  different  colours  ;  so  they 
turn  out  from  one  machine,  without  moving  the 
form  at  all.  pictures  that  are  red  and  green  and 
yellow  and  a!!  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  ...  I 
asked  Mr.  Whiteiaw  Reid  one  day  what  was  his 
opinion,  and  be  said  that  he  was  against  these 
pictures,  that  they  didn't  add  anything  to  the  pur- 
pose of  the  newspapers,  which  Is  to  convey  intel- 
ligence and  enlighten  thought.  Any  picture,  he 
said,  which  is  in  itself  of  the  nature  of  news, 
which  gives  you  the  likeness  of  a  distinguished 
man  whose  portrait  you  wish  lo  see,  or  anything 
which  really  illustrates  to  your  mind  an  event  of 
the  day,  tfeiat  Is  a  legitimate  newsp.iper  picture. 
'  But  the  fancy,  fantastic,  devil  may-can  f  ii  r  ,:rr  s  ,' 
he  said,  '  (hose  i  am  not  in  favour  of.  1  t tank  he 
is  entirely  right  on  that  subject  as  on  many 
others." 

And  this  he  gives  in  conclusion  : 

"  There  is  a  tradition  in  some  newspapers  of 
the  old  school  that  you  must  pretend  to  a  silly  in- 
fallibility and  never  admit  that  you  have  been 
wrong.   That  is  a  silly  rule.   If  a  man  has  r.ot 

t'  •  Tiioral  courage  to  say.  '  Yes.  I  was  wrong, 
and  don't  now  t)cHcvc  what  1  said  at  some  former 
time  ' — if  he  has  not  the  cour.iKc  to  say  that,  he 
had  better  retire  from  business  and  never  try  to 
make  another  newspaper." 

This  is  a  fine  sentiment,  but  we  fear 

that  Mr.  Dana  lias  n<  >t  yet  siifTiciciUlv  im- 
pressed it  upon  his  bright  younjy  men. 
For  instance,  some  years  ago,  after  the 


Sun  had  just  finished  one  of  its  periodi- 
cal denunciations  ot  the  phrase  "  in  our 
midst,"  a  scholar  residing  in  the  West 
wrote  a  very  courteous,  intc-lligcnt,  and 
learned  letter,  defending  the  expression 
by  the  analogy  of  many  other  languages, 
as  well  as  by  citations  from  the  earlier 
English.  The  Sun  printed  the  letter ; 
but  did  it  admit  that  there  was  at  least 
something  to  be  said  on  the  other  side  ? 
Alas  !  it  h)st  its  editorial  temper,  and 
fell  upon  the  unfortunate  scholar,  and 
buffeted  him  sorely,  and  without  an* 
swering  his  arguments  called  him  names, 
and,  in  fact,  hooted  him  out  of  court. 
The  present  writer  may  perhaps  be  par- 
doned for  relating  a  personal  experience 
of  his  own.  Mr.  Dana  is  never  weary 
of  denouncing  (very  properly,  too)  the 
prevalent  and  thoroughly  senseless  trick 
of  speecli  by  which  a  noun  in  the  predi- 
cate is  made  to  refer  lo  something  differ- 
ent from  the  subject  of  the  verb,  as  **  he 
was  given  a  reception/*  etc.  He  like- 
wise on  a  certain  occasion  demolished  a 
meek  correspondent  for  usintj  words 
that  **  had  no  lexical  authority.  "  Now 
the  present  writer  havinc^,  v.  ith  malice 
prepense,  kept  a  scrap-book  lor  this  par- 
ticular purpose,  at  once  sent  to  the  Sun  a 
long  list  of  citations  from  its  own  edito- 
rial columns  in  which  the  first  named  syn- 
tactical monstrosity  had  occurred  ;  and 
also  a  second  list  of  words,  also  from  its 
editorial  columns,  but  wholly  devoid  of 
**  lexical  authority."  It  is  sad  to  relate 
it,  but  the  lists  were  never  noticed  in  the 
Sun,  and  a  great  silence  reigned  un- 
broken. Was  the  Sun  "pretending  to 
a  sillv  infallibility"?  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, Mr.  Dana  himself  has  wicked  part- 
ners who  set  at  naught  his  wise  nilcs  ; 
or  it  may  be  that,  like  another  more 
valuable  document  on  a  certain  histori- 
cal occasion,  tlie  lists  were  devoured  by 
the  office-cat,  of  which  famous  animal 
Mr.  Dana  in  these  lectures,  much  to 
e\ery  one*s  regret,  has  not  a  word  to 
say. 

T.  P, 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


OPPOSITES. 


The  young  man  came  in  out  of  the 
cold  dash  of  rain.  The  negro  man  re- 
ceived his  outside  garments  and  ushered 
him  into  the  drawing-room,  where  a 
bright  fire  welcomed  him  like  a  smiling 
hostess. 

He  sat  down  with  a  sudden  relaxation 

of  his  muscles.  As  he  waited  at  his 
ease,  his  senses  absorbed  the  light  and 
warmth  and  beauty  of  the  room.  It 
was  familiar,  and  yet  it  had  a  new  mean- 
ing to  him.  A  bird  was  singing  some- 
where in  the  upper  rooms,  carolling  with 
a  joyous  note  that  seemed  to  harmonise 
with  the  warmth  and  colour  of  the  room 
in  which  the  caller  sat. 

The  younfir  man  stared  at  the  fire,  his 
head  le.iiilii}^  en  his  hand,  There  were 
lines  of  gloomy  thought  in  his  face. 
There  were  marks  of  bitter  strugi^le  on 
his  hands.  His  dress  was  strong  anci 
good,  but  not  in  tl'<-  nrnde.  He  looked 
like  a  youni;  lawyer  w  ith  his  lean,  dark 
face,  smoothly  shaven  save  for  a  little 
tuft  on  eitliri  dict  k.  His  long  hands 
were  heavy -jointed  with  toil. 

He  listened  to  the  bird  singing  and  to 
the  answering  chirping  call  of  a  girl's 
voice.  His  head  drooped  forward  in 
deep  reverie. 

How  beautifid  her  life  is  !  his  thought 
was  How  absolutely  without  care  or 
struggle  !  She  knows  no  uncertainty 
such  as  I  feel  daily,  hourly.  She  has 
never  a  question  nf  dailv  frxu!  ;  tlie  ques- 
tion of  clothes  has  been  a  diversion  for 
her,  a  worry  of  choice  merely.  Dirt, 
grime,  she  knows  nothing  of.  Here  she 
lives,  sheltered  in  a  glow  of  comfort  and 
colour,  while  1  hang  by  my  finger-ends 
over  a  bottomless  pit.  She  sleeps  and 
dreams  while  I  tight.  She  is  never 
weary,  while  I  sink  into  my  bed  each 
night  as  if  it  were  my  grave.  Every 
hand  held  out  to  her  is  a  willinij  hand 
— if  it  is  paid  for  it  is  willing,  fur  she 
has  no  enemies  even  among  her  servants. 
O  God  !  If  1  could  only  reach  such  a 
place  to  rest  for  just  a  year — for  just  a 
mt)nth.  liut  such  security,  such  rest  is 
out  of  my  reach.  I  must  tt»il  and  toil, 
and  when  at  last  I  reach  a  place  to  pause 
and  rest,  I  shall  be  old  and  brutaliscd 
and  deadened,  and  my  rest  will  be 
merely — sleep. 


He  looked  once  more  about  the  Invely 
room.  The  ocean-wind  tore  at  the  win- 
dows with  wolfish  claws,  savage  to  en- 
ter. 

'*  The  world  howling  out  there  is  as 
impotent  to  do  her  harm  as  is  that  wind 
at  the  window,"  the  young  man  added. 

II. 

The  bird's  song  again  joined  ttsell  to 
the  gay  voice  of  the  girl,  and  then  he 
heard  quick  footsteps  f)n  the  stairs,  and 
as  he  rose  to  greet  her  the  room  seemed 
to  glow  like  the  heart  of  a  ruby. 

They  clasped  hands  and  looked  into 
each  other's  eyes  a  moment.  He  saw 
love  and  admiration  in  her  eyes.  She 
saw  only  frieiidlinrss  and  somc  dark, 
unsmiling  mood  in  his. 

They  sat  down  and  talked  upon  the 
fringe  of  personalities  which  he  avoid- 
ed. She  fancied  that  she  saw  a  personal 
sorrow  in  his  face  and  she  longed  to 
comfort  him.  She  longed  to  touch  his 
vexed  forehead  with  her  fingers 

They  talked  on,  of  late  books  and 
coming  music.  He  noticed  how  clear 
and  sweet  and  intelligent  were  her  eyes. 
Refinement  was  in  the  folds  of  her  dress 
and  in  the  faint  perfume  which  exhaled 
from  her  drapery.  The  firm  flesh  of 
her  arms  appealed  to  him  like  the  limbs 
of  a  child — beautiful ! 

He  saw  in  her  face  something  wistful, 
restless.  He  tried  to  ignore  it.  to  seem 
unconscious  of  the  adoration  he  saw 
there,  for  it  pained  htm.  It  affected 
him  as  a  part  of  the  general  misdirec- 
tion of  affection  and  effort  in  the  world. 

She  asked  hini  about  his  plans.  He 
told  her  of  them.  He  grew  stern  and 
savage  as  he  outlined  the  work  which 
he  had  set  himself  to  do.  His  hands 
spread  and  clutched,  and  his  teeth  set 
together  involuntarily.  "  It  is  to  be  a 
fight,"  he  said,  "  but'  I  shall  win.  Bri- 
bery, blackmail,  the  press,  and  all  other 
forces  are  against  me,  but  1  shall  win." 

He  r(>se  at  length  to  a  liner  mood  as 
he  skelclicd  the  plan  wliicli  he  hi»pcd  to 
set  in  action. 

She  looked  at  him  with  expanding 
eyes  and  quickened  breath.  A  globed 
light  each  soft  eye  seemed  to  him. 

He  spoke  more  freely  of  the  struggle 


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outside  in  order  to  make  her  feel  her 
own  sweet  security — here  where  the 
grime  of  trade  and  the  reek  of  politics 
never  came. 

At  last  he  rose  to  go,  smiling  u  little 
as  if  in  apology  for  his  dark  mood.  He 
looked  cidu  n  at  lier  slender  body  ntbed 
so  daintily  in  gray  and  white  ;  slie  made 
him  feel  coarse  and  rough. 

Her  eyes  appealed  to  him,  her  glance 
was  like  a  detaining  hand.    He  lelt  it, 
and  ycL  he  said  abruptly,— 
Goodnight." 

**  You'll  come  to  see  me  again  !" 

'*  Yes,"  he  answered  very  simply  and 
gravely. 

And  she,  looking  after  him  as  lie  wont 
down  the  street  with  head  bent  in 
thought,  grew  weak  with  a  terrible  weak- 
ness, a  sort  of  hunger,  and  deep  in  her 
heart  she  cried  out : 


"  Oil,  the  brave,  splendid  life  At  leads 
out  there  in  the  world  !  Oh,  the  big, 
brave  world  I" 

She  clenched  her  pink  hand. 

'*  Oh,  this  terrible,  humdrum  wom- 
an's life !  It  kills  me,  it  smothers 
me.  I  must  do  something.  I  must  be 
something.  I  can't  live  here  in  this 
way — useless.  I  must  get  into  the 
world." 

And  lookini^  around  the  cushioned, 
glowing,  bcuuLitul  room,  she  thought 
bitterly  : 

"  This  is  being  a  woman.  ()  Gi^d.  I 
want  to  be  free  of  four  walls  !  I  want 
to  struggle  like  that." 

And  then  she  sat  down  before  the  fire 
and  whispered  very  softly,  "  I  want  to 
fight  in  the  world  with  him.*' 

Hamlin  Garland. 


JOV  COMETH  IN  THE  MORNING. 

Peace  was  here  yesterday, 

Joy  comes  lo-morrow  ; 
Why  will  thou,  heart  of  mine, 

Dark  bodings  borrow  ? 

Shrilly  the  tempest  shrieks, 

Fierce  roar  the  waves. 
High  roll  the  curling  crests, 

Deep  the  black  graves  : 

Now  the  cold  niici night  falls, 

Clouds  overu  hi'lm    .    .  , 
Mciiiorv  lights  thi-  seas  ! 

Hope  holds  the  helm  ! 

Peace  was  lu  re  yesterday, 

Joy  comes  tu-morrow, 
Why  wilt  thou,  heart  of  mine, 

Dark  bodings  borrow  ? 

Charlotte  IV.  Thurston. 


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THE  BOOKMAS. 


THE  PARALYSIS  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


A*^  til''  C»'  rrn.iii  I--in|iir''  is  about  to 
celebrate  the  irt  cnty-htih  anniversary  of 
its  creation  and  of  the  completion  of  its 
unity,  several  Germ. in  writers  have 
thought  the  moment  auspicious  for  a 
general  consideration  of  the  social,  liter, 
at^,  and  artistic  life  of  the  new  nation, 
with  a  view  to  determinint?  what  th<* 
energies  of  their  country,  so  long  scat- 
tered by  the  particularistic  spirit,  but  to- 
day united  and  centralized,  have  hrrn 
able  to  contribute  to  poetry,  to  the 
drama^  to  fiction,  and  to  the  other 
spheres  of  German  thought. 

A  professor  in  the  University  of  Bonn, 
Herr  Berthold  Litzmann,  develops  this 
investigation  in  a  study  that  he  has  re- 
cently made  of  the  influence  of  Ger- 
many's new  political  situation  on  poetry, 
fiction,  and  the  drama.  The  conclu* 
sions  to  which  he  has  been  farced  by  his 
investigations  are  by  no  means  flatter- 
ing to  the  Germany  of  Bismarck.  At 
the  commencement  of  his  researches, 
Herr  Litzmann  declares  that  in  1870  there 
was  not  found  in  all  Germany  a  poet 
capable  of  expressing  the  exultation  of 
the  German  people  in  its  first  victories 
over  the  hereditary  foe.  Germany  was 
quivering  with  martial  enthusiasm,  but 
the  (ierman  muse  lield  her  peace  as 
though  struck  dumb.  In  fact,  when  he 
undertook  to  publish  in  Germany  a  vol- 
ume of  poetical  songs  in  honour  of  the 
campaign  of  1K70,  the  author  of  this 
monograph  was  forced  to  seek  out  and 
include  in  the  collection  verses  written 
as  far  l)ark  as  1840  by  the  pOet  Arndt, 
already  in  his  grave. 

The  poets  who  were  alive  in  1870,  like 
Freiligrath  or  Geibel— they  who  had 
been  able  to  sway  the  hearts  of  tlie  witole 
people  beforethewar — put  forth afterthis 
pei  ii  d  nothing  but  empty  declamation, 
witluHit  sincerity  and  without  warmth, 
and  in  which  the  Germans  could  icart  ely 
recognise  their  favourite  singers.  Pro- 
fessor I-it/mann,  in  the  rourse  of  his 
conscientious  work,  quotes  several  of 
these  patriotic  songs,  and  one  is  amazed 
to  see  that  not  only  is  there  a  great  lack 
of  genuine  emotion,  but  that  the  work- 
manship is  feeble,  artificial,  and  ap- 
pallingly platitudinous. 

Geibel's  lack  of  success  in  his  attempt 


to  sing  the  Prussian  eagle  is  very  signifi- 
cant. In  his  youth  he  had  celebrated 
with  great  zeal  the  ancient  German  Em- 

j  ire,  and  had  invoked  with  cnthusia>ni 
the  return  of  the  ancient  kaisers.  His 
muse  in  1845  had  found  agenuine  inspira* 

tion  in  his  dreams  uf  a  united  Germany  : 
hut  in  1K70,  when  tlii>  dream  liad  h^en 
realised,  and  when  all  ( iermuny  wai  unit- 
ing to  see  its  favourite  poet  seize  the 
lyre,  thrilling  with  the  intoxii  atii  n  nf 
victory,  Geibel  brought  iurih  the  most 
pitiful  specimen  of  hack-poetry  in  the 
shape  of  a  patriotic  hymn,  '*  Deutsch- 
land."  Professor  Litzmann,  out  of 
regard  for  a  poet  who  once  had  some 
happy  inspirations,  prefers  not  to  quote 
these  stanzas,  *'  so  barren  are  they  of 
ideas." 

Only  one  German  writer,  according 

to  Merr  Litzmann,  has  been  able  to 
bring  his  verse  fully  into  harmony  with 
the  thunder  of  the  German  cannon  ;  and 
this  writer  is  not  a  poet,  but  an  liisic  rian 
— Heinrich  Treitschke.  His"  Hymn  to 
the  Black  Eagle' '  expresses  well  enough 
the  impressicm  which  the  War  of  1870 
produced  in  Germany.  In  other  respects 
it  is  not  a  poetical  work  at  all,  but  a 
rude  war-song,  fit  enough  to  be  sung  by 
soldiers  on  the  march,  but  void  of  any 
elevated  sentiment  or  any  pregnant 
thought.  Treitschke  Invites  the  Ger- 
man warriors  of  every  rank  to  make  "  one 
last  !)loody  pilgrimage  to  the  Cathedral 
of  Strasburg,"  and  the  whole  song  is  in 
this  fierce  and  rugged  Style.  Neverthe- 
less, Herr  Litzmann  pronounces  this  to  be 
the  one  pearl  of  patriotic  poetry  that 
Germany  has  produced  since  1870. 

lias  the  new  Gennany,  however,  more 
successfully  inspired  the  writers  of  ro> 
mances?  Herr  Litzmann  thinks  not. 
At  the  time  of  the  War  of  1870,  Germany 
possessed  two  jxreat  novelists — Freytag. 
who  has  jusi  died,  and  Spiclhagen. 
She  naturally  looked  to  them  for  a  great 
prose  epos  of  reunited  Germany  ;  but 
this  great  epos  failed  to  appear.  Frey- 
tag, who  had  reproduced  with  a  good 
deal  of  cleverness  the  life  of  the  German 
middle  classes  before  iii7o,  seemed  sud- 
denly to  lose  his  perception  of  reality, 
and  beii'Hi  to  muddle  himself  with  a 
swarm  of  cut-and-dried  historical  analo- 


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gles  drawn  from  the  history  ot  Rome, 
of  Gaul,  of  the  Franks,  and  of  the  early 
Teutons,  and  from  that  tinii'  on  depict- 
ed contemporary  life  with  the  dulness 
of  an  antiquarian  who  is  collecting  docu- 
ments, instead  of  producing  an  iaipres> 
sion  of  living  truth. 

After  this,  the  Germans  looked  hope- 
fully to  Spielhagen,  who  before  the  war 
had  become  famous  for  his  powerful  pic- 
ture of  Germany  in  1848.  They  were 
sure  that  he  at  least  would  ^ive  them  a 
picture  of  united  Germany  true  to  the 
very  life.  But  he  too  disappointed  pub- 
lic expectation.  After  the  War  of  1870 
he  published  his  novel  culkd  Sturmflut 
— an  attempt  at  setting;  forth  the  mural 
defects  that  were  debauching  German 
society  as  the  direct  consequence  of  Ger- 
man victory.  Spielhagen  feebly  scourged 
the  loose  wa^  of  living  that  everywhere 
became  manifest  after  the  Germans  had 
begun  to  worship  the  golden  calf,  and 
in  conse<juence  had  started  a  mad  rush 
after  material  conUorts  and  coarse  pleas- 
ures that  seemed  to  threaten  the  father- 
land from  the  very  moment  tliat  the  na- 
tion became  a  powerful  Empire.  Spiel- 
hagen set  before  himself  types  drawn 
from  the  stock-e.xchan^e  and  from  the 
lower  circles  of  politics,  unrolling  a 
panorama  of  financial  distress  and  de« 
picting  the  money-getting  craze  that  had 
seized  upon  Berlin.  The  novel  was  in- 
tended to  give  a  powerful  presentation 
of  one  phase  of  (rerman  life,  Init  the 
work  is  disappointini;.  Tiie  only  im- 
pression that  one  gets  from  it  is  that  tiie 
actual  Germany  of  to-day  l)y  no  means 
corresponds  to  the  ideal  picture  dreamed 
of  by  the  Germans  of  1848. 

United  Germany,  then,  which  has  been 
able  to  inspire  neither  its  poets  nor  its 
novelists,  has,  perhaps,  one  may  say, 
produced  some  great  and  talented  dra- 
matic writer.  Herr  Litzmann,  in  answer 
to  this  question,  nlates  certain  facts 
which  show  how  little  the  dramatic  art 
in  Germany  has  profited  by  the  success 
of  the  German  arms.  In  November, 
1857,  there  was  established  in  Prussia  a 
triennial  prize  of  t6oo  thalers  in  honour 
of  Schiller.  Until  1869  this  prize  was 
regularly  awarded  every  tliree  years  ; 
but  from  1869-79 — that  is  to  say,  for  a 
period  of  ten  years—  there  was  not  found 
in  Germany  a  single  dramatic  work  that 
could  be  regarded  as  worthy  of  being 
crowned.  At  last,  in  1879,  the  Com- 
mittee could  find  no  single  author  who 


was  so  obviously  conspicuous  as  to  re- 
ceive all  its  votes,  the  prize  was  divided 

between  three  writers,  not,  liowever,  for 
the  merit  of  any  particular  work  of 
theirs,  but  for  having  given  proof  of 
"excellent  dramatic  qualities."  Herr 
T.itzmann  can  find  in  the  sphere  of  the 
German  drama  since  1870  only  two 
bright  spots — Bayreuth  and  the  theatri*^ 
cal  company  of  Meiningen.  In  fact, 
German  hopes  are  practically  all  direct- 
ed toward  Bayreuth,  and  are  limited  to 
that  Wagnerism  which  is  the  consumma- 
tion of  the  lyric  drama  as  that  drama 
was  conceived  by  another  German  on 
French  soil.  Hut  surely  no  one  will  pre- 
ten<i  that  in  the  development  of  Wag- 
nerism the  victories  won  by  German 
arms  had  any  share  even  as  an  inspira- 
tion, for  the  greater  part  of  the  works  of 
Wagner  were  written  long  ijefore  1870. 
Sour  as  the  Meiningen  troupe  is  con* 
cemed»  it  has,  it  is  true,  been  of  great 
service  to  the  dramatic  art.  It  has  revo- 
lutionised certain  features  of  the  w/.u  en 
schu^  and  for  the  lirst  time  it  has  subor- 
dinated the  individual  ambitii  n  of  the 
actor  to  the  requirements  of  general 
effect,  so  that  in  it  the  actor  is  dominat- 
ed by  the  play  and  not  the  play  by  the 
actor.  It  is  to  be  noticed,  however,  that 
this  artistic  result  is  so  far  from  being 
the  work  of  united  Germany  that  the 
Meiningen  troupe  was  maintained  by  a 
Prince  belonging  to  the  early  German 
Confederation,  and  that  after  the  changes 
brought  about  by  the  unification  of  Ger- 
many, this  line  company  was  compelled 
to  disband.    Luckily,  it  will  once  more 

be  brought  together  under  the  ausjiii-es 
of  an  artist  well  known  in  France,  Herr 
Paul  Lindau,  the  graceful  novelist  whom 
the  Grand  Duke  of  Meiningen  has  placed 
in  charge  of  his  theatre,  and  who,  being 
himself  a  dramatic  writer,  and  having 
shown  in  his  studies  on  the  theatre  that 
he  possesses  unusual  intelligence,  will 
revive  no  doubt  at  Meiningen  the  artistic 
celebrity  which  in  former  years  had 
made  tlie  place  renowned  throughout  • 
all  Europe. 

Professor  Litzmann,  after  a  long  inves- 
tigation, has  come  to  this  rather  depress 
ing  conclusion  :  "  The  literature  of  unit- 
ed Germany  is  neither  hot  nor  cold,  but 
dreadfully  commonplace  and  destitute 
of  individtiality. "  German  literature, 
however,  appears  to  have  awakened  of 
late  with  Hauptmann,  and  with  the  pub- 
lication of  the  novels  and  critical  works 


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2O0 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


of  Max  Nordau.  The  first  of  these  au- 
thors, however,  gained  his  vopfue  by  a 
socialistic  production  ;  and  the  second 
as  a  representative  of  that  modern  sci- 


ence which  prior  to  1S70  had  aireadj 
made  itself  conspicuous  in  German)', 

Michel  Delints. 


JONAS  LIE. 


If  literature  in  Norway  were  imagined 
to  be  dominated  by  a  triumvirate — a 

wholly  invi'lions  supposition,  since  there 
is  quite  as  much  republicanism  in  the 
literary  life  of  this  redoubtable  part  of 
the  world  as  there  is  in  its  politics — the 
third  place  would  unquestionably  be 
occupied  by  Jonas  Lie.  As  to  the  per- 
sonality of  the  other  two  members  of 
this  supposed  junta  there  \\\\\  lie  n«» 
dilhcuity  in  recognising  Bjornson  and 
Ibsen.  It  is  perhaps  to  Jonas  Lie's  dis- 
advant.-iijp  that  his  two  fellow-craftsmrn 
Stand  out  so  distinctly  to  the  eye  of  the 
world,  for  he  is  thereby  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent overlooked.  This  is,  however,  only 
outside  of  Scandinavia.  At  home  he 
has  not  only  a  place  definitely  accorded 
him,  but  a  place  peculiarly  his  own. 
Bjornson  is  a  part  of  Norway  itM  if.  a 
great  moving  force  in  the  nation's 
whole  economy  of  living^.  Ibsen,  for 
his  part,  is  viewed  rhicctivcly  ;  he  is 
wondered  at  and  admired,  as  one  might 
admire  a  for  his  strength  ;  they 

are  proud  in  Norway  to  have  him  among 
them,  but  it  is  safe  tn  say  he  has  never 
inspired  them  with  any  deeper  sense. 
Lie,  on  the  other  hand,  is  part  of  the 
people's  sti!)j<'Ctivity,  and  he  lic^  warm 
in  the  nation's  heart.  In  inslitutiug 
such  a  comparison  as  this  it  must  not 
be  supp'  Srd  that  there  is  a  desire  to  put 
the  three  on  a  literary  plane.  Bjornson 
and  Ibsen  in  this  way  are  Titans,  who 
rise  head  and  shoulders  above  the  rest 
of  literary  Norway.  The  common  man, 
however,  whose  stature  most  neiirly  ap- 
proaches them  is  Jonas  Lie, 

Jonas  Lie — he  has  two  otl>er  names, 
viz.,  Lauritz  Idemil,  wisely  felt  to  be 
superfluous  and  never  used — was  bom 
at  Kker,  in  Norway,  in  1833.  Ilis  fa- 
ther, who  was  a  lawyer,  soon  removed 
in  an  official  capacity  to  the  seaport 
town  of  Tromsoe,  in  tiie  extreme  wild 
north  of  the  country,  where  the  novel- 
ist's boyhood  was  passed  in  an  cnviron- 
^■cnt  that  has  had  a  lasting  influence 


upon  his  own  spirit  and  has  sensibly 
impressed  itself  upon  his  writingrs.  Lie's 

]>refiilct-tinn<;  for  t!ie  sea,  subsequent!;.- 
e.Kpressed  in  some  of  his  most  notable 
novels,  had  an  early  origin.  It  had  al- 
most decided  his  career.  As  a  mere  lad 
he  was  sent  to  enter  at  Fredriksviern. 
the  Norwegian  Annapolis,  but,  after  re- 
maining here  a  year,  he  was  rejected 
beran*:e  <  >f  near-sitihtedness.  The  next 
years  were  devoted  to  preparation  for 
the  university.  In  a  little  country  like 
Nc^rway  it  is  almf>st  inevitable  that  the 
men  of  a  generation  shall  meet  inti- 
mately at  some  point  along  the  educa* 
tional  road,  which  in  its  higher  levels 
especially  has  but  few  turnings.  This 
is  a  fact  tiiat  appears  characteristic  in 
the  lives  of  almost  all  Norwegians,  and 
it  lesiilts  not  only  in  a  personal  ac- 
quaintanceship, but  in  a  certain  homo- 
geneity at  any  given  time  that  is  un- 
known in  a  larger  nation.  At  Hclt- 
berg's  gymnasium,  accordingly,  in 
Christiania— a  "student  factory"  the 
Norwegians  themselves  call  it — Lie  fell 
in  with  both  Bjornson  and  Ibsen  as  fel- 
hnv-pupils.  Between  him  and  the  for- 
mer particularly  a  friendship  six  n  ripen- 
ed, which  has  lasted  thn-mj;!!  life  and 
has  had  no  little  inriuence  upon  his 
career. 

At  the  univ<:T>ily  Lie  vtudird  it:r:<- 
prudence,  and  in  course  of  time  emerged 
with  the  proper  qualifications  to  pursue 
the  calling  of  his  father  before  him. 
The  year  after  he  settled  down  to  the 
practice  of  law  in  Kongsvinger.  He 
married  the  following  year,  piospered 
as  a  lawyer  and  as  a  man  of  atTairs, 
bought  an  estate,  and  entered  actively 
into  the  social  and  political  life  of  the 
plac.  The  financia!  crisis  that  ca-re 
to  Norway  in  the  middle  of  the  sixties 
not  only  took  away  everything  that  he 
had,  but  plunged  him  hopelessly  into 
debt.  In  186S  he  "^ave  up  the  practice 
of  his  profession  and  removed  to  Chris- 
tiania, in  order  to  devote  himself  here- 


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LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


20 1 


after  to  a  literary 
career.     He  had 
already,  in  Kongs- 
vinger,  written  a 
volume  of  poems, 
which   had,  how- 
ever, attracted  no 
particular  atten- 
tion, and  had  con- 
tributed political 
articles  and  essays 
to    various  jour- 
nals, and  his  work, 
at  the   outset,  in 
Cliristiania,  was  a 
continuation  in 
this   latter  direc- 
tion. If,  as  he  says, 
he  had  already  be- 
fore this  time  had 
*'  bitter   ex  peri- 
ence   in  the  prac- 
tical   school  of 
life,"     I  suspect 
that  more  as  bitter 
was  yet  to  come, 
for  he  got  along  at 
first  but  badly.  Be- 
side his  essays  in 
journalism,  he  pre- 
sently   took  and 
lost  again  a  posi- 
tion as  teacher  in 
the    same  school 
where  he  had  for- 
merly been  a  pupil. 

Better  days  were 
ushered  in  by  the 
appearance  of  his 
first  novel,  T/ie  Vi- 
sionary^  which  was 
published  at  Co- 
penhagen in  De- 
cember, 1870,  and 
met  with  imme- 
diate and  unmis- 
takable success. 

The  Norwegian  Government  presently 
sent  him  otf  with  a  stipend  to  study 
matters  and  manners  in  the  extreme 
north  of  Norway,  and  before  he  had 
fairly  started  on  this  errand  he  had  been 
given  another,  renewed  the  following 
year,  to  enable  him  to  go  abroad  in  or- 
der, as  the  grant  itself  reads,  **  to  edu- 
cate himself  as  a  poet."  In  Rome  he 
wrote  the  greater  part  of  his  next  book, 
Tales  and  Sketches  from  Norway  (1872), 
and  his  first  novels  of  the  sea,  The 
Barque  Future  (1872)  and  The  Pilot  and 


his  Wife  (1874).  When,  after  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  latter  book,  he  was 
again  in  Norway,  he  was  voted  by  the 
Storthing  a  yearly  pension  equal  in 
amount  to  that  already  accorded  Bjiirn- 
son  and  Ibsen. 

Since  this  time  Lie,  beside  mere  visits 
to  Norway,  has  lived  abroad,  and,  as 
far  as  I  am  aware,  but  four  of  the  score 
of  books  he  has  published  were  written 
at  home.  His  other  novels  of  the  sea, 
Rutland  {1880)  and  Press  On  (1882), 
came  to  light,  the  one  in  the  little  Ba- 


-I  I-,,, 


Google 


202 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


varian  villac;?  of  Ik-n  hiespjaden,  where 
Ibsen  has  ali,o  iivcU  and  worked  and 
Lie  has  written  no  less  than  six  other 
novels,  and  the  other  in  Hamburg. 
Since  18^2  he  has  been  a  resident  of 
Paris. 

It  was  by  way  of  Paris  and  in  Jonas 
Lie's  next  book  that  modern  naturalism 
found  its  way  into  Norwegian  literature. 
This  book,  written  after  the  author's  re- 
moval to  Pcirls  and  published  the  fol- 
lowing year,  l)ears  tlic  title  of  Livsshiven 
{Tie  l/ft  Comut),  and  has  never  found 
its  way  into  English.  A  projecterl  trans- 
lation in  the  Chicago  Scandinavia  { 1 886 ) 
ended  with  the  first  instalment,  through 
the  untimely  demise  of  that  magazine. 
A  recent  writer  on  this  side  of  the  water 
calls  the  work,  with  forbearance,  "  a 
dismal  tale,"  and  it  assuredly  is  nut 
pleasant  reading'.  Sharp-penned  critics 
in  Norway  pretended  to  see  in  its  de- 
velopment of  plot  too  close  a  resem- 
blancc  to  Daudet's  Jack^  and  they 
pointed  to  the  unmistakable  influence 
of  Zola  and  L'AssomtMir,   The  author, 


however,  in  a  publlsht-d  letter,  assured 
them  that  he  had  brougiit  the  idea 
the  story  with  him  from  Christiania, 
and  that  he  had  never  even  read  foii: 
As  for  the  latt**r  point,  while  it  would 
be  idle  to  deny  the  inspiring  influence 
of  French  naturalism,  nothing  could  be 
less  like  Zola  than  are  these  or  any  other 
pages  of  Lie's. 

The  subsequent  books— there  have 
been  eight  or  nine  of  them,  novels  and 
collections  of  shprt  stories — are  all  in 
this  same  direction.  In  Norway  they 
have  been  warmly  received  and  cap  r! 
read,  and  they  have  been  widely  trans- 
lated, although  we  know  nothing  of 
them  in  English.  Lie's  one  drama, 
Graboivs  Cat  (1H80),  written  in  the  gen- 
erative period,  before  Ids  fullest  literar) 
development,  was  not  a  great  succes!^. 
It  was  promptly  returned  with  ihan'r.- 
from  Copenhagen,  but  was  subsequently 
produced  for  short  periods  in  Chris- 
tiania,  Bergen,  and  Stockholm. 

Wmiam  Carpenter. 


A  VAGABOND  SONG. 

There  is  something  in  the  Autumn  that  is  native  to  my  blood — 
Touch  of  manner,  hint  of  mood  ; 
And  my  heart  is  like  a  rhyme. 

With  the  yellow  and  the  purple  and  the  crimson  keeping  time. 

The  scarlet  of  the  maples  can  shake  me  like  a  cry 

Of  bugles  goiii^  by. 

And  my  lonely  spirit  thrills 

To  see  the  frosty  asters  like  smoke  upon  the  hills. 

There  is  something  in  October  sets  the  gipsy  blood  astir  : 

We  must  rise  and  follow  her. 

When  from  every  hill  of  flame 

She  calls  and  calls  each  vagabond  by  name. 

Bins  Carman. 


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A  Li  I LKAKY  JOURNAL, 


THE  CRITICISM  OF  LIFE. 


The  best  of  definitions  is  usually  more 
or  leas  inexact,  and  to  define  the  func- 
tions of  criticism  would  be  to  run  an  ex- 
traordinary risk  of  being  inadequate. 
But  the  phrase  which  Matthew  Arnold 
applied  to  poetry,  "  a  criticism  of  life," 
throws  a  little  light,  it  seems  to  mc, 
upon  criticism  of  every  sort.  It  is  true 
that  Mr.  Stedman  has  expressed  some 
dissatisfaction  with  this  phrase  as  a  defi- 
nition of  poetry.  AaU  yet  not  ordy  po- 
etry, but  all  literature,  is,  or  should  be, 
a  criticism  of  life,  ami  we  appi  t-ci.itc  it 
just  so  far  as  our  individual  culture  is 
based  upon  a  criticism  of  life.  And 
since  natiiuial  culture  is  but  the  infinite 
sum  of  individual  culture,  it  is  of  no 
alight  consequence  to  discover  what  the 
forces  are  among  Americans  which  make 
for  or  against  culture.  In  other  words, 
have  we  a  literature  that  is  in  any  sense 
a  criticism  of  life,  and  have  we  the  cul- 
ture to  appreciate  such  criticism  >  Of 
course  iinu  li  tliat  passes  with  us  tor  lit- 
erature is  ii'>t  literature  at  alt.  There 
are  but  f  iur  kinds  of  literature — poetry, 
fiction,  drama,  and  criticism  ;  and  his- 
tory  or  philosophy  or  science  is  only  lit- 
erature when  it  is  criticism;  in  ..tint 
words,  when  it  is  written  from  that 
point  of  view  which  means  perception 
of  the  fact  in  its  relations  to  other  facts, 
when  it  is  the  product  of  knowledge,  it  is 
true,  but  also  of  Something  that  is  higher 
tiian  knowledge — ^that  is,  of  culture. 
What,  for  example,  makes  history  liter- 
ature ?  A  chronicle  ot  events  is  not  lit- 
erature. To  the  fact  must  be  added  the 
way  of  lookinc:  at  the  fact.  Mr.  Free- 
man's  Norman  t'an^iust  is  a  valuable 
work,  but  it  is  not  literature,  while  Mr. 
Froude's  Efii;/tih  Seamen,  with  .ill  its 
errors  on  its  head,  just  as  distinctly  is 
literature. 

If  literature,  then,  is  a  criticism  of 
life,  and  if  even  all  culture  wortli  lint 
name  is  first  of  all  essentially  ciilical, 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  important  a  thing 
criticism  of  any  kind  is,  and  how  the 
criticism  of  literature  is  practically 
valueless  unless  it  proceeds  from  the 
highest  culture.  There  has  been  ah  . 
gether  too  much  criticism  of  literature 
which  has  not  proceeded  from  the  high 
est  culture,  or  indeed,  from  culture  of 


any  kind.  At  the  present  time  the  air 
is  full  of  the  gabble  of  the  imperfectly 

educated.  We  make  no  distiiii  ti<Mis,  we 
draw  no  parallels,  but  simply  content 
ourselves  with  proclaiming  our  crude 
beliefs.  There  is  a  deluge  of  useless 
books,  written  by  men  and  women 
whose  sole  equipment  for  the  work  is 
the  possession  of  perfect  confidence  in 
opinions  which  have  no  large  sigtiifi- 
cance,  no  relation  i»»  the  criticisnt  of 
life.  And  those  who  should  be  critics 
stand  hopelessly  by,  feebly  applauding 
or  as  feebly  denouncing. 

I  do  not  deny  that  there  is  a  vast 
amount  »»f  knowledijfe  in  this  c«»untry. 
It  is  a  cherished  theory  of  ours  that 
everylKKly  ought  to  be  educated.  We 
delight  in  ..ui-  public  school  system, 
which  is  based  on  the  Gradgrind  sys- 
tem of  filling  up  the  little  pitchers  with 
facts.  And  the  little  pitchers  overflow 
with  fads,  the  bearing  of  which  on  life 
and  those  vast  issues  that  make  life  so 
terribly  complex  they  have  never  been 
taucrht  t'>  appreciate.  This  kind  <if  edu- 
cation is  completely  divorced  aud  dis- 
severed from  culture.  The  main  result 
of  it  is  to  crc.itc  ,i  false  .ituK  ^sphere  of  in- 
telligence! A"  impression  that  we  are  all 
equally  competent  to  deal  with  the  prob- 
lems of  the  time,  and  that  an  appeal  to 
public  taste  is  an  appeal  to  culture. 
Tims  the  public  taslc  is  the  only  criti- 
cism that  we  rec<  >}4:>>i>e,  and  its  Standards 
the  only  standards  that  we  aci  ept  In 
the  long  run  the  public  taste  is  sound. 
Sifted  by  the  process  of  the  centuries, 
the  public  judgment  stantls.  But  the 
public  taste  of  the  moment,  unteropered 
t>y  the  matured  verdict  of  the  critical 
few,  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  wrong  as 
right.  The  majority  of  men  liave  not 
the  trained  habit  of  mind,  the  way  of 
looking  at  things  which  is  genuine  cul- 
tiire  ;  llie  point  of  view  friun  which  tfie 
true  perspective  can  be  obtained.  There 
is  nothing  surprising  in  this.  The  sur« 
l)risinfj  thing  is  that  e  should  ever  im- 
agine It  to  be  otherwise.  But  wc  arc  so 
much  in  love  with  our  ideal  of  universal 
kui  >\v!f(i^e,  so  detcrminf'd  to  admit  ii'i 
deficiencies  in  our  plan  fur  a  general 
levelling-up,  that  we  are  disposed  to 
shut  our  eyes  to  the  facts  and  depend 


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204 


lilL  BOOKMAN, 


upon  ( imimstanrcs  for  the  ultimate 
justification  of  our  theories.  It  may  be 
admitted  that  the  Icvelling-up  process 
is  what  manlcind  needs  for  its  highest 
][^ood.  But  we  can  have  no  j^ain  with- 
out a  compensating  loss,  and  the  educa- 
tion of  the  masses  cannot      on  unless 

;it  the  sacrifice  of  manv  old  idralN.  It  is 
plainly  impossible  to  turn  out  men  and 
women  of  a  critical  habit  of  mind  by  the 
})ublic  school  methods.  We  can  fill 
them  up  with  facts,  we  orin  !)ring  them 
to  that  charming  belief  in  iheir  own  in- 
tellectual powers  which  forbids  them  to 
listen  to  any  voice  but  their  own,  but 
we  cannot  make  them  competent  to  deal 
with  the  larger  issues  of  life.  Those 
;ire  in  the  very  nature  oi  things  vast  and 
complicated,  and  all  the  education  in 
the  world  will  not  make  an  ordinar)- 
liuman  brain  an  extraordinary  one. 

Culture  would  he  of  little  value  if  it 
implied  a  l>asis  ui  ignorance.  Hut  1 
<loubt  very  much  if  knowledge  of  that 
superficial  sort  which  it  seems  to  |>e  the 
ubject  of  our  public  schools  to  give  is 
half  so  important  to  the  welfare  of  the 
race  as  we  are  inclined  to  think,  and  if 
an  imperfect  acquaintance  with  things 
which  do  not  concern  us  really  enlarges 
our  mental  horizon.  A  smattering  of 
this,  tliat,  and  the  other,  a  trifle  of  phi- 
losophy, a  dab  at  history,  summer 
courses  of  ethics  and  university  exten- 
sion, a  lecture  on  art,  antl  an  essay  on 
Huiidhism,  Shakspeare,  and  the  musical 
glasses — I  have  not  that  confidence  in 
the  eflicacy  Cif  all  these  things  that  I 
should  like  to  have.  I  think  it  is  still 
possible  to  say  something  in  favour  of 
the  older  theory  of  edmaii  in,  which 
comprehended  only  tlie  three  K's. 
While  it  may  be  that  all  should  have  an 
equal  chance — for  some  of  the  greatest 
minds  of  the  rat  e  have  been  evolved 
from  a  humble  environment — perhaps 
we  should  do  well  if  we  stopped  at 
offering  the  chance,  and  did  not  strive 
to  bestow  upon  all  alike  the  ability  to 
understand  everything  and  cope  witli 
everything  unaided  by  any  higher  order 
of  intelligence.  !?nt  we  have  gone  on 
oilcrin^  the  doubtful  blessing  of  free 
education  with  a  bountiful  hand,  and 
the  arr,  a^;  I  have  sai<l,  is  full  of  the  gab- 
ble of  the  imperfectly  educated.  It  is 
useless  now  to  wonder  at  the  result,  or 
to  grieve  over  it.  There  it  is,  and  the 
question  is,  what  next?  Is  it  possilde  to 
inform  our  knowledge  with  culture,  to 


refine  by  the  methods  of  criticism  the 
raw  information  which  most  of  us  pos- 
sess 1: 

However  hopefully  we  may  wish  to 
unfiertake  it.  we  mtjst  admit,  I  tfii:i'<, 
that  the  task  is  not  an  easy  one.  Tiierc 
is  something  about  superiority  which 
r  11  rashes  tlie  infcri<ir  mind,  and  we  have 
helped  to  keep  alive  this  rage  by  our 
assumption  of  the  equality  of  mankind. 
Whether  this  be  true  in  politics  or  not, 
I  will  not  venture  to  say  ;  but  it  cer- 
tainly isn't  true  in  art  or  in  morals. 
Culture  is  not  a  product  of  democracy, 
althouc:h  the  argument  that  it  may  be  is 
not  unfamiliar.  If,  indeed,  our  system 
of  education  were  as  potent  as  we  like 
to  fancy  it  is,  if  the  common  mind  were 
a  sort  of  crucible  into  which  the  mere 
fact  could  be  poured  and  come  out  in 
its  tme  prciportion  to  life,  then  the  su- 
j-seriority  of  culture  would  be  a  Pharisaic 
pretence,  witli  no  existence  in  reality 
and  no  basis  in  any  philosophy  of  es- 
thetics. We  should  then  have  a  real  de- 
mocracy of  intellect,  and  one  man's 
judgment  would  be  as  good  as  an- 
other's. So  far  we  have  not  reached 
this  mental  millennium,  nor  can  1  say 
that  I  see  how  we  are  ever  to  reach  iL 
Meanwhile,  there  remains  the  necessity 
of  destroying,  if  we  can,  the  evil  influ 
cnces  of  the  attempt.  The  attempt,  and 
not  the  deed,  confounds  us.  A  little 
humility,  considering  how  imperfect 
our  success  has  been,  would  be  not  un- 
becoming. 

Humility  is  not  exactly  our  metier  in 
this  country.  We  are  still  in  the  bar- 
barian  stace  of  culture,  or  only  slightly 
removed  from  it,  and  it  is  a  barbarian 
tiick  to  try  to  imj-vose  upon  people  by 
bragging  about  our  importance.  The 
writers  of  the  day  who  come  from  the 
ranks  of  the  imperfectly  educated  are 
never  weary  of  proclaiming  their  entire 
emancipation  from  all  reverence  for  the 
past.  They  scorn  and  defy  the  idols  set 
up  bv  others  in  the  literary  market- 
place. They  have  no  standards  outside 
of  their  own  tastes,  and  they  accept  the 
instructions  of  no  teachers  but  them- 
selves. They  put  forth  novels,  poetry, 
essays,  in  a  very  ecstasy  of  fluency,  with 
the  superfic'al  cleverness  which  our  sys- 
tem of  education  has  made  so  easy  of 
attainment.  And  thus  we  are  getting 
an  American  literature  of  which  nine- 
tenths  will  be  forgotten  l»efore  the  end 
t)t  another  century.    It  was  not  so  that 


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Luwell  or  Holmes  or  the  rest  of  the  men 
whose  places  are  secure  wrote  their  mas* 
terpieces.  No  one  heard  them  proclaim- 
iag  that  a  new  era  had  come,  that  Shak- 
speare  was  only  a  milestone  on  a  road 
back  to  the  dusty  past,  that  "  we"  write 
better  novels  than  Thackeray  did,  and 
atl  the  rest  of  the  familiar  jargon.  But 
they  hardly  were  fair  products  of  the 
new  democracy  of  intellect.  They  had 
the  reverence  which  the  superior  mind 
can  feel  without  a  pang,  but  which  to 
the  inferior  min<l  is  pail  and  wormwood. 

Perhaps  the  future  of  culture  in  this 
country,  the  growth  of  a  true  criticism 
of  life,  Is  iidt  quite  hopeless,  although 
one  might  almost  be  excused  for  believ« 
ing  that  it  is.    Certainly  our  national 


system  of  education  has  not  done  much 
to  further  such  a  growth.  Our  art  is 
feeble  and  futile  ;  our  literature  is  poor 
and  mean  ;  we  show  little  sense  of 
beauty  and  dignity  in  our  lives  ;  so  that 
it  requires  a  bnnyant  optimism  and  a 
cheerful  courage  to  maintain  one's  faith 
in  the  ultimate  working  together  for 
good  of  so  many  noxious  influences. 

We  are  as  yet  very  far  infleed  from  thr 
critical  altitude,  whether  iu  relation  t  > 
literature  or  to  life.  That  is  one  reas(in 
why  our  worship  is  so  often  the  worship 
of  delusive  gods.  Culture  is  the  one 
thing  which  is  truth ;  and  the  truth, 
when  we  know  at,  shall  set  us  free. 

Edward  FuUer. 


HEINRICH  VON  SYBEL. 


Teacher  and  writer  of  history  ;  custo- 
dian of  archives  and  editor  of  historical 
documents ;  founder  and  director  of  the 
leading  German  historical  review  ;  poli- 
tician and  political  pamphleteer — Hein- 
rich  von  Sybel,  who  died  last  August  in 
his  seventy-eighth  year,  has  left  a  record 
'of  varied  effort  and  of  worthy  achieve- 
ment. The  position  generally  accorded 
him  as  the  foremost  of  German  histo- 
rians since  Ranke  rests  mainly  cm  his  two 
monumental  works,  the  History  of  the 
/fevoluHomry  Periflti,  ijSg-iSoo,  and  the 
Founding  of  the  German  Empire.  The 
Revolutionszeit,  of  which  the  tirst  volumes 
appeared  in  the  fifties  and  the  last  in 
the  seventies,  was  based  upon  studies  in 
the  archives  of  Paris,  Berlin,  Vienna, 
Munich,  The  iiague,  and  London.  It 
treated  the  great  Revolution,  for  the 
first  time,  from  a  point  of  view  neither 
French  nor  anti-French,  but  European. 
It  laid  especial  stress  and  threw  much 
new  light  upon  the  international  rela- 
tions of  the  time.  Anticipatirtj,  as  it 
did  in  many  f)oiiUt.,  the  judgment  of 
Taine,  this  lu^tory  gave  little  satisfac- 
tion to  the  inti-llectual  descendants  ancl 
admirers  of  the  Jacobins  ;  justifying  the 
partition  of  Poland,  it  offended  senti- 
mentalists all  over  the  world  ;  treating 
exhaustively,  and  with  a  leaning  toward 
the  Prussian  side,  the  relations  of  Aus> 
tria  and  Prussia  to  France,  to  each  other, 
and  to  Germany,  it  was,  until  1866,  a 


campaign  document  in  the  contest  be- 
tween the  Grossdeutschm^  or  adherents 
of  Austria,  and  the  Kltindeutx^^  who 

favoured  a  "  narrower  Germany"  under 
Prussian  leadership.  In  the  preface  to 
the  first  volume  (1853),  the  historian 
summarised  the  meaning  of  the  RevolU" 
tion  in  a  sentence  which  bear<  to  day 
the  stamp  of  prophecy  fuihlled,  so  strik- 
ingly does  the  present  state  of  Europe 
c  onfirm  his  generalisat i<Tn .  "  Rvcry- 
where,"  he  wrote,  *'  tlie  Revolution  com- 
pleted the  overthrow  of  the  mediieval 
feudal  system,  .  .  .  and  everywhert*  in. 
favour  of  the  modern  military  state."  Sy- 
bel's  other  chief  work,  his  history  of  the 
German  unity  movement  from  1848  to 
1871,  is  based,  down  to  the  establishment 
of  the  North  German  Federation  in  i<S07, 
upon  the  Prussian  and  other  North  Ger-> 
man  archive^,  arid  for  the  entire  period 
upon  the  writer's  personal  experience 
and  observation,  and  upon  information 
furnished  him  by  the  leading  actors  in 
the  drama.  The  latt<'r  fart  will  give  the 
work  enduring  value  as  material  lor  tlic 
future  historian,  even  if  the  vigour  and 
beauty  of  the  narrative  shoufil  fail  U) 
hold  the  future  reader.  This  book,  how- 
ever, even  more  than  Sybel 's  other  writ- 
ings, ought  long  to  resist  dec  ay  by  rea- 
son of  its  tinish.  With  laborious  re- 
search and  patient  sifting  of  evidence  it 
unites  that  distinctively  literary  quality 
and  charm  which  the  late  J.  K.  Seeley 


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3o6 


THB  BOOKMAN. 


declan'fl  Inrompatible  wiih  scicntitic  his- 
torioKras)li\^  Both  of  these  works,  the 
Krcolutionaty  Period  an<i  the  Gtrniaii  Km- 
pirf,  have  been  translated  into  Ktiglish. 

Before  liis  R< :  o! utionstfit  made  him 
famous,  Sybcl  was  known  to  scholars 
at  least  by  his  History  of  thf  First  Cru- 
sade (1841),  and  his  Origin  0/  (Jcrman 
Kingship  (i«44).  The  impulse  to  the 
lirst  of  these  histories  was  j^iven  by 
Ranke,  under  whose  guidance  the  younjj 
Sybel  pursued  his  university  studies. 
In  this  book  the  "sources"  were  sub-" 
iected  to  scientific  examination,  and  it 
was  shown  that  the  influeiice  ot  Peter 
the  Hermit  and  the  achievement  of  God- 
frey (if  Bouillon  were  mainly  Icv^endary. 


ises  of  their  whole  position."  Still 
more  characteristic  is  the  treatment,  in 

the  same  book,  of  his  own  political  atti- 
ttide  in  the  early  sixties.  Like  nearly 
all  the  Liberals  of  1848,  Sybel  was  then 
hostile  to  Bismarck,  and  as  a  member 
of  the  Prussian  Dir  t  lie  played  a  promi 
ncnt  part  in  the  parliamentary  opposi- 
tion to  Btsmark's  ministry.  'Like  the 
majority  <>f  his  political  friends.  h<-  roc- 
ognized,  in  1866,  that  he  had  miscon- 
ceived Bismarck's  aims,  and  immedi- 

,  ately  became  a  supporter  of  that  states- 
man's polirv,  In  describinsf  the  politi- 
cal events  t>t  1 86 1-66,  Sybel  the  historian 

explains  and  defends  Bismarck's  course. 

.When  it  is  necessary,  he  takes  note  of 


In  his  preface  to  a  second  edition,  pub-  \|he  attitude  of  Sybel  the  deputy  j  he 

lished  forty  years  after  the  first,  the  au-  mentions  the  fact  that  such  a  resolution 

thor  notes  that  lati  r  iiu fstigators,  both  was  m(i\<  (l  or  such  a  report  rendered  by 

in  France  and  in  Germany,  have  accept-  "  Sybel."    These  noiices  are  as  objec- 

ed  the  chief  results  of  his  early  studies,  live  as  if  they  related,  not  to  the  chroni- 

Xand  adds,  with  a  humour  regrettably  cler,  but  to  a  namesake ;  and  there  is 

lacking;  in  most  (rerman  scholars,  but  tio  attempt,   such    as    a    smaller  man 

thoroughly  characteristic  of   Sybel  at  would  surely  have  made,  to  explain  or 

^east,  that  in  the  course  of  another  forty  defend  either  the  deputy's  opposition 

•^iiyears  these  results  "may  he  f-.rtun.ite  or  the  historian's  rhanpfe  of  view, 
'^•nough  to  find  their  way  into  the  school— 4Jn  Sybel  the  man  there  were  clearly 

Ibooks.'*    In  his  treatise  on  primitive  t({ualities  that  inspired  confidence  and 

y    Sybel    tt)ok    issue  won  respect,  quite  apart  from  his  repu- 


tation as  a  writer  of  histories.  It  was 
not  alone  his  reputation  as  a  historian 
which  secured  to  him  the  use,  without 
cou'litii MIS  or  limitations,  of  the  Aus- 
trian archives  and  of  the  documents  in 
the  French  foreigrn  office,  both  jealously 
v^uarded  until  opened  to  him.  His  ad- 
mission to  the  latter  collection  was  ob- 
tained through  the  direct  intervention 
of  Napoleon  III.,  who  further  showed 
his  ajipreciatton  of  Sybel's  discretion 
by  discussing  with  him,  most  frankly 


■(rerman  monarch 
with  Waitz,  who  haci  endowed  the  early 
Teutons  with  alt  the  political  virtues, 
and  maintained  that  until  the  (rermans 
came  under  the  influence  of  the  Roman 
civdization  they  were  practically  bar- 
barians, with  no  substantial  political  or- 
j:^antzatinn  hlj^her  than  the  clan — an 
opinion  which  has  been  abundantly  con- 
firmed by  subsequent  studies  in  early 
(jerman  law.  In  a<ldition  \/i  these  works 
Sybel  piddished,  from  t>nie  to  time,  his- 
torical essays,  of  whicJi  the  most  valuable    ^   ^  .  _^ 

were  collected  bets^een  i  ^o^  aii<l  1869  land  undiplomatically,  the  then  pending 
into  three  volumes  of  KUin€r<  JJisfit-  sLuxeniburg  question  (1867) 
risiAe  ^ihri/ten  (3d  ed.,  1880).  ^  Sybel's    academic    career  .extended 

In  all  his  historical  writings  Sybel  dis-f  from  1841, 
played  a  constant  stri\irig  for  the  im- 
partial and  objective  point  of  view,  and 
a  conscientious  effort  to  present  the 
truth  as  he  saw  it.  Characteristic  of 
the  man  is  a  passai^e  in  the  introd uction 
to  his  Gfrman  Jiinpii  f .  lie  luib  endeav- 
oured, he  savs,  "  to  confess,  without 
palliation,  the  taulls  c(  mmitted  and  the 
mistakes  made  in  our  own  camp  ;  to 
judge  justly  and  fairly  the  conduct  of 
our  ad\  ersaiies  ;  in  otlier  words,  not  to 
derive  the  motives  of  their  actions  from 
foliy  or  wickedness,  but  to  comprehend 
th'^m  as  the  result  of  the  historical  prem- 


when  his  First  Cntsade  ob- 
tained luni  tlie  rt  fiiii  d,urii.!':  ,il  Bonn,  to 
1875,  when  he  was  appointed  director  of 
the  Prussian  State  archives.  He  became 
extraordinary  professor  at  Bonn  in  1844* 
firdinary  professor  at  Marburg  in  r845. 
He  was  called  to  Munich  in  1856,  and 
returned  to  Bonn  (as  Dahlmann's  suc- 
cessor) in  1861.  During  ttie  lirst  years 
of  his  residence  in  Berlin  (1875-76),  he 
lectured  in  the  university,  but  it  does 
not  app<'.ir  tliat  he  bt-c  anie  a  member  of 
the  regular  teaching  stall. 

In  the  middle  of  wis  century,  German 
politics  (except  as  practised  by  the  gov- 


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erning  bureancrary)  were  essentially 
academic  in  tone  and  character,  and  a 
professorship  was  a  natural  avenue  into 
political  life.  In  1848  Sybel  became 
deputy  from  the  University  of  Marburg 
in  the  Diet  of  electoral  Hesse.    In  1852 

he  sat  as  a  Hessian  deputy  in  the  Er- 
furt Parliament.  During  these  stirring 
years,  as  in  his  later  political  life,  he 
was  a  moderate  Liberal  and  a  Klein- 
iieutscher.  In  1862,  after  his  return  to 
Bonn,  he  was  elected  to  the  Prussian 
Diet,  from  which  he  resigned  in  1864  on 
account  of  an  obstinate  affection  of  the 
eyes.  In  1867  he  was  elected  a  member 
of  the  first  or"  constituent**  Parliament 
of  the  North  German  Federation.  In 
1874  he  was  again  elected  to  the  Prus- 
sian Diet,  and  retained  his  seat  through 
two  subsequent  elections.  His  active 
participation  in  political  life  accordingly 
extended,  with  interruptions,  over  a 
period  of  more  than  thirty  years.  Dur> 
ing  these  years  he  naturally  delivered 
many  addresses  and  published  not  a  few 
political  pamphlets.  /A  collection  (f>r* 
ff^dge  und  Aufsdtte)  published  at 

Berlin  in  1874.  (One  address  deserves 
special  mention.  Early  in  the  seven- 
ties, when  the  enthusiasm  and  pride  of 
the  Germans  were  at  their  highest  pitch, 
Sybel  told  his  countrymen,  in  a  speech 
which  was  widely  noted  and  discussed, 
that  in  almost  every  field  except  that  of 
politics  they  had  much  to  learn  from  the 
French. 

Closely  connected  with  his  academic 
aii'l  literary  activity,  but  not  uninflu- 
enced by  his  political  career,  was  liis 
connection  with  State  archives,  first  at 
Munich,  where  he  acted  as  Secretary  to 
the  Royal  Bavarian  Historical  Commis- 
sion from  1859  to  1861,  and  inaugurated 


a  series  of  important  publications,  and 
afterwarcis  at  Berlin,  wiiere  he  lield  the 
position  of  Director  of  the  Prussian 
State  archives  from  1S75  until  his  death. 
Here,  again,  his  impulse  was  felt  in  the 
publication  of  many  valuable  documents 
relating  to  Prussian  anfl  German  his- 
tory.* From  these  archives,  by  royal 
permission,  Sybel  drew  priceless  mate- 
rial for  his  Founding  of  the  German  Em- 
pire. Shortly  after  Bismarck's  retirr- 
ment  from  office,  and  before  the  work 
was  completed,  the  historian  was  for- 
bidden to  make  farther  use  of  the  ar- 
chives. It  is  commonly  believed  that 
William  II.  felt  that  Sybel,  in  his  nar- 
ration of  the  events  prior  to  1867,  had 
not  duly  subordinated  the  person  of  the 
great  Chancellor  to  that  of  his  master 
the  King.  In  fact,  no  more  attractive 
picture  than  that  which  Sybel  gives  of 
William  I.  has  been  drawn  by  any  pro- 
fessed panegyrist-— none  that  brings  out 
more  clearly  the  old  King's  simplicity  of 
nature,  rectitude  of  purpose,  and  invari- 
able good  sense. 

As  a  member  of  the  Berlin  Academy 
of  Sciences,  Sybel  edited  the  Political 
Correspondence  0/  Frederick  the  Great. 
For  many  years  he  acted  as  a  member 
of  tlie  commission  which  supervises  the 

f ubiicatton  of  the  Monumenta  Germanica. 
n  1859  he  established  the  HistcHuhe 
Zi'itsclirift,  of  whicli  he  retained  untH^ 
his  death  the  chief  editorial  control.  > 

Munroe  Smith, 

*  For  a  statement  f)f  the  iharacicr  .unl  vhUk-  c: 
the  work  done  in  the  Prussian  archives  under 
Sybcl's  direction,  see  H.  L  Osgood.  "The  Prus- 
»ian  Archive?,"  PoHHcat  Seiente  QmrUr/y,  Sep- 
tember, 1893. 


A  SONG  OF  THE  ROSY-CROSS. 

He  who  measures  gam  and  loss, 
When  he  gave  to  thee  the  Rose, 

Gave  to  me  alone  the  Cross  ; 

AVliere  the  liloud-red  blossuni  blows 
In  a  wood  cf  dew  and  moss, 

Tlicrc  thy  wandering  pathway  c:oes, 
Mine  where  waters  brood  and  toss  ; 

Yet  one  joy  have  I,  hid  close. 
He  who  measures  gain  and  loss, 

When  he  gave  to  thee  the  Rose^ 
Gave  to  me  alone  the  Cross. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


BOOKS  AND  CULTURE. 
By  the  Author  or  *'  Mv  Study  Firr,"  "  Short  Studies  in  Literature,'*  xtc. 


IX.-FtKSONALrTY. 

*•  It  is  undeniable,"  says  Matthew  Ar- 
nold, *'  that  the  exercise  of  a  creative 
power,  that  a  free  creative  activity  is  the 
higiiest  function  of  man  ;  it  is  proved  to 
be  so  by  man's  Umling  in  it  his  trut-  hap- 
piness."   if  this  be  true,  antl  the  heart 
of  man  apart  from  all  testimony  affirms 
it,  then  tlic  great  books  not  only  embody 
and  express  the  genius  and  vital  knowl- 
edge; of  the  race  which  created  them, 
but  they  are  theproducts  of  the  highest  ac- 
tivity of  man  in  the  finest  moments  of  his 
life.    They  represent  a  high  felicity  no 
less  than  a  noble  gift ;  they  are  the 
memorials  of  a  happiness  which  may 
have  been  brief,  but  which,  while  it  last- 
ed, had  a  touch  of  the  divine  in  it ;  for 
men  are  never  nearer  divinity  than  in 
their  creative  impulses  and  moments. 
Homer  may  have  been  blind,  but  if  he 
composed  the  epics  which  bear  his  name 
he  must  have  known  moments  of  ptirer 
happiness  tlian  his  most  fortunate  con- 
temporary ;   Dante  missed  the  lesser 
comforts  of  life,  but  tli^  re  were  hours  of 
transcendent  joy  in  his  lonely  career. 
For  the  highest  joy  of  which  _nientaste 
is  tKe  fullj_free,  and  noMtr  putting  forth 
of 'the  power  tliat  is  in  them  ;  no  mo- 
ments  in  human  experience  are  so  thrill- 
\  ing  as  tliose  in  which  a  man's  soul  goes 
lout  ironi  him  into  some  adequate  an«l 
'beautiful  turm  of  expression.    In  the 
'act  of  creation  a  man  incorporates  his 
I  own  personality  into  the  Vl^il>l<•  world 
\  about  him,  and  in  a  true  and  noble 
sense  gives  himself  to  his  fellows.  When 
J  an  artist  looks  at  his  work  he  sees  him- 
;  self  ;  he  has  pcriurujed  the  highest  task 
of  which  he  is  capable,  and  fulfilled  the 
highest  purpose  for  which  hewas  planned 
i  by  an  artist  greater  than  himself. 

The  rapture  ot  ihc  creative  mood  and 
moment  is  the  reward  of  the  little  group 
whose  touch  on  any  kind  of  material  is 
imperishable.  It  comes  when  the  spell 
of  inspired  work  is  on  them,  or  in  the 
moment  which  follows  immediately  on 
completion  and  before  the  reaction  of 
depression,  which  is  the  heavy  penalty 
of  the  artistic  temperament,  has  set  in. 


Balzac  knew  it  in  that  frenxy  of  work 
which  seized  him  for  days  together; 

and  Thai  keray  knew  it,  as  he  confesses, 
when  he  had  put  the  finishing  touches 
on  tiiat  striking  scene  in  wlucii  Kawdoa 
Crawley  thrashes  Lord  Steync  wttiiin  an 
inch  of  his  wicked  life.  The  great  nov- 
elist, who  happened  also  to  be  a  great 
writer,  knew  that  the  whole  scene  in 
conception  and  execution  was  a  stroke 
of  genius.  But  while  this  supreme  rup- 
ture belongs  to  a  chosen  few,  it  may  be 
shared  by  all  those  who  are  ready  t«j 
open  the  imagination  to  its  approach. 
It  is  one  of  the  great  rewards  of  the  art- 
ist that  while  other  kinds  of  joy  are  often 
palh<-tica!Iv  sliort-li ved,  his  joy,  having 
brought  forth  enduring  works,  is,  in  a 
sense,  imperishable.  And  it  not  only 
endures  ;  it  renews  itself  in  kindred  m<>- 
ments  and  experiences  which  it  bestows 
upon  those  who  approach  it  sympatheti- 
cally. There  are  lines  in  the  JXrme 
Coiti.-u'v  which  tiirill  us  to-day  as  they 
must  have  thrilled  Dante  ;  there  are 
passages  in  the  Shakspearian  plays  and 
sonnets  whicli  make  a  riot  in  the  blood 
to  day  as  they  doubtless  set  the  poet's 
pulses  beating  three  centuries  ago.  The 
student  of  literature,  therefore,  tlnds  In 
its  noblest  works  not  only  the  ultimate 
results  of  race  experience  and  the  char- 
acteristic quality  of  race  genius,  but  the 
highest  activity  of  the  greatest  minds  in 
their  luippiest  and  most  expansive  mo- 
ments. In  this  commingling  of  the  best 
tfi:  T  i  in  tfu'  r<i(  c  and  the  best  tliat  is  in 
tlic  individual  lies  the  mystery  of  that 
double  revelation  which  makes  every 
work  of  art  a  disclosure  not  only  of  the 
nature  of  the  man  behind  it,  but  of  all 
men  behind  him.  In  this  commingling, 
too,  is  preserved  the  most  precious  de- 
posit of  what  the  race  has  been  ni"l 
done,  and  of  what  the  man  has  seen,  leit, 
and  known.  In  the  nature  of  things  no 
educational  material  can  be  richer  ; 
none  so  fundamentally  expansive  and 
illuminative. 

This  contact  with  the  richest  person-  i 
alties  the  worhl  has  produced  is  one  of  I 
the  deepest  sources  of  culture  ;  fornoth-  1 
ing  is  more  truly  educative  than  asso-  i 


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ciation  with  persons  of  the  hiijlu  st  int«  !- 
ligence  and  power.  When  a  man  rccalU 
his  educational  experience,  he  Snds  that 
many  of  his  richest  opportunities  were 
not  itientiried  witii  subjects  or  systems 
or  apparatus,  but  with  teachers.  There 
is  fundamental  trutli  in  Hmcrsfnt's  der- 
laration  that  it  makes  very  little  ditfer- 
enoe  what  you  study,  but  that  it  is  in 
the  higfhest  dcLCrcc  iniportant  with  whi  >m 
you  study.  There  flows  from  the  living 
teacher  a  power  which  no  text-!)ook  can 
compass  or  contain — the  power  of  lib- 
erating the  imagination  and  setting  the 
student  free  to  become  an  original  in- 
vestigator. Te.Kt-books  supply  meth- 
ods, information,  and  discii'Iinp  ;  tf*ach- 
ers  impart  the  breath  of  lite  by  giving 
tts  inspiration  and  impulse.  Now,  the 
great  liooks  are  di'Tprrnt  fidni  all  other 
books  in  their  possession  of  this  myste- 
rious vital  force  ;  they  are  not  only  text- 
books  by  reason  of  the  knowledge  they 
contain,  but  they  are  also  books  of  life 
by  reason  of  the  disclosure  of  personal* 
ity  which  they  make.  The  student  of 
Fiiuit  rereivfs  from  lluit  drama  not  only 
tlie  poet's  iaicrprclaLion  ot  man's  life  in 
the  worUl,  but  he  is  also  brought  under 
the  spell  of  Goethe's  personality  and,  in 
a  real  sense,  gets  from  his  book  that 
which  his  friends  got  from  the  man. 
This  is  not  true  of  secondary  books  ;  it 
is  true  only  of  first-hand  books.  Sec- 
ondary books  are  often  products  of 
skill,  pieces  of  well-wrought  but  entire- 
ly self-conscious  craftsmanship  ;  first- 
hand books  are  always  the  expression  of 
what  is  deepest,  most  original,  and  dis- 
tinctive in  the  nature  which  produces 
them.  In  such  books,  therctorc,  we  get 
not  only  the  skill,  the  art,  the  knowl- 
edge ;  we  get,  above  all,  the  man. 
There  is  added  to  what  he  has  to  give 
us  of  thought  or  form  the  inestimable 
boon  of  his  companionship. 

The  reality  of  this  element  of  person- 
ality and  the  force  for  culture  which  re- 
sides in  it  are  clearly  illustrated  by  a 
comparison  of  the  works  of  Plato  with 
those  of  Aristotle.  Aristotle  was  for 
many  centuries  the  first  name  in  philoso- 
phy, and  is  still  one  of  tlie  {greatest  ; 
but  Aristotle,  although  a  :>iudent  of  the 
principles  of  the  art  of  literature  and  a 
critic  of  deep  philosT>phic.il  insight,  was 
primarily  a  thinker,  not  an  artist.  One 
ttoes  to  him  for  discipline,  for  thought, 
lor  training  in  a  very  high  sense  ;  one 
does  not  go  to  him  for  form,  beauty,  or 


personality.  It  is  a  clear,  distinct,  logi- 
cal order  of  ideas,  a  definite  system 
which  h  c  gi  ves  us ;  not  a  view  of  life,  a  dis- 
closure  of  the  nature  of  man,  a  synthesis 
of  ideas  touchctl  wiil»  beauty,  dramati- 
cally arranged  and  set  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  .\thenian  life.  For  these  things 
one  goes  to  Plato,  who  is  not  only  a 
thinker,  but  an  artist  of  wonderful  gifts  ; 
one  who  so  closely  and  heautifully  re- 
l.atcs  Greek  thought  to  Greek  life  that  we 
seem  not  to  be  studying  a  system  of  phil- 
osophy, but  mingling  with  the  society  of 
Athens  in  its  most  fascinating  groups 
and  at  its  most  signiticant  moments. 
To  the  student  of  Aristotle  the  person- 
ality of  the  writer  counts  for  nothing  ; 
to  the  student  of  the  DiaJogues^  on  the 
other  band,  the  personality  of  Plato 
counts  for  everything.  If  we  approach 
him  as  a  thinker,  it  is  true,  we  discard 
everything  except  his  ideas ;  but  if  we 
approach  him  as  a  great  writer  ideas  arc 
but  part  of  the  rich  and  illuminating 
whole  which  he  offers  us.  One  can  im- 
agine a  man  fully  acquainting  himself 
with  tlie  work  of  .Aristotle  and  yet  re- 
maining almost  devoid  of  culture  ;  but 
one  cannot  imagine  a  man  coming  into 
intimate  companionship  willi  Plato  and 
remaining  untouched  by  his  rich,  repre- 
sentative personality. 

I'roin  siicli  a  companionship  sonie- 
thing  must  flow  besides  an  enlargement 
of  ideas  or  a  development  of  the  power 
of  clear  thinking  ;  there  must  flow  also 
the  stimulating  and  illuminating  im- 
pulse of  a  fresh  contact  with  a  great  na- 
ture ;  there  must  result  a  certain  libera- 
tion of  the  imagination,  a  certain  widen- 
ing of  experience,  a  certain  ripening  of 
tlie  mind  of  the  student  The  beauty 
of  form,  the  varied  and  vital  aspects  of 
religious,  social,  and  individual  char- 
acter, the  splendour  and  charm  of  a  nobly 
ordered  art  in  temples,  speech,  manners, 
and  dress,  the  constant  suggestion  of 
the  deep  humanism  behind  that  art  and 
of  the  freshness  and  reality  of  all  its 
forms  of  expression— these  things  are  as 
much  and  as  great  a  part  of  the  Dia- 
l^ues  as  the  thought  ;  and  they  are  full 
of  that  quality  which  enric  hes  and  ripens 
the  mind  that  comes  under  their  infiu- 
ence.  In  these  qualities  of  his  style 
quite  as  much  as  in  his  ideas  is  to  b<i 
found  the  real  Plato,  the  great  artist, 
who  refused  to  consider  philosophy  as 
an  abstract  creation  of  the  mind,  exist- 
ing, so  far  as  man  is  concerned,  apart 


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2 10 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


from  the  mind  which  formiil.it*  s  it  ;  but 
who  saw  life  in  its  totality  and  made 
thoujfht  luminous  and  real  by  disclosing 
it  at  all  points  aji^ainst  the  background 
of  the  lift",  the  nalute,  nnd  the  habits  of 
the  thinker.  This  is  the  method  of  cul- 
ture as  distinguished  from  that  of  schol- 
arship ;  and  this  is  also  the  disclosure  of 


the  personality  of  Plato  as  distinguishrd 
from  his  philosophical  genius.  Who- 
ever studies  the  Dialogues  with  his  heart 
as  Well  as  with  his  mind  comes  into  per- 
sonal relations  with  the  richest  mind  of 
antiquity. 

JfamiU0n  iV,  MabU. 


A  NEMESIS  FOR  CRITICS. 


The  dinner  had  reached  its  end — a  re- 
markably good  dinner  it  was,  too.  The 

cat  like  waiter,  after  scttinij  nut  the 
demi-tasses^  had  placed  a  dainty  little 
silver  lamp  between  iis  and  had  disap- 
peared. In  the  Ojiposite  corner  the  sea- 
roal  sent  forth  a  snft  glow  that  ci;leamed 
cheerily  on  the  pictures  hanging  in  ar- 
tistic irregularity  upon  the  dusk)r  wall. 
The  Successful  .Author  srlrctcd  a  long, 
thin  cigar  from  the  bo.x  before  him,  and 
lighting  it  in  the  flame  of  the  lamp, 
leaned  back  in  his  big  leathern  chair 
with  the  benignant  look  of  one  who  has 
dined  well  and  for  whom,  therefore,  Fate 
has  no  ill  in  store. 

I  thought  it  a  propitious  moment  to 
speak  of  the  great  success  of  his  latest 
book,  which  every  one  was  reading.  It 
had  been  toUl  me  that  he  di>like<t  anv 
mention  of  such  things,  but  nevertheless 
I  ventured  to  say  a  word  of  congpnatuU' 
tion.  He  listened  to  me  with  no  sign 
of  impatience. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  very  much  as 
though  he  were  speaking  <»f  another 
man's  affairs — "  yes.  it  has  done  very 
well — wonderfully  well,  i  believe  the 
sale  of  it  has  run  up  to  some  forty  thou- 
sand copies,  anrl  that  it  is  still  selling. 
A  French  translation  came  out  last 
week,  and  some  one  is  going  to  put  it 
into  German.  That  is  really  as  much 
as  one  could  reasonably  ask  fi.r  " 

He  was  so  quiet,  so  imperson.i!  atxut 
it,  that  he  piqued  my  curiosity  I  am 
alwavs  curious  about  the  working  of  au- 
thors" minds,  anyhow. 

"  Anybody  would  suppose  that  it 
<lidn't  interest  you,"  I  said.  "  Doesn't 
a  success  of  that  kind  give  you  a  sort  of 
thrill— 'a  keen  sense  of  pleasure  ?  I 
should  think  it  would." 

Oh,  one  is  pleaserl,  of  course  ;  \^\\\ 
by  the  lime  that  one  is  enough  ul 


old  hand  to  score  successes,  he  has  got 
beyond  the  point  when  he  has  any  par- 

t  ienlar  emotions  from  them.  So  far  as 
my  experience  goes,  the  only  authors 
who  get  any  thrills  out  of  their  worts 
are  the  lucky  people  whose  first  books 
succeed — people  who  leap  into  fame — 
and  there  are  precious  few  of  those. 
Mrs.  Humphry  Ward  and  Rudyard  Kip- 
linij  are  about  the  only  ones  in  OurgeO" 
eration  that  I  can  think  of." 

"And  yourself.  I  remember  well 
enough  the  stir  your  first  book  made." 

"My  first  novel — yes  ;  but  not  my 
first  book.  You  didn't  know  that  I  had 
published  anything  but  novels?  Well, 
that's  a  proof  of  what  T  was  saying, 
that  I'm  not  one  of  the  lucky  ones  who 
score  successes  at  the  start,  and  win 
the  big  prize  in  the  lottery  at  the  first 
drawing.  Dear  me,  one's  first  book ! 
What  a  rare  and  wonderful  thing  to  any 
author  is  his  first  book  !  How  he  works 
over  it,  and  caresses  it,  and  gives  it  a 
million  little  touches,  and  dreams  of  it, 
and  wakes  up  in  the  night  and  pictures 

its  comincf  triumph  !  How  thrilling  are 
the  proof-sheets  when  they  first  come  to 
him  !  When  the  first  complete  copy  of 
it  actually  arrives  he  wants  to  sluujt 
aloud  and  dance  a  war  dance.  He 
has  fledged  out  into  authorship,  and 
he  walks  on  air — he  is  a  god.  And  then 
wlien  he  finds  that  no  one  reads  it,  and 
tliai  e\cn  Ids  next-door  neighbour  has 
never  heard  of  it — then  he  falls  so  far 
dnun  from  his  golden  heights  that  he 
never  quite  climbs  up  to  them  again. 

"  Now  in  my  own  case,  looking  back 
<m  my  first  attempt,  there  was  no  rea- 
son why  it  should  have  made  a  great 
hit.  It  was  not  fiction,  nor  a  book  that 
would  naturally  be  especially  popular, 
yet  1  really  think  it  ought  to  have  ha  l 
some  little  success  in  its  way  ;  and  even  a 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


211 


little  success  would  have  meant  so  mucli 
to  me  then  !  It  was  a  work  of  research, 
and  it  really  embodied  a  very  good  idea. 
You  wmildti't  believe  the  amount  of  la- 
bour and  study  and  thought  that  I  put 
into  it.  But  it  never  sold  well  enough 
to  pay  the  publisher  for  making;  the 
plates.    It  fell  absolutely  flat.  " 

*•  Perhaps  it  was  too  good  for  the 
public,"  I  said,  rather  feebly. 

"  Nothinix  is  too  pjood  for  the  public. 
That  is  a  saying  witii  which  people  who 
fail  try  to  excuse  a  coup  manqiU.  No, 
my  first  book  was  murdered — killed  at 
its  birth  by  a  confounded  reviewer.'* 

This  made  me  smile  internally.  It 
sounded  so  much  like  a  very  young  au- 
thor, and  not  at  all  like  a  literary  vet- 
eran. 

"  But  can  a  single  adverse  review  kill 

a  book  ?"  I  could  not  help  asking. 

"  That  depends.  It  killed  mine.  You 
see,  the  book  was  one  that  contained  a 

good  deal  of  special  knowlodj^e.  It  was 
almost  technical,  and  rather  too  much  so 
for  the  average  reviewer.  Consequently 
the  general  run  of  them  held  off  for  a 
time,  and  the  first  notice  of  it  appeared 
in  the  State.  Now,  as  you  know,  the 
^aU  is  a  very  high-class  weekly  publi- 
cation. Its  reviews  arc  supposed  to  be 
— and  generally  are — from  the  pens  of 
specialists.  Well,  the  writer  who  re- 
viewed my  unfortunate  production  sim- 
ply wrote  a  few  rather  tolerantly  con- 
temptuous lines  about  it  and  passed  it 
by.  All  the  other  reviews  and  map;a- 
zines  took  their  cue  from  this,  not  ha\  ing 
any  special  knowledge  on  liic  subject, 
and  either  passed  over  it  altogether,  or 
else  simply  repeated  the  Sta/r's  opinion 
in  different  language.  The  book  never 
got  a  fair  consideration  at  all." 

"  Oh,  well,"  I  said,  "  I  suppose  every 
one  sutlers  in  that  way  at  some  time  or 
another.  There  isn't  any  help  for  it,  of 
course." 

"  But  why  '  of  course  '  ?  That  raises 
the  whole  question,  doesn't  it,  of  the  re- 
sponsibility of  critics?  I  don't  seethe 
'  of  course  '  at  all.  For  instance,  in  re- 
viewing that  book  of  mine,  what  did  the 
critic  say  ?  Why  he  said  that  the  work 
before  him,  w  hile  happy  in  its  choice  of 
subject,  '  was  not  to  be  considered  seri- 
ously, because  the  writer  had  not  quali- 
fied himself  by  any  preliminary  study 
and  research.'  Now  this  was  just  the 
one  criticism  that  could  kill  the  book, 
because  lack  of  preliminary  study  was 


the  one  fault  that  would  make  the 
whole  thing  worthless." 

*'  Oh,  w^l,  one  can't  quarrel  with  the 
personal  opinion  of  a  reviewer.  Of 
course,  the  opinion  may  be  altogether 
incorrect ;  yet  if  he  holds  it,  what  are 
you  to  do  '  * 

"  Yes,  but  this  was  not  a  question  of 
opinion  at  all,  but  one  of  fact.  If  he 
had  criticised  the  style,  or  objected  to 
the  lotjic  of  the  conclusions,  or  de- 
nounced tile  dangerous  tendency  of  the 
ai^ument — all  this  would  have  been  a 
matter  of  opinion,  and  t!u-ri.-fi»re  unas- 
sailable. But  when  he  said  that  I  had 
made  no  preliminary  study  of  the  sub- 
ject, he  simply  wrote  down  what  was 
demonstrably  untrue.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  1  had  given  the  subject  a  most 
thorough  study.  I  had  read  all  the  lit< 
erature  that  bore  upon  it  {it  was  an  his- 
torical topic),  1  had  even  spent  some 
eighteen  months  in  Betltn  and  Paris 
among  the  original  sources,  and  the 
thing  had  been  constantly  before  my 
mind  for  five  or  six  years.  This  criti- 
cism was,  therefore,  not  only  false,  but 
could  he  proven  so." 

"  Well,  granting  that  it  could,  what 
then  ?" 

"  Why,  simply  this.  By  publishing 
that  hasty  condemnation, and  thus  killing 
the  sale  of  the  book,  my  critic  laid  him- 
self open,  I  hold,  to  legal  prosecution. 
Take  a  parallel  case  outside  the  sphere 
of  literature.  Suppose  I  have  a  coun- 
try house  that  I  want  to  sell.   The  local 

newspaper,  let  us  say,  speaks  of  it  as  a 
house  ol  no  archilccLural  merit,  and  built 
on  the  worst  site  for  getting  a  good  view  ; 
it  makes  fun  of  the  colour  of  the  blinds, 
and  says  that  the  effect  of  the  whole  is 
incongruous  and  absurd.  So  far  I  have 
no  remed\-,  for  those  things  are  matters 
of  opinion.  But  suppose  it  goes  on  to 
say  that  the  drainage  of  the  house  is  de- 
fective, that  the  plumbing  is  unsanitary, 
and  the  neigldjourhood  malarious  — 
those  are  statements  involving  ques- 
tions of  fact,  and  can  be  disproved  ;  and 
as  they  seriously  damap^c  the  value  of 
my  property,  I  can  bring  suit  against  the 
author  of  those  falsehoods  and  recover 
damages.  Now  why  should  it  be  other- 
wise in  literature  '  I  have  a  book  to 
sell,  inlu  wiiicii  I  have  put  valuable  time, 
labour,  and  effort.  It  is  just  as  much 
property  as  a  house  ;  and  if  a  reviewer 
makes  false  statements  calculated  to 
affect  the  value  of  that  property,  why 


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iti 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


should  I  not  equally  recover  damages  ? 
It  he  may  not  steal  my  book,  neither 
may  he  wantonly  impair  its  value.  And 

this  is  just  as  true  of  artistic  and  dramatic 
criticism  as  of  any  other.  A  critic  may 
find  fault  with  the  subject,  or  the  treat- 
ment, or  the  colouring  of  a  picture,  and 
he  ts  wt  II  within  his  rights  ;  but  if  he 
says  it  is  uut  of  drawing,  ihcn  let  him 
be  careful,  for  he  is  making  a  statement 
for  which  he  can  be  brought  to  book. 
And  so  if  he  writes  of  an  actor  that  he 
has  not  got  up  his  lines,  or  of  an  oper- 
atic </'/'///,////'{' that  she  flatted  her  notes, 
he  is  saying  this  at  his  peril  !" 

"  But  how  would  you  propose  to  call 
the  critic  to  account  ?"' 

"Simply  !)y  liaviiii^  anthni-,.  {<,v  in- 
stance, combine  for  their  own  protec- 
tion, and  after  raising  a  sufficiently 
large  fiinr!  for  the  purjtrisc.  appoint  a 
Standing  committee  to  investigate  all 
complaints  made  by  any  writer  against 
reviewers  who  misstate  facts  in  their  pub- 
lished criticisms.  The  committee  should 
sue  every  such  reviewer,  ju.st  as  Feni- 
more  Cooper  sued  his  newspaper  ene- 
mies, and  they  should  follow  it  up  as  he 


did  until  it  dawns  upon  those  geniry- 
that  property  in  a  txxtk  is  just  as  sacred 
as  any  other  property,  and  that  literary 
libel  is  in>t  .is  |)uni>tia!)Ii-  as  any  other 
libel  .\t  tirst  it  would  be  regardt^  as 
a  huge  juke  ;  but  after  a  few  reviewers 
had  been  made  to  pay  a  hundred,  dollars 
or  so  for  the  pleasure  of  slating  an  author 
whose  work  they  have  only  hail  read, 
they  would  begin  to  think  it  rather  an 
expensive  hixiiry.  ant!  would  take  their 
ittt^tier  as  seriously  as  they  ought  to  do." 

The  Successful  Author  chuckted  at 
the  scheme  that  he  had  evolved,  a:i  J 
he  finished  his  (  ii-  <r  stretched  himseif 
luxuriously  as  thouj^li  lie  hugely  relished 
the  prospect  of  a  literary  vendetta.  It 
was  growing;  late,  and  I  had  to  come 
away,  leaving  him  still  laughing  softly 
by  the  fire  ;  but  as  I  walked  down  the 
street,  it  occurred  to  rne  to  write  his  no- 
tions down  to  warn  the  Bludyers  of  the 
press  that  the  time  may  be  near  at  hand 
when  they  will  actually  have  to  know  u 
little  something  about  the  books  who>e 
fortunes  they  so  lightly  undertake  to 
make  or  mar. 

A  . 


A  MARGINAL  NOTE. 

A  poet's  volume  open  in  my  hand, 

I  read  his  words  the  while  the  mighty  sea 

Sang  in  a  drowsy  undertone  to  me 
Diitstret*  h   i  ill  ease  Upon  the  smooth  wliite  sand. 
All  through  tlie  afternoon  across  the  land 

A  soft,  west  wind  brought  hints  of  melody — 

Message  of  bird  and  whispering  of  tree- 
Dropping  them  lightly  down  upon  the  strand. 

Lyiit;.  and  Sonnets — on  .tiul  on  I  read, 

Unto  !))«•  music  ever  listeninir. 
Nor  knowing;  \\hether  sea  or  wcsl  w  ind  said 

In  measured  rliyinc  tlie  memorabie  thing. 
Or  yet  if  'twere  the  poet's  voice  instead  ; 

But  this  I  knew — 'twas  joy  to  hear  them  sing  ! 

Frank  DcmpsUr  SJunnan. 

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A  UTEkAKY  JOURNAL, 


813 


LOxVDON  LETTER 


The  Prospects  of  the  Autumn  PufiLisuiNC  Season. 


The  unpression  prevails  in  ptiblishinfir 

circles  that  the  new  season  is  to  be  a 
^ood  one.  It  is  certain  that  trade  is 
improving,  and  authors  and  publishers 
expect  to  share  in  the  good  things  com- 
ing. Bat,  as  a  rule,  the  new  lists  arc 
less  atlruclive  tlian  ubual,  and  in  some 
cases  they  are  singularly  and  disappoint- 
ingly brief.  This  applies,  for  example, 
to  the  lists  oi  Messrs.  A.  and  C.  Black 
and  Messrs.  Chatto  and  Windus,  not  to 
speak  of  otlier  firms.  Can  it  be  that 
some  publishers  at  least  were  not  pre- 
pared for  the  revival,  and  decided  that 
a  cautious  policy  was  advisable  ?  It  is 
tolerably  certain  that  the  lists  so  far  as 
published  do  not  give  a  complete  idea 
ol  what  we  may  expect,  and  that  there 
are  some  surprises  coining,  I  am  in  a 
position  to  say. 

To  begin  with  fiction,  Dr.  Conan 
Doyle  has  just  issued  his  Slark  Xfunra 
Letters^  which  ran  through  the  pages  of 
the  T^r.  A  new  boolc  by  Dr.  Doyle  is 
no  lonprcr  an  event,  and  it  mav  be 
doubted  whether  he  has  not  consider- 
ably lost  ground  since  the  days  of  his 

Sreat  popularity.  Neither  The  Stark 
funro  Letters  nor  Round  the  Red  Lamp  is 
worthy  of  him,  although  it  is  needless 
to  say  that  both  bear  evident  marks  of 
his  great  ability.  The  notices  of  Thi' 
^tark  Munro  Letters  are  not  unkind,  buL 
tiiere  is  a  general  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment Dr.  Doyle's  medical  knowledge 
does  not  help  him.  To  use  the  secrets 
of  the  doctor  wisely  in  fiction  immense 
refinement  and  tact  are  necessary,  and 
these  are  not  Dr.  Doyle's  strong  points. 
NTdther  does  he  shine  as  theologian  or 
philosopher,  though  in  his  last  book  he 
makes  incursions  into  their  domains. 
It  is,  of  course,  interesting  to  see  what 
a  man  like  Dr.  Doyle  thinks  of  such 
subjee'-,  but  his  best  friends  are  of 
opinion  that  he  is  writing  too  quickly 
and  turning  out  work  too  carelessly. 
His  great  gift  of  story-telling  does  not 
get  fair  play  when  it  fails  to  give  to  the 
work  the  last  labour  and  polish  of  which 
he  is  capable. 

Mr.  Hardy  has  at  last  settled  on  a 
title  for  his  new  book ;  Judt  Oke  Ob- 


scure is  his  final  selection.   Those  who 

have  read  the  story  in  Harper .%  must 
read  it  again  in  volume  form ;  the 
changes  are  considerable  and  structural. 
There  is  a  general  unanimity  amongst 

the  novelists  that  Mr.  Hardy  is  their 
master,  and  a  large  circulation  may  evi- 
dently i>e  e.vpccted  for  liis  latest  book. 
Mr.  Kiplint;  i^ives  us  nt)thing  but  a  sec- 
ond Jungle  Book,    He  was  to  publish  a 
volume  of  ballads,  but  influenced  possio 
l)ly  by  the  \ery  unfavourable  criticisms 
made  on  his  recent  poetical  contribu- 
tions to  the  Palt  Mall  Gazette,  he  has  de- 
cided to  wait  a  year.    Mr.  Kipling  has 
undoubtedly  lost  ground  in  England, 
but  he  docs  not  seem  to  be  writing  too 
much.     Mr.  Andrew  Lang's   tale,  A 
Monk  of   Fife,   is  considered   by  Mr. 
Crockett  to  l>c  aa  admirable  adventure 
Story,  and  likely  to  be  a  great  popu- 
lar success.    Mr.  Crockett  himself  has 
just  issued  The  Men  of  the  Moss-Hags^ 
which  has  been  running  through  Goad 
]V(>r,h  here,  and  promises  to  be  very 
popular.    Mr.  Stanley  Weyman  holds 
his  public.    His  volume  of  short  stories, 
From  the  Memoirs  of  a  Afinist^r  if  France, 
has  reached  at  the  time  of  writing  a 
sale  of  15,000  copies.    Mr.  Hall  Caine 
has  no  book  this  autumn,  but  his  former 
novels  are  being  issued  in  six-shilling 
volumes     wiih     prefaces.     Mr.  Hall 
Caine's  next  story  will  appear,  I  be* 
lieve,  in  the  IVinJsor  Maj^azine  here,  and 
in  Munsefs  Magazine  in  America.  Mr. 
Quiller-Couch  hoped  this  year  to  pub- 
lish  a  complete  novel  of  the  usual  size. 
He  has  been  induced,  however,  to  use 
his  materials  for  a  story  which  will  ap- 
pear in  VuJetide,  Messrs.  Cassell's  Christ- 
mas annual.    He  will  also  issue  another 
collection  of  short  stories,  a  book  of 
criticisms,  and  another  of  fairy  tales. 
Mr.  Anthonv  Hope  has  work  in  hand 
which  is  said  to  be  equal  to  his  best,  but 
Mr.  Hope  writes  so  much  that  not  even 
the  most  dogmatic  bookman  will  affirm 
certainly  what  was  his  last  work.  Mr. 
Barrie  publishes  nothing  this  year,  but 
has,  however,  finished  at  last  his  tale, 
iientimentcd  Tommy^  which  will  commence 
in  Serihiier*s  tor  January.   An  English 


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214 


THE  BOOKMAK 


magazine  has  been  endeavouring  to  se- 
cure the  serial  rights  here,  but  whether 

successfully  or  not  I  cannot  at  present 
say.  SeniimcHtal  TVwMp' deals  with  child 
life,  and  leaves  the  hero  at  the  age  of 
fifteen.  It  will  probably  be  followed 
by  a  sequel.  The  atmosphere  of  Thrums 
is  said  to  breathe  through  it.  Ian  Mac- 
laren's  new  book^  The  Days  of  Auld  Laii^ 
Sytie^  will,  I  vent'.irr  to  pn-flirt,  be  the 
most  popular  book  of  the  season.  It  is  in 
every  respect  equal  to  its  predecessor, 
and  is  sure  to  command  an  immense 
sale.  The  author  has  been  busy  with 
his  new  story,  Kafe  Cartugie^  which  is  to 
appear  in  the  Woman  at  Jfame  during 
1896.  We  has  been  spending  part  of 
his  holi<iay.s  among  the  scenes  (»f  the 
new  tale. 

Altogether  this  may  be  looked  upon 
as  fairly  satisfactory.  I  do  not  see  at 
present  any  sign  of  a  new  writer  capti- 
vating the  public  during  this  year,  but 
one  never  knows.  It  is  seldom  that  two 
years  pass  without  a  new  star  rising. 
The  three- volume  novel  has  been  almost 
stamped  out.  btit  Messrs.  I?cntlry  have 
made  a  bokl  ellort  to  light  llie  libraries. 
I  doubt  whether  they  will  be  successful. 
Mudii-  and  Smith  have  greatly  profited 
by  the  six-shilling  novel,  having  had  a 
much  better  year  since  it  became  the 
vogue.  I  am  told  that  they  refused  to 
subscribe  for  a  single  copy  of  a  recent 
three-volume  novel  by  a  popular  au- 
thoress. The  sale  of  three-volume  nov- 
els to  the  ntitside  piiblic  Is  too  small  to 
make  the  experiment  remunerative. 

Turnini;  to  the  field  of  biog^raphy, 
some  intiTcsting  Ijooks  are  promised. 
By  far  the  most  attractive  should  be  the 
Letters  df  Matthew  Arnatel.  Their  publi- 
cation should  revive  a  name  which  has 
grown  comparatively  dim,  though  it  is 
only  seven  years  since  Arnold  died. 
The  Li/f  e/  .SV>  Andrew  Clarhe^  by  Canon 
MacColl,  sliouhl  contain  some  important 
material,  but  Sir  Andrew  for  all  his 
frankness  was  very  reticent  and  discreet. 
It  will  jirobably  not  appear  for  snmc 
time  yet.  Whether  it  will  throw  full 
lij^ht  on  the  painful  circumstances  of 
Sir  Andrew's  birth  and  childhood  re- 
mains to  be  seen.  Mr.  George  Saints- 
bury 's  History  0/  NitteteerUh^Century  Lit- 
erature will  be  sure  to  be  exceedingly 
good  and  stiggestive.  The  present  wri- 
ter, along  with  Mr.  Thomas  J.  Wise,  the 
eminent  bibliographer,  has  prepared  for 
publication  the  first  volume  of  Literary 


Anecdotes  0/  the  Nineteenth  Century  :  Cc>  - 
irihutioHS  towards  a  JJterary  History  o  f 
the  PerioJ.    It  is  on  the  plan  of  Nichol  s 
well-known  Literary  Anecdotes  0/  the  Ei^k- 
teenth  Century,  and  will,  It  is  hoped,  con- 
tain much  material   useful   to  future 
writers.    While  the  great  figures  of  the 
century  have  not  been  neglected,  special 
attention  has  been  paid  to  writers  of 
whom  no  aderpintc  biography  exists. 
Some  of  the  best  known  of  English  lit- 
erary men  are  giving  their  assistance  in 
the  venture.    We  are  to  }ia\  l-  two  Catho. 
lie  biographies  of  importance,  one  of 
Cardinal  Manning,  by  Mr.  Purcell,  part 
of  which  has  already  appeared  in  the 
Dublin  Re-i'iew.    The  other  is  The  LiU 
of  Cardinal  Wiseman.    This  seems  a  be- 
lated book,  but  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Wil- 
frid Ward  it  is  sure  to  be  nttractiv'- 
Mr.  Heinemann  is  to  publish  a  transla- 
tion of  Renan's  Memoirs.    The  Life  and 
Letters  of  John  Xiih^'I,  l.itc  Professor  of 
English  Literature  in  the  I'niversity  of 
Glasgow,  will  be  edited  by  Professor 
Knight,  of  St.  Andrews,  ant!  J.  Pringle 
Nichol.     In  his  early  days,  Nichol  was 
closely  associated  with  Swinburne,  anti 
they  issued  a  periodical  together,  the 
numbers  of  which  are  now  extremely 
rare.    In  poetry,  by  far  the  most  im- 
portant book  will  be  the  posthumous 
poems  of  Miss  Rossetti.    I  understand 
that  her  brother  has  found  no  fewer 
than  three  hundred,  and  that  in  his 
judgment  they  are  fully  equal  to  the 
best  hitherto  published.    This  is  good 
news,  and  promises  a  substantial  addi- 
tion to  English  literature. 

In  theology,  the  most  popular  book 
will  be  that  of  Professor  George  Adam 
Smith  on  the  minor  prophets,  or,  as  Pro- 
fessor Smith  calls  it,  The  Jiiwl-  of  the 
Twelve  Prophets,  lie  dislikes  the  word 
"  minor."  The  exposition  is  a  work  of 
extraordinary  vivacity,  and  promises  to 
become  as  well  known  as  the  same  au- 
thor's Isaiah.  Another  work  ot  impor- 
tance will  be  Professor  W.  M.  Ramsay's 
St.  Paul  as  a  Traveller  and  Citizen  in  A>lii 
Mitwr.  The  Messrs.  Macmillan  are  is- 
suing a  Bible  for  English  readers.  The 
text  is  to  be  that  of  the  Revised  Ver- 
sion, and  the  volumes  will  be  printed 
like  ordinary  books.  The  editor  is  Pro- 
fessor Moulton.  The  important  Imtet- 
national  Critiial  Commentary  on  the  Old 
and  New  lestament  proceeds,  three  vol- 
umes having  been  already  published. 
More  extracts  from  Professor  Hort's  Icc- 


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215 


tures  are  promised  by  Messrs.  Macmil- 
laiip  but  it  is  doubiful  whether  the  pub' 
Itcation  of  the  posthumous  works  of  the 
Cambridge  scholars  has  not  already- 
been  carried  quite  far  enough.  The 
lists  of  the  Clarendon  Press  and  the 
Cambridge  Press  are  this  year  some- 


what  meagre,  among  the  most  attrac- 
tive .announcement  being  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  Septuagint  from  the  com- 
petent hands  ol  Dr.  H.  B.  Swete. 

London,  September  33, 1895. 


PARIS  LETTER 


That  the  i^en  is  mijExhtier  than  the 
sword  is  a  fact  generally  admitted.  It 
now  appears  that  there  is  something 
mightier  than  the  pen — and  that  is  the 
bicycle.  It  further  appears  that  the 
bicycling  cra/e  accounts  for  the  crise 
At  UvTf,  about  which  book-manufac< 
turers  and  sellers  of  every  kind,  from 
the  binder  to  the  author,  are  so  bitterly 
complaining  in  Paris.  That  this  crisis 
exists  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge, 
and  though  no  doubt  the  bicycling  mania 
lias  mudi  to  answer  for,  there  are  vari- 
ous other  causes  which  are  grievously 
affecting  the  book  trade. 

So  many  ladies  now  bicycle  in  France 
— one  might  better  write,  so  few  ladies 
do  not  now  bicycle  in  France — tliat  those 
who  were  formerly  the  best  customers 
of  the  book-shops  have  now  no  time  for 
readinej.  Some  also  prefer  to  save  tiieir 
money  lor  the  purchase  of  the  newest 
**pneu/'  or  towards  the  expenses  of  a 
tour,  an<l  the  first  expense  tliat  a  woman 
cuts  down  is  that  of  books — at  least,  so 
Parisian  booksellers  say.  The  bicycle 
is  not,  howe\'er,  to  blame  entirely  for 
the  existing  "  slump."  The  authors 
have  themselves  largely  to  thank  for  the 
present  state  of  things,  which  seems  to 
indicate  a  tardy  if  effectual  revolt  aq^ainst 
the  kind  of  wares  which  the  rnanutac:- 
torers  of  literature  have  for  so  many 
years  past  been  forcint^  on  tlu?  reach 
public.  Doubtless  the  introduction  of 
sports,  the  spread  of  the  fashion  of  talc- 
ing abundant  out-of-door  exercise,  and 
the  consequent  general  elevation  ol  tone, 
both  physical  and  moral,  have  disgusted 
both  men  and  women  with  the  morbid 
and  unhealthy  rubbish  which  in  their 
days  of  degeneration  was  their  spiritual 
pabulum.  One  can  emphatically  say 
that  this  is  an  excellent  sijjn. 

Then  again  the  cabinet  de  lecture ^  or 


circulatiiiij  library,  has  been  extendinc;  in 
France,  or  rather,  1  should  say,  it  has  of 
late  been  coming  into  favour  once  more, 
for,  of  course,  the  circulating  library  is  a 
French  invention,  and  was  at  one  time 
as  popular  in  France  as  it  now  is  in  Eng 
land.  But  the  proprietors  of  the  French 
cnh'rtfts  dc  ftiturr  are  by  no  means  men 
of  such  enterprise  as  are  the  proprietors 
of  similar  establishments  in  London. 
At  least,  I  never  heard  of  even  one  dozen 
copies  of  any  new  book  being  ordered 
by  any  Frendi  tttbmet  ii  lecture.  In  Eng- 
land, from  five  hundred  to  one  thousand 
copies  of  a  work  by  a  popular  author  arc 
often  subscribed  for  by  each  of  the  big 
libraries.  The  directeur  of  a  French 
lending  library  would  faint  at  the  bare 
idea  of  such  an  iuveslmcnl. 

Then  there  are  the  newspapers,  which 
in  Franee,  far  more  than  in  Fntjland, 
compete  with  books.  Not  only  do  all 
the  dailies  publish  serial  stories — some 
p.ipers  even  publish  two  or  three  serial 
stories  simultaneously — but  many  of 
them,  such  as  Le  Joumaty  the  Eek»  de 
Paris,  and  the  Gil  Bun;  publish  daily 
from  one  to  three  short  stories  by  the 
best  writers.  Then  there  are  the  liter- 
ary supplements  of  the  daily  papers. 
Most  of  these  are  published  onre  a 
week,  as  the  supplements  of  Ze  Figaro^ 
the  Gil  Bias,  the  Eck^  tie  Paris,  and  the 
Journal,  but  others  are  published  t>i-  or 
tri-weekly,  as  the  supplement  of  La  Lan- 
feme.  These  supplements  supply  litera- 
ture, pure  or  imptirc,  in  abundance,  at  a 
price  against  which  it  is  impossible  for 
the  publisher  of  books  to  compete.  It 
is  true  that  of  late  most  of  the  matter, 
both  literary  and  pictorial,  given  in  these 
supplements,  has  been  of  a  very  un- 
healthy kind — in  the  case  of  the  tri- 
weekly stipplement  of  La  Lanternc  it  has 
been  garbage  pure  and  simple — and  that 


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3l6 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


possibly  Uie  reaction  to  which  I  have  al- 
luded has  made  itself  felt  here  also  ;  but, 

on  the  otht-r  hand,  such  suppletnciits  ;is 
those  issued  weekly  by  the  proprietors 
of  the  Petit  Journal^  the  Itttransigeant, 
and  the  Pftit  Parisien  newspapers,  con- 
tain nothing  but  what  is  pure  and  whole- 
some, and,  no  doubt,  the  competition  of 
these  periodicals  greatly  affects  the  book- 
publisiiers. 

Monsieur  Albert  Cim,  in  a  very  inter- 
esting article  in  the  Encxdop^diquey 
gives  another  reason  for  tin-  cxistinc;^ 
crisis.  He  blames  the  publishers  them- 
selves, who,  he  says,  inundate  the  mar- 
ket with  tln-ir  renin, mts,  of  "  nightin- 
gales," as  the  French  slang  has  it,  and 
mentions  that  one  publishing  house 
alone  emptied  out  on  to  Paris  several 
hundred  thousand  volumes  at  any  price 
they  WouKI  IctLh.  nu-rcly  to  clear  their 
warehouses.  In  England  these  nightin- 
gales n^iially  take  wing  to  tin-  iiutter- 
man  or  the  waste-paper  dealer.  In 
France,  remnants  go  to  special  dealers 
at  prices  whi<  li  enable  these  to  retail  a 
3  franc  50  c.  book  at  forty  or  fifty  cea- 
timeSt  to  the  evident  detriment  of  the  lat- 
est novelty.  I  know  several  gent!enu-n 
in  Paris — and  every  visitor  to  the  French 
capital  must  have  seen  them  at  one  time 
or  another — who  make  a  very  good  liv- 
ing by  hawking  these  nightingales  round 
the  ca/^s.  Who,  seaud,  for  instance, 
on  the  ierrasse  of  the  Caf^  de  la  Paix, 
lias  not  seen  a  venerable  old  man,  witli 
a  long  white  beard,  and  a  great  pile  ot 
books  in  his  arms,  who  shouts  as  he 
offers  these  for  sale,  "  The  ruin  of  the 
publishers!  The  downfall  of  the  au- 
thors !  At  forty  centimes  each.  I  sell 
them  at  forty  centimes  each"?  Many 
of  these  books  are  by  well-known  wri- 
ters, these  particular  works  not  having 
**  caught  on"  for  some  reason  or  other, 

or  havinnjf  liffn  printpfl  in  excess  of  the 
demand  lur  iliem.  The  venerable  old 
gentleman  in  question  Once  told  me,  over 
an  absinthe,  that  on  an  averac:'"  he  earned 
twenty  francs  a  day,  "which,"  he  cyn- 
ically added,  *'  is  more  than  many  of  you 
men  of  letters  earn."  And  he  was  quite 
right. 

£mile  Zola's  Rome  will  not  be  ready 

till  the  spring  of  next  year,  though  it 
will  previously  appear  in  serial  form  in 
Le  Journal.  Zola,  however,  always  ad- 
vises his  friends  in  confidence  not  to 
read  his  stories  in  their  serial  form,  as 
he  always    makes    many  alterations, 


eiTK-ndations,  and  additions  before  they 
appear  in  volumes.    It  is  the  same  with 

Ilall  Cainc,  who  labours  hard  over  his 
proofs  of  the  book,  though  little,  if  at 
all,  over  the  newspaper  proofs. 

Hall  Cainc,  by  the  way,  next  to  Mrs. 
Humphry  Ward,  has  secured  the  record 
prices  for  serial  rii^liis  in  connection 
with  the  book  w  hich  he  is  now  prepar- 
inij;.  For  tlie  ImivxHsIi  serial  rii^his  he 
will  receive  1500,  from  America  he  will 
receive  at  the  rate  of  three  cents  a  word, 
and  fees  from  other  sruirces  will  bring 
the  total  amount  realised  by  the  serial 
rights  of  this  new  novel  up  to  close  upon 
^,y>oo.  This^  is  even  better  than  the 
prices  which  Emile  Zola  commands. 

Albert  Savine  will  publish  a  volume 
this  season  which  will  delight  the  lovers 
of  Stendhal.  It  is  a  new  I'ditinn  of  his 
remarkal)lc  youvcllcs  Jtnliennes^  which 
contain  much  of  his  best  work.  M. 
Paul  Adam  has  written  a  cnrious  pref- 
ace to  this  book,  and  this  should  be  very 
interesting  reading,  as  Adam  is  one  of 
Stendhal's  spiritual  children,  and  his 
style  is  a  very  fair  imitation  of  Heylc's 
style,  one  of  the  best  imitations  of  Uie 
many  which  Stendhal's  successors  have 
attempted.  It  is  not  a  style  which  I 
greatly  admire,  greatly  as  I  admire 
Stendhal ;  its  aridity  being  too  pro- 
nounced, and  the  general  flavour  one  of 
affectation.  Beyle  used  to  i^ay  that  he 
always  wrote  with  the  Code  .Napoleon 
open  before  him,  modelling  his  phrases 
on  those  in  that  curtest  of  codes.  Paul 
Adam,  by  the  way,  who  now  holds  a 
very  enviable  position  in  contemporary 
French  literature,  first  attracted  atten- 
tion to  himself — ^he  was  then  only  twenty 
years  old — with  a  novel,  Chair  Nue  (the 
title  explains  much),  which  landed  iiim 
in  the  Assize  Court.  In  France,  how- 
ever, that  sort  of  advertisement  often 
helps  an  author. 

Another  book  which  M.  Albert  Savine 
will  publish  shortly  is  J.  Rosny's  new 
novel.  One  hopes  that  the  two  brothers  / 
who  write  as  "J.  H.  Rosny"  may  ati 
last  score  a  popular  success.  They  navel 
had  great  literary  success,  but  not  thtl 
other  kind,  and  the^  have  sufiered  mora 
misery  and  hardship  than  any  writersl 
that  I  have  ever  heard  of.  I 

Paul  Bourget  is  in  Scotland  correcting 
the  last  proofs  of  his  new  novel,  L' JdyiMt 
Tragique^  which  will  shortly  be  publisheA 
hv  Lcmerre,  and  is  being  eagerly  lookeMd 
forward  to  by  Bourget  s  special  dunt-mjt 


A  UlERARY  JOURNAL  217 


of  ladies  and  ladies' men.  Another  work 
in  M.  Lcmerre's  list  tor  the  autumn  sea- 
son, which  will  appeal  to  a  larger  pub- 
lic, is  the  Souvenirs  de  Jeunesse  <•/  Impres- 
sion! J'  Jr/o(  that  great  painter,  M.  Jules 
Breton.  The  ladies  will  also  be  catered 
toby  Marcel  Provost's  Lettresde  Fem/nes, 
illustrnffd  by  Gcrhault,  a  new  ediiion, 
and  by  his  new  novel,  /.e  Jardin  Secret. 
These  are  two  works  of  which  I  shall 
watch  the  reception  with  interest,  as  in- 
dicative of  the  extent  of  the  reaction 
i^ainst  the  literature  of  degeneration  to 
wliieli  T  Iiave  alluded. 

The  coming  season  will  also  see  the 
pttblication  of  H.R.H.  the  Due  d'Au- 
male's  great  work,  Vllistoire  des  Printes 
de  ConJ<f,  for  which  some  of  us  wnnld 

gladly  ^ive  all  the  novels  ever  vvriiteu. 
X  an  historical  nat  u  rc— the  last  manifes- 
tations of  the  N'ajx  ilroiiic  rraze — ^are  also 
Marechal  Davout's  Joumai  de  ia  Cam- 
f^ne  d*  Prusse  1806-1807, — which 
should  help  to  sontho  tlie  irritation  of 
the  French  at  recent  manifestations  in 
Germany— and  theZ</Arrf  9/  ike  Duchess 


de  Jirox/ic.  i-ditrd  ]>y  the  Due  d--  Tiroglic. 
All  these  works  will  be  published  by 
Messrs.  Calmann  lAvy,  whose  list  also 
contains  Gounod's  J////wVo-  </'////  Artiste, 
and  a  new  book  by  I*ierre  Loti,  entitled 
La  Galilee.  Lovers  of  Gounod's  music 
will  read  with  interest  his  account  of  the 
t1rst  performance  of  Fau  f.  which  was 
hissed  olT  the  stage  on  that  occasion. 
Massenet,  the  composer,  who  was  play- 
inc^  in  xYvc  orrhi^strn  at  the  time,  has 
often  told  me  of  this  memorable  per* 
fortnance,  and  of  his  great  indignation 
with  the  public.  "  I  wanted  to  jump 
out  into  the  stalls,"  hesaySj  "  andsma»h 
my  trombone  over  their  thick  heads.** 

Jeanniot,  the  artist,  has  illustrated  a 
complete  edition  (A  Patd  Dnroulede's 
Poesies  Mil  it  aires,  wiiich  will  shortly  be 
publislit  d  by  Calmann  L6vy.  Octave 
Feuillet  has  prepared  ;i  s<  c ond  volume 
of  his  Souvenirs  Person  nets.  The  first 
volume  was  a  great  success. 

R^rt  Ji,  SMerard. 
123  BouLKVARD  Magenta,  Paris. 


NEW  BOOKS. 


THE  NOVELS  OF  TWO  JOURNALISTS.* 

The  question  whether  journalism 
hdps  or  hinders  a  writer  to  create  liter* 

ature  has  recently  been  discussed  by  the 
local  press  with  fresh  interest,  and  tlie 
diKussion  is  likely  to  continue  for  a 
longtime,  inasmuch  as  the  controversial- 
ists seek  to  reach  general  conclusions 
where  no  general  conclusion  can  be 
reached.  Meantime,  two  novels  from 
newspaper  men  of  New  York  furnish  a 
contribution  to  the  revival  of  the  sub- 
ject, whether  or  not  they  be  accepted  as 
pr^onf  on  the  one  side  or  the  other.  The 
authors,  Mr.  Stephen  Crane  and  Mr. 
Edward  W.  Townsend,  are  both  en- 
gaged-in  active  j<')urnrdism,  and  in  thr- 
work  vhich  first  distinguishes  them  from 
the  a  my  of  anonymous  writers  there 
a  cr-Ljrce  of  resetnlilance.  Each  in 
liib  iirit  work  of  fiction  deals  with  the 

*  A  Daughter  of  the  Tenements.     By  Edward 
t-  TowAsend.    Illustrated  by  E.  W.  Kemhift. 
York  :  Lovell.  Coiycll  &  Co,  fl.TS- 
The  KVd  Badiic  of  Coofige.    By  Stephen 
Wcw  York:  D.  Appteton  &  Co.  $ixol 


slums,  finding  the  light  of  his  art  in  the 
shadows  of  the  under^world  which  his 
profession  forced  him  to  penetrate. 
Maggie^  a  Girl  0/  t/u  Streets^  Mr.  Crane's 
first  expression  of  the  deep  feeling  of 
life  thus  imbibed  is  among  the  saddest 
books  in  our  language.  Mr.  Townsend, 
writing  from  the  same  standpoint, 
touches  these  terrible  problems  with 

allfviatiti;^  liiimfMir,  thns  inrreasing 
raliicr  than  lc:>bcui:ig  the  conviction  of 
his  sympathy  and  earnestness.  Smiles 
at  "  Chimmie  Fadd(  n's"  extravagances 
serve  to  make  more  acute  tlie  pathos  of 
his  early  life,  as  the  readiest  laughter  lies 
always  i  ll '-est  to  the  quickest  tears.  So 
far  the  literary  careers  of  the  two  journal* 
ists  may  be  said  to  have  run  on  some- 
what parallel  lines  ;  but  in  their  new 
books  they  part  company  widely,  one 
taking  a  different  theme  and  the  other 
a  different  manner.  It  is  a  far  cry  from 
the  field  in  which  Mr.  Crane  first  ap- 
peared to  jyw  Red  Badge  of  Courage^  \\\% 
last  book — so  very  far  indeed  that  he 
seems  to  have  lost  himself  as  well  as 


Digitized  by  GoQgle 


2l8 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


his  reader.  Mr.  Townsend  still  hokls 
to  the  Bowery  as  the  central  scene  of 
his  new  novel,  A  Daughter  of  the  Tern- 
nit'n/s,  but  his  manner  is  essentialiv  dif- 
ferent. It  is  a  serious  work,  wanting 
the  whimsical  fun  that  made  his  first 
l)ook  delightful  and  the  inimit.ible  slang 
that  made  it  unicjue.  Nor  is  it  distinct- 
ively local  as  his  previous  work  was  ; 
the  Battery  is  not  its  boundary,  and 
the  characters  are  not  all  products  of 
Mulberry  liend.  Its  scope  is  as  wide 
as  the  continent,  stretching  from  New 
York  to  San  Francisco,  touch in<:»'  high 
as  well  as  low  life,  and  reaching  from 
one  generation  to  another.  There  is  a 
rush  in  the  movement  of  the  story  i!  i 
sweeps  one  along  almost  compcnsatiHL; 
for  the  lack  of  the  finer  literary  quality, 
which  might  have  made  the  current 
smoother  without  lessening  its  force. 

Having  a  good  strong  story  to  tell, 
Mr.  Townsend  has  told  it  through  some 
three  hundred  pam-s  much  as  ho  wi.uld 
have  set  it  down  with  his  pencil  in  col- 
umns. And,  although  such  writing  can 
scarcely  be  called  literature,  it  lias  a 
value  and  gives,  in  this  case  certain- 
ly, an  impression  of  reality  that  bel- 
ter work  sometimes  fails  to  convey. 
This  effect  is  dillicult  to  define,  but  it  is 
somewliat  like  listening  tu  the  simple 
telling  of  an  actual  human  experience. 
In  the  sympathetic  atmosphere,  tluis  uti- 
consciously  created,  liie  characterisation 
is  also  well  affected  in  some  equally  un« 
accountable  manner,  for  there  is  Utile 
description  and  scarcely  an  attempt  at 
analysis.  The  character  of  Teresa  Llic 
dancer  is  perhaps  most  completely  re- 
alised. The  opening  scene,  in  which 
she  first  appears,  is  also  distinct ;  tlie 
flurry  of  departure  behind  the  scene 
after  the  play  is  ov<-r  ;  the  fall  of  Teresa 
on  the  stairs,  and  her  cry — not  for  her 
own  suffering,  but  for  her  baby.  That 
is  the  keynote  of  the  story  :  themother- 
liive  that  would  slather  the  earth  and 
heavcu  under  tlie  leeL  of  tiie  cliiid,  tliat 

suffers  and  sacrifices  and  slaves  and  sins 

if  need  be.  Th«^  ^YV^  '^^  rare,  but  it  ex- 
ists— a  terrible,  beautilul,  fierce,  divine 
thing.    Teresa  impersonates  it ;  endur-> 

iiiL^  Tier  husband's  cruelty,  though  in- 
different to  him,  for  the  sake  of  tlie 
child  ;  caring  little  for  his  final  deser- 
tinn,  cilice  he  leaves  her  the  child.  This 
is  the  (  harai  ter  which  dominates  tlie 
story,  contrary  assumably  to  the  author's 
intention.   His  heroine,  Teresa's  daugh* 


ter.  never  becomes,  even  after  reachin^f 
womanhood,  more  than  the  vag^uest  lay- 
figure,  useful  to  hang  socialistic  theories 
up''ii.    I'(  lit  iinately  there  area  number 
of  these  to  be  thus  disposed  of.     In  the 
first  chapter,  when  the  dancer  erics  out 
in  terror  U  st  slie  be  robbed  of  her  baby, 
the  Society  which  takes  the  children  of 
the  poor  from  them  by  force  is  l>oIdIy 
attacked.    The  child  is  protected  against 
the  Societv  bv  political  influence,  and 
in  showing  how  so  mighty  a  force  is  in- 
voked to  care  for  such  an  atom  of  obscure 
humanitv  the  author  makes  interesting 
revelation  of  a  certain  element  in  tene- 
ment life  which  the  upper  world  gener- 
ally little  suspects.    This  is  tiie  clos<f. 
controlling  connection  between  politics 
and    the   private  lives,  the   homes  of 
the  masses.    The  force  is  felt  in  other 
parts  f)f  tlie  story,  and  may  be  said  in- 
deed to  pervade  it  as  the  ruling  power 
over  the  destinies  of  most  of  the  charac- 
ters.   This  ward  "Boss,"  whom  the^c 
beniglited  beings  of  tiie  slums  periiaps 
never  sec,  thus  becomes  their  Provi- 
dence.   It  is  he  who  gives  his  Irish  tool 
strength  to  take  the  baby  from  the  p-i- 
lice  and  to  keep  it  till  its  mother  is  well. 
It  is  he  who  gives  his  Italian  tool  such 
business  prosperity  that  the  latter  thinks 
of  settling  in  life  and  taking  Teresa- 
regardless  of  the  runaway  husband— 
for  a  C'immon-law  wife.    It  is  he  v..ho 
through  his  Irish  tool  subsequently  set- 
tles the  vexed  question  of  this  common- 
law  marriage — from  the  Bowery  point 
of   view.      No   question,    however,  is 
vexed  ur  of  ;iay  importance  to  the  danc- 
er except  in  so  far  as  it  touches  the 
welfare  of  the  child,  and  the  conditions 
upon  which  she  consents  to  marry  the 
Italian  all  look  solely  to  that.  These 
terms  as  slie  enumerates  them  lliro'A  an 
appalling  light  on  the  lives  of  the  tene- 
ments. They  must  never,  she  stipulates, 
live  in  less  than  two  rooms,  one  of  which 
must  be  Iier  dauL,diter's  ;  they  must  never 
take  lodgers,  notwithstanding  they  have 
two  rooms.    The  child  must  never  be 
bound  to  a  sweater  ;  she  uTrT*^  go  to 
school  until  she  is  fourteen  ;  a  a^lara 
week  must  be  put  in  the  bank  t<send 
her  to  Italy  to  learn  dancing.  The 
Italian  cries  out  in  amazement,  "«skuig 
if  the  child  be  a  princess  and  hes  a  mil- 
lionaire that  such  unheard-of  de^mands 
are  made.    Rut  a  man  in  love  f  with  a 
pretty  woman  always  consent^  to  the 
unreasonable,  and  the  young  M  mother 


Digujf  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


has  her  way.  Day  and  ni<^!it  the  child 
is  never  allowed  out  ot  lier  sight.  To 
bring  her  up  as  a  lady  is  the  sole  object 
of  the  mother's  existence.  To  reach 
this  aim,  she  lays  hold  of  every  helpful 
influence,  and  there  is  a  pathetic  pic* 
ture  of  her  search  for  a  charity  school 
nrhere  the  child  may  be  taught  by  "  real 
ladies,"  whom  she  can  hope  to  reach 
ta  no  otiier  way,  and  thus  learn  their 
manners.  As  the  girl  learns  she  grows, 
blooming  into  premature  womanhood, 
like  a  Iiarg<:,  dark,  red  rose.  I  hc 
tencher,  realising  the  peril  that  the  t^ii  l'si 
beauty  adds  to  her  situation,  tries  to 
lift  her  above  it,  by  making  her  a  teach- 
erlike  herst;!f.  But  the  mntlier  resists 
with  a  mixture  of  gratitude,  jealousy, 
and  suspicion.  The  girl  is  to  be  a  great 
dancer — what  could  be  greater  tlian 
that  ?  True,  the  way  is  not  quite  clear ; 
the  vision  of  Italy  has  faded  ;  who  can 
save  a  dollar  a  week  in  Mulberry  Bend  ? 
But  tfiere  are  masters  in  New  York,  and 
again,  by  means  ot  the  powerful  politi- 
cal lever,  a  place  is  found  for  the  girl 
in  the  ballet.  It  i^  all  one  to  her 
whether  she  teach,  or  dance,  or  do  noth- 
ing so  long  as  the  Irishman's  handsome 
son  is  near.  Wln-n  she  rtiakes  a  formal 
and  successful  i///fu/,  and  lovers  galore 
appear,  this  innocent  love  affair  assumes 
a  new  and  tragic  aspect.  The  work 
itself,  in  fact,  suddenly  changes  here, 
and  the  simplicity,  which  redeemed  the 
earlier  part  of  the  story,  disappears.  A 
false,  artificial  manner,  running  at  once 
into  sensationalism,  takes  its  place.  All 
the  common  elements  of  the  lurid  melo- 
drama are  forthwith  invoked.  The  vil- 
lain abducts  the  heroine  ;  the  hero  res- 
cues ber  ;  the  mother  attempts  to  assas- 
sinate the  villain  ;  mysterious  papers, 
found  in  the  sole  of  a  Chinaman's  shoe, 
give  the  villain  his  deserts ;  a  great 
f  e  tuiie  I'rom  tlu-  runaway  husband  and 
father  makes  the  final  happy  d/fummgHt, 
A  work  more  unlike  Uie  foregoing 
than  TAg  Red  Badge  of  Courage  it  is 
scarcely  possible  to  imagine.  VVhereas 
Mr.  Townsend's  is  allstor)^-,  Mr.  Crane's 
is  no  story  at  all.  The  latter  may  per- 
haps be  best  described  as  a  study  in 
morbid  jimotions  and  distorted  external 
impressions.  The  short,  sharp  sen- 
fences"  hurled  vvitliont  sequence  t^ive 
one  the  feeling  of  being  pelted  Irom 
different  angles  by  bail — ^hail  that  is 

hot.      The   reader  lon^fs    to   ph  ad  like 

Tony  Lumpkin,  that  the  author  will 


"  not  keep  dinci^in::^  it,  din^ini.;  it  into 
one  so."  The  tew  scattered  bits  of 
description  are  like  stereopticon  views, 
insecurely  ptit  on  the  canvas.  ,\nd 
yet  there  is  on  the  reader's  part  a 
distinct  recognition  of  power — misspent 
perhaps — but  still  power  of  an  unusual 
kind.  As  if  further  to  confuse  his  in- 
tense work,  Mr.  Crane  has  given  it  a 
double  meaning— always  a  dangerous 
and  usually  a  fatal  method  in  literature. 
The  young  soldier,  i»Lurting  out4o  face 
ids  first  trial  by  fire,  may  be  either  an 
individual  or  man  universal  ;  the  !)attle 
may  be  either  the  Rattle  of  the  Wiider- 
nes's~T>r  the  Battle  "of  "Eifcr  There  is 
virtually  l)ut  one  fli^ure,  and  his  sensa- 
tions and  observations  during  the  con- 
flict fill  the  volume  with  thoughts  and 
images  as  unreal  <is  a  feverish  dream. 
The  first  distant  firing  he  stands  with- 
out flinching,  brave  with  the  courage  of 
inexperience.  It  is  as  the  strife  comes 
closer  that  he  feels  a  rising  doubt  of 
his  own  strength.  It  is  when  it  closes 
upon  him  that  the  agony  of  fear  falls. 

"The  youth  perueiveil  th.-i!  the  linic  had  Lfjinc. 
lie  ivas  about  to  be  measure^!.  The  flesh  over 
his  heartfelt  very  thin.  He  was  in  amoving  box. 
There  were  iron  laws  of  tradition  and  law  oo  four 
Bides.  All  he  knew  was  that  if  he  fell  down  those 
coming  behind  would  tread  on  him.  .  .  .  He  had 
not  enlisted  of  his  own  free  will  .  .  .  And  now 
they  were  leading  him  out  to  be  slaogbleied. 
Following  this  came  a  red  rage." 

Sullenly,  desperately  he  forges  to  the 
front,  because  it  is  easier  to  face  the 
foe  than  the  scorn  of  a  cowa:  !  \M 
about  him  men  older,  stronger,  and 
wiser  are  faltering,  failing,  and  falling, 
as  they  always  are  in  the  battle  of  the 
spirit  and  the  flesh,  and  a  sudden,  diviuc 
sympathy  fills  him.  **  He  felt  the 
subtle  battle  brotherhood.  It  was  a  fra- 
ternity born  of  the  smoke  and  the  dan- 
ger of  death."  With  this  recognition 
of  the  universality  of  suffering  comes  a 
certain  calmness  of  endurance. 

"  He  felt  a  quiet  manhood,  non.nwertiye,  but  a 
sturdy  and  strong  blood.  He  knew  that  he  would 

no  more  quail  before  his  guides  wherever  they 
should  point.  He  h.id  been  to  touch  the  great 
death,  and  found  th  it.  after  all.  it  was  bui  ihc 
great  death,  lie  was  a  man.  So  it  came  to  (lass 
that  as  he  trudged  from  the  place  of  blood  and 
wrath  bis  soul  changed.  He  cause  from  hot 
pUn^hsbares  to  prospects  ol  clover  traoquillity, 
•ad  It  was  aa  if  hot  plotighsbares  were  not.  Scars 
faded  to  flower." 

These  extracts  serve  to  show  that 

v.  hate\ .  !  tlir  influence  jfujrnalisni  may 
or  may  not  have  liad  upon  Mr.  Crane's 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


literary  training,  he  does  not  writ*™  like 
a  journalist  wlicn  he  undertakes  iitcta- 
ture.  It  is  in  truih  rather  awful  to  im- 
agine what  an  did  newspaper  ((liior 
would  do  witJi  tiiesc  pages  if  he  wished 
to  give  the  author  a  memorable  lesson 
in  what  not  to  do,  or,  as  Dickens  says  : 
"  how  not  to  do  it."  A  literary  ed- 
itor, on  the  contrary,  would  perhaps 
smile  on  the  same  pages  as  he  never 
would  on  those  ot  Mr.  Townsend's  ;  so 
that  the  wisdom  of  life  in  this  case,  as 
in  all  others,  consists  in  addressing 
one's  message  to  the  mind  that  needs 
it.  As  for  these  two  volumes,  the 
ro  >t  .)f  literature  seems  to  lie  in  Mr. 
("ratir's  :  Init  ihp  rorit  seem«;  to  br  trrri- 
bly  buried,  and  much  in  need  of  being 
assisted  into  sunlight  and  a  natural 
normal  growth. 

^V.  N,  B. 


THE  THIRD  NAPOLEON.* 

The  wave  ot  Napoleonic  reminiscence 
has  at  last  swept  beyond  the  period 
of  the  first  Emperor  and  reached  the* 
reign  of  his  nephew  and  successor. 
From  many  p.-ints  of  view  a  study  of 
Napoleon  III,  is  as  interesting  and 
as  fascinating  to  the  investigator  as 
that  of  the  founder  of  the  family  ;  and 
in  a  way  it  is  more  fruitful,  for  one  can 
now  scarcely  expect  to  turn  up  any  ma- 
terial that  shall  throw  new  light  upon 
the  First  Empire  ;  whereas  the  whole  his- 
tory <if  the  other  is  still  to  !ic  written. 
It  is  curious  to  note  also  how  within  the 
past  year  or  two  the  judgment  of  the  age 
is  beginning  to  modify  the  verdict,  i.r, 
rather,  the  verdicts,  once  passed  upon  tlie 
son  of  Hortense.  We  have  hitherto 
had  two  portraits  always  drawn  of  him 
— the  first  that  which  Kinglake  etched 
with  the  most  biting  acids,  and  the  sec- 
ond that  which  Victor  Hugo  limned. 
Thf?  first  shows  us  a  cold-blooded, 
craily,  cruel  schemer,  the  Napoleon  of 
the  eaup  dUfaty  a  man  who  i^k  .  dily 
sought  power  at  any  cost,  and  wIim  u,lad- 
ly  cemented  his  bastard  Empire  with  the 
blood  of  the  innocent.  The  second  de- 
picts a  mean,  petty  tyrant,  at  otK  <•  f.  (-l>le 
and  fierce,  fali>e,  cringeing,  and  base,  in 
whom  meekness  and  cowardice  were 

*  Life  in  the  Tuileries  und«r  the  Second  Em. 

fun     ru  An- 1  L.  Bickndl.   N«w  York :  The 

Cciiiuiy  Cu.  ^2.25. 

The  Emperor  Napoleon  MI.  By  Pierre  Dc 
Laiio.    New  York  :  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co. 


equally  combined.  At  the  present  time 
both  these  ligurcs  are  being  elimiiiatcrj 
from  the  canvas  of  history-,  and  a  figure 
is  t.ikiny;  its  ]>lace  there  widt  h  is,  we  be- 
lieve, destined  to  stand  to  succeeding 
generations  as  the  real  Napoleon  III. 

Probably  the  general  acceptance  *''f 
this  newer  conception  of  a  strange  and 
pathetic  character  dates  from  the  pub- 
lication of  Zola's  D:'hih-h\  in  whicli  the 
form  of  the  fallen  emperor  appears  and 
reappears  like  that  of  a  mournful  spirit 
brooding  over  the  ruin  of  a  great  crea- 
tion. There  is  nothing  more  touching 
la  history — for  iliat  alleged  novel  i;>  in 
reality  the  most  veracious  history — than 
the  ijlimpses  given  thereof  the  defeated 
and  despairing  monarch,  dragged  hither 
and  thitihier  from  the  scene  of  one  disas> 
ter  U)  another,  \\  ith  painted  face  anf!  with 
the  mockery  ol  his  imperial  trappings 
about  him,  gazing  upon  the  scenes  of  his 
huniili.ition  with  infinite  despair.  The 
picture  touched  the  heart  of  France,  and 
the  old  hatred  has  largely  melted  away 
in  pity. 

M.  1  >e  Lann,  in  the  volume  before  us, 
supplies  nuu  h  v  aluable  material  for  this 
reconstructi' '11  ni  history's  verdict,  and 
Miss  Bicknell,  in  a  work  of  a  very  differ- 
ent character,  but  with  equal  opportuni- 
ties for  knowing  the  truth,  strikingly 
corroborates  the  assertions  that  he 
makes.  Taking  the  two  volumes  to- 
gether, one  gets  a  most  vivid  and  im- 
pressive view  of  Napoleon  himself  .ind 
of  the  strange  court  in  which  he  lived 
and  ruled.  Miss  Bicknell  was  for  nine 
years  nominally  the  governess,  but  in 
reality  the  confidential  friend,  of  the  fam- 
ily of  the  Duchesse  de  Tascher  de  la 
Pagerie,  and  as  such  lived  with  them  in 
the  Ttnleries,  seeing  almost  daily  both 
Napoleon  and  the  Empress  Eugenie. 
Her  book  is  filled  with  anecdote  and  ob> 
servatinn.  and  every  line  bears  out  the 
views  set  forth  by  M.  De  Lano  of  the 
two  imperial  personages.  WesceNapo* 
leon  here  revealed  as  neither  tlic  cruel 
nsnrpcr  of  Mr.  Kinglake  nor  as  the  cou- 
tt  injiiible  **  Badinguet"  of  Hugo  and 
his  faction.  He  stands  forth  rather  as  a 
man  of  most  winning  personal  qualities, 
affectionate,  sensitive,  an  incurable  op- 
timist, and  always  led  through  his  kind- 
ly heart  by  wills  tliat  were  stronger  than 
his  own.  Very  remarkable,  loo,  is  the 
corroboration  given  by  Miss  Bicknell's 
narrative  to  the  study  by  M.  De  I.ano  of 
the  Empress  Eugenie  in  the  other  vol- 


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221 


utne  of  this  series.  We  see  her  here 
drawn  to  the  lilc — cokl-iicarted,  frivo- 
lous, utterly  unaware  of  the  duties  of 
the  sfreat  position  into  which  sin*  had 
been  untortunately  thrown,  and  unable 
to  play  the  part  with  dignity  and  de- 
comm.  We  sec  lier  flitting  about  like  a 
school-girl,  tolerating  the  most  unseem- 
ly follies,  yielding  to  every  whim,  med- 
dl'ntjf  witli  m.ittcr>  of  Statt;,  (iffiMultnij 
the  j^ravcst  prejudices  of  the  French 
people,  and  yielding  herself  at  all  times 
to  the  baleful  influence  of  the  Princess 
Metternich,  who,  like  a  malicious  mon- 
key, took  pleasure  in  making  ihc  woman 
she  secretly  despised  play  the  fool  and 
mnr  the  fortunes  of  an  Empire.  Miss 
Hicknell's  book,  whose  record  is  con- 
tinued to  the  death  of  both  the  Emperor 
and  th'  V  ince  Imperial,  is  sumptuously 
illustrai-id  with  many  reproductions 
from  |)hot>)graphs,  including  portraits 
of  all  the  principal  persons  of  whose 
daily  life  she  writes.  The  two  books  to- 
gether form  a  very  fascinating  contribu> 
tion  to  the  history  of  a  remarkable  and 
melancholy  chapter  in  the  annals  of  the' 
French  nation. 


MEADOW-GRASS.* 

We  open  a  volume  of  New  England 
stories  to-day  far  more  critically  dis- 
posed than  we  should  have  been  ten 
years  ago.  New  England  country  life 
has  been  of  late  very  thoroughly  ex- 
ploited in  literature ;  moreover,  the 
most  distinctive  of  American  authors 
has  made  the  fieM  in  a  peculiar  sense 
her  own.  Miss  Wilkins's  success  is  a 
result  not  only  of  her  general  creative 
power  and  the  instinct  for  beauty  that 
belongs  universally  to  the  artist.  It 
rests  on  the  intimate  relation  between 
her  personality  and  her  subject,  so  that 
she  interprets  sympathetically  the  life 
with  which  she  deals  and  iabliaclivcly 
g(lves  it  that  exquisitely  appropriate  ex- 
pression which  belonjTs  to  the  finality  of 
genius.  Miss  Wilkins's  reticence  of 
manner,  the  pure  and  even  naked  sim- 
plicity of  her  style,  are  the  genius  of 
New  England  life.  Who  else  can  pre- 
sent it  so  vividly  }  We  have  almost  con- 
ferred upon  her  the  right  of  a  monopoly 
to  her  subject. 

In  Miss  Brown's  book  we  have  to  go 

•  Meadow  Grass  :  Tales  of  New  England  Life. 
By  Alice  Broirn.  BoMon:  Co|iel«iid  k  Oaj. 
I1.50. 


no  farther  than  the  somewhat  studied 
introduction,  "  Number  Five,"  with  its 
opulent  vocabulary  and  emotionalism, 
to  miss  the  excellent  plainness  of  speech 
which  Miss  Wilkins  has  wedded  to  the 
New  England  story.  We  lind  much 
that  is  pretty  and  admirable  in  the 
sketch,  but,  prejudiced  by  past  stand- 
ards, we  are  sensitive  to  the  least  trace  of 
affectation.  Again,  passing-  o\  er  "  Fa- 
ther Eli,"  a  quiet  and  modest  sketch,  we 
suspect  in  the  heroine  of  **  After  AH"  a 
note  of  exaggeration.  Lucindy  seems 
artificial  after  Jane  Field  and  the  Sallies 
of  Humble  Romances.  And  in  the  same 
way  Miss  Wadleigh»  by  being  a  little 
too  preposterously  assured,  spoils  the 
oilicrwiijc  admirable  tale  of  which  she  is 
the  central  figure.  Overdoing  the  ex- 
cellent thing — this  is  evidently  Miss 
Brown's  literary  danger. 

Yet  with  a  severer  taste,  the  author 
of  JAv/,/'  u -f7r,7cj  would  probably  have 
inherited  more  of  the  Puritanic  instinct, 
and  we  grow  to  think  it  a  matter  for 
congratulation  that  she  is  not  Puritanic 
to  the  grain.  Even  when  she  seems  to 
choose  for  her  theme  that  old-ttroe  dra- 
matic motive,  the  New  England  con- 
science, and  gives  us  Miss  Dorcas  iden- 
tityinij  herself  with  the  woman  taken  in 
adultery  because  of  her  innocently  idi  al 
attV  ctiun,  or  Elvin  wrestling  awfnliy  w  ith 
the  Spirit  at  Sudleigh  Fair,  we  fancy 
that  the  author's  avowed  motive  is  not 
her  real  inspiration.  Miss  Dorcas  steal- 
ing out  to  the  garden  where  the  night  is 
"blossoming,  glowing  now,  abundant,'* 
that  slie  may  breathe  the  air  of  her  ()wn 
Strangely  full  joy,  is  a  more  vivid  pic- 
ture than  Miss  Dorcas  on  the  knees  of 
self  mortification  ;  and  the  Bohemian 
Dilly,  with  her  love  for  the  summer 
holiday  and  the  *'  live  crceturs,"  is  the 
real  excuse  for  Sudleiph  Fair. 

Miss  Brown  has  indeed  embodied  most 
perfectly  in  Diliy  her  own  lyric  joy 
m  country  life,  the  note  that  perhaps 
most  distinguishes  lier  from  other  wri- 
ters in  the  feminine  school  of  New  Eng- 
land story-tellers.  Such  a  note  in  Miss 
Wilkins  is  qnile  sub- irdinated  tn  herrii:;'- 
idly  dramatic  intentions  ;  in  Miss  jeweit 
it  sometimes  rises  to  bean  end  in  itself ; 
but  in  Miss  Brown  it  is  a  constant  char- 
acteristic and  is  of  a  piece  with  her  gen- 
eral capacity  for  enjoyment.  In  Meadau'- 
Grass  there  are  several  stories  based  on 
the  ]iatiictic  meacfrencss,  the  pathetic 
patience  of  the  New  England  character 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


— "  Father  Eli's  Vacation"  and  "  Gold 
in  the  Poor  Hmisr"  amoncf  them — but 
these,  subtly  true  in  uiotive  itiuugh  they 
be,  liavc  a  familiar  literary  aspect. 
Miss  Brown's  own  story  is  "  Hearts- 
ease," a  record  o£  an  oUl  lady  who, 
relegated  to  the  kindly  but  irksome 
supervision  due  to  Irt  years,  n  a^st^rts 
her  growth  in  one  uiglit  of  freedom. 

"  She  washed  and  rinsed  ihc  L.arnii-ni  =  ,  and, 
opening  a  clothes-horse,  spread  tin  ni  mu  to  dry. 
Tlien  she  lircw  a  luui;  breath,  put  mu  h<T  landle, 
and  wandered  to  the  door.  The  garden  lay  be- 
fore her,  unreal  in  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight. 
Erery  bush  seemed  an  enchanted  wood.  The  old 
lady  went  forth,  lingrering  at  (ir^t.  as  one  too  rich 

for  choosing  ;  then  ^vull  .i  firmer  step.  She  closed 
the  little  gate  and  walked  out  iitlo  the  country 
road.  She  hurried  along  to  the  old  sign  board 
and  iiirrH-(t  aside  unerringly  into  a  hollow  there, 
where-  siic  sluoped  and  filled  her  hands  with  tansy, 
puliing  it  op  in  great  bunches  and  pressing  it 
eagerly  to  her  face." 

**  Heartsease"  is  one  of  the  most  nearly 

f erfect  of  all  the  stoines  in  the  book, 
t  has  Miss  Brown's  distinctively  lyric 
quality,  but  it  is  also  simply  true  and 
quiet  in  manner.  It  shows  the  author, 
whose  work  is  frequently  unequal,  at  her 
best. 

"  Joint  Owners  in  Spain"  is  another 
story  that  might  divide  our  allegiance. 
"  Naru  y  Boyd's  I>ast  Sermon,"  with  its 
original  and  astute  reading  of  human 
passion,  we  rule  out,  because  it  is  not 
equal  to  many  of  the  stories  in  work- 
manship, but  the  former  is  executed 
with  finished  assurance ;  the  narrative 
is  unswer\  iniLC  to  its  end,  and  it  presents 
us  to  two  of  the  most  delightfully  humor- 
ous persons  in  New  England  fiction. 
Miss  Blair,  who  "  being  '  high  sperited,* 
like  all  the  Coxes,  from  whom  she 
sprung,  had  now  so  tyrannised  over  the 
last  of  her  series  of  room-mates,  so 
browbeaten  and  intimidated  her.  that 
the  latter  had  actually  taken  to  her  bed 
with  a  slow  fever  of  discouragement 
and  Miss  Dyer,  *'  a  thin,  colourless  wom- 
an and  inlinitely  passive  save  at  those 
times  when  her  nervous  system  conflict- 
ed with  the  general  scheme  of  the  uni- 
verse." These  two  in  conjunction — and 
we  have  a  story  !  Indeed,  if  there  is  any 
quality  in  Meadow-Grass  more  grateful 
than  the  author's  keen  enjoyment  of  the 
life  of  beauty,  it  is  her  humour,  racy 
and  unflagging.  It  overflows  in  the 
speech  of  her  characters,  so  that  they  are 
at  times  almost  too  good  for  real  life, 
and  it  fashions  her  keen  observation  and 


her  descriptions.  "  There's  a  gocni  deal 
o'  pnstur'  in  some  places,"  says  Eh. 
"that  ain't  fit  for  nothin'  but  lo  hof^ 
the  world  together."  Miss  Wilkins  s 
inarticulate  souls  are  hardly  more  deli- 
cious than  these. 

Whither  has  comparative  critirfsm  led 
us?    To  the  usual  position  of  rxclaim- 
ing,  like  Captain  Brown   when  Miss 
Jenkyns  measured  Pickwuk  by  Rassdms  z 
"  It  is  quite  a  difTerent  thing,  my  dear 
madame."    Q"«lit'<'s  in  common  with 
the  best  of  New  England  story-tellers 
belong  to  Miss  Brown.    The  feminine 
dclicacv  of  perception  and    purity  of 
motive  arc  hers.    But  in  the  end  it  Is 
for  her  individual  quality  that  we  wel- 
come her.    Zest  and  poetic  exuberance 
are  certainly  not  new  to  story-telling ; 
but  their  particular  application  to  New 
England  life  is  not  frequent.    We  are 
glad  to  be  reminded  that  there  are  stray 
Bohemians  in  New  England  ;  that  even 
among  the  lonely  old   women  there 
are  feminine  Thoreaus.    If  Miss  Brown 
were  the  typical  New  Englander,  ber 
work  might  be  more  inevitable,  but  it 
would    lose   its    peculiar   charm.  Wc 
should  go  on  forgetting  that  the  life 
which  has  been  chiedy  known  in  litem- 
ture  for  the  tragedy  and  humour  of  it* 
limitations  has  also  its  genial  side. 

EJifA  Baker  Brawn. 


MISS  GRACE  OF  ALL  SOULS.* 

Miss  Grace  of  All  Souls  comes  to 
.Vmerican  readers  with  the  interest  at- 
taching to  an  unknown  writer.  The 
author  is  well  known  in  England  as  a 
member  of  the  notable  Liverpool  gfroup. 
which  includes  Hall  Caine,  William 
Watson,  and   Richard  Le  GaIU«Ane, 

but  it  is  tlirough  liis  latest  novel  that 
we  make  his  acquaintance. 

This  work  comes  to  us  informed  with 
the  newest  development  of  economic, 

political,  and  socialistic  questions.  It 
gives  unusually  eloquent  expression  of 
that  spirit  of  revolt  which,  like  some 
liery  acid,  is  e.itinij^  its  way  into  every 
part  of  the  social  fabric.  Portentous 
as  the  feeling  which  convulsed  France 
on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution,  this  grow- 
ing discontent,  this  open  resistance  to 
established  order,  is  rapidly  spreading 

•  Miss  Grace  of  AH  Soals.  By  Witliain  Ed- 
wards Tirebuck.   New  York :  Oodd,  Mead  &  Co. 


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333 


throughout  all  civilisations  both  old  and 
new,  if  the  signs  of  the  times,  both  in 
literature  and  out  of  it.  have  any  mean- 
ing. The  special  point  ot  attack,  iii  the 
case  of  this  book,  is  one  of  the  strong- 
liolds  of  hardship,  of  wmnt^  and  of  suf- 
fering— the  life  of  Uie  great  coal  field 
honejcombtnif  the  north  of  England. 
Here  lies  t!ie  dark  backi^round  of  the 
terrible  picture  ,  among  these  vast  col- 
lieries, wherein  thousands  of  human 
betngrs  spend  their  lives  in  subterranean 
darkness,  toiling  blindly  like  ants  in  a 
hill,  while  a  fortunate  few — to  whom 
these  toilers  are  scarcely  more  individual 
than  ants — ^bask  in  the  sunlij^ht  above. 

Thus  the  author  has  chosen  as  the 
theme  of  his  powerful  work  the  one  con- 
dition of  life  that  does  more  than  any 
other,  perhaps,  to  brutalise  humanity. 
The  characters  which  he  has  selected  as 
the  media  fi>r  realisine:  Ins  idr.is  In  tliis 
field  are  drawn  from  the  different  social 
grades  to  be  found  there.  These  char- 
acters are  the  vicar  of  the  parish  and 
his  daui^hter,  the  heroine  of  the  story, 
who  givct>  the  title  to  the  book  ;  the 
mine  owner  and  his  son,  who  is  in  love 
with  the  vicar's  daughter  :  a  collier 
family,  which  is  cum  posed  ot  an  aged 
grandfather,  of  the  collier  himself,  his 
wife,  his  son.  and  his  daut.,diter — the  son 
being  another  lover  of  the  titular  hero- 
ine— together  with  a  number  of  acces- 
sor V  characters  from  the  niiniiig  class. 

The  vicar  is  of  the  type  of  clergyman 
who  fills  his  sacred  omce  as  if  it  were 
some  secular  profession,  and  desires  no 
change  in  the  established  order  of  things. 
His  daughter  has  a  heart  and  a  con- 
science, and  they  are  heavily  weighted 
by  the  sufferinij;  about  her,  which  she 
labours  to  relieve.  The  owner  of  tlie 
mine,  a  rich  ex-member  of  Parliament, 
tolerates  (irace's  arg^timents  anrl  strug- 
gles as  the  harmless  sentimentality  of  a 
pretty  girl,  whom  he  would  be  pleased 
to  have  his  son  marry  ;  but  he  steadily 
opposes  all  innovation,  wishing  pre- 
vailing conditions  to  continue  unal- 
tered-'^xcept  to  make  them  more  grind- 
intj.  His  son  and  successor  in  Parlia- 
ment is  in  perfect  accord  with  him  upon 
this  point,  apart  from  being  influenced 
i>y  tlie  vicar's  daughter.  An<!  finally 
the  family  of  colliers,  who  are  most 
conspicuous  figures  and  who  exhibit  in 
tlieir  three  j^cncrations  the  type  of  un- 
murmuring acceptance  in  the  first,  of 
Mind  resistance  iti  the  second,  and 


of  intelligent  revolt  in  the  third. 
Amid  these  tumultuous  and  warring 
elements  moves  the  cfirl  who  is  the  cen- 
tral spirit  un  her  divine  mission  of  rec- 
onciliation, of  betterment,  and  of  love. 
nrapjdiii'^  !>ravely  with  the  appalling 
problems  of  poverty  and  pain  in  the 
humble  lives  that  touch  her  own  life  on 
every  side,  Grace  strives  to  arouse  lier 
father  to  a  sense  of  his  responsibility 
and,  most  of  all,  to  his  opportunity  for 
amelioration.  Failing  in  this,  and  cast 
wholly  upon  her  own  resources,  she  does 
what  she  can  alone,  and  in  the  course  of 
her  ministrations  is  brought  into  contact 
with  the  old  collier's  grandson.  She 
sees  that  he  has  the  power  of  leadership 
among  his  own  class,  and  herself  learns 
to  lean  upon  his  strength  and  to  defer 
to  his  better  judgment  and  knowledge 
of  the  wrongs,  and  the  needs,  and  the 
difficulties  tliat  surround  them.  Out  of 
this  soil  of  intelligent  sympathy  springs 
up  the  love  between  them,  around  which 
the  romantic  interest  of  the  story  re- 
volves, complicated  by  the  presence  of 
the  other  lover,  the  son  of  the  master. 

The  deep  human  concern  of  the  tale  ex- 
tends, however,  to  tlie  other  characters  ; 
and,  upon  the  vvliole,  the  novel  may 
be  said  to  belong  to  that  rare  class 
in  which  a  fine  balance  is  maintained 
between  the  discussion  of  a  great  eco- 
nomic problem  and  interest  in  the  char, 
acters  as  simply  human  bcinirs,  If  the 
balance  inclines  in  either  direction,  it  is 
towards  the  author*s  remarkable  power 
of  characterisation.  The  brightest  ex- 
ample of  this  is,  perhaps,  the  collier's 
wife — an  eager,  industrious,  brave,  witty, 
tluttering  little  bird  of  a  woman— whose 
beautifid  spirit  hrinj^s  sweetness  and 
light  into  Llie  gluoiu  ;  whose  staunch 
conservatism  withstands  the  strain  of 
lier  lovinu^  loyalty  to  her  radical  hus- 
band and  to  her  democratic  son  ;  whose 
tenderness  to  the  orphans,  poorer  even 
than  herself,  luminously  illustrates — 
what  the  rich  are  never  enough  rebuked 
by  and  must  forever  stand  apart  from — 
the  helpful  generosity  of  the  poor  to 
each  other.  Another  stibtle  instance  of 
this  distinctive  portrayal  of  personality 
lies  in  the  fine  contrast  between  the  gen- 
tle, alert  little  mother  and  her  large, 
strenuous  daughter  ;  the  two  represent- 
ing the  old  and  the  new  of  their  class 
and  sex.  This  girl,  workinij  in  the  pit's 
mouth,  makes  a  lit  mate  for  her  miner 
lover,  who  stands  undaunted  in  the  foul 


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224 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


darkness  of  the  flooded  mine,  while  the 
water  creeps  from  his  chin  to  his  lips. 
Even  their  love-making  partakes  of  the 
sternness  of  their  hard  lives  ;  and  the 
description  of  it  constitutes  some  of  the 
freshest  and  finest  work  of  the  book. 
At  this  point  should  be  noted  still  an- 
other distinguishing  characteristic  of  the 
story — its  freedom  fn)m  the  slightest 
taint  of  impurity.  Nowhere  is  there  the 
trail  of  the  serpent  that  marks  most  of 
this  recent  revolutionary  literature  ;  and 
the  fact  is  all  the  more  conspicuous  for 
the  reason  that  the  theme,  stirring  the 
very  dregs  of  humanity,  would  seem  to 
necessitate  a  reference  at  least  to  certain 
attendant  phases  of  moral  degradation, 
if  not  the  representation  of  them. 

The  artistic  reserve,  the  judicial  mod- 
eration with  which  the  author  handles 
his  dangerous  and  difficult  subject  gives 
strength  and  dignity  to  his  work.  In 
this  respect  it  is  a  lesson  to  be  heeded  in 
view  of  the  trivial  and  overcharged  treat- 
ment of  grave  affairs  which  is  one  of  the 


vices  of  contemporary  fiction.  And  yet, 
fascinating  as  the  book  is,  the  end  leaves 
a  vague  feeling  of  disappointment.  This 
does  not  arise  ifrom  the  author's  leaving 
the  intolerable  economic  situation  aii  he 
finds  it.  That  is  necessarily  the  case, 
since  the  prevailing  conditions  continue 
unchanged.  It  comes,  perhaps,  from  the 
unconscious  perception  that,  after  all,  tlie 
flower  of  such  a  work  of  art  is  in  its 
ending  as  a  tale  of  human  love  ;  and  in 
this  case  the  union  of  the  lovers  in  a 
union  of  natures  is  so  inherently  aj>an 
that  the  conclusion  does  not  blossom  out 
into  one  of  those  priceless  flowers  of  the 
mind  which  we  care  to  pluck  for  their 
lasting  sweetness. 

A'<///<  i'  Huston  Banki, 


THE  Edition  de  luxe  of  "auld 

LIGHT  IDYLLS."* 

To  this  beautiful  book,  uniform  with 
/Jition  de  luxe  oi  A  U'inJ(r!c>  in  Thrums, 
Mr.  Hole  has  contributed  a  delightful 
series  of  etchings.  The  technique  of  all 
of  them  is  excellent  ;  their  interpreta- 
tion of  Mr.  liarrie  is  shrewd  and  indi- 
vidual. If  any  qualifying  criticism  were 
permissible  on  such  excellent  work,  it 
would  be  on  the  ground  that  he  has  per- 
haps  emphasised  a  trifle  overmuch  the 
grotesque  element  in  a  few  of  the  char- 
acters of  Thrums.  Mr.  Hole  can  pro- 
duce the  effects  of  light  in  his  etchings 
in  a  marvellous  way,  and  "  Saturday 
Night  in  the  Square,"  with  its  flare  of 
oil  lamps  on  the  vans  and  the  faces  of 
the  people,  is  a  masterpiece.  We  are 
glad  to  be  able  to  give  two  reproduc- 
tions of  the  portraits  of  the  Rev.  Gavin 
Dishart  (not  the  "  Little  Minister")  and 
of  Lizzie  Harrison,  the  postmistress, 
who,  it  was  jaloused,  "steamed"  the  let- 
ters and  confided  their  titbits  to  the  fa- 
voured friends  of  her  own  sex. 


ESSAYS  IN  CRITICISM.! 

There  is  something  stimulating  in  the 
retrospect  which  a  certain  coign  of  van- 
tage gives  a  writer  at  certain  periods, 
when  lie  can  look  back,  as  at  the  present 

♦  Auld  Licht  Idylls.  By  J.  M.  Barrie.  With 
cigfitecn  etchiiiRS  by  W.  Ilolc,  R.S.A.  New 
York:  Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.    ft 5.00  net. 

t  The  Greater  \'ictorian  Poets.  By  Hugh  Walk- 
er, M.A.    New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  $2.50. 

Literan,'  Types.  Being  Essays  in  Critirism. 
By  K.  Beresford  Chancellor,  M.A.  (Oxon.) 
New  York  :  Macmillan     Co.  $1.50. 


'  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


2^5 


time,  over  a  century  or  a  longrcijjn,  and 
review  the  literary,  social,  political,  sci- 
entific, or  artistic  movements  that  have 
distinguished  them.  It  gives  him  an 
opportunity  for  comparative  study,  for 
fine  historical  perspectives,  for  marking 
epochs  and  types  and  singling  out  the 
greater  from  the  lesser  lights.  In  the 
two  books  before  us  the  latter  method 
has  prevailed.  Professor  Walker  has  al- 
ready attained  to  considerable  repute 
as  the  author  of  Three  Centuries  of  Scot- 
tish Literature^  so  that  he  comes  to  us 
not  without  commendation.  He  ap- 
proaches his  subject  with  fine  feeling 
and  sound  literary  judgment.  He  faces 
the  difficulty  which  others  have  felt  in 
defining  precisely  the  period  of  literji- 
ture  which  he  elects  for  treatment,  and 
substantially  follows  their  lead  in  clos- 
ing the  former  period  with  the  death  of 
Byron  and  taking  up  the  present  with 
the  young  Tennyson,  who  felt  that  when 
Byron  passed  away  "  the  whole  world 
was  at  an  end,"  and  stole  away  to  carve 
in  secret  the  words  "  Byron  is  dead." 
Tennyson,  Browning,  and  Matthew  Ar- 
nold he  takes  to  be  the  greatest  anil  best 
representatives  of  Victorian  poetry.  He 
breaks  ground  with  an  introductory 
chapter,  and  then  proceeds  to  estimate 
the  work  of  these  poets  in  chronological 
sequence,  holding  that  the  best  possible 
comparison  and  the  most  instructive 
process  of  study  is  between  a  man  in  his 
youth  and  the  same  man  in  his  maturity 
or  in  old  age.  As  a  dictum.  Professor 
Walker  applies  Matthew  Arnold's  test 
to  these  poets  :  true  poetry,  in  his  con- 
ception of  it,  being  a  criticism  of  life. 
The  influences  that  the  politics,  science, 
philosophy,  and  religion  of  their  day 
have  had  upon  these  poets  is  fully  con- 
sidered, and  taking  Milton  for  a  type  of 
one  who  illustrates  almost  to  perfection 
the  ideal  relation  of  a  great  man  to  his 
own  time,  he  proceeds  to  study  the  three 
great  Victorian  poets  in  their  relation  to 
the  spirit  of  their  time  and  to  the  whole 
of  life.  The  project  is  a  noble  one,  and 
is  nobly  conceived  and  carried  out.  By 
this  method  results  are  gained  which  are 
perhaps  unattainable  otherwise.  The 
study  of  a  great  life  in  the  light  of  all 
life,  if  lucidly  and  ably  handled,  as  it  is 
here,  must,  so  far  as  we  have  under- 
standing to  grasp  it,  reveal  its  secret  to 
us. 

Literary  Types  is  set  to  a  lower  key 
than  Professor  Walker's  book.    It  has 


been  given  to  the  author  of  this  little 
book  of  biographical  essays  to  see  in 
certain  of  the  great  authors  under  scru- 
tiny a  typical  and  individual  focus,  as  it 
were,  of  a  particular  phase  in  literary 
history.  Landor,  for  instance,  is  termed 
a  "  dramatist,"  not  because  he  wrote 
one  or  two  plays,  but  because  all  the 
literary  work  he  did  was  essentially  dra- 
matic in  intention  and  execution.  And 
so  De  Ouincey  is  a  type  of  the  "  man  of 
letters  ;"  and  "  essayist,"  "  philoso- 
pher," "  novelist,"  and  "  poet"  are  ap- 
plied after  the  same  manner  to  Laml), 
Carlyle,  Dickens,  and  Coleridge. 
Whether  we  may  agree  with  his  meth- 
od of  rigid  classification  or  not — and 
there  is  much  to  be  said  for  as  well  as 
against  it — he  has  certainly  revived  for 
us  the  human  interest  of  the  life  of 
these  authors,  and  has  written  of  them 
and  their  works  in  a  way  to  stimulate 
fresh  study  and  to  evoke  greater  admira- 
tion. He  is  no  "  hasty  obser\'er  or  cold 
chronologist,"  he  has  a  special  fondness 


'  Google 


2i6 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


for  his  subjecis  ;  yet  lor  one  wiiu  is  so 
warm  in  his  literary  affections,  he  is  not 
iind'ilv  partial,  an'I  his  criticism  at  times 
is  decidedly  lielplul  as  well  as  whole- 
some. We  are  amused  at  the  epithets 
which  he  applies  to  some  of  his  "  types." 
De  Quincey  "  may  not  inaptly  be  termed 
the  will-o'-the-wisp  of  literature  ;"  again 
he  is  styled  iin  "i!h  Mendelssohn  of 
letters  ;"  Ch.nlrs  Lamb  is  *'  in  a  way 
the  Sdiuinann  ul  liicraiure  ;"  Carlyle  is 
*' thi'  (  irricault  of  literature  Macau- 
lav,  its  '■Davii!;"  and  hikIit  certain 
modihcations  ot  character  like  unto 
the  great  seer  of  Judah,  Carlyle,  he 
says  in  annth<^r  place,  "  might  have 
been  regarded  as  the  Jeremiah  of  the 
nineteenth  century."  His  "note"  on 
the  pat!ii)>  of  Dickens,  u  c  f<  ar,  will 
do  no  more  tlian  raise  a  smile  on  the  face 
of  those  who  read  it.  To  defend  Dick- 
ens at  this  day  against  the  charge  of  sen- 
timentality and  maudlin  tears  in  some 
of  his  scenes  is  a  briefless  case.  But 
what  he  has  to  say  under  the  same  head 
on  the  emotional  in  literature  and  ilu' 
lack  of  this  liner  quality  in  the  books  ut 
the  hour  is  sound  criticism,  and  we  ap- 
preciate its  vigorous  stali  mrnt  :  but 
that  is  a  very  different  thing.  Literary 
Ty^s  is  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  library, 
nwt  only  because  of  its  dominant  idea 
and  the  new  life  to  be  gained  from  its 
novel  point  of  view,  but  because  these 
essays  make  admirable  introductory 
studies  to  the  worlcsof  the  writers  there- 
in portrayed. 

  J.M, 

THE  DELECTABLE  DUCHY.* 

The  D.kciah'r  Du.hy  appeared  at  tlie 
close  ot  ii>93,  but  it  lias  never  received  the 
attention  which  it  merits.  Few  books 
are  published  nowadays  which  give  so 
much  pure  and  lasting  pleasure,  and  we 
are  in  hope  that  this  cheap  reprint  will 
stiiniilatf  an  interest  well  deserved.  It 
is  like  a  St.  Martin's  summer,  with  soft 
sunshine  and  lingering  hours  of  bright- 
ness. As  we  read  it,  th'-  sweetness  of 
spring  breathes  across  the  lu  art  of  win- 
ter, and  we  see  the  flowers  already  open- 
ing. No  writer  of  our  time  has  brought 
the  short  story  to  surh  prrftM  Lion  as 
'*  Q/'  and  in  this  book  we  see  hira  at 
his  best.   This  is  not  a  volume  to  be 

*  The  Delectable  Ducbv.  Storiet,  Studies,  and 
Stretches  By'*!)"  (A.  T.  Quiller-Couch).  New 
York :  Macmillan  &  Cu.    Taper,  50  cis. 


taken  from  the  circulating  library  and 
duly  read  and  returned.  It  is  for  the 
shrlf  by  the  fireside  and  the  corner  next 
our  hand.  No  reader  will  lay  it  down 
without  a  feeling  of  affection  ror  the  au- 
thor.  We  think  of  him  as  of  the  shep- 
herds who  guided  the  pilgrims  over  the 
Delectable  Mountains^  themselves  a  part 
of  the  beauty  which  they  showed.  The 
Dm  Iiy  is  Cornwall  ;  Troy  and  TregBT- 
rick  may  be  reached  by  rail  from  Pad- 
dington,  but  over  all  the  scenes  there 
hangs  a  veil  which  our  curiosity  does 
not  penetrate.  The  Cornwall  of  "  Q" 
is  as  quidnt  as  the  Cornwall  of  Kmg 
.\rthur,  as  mystcnoTis  and  as  full  of 
poetry.  The  spirit  of  the  whole  book 
may  be  summed  up  in  the  lines  which 
introduce  *'  The  Spinster's  Maying"  : 

"  The  fields  breathe  sweet,  the  daisies  kiss  our  feet. 
Youn^  lovers  meet,  old  wjvr5  a-sunninj;  sit  ; 
In  every  street  tlirsc  tun<  s  our  cirs  do  greet— 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-wee.  to-wiua-woo  ; 
Spring,  tlie  aweet  apriac.** 

Every  lover  of  Chaucer  knows  the 

ill  rill  of  new  life  that  comes  on  reading 
the  hrst  lines  oi  his  ptuioguc.  The  im- 
pression of  gladness  does  not  wear  away, 
but  comes  back  freshly  each  time  the 
words  return  to  memor)'.  It  is  exactly 
the  same  with  The  DeUekMe  Dtuky. 
There  are  pages  and  sentences  which 
will  haunt  us  on  many  a  winter  day, 
glancing  uut  of  the  dark  air  like  wel- 
come lamps. 

Much  might  be  said  of  the  skill  in 
character-drawing  shown  in  every  one 
of  these  delightful  studies.  In  the  De- 
lectable Dnchy  all  doors  open  gladly  to 
"Q,"  and  he  hui*  looked  more  deeply 
than  any  writer  except  Mr.  Hardy  into 
the  heart  of  the  Lnglish  pca<;ant.  Like 
the  monk  Ambrosius  in  the  "  Holy 
Grail/'  he  loves  to  quit  bis  studies  for 
the  little  thorpe  and  the  chatter  of  the 
villagers, 

"  Knowing  every  honest  tatc  of  theirs, 
As  well  as  ever  shepherd  knew  his  sheep, 
Aod  every  homely  secret  o(  their  hearu." 


THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS.* 

It  seems  only  the  other  day  that  we 
were  reading  and  revelling  in  The  Raid- 
er$i  and  here  is  already  a  rival  to  it  from 

*  The  Men  of  the  Moss-Hags.  Being  a  His- 
tory of  Advencnie  ulcen  from  the  Papers  of 
William  Gordon  of  Earistouo  in  Galloway  sod 

totil  river  ,iL;.un  by  s.  R.  Crockeu.  Kew  York: 

Macinilian     Cu.  ^,50. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


327 


the  pen  of  its  own  maker,  while  all  the 
year  between  has  been  dotted  with  Mr. 
Crockett's  stories,  the  least  of  them 
alive  and  spirited.  This  is  vitality  in- 
deed, wiiich  should  defeat  the  degen- 
eracy (if  anythinjr  could)  that  the  sad 
prophets  sny  must  wait  on  over-produc- 
tion. It  is  to  those  who  delighted  in 
Tke  Raiders  that  Tke  Men  0/  the  Mots- 
//■7^s  appeals,  to  those  w  ho  see  the  bet- 
ter Mr.  Crockett  in  stories  of  wild  rid- 
ing and  hiding  in  Galloway  and  by  the 
shores  of  the  Solway  than  in  the  tamer 
merits  of  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet.  Just  at 
this  moment  it  is  not  very  useful  to  de- 
clare one's  preference  between  the  two 
rival  tales.  They  appeal  to  the  same 
instincts ;  they  have  about  c  ijual 
amount  of  adventurous  incident,  and 
breathe  equally  of  the  open  air — a  fine 
feature  in  a  book,  and  ail  the  horrors  of 
the  *'  killing"  cannot  cancel  its  benefit 
here.  It  is  emphatically  a  ^c>(m\  story, 
though  without  any  very  definite  plan 
or  plot,  though  it  postpones  some  of  its 
romantic  consummations  till  a  second 
part,  which  shall  give  us  the  lives  of  the 
hero  and  his  kinsfolk  and  friends  in 
Holland,  and,  presumably,  the  mating 
of  the  hero  with  Maisie  and  of  yoiini^ 
Lochiavar  with  Kate  of  Bal tnaghie.  it 
b  merely  a  first  volume,  and  we  leave 
ofT  with  an  appetite,  for  we  like  our  com- 
pany. But  we  beg  Mr.  Crockett  in  his 
next  instalment  to  hurry  a  little  over 
the  Dutch  exile  and  hasten  back  to  Gal- 
loway, where  be  is  ever  happiest  and 
surest,  where  he  shows  most  of  his  own 
natural  strenujth.  Tlie  influence  of  Ste- 
venson is  strong  in  The  Men  of  the  Moss- 
Hags  ;  but  whatever  echoes  from  other 
romancers  we  find  in  his  characters, 
there  is  one  thing  that  is  all  his  own,  his 
"  glegness  of  eye,"  his  sense  of  tlic 
beauty  of  the  earth,  and  his  power  to 
tell  it  — if  it  he  Galloway  earth.  Here 
is  a  picture  of  a  faring-forth  in  the  early 
summer : 

"  Kow  as  we  went  up  the  bill  a  lound  followed 

us  that  made  us  turn  and  listen,  h  was  a  »w<  ct 
and  charming  nuise  of  singing.  There,  .a  ihe 
door  of  Earl-stipun,  were  my  iikiiIut  and  her 
maideos,  gathered  to  bid  us  iareweii  upon  our 
uA  jonrnej.  It  made  a  solemn  melody  on  the 
caller  morning  air,  tor  it  was  the  sound  of  the 
burying  pcalm.  aod  they  sung  U  sw«etlr.  So  op 
the  Dcuch  Water  we  rode,  the  little  birds  making 
a  choir  about  us.  and  young  tailless  thrushes  of 
ih'j  yc-.ir's  ticsiin^  ]Mi!:ingat  relucuiit  wonos  on 

the  short  dewy  kiiuweis." 

Mr.  Crockett  has  known  better  than 


to  make  the  young  hero,  William  Gor- 
don, a  very  orthodo.x  Whig.  At  this 
time  of  day  orthodox  Whigs  are  not  in 
favour,  and  we  all  prtfer  a  hero  for 
whom  we  can  have  a.  warmer  feeling 
than  approval.  Lame  as  he  is,  he  is 
nevertlieless  more  of  a  soldier  than  a 
preacher,  and  his  testimony  he  gives 
more  willingly  by  his  sword  than  by 
word  of  mouth.  A  slill  more  original 
departure  is  seen  in  the  career  of  the 
WuUcat,  the  young  lord  of  Lochinvar, 
whose  gallantries  get  his  more  douce 
cousin  into  difficulties  at  the  beginning 
of  the  story.  Most  romancers  would 
have  bored  us  with  the  love  affairs  of 
the  hot-headed,  irresp<^in^il>l'',  and  in- 
flammable young  man  all  llu  ough,  mere- 
ly from  convention,  but  when  once  Watt 
takes  to  the  heather  he  contents  himself 
with  a  single  lady-love  ;  and  he  is  gen- 
erally to  be  counted  on  to  take  part  in 
the  wildest  and  least  u:all.\iit  of  adven- 
tures, without  hindrance  from  his  ca- 
prices and  affections.  The  silent,  devote 
ed,  and  daring  Maisie,  take  her  all  in  all, 
is  a  living  personage,  but  not  easily  de- 
scribable.  One  should  not  be  surprised 
at  any  of  her  exploits  after  watching;  her 
conduct  when  the  dragoons  ate  nding 
on  the  conventicle. 

"  Maisie  Lennox,  who  was  nearest  to  me, 
looked  over  to  where  her  fathor  stixnl  ;u  the  cm 
ner  of  his  company.  Then  because  slic  w.ts  dis- 
tressed for  him,  and  knew  not  what  she  did,  she 
drew  a  hali-kniiied  slocking  out  of  the  pocket 
that  swung  beneath  her  kittle,  calmly  set  the 
stitches  in  order,  and  went  on  kniuinf,  as  ia  the 
Gralloway  custom  among  the  bill-folk  when  they 
wait  for  anything." 

A  remarkable  woman.  Rut  the  storj- 
of  her  rifling  the  mail-bags  we  cannot 
believe.  It  was  a  feat  of  the  Wullcat 
and  some  clerkly  allies,  if  it  was  done  at 
all.  That  is  the  one  strung  protest  we 
have  to  make,  though,  while  we  are  in  a 
dissentient  moorl,  we  might  mention 
that  there  are  too  many  thunder-storms. 
We  have  no  other  grievances  ;  nothing 
else  but  praise,  indeed,  for  a  fresh  and 
imaginative  story. 

It  is  a  point  to  be  noted  about  Mr. 
Crockett,  that  where  he  has  to  describe 
he  is  never  dull.  It  would  be  easy  to 
select  twenty  excellent  descriptive  pas- 
sages from  the  book  before  us  to  prove 
thts  ;  hnt  n(^>ne  in  force  and  tenderness 
could  rival  one  part  of  the  terrible  taie 
of  Johnstone's  brutality  to  the  children. 

"Then  I  saw  something  that  I  had  never  seen 
but  among  the  sheep  ;  and  it  was  a  must  pitiful 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


ind  heart- wringing  thing  to  see,  though  now  in 
the  telliogr  it  seems  no  ^reat  matter.  There  is  a 
lime  of  year  when  it  is  fitting  that  the  tambs 
shotttd  be  aeparated  from  the  ewes  ;  and  it  ever 

touches  one  nearly  to  see  the  floc'c  of  p  ior  I.ini- 
nues  when  first  the  doys  come  near  lu  ihcm  lo 
begin  the  work,  and  wear  them  in  the  dirccti«>n 
in  which  ihcy  are  lu  depart.  AU  ibeir  little  lives 
the  lambs  had  run  to  their  mothers  at  the  first 
bint  of  danger.   Now  they  have  no  mother  to  flee 


to,  and  you  can  see  them  huddle  ancl  pack  ic 
frightene<i  solid  bunch,  quivering  with  AppfOSt- 
sion,  all  with  their  sweet  little  wiotfome  tacts 
turned  one  way.    Then,  as  the  dogs  r«f»  nearer 

to  si.irt  ihrm.  thr-rr  (-,.rncs  fr  iin  tJirrn  .i  litt m:- I'^'a  , 
brokcii-hi-artcd  ble.itini:.  .is  il  tfrroc  wcic  Urjvio^ 
the  ( rv  out  <jf  them  .in-nust  tht  Ir  wills.  Thus  il 
is  with  ihe  lambs  on  the  hill  ;  and  so  also  it  was 
with  the  Ij^irns  thatclttttg  together  in  a  cluster oa 
the  brae  face." 


NOVEL 

A  MAD  MADONNA.  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
By  L.  CIsritson  Whiielodc.  Boston  :  Joseph 
Knight  Co.  $1.00. 

Those  who  .trc  acquainted  with  Clark- 
son  VVhitelock's  earlier  work  will  tind  a 
pleasant  surprise  awaiting  them  in  her 
new  volume  of  stories.  There  was  no 
hint  in  that  work  that  she  would  startle 
us  by-and-bye  with  a  new  note,  or  develop 
latent  power  of  imagination  in  striking 
a  fresh  vein.  That  kind<*st  of  critics, 
Mr.  Edmund  C.  Stedman,  is  said  to 
have  stood  as  sponsor  for  these  stories, 
reference  to  which  was  made  in  the  col- 
umns of  our  "  Chronicle  and  Comment" 
last  month,*  and  the  critic  has  no  reason 
U)  fear  that  his  kindly  jiulgment  will  be 
reversed.  "  A  Mad  Madonna"  is  a  line 
figment  of  the  Imagination,  clothed  in  a 
beautiful  style  which  is  more  suggestive 
than  expansive,  tinctured  with  the  sad, 
melancholy  grace  that  haunts  the  so- 
journer in  the  streets  of  Rome,  and  col* 
oured  with  the  soft  lights  and  shadows 
and  radiant  beauty  of  fair  Italia.  The 
dumb  patience  and  longing  of  the  '*  mad 
madniiiia"  is  full  of  a  great  pathos  that 
rends  the  heart,  and  is  eloquent  with  a 
voice  that  melts  to  tears  and  moves  us 
to  an  infinite  pity — a  pity  that  does  not 
depress  and  cast  down,  but  which  ptirgcs 
and  clarities  the  mind.  The  mysterious 
madonna  and  her  hambino^  wandering 
these  hundreds  of  years  in  search  <  ^f  the 
Great  Master  RalTacllo,  to  whom  she  sat 
doT  his  wondeKul  paintings,  and  thecul- 
miiiation  of  her  desire,  is  a  striking  in- 
vention, and  wrought  with  cunninc:  art. 
The  climax  reached  in  the  young  artist's 
Studio,  where  the  "  mad  madonna"  sits 
oncf  more  as  she  imagines  to  her  Master, 
Kaiiaello,  is  conceived  and  executed  with 
a  rapidity  and  force  which  carries  us 
breathlessly  to  the  d^nauemeni.  The  shad- 


NOTES. 

owy  outline  nf  the  wonderful  Mother 
and  Cliild  of  Raphael  grows  every  mo- 
ment more  distinct : 

"Me  took  the  brushes  drc.miily  In  his  h.ir!.!  : 
but  it  was  moved  by  a  magic  forti,-,  and  there  grttu- 
before  him  the  marvellous  colours  of  ihe  Madonna, 
hy  no  power  of  his  own.   The  doad  of  cherubs 
came  once  more  about  him.  The  room  was  tnU 
of  them.    The  canvas  was  rov^rc'l  with  them. 
The  mother  ami  child  stood  muUonlt-s^.  .u  Uie  ex- 
quisite living  beauty  of  their  faces  scLniiriK'  to  pass 
irum  them  to  the  picture.  ...  It  seemed  to  bim 
that  his  hand  was  moved  as  bj  the  angels  of 
God. 

"  The  earth  roclted  beneath  him.  and  the  bine 
.•:ky,  as  he  saw  it  throiigh  Che  window,  had  turned 

blood-red. 

"  He  painted  on  and  on.  with  no  -thcr  :  ir 
sciousncss  than  that  the  earth  r<ii  ked  and  that  the 
sky  had  turned  to  blood.  Once  u  faint  sigh  came 
from  the  child's  lips,  and  the  mother  caressed  it 
softly.  When  she  moved,  it  was  as  if  an  eiutb' 
quake  shork  uc-.U  tlirniigh  him.  Thv  ri.om  with 
its  occupants,  the  i.^nvas  with  its  miracle,  tadcd 
from  his  consciousness  ;  a  red  stream  of  blood 
gush(*<i  from  his  lips,  and  his  head  fell  backwards. 

"  He  h'  ard  as  from  anotlier  world.  *Addio, 
Raffaello,'  and  was  dead." 

None  of  the  other  stories  reach  the 
same  height  of  artistic  perfection  or  are 
impelled  by  the  same  imaginative  force 
i<)  that  lasting  form  which  now  and 
again  singles  out  a  short  story  for  dis- 
tinction. Tnrou^h  the  half-dozen  tales 
there  runs  a  weird  strain  of  madness 
more  or  less  mysterious  and  inexplica-> 
ble.  *'  I^oto"  comes  next  in  interest 
an<l  literary  execution  to  "  -\  Mad  Ma- 
donna," and  after  that  "  A  Bit  of  Delft." 
which  is  charming  in  its  quaint  Dutch 
setting.  "  Love's  House"  is  a  new  and 
not  altogether  satisfactory  rendering  of 
a  time-worn  theme,  and  *'  Apollo"  is  in- 
genious but  a  little  far-fetched.  As  for 
the  last  stnrv,  "  FiDm  Another  Coun- 
try," it  scarcely  merits  the  honour  which 
has  been  given  to  it  by  including  it  with 
the  other  stories  in  book  form.    It  is 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


229 


amusing,  and  is  written  witli  vivacity, 
but  it  is  out  of  harmony  with  the  preced- 
ing contents  of  the  volume,  and  strikes  a 
discordant  note.  If  it  were  only  for  the 
sake  of  the  hrst  an  I  loni^est  story,  the 
buok  is  well  worth  purcliase  ;  all  the 
Stories,  however,  are  attractive  and  have 
a  ppciiliar  interest.  The  book  is  well 
printed  and  bound,  and  has  several  half- 
tone illustrations. 

JOAN  HASTE.    By  H.  Rider  Haggard.  New 
York  :  UnHpUMS.  Green  &  Coinp»n7.  $1.25. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Haggard  or  another  will 
dramatise  /oan  Hastt.  The  main  inci- 
dents would  have  a  fine  scenic  effect  on 

the  boards  ;  the  fall  of  Graves  from  the 
tower,  Joan's  heroic  methofl  of  revivinpf 
him,  the  oath  of  tlic  villain  Rock,  tlie 
confession  of  Levinger,  and  the  tragic 
final  sacrifice  of  the  heroine,  persnnatinij 
her  old  lover  to  save  him  from  the 
maniacal  fury  of  her  husband — none  of 
these  could  fail  to  be  clTictive.  We 
confess  we  like  our  melodrama  best  in 
dramatic  form.  The  facts  are  there  be« 
fore  us,  and  just  b«»use  no  fine-drawn 
explanations  are  given,  we  accept  them. 
But  Mr.  Haggard  is  enough  of  a  mod- 
em novelist  to  write  as  if  he  had  got  in- 
side people's  luarts  and  behind  their 
motives,  and  with  a  melodramatic  plot 
this  is  al  ways  unfortunate,  especially  so 
when  you  insist  on  your  characters 
being,  save  for  their  histories,  every-day 
kind  of  folks  that  you  might  meet  in 
any  railway  train.  Mr.  Haggard,  who 
is  skilied  in  reading  the  clear-markt-d 
lines  of  savage  natures,  fails  when  he 
tries  subtle  investigation  of  his  contt m- 
poraries  and  compatriots.  Perhaps  lie 
is  a  little  too  simple-minded.  Perhaps 
he  has  sought  his  material  not  in  life 
hilt  in  romances,  those  of  an  earlier, 
more  rhetorical  generation.  At  least, 
while  we  regard  the  plot  as  a  mosteffec* 
tive  melodrama,  we  don't  much  like  the 
filling-up.  And,  indeed,  lie  has  piled 
the  agony  of  the  story  rather  needlessly, 
even  for  scenic  effect.  If  Levinger  had 
spoken  a  little  sooner  ;  if  Rock  had 
gone  mad  a  little  sooner  ;  if —  The 
»ct  is,  the  glamour  of  Mr.  Haggard's 
romance  makes  ns  foi-i^ct  that  we  are 
looking  at  real  life  ;  but  he  insists  on 
playing,  with  somewhat  inappropriate 
material,  the  stern  realist ;  and  all  the 

explanations  wliicli  wonld  have  estab- 
iisiied  Juan's  legitimacy,  her  heirship, 
and  brought  about  her  marriage  with 


(ir.ives,  come  too  late.  That  beinq;  so, 
we  have  to  acquiesce  in  her  death  as 
the  next  best  thing.  There  is  a  kind 
of  British  robustness  about  Mr.  Hag- 
gard which  we  think  Wf>Mld  be  more 
fitly  employed  in  wniing  cheerful  fic- 
tion. If  he  cannot  give  up  this  mourn- 
ful attitntle,  let  him  think  of  the  excel- 
lent opening  at  the  present  moment  on 
the  sentimental  stage. 

THK  .SALE  OF  A  SOUL.     Hy  t.  i  rankfort 
Moore.  New  York :  F.  A.  Stokes  Company. 

75  CIS. 

THE  SLCRET  OF  THE   COURT.     By  F. 
Frankfurt  Moore.    Pllj|«d«lphiB :  J.  B.  Uppin- 

coti  Co.  $125. 

The  leading  lady  of  the  first  story,  after 
five  years  of  marriage,  finds  her  soul  too 
great  for  her  surroundings,  her  individu- 
ality pooh-poohed,  and  her  aspirations 
neglected  by  a  husband  immersed  in  the 
business  of  the  State.  So  she  makes  up 
her  mind  to  sell  this  great  soul,  and 
thinking  Mr.  Stuart  Forrest  would  be  a 
liberal  purchaser,  joins  him  in  a  voy- 
age to  the  West  Indies.  The  neglectful 
husband  mysteriously  turns  up,  be- 
haves atTably  to  Mr.  Forrest,  and  gives 
his  w  ife  uncomfortable  doubts  about  her 
IMojei  led  bargain.  The  hnsband  is  dia- 
bolically clever,  and  sees  through  stone 
walls  ;  he  is  a  magnanimous  cynic  on  a 
great  scale.  In  the  end  the  wife  changes 
her  mind  about  the  best  purchaser  for 
her  valuable  commodity — ^which  has 
gone  down  in  price  in  the  estimate  book 
of  lier  mind  however — and  she  and  her 
hast)and  have  an  adventurous  time  to- 
gether Hoatingon  araft  and  on  a  derelict 
ship,  till  a  ste;'TTier  saves  them  for  the 
domestic  leiiciiy  which  is  now  to  begin 
in  earnest  for  them. 

The  Secret  of  the  Court  bclons^s  to  the 
class  of  story  that  never  seems  to  go 
out  of  fashion,  but  of  which  Bulwer  was 
the  completest  master.  It  deals  with 
the  mysteries  of  life  and  death,  their 
unvcilcr.s,  and  tin:  victims  of  their  ex- 
periments. The  secret  of  the  restora- 
tion of  life  was  found  in  this  case,  after 
prolonged  study,  in  an  Egyptian  temple 
of  incredible  age.  The  description  of 
the  temple,  by-t}ic-1)ye,  is  strikincj,  and 
the  weird  effect  it  produces  is  brought 
about  by  no  cheap  devices.  Unfortu- 
nately, we  think,  the  experiment  is  tried 
on  a  vonnej^  Knc^lisliwoman  who  h;is 
died,  leaving  her  relatives  bitterly  sor- 
rowing ;  it  would  have  kept  the  story 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


in  far  lii-ttt-r  tone  1  tli-  Enst  and 
some  tair,  ai  \  st<  rious  Oriental  been  the 
scene  and  tin-  victim.  For  victim  she 
mn<^t  he  called.  Therein  lies  tlie  point 
of  the  story.  The  secret  referred  merely 
to  the  physical  life,  and  had  no  power 
in  the  restoration  of  the  soul.  The  rash 
Englishman  had  not  listened  to  the  wise 
warning  of  the  mysterious  Albaran  ; 
but  he  learnt  llimu-^ti  rcrimrse  '*  that 
when  Death  knocks  at  the  do<.ir  he  should 
be  a<lmitted  as  an  honuurc<l  guest. 
There  are  worse  friends  than  Death." 

THE  COMING  OF  THEODOR.\.    Uy  Eliza 
Orne  \\  liiu-.     Boston:  Houghton,  Miilla  A 

Co.  $1.25. 

The  old-time  woman  was  a  riddle, 
the  new  woman  is  still  a  chrysalis^  but 

whrn  wf-  ^f*\  a  pattern  r.f  progress  Upon 
a  groundwork  of  conservatism,  what 
are  we  goinj^  to  do  about  it?  This 
question  is  that  to  which  the  hf)uschold 
of  Tlieodora  were  reduced  after  four- 
teen months  of  her  constant  presence 
with  them.  A  woman  of  i^enuine  New 
England  faculty,  and  the  certainty 
which  is  not  untrequently  found  in  the 
same  section,  that  there  is  but  one  right 
way  to  do  a  thinsjf,  and  that  she  knows 
it ;  a  woman  who  has  made  a  name  and 
position  for  herself  in  the  world,  and 
who  gives  up  both,  to  play  the  thank- 
less part  of  a  useful  maitlen  aunt  in  her 
brother's  home,  out  of  her  indefeasible 
love  for  him  and  her  longing  for  family 
ties  ;  a  woman  with  very  little  tact,  and 
with  too  much  sense  to  be  sensitive,  or 
ever  to  suspect  that  she  is  in  the  way, 
ytt  with  a  rert.iin  hricrlitnc-.s  .mcl  cli,iri!i 
of  her  own,  which  her  chronicler  has 
perfectly  succeeded  in  photographing 
— such  is  Theodora.  The  wholesome- 
ness  of  the  story,  in  these  days  of  erotic 
novels,  is  something  for  which  to  be 
grateful  ;  the  characterisation  is  well 
contrasted  and  vivid  ;  one  does  so  truly 
appreciate  the  blankness  of  Edward  and 
Marie  when  their  studio  was  "  tidied" 
out  of  any  possibility  of  ever  working; 
in  it  again  !  Yet  it  is  also  quite  com- 
prehensible that  Frank  Compton*s  heart 
should  be  vani  ;uiNlii'd  by  the  coming  of 
Theodora.  liut  that  the  marriage 
should  be  broken  off  because  his  smaii 
daughter  so  vehemently  opposed  it — 
isn't  il  almrKt  /. much  ?  To  be  sure,  a 
New  England  conscience  is  capable  of 
anything,  but  would  the  opposition  of 
Essie  have  bad  that  or  the  contrary  ef- 


fort upon  Theodora  '  And  \vc  are  left, 
with  the  closed  book  in  our  hand,  doubt- 
ing whether  would  or  not,  whether  lie 
or  niit,  whether  thov  wi'>",riil  h-i.- 
been  happy  together  or  not  (only  we  ihmic 
they  would  !),  and  various  other  wheth- 
ers,  chief  among  which  is,  whether  wr 
like  a  story  with  such  an  unsatisfactory 
fiuale.  But  we  console  ourselves  with 
ihr  rt  lli  ciion  that  probably,  despite 
riiri (flora's  message,  "that  chapter" 
was  not  "  ended,"  after  all.  Could  she 
have  remained  away  from  Edgecomb 
all  her  life  "*  And  when  they  met  again, 
would  it  not  be  all  right  ?  Of  course  it 
would ! 

THE  WAY  OF  A  MAID.    By  KMbarine  Tr- 
nan  Hinkson.   New  York :  Dodd.  Mciif  ft  Co. 

$1.25. 

Mrs.  Hinkson,  author  of  A  Cluster  «f 

Kuts,  and  nne  or  two  volumes  of  poeni>. 
has  now  ventured  upon  a  novel  of  Irish 
life,  and  with  considerable  success.  To 
be  sure,  there  are  crudities  and  a  certain 
awkwardness  in  the  construction  ;  but 
the^c  will  disappear  in  her  future  work, 
while  the  merits  of  the  present  book 
will  reappear  and  to  better  advantage. 
Her  touch  is  a  light  one,  which  will 
probably  strengthen  w^ith  use  without 
i'sinii  its  delicacy  :  and  thiMc  is  v.  sim- 
plicity and  directness  about  her  way  of 
telling  her  story  that  remind  one  of 
Miss  Austin.    Nora  is  a  very  fascinating 
anrl    <lelightful    little    heroine  ;  and 
though  one  cares  rather  less  for  Ilil- 
liard,  his  attraction  for  her  is  perfectly 
comprehensible.     Wi-  doiiVit,  Iinwe\er. 
whether   Nora  proved    altogether  as 
charming  in  married  life  as  she  was  as  a 
sweetheart  ;  the  a\  cr.ige  man,  we  fear, 
would  find  her  somewhat  of  a  responsi- 
bility ;  and  it  is  perhaps  quite  as  well 
that  tlie  pen  of  her  chronicler  halted 
when  it  did.    But  the  main  value  of  the 
book  and  its  chief  charm  is  in  its  thumb- 
nail sketches  of  Irish  life  ;  the  visit  to 
t!ie  convent,  with  the  lantjiiing  nuns, 
the  stately  Mother  Superior,  and  the 
poor  family  who  were  equipped,  in  hon- 
our of  Christmas,  witli  garnit-nts  which 
the  sisters  iliemselves  had  fashioned, 
with  results  to  the  masculine  habili- 
ments which  can  better  be  imagined 
than  described. 

*'  Lanty  was  teilin'  me,  miss,  how  ould  Joe 
Geraty  an*  the  wife  an'  kJd  was  dfesmd  by  the 

nuns  for  Christmas.  He  says  Joe's  pcppcrin*  fof 
the  day  aUcr  tu  niurrovv  till  be  pawns  the  dndf. 
Och,  God  help  (hem  cratiira  o'  nuns,  it  'a  too  ioaO' 


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rriit  they  are  !  Let  alone  they  makes  the  clothcfi 
themselves,  and  the  throusers  is  all  bags.  Lanty 

says  the  iii< n  iti  the  t<vA  n  ud  give  Joe  a  quare  life 

if  i)e  aopi-.ircd  ill  ihctii." 

Tlie  woman  who  took  away  lier  neigh- 
bour's character  by  publicly  praying  for 

her  as  "  a  s^rcat  sinnt-r  and  an  ould  rt.'p- 
robate,"  h  tlie  heroine  of  another  sketcli. 
The  book  is  by  no  means  a  Undent  ra- 
nt it:,  for  which  wc  are  told  it  is  our  duly 
to  be  grateful  ;  nevertheless  our  grati- 
tuile  will  be  increased,  it  in  iier  next 
book  Mrs.  Ilinkson  lend  the  grace  and 
delic.icy  of  her  style  to  a  picture  nl  Irish 
social  conditions  from  which  those  ot 
us  unfamiliar  with  Irish  affairs  may 
draw  our  own  <  «mt  lustons  and  accumu> 
late  our  own  tendencies. 

ZORAIDA.  A  Romance  of  tbc  llarem  and  the 
Great  Sahara.  Br  WiUiam  Lc  Queax.  Illus- 
trated.   New  York:  F.  A.  Stokes  Company. 

Every  reader  with  an  ounce  of  ro- 
mance in  him  will  bitterly  resent  the 
last  chaiittT  in  this  thrillim:^  story.  Zo- 
raida  is  the  most  ravishingly  beau  til  ul 
and  marvellous  woman  ;  her  capacity  of 
poetical  expression  is  extraordinary,  and 
her  occult  powers  of  the  rarest.  To 
love  her  is  most  interestingly  danger- 
ous ;  thus  does  she  address  the  daring 
Cecil  Holcombe — 

"  Yonder  knife  and  potion  will  bind  thy  soul 
unto  mine;  ihou  wilt  bci 'iir.i-  one  of  the  com- 
panions of  the  Left  Hand,  whose  habitation  is  the 
shadowless  Land  of  Torment,  where  the  burning; 

wind  s'  oK'Iies,  and  w.itrr  s<        tike  hi  u'litv.;  piii  li.  ' 

"  Is  ihcte.  then,  no  hojje  lur  thusc  whu  love 
thee  ?"  he  asks. 

'■  None,"  she  replied,  sighing.  "  Neither  rest, 
mercy,  nor  the  Garden  of  Delights  can  fall  to  the 
lot  of  him  who  loveth  mc." 

And  yet  after  ail  thib,  and  a  great 
many  other  warnings,  Cecil  and  the 

darkly  i<>tn antic  Zoraida  were  actually 
married  at  St.  Paul's,  Knightsbridge, 
and  lived  in  a  Kensington  flat  ;  Zo- 
raida  wore  a  tailor-made  gown,  and 
had  crowded  "  at-homes."  This  is  tiic 
pjreatest  outrage  on  the  romantic  ieel- 
mgs  that  we  ever  remember  to  have  had 
practised  upon  ns  in  tlic  rcadinp^  <^f  tu - 
tion.  But,  omitting  the  last  chapter, 
and  putting  one's  self  into  a  fittingly 
youthful  mood,  and  determined  to  call 
the  pseudo-poetical  language  sublime, 
let  us  acknowledge  the  attractions  of 
Mr.  Le  Queux's  story.  It  is  packed  fidl 
of  incident,  fightincc.  loving,  plotting, 
dark  crime,  treusure-hnding,  and  around 
all  is  the  mysterious  air  of  the  desert. 


There  are  right  readers  and  wrong  read- 
ers for  Zoraida.  Under  appropriate  con- 
ditions, it  should  be  pronounced  an  en- 
trancing story. 

CLAREN'rr  ByBretllarte.  Boston :  Hough- 
ton, Mifflin  \  C*>.  .51.25. 

SunicLliiug  may  have  died  out  of  Mr. 
Bret  Harte  since  he  wrote  TktlMckfif 
Roa>  in^  Catnp — the  power  or  tlie  oppor- 
tunity ot  gathering  fresh  and  piquant 
incident  from  wild,  rough  life  to  wake 
up  his  tame  readers  from  their  sh  ejii- 
ness  and  shake  olT  a  prejudice  or  two  in 
the  process.  But  though  some  of  the 
freshness  has  gone  from  his  stories,  they 
have  never  grown  dull.  And  with  years 
there  has  come  a  too  little  recognised 
compensation  for  any  loss  of  youthful 
vi':!;otir.  His  understanding  of  human 
nature  has  grown  in  subtlety  and  in 
delicacy,  till  to-day  we  look  confidently 
to  his  books  for  interesting  studies  in 
more  sophisticated  character.  His  plots 
are  good  in  their  conception,  but  in 
their  development  he  is  more  easily  sur- 
passed than  in  the  strong,  minrite  hand- 
ling of  his  personages,  whom  he  an- 
alyses with  a  care  that  is  never  finick- 
ing. Tlie  r!iararters  here  .arc  mostly 
old  friends.  In  the  war  between  North 
and  South,  Clarence  Brant,  Alice  Ben- 
ham,  and  the  lively  Susy  are  tested  to 
the  utmost  by  the  storm  and  stress  of 
the  times.  The  new  heroine,  Miss 
Faulkner,  is  of  course,  seeing  who  has 
fashioned  her,  no  mild  pattern  of  pro- 
priety ;  but  really  her  asperity  on  her 
first  appearaiices  we  are  much  more  in- 
clined to  resent  than  were  Clarence 
Brant  and,  evidently,  Mr.  Bret  Harte. 
It  is  difficult  to  resign  ourselves  to  a  fa- 
vourite hero  marrying  a  shrew»  however 
heroic  she  niit^ht  he  on  occasion. 

A  COMEDY  IN  SI'ASMS.  By  "  lou '  (Mrs. 
Mannington  Cafiyn).  New  York  :  F.  A.  Stokes 
Company,  fl.otlk 

The  title  is  a  mystcr}'  even  at  the  end 
of  the  story.  The  heroine,  a  young  Aus- 
tralian, has  bouts  of  deep  discontent, 
wdiicli  perhaps  gave  her  physical  pain, 
but,  as  a  rule,  she  is  level-headed  and 
not  at  all  excitable.  Titles  are  trifling 
matters,  however.  On  the  whole,  "  Iota" 
has  put  better  work  into  this  book  than 
into  her  others  ;  it  will  probably  raise 
her  worth  in  the  esteem  of  critical  read- 
ers, though  it  may  not  reach  the  popu* 
larity  of  A  Yeilont  Aster.  The  story 
itself  is  interesting.   The  young  Aus* 


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932 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


tralian,  beautiful,  practical,  encrifetic, 
admiring  above  all  things  physical  furcc 
and  comeliness^  finds  a  way  out  of  pe- 
cuniary diniciiltics  \v<  io;hiii^  on  her  fam- 
ily by  marriage  with  an  intelligent,  up- 
right, spirited  man.  But  he  is  physi- 
cally weak,  and  i  m  irtyr  to  headaches, 
lie  is  worth  ten  «if  her.  :\\\'\  she  dimly 
guesses  it,  but  is  too  niuvli  t)f  a  young 
savage  to  grasp  the  idea  openly.  Mean- 
w  liilc,  the  young  Adonis  and  Hercules 
combined,,  who  had  hitherto  been  un- 
available, turns  up  free.  Writhing  in 
her  bonds,  she  wouli!  lunc  {jurst  them 
had  it  not  been  for  the  virtue  of  Her- 
cules-Adonis.  So  the  young  beauty  and 
the  middle-aged  headachy  student  have 
to  shakedown  ;i<;!t(  st  tfu  v  mav.  There 
is  a  cuiious  juniljie,  as  there  always  is 
in  lota's  books,  of  good  common  sense 
and  prrjufiicrs,  sfir-'wd  imdrrstanding 
ot  human  nature,  and  limitation  of  vis- 
ion. She  is  gaining  conciseness  in  the 
form  of  her  stories  ;  but  her  caste  in- 
stincts will  always  obscure  humanity  to 
her. 

THE  CARHONF-LS.    By  Charloilc  M.  Yuogc. 
New  York  :  Thuroas  Wbituker.  9l.3S. 

TIIK    LONG  VACATION'.     By  Charlotte  M. 
Vongc.    New  York  :  .Macmillan  <S:  Cw.  $i.t>a 

Tor  more  years  than  some  of  us  can 
remember  Miss  Charlotte  Mary  Yonge, 

who  fomes  of  a  Hampsliire  family,  and 
first  became  known  to  the  world  as  the 
author  of  The  Heir  of  Rdiclylff,  has  pour- 
ed forth  volume  after  volume,  from  a 
pen  whose  sources  seem  to  be  perennial  ; 
volumesof  history,  biography,  and, above 
all,  of  fu  lion  ;  earnest,hclpful,  inspiring, 
f>nre  rtnd  refreshing,  and  all  imbued  with 
a  strong  High  Church  feeling.  She  has 
educated,  through  the  pages  of  the 
Afont/i/v  Piiri'rV,  a  circle  «'f  iculcrs  in 
what,  after  all,  if  just  a  little  ^or/i/ts, 
are  noble  and  chivalric  ideas  of  religion 
and  ethics  ;  she  has  kept  up  with  the 
times  herself,  in  the  most  wonderful 
manner,  and  all  this  she  has  done  in 
the  most  absolutely  unassuming  and 
thoroughly  fein'mine  way  that  it  is  pos- 
sible for  us  to  imagine.  She  has  ad- 
vertised iier  stories,  to  be  sure,  but  there 
i<  a  dearth  of  am  c  d"t<_s  illustrative  of 
her  personality,  and  on  remarkably  few 
occasions  does  her  ]>hotograph  stare  at 
us  from  the  public  prints. 

Of  the  two  books  now  before  u>^,  "ne 
—  'JVit:  Carbo/uh — has,  from  her,  the 
value  of  a  historical  monograph  upon 


the  social  conditions  of  the  English 
rural  districts,  in  the  first  quarter  of 
the  present  century,  upon  the  state  of 
the  Church,  and  the  attitude  -  f  the 
landlords.  It  is  quiet  in  tone,  despite 
some  stirring  scenes,  and  though  there 
is  absolutely  no  plot,  and  the  characters 
are  rather  types  than  persons,  the  Story 
is  both  valuable  and  interesting. 

The  Ltmg  Vacation  is  a  continuation 
of   the   ndventtires  of  that  (•'^rnpo'^ite 
family  who  have  grown  up  from  the  in- 
termarriage of  the  personages  of  the  au- 
thor's earlier  novels.     Descendants  of 
the  people  whom  one   remembers  in 
UeeJuro/t,  The  Pillars  oj  the  House^  Tke 
Daisy  Chain,  The  Castle  BuilJers^  and 
several  others,  all  connected  by  as  in- 
tricate a  bond  of  cousinhood  as  one 
could  find  in  any  county  of  Old  Vir- 
ginia, meet,  converse,  act  in  private  the- 
atricals, and  further  intermarry,  in  the^ 
pages,  which  to  Miss  Yongc's  veteran 
readers  have  the  affectionate  value  of 
news  from  old  friends.    One  must  con- 
fess, however,  that  the  climax  is  not 
well  done  ;  it  was  well  imagined,  no 
doubt,  to  lay  young  Gerald  in  the  grave 
beside  liis  father,  at  "  Fiddler's  Ranch" 
by  the  same  hand  that  had  saved  him 
from   the   Indians;    Iml   Mi^^  Voniie's 
orderly  English  imagination  being  m- 
adequate  to  the  task  of  conceiving 
American  Western  life,  sl.e  was  forced 
to  finish  her  tale  through  the  always 
clumsy  medium  of  letters  from  a  spec- 
tator;'  and  the  result  is  what  might  be 
expected.    Nevertheless,  the  !>ook  is  a 
delightful  one,  and  in  any  case  Miss 
Yonge  wrote  it ! 

WHEN  CHARLIiS  THE  FIRST  WAS  KING. 
By  J.  S.  Fletcher.   Chicago :  A.  C.  HcClur^ 

Cn.  $i.«;o. 

Mr.  Fletcher  has  written  a  delightful 
tale  of  adventure.  Not  only  so.  but 
then-  i>  a  literary  charm  in  its  pages  per- 
me.itiiii^  its  quaint,  fascinatiuLj  sl\  ]e,  its 
intricate  plot,  and  its  cliaratterisalions 
which  lays  hold  of  the  imagination  and 
wins  a  grateful  acknowledgment.  The 
scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Yorkshire, 
where  the  forces  of  King  and  Parlia- 
ment,  Cavalier  and  Roundhead  come  to- 
gether in  several  hard-fought  battles.  It 
was  in  one  of  the  fiercest  conflicts  on  the 
field  of  Marston  Moor  that  the  hero, 
Will  Dale,  a  great  fellow  six-feet-five, 
met  Cromwell.  I  he  picture  of  the  great 
soldier  is  followed  up  strongly.  Indeed. 


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LITEKAKY  JOURNAL. 


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the  characteristic  element  in  Mr.  Fletch- 
er's work  is  virility.  The  historic  inci- 
dents of  the  time  have  been  caught  up 
by  the  imagrtnation  of  the  writer  and 
given  forth  with  a  pleasant  semblaru  - 
of  reality.  There  is  some  fine  writing 
In  the  book  ;  perhaps  the  finest  passages 
are  those  in  which  the  author  describes 
the  charq^e  of  the  king's  horsemen  apainst 
Cromwcli  b  Ironsides  at  Mart^ton  Moor, 
the  death  of  Dennis  Watson,  and  the 
mad  ride  of  his  father,  Prince  Rupert. 
IVhen  Charles  the  First  was  King  de- 
serves honourable  mention  as  a  novel  for 
its  virility  and  sane  qualities. 

THROUGH  RUSSIAN  SNT)\VS  and  A 
K.NIGHT  OF  THE  WHITE  CROSS.  ByG. 
A.  ilenty.  I>few  York :  Cliarlcs Serlbner's »>ns. 

$1. 50  cnch. 

AT  WAR  WITH  PONTIAC.  By  Kirk  Mon- 
roe. New  York:  Cbarte*  Scribaer'a  Sons. 
$1.25. 

The  most  recent  works  of  Kirk  Mun- 
roe  and  the  two  latest  by  Mr.  Henty  use 

liistory  as  a  background  for  their  stories. 
Mr.  Munroe  has  a  pleasing  style  and  a 
faculty  for  creating  thrilling  adventures. 
Boys  like  a  hero  who  can  brave  the 
greatest  dangers  and  escape  injury  with 
facility — it  matters  little  how  improbable 
may  be  the  method.  The  time  chosen 
for  his  new  story  is  the  critical  period 
succeeding  the  subjugation  of  the  Cana- 
dian French  by  the  English,  the  forma- 
tive  period  of  the  spirit  of  X776.  Park- 


man  was  the  first  to  recognise  the  im- 
portance of  the  Pontiac  War  and  the 
genius  of  its  moving  spirit.  Mr,  Mun- 
roe draws  liberally  upon  fact  in  his  nar^ 
rative,  whtch  has  Considerable  literary 
merit. 

The  Henty  stories  continue  the  pleas- 
ant tradition  which  their  numerous  pred- 
ecessors have  rreatetl.  Like  Mr.  Mun- 
rue's  books,  they  have  a  certain  modi- 
cum of  value  as  educators,  and  are  writ- 
ten with  the  fire  and  force  which  ap- 
peal to  a  boy's  imagination.  Through 
Hussion  Snows  is  a  slightly  coloured  ac- 
connt  of  Napoleon's  fateful  campaign 
and  retreat  from  Moscow.  In  Knight 
0/  the  White  Cross  good  use  is  made  of 
the  fierce  conflict  which  was  waged  be- 
tween Crusader  and  Moslem  in  olden 
time.  The  story  t\»llo\vis  the  fortunes 
of  a  sturdy  young  Englishman  in  the 
War  of  tlie  Crusades,  who  figures  prom- 
inently at  the  first  siege  of  Rhodes. 
The  "thrill"  is  unmistakably  there; 
"  no  penny  dreadful"  eouKl  harnr.v  up 
more  startling  situations  and  rattling 
episodes.  How^ever,  the  ideal  held  up 
to  the  boyish  mind  in  these  stories  is 
wholesome  if  somewhat  exaggerated. 
The  evil  is  invariably  overcome  not  by 
bravado,  untruth,  and  intrigue,  but  by 
bravery,  tinswerving  honour,  and  fidel- 
ity. Virtue  is  apparelled  in  its  whitest 
robes,  and  vice  is  cast  out  into  the  black- 
ness of  darkness. 


THE  BOOK/ 

LAST  POEMS  OF  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOW- 
ELL.    Boston :  Hougbtoa,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

♦1.25. 

The  value  which  will  be  attached  to 

this  exquisite  little  volume  will  arise 
more  from  the  melancholy  interest  of  its 
contents  and  the  beauty  of  the  book  in 
which  they  are  encased  than  in  the  quan- 
tity or  quality  of  the  work.  There  are 
ten  poems  here,  the  last  which  Mr.  Low- 
ell wrote,  and  which  Mr.  Norton  believes 
he  mit^ht  have  wished  to  preserve. 
Three  of  them  were  published  before 
his  death  ;  of  the  rest,  two  appear  here 
for  the  first  time.  The  "  Verses,  intend- 
ed to  go  with  a  posset  dish  to  my  dear 
little  goddaughter,  1882,"  are  proof  that 
the  author's  light  touch  and  ntml)le  wit 
were  with  him  to  the  end.  In  the  noble 
lines,  "On  a  Bust  of  General  Grant," 


AN'S  TABLE. 

* 

we  have  a  burst  of  the  old  patriotic  fire 
which  glow  ed  with  the  faith  of  his  fore- 
fathers, and  Willi  the  spirit  of  his  Crom- 
well hero-worship  ; 

"  Strong,  simple,  silent,  therefore  sacb  was  be 
Who  helped  ut  in  our  need  ;  the  eternal  law 

Til, it  w!)i>  c;ii)  saddle  opi-i.irtunity 
Is  God's  fleet,  though  m.inv  a  ttiortal  flaw 
May  minish  him  in  eyes  th.il  tioscly  sec, 
Was  veritied  in  him  ;  what  ru't-d  we  say 
Of  one  who  made  success  v\  here  others  Csiledi 
Who»  with  no  light  save  that  ol  common  day. 
Struck  hard,  and  still  struck  on  tilt  Fortune 
quailed. 

But  that  (so  sift  the  Norns)  a  desperate  van 
Nc  cr  fill  at  last  U»  one  who  was  not  wholly 
man." 

"  Nothing  i(h'al,  a  plain  people's  man — " 
so  he  apostrophises  Grant — "  one  of 
those  still  plain  men  that  do  the  world's 


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334 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


rough  work  ;' '  and  how  fine  is  the  char- 
acterisation drawn  in  that  one  line : 

"  \\f  slew  our  <lr:tK'>ri.  nor,  so  si-cnu-d  it,  knew 

Jit!  had  a't^ntr  tnm  i  lhan  iiny  snn/'L  s!  man  mit;ht 

The  finest  poem  in  this  scant  collec- 
tion, where  choice  is  almost  supereroga- 
tory, is.  to  Our  tliiiikinu;,  "  Tht!  Nobler 
Lover,  "  which  has  a  reminiscent  note  of 
Browning's  * '  Christina, ' '  We  quote  the 
poem  entire : 

"  If  h«  be  a  nobler  lover,  take  Milt  1 

Yon  in  you,  I  «eek,  aod  ooi  myself ; 
Low  with  men's  what  women  choose  tonudte  him, 

Seraph  strnnir  to  «nar,  or  fa\vn-ey'*d  elf: 

All  I  ani  or  can,  yur  bcautv  k-ivc  it, 
Littitif^  nif  a  moment  nit;!!  to  you. 

And  my  bit  of  heaven,  I  fain  woultl  save  it- 
Mine  I  cboogbi  It  was,  I  never  knew. 

"  What  you  take  of  me  is  yours  to  serve  you. 

All  I  j^ivc,  ycui  ^avf'  to  riic  before  ; 
Let  him  win  you  1    If  I  but  deserve  you, 

I  keep  all  you  (;rant  to  him  and  more : 
You  skall  make  mc  dare  what  others  dare  not, 

Yoa  shall  keep  my  nature  pure  as  snow. 
And  a  li^ht  from  you  that  others  share  not 

Shall  transfigure  me  where'er  I  go. 

"  Let  me  be  your  thrall !    However  lowly 

Be  the  bondsman's  service  I  can  do. 
Loyalty  shall  m  ikc  it  liti,'h  and  ho!y  ; 

Naught  can  be  unworthy,  done  for  you. 
Men  shall  say,  '  A  lover  of  this  fashion 

Such  ao  icy  mistress  well  beseems.' 
Women  say,  *  Coald  we  deserve  such  passion. 

We  might  be  the  marvel  that  be  dmuns,' " 

An  unusual  feature  of  this  fine  piece 
of  book-making  is  the  printiiu^  ui  the 
poems  on  one  side  of  the  jiaper  only, 
leaviiii^  the  other  side  blank.  To  be 
sure,  the  book  is  slight  enough,  and  it 
would  have  otherwise  reduced  its  dimen- 
sions to  an  absurd  size  had  the  ordinary 
form  been  ndhered  io.  But  the  book  as 
it  stands  will  hnd  favour  in  the  eyes  of 
all  book>lovers,  and  as  a  memorial  vol- 
ume it  is  an  artistic  and  exccedirn^Iv  at- 
tractive production.  There  is  a  fine  new 
portrait  of  the  poet  at  the  age  of  seventy, 
considered  by  his  family  to  be  an  ad- 
mirable likeness  of  him. 

STAMBULOFF.  By  A.  Hulmc  Beaman.  Pub- 
lic Men  of  To-day  Scries.  New  York  :  Fred- 
erick Warae  &  Co.  $t.a$. 

The  world  Is  being  more  and  more 

conventionalised,  an<l  the  purely  pic- 
turesque is  departing  from  its  history. 
War  is  now  an  intellectual  exercise,  like 
a  game  of  chess.  Statesmanship  is 
largely  a  matter  of  figures  and  finance. 
Great  monarchs  ride  the  bicycle  and  ar- 


ray themselves  in  pot  bats  and  the  cos- 
tume of  the  bagman.  Nevertheless, 
there  still  rise  up  heroic  figures  here 
and 'there  as  a  sort  of  protest  s^^nst 

the  eternal  banalit/  of  the  century's 
end  ;  and  such  a  figure  is  the  subject 
of  this  very  able  and  instructive  vol- 
ume. Stepan  Stambuloff,  the  son  of 
an  inn  keeper  and  apprenticed  to  a  tai- 
lor, a  man  of  rough,  half-brutal  ways,  a 

fteasant  in  many  of  his  traits,  neverthe- 
ess  is  a  great  and  stiking  figure  in  his 
public  career,  whether  we  see  him  de- 
fying the  Turk  in  his  early  days  and 
carving  out  a  free  State  for  his  fellow- 
countrymen,  or  defying  the  (ji  eat  White 
Czar  in  his  later  years,  and  holding  fast 
his  country's  birthright  in  the  face  of 
the  master  of  a  million  soldiers.  Mr, 
Beaman  ^ives  us  the  full  details  of  a 
life  of  which  most  of  us  have  seen  only 
disconnected  glimpses  ;  and  liis  narra- 
tive weaves  together  all  the  scattered 
threads  into  a  consistent  and  intelligible 
whole.      Stambuloff   has   been  called 
"the  Bismarck  of  Bulgaria,"  and  the 
phrase  is  no  idle  one.    With  far  greater 
odds  against  him  than  Bismarck  faced, 
he  wrought  out   results  which,  when 
their  final  outcome  shall  have  been  seeo, 
may  prove  to  be  no  less  momentous  in 
Eastern  Europe  than  Bismarck's  crea- 
tion in  the  West.     Six  photographs 
given  in  the  work  are  of  especial  inter* 
est — Stambuloff  himself,  a  semi-Slavic 
face  ;  Prince  Alexander,  a  hravc  soldier, 
but  one  who  ipiaiied   bciurc  liangers 
that  his  great  ministt  r  dared  ti>  ieiy; 
Prince  Ferdinantl,  the  ptippct  C-'\^\-^z 
whom  Stambuloft  raised  trom  obscurity  ; 
Princess  Ferdinand,  a  mean,  unfeeling 
face  ;    and    Madame    Stam!>ul<>fif  and 
Prince  Alexander's  wife,  two  very  beau- 
tiful women.    We  cordially  commend 
the  volume  to  all  who  have  inaiiced  the 
career  which  ended  only  a  few  weeks 
ago,  when  the  greatest  of  the  Hulg.irians 
fell,  gashed  under  the  assassins'  knives 
in  the  streets  of  Sofia.    This  series  l  ids 
fair  to  prove  the  most  valuable  ot  its 
kind  that  any  publisher  lias  yet  brought 
out, 

LORD  JOHN  RUSSELL.   By  Stuart  J.  Reld. 

New  York  :  Harper  &  Bros.  oo. 

This,  the  last  volume  in  the  Ota-  n's 
Prime  Ministers  Series,  is  very  largely  a 
history  of  the  foreign  relations  of  Eng- 
land from  1850,  preceded  by  an  account 
of  the  great  Reform  movement.  For 


Digitized  by 


A  UTtRAKY  JOURNAL 


American  readers  its  most  interesting 

chapter  is  llial  which  treats  (too  brieflv) 
of  the  time  when  Lord  John  held  the 
post  of  Foreign  Minister  in  the  Palmer- 
ston  administration  from  1861-65.  This 
portion  of  the  work  contains  some  vahi- 
able  details  regarding  the  course  of  tlie 
English  authorities  in  letting  the  Ala- 
fiama  escape  from  the  Mersey  ;  and  as- 
serts that  Russell  was  in  reality  a  friend 
of  the  United  States  during  the  Civil 
War.  If  this  be  so.  he  evidently  had  a 
Kreat  power  of  concealing  his  senti- 
ments ;  yet  it  is  certainty  a  fact  that  he 
did»  in  the  face  of  strong  pressure,  pre- 
serve a  fairly  strict  neutrality  in  that 
period,  as  to  which  Mr.  Reid  quotes 
Grote  assaying  :  "  The  jn-rfect  neutral- 
ity of  Enghind  in  the  destructive  civil 
virar  now  raging  in  America  appears  to 
me  almost  a  phenomenon  in  political 
history.  ...  It  is  the  single  case  in 
which  the  English  Government  and  pub- 
lic, generally  so  meddlesome,  have  dis- 
played most  prudent  and  commendable 
forbearance  in  spite  of  great  temptations 
to  the  contrary."  The  fact  that  ail  the 
ruling  classes  were  heart  and  soul  with 
the  South  makes  it  all  the  more  remark- 
able ;  and  it  is  certainly  to  be  remem- 
bered to  the  honour  of  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell that  he  was  far-seeing  enough  to 
follow  out  so  wise  a  policy.  The  book 
contains  also  much  readable  informa- 
tion about  the  relations  of  lingland  to 
Italian  affairs  in  1861-63,  and  of  the 
rather  pitiful  figure  cut  by  its  government 
at  the  time  of  the  Schleswig>Holstein 
affair  in  1864.  A  tine  portrait  of  Earl 
Russell  is  given  as  a  frontispiece. 

SHAKESPEARE'S    HEROINES    ON  THE 
STAGE,    liy  Charles  E.  L.  WIngftte.   Bostoo  : 

T.  Y.  Crrtu  tll  &  Co.  S2.00. 

Mr.  Wiiigaie  s  book  is  a  noteworthy 
attempt  to  record  the  successive  appear- 
ances of  women  on  the  English  and 
American  stage  who  have  impersonated 
Shakespeare's  characters  "  from  the  be- 
ginning."  The  author  has  taken  great 
pains  to  collect  all  the  gossipy  details 
and  historical  facts  which  have  gathered 
about  these  remarkable  actresses.  After 
an  entertaining  fasliion  Mr.  Wingate 
has  followed  tiie  histrionic  fortunes  of 
Shakespeare's  heroines  on  the  stage  and 
has  reviewed  the  large  part  which  wom- 
en have  played  in  interpreting  Shakes- 
peare's plays  to  the  world.  As  the  '*  one 
missing  book  in  Shakespearian  lore," 
it  fills  a  place,  and  will  prove  interest- 


ing to  many  readers  of  light  literature 

who  are  not  particularly  anxious  to  fol- 
low the  development  of  the  drama  from 
the  critic's  seat  of  judgment.  Thereare 
glimpses  of  the  green-room,  revelations 
of  the  personality  of  the  actresses;  and 
incidentally  many  anecdotes  of  actors 
are  included  with  those  which  are  re- 
counted about  the  fair  sex.  The  illus- 
trations, many  of  them  from  old  woodcuts 
and  engravings,  enhance  the  historical 
value  as  well  as  the  picturesqueness  of 
the  work.  The  narrative  has  a  sparkle 
and  dash  about  it  which  make  the  read- 
ing especially  light  and  vivacious. 

THE  VIOL  OF  LOVE.  AND  OTHER  POEllS. 
By  Charles  Newton •RobinsoD.  Boston :  Lam* 
son,  Wotffe  &  Co.  $1.50. 

In  a  prefatory  note  the  poet  prepares 

us  ft)r  the  moods  of  passion  and  inspira- 
tion which  passed  over  his  lyre  and  gave 
it  spontaneous  utterance.  "  The  viol  of 
love,"  he  says,  "is  an  instrument  said 
to  derive  its  beautiful  name  (viola 
d'amore)  from  the  '  sympathetic 'strings, 
usually  seven  in  number,  with  which  it 
is  fitted  below  the  finger-board.  These 
are  never  touched  bv  iiand  or  bow,  but 
vibrate  of  themselves,  with  a  rain  of 
concords  and  harmonics,  in  response  to 
the  notes  which  are  sounded  by  the 
player. "  One  of  the  best  of  these  gems, 
"  Love  Unuttered,"  we  printed  from  ad- 
vance sheets  in  the  July  Bookman.  An- 
other of  these  poems,  entitled  Love 
Unchallenged,'*  has  been  widely  quoted 
by  the  press.  The  poet's  mind  as  mir- 
rored in  these  poems  finds  the  keynote 
of  its  expression  in  such  lines  as  these  : 

"All  fairest  thing's  liive  jnv  in  loneliness; 
For  ihcy  arc  timid  that  arc  pure  in  heart. 
Of  taint  or  malison  of  spirits  vile." 

Mr.  Newton-Robinson  lings  his  muse 
in  the  "  pure  cloud  thai  sjiurns  the  be- 
fouled earth,"  and  sings  shyly  of  the 
glory  and  the  dazzling  purity  of  that 
vision  of  love  which  has  been  vouchsafed 
to  him — 

*'  And  cherishing:  Mill  the  raemory  of  that  light, 

L()i>ks  heavenward  for  more." 

In  "  Various  Poems,"  which,  with 
several  translations,  eke  out  the  slender 
volume,  there  is  one  poem  which  is  won- 
derful for  its  concentrated  [lassion,  depth 
of  tragic  feeling,  and  perfect  art.  "  For- 
get-Me-Not"  is  a  mad  lover's  song : 

"  I  planted  in  the  wilderness 

The  wiiig6d  seed  of  Love  ; 
I  prayed  the  sun,  the  rain,  the  air 

Mifht  bless  it  from  above  ! 

•     •  •  • 

:  •  • 

'^i^itizEa  by  Google 


236 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


And  when  the  seed  had  lain  s  month 

Below  the  sheltering  sod. 
One  tiny  blade  clove  out  its  way 

T«j  Klitil  in  ihf  W^hi  of  r.t)d, 

"  And  in  aitoihcr  month  it  grew 
To  bear  a  flower  of  heaven^  blue. 

Men  c«li  '  FofKet-me-noi ! ' 
Then  came  an  evil-liver  by  : 

On  her  he  cast  his  (n  aclu-rous  eye 
With  passion's  lightning  shot  ! 

"  He  lured,  he  stole,  he  marred  mv  pet  ; 
MitU  'iwn  in  dt-.u  renn-inbrancc  yet, 

Although  she  i.lecps  in  shame  ! 
For  him— his  days  are  deeih,  nod  wone  I 
I  set  00  him  so  dire  «  curie 

It  tenn  bis  heart  like  flnme  V* 

These  two  books  of  verse,  coming  as 

tluy  do  from  the  Rodhy  Head,  are 
daintily  bound  and  printed,  and  each  is 
embellished  with  an  appropriate  decora- 
tive  title-page. 

STORIES  OF  THE  WAGNTR  OPERAS.  By 
H.  A.  Guerbcr.  New  York  ;  Dodd,  Mead&  Co. 
ft.SO. 

This  is  f>nc  of  those  useful  redactions 
which  arc  justitird  by  their  popularity. 
Lovers  of  the  opcia,  and  the  genera) 
reader  as  well  for  that  matter,  will  wel- 
come Miss  Guerber's  paraphrases  of  the 
mediaeval  myths  which  form  the  ground- 
work of  Wagner's  operas.  The  author's 
manner  is  to  describe  tlie  luironds  upon 
wiiich  the  operas  are  based,  toUowing 
them  in  the  latter  as  they  are  acted,  so 
that  her  treatment  of  each  is  at  once  a 
directory  to  Uie  acted  plav  and  a  mod- 
em rendering  of  these  wetrd  and  fasci- 
nating legends  and  stories.  She  also 
traces  the  origin  and  conception  of  the 
operas  in  the  great  composer  s  mind, 
and  relates  the  circumstances  under 
which  they  appeared,  and  notes  their 
subsequent  success  or  failure.  Thus  an 
interesting  body  of  facts  concerning 
Wagner  is  gathered  .iljoiit  these  stories 
of  the  Wagner  operas,  which,  knit  to- 
gether, one  after  the  other,  form  a  series 
of  links  in  the  chain  of  his  musical  ca- 
reer not  to  be  honoured  with  the  name  of 
history  or  biography,  but  which  cuntaia 
the  material  for  such.  There  is  a  portrait 
of  Wagner  and  eleven  full-page  half- 
tones, illustrating  various  scenes  and 
characters  photographed  on  the  stage. 
The  book  has  been  made  in  i^ood  taste, 
and  the  cover  has  a  rather  pretty  design. 

SNOW  BIRD  AND  THE  WATER  TIGER. 
AND  OTHER  AMERICAN  INDIAN  TALES. 

Edited  by  Mari;arct  Ccimpton,  New  York: 
Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.  $1.50. 

The  editor  of  these  American  Indian 


Tales  has  made  splendid  use  of  her  ma- 
terials. The  stories  are  fotinded,  we  are 
informed,  on  folk-lore  contained  in  the 
works  of  Schoolcraft,  Cop  way,  and  Cat- 
lin,  and  also  iip<<n  Government  records 
of  Indian  affairs  Hied  at  the  Smithsonian 
Institute.    From  first  to  last  the  narra- 
tive shows  the  firm  energy  and  capabil- 
ity of  the  aborigines.    Runnini;  thr.  »ugh 
some  of  the  tales,  and  especial  iy  in 
"White   Cloud's  Visit    to    the  Sttn 
Prince."  there  is  an   !mac^inat:^-e  vein 
indicative  of  a  high  order  of  intuitive 
wisdom  and  moral  insigiit.    In  power 
of  creation  these  tales  are  barely  second 
to  the  jungle  Book  stories.     While  the 
descriptions  have  a  richness  and  warmth 
of  colouring  in  harmony  with  the  ind> 
dents  described,  there  is  notliing  flowery 
or  superfluous  about  the  style.    What  is 
more  remarkable  is  the  charming  direct- 
ness and  simplicity  witli  u  lTu  !i  tlie  t,i!r  s 
are  told,  and  which  is  beautifully  in  keep- 
ing with  what  we  know  of  the  poetic  m 
the  Indian's  character.    In  tliis  symj>a- 
thetie  treatment  <«t    Indian   life.  Miss 
Compton  has  proved  herself  capable  by 
her  qualities  of  understanding  and  per- 
spicacity to  hantlle  tlie  snlsject.  This 
collection  is  not  only  valuable  for  its 
preservation  of  the  myths  of  a  people 
who  have  been  closely  linked  to  Ameri- 
can history,  but  also  as  an  addition  to 
the  few  genuine  books  of  folk-lore  for 
grown-ups  as  well  as  for  children.  We 
would  also  call  attenti'M>  x-^  the  beautiful 
illustrations  which  Mr.  Waiter  Green- 
ough  has  made  to  accompany  these  Amer- 
ican Indian  Tales. 

THE  WHITE  WAMPFM.  A  Hook  of  Indian 
Verse.  iiy  fc.  i'aulinc  Johnson  (Tckahioa- 
wake).  Boaton :  Lamaon,  Wolffe  &  Co.  $i.50» 

In  Stmv  Bird  and  the  Water  Tiger,  and 
Other  Tii't  S,  Miss  Compton  has  recrcarM 
the  iliupci  tiiat  were  wont  to  dance  arm 
flash  in  the  Indian's  primeval  fancy  as  he 
sat  by  his  wigwam,  on  the  vast  prairie  or 
in  the  great  forest,  and  dreamed  of  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds.    Miss  Pau- 
line Johnson,  whose  proudest  claim  is 
that  Indian  blood  courses  in  her  veins, 
and  whose  happiest  memories  are  of 
"  the  copper-tinted  face  and  smoulder- 
ing fire  f)f  wilder  life,"  sings  the  swan 
song  of  tlie  doomed  race.    There  is  a 
genuine  note  in  her  voice  as  she  con- 
jures lip  the  scene  of  a  Red  Man's  death 
or  follows  the  "  Pilot  of  the  Plains,"  or 
gives  ])oignancy  to  the    Ciy  from  aa 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL, 


Indian  Wife  and  she  makes  us  hark 
back  to  the  happy,  unmolested  days  of 
the  Indian's  reign  in  many  of  the  poems 
which  com memonte  hU  wild  and  unre> 
stratncd  existtn('«*  under  opal-tinted  skies 
on  the  '■  Shadou  Kiver,"  by  "  Moonset," 
or  **  In  the  Shadows."  She  sings  the 
praise  of  the  Red  Man  and  of  his  coun- 
try, and  her  song  has  that  pathetic  strain 
which  comes  from  the  ever- recurring  re- 
membrance of  the  grace  of  a  day  that  is 
dead.  Her  knowledge  of  the  fast-dyinu: 
race  is  intimate,  and  her  syrapaiheiic 
treatment  of  the  virtues  and  heroism  of 
the  redskins  quickens  alnK>st  to  tears  ; 
but  her  art,  strange  to  say,  bewrays  her, 
and,  after  all,  we  get  nearer  to  the  life  of 
the  Indian  through  Lonpffellow  and 
Whittier.  Especially  is  this  so  where 
she  deals  with  human  nature  ;  there  is 
none  of  the  strange  fascination  that 
creeps  over  us  as  we  read  Hiaioathn. 
But  in  Nature  poetry  siie  is  belter  skilled. 
When  she  describes  the  land  he  lives  in, 
and  still  more  when  she  tries  to  utter 
the  dreams  that  lie  about  her  there,  she 
rouses  us  to  longing  for  a  sight  of  the 
great  prairies,  and  we  catch  the  rapture 
and  sadness  of  her  mood  in  such  lines 
as  these : 

'*  Mine  is  ihe  undertone  ; 
The  beauty,  strcn^jth,  .imJ  jnnvcr  of  the  lAnd 
Will  never  stir  or  t>«nd  at  my  command  ; 
Hut  ail  the  shade 
Is  marred  or  made 
If  I  bill  dip  my  paddle  blade  ; 
Aod  it  is  mine  aUmc. 

"0  !  pathless  world  of  sccmin^f  ! 
O  !  pathless  life  of  mine  whose  deep  ideal 
Ii  more  my  own  than  ever  was  (be  real. 
For  others  Fame 
And  Love's  red  flame. 
And  yellow  gold  ;  I  only  claim 
The  shadows  and  the  dreaming !" 

In  her  touching  little  dedication  Miss 
Johnson  offers  **  this  belt  of  verse>wam- 
pum  to  those  two  who  have  taut^ht  me 
most  of  its  spirit — my  Mother,  whose 
encouragement  has  been  my  mainstay  in 
its  weaving ;  my  Father,  whose  feet  have 
long  since  wandered  to  the  Happy  Hunt- 
ing Groundb, " 

OXFORD  AND  HER  COLLEGES.    By  Goldwin 
Smith.    New  York  :  Macmiilan  &  Co.  I1.50. 

This  dainty  volume  of  170  pages  is  in- 
teresting for  its  own  sake,  and  also  be- 
cause of  the  purpose  with  which  it  was 
written.  Professor  Goldwin  Smith  says 
in  the  preface  that  he  hopes  to  interest 


Americans  in  0-xford,  so  that  to  her  and 
to  Cambiidije  in  the  future  the  eyes  of 
Americans  may  be  turned  no  less  llian 
to  the  universities  of  Gf^rmany.  But  the 
sort  of  interest  that  this  little  book  in- 
spires— an  £esthetic  and  sentimental  in- 
terest — ^has  never  been  lacking  to  Ameri- 
cans. Professor  Smith  chats  very  in- 
structively about  the  history  of  Oxford, 
giving  many  curious  facts — not  always 
those  that  evoke  scholastic  respect — and 
is  very  entertaining.  Fifteen  fine  illus- 
trations beautify  the  volume,  which  lias 
also  a  good  index. 

CORONATION  OF  LOVE.  By  George  Dana 
Boardman.  D.D.  I'hiladelphia  :  American  Bap- 
tist Publication  Society.    75  cts. 

The  "  Coronation  of  Love"  is  Paul's 
canticle  in  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  his 

first  letter  to  the  Corinthians.  Dr. 
Boardman  has  again  touched  the  lyre 
and  sung  the  old,  yet  ever  new  song  in 
tones  that  strike  new  notes  and  bring 
out  fresh  variations  on  the  time-worn 
theme — time-worn  indeed,  but  which  in 
the  skilful  hands  of  such  instrumentalists 
as  Professor  Drummond  and  Dr.  Board- 
man  becomes  keyed  to  the  eternal  har- 
mony of  the  spheres  which  makes  the 
song  endless,  deathless  in  sinpin;:^.  The 
book  itself  is  beautiful  in  its  artistic 
simplicity  and  simple  in  its  artistic 
beauty.  It  deserves  to  take  its  place 
along  with  Professor  Dnimmond's  Grtat- 
est  Thing  in  ihe  H'orU,  and  we  wish  it 
God-speed  on  its  New  Year  mission. 


*  BOOKIWAN  BREVITIES. 

Mr.  Anthony  Hope's  Hal/  a  Hero, 
which  preceded  The  Frisoner  0/  Ze/uia 
and  was  published  in  1893,  has  been  re* 
issued  by  the  Messrs.  Harper  in  a  new 
and  handsome  edition.  Those  who  have 
not  already  enjoyed  reading  this  work 
of  fiction  by  Mr.  Hope  will  do  well  to  at- 
tempt it  in  this  advantai(eous  fr.rrn   

Messrs.  Macmiilan  and  Company  have 
brought  out  Mr.  Crawford's  Kathcrine 
Lauderdale  in  one  volume,  uniform  with 
their  dollar  edition  of  tiiis  author's  nov- 
els.  The  latest  volume  of  Balzac  in  the 
newand  charmi-ig  edition  which  this  firm 
is  handling  for  the  Messrs.  Dent  is  Th^ 
Country  Doctor  ($1 .50).  Ellen  Marriage, 
who  translates  Balzac  for  this  edition, 
is  literate  and  more,  which  is  something 
to  be  grateful  for ;  and  who  so  able,  with 

'     •••Jiyiiiied  by  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


338 

his  love  for  Balzac  and  his  native  hon- 
esty and  reasonableness,  to  reconcile  the 
reader  and  introduce  each  volume  to 
him  as  the  discreet  Mr.  George  Saints- 
bury  ?  There  are  those  who  would  read 
anytliiiig  recommended  to  them  by  Mr. 
Saintsbury.  We  have  to  record  two 
more  volumes  in  the  Standard  Illustrat- 
ed Novels  Series  ($1.35  per  volume), 
Ormonde  hy  Miss  Edgevirorth,  illustrated 
by  Carl  bchl  oosscr  and  prettily  inlro- 
duced,  as  is  her  majiner,  by  Mrs.  Thacke- 
ray Ritchie  ;  and  /aiob  Paithfui,  which 
has  Mr.  Brock's  happy  pen-and-ink  pic- 
tures and  an  introduction  l)y  Mr.  David 
Ilannay.  What  Mr.  Ilaniuiy  has  to  say 
is  briefly  said  and  done  with  ;  for  those 
who  would  read  Jdifh  F.titlt/ul  must 
to  the  story  itself,  without  preamble. 
Neither  did  it  need  the  citation  of 
Thackeray's  "  beloved  Jacob  Faith/ nf 
to  win  us  to  this  old  favourite,  whicti  we 
welcome  in  its  latest  modern  guise  ;  but 
the  allusion  is  pleasant  and  felicitous, 
and  to  some  readers  it  will  W  inform- 
ing. /.'■!:^htL>n  Court,  "  a  country  house 

Story,"  is  the  latest  addition  to  the  Scrib- 
ner's  unitorm  edition  of  Henry  Kings- 
ley's  novels.    The  price  is  $1.00.  

Messrs.  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company  have 
publislicd  an  American  edititm  of  Mr. 
John  Davidson's  Sentences  and  Paragraphs 
($1.00).  Mr.  Davidson  is  a  master  of 
epigram,  and  can  say  strong  things  well 
worth  saying  in  an  original  and  senten- 
tious manner.  His  aphorisms,  criti- 
cisms, and  delightful  obiter  dicta  have  a 
bracing  and  invigor  iiint^  quality  ab  nit 
them  which,  if  it  be  not  genius,  is  some- 
thing very  like  it.  The  same  firm  have 
also  published  a  volume  of  humorous 
and  sympathetic  sketches  of  animal  life 
and  home  pets,  entitled  Snl'jcct  to  Vanity 
($1.25),  by  Margaret  Benson,  a  sister  of 
the  author  of  D.'Jo.  Miss  Benson  chats 
in  a  delightfully  garrulous  vein  about 
the  curious  habits  and  characteristics  of 
her  many  pets,  and  illustrates  some  of 
their  droll  attitudes  with  drawings  of 
her  own. 

Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Com- 
pany have  produced  a  beautiful  holiday 
book  of  Longfellow's  Son^;^  of  Hiaivatha 
($3. 00).  Tricked  out  in  no  cheap,  flimsy 
covers,  but  in  a  substantial,  liravv  buck- 
ram,  with  neat,  chaste  design,  printed  in 
clear  type  on  fine  paper,  it  is  an  exam* 
pie  of  l'oi)k.making  to  shame  many  of 
the  volumes  with  which  it  will  lie  side 
by  side  during  the  season.  But  the  best 


is  yet  to  be  said.    There  is  a  full -page 
illustration  to  each  of  the  twenty-lwa 
parts  of  the  poem,  from  designs  by  Fred- 
eric Remington.    This  in  itself  is  a  fea- 
ture to  commend  the  book.    We  know 
these  to  be  no  fancy  pictures,  but  to  l>e 
the  result  of  years  of  study  on  the  plains 
and  prairies  of  the  West.    It  was  also  a 
happy  idea  to  give  a  frontispiece  portrait 
of  Longfellow  as  he  appeared  in  1840, 
when  he  wrote  Hiawatha.   We  have  mow 
The    Whittle  r    Year- Book  (Houghton, 
Mifflin  and  Company)  to  add  to  this 
popular  form  of  devotional  literature  in- 
tencled  as  gift-books,  and  there   is  a 
wealth  of  material  of  this  sort  in  the 
verse  and  prose  of  Whittier  that  may 
be  chosen  for  the  daily  food  of  the  lover 
of  thought  and  beauty.    We  see  many 
favourite  passages  here,  and  others  not 
so  f.imiliar,  but  all  are  endeared  to  us 
by  the  gentle  spirit  which  gave  them 
being  and  breathed  life  and  beauty  into 
them.    The  book  is  beautifully  bound, 
contains  a  new  frontispiece  portrait  of 
the  poet,  and   only  cobts  one  dollar. 
This  house  has  also  acquired  the  rights 
of  Miss  Agnes  Repplier's  little  volume 
of  sprightly  Essays  in  Miniature  (1^1.25), 
published  in  1S93,  and  has  issued  it 
in  a  new  edition  in  a  dainty  manner  be- 
fitting the  contents.    This  volume  con- 
tains the  well-conned  "  Trials  of  a  Pub* 
lisher,**  of  which  the  papers  made  much 
on  its  appearance  ;  also  the  appreciative 
criticism  of  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde's  Inttnliens 
— a  book  which  embodies  some  of  this 
atithor's  most  thouj^Iitf ul,  serious,  and 
scholarly  work.   Miss  Kcpplter  is  one  of 
the  most  companionable  of  writers,  and 
she  is  never  guilty  of  writing  a  dull 
page. 

Dog  Stories  from  the  Spectator  is  an  in- 
teresting collection  of  anecdotes  illustra- 
tive of  tlic  canine  intelligence,  affection, 
and  sympathy.  The  stories  hrst  ap- 
peared in  the  pages  of  the  "  Correspond- 
ence Columns"  of  tlie  Spectator.  .\n 
introduction  is  contributed  by  J.  St.  Loe 
Strachey,  and  an  original  cover  has  been 
given  to  the  book  (Macmilian,  §1.75). 
The  Macmillans  have  published  Mat- 
thew Arnold's  famous  essay  on  *'  The 
Function  of  Criticism  at  the  Present 
Time"  and  Walter  Pater's  *'  Essay  on 
Style"  together  in  miniature  shape, 
bound  in  cloth,  75  cents,  and  in  paper. 
25  cents.  Both  arc  reprints  frotn  the 
authors'  collected  works  published  by 
the  same  firm. 


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«39 


SOME  RECENT  EDUCATIONAL  PUBUCATIONa 


Messrs.  Gion  and  Company  publish 
A  History  of  Our  Country,  a  text-book 
for  schools,  which  is  a  book  of  especial 
interest  because  its  authors,  Messrs. 
O  H.  Cooper,  H.  F.  Estill,  and  Leonard 
Lcmnnun,  are  all  Texans,  and  cuiinccicd 
with  the  school  system  of  their  State. 
Its  object,  as  set  forth  in  the  preface,  is 
to  "  present  fairly  and  impartially  all 
sections  of  the  Union.  The  authors,** 
they  say,  "  have  endeavoured  to  divest 
the  narrative  of  all  bias  for  or  against 
the  North  or  the  South,  the  East  or  the 
AVest."  In  this  we  believe  that  they 
have  fully  succeeded,  for  wc  have  read 
with  extreme  care  all  those  parts  of  the 
book  nrhere  such  a  bias  might  be  looked 
for,  and  have  discovered  not  a  word  or 
a  phrase  that  would  enable  one  to  de- 
tect a  suggestion  of  partisanship.  The 
later  ante-bellum  period,  the  war  itself, 
and  the  era  of  reconstruction,  are  all 
treated  with  a  really  remarkable  ab- 
sence of  prejudice  ;  and,  apart  from  its 
immediate  purpose,  the  whole  narrative 
has  value  as  ,giving  striking  testimony 
to  the  reality  of  our  existing  national 
harmony.  The  book  is  handsomely 
printed  in  clear,  legible  type,  and  is 
supplied  with  a  large  number  of  inter- 
esting illustrations.  The  same  publish- 
ers  send  us  a  vulume,  entitled  The  i'hi- 
losophy  of  School  Management^  by  Arnold 
Tompkins,  whicli  we  reserve  for  a  more 
extended  notice  hereafter. 

The  study  of  the  classics  may  be  on 
the  decline,  as  many  very  worthy  peojile 
say  ;  yet  if  so,  the  publishers  do  not  yet 
appear  to  have  discovered  the  fact. 
Never  were  so  many  works  put  forth  re- 
lating to  the  language  and  literature  of 
Greece  and  Rome ;  and  surely  never 
were  there  so  many  of  permanent  and 
practical  value.  Foremost  amonii^  them 
is  an  Appendix  to  Professor  Bennett's 
condensed  Latin  Granunar^  of  which  we 
pive  a  short  notice  some  time  ago. 
This  Appendix  is  in  a  way  of  even  great- 
er interest  and  importance,  especially 
to  the  teacher,  than  the  grammar  itself, 
in  u  Mr.  Bennett  takes  up,  in  a  most 
lucid  and  clean-cut  way,  a  number  of 
questions  that  have  lately  come  into 
vogue  among  Latinists.  Amoncf  these 
are  especially  to  be  noticed  the  subject 


of  Latin  pronunciation,  of  hidden  or 
natural  quantities,  of  correct  orthogra- 
phy, and  of  certain  syntactical  topics  on 
which  tlie  modem  doctrine  differs  from 
the  ohi.  There  are  no  words  wasted  in 
this  neat  little  volume  of  2  50  pages,  and 
yet  nothing  is  pinched  for  s[)ace ;  all  of 
which  shows  the  art  and  inixeniiity  of 
the  expositor.  We  notice  here  and 
there,  however,  that  in  the  intensity  of 
his  pursuit  of  Latin  grammatical  subtle- 
ties the  Professor  occasionally  knocks  a 
hole  in  English  syntax,  as  when  he  says, 
"  Neither  Grober  nor  Korting  include  it 
in  their  collection."  The  Appendix, 
like  the  Grammar,  is  published  by 
Messrs.  Allyn  and  Bacon,  of  Boston. 

 Messrs.  GInn  and  Company  have 

issued  a  very  neat  and  useful  edition  of 
Selected  Lives^  taken  from  Cornelius 
N'epos  and  edited  by  Dr.  Arthur  VV. 
Roberts,  of  the  William  Fenn  Charter 
School  of  Philadelphia.  The  quantities 
are  Very  carefully  marked,  there  are  good 
notes,  a  list  of  word -groups  with  their 
bases,  and  a  vocabulary,  together  with 

a  good  map  and  a  few  illustrations,  

Messrs.  Learh,  Shewell  and  Sanborn 
publish  A  I'u  st  Greek  Book,  by  Profes- 
sor Graves  of  Tufts,  and  Dr.  Hawes 
of  the  Brooklyn  rolytechnic  ;  and  the 
Messrs.  Macmidan  send  us  a  beautiful 
little  volume  intended  for  beginners  in 
the  study  of  the  New  Testament,  en- 
titled Essentials  of  New  Testament  Greeks 
by  Mr.  J.  H.  Huddilston,  of  the  North* 

western  University.  It  is  both  simple 
and  scholarly,  and  has  a  brief  yet  inter- 
esting introduction  on  the  Hellenistic 
Greek  and  its  history.  The  book  should 
be  of  much  value  to  theological  stu- 
dents.    Trice,  75  cents.  The  Youth's 

Classical  Dictionary,  i)y  Mr.  E.  S.  Ellis, 
published  by  the  Woolfall  Company,  of 
this  city,  is  a  compilation  of  some  200 
pages  that  may  be  of  use  for  ready  ref- 
erence,  thoui^di  it  is  not  very  carefully 
made.    The  price  is  50  cents. 

To  the  American  Book  Company's 
series  of  "  Eclectic  School  Readings" 
there  have  recently  been  added  Fairy 
Stories  and  Fables,  retold  by  James  Bald- 
win, anrl  Storiii  of  Great  Americans  for 
I.iltir  Americans,  liy  Fdward  HLr'.^Iest">n. 
 .Messrs.  D.  Appieton  and  Company 


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send  us  the  latest  two  volumes  of  their 
*'  International  Educational  Series" — 

Mottoi's  and  Conmu  ntat  iii  on  FroebeV s 
Mother  -I'lay  by  Henrietta  R.  Eliot  and 
Susan  £.  Blow,  and  Tkt  Psycholo^  of 


Number  by  Messrs.  McLcUan  and  Dew- 
cy»  both  of  which  will  receive  a  more 
extended  notice  in  tlic  December  num- 
ber of  The  Bookmam,  together  with  sev- 
eral other  important  educational  works. 


AMONG  THE  LIBRARIEa 


The  Library  of  the  University  of  Vien- 
na reports  additions  of  i8,ioo  volumes 
during  the  past  year,  raising  the  total 
number  of  volumes  in  the  Library  to 
43S,ooo. 

Librarians,  booksellers,  and  book- 
buyers  who  deal  with  French  hooks 
will  be  glad  to  learn  that  Le  Soudier  in 
Paris  proposes  to  issue  shortly,  under 
the  title  lUbliographir  Fr.incaise,  a  collec- 
tion of  the  catalogues  of  French  publish- 
ers, like  the  American  Trade  List  Annual, 
Similar  publications  have  been  issued 
from  time  to  time  in  Fnc^land  atni  Italy, 
following  the  idea  uf  the  Irade  Lat  An- 
nual^ wliicli  was  started  in  1873.  The 
Frencli  catalogue  will  have  an  index  of 
authors  and  also  of  subjects. 

The  Biblioteca  Nationale  Centrale  in 
Florence  has  just  celebrated  in  a  mod- 
est way  the  ttventy-fifth  anniversary  of 
its  creation  as  a  national  library  by  the 
receipt  of  tlie  jirivilcge  of  copyright 
books  for  Italy  conferred  on  it  in  1870. 
As  a  result  of  this  resource,  the  Library 
now  reports  the  possesion  of  435,079 
volumes,  about  the  same  number  of 
pampidcis,  and  over  18,000  manu- 
scripts. It  announces  that  it  will  take 
up  again  the  publication  of  the  Indicie 
Catalo^hi^  which  has  been  interrupted 
for  some  years. 

A  number  of  Belgian  enthusiasts  have 
recently  held  at  Brussels  a  Conference 
Bibliographique  Internationale,  as  they 
style  their  meeting.  They  have  also 
founded  an  Institut  International  de 
Bibliographic,  which  has  coniineaced 
the  publication  of  a  Bulletin. 

The  ohirct  of  the  ort^anisation  and 
the  work  ot  the  meeting  seems  u.  be  the 
compulsory  introduction  by  govern- 
mental authority,  in  all  the  lil)raries  of 
the  world,  of  the  Dewey  Decimal  Classi- 
fication, which  attracted  considerable  at- 
tention among  librarians  in  this  country 
a  number  of  years  since.    Setting  out 


with  the  startling  information  that  the 
system  has  been  adopted  by  the  Amcri* 

can  Library  Association  and  the  national 
government  through  the  Board  of  Edu- 
cation, and  is  in  general  use  here,  the 
Institut  proposes  to  bless  Europe  with 
the  universal  introduction  of  the  Deci- 
mal Classification. 

Bonn  University  Library  reports  the 
addition,  rlnn'TiLT  the  last  academic  year, 
of  15,974  numbers,  which  appear  to  be 
largely  pamphlets,  including  duplicate 
dissertations. 

The  John  Crerar  Scientific  Library  of 
Chicago,  which  recently  appointed  as 
its  librarian  Mr.  C.  W.  Andrews,  former- 
ly of  the  Library  of  the  Institute  of 
Technology  at  Boston,  has  just  appoint- 
ed as  assistant  librarian  Mr.  A.  H.  Hop* 
kins,  who  has  been  for  the  past  eight 
years  in  a  similar  capacity  in  the  Libraiy 
of  the  University  of  Michigan.  This 
new  library  for  Chicago  has,  by  the 
selection  of  these  two  young  men — 
among  the  most  capable  and  most  prom- 
ising of  the  younger  librarians  of  the 
country — -formed  the  nucleus  of  a  com- 
petent library  start.  It  has  thus  avoided 
the  example  of  some  libraries  established 
in  recent  years,  which  have  proceeded 
with  the  preliminary  work  of  buying  and 
arranging  the  library  without  first  secur- 
ing the  services  of  competent  librarians. 

The  investigation  which  has  been  re- 
cently held  concerning  the  matter  of 
copyright  fees  in  the  Library'  of  Con- 
gress has  resulted  in  makini^  known  a 
regrettable  condition  of  the  accounts  in 
that  department.  The  Congressional 
Library,  which  is  soon  to  occupy  its  new 
building,  has  been  for  many  years  in  an 
increasing  state  of  confusion.  In  most 
of  its  departments  it  appears  to  be  far 
behind  what  should  be  expected  of  a  na- 
tional  library.  The  overcrowding  of 
routine  work,  in  the  copyright  depart- 
ment particularly,  and  the  duty  of  aid* 


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ing  members  of  Congress  in  their  re> 
searches  in  the  Mbrary,  have  so  far  en* 

grossed  the  time  and  strength  of  the 
Tcoerable  liorarian,  that  the  wider  and 
in€>re  important  interests  of  the  Library 

appear  to  luivc  bcL-n  largely  neglected. 
The  work  of  a  number  of  years  and  a 
large  money  outlay  would  seem  to  be 
necessary  to  put  the  catalogue  and  other 
departments  of  the  Congressional  Libra- 
ry in  proper  working  condition  as  it  is 
understood  in  the  best  libmriL-s  of  the 
conntry.  Tlie  important  work  of  prop- 
eriy  cataloguing,  arranging,  and  making 
available  the  Library  of  Congress  should 
be  undertaken  without  further  delay. 

The  Columbia  College  Library  has  add- 
ed during  the  past  college  year  the  large 
number  of  24,8  ^9  vohimes,  raising  its  to- 
tal number  on  July  1st  of  this  year  to  over 
200,000  volumes.  Its  additions  for  the 
month  of  September  are  over  3000  vol- 
umes. Special  attention  is  being  given  to 
cnriciiing  the  lil)i  ary  with  sets  of  scientific 
periodicals  and  the  transactions  of 
learned  societies  in  various  fields.  The 
additions  in  this  class  of  literature  make 
up  many  thousand  volumes.  Woric  on 
the  new  library  building  pfivcn  by  Presi- 
dent Low  is  being  industriously  prose- 
cuted, and  the  foundations  are  well  ad- 
vanced. 

The  report  of  the  Chicago  Public  Li- 
brary has  just  been  issued.  It  announces 
the  addition  for  the  past  year  of  18,485 
volumes  and  a  total  number  of  211,157 
volumes.  Its  circulation  for  home  use 
has  reached  the  large  number  of  1,147,- 
862  volumes.  The  new  lil)rary  buildlntj 
is  rooted  in,  and  the  interior  work  is 
being  rapidly  pushed. 

T!ie  Library  of  the  University  of  Leip- 
zig celebrates  this  year  its  three  hundred 
and  fiftieth  anniversary. 

The  Bodleian  Library,  at  Oxford,  re- 
ports tor  the  past  year  tiie  largest  growth 
in  its  history,  namely,  60,787  items,  of 
which  44,>!53  come  from  copyright.  Of 
the  whole  number,  only  6695  were  bound 
volumes.  This  illustrates  the  great  re- 
duction which  must  be  made  from  the 
ftnmber  of  pieces  received  by  copyright 
in  libraries,  to  arrive  at  the  real  increase 
in  boolcs,  and  the  woilcing  strength  of  a 
library. 

The  work  of  unifyin|r  and  organising 
the  new  library  which  is  to  grow  out  of 

the  combined  Astor,  Lenox,  and  Tilden 
foundations  has  in  large  degree  rested 
during  the  vacation  period. 


The  financial  management  has  been 
consolidated,  and  the  funds  of  the  sev* 

oral  corporations  have  passed  under  the 
administrative  control  of  the  new  cor- 
poration. The  books  of  the  Tilden  Li« 
brary,  substantially  Mr.  Tilden's  private 
library,  have  been  removed  to  the  Lenox 
Library  building. 

The  Publishing  Section  of  the  Ameri- 
can Library  Association  announces  as 
ready  for  distribution  the  List  0/  Subject 
Headings  for  DicHoMry  Catalogues.  It 
contains  about  three  thorifiand  headings 
with  the  necessary  references,  and  ought 
to  prove  useful  to  libraries  of  moderate 
size.  The  section  is  also  publishing- 
small  lists  of  selected  titles  on  special 
topic  s,  with  criticisms  and  remarks  by 
persons  supposed  to  be  authorities. 

The  schools  for  library  training  which 
have  sprung  up  in  such  numbers  during 
the  past  ten  years  seem  to  all  find  pupils 
in  abundance. 

The  summer  school  held  at  Amherst, 
Mass.,  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  W.  I. 
Fletcher,  the  college  librarian,  had  a 
class  this  year  of  thirtv. 

Plans  for  a  new  library  building  at 
Iloboken,  N.  J.,  to  cost  $50,000  Eave 
been  adopted.  * 

The  authorities  of  the  Newark  Public 
Library  are  discussing  plans  for  the 
proposed  new  building,  for  which  a  site 
has  been  secured. 

Miss  Caroline  M.  Underhill,  of  Deny, 
N.  H.,  has  been  appointed  as  librarian 
of  the  Utica  Public  Library,  succeeding 
the  late  Miss  Louise  S.  Cutler,  with 
whom  she  had  been  associated  as  assist- 
ant. 

Preparations  are  actively  going  for- 
ward for  a  large  fair  to  be  held  shortly 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Aguilar  Library, 
of  New  Yortc  City.    The  work  of  this 

institution  in  its  several  branches  is  con- 
stantly increasing,  and  far  outstrips  the 
resources  in  hand.  The  uptown  branch 
has  recently  removed  from  Lexington 
Avenue  to  more  accessible  quarters  on 
Fifty-ninth  Street. 

The  completion  of  the  first  series  of 
the  index  catalogues  of  the  Library  of 
the  Surgeon-General's  Oltice  in  Wash- 
ington, which  has  fust  been  effected  by 
the  issue  of  tlie  si.xteenth  volume,  seems 
worthy  of  notice.  This  immense  cata- 
logue,' which  is  without  doubt  the  most 
extensive  record  ever  published  of  a  spe- 
cial collection  in  a  definite  field,  is  an 
unrivalled  monument  to  the  industry  of 


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its  compilers,  and  an  hnnotir  to  American 
libraries.  It  is  an  unusual  combination 
of  fortunate  circumstances  that  makes  It 
possible  for  so  larpe  and  full  a  collection 
as  the  Library  oi  the  Surgeon-Generars 
ofSce  to  be  so  fully  and  thoroughly  cata- 
logued as  that  collection  has  been.  It 
is  an  added  and  equally  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance that  so  immense  a  catalogue, 
when  compiled,  could  be  put  into  print. 
It  is  proposed  to  issue  a  second  supple- 
mentary series  of  live  volumes.  The 
whole  work  constitutes  a  bibliographi- 
cal handbook  of  the  medical  sciences  far 
surpassing  in  fulness  and  detail  the  bibli- 
ographical apparatus  in  an^  other  depart- 
ment of  human  learning.  This  collection 
of  books  and  the  catalnq;tie  has  been 
created  largely  under  the  supjrvibiou  of 
the  librarian/  Dr.  J.  S.  Billings,  who 
has  now  terminated  his  connection  with 
the  Surgeon-General's  othce,  and  ac- 
cepted the  Chair  of  Public  Hygiene  in 
the  I'niversity  of  I^cnns^'lvania. 

In  a  recently  issued  article  on  the  libra- 
ries of  Canada,  by  James  Bain,  chief 
librarian  of  the  Toronto  Public  Library, 
it  appears  that  the  Canadians  are  still 


considerably  behind  the  T''nitcd  States 
in  the  matter  of  library  development. 
Mr.  Bain's  statistics  show  that  in  a  total 
population  for  the  Dominion  of  Canada 
of  4,^33, 239>  the  entire  number  of  vol- 
umes in  the  various  libraries  throughout 
is  but  1,557,391,  or  an  aver  ii^e  of  310 
volumes  to  ever)'  thousand  inhabitants. 
New  York  State  has  the  reputation  of 
being  somewhat  behind  many  of  the 
other  Stales  of  the  Union  in  librani-  mat- 
ters, yet  the  total  number  of  volumes  in 
the  libraries  of  the  State  is  given  in  a 
late  Bulletin  of  the  Repents  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  the  Slate  of  New  York  at 
4,133,378,  while  the  population  of  the 
State,  by  the  last  census,  was  5,<;o:,  "^53, 
ijiving  an  average  of  689  volumes  for 
each  thousand  inhabitants. 

The  largest  and  most  important  library 
in  Canada  is  the  Library  of  Parliament, 
at  Ottawa,  reported  to  contain  150,000 
volumes ;  while  the  second  in  size  ap- 
pears to  l^e  the  Library  of  Laval  Col- 
lege in  Quebec,  which  contains  100,000 
volumes. 

Gt^t  Jf.  Baker. 


THE  BOOK  MART. 


For  Boorreadsrs,  Bookbuyers,  akd  Booksellers. 


EASTERN  LETTER. 

Nbw  YoftK,  October  i,  189$. 

Text-books  for  schoins  and  college'^  liavc  let!  all 
other  classes  of  literature  in  point  of  sale  during 
the  past  month.  The  retirement,  owing  to  the  ad' 
vaoce  in  methods,  of  many  titles  and  authors  that 
have  been  popular  in  the  past  is  noticeable,  and  in 
no  case  more  so  than  in  readint;  and  in  the  study  of 
Hteralure.  Where  formerly  only  series  of  readers 
and  [cxt  l>()i>ks  were  used,  it  is  now  ctist'>ni;irv  to 
supplement  or  use  entirely  selections  from  the 
standard  authors.  Of  ivories  especially  prepared 
for  (bis  purpose  in  cheap  school  edidons  may  be 
mendoned  the  Rfveraide  Literature  Series.  May- 
nanl's  Classics  Grimm's  Classics  for  Children,  and 

Roltc's  Shakespeare. 

Traile-  in  i.;eruTal  literature  c.in  hardly  be  yet 
said  to  ha\  <-  fairU'  starteil  for  tt>c  autumn  and  winter 
months.  Dealers  .(re  eii>;aKcd  for  the  most  pact 
in  completing  their  slock  from  the  various  new 
lines  pat  forth  by  the  publishers.  A  featore  of 
the  hiili.'av  publications  will  be  ihr- nn inerrnis  year- 
books. Ill  is  is  .1  style  of  book  which  has  conie 
into  vojfue  ilurini;  the  past  year  or  two,  and  is  now 
in  danger  of  being  overdone,  as  many  of  this  year's 
«nthon  ara  hardly  known  to  the  general  jniblic. 


Thoee  by  PMHIps  Brooks,  Holmes,  and  Whktier 

will  perhaps  have  the  larfjesl  sales. 

New  juvenile  books  in  cloth  btndini^.  whidi 
seemed  rather  scarce  in  ihe  early  pari  of  the  sea- 
son, have  now  been  brought  out  in  large  quanti- 
ties, with  attractive  bindings  and  illustrations. 
The  foliowins  authors  continue  to  be  very  popu- 
lar in  this  daas:  William  O.  Stoddard.  G.  A. 
Hen'.y,  Kirk  Munroe,  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Bur- 
nett, anil  l.<mes()tis.  The  latter  is  particularly 
jir'i'.ilic.  (iiie  publislicr  having:  no  less  than  f;veiiew 
i>ook^  oi  hi».  whiie  ai  least  tour  or  hve  oth«:r>  have 
one  apiece. 

The  prettiest  toy  books  are  undoubtedly  import- 
ed ones,  the  colonrinir  of  theillustratlons  being  veiy 

fine,  .md  a!so  the  rnechanirnl  effects,  such  as  the 
tr<4iibt<inn.ilKjn  [  iciures.  ?'.iirv  stories  are  always 
popular  in  the  h«>liii.i\  s,  and  Several  new  volumes 
arc  announced,  including  J  hi  Ktd  Trtu  Stoy 
Jii\>k  and  My  Orrn  Fairy  Hook,  by  Aodrew  Lang. 

In  fiction.  Stride  tkt  Bimme  Brier  Bmsk  and 
The  Primter  0/  Zentia  still  lead  in  demand. 
\vlt;>  the  works  r,f  Stanley  ).  Wcyman,  Hall 
Cainc,  A.  Coii.in  Dnvle.  and  S.  R  Crockett  Lti.Tje 
ne.xt  in  popularity.  ()ttu  r  linoks  nf  t}ie  month 
selling  well  are  UHth,  by  George  Macdonald  ;  Mem 
oftheMctfH«gh\fi%.  R-Crockctt;.  Tkt  Witt  Wam~ 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


243 


««.  by  Clara  Loafse  BarntMcn,  and  Th^  Village 
IVatih  y.K.i-r,  by  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin.  In 
other  subjects  Baifour's  I-auKduiMm  0/  Belief, 
Ktdd's  Sotial  Evolution,  and  The  Ascent  of  Man 
iMve  had  a  steady  aalc,  and //iMViVar^M  WhUmtM 
Saved  Oregtm^  bfO.  W.  NisoQ,  may  alao  be  added 
to  ihis  list. 

Travellers  for  the  publishers  report  grK>d  sales 
during  the  month,  and  while  retail  draU  rs  do  not 
3'ct  feel  any  marked  increase,  there  is  a  prevailing 
impression  that  business  will  meet  thdr  expecta- 
tioas  in  the  coming  mooths. 

For  September,  the  moil  popular  books  have 
been  alnoat  the  lame  aa  those  of  the  precedtof 
month. 

The  Pkisoner  o(  Zeoda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 

75  cts. 

Reside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bmsb.  By  Ian  Mae- 
laren.  j^i.as. 
The  Kiog'a  Stntagem.  By  Stanley  J.  Weymao. 

Socts. 

From  the  Memoirs  of  a  Minhter  of  France.  By 

Stanley  J.  Weyman.    Si. 25. 

Al>  ut  I'aris.  By  Richard  Harding  Davis.  l^i.2<;. 
Mv  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maarten  Maarteoa. 

ft. 75. 

College  Girls,  By  Abbe  Carter  Goodloe.  $1.25. 
The  Stark  Maaro  Letters.  By  A.  Cooan  Doyle, 
$i.«o. 

The  Manxman.    By  Hall  Caitic.  $1.50. 

The  Story  i)f  Bessie  Custreil.  By  Mrs.  lluni- 
fjhrv  Ward.     75  cis. 

1  be  Adventures  of  Captain  Horn.  By  Frank 
Stockton.  $1.50. 

The  Woman  Who  Did.  By  Grant  AUea.  $1.00. 

The  Prlncen  Aline.  By  Richard  Harding  Da. 
vis.  $1.25. 

Rhymes  of  Our  I'lmct.  Hy  Will  Carlelon. 
fi.25. 

iiarabbas.    By  Marie  CorcllL  $1.00. 


WESTERN  LETTER. 

Chicago,  October  f,  iSos* 

Scptf-mher  IS  an  iinportant  month  to  the  huok- 
scllcr,  lor  it  marks  the  opening  of  the  busy  sea- 
ton,  and  the  record  of  business  done  during  this 
nooih  i»  an  iodicatioo  of  what  will  follow  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  the  year.  It  mtut  be  ad- 
mitted that  trade  has  been  very  satisfactory; 
country  buyers  have  been  liberal  in  their  holiday 
purchases,  an  i  have  bought  especially  well  of  the 
better  class  of  books.  There  still  exists,  however, 
the  tendency  to  caution  which  asserted  itself  so 

1  strongly  last  year,  and  dealers  are  warv  of  invest. 

I  ing  in  costly  books.   A  good  deal  of  interest  has 

been  shown  in  forthcoming  books,  especially  the 
leading  juveniles,  .in<l  ilir*  advance  orders  for  books 
lo  appear  this  nioiuh  arc  fallv  up  to  <•  v pc(  t.ii ioti'*. 
On  the  whole,  we  may  say  the  season  has  opened 
briskljr,  and  the  prospecis  for  the  hoUdaya  are 

L  br%bu 

Quite  a  number  of  good  books  made  their  bow 
to  the  public  last  month.  The  beat  of  them  «  rre 
The  Stark  Munro  Letters,  by  Conan  Doyle,  and 
VT'n- man's  Mi-noin  of  ,1  ^/inisler  0/  /  r,;>it\\ 
vthich  tuke  the  icididg  place  from  a  busirtc&s 
point  of  view  in  the  month's  output.  About  Paris, 
by  R.  H.  Daris.  claims  the  next  place,  and  of  the 
«(her  new  books,  which  are  adUnff  well,  we  may 


mention  Rhymes  of  our  Planet,  by  Will  Carleton, 
and  I'ke  Froiit  },,ir,/,  <inJ  OUur  Sf.'rut,  by  Miss 
Woolson.  S.  R.  Cro(  keit's  A/iii  nf  t/u  M^ss-ilags 
was  received  just  as  the  month  closed,  and  judging 
from  the  way  it  i»  being  taken  up  will  undoabtedly 
be  one  of  the  leading  books  daring  October.  In  re> 
gard  to  the  older  favourites,  Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier 
Bush  is  surprising  cver>'body  by  its  phenomenal 
sale,  and  the  demand  for  the  Chimmie  Fadden 
books  has  been  remarkable.  Every  one  seems  to 
be  reading  Ihem.  The  J'risoner  of  Zenda  is  also 
having  a  greatly  increased  sale  at  present,  which 
is  probably  accouoled  for  by  the  dramatisation  of 
the  story.  An  amusing  thing  about  Mr.  Hope's 
book  is  that  there  are  constant  calls  for  a  sequel. 

It  wouli)  seem,  on  the  face  of  it,  ifiat,  consider- 
ing the  succcsii  uf  so  (Udny  ui  ihc  tiew  ai^lhurs,  the 
present  would  hardly  be  an  appropriate  lime  to  at- 
tempt to  resuscitate  some  of  the  older  lights  that 
shone  two  or  three  generations  ago,  but  whose 
lustre  time  has  dimmed.  It  has  been  done,  bow- 
ever,  and  successfully,  for  the  reprints  of  the  Fer- 
ricr  novels,  Mi>s  10if,'e(.vorth's  works,  atid  others 
h^vc  hiid,  and  arc  having,  quite  a  guod  ^aie. 
More  of  these  reprints  are  under  way,  for  we  notice 
in  preparation  new  editions,  amongst  others,  of  the 
works  of  John  Gait,  Henry  Kingstey,  and  Lady 
Jackson. 

Cbelrosophy  is  one  of  the  smaller  fads  of  the 

hour,  ami  there  is  quite  a  const. mt  call  for  hor^ks 
oil  ibis  subject.  A  new  work  l)y  "  Cheiro,  "  enlitleii 
The  Language  of  the  ll.uiJ,  is  having  (|niie  a 
large  sale  for  a  book  of  this  kind,  notwithstaodiog 
the  fact  (hat  it  Is  a  oompaimdvely  high-priced 
work. 

The  aeason  will  be  particnlariy  rich  in  Juvenile 

books,  for  it  ajipears  to  iie  the  on!y  line  in  which 
pul>:ishers  h.ive  arranged  for  a  larger  out[jut  than 
tasua!.  Hooks  (or  t)()ys  leail  tlie  \  .in  in  numbers, 
and  we  notice  that  in  additi  on  to  three  new  Henty 
books,  which,  like  their  pre  leL(.  v,sors,  are  sure  of 
a  laiie  sale,  there  will  be  works  by  such  welU 
known  favoarites  as  H.  A.  Alger,  E.  S.  Ellis, 
Oliver  Optic.  Hczekiah  Butterwoftb,  G.  Manville 
Fcnn,  and  others. 

As  will  he  seen  by  the  subjoined  list  of  books, 
which  were  most  in  demand  during  the  month, 
many  new  books  take  the  places  formerly  filled  by 
the  older  ones.  In  addition  to  the  books  roea. 
tloned,  it  should  be  added  that  people  are  now  lie* 
ginning  to  do  some  of  their  heavy  winter  reading, 
as  is  evidenced  by  the  increased  demand  for  books 
on  Political  i:c  nioiny.  Religion,  Sociology,  His- 
tory.  and  so  f  orth 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  Hy  Ian  Mac- 
laren.  $1.25. 

Chimmie  Fadden.  ist  and  2d  Scries.  By  EL 
W.  Townsend.    Each,  cloth,  $i.o«j  ;  paper,  SOCtSk 

The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

The  M.msman.    By  Hall  Caine.    Si  .so 
The  burk  Munro  Letters.   By  A.  Coit<in  Doyic. 
$1.50. 

Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  France.  By  Stanley 
J.  Wevman.  $1.25. 

The  Front  Yard,  and  Other  Italian  Stories.  By 
C.  F.  Woolson.  $1.25. 

About  Paris,    llv  R.  IT.  Davis. 

Mr.  Bonaparte  Curssca.  \'>\-  J'  ha  Kcndrick 
Bangs.  $1.25. 

Lilitb.    Bv  George  Macdonald.  $1.25. 

Trilby.   By  George  Da  Uaurier.  9i.75* 


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»44 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


When  Valmoad  CuM  to  Pontiac    By  GUbctl 
Parker.   $1.50.  • 
Tlie  Little  iiugocnot.   By  Max  P^mbcrton.  75 

ets. 

TIk-  A<h<- mures  ot  Csptalii  Hom.    By  F.  R. 

liarabbas.    By  Marie  Corelli.  $1.00. 

Tilc  Woman  Who  Did.  By  Granc  Alien.  $1.00. 

The  UaiCcr.   By  I.  ZangwOL  #1.7$. 


ENGUSU  NOTES. 

LoMiMM,  Aogiut  19  to  Scpiambcr  at,  1895. 

The  number  of  new  books  announced  for  publi- 
cation bids  fair  to  eclipse  all  previous  years.  Com- 
petent judges,  \vln>sc  must  tie  Tt  s])frlc<i, 
Stale  that  an  impruvcii  uatic  is  io  siore  for  the  re- 
tail booksellers.  The  latter  unite  as  fMW  man  fo 
hoping  that  they  are  not  mitlaken. 

Triliy  is  aUu  •elling  freely,  and  establbbinfit 
a  record  of  its  own.  It  appeared  at  a  time  when  a 
gooA  demand  for  asix-shiHing  book  was  very  ac- 
cept.iblc  Iiniofil. 

New  books  arc  licint;  <ii  li\ »-t<-f1  in  !.%rge  num- 
bers. One  shudders  10  think  what  the  .iggregate 
will  be  for  the  autumn  season.  1  he  worst  feature 
is  that  the  total  value  does  not  increase  propor' 
tionately  with  the  nambers,  the  books  merely 
eompcting  with  eadi  other. 

The  lefulinc;  srhool-hooks  shmv  no  signs  of  de- 
creased circulation,  so  far  as  can  be  judged  io  the 
t\-holcsalc  trade.  The  V\U-  of  a  school-bo<ik  once 
accepted  as  a  standard  work  is  a  long  one,  and  its 
death  is  usually  very  anddcn.  To  this  latter  fact, 
the  shelves  of  every  retail  bookseller  bear  iiaao- 
•werable  evidence. 

Appended  is  a  list  of  the  IcaiHiiK'  [  ublications  of 
the  moment.  Six-shilling  novels  are  by  no  means 
wanting  ;  in  fact,  they  still  form  .m  ittjpiut.mt 
Item.  Novels  at  3s.  6d.  have  n"t  snppl anted  tiic 
higher-priced  OOeS,  as  publishers  state  that  the 
leading  authors  cannot  be  produced  at  the  price. 

Trilby.   By  G.  Da  Matirier.  6s. 
Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.   By  Ian  Mac- 
laren.  6s. 

From  the  Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  France. 
By  S.  Weyman.  6s. 
Joan  Haste.    By  H,  Rider  Haggard.  6a. 
The  Manxman.    By  Hall  Cainc.  6s. 
Barabbas.    By  Marie  Corelli.  6s. 
My  Lady  Nobody.    By  M.  Maariens.  Gs. 
The  Adventitrea  of  Captain  Hom.   By  F.  R. 
Stockton.  6s. 

Th'  Return  of  the  Native.  New  Edition.  By 
T.  Hardy. 

All  Men  are  Liars.    By  J.  Hocking.    3*.  6d. 
The  Lovely  Malincnurt.    By  Helen  Mathers. 
3s  6d. 

The  Woman  Who  Wonldn'u  By  Lncaa  Cleeve. 

3s.  6d. 

Th<  Woman  Who  Didn't.  By  Victoria  Crosse. 

3s.  (»\.  net. 

The  f.ir!... nets      Hy  C    Nf.  Yonge.     3S.  6d. 

Clarence.    By  Bret  Harte.   39.  6d. 

MOdted  ArkdI.  By  Mrs.  Henry  Wood.  s«. 
and  ss.  6d. 

Nelaon.   By  J.  K.  Laoghton.  as.  6d. 

The  English  Flower  Garden.  By  W.  Robinaoa. 
IS*. 


IBI 


SALES  OF  BOOKS  DURING  THE  MONTH.- 

New  books,  in  order  of  demand,  as  sold  betwem 
Sepieaiber  1  and  October  1. 1895. 

We  guarantee  the  authenticity  of  the  following 
lists  as  supplied  to  us,  each  by  leading  booksellers 
ill  the  towns  named. 

NEW  YORK,  UPTOWN. 

«:  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  Ifadareo.  $1.1$. 

(Dodd,  Mead  tn  Co.) 

3.  Prisoner   of   Zenda.    By  Hope.     75  cts. 

ni.^it.) 

jg:  Memuir&  of  a  Minister  of  France.  WVy- 
man.    ♦125.    <  LonKinan's.) 

4.  About  Paris.    By  Davis.    $1.2$.  (Harper.) 

5.  no  King's   Straugem.    By  Weyman.  50 

c(«.   (Plau  &  Bmoe.) 
/C  Siark  Monro  Letters.    "Bf  Doyle.  $1.50. 
(Apfdeton.) 

NEW  YORK,  DOWNTOWN. 

Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  9i.a$. 
(Dodd,  Mead  dc  Co.) 
X  Heart  of  life.  By  Mattock.   $1.25.  (Put- 
nam. ) 

jc'^emoirs  of  a  Minister  of  Franco,    By  Wey- 
man.   $1.-5.     (Longmans  < 
4.  King's  Stratagem.     By   Weyman.      50  cis. 
(Piatt  &  Bruce.) 

^  Adventures  of  Captain  Hom.    By  Stockton, 
ft.  50.  (Scribncr.) 

K  Stark  Munro  Letters.    By  Doyle.  I1.50. 
(Applctot)  ) 

.\LHANY.  N.  Y. 

j<  Heart  of  Life,     By  Mallock.     $i.2s.  (Ptit- 
nam.) 

2.  Trypbena  in  Love.   By  Raymond.   7S  cts. 

(Macmillan.) 

3.  Bessie  Costrell.  TSj  Mrs.  Ward.  7S  Cta.  Mao. 

millan.)  . 

4.  Hon    i-eter  Scerilng.     By  Ford. 

(Holt  ) 

5.  Prisoner  of  Zenda.     By  Hope.     7$  cii. 

(Holt.) 

6.  Liule  Huguenot.    By  Pemberton.   75  eta. 


Hug 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

BALTIMORE.  MD. 

I.  S6nya  KovaMvsky.       LeAcr.  St.sa  (Mao. 

millan.) 

jt.  Bonnie  Brier  Bush,    By  Maclaren.  $l.«S* 

(Dodd.  Mead&  Co.) 

3.  With  the  Help  of  the  Angels.    By  Hopkins, 

Paper,  50  cts.  (F^itnani.) 

4.  Spoilt   Girl.    By  Warden,    Paper,  cents. 

(Lippincott.) 

jg.  My  Ladv    N(>body.     By    Maartcns.  fl./S- 
(Harper.) 

M  Heait  of  Life.   By  Mallock.    I1.95.  (Put- 
nam.) 

BOSTON,  MASS. 

^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Maclaren.  fz.ss. 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co  ) 
^  Heart  of  Life.   By  Mallock.  $1.25.  (Putnam.) 
^.  Mv  Lady  Nobody.  ByMaartcoa.  It.75.  (Har* 

per.) 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


»45 


4.  Memoirs  of  a  Minbier  o(  France.    By  Wey- 

mu.   #1.86.  (Longmans.) 
^  Adventures  of  Cuptaifi  Horn.  By  Stockton. 

$1.50.  (Scriboer.) 
6k  O«BM«i»ti0d.  AjrNofdtto.  iSiSO.  (Applnoii.) 


BOSTON.  MASS. 

I.  Letters     Celia  Tbaxter.    $1.50.  (Hougbtoa, 
Mifflin  &  Co.) 
^  Heart  of  Life.    By  Mallock.  $1.25.  (Putnam.) 
^  Memoirs  of  «  Gentieimui  of  Prancr.   By  Wcy- 

man.    $125.  iLontjmans.l 
1  tu-  M  ister.     By  Zangwill.    $1.75.  (Harper.) 
S.  KinK"^    Str.tiaL;em.     By  Wqnil««l>     SO  CtS. 

(Piatt  ^  Hruce.) 
01  Bonnie   Brier   Bush.    By  MsdMni.  tx.lS> 
(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 


BUFFALO.  N.  Y. 


^  Memoirs  o(  a 
man.  $1.25. 
^  Stark  Munro 
(Appleton.) 
Abcrai  Paris. 


Si. 35.  (Harper.) 
Pemberton.  75 


3.  About  Paris.    By  Davis. 

4.  The   Little   Huguenot.  By 

els.    (Dodd.  Mod  Os:  Cn.  i 

5.  An  Infatuation.    By  Gyp.    50  cts.  (Fenno.) 
^  My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Uaartcns.  $1.75. 

(Harper.) 

CHICAGO,  ILL, 

^Mfm-  irs  of  a  Minister  of  France.   By  Wey> 

inan.    $1.25.  (Longmans.) 
^  The  St  irk  Mnaio  Letters.   By  Doyle.  #1.50. 

(Appleton.) 

3.  About  Paris.    By  Davis.    $1.25.  (Harper.) 

4.  Cbimmie   Fadden.     By  Towntend.  Cloth, 

(1.00  ;  paper,  50  cts.    (L.OTetl,  Coryell.) 

5.  Prisoner  of  Zend.i  By  llojn-  75  cts.  (Holt.) 
jir.  Bonnie  Brier   Bush.     By  Maclaren.  I1.25. 

(Dodd.  Mead  ft  Co.) 


CINCLNNAli,  O. 

I.  Kentucky  CardinaL    By  Allen.   $1.00.  (Har- 
per.) 

Jt.  The  Master.  By  Zangwill.  $1.75-  (Harper.) 
2r  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

1 1)  )d  i,  Mead  &  Co.) 
4.  Chimmie   Fadden.    By    Tuwn&t:nd.  Paper. 

50  CIS.    (Lovell,  Coryell.) 
tf^"  My   Lady   Nobody.     By  Maartens.  $1.75. 

(Harper.) 

4C  Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  Fraaoe.   By  W^* 

$1.35.  (Longmans.) 


DENVER,  COL. 


^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
X-  The  Master.    By  Zangwill. 
3.  Cbiffon's     Marriage.  By 

rStokes.) 
^  Mv  T  ady  Mobody.  By 
(Harper.) 
Princess  Alitic.    Bv  Davis 


By  Madaren.  I1.S5. 


Gyp. 


(Harper.) 
7$  CIS. 


5. 


$1.35.  (Harper.) 


Degeaeratioo.  ByNordau.  $3.50.  (Ap(rietoo.) 


HARTFORD.  CONN. 

I.  A  Galloway   Herd.    By  Crockett.  Cloth, 

$1.00  ;  pauer,  50  CtS.   (K.  F.  Fenno  &  Co.) 
^  From  ihe  Memoirs  o(  a  Minister  of  France. 
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!•  t    1    ^.  I,  , 


H7 


Z}-/..^  ■      .  .  Digitized  by  Gc 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


«4T 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  DURING  THE  MONTH, 


AMHRlCAiN, 


THEOLOGY,  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

Alokn,  H.  M. — A  Study  of  Death,  ismo,  pp. 
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DtNi>"N,  J.  H. — Christ's  Idea  of  the  Supernat- 
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FooTE.  Mary  Hastings.— A  Life  of  Christ  for 
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'/'Gordon.  G.  A.— The  Christ  of  To-day.  ismo, 
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Christian  Lndeavor  and  Epworth  League, 
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McCooK,  C— The  Gospel  in  Nature.  lamo,  pp. 
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JI ARK  I  SON,  MRS.  BURTON, 

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ARD, 

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A  Cokmlal  WoolMt 

A  Novel.  By  Chaki  k>  Cilnkad  AHHorr,  author 
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By  I"-Mii.E  Zoi.A.  Translated  with  a  jjrcf.irt  ,  liv 
Ernkst  a.  Vizetelly.  Prufusely  illustrated. 
Crown  8va   Extra  cloth,  filt  top,  $2.00. 

Fromoiit  Jaolor  moA  Rbler  draior 

By  AlPHONsK  U.vi  iiKT.  Translated  by  Edward 
Vizetelly.  and  illustrated  with  eighty-eight 
wood  engravings  from  original  drawings  bj 
George  kouz.    Extra  cloth,  gilt  top,  $3.00. 

The  Novels  of  Tobias  Smollett 

Edited  by  George  Saimsbvrv.  With  portrait 
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RoDKRicK  Rami  »M,    3  vols.    A'ow  KeaJy. 
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Count  Fathom.   2  vols. 
Sir  Iauncrlot  Greaves,  i  vol. 

HtfMPHRF.Y  C1.IXKEK.    2  vols. 

The  Story  of  a  Marriage 

By  Mrs,  Alfred  Bai.dwix.  Volume  I.  of  a  new 
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The  Secrdt  off  tlie  Court 

A  Tale  of  Adventure.    Bv  Frank  Fka.nkkort 
M  wkK.  author  of  "  Thev  Call  It  Love,"  "A 
Grey  Lye  or  So,"  "  1  Forbid  the  Banns," 
'  Daircen,"  etc.   ismo.  Cloth.  Illustrated. 
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Dames,"  eic.  Quarto,  Illustrated.  Cloib. 
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\  i  uiNly  fi<;en  by  their  eWrrv, 

A  New  Alice  In  the  Old  Wonderland 

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Illustrated  by  Anna  M.  Richards,  jr.  lama 

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by  U«b  Camll'a  ■uitefpiece,  wid  »  m  aiauilaa  f  oriW  «U 
Ml  cmcttalalng  for  the  young. 


Trooper  Ross,  and  Signal 

Tirostoriestn  one  volume.  By  Captain  ChakUB 
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'I\v.i  TM  iiiri^  vt i.ri<  %  f'lr  ^xiys.  from  thc  PCB  tfc* 
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The  Youn^  Castellan 

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Clittmtoy*a  Post 

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r  bof«i  airf  dder  people  »i 


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Tales. 


Uniform  with  Baring-Gonld's  Fairy 
Coosln  rtooa 

A  Story  for  Girls.  Bv  Rosa  Noi;cicki  i  y.  C  khev. 
author  of  "  LitUe  Miss  Muffct,"  "Aunt  Diana." 
etc   tamo.   Cloth.  Illostrmted.  ti.as. 

Girls  Together 

By  Amy  E.  Blanchard,  author  of  Two  Girls," 
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Cloth,  fi.25. 

Thii  book  intrt>duc«>  the  MM*  d^anctieis  as  hi  **T«i» 
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THE  BOOKflAN 

A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Vol.  IL  DECEMBER,  1895.  Ka  4. 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMENT. 


Probably  not  fifty  people  know  that 
the  drawing  by  Mr.  Du  Muuricr  which 
has  been  the  most  widely  circulated  is  the 
only  one  th.it  does  not  bear  his  signa- 
ture. It  is  one  that  millions  of  people 
have  seen  and  are  still  seeing  every  day 
without  ever  suspecting  whose  the  draw- 
ing is,  and  it  has  been  seen  by  millions 
of  people  who  never  even  heard  of  Mr. 
Du  Maurier's  name.  The  drawing  in 
question  is  the  picture  of  the  bubbling 
spring  which  decorates  the  label  of 
every  bottle  of  Apolltnaris  water. 

Of  those  who  are  aware  of  the  author- 
ship of  this  widely  circulated  design, 
probably  not  more  than  half  a  do/cn 
know  how  Mr.  Du  Maurier  came  to  make 
it  The  principal  stoclcholder  of  the 
Apf)Iiinaris  Company  is  Mr.  George 
Smith,  the  English  publisher,  who  is  an 
old  and  intimate  friend  of  the  author  of 
Trilby.  When  the  mineral-water  was 
first  put  upon  the  market,  Mr.  Smith 
was  in  doubt  as  to  a  design  for  the 
label,  and  having  happened  to  mention 
the  matter  to  Mr.  Du  Maurier,  the  art- 
ist at  once  volunteered  to  draw  some- 
thing, and  his  otTer  was  gladly  accept- 
ed. The  original  design  was  signed  by 
him,  and  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
Apollinaris  Company  ;  but  the  signature 
was  omitted  in  the  printed  reproduc- 
tion. An  intimate  friend  once  asked 
Mr.  Du  Maurier  how  on  earth  he  ha])- 
pened  to  do  such  a  thing,  and  received 
the  reply,  "  I  would  do  anything  for 
George  Smith."  Our  revelation  of  the 
source  of  the  label  will  scarcely  enhance 
Mr.  Du  Maurier's  artistic  reputation, 
but  it  will  certainly  prove  the  simplicity 
and  loyalty  of  his  friendship. 

Besides  owning  the  Apollinaris  water, 
Mr.  Smith  b  also  the  proprietor  of  the 


much-advertised  Aylesbur\'  Dairy  and  of 
the  Cornhill  Magazine.  This  dual  interest 
once  suggested  an  amusingly  ironical 
quotation  to  Cancm  Ainger.  When  Mr. 
James  Fayn  succeeded  Leslie  Stephen  as 


MR.  UU  MAURlEk's  UEST-KNOWN  OKAWINO. 


the  editor  of  the  Cornkiil,  there  was  a 

great  f;illiiig  off  in  the  literary  quality 
of  that  publication.  The  change  was, 
in  fact,  so  great  as  to  rouse  the  Canon 
to  wrath,  and  he  at  once  sat  down  and 
penned  the  following  note  to  Mr. 
Smith  : 


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456 


THE  BOOKMAN* 


•*To  George  Smith.  Esq.,  of  ilie  Aylrsbury  Dairy 
and  the  C^rnhill  Alagasiur  : 

••  Dear  Mr.  Smith  : 

"  '  The  furcc  of  Nature  could  no  further  jio : 
To  make  a  third,  she  Joined  the  other  two ! ' 

"  Faithfully  your*. 

*•  Al  PRKD  AINGER." 

Here  is  «in  interestiniL;  story  about  the 
title  of  a  book,  sliowinjij  how  authors  get 
in  each  otht-r's  uav  and  tangle  each 
other  up  without.  inU'iKiiiiv,'  anv  harm. 
Some  two  years  ago  Mr.  iiranclcr  Mat- 
thews was  at  work  upon  his  novel  which 
has  ju^t  appealed,  and  which  is  reviewed 
on  another  page  o£  The  Bookman.  At 
that  time  Mr.  Matthews  had  just  evolved 
as  its  title  77tc  Son  of  his  Father.  It  wa? 
just  the  title  th  it  lie  wanted — an  ideal 
title  ;  in  fact,  noihitig  else  in  the  world 
could  possibly  be  the  title.  At  this  very 
moment,  and  while  he  was  rnllint;  the 
title  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  his  tongue, 
he  opened  a  copy  of  Harper's  Wtckly, 
and  Id  !  there  w  as  a  story  by  Rudyard 
Kipling  under  the  heading  The  Son  of 
his  Father!  It  was  too  bad.  So  Mr, 
Maith(  us  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Kiplincf,  mildly  revilini^  liim  tci 
the  text  of  J\riatit  qui  ante  uos  nostra 
dixcnint.  Mr.  Kipling,  with  an  urban- 
ity for  which  some  people  do  not  J^ive 
him  credit,  at  once  wrote  back  apolo- 
gising for  not  being  a  mind-reader,  and 
promising  that  when  liis  sketch  ap- 
peared in  book  form  it  should  do  so 
under  the  title  Adam. 

Mr.  Matthews  felt  relieved,  and  went 
on  with  his  novel.  When  it  was  fin- 
ished, the  manuscript  was  sent  off  to  the 
Harpers,  and  pretty  soon  came  a  letter 
from  them  statinfi^  that  their  reader  had 
reminded  theui  tliat  some  years  before 
they  had  published  a  novel  by  Mrs.  Uli- 
phant  entitled  The  Son  af  his  Father. 
Mr.  Matthews  made  some  remarks  not 
intende<{  for  ptih!irati'>n.  and  of  neces- 
sity sat  down  and  cliunged  the  title  of 
his  book  to  His  Father's  Son.  Under 
this  name  it  was  published  as  a  set  ia!  in 
Harper  s  Weekly.  After  the  hrst  few 
numbers  had  appeared,  Mr.  Edgar 
Fawcett,  who  is  a  sensitive  soul,  sent 
in  a  letter  calling  attention  to  the  fact 
that  fifteen  years  ago  he  had  published 
in  the  Galaxy  a  story  with  the  title  His 
Father  s  Son  I    However,  it  was  too  late 


to  do  anytliing  about  it,  and  this  is  the 
title  which  Mr.  Matthews  has  retained. 

On  the  sixth  page  of  Mr.  Matthiews  $ 
novel  there  Is  a  sentence  about  which  we 

must  venture  to  make  some  remarks.  .\ 
Wall  Street  I)r<  kt  r's  clerk  says  to  the  old 
book-keeper,  "  I  guess  it's  the  first  time 
he  ever  chipped  up  for  the  heathen." 
Now,  we  do  not  profess  to  be  learned  in 
English  as  spoken  on  the  Street,  but  we 
have  a  dim  sort  of  impression  that  a 
man  rannot  properly  be  said  to  chip  up. 
He  may,  we  think,  whack  up  or  pc>tiy 
up,  but  unless  we  are  mistaken  he  usu- 
ally chips  in  ;  or,  to  put  it  sctentificalir, 
the  operation  of  chipping  connotes  in- 
wardness rather  than  upwardness.  But, 
as  we  remarked  above,  we  are  not  «Ul 
authority  on  this  particular  department 
of  the  American  language,  and  may 
be  that  our  remarks  are  only  foolish- 
ness. 

Miss  Beatrice  Harrath  ii  arrived  in 
England  none  the  worse  tOr  iier  ocean 
trip,  and  the  latest  advices  fr.)m  her 
bring  a  good  report  of  her  health.  She 
expects  to  finish  the  novel  she  is  work- 
ins^  u]>on  during  the  winter,  and  it  v.  ill 
probably  be  ready  for  publication  in  the 
spring.  It  will  not  be  issued,  however, 
until  the  autumn,  when  Messrs.  Dodd, 
Mead  and  Company  will  ptiblisfi  it  in 
this  country.  Nttthiiig  that  Mi^s  Mar- 
raden  has  written  siiu  e  Ships  that  J\iis 
in  the  A'ight  will  have  been  issued  in 
book  form  prior  to  the  appearance  of 
her  new  novel. 

# 

There  are  evidences  of  a  revival  of  in- 
terest in  the  famous  sea  stories  of  Cap- 
tain Marryat,  and  Messrs.  Little,  Brown 
and  Company  intend  to  take  the  tide  at 
the  flood  with  an  entirely  new  and  uni* 
form  Library  Edition  of  his  novels. 
This  will  be  done  in  conjunction  with 
the  Messrs.  Dent,  whose  name  is  a  sudi- 
cient  guarantee  of  elegant  and  tasteful 
book^making.  Mr.  Reginald  Brimley 
Johnson,  who  edited  the  edition  of  Jane 
Austen  for  the  Dent  house,  will  also  be 
responsible  for  the  literary  and  critical 
outfit  of  Captain  Marryat's  novels. 
The  edition  is  to  be  limited,  and  will  be 
issued  only  by  subscription. 

The  Joseph  Knight  Company  are 
bringing  out  an  illustrated  edition  of 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


257 


Mr.  Barrie's  ^fy  Lady  Nicotine,  which 
they  are  confident  will  give  this  fun- 
making  book  of  his  a  fitter  introduction 
to  a  wider  and  more  appreciative  audi- 
ence than  it  has  yet  gained  in  this  coun- 
try. Tfiere  are  nearly  one  hundred 
illustrations,  suggested  by  the  humour 
and  quaint  fancy  of  the  sketches,  and 
the  drawings  which  we  have  seen  are 
certainly  very  bright  and  clever.  The 
artist  is  a  young  Englishman,  M.  B. 
Prendergast  by  name,  who  studied  in 
Paris  and  arrived  in  Boston  about  a 
year  ago  unknown  and  friendless.  He 
had  some  colour  work  with  him,  which 
he  offered  to  sell  at  a  low  price  to  keep 
the  soul  in  his  body  ;  but  his  misfortune, 
we  are  glad  to  relate,  was  not  taken  ad- 
vantage of.  He  got  some  work  to  do 
as  an  introduction,  and  has  steadily  been 
making  his  way  in  Boston  during  the 
past  year.  One  of  the  aforesaid  paint- 
ings, which  he  offered  to  sell  for  $10, 
was  exhibited  later,  and  was  bought  for 

$75  ! 

The  lack  of  anything  like  popular  en- 
thusiasm over  Mr.  A.  T.  Quiller-Couch's 
work  in  America  is  a  sore  puzzle  to 
many  English  critics.  In  a  letter  to  the 
writer  the  other  day  Mr.  Barrie  laments 
this.  "  I  always  wonder,"  he  says, 
'*  why  some  of  you  don't  get  more  en- 
thusiastic over  '  Q.'s  '  work.  He  seems 
to  me  to  catch  the  magic,  the  tragic  hu- 
man voice  of  the  sea  beyond  any  of  his 
contemporaries."  Mr.  Barrie's  estimate 
is  well  borne  out  by  "  Q  's"  recent  con- 
tribution, "  The  Roll-call  of  the  Reef," 
to  the  Tales  of  our  Coast  Series  appear- 
ing in  the  Idler,  and  will  be  further 
strengthened  by  two  new  books  of  his, 
one  of  which,  ll'andering  Heathy  a  vol- 
ume of  eight  short  sea  stories,  has  just 
been  published  by  the  Messrs.  Scribner. 
la,  a  storj'  of  love  and  life  by  the  sea, 
will  be  issued  shortly  by  the  same  firm. 

Mr.  Quiller-Couch  made  his  reputa- 
tion by  Dead  Man  s  Rock,  published  in 
1887.  His  other  books  are  A  Tale  of 
Troy  Town,  The  Splendid  Spur,  Noughts 
and  Crosses,  I  Saw  Three  Ships,  and 
The  Blue  Pavilions.  He  is  a  writer  of 
great  possibilities,  his  power  being 
shown  in  his  romantic  tales,  of  which 
The  Splendid  Spur  is  the  best,  but  even 
more  in  his  short  articles  in  the  Speaker, 
republished  in  Noughts  and  Crosses.  He 


is  an  excellent  critic,  and  no  inconsider- 
able poet.  He  agrees  with  W.  D.  How- 
ells  in  disliking  anonymous  criticism. 
Of  his  own  books,  Noughts  and  Crosses  is 
his  favourite.  He  has  carefully  studied 
the  poor,  and  thinks  them  much  more 
interesting  than  the  lower  middle  class, 
who  are,  lie  says,  in  a  transition  stage 
of  culture.  Mr.  Quiller-Couch  dislikes 
London,  and  spends  most  of  his  time  in 
Cornwall.  In  the  Speaker  he  once  wrote 
that  in  walking  westwards  along  the 
park  side  of  Piccadilly  on  a  dark  even- 
ing, he  could  always  bring  himself  with- 
in sound  of  Cornish  seas.  Most  of  his 
sketches  are  from  life,  and  are  founded 
on  what  he  has  seen  in  Cornwall. 


A.  T.  QUILLER-COUCH. 

The  late  Professor  Minto,  whose  post- 
humous work.  The  Literature  of  the 
Georgian  Era,  was  recently  published 
by  the  Harpers,  once  gave  a  lecture  to 
the  Aberdeen  University  Literary  So- 
ciety on  "  Three  new  story-tellers — K., 
B.,  and  Q."  Mr.  Quiller-Couch  Pro- 
fessor Minto  regarded  as  in  some  re- 
spects the  most  powerful  artist  of  the 
three  (Kipling,  Barrie,  and  Quiller- 
Couch),  though  he  admitted  that  his 
view  of  subject  and  sentiment  was  not 
so  widely  interesting.  In  richness  of 
invention,  in  rapid,  graphic  portraiture 
of  place  and  person,  in  originality  of 
motive  and  depth  of  feeling,  Professor 


»5« 


THE  BOOK14AN. 


Minto  held  that  Mr.  puiller-Couch  was 
at  least  the  equal  of  his  remarkable  c<iin- 
peers,  and  that  he  was  master  of  a  most 
tellini;^  style,  stroncf  and  full  of  subtle 
suggestion.  A  volume  of  poems  by 
**  y»"  published  just  before  Professor 
Minto's  death,  was,  wc  believe,  the  last 
book  read  to  him. 

Referrinii;  to  the  work  put  into  TAe 

Litth-  Mini'itcr,  Professor  Minto  observed 
in  this  lecture  that  the  author  had  been 
etf^rhteen  months  on  it,  and  when  one 

coiisiilereil  tlie  intricacy  of  tlje  plot  and 
the  immense  strain  which  the  mode  of 
telling  it  must  have  put  upon  his  inven- 
tion, one  could  not  but  wonder  at  it. 
It  was  the  triumph  r>f  Mr.  Barric's  skil- 
ful art  and  happy  genius  that  everything 
went  smoothly  and  naturally,  and  that 
we  were  tided  over  a  cjood  many  proba- 
bilities without  the  least  jolt  or  jar. 
One  of  the  warmest  and  keenest  a|){)re- 
ciations  of  The  I.iitii'  Minister  on  its  pub- 
lication came  from  Professor  Minto's 
hand. 

One  significant  and  delicate  obser\'a- 
tion  made  by  Professor  Minto  on  this 
occasion  was,  we  remember,  that  both 
Mr.  Rarrie  and  Mr  Kipling,  working 
independently,  had  given  the  world  two 
sympathetically-drawn  specimens  of  the 
evangelical  clergy.  What  made  this  all 
the  more  curious  was  thai  in  doifvjf  so 
they  had  made  a  departure  from  what 
might  be  called  the  classic  conditions  of 
fiction,  which  had  been  to  treat  the 
evangelical  clergy  either  as  whining 
hypocrites  or  as  unlovable,  unbending 
iron  fanatics. 

Mr,  J.  M.  iJarrie's  new  story,  Senti- 
mental Tommy,  the  title  of  which  was 
first  annrninced  in  The  Bookman,  will 
commence  in  Scribncr  s  Magaziiu  for  Jan- 
uary. We  understand  that  the  Messrs. 
Scribner  liavc  refused  an  offer  of  five 
thousand  dollars  from  an  English  maga- 
zine for  the  right  of  simultaneous  public 
cation.  Although  the  story  commences 
in  the  East  End  of  London,  Mr.  Barrie 
will  be  found  treading  us  lirndy  as  ever 
on  his  favourite  ground  at "  Thrums/' 

The  evolution  of  a  t  vpoqrnphical  error 
is  very  seldom  trac(-able.  One  came 
under  our  experience  the  other  dav 
showing  singular  ignorance  of  Marie 


Corelli  and  the  Bible.    We  had  dictaJeJ 
something  with  reference  to  the  motto 
on  the  title-page  of  Marie  Corelli *s  mas- 
terpiece :  •*  Now  Barabbas  was  a  rob- 
ber."   The    type-writer    got    it  that 
Barabbas  was  a  ratter'*  !  which  went 
into  the  compositor's  hands  and  came 
forth,  "  Barabbas  was  a  rotter"  ! ! 

Mr.  William  Watson  has  completed  a 

new  volume  of  poems.  It  is  entitled 
The  Father  oj  the  Forest  and  Other  Focms, 
including  his  "  Hymn  to  the  Sea"  and 
the  poem  written  for  the  Burns  Centen- 
nial, both  of  which  have  been  alluded 
to  in  these  columns.  Messrs.  Stone 
and  Kimball  will  publish  the  volume  in 
this  country. 

Mr.  E.  F.  Benson,  the  author  of  Doio^ 

has  written  a  new  story,  which  will,  we 
understand,  bear  the  title  of  Umitatitms. 
Touching  up«ju  many  questions  of  the 
day,  its  main  interest  centres  in  its  treat- 
ment of  art  study  and  art  life.  It  is  no 
secret  that  Mr.  Benson  has  spent  several 
winters  in  Greece  and  Egypt  as  a  "  trav- 
elling bachelor"  of  Cambridge  I'niver- 
sity,  so  that  he  has  sought  his  inspira* 
tion  at  the  fountain  head.  It  will  ap- 
pear first  as  a  serial. 

Taquisara  is  the  title  of  Mr.  F.  Marioa 
Crawford's  new  story,  which  ^ives  a 
very  dramatic  picture  of  Italian  life  and 
character.  The  story  will  run  serially 
in  the  London  Queen^  and  be  jmbiished 
next  autumn  by  Messrs.  Macmillan  and 
Company  in  two-volume  form. 

Mrs.  Humphry  Ward  is  at  work  oo 
another  short  story. 

A  biographical  and  critical  n.>tire  <  f 
Robert  H.  Shcrard  and  his  writings  ap- 
pears in  the  current  number  of  the  JRevue 
de  Paris.  It  has  been  written  bv  M. 
Hugues  Rebell,  a  highly  esteemed  poet 
and  prouiteur,  who  has  recently  trans* 
lated  into  French  certain  of  Mr.  She- 
rard's  short  stories. 

Mr,  W.  B.  Yeats,  whose  collected 
poems  have  just  been  jiublished  in  a 

book  of  exquisite    l)eauty  by  Messrs. 
Copeianil  and  I>ay,  is  one  of  the  younger 
men  among  the  English  minor  poets  to 
whose  career  one  looks  with  keen  hope 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


259 


:anrl  faith.   With  all  his  dreamy  tempera-    calling  him. 

ment,  which  can  be  discerned  in  the  ac- 
•<:ompanying  portrait  of  him,  he  has  a 

sure  gift  of  energy  and  perseverance. 

Ever  since  he  became  a  writer  he  has 

been  full  of  literary  activity  and  plans, 

many  of  which  have  been  fulfilled,  as 

witness  his  poetic  leaves,  which  are  scat- 
tered among  the  publish- 

■ers  of  London.    "  I  first 

•saw  him  in  1885,"  says 

Mrs.    Katharine  Tynan 

Hinkson,  "  when  he  was 

twenty,  and  wore  a  dark, 

tslight   beard.    lie  was 

then  contributing  poems 

to  the  short-lived  Dublin 
University  Kn'ino.  I  le  had 

■written   the    *  Island  of 

Statues  '  and  '  Mosada,* 

which  I  still  think  one 

of   his    most  beautiful 

*ichievements.  After  that 
introduction  he  was  my 
frequent  visitor — coming 

•on  Sunday  afternoons  in 
winter,  striding  liis  five 
Irish  miles  in  the  snow 
,  and  back  again  when  the 
moon  was  up  and  the 
hills  stood  like  ghosts  in 
the  silver  light.  As  for 
his  love  of  poetr)*,  it  is  so 
great  that  he  will  ask 
nothing  better  than  to 
read  it  hour  after  hour  ; 
and  Heaven  help  his  un- 
willing audience  of  pro- 
saic, amiable  people,  un- 
less some  one  comes  by 
and  shuts  the  book  and 
replaces  it  on  its  shelf. 
% 

"  I  believe  that  it  was 
in  1888  that  the  Yeats 
family  moved  to  London  ;  but  the 
young  poet  had  already  learned  the  most 
valuable  lesson  :  to  be  Irish  was  his 
raison  d'etre.  Ever  since  he  has  been 
working  out  his  development  on  these 
lines.  The  JFanJerini^s  of  Us/teen  was  his 
first  fruits,  and  was  published  in  18S9. 
Since  then  Mr.  Yeats  has  veered  be- 
tween London  and  Dublin.  Fortunately 
for  his  art,  the  best  part  of  him  is  not 
content  with  London  life.  On  the  one 
hand,  he  has  a  rather  surprising  appetite 
for  the  literary  circles,  but  he  passes  out 
of  them  lonely,  and  hears  in  the  street 
the  laughing  of  waters  around  Inisfree 


He  follows  the  voice,  else 
t  would  be  bad  for  our  faith  in  him, 
who  believe  in  his  future." 


William  Butler  Yeats  was  born  at  his 
grandfather's  residence,  Sandymount 
Castle,  near  Dublin,  on  June  13th,  1865. 


WILLIAM  BUTLER  VEATS. 

His  father  is  an  artist,  and  his  mother  is 
a  member  of  a  Cornish  family  long  set- 
tled in  Ireland.    Much  of  Mr.  Yeats's 
childhood  and  boyhood  were  spent  in 
in  that  lovely  country 
sunshine  that  the  poet 
feeling   for   the  super- 
which  his 
short  time 


Sligo.  It  was 
of  clouds  and 
learned  that 

natural  and  earth-born  to 
work  owes  much.  After  a 
spent  at  an  English  school  at  Hammer- 
smith he  came  back  to  Dublin,  and  en- 
tered a  High  School  there.  While  at 
school  he  was  remarkable  for  his  absent- 
mindedness  and  strange,  singsong  man- 
ner of  reading,  which  he  still  retains  ; 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


and  thtse  things  excited  the  grins  of 
the  boys,  but  he  won  their  sympathy  by 
his  love  of  natural  history  and  the  inter- 
esting specimens  of  strange  and  evil- 
smelling  animals  which  he  used  to  carry 
about  in  his  pocket.  Mr.  Yeats  soon 
became  a  member  of  that  group  of 
young  people  who  formed  a  little  Renais- 
sance of  Irish  feeling  and  art  in  the  later 
eighties.  Mr.  Yeats  has  always  stood 
outside  of  practical  politics,  l)ut  delights 
to  meet  such  people  and  stir  up  their 
hearts  w  ith  lectures  on  dead  heroes,  or 
patriots,  or  poets  who  have  done  so 
much  to  keep  the  sacred  fire  burning  in 
Erin's  isle. 


ELLA  D  ARCY. 

Ella  D'Arcy,  it  appears,  is  not  a  nom 
de  gutrre  after  all,  notwithstanding  the 
rather  romantic  sound  of  the  name. 
We  have  already  spoken  favourably  of 
her  work  in  The  Ytllou'  Book  and  her 
remarkable  volume  of  stories  in  the  Key- 
notes Series,  entitled  Monochromes.  Miss 
D'Arcy's  story  is  briefly  told.  Her 
original  ambition  was  to  become  a 
painter.  She  studied  at  the  Slade 
School  of  Art,  and  was  proposing  to  go 
to  Paris  when  her  eyesight  failed  her 
for  a  time  and  turned  her  thoughts 
from  an  artistic  career  to  literature. 
She  wrote  short  stories  and  kept  send- 
ing them  out,  at  first  with  tedious  and 
futile  results.  On  one  occasion  the  dis- 
criminating editor  of  Temple  Bar  ar- 
rested one  of  her  tales  on  its  travels,  as 
•  did  also  the  editor  of  BlackivooJ  an- 
other time.  "The  Elegie,"  included 
in  her  volume  of  stories,  appeared  in 


the  latter  magazine.    In  the  mean  time, 
while  the  public  was  slow  to  show  ap- 
preciation, she  filled  the  intervals  of  pa- 
tient waiting  by  reviewing  other  peo- 
ple's books.     13y  a  mere  chance  she 
happened  to  notice  a  preliminarv*  an- 
nouncement of   The    Ye/hru'    Book,  and 
sent  in  the  story  entitled  *'  IrremediabJe" 
to  the  editor,  and  this  step  led  to  better 
fortune.    Mr.  Henry  Harland  was  de- 
lighted with  his  happy  discovery-  of  a 
new  writer,  and  at  once  wrote  to  her 
for  another  stor)'.    Since  then  her  place 
among  the  ranks  of  rising  young  writers 
in  London  has  been  assured,  and  for 
whatever  work  she  has  yet  in  store  she 
has  earned  an  appreciative  wel- 
come. 

Of  165  new  books  published 
in  one  week  during  the  month 
of  October,  only  40  were  taken 
into  stock  by  a  large  and  rep- 
resentative uptown  bookseller 
in  New  York,  leaving  125  books 
untouched. 

Messrs.    Dodd,    Mead  and 
Company  have  just  published  a 
second  series  of  Miss  Barlow's 
delightful   Irish   idylls,  under 
the  title.  Strangers  at  Lisconnel. 
Miss  Jane  Barlow  is  of  German 
and  Norman  descent,  a  ming- 
ling  of  nationalities  which  is 
sometimes  supposed  to  be  con- 
ducive to  cosmopolitan  rather 
than  —  Tennyson's  definition 
notwithstanding — patriotic  sentiment. 
But  her  literary  work  is  much  more 
powerfully  influenced  by  the  circum- 
stance that    her   family  has  been  for 
many  generations  practically  Irish,  and 
that  she  has  lived  all  her  life  in  Ire- 
land,  though  the  breadth  of  the  isle 
lies  between  her  home  in  the  county 
Dublin  and  the  western  Connemarcse 
districts  which  are  the  scenes  of  BoglanJ 
Stut/ies  and  Irish  Liylls.    The  author  of 
Irish  Idylls  has  perhaps  inherited  some 
title  to  meddle  in  the  making  of  books, 
as  her  father.  Professor  Barlow,  of  Dub- 
lin University,  is  a  writer  of  historical 
and  philosophical  works,  and  her  great- 
great-grandfather,    Brabazon  Disney, 
was  responsible  for  a  commentar)"  on 
the  Psalms  which  attained  to  consider- 
able repute,  aided,  doubtless,  by  his  offi- 
cial status  as  hejid  of  the  Dublin  Uni- 
versity Divinity  School.    Irish  Idxllshdii 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


been  pronounced  an  Irish  classic  :  and, 
indeed,  no  book  that  has  been  published 
for  a  long  time  affords  a  truer  insight 
into  Irish  peasant  character  and  ways  of 
life  and  thought.  At  the  time  of  its 
publication,  nearly  three  years 
ago,  it  was  received  with  en- 
thusiasm, and  revived  fresh 
faith  and  hope  in  the  future 
of  Irish  literature.  One  can- 
not read  such  work  as  Miss 
Barlow's  without,  as  the  Spec- 
tator says,  "  laughing  lips  and 
a  sobbing  breast." 

Miss  Barlow  lives  in  an  Old 
World  village  (Raheny,  county 
Dublin)  which  is  like  to  be- 
come the  Irish  "  Thrums"  or 
"  Drumtochty,"  within  sight 
and  sound  of  the  sea.  and  with 
the  distant  hills — unforgetta- 
ble hills,  surely,  to  the  Irish 
patriot — lf)oming  up  rose  and 
jjfray  in  the  evening  light,  when 
Miss  Barlow  dreams  poems  of 
them  which  have  not  always 
found  utterance.  A  sonnet  of 
hers  on  "  The  Dublin  Moun- 
tains," written  when  she  was 
about  seventeen,  has  escaped 
the  cremation  which,  she  says, 
was  the  common  lot  of  all  her 
early  writing,  and  which  we 
are  able  to  give  to  our  readers  : 

"  Fair-frontfd  hills   that   look  with 
frownless  brows 
Towards  yon  blue  bay,  how  softly 

stoop  and  rise 
Your  outlines  clear  against  the  pale, 
smooth  skies. 
Softly  as  e'er  the  crested  barley  bows 
Its  cars   submissive  when  southern 
breezes  drowse  ; 
Yea,  or  the  heights  that  swell  as 
ocean  sighs 
Remorse  beneath  the  stars'  reproach- 
ful eyes 

When  passionate  storms  hath  ceased 
their  wild  carouse. 

Ye  rear  aloft  no  lonely  peak  to  dwell 

In  circling  clouds  and  age-long  snows  arraye<". 
As  one  who  fain  from  our  low  world  would  cease  ; 

Yet  Heaven,  at  such  calm  patience  pleased  well, 
Has  of  its  own  free  will  upon  you  laid 
A  shadow  of  its  pure,  eternal  peace." 

® 

Miss  Barlow  confesses  that  she  is 
shamefully  remiss  about  reading  new 
books.  Her  favourites  in  poetry  are 
Christina  Rossetti,  Jean  Ingelow,  Mrs. 
Meynell,  whose  poems  she  thinks  are 
exquisite,  and  the  William  Morris,  not 


of  7'//<-  Earthly  Pariuiis,;  but  of  T/i<-  De- 
fence of  Guinii'ere.  "  I  have  taken  very 
little  pleasure,"  she  says,  "  in  any  liction 
later  than  George  Eliot,  whom  I  consid- 
er the  greatest  novelist  we  have  had. 


Kipling  and  Barrie  are  great  within  their 
limits,  but  they  seem  too  straitly  drawn 
to  allow  them  to  be  7Yrv  great  absolute- 
ly. Mr.  Hardy's  style  is  admirable  ;  out 
I  am  heretic  enough  to  hate  his  7't-ss.  I 
have  been  reading  Maarten  Maartens  ; 
at  present  my  impression  is  that  he  will 
never  do  his  best  work  in  Knglish." 
Miss  Barlow  is  a  staunch  admirer  of 
her  fellow-countrvman,  Mr.  Standi^h 
O'Cirady.  Slie  finds  the  cult  of  Ibsen 
wholly    incomprehensible.     In  these 


Google 


s6a 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


things  she  shows  a  whf>!f*snmf*  i'lih^- 
ment  ;  nolwiihstanding,  tliese  opinions 
of  hers  are  formed,  like  all  her  work,  with 
an  extreme  shyn>'ss  am!  modesty,  but 
without  a  trace  of  self-consciousness, 
and  in  a  quietness  almost  solitary.  She 
writt  s  "  pessimist"  after  her  name,  but 
*'  optimist"  were  the  truer  title,  seeing 
that  her  work,  however  melancholy  it 
may  be,  does  not  depress,  but  uplifts 
and  stirs  the  blood. 

Mr.  Unwin's  new  review,  CosmopoUs : 
Ah  Iniermtional  Ra'ieii;  is  to  be  issued 
on  January  ist.  The  title  gives  vome 
indication  of  its  character.  iVucUige- 
ments  are  now  completed  forpublishing 
centres  in  Berlin,  Paris,  and  T.oikIdu. 
It  will  also  be  issued  at  New  Yorlc,  prac- 
tically simultaneously.  It  is  understood 
that  the  total  number  of  papes  will  be 
300,  and  the  literary  matter  will  be 
squally  divided  between  the  three  lan- 
guajTjes.  There  will  be  no  transl.ilions 
—100  pages  will  be  printed  in  English, 
TOO  in  French,  and  loe  in  German.  The 
central  publishing  ofBce  will  be  Pater- 
noster Square.  Mr.  Unwin  controls  the 
work  entirely.  The  editor  is  Monsieur 
F.  Ortmans,  a  gentleman  who  has  been 
identified  with  the  London  correspcind- 
ence  of  L(  Temps.  He  has  a  pusition 
of  distinction,  and  has  taken  high  hon- 
ours at  the  Sorbonne  and  the  College  de 
France.  The  literary  staft  in  the  three 
countries  comprises  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  and  writers  in  France, 
Germany,  aitd  England. 

m 

We  have  had  shown  us  an  interesting 


C>t>  'toy  'HWnt^  V'tMWtaiMr^AMl^tMiS 

%*A  ««M««rl>  U 


little  find — a  manuscript  of  Thomas 
CanipbeU's  "  Beech  Tree's  PeUlion," 
and  Caroline,"  in  the  handwriting  of 
the  poet  himself.  It  came  into  the  pres- 
ent owner's  hands  from  the  j^apers  of  a 
f^ntleman  who  had  lived  with  Camp- 
bell in  the  same  lodtjings  when  they 
were  young  men,  and  used  to  speak  of 
having  seen  probablv  the  PUasures^ 
and  certainly  Gertrmde^  in  manuscript 
many  years  before  they  were  published. 
He  used  tu  relate,  also,  how  at  this  time 
Campbell  showed  his  manuscripts  to  a 
lad  in  the  East  country,  and  was  ad- 
vised to  throw  them  in  the  fire,  as  they 
were  quite  without  talent,  and  to  de- 
scend from  his  hoViby  to  find  a  humbler 
walk  in  which  to  make  his  daily  bread* 
The  find  is  interesting  because  this  is 
the  earliest  draft,  or,  at  any  rate,  a  very 
early  one,  of  "  Caroline,"  which  is  gen- 
erally supposed  to  have  been  highly  re- 
vised before  publication.  The  first 
verse  of  the  second  stanza  runs  r 

"  There  all  his  wfKjd  wild  scents  lo  bririK.'" 

and  the  fourth  stanza  of  the  poem  as  we 
have  it  is  omitted.  Otherwise  there  is 
no  difference  between  the  two  manu- 
scripts. In  the  case  of  the  **  Beech 
Tree's  Petition,"  the  clianges  are  very 
slight.   The  lines, 

*'  Though  long  and  londj  I  have  suod 
In  bloomless,  (mitleM  soKtude," 

now  found  in  the  second  part,  oripinally 
stood  as  the  third  and  fourth  lines  of 
the  poem. 

The  death  of  Mr.  Eugene  Field  has 
been  received  with  far  more  than  the 

somewhat  formal  regret 
that  usually  accompa- 
nies the  removal  of  a 
man  of  letters.  In  the 
tributes  that  have  been 
called  forth  by  his  loss, 
there  is  a  note  of  per- 
sonal sorrow  that  tes- 
tifies to  the  unique  place 
that  he  occupied  in  the 
afTectioiis  of  his  readers. 
His  exquisitely  tender 
poems  of  childhood  en- 
deared him  to  many  who 
never  read  more  preten- 
tious verse  ;  and  Mr. 
De  Koven's  musical  set- 
ting of  some  of  his  Z«/- 
lai/ys   added    to  their 


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263 


beauty  and  to  their  pop- 
ularity.   One  of  them, 
*'  Wynken,  BIynken,  and 
Nod,"  has  already  be- 
come a  children's  classic, 
and  deserves  a  place  be- 
side the  single  lullaby 
that   Tennyson  wrote 
some  years  ago  for  St. 
JVitholiis.    The  book  by 
which  Mr.  Field  will  per- 
haps be  longest  known 
is,  however,  his  inimita- 
ble Echoes  from  a  Sabine 
J'urm,  where  the  irrever- 
€nce    of   American  wit 
and  the  vagaries  of  the 
American  language  are 
blended  with  a  very  sub 
tie  appreciation   of  the 
esoteric    beauty  of  the 
most  human  and  the  most 
modern  of  all  the  poets 
of  ancient  Rome.  The 
portrait  here  given  is  con- 
sidered the  best  likeness 
of  Mr.  Field   that  has 
ever  been  made,  and  is 
from    a    recent  photo- 
graph.   The  fac-simile  of 
a  note  also  given  which 
■we  received  from  him  in 
response  to  a  request  to 
review  Professor  Swing's 
OiJ  Pictures  of  Life,  last 
January,  is  highly  charac- 
teristic of  him  in  several 
"wavs. 

A  good  deal  of  com- 
ment has  been  caused  by 
the  variety  of  portraits  ^ 
of  the  late  Professor  lioy- 
esen  that  have  been  pub- 
lished in  connection  with  the  notices 
of  his  death.  It  therefore  gives  us  great 
pleasure  to  inform  our  readers  that  the 
one  published  in  the  last  number  of  The 
Bookman  was  from  a  phot«)graph  taken 
only  a  few  months  before  his  death,  and 
is  by  far  the  most  truthful  likeness  of 
him  that  we  have  ever  seen. 

The  Bookman,  of  course,  has  nothing 
to  do  with  politics  ;  but  if  President 
Cleveland  keeps  on  splitting  his  infini- 
tives we  shall  have  to  oppose  him  on  a 
purely  literary  issue  in  case  he  should  be 
a  candidate  for  a  third  term.    A  state 


EUGENE  FIELD. 

paper  from  his  hand  is  almost  certain  to 
display  this  literary  crudity,  the  last  two 
instances  being  found  in  his  general 
order  on  the  retirement  of  General 
Schotield,  and  in  his  Thanksgiving  proc- 
lamation. What  a  bad  example  for  the 
young — the  head  of  the  nation  wanton- 
ly rending  apart  an  innocent  infinitive, 
and  cruelly  jamming  an  adverb  between 
its  Jisiecta  membra  ! 

Mr.  George  I.  Putnam's  storj',  The 
Case  of  the  Guard  Jlouse  Lawyer,  pub- 
lished l)y  the  Messrs.  Scribner.  lias  been 
dramatised  bv  Mr.  Arthur  Ilornblow, 


r' ,    -1  1-., , 


Google 


264 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


and  will  be  productMl  at  one  df  ilie  New 
York  theatres  during  the  present  season. 

•*  Why  is- it/*  asked  Mr.  Mabie  in  the 

course  (tf  his  Reo<i£^nition  Day  oration 
at  Chautauqua,  "  that  our  novelists  are 
so  wonderfully  clever,  that  they  touch 
our  life  sometimes  with  so  much  skill, 
so  much  literary  tact,  so  much  wit,  so 
much  keenness  of  characterisation,  and 
yet  somehow  they  do  not  get  to  the  bot- 
tom of  it  ?  I  can  think  of  only  two 
American  novels  that  seem  to  me  to 
have  really  dropped  the  plummet  down 
to  tht:  bottom  :  T/u^  Sdirli-t  Letter  and 
later  Pembroke.  And  yet  we  turn  to  the 
great  English  novels  and  the  j^reat 
Scotch  novels,  and  we  say  as  we  read 
the  books.  '  .-Kh,  here  is  the  very  sound 
of  life  itself  ;  here  is  something  greater 
than  observation,  here  is  something 
deeper  than  culture,  here  is  sometliiiig 
finer  than  analysis,  here  is  the  myste- 
rious thing  which  we  call  life.' 

"Why  is  it. '*  I  <  .uliiuifd  Mr.  Mabie, 
*'  that  these  writers  have  it  and  that  so 
few  of  our  writers  seem  to  have  com* 
pass<  (1  it?  Is  it  not  that  somehow 
George  Eliot  and  the  rest  of  them  have 
dropped  their  plummets  into  the  very 
depths  of  life  ?  You  read  an  Amerioui 
novel' — I  do  not  wish  to  disparai^'e  my 
own  literature  I  am  not — I  am  judging 
it  only  by  the  very  highest  standards— 
you  read  an  Anietican  novel,  and  how 
clever  it  seems  and  how  bright  it  is  and 
how  witty  it  is  1  But  when  you  take 
Adam  Bede^  or  Thr  .\fii/  on  the  Floss,  or 
some  of  those  later  Scotch  stories,  do 
you  not  hear  the  lowing  of  the  kine,  do 
you  not  smell  the  soil»  do  you  not  get 
the  l)re.it!i  from  the  mtumtains,  do  you 
not  enter  in  ihruuLjli  llie  lowly  d(-»ors 
into  lowly  human  livi  s  and  possess  your- 
selves of  them  ?  We  have  got  to  get 
below  the  intellect  ;  wc  liave  got  to  get 
into  the  heart  of  things  ;  we  have  got  to 
live  down  with  the  people  before  tlic 
people  live  up  through  us  into  the  eter- 
nal beauty  of  the  great  works  of  art/* 

The  same  thought  ran  like  an  under- 
current which  occasionally  rose  to  the 
surface  through  the  speeches  at  the  Hall 
Caiue  dinner,  held  under  the  auspices 
of  the  Aldine  Club  on  the  evening  of 
the  first  of  November.  The  question 
why  the  great  American  novel  has  not 


yet  been  written  seemed  to  prompt  rhe 
unanimous  response  that  as  a  nation  wc 
have  not  yet  reached  that  happy  state 
of  refinement  and  leisure  which  Ruskin 
holds  to  be  essential  to  t!ie  production 
of  any  great  work  in  literature.  Goethe's 
watchword,   "  Unhasting,  Unresting,** 
could  scarcely  find  an  abiding  he  me  in 
a  land  which  conceived  the  audacious 
idea  of  formulating  a  "syndicate  of 
writers"  to  seek  fresh  fields  and  pastures 
new  in  a  proposed  world  tour,  from  which 
to  reap  a  harvest  of  literary  material  for 
descriptive  stories  and  romances.  This 
was  actually  considererl  about  two  ye.irs 
ago  ;  as  to  its  practical  results  we  itave 
no  knowledge. 

This  project  is  in  keeping  with  the 

large  and  varied  resources  that  have 
continually  given  rise  lo  ideas  which 
have  during  our  brief  history  not  infre- 
quently shaken  the  world  ;  but  in  no 
other  land  possibly  could  this  proposed 
innovation  have  arrived  at  serious  con* 
sideration.  The  only  novelist  we  can  re- 
call who  lias  borrowed  local  colour  from 
various  parts  of  the  world  with  great 
success  is  Mr.  Marion  Crawford.  He 
has  written  with  equal  dexterity  and 
truth  of  India,  Hungary,  Italy,  Ger- 
many, England,  and  America.  To  him 
and  his  imitators,  his  fellow-craftsmen 
arc  more  indebted  than  is  readily  be- 
lieved. But  it  does  not  take  much  dis- 
crimination to  discern  that  between 
Marion  Crawford,  as  a  successful  novel- 
ist of  the  dav,  and  the  masters  of  fiction 
there  is  a  wide  gulf  fixed.  We  are  will- 
ing to  jiit  the  chances  of  Mr.  I'larrie's 
work,  to  take  a  recent  writer,  vviih  its 
enduring  qualities  against  the  remark- 
able but  tieeting  fascination  of  Mr. 
Crawford's  pages.  After  all,  the  condi- 
tions of  writing  such  books  as  the  world 
will  not  wilHnjLrly  h  t  die  are  unalterable, 
because  they  are  fundamental  and  are 
subject  to  natural  law.  The  strength  of 
all  genuine  art  lies  in  waiting  and  to 
silence,  not  "  in  running  to  and  fro  on 
the  earth  and  walkini^  up  and  down." 
The  rambling,  travelling,  widespread, 
insatiate,  hasty  spirit  misses  of  art's 
greatest  aim  (so  named  by  Wi>rds worth) 
— tran<}uillity.  When  one  considers 
that  the  little  Isle  of  Man  has  been  the 
theatre  of  Mr.  Hall  Caine's  powerful 
novels,  and  that  within  these  prescribed 
limits  he  has  concentrated  the  passioa 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


265 


of  love  and  life  and  drawn  from  them  the 
deepest  notes  of  human  joy  and  sorrovv, 
we  can  see  that  the  conditions  for  pro- 
ducing great  work  are  not  bounded  by 
geographical  limits  so  much  as  by  the 
mental  laws  that  govern  the  genius  of 
the  artist. 

# 

At  the  time  we  went  to  press,  it  was 
believed  in  well-informed  circles  that 
the  appointment  of  Mr.  Alfred  Austin 
to  the  Poet  Laureateship  had  been  de- 
cided upon. 

A  volume  of  poeras  is  announced  from 
the  muse  of  a  new  American  poet,  Mr. 
Ernest  McGaffey,  who  c<jntributcs 
"  False  Chords"  to  the  present  number 
of  The  Bookman.  These  poems  have 
not  only  the  distinction  of  perfect 
rhythmic  art,  harmony,  lyric  quality 
and  the  French  gift  of  serenity  and  lu- 
cidity which  mark  the  best  American 
poetry,  but  they  possess  to  a  remarkable 
degree  what  our  own  poets  sadly  lack — 
namely,  depth  of  feeling,  and  that  emo- 
tional quality  which  gives  assurance  of 
capacity  for  great  work.  This  collec- 
tion of  poems  raises  high  hopes  of  Mr. 
McGaffey's  future  achievements  in 
poetry. 

Mr.  John  Lane,  of  London,  has  a  sec- 
ond series  of  Flert  Street  Eclogues,  by 
John  Davidson,  in  the  press.  The 
American  edition  of  Flt-et  Street  Eclogues, 
which  is  to  be  published  by  Messrs. 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company,  will  contain 
the  first  series  as  well  as  the  second, 
giving  the  poems  their  proper  sequence. 
It  was  by  his  Elect  Street  Eclogues  that 
Mr.  Davidson  attracted  markc<l  atten- 
tion and  won  his  spurs  as  a  poet  in  Eng- 
land, and  it  is  significant  that  the  au- 
thor as  well  as  many  of  his  critics  con- 
sider it  to  be  his  best  work. 

It  is  evident  from  the  large  sale  which 
Mr.  Hudson's  £aiu>  of  Psychic  Phenomena 
has  had  during  the  year,  especially  in 
and  around  Chicago,  that  a  profound  in- 
terest has  been  taken  in  the  work  of  this 
author,  who  has  a  second  book  on  a 
kindred  subject  now  in  the  press. 
Thomas  Jay  Hudson  was  born  on  Feb- 
ruary 22(1,  1834,  at  Windham,  O.,  and 
was  educated  for  the  bar.  He  began 
his  practice  earlv  in  life,  first  in  his  na- 
tive State,  and  after  1S60  at  Port  Huron, 


Mich.,  where  his  predilection  for  jour- 
nalism led  him  to  become  the  proprietor 
of  a  newspaper,  and  his  interest  in  poli- 
tics made  him  a  candidate  for  State 
Senator  in  1S66.  Five  years  later  he 
became  editor-in-chief  of  the  Detroit 
Daily  Union,  and  subsequently  an  edi- 
torial writer  on  the  Daily  Naos  of  the 

I  n 


THOMAS  JAY  lU  IiSON. 


same  city.  In  1877  he  removed  to  Wash- 
ington, where  he  has  filled  several  gov- 
ernment positions  in  succession  in  the 
Patent  Office,  and  in  which  city  he  has 
since  resided.  After  the  publication  c>f 
The  La7i'  of  Psychic  Phenomena  he  gave 
up  his  official  post  and  engaged  in  legal 
practice  again.  His  leisure  time  is  given 
to  literature,  which  will  in  all  probabil- 
ity prove  to  be  his  future  career.  Those 
who  have  read  advance  sheets  of  his 
new  work,  entitled  A  Scientific  Demon- 
stration of  the  Future  Life,  declare  it  to 
be  unique  in  the  literature  of  spiritual 
philosophy,  and  are  conlident  that  it 
will  establish  the  author  as  one  of  the 
boldest  and  most  original  thinkers  of 
these  latter  days.  The  book  is  expected 
t<i  appear  shortly,  and  will  be  published 
by  Messrs.  A.  C.  McCIurg  and  Com- 
pany. 


'  Google 


266 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


JOSKI'll  JKKreRSON  AS  **  RIP  VAN  WINKI.K. 


The  irresistible  Rip 
"Schneider — '*  Schnci<ler"s 
don't  know  whether  you 
know  him" — is  with  us 
^again,  drinking  in  his 
inimital)le  way  "  your 
good  health  and  your 
families',  and  may  they 
live  longand  prosper!" 
We  return  the  toast. 
The  play  has  just  been 
published  in  a  hand- 
some book  embellished 
with  vignettesand  other 
illustrations  which  ac- 
company the  scenes  as 
acted  by  Mr.  Jefferson. 
The  veteran  actor  has 
also  written  an  intro- 
duction which  relates 
how  the  play  evolved 
itself  in  his  mind  anrl 
developed  on  the  stage 
until  it  reached  its  pres- 
ent setting.   "  The  idea 


and  his  dog 
my  dawg ;  I 


"  An 
ington 


of  acting  Rip  Van  Winkle, " 
he  says  in  this  interesting 
autobiographic  fragfment, 
"  came  to  me  in  the  summer 
of  1859.  I  had  arranged  to 
board  with  my  family  at  a 
queer  old  Dutch  farmhouse 
in  Paradise  Valley,  at  the 
foot  of  Pocono  Mountain,  in 
Pennsylvania.  .  .  .  On  one 
of  those  long  rainy  days  that 
always  render  the  countr)- 
so  dull,  I  had  climbed  to 
the  loft  of  the  bam,  and, 
lying  upon  the  hay,  was 
reading  that  delightful 
book.  The  Life  and  Litter iej 
W'ashirti^tan  frrin^.  I  had 
got  well  into  the  volume, 
and  was  much  interested  in 
it,  when,  to  my  surprise.  I 
came  upon  a  passage  which 
said  that  he  had  seen  me  at 
Laura  Keene's  Theatre  as 
(ioldfinch  in  Holcroft's com- 
edy of  The  Rimd to  Huin,  and 
that  I  had  reminded  him  of 
my  father  '  in  look,  gesture, 
size,  and  make. '  Till  then! 
was  not  aware  that  he  had 
ever  seen  me.  ...  I  put 
down  the  book  and  lay  there 
thinking  how  proud  I  was, 
and  ought  to  be,  at  the  rev- 
elation of  this  compliment. 

d  so  I  thought  to  myself,  '  Wash- 
Irving,  the  author  of  The  Sketch 


Till'.  Ol.U  BARN  IN  Wlttrit  JEFFERSON  CONCEIVEt>  THE  IDEA  OF  l>KAStA- 
TISINt;  '*  KU-  VAN  WINKI-E." 


Google 


j4  litem hy  journal. 


267 


Sook,  in  which  is  the  quaint  storv  of  Rip 
Van  Wi:.kle.'  Rip  Van  Winkle '!  There 
was  to  me  majjjic  in  the  sound  of  the 
name  as  I  repeated  it.  Why,  was  not 
this  the  very  character  I  wanted  ?  An 
American  story  by  an  American  author 
was  surely  the  theme  suited  to  an  Ameri- 
can actor." 

In  ten  minutes  he  was  rcadinpf  in  the 
hay-loft  of  the  old  barn — memorable  to 
him  ever  since — the  legend  of  the  Kaats- 
kills,  which  he  had  not  read  since  he  was 
a  boy  ;  but  he  was  sorely  disappointed 
in  finding  that  the  story  was  purely  nar- 
rative. "  What  could  be  done  dramati- 
cally with  so  simple  a  sketch  ?  How 
could  it  be  turned  into  an  effective 
play  ?"  The  way  in  which  he  went  to 
work  to  solve  the  problem  is  graphically 
related,  and  makes  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting chapters  in  the  annals  of  the  stage. 
The  play,  now  printed  for  the  first  time, 
is  offered  as  a  souvenir  "  of  a  greater 
number  of  performances  than  I  can 
possibly  count,"  and  as  such  will  surely 
meet  with  gratifying  acceptance. 

The  Story  of  the  Indian,  by  George  B. 
Grinnell,  will  inaugurate  a  new  series 
which  has  for  its  object  the  preservation 
of  picturesque  and  individual  types  of 
Western  life  which  are  fast  fading  away. 
The  stories,  while  dealing  with  the  re- 
alities of  histor)',  will  take  a  romantic 
form.  The  elements  of  romance  will 
be  found  in  abundance  in  the  subjects 
used — the  Indian,  the  explorer,  the  cow 
boy,  the  soldier,  and  other  representa- 
tive figures — and  will  make  a  series  of 
pictures  racy  of  the  Western  soil  in  the 
truest  sense,  and  also  of  permanent  his- 
torical value.  To  Mr.  Ripley  Hitch- 
cock's personal  knowledge,  keen  inter- 
est, and  affection  for  the  various  and 
vagrant  types  encountered  in  actual  ex 
periences  of  ranch  and  mining  and  Ind- 
ian life  is  due  the  initiation  of  the  plan 
upon  which  this  series  will  appear,  and 
to  the  development  of  which  we  will 
look  forward  with  interest.  Messrs.  I>. 
Appleton  and  Company  will  publish  the 
Story  of  the  West  Series,  as  it  is  to  be 
called. 

9 

Parents,  take  notice.  M.  Paul  Bourget 
confides  to  the  pages  of  the  Figaro  that 
his  favourite  authors  are  Walter  Scott 
and  Shakespeare.     It  came  about  in 


this  way.  When  he  was  a  very  tiny 
boy  his  parents  used  to  place  two  cnor 
mous  volumes  of  Scott  and  Shakespeare 
on  his  chair  to  raise  him  during  meals 
to  the  level  of  his  plate.  Being  of  an 
inquisitive  turn  of  mind,  the  l)oy  natu- 
rally felt  curious  to  know  what  was  in- 
side these  useful  books.  He  read  them 
at  odd  moments,  and  the  intimacy  cul- 
tivated in  this  way  begot  an  early  and 
lasting  affection  for  both  authors. 

The  designers  of  book-covers  are  at 
last  getting  the  recognition  they  have  for 


FAC-SIMILE  OF  SIGNED  BOOK-COVER. 


some  time  deserved,  and  are  beginning 
to  sign  their  work  like  other  artists. 
Among  the  first  signed  book-covers  that 
we  have  noticed  are  those  of  Miss  Alice 
Brown's  Afeaiknu  Grass,  by  Louis  J. 
Rhcad,  and  Mr.  Marion  Crawford's  C<'«- 
stantbwple,  which  bears  the  initials  M.  A., 
inilicating  Miss  Margaret  Armstrong, 
a  most  tasteful  and  artistic  designer. 

Messrs.  Way  and  Williams  have  pub- 
lished an  edition  of  Mr.  R.  .Nisbet  Bain's 
translation  of  Russian  Fairy  Tales.  Mr. 
Bain  is  the  biographer  of  what  promises 
to  be  the  standard  Life  of  Hans  Christian 


«68 


THE  BOOKMy^M. 


Atidersen.    The  Chicago  firm  aho  an- 

fumnce  a  translation  of  a  Hanisli  /'<;/// 
and  Virginia^  by  Holger  Uraciimann,  a 
notable  poet  and  novelist  living  in  Den- 
mark. U  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  best 
of  this  popular  novelist's  charming 
short  stories. 

The  following  paragraph  from  the 
London  Skiich  of  September  zSth  has 
excited  us  to  what  Miss  Gertrude  Hall 
and  iEschylus  call  *'  innumerable  laugh* 
ter"  : 

"It  is  always  a  pleasant  matter  to  record  the 
conferrinf;  of  foreign  honours  upon  English 
painters  in  these  days,  when  English  painting  has 
fallen  into  considerable  disrepute,  or,  at  least, 
into  a  time  (shall  we  say  ?)  of  yellow  leaf.  We 
have  one  or  two  left,  however,  whom  foreign 
countriei  still  leem  to  deliirht  to  honour.  Mr. 
John  S.  Sargent,  A.R.A.,  has  just  received  the 
small  Gold  Medal  for  Painters  in  connection  with 
tlii>  Vf.ir's  Herlin  Art  I-xhibitinn  ;  ami  (inc  is  ;it 
least  well  ^sured  of  this  painter  that  he  has  de- 
•erved  all  be  has  got.'* 

The  humour  of  this  lies  in  the  tolerably 
well-known  fact  that  this  "  EntxHsh 
painter"  whom  "  foreign"  countries  de- 
light to  honour  is  a  very  goo<l  Ameri- 
can and  a  very  famous  one.  Sic  vos  turn 
vobis^  Mr.  Shorter. 

This  little  slip  of  Mr.  Shorter's  is  sup- 
plemented by  another  by  Mr.  Andrew 

I.antj,  who  rt^ally  otic^ht  to  know  better. 
In  J^ngman' s  Afai^dzi/u-  for  N'uvcinbcr, 
Mr.  Lang  speaks  in  terms  of  praise  of 
the  bronze  relief  of  R.  L.  Stevenson,  by 
Augustus  St.  Gaudens,  and  casually  de- 
scribes Mr.  St.  Gaudens  as  **  a  French 
artist"  !  In  tlie  same  parat^raph.  also, 
be  speaks  of  the  Scribner  Cameo  Edition 
as  the  Gem  Edition.*'  Mr,  Lan^  is 
evidently  scribbling  too  much  and  thmk« 
ing  too  little. 

Last  month  we  had  to  take  the  esteemed 
Spittator  to  task  for  its  blunders  in  Amer- 
ican and  other  g''ography.  We  have 
now  to  deal  with  the  equally  esteemed 
Saturtiay  ^a'inu  for  its  blunders  in 
American  history.  Reviewing  Mr.  J.  \V. 
Moore's  book,  T/t<r  .inn'rican  Congress,, 
our  English  contemporary  tries  to  tell 
the  story  of  the  threat  Ulaine-Conkling 
fend,  and  gets  the  hoot  on  the  wronsx 
leg  in  a  most  remarkai)le  fashion,  actu- 
ally putting  Blaine's  famous  though 
atrociously  vul^rar  nyjx'rion-to  a-satyr- 
singed-cat-lo-a-fctengai-tigcr  invective  in- 


to the  mouth  of  Conkling  !  This  nol 
only  shows  the  panrity  of  the  editor's 
knowledge,  but  lets  in  a  side-lig^ht  oa 
the  thoroughness  with  which  his  review- 
ers read  the  hooks  abotit  which  they 
write.  Incidentally  the  same  Rhsuia- 
manthus  speaks  of  Elbridge  Gerry  as 
"  Eldridge  Gervy,"  but  this  may  possi- 
bly be  a  misprint.  Of  course  it  is  open 
to  our  English  friends  to  say  that  their 
ignorance  comes  from  indifference,  but 
the  indifference  would  be  mf»re  con\-ir>c- 
ing  if  it  were  not  accompanied  by  long 
reviews  of  American  books  and  discus- 
sions of  American  ways. 

Messrs,  Way  and  W  illiams,  of  Chica- 
go, have  just  brought  out  a  reprint  of 
Mr.  Gissing's  Thr  P.maiuiNitfJ  in  a  vol- 
ume the  first  sight  of  which  is  pleasing, 
but  whose  pages  show  a  gfood  deal  of 
brokt-n  type.    The  male  personages  in 
the  novel  are  the  two  species  of  cads 
whom  Mr.  Gissing  affects  ;  but  we  are 
refreshed  by  not  finding  either  of  them 
addressing  the  objert  of  his  affection  as 
"  dear  girl. ' '  though  the  chiet  artist-cad, 
speaking  t<>  a  young  lady,  begins,  "  my 
girl."    For  this  relief,  much  thanks  ! 

These  little  tricks  of  speech  seem  to 
be  found  in  some  authors  much  more 

than  in  others  .\nthony  Trollope's  pet 
twists  of  phrase  w^cre,  "  I  would  fain" 
and  "  such  a  one  as.*'  All  the  serious 
characters  in  his  books,  especially  the 
young  women,  say,  '*  I  would  fain." 
This  is  odd,  because  Mr.  TroUope  was  a 
genuine  realist,  and  he  must  have  known 
that  off  the  stage  no  one  ever  says  that 
he  or  she  would  "  lain"  do  anything. 
Another  pet  phrase  of  his  is,  "Tbats 
as  may  be,"  which,  being  interpreted  for 
Americans,  is  equivalent  to  "  Perhaps," 
or  "We  shall  see.'*  Rboda  Brough- 
ton's  favourite  expression,  which  ap- 
pears in  the  months  of  innumerable 
ciiaracter^,  "  Before  you  can  say 
'knife!'"  '  knife"  being  her  substi- 
tute for  "  Jack  Robinson." 

We  have  received  so  many  inquiries 
ref^arding   Commander  Craig's  little 

m<  inojjjr.iph  on  the  proper  use  of  "  shall' 
and  ■  will  *  which  we  mentioned  in  the 
August-September  Bookman,  as  to  make 
it  desirable  to  inform  our  readers  that 
the  treatise  was  privately  printed  for 
the  use  of  the  cadets  at  the  United 


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A  UTERAKY  JOURNAL. 


States  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis, 
and  has  never  been  formally  published 
for  general  distrilnition.  Any  inquiries 
regarding  it  may  be  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Craig,  "The  Gerard,"  West  Forty- 
fourth  Street,  New  York  City. 

9 

The  Evening  Post  grumbles  at  Mr.  Joel 
ChaniHer  Harris  in  his  latest  v<jlume, 
j\fr.  Rtthhit  at  Hom<\  because  **  Mr,  Rab- 
bit, having  taken  the  floor  in  place  of 
Uncle  Remus,  spends  his  <»K1  age  in 
breaking  clown  the  distinction  between 
ikali  and  will." 

Tlie  Evening  Post's  Paris  correspond- 
ent, in  discoursing  upon  Marcel  Provost 
lately,  spoke  of  that  author's  Lettres  de 
JPenmes  and  NouveUes  Lettns  de  Eemmes 
'*  love  letters  of  women."  If  this 
writer,  uhu  is  usually  well  informed, 
had  ever  read  those  very  clever  and 
witty  sketches,  lie  would  know  that  there 
arc  nut  half  a  dozen  love  letters  in  the 
whole  collection. 

In  reviewing  M.  Paul  Bourget's  Outre- 
Mer  in  the  July  number  of  The  Book- 
MAV,  we  alluded  casually  to  Dickens, 
among  others,  as  liavinc:  somewhat  mis- 
represented tilings  Anitrican,  This  re- 
mark of  ours  has  roused  the  intense  if 
somewhat  belated  wrath  of  a  held  and 
indignant  Briton,  who  is,  however,  ap- 
parently more  indignant  than  bold,  as 
he  abstains  from  signing  his  name  to  the 
eight-page  letter  which  he  has  written 
us  from  Boston  on  the  subject.  This 
letter,  he  says,  we  dare  not  print  ;  and 
he  is  right  in  a  way,  as  we  should  proba- 
bly lose  a  good  part  of  our  subscription 
list  if  we  loaded  up  our  columns  with 
the  whole  eight  patjes.  But  we  are  de- 
lighted to  cull  out  ilie  ciioiccst  bits,  and 
give  them  a  c<  .us]>icuous  place  in  these 
columns.  We  sh.iU  even  allow  f>Tir  cor- 
respondent all  the  quotation  marks,  cap- 
itals, and  italics  that  are  necessary  for 
a  literal  reproduction  of  his  smoa  indigo 

natio  : 

To  TH*  Editok  Of  Thk  Uik'Kmax: 

Sib.— 'Id  a  review  you  huve  the  coarse  imper- 
tineace  to  charge  the  late  illusirious  CJiarlcs 
Dickens  (•  man  a  hoodred  times  as  imtbfal  as  the 

average  American)  with  "  fal5eh<Kjd."  I  need 
have  no  hesitation  in  retortinjy  that  injurious  accu- 
s.iii'Mi  nvf'i.'l  (in  ]-■;'//  I  nou^h  I  came  to 

the  Uiiiteti  Slates  really  quite  enthusiastic  and 

trepared  to  make  the  IXHrt  of  everything.  I  had 
I  a  short  time  been  so  fearfully  robbed  and 
cheaied,  and  liad  found  it  so  liopetessly  impossible 


to  trust  or  believe  any  one  whatever,  that  at  last  I 

was  driven  to  bay,  ami  g.ive  my  (ipiniwn  nf  the 
carnival  and  raree-show  ol  roguety,  lying,  promisi- 
breaking,  etc.,  in  temperate  language,  whose  only 
sting  was  its  absolute  frutA.  .  .  .  So,  as  my 
crtttebon  were  wi// selfish  and  memoaiy,  but 
temperate,  useful,  and  alas,  trmt,  a  fierce,  prompt 
boycott  drove  me  from  all  employment.  .  .  . 
The  si>ci.il  t\  r.inny  which  compels  every  faic  who 
Itklks  or  vvuics  about  "  this  glorious,  tn  <•  ( miiury, 
sir,"  is  so  grindint;  that  a  ntu  juurn.il  like  yours 
miiff  !<ow  and  cringe  to  liannibal  Choliop,  Mrs, 
ll'uiiiiiy,  and  Col.  Diver,  or  else  contrive  to  live 
oa  (quI  air  1  .  .  .  The  man  who  charges  the  late 
Charles  Dickens  with  **  falsehood**  Is  a  ffar  him* 
self.  All  the  worst  characters  in  Mar/in  Ch tt:  :.'c  ',,H 
are  now  sw.ii;«ering,  swiudimg,  boasting,  bully- 
ing and  coen  iiiis'  the  tuo  out-spoken  immigrant  as 
fiercely  and  lyrannou>ly  as  ever.  ...  As  to 
your  vaunted  "  hospitality,"  I  suppose  a  greater 
fraud  was  never  boomed  "1  I,  a  respectable 
man.  coming  into  two  ciliet  armed  with  one  let- 
ters of  recommendation  to  prominent  citizens, 
have  been  treated  in  a  brutal  way.  .  .  .  Hospi- 
tality ?    Why,  at  Chirav;n  I  r.illc  l  im  a  "  SKcIeiy" 

pious"  Lady  with  a  high  retomniendation  from 
an  eminent  clergyman.  I  came  with  the  dress, 
manners,  errand,  and  recommendation  of  a  Gentle- 
man, andtllis  American  "  /mJv"  pushed  mc  down 
the  steps  before  her  palatial  residence  withtMit  a 
word  f  I  could  narrate  a  hundred  such  instances. 
.  .  .  I  h  n  o  (J  onc  five  or  six  times  as  mtn  h  fi-r 
this  country  as  I  ever  did  in  Europe  for  niy  own 
people.  Inn  turn  I  have  been  rnhlir, I,  cheated, 
hali-killcd.  (aisely-tmprisoncd.  and  ntaiigned  as  I 
never  was  in  any  other  eount  ry.  N  a w.  M  r.  Boole- 
man,  go  and  ease  your  mind  b|  a  vociferous 
coclc-crow  over  the  "dumed  fnmners,"  who  eA 

,r;  I  do  ,,:7ihe  nv  '  .  f  ;  ;  this  Truthful.  Honest, 
iiospitabie.  Sober,  uud  Int  Country  ! 

Ekobabbus. 

We  really  do  not  intend  to  ease  our 
mind  by  crowing  like  a  cock,  partly  be- 
cause we  don't  know  how,  and  partly 
becanse  we  are  overcome  with  remorse" 
for  our  native  land.  We  are  particular- 
ly sorry  to  learn  that  Enobarbus  was 
half  killed.  We  should  have  supposed 
thctt  well-trained  American  ruffians  who 
knew  their  business  would  be  more  efli« 
cient. 

m 

Pierre  Puvii  de  Chavannes^  a  sketch  by 
Lily  Lewis  Rood,  printed  on  Prench 
hand-made  paper  with  grey  paper  cov- 
ers, is  published  by  Messrs.  L.  Prangs 
and  Company,  at  one  dollar.  It  con- 
tains a  portrait  of  the  artist  and  three 
reproductions  of  his  paintings.  "To 
talk  with  Fuvis  de  Chavannes,"  says 
the  author,  **  in  the  grey  atelier  of  the 
Plare  Pii^.ille.  and  to  linger  for  a  space 
in  the  garden  of  pale-tone  tiowcrs  at 
\euilly,  is  to  lose  one's  self  In  one  of 
the  painter's  Dreams,  those  Dreams 
which  fall  like  wonderfully  wrought  cur- 
tains between  us  and  the  sadness  of  the 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


world."  And  this  impression  of  melan- 
choly beauty  and  dreaminess  of  soul  in 
the  artist's  personality  she  has  very  per- 
fectly conveyed  in  her  chiaroscuro  of 
the  wonderful  French  master. 


M.  Phileas  Gagnon,  whose  admirable 
volume  on  Canadian  bibliography  we 
notice  on  another  page,  is  a  business 
man  of  Quebec,  where  he  was  born  in 
1854.  He  has  taken  part  in  municipal 
affairs,  and  is  at  present  t'lha'in  of  the 
Quarlier  St.  Jacques.  But  his  passion 
is  for  the  collection  of  books,  in  which 
he  shows  all  the  qualities  of  an  enthusi- 
astic, and  at  the  same  time  erudite,  bibli- 
ophile. His  library  of  works  relating 
to  Canada,  which  is  the  most  complete 
private  collection  in  existence,  cost  him 
more  than  $20,000,  and  is  to-day  very 
greiitly  enhanced  in  value.  Our  portrait 
of  M.  Gagnon  is  from  a  recent  photo- 
graph. 

Mr.  W.  E.  Henley,  of  whom  Tuk 
Bookman  published  a  critical  notice 
by  Mr.  Marriott  Watson  last  month, 
was  first  discovered  by  Mr.  Leslie 
Stephen.  Mr.  Stephen,  when  editor  of 
the  Cornhi/l,  received  one  day  a  batch 


of  poems  addressed  to  him  frf»m  the 
Edinburgh  Hospital.  Struck  by  their 
originality,  he  wrote  at  once  to  Rob- 
ert Louis  Stevenson  that  there  was  a 
strange  genius  writing  from  the  Hos- 
pital, and  asked  Stevenson  to  go  to  ser 
him.  He  went,  taking  with  him  for  the 
sick  man's  delectation  a  set  of  Dumas' 
novels.  Soon  afterward,  Henley  became 
generally  known,  for  the  verses  were 
those  remarkable  lines  that  picture  the 
fearful  moments  of  one  who  lies  sicken- 
ing under  the  prospect  of  the  surg'eon's 
knife.  Who  that  has  once  read  these 
lines  can  ever  forget  them  ? 

"  Behold  me  waiting — waiting  for  the  knife. 

A  little  while,  and  at  a  leap  I  storm 

The  thick,  sweet  mystery  of  chloroform. 

The  drunken  dark,  the  little  death-in  life. 

The  gods  arc  good  to  me  :  I  have  no  wife. 

No  innocent  child  to  think  of  as  I  near 

The  fateful  minute  ;  nothing  all  too  dear 

Unmans  me  for  my  bout  of  passive  strife. 

Yet  am  I  tremulous  and  a  trifle  sick. 

And,  face  to  face  with  chance,  I  shrink  a  little  : 

My  hopes  are  strong,  my  will  is  something  weak. 

Here  comes  the  basket  ?  Thank  you.  I  am  ready." 

They  recall  most  strikingly  the  piti- 
ful poem  of  Heg6sippe  Morcau,  begin- 
ning 

"  Sur  ce  grabat  chaud  de  mon  agonic." 
% 

A  good  deal  of  unfavourable  comment 
has  been  e-xcited  in  certain  quarters  be- 
cause a  number  of  the  leading  American 
magazines  announce,for  thecomingyear, 
serials  by  English  writers.  Thus,  the 
Century  will  publish  a  novel  by  Mrs. 
Humphry  Ward  ;  Jlarper  one  by  Will- 
iam Hlack  ;  Scrihncr' s,  one  by  J.  M.  Bar- 
rie  ;  antl  The  Book.man,  one  by  Ltn  Mac- 
laren.  But  the  persons  who  are  vexing 
their  souls  over  the  alleged  Briticising 
of  our  American  periodicals  should  re- 
member that  by  way  of  compensation 
the  English  publications  are  being  equal- 
ly Americanised.  Cluxpnuiti $  Magazine 
having  already  brought  out  tlie  prize 
detective  stories  of  Miss  Wilkins  and 
Mr.  Brander  Matthews,  is  to  follow 
them  up  with  Bret  Harte's  Hollinv  0/  the 
Hills  ;  the  Illustrattd  London  Sm'S  has 
produced  Mr.  Howells's  The  Day  of  Their 
Wedding  simultaneously  with  its  appear- 
ance in  Harper  s  Bazar ;  and  the  Lon- 
don Graphic  will  publish  the  same  au- 
thor's new  novel  by  arrangement  with 
Harper  s  Weekly.  Surely  exchange  is  no 
robbery,  and  the  American  author  is 
avenged  ! 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


271 


The  accompanying  portrait  of  Mr. 
Austin  Dobson  is  taken  from  the  por- 
trait etched  from  life  by  William 
Strang  which,  with  seven  full-page 
etchings  by  Lalauze,  are  pictorial  fea- 
tures of  the  revised  and  detini- 
tive  edition  of  Mr.  Dobson's 
poems.  Rosina  and  Other  Po- 
ems,  by  the  same  author,  will 
also  be  issued  immediately  with 
illustrations  by  Hugh  Thom- 
son, uniform  with  the  Beau 
Brocade,  which  was  published 
in  a  like  manner  two  years  ago. 
It  has  been  announced  in  some 
quarters  that  a  third  series 
of  Eighteenth  Century  Vignettes 
would  appear  from  Mr.  Dob- 
son's  charming  pen  this  sea- 
son, but  this  will  not  be  ready 
until  next  year. 

Merely  as  a  matter  of  curi- 
osity we  should  like  to  ask  how 
much  longer  Mr.  Poultney  Big- 
elow  is  going  to  produce  lit- 
erary pabulum  for  a  patient 
public  on  the  basis  of  his  hav- 
ing once  been  at  school  with 
the  present   German  Kaiser. 
Here  he  is  again  in  the  No- 
vember Cosmopolitan  telling  us 
the  same  old  things  all  over 
again.    There  is  one  interest- 
ing bit  in  it,  however,  and  that 
is  a  reproduction  of  the  cele- 
brated photograph  depicting 
the  War  Lord  with  an  incipient 
beard,  which  he  cultivated  for 
a  while  in  1891,  and  then  sud- 
denly removed  it,  at  the  same 
time  suppressing  the  sale  of 
the  photographs  exhibiting  it. 
After  seeing  the  picture,  one  is 
not  surprised  at  his  action  in 
the  matter.    In  the  same  num- 
ber of  the  Cosmopolitan  is  a  pa- 
per by  J.  Lyon  Woodruff,  of 
the  United  States  Navy,  the 
reading  of  which  will   give  any  true 
American  a  thrill.    It  tells  of  the  part 
played  by  our  ships  and  men  in  Sa- 
moan  waters  in  1888,  when  the  Ger- 
man   naval    representatives   there  had 
browbeaten  the  Knglish  and  then  began 
to  try  the  same  experiment  with  us. 
How  the    German   man-of-war  made 
ready  to  bombard  Apia  in  violation  of 
the  treaty  ;  how  the  German  commander 
contemptuously  snubbed  the  American 


Consul-General  ;  and  then  how  the  good 
American  corvette  Adams  stcAxncCi  in  be- 
tween the  German  vessel  and  the  town 
and  ran  out  her  guns,  and  politely  told  the 
Germans  to  commence  whenever  they 


were  quite  ready  ;  and  how  all  of  a  sud- 
den they  lost  interest  in  the  matter,  so 
that  the  bombardment  never  came  off — 
all  this  and  much  more  is  written  in  the 
article  which  we,  being  Jingoes,  advise 
all  our  brother  Jingoes  to  read  at  once 
and  be  prouder  than  ever  of  their  coun- 
try, which  on  that  occasion,  as  a  great 
English  writer  said,  "  gave  England 
the  lead  in  the  path  of  dutv  and  hon- 
our." 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


The  Tory  journals  of  LfindDti  have 
been  most  amusing  of  late.  It  appears 
that  Lord  Rosebery,  just  before  going 
out  of  otTu  (',  made  a  peer  of  one  Mr. 
Joseph  Williamson,  an  estimable  dealer 
It)  oilcloth.  Thereupon  the  Saturday 
Jta'icio  hv'^Aw  to  thunder  about  this 
affront  to  "  the  proudest  aristocracy  in 
Europe.'*  To  be  sure,  it  said,  our  party 
has  made  peers  out  of  brewers,  but  that 
is,  of  course,  a  very  Hiffcrctit  tliinij  ;  and 
it  explained  t!ic  liitlci  cucc  at  great  length 
and  with  much  subtlety.  But  alas ! 
when  the  grandeur  and  awesomeness  of 
the  British  peerage  depend  upon  a  nice 
understandinfif  of  the  relative  nobility  of 
oil(  l.itli  and  beer,  it  certainly  sci'ms  as 
though  "  the  proudest  aristocracy  in  Eu- 
rope  were  in  rather  a  bad  way. 

The  fourteeeth  volume  (Rildcsheim- 
Soccus)  of  Brockhaus's  Konversations- 
Lexik&n  has  just  appeared,  and  reminds 
us  that  two  more  volumes,  to  appear 
early  in  1896,  will  complete  tlie  revision 
of  this  most  excellent  encyclopaedia. 

This  Voluini',  juiMishi'd  in  the  same 
Style  and  prepared  with  the  same  exact- 
ing care  as  the  previous  ones,  contains 
1052  pages,  75  full  pages  of  illustrations 
(of  which  eight  arc  in  colours),  26  maps 
and  plans,  and  206  text  illustrations. 
Probably  the  most  prominent  article  in 
the  l)Ook  is  that  on  Knssia,  which,  sub- 
divided under  numerous  headings,  oc- 
cupies 74  pages  in  addition  to  14  i)ages 
of  maps  and  four  pages  of  cnis  illusira- 
tive  o£  Russian  art  and  architecture. 
That  the  work  is  kept  up  to  the  times 
will  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  this  arti- 
cle on  Russia  closes  with  a  f>r!rf  r/fume 
of  the  new  Ciiar  s  policy  up  to  March, 
1895. 

Mr-.  F.  A.  Steel,  who  shares  uit1i 
Kudyard  Kipling  the  honour  of  being 
the  novelist  of  India,  is  of  Scotch  de- 
scent, lu-r  father  having  been  SherifT- 
Clerk  of  I^^rfarshire,  aiuJ  her  own  child 
hood  having  been  spent  partly  at  St. 
Andrews  and  partly  in  Argyleshire. 
She  was  married  wlum  verv  younir  und 
went  out  to  India,  where  she  has  led  a 
busy  life  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury. For  sevLiiteen  years  she  tanj^^Iit 
in  the  Government  scIkjoIs  of  the  Pun- 
jab, and  her  duties  brought  her  into 
contact  with  thousands  of  girlSf  through 


whom  she  got  to  know  the  parents,  and 
so  learned  much  liiat  has  been  useful  to 
her  in  lu  r  literary  work.  Mrs.  Steel 
thinks  The  Pottrr' >  Thumb  is  perhaps 
the  best  of  her  books,  and  it  has  cer- 
tainly been  the  most  successful.  She  is 
at  present  engaged  on  a  nt  vrl  <!(  .i!ir^:: 
with  the  Indian  Mutiny,  which  will  lake 
about  two  years  to  finish.  The  scene 
will  be  chierty  laid  in  Delhi.  Her  new 
storv,  entitled  Red  Rotvans,  whit  h  has 
just  been  published  by  the  Macmillans, 
IS  noticed  on  another  page. 

"I  have  been  writing  nil  my  lift  " 
says  Mrs.  Steel,  **  but  1  destroyed  my 
manuscripts,  and  never  published  a  story- 
till  about  five  years  ago.  My  first  work 
was  a  rookery  book,  especially  intended 
for  Indian  schools.  It  was  a  j^rcat  suc- 
cess, and  is  still  the  recognised  tezt- 
l)ook  on  the  subject.  I  have  had  more 
letters  of  thanks  about  it  than  about 
any  other  of  my  books.    My  first  story. 

•*  LSI,"  appeared  in  .^f,u  >'::'i/tjtt's  MtJf:a- 
zine.  I  sent  it  in  on  the  advice  of  a 
friend,  who  saw  that  I  felt  rather  in 
want  of  work  after  our  return  to  Eng- 
land, my  husband  liaving  retired.  The 
tale  was  at  once  accepted,  and  I  was 
asked  for  more.  Miss  Shtarfs  Legatj 
was  my  first  novel,  which  was  followed 
by  Thi  Totter  s  Thumb.'' 

ft 

Sir  Walter  Besant  has  been  deltverinir 

an  address  on  the  prospects  <if  antliors 
and  books  in  England,  in  which,  judging 
by  the  brief  report  in  the  London  Tiwus, 
he  is  even  more  optimistic  than  usual. 
Sir  Walter  thinks  that  the  numbe'-  of 
readers  is  enormously  increasing  and  will 
still  increase,  and  he  has  also  the  high- 
est opinion  of  their  taste  and  judgment. 
In  the  days  to  come,  to  deserve  success 
will  be  to  attain  it,  and  failure  will  be 
an  evidence  of  unwt^rthiness.     We  are 
not  so  sure.    Changes  are  coming  on 
almost  imperceptibly  of  a  startling  kind. 
Ten  years  ago,  the  enormous  editions 
ami  the  rapid  sales  which  have  now  be 
come  comparatively  common  were  almost 
unknown.    Only  in  very  rare  instances 
did  a  publisher   venture   to  order  as 
many  as  ten  thousand  copies  of  a  lirst 
edition.    Such  an  order  is  now  by  no 
means  rare.    The  gains  of  authors, 
ing  to  the  competition  of  publishers  and 
the  rise  of  the  literary  agent,  are  also 
much  greater. 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL, 


273 


But  some  qualifications  have  to  be 
borne  in  mind.    For  one  thing,  these 
successes  are  practically  all  in  the  do- 
main of  fiction.     (Outside  of  that,  there 
is  very  little  evidence  that  sales  have 
greatly  increased.     For  another  thing, 
is  it  true  even  now  that  the  books  most 
in   favour  with   readers  all  belong  to 
literature?    And  even  when  they  do,  is 
it  not  evident  that  their  success  often  is 
Ijjained  not  by  what  is  best  in 
them,  but  by  what  is  worst  ? 
This  great  new  public  that 
has   arisen   seems    to  read 
about  four  books  a  year.  It 
is  quite  satisfied  with  these, 
and    with    the  innumerable 
periodicals  it  purchases,  and 
so  the  vast  majority  of  publi- 
cations have  small,  slow,  and 
comparatively  unremunera- 
tive  sales. 

While  we  cannot  subscribe 
to  Sir  Walter  Hesant's  optim- 
ism, we  are,  however,  by  no 
means  pessimistic.  There  are 
many  tokens  that  the  popular 
taste  is  on  the  whole  healthy 
and  sound.  Pure  and  sweet 
books  are  eagerly  welcomed 
if  they  possess  elements  of 
life  and  interest.  The  busi- 
ness of  editors,  publishers, 
and  authors  is  not  to  culti- 
vate the  barren  habit  of  sneer- 
ing at  the  masses,  but  to  try 
to  understand  them,  to  meet 
them  in  every  legitimate  way, 
to  teach  them  the  habit  of 
reading  in  the  confidence  that 
gradually  their  taste  will  rise, 
and  that  they  will  become  ap- 
preciative of  the  best.  It  is 
one  of  Sir  Walter  Besant's 
excellent  characteristics  that  he  never 
sneers  at  the  people  and  their  literature, 
that  what  he  finds  interests  human  be- 
ings he  takes  as  interesting  to  him,  and 
sets  himself  to  study  its  secret. 


The  novel  is  entitled  Kate  Carnegie,  and 
is  a  tale  of  the  "  Drumtochty"  country 
made  famous  bv  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush 
stories.  An  attractive  feature  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  stor)'  in  The  Bookman 
will  be  the  accompaniment  of  illustra- 
tions by  Mr.  Frederick  C.  Gordon, 
whose  drawings  in  the  holiday  edition 
of  A  Doctor  of  the  Old  School,  just  pub- 
lished, and  whose  acquaintance  with 


We  are  pleased  to  announce  to  our 
readers  that  a  novel  by  Ian  Maclarcn 
will  appear  in  The  Booiv.\t.\x  during 
1896.  This  story  has  been  secured  in 
co-operation  with  the  Outlook,  in  the  be- 
lief that  of  all  living  writers  of  fiction, 
Ian  Maclarcn  is  the  one  whom  our  con- 
stituency would  like  best  of  all  to  read. 


IAN  MACLAREN  (RKV.  JOHN  WATSON,  M.A.). 

"  Drumtochty"  life  and  a  conversation 
which  he  had  with  the  author  about  the 
scenes  and  characters  of  his  forthcoming 
novel,  have  especially  equipped  him  for 
this  task.  The  accompanying  portrait 
is  from  a  recent  photograph,  and  is  con- 
sidered an  excellent  likeness  of  Mr. 
Watson. 

® 

Advance  orders  were  received  in  ex- 
cess of  the  first  large  edition  of  Ian 
Maclaren's  new  volume,  entitled  The 
Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne,  before  the  date 
of  publication.  A  second  edition  is 
printing  as  we  go  to  press. 


google 


274 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


CHAUNCEY  C.  IIOTCHKISS. 

Author  of  "  In  Defiance  of  the  Kini;." 


Mr.  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss,  the  au- 
thor of  ///  Dcfiaiuc  of  the  King,  which 
is  reviewed  on  another  page,  is,  all  ap- 
pearances to  the  contrary'  in  his  work, 
a  New-Yorker.  Part  of  his  boyhood 
was  spent  in  the  home  of  an  uncle,  resi- 
dent near  New  Haven,  whose  place  was 
called  "  Ilardscrabble,"  and  is  the  orig- 
inal of  the  homestead  of  that  name  in 


CHAUNCEY  C.  HOTCHKISS. 


his  story.  Mr.  Hotchkiss  is  a  man  in 
the  prime  of  life,  whose  early  years 
were  marked  by  the  conflict  waged  be- 
twi.xt  a  commercial  career,  in  which  he 
was  not  successful,  and  leanings  to- 
ward literature  and  art,  in  which  he 
has  taken  a  decided  step  toward  success 
in  his  remarkable  first  novel.  lie  was 
for  two  years  temporarily  editor  of  a 
paper  ff)r  a  relative,  who  was  prevented 
from  undertaking  his  duties  by  illness  ; 
but  outside  of  this  experience  he  has 
had  no  practical  literary  training.  He 
has,  however,  always  been  a  devoted 


student  of  literature,  and  has  written 
much  for  his  own  gratification,  but  not 
until  recently  with  a  view  to  publica- 
tion.    He  was  impelled  to  the  writing 
of  In  Defiance  of  the  King  by  the  lack  of 
anything  like  an  adequate  expression  in 
the  fiction  of  our  country  of  a  romance 
dealing  with  the  time  of  the  Revolu- 
tion.   As  Mr.  Hotchkiss  is  in  posses- 
sion of  valuable  historical  facts  g^ained 
by  long  research  among  the  archives  of 
that  period,  he  has  some  reas<>n  to  be- 
lieve that  he  can  throw  light  on  the  mo- 
tives that  actuated  certain  prominent 
actors  on  that  momentous  stage  of  our 
history,  while  striving  to  give  rc»mantic 
form  to  these  scenes,  which  deserve  a 
higher   imaginative   illumination  than 
they  have  yet  received  in  our  fiction. 

His  next  novel  will  open  with  the  siege 
of  Boston,  and  will  proceed  to  York 
Harbour  and  the  coast  of  Maine.  Mr. 
Hotchkiss  is  especially  interested  in  the 
character  of  General  Howe,  who  will 
appear  in  this  story.  As  an  example 
of  his  careful  and  painstaking  study  of 
character,  it  may  be  mentioned  that 
he  read  all  the  books  he  could  lay  his 
hands  on  about  Benedict  Arnold,  who 
merely  figures  in  the  storj-  for  the 
space  of  a  few  passages  ;  yet  the  result 
is  a  vivid  and  cleai-cut  portraiture  of 
the  notorious  traitor.  Mr.  Hotchkiss  is 
a  surgical  photographer  in  the  Neve 
York  and  Roosevelt  hospitals,  "  which 
is  as  near  to  art  in  a  profession,"  he 
says  facetiously,  "  as  I  have  been  able 
to  get  so  far."  If  he  succeeds  in  ful- 
filling the  promise  which  is  betokened 
in  his  first  story,  it  is  probable  that  he 
will  devote  himself  altogether  to  liter- 
ature. Mr.  Hotchkiss  is  another  in- 
stance of  merit  making  its  own  way 
from  the  outside.  His  manuscript  was 
singled  out  from  the  hundreds  which 
pass  through  a  publisher's  hands  ever)' 
year,  and  Mr.  Hotchkiss  acknowledges 
graciously  the  kindly  encouragement 
and  assistance  which  he  received  from 
his  publishers'  reader,  who  suggested 
several  alterations  which  improved  the 
stor}'. 


GoogI 


A  LITHRAKY  JOURNAL, 


OWEN  WISTER. 


Author  of  "  Red  Men  and  White.' 


It  can  scarcely  be 
more  than  three  or  four 
years  since  the  appear- 
ance in  llai-pfr  s  .\fa\^a- 
zinf  of  the  first  of  a 
series  of  studies  of  the 
West.  The  stories  were 
fresh  an<l  strong  ;  the 
name  of  the  author, 
Owen  Wister,  was  new 
in  literature,  and  at  once 
awakened  the  interest 
always  felt  in  the  ad- 
vent of  a  writer  of  prom- 
ise. The  look  in  his 
direction  turned,  of 
course,  westward  in  the 
betjinninjT,  the  surety  of 
his  touch  seeminjj  to 
identify  him  witli  the 
region  which  he  de- 
scribed. But  Mr.  Wis- 
ter was  not  to  be  located 
in  army  post,  or  hunt- 
ing camp,  or  ranch.  All 
of  these  had  known  him, 
it  is  true,  but  to  none  of 
them  did  he  belong. 
On  the  contrary — as  the 
readers  of  his  writings 
soon  learned — he  be- 
longs to  the  Kast,  to  the 
oldest  East  ;  and  is  the 
product  of  Philadel- 
phia's highest  civilisa- 
tion for  more  than  two 
hundretl  years. 

A  good   deal  of  his 
earlier  life  was  passed 
amid  a  still  older  civili- 
sation abroad.    In  1870, 
when  a  child  of  ten,  he  was  taken  to 
Europe,  and  remained  away  from  his 
own  country  for  three  years,  during  that 
most  impressionable   period  lying  be- 
tween childhood  and  boyhood.  Return- 
ing then  to  America,  he  became  a  stu- 
dent at  St.  Paul's  School,  in  Concord, 
N.  M.,  and  so  continued  until  he  entered 
Harvard  in  his  eighteenth  year.    At  both 
school  and  college  he  gave  early  evidence 
of  the  literary  faculty,  by  editing  one 


paper  and  sometimes  two  papers  for 
each  ;  antl  later  by  writing  for  the  Hasty 
Pudding  Club  the  libretto  of  Dido  and 
.E/iftis,  an  opera  bouffe.  But  toward 
the  end  of  his  stay  at  Harvard,  his  taste 
seemed  to  become  musical  rather  than 
literary  ;  and  when  he  graduated  in  the 
Class  of  '82,  he  carried  off  the  highest 
honours  in  music.  He  was  now  re- 
solved to  adopt  a  musical  career,  and 
with  this  purpose  in  view  went  abroad 


-dbyGqogle 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


a  few  months  after  his  graduation,  and 
upon  the  recommendation  of  Liszt  bc- 

fan  the  study  of  composition  in  Paris, 
tut  unexpected  circumstances  occasion- 
ed a  sudden  cliange  of  plan,  and  Mr. 
Wistcr  lelurncd  to  America  at  the 
close  of  1883.  Shortly  afterwards  fail- 
ing health  sent  him  elk  hunting  in 
Wyoming  and  Arizona,  and  thus  came 
about  the  first  memorable  visit  destined 
to  have  surh  lastincj  results.  Scrkltiix 
health  he  found  not  only  new  strength, 
but  a  new  world.  The  novel  surround- 
iiii(s,  the  atmosphere  of  stirriuij  ro- 
mance, re-awoke  the  literary  instinct 
that  nods  sometimes,  but  never  dies. 
He  appears,  however,  to  have  bad  no 
conscious  intention  at  this  time,  or  in- 
tleed  for  long  alter,  of  writing  these 
tliiiii^s  which  impressed  him  so  vividly. 
Instead  he  returned  straij^litway  to  the 
East  as  soon  as  he  was  well  again,  re- 
solved to  enter  the  legal  profession. 
Enterinc;^  tfic  Harvard  Law  School  in 
the  autumn  of  he  graduated  two 

years  later  with  the  degrees  of  LL.B. 
and  A.M.;  after  which  he  settled  to  the 
practice  of  his  profession  in  Philadel- 
phia, meaning  apparently  to  make  it  a 
life  work.  But  the  spell  of  the  West 
w,'s  upon  him  and  could  not  he  lnoken  ; 
Llie  literary  instinct  which  it  had  stirred 
could  not  be  stilled,  and  thus  it  followed 
that  the  yoimtr  lawyer  was  irresistibly 
drawn  away  from  his  briefs,  a^ain  and 
again,  until  fifteen  separate  journeys 
to  the  West  are  reconled  within  ten 
years. 

Such  a  struggle  can  have  but  one  out- 
come, and  llie  undivided  allegiance 
always  demanded  by  art  was  gradually 
granted  in  this  case.  In  1891  Mr.  Wis- 
ter  began  to  write,  giving  less  and  less 
attention  to  his  profession,  until  litera- 
ture now  wholly  absorbs  him.  He  has 
written  a  number  of  stories,  which 
are  finally  galliered  into  n  volume  en- 
titled Jici/  Men  and  ii  /itie,  thus  making 
the  cumulative  showing  which  alone 
justifies  an  attempt  to  estimate  the  suc- 
cess of  the  short  story  writer.  This 
honest  effort  is,  however,  somewhat  in- 
terfered w  itli  in  tlie  outvet  by  the  pref- 
ace, which  moves  heavily  and  uncer« 
tainly  through  a  mist.  But,  fortunately, 
the  art  of  the  essayist  is  something  apart 
from  the  gift  of  the  story-teller,  and 
this  introduction,  which  does  not  intro- 
duLC,  may  therefore  be  passed  without 
further  comment.  In  the  stories  them- 
selves there  is  no  uncertainty,  no  wan- 


dering, no  fog.  Their  movement  is  as 
direct  and  as  free  and  as  stirring  as  the 
sweep  of  the  wind  across  the  plains. 
This  is  the  first  effect  of  Mr.  wister*s 
work.  This  feelinij  of  the  great  plains  : 
of  the  grandeur,  the  mystery,  and  the 
desolation  of  their  vastness ;  of  the 
desert's  changeless,  unfathomable  si- 
lence ;  of  the  bare  noonday  glare, 
**  making  the  world  no  longer  cr>'stal, 
but  a  mesa,  dull  and  s^ray  and  hot  ;'* 
of  the  sharp,  dim  peaks  edging  the  hori- 
zon, far  off  where  the  unshaded  moun- 
tains stand  ;  of  "  the  day's  transfigured 
immortal  passing  where  the  sun  becomes 
a  crimson  coal  in  a  lake  of  saffron,  burn- 
ing and  beating  like  a  heart,  till  the 
desert  seems  no  lontjtu"  dead,  but 
asleep  ;"  of  the  unearthly  beauty  of 
the  moon,  under  which  the  earth  grows 
lovely,  "  no  longer  terrible,  ljut  infin- 
itely sad."  Scarcely  any  one,  perhaps 
it  is  only  fair  to  say  no  one.  has  so 
nearly  succeeded  as  has  Mr.  Wistcr  in 
communicating  the  impression  made  by 
the  great  sand  sea.  And  through  the 
stories  maybe  traced  the  g^radual  relax- 
ation of  tliis  first  fierce  grasp  of  the 
strange  country  itself  on  the  author's 
imagination ;  and  the  consequent  as- 
cension of  the  psychological  over  the 
physical,  as  he  draws  nearer  to  the 
inner  life  of  the  people>-to  those  subt- 
ler things  which  are  not  spread  upon 
the  hot  sands,  for  the  casual  passer- 
by to  see.  He  naturally  enters  first 
into  the  nature  of  the  Indian,  as  the 
central  figure  of  the  situation,  and  the 
result  is  rae  first  appearance  of  the  real 
red  man  in  recent  literature.  Perhaps 
even  this  partial  reservation  is  less  than 
Mr.  Wister's  due,  and  he  may  be  more 
truly  said  to  be  the  first  to  bring  the  real 
red  man  into  fiction,  either  old  or  new. 
At  all  events,  his  is  the  real  living  Ind- 
ian of  to-day,  and  not  the  Mohegan  or 
Hiawatha  of  old-fashioned  romance. 
As  Mr.  Wister  does  not  idcalii.c  him, 
neither  does  he  depreciate  him,  but  en- 
ters into  his  condition  and  character- 
istics and  feelings  and  motives,  as  one 
who  knows  whereof  he  speaks.  More- 
over, he  differentiates  the  Indian  types, 
and  succeeds  in  individualising  at  least 
two  so  distinctively  as  to  make  an  en- 
tirely new  and  valuable  contribution  to 
literature.  Cheschapah,  the  young  chief 
of  '*  Little  Big  Horn  Medicine,"  rather 
dwarfs  the  other,  for  the  reason  that  his 
isadominant  personality  ;  but  E-egante 
is  not  less  clearly  and  strongly  realised, 


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A  UTEKARY  JOURNAL. 


277 


and  their  characters  form  a  fine  contrast. 
Cheschapah's  devouring  ambition  has 
its  grand  as  well  as  its  absurd  side,  and 
E-egante's  dandyism  and  vanity  are 
eminently  real  and  human. 

With  the  last-named  story  Mr.  Wis- 
ter's  study  of  the  red  savage  ceases, 
and  he  passes  on  to  paint  tlie  civilisa- 
tion of  the  plains,  as  impeded  by  primi- 
tive white  forces.  There  is  a  terrific 
showing  of  this  in  "Salvation  Gap," 
and  the  analysis  of  the  causes  evolving 
the  tragedy  further  shows  that  the  au- 
thor is  steadily  working  from  the  rough 
surface  of  the  life  he  portrays  to  its  tur- 
bulent heart.  This  deeper  tone  deepens 
still  more,  and  also  broadens,  in  "  A 
Pilgrim  on  the  Gila"  and  "  La  Tinaja 
Bonita."  In  the  one  it  sounds  farther 
than  the  distant,  peaked  edges  of  the 
sand  archipelago,  in  revealing  the  in- 
fluence that  an  obscure  and  guilty  love 
may  e.xert  over  large  affairs  of  state, 
over  even  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 
In  the  other,  the  note  is,  if  possible, 
broader  yet,  in  that  it  touches  one  of 


the  most  universal  sources  of  human 
wretchedness,  by  showing  that  jealousy 
works  the  same  suffering  and  wrong  in 
the  desert  as  elsewhere. 

And  yet,  effective  as  these  intense 
stories  are,  they  leave,  nevertheless,  a 
vague  feeling  that  Mr.  Wister  has  cir- 
cumscribed his  power  in  thus  dealing  al- 
most exclusively  with  painful  themes. 
This  can  scarcely  have  been  necessary 
to  the  truth  of  his  work.  There  must 
be  bright  spots  even  on  these  tragic  great 
plains  ;  and  such  an  artist  as  lie  has 
surely  more  than  a  single  dark  colour  for 
his  brush.  Indeed,  the  gleams  of  hu- 
mour shining  through  the  perpetual 
clouds  give  tantalising  glimpses  of  the 
sunny  flood  that  might  warm  the  heart, 
were  the  sky  ever  clear.  And  then  to 
this  constant  stormy  gloom  seems  to  be 
owing  the  absence  of  that  subtle  touch 
of  finest,  truest  sentiment,  without  which 
work  even  as  good  as  Mr.  Wister's  can 
never  wholly  satisfy. 

Nancy  Huston  Banks. 


A  CHAT  WITH  MISS  ETHEL  REED. 


After  ascending  the  dimly-lighted 
stairway,  the  bright  apartment  with  its 
flooded  light  and 
warmth  of  colour,  shed 
from  innumerable 
sketches  and  paintings 
hanging  on  the  walls  or 
flung  about  the  room 
with  a  seeming  careless- 
ness, refreshed  one's 
vision  like  a  sudden 
glimpse  of  dreamland. 
This  was  Miss  Reed's 
studio  (she  rather  mod- 
estly resented  my  call- 
ing it  so),  and  as  I  found 
it  empty  when  I  enter- 
ed—I heard  her  musi- 
cal laugh  in  an  adjoin- 
ing room — I  ha<l  a  few 
minutes  to  look  around 
and  take  my  bearings. 
One  cannot  help  im- 
pressing one's  individ- 
uality upon  one's  sur- 
roundings, and  it  was 


and  softness  of  outline  which  pervaded 
the  room.   Sketches,  nearly  all  portraits, 


pleasant  to  note  the  harmonious  setting 
which  each  detail  helped  to  form  in  Miss 
Reed's  atelier,  and  the  air  of  refinement 


KROM  AN  UNPUBl-ISHKP  DRAWINc;  BV  ETHEL  REED. 

in  varying   stages  of   process,  almost 


covered  the  walls  or  lay  on  the  floor, 
tilted  against  legs  of  chairs  or  other 


Digitized  by  Gc 


278 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


BTHBL  REED.     BY  HERSBLr. 

supports.  In  many  of  the  portraits  of 
women  a  certain  uniformity  of  type  be- 
gan to  assert  itself  as  I  glanced  from 
one  to  another,  and  it  dawned  upon  me 
at  last  that  the  original  of  these  studies 
was  the  artist  herself.  Later,  when  she 
confirmed  my  observation,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  congratulating  her  on  her 
choice  of  a  model. 

In  one  coi  ner  of  the  room  there  was  a 
little  siiclf  containing  about  a  score  of 
books,  composed  for  the  most  part  of 
well-thumbed  literary  classics.  I  re- 
marked especially  a  copy  of  Keats  and 
an  edition  of  Omar  Khayyam^  which  bore 
evidences  of  fr<(jueiit  reading.  There 
was  another  slielf,  I  must  confess,  which 
groaned  beneath  the  weight  of  what 
looked  like  French  novels,  whose  char- 
acter I  shrank  from  inspecting  lest  I 
should  dispel  the  pleasant  illusion  I 
had  formed  of  Miss  Reed's  elegant 
and  dignified  tastes  in  literature.  Ly- 
ing about  were  the  usual  bric-i-brac 


so  dear  to  the  soul  of  m 
artist,  one  curiosity  wfaid 

I  handled  with  care  bcinj^ 
ajapanesic  "  snicker-snec* 
Scattered  over  the  lar^^e  flat 
table  was  a  profusion  of 
books,  papers,  sketches, 
posters,  drawing  and  paint> 
ing  implements  :  a  couple 
of   pipes,    a  tobacco-box, 
and  a  cigar  stump  which 
I   looked  at  suspiciously, 
she  referred  to  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  her  eye  as  "  ar- 
tistic properties."     1  was 
about  to  ensconce  myself  in 
one  of  the  comfortaijle  art- 
chairs,  when  a  jjlare  of 
warm  colour  from  a  sheet 
of  paper  on  the  table  caught 
my  eye,  and  as  I  happened 
to  be  examining  it  when 
Miss  Reed  entered,  she  at 
once  satisfied  my  curiosity 
by  saying : 

"  Tliat  is  a  poster  I  am 
making  for  a  little  sketch  of 
Puvis  de  Chavannes,  by 
Lily  Lewis  Rood,  which  has 
just  been  published  in  Bos- 
ton." 

On  further  inquiry  I  dis- 
covered that  sht-  had  been 
moved  by  her  interest  ia 
the  subject  to  undertake 
the  poster,  but  tliat  she  was 
doubtful  whether  the  publishers  were 
likely  to  go  to  the  expense  of  repro- 
duciiii^  it. 

*'  What's  the   use  of  wasting  your 
precious  time  on  it,  then  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  well,**  she  answered,  "  the  orig- 
inal will  probal)Iy  be  exhibited  in  Messrs. 
Damrelland  L'pliam  sold  bookshop,  and 
will  attract  attention  to  the  author." 

This  is  but  a  triflini;  thing  to  report, 
but  I  mention  it  as  being  a  characteris- 
tic of  Miss  Reed  which  is  not  infre- 
quently absent  in  youth,  especially  suc- 
cessful youth  ;  for  within  tlie  past  few 
months  Miss  Ethel  Reed  has  made  a 
distinguished  appearance  in  the  art  of 
making  !)Ook  posters.    This  distinction 
is  based  on  work  that  is  instinct  with 
originality,  and  which  is  conceived  with 
a  freshness  and  freedom  unpremeditated 
and  strikingly  individual.    It  is  the  bold 
and  fearless  expression  of  ideas  unhack- 
neyed and  untrammelled  by  past  tradi- 
tions or  conventionalised  forms.  Its 


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-very  cnideness  sometimes  is  proof  of 

the  oxermastering  strength  of  concep- 
tion and  the  striving  to  make  form  and 
outline  subject  to  the  innate  force  be- 
hind the  work.  There  has  been  an  in- 
creasing interest  in  Miss  Reed,  and  a 
growing  conviction  that  she  is  an  artist 
of  exceptional  power  and  ability,  and  it 
was  to  gratiiy  this  interest,  and  to  en- 
lijrhten  the  readers  of  The  I3ook.man 
about  the  artist  and  her  work,  that  I 
called  on  her  when  recently  in  Boston. 

I  found  that  though  Miss  Reed  was 
willinj^  to  talk  to  me  about  her  work, 
she  \va<;  not  at  all  elated  with  the  suc- 
cess she  liad  won,  and  a  natural  diffi- 
dence and  pretty  air  of  setf-iinconscious- 
ness,    which    was   perfectly  sincere, 

clothed  her  with  a  most  becoming  gar- 
ment of  humility,  which  nevcjtheless 
was  disconcerting  to  the  interviewer. 
I  a^krri  lier  how  she  came  to  think  of 
drawing  posters. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  it  at  all.  It  has 
all  been  due  to  a  friend  of  mine  who  is 
connected  with  the  Boston  Herald.  He 
saw  one  of  my  paintings"  (a  very  fair 
likeness  of  herself  by  the  way),  "and 
suggested  that  I  should  copy  it  and  sub- 
mit it  to  the  Herald  as  a  poster  for  its 
Sunday  edition.  I  acted  on  his  sugges- 
tion, and  was  successful.  That  was 
last  February.  You  can  see,"  she  add- 
ed, with  the  sensitive  touch  with  which 
artists  regard  their  work,  "  that  tlie  re- 
production tiattened  and  quite  spoiled 
the  effect  of  the  original." 

Looking  at  the  original  painting,  I 
drew  her  attention  to  a  picture  along- 
side of  it,  which  depicted  a  violinist  in 
the  act  of  drawing  the  bow  across  his 
instniment. 

"  That  was  taken  from  lite.  By  the 
way,  I  was  at  one  time  determined  to 
become  a  violinist.  I  have  always  been 
passionately  fond  of  music,  especially 
of  the  violin,  and,  indeed,  it  was  my  first 
passion." 

"  And  how  did  you  come  to  give  it 

up  ?" 

*'  I  have  not  exactly  given  it  up,  but 

the  ambition  to  paint  portraits  grew 
upon  me,  and  has  exceeded  it  in 
strength.** 

"  Where  did  you  study  drawing  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  have  studied 
anywhere.  When  I  was  twelve  years 
old  I  took  some  drawing  lessons  from 
Miss  Lanra  C.  Hills,  but  n\y  inattention 
and  rebelliousness  caused  her  much 


vexation,  although  she  took  great  pains 
with  me  and  incited  me  to  work.  Two 
years  ago  I  spent  some  time  at  the 
Cowles  School." 

"  Have  you  had  no  special  training' 
or  course  of  study  ?" 

"  No.  I'm  afraid  you  will  think  md 
an  unaccountable  sort  of  person,  for  all 
I  can  say  is  that  when  I  have  an  idea  I 
simply  sit  down  to  the  paper,  and  the 
drawing  and  colour  come  to  me  as  I 
proceed." 

"  Most  of  your  work  is  done  spon- 
taneously and  without  much  fore- 
thought, then  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  hard  enough  about  it 
beforehand  ;  but  once  I  have  the  idea  and 
get  started,  it  takes  very  little  trouble 
and  time  to  finish  the  rest." 

"  But  what  about  your  ambition  to 
become  a  portrait  painter — ^has  that  beea 
also  supplanted  ?" 

*' Oh,  no,"  she  laughed,  "but  since 
I  started  to  make  posters,  I  have  bad 
more  work  tliaii  I  can  keep  up  witli  ; 
besides  X  have  been  doing  some  decora- 
tive book  work,  which,  you  will  admit, 
is  more  ambitious,  and  perhaps  you 
would  say  more  dignified,  than  mak- 
ing posters." 

One  of  these  books  is  a  little  volume 
of  historical  and  narrative  verse,  by 
Mr.  Charles  Knowles  Bolton,  entitled 
Tht  Lffoe  Story  of  Urtula  Wolcott^  which 


TTZ  7* 


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28o 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


HE  sound  of  voices  died  away, 
But  overhead  complainingly 
The  bluebird  flew  with  whirr  of 
wings, 

The  tree-toad  trilled  a  coming 

storm, 

And  from  the  parching  meadow  grass 
The  katydid  proclaimed  the  heat. 
"The  law  is  often  perfected 
By  lawlessness,"  her  father  said ; 


KAC-SIMILE  OF  PAGE  KKUM  "THE  LOVE  STORV  OF  L'RSl'LA  WOLCOTT,' 


will  be  published  immediately  by  Messrs. 
Lamson,  WolfTeand  Company.  A  little 
brochure  of  his,  entitled  The  Wooin^^  of 
Martha  Pitkin,  was  published  last  year. 
The  facsimile  of  one  of  the  pages  which 
we  give  indicates  the  style  of  the  book 
and  the  character  of  Miss  Reed's  illus- 
trative work.  The  other  book  is  Miss 
Gertrude  Smith's  Arabella  and  Araminta 
Stories,  about  to  issue  from  the  press  of 
Messrs.  Copeland  and  Day,  and  for 
which  Miss  Mary  E.  Wilkins  has  writ- 
ten an  introduction.  That  the  book  is 
"  magnificently  original,"  as  one  critic 
has  said,  is  largely  due  to  Miss  Ethel 
Reed's  happy,  artistic  rendition  of  the 
dreamland  of  childhood.  The  pictures 
arc  drawn  after  the  manner  of  the  new 


movement  in  de- 
sign,   but  here 
again  Miss  Reed 
has  touched  the 
lines  with  the 
magic   of  her 
own  ima^na- 
tion.  Uncon- 
sciously the  Ja- 
panese influence 
in  art  and  the 
spirit  of  the 
French  poster 
enter  into  their 
composition,  but 
the  key  to  their 
inner    secret  is 
the  childlike 
quality   of  ten- 
derest  humour 
and  "  humanest 
affection,'* 
which  is  all-per- 
vasive. 

"  I  have  never 
enjoyed  doing 
anything  so 
much,"  said 
Miss  Reed,  "as 
the  drawings  for 
these  stories.  It 
was  lots  of  fun  ; 
I  was  a  child 
with  Arabella 
and  Araminta, 
and  dwelt  with 
them  in  the 
happy  Land  of 
Make-Believe." 

"I  believe 
that  has  been  the 
secret  of  your 
success  with  these  drawings  ;  for  to  do 
one's  best  work,  one  must  truly  and 
thoroughly  enjoy  it.  Had  you  done  any 
book  illustrating  previous  to  this  ?" 

"  Nothing  with  the  exception  of  a  little 
vignette  called  '  Butterfly  Thoughts,' 
which  .SV.  Nicholas  printed  in  March,  I 
think  it  was,  of  1894." 

'*  Do  you  contemplate  doing  more  of 
this  kind  of  work  ?" 

"  I  can  hardly  say  yet.  It  will  de- 
pend on  circumstances.  I  am  illustrat- 
ing a  book  of  Fairy  Tales,  and  I  am 
working  on  a  little  thing  of  my  own." 

By  <lint  of  perseverance  I  overcame 
Miss  Reed's  aversion  to  speak  of  this 
"  little  thing"  of  her  own.  She  has 
made  a  start  with  Pierrot  in  The  Garden 


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of  Dreams,  as  she  thinks  of  calling  her 
little  phantasy,  which  is  conceived  as 
partly  pantomime  and  partly  allegory, 
and  is  to  be  illustrated  in  colour.  It 
may  take  some  time  yet  to  brinp  the 
Work  to  completion,  but  1  K)ok  to  its 
production  with  assurance  of  its  o^%- 
inality  for  one  thing,  and  also  with  con- 
siderable curiosity.  I  inquired  whether 
she  had  travelled  much. 

"  No,  I  have  not  travelled  at  all.  I 
was  bora  and  lived  in  '  gentle  New- 
burypoit '  until  five  years  ago,  when 
my  family  came  to  Boston.  I  spent 
the  winter  of  1893  in  New  York,  but 
Gould  not  work  there.    New  York  is  a 

?;ood  place  for  play,  but  give  me  Boston 
or  hard  work.    Next  spring  I  hope  to 
go  to  Paris  with  my  mother." 
"  Will  you  study  there?" 
"  Perhaps  not  in  a  technical  sense, 
but  I  shall  keep  my  eyes  open  and  study 
in  the  broad  school  of  life.'* 

Miss  Reed  was  di'^i  r.  f  t!y  silent  about 
her  contemporaries  in  tlie  new  art  move- 
ment. She  evidently  distrusts  her  esti- 
mate of  their  work,  at  least  she  was 
averse  to  any  criticism  of  hers  appear- 
ing in  print.  But  one  can  see  that  she 
has  decided  opinions,  and  holds  to  them 
with  strength  of  conviction.  Shecaught 
me  glancing  at  her  bookshelf. 

•*  You  mustn't  judge  my  literary  ac- 
complishments by  that  handful  of  books. 
I  have  read  a  Jew  things,"  she  said,  with 
feigned  sarcasm,  **  and  still  do,  as  you 
can  see  liy  one  of  the  recent  books  I 
have  been  reading." 

**  Max  Nordau^  Degeuereuy  f" 
"  Yes,"  she  said,  but  with  such 
laughter  in  her  voice  as  showed  obvi- 
ously enough  that  ilie  trail  of  the  cyni- 
cal serpent  had  left  no  smirch  on  her 
healthy  young  mind. 

Looking  over  some  of  her  photographs 
for  Tus  BooKiiAK,  I  came  across  one  or 


two  in  character  which  evoked  the  in- 
formation that  she  bad  appeared  in  ama- 
teur theatricals  on  several  occasions. 

**  I  shouldn't  be  surprised."  said  I. 
"  if  to  your  other  ambitions  you  added 
that  of  aspiring  to  the  stage.' 

"I'm  afraid  your  guess  is  correct,'* 
she  replied  archly. 

Which  went  to  confirm  the  conclusion 
I  had  come  to  during  our  chat,  that 
Miss  Reed, 

**  Siantling  with  reajct.atit  (eet. 
Where  the  brook  and  river  meet, 
Womanhood  and  childbood  fleet  V* 

has  not  yet  in  all  probability  "  found" 
herself,  and  that  her  proclivities,  tingling 
with  life  and  energy,  are  biit  the  striv- 
ings of  a  strong  individuality,  not  yet 
fully  ripened  or  matured,  to  express  it- 
self in  one  form  after  another.  She  is 
of  a  romantic  temperament,  is  keenly 
observant  and  alive  to  the  humorous ; 
and  the  beautiful  mystery  and  reserve 
of  youth  still  hang  about  her  like  the 
quivering  light  of  dawn  with  its  elo- 
quent promise.  She  comes  of  a  stock 
whose  consanguinity  of  blood — English, 
Irish,  I'fcnch,  and  New  England — is 
favourable  to  the  fostering  of  ^nius, 
and  we  shall  not  be  surprised  if  Miss 
Ethel  Reed  gives  substantial  evidence 
in  the  future  of  possessing  the  capacity 
to  achieve  something  that  is  not  merely 
ephemeral,  but  worth  sending  down  to 
posterity. 

The  "  unpul)Hshe(l  drawing,"  which 
I  carried  away  as  a  souvenir  of  my 
pleasant  visit,  was  an  experimental 
drawing  lor  the  Arabella  and  Araminta 
Sfcrii's.  The.  specimen  page  from  a  let- 
ter is  given  because  of  its  peculiar  cali^- 
raphy,  so  artistically  consistent,  as  it 
seems  to  me.  with  the  strilcing  person- 
ality of  the  writer. 


ECHO. 

Down  valley  paths  and  monntnin  ways 
I  wander,  calling  on  h«M-  name  ; 

Alas  ; — the  weary,  weary  days  ! 

"  Echo  l"-^he  answers  still  the  same. 


Frank  Dempster  Sherman, 


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282 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


>/  VICTOR  AND  VANQUISHED. 

I. 

Through  the  crowded  streets  returning,  at  the  endings  of  the  day, 

Hastened  utie  whom  all  saluted  as  he  sped  along  his  wnv  ; 

In  his  eye  a  gleam  of  triumph,  in  his  heart  a  joy  sincere. 

AuU  the  voice  of  shouting  thousands  still  resounding  in  his  car. 

Passed  he  'neath  a  stately  archway  toward  tlie  goal  of  his  desire, 

Till  he  saw  a  woman*s  fif^ure  lolling  idly  by  the  fire. 

**  I  have  won  !"  he  cricl.  <  xiili.int  ;  "  I  liave  saved  a  cause  horn  wreck. 
Crushed  the  rival  that  1  dreaded,  set  niy  foot  upon  his  neck  I 
Mow  at  last  the  way  is  open,  now  at  last  men  call  me  great, — 
I  am  leader  of  the  leaders,  I  am  master  In  the  State  !** 

Languiiily  she  turned  to  listen  with  a  decorous  pretence, 

And  her  cold  patrician  features  mirrored  forili  inciifference. 

'*  Men  are  always  scheming,  striving,  for  some  petty  end,**  said  she : 

Then,  a  little  yawn  suppressing,  "  What  is  all  of  this  to  me  ?" 

II. 

Through  the  shadows  of  the  evening,  as  they  quenched  the  sunset  glow. 
Came  the  other,  farins^  homewar  1  v.  it  li  d ejected  step  and  slow  ; 
Wistful,  peering  through  the  darkness,  till  he  saw,  as  oft  before, 
Wiicre  a  woman  stood  impatient  at  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

"  I  have  lost  !"  he  faltered  faintly.    "  All  is  over" — with  a  groan  ; 
Then  he  paused  anfl  gazed  expectant  at  the  fare  beside  his  own. 
Two  soft  eyes  were  turned  upon  iiim  with  a  woman's  tenderness, 
Two  white  arms  were  flung  about  him  with  a  passionate  caress. 
And  a  voice  of  thrilling  music  to  his  mutely  uttered  plea 
Said,  **  If  only  you  are  with  me,  what  is  all  the  rest  to  me  ?** 

III. 

All  night  loni]^  the  peojde's  leader  sat  in  silence  and  alone. 
DnU  f>f  eye,  witli  t)rain  untliinking,  for  liis  heart  was  turnetl  to  stone  : 
While  the  hours  passed  all  unheeded  till  the  hush  of  night  had  ceased 
And  the  haggard  light  returning  flecked  the  melancholy  East. 

But  the  other,  the  defeated,  laughed  a  hiui^h  of  merriment. 
And  he  tlirust  his  cares  behind  him  with  an  inllnite  content  ; 
Kecking  not  of  place  and  power  and  the  smiles  of  those  above, 
For  his  darkness  was  illumined  b)'  the  radiance  of  love. 

Each  had  grasped  the  gift  of  fortune,  each  had  connted  tip  the  cost ; 
And  the  vanquished  was  the  victor,  and  the  winner  he  that  lost. 

Harry  Thurston  Peck. 


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A  UTEHABY  JOURNAL, 


THE  EARLY  AMERICAN  ALMANAC. 


The  first  product  of  the  printing-press 

Avhich  Stephpn  Daye  set  up  under  the 
shadow  of  Harvard  College,  before  the 
wails  of  that  infant  seat  of  learning  were 
fairly  dry,  was  a  pamphlet,  The  Free- 
man i  Oath^  to  which  immediately  suc- 
ceeded an  Almanac  for  the  Year  of  our 
I^ord  1659.  We  surmise  the  compiler 
thereof,  one  Mr.  William  Pierce,  to  liave 
been  a  wcaliier-beaten  old  salt,  who  hav- 
ing abandoned  his  sea-faring  life  and 
cast  his  moorintrs  ashore  for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days,  was  ready  to  turn 
his  nautical  knowledge  to  practical  ac* 
count.  He  modestly  disclaims  the  aca- 
demic title  of  Philomath  assumed  by 
Almanac  makers  in  general,  and  sub- 
scribes himself  simply  "  Mariner." 

Tilt-  following  year  Daye  covered  his 
name  as  a  typographer  with  imperish- 
able glory  hy  printing  the  first  book 
ever  issued  from  a  press  in  this  part  of 
America,  Tiu  Psalms  in  Metre^  or  the 
Ifew  England  Version  of  the  Psalms^  com- 
monly known  as  the  Bay  Psaim  Book^ 
^nd  to  the  biblioohile  as 

"  One  of  the  books  wc  read  about 
But  very  seldom  see." 

One  or  more  Almanacs  were  issued 
annually  by  Daye  and  by  his  successor, 
Samuel  Green,  whose  naniu  is  cunspicu- 
ous  in  the  typographical  annals  of  this 
country  as  the  printer  of  F.liof  s  Indi<in 
Jiith\  that  extremely  useful  book  which 
it  is  said  no  man  living  can  read.  Fol- 
lowing^ in  the  wake  of  these  early  Cam- 
bridge printers,  every  enterprising  pro- 
prietor of  a  hand- press  and  font  of  type 
during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries  felt  it  his  hoiinden  duty — or 
found  it  to  his  pecuniary  interest — to  pro- 
vide the  community  with  a  yearly  Calen- 
dar. Suspended  behind  the  farm-house 
kitchen-door,  this  silent  monitor  of  the 
passing  hours  repeated  from  year  to 
year  its  trustworthy  predictions  of  re- 
turning seed-time  and  harvest  and  its 
dubious  prophecies  of  rain  and  sunshine, 
beat  and  cold,  until,  yellowed  with 
smoke,  begrimed  t)y  constant  use  and 
thumbed  to  bits,  the  last  fragment  of  a 
leaf  fell  fluttering  to  the  ground.  In 
view  of  the  extremely  utilitarian  role 
they  were  called  upon  to  play,  it  is 
not  singular  that  old  Almanacs  not 


things  of  ragrs  and  tatters  are  difficult  to 

find. 

In  those  primitive  days  few  books  be- 
side the  Bible,  the  Psalm-book,  the  Al- 
manac, and  now  and  then  a  printed  ser- 
mon of  one  of  the  reverend  fathers  of 
the  Church — Increase  or  Cotton  Mather, 
Thomas  Shepard  or  Samuel  Willard — 
found  their  way  over  the  rugged  New 
Kngiand  hills  to  remote  and  scattered 
Puritan  homes.  In  the  hard  struggle 
for  existence  of  pioneer  life,  with  its 
scant  hours  of  leisure,  they  doubtless 
sufficed  for  the  intellectual  requirements 
of  the  inmates.  Weare  inclined  t>  b  l!e\,'e 
that  the  Almanac  occupied  a  higiier 
place  in  popular  estimation  than  its  nu- 
merical (length  (i  to  4)  in  this  primi- 
tive family  library  would  inrlicate.  If 
the  question  of  dispensing  with  either 
the  sermon  or  the  Almanac  came  to  a 
vote  in  the  domestic  circle,  we  would 
not  rely  with  confidence  upon  the  stay- 
ing powers  of  the  sermon,  especially  if 
it  were  one  of  those  hii(h!y  impressive 
religious  discoui^cs  which  the  divines 
of  Massachusetts  did  on  occasion  preach 
of  a  quiet  Sabbath-day  morning  to  a 
youth  in  his  teens,  in  tlie  presence  of 
the  congregation  which  during  the  com- 
ing week  was  to  escort  the  culprit  to 
the  gallows,  and  under  tlie  blue  sky  of 
heaven  hang  him  for  tlie  crime  of  sheep- 
Stealing. 

The  feast  of  fat  things  that  the  makers 
of  these  harbingers  of  the  new  year 
strove  to  provide  for  their  readers  is  thus 
humorously  set  forth  by  Dr,  Franklin, 
in  his  Almanac  Poor  KUkard  improved 
for  1756  : 

"  Courteous  Reader  : 
1  suppose  that  my  Almanack  may  be  worth  the 
money  that  thou  bast  paid  for  it,  hadst  tboa  no 
other  advantage  from  It  than  to  find  Che  day  of 

the  Month,  llie  remarkable  Hays,  the  Changes  of 
the  Moon,  /  .  .  Sun  and  Moon's  Kising  and  Setting, 
and  to  for(  l;innv  the  Tides  and  iho  //  <,;///<'  ,• 
these  with  other  Astronomical  Curiosities  1  have 
yearly  and  constantly  prepaitd  for  Thy  Use  «nd 
£nteftainme(U  during  now  near  two  revolutions 
of  the  Planet  Jupiter.  But  1  hope  that  this  is  not 
alt  ilic  .  f./r  r'  ih.it  tbini  h.»st  rc.ipc!  :  for  with 
a  view  lu  liic  liiipioveinciU  ul  iliy  Mind  and  thy 
Mstate,  I  have  constantly  interspers'd  in  every  lit- 
tle vacancy,  Moral  Hinti^  tVise  Sayings,  and 
Maxims  of  Thrift,  lending  to  impress  the  benefits 
arising  from  Honesty,  Sobriety,  Industry  and 
Frugality  ;  which  if  thou  hast  duly  observed,  it  is 


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384 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


highly  probable  that  thou  ait  Wiser  and  RUker 
many  fold  more  than  the  Pence  my  Labours  have 

cost  thee.  Howbfit,  I  shall  ni>(  ihcreforr  raise 
my  Price  because  ihou  art  better  able  to  pav  ;  but 
being  thankful  for  (■.I'-t  Favours,  1  shall  endeavour 
to  make  my  liiilc  Book  more  Worthy  thy  regard 
by  adding  to  those  ReciffS  which  were  intended 
(or  the  Cure  ol  the  Mind,  aome  valuable  ones  ic» 
gardiofr  the  Health  of  the  Body.  They  are  rec- 
ommcrnled  by  the  Skillful  atui  hv  <-ii<  (  essful  Prac- 
tice. 1  wish  a  Blessing  may  atieitU  the  use  o( 
thenit  and  to  thee  all  Happiness,  being 
"Thy  obliged  Friend. 

"  R.  SAu.vr»ERs." 

We  find  this  ctirioiis  horigc-podge  of 
scraps  of  useful  information^  flashes  of 
quaint  common  sense,  and  "  proverbial 
sentences  which  inculcate  industry  and 
frugality,  "  embodied  in  twenty  to  thirty 
small  octavo  or  duodecimo  pages,  which 
are  all  that  most  of  these  miniature  com- 
penflttims  of  knowlr-rltrr  rontnin. 

The  most  important  of  these  early  Ai- 
manacs^  from  a  literary  point  of  view, 
arc  the  Piior  RiJuirJi,  bt's^uii  in  I7,>;  by 
Benjamin  Franklin,  and  continued  by 
htm  and  D.  Hall  for  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century.  They  contain  the  famous  bon 
mots,  reflexions,  and  maxims  of  the  great 
Quaker  philosopher,  which  gained  wide 
circulation  at  the  time  through  the  col- 
umns of  tlie  Cdloiiial  press  ntnl  later 
were  gathered  togctlicr  in  the  shape  of 
a  discourse,  entitled  Father  Abraham's 
Adt'ici  to  fii'i  yri^Ji.'uvDs,  and  published 
as  broadsides  or  in  chap-book  form  un- 
der the  title  of  Poor  Richartts  Way  to 
Wealth,  This  "discourse"  passed 
throucfh  numerous  editions,  and  was 
translated  into  a  score  of  tongues,  in- 
cluding modern  Greek  and  Chinese. 

Dr.  Franklin  informs  us  in  his  Memoirs 
that  he  endeavoured  to  make  his  Al- 
manac both  entertaining  and  useful,  and 
it  accordingly  came  to  be  in  sucti  de- 
mand that  he  reaped  considerable  profit 
from  it,  vending  annually  nearly  10,000 
,  copies. 

Commandintr  hicfher  prices  in  the 
market  than  i\>or  KiJui>  J,  but  solely  on 
account  of  the  typographical  importance 
and  greater  scarcity  of  the  imprint,  are 
the  Almanacs  made  by  Daniel  and  Titus 
Leeds,  the  title-pages  of  which  bear  the 
heraldic  emlxUishment  of  their  family 
arms.  Their  Almanacs  arc  better  known 
by  the  name  of  the  publisher  than  by 
that  of  the  compilers.  They  were  print- 
ed, the  first  for  the  year  T6S7.  by 
William  Bradfonl,  near  Philadelphia, 
»nd  from  the  year  1694  until  1743  In 


New  York  hy  the  same  printer.  Ther 
are  all  of  the  utmost  rarity. 

The  commingling  in  the  column  of 
the  Calendar  of  Bradford's  Almanacs  cf 
weather  prophesies,  wise  saws,  doggerci 
vcrsc,and  epigrammatical  paragraphs  cm 
every  variety  of  subject,  fonns  an  an:  us- 
ing medley,  and  reminds  one  of  the  by- 
play or  asides  of  the  stage.  We  take  as 
a  sample  page  the  Calendar  for  January  , 
1738— A  turbid  air  and  rouc^li  weath- 
er." "Rain  or  snow."  "Fools  plav 
with  edge  tools."  "Snow."  "This 
world  is  l>ad  wliich  makes  snmemad." 
"  If  snow  comes  now  don't  be  angry." 

Cloudy."    "  Snow,  or  I'm  mistaken. " 
Interlarded  .between  these  phrases  a-ir 
the  Signs  of  the  Zodiac,  the  Sun  and 
Moon's  Risings  and  Settings,  Eclipses, 
Lunations,  Time  of  High  Water,  Feast* 
and  Fasts  of  the  Church,  and  the  Dates 
of  Quaker  meetings.    Our  friend  Philo- 
marti  adopted  a  very  clever  ruse  with 
his  protein  •stications.     He  strunc:  them 
down  the  column  ot  his  Almanac  word 
by  word  and  left  huge  gaps  between,  so 
that  with  one  oracular  sentence  he  con- 
trived to  cover  a  full  third  of  a  month. 
It  would  be  hard  lines  indeed  if  he  failed 
to  hit  the  nail  partially  on  the  head  one 
day  out  of  the  tf-n  '>r  a  do^en  he  SO  in- 
geniously bracketed  together. 

Among  the  most  interesting  items  in 
the  column  of  the  Calendar  c  f  Br-i  V 
ford's  Almanac  is  one  that  fixes  the  date 
of  the  birth  of  New  York's  first  printer 
on  May  20th,  1663,  and  refutes  the  date 
on  his  tombstone  of  1660. 

Conspicuous  among  the  tlis>eniinator& 
of  this  evanescent  form  of  literature  dur> 
ing  tiie  hist  century  were  the  Ames, 
father  and  son,  of  Dedham,  Mass.,  who 
issued  Almanacs  consecutively  for  fifty 
years  at  the  price  of  three  shillings  per 
dozen  and  seven  coppers  single,  Isaiah 
Thomas,  of  Worcester,  Isaac  Collins,  of 
Trenton,  and  James  Franklin,  of  New- 
port, R.  1.,  were  Almanac  makers.  Peter 
Stewart,  of  Philadelphia,  published  a:i 
Almanac  to  which  he  gave,  apparently 
in  imitation  of  Dr.  I'ranklin.  the  patii- 
archal  title  of  Father  Abraham  ;  Hugh 
Gaine,  of  New  York,  was  the  printer  of 
the  well  known  and  widely  cin  ul.ited 
Hutihins  Jmproi'ed.  T.  and  J.  Fleet, 
of  Boston,  issued  for  many  years  a 
Poeket  Almanac,  which  differs  from 
most  others  of  the  period  in  that  it  is 
supplemented  bv  a  "  Register  01  the 
Commonwealth,   extending  to  sixty  or 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


b>o\-eniy  pages,  while  the  Almanac  con* 
la.lns  less  than  a  dozen  leaves.  This 
olongated  tail  of  a  Register  wags  the 
Htiledocfof  an  Ephemeris  to  which  it 
i>i  appended  most  unmercifully. 

All  xtid  Almanacs  bear  a  close  family 
T-t?semblancc.  which  extends  to  the  in- 
f  t::rior  quality  of  the  paper  upon  which 
t.hey  are  printed.    After  the  title  conies 

an  address  to  the  "  Kind"  or  "Court- 
eous Reader."    Then  appears  the  con- 
ventional, sprawling,  disembowelled  fig- 
XI  re  representing  the  "  Anatomy  of  Man's 
liody  as  Governed  by  the  Twelve  Con- 
stellations," followed  bv  an  Hphemeris 
of  the  Planets*  places  for  certain  days 
in  the  month,  and  then  the  monthly  col- 
umn of  the  Calendar  begins  with  spaces 
left  at  the  top  and  sometimes  at  the 
sides,  devoted  to  reading  matter.  Fre- 
quently only  alternate  pages  are  occu- 
pied by  the  Calendar,  and  the  interven- 
ing ones  are  filled  with  the  overflow  of 
wit  and  wisdom   from   the  spaces  or 
'*  vacancies,"  as  Franklin  calls  them, 
in  the  Calendar  itself.    The  pamphlet 
closes  with  two  or  three  pages  contain- 
ing sundry  items  of  local  interest,  tables 
of  distances,  rates  of  duties,  and  the 
like.    In  all  Almanacs  up  to  the  year 
1752,  the  old  style  of  reckoning  was  ob- 
served, the  year  beginning  on  Lady's 
Day,  March  asth. 

For  the  convenience  of  their  patrons, 
the  editors  of  these  astronomical  diaries 
provided  them  with  blank  memorandum 
leaves,  many  of  which,  covered  with  the 
commonplace  entries  of  every-day  life, 
still  remain  intact  and  in  place.  Those 
who  parted  with  these  little  books  often 
neglected  either  through  ignorance  or 
indifference  to  remove  pages  never  in- 
tended for  other  eyes  than  those  of  the 
original  owners.  This  is  not  a  matter 
of  surprise  either  to  the  bibliophile  or 
the  collector  of  antiquities.  Many  a 
treasure  which  comes  to  their  net  un- 
covers a  dead,  and  to  all  appearances 
discarded  past.  In  'the  back  of  minia- 
tures  still  he  soft  coils  of  braided  hair, 
and  the  cover  of  a  beautiful  old  book, 
with  its  inscriptions  and  interlocked 
emblems  and  ciphers,  is  often  a  poem 
in  leather  and  gold,  re()!etc  with  roman- 
tic interest  and  full  of  sad  suggestions 
to  the  thoughtful  mind. 

The  weather  predictions  of  Philomath, 
it  seems,  were  more  to  be  relied  upon  if 
taken  by  contraries  tlian  literally,  if  the 
following  story  has  any  foundation  in 


fact,  although,  to  be  as  honest  as  the 
story-teller  m  the  "Legend  of  Sleepy 
Hollow,"  I  don't  believe  one  half  of  it 

myself. 

A  noted  Almanac  maker,  wending  his 
way  through  the  country,  halted  at  a 
farm-house,  and  after  watering  his  horse 
gathered  up  the  reins  to  proceed  on  his 
journey,  when  he  was  informed  by  the 
sable  attendant  that  if  he  went  (m  he 
would  certainly  get  wet.    Glancing  at 


An  AftrooomiaJ  DIARY» 

dit,  AN 

ALMANACK 

For  the  Year  of  our  Lord  CHRIST 


CortaUing. 
Ttie  Sua'*  »fid 
Moon'*  ttfias 
%vA  feahig^w 

Eelipftt,  — 
Time<rfHgS 
W«Kt,  —  Lu 
Ditiopi,  —  Af- 
p*fl»,— Conru 
Spioi-Tidct, 
Jodgmentof 


(  hufch  of 
Zr.gli«i-~ 

Quaken 
Ccncnl 

MfttlBgl 

Roidi, — 
T»bl*i  of 
Coin  4;In 
lerell,  &e 
IcC&C. 


Btlng  BISSEXTILE  cr  LEAP  YEAR, 
C«IcoI»te<l  for     MeHdlia  of  BOSTON,  Niw  Esct*fct>< 
Liiitiui*  4*  0«|na  tf  Mimntt  North. 

The  yur  ol  iho  tO^  oTKIh  CEORGB  At 
bg^it  dM  tNMnqr'fecood  Diy  of  7««fc 


[ 


MARS  like  «  wOi  Infitrad  Pniry.  a*hi, 
And  m<'b  hit  Stept  io  Blood  whai'er  he  mlkt  1 
but  Pe*«  wootd  from  htt  Nnlve  Hciv'n  ddcer.i. 
And  c:,  -  :.  I,  ; 


no  ST  ON  t  in  NEW-ENGLAND  : 
Piintrd  »od  Sold  by  JoHnDiAfi*,  in  Coinhill  ;  RiCHAto 
DxAMt  ioNtwbuty-Strect  j  GurtN &RufttiL,ind  Eois 
ti  Cuu  is  Q!jRii.Sif«ctt  mi  Tmomm  4jeKM£utT, 
« tht  HcHt  jU  Oem  b  CmUD. 


the  sky,  in  wliich  he  was  unable  to  dis- 
cern a  cloud  the  size  of  a  man's  hand, 
he  declared  that  he  could  see  no  indi- 
cation of  an  approaching  storm,  and 
would  take  his  chances.  In  about  an 
hour  the  clouds  gathered  and  the  rain 
fell.  Impressed  with  this  remarkable 
fulfilment  of  the  old  darkey's  prophecy, 
he  returned  drenched  and  inquisitive  to 
'•the  farm-house,  and  offered  him  a  half 
dollar  for  the  secret  of  his  ability  to  so 


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796 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


correctly  forecast  the  weather.  **  Noth- 
ing easier,"  said  he.    "  We  have  that 

old  fool's  (here  he  mentioned  the  name 
of  the  man  in  the  wagon)  Almanac  in 
the  house.   For  this  afternoon  it  fore> 

told  fine  wcathi^r  anrl  vcr\'  dry.  So  I 
knew  it  would  rain  cats  and  dogs — and 
it  did." 

The  line  upon  line  and  precept  upon 
precept  of  these  little  waifs  of  books  is 
quaint,  old-fashioned  literature,  but 
quite  as  profitable  reading  now  as  it  was 
a  century  ago.  We  have  a  sample  of 
its  quality  in  the  foilowiuK  extracts  from 
/V«r  Mithard  and  Muteki^s  Im^rtotd: 

"  I  never  saw  an  ofi-removed  tree. 
Nor  yet  an  o(t-rcmoved  lamily. 
That  tbfove  so  wdl  as  those  that  settled  be." 

"  For  age  and  want  save  what  you  may. 
No  tnoraing  sun  lasts  a  wbulc  day.' 

"  Avoid  going  to  law,  for  the  quarrelling  dog 
Iiath  a  tattered  skin.  It  is  better  to  suffer  loss 
than  to  rua  to  courts,  for  the  play  is  not  worth 
the  candle;" 

"  It  it  better  to  go  to  bed  sapperless  than  to 
rise  in  debt." 

"  Idleness  is  the  key  of  beggary." 

"  1  or  the  want  of  a  nail  the  shoe  IS  lost,  for  the 
want  of  a  slioe  the  horse  Is  lost,  (OT  want  Of  a 
horse  the  rider  is  lost." 

"  Prayer  and  provender  hinder  OO  jottmey." 

"  It  is  icmarkabie  that  death  increases  ow  wti- 
eration  for  the  good  aod  cxtemtaiet  otir  hatred  of 
the  bad." 

'*  Too  much  of  one  thing  is  good  for  nothing, 
so  we  will  finish  this  subject  " 

We  will  accept  this  timely  siitjc^estion 
from  John  Nathun  llutchins,  i^liilom., 
and  conclude  this  article  with  an  "ex- 
tempore sermon,"  which  was  pnhlishcd 
by  the  same  wise  counsellor  and  guide 


of  his  fellow-men  for  the  editicauon  of 
the  readers  of  his  Almanac  for  the  year 
of  Grace  1793  If  not  a  perfect  model 
of  pulpit  oratory,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  it  poMesses  the  twin  merits  of  suc- 
cioctness  and  brevity : 

AN  Extempore  SERMON. 
Preached  at  the  request  of  two  Schoiais — by  a 
LOVER  Oh  ALE. 
Out  of  a  Hollow  Tree. 

Beloved: 

Let  me  crave  your  attention  ;  for  I  am  a  little 

man,  come  at  a  short  warning,  to  a  thin  OOllgVB* 
Ration — in  an  unworthy  pulpit. 

And  now.  beloved,  my  text  is  malt  ;  wln'ch  I 
cannot  divide  into  sentences,  because  it  has  none  ; 
nor  into  words,  it  being  but  one  ;  nor  into  sylta** 
bLn,  because  it  is  but  a  nooosvUabk ;  therd ore^ 
1  Rimt  divide  ii  tnto  letters.  MALT.  M,  my  be- 
lov<  1  :  -  moral ;  A  is  BUfigoricsl ;  L  Is  literal ; 

and  1  ilieological. 

The  moral  is  set  forward  to  teach  drunkards 
their  duly  ;  wherefore  my  first  us«  shall  be  ex- 
hortation :  M,  my  masters ;  A,  ail  of  you  ;  L. 
lesTe  off;  T,  tippling.  The  allegorical  is  when 
ooe  thifig  (s  spoken  of,  and  another  is  meant ; 
now  the  thing  spoken  of  is  bare  malt  :  M.  my 
masters  ;  A,  all  of  you  ;  L,  listen  ;  T,  to  my  test. 
Hut  the  thing  meant  is  slron^j  beer;  whi<h  yoii 
rustic  s  in.ikc  •  M,  meat :  A,  apparel  ;  L,  lil)eny.  and 
T,  treasure.  The  literal  is  according  to  the  let- 
ters :  M,  much  ;  A,  ale  ;  L,  little  ;  T,  thrift.  The 
theological  is  according  to  the  effects  it  works^ 
fest,  &  this  world;  secondly,  ia  the  world  10 
cone,  tu  effects  in  tMs  world  aie  t  In  some, 
murder  ;  in  others.  A,  adultery  ;  in  some,  L.  Ioo^e- 
ness  uf  life  :  in  others,  T,  treason.  Its  effects  in 
the  world  to  cotncarc  :  M,  misery  ;  .A  antjuisb  ;  L, 
laoguisbing,  and  T,  torment.  Now  to  conclude ; 

Say  well  and  do  well,  both  end  with  a  letter. 
Say  well  is  good,  but  do  well  is  better. 

IV.  L.  Andrews^ 


A  SONG-DREAM. 

Remembering  your  music  in  the  night, 

I  woke  from  dreams,  and  listeiiini^  I  lieard 

Ethereal  voices  where  the  zephyr  stirred 
Amid  the  green  leaves  trembling  with  delight ; 
From  distant  fields  down  airy  ]iaths  moon-white, 

Floated  from  time  to  time  a  fairy  word, 

Melodious,  the  lyric  of  some  bird 
That  sang  to  cheer  its  solitary  flight. 
Then  Sleep's  soft  fini^ers  hnished  mine  eyelids  o'er, 

The  zephyr  hushed,  the  bird's  voice  lainler  grew 
Until  at  last  I  slumbered  as  before, 

To  dream  airaiii.  and  in  my  dream  I  knew 
A  song  iamiiiar  and  love's  voice  once  more, 

And  love — ^which  is  another  name  for  you. 

Frtdtric  J.  Shnmmm 


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A  UTERARY  pURNAL 


>87 


SHALL  AND  WILL. 


i  was  delighted  to  see  in  a  recent 
number  of  The  Bookman  that  Richard 

Harding  Davis  d«;cs  nut  know  how  to 
use  the  words '*  shall"  and  "will."  I 
read  with  great  pleasure  everything  that 
Mr.  Davis  writes,  even  going  to  the  ex- 
treme Icncrth  of  havifii^  his  books,  and 
besides  admiring  ium  as  a  literary  ar- 
tist, I  now  '*  love  liirn  for  the  enemies 
he  has  made"  in  those  two  detestable 
words.  Zan^will  said  to  me  once  that 
he  thought  tt  weakness  on  the  part  of 
nn  atithnr  to  pay  any  attention  to  the 
rules  of  grammar.  Nevertheless  we  go 
on  pandering  to  these  rules,  as  the  poli- 
tician proposed  to  pander  to  the  respect- 
able element. 

I  must  confess  that  I  haven't  the  faint* 
est  notion  of  how  "shall"  or  "will" 
should  be  used  so  as  to  conform  with 
English  ideas  on  the  subject.  This 
helplessness  on  my  part  doubtless  arises 
through  my  committing,  early  in  life, 
the  philological  error  of  being  born  in 
Scotland.  J.  M.  Barrie's  Scottish  hero 
in  \l  /icn  a  .Uiift's  .Si/n^/i'  adinits  to  the 
editor  of  the  great  London  daily,  on  the 
staff  of  which  he  has  just  been  appoint- 
ed, that,  while  lie  is  wil'irg  to  tackle 
anything  from  war  correspondence  to 
leader-writing,  he  cannot  promise  to  cope 
with  "shair^  or  "will."  The  editor 
consoles  him  by  saying  he  will  ask  the 
proof-reader  to  loolc  out  for  those  words 
in  his  copy.  Thus  does  a  great  Scot- 
tish author  admit  the  national  defect ; 
but  I  hope  to  show  that  it  is  not  a  de* 
feet  at  all,  that  it  is,  in  fact,  a  merit, 
and  that  in  this,  as  in  so  many  other 
things,  enlightenment  is  to  be  found  in 
America  and  north  of  the  River  Tweed. 

Sr>mp  years  acco,  finding  that  fate  in- 
tended ine  to  appeal  to  L.nglish  readers 
(1  tould  not  delude  an  American  pub- 
li>li(r  into  taking  my  books  in  thc^se 
days),  I  thought  it  best  to  fall  in  wtih 
the  prejudices  of  my  patrons  regarding 
"shall"  and  "will,"  leaving  until  a 
later  date,  when  I  should  have  more 
leisure,  the  overturning  of  the  tyranny 
of  these  two  etymological  despots  ;  so  I 
wrote  to  a  friend  in  Oxford  and  asked 
him  whether  his  justly  celebrated  uni- 
versity had  a  "  shall  or  will"  department 
oraonex  where  a  man  from  the  North, 
tad  educated  in  America,  could  leurn  in 


any  less  time  than  a  four  years'  course 
how  to  treat  those  words  as  they  evidently 

expected  to  be  treated.  The  good  man 
did  not  answer  my  question  ;  he  merely 
advised  me  to  go  on  with  my  writing, 
send  the  copy  to  him,  and  he  would 
look  after  the  "  shalls."  I  saw  from 
this  that  he  looked  on  my  case  as  hope- 
less, for  they  do  not  practise  surgery  at 
Oxford.  (See  Sydney  Smith  on  jokes 
and  Scotchmen.)  This  unfortunate  Ux- 
ford  man  has  gone  over  my  manuscripts 
ever  since,  and  I  feel  that  if  I  were  hon- 
est, I  should  put  on  the  fly-leaf  of  every 
book  I  issue  :  "  The  author  is  responsi- 
ble for  all  the  l)ad  grammar  in  tliis  vol- 
ume, with  the  exception  of  the  '  shalls  ' 
and  *  wills.' " 

It  may  be  thought  that  I  have  learned 
something  about  these  words  on  seeing 
the  changes  the  Oxford  roan  makes  in 
my  typewriting.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I 
have  not,  for  His  corrections  seem  to  me 
always  arbitrary  and  often  wrong  ;  but 
if  the  English  people  stand  it,  I  don't 
see  that  I  have  any  right  to  complain. 
I  am  perhaps  going  too  far  in  saying  I 
have  learned  absolutely  nothing.  I 
know  now  roughly  how  to  treat  any 
simple  article  or  story,  when  my  Oxford 
friend  is  not  within  reach.  1  write 
along,  paxdug  no  attention  to  the  two 
words  until  the  story  is  finished  ;  then  I 
carefully  change  all  the  *'  shalts*'  to 
"  wills"  and  all  the  "  wills"  to  "  shalls." 
I  have  purposely  not  done  so  in  this  ar- 
ticle, because  I  hope  lo  gcad  the  Editors 
of  The  Bookman  into  giving  us  a  little 
lesson  on  the  use  of  "  shall"  and  "  will ;" 
and  as  they  may  need  a  horrible  example, 
I  hereby  furnish  them  with  it.  If  the 
ICdit<  irs  will  (or  shall)  attempt  to  explain 
how  these  words  should  be  used,  we 
shall  (or  will)  have  them  at  our  mercy, 
for  T  have  never  yet  read  any  rules  on 
the  subject  that  did  not  leave  the  mat- 
ter ten  times  more  bewildering  than  it 
was  before. 

Dean  Alford,  in  his  book,  T/te  Queen  s 
English,  gives  Several  pages  on  the 
words  "  shall"  and  "  will,"  and  I  defy 
any  sane  man  to  read  them  often  and 
preserve  his  sanity.  The  Dean's  expla- 
nation is  worse  than  Mark  Twain's  item 
about  the  street  accident. 

Alford  says  ;  "  I  never  knew  an  Eng- 


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lishman  who  misplaced  '  hhall  '  and 
•will.'   I  hardly  ever  have  known  an 

Irishman  or  a  Scotchman  who  did  not 
misplace  them  sometimes." 

Now  this  is  merely  an  Englishman's 
Statement  that  Fngtishmen  are  ri^ht 
and  the  other  fellows  wronjr.  The  fact 
is,  that  we  Scotch  and  Irish  have  been 
in  the  minority,  and  England  has  forced 
its  particular  version  of  "  shall"  and 
**  will"  upon  us  whether  we  will  or  no. 
But  the  item  in  The  Bookman  shows  a 
brighter  day  is  dawning.  It  says  that 
Lehigh,  Johns  Hopkins,  and  Cornell 
Universities  are  turning  out  men  who 
do  not  know  how  to  use  "  shall"  or 
"  will"  accordincf  to  the  English  meth- 
od. It  is  fair  to  inter,  then,  that  other 
educational  establishments  in  the  States 
are  similarly  occupierl,  and  that  th«' 
laudable  work  is  going  on  all  over  the 
country.  Therefore,  if  the  majority  of 
the  English-speaking  world  is  to  im- 
pose its  will  (and  its  shall)  on  the  mi- 
noritv,  the  union  (if  Anu  rica,  Scotland, 
and  Ireland  places  our  crowd  at  the 
h'  I  1  the  poll.  I'ngland  will  have  to 
knock  under,  and  nobody  can  help  her. 


The  truth  of  the  matter  seems  to  roc  i» 
be  this  ;  "  will"  should  be  paid  off  and 

sent  about  his  business,  so  tliat  he  may 
not  hereafter  bring  confusion  upon  hon- 
est men  who  make  their  livings  witli 
their  pens.  "  Will"  is  an  impudent,  ar- 
rogant modern  knave,  iistirpinjT  thf  place 
of  his  betters,  trying  constantly  to  shoul- 
der "  shall"  out  of  the  way.  John 
Earle,  M.A..  Professor  of  Anglo  Saxon 
in  the  University  of  Oxford,  speaking 
of  these  words  in  his  book,  TA^  PkiM- 
o^y  of  the  English  Tonj^ue,  says  :  "  Shall 
was  the  earliest  exponent  of  future  time, 
and  became  a  pangothic  symbol  ;  where- 
as u>itl  is  comparatively  a  recent  sym- 
bol, which  has  not  yet  come  to  mat-irity 
and  the  complete  verirication  of  its  prov- 
ince. And  this  local  peculiarity,  which 
we  call  Celticism,  appears  to  l>c  nothing 
more  than  the  continued  eacroachmeat 
of  will  upon  the  ancient  domain  of  skaS  ; 
for  7viU  is  young  in  symbolic  flight*  and 
has  not  yet  ceased  to  expand." 

XoUrt  Biirr, 

London,  EifCLAND. 


A  VISIT  TO  DRUMTOCHTY. 


What  reader  of  fiction  is  so  devoted 
a  lover  of  "art  for  art's  sake"  that  he 
has  no  interest  in  hearing  something 
of  the  real-life  models  from  whom  tlie 
author  has  painted  his  characters,  and  of 
the  actual  places  which  have  become, 
under  fictitious  names  perhaps,  the  scene 
and  setting  of  the  enthralling  talc  ?  If 
there  is  such,  these  words  are  not  forhim. 

Very  rarely  have  stories  that  are  called 
fictitif)us  been  so  thoroughly  based  upon 
reality,  both  as  to  people  and  places,  as 
are  those  delightful  Bentlie  Brier  Bush 
ski  trlus  by  Ian  Marlaren.  But  neither 
are  they  mere  photographic  reproduc- 
tions. All  has  passed  through  the  alembic 
of  the  tiuthor's  imagination,  and  has  come 
forth  with  that  mysterious  result  called 
Art.  Years  have  passed  since  the  orig- 
inal pictures  were  drawn,  and  nearly  all 
of  the  human  models  have  passed  from 
the  stage.  Nevertheless,  if  you  are  so 
fortunate  as  to  visit "  Drumtochty, ' '  the 
natives,  who  are  very  proud  of  Mr.  Wat- 
son and  his  stories,  will  point  out  this 
place  and  that,  as  the  scene  of  the  vari- 


ous incidents  in  the  book,  and  they  wiii 
have  many  quaint  anecdotes  to  relate  of 
the  prototypes  of  th  ■  Brifr  Kuih 

t  haracters.  With  keen  delight  they  will 
tell  you  of  "  Drumsheugh,"  '*  Buni- 
brae,"  or  '*  Jamie  Soutar,"  and  they  will 
show  you  where  they  lived.  *'  Peter 
Bruce"  is  still  the  very  live  and  active 
guard  and  f^eneral  factotum  of  the  little 

railway  junction,  with  an  unconscious 
humour  that  is  an  endless  source  of  joy. 
"  Mrs.  Macfadyen"  is  still  alive,  a  per- 
fect type  of  sweetness,  shrewdness,  and 
kindness  of  heart.  The  orijifinal  r>f  the 
grand  old  doctor,  who,  for  all  his  rough- 
ness,  is  nothing  less  than  Christ-like,  has 
gone  to  his  reward  ;  and  while  there  is 
much  that  is  purely  ideal,  there  is  also 
much  that  is  true  in  the  prototype  of 
"  Dr.  Weelum  MacLure." 

When,  in  the  interest  of  certain  draw- 
ings for  A  Doctor  of  thf  Old  School^  it  be- 
came my  pleasant  duty  to  visit  **  Drum- 
tnrhty,"  ilierc  appeared  to  be  some  un- 
certainty as  to  the  best  way  of  finding 
and  reaching  the  spot.    "  Logiealmond, 


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2S9 


or  some  place  near  it,  somewhere  along 
the  line  of  the  Grampian  Hills,  is  your 
destination*' — that  was  about  the  extent 
of  my  information  on  this  side.  It  was 
not  until  having  crossed  the  Atlantic 
and  journeyed  up  into  Perthshire  to  the 
quaint  old  town  of  Methven,  that  we 
(my  wife  and  I)  felt  quite  assured  that 
we  were  on  tlic  rigliL  road  and  near  our 
journey's  end.  "  Ou  ay  !  you  can  hire 
a  machine  here,"  said  the  white-bearded 
stationmaster ;  "it  will  be  a  drive  of 
aboot  sax  miles,  maistly  up-hill" — and 
then  "  Peter  Bruce"  came  up,  and,  with 
all  kindness  of  intent,  flooded  us  with 
information  in  Scotch  dialect  so  broad 
that  it  was  all  Greek  to  us.  Two 
months  later  1  could  understand  Peter 
very  well. 

Shall  we  ever  forget  that  lovely  drive 
of  six  miles  ?  The  rain  had  just  cleared 
away,  and  the  level  rays  of  the  setting 
Au|jfu5t  sun  jifUstened  over  fields  as  viv- 
idly  green  and  fresh  as  ours  can  be  in 
May.  Such  brilliancy  of  colour  every- 
where !  Wild  flowers  of  every  colour — 
the  roadsides  lined  with  them,  the  fields 
gay  with  them  !  Chief  amonjcf  these, 
both  as  to  beauty  and  profusion,  was 
the  delicate  and  graceful  harebell,  rang- 
injf  in  colour  from  drab  violet  to  pure 
white.  Alun^r  the  south  stretched  the 
Ochil  Hills,  purple  and  misty,  while  fac* 
ing  us,  as  we  drove  north,  rose  the  rugged 
peaks  of  the  nearer  Grampians.  We 
crossed  the  Almond  (the  "  Tochty")  by 
a  new  iron  bridge  close  beside  the  pic- 
turesque but  unsafe  old  stone  one,  and 
near  the  spot  made  memorable  by  being 
forded  during  the  flood  by  "  Dr.  Mac- 
Lure"  and  "Sir  George."  Tlie  rapid 
little  stream  had  then  scarcely  enough 
water  to  cover  the  brown  stones  of  its 
rough  bed,  but  a  week  later  I  saw  it  rise 
in  a  few  hours  to  a  fierce  and  mighty 
torrent,  Icuring  up  trees  and  sweeping 
away  all  obstructions.  The  road  we 
travelled,  which,  enclosed  between  low 
stone  dykes,  seemed  very  narrow  to  our 
American  eyes,  was  as  smooth  and  per- 
fect as  a  road  can  be.  It  twisted  around 
and  up  the  hills,  past  sturdy  little  cot- 
tages and  farmhouses,  through  dense 
forests  of  pine  and  fir,  and  over  many 
stone  bridges  spanning  babbling  High- 
land burns  which  wound  their  way  be- 
tween banks  and  braes  of  yellow  broom. 

Suddenly  we  found  ourselves  bowling 
along  the  single  street  of  a  village  of 
low  stone  cottages ;  then  we  were  whirled 


off  up  a  side  lane  to  another  lane  paral- 
lel to  the  main  street,  and  came  to  a 
stand  on  the  brow  of  a  steep  brae,  and 
at  the  gate  of  the  little  Free  Kirk,  which 
is  to  be  reached  only  in  this  roundabout 
way.  Still  more  secluded  we  found  the 
Manse,  for  it  stands  beyond  and  hidden 
by  the  church,  a  pretty,  two-storey  cot- 
tage completely  embowered  in  flowers 
and  shrubbery.  Here,  many  years  ago, 
the  Rev.  John  Watson,  young,  enthusi- 
astic, and  impressionable,  lived,  studied, 
laboured,  and  preached,  a  faithful  pas- 
tor to  a  sirn])le  and  honest  people. 
While  dwelling  in  this  quiet  nook,  he 
unconsciously  absorbed  the  knowledge 
and  received  the  impressions  which 
years  afterward  he  was  persuaded  to 
embody,  for  the  delectation  of  the  civil- 
ised world,  in  his  inimitable  tales  of  the 
people  of  "  Drumtochty."  The  Manse 
was  our  temporary  destination,  for  we 
bore  a  letter  to  Mr.  Watson*s  successor, 

the  Rev.  D.  M.  Tod.  We  were  received 
by  Mrs.  Tod  (her  husband  being  absent) 
with  a  cordial  welcome  very  touching 
to  the  hearts  of  strange  is  in  a  strange 
land,  and  through  lu-r  kindness  we 
found  ourselves,  betori  the  long  north- 
ern twilight  had  ended — that  light 
which,  as  Wordsworth  says,  "  dwells  in 
heaven  lialf  Uic  night" — in  very  com- 
fortable lodgings  near  at  hand,  which 
became  our  busy  atelier  as  well  as  a 
pleasant  home  for  two  peaceful  months. 

Logiealmond,  Ian  Maclaren's  "  Drum- 
tochty," is  not  marked  on  the  ma[»  of 
Scotland.  It  is  neither  village  nor  par- 
ish. It  is  an  estate,  for  many  genera- 
tions that  of  the  Lairds  of  Logic,  but 
now  the  property  of  the  wealthy  Earl 
Mansfield.  It  is  about  eight  miles  by 
four  in  extent,  and  is  situated  some 
twelve  miles  northwest  of  the  ancient 
city  of  Perth,  along  the  foot  of  the 
Grampian  Hills,  whose  rugged  peaks 
form,  roughly  speaking,  its  northern 
boundary,  while  the  river  .\lniond  marks 
its  limits  on  the  south.  The  name  is 
of  Celtic  origin,  and  signifies  **The 
Valley  of  the  Water."  The  rare  and 
varying  beauty  of  the  surrounding 
landscape,  with  its  hills  and  moun- 
tains taking  on  every  hue,  from  the 
delicacy  of  the  wood-violet  to  a  (hfcp, 
sombre,  saddening  purple  ;  w  ith  its 
heathery  moors  and  flower-begemmed 
fields  ;  its  many  noisy  burns  foaming 
deep  down  between  their  rough  braes 
— all  of  these  physical  charms  that  go 


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THE  BOOfOAAN. 


to  fill  the  heart  of  the  artist  and  tlie  true 
lover  of  nature  with  the  keenest  joy,  or 
with  a  sort  of  sweet  sadness  that  is  akin 
to  joy— all  these  must  undescribed  ; 
for,  indeed,  such  things  are  not  to  be 
pictured  in  words.  But  there  are  some 
things  of  interest  that  may  be  more  defi* 
nitely  touched  upon. 

The  little  hamlet  of  Harriettield, 
where  Mr.  Watson  lived,  is  the  only 
semblance  of  a  village  in  the  entire 
Logiealmond  district.  It  consists  of 
two  rows  of  well-built,  semi-detached 
stone  cottages,  mostly  of  one  storey.* 
ilalf  of  them  stand  along  the  north  side 
of  the  smooth  main  road,  while  the 
others  are  placed  about  fifty  yards  back, 


with  their  fronts  facing  the  back  doors 
of  the  houses  on  the  street  and  their 
rear  walls,  with  no  f.penin^s  but  a  feu- 
tiny  windows  abutting  sharply  on  the 
lane  behind.  This  solitary  and  friend- 
less-looking lane  is  the  only  road  lead- 
ing  to  the  Free  Kirk  and  its  Manse. 
And  thereby  hangs  a  tale  of  political 
and  religious  oppression,  and  good 
Scot<h  grit  in  resisting  it,  that  is  too 
long  to  enter  into  here.  Nearly  all  of 
these  cottages  are  half  hidden  behind  a 
glorious  mass  of  old-fashioned  flowers, 
and  their  rough  walls  are  veiled  by 
climbing  tea  roses.  The  love  of  flowers 
has  a  strong  hold  on  the  hearts  of  these 

*  The  above  drawing,  lakcn  fnnn  "  A  Docinr 
of  the  Old  School,"  gives  a  bird's-eye  view  oi  this 
street. 


hard-working  people.     They  have  an 
annual  show  of  garden  produce  and  tiow- 
ers,  which  is  their  one  gay  and  ^ddy  sum- 
mer  fete.    Everybody  attends  this  rural 
festival  in  his  Sundaybest,  and  it  is  call- 
ed, very  properly,  "  The  Flower  Show.  •* 
The  Tilli^  possesses  two  very  snudl 
grocery  stores,  one  of  these  being  con- 
nected with  the  post-office,  and  a  public 
house  which  hides  itself  somewhere  up 
on  the  back   row.     There  is    a  slate 
quarry  near  by,  and  one  might  expect 
the  conjunction  of  quarr>'men  and  pub- 
lic house  to  produce  bad  results  at  times. 
But  during  a  two  months'  slay  here, 
among  a  people  proverbially  fond  or 
good  whiskey,  I  saw  but  one  case 
^         intoxication,  and  that  a  mild 
one. 

About  two  miles  east  of  Har- 

rietfield,  hidden  from  all  but  the 
eye  of  a  searcher,  in  the  depths 
of  an  ancient  and  venerable  for- 
est, stands  the  neglected  and  pa- 
thetic ruins  of  Logic  House, 
which  is  to  be  the  scene  of  a 
coming  story  by  Mr.  Watson,  a 
tale  of  Jacobite  times.  This<>!<l 
mansion  was  for  centuries  the 
residence  of  the  Lairds  of  Logic, 
the  last  of  whom,  it  is  said,  died 
of  sorrow  and  homesickness  af- 
ter the  estate  passed  to  Earl 
Mansfield.  A  drive  of  si.x  miles 
to  the  west  leads  to  a  scene  oi 

fenuine  Highland  grandeur,  the 
ma'  Glen,  which  is  a  rugi^cd 
and  awe-inspiring  cleft  through 
the  heart  of  the  Grampians. 
This  is  the  "  Glen  Urtach"  of 
the  Honnie  Brier  Bush. 
There  are  many  wild  and  picturesque 
spots  in  the  vicinity  to  be  found  by 
those  who  seek  for  them.  One  of  these, 
a  few  minutes'  walk  west  from  the  vil- 
lage, but  not  easily  discovered,  is  the 
Falls  of  Ashangar.  Down  we  go,  by  a 
steep  mysterious  path,  into  the  dark  of 
a  deep  and  narrow  ravme,  dank  and 
musty  beneath  tier  on  tier  of  overhang- 
ing trees,  which  fill  it  to  the  summit  ; 
and  there  wc  come  upon  a  mountain 
stream,  raging  itself  into  a  white  foam 
against  the  imperturbable  rocks,  and 
throwing  itself  madly  over  many  pre- 
cipitous ledges.  We  feel,  in  the  per- 
petual twilight,  that  we  are  no  longer 
on  the  earth,  but  somewhere  in  its  in- 
terior, in  the  habitation  of  the  gnomes. 
Several  causes  have  combined  to  de- 


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velop  in  the  Drumtochty  character  that 
peculiar  individuality  and  sturdy  inde- 
pendence so  dear  to  the  heart  of  the 
iiovelist.    The  district  has  been  so  shut 
off  from  the  hurly-burly,  commonplace, 
outside  world,  that  the  native  nature 
has  not  had  all  its  interesting 
idiosyncrasies  of  character  rub- 
bed off.     Not  only  are  the  lives 
of  the  tenant  farmers  spent  in 
constant  struggle  to  wring  from 
a  relentless  soil  enough  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  their  landlord 
and  supply    their  own  frugal 
needs,  but  they  have  repeated- 
ly had  to  suffer  for  conscience' 
sake.     From  the  time  of  the 
Reformation  these  simple  peo- 
ple have  held  loyally  to  their 
religious  faith,  in  the  face,  at 
times,  of  powerful  opposition. 
Even  at  the  present  day  this  is 
so.    For  the  past  fifty  years  they 
have  been  under  a  landlord  who 
has  used  every  legal  means  in 
his  power  to  make  life  hard  for 
his  nonconformist  and  Liberal 
tenants,  while   he  has  shown 
marked    favour  to   those  who 
would  attach  themselves  to  the 
Established    Church    and  the 
Tory  party.   Though  many  have 
been  forced  to  emigrate  to  Amer- 
ica, few,  very  few,  have  turned 
traitor  to  conscience. 

This  struggle  for  existence,  so  severe 
that  the  women  must  needs  labour  in 
the  fields  with  the  men,  and  leisure  is  a 
luxury  almost  unknown,  would,  one 
might  suppose,  develop  a  sordid  mean- 
ness and  selfishness  of  disposition.  But 
if  ever  the  practical  working  of  Chris- 
tianity is  shown  in  this  world,  it  is 
among  these  industrious,  frugal  folk. 
Their  kindness  to  each  other  and  to 
strangers  is  limited  only  by  their  abil- 
ity, and  their  devotion  to  their  church 
is  something  sublime.  Early  in  this 
century,  it  is  recorded,  there  was  a  long 
period  of  exceptional  hardship  for  all 
Scotland,  when  the  crops  often  failed, 
and  the  people  had  to  live  on  a  meagre 
dole  of  oatmeal  and  potatoes.  At  har- 
vest time,  when  the  human  machine  ab- 
solutely needed  extra  strength,  a  little 
blood  from  living  cattle  was  added  to 
the  meal.  Yet,  through  all  this  terrible 
ordeal,  these  Logiealmond  men  and 
women,  this  people  of  grit  and  integ- 
rity, neglected  no  part  of  their  Kirk  con- 


tributions, from  the  minister's  stipend 
to  the  care  of  the  helpless  poor. 

One  can  easily  see  how  character  of 
the  finest  sort  has  been  developed  here, 
and  how  fortunate  it  is  for  the  world 
that  the  genius  of  John  Watson  was 


nOCTOR  MACt.l'RE. 

placed  in  such  a  field  at  the  age  when 
the  youthful  mind  is  most  keen  and  sen- 
sitive. 

Conditions  have  been  changing  of 
late,  by  the  force  of  modern  inventions, 
and  probably  it  will  not  be  long  before 
some  corresponding  alteration  will  be 
obser\'ed  in  the  character  of  the  people. 
Reaping  machines  assist  some  of  the 
farmers  in  their  harvest  ;  bicycles  (old- 
fashioned  rattle-bones)  carry  the  quarry- 
men  to  and  from  their  work  ;  and  Posty, 
a  young  and  active  successor  to  Ian 
Maclaren's  stern-visaged  theologian  and 
"  sermon-taster,"  carries  the  mail  on  a 
fine  pneumatic-tire  machine.  The  Free 
Kirk  Manse  is  fitted  with  electric  bells 
throughout  ;  and  Mr.  Watson  was  quite 
shocked,  on  his  last  visit  to  his  old 
home,  to  find  that  a  'bus  is  now  running 
twice  a  week  between  Logiealmond  and 
Perth. 

It  was  during  this  flying  visit  of  his 
that  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him, 
and  the  gratification  of  finding  that  he 


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commended  my  drawintrs  for  the  storj' 
of  his  greatest  character,  the  heroic 
Doctor  of  the  Old  School.  Consider- 
ably over  six  feet  in  heit^ht,  broad-slioul- 
dered  and  athletic,  of  a  trunk  and  genial 
countenance,  with  just  a  touch  of  whim- 
sicality in  its  expression,  the  Rev.  John 
Watson  is  a  man  who  inspires  with  con- 
fidence and  admiration  at  a  glance.  Lit- 
erature, he  insists,  is  not  his  profession, 
l}ut  can  only  occupy  his  attention  dur- 
ing the  irregular  intervals  in  his  busy 
church  work  in  Liverpool.  Publishers 
and  editors  are  evidently  using  every 
inducement  to  secure  his  work  in  ad- 
vance, but  he  will  promise  nothing. 
When  he  has  anythuig  finished,  they 


may  have  it.  and  they  must  take  their 
chances.  *'  Barrie  led  the  way  with 
these  modem  Seotch  tales,  and  Uie  rest 
of  us  are  followinj^,"  he  said  with  great 
modesty.  "  Yes,  they  seem  to  be  verf 
popular.  It  is  largely  a  fashion — every- 
thing Scotch  is  fashionable  in  England 
just  now.  from  Highland  capes  to  Scotch 
whiskey  and  oatmeal  punidge."  £lui 
he  must  have  been  convinced  before 
this,  by  the  enormous  sale  of  ?iis  stories 
in  America  as  well  as  in  Great  Uhta^in, 
that  the  popularity  of  ki$  work,  at  least, 
is  something  more  than  mere  fashion, 

Fr€dtruk  C  Gifrdcm. 


THE  gUESTlON  OF  THE  LAUREATE. 


Up  to  the  present  moment  of  writing, 
no  announcement  has  yet  been  made  m 
England  of  the  appointmt  nt  of  a  suc> 
cessor  to  Lord  Tennyson.  Possibly  by 
the  time  that  these  lines  are  read,  the 
question  may  have  been  tinally  disposed 
of,  for  it  is  generally  believed  that  I.ord 
Salisbury  will  deem  it  expedient  to 
reach  a  decision  before  the  wedding  of 
the  Princess  Maud  of  Wales  to  Prim  e 
Charles  of  Denmark,  in  order  that  the 
event  mav  not  pass  without  the  cus- 
tomary tribute  from  a  Poet  Laureate. 
However  this  may  be,  and  whether  or 
not  the  matter  is  already  /<j;  adiudtcata^ 
it  may  be  of  some  interest  briefly  to 
consider  the  question  of  the  laureateship 
from  the  American  point  of  view. 

It  will,  of  course,  at  once  be  said  that 
an  expri  ^Nii )n  of  opinion  ^<\  Americans 
is  a  purely  gratuitous  thing,  verging, 
perhaps,  upon  impertinence;  and  that 
because  the  oflice  of  Poet  laureate 
is  a  purely  Lnglish  creation,  a  post 
held  by  direct  appointment  from  the 
English  crown,  the  question  of  its  dis- 
posal is  of  direct  interest  to  Knglishmen 
alone,  just  as  an  election  to  the  French 
Academy  is  a  matter  with  which  none 
but  Frenchmen  have  any  immediate 
concern.  But  this  is  precisely  the  ques- 
tion which  it  is  proper  at  the  present 
time  to  discuss  ;  and  it  is  possible  that 
a  little  consideration  may  justify  nn 
American,  even  in  ilie  eyes  of  English- 
men, in  expressing  not  only  a  deep  con- 


cern but  a  strong  opinion  regarding  the 
decision  that  may  be  ultimately  reached. 
From  the  time  when  Berdic  was  de- 

scrih'-d  \\\  the  Domesd.TV  Book  as  "  Jocu* 
lator  Regi>,  '  and  when  oneRiiherus  or 
Roger  was  "  king's  minstrel"  to  Henry 
I.,  down  to  the  appointment  of  Tenny- 
son as  Poet  Laureate  to  the  present 
Queen  in  1850,  a  claim  on  the  part  of 
qnasi-foreigners  to  be  consulted  in  tlir 
choice  might  well  have  seemed  absurd  ; 
but  the  recent  growth  in  England  of 
the  imperial  idea  has  radically  altered 
the  attitude  of  all  except  the  **  Lit- 
tle Englanders"  toward  their  kindred 
beyond  the  seas.  Certain  striking  facts 
ought  carefully  to  he  considered.  One 
of  these  facts  is  the  remarkable  expan- 
sion of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  in  every 
((uarter  of  the  earth.  That  race  to-day 
numbers  fully  130,000,000  souls,  of 
whom  only  40,000,000,  or  less  than  one 
third,  are  inhabitants  of  the  British 
Islands.  Now,  while  the  Poet  Laureate 
is  in  a  narrow  sense  only  the  "  king's 
minstrel,"  as  in  the  days  of  William  Ru- 
fus,  he  is  in  a  broader  sense  the  laureate 
of  the  whole  English-speaking  world, 
the  roaster-singer  to  whom  more  than  a 
hundred  million  men  and  women  cheer- 
fully accord  the  poetical  headship  of 
their  race.  This  splendid  honour  was 
never  disputed  in  the  case  of  Tennyson  ; 
and  not  only  Englishmen,  hut  .\ineri- 
cans,  Canadians,  Australians,  Anglo- 
Indians,  and  the  dwellers  at  the  Cape 


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293 


all  hailed  the  appearance  of  each 
of  his  magnificent  bursts  of  song 
as  the  common  glory  of  their 
mother-tongue.     To-day  the 
feeling  of  unity,  which  was  once 
only  a  vague  and  intangible  sen- 
timent, is  growing  stronger  and 
taking  more  definite  shape  and 
form  ;  and  of  those  who  appeal 
to  it  with  the  greatest  fervour, 
the  conservative  English  are  the 
foremost.  A  league  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon   peoples    is   to-day  the 
dream  of  many  of   the  ablest 
statesmen  of  Great  Britain  ;  it 
forms  the  theme  of  innumerable 
discussions  in  the  English  press, 
and  not  a  week  passes  without 
some  expression  of  this  strong 
desire.    Perhaps  the  hope  has 
become  more  strenuous  in  the 
past    year,   since    the  strange 
events  that  lately  startled  the 
Western  world,  when  Japan 
dropped  the  mask  and  revealed 
the  presence  of  a  great  power 
looming   up   in    the  Orient — a 
power  with  sentiments  and  tradi- 
tions wholly  alien  to  our  own, 
and  combining  the  science  and 
discipline  of  the  West  with  the 
ferocity  and  cunning  of  the  East. 
Only    a  few    years   ago  Lord 
Wolseley  wrote  with  deep  con- 
viction of  the  potential  menace 
to  Christian  civilisation  which  he 
detected  in  the  huge,  disorgan- 
ised, but  incalculable  power  of 
the  Chinese   Empire.     Recent  events 
have   minimised   this  danger,   in  the 
form  he  dreaded  ;  but  it  is  the  form 
alone  that  is  changed.     A  revivified 
China,  with  its  swarming  millions  or- 
ganised, armed,  and  directed   by  the 
quick-witted,    unscrupulous,    and  ex- 
tremely  able  Japanese,   might  easily 
loom  up  in  proportions  so  terrific  as  to 
make  a  league  of  all  the  white-skinned 
nations  necessary  to  the  preservation  of 
their  faith,  their  civilisation,  and  per- 
haps their  very  existence.    The  days  of 
Attila  or  of  Amurath  may  well  return 
again,  and  the  whole  fruits  of  our  twenty 
centuries  of  enlightenment  be  staked 
upon  the  issue  of  a  single  mighty  bat- 
tle.   But  if  such  a  day  shall  ever  come, 
the  only  sure  bulwark  of  our  civilisation 
will  be  found  in  the  union  of  the  mas- 
terful, tenacious,  and  invincible  Anglo- 
Saxons.     Xo  league  that  can  be  formed 


A  K.NICHT  OF  ASIA*'  (siR  KDWIN  ARNOLD). 
Frem  ikt  Londtm  Skttck. 

by  any  other  peoples  can  be  at  once 
homogeneous,  elective,  and  enduring. 
French  and  Germans,  Russians  and 
Swedes,  Austrians  and  Italians — the 
very  enumeration  recalls  only  mutual 
jealousies  and  rivalries,  and  the  unreal- 
ity of  any  common  tie  ;  and  so  if  the 
day  of  Armageddon  should  arrive,  and 
the  tawny  myriads  of  the  East  should 
ever  hurl  themselves  against  the  strong- 
holds of  the  West,  it  is  upon  the  mighty 
fortress  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  peoples, 
with  all  their  broadsides  thundering  to- 
gether, that  this  appalling  tide  of  inva- 
sion would  beat  in  vain. 

This  possibility  may  be  only  the  re- 
motest chance  ;  yet  putting  it  aside 
from  one's  thought,  it  is  still  most  de- 
sirable, it  is  even  vital,  that  whenever 
the  opportunity  arises,  the  essential  one- 
ness of  our  race  should  be  emphasised 
and  accentuated   so  that  Englishmen 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


and  Americans,  Australians  an<l  Cana- 
dians, should  grow  more  and  more  fa- 
miliar with  the  thoufifht,  and  should 
feel  more  and  more  that  they  are  of  the 
same  blood,  that  the  same  high  tradi- 
tions belong  to  all  alike,  and  that  in  the 
last  supreme  crisis  they  would  exult  in 
Standing  side  by  side  and  shoulder  to 
shoulder  against  all  who  menace  what 
they  are  taught  from  childhood  to  hold 
most  dear.    The  power  that  is  now  in 


aUOYAKD  KIPUMO. 


Lord  Salisbury's  possession  affords  a 
magniticcnt  opportunity  ;  and  if  he  ne- 
glect it,  if  he  throw  it  away,  he  will  be 
guilty  of  nothing  less  than  a  crime  to 
the  future  destinies  of  the  British  Em- 
pire and  the  welfare  of  all  nations  of 
our  blood  and  lineage. 

With  this  thought  in  mind  it  is  inter- 
esting to  recall  the  names  of  those  who 
have  been  named  in  connexion  with  the 
laurel  left  by  Tennyson.  It  is  gener- 
ally understood  that  Mr.  bwmburne  and 
Mr.  William  Morris,  who  are  both  as 


poets  well  worthy  of  high  hnnour,  have 
privately  signified  their  unwillingness  to 
be  considered.    Sir  Edwin  Arnold  nd 
Mr.  Alfred  Austin  have  lately  been  thrast 
forward  as  candidates  in  high  favour 
with  the  British  Premier,  though  both  of 
them  are  most  unsuited  for  such  distinc- 
tion. Sir  Lewis  Morris  is  hardly  to  be  se- 
riously considered,  though  often  spoken 
of  as  a  possible  recipient  of  the  prise. 
There  remain  two  names  that  desene 
much  thought,  and  of  which  we  ear- 
nestly hope  that  one  may  commead  it- 
self to  the  appointing  power    These  are 
the  names  of  Mr.  William  VVatscw.  and 
Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling.    Of  Mr.  WSHam 
Watson  enough  was  said  in  the  la^t 
number  of  The  Bookman.    As  a  poci 
he  can  excite  no  seriously  adverse  criti- 
cism.   He  has  distinction,  a  noble  lofti- 
ness of  diction,  perfect  taste  and  dis- 
cretion, and  he  is,  moreover,  still  young ; 
so  that  he  represents,  as  Mr.  Swmbvne 
and  Mr.  Morris  do  not,  the  future  rather 
than  til'-  past.    As  between  him  anc 
Mr.  KipJing,  regarded  solely  from  the 
standpoint  of  poetical  merit  and  classic 
correctness,  in  the  judgment  of  the  mere 
critic  perhaps  the  scale  would  incline 
in  Mr.  Watson's  favour  ;   yet  tf.cre  ii 
one  quality  in  Mr.  Ki[iling  whi<  h  should, 
we  believe,  be  allowed  to  outweigh  ali 
that  Mr.  Watson  possesses.  Mr.  Kipling 
represents  not  only  in  his  verse,  but  in 
his  own  person,  at  once  the  exteosion 
and  the  unity  of  the  race.    Bom  in  India, 
but   of  English   st  m  k,  he   is  closely 
identified  in  his  life  and  works  with  the 
greatest  of  England's  possessions,  whose 
strange  life  he  first  revealed  to  the  won- 
dering world  ;  his  knowledge  of  the  other 
British  colonies  is  almost  equally  minute. 
By  ties  of  marriage  he  is  in  some  degree 
an  American,  and  his  home  for  a  num- 
ber of  years  has  been  in  the  most  homo- 
geneously English  portion  of  this  coun- 
try.   He  is  notf  therefore,  a  mere  Eng- 
lishman, nor  a  mere  Anglo-Indian,  nora 
mere  American,  but  something  above  and 
beyond  all  these  minor  distinctions— an 
Anglo-Saxon.    And  his  verse  and  proSC 
alike  show  ali  the  traits  that  might  be  ex* 
pected  of  this  wonderfully  wide  range  of 
experience.   They  have  the  glow  and  fer* 
vour  of  one  who  has  within  him  the  spirit 
of  conquest  that  marks  our  race  ;  they 
ring  like  a  trumpet  and  stir  the  blood, 
and  appeal  not  to  the  narrow  patriotism 
of  a  single  land  or  a  single  fraction  of  the 
men  who  have  subdued  all  rivals  in 


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"The  Native-Born,"  by  wliich  Mr. 
Kipling  means  the  man  of  English  an- 
cestry, who  is,  however,  born  out  of 
England  : 

•'  We've  drunk  to  the  yuccn.  (lod  bless  her  I 

We've  drunk  to  our  nmiliers'  land, 
We've  drunk  to  our  English  brother 

I  Mut  he  does  not  understand)  ; 
We've  drunk  to  the  wiiie  creation 

And  the  Cross  swings  low  to  the  dawn — 
La«it  toast,  and  of  obligation, — 

A  health  to  the  Native-born  ! 


bin  U^.VIS  MOKKIS. 

every  quarter  of  the  globe,  but  are  a 
sort  of  rn'eille  to  rouse  them  all  to  the 
greatness  and  vastness  of  an  imperial 
destiny. 

Equally  weighty  is  the  consid- 
eration that  Mr.  Kipling  has  an 
audience  such  as  probably  no  other 
living  writer  possesses.  He  is  not 
read  i)y  the  cultivated  few  alone, 
and  with  a  merely  critical  approv- 
al, as  is  Mr.  Watson,  but  his  name 
is  a  household  word  in  every  part 
of  the  civilised  world.  Scholar, 
critic,  man  of  business — all  read 
with  ctpial  eagerness  whatever  Mr. 
Kipling  writes,  and  all  feel  with 
equal  force  the  magic  of  his  un- 
erring touch,  liis  splendid  audac- 
ity, and  his  blended  force  and  fire. 

A  fine  illustration  of  this  special 
significance  of  Mr.  Kipling's  poeti- 
cal quality — of  the  imperial  side 
of  his  genius — comes  very  oppor- 
tunely in  a  poem  of  his,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  London  Times  of 
October  iSih.  As  it  has  not,  so 
far  as  the  present  writer  knows, 
been  reprinted  in  full,  it  may  be 
very  fitly  given  here.    It  is  entitled 


*'  They  change  their  skies  above  them, 

IJut  not  their  hearts  that  roam  ! 
We  learned  from  our  wistful  mothers 

To  call  old  England  "home." 
We  read  of  the  English  sky-lark. 

Of  the  spring  in  the  English  lanes. 
But  we  screamed  with  the  painted  lories 

As  we  rode  on  the  dusty  plains  ! 

"  They  passed  with  their  old-world  legends — 

Their  talcs  of  wrong  and  dearth — 
Our  fathers  held  by  purchase 

Hut  we  by  the  right  of  birth  : 
Our  heart's  where  they  rocked  our  cradle, 

(  )ur  love  where  we  spent  our  toil. 
And  our  faith  and  our  hope  and  our  honour 

We  pledge  to  our  native  soil  ! 

"  I  charge  you  charge  your  glasses — 

I  charge  you  drink  with  me 
To  the  men  of  the  Four  New  Peoples, 

And  the  Islands  of  the  Sea — 
To  the  last  least  lump  of  coral 

That  none  may  stand  outside. 
And  our  own  good  pride  shall  teach  us 

To  praise  our  comrade's  pride. 


ALKREO  At.'STIN. 


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296 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


WILLIAM  MURKIS. 


"  To  the  hush  of  the  breathless  morning 

On  the  thin.  tin.  cracklini;  roofs. 
To  the  haze  of  the  burned  back-ranges 

And  the  drum  of  the  shoeless  ht>off — 
To  the  risk  of  a  death  by  drowninfi, 

To  the  risk  of  a  death  by  drouth — 
To  the  men  of  a  million  acres. 

To  the  Sons  of  the  Golden  South. 

•*  To  the  Sons  of  the  Golden  South  {Stand  tif 

And  the  life  we  liz  e  and  kno-.i' 
Let  a  feltoxt)  sing  0  the  little  things  he  en  ret 
about 

If  a  fellow  fights  for  the  little  things  he  cares 
about 

With  the  weight  of  a  single  bloto  ! 

"  To  the  smoke  of  a  hundred  coasters, 

To  the  sheep  on  a  thousand  hills, 
To  the  sun  that  never  blisters, 

To  the  rain  that  never  chills — 
To  the  land  of  the  waiting;  sprinRtimc, 

To  our  five-meal  meat-fed  men. 
To  the  tall  deep-bosomed  women, 

And  the  children  nine  and  ten  ! 

"  And  the  children  nine  and  fen  (Stand  up  .') 

And  the  life       live  and  know 
1^1  a  fellow  sing  0  the  little  things  he  caret 
about 

If  a  fellow  fights  for  the  little  things  he  cares 
about 

lyith  the  xveight  of  a  tuv-fold  blow  ! 

"  To  the  far  flung  fenceless  prairie 
Where  the  quick-cloud  shadows  trail. 

To  «>ur  neighbour's  barn — in  the  ofSng — 
And  the  line  of  the  new-cut  rail. 


To  the  plough  in  her  league-long  furrow 

With  the  Krey  lake  gulls  behind — 
To  the  weight  of  a  half-year's  winter 

And  the  warm  wet  western  wind  I 

•'  To  the  home  of  the  floods  and  thunder. 

To  her  pale  dry  healing  blue — 
To  the  lift  of  the  great  Cape  combers 

An<l  the  smell  of  the  baked  Karroo. 
To  the  growl  of  the  sluicing  stamp-head — 

To  the  reef  and  the  water-gold. 
To  the  last  and  the  larRest  Empire. 

To  the  map  that  is  half  unrolled  ! 

"  To  our  dear  dark  foster-mothers 

To  the  heathen  songs  they  sung — 
To  the  heathen  speech  we  babbled 

Ere  we  can>e  to  the  white  man's  tongue. 
To  the  cool  of  our  deep  verandahs — 

To  the  blaze  of  our  jewelled  main. 
To  the  iiinht.  to  the  palms  in  the  moonlight. 

And  the  fire  fly  in  the  cane  1 

"  To  the  hearth  of  our  people's  |>cople — 

To  her  well-ploughed  tvindy  sea. 
To  the  hush  of  our  dread  hiijh-altars 

Wheie  the  Abbey  makes  us  We. 
To  the  grist  of  the  slow-ground  age5. 

To  the  gain  that  is  yours  and  mine — 
To  the  Bank  of  the  Open  Credit. 

To  the  Power  house  of  the  Line  ! 

"  We've  drunk  to  the  Queen — God  bless  her  ! — 

We've  drunk  to  our  mothers'  land  : 
We've  drunk  to  our  English  brother 

(And  we  hope  he'll  understand). 
We've  <lrunk  as  much  as  we're  able 

And  the  Cross  swin^^s  l<nv  to  the  dawn 
Last  toiist — anil  your  foot  on  the  table  !—  . 

A  health  to  the  Native-born  ! 

'*  A  health  to  the  Xatife-horn  (Stand  ut  f) 

H'c're  six  white  men  arow 
All  bound  to  sing  0'  the  little  things  xoe  eau 

about 


AI.r.KRNON  CIIARLKS  SWINBl  RXK. 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


•97 


AU  hound  to fyltt  ftr  the  Ktik  tUngt  we  tore 

tVitk  thi!  weight  of  a  six  fold  Ho-o  ! 

By  the  might  ef  our   eable-tow  {Taie 
keaub  /} 
Frvm  the  Orkneys  to  the  Horn 

AU  round  the  roorld  (and  a  little  loop  to 

puU  il  .\\-\ 

All  rcun.i  the   H'orld  (and  a  little  strap  to 

buckh-  //) 
A  health  to  the  Xatir^e'borM  .'" 

Now  this  is  by  no  means  one  of  the 
b«st  of  Mr.  Kipling's  poems.  It  was 
evidently  dashed  off  on  an  impulse.  It 
has  a  number  of  very  evident  hlcmislics. 
Thdt  he  should  twice  iutruducc  such  a 
rhyme  as  "dawn"  and  "  born,"  which 
suggests  the  pronunciation  of  a  Ge(^rgia 
negro,  is  a  very  serious  technical  defect. 
The  repetition  of  **  charge"  in  "  I  charge 
you  chnrcfc  your  p^lasses,"  is  tti;ly. 
The  chorus  lines  printed  in  italics  intro- 
duce a  metrical  variation  which  seems 

unrhythmical  and  somewhat  ischiOf- 
rhogic.     Moreover,  the  lines, 

••  To  the  Bank  of  the  Open  Credil, 
To  the  Power  JMine  of  the  Une  1" 

which  we  have  heard  praised  for  their 
cleverness  and  audacity,  are  by  no 
means  commendable ;  for  their  clever- 


ness is  rather  of  a  journalistic  sort,  and 

the  metaphor  of  the  trolley  speaks  of  the 
audacity  of  the  literary  i^amin  rather 
than  of  the  audacity  of  the  literary  ge- 
nius. Rut  these  are  only  minor  (»]\ieo- 
tions.  The  poem  as  a  whole  has  a  wonder- 
ful lyric  quality,  and  it  flings  before  one's 
eyes  with  a  breathless,  startling  vivid- 
ness pictures  that  cannot  be  forgotten. 
"The  thin,  tin,  crackling  roofs^*  is  a 
remarkable  assonance  ;  "  The  drum 
of  the  shoeless  hoofs"  is  inimitable,  and 
so  is  his  marvellous  prairie-verse. 
And  more  than  all  stand  out  the  vast 
sweep  and  comprehensiveness  of  the 
whole — English,  but  more  ;  British,  but 
more  still. 

Altogether,  if  tlie  oHice  of  Laureate 
be  something  more  than  a  petty  insular 
tlistinction,  if  it  is  to  become  one  of  the 
innumerable  synil>ols  of  Anglo-Saxon 
unity,  a  possesiiiua  of  Greater  Britain, 
and  if  our  whole  race  could  choose  its 
occupant,  it  is  unthinkable  that  the 
choice  should  be  a  matter  of  any  doubt, 
or  should  single  out  another  name  than 
that  of  Rudyard  Kipling. 


BY  THE  FIRE. 

Within  my  door,  good  Dame  To-day 

Spins  by  the  hearthstone  brij^ht. 
And  keeps  me  at  my  task  alway, 

Till  taps  my  neighbour  Night ; 
Then  brushes  she  the  hearth,  betimeSi 

And  bids  the  wheel  be  still, 
And,  with  her  gossip  Duty,  climbs 

The  path  up  yonder  hill. 

While  nrighbour  Night  and  I,  alone. 

Beside  the  hearth's  low  flame. 
Sit  hearkening  the  wind's  wild  moan, 

But  speak  no  word  nor  name  ; 
For  neighbour  Night,  right  young  is  he, 

And  1  have  heard  it  said 
That,  haply,  he  will  some  time  be 

With  g^y  To-morrow  wed. 

And  I  am  old.    Each  hour  I  track 
The  step  of  Watchman  Time  ; 

So  soon  will  Dame  To-day  rome  l>ack. 

Then  larcvvell  dream  and  rhyme  ■ 
But  now,  with  neighbour  Night,  a  space 

Is  mine,  iu'  ll  nut  L(.ilnsav, 
To  brood  awhile  upon  a  face,—  * 
My  lost  love.  Yesterday. 

Virgima  Woodward  (Uoui, 


298  THE  BOOKMAN. 


LIVING  CRITICS. 


II. — Hamilton  Wright  Marie. 


"  Criticism,"  said  Mr.  Mabie,  in  the 
course  of  a  recent  conversatiDii.  "  has 
many  different  uses.  There  is  the  crit- 
icism which  aims  simply  to  jjive  an 
account  of  a  booic  at  the  moment  of 
its  appearance  for  the  information  and 
guidance  of  those  who  want  to  know 


what  books  to  read— that  is  IcgitimaK 
criticism  :  but  it  is  purely  temporar\  i" 
its  character.  Great  criticism,  practise 
by  such  men  as  Goethe,  Coleridge  a"" 
Matthew  Arnold,  attempts  not  only  to 
give  us  an  estimate  of  a  man's  work,  bu' 
to  show  us  his  soul." 


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299 


•*  Would  you  say  that  the  functions 

of  critici;,!!!  and  of  literary  interpretation 
ftre  distinct  and  separate  from  each 
Other,  or  are  they  identical  ?*' 

**  I  don't  think  that  ihey  no  identi- 
cal»  but  I  believe  that  in  the  best  and 
truest  criticism  both  functions  are  dis> 
cliarged.  One  includes  the  other,  I 
should  say.  The  great  principles  of 
criticiNUi  lead  us  through  tlie  individual 
work  of  an  author  into  the  world  of 
universal  art.  That  is  to  say,  every 
great  writer  illustrates  the  general  laws 
of  art  just  as  he  expresses  certain  gen- 
era! truths,  and  the  great  critic  is  he 
who  not  only  gives  us  a  detinite  impres- 
sion of  the  man's  value  as  a  writer,  but 
who  also  makes  us  see  his  relation  to  the 
larjyer  world  of  which  he  is  a  part." 

What  Mr.  Mabie  has  said  in  general  of 
the  highest  exercise  of  the  functions  of 
criticism  and   literary  interpretation  is 
particularly  applicable  to  himself,  and 
entitles  him  to  the  rantc  which  a  recent 
English  writer  ^ave  liim,  who  spoke  to 
an  American  audience  o£  Mr.  Mabie  as 
**  one  of  your  best  critics."    The  place 
which  Mr.  Mabie  has  undoubtedly  taken 
in  modern  criticism  has  yet  to  be  fully 
and  adequately  reeot^nised,  but  already 
he  has  won  a  large  following  by  his  de- 
lightful books,  and  there  is  abundant 
evidence  of  an  increasing  interest  in 
the  literary  career  of  one  who  has 
made    a    niche    for    himself    in  the 
world  of  letters.    Approaching  litera- 
ture, filled  equally  with  reverence  for 
the  unbroken  vitality  of  its  past  and 
faith    in    its   exhaustless   future,  and 
imbued  with  the  virility  and  viijour 
of  our  democratic  era,  Mr.  Mabie  has 
caught  tlie  tide  of  the  modern  critical 
movement  begun  by  Winckclmann,  Her- 
der, and  Goethe  in  Germany,  continued 
by  Coleridije,  Carlyle,  and  Matthew  Ar- 
nold in  iingiand,  and  in  some  measure 
by  Emerson,  Lowell,  and  Stedman  in 
this  country,    lie  has  inherited  the  new 
conception   of   literature    which  these 
names  in  modern  criticism  exemplify  ;  a 
conception  which  has  immensely  deep- 
ened and  freshened  the  feeling  toward 
literature,  and  intensitied  the  relation 
which  it  bears  to  life  by  opposing  the 
vast  and  varied  movement  recorded  in 
history  as  a  development,  a  coherent 
expression  of  human  life  to  a  cold  judi- 
cial criticism  controlled  by  mechanical 
and  arbitrary  ideas.  **  T>ife  is  at  bottom," 
he  has  said,  "the  prime  characteristic 


of  literature.  .  .  •  Literature  is  no  pro- 
duct of  artifice  or  mechanism  :  it  is  a 
natural  growth,  its  roots  are  in  the  heart 
of  man,  it  is  the  voice  of  man's  needs 
and  sufferings  and  hofies." 

Mr.  Mabie  lives  in  Summit,  N.  J.,  on 
one  of  the  most  enviable  sites  a  writer 
could  wish  to  choose.  His  house  is  lit- 
erally a  covert  fr<>m  ilie  fret  and  fever 
of  the  outside  wot  Id  ;  wherever  you  turn 
you  seem  to  be  surrounded  by  trees, 
giving  one  the  impression  f)f  a  clearing 
in  the  forest,  albeit  the  railway  station  is 
only  a  ten  minutes'  walk  distant.  Here, 
you  say,  is  **  leisure  to  grow  wise  and 
shelter  to  grow  ripe."  And  while  Na- 
ture forms  a  sanctuary  without,  home 
affections  and  the  gentle  influences  of 
art  and  literature  brood  witliin  and  com- 
plete the  charm  which  brings  to  man  all 
that  earth  affords  of  heaven.  Mr. 
Mabie's  working  den  is  upstairs  ;  hut 
we  sat  in  the  library,  with  its  large  win- 
dows, its  capacious  "study  fire,"  its 
walls  lined  with  books,  and  here  and 
there  stray  evidences  of  the  writer's 
craft,  but  all  in  order,  betokening  the 
deft  touch  of  a  woman's  hand. 

Mr.  Mabie  has  reached  that  happy 
stage  of  lite  when  one  enters,  as  Bruvvn- 
ing  describes  it,  into  the  possession  of 
"  manhood's  prime  viijfour."  "  I  was 
born  at  Cold  Spring,  on  the  Hudson, 
and  came  from  New  York  stock  on  both 
sides.  My  ance^tois  have  always  iive<l 
in  the  Empire  State  ;  one  of  them,  my 
great-grandfather.  Mercer  Hamilton, 
was  a  Scotchman,  and  a  graduate  of 
the  University  of  Edinburgh,  From 
him  I  take  my  Christian  name. 

'*  I  prepared  for  college  under  a  pri- 
vate tutor  instead  of  attendincc  ^  pre- 
paratory school.  1  went  to  Will  jams 
College,  where  I  took  the  course,  grad- 
uating in  '67.  Among  my  classmates 
were  President  Stanley  Hall  of  Clark 
University,  President  Dole  of  the  Hawai- 
ian Republic,  Francis  L.  Stetson,  Henry 
Loomis  Nelson,  the  erlitor  of  JIoip,r's 
Weckl}\  Gilbert  Tucker,  who  has  recently 
published  a  book  on  Our  Common  Speech^ 
and  Judge  Teller,  the  Democratic  candi- 
date for  the  Court  of  Appeals." 

'*  Did  you  have  any  profession  in  view 
when  you  went  to  college  ?" 

"  No,  1  had  no  definite  professional 
aim  in  my  education.  I  have  been  a 
great  reader  all  my  life  ;  if  there  is  any- 
thing which  I  might  vemiirc  to  claim 
for  myself,  it  is  that  I  belong  to  the  class 


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JOO 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


I 


MY  STinV  KIRE." 


Lowell  called  the  great  readers.  I  have 
been  reading  as  long  as  I  can  remember. 
As  a  boy  I  was  very  fond  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  novels  ;  indeed,  my  memory  be- 
gins with  Walter  Scott.  The  first  poet 
I  remember  reading  was  Longfellow. 

"  While  in  college  I  read  constantly 
and  omnivorously.  I  know  of  no  greater 
joy  I  have  had  in  life  than  the  long  winter 
terms  at  W^illiams  when  I  used  to  begin 
reading  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  even 
ing,  and  read,  often  uninterruptedly, 
until  eleven.  In  this  way  I  gave  five 
or  six  hours  a  day  to  solid  reading.  I 
found  out  then  for  the  first  time  that 
the  Greek  classics  were  literature,  and 
I  did  not  discover  it  in  the  class-room 
so  much  as  outside  of  it.  I  became  also 
deeply  interested,  during  this  period,  in 
German  literature." 

"  When  you  left  college,  was  it  with 
the  intention  of  entering  on  a  literary 
career  ?" 

"  I  had  a  very  strong  literary  bent  in 


my  aims  and  feelings  even  before  I  en- 
tered Williams,  and  while  in  colleifcit 
almost  became  a  passion  with  me.  I 
had  a  group  in  my  class,  as  I  have  al- 
ready said,  who  were  men  of  exceptional 
ability.  We  formed  an  informal  talking 
club,  which  met  on  Saturday  evenings, 
and  our  discussions  on  literature,  art 
and  philosophy  were  of  distinct  educa- 
tional value  to  me.  They  remind  me  ot 
Tennyson's  account  of  similar  under- 
graduate discussions  at  Cambridge: 

"  *  Where  once  we  held  debate,  a  band 
Of  youthful  friends,  on  mind  and  art, 
And  labour,  and  the  chan^inij;  mart. 
And  all  the  framework  of  the  land." 

But  I  was  greatly  lacking  in  confidence, 
and  when  I  left  college  was  still  very 
young  and  immature  —young,  that  is, 
for  my  years.  I  could  not  make  up  niy 
mind  to  adopt  literature  as  a  profession, 
so  I  did  what  so  many  others  have  done 
tinder  similar  circumstances,  I  studied 
law,  taking  the  course  at  the  Columbia 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


30X 


College  Law  School.  After  qualifying 
myself\  1  began  to  practise,  but  devoted 
most  of  my  time  to  reading.*' 

"  How  did  the  way  open  up  for  you 
eventually  ?" 

*  *  It  became  more  and  more  clear  to 
me  that  I  must  follow  tiie  bent  uf  my 
nature  in  order  either  to  be  happy  or 
successful,  so  I  resolved  to  make  a  break 
for  it ;  and  about  that  time  I  was  offered 
a  position  on  the  editorial  staff  of  what 
was  then  the  Christian  Union.  That  was 
sixteen  years  ago  last  June/' 

Dr.  Lyman  Abbott  became  the  editor 
of  the  Christian  Union  about  the  same 
tinne  cn  Henry  Ward  Beecher's  retire- 
ment from  that  position.  Since  then 
Dr.  Abbott  and  Mr.  Mabie  have  worked 
together  in  the  closest  amity  on  this 
religious  weekly,  now  the  Outlook,  and 
to  their  enterprise  aiul  foresight  is  large- 
ly due  the  prominent  position  which  the 
periodical  has  taken  among  the  lead- 
ing  religious  journals  of  the  world.  As 
soon  as  Mr.  Mabie  felt  at  home  with  his 
editorial  work  he  began  to  engage  him- 
self with  other  writing,  and  published  a 
little  volume  of  Norse  stories — his  first 
literary  effort — in  1884,  which  was  the 
firstf  ruits  of  a  long  and  interesting  study 
of  mythology  and  folklore. 

I  asked  him  how  he  cume  to  write  the 
articles  which  appeared  subsequently  in 
the  paj^es  of  the  Chriitian  l^uioii,  and 
were  afterward  collected  and  published 
under  the  title  My  Study  Fire. 

"  At  that  time,"  Mr.  Mabie  replied, 
"  there    were   growing   up  constantly 
within    me    clearer    ideas    about  Uie 
function  of  literature  and  the  attitude 
and    spirit   of   the    literary    man.  I 
think  tliose  papers  express  feeling  and 
sentiment  with  reference  to  the  literary 
life  rather  than  definite  thought,  and 
that  is  what  they  were  meant  to  do. 
My  theory  is  that  a  man's  leading  ideas 
about  life  are  germinated  quite  early  ; 
probably  most  writers  have  received  be- 
fore the  age  of  thirty  the  general  ideas 
which  they  work  out  subsequently.  I 
think  that  perhaps  the  real  f<»r:native 
ideas  come  even  earlier,  and  that  what  a 
man  does  for  the  rest  of  his  life  is  to 
clarify,   el.aboratc,    and    expaml  these 
ideas  into  clear  expression  and  form  as 
far  as  hb  ability  will  permit." 

"  In  your  case,"  I  ventured  to  suggest, 
"  it  is  plain  to  my  mind  that  a  definite 
idea  has  been  present  in  your  work  from 
the  start,  growing  stronger  and  clearer 


as  it  proceeds,  to  wit,  the  recognition 
of,  and  insistence  on,  what  you  have 
yourself  called  the  spiritual  element  in 
literature." 

"  1  think,"  said  Mr.  Mabie,  "  that  the 
thing  which  gave  me  the  deepest  interest 
in  literary  study  was  the  perception,  be- 
coming more  and  more  clear,  that  liter- 
ature is  really  the  cry  of  the  human  soul ; 
it  is  an  expression  of  what  is  deepest  in 
man's  nature  under  all  the  varied  experi- 
ences of  life  ;  and  there  has  grown  upon 
me  the  thought  of  its  unity  and  its  whole' 
ness  as  an  utterance  of  humanity  under 
historical  conditions,  and  that  ciaseness 
of  art  to  life  came  in  my  mind  to  be  the 
fundamental  thoui^ht  about  literature. 
It  seems  to  me  to  be,  in  all  its  greater 
developments  and  epochs,  the  perfectly 
genuine  and  almost  spontaneous  expres- 
sion of  what  men  are  feeling  ami  think- 
ing and  doing.  The  urlisl  depends  lor 
his  success  on  the  soundness  and  range 
of  his  relations  with  life.  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  fruiifulness,  the  productivity, 
and  the  power  of  a  man's  work  in  art 
depend  on  the  fruitfulness  and  reality 
of  his  relation  to  life,  and  that  the  depth 
and  force  of  a  man's  ideas  are  deter* 
mined  by  the  closeness  of  this  relation.'* 

"  So  far  as  my  knowledge  and  ob- 
servation go,"  1  interpolated,  "  I  think 
that  your  chapter  on  *  The  Spiritual  Ele- 
ment in  Literature  '  in  S/jort  StuJiis  is  a 
unique  and  isolated  expression  of  this 
truth." 

"  The  spiritual  life  of  a  man  is  not,, 
from  my  point  of  view,'*  Mr.  Mabie  re- 
joined, "  a  section  or  department  of  his^ 
life  ;  it  is  the  whole  life  expressing  itself 
in  its  lelalion  to  spiritual  tilings.  So  I 
look  upon  ail  the  arts,  wlien  they  are 
nobly  prosecuted,  as  expressions  of  the 
spiritual  nature,  literature  being  ori  the 
whole  the  most  complete  and  intimate 
expression  of  the  spiritual  nature  of 
man." 

"  I  should  infer  then  that  you  consider 
a  man's  intellectual  power  as  only  etli- 
cient  in  proportion  as  it  is  magncti^^ed 
by  his  spiritual  nature,  so  to  speak." 

"  i  do.  I  thnik  that  the  measure  of  a 
man's  power  is  not  to  be  found  in  any 
special  gift,  but  in  the  depth  and  rich- 
ness of  liis  own  personality.  '  Whatever 
a  man  does  greatly,'  says  Goethe,  '  he 
does  with  his  whole  nature.'  In  its 
noblest  forms  literature  is  essentiallv  a 
harmonious  expression  ;  a  man's  nature 
is  not  broken  up  into  fragments,  it  ex- 


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302 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


1^1 


,11  'Jfll'li.' 


A  Cl>KNKk  111-   MR.  MABIK  !>  SllDV 

presses  itself  as  a  unit.  In  fact,  I  think 
there  has  been  nothing  more  confusing 
or  misleading  than  the  attempt  to  dividf 
the  nature  of  man  into  parts,  just  as  I 
think  nothing  has  been  more  miscliievous 
or  misleading  than  tlie  attempt  to  divide 
the  character  of  God  into  attributes. 
Great  art  and  fundamental  morals  are 
bound  together  as  sun  and  light,  as 
tn:th  and  beauty.  1  don't  believe  that 
a  man  can  be  fundamentally  bad  in  his 
dealings  with  the  life  about  him  and  con- 
tinuou>ly  sound  in  his  creative  activity. 
I  think  that  greatness  and  continuity  of 
protluction  in  art  depend  on  the  sound- 
ness of  a  man's  relation  id  life." 

'*  So  that  you  cannv>t  conceive  a  man 
of  vicious  habits  or  immoral  life  produc- 
ing a  perfect  work  of  art  ?" 

■*  While  a  great  many  beautiful  things 
have  been  done  by  men  oi  unwholesome 
habits,  I  think  that  great  work  involves 


always  self-restraint. 

continuity  of  effort,  pow- 
er of  will,  and  general 
healthfulness  of  nature. 
I  do  not  think  that  the 
Greek  traijedies  or  the 
plays  of  Shakespeare  or 
the  Divine  Comedy  or  the 
works  of  Goethe  or  the 
novels  of   Balzac,  of 
Thackeray,     of  Walter 
Scott  coulti    have  been 
produced  save   by  men 
who   were  essentially 
sane,  and  by  sane  I  mean 
healthful  ;  and  the  on/y 
healthful  man  is  the  man 
who  stands  in  normal  re- 
lations to  the  universe 
about  him.    When  a  man 
violates  the  laws  of  /ife. 
he   separates  himself 
from   the  power  which 
nourishes  him.     He  cre- 
ates centres  of  self-con- 
sciousness, and  loses  the 
power  of  reflecting  trans- 
parently the  world  about 
him." 

"  As  a  student  of  con- 
temporaneous litera- 
ture," I  obser\'ed.  "  ycu 
must  have  reflected  on 
the  causes  for  the  appar- 
ent lack  of  any  great 
literary  impulse  in 
America." 

"  I  think  there  are  a 
great  many  hopeful  indications  in  this 
country,"  said  Mr.  Mabie.     "While  it 
is  true  that  we  have  no  writers  of  ihe 
first  magnitude,  it  is  also  true  that  we 
have  a  number  of  writers  of  genuine 
quality.    Many  of  our  writers  of  short 
stories  are  giving  us  the  real  thing — thai 
is,  they  are  giving  us  the  local  and  pro- 
vincial life  of  the  country  in  lasting 
forms.    I  «lo  not  e.xpect  national  writers 
for  a  long  time  to  come.    I  do  not  see 
how  we  can  have  a  national  literature 
in  the  sense  in  which  the  Italian,  the 
Spanish,  French,  German,  and  Enjjlish 
possess  a  national  literature  until  we 
have  certain  fundamental  ideas  univer 
Sidly  held,  and  a  deep  and  rich  national 
experience  in  which  every  man  in  every 
section  of   the  country  shares.  This 
countiy  has  been  broken  up  into  sec- 
tions :  wherever  there  have  been  a  homo 
geneous  population  and  tradition  there 


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A  UTERAR 

has  been  a  local  literature.  Sometimes, 
as  in  New  England,  we  find  a  high  and 

beautiful  art  wiiich  approaches  tlie  point 
o(  becoming  a  national  literature.  I 
think,  for  instance,  that  Loweirs  *Com» 
memoration  Ode '  is  the  rieafesi  approach 
to  great  poetry  that  we  have  yet  had 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Hawthorne 
and  Emeraon,  I  believe,  are  the  greatest 
writers  we  have  yet  had.  I  consider 
T/u  S^arA/  Letter  our  tinest  piece  of  fic- 
tion. I  regard  Hawthorne's  genius  as 
on  the  whole  the  most  genuine,  the  most 
subtle,  and  the  most  interesting.  Haw- 
thorne had  the  true  spirit  of  an  artist.'* 

"  Do  you  agree  with  certain  writers 
that  what  we  need  at  present  is  a  more 
searching  critical  spirit?" 

"No.  A  critical  period,  in  my  judg- 
ment, does  not  precede  but  follows  a 
productive  period.  For  instance,  there 
could  not  be  a  critical  period  in  litera- 
ture unless  there  had  been  before  it 
a  considerable  body  of  work  produced 
to  inspire  the  criticism.  When  Mat- 
thew Arnold  says  that  a  great  literary 
productivity  must  be  fed  by  a  free 
movement  of  ideas  among  the  people 
at  large  or  by  a  critical  movement,  I 
understand  him  to  mean  by  the  latter  a 
general  presentation,  discussion,  and  re- 
arrangement  of  ideas  and  knowledge 
rather  than  of  artistic  forms.  For  in- 
stance, before  the  time  of  Schiller, 
Goethe,  and  Herder  there  was  no  criti- 
cal movement  in  Germany  in  the  liter- 
al y  sense.  There  was,  however,  a  won- 
derful movement  in  the  intellectual  and 
spiritual  sense  ;  a  discussion  of  the  sig- 
niticancc  of  art  and  life,  and  the  woriviug 
out  in  a  kind  of  unconscious  liarmony 
of  a  view  of  life  which  was  in  the  high- 
est degree  stimulatmg  and  illuminating. 
The  result  of  such  a  movement  directly 
fosters  the  making  of  literature.  In  this 
country,  however,  the  movement  of  life 
has  been  largely  along  practical  lines,and 
discussion  has  mainly  touched  practical 
questions.  Our  discussions  have  been 
governed  by  the  exigencies  of  our  sit- 
uation,  and  we  have  had  to  settle  po- 
litical, local,  and  social  questions  to  such 
a  degree  that  our  interest  in  theological, 
philosophical,  and  art  questions  has 
been  very  subordinate.  The  hopeful 
thing  to  me  in  this  country  is  the  evi- 
dence which  I  see  on  so  many  sides  that 
great  masses  of  people  are  awake  to  the 
necessity  of  enriching  their  lives.  One 
feds  particularly  in  Uie  West  a  restless- 


'JOURNAL  . 

ness  with  i>urely  material,  prosperity, 
and  a  growing  feeling  that  all  the  re- 
sources of  life  must  be  invoked  and  de- 
veloped. I  think  there  are  an  eagerness 
for  knowledge  and  a  catholicity  of  in- 
terest in  many  parts  of  the  West  which 
are  in  the  last  degree  encouraging." 

"  You  dull  t  agree  with  Matthew  Ar- 
nold, then,  when  he  says  that  the  great 
mass  of  mankind  will  never  have  any 
ardent  zeal  for  seeing  things  as  they  are, 
and  that  they  are  easily  satisfied  with 
very  inadequate  ideas.  Do  you  dissent 
from  his  general  view  ?'* 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  crudity  which  is 
more  hopeful  and  likely  to  be  more  pro- 
ductive than  a  certain  kind  of  definite 
attainment.  I  think  that  crudity  which 
is  full  of  aspir.ition,  which  knows  itself 
to  be  crude,  which  is  accompanied  by 
an  intense  desire  for  better  things,  is 
more  likely  to  produce  better  things 
than  tliat  finality  of  attainment  which 
has  exhausted  interest  in  creative  ac- 
tivities and  has  become  purely  criti- 
cal. Tlie  kind  of  half  education  which 
,1  great  many  people  in  this  country  • 
mistake  for  education  is  very  barren 
and  unfruitful,  and  substitutes  a  very 
cheap  imitation  of  culture  for  culture 
itself.  What  we  need  In  this  country 
before  everything  else  is  culture,  but  by 
culture  1  do  not  mean  merely  refinement 
of  taste  or  extensive  familiarity  with 
l)ooks  and  art.  I  mean  emancipation 
from  provincial  ideas,  1  mean  openness 
to  the  truth  from  all  quarters — I  mean 
rightness  of  spirit  and  sanity  of  nature." 

"  Do  you  not  sometimes  fear  the  prac- 
tical outcome  of  the  reading  circles — 
Chautauqua  and  otherwise — so  much  in 
vogue  nowadays  ?  '  To  act  is  so  easy,'  says 
Gucthe,  ■  to  ihink  ii  so  hard.'  In  other 
words,  it  is  so  easy  to  read  and  absorb 
fact  alter  fact,  (kite  after  dale,  and  be 
well  stocked  with  knowledge  and  have 
a  vague  notion  of  it  all,  studying  with 
a  pleasurable  sensation  of  intellectual 
titiliation  ;  but  are  the  mental  faculties 
concentrated  on  the  reading,  is  the 
imagination  fired,  are  the  true  relations 
to  literature  and  life  involved  ?" 

I  think  that  a  great  deal  of  popular 
education  in  this  country  is  very  super- 
ficial, and  will  never  bear  any  permanent 
fruit ;  but  I  think  also  that  the  organi- 
sation of  the  whole  country  into  reading 
chihs,  while  it  may  lead  to  a  great  deal 
of  superficiality,  is  an  expression  ot  a 
very  deep  instinct,  and  that  the  working 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


304 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


out  of  that  instinct  in  one  or  two  gen- 
eral! u  n  s  is  going  to  mean  genu  ine  culture. 

"  The  significance  and  place  of  art 
have  never  been  at  all  adequately  under- 
stood in  this  country,**  continued  Mr. 
Mabie.  *'  Very  few  people,  even  among 
cultivated  Americans,  have  grasped  the 
real  idea  of  art,  so  far  have  we  grown 
away  from  it  ;  and  I  think  it  is  going  to 
take  a  lonp  time  to  make  us  understand 
iJiat  we  shall  not  be  hnally  successful  on 
this  continent  until  we  have  given  expres- 
sinn  to  our  life  in  some  form  of  art.  So 
long  as  we  feel  that  the  supreme  fruit  of 
true  living  is  incessant  activity,  we  shall 
not  reach  true  living  itself.  As  the  deep- 
est and  most  vital  religious  life  shrinks 
most  from  professional  forms,  follows 
most  closely  natural  channels,  and  sepa- 
rates itself  instinctively  from  the  use  of 
the  religious  patois^  so  the  richest  and 
fullest  national  life  is  evidenced  by 
depth  of  feelinj^:,  by  breadth  of  personal 
resource,  and  by  ripeness  of  spirit  rather 
than  by  incessant  activity." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Emerson's 
warnincj  to  the  youncf  man,  *  Shun  the 
spawn  uf  the  press,'  is  as  applicable  to- 
day as  it  was  then  ?" 

"  I  think  that  one  of  the  p:reatest 
hindrances  to  the  spread  of  real  culture 
in  this  country  is  the  spirit  in  which  the 
great  mass  of  ncws|)ap(is  are  now 
edited.  So  many  newspapers  deal  so 
exclusively  with  the  mere  news  side  of 
things,  and  with  the  purely  gossifqr  as* 
pect  of  the  nfws  side,  that  they  never 
come  in  contact  with  general  principles, 
and  never  even  suggest  to  their  readers 
the  sense  of  the  relative  values  of  events. 
In  many  of  our  newspapers  there  is 
no  sense  of  proportion  ;  the  ephemeral, 
the  vulgar,  and  the  inane  almost  exclude 
a  discussion  or  presentation  of  news  that 
really  contributes  to  the  thought  and 
growth  of  the  reader.  The  habit  of  news- 
paper  readinc^  in  this  country  stands  in 
the  way  of  the  real  cultuie  of  the  great 
majority  of  men  and  women  who  nave 
formed  it  " 

WiilMu  the  past  few  years  Mr.  Mabie 
has  given  many  addresses  before  col- 
leges and  literary  societies,  and  I  asked 
him  how  he  came  to  go  on  the  platform. 

"  My  public  speaking,"  said  Mr. 
Mabie,  "  is  a  matter  of  the  last  four  or 
five  years.  It  has  come  about  without 
any  effort  on  my  part,  and  it  has  grown 
to  very  considerable  proportions  without 
any  urgency  from  me.    My  lectures  are 


always  on  literary  or  educational  iab- 
jects." 

"  Do  you  find  your  audidtces  noi* 
f ormly  responsive  ' 
"I  find  American  audiences  almos: 

without   exception    courteous,  inte/i/- 
gent,  and    responsive.    So   far  as  th? 
West  is  concerned,  I  think  that  a  great 
many  Eastern  people  have  verjr  provin* 
cial   ideas  regardincf  tt.      They  know- 
nothing  whatever  about  the  real  coodi- 
tion  of  things  in  the  central  West  or  in  the 
far  West.    There  is  a  pfreat  de.d  <  f  i 
tellectual  activity  in  both  sections,  and 
there  is  a  host  of  highly  educated  men 
and  women  scattered  all  over  the  West 
In  fact,  any  discrimination  between  the 
East  and  the  West  in  this  rtfspcct  may 
be  taken  as  a  sign  of  the  igooraace  of 
the  person  who  makes  it." 

"Are  you  going  on  with  your  lec- 
tures?" 

"  Ves,  but  I  am  keeping  speaking  sub- 
ordinate to  my  writing.  I  find  it  very 
stimulating  and  helpfuftomeetaudieaces 
in  ditTerent  parts  of  tlie  country.  I  do  not 
believe  in  ^T;ttthew  Arnold's  idea  of  the 
remnani  ;  I  linnk  it  is  the  function  of  a 
few  to  interpret  and  express,  but  I  think 
it  is  the  function  of  the  many  not  on!r 
to  comprehend,  but  to  supply  the  mate- 
rial of  expression.'* 

Speaking  of  his  experiences  as  a  lec- 
turer, Mr.  Mabie  related  this  incident: 

"  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Mr.  Curtis 
one  summer  morning  at  Ashfield  with 
rec^ard  to  the  matter  of  public  speaking. 
11c  told  inc.among  other  things,  that  when 
he  began  to  speak,  and  found  that  he  was 
likely  to  be  frequently  called  tipon,  he 
went  to  a  person  whom  he  knew  to  have 
some  local  reputation  as  a  speaker, 
and  asked  him  for  a  few  hints.  This 
gentleman  said,  '  To  begin  with.  Gurus, 
despise  your  audience,  and  regard  your- 
self as  supericMT  to  them."  Mr.  Curtis 
said,  *  I  knew  very  little  about  public 
speaking  then,  but  I  knew  tliat  iliai  was 
wrong.  I  have  always  treated  my  audi- 
ences as  made  up  of  my  equals,  because 
I  have  believed  that  half  the  men  to 
whom  I  speak  could  speak  as  well  as  1 
if  they  had  the  same  opportunities  ot 
training.'  " 

This,  Mr.  Mabie  added,  seemed  to 
him  to  be  the  true  attitude  of  thespeslc- 
er  toward  his  audience,  of  the  writer 
toward  the  men  and  women  who  sur- 
round him^  of  the  artist  toward  hisowo 
age. 


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A  UTERARY  lOURNAU 


30s 


Mr.  Mahie  also  told  me  a  very  signifi- 
cant and  characteristic  story  about  Gen- 
eral Grant.    After  a  great  demonstra* 
tion  in  one  of  the  large  manufacturing 
towns  in  England,  Grant  was  asked  how 
he  felt  when  he  faced  a  great  crowd 
of  people  all  looking  eagerly  at  him,  as 
if  he  were  the  centre  of  their  interest. 
He  answered  very  simply,  *'  Why,  I  feel 
like  one  of  them."    "  That  ability  to 
feci  '  like  one  of  them,'  "  said  Mr.'Ma- 
bie,  **  is  the  secret  of  great  power  in  art. 
Certainly  Shakespeare  owed  his  success 
in  interpreting  and  illustrating  almost 
the  whole  range  of  human  experience  to 
his  ability  to  feel  with  and  for  almost 
every  type  of  human  character.    I  think 
that  the  greatness  and  virilit}'  oi  artists 
are  measured  by  their  freedom  from  pro- 
fessionalism, from  the  spirit  of  aloof ness, 
and  from  the  dilettanU  atmosphere  and 
tone.'* 

With  respect  to  his  future  literary 

plans,  Mr.  Mabie  said  : 

"  I  expect  to  elaborate  to  a  certain 
extent  the  series  of  articles  now  in 
course  of  publication  in  The  Bookman, 
and  to  make  a  book  nf  them,  whicfi  T 
hope  may  be  of  some  service  to  tliose 
who  are  trying  to  discover  the  most 
fruitful  methods  of  using  books.  From 
my  point  of  view,  the  real  end  of  life  is 
not  to  accomplish  some  definite  external 
thing,  but  to  give  one's  own  personality 
the  highest  and  freest  development.  It 
is  through  the  perfection  of  themselves 
and  in  the  perfection  of  themselves  that 
men  are  able  to  serve  the  world  most 
effectually  and  nobly  ;  so  that  the  su- 
preme thing  in  every  life  is  nut  so  much 
to  preserve  it  from  external  dangers 
as  to  unfold  its  own  indestructibility, 
force,  and  life.  I  look  upon  it,  therefore, 
as  in  the  last  degree  important  to  dis- 
cover and  disseminate  knowledge  regard- 
ing the  most  fruitful  mctiiods  of  living, 
and  I  have  written  these  chapters  on 
books  and  culture  in  the  hope  of  saying 
something  in  a  very  inadequate  way 
which  would  open  up  books  not  simply 
as  sources  of  information  and  knoui 
edge,  but  as  sources  of  life.    I  hope 
to  accompany  this  book  with  another, 


treating  nature  from  the  same  stand- 
point, and  endeavouring  to  trace  those 
analogies  between  the  methods  of  na* 
ture  and  the  methods  of  human  life 
which  seem  to  me  to  give  us  suggestions 
for  the  best  conduct  of  life." 

"  You  have  been  engaged  on  this 
book  for  some  time,  have  you  not?" 

"  It  will  not  make  a  large  book,  but  I 
have  given  a  good  deal  of  time  to  work- 
ing out  the  ideas  which  will  be  present' 
ed  in  it." 

Mr.  Mabie' s  favourite  exercise  has  al- 
ways been  walking.  The  region  of 
Northern  New  Jersey  in  which  he  lives 
is  very  picturesque,  and  affords  ample 
opportunity  for  the  ambitious  walker, 
both  as  regards  exercise  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  nature.  His  editorial  work  is 
done  under  very  favourable  conditions, 
congenial  in  irs  associations  and  flexible 
in  its  engagements,  so  that  Mr.  Mabie 
is  able  to  spend  at  least  half  his  time  at 
liome. 

In  an  age  characterised  by  superficial 
thinking  and  utilitarianism,  Mr.  Mabie's 
sane  and  thoughtful  view  and  estimate 
of  life,  expressed  in  his  books  and  else- 
where, offer  a  healthy  protest  against  a 
blind  devotion  to  material  ends,  and  ap- 
peal to  that  deep  vein  of  idealism  which 
he  believes  to  exist  beneath  the  apparent 
grossness  of  our  civilisation.  Their 
vital  utterance  and  insight  to  adapt 
some  wise  words  of  his  own — confirm  a 
struggling  faith  in  the  reality  and  neces- 
sity of  art,  liberating  and  clarifyinf^  minds 
breaking  away  from  old  provincialisms 
of  thought  and  feeling,  and  longing  for 
vital  contact  with  the  richer  and  more 
inclusive  intellectual  movement  of  the 
time.  "Scepticism,"  he  declares,  "is 
the  root  of  ail  evil  in  us  and  in  our  arts. 
We  do  not  believe  enough  in  God,  in 
ourselves,  and  in  the  divine  laws  under 
which  we  live.  Great  art  involves  great 
faith — a  clear,  resolute,  victorious  in- 
sight into  and  grasp  of  things,  a  belief 
real  enough  in 

'  The  mighty  hopes  which  make  us  men  * 
to  inspire  and  sustain  heroic  tasks." 

fames  MtuArtkttr. 


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3o6 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


NV  publisher  will  tell  yt)U 
that  certain  ahsolulely 
essential   elements  go 
to  the  making  of  a  successful  book. 

Love  was  having  trouble  with  his 
eyes.  He  had  had  more  or  less  dilTi- 
culty  with  them  for  a  long  time.  "  My 
friends  fear  that  it  is  something  serious," 
he  said  to  the  young  physician  upon 
whom  he  called.  "  I  would  like  to 
have  you  give  me  your  opinion." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  physician,  "  and 
I  will  examine  your  eyes." 

Love  seated  himself  and  watched  the 
physician  arranging  the  lights  and  the 
instruments.  "  My  trouble  seems  to  be 
somewhat  unusual,"  he  explained. 
"  When  I  look  intently  at  one  object  it 
is  very  difTicult  for  me  to  readjust  the 
focus  and  see  other  things  at  different 
distances. " 

"  Muscles  of  accommodation  strain- 
ed," said  the  physician.  "  Now  please 
look  me  in  the  face." 

Love  looked  up  as  he  was  told,  and 
the  physician  studied  his  eyes  carefully. 

"  As  my  occupation  requires  that  I 
look  constantly  at  different  things,  it  is 
an  immeasurable  inconvenience,"  pur- 
sued Love. 

"  And  what  is  your  occupation  ?" 
"  I  am  a  bookman,"  answered  Love. 
"  That  is,  I  provide  the  plots  for  books." 

"  I  am  writing  a  book,"  said  the  phy- 
sician smiling. 

"  Is  my  case  in  it  ?"  inquired  Love. 
"  No,"  replied  the  physician  ;  '*  the 
book  I  am  writing  deals  simply  with 
Compound    Hypermetropic  Astigma- 
tism." 


"  It  will  not  go,"  said  Love.  "  Now 
my  case  here  contains  the  elements  of  a 
successful  book.  You  write  it  up,  and 
I  will  guarantee  that  it  succeeds." 

The  physician  moved  his  instrument 
and  gazed  intently  in  the  eyes  of  Love. 
"  I  am  glad  you  came  to  me,"  he  said 
at  last,  "  I  have  read  of  cases  like  yours 
in  the  treatises." 

"  In  many  treatises,"  assented  Love 
"I  tell  you  if  you  want  your  book  to 
pay  you'll  put  me  in." 

"  I  never  saw  so  much  assurance," 
the  physician  cried.  "  Do  you  have 
authority  for  thinking  that  ?" 

"  The  very  best  authority,"  Love  an- 
swered. "  I  know  all  the  publishers. 
I  am  their  friend.  They  cannot  afford 
to  publish  a  book  that  is  not  about  me 
— unless  some  celebrated  man  has  writ- 
ten it." 

"  I — I  will  give  you  a  perscription  for 
your  eyes,"  the  physician  said.  "You 
have  been  overusing  them.  If  the  diffi- 
culty increases  it  must  be  operated  on 
— by  some  celebrated  man." 

"  I  shall  come  to  you,"  said  Love. 
"  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  pay  you  for 
this  consultation  ;  but  if  you  will  act  on 
the  suggestion  of  a  layman  and  put  my 
case  in  your  book,  you  will  become  a 
celebrated  man,  and  that  will  remuner- 
ate you  in  the  end.  There  is  a  great 
national  element  in  my  case  that  is  ab- 
solutely essential  to  the  making  of  a 
successful  book." 

"  Even  to  a  book  on  Compound 
Hypermetropic  Astigmatism  ?"  the  phy- 
sician asked. 

"  Try  it,"  said  Love,  "  and  see." 


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A  UTBRAR 

II. 

An  unprincipled  man  found  himself 
j[rowinj!f  too  far-sighted  in  his  evil  eye. 
"  My  whole  reputation  is  founded  on  a 
fortunate  short-sightedness,"  he  said. 
"  1  am  manac^er  of  a  preat  syndicate 
that  takes  up  little  misunderstandings 
and  develops  them  into  the  great  ele* 
ments  of  discord  between  the  central 
figures  of  successful  books." 

'*  I  should  think  myopia  would  be 
against  you,"  the  physician  said. 

**  On  the  contrary,"  declared  the  un- 
principled man.  "  I  am  in  favour  with 
the  public  for  the  reason  that  my 
schemes  always  f.dl  short,  so  that  the 
element  of  discord  is  completely  elimi- 
nated in  the  final  chapter.  Of  Ic^te  I 
fear  that  my  evil  sight  is  failing  to  fail 
me  at  the  last  moment,  and  it  must  be 
remedied  at  once." 

"  That  is  very  natural,"  said  the  phy- 
sician. "  The  tendencies  of  the  evil  eye 
are  apt  to  be  the  reverse  of  those  of  the 
moral  eye  ;  in  other  words,  myopia  in- 
creases in  the  moral,  decreases  in  the 
evil  eye." 

'■  But,"  said  the  patient,  *'  I  must 
warn  you  that  you  will  have  to  pay  the 
damages  if  you  prescribe  anything  which 
throws  it  too  far  the  other  way.  I  have 
never  been  too  myopic  to  develop  the 
most  microscopic  misunderstanding  into 
the  necessary  discord  in  a  successful 
book.  The  one  on  which  I  am  now  at 
work  will  make  a  great  stir  between  the 
central  figures.  It  is  of  national  im- 
portance, and  the  nicest  exactitude  of 
short-sightedness  is  needed  to  perfect 
it.  You  understand,  I  suppose,  what 
kind  of  a  lotion  I  want.  I  would  like 
it  in  a  vial,  so  that  if  it  comes  in  my 
way  to  administer  it  to  some  one  else  tt 
will  be  in  literary  shape." 

"  I  do  not  give  tilings  to  administer 
to  some  one  else,'*  said  the  physician 
firmly. 

"  You  will  give  it  to  me,"  said  the 
unprincipled  man. 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  physician,  "  I 
will  not."  They  stood  measuring  each 
other.  "  You  have  not  grown  very  far- 
sighted,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "  if  you 
think  a  respectable  practitioner  will 
help  yuu  ill  your  little  schemes." 

The  unprincipled  man  bowed  and 
twirled  the  ends  of  his  moustache. 
*'  You  relieve  me  greatly,"  he  said. 
^'My  object  in  coming  to  you  was  to 


JOURNAL  307 

test  my  faculty.  If  it  had  failed  to  fail 
me  you  would  have  prescribed.  I  am 
glad  to  find  that  I  need  nothing.  Re> 
ceive,  sir,  the  assurance  of  my  esteemed 
consideration." 

He  withdrew,  and  when  he  had  with* 
drawn  the  physician  saw  that  he  had 
left  behind  the  national  element  of  dis- 
cord on  which  he  was  at  woric,  A  vague 
unrest  took  hold  of  the  physician. 

I  suppose,"  be  said,  "  that  it  would 
make  a  great  stir  between  the  figures  of 
my  book  on  Compound  Hypermetropic 
Astigmatism.  I  wonder  if  it  could  be 
elimmated  in  the  final  chapter." 

III. 

A  literary  observer  who  was  noted  for 
his  local  C(»!our  found  his  peripheric 
vision  unequal  lo  the  vast  fields  of  coun- 
try covered  by  modern  books. 

"  The  top  of  this  window  near  your 
desk  was  open,"  he  explained,  "and 
from  my  balloon  observatory  I  noticed 
with  my  telescope  that  you  were  writ- 
ing a  book.  It  at  once  occurred  to  me 
that  we  might  arrange  an  exchange  of 
favours,— advantageous  to  you,  advan- 
tageous to  me." 

"  Yes  ?••  said  the  doctor.  "  And  is  it 
part  of  your  professional  etiquette  to 
take  observations  into  open  top  win- 
dows ?" 

The  literary  observer  shrugged  his 

shoulder  in  a  way  that  made  the  physi- 
cian recognise  him  as  a  privileged,  char- 
acter. '*  How  di<l  you  think  I  could  be 
of  service  to  vou  '"  the  physician  added. 

A  pleased  look  brightened  the  ob- 
server's face.  "  I  want  you  to  fit  me 
with  glasses  that  will  help  me  to  see 
more  out  of  the  sides  of  my  eyes,"  he 
said.  "  You  see  I  compose  all  the  local 
colour  that  is  used  in  successful  books. 
A  book  covers  so  much  country  in  these 
,days,  that  if  the  author  depended  on 
his  own  arrangement  of  local  colour,  it 
would  come  out  as  striped  and  streaked 
as  a  barber's  pole,  without  a  particle  of 
vibration.  That  is  the  great  principle 
of  local  colour,  vibration." 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  physician, 
"  and  you  want  something  to  broaden 
your  peripheric  vision,  so  that  while 
you  keep  your  eyes  on  the  plot  you  can 
encompass  half  the  continent  out  of  the 
sides  of  your  eyes." 

'  Exactly,"  cried  the  literary  observer. 
"  I  knew  when  I  saw  you  through  my 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


little  spy-glass  that  you  were  an  intelli- 
gent man," 

The  physician  laughed  AS  he  placed  a 
test  card  ai  the  extreme  end  of  the 
room.  "  Now,"  he  said,  "  while  you 
look  at  this  card  can  you  see  the  organ- 
grinder  outside  the  window,  and  on 
which  side  of  the  test  card  does  he  ap- 
pear to  you  V* 

"  I  can  only  see  the  outer  edj^c  of  the 
window  casing,"  sighed  the  literary  ob- 
server. **  It  is  almost  behind  me,  to  the 

left  of  the  test  c.ird." 

*'  Wrong,"  said  the  physician,  "  it  is 
to  the  right.  You  have  used  your  per- 
ipheric vision  until  you  do  not  know 
where  you  see  things.  I  will  write  a 
letter  for  you  to  take  to  the  optician. 
He  will  fit  you  with  glasses  having  tide 
lenses.  They  will  help  to  widen  your 
lield  uf  vision,  and  at  the  same  time 
rest  your  eyes.  Now  what  I  would  like 
to  see  myself  is  where  the  reciprocity 
comes  in." 

"Just  here,"  said  the  literary  ob- 
server, feelinp^  in  his  l)reast-pocket. 
*'  You  are  writing  a  book  in  which  tliere 
b  not  so  much  as  a  date-palm  nor  a 
prairie  dotr  nor  a  snowshoe  nor  an  ele- 
vated railroad,  and  I  am  goinp;  to  give 
you  all  these  things  composed  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  a  vibration  that  will  be 
felt  by  every  one  who  glances  at  your 
book.  It  is  the  greatest  piece  of  na- 
tional local  colour  that  I  have  ever  pro* 
duced." 

"  Then  use  it  yourself,"  said  the  phy» 
^cian,  "  My  book  is  a  scientific  mono- 
graph. It  deals  entirely  with  Com- 
pound Hypermetropic  AsLigniatism." 

"  Don't  I  know  what  it  deals  with?" 
interrupted  the  literary  observer. 
*'  And,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  just  the 
sort  of  book  that  needs  local  colour  to 
give  it  verity.  A  scientific  In  "ok  is  value- 
less if  it  has  not  verity.  I  do  not  use 
these  things  myself.  1  am  much  too 
busy  comi)osing  them  for  successful 
writers.  1  shall  take  this  letter  to  the 
optician,  and  if  you  sit  right  down  and 

put  in  the  viln'ations,  l)y  tin-  time  I  am 
at  work  with  the  new  lenses  in  my  ob- 
servatory I  shall  see  all  the  lovers  of 
good  literature  devouring  your  mono- 
graph. There  is  nothing  like  local  col- 
our to  give  verity  to  the  situations  of  a 
sttccesslttl  book." 

IV. 

"  I  have  come  to  get  a  soothing  pre- 


scription from  you,"  an  elderly  woman 
said.  "  1  want  something  which  will 
quiet  the  pain  through  the  eyes  in  the 
back  of  my  head." 

The  physician  drew  forward  an  easy- 
chair.  "  That  is  strange,"  he  said. 
"  The  eyes  in  the  back  of  the  head  nre 
usually  so  free  from  pain.  How  long 
have  they  been  troubling  you  ?*' 

"  For  many  years,"  she  answered. 
"  My  life  worlc  has  been  furnishing 
moral  lessons  for  books,  and  to  have 
tliese  lessons  well  rounded,  the  eyes  in 
the  back  of  the  bead  are  necessarily  in 
constant  use." 

"  But  I  have  never  seen  them  where 
they  were  injured  by  use,"  the  doctor 
said. 

"  My  case  is  a  peculiar  one,**  she  ad- 
mitted. "  My  daughterdn  Kiw  grew 
very  tired  of  my  life  work.  She  was 
not  in  sympathy  with  my  views,  and  as 
I  had  found  it  inadvisable  for  moral 
lessons  to  obtrude  themselves,  I  moved 
into  the  cellar.  My  work  there  has 
been  ven,'  successful,  but  it  has  strained 
the  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head." 

"Perhaps,'*  said  the  physician,  "if 
you  were  upstairs  again  where  the  eyes 
in  the  t>ack  of  your  head  could  have 
natural,  healthy  employment  about  the 
house  while  you  are  writing — " 

"I  do  not  write,"  said  the  elderly 
woman.  "  I  inculcate  mcnvl  lessons  in 
other  writers,  and,  as  I  say,  it  is  a  stfaift 
to  do  it  in  the  cellar." 

The  physician  shook  his  head  in  per- 
plexity as  he  sat  down  to  write  a  pre- 
scription. "  Surely,  madam,"  he  said, 
"your  work  should  be  easy  to  you, 
from  the  fact  that  you  so  constantly 
practise  your  principle  of  not  obtrud* 
ing  the  moral  lesson." 

"  That  is  what  my  son  tells  me,"  she 
answered  impatiently,  "  but  yon  nrither 
of  you  understand."  She  sat  with  her 
back  toward  him  as  he  wrote,  but  she 
noticed  that  he  had  pushed  aside  a  pile 
of  manuscript.  "  Now  I  will  venture 
that  no  one  will  receive  the  smallest 
l)enefit  from  the  work  you  are  prepar> 
ing  there." 

It  does  not  aim  to  benefit  any  one 
in  the  way  you  mean,"  said  the  physi- 
cian meekly  ;  "  it  is  a  mere  treatise." 

"  My  flear  young  man,"  she  cried, 
pointing  her  parasol  at  him  over  her 
shoulder,  "  you  are  m  iking  a  fatal  mis- 
take. Your  hook  will  not  succeed.  I 
have  been  pleased  with  yoa,  and  now» 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


instead  of  paying  in  the  ordinary  way 
for  this  prescription,  I  am  going  to 

make  you  a  present  of  one  of  my  great- 
est national  moral  lessons,  which  you 
are  to  inculcate  in  your  book  in  such  a 
way  that  it  will  not  obtrude  itself  while 
it  furnishes  food  for  reflection.'* 

'*  But  I— 'really,  madam,  in  a  book 
which  treats  purely  of  Compoand 
l^lypermetropic  Astigmatism — *' 

'*  Not  a  word  of  thanks,  young  man, 
not  a  word  of  thanks,"  she  said,  folding 
the  prescription  and  putting  it  into  her 
purse.  "  The  only  return  I  wish  when 
this  book  has  made  you  famous  is  a  few 
copies  to  distribute  among  .the  poor. 
Good-altcruooa. " 

*•  Good-afternoon,"  the  physician  ech- 
oed, and  while  the  elderly  woman 
went  out  he  felt  that  the  eyes  in  the 
back  of  her  head  were  watching  him  as 
he  stood  looking  dubiously  at  the  moral 
lesson. 

V. 

The  young  physician  was  toiling  over 

his  manuscript,  for  he  had  been  much 
interrupted  by  patients  who  were  only 
willing  to  pay  by  giving  him  suggestions 
for  the  book.  He  had  taken  down  the 
ledger  in  which  were  entered  these  siic^- 
gestions,  and  had  read  them  in  the  or- 
der of  their  entry. 

**  Love  (j:i^rateful  i)<itient).  Mtiscles 
of  accommodation  strained.  Recom- 
mended himself  as  a  most  essential  na- 
tional element  lor  my  book. 


"  Unprincipled  man  (grateful  pa- 
tient). Myopic  in  evil  eye.  Refused 
treatment.  Left  national  element  of 
discord  for  my  book. 

**  Literary  observer  (grateful  patient). 
Deficient  peripheric  vision.  Fitted  with 
side-lens  glasses.  Exchanged  element 
of  national  local  colour  for  my  book. 

"  Elderly  woman  (grateful  patient). 
Nostalgia  of  the  eyes  in  the  back  of  the 
head.  Donated  national  moral  lesson 
for  my  book. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  make  my 
practice  profitable,"  the  doctor  had 
said,  "unless  I  put  them  all  into  the 
book." 

That  was  how  he  came  to  be  toiling 
over  the  manuscript,  lie  was  putting 
their  suggestions  in  the  book.  When  it 
was  all  finished  and  he  sent  it  to  the 
publishers  they  were  surprised  to  find 
love,  and  an  element  of  discord,  and 
local  colour,  and  a  moral  lesson  in  a 
monograph  on  Compound  Hyperme* 
tropic  Astigmatism,  but  they  paid  him 
a  very  large  price  for  it,  because  they 
saw  that  it  contained  all  the  elements 
of  a  successful  book. 

But  when  it  was  published,  and  the 
whole  world  was  devouring  it,  the  young 
physician  e.vperienced  a  surprise  greater 
than  that  of  the  publishers,  for  be  found 
that  his  book  on  Compound  Hyper- 
metropic Astigmatism  was  the  Great 
American  Novel. 

Marguerite  Traey, 


BOOKS  ANI 

By  the  Author  or  "My  Study  Fire," 

X.-LIBERATION  THROUGH  IDEAS. 

Matthew  Arnold  was  in  the  haiiit  of 
dwelling  on  the  importance  of  a  free 
movement  of  fresh  ideas  through  soci- 
ety ;  the  men  w  ho  are  in  touch  with 
such  movements  are  certain  to  be  pro- 
ductive, while  those  whose  minds  are 
not  fed  by  this  stimulus  are  likely  to  re- 
main unfruitful.  One  of  the  most  sug- 
;];estivc  and  beautiful  facts  in  the  spir- 
itual history  of  men  is  the  exhilaration 
which  a  great  new  thought  brings  with 
it ;  the  thrilling  moments  in  history  are 


►  CULTURE 

"Short  Studies  ik  Literature,"  etc. 

the  moments  of  contact  between  such 
ideas  and  the  minds  which  are  open  to 
their  approach.  It  is  true  that  fresh 
ideas  oiten  gain  acceptance  slowly  and 
against  great  odds  in  the  way  of  orfjan- 
ised  error  and  of  individual  inertness 
and  dulness ;  nevertheless,  it  is  also 
true  that  certain  great  ideas  rapidly 
clarify  themselves  in  the  thought  of  al- 
most  every  century.  .  They  are  opposed 
and  reiectrd  I'V  a  multitude,  but  they 
are  in  the  air,  as  we  say  ;  they  seem  to 
diffuse  themselves  through  all  fields  of 
thought,  and  they  are  often  worked  out 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


harmoniously  in  different  departments 

by  men  who  have  no  concert  of  action, 
but  whose  minds  are  open  and  sensitive 
to  these  invisible  currents  of  light  and 

power 

The  first  and  the  most  enduring  result 
of  this  movement  of  ideas  is  the  enlarge- 
ment of  the  thoughts  of  men  about 
themselves  and  their  wurld.  Every 
great  new  truth  compels,  sooner  or 
later,  a  read  just hil  iu  of  the  whole  body 
of  organised  truth  as  men  hold  it. 
The  fresh  thought  about  the  physical 
constitution  of  man  bears  its  fruit  ulti- 
mately in  some  fresh  notion  of  his  spir- 
itual constitution  ;  the  new  fact  in  geol- 
ogy  does  not  spend  its  force  until  it  has 
wrought  a  modification  of  the  view  of 
the  creative  method  and  the  ap^e  of  man 
in  the  world  ;  the  fresli  conception  of 
the  method  of  evolution  along  material 
and  physical  lines  slowly  reconstructs 
the  philosophy  of  mental  and  spiritual 
development.  Every  new  thought  re« 
latcs  itself  finally  to  all  thought,  and  is 
like  the  forward  step  which  continually 
changes  the  horizon  about  the  trav- 
eller. 

The  histof}'-  of  man  is  tlie  story  of  the 
ideas  lie  has  entertained  and  accepted, 
and  of  his  struggle  to  incorporate  these 
ideas  into  laws,  customs,  institutions, 
and  character.  At  the  heart  of  every 
race  one  finds  certain  ideas,  not  always 
clearly  seen  nor  often  definildy  formu- 
lated save  by  a  fcw^  persons,  but  uncon- 
sciously held  with  deathless  tenacity 
and  illustrated  by  avast  range  of  action 
and  achievement  :  at  tlie  heart  of  every 
great  civilization  one  tinds  a  few  domi- 
nant and  vital  conceptions  which  give  a 
certain  coherence  and  unity  to  a  vast 
movement  ot  life.  Now,  the  books  of 
life,  as  has  already  been  said,  hold  their 
place  in  universal  literature  because 
they  reveal  and  illustrate,  in  symbol  and 
personality,  these  fundamental  ideas 
with  supreme  power  and  felicity.  The 
large  IxmIv  of  literature  in  prose  and 
verse  which  is  put  between  the  covers 
of  the  Old  Testament  not  only  gives  us 
an  account  of  what  the  Hebrew  race  did 
in  the  world,  but  of  its  ideas  about  that 
world,  and  of  the  character  which  it 
formed  for  itself  largely  as  the  fruit  of 
those  ideas.  Those  ideas,  it  need  hardly 
be  said,  not  only  registered  a  great  ad- 
vance on  the  ideas  which  preceded  them, 
but  remain  in  many  respects  the  most 
fundamental  ideas  which  the  race  as  a 


whole  has  accepted.  They  lifted  the 
men  to  whom  they  were  oriGrinally  re- 
vealed, or  who  accepted  them,  to  agrca^t 
height  of  spiritual  and  moral  visios, 

and  a  race  character  was  orj^anis^-d 
about  them  of  the  most  powertui  ajod 
persistent  type.  The  m<xlem  student 
of  the  Old  Testament  is  horn  into  a  very 
different  atmosphere  from  that  in  whictt 
these  conceptions  of  man  and  the  uni- 
verse were  originally  formed ;  bttt 
though  they  have  largely  lost  their  nov- 
elty, they  have  not  lost  the  power  of  en- 
largement and  expansion  which  were  ia 
them  at  the  beginning. 

In  his  own  history  everj'  man  repeats, 
within  certain  limits,  the  history  of  the 
race  ;  and  the  inexhaustible  educational 
value  of  race  experience  lies  in  the  fact 
that  it  so  completely  parallels  the  his- 
tory of  every  member  of  the  race. 
ChiUlhood  has  the  fancies  ami  faiths  of 
the  earliest  ages  ;  youth  has  visions  and 
dreams  which  form,  generation  after 
generation,  a  kind  of  contemporary 
mythology;  maturity  aspires  after  and 
sometimes  attains  the  repose,  the  clear 
intelligence,  the  catholic  outlook  of  the 
best  modern  type  of  min<l  and  character 
in  some  form  every  modern  man  travels 
the  road  over  which  his  predecessors 
have  passed,  but  he  no  longer  blazes 
his  path  ;  a  highway  has  been  built  for 
him.  He  is  spared  the  immense  toil  of 
formulating  the  ideas  by  which  he  Ii\  e>. 
and  of  passing  through  the  searching 
experience  which  is  often  the  only  ap- 
proach to  the  greatest  truths.  If  he  has 
originative  power,  he  forms  ideas  of  his 
own,  but  they  are  based  on  a  massive 
foundation  of  ideas  which  others  have 
worked  out  for  him  ;  he  passes  through 
his  own  individual  experience,  but  he 
inherits  the  results  m  a  multitude  of 
experiences  of  which  nothing  remains 
save  certain  final  generalisations.  Even,- 
intelligent  man  is  born  into  possession 
of  a  world  of  knowledge  and  truth  whtdi 
has  been  explored,  settled,  and  organ- 
ised for  him.  To  the  discovery  and 
regulation  of  this  world  every  race  has 
worked  with  more  or  less  definiter.c-ss 
of  aim,  and  the  total  result  of  the  in* 
calculable  labours  and  sufferings  of  men 
is  the  somewhat  intangible  but  very 
real  thing  we  rail  civilisation. 

At  the  heart  of  civilisation,  and  deter- 
mining its  form  and  quality,  is  that 
group  of  vital  ideas  to  which  cai  h  race 
has  contributed  according  to  its  intelh- 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


C^nce  and  power  t  the  measure  of  the 

greatness  of  a  race  beinij'  determined  by 
the  value  of  its  contribution  to  this  or- 
ftanised  spiritual  life  of  the  world.  This 
bodv  of  i  lf  IS  is  the  highest  product  of 
the  life  of  men  under  historic  condi- 
tions ;  it  is  the  quintessence  of  whatever 
was  best  and  enduring  not  only  in  their 
thought,  but  in  their  feeling,  their  in- 
stinct, their  affections,  their  activities ; 
and  the  degree  in  which  the  man  of  to- 
day is  able  to  appropriate  this  rich  re- 
sult of  the  deepest  life  of  the  past  is  the 
measure  of  his  culture.  One  may  be 
well  trained  and  rnretnlly  disciplined, 
and  yet  have  no  share  in  this  organised 
life  of  the  race  ;  but  no  one  can  possess 
real  culture  who  has  not,  according  to 
his  ability,  entered  into  it  by  making  it 
a  part  of  himself.  It  is  by  contact  with 
these  great  ideas  that  the  individual 
mind  puts  itself  in  touch  with  the  uni- 
versal mind  and  indefinitely  expands 
and  enriches  itself. 

Culture  rests  on  ideas  rather  than  on 
knowledge  ;  its  distinctive  use  of  Icnowl- 
edge  is  to  gain  material  for  ideas.  For 
this  reason  the  Jliad  and  Odyssey  are  of 
more  importance  than  Thucydides  and 
Curtius.  For  Homer  was  not  only  in  a 
very  important  sense  the  historian  of 
his  race  ;  he  was,  above  all,  the  exposi- 
tor of  its  ideas.  There  is,  involved  in 
the  very  structure  of  the  Greeic  epics, 


the  fundamental  conception  of  life  as 

the  Greeks  looked  at  it  ;  their  view  of 
reverence,  worship,  law,  obligation, 
subordination,  personality.  No  one 
can  be  said  to  have  read  these  poems 
in  any  real  sense  until  he  has  made 
these  ideas  clear  to  himself ;  and  these 
ideas  carry  with  them  a  definite  enlarge- 
ment of  thought.  When  a  man  has  got- 
ten a  clear  vtew  of  the  ideas  about  life 
held  by  a  great  race,  he  hfis  g<>ne  a 
long  wav  t'^>\vards  self-education  ;  so 
rich  and  illuminative  are  ttiesc  central 
conceptions  around  which  the  life  of 
each  race  has  been  organised.  To  mul- 
tiply these  ideas  by  broad  contact  with 
the  books  of  life  is  to  expand  one's 
thought  so  as  to  compass  the  essential 
thought  of  the  entire  race.  And  this  is 
precisely  what  the  man  of  broad  culture 
accomplishes  ;  he  emancipates  himself 
from  whatever  is  local,  provincial,  and 
temporal  by  gaining  the  poWer  of  tak- 
ing the  race  point  of  view.  lie  is  liber- 
ated by  ideas,  not  only  from  his  own 
ignorance  and  the  limitations  of  his  own 
nature,  but  from  the  partial  knowledge 
and  the  prejudices  of  his  time  ;  and 
liberation  by  ideas,  and  expansion 
through  ideas,  constitute  one  of  the 
great  services  of  the  books  of  life  to 
tliose  wiio  read  them  with  an  open  mind. 

MamilUm  IF.  Maht 


LONDON  LETTER. 


Ian  Maclakbn. 


As  The  Days  of  Auld  Lang  Sytu  is 
about  to  come  out  in  England  and 
America,  T  thought  it  might  be  appro- 
priate this  month  to  send  you  a  letter 
on  Ian  Maclaren.  To  all  intents  and 
ptirpnses  it  is  a  contintiation  of  its  pred- 
cccsstH",  and  the  two  put  together  give 
the  annals  of  a  Perthshire  parish  called 
i>y  the  author  Drumtochty.  Indeed,  he 
once  thought  of  giving  this  name  to  the 
whole  work.  There  are  some  remark- 
able circumstances  connected  with  this 
book.  A  year  ago  the  author  had  prac- 
tically written  nothing.  Although  he 
had  attained  ttu;  comparatively  mature 
age  of  forty-five,  aud  had  been  long  a 


leading  clergyman  in  Liverpool,  he  was 
quite  unknown  to  the  public  as  an  au- 
thor, and  yet  in  one  short  year  the  sales 
of  Beside  (he  Bonnie  Brier  Bush  have  ex- 
ceeded in  England  and  America  ico,ooo 
copies,  and  are  still  as  rapid  as  ever. 
Thirty  thousand  capics  were  to  be  print- 
ed of  the  first  English  edition  of  The  Dayt 
of  Auld  Lang  Syne,  and  at  the  time  T  am 
writing,  it  seems  as  if  they  would  all  be 
exhausted  in  advance  of  publicatio  n .  A 
fortnight  before  the  book  was  published 
five  thousand  copies  had  been  ordered 
in  Edinburgh  alone.  Ian  Maclaren's 
popul.itilv  is  nut  iiinely  Scotch;  all 
over  the  country  he  is  widely  read,  and 


u  by  Google 


3ta 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


m4 


kit 


in  America  his  name  is  a  household  spccts  different  from  her  husband.  She 
word.  was  Highland,  and  understood  Gaelic, 

Through  his  kindness  I  am  able  to  though  she  could  not  speak  it.  It  was, 
give  the  full  partit  ulars  of  his  history,  she  used  to  say,  the  best  language  for 
which  are  mostly  fresh,  and  which  may   love  and  for  anger.    Though  also  firm 

in  her  religious  convictions, 
she  was  not  like  her  husband, 
an  Evangelical,   but  leaned 
rather  to  the  highest  type  of 
Moderatism.  as  it  is  called  in 
Scotland.    The  name  in  Eng- 
land would  perhaps  be  Broad 
Church.   She  was  a  woman 
of  strong  convictions  and 
equally  s  I  r  o  n  aversions. 
Ilcr  kindness  was  unbound- 
ed.  She  knew  no  distinction 
of  class  in  her  friendships, 
and  was  accustomed  especial- 
ly to  visit  those  who  were 
in  trouble.    Of  the  tjratitui^c 
and  affection  felt  for  her  there 
was  very  remarkable  testi- 
mony when   she  died.  In 
death  she  was  what  she  had 
been  in  life,  absolutely  cour- 
ageous, unseltish,  and  truth- 
ful.   When  lier  minister.  Dr. 
Beilhf  of  Stirling,  asked  her 
whether  she  was  firm  in  the 
faith,  slic  replied  tliat  she  be- 
lieved that  jesus  Christ  was 
the  Son  of  God  and  the  Sav- 
iour of  the  world,  and  that  if 
she  had  not  believed  it  long 
before,  she  would  think  it  a 
mean  thing  to  beg^n  believ< 
ing  it  now. 
Young  Watson  was  accustomed  for 
many  years  to  spend  the  summers  with 
his  uiulcs,  who  were  farmers  in  a  large 
way,  first  about  Blairgowrie,  then  about 
Meigle.    They  belonged  to  the  Estab- 
lished Church  in  Scotland,  so  that  his 
sympathies  were  well  divided  between 
the  two  great  Presbyterian  Churches  of 
that  country.    In  due  time  he  went  to 
Edinburgh   University,    and  although 
diligent  and  studious,  was  not  specially 
impressed  by  any  of  the  professors  with 
the  single  exception  of  Dr.  Masson,  who 
has  just  retired  from  the  Chair  of  Eng- 
lish Literature.    He  liked  classics,  and 
was  attracted  by  Sellar,  the  Professor  of 
Latin.    In  philosophical  studies  he  was 
also  interested,  and  was  secretary  and 
afterwards  president  of  the  Philosophi- 
cal Society  connected  with  the  Universi- 
ty.  When  he  had  completed  his  studies, 
he  decided  to  be  a  minister  of  the  Free 


rACAMILS  or  IAN  MACLAUN'S  AVTOGKArH. 


be  taken  as  accurate.  Mr.  Watson  (for 
it  is  a  very  open  secret  that  Ian  Maclaren 

is  the  Rev.  John  Watson,  M.A.,  of  Sef- 
ton  Park  Presbyterian  Church,  Liver- 
pool) is  a  pure  Scot,  although  he  was 
born  in  Manmngtree,  Essex,  where  his 
father,  who  was  engaged  in  the  Excise, 
and  reached  a  very  high  position  in 
that  service,  was  stationed  at  the  time. 
Very  shortly  after  his  birth  the  family 
removed  to  London,  of  which  Ian  Mac- 
laren has  a  distinct  recollection.  The 
formative  years  of  his  (hildhood  were 
spent,  however,  first  at  Perth  and  then 
at  Stirling.  He  was  an  only  child,  and 
his  father  and  mother  were  both  of  them 
remarkable  personalities  —  the  father 
strongly  religious,  profoundly  interest- 
ed in  religion,  and  a  devoted  elder  of 
the  Free  Church  of  Scotland.  Ian  Mac- 
laren's  mother,  to  whose  memory  his 
last  book  is  dedicated,  was  in  some  re- 


Digitized  by  Googb 


A  UTEHARY  JOURNAL, 


313 


Church.    This  was  the  strong  wish  of 

his  father,  and  he  was  willing,  although 
he  never  felt  the  call  to  the  ministry  as 
some  say  they  have  felt  it  whose  useful- 
ness has  certainly  not  been  greater  than 
his.    He  passed  through  the  curriculum 
of  the  New  College,  Edinburgh,  but  the 
only  teacher  who  left  any  impression  on 
his  mind  was  Dr.  A.  P>.  Davidson,  the 
famous  Professor  of  Hebrew.    He  was, 
however,  greatly  moulded  by  the  friend- 
ships he  formed  there  for  such  men  as 
Dr.    James   Stalker,   Professor  Henry 
Drummond,  Dr.  George  Adam  Smith, 
and  the  Rev.  D.  M.  Ross,  of  Dundee, 
who  were  all  of  them  students  at  the 
time.    These  friends  formed  a  society, 
"The  Gaiety  Club,"  which  still  meets 
periodically,  and  to  the  inter    urse  car- 
ried on  there  and  elsewhere  all  of  them 
express  a  continual  debt.   Mr.  Watson 
says  that  the  first  writer  who  left  any 
impression  on  his  mind  was  Scott,  whom 
he  read  very  eagerly.    He  studied  the 
Waverlcy  Novels,  with  their  prefaces, 
introductions,   and  notes,  and  became 
saturated  with  Scott  s  spirit.  Another 
stage  of  his  development  was  marlced 
by  tlie  name  of  Tliomas  Caij[yle.  and 
still  another  by  that  of  Matthew  Arnold. 
Four  authors  he  singles  out  as  his  mas- 
iters — Scott,  Carjyle,  Matthew  Arnold, 
•and  Sceley,  the  author  of  £cct  Homo. 
During  his  stay  in  Edinburgh  Mr. 
Watson  attended   the  ministry  of  Dr. 
Horatius  Bonar,  the  well-known  hymn- 
writer  ;  a  friend  of  Dr.  Bonar's,  the 
Rev.  John  Mtlne,  had  been  his  minister 
in  Free  St.  Leonard's,  Perth  ;  and  in 
Stirling  he  had  heard  the  sermons  of 
Dr.  Beith,  whom  he  describes  as  a  great 
Highland  orator.    Though  not  in  sym- 
jiathy  witli   the  strict  conser\'atism  of 
tlie  lionar  school,  he  was  attracted  by 
their  ministry.    The  mystical  element 
in  their  preaching  proved  especially  con- 
genial.    He  served  as  assistant  for  a 
short  time  to  Dr.  J.  H.  Wilson,  of  the 
Barclay  Church  in  Edinburgh,  and  then 
became  minister  of  the  Free  Church  in 
Logicalmond,  in  Perthshire,  now  so  well 
known  as  Drumtochty.    There  his  uncle 
had  h»*fn  minister  before  the  Disruption 
of  The  congregation  was  very 

small,  but  the  work  was  pleasant,  and 
the  young  minister  made  a  close  study 
of  his  people.  It  is  noteworthy  that 
while  at  Logicalmond  he  had  literary 
plans  very  much  in  the  line  of  those 
which  were  oarried  out  twenty  years 


later.    He  had,  in  fact,  conceived  a  book 

which  would  have  been  very  much  on 
the  lines  of  Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush^ 
but  self-distrust  prevented  him  from 
going  on.  Doubtless  neither  he  nor  the 
world  has  suffered  from  this  delay.  A 
brilliant  popular  preacher,  he  naturally 
soon  received  invitations  to  leave  his 
quiet  palish,  and  he  ultimately  accepted 
one  from  St.  Matthew's  in  Glasgow  to 
be  colleague  to  Dr.  Samuel  Miller.  Dr. 
Miller  was  a  man  of  the  old  school,  and 
very  pronounced  in  his  views  ;  but  his 
relations  with  his  colleague  were  most 
harmonious,  and  he  once  said  that  he 
had  never  heard  Watson  say  anything 
to  which  he  could  not  say  amen.  But 
Mr.  Watson  found  his  true  sphere  when, 
three  years  later,  he  became  minister  of 
a  new  Presbyterian  church  built  in  Sef- 
ton  Park,  Liverpool.  The  building  was 
a  very  handsome  one,  and  the  neigh- 
bourhood was  gradually  rising.  The 
young  minister  was  now  able  to  draw 
round  him  people  of  his  own  type,  and 
he  thinks  he  began  to  find  himself 
shortly  after  he  settled  in  Liverpool. 
Now  the  fine  church  is  constantly  crowd- 
(  il  by  one  of  the  largest  and  most  influ- 
ential congregations  in  Liverpool,  and 
there  cannot  be  much  hesitation  in  say- 
ing that  among  English  preachers  of  the 
younger  generation  Mr.  Watson  holds  a 
foremost,  if  not  the  first  place.  Al- 
though he  writes  his  sermons,  he  does 
not  read  them,  and  he  is  a  speaker  of 
extraordinary  force  and  clearness. 
Touches  of  pathos  are  not  infrequent  in 
his  serm<Mis,  but,  as  a  rule,  he  avoids 
humour.  He  has  a  strong  sense  of  rev- 
erence, and  the  service  In  Sefton  Park 
Church,  which  has  been  carefully  ar« 
ranged  by  himself,  satisfies  every  re- 
quirement alike  of  culture  and  devotion. 

Mr.  Watson  went  on  happily  and 
busily  in  this  service  for  seventeen  years, 
making  for  himself  a  great  reputation 
in  Liverpool,  where  he  was,  and  is,  per- 
haps, the  most  influential  minister,  but 
not  much  known  outside  save  in  Pres- 
byterian circles.  It  is  not  two  years 
Stncet  on  the  suggestion  of  a  friend,  he 
commenced  writing  the  sketches  which 
have  given  him  a  world-wide  fame.  His 
devotion,  however,  is  still  given  to  the 
pulpit,  and  his  literary  work  he  looks 
upon  as  quite  secondary.  Besides  the 
Bonme  Brier  Bush  and  The  Days  of  Auli 
Lang  Syne  he  has  printed  a  number  of 
religious  articles,  which  will  ultimately 


Digitized  by  Google 


3»4 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


be  collected  ;  and  his  first  long  novel  is 

to  be  published  during   1896   in  the 
Woman  at  Home  in  England,  and  con- 
jointly itt  Thb  Bookman  and  the  OuHook 

in  America,  under  the  title  KaU  Car- 
tttgie.  The  first  instalment  appears  in 
January. 

Mr.  Watson  is  a  most  energetic  work- 
er ;  he  never  loiters,  he  never  trifles,  but 
has  always  everything  in  strict  order. 
The  books  in  his  beautifully  furnished 
study  are  mostly  of  a  technical  kind. 
There  are  many  works  of  philosophy  and 
theology ;  evidently  ethics  is  a  favourite 


subject.   Of  fictioa  and  light  literature 

generally  there  is  verv  little,  but  one 
notices  a  fine  set  of  TiiacRcray.  There 
are  many  of  the  best  books  on  art,  a 
subject  in  which  Mr.  Watson  is  deeply 
interested.  In  reply  to  urgent  invita- 
tions from  America,  Mr.  Watson  has  ar> 
ranged  to  visit  that  country  in  the  au- 
tumn of  next  year.  His  business  ar- 
rangements will  be  managed  by  Major 
Pond. 

MertsM  NieM. 
London,  October  «4,  1895. 


PARIS  LETTER. 


"  1  do  not  know  who  was  the  writer 

of  the  alarming  articles  about  my 
hf'alth."  writes  Alphonse  Dandet  to  me 
in  answer  to  a  letter  I  sent  lu  Cham- 
prosay,  **  They  resemble  that  interview 
wliii  li  was  printed  on  my  rettirn  from 
Hni^l.iiid,  in  which  I  was  made  to  com- 
ment on  the  want  of  beauty  amongst 
Englishwomen.  I  am,"  he  continues, 
*'  in  no  worse  health  than  usually.  Pain 
.  .  .  but  life  and  power  to  work."  It 
had  been  reported  that  he  was  too  ill  to 
be  moved  from  Cbamprosay.  In  his 
letter  he  informs  me  that  his  family  and 
himself  are  returning  to  Paris  in  a  week. 
Daudet  always  delays  his  return  as 
much  as  possible,  because  he  is  so  much 
happier  in  the  lonntry.  Madame  Dau- 
det, on  the  other  hand,  vraie  Parisienne 
as  she  is,  is  never  really  happy  away 
from  Paris,  It  is  a  pity  that  these 
alarming  reports  are  periodically  spread 
about  Alphonse  Daudet's  health,  caus- 
ing, as  they  do,  anxiety  to  his  nun^rrmis 
friends  the  world  over.  It  is  all  the 
more  a  pity  because  these  reports  are 
prompted  by  malevolence  at  their  orig- 
inal source.  Actual  injury  is  done  to 
M.  Daudet  by  them  ;  for  people  natu- 
rally do  not  care  to  buy  books  which 
are  represented  as  havintj  lieen  written 
on  a  bed  of  sickness.  Daudet  has  com- 
plained to  me  bitterly  of  these  manoeu- 
vres. A  t  t  lie  \ i tti e  u  hen  La  Petite  Paroisse 
was  published,  he  had  been  so  sedu- 
lously represented  as  being  in  the  last 
stages  of  physical  and  mental  prostration 
that  at  first  very  few  persons  bought  his 


new  book.  "  I  was  quite  prepared  for 
a  complete  failure,"  he  told  me. 

.Mr.  .\ll)ert  Savine  writes,  apropos  of 
a  note  of  mine  in  last  month's  Bookman, 
to  say  tliat  the  Nouvelles  Italiennes  of 
Stendhal,  which  he  is  about  to  publish, 
is  not  a  new  edition  of  certain  of  Sten- 
dhal's nouvelles,  but  a  collection  of  un- 
published stories  by  that  great  writer. 
I  did  not  know,  until  I  received  Mr. 
Savine's  letter,  that  there  remained  a 
sinj^le  line  of  Stendhal's  writinp;s  un- 
printed.  All  the  more  interest  will  at- 
tach to  this  volume. 

The  most  alisurd  stories  have  been 
circulated  as  to  the  amounts  offered  to 
M.  Henri  Rochefort  for  his  memoirs  by 
the  American  publishers,  and  I  see  that 
one  of  these  stories  has  got  over  to  Lon- 
don, and  that  one  of  the  papers  there 
gravely  prints  the  statement  that  M. 
Henri  Roi  iu  tort  has  received  an  offer 
of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  ster- 
ling for  the  American  rights  of  his  mem- 
oirs, which  are  now  appearing  in  Le 
Jour.  There  is,  of  course,  not  a  word 
of  truth  in  this,  though  very  possibly 
some  American  publisher  may  have 
boasted  of  having  made  such  an  otter, 
absurd  as  the  statement  is  on  the  face 
of  it.  Rtichefort's  memoirs  are  beincj 
pirated  day  by  day,  each  JeuiUeton  being 
hastily  translated  and  mailed  to  the 
States.  This  is  what  used  to  l)e  done 
with  Emiie  Zola's  books,  when  appear- 
ing in  fcuithton^  before  M.  Zola  took 
steps  to  protect  his  foreign  rights. 
There  was  a  regular  factory  of  pirated 


uiym^ed  by  GoOglc 


A  UTERAKY  JOURNAL 


3»5 


leoods  for  export  to  America  in  those 

days  in  Paris  ;  a  factory  presided  over, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  by  an  Englishman. 
This  scoundrel  used  to  hire  English  gov< 
ernes<!es  out  of  wnrk  in  Paris  to  do  tlie 
translations,  and  used  to  pay  the  wretch- 
ed f^rls  two  francs  a  day  for  twelve 
hours*  work.  He  insisted  on  havinc^  all 
Zola's  realistic  expressions  translated 
into  equally  realistic  English  words. 
One  of  his  slaves  came  crying  to  me  t'> 
complain  ot  her  treatment,  and  I  wrote 
to  Mr.  Stead  about  it.  A  sharp  note  in 
the  P.i/i'  MdU  Gazette  gave  a  useful  hint 
to  the  pirate  and  sweater. 

Rochefort's  memoirs  ought  to  be  in- 
teresting from  about  four  years  before 
the  war,  when  he  began  publishing  his 
famous  Lanterne,  which  did  more  to 
overthrow  the  Third  Empire  than  even 
Sedan.  His  boyhood  and  early  man- 
ho<jd  were  humdrum  enough.  iJaudet 
met  hi  in  when  he  was  about  twenty-five, 
and  found  him  a  quiet,  unpretendinc:, 
modest  young  man,  who,  at  that  time, 
filled  an  obscure  post  in  the  offices  of 
the  Municipal  Council,  whence  he  used 
to  send  out  on  municipal  paper  contri- 
butions to  various  Parisian  papers, 
which  for  ihe  most  part  were  promptly 
rejected.  His  experiences  in  the  Com- 
mune and  as  a  political  prisoner  are  al- 
ready well  known,  and  one  will  be  euri 
ous  to  hear  what  new  things  he  may 
have  to  say  about  them.  I  hope  that  he 
may  be  frank  and  full  about  his  rela- 
tions with  poor  General  Boulanger,  and 
let  us  know  exactly  to  what  extent  he 
influenced  that  unhappy  man's  action. 
His  comments  on  Eni^tand  and  life  in 
England  are  sure  to  be  not  only  inter- 
esting, but  flattering  to  our  avii'ur  proprty 
as  diirini^  his  exile  in  London  In?  grew 
to  like  us  and  to  admire  our  institu- 
tions. Everybody  is  reading  Le  Jour, 
Of  this  pappf,  tinder  Laurent's  editor- 
ship, there  used  to  be  printed  about  five 
hundred  copies,  of  which  perhaps  two 
hundred  were  sold.  I  hear  that  the  cir- 
culation is  at  present  above  200,000 
copies.  Rochefort  is  very  popular  with 
many  classes  in  Paris,  though  certain 
Socialist  groups  detest  him  ;  and  1  can 
well  understand  his  popularity.  He  is 
not  only  a  brilliant  writer  and  a  humour- 
ist with  whom  few  can  be  compared, 
but  a  thoroughly  honest  and  most  good- 
hearted  man.  Of  his  kindness  of  heart 
1  can  give  two  examples.  Whilst  he 
was  Uving  in  London  be  heard  one  day 


that  a  man  who  had  been  hanged  in 

Newgate  some  days  previotisly  for  a 
murder  which  had  exeited  Roehefurt's 
interest,  had  left  a  little  daughter  en- 
tirelv  unprovided  for  and  destitute. 
Kochefort  had  the  child  brought  to  him, 
and  adopted  her.  Again,  whilst  he  was 
livincc  in  London,  liis  scullery-maid — an 
English  girl — got  herself  into  "trouble" 
and  being  unable  to  conceal  her  cbn- 
dition  any  longer,  went  to  see  the  "  mas- 
ter" and  confessed,  expecting  to  be 
bundled  out  of  the  house.  Rochefort 

spoke  Id  her  verv  kindly,  and  etuiuired 
the  name  of  the  man.  The  girl  told 
bim  it  was  his  coachman.  Rochefort  at 
once  sent  for  him,  pointed  out  to  him 
what  his  duty  was,  and  promised  that 
if  he  would  marry  the  girl  he  would 
provide  her  with  a  trousseau  and  a  small 
dowry,  and  would  keep  both  in  his  ser- 
vice. The  man  consented,  and  tlicre  is 
one  betrayed  woman  the  less  in  Lon- 
don. The  f.ict  is  tliat  Rochefiirt  is  a 
gentleman,  and,  though  he  scoffs  at  all 
class  distinctions,  is  m  himself  and  in 
his  eharactcr  the  exemplification  of  the 
old  boast  ot  the  classes :  noblesse  oblig*, 
I  have  known  him  for  the  last  eleven 
years,  and  never  once  had  any  reason  to 
alter  my  very  high  opinion  of  his  char- 
acter. But  what  I  chiefly  admire  in 
htm  Is  his  talent.  Each  day  he  lias 
something  fresh  and  striking  to  say  in 
his  daily  article  in  V I^ansigeanivtm^ 
iiKtst  of  US  would  as  soon  m«ss  as  the 
first  cigarette  after  dejeuner.  These  arti- 
cles are  written  with  extraordinary 
rapidity.  I  once  called  upon  Rochefort 
at  the  Intransigeant  office,  and  found 
him  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  just  preparing 
to  write  his  daily  leader.  One  min- 
ute," he  said,  sitting  down  to  his  table, 
"«//  moment  ct  je  suis  ^  j'ous."  He  then 
sat  down  and  began  writing  with  great 
speed.  He  was  certainly  more  than  a 
minute,  but  whatever  the  space  of  time 
was,  it  was  very  short.  He  had  written 
his  chi'oni'iui  as  I  sal  lliere.  .\  curious 
circumstance  about  Rochefort's  articles, 
which  are  always  preceded  by  remark- 
ably witty  titles,  is  that  he  never  decides 
on  his  title  until  the  article  is  written. 
I  have  seen  many  of  his  pieces  of  copy. 
At  the  end  of  each  article  one  sees  the 
words  :  Head  this — (whatever  the  title 
niiiy  be). 

A  society  of  authors  who  have  syndi- 
cated for  the  purpose  of  printing  and 
publishing  their  own  works  has  recently 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


3i6 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


been  formed  in  Paris,  under  the  desig- 
nation of  "  Soci^te  Libre  d'£dition  Des 
Gens  de  Lettres."  Its  offices  are  at  ii 
Rue  d'Ulm,  and  the  secretary-general's 
name  is  Henri  Rainaldy,  who  very  will- 
ingly, sends  all  information  on  the  sub- 
ject oi  the  expectations  of  the  Society. 

Its  fundamental  principle  is  "  Les  Au- 
teurs  6ditant  eux-memes  leurs  ceuvres 
sous  le  regime  de  la  Mutuality"  Amongst 
distinguished  authors  on  the  Comity  de 
Patronap;e  are  Alexander  Dumas,  St^- 
phane  Mallann^,  Jules  Barbier,  Henry 
Becque,  and  Henry  Bauer.  The  Society 
has  already  got  to  work,  and  has  just 
published  at  its  expense  two  books  writ- 
ten by  members  and  approved  of  by  the 
readers  to  the  society  :  La  Grande  Kutt, 
by  Henry  I'Huissier,  and  Quand  /<•  Tour 
est  /ou/,  by  Michel  Jic6.  Botli  these 
books  are  published  at  3  franes  50  c. 
although  it  is  the  intention  of  the  So- 
ciety eventually  to  force  down  the  price 
of  the  French  novel  from  3  francs  50 
C.  to  2  francs.  I  shall  wait  to  see  the 
Society  more  fully  at  work,  and,  when 
it  has  come  out  01^ the  very  fierce  battle 
which  it  will  have  to  fight  against  the 
various  monopolies  in  France,  I  will 
give  some  further  accuunt  of  it  in  these 
pages.  Personally  speaking,  I  do  not 
think  that,  under  existing  circumstances, 
it  has  much  chance  of  success. 

"  Gyp,"  I  am  glad  to  say,  is  quite 
well  ap^ain,  after  a  very  serious  illness. 
The  fact  is  that  Madame  de  Martel 
greatly  overworks  herself.  It  takes  her 
more  labour  than  most  imagine  to  turn 
out,  polish  and  repolish.  tlie  li^^ht  but 
most  cleg"ant  literature  which  ib  usi>oci- 
ated  witli  her  name. 

On  Thursday  last,  October  17th, 
Henri  de  R^gnier,  the  poet,  married 
Marie  de  Her^dia,  the  daughter  of 
Ilcrcflia,  Parnassian  poet  and  Academi- 
cian. This  marriage  was  ftrst  spoken 
of  about  eighteen  months  ago,  but  was 
persistently  denied  both  by  the  Her^dias 
and  by  de  R^gnier  himself  ;  so  recently, 


indeed,  that  only  two  months  &gQ  I  felt 

authorised  to  deny  the  report  in  Tps. 
Bookman.    However,  it  is  now  a  jaU 
accompli,  and  Marie  de  Her^dia  is  now 
Marie  de  Regnier.    The  marriag-e  Tras 
a  eood  deal  talked  about  in  Paris,  both 
R^gnier  and  the  HeriSdias  bein^  ex> 
tremely  popular  in  fashionable  as  v  r.'I 
as  in  literary  society.    One  cannot  im- 
agine Her6dia  being  anything  else  than 
popular,  or  a  "  jollier"  man>— jolly  is  tfu 
adjective  to  apply  to  him — it  would  be 
impossible  to  meet.    He  is  a  boisterous, 
exuberant  man,  and  when  he  is  in  a 
drawinp-room  never  ceases  talkinq;.  His 
conversation,  however,  is  so  entertaining 
that  one  is  glad  to  listen.   Albert  M^rat, 
in  his  triolets  on  the  contributors  to  Le 
I^arnasse^  which  was  the  official  organ 
of  the  Pama^^ian  poets,  thus  spoke  of 
him : 

"  Tout  tremble,  c'est  HerMiK, 
Hcrtdiji  qu'  incrtidia 
Un  rayon  de  mi!  huit  cent  trente  J 
Tout  tremble,  c'est  Her^dia 
A  1«  voix  teroncbe  et  vibnmte.** 

He  has  written  poetry  for  thirty  years, 

hut  with  such  infinite  care  that  liis  en- 
tire production  is  limited  to  a  single  vol- 
ume, Les  Trophies  ;  on  the  strength  of 
which  he  was  elected  to  the  French 
Academy.  His  son-in-law,  R^gnier, 
who  may  aptly  be  described  as  the  Lu- 
cien  de  Rubempr6  of  letters,  is  of  poets, 
as  of  hommes  du  monde  in  the  Paris  of 
to-day  the  most  elegant.  Amongst  his 
poetical  works  may  be  mentioned : 
FlUtes  if  A'l'rt'l  ft  ilc  St'ptcmhi  c\  Po/mes  An- 
cicns  ct  Romanesques^  lei  qu  en  Songe.  He 
is  a  very  precious  writer  of  prose.  Ma- 
dame de  Regnicr,  tu^e  dc  Hcr^dia,  has 
written,  under  a  pseudonym,  certain 
poems,  which,  published  in  the  Revui 
des  Deux  Mondes  and  other  important 
reviews,  have  attracted  a  good  deal  of 
lavuurablc  attention. 

Robert  Jf,  Skerari. 
123  Boulevard  Magenta,  Paris. 


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TWO  HISTORIES  OF  LITERATURE.* 

Here  we  have  indeed  a  rara  a-'i-  in 
terris  mgro^iu  simillima  cycao!  We  give 
the  quotation  in  fall,  as  in  some  way  ex- 
pressive of  our  astonishment.  Dr.  Wells 
is  a  scientific  student  of  his  subject  ;  he 
has  heard  Schcrcr  at  Berlin,  and  int^tead 
of  dabblinjs^  here  and  there  promiscuous- 
ly, has  had  the  severely  scholarly  train- 
tngof  the  German  universities;  yet  he  can 
put  himself  in  the  place  of  the  general 
reader,  and  feel  a  thoroup^hly  genuine 
sympathy  with  that  point  of  view.  He 
even  says  in  his  preface  that  **  most  cul- 
tured foreigners  will  never  be  German- 
ists,"  and  that  of  what  was  printed  in 
Germany  before  Lessing's  Literary  Let- 
ters "  there  is  very  little  that  a  cultured 
foreigner,  not  a  specialist,  needs  or  cares 
to  know." 

This  is  a  specialist  after  our  own 
heart,  with  all  the  accuracy  and  minute- 
ness of  learning  that  a  true  scholar 
should  have,  ana  yet  broad  enough  and 
sympathetic  enough,  and  with  a  suffi- 
ciently practical  mind  not  only  to  real- 
ise the  needs  and  wishes  of  those  whose 
J^ach  is  other  than  his  own,  but  actu- 
ally to  commend  them  and  heartily  to 
give  them  the  aid  and  comfort  of  his  own 
special  acquisitions.  If  Germany  turned 
out  more  men  such  as  Dr.  Wells.  Ameri- 
cans would  not  to-day  be  feeling  even 
unconsciously  a  reaction  against  the 
Teutonic  sway  of  the  last  twenty  years, 
and  casting  wistful  look<  at  the  ivied 
quadrangles*  of  the  Knglisli  universities. 

All  this  is,  perhaps,  rather  personal, 
as  we  are  not  reviewing  Dr.  Wells  but 
his  book  ;  yet  it  is  from  the  book  that 
we  eet  our  mental  impressions  of  Dr. 
Wells.  .\  most  delightful  book  it  is, 
too,  and  a  very  timely  one.  Here  is  not 
the  pedant's  work,  clogged  with  lumps 
of  undigested  lore,  but  the  play  of  a 
bright,  assimilative  mind  that  knows  its 
subject  su  well  as  to  be  perfectly  at  home 
with  it.  Beginning  with  a  chapter  on 
the  origins,  Dr.  Wells  passes  on  with  a 
firm,  neat  touch  to  Klopstock,  Wieland, 
and  Herder,  then  to  Lessing,  and  then  to 

*  Modern  German  Literature.  By  Benjamin 
W.  Wells.  Ph.D.    Boston;  Roberts  Bros.  $150. 

Latin  Literature.  By  J.  W  Mackail.  New 
York:  Charkt  Scribner  R  Sons,  fi.ss- 


Goethe,  to  whom,  as  tne  central  star  in 
his  constellation,  he  gives  three  chap- 
ters, proceeding  next  to  Schiller,  to  Rich* 
ter  and  the  Romantic  .School,  to  Heine, 
and  ending  wUii  a  rapid  sketch  in  34 
pages  of  the  imaginative  literature 
of  Germany  since  1850.  Everywhere 
the  author  selects  just  the  right  things 
to  say,  blending  the  biographic  with  the 
nnrrntivr  and  critical  elements,  and  se- 
lecting very  happily  the  most  charac- 
teristic bits  of  quotation  to  illustrate 
his  judgments,  to  instruct  the  reader, 
and  to  stimulate  a  healthy  literary  curi- 
osity. The  chapter  on  Heine,  that  sar- 
donic smile  on  the  lips  of  the  Weltgeist, 
is  to  us  perhaps  the  best  in  the  whole 
book,  as  it  must  have  been  the  most 
difficult  to  write.  We  note  again  with 
the  same  .I  !  .1  Imiring  envy  the  brilliant 
and  utterly  un-Teutonic  sparkles  of  wit 
that  one  never  tires  of  repeating  ;  the 
jests  on  England  and  the  English  ;  that 
epigram  on  a  German  wmter ;  the 
cynical  but  amusing  vengeance  planned 
for  Madame  Wohl  ;  the  bursts  of  fun, 
and  i)h rases  of  beauty,  and  notes  of 
pathos,  that  to  the  last  sprang  into  life  at 
the  touch  of  this  strange  Deing,  even 
when  he  lay  tortured  with  pain,  half 
deaf  and  almost  wholly  blind,  and 
dreaming  weird  opium  dreams  as  he 
tossed  and  gasped  upon  his  mattress. 

We  may  not  dwell  any  longer  tipon 
this  book,  but  we  can  most  unreservedly 
commend  it.  More  than  it  contains  of 
the  history  of  German  literature,  as  Dr. 
Wells  has  said,  the  man  of  general  cul- 
ture need  not  know :  but  less  than  it 
contains  he  will  hereafter  be  censurable 
for  not  knowing,  now  that  so  judicious 
and  genial  a  guide  Stands  ready  to  im- 
part it  to  him. 

Mr.  Mackail's  compact  survey  of 
Latin  literature  is  in  every  way  as  good 
reading  as  Dr.  Wells's  account  of  the 
moflern  German,  and  it  is  written  from 
very  much  the  same  point  of  view  ;  but 
in  its  finish  and  elegance  it  is  far  supe- 
rior. In  fact,  tliesi'  two  books  might 
well  be  taken  as  affording  an  e.xcellent 
means  of  comparing  the  culture  derived 
from  the  Study  of  a  modern  language  and 
literature  with  that  which  is  imparted 
by  the  ancient  classics.  Mr.  Mackaii  is 
just  as  sympathetic  and  as  sensible  as 


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Dr.  Wells,  but  his  writin|;  is  character- 
ised by  somethinpj  rarer  than  sympathy 
and  sense.  It  has  a  subtle  distinction 
about  it,  a  grace  and  elegance  that  fasci- 
nate and  refine.  The  author's  well 
known  studies  in  the  Greek  Anthology 
have  given  him  a  deftness  of  touch  and  a 
certain  finish  that  one  cannot  praise  too 
highly.  The  whole  volume  is  written  as 
a  highly  cultivated  man  would  write  of  a 
subjec  t  with  which  he  is  wholly  familiar, 
out  of  a  full  mind  and  with  an  artis- 
tic perception  of  just  what  is  neces- 
sary in  order  to  impart  to  the  reader 
somcthim^  of  his  own  intimate  and  dis- 
criminating knowledge.  Nothing  fur- 
ther removed  from  a  text-book  on  litera- 
ture could  well  be  imagined.  There  is 
nothing  of  the  style  of  an  encyclopredia 
article  about  it.  He  does  not  enumerate 
lists  of  worics,  bewilder  with  dates,  or 
rr-|.--I  with  masses  of  facts  tliat  liave 
long  been  trite  and  tiresome,  lie  rather 
brings  to  one  the  very  spirit  of  the  great 
writers  of  whom  he  tells,  and  often  in  a 
few  sentences  makes  us  /ef/  just  what 
each  stands  for.  This  sense  of  pro> 
portion  is  most  admirable,  and  he  never 
forgets  that  he  is  making  a  study  of  pure 
literature,  and  not  writing  a  bibliogra- 
phy ;  so  that  what  some  may  regard  as 
a  lack  of  perspective  is  rather  the  abso- 
lute proof  of  its  possession,  as  when  he 
gives  far  more  space  to  a  single  poem— 
the  unique  and  exrjuisite  Pervigilium 
Veneris — than  to  the  whole  twenty  books 
of  Aulus  Gellius. 

There  is  little  or  nothing  to  object  to 
in  his  judgments.  He  has  done  full  jus- 
tice to  Ennius,  and  perhaps  a  little  less 
than  Justice  to  Plautus,  possibly  because 
thf  roarspness  and  horseplay  nf  Phmtus 
at  his  worst  have  been  allowed  to  obscure 
the  power  and  dignity  of  Plautus  at  his 
best.  His  criticism  of  both  Catullus 
and  Lucretius  fs  exquisitely  done, 
though  we  personally  object  to  his  low 
estimate  of  the  Atys — that  weird  and 
wonderful  bit  of  Orientalism.  In  speak- 
ing of  Petronius,  he  falls  into  no  such 
mistake  as  that  of  Professor  Tyrrell, 
which  we  pointi  d  nut  some  time  ago  ; 
and  his  judgment  ot  the  Horatian  Odes 
deserves  to  be  quoted  as  an  offset  to  the 
exaggerated  flepreciation  >  .f  tlic  brilliant 
Dublin  scholar ;  yet  we  can  find  space 
for  only  the  concluding  sentences  : 

"His  vivid  and  dearly-cut  descriptions  of  n». 

lure  in  single  lines  and  phrases  stand  out  by  them- 
selves like  golden  tesserae  in  a  mosaic,  each  di.^^- 


linct  in  a  Rliticrinp  .itmosphcre.  .  .  .  all  exquis- 
itely turned  and  all  with  tbe  same  effect  of  detAch 
meot  which  m*kc»  them  afcia  to  sculpture  r^tser 
than  to  planting  or  to  mask.  ...  '  ^^c.  ^ 
goMen  mediocrity,'  to  use  the  words  of  hk  owv 
counsel  to  Liciiiius  Ilor.ne  has  somehow  l«l.fra 
deep  ()i>1l1  of  the  mini!  and  t  vcn  of  the  itna^in-i- 
tion  of  nKtnkiiul.  This  vcrv  mediocrity.  «^  finr. 
so  chastened,  so  certain,  is  in  truth  as  inimhibie 
as  any  other  great  artistic  quality  ,  we  must  \±L 
back  on  the  word  senius.  nod  rrmember  thai 
gealuB  lioM  not  confine  tisetf  within  the  Irordcn 
of  any  theot]r»  but  wodcs  its  own  will-** 

There  is  much  more  that  we  should  lik? 
to  quote — from  his  criticism  of  the  dra- 
matic  work  of  Ennius,  with  an  unerring 
selection  of  all  that  is  most  character- 
i";tio  and  beautiful,  and  his  praise  ol  Lu- 
cretius for  that  great  passage  on  the 
mortality  of  the  soul — "  which  Vergil 
himself  never  equallrd.  and  wlu^  h  in  its 
lofty  passion,  its  piercing  tenderness, 
and  the  stately  roll  of  its  cadences  is  per* 
haps  unmatched  in  human  speech,  *— 
down  to  what  is  sai'l  of  the  picturesque 
Afosella  of  Ausonius,  whom  Mr.  Mackail 
cleverly  calls  "  not  merely  the  last  of  the 
Latin,  but  tliL-  first  of  the  French  poet>." 

Altogether  one  does  not  often  lind  in 
a  single  season  two  boolcs  on  foreign 
literature  that  are  in  their  way  s  ^  lumi- 
nous, SO  instructive,  and  so  satisfactory. 

H.  T  P. 


MARION  CRAWFORD'S  NEW  NOVEL* 

A  less  experienced  or  a  less  able 
writer  than  Mr.  Crawff>rd  would  wise^r 
hesitate  before  attempting  so  intricate  a 
plan  of  construction  as  has  been  sue* 
cessfully  worked  out  in  Casa  Braaio, 
which  is  quite  unlike  the  Saracinesca 
books,  in  that  the  story  of  successive 
generations  is  included  under  the  one 
title  ;  and  also,  in  that  the  heroine  of 
the  first  part  dies  before  the  new  char- 
acters are  introduced.    Thus  the  neces- 
sity rtf  preserving  artistic  proportions 
and  of  sustaining  the  reader's  interest 
presents  difficulties  which  only  a  master 
of  Ills  art  could  venture  t*>  face  The 
fact  that  Marion  Crawford  has  proved 
equal  to  the  task  he  set  himself  helps  to 
place  this  story  of  Roman  life  above  its 

predecessors. 

Casa  ISraccio  claims  to  be  the  story  of 
*'  inevitable  logical  consequences'*  fol- 
lowing upon  the  act  of  a  young  nun  in 

*  Casa  Bracdo.    By  F.  Marioo  CnwfonL 
New  York  :  MacmiUan  &  Co.  fa.oa 


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3>9 


leaving  her  convent  to  marry  the  man 
she  loved.  Her  deed  is  subsequently 
referred  to  as  a  "  deadly  sin"  and  as 
"sacrilege."  Tlie  reader  will  suspect 
that  this  point  of  view  is  assumed  for 
obvious  artistic  reasons,  and  may  be  in- 
terested in  the  report  that  the  first  part 
of  Casa  Brauio  is  founded  upon  fact, 
save  that  the  real  nun  was  not  pursued 
by  the  "  inevitable,  logical  conse- 
quenres"  of  her  "  deadly  sin."  Wheth- 
er tins  report  be  true  or  not,  however, 
life  dares  to  be  as  tragic  and  fate  as  re- 
lentless as  in  L\iui  /h-accio,  and  those 
who  least  appreciate  this  fact  will  most 
freely  criticise  these  features  of  the 
story. 

The  two  parts  of  Casa  Braccio  are  sepa- 
rated by  a  lapse  of  seventeen  years,  dur- 
ing which  the  first  heroine,  Maria  Ad- 
dolornin,  dies  ;  and  her  dauLjJiter,  ihe 
second  heroine,  grows  into  womanhood. 
The  early  part  of  the  story  is  kept  some- 
what  sul)servi<'nt  to  its  seiiiu-l,  and  its 
crisis  is  less  accentuated  than  that  which 
follows.  Indeed,  throughout  the  whole 
story  Mr.  Crawford's  consummate  con- 
structive skill  shows  at  its  best.  The 
death  of  Maria  Addoloratu  and  the 
jjrief  of  her  husband  are  sunk  into  the 
silence  of  the  intermission,  that  the 
death  of  Gloria  and  the  sorrow  of  Griggs 
may  stand  out  the  more  strongly.  The 
heart  affairs  of  Rcanda  are  painted  in 
subdued  tones,  that  the  intensity  of 
Griggs's  passion  may  be  more  vividly 
realised.  And,  despite  the  following 
of  tragedy  after  trat^edy,  the  reader 
knows  well  when  lie  reaches  the  su- 
preme point.  What  writer  has  con- 
ceived a  more  masterly  revenj^e  or  a 
more  overwhelming  sorrow  than  is  de- 
picted in  the  scene  where  Paul  Griggs's 
love  for  the  dead  Gloria  is  slain  i>y  re- 
ceiving, through  the  dying  wish  of  her 
wrong«i  husband,  the  packet  of  let- 
ters ! 

Thoni_'h  ^'7^>?  Braccio  may  not  be  more 
tragic  tiiai;  liie  itself,  it  is  not  nearly  so 
luimonjus.  If  real  life  furnishes  early 
dcitli,  siiieide,  heartbreak,  and  mur- 
der, it  furnishes  also  some  amusement. 
But  there  is  nothing  to  laugh  at  in  Casa 
Braccio.  And  what  is  yet  more  strange, 
there  is  nothing  to  cry  about.  With  a 
masterly  capacity  for  creating  scenes 
full  of  inherent  pathos,  Mr.  Crawford 
docs  not  touch  the  heart.  Oddly 
enough,  he  affects  the  reader  somewhat 
as  be  declares  his  own  characters  to  be 


affected  with  the  physical  symptoms  of 
grief.  Convinced  of  the  author  s  pow- 
ers of  observation,  one  is  read\  to  t)e- 
lieve  that  a  man  overtaken  by  sudden, 
heartbreaking  sorrow,  may  feel  as  did 
Paul  Griggs  when  he  received  the  let- 
ters Gloria  wrote  her  husband.  "  An 
icy  chill  smote  him  in  the  neck,  and  his 
strong  limbs  shook  to  his  feet.  Rigid, 
and  feeling  as  though  great  icy  hands 
were  drawing  him  np  by  the  neck  from 
the  ground,  Paul  Griggs  stood  up- 
right, stark  with  the  stress  of  rending 
soul  and  breakincj  heart."  And  the 
reader  may  experience  the  very  chill  of 
horror  described,  and  shudder  at  the 
awful  situation  of  the  unfortunate  man  ; 
but  who,  however  gentle,  will  shed  one 
tear  over  Paul  Griggs's  broken  heart  ? 
And  before  this  scene,  when  the  Ro- 
man siniE^crs  come  to  sing^  over  Gloria's 
lonely  grave,  and  Griggs  stands  beside 
them  in  his  strong,  silent  grief,  the 
reader  is  absorbed  in  the  beauty  and 
power  of  the  description  rather  than 
moved  by  the  inevitable  pathos  of  the 
scene. 

Mr.  Crawford's  diction  is  always 
felicitous,  and  his  cajuicity  for  obser- 
vation seems  to  be  unlimit('d  ;  besides 
which  he  has  the  dramatic  instinct,  and 
knows  how  to  tell  a  story  well.  But 
he  has  not  the  power,  subtle  and  escap- 
in^  analysis,  which  some  lesser  writers 
possess  in  a  marked  degree — the  power 
of  taking  possession  of  his  reader,  and 
working  from  within,  so  to  speak,  thus 
making  one  experience  the  scenes  de- 
scribed ralhcr  than  observe  them.  There 
is  a  hint  of  mechanical  construction  and 
of  theatrical  effect  in  parts  of  Casa  Brac- 
cio which  are  incompatible  with  the 
simplicity  and  spontaneity  necessary  to 
command  the  human  heart  ;  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  Mr,  Crawford's  knowledge  of 
human  nature  is  rather  the  result  of  ob- 
servation and  thought  than  of  intuition. 
The  knowledge  is,  nevertheless,  often 
startling  in  its  accuracy  ;  and  if  the  cliar- 
acters  of  Osia  Braccio  are  not  destined 
to  follow  the  reader  when  he  lays  the 
book  aside,  it  is  not  because  they  are  care- 
lessly constructed.  Paul  Griggs  gives, 
perhaps,  a  stronger  impression  of  real 
individuality  than  do  the  other  person- 
ages of  the  story  ;  and  it  is  interesting 
to  find  that  the  mystery  concerning  his 
youn^  manhood,  which  so  stirs  otir  curi- 
osity in  The  KaistonSy  is  solved  in  Casa 
Braccio,   As  every  one  knows,  Griggs 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


IS  said  to  be,  in  a  way,  a  delineation  of 
the  author  himself.  In  Francesca  Cam- 
ti*id<>iiirn,  Mr.  Ctcuvford  has  succeeded 
m  the  very  dilhcult  tabk  of  portraying 
an  altogether  noble  woman,  who  is  not 
a  mere  repository  of  the  feminine  vir- 
tues. This  triumph  he  also  achieved  in 
Corona  of  the  Saracinesca  storiei, 
though  Corona  was  less  angelic  than 
Francesca,  and  therefore  easier  to  ere* 
ate. 

The  world  has,  indeed,  to  thank  Mr. 

Crawford  for  his  altogetJu     sane  and 

Burc  conception  of  life  anU  character, 
te  is  unpolluted  by  modem  cynicism 
or  eroticism  ;  and  he  avows  his  belief 
in  good  women,  and  noble  faith  and 
high  purpose.  Yet  he  never  preaches, 
nor  even  moralises.  He  is  simply  too 
true  an  artist  and  tof)  keen  an  observer 
to  allow  the  fads  of  the  day  to  obscure 
his  vision  of  life. 

Virginia  Yeaman  Remmts, 


THE  GURNEYS  OF  EARLHAM.* 

Mr.  Hare  has  had  to  jtq  over  a  good 
deal  of  familiar  ground  in  telling  of  a 
family  that  included,  in  one  generation, 
Elizabeth  Fry,  Samiu  l  and  J  ■?,Lph  John 
Gurney,  and  Thomas  Fovvell  Buxton. 
But,  regarded  merely  as  a  contribution 
to  the  ijistory  of  English  religioui,  and 
philanthropic  life,  the  present  book  is 
not  superfluous,  seeing  that  its  chief 
aim  is  to  exhibit  the  wonderful  unity 
that  existed  between  the  different  mem- 
bers in  their  different  fields  of  energy, 
which  **  no  difference  of  mere  opinion 
cnnl  1  dim  or  alter,  influenced  all  their 
tiioughts,  and  stimulated  all  their  ac- 
tions ;'*  and  the  way  **  in  which — living 
and  working  for  others — tfiey  were  of 
one  heart  and  of  one  son!,  nritlieT  said 
any  of  them  that  auglit  of  the  tilings 
which  he  possessed  was  his  own,  but 
they  had  all  things  in  common."  .And 
Mr.  Hare's  search  amon^  the  family 
papers  has  thrown  fresh  light  on  some 
f  f  the  personal  characteristics  of  the 
better-known  philanthropists  among 
them,  if  the  record  of  their  labours  was 
complete  Ix  l' ore. 

!?nt  the  l)owk  is  <omcthiniX  more  than 
a  chapter  in  tiie  liistory  ot  philanthropy. 

•  The  Gurneys  of  Earlham.  By  Augustus  J. 
C.  Hare,  a  vols.  New  York:  DoUd,  McaJ  & 
Co.   f6.oo  net. 


It  is  a  gallery  of  strongly  individc^ 
portraits.    Their  prosperity,  the  intense 

f(<'!ing  of    responsibility    towards  ihtr 
less  fortunate,  common  to  them  all,  and 
the  Quaker  tradition,  led  to  that  unity 
in  good  aims  of  which  Mr.  Hare  speaks 
in  the  passage  quoted  above  ;  but  one 
can  make  curious  surmises  about  the 
careers  of  some  of  them  had  one  or 
other  of  these  factors  been  absent.  With 
a  warning  that  it  is  the  religious  hfc 
and  public  benevolence  of  a  Quaker 
family  that  is  the  main  theme  of  the 
book,  it  is  legitimate  to  pick  out  for 
particular  notice  some  phases  of  their 
life  none  the  less  humanly  interesting 
that  they  were  not  reflected  in  the  wr'-k 
which  each  gave  to  tiie  world.  It 
not  every  day  one  lights  on  anything 
genuinely  amusing  a5   the   ir>nrnal  of 
Louisa  Gurney  when  she  was  eleven  or 
twelve  years  old.    Not  all  of  the  family 
were  Quakerly  inclined,  but,  in  spite  ot 
the  moral  sentiments  she  capriciously 
indulged  in,  none  was  less  so  at  a  ten- 
der age  than  she  who  wrote  : 

"  I  am  really  a  most  disagreeable,  COmODOO 
character,  and  tlie  reason  why  people  love  me  can 
only  be  from  habit.  ..."   "  How  often  Saaday» 

do  seem  to  come  !    After  breakfast  I  went  to 
Goat's  (the  meeting  house  in  Goal's  Lane.  Nor 
wicb],  not  quite  so  dibai^rctalde  as  i.su.il.     I;  is 
aiitoiiiiihing  how  we  can  put  up  with  people  aod 
things.  .  .  ."    "  I  am  always  so  hafk|»y  lo  «sea|w 
from  the  claws  of  Goat's.    We  went  on  very 
nicely  in  oar  lessons ;  this  mominf  has  really 
improved  me,  and  hiw  nice  it  is  to  fefl(-<-;*if 
improved.  ...    In  the  t-vctimpf,  as  El!i<i  ^cjj  I 
\M_re  wiilkmi,',  Sc.irtu-ll  (".iiiic  h'ji:;c  .ir;d  told  us 
that  Windimtn  had  got  the  election.     I  cannot  say 
what  I  feel.  I  was  SO  vexed  -Kliza  and  I  cried. 
I  bated  all  the  aristocrats ;  I  felt  it  my  right  to 
hate  them.    I  was  (It  to  kill  them,  ..."  "In 
the  afternixm  we  walked  about  in^ii  >  1  of  Irssons 
— I  do  so  like  iTiy  Iit>erty.    I  ttiink  u  uu-st  silly  to 
Siring  childrrju   up  Id  Itc  always  at  work.     I  am 
.sure  I  should  be  letter  and   happier  if  1  did 
not  learn  much ;   it  does  iry  my  temper  so 
much.  ..."  "1  hate  the  common  way  of  teaching^ 
children  ;  people  treat  them  as  if  they  were 
idiot ami  never  let  them  judge  for  themselves." 
"*  Ahei  brcaklast  I  picked  must  of  the  servants 
some  gooseberries,  ami  Judd's  mother  a  whole 
basketful.    How  very  good  of  rae  !    I  have  the 
^eatest  pleasure  in  doingr  things  to  please  others ; 
It  is  one  of  my  best  qualities.  .  ,  .    Another  of 
my  qualities  which  people   call  most  bad,  but 
vvhiuh  I  think  rather  ^oo(i,  is  that  I  cannt  t  bear 
strict  authority  over  me.    1  do  from  the  bottom  uf 
my  heart  hate  the  preference  shown 'in  all  things 
to  my  elders,  merely  because  they  have  been  in 
the  world  a  little  longer.    1  do  love  equality  and 
democracy.  .  .  ."    "  I  read  half  a  Quaker's  book 
through  with  my  father  before  Meeting.    I  am 
quite  sorry  to  see  him  groiv  s(>  Quakerly.     I  bad 
a  most  i/zV  [disgusiingj  Goat's."    "  1  am  afraid 
1  shall  be  a  flirt  when  I  grow  up.   I  rcmily  do 


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■ 


A  UTERAftY  JOURNAL. 


fhfitk  I  shall.    It  is  rmtber  odd  for  ne  to  bef^in  to 

trills  ihout  flirting  ;  to  be  sure,  I  am  not  a  flirt  yet, 
but  liicn  1  think  I  shall  be.  Flirtatit  ruii:,'  .irises 
from  vanity  tou  great  lovc  of  aiJniir.itiin, 
DMrtkuiArijr  from  men.  ..."  "  I.asi  tu^hi  tlie 
HoAreaanid  KetiS  were  here  ;  uc  hud  a  fiddle  ;  it 
woald  have  been  more  deligbtfui  witb  a  pleasant 
party,  bat  I  enjoyed  it  thoroughly ;  nochtog  hardly 
can  be  disureeable  with  a  lieor,  darling,  elating 
fiddle."  "  F shall  not  say  much  of  that  day,  and 
indec  l  it  is  not  w  irth  saying  much  .iln-ut.  It  was 
flat,  ".lupiil,  uiiimjJiovinK,  and  Sundayisb.  I  spent 
fi?ur  hours  at  Meeting.  I  never,  never  wish  to 
see  that  na«tty  hile  aerain."  Yesterday  was  a 
day  of  giiticrintj  j)k-.;i.sure.  Such  days  are  glow- 
ing for  the  time,  tbea  they  vanish  like  a  shad- 
ow. .  .  •*  Oh,  how  I  long  to  get  a  great  broom, 
and  h  ing  .ill  the  old  Quakers,  who  do  look  so 
triuniplia^ui  and  disaKrecable."  "  We  xvcnt  on 
the  high  road  for  the  [>ur|i"sc  of  being  rmic  \o  tlu: 
people  that  passed.  1  du  itiink  being  rude  is  most 
pleasant  sometimes."  "  I  think  entirely  as  Kitty 
does  [written  in  a  fit  of  remorse],  that  it  is  almost 
impoa^le  to  pass  throoigh  dils  world  without 
haviag astrict  principle  over  ymir  nkidto  act  by. ' ' 
*'  Two  thinffs  raise  my  soal  lo  feet  devotion— na- 
ture and  music.  I  went  (iown  tlic  <I.ini  i-  yes- 
terday, I  gave  up  my  soul  to  the  enchanting  Mal> 
brack,  I  tlion^t  of  Heaven  and  of  Cod  " 

;\n  uiiinstructed  pi'uess  at  the  future 
of  this  precocious  child  would  certainly 
be  all  wrong.  A  somewhat  more  vir- 
tuous Marie  n.ishkirtseff  would  be  our 
conception.  Yet  she  became  the  wi£e 
of  the  banker,  Samuel  Hoare,  a  devout 
Churchwoman,  and  deserved  such  eulO" 
gies  as  these  :  from  Fowell  Bti.Kion, 
"  She  came  as  near  perfection  as  any 
human  being  I  ever  knew"  ;  from  Dr. 
Cha!mer=^,  "  One  of  the  finest  specimens 
of  feniiuiac  Christianity  I  ever  met." 
If  you  ask  for  the  fruits  of  her  meiit.il 
vivacity  yoti  learn  she  was  the  autli-M-  i  f 
Hints  on  Nursery  Discipline^  and  Frientii)' 
Hints  OH  the  Managemtnt  of  ChUdrtn. 
On?  stnjTe  in  the  journey  from  her  lively 
youth  to  her  disciplined  maturity  is  mark- 
ed in  the  letter  to  her  sister  Hannah, 
written  just  after  her  marriage,  in  which 
she  acknowledges  "  the  happiness  of  a 
union  with  my  dearest  Sam,"  but  adds, 
"  In  that,  as  in  all  otiier  things,  there 
are  feelings  of  Hatness  which  you  will 
not  misunderstand"  ;  and  a  glimpse  of 
the  delicate  nature  shrouded  in  the 
terms  of  conventional  praise  bestowed 
on  a  good  woman  is  seen  in  her  sister 
Mrs.  Fry's  journal  after  Louisa's  death 
— "  Her  very  susceptible  mind  was  so 
acutely  sensible  of  the  trials  uf  iiic,  ihat 
her  Lord  saw  that  she  had  had  enough 
— more  might  have  nvcrwhelmerl  her." 
Though  little  enougii  is  tolti  ot  her  life 
after  childhood,  Louisa  Gumey  is  the 
fascinating  figure  of  Mr.  Hare's  book. 


IIuiI  she  been  less  prosperous,  she  might 
have  had  more  of  what  her  soul  desired, 
"  her  liberty,"  But  uf  the  other  broth- 
ers and  sisters  there  are  jiictures,  too—  * 
of  Joseph  John,  who  so  vividly  impressed 
Geori>e  Borrow  and  furnished  one  of 
the  striking  scenes  in  Laven^ro^  the  em- 
bodiment of  his  own  maxim,  "  Ete  a 
whole  man  to  one  thing  at  a  time  ;"  of 
Betsy  (Elizabeth  Fry),  in  her  unregen- 
erate  days,  receiving  proposals  from 
ofTirrrs  at  a  ball,  or  finding  consolation 
amid  the  duiness  of  Meeting  in  her 
"  purple  boots  laced  with  scarlet;**  of 
Catherine,  the  mother  to  the  motherless 
family,  who  slipped  a  proposal  of  mar- 
riage  into  her  pocket  unread  and  forgot 
all  about  it— -ver^  luckily,  for  the  suitor 
changed  his  mmd  ;  of  Priscilla,  the 
gentle  preacher,  with  her  symjjatheiic 
tolerance  of  those  that  differed  from 
her,  who  would  smilingly  own  the  in- 
struction she  had  got  from  "  the  biog- 
raphy of  the  irreli^ous."  Well,  in  com- 
pensation, if  the  irrcligo^is  dip  into  this 
biography  of  pious  persons,  they  must 
perforce  adapt  Prisctlla's  acknowledg- 
ment to  express  their  own  gratitude. 

Attnie  Macdoiulh 


IN  THli  HOUSE  OF  THE  INTHRPRRT FR.» 

Five  years  ago  a  certain  little  volume, 
softly  bound  in  blue,  came  stealing  into 

the  world  of  print,  as  noiselessly  and 
modestly  as  the  dew  falls  at  evening, 
and  yet  with  the  authority  of  the  sun- 
rise. It  was  like  the  sunrise  to  some  of 
us  in  its  revealing  power  ;  it  showed  us 
"God  in  His  World,"  and  was  indeed 
'*  an  Interpretation."  Frederick  Deni* 
son  Maurice  had  tanpht  ns  to  reverence 
the  truth  by  virtue  of  vvhicli  each  Relig- 
ion exists  ;  George  Macdonald  had  tom 
u'^  that  nothing  can  be  b-  Ii<  \cd  except 
by  virtue  of  the  truth  that  is  in  it ;  but 
this  Interpreter  took  us  from  room  to 
rorim  in  the  Temple  of  Religion,  and 
made  it  plain  to  us  that  each  was  but 
an  outer  court  to  the  Holy  of  Holies. 
He  showed  us  the  World  feelini^  icrno- 
rantly,  blindly  after  God,  everywhere 
lifting  holy  hands  of  prayer,  with  sacri- 
fice and  burnt  offering  ;  his  interpreta- 
tion met  the  needs  of  the  student  of 
Ethnology  and  Comparative  Religion, 

•  A  Study  of  Death.  By  Henry  Mills  Aiden. 
New  York :  Harper  &  Broa.  $i.5a 


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3a* 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


and  yet  was  so  sin  i  lc  and  luimaii  lli.it 
the  Children  of  tltc  Kingdom  knew  it& 
meaning  best  of  all. 

But  it  is  not  only  thinking,  praying 
mnn  who  fet-ls  after  Gfi<I,  if  haply  he 
may  liiid  him  ;  in  his  latest  volume, 
Mr.  Alden  shows  us  the  whole  Creation 
groaning  and  travailing  together,  weav- 
ing '*  the  living  garment  of  Deity." 

A  StUiiy  of  Death  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  charnel-bi lusf  and  the  disset  t- 
ing.room  ;  Death  is  shown  us  as  "  the 
vanishing  side'*  of  Life :  the  book  is 
the  Pilgrim's  I'rdirrcss  of  the  Tvolution- 
ist,  the  "  Imitatio  Christi"  of  modern 
physical  science.  Yet  life  is  manifested 
not  as  Evolution,  but  as  Involution  ;  it 
is  made  tangible  through  a  pro£rrcssivc 
hiding  away  ;  *'  water  becomes  wine, 
and  wine  blood,"  Life  shining  more 
brightly  uud<  r  t  ach  successive  veiling, 
until  the  re-veiling  of  the  Godhead  un- 
der the  human  form  becomes  God  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh. 

This  is  the  motif  of  llit;  honk  ;  as  for 
its  scope,  "  it  goeth  forth  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  and  there  is  nothing  hid  from 
thf  lii^Iii  ilienrof."  After  an  introduc- 
tion marvellous  for  its  poetic  beauty,  it 
begins  with  an  analysts  of  the  primitive 
idea  of  Death  :  a  rciurn  into  Life,  an 
absorption  into  the  greater  and  invisi- 
ble world,  surrounding  and  containing 
the  visible.  It  is,  perhaps,  by  virtue  of 
his  loving  comprehension  of  essential 
childhood  that  the  author  enters  so 
sympathetically  into  the  soul  of  primi- 
tive man,  and  interprets  for  us  bis  nebu- 
lous imaginings  : 

"The  prominence  given  lo  memory  and  tradi- 
tion in  the  early  education  of  a  race  is  not  for  tho 
sake  oi  aubility.  but  is  rather  the  regard  of  a 
growing  tree  to  its  roots,  whither  Its  juices  pe- 
rennially return  ;  it  is  fidelity  to  the  ground  of 
quick  transformation.  This  backward  look  is 
cviilciii  in  the  phrase  uscil  in  [i.itriarchal  litiics. 
saying  of  a  man  when  he  died  that  he  was 
'gathered  unto  bis  fathers  '  Therefore  it  is  that 
among  primitive  peoples  we  find  no  allusion  to  a 
future  state/* 

This  conception  of  Death  as  the  re- 
flux of  the  life-wave  is  fatniliar  to  all 
ancient  mysticism  ;  Parahrahni,  or  Mat- 
ter, is  the  manifestation  of  Brahm,  or 
the  Life-principle,  and  has  its  Manvan- 
tara  and  its  PiMlaya.  Likewise,  there- 
fore, is  the  universe  only  Maya,  or  Illu- 
sion. But  what  answer  shall  be  made 
for  this  revival  of  mysticism,  now  in  the 
end  of  the  ages,  unto  Dr.  Norda\j,  who 
has  told  us  that  all  mysticism  is  degen- 


eration ?    There  is  but  one.  Mystictsn: 
has  two  quicksands,  either  of  which  a. 
at  any  time  liable  to  engulf  the  nt^ 
adventurer  within  its  bounds  ;   it  mar 
not  ignore  or  trifle  with  obser\'ed  phr 
nomena  ;  it  dots  matter,  even  to  Diintc 
Rossetti,  whether  the  earth  revolves 
about  t!ie  siin  or  the  stm  around  il 
Also  the  mystic  meaning  vi  hich  it  fi&u^ 
in  these  must  be,  bit  by  bit,  crystallised 
in  the  character  and  life  «->f  the  inter- 
preter.   It  is  in  just  these  two  points 
that  the  mysticism  of  Scripture  differs 
from  that  of  the  Veda,  the  Koran,  or 
the  Jewish  Talnind  :  it  is  just  here  that 
A  StuJj  i>/  Death  gives  us  the  most  en- 
tire content.    One  thinks  of  the  author 
under  tlie  figure  of  a  fairy  tale  which 
was  indeed  inspired,  as  to  that  charac- 
ter of  it,  by  the  thought  of  him — tlie 
"  Aged  Man,"  in  his  tower  chamhvcr 
lined  with  mirrors,  wherein  was  reflect- 
ed all  that  had  ever  happened  or  wa> 
then  happening  in  the  world.  Weis- 
mann  at  his  embryology,  Fiske  with  his 
physio-psychosociology,     Karl  Marx 
and  the  Socialists — he  sees,  watches, 
and  interprets  them  rdl,  u  iifi  the  same 
smile  of  quiet  comprehension  ;  and  fur 
the  growui  in  his  own  life,  the  "  Pnnv 
dence  that  shapes  our  ends,"  and  inter 
prets  our  interpretations,  took  care  o: 
that.    He  has  given  us  in  the  "  Dedica- 
tion" a  deeper  interpretation,  to  wbicfa 
we  may  only  reverentlv  allude. 

But  from  the  interpretation  of  the 
material  world  he  passes  to  that  of  the 
Moral  Order,  the  righteousness  of  the 
Decalogue  ;  then,  under  the   title  of 

Death  Unmasqued,"  we  learn  how 
Life  was  manifested  as  the  "  Man  of 
borrows,"  and  further,  as  the  **  peculiar 
people,"  "as  dying,  and  behold  we 
live,"  and  afterwards  to  a  brief  and  rev.  I 
erent  glance  at  "  the  thither  side  ot 
Death,"     One  extract  will  commend  , 
the  book  more  than  anything  we  haw 
dared  to  say  of  it.    It  describes  the  de>  ; 
cline  of  physical  life  :  I 

"  The  urgency  of  physical  passkM  is  speai  and 
the  intense  strain  of  effort  is  relaxed ;  io  dkt 
golden  silence,  beneath  all  the  easy  garrulousoess. 
contemplation  is  deepened,  undisturbed  bj  pa5-  , 

.<ii)ii.ite  ititi,-rc!?[.    Thi-  I.im  juice  expressed  froo  | 
the   viae    IS  uruiticrably  rich.    Memory  s^tcs  | 
weaker,  bui  it  is  busy  at  the  old  font.    The  flame 
of  life  which  burned  only  green  in  the  ^riogtiiK  I 
bursts  forth  into  many  briJIient  Mttomnat  roben.  I 
as  if  death  had  more  gaiety  than  binh. 
seems  to  bo  a  taking  on  anew  of  childhood,  It., 
with  this  difference  — tint  the  rcanion  -.\\\,v\suim 
other  spbertag  of  the  withdrawn  U/e.   Ittsteadol  | 


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3*3 


the  aversion  which  ends  in  seizure,  there  is  ihe 
lingering  clasp  of  cherished  things  about  to  be  xc- 
— Ikvc-  niiriKlitiK  wiili  the  weariness,  mi  that 
the  tiaal  human  rcpciii  iticc  of  the  visible  world  is 
unlike  that  of  any  other  sjict  ics  in  its  regretful 
backward  glance  of  farewell.  In  mao  alone  docs 
love  conquer  the  strong  animal  instinct  which  in- 
sists upon  solitude  and  utter  aversion  of  the  face 
in  death." 

Katharine  Pearson  IViwds. 


THE  PSYCHOLO<lY  OF  FEELING  * 

This  is  a  book  that  has  been  written 
with  great  care  and  conscientiousness. 
Mr.  Stanley  has  long  studied  the  prob- 
lems upon  which  he  here  discourses 
with  much  ability  and  some  originality. 
I'lnv  stiulents  of  feeling  have  shown  so 
much  patience  with  the  psychological 
analysis  of  it,  and  hence  the  present 
work  will  be  read  with  some  interest  on 
this  account,  though  the  study  of  it 
will  be  mingled  with  some  adverse  criti- 
cism.   The  psychology  of  emotion  has 
long  liccn  a  m-p^lecttMi  siilijrct,  and  it 
has  only  been  in  recent  years  that  any 
one  could  be  induced  to  give  consider* 
able  attention  to  it ;  and  though  much 
that  is  said  upon  it  is  quite  barren  of 
interest  and  profit,  the  necessity  of  cul- 
tivating some  other  than  the  intellectual 
field,  and  the  place  of  emotion  in  relig- 
ion and  morality  have  induced  recent 
writers  to  give  some  attention  to  this 
neglected  province,  so  that  the  present 
volume  is  one  illustration  of  the  de- 
mand and  supply. 

The  book  does  not  profess  to  be  a 
systematic  treatment  of  the  subject,  but 
a  scries  of  essays  upon  il,  displaying  a 
thorough  attempt  at  a  complete  analysis 
of  feeling,  its  orii^in  .md  development. 
The  data  and  discussion  show  a  very 
wide  reading,  considerable  indepen- 
dence of  judgment,  and  a  judicial  tem- 
per. Much  is  drawn  from  speculative 
evolution,  which  sometimes  weakens 
the  claim  made  for  paradoxical  conclu- 
sions ;  but  often  the  extent  of  the  anal- 
ysis at  least  partly  atones  for  such  a 
procedure.  In  all  respects  the  treatment 
will  be  useful  for  students  of  feeling 
and  emotion,  though  the  inequalities  of 
the  book  will  require  that  it  be  read 
and  studied  with  a  previous  knowledge 

•  Studies  in  the  Evolutionary  Psychology  of 
Feeling.  By  Hiram  M.  Stanley.  Member  of  the 
American  Psychological  Association.   London : 

Swan.  Sonnensrhein  &  Co.    New  Ywk :  Mac- 

millau  &  Co.    $2  25. 


of  the  sidiject.  Parts  of  it  arc  too  heavy 
for  the  common  reader,  and  parts  of  it, 
though  clear,  are  so  disputable  that  they 
cannot  be  received  with  the  same  au- 
thnrtty  as  others,  and  this  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  they  are  very  suggestive.  This 
is  simply  to  say  that  the  volume  must 
be  rearl  and  studied  with  discrimination 
and  intelligence. 

In  regard  to  content,  it  is  interesting 
to  note  the  author's  position,  whic  h  will 
seem  new  and  paradoxical  to  the  read- 
ers of  the  traditional  psychology.  The 
author  maintains  not  only  that  feeling 
is  the  !)a<ic  element  of  all  conscious- 
ness, conditioning  cugnitii>a  and  voli- 
tion, which  are  its  differentiations,  but 
that  />(////  is  the  primitive  form  of  this 
feeling,  and  pleasure  is  a  subsequent  de- 
velopment, not  being  the  first  aspect 
or  even  contemporary  aspect  of  con- 
sciousness. This  position  is  developed 
at  great  length,  and  appears  as  condi- 
tioning all  subsequent  discussions  of  the 
problem.  The  first  criticism  tliat  would 
be  passed  upon  the  author  is  tlie  failure 
to  define  feeling  adequately.  He  has 
rather  taken  for  granted  the  loose  no- 
tion which  prevails  with  nearly  all  psy- 
chologists, and  that  the  general  student 
either  understands  this  or  krious  ex- 
actly what  the  term  means.  But  this  is 
perhaps  a  minor  fault.  The  next  point 
open  to  criticism  is  the  conception  which 
evidenilv  determines  the  author's  fnnd.u 
mental  doctrine.  This  is  the  concep- 
tion of  pain  as  a  loeal  phenomenon  and 
pleastire  as  diffiised  and  general.  The 
primitive  condition  is  neutral  and  witli- 
out  any  pleasure,  so  that  the  first  stimu- 
lus and  responsive  function  results  in 
pain  which  must  be  local.  Pleasure 
arises  alter  organic  life  has  had  some 
experience  in  adjustment  to  avoid  pain. 
Not  to  say  anythitu;  of  the  speculative 
and  doubtful  character  of  such  a  view, 
one  has  only  to  note  the  confusion  in 
the  auth<  r's  mind  between  a  certain  de- 
gree of  intensity  and  location  ot  paia 
with  what  is  meant  by  the  same  term  as 
gi  iier.d  and  disagreeable  consciousness. 
He  has  seized  some  typical  pain  as  tlc- 
termining  the  generic  nature  of  it,  and 
then,  without  seeing  that  pleasure  mi^ht 
be  the  same,  has  contrasted  it  with  the 
feelings  ut  vigour  and  vitahty,  which 
are  pleasure,  in  order  to  assume  that  the 
latter  appear  after  pain,  because  they 
have,  by  assumption,  no  reason  to  exist 
until  after  stimulus,  which  must  produce 


Digitized  Google 


3*4 


THB  BOOKMAN, 


pain,  bccau&c  stimulus  indicates  dis- 
turbance in  the  environment.    But  the 

]>resciit  writer  sees  no  reason  why  Stim- 
ulus must  necessarily  produce  pain, 
either  local  or  general,  and  no  reason 
why  the  consciousness  might  not  be 
pleasant  before  any  disturbance  from 
environment  entered. 

It  also  sounds  strange  to  make  the 
cognitive  functions  of  rnnsciousness 
either  a  differ-entiation  of  feeling  or  a 
subseqtjent  development.  This  comes 
from  failure  to  distinji^uish  between  ob- 
jective and  subjective  cognition,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  between  abstract  and 
concrete  conceptions  of  the  problem,  on 
the  other,  making  a  temporal  disiinc- 
tion  l^etween  feeling  and  cognition 
where  it  is  only  logical. 

Oiie  ncfil  not  (hvell  upon  the  points 
wliich  might  be  criticised,  because  they 
would  carry  us  into  too  much  discussion, 
and  many  of  them,  even  when  there  is 
mucli  ti)  favour  the  atithrir's  position, 
Would  lead  us  lo  an  examination  ol  psy- 
choloiryiii  its  larger  aspects.  Itmustsuf- 
fice,  thcrt  tOic,  i<>  i^ive  one  or  two  illus- 
trations of  the  author's  method  and  re- 
sults, as  precautions  to  the  reader.  For 
the  discussion  is  upon  extremely  ab- 
struse ground,  and  every  step  can  be 
gained  only  by  the  most  careful  anal- 
ysis, or  by  the  observation  of  a  large 
number  of  facts,  or  by  both.  The  au- 
thor's analysis  IS  belter  than  his  observa- 
tion of  objective  facts,  though  one  must 
Confess  that  it  is  too  subjective,  made  so 
evidently  by  the  failure  partly  to  correct 
self-observation  by  the  observation  of 
others,  and  partly  to  understand  rightly 
his  own  mental  f)perations.  But  after 
all  this  is  said  there  remain  the  evi- 
dence of  great  scholarly  care,  the  love 
of  trirth.  patient  and  thorough  study, 
and  opinions  that  are  very  suggestive 
even  where  we  would  not  wholly  accept 
them.  .-\s  an  illustration  of  this  one 
might  refer  to  the  chapter  on  Ethical 
Emotion,  where  the  analysis  is  excellent. 
The  distinction  emphasised  in  it  is  that 
between  the  functi(jn  of  cogrntion  to 
give  men  knowledge,  and  emotion  to 
move  the  will,  and  from  it  the  author 
concludes  that  ethics  is  n»<t  a  science, 
but  the  art  of  directing  and  moving  the 
will.  The  weakness  of  the  position  lies 
in  the  assumption  that  the  study  of 
ethical  phenomena  is  only  for  practical 
purposes,  when  we  may  also  be  inter- 
ested in  their  theoretical  side,  their  ex- 


planation as  well  as  their  utility,  tkir 
ground  as  well  as    their  motive  efi 

ciency.  This  is  to  say  that  he  conceives 
of  ethics  as  wholly  practical,  and  her.:r: 
very  naturally  excludes  their  scieniiic 
field.  Apart  from  this  he  very  justlj 
emphasises  that  aspect  of  emotion. 
motor  and  motive  efficiency  from  tk 
passive  and  speculative  character  of 
cognition. 

One  chapter  is  hardly  pcrtioeat  to  toe  I 
subject  ot  the  volume — ^for  instance, 

that  on  Attention  ;  and  the  chapter  od  | 
Induction  and  Fiiioti'  >n  hardly  justitii:5 
their   juxtapusiuuu    wilii    each   othc.  ■ 
But  there  is  a  ver)-  inii  rt  sting  chapter 
on  the  Psy<  holot^y  ot   IJierary  Style,  ia 
which  the  author  seems  at  his  best. 

On  the  whole,  the  volume  is  marked 
with  irregularities,  in  which  merits  flen 
balance  demerits,  and  it  can  be  reau 
with  both  pleasure  and  profit.  It  is, 
however,  too  scientific  to  interest  i/ir 
general  reader,  and  requires  a  natural 
inclination  for  psychological  analysii  ti' 
appreciate  it  fully,  a  fact  which  is  DOta 
fault  of  the  book,  but  only  a  surety  that 
it  will  be  less  widely  read  than  ii  de- 
serves. 

'  James  ff.  Hysif^ 


A  CANADIAN  BIBLIOGRAPHY.* 

This  massive  and  handsomely  printfd 
volume,  which  extends  lo  more  than  700 
pages,  is  an  honour  to  the  author,  a 
credit  to  Canada,  and  an  indispensable 
source  of  information  to  all  who  de»n 
to  make  a  scieiilific  study  of  Canadian 
history  or  Canadian  literature.   It  is  a 
list  of  the  works  relating  to  Canada  col- 
lected by  M.  Gagnon  in  the  course  d 
the  past  twenty  years,  and  compriff^ 
only  t)ooks,  manuscripts,  and  pampiiiti^ 
but  also  prints,  maps,  plans,  autographs, 
portraits,  and   book-i-^lates,  the  wh^e 
numbering  upwards  of  5000  separate 
items.  The  Canadian  bibliographer  has, 
indeed,  a  harder  task  than  falls  lo 
lot  of  most  collectors.    The  fact  lha* 
there  have  been  comparatively  feWiS*" 
portant  libraries  in  the  Dominion,  and 
that  some  of  the  best  of  these  have  beeo 
destroyed  by  hre,  the  smallness  of  tli« 
editions  of  many  of  the  most  interestiog 
brochuresy  and  the  lack  of  general  ii><^' 

*  Essai  do  Bib]io^;r,i[ih!c  Canadifiitu'.  P*' 
Pbil^as  Gagnon.  jjuetiec  :  imprimi  ^ 
I'Auteur. 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


3^5 


^cst  in  tli<  ir  jircscrvation — .ill  coml/ip.e 
to  discourage  ihe  bibliophile,  even 
though  he  be  as  learned,  as  enthusi- 

iistir,  anti  as  indcfatii^ably  liberal  as  M. 
Gagnoo  himself.  Again,  the  late  intro- 
•dttctton  of  the  printing-press  into  Canada 
is  another  thing  to  be  taken  into  account, 
as  many  of  the  early  books  were  the 
product  of  foreign  establishments,  and, 
therefore,  espeCially^  difficult  to  secure 
to-f!ay.  The  generally  accepted  opini'm 
is  itiat  the  tirst  publication  actually 
emanating  from  a  Canadian  printing- 
house  was  the  Gazcfte  de  Quebec,  the  first 
number  of  which  appeared  on  the 
twenty'first  of  June,  1764 ;  though  M. 
Gapfnon  believes,  and  has  some  evidence 
to  show,  that  even  under  the  French 
regime,  some  years  earlier  than  this, 
priiitiritj  was  not  unknown.  At  any 
rate,  there  are  no  examples  of  purely 
Canadian  typography  of  earlier  date 
than  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 
Because  of  all  these  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  the  bibliographer,  no  such  work 
as  this  of  M.  Gagnon  had  yet  appeared  ; 
and  as  he  tells  us  in  his  interesting  pref- 
ace, a  number  of  writers  who  intended 
to  deal  with  certain  phases  of  Canadian 
history  have  been  compelled  to  aban- 
don their  purpose,  discouraged  by  the 
lack  of  proper  bibliographic  aid. 

The  works  arc  arranged  (with  some 
special  exceptions)  in  alphabetical  order, 
and  are  supplied  by  the  author  with  notes 
which  will  be  of  the  greatest  service 
to  the  historical  and  literary  student. 
There  are  also  some  45  facsimiles  of  title- 
pages,  autographs,  ant!  book-plates. 
Among  the  autographs  thus  reproduced 
are  those  of  Lord  Amherst,  Br£> 
beuf,  and  Christopiier  Colimil»us,  the 
last  consisting  of  annotations  made  by 
the  great  discoverer  in  two  volumes  that 
had  been  in  his  possession.  The  book- 
plates given  in  facsimile  are  somewhat 
less  interesting.  Altogetlier,  the  vol- 
ume is  a  distinct  gain  to  the  world,  and 
we  contj;ratuIate  the  author  on  the  eru- 
dite and  liberal  spirit  in  which  it  has 
been  executed. 


IN  DEFIANCE  OF  THE  KINa* 

Has  the  Romantic  wa\e  crossed  the 
Atlantic  at  last  ?  The  question  is  natu- 
rally suggested  by  Mr.  Hotchkiss^s story, 

*  Id  Df-fi.iincc  of  the  King.  Bv  Chauncey 
C.  Hotchkiss.    New  York :  D.  Applieton  &  Co. 


which  is  a  tale  of  adventure  and  a  ro- 
mance of  the  times  of  the  American 
Revolution.  Let  us  say  at  once  that  In 
Defiance  of  the  Kiric;  is  not  a  great  story, 
nor  is  it  quite  successful  as  a  romance. 
But  let  us  hasten  to  add  that  where  Mr. 
TIntchkiss  has  succeeded  he  has  done 
his  work  remarkably  well,  and  his  failure 
to  lift  the  story  into  the  regions  of  pure 
romance  is  perhaps  due  to  inexperience 
and  immaturity.  For  a  first  story  it 
calls  for  warm  commendation,  and  If 
Mr.  Hotchkiss  has  it  in  him  to  write  a 
romance,  and  can  overcome  the  im- 
pression made  by  this  experiment  that 
the  defects  of  the  story  are  inherent  in 
the  writer,  none  will  award  him  heartier 
thanks  and  encouragement  than  the 
present  reviewer.  Faulty  construction, 
false  proportion,  and  cnideness  of  form 
can  be  improved  and  mitigated,  or  even 
admitting  the  presence  of  inartistic 
craftsmaiishi j\  shee^r  force  of  imagina- 
tion may  overpower  these  barriers  and 
compel  admiration  and  wonder.  The 
inefficacy  of  Mr.  Ilolchkiss's  work 
would  seem  to  arise  from  the  want  of 
that  higher  quality  of  imagination  which 
is  essential  to  creation,  and  which  cov- 
ers a  multitude  of  literary  sins  in  the 
romantic  writers  of  the  day.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  //;  Defiance  of  the  King  is  the 
fruit  nf  ]>ainstakin,ij  etTort,  careful  and 
industrious  historical  research,  and  of 
considerable  warmth  of  feeling.  But  it 
is  too  veracious  to  be  finely  iina;.4inative, 
and  the  faults  of  proportion  and  con- 
struction retard  the  movement  and  swing 
of  the  11, Illative,  and  give  a  repeated 
check  to  the  exciting  and  adventurous 
portions  of  the  tale.  It  fails  to  rise  to 
the  romantic  mood,  and  lacks  the  thrill, 
the  magic  touch  which  transforms  mere 
history  into  romance  and  converts  pho* 
tography  into  art. 

In  Defiance  of  the  King  is  deserving, 
however,  of  more  than  negative  criti- 
cism. There  has  been  a  good  deal* of 
indiscriminate  and  fulsome  praise  lav- 
ished upon  it  in  some  quarters,  for  which 
neither  the  author  nor  the  reader  will 
be  jxrnt'*fn1,  and  it  seemed  wise  to  state 
unpleasant  truths  first,  especially  as  the 
work  is  notable  and  worthy  of  careful 
criticism.  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  read 
a  tale  of  the  Revolutionary  period  which 
has  interested  us  so  much  ;  indeed  for  its 
jM'i  r  in  this  respect  we  must  go  back  to 
Fcnimore  Cooper's  Lionel  Lincoln,  The 
story  is  confined  to  the  inroads  and  in- 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


3»6 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


cnrsiftns  of  the  British  incendiaries 
along  ilic  Long  Island  Sound,  and  par- 
ticularly around  the  town  of  New  Lon- 
don. The  Hattle  of  Lexinq-ton.  the 
burning  of  Norwalk,  the  meeting  with 
Benedict  Arnold,  and  the  storming  of 

New  London  arc  described  with  the 
fidelity  and  accuracy  of  an  eye-witness. 
The  adventurous  voyages  on  the  Will  o* 
the  Wisp  are  among  the  most  exciting  and 
intcrestinir  episodes  ;  and  Jacob  Moon 
is  bv  ail  odds  the  best  cliaracter  in  the 
book.  When  he  falls  we  feci  that  he  has 
tnken  «;f>mething  of  us  with  him.  The 
story  begins  well,  and  occasionally 
reaches  heights  of  dramatic  interest  as 
it  proceeds  ;  and  if  it  be  long  in  the  tell- 
ing, of  few  stories  can  we  say,  as  wc  can 
of  this  one,  that  it  is  well  worth  spend- 
ing: lime  over,  and  will  fully  repay 
the  reader  in  the  end. 


CARMINA  MINORA.* 

Mr.  Abbey  states  in  a  prefatory  note 
thai  this,  the  third  edition  of  las  poems, 
contains  "  all  the  poems  of  mine  that  I 
wish  to  have  live."  As  the  l)o(>k  is  one 
of  some  290  pages,  it  will  be  seen  that 
Mr.  Abbey  is  making  quite  a  large 
demand  on  immortality  ;  for  liow  nianv 
poets  have  ever  written  as  much  verse 
as  this  that  can  be  said,  in  any  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  to  have  **  lived"? 
Very  few  indetfd,  and  those  only  the 
very  greatest.  It  is,  indeed,  much  it,  aL 
the  end  of  a  century  from  his  death,  any 
one  lias  left  a  score  of  lines  tliat  dwell 
in  the  hearts  and  on  the  lips  of  men. 
But,  after  all,  Mr.  Abbey  only  wishes," 
he  dfu's  not  necessarily  expect,  a  poeti- 
cal immortality,  so  one  need  not  say 
anything  very  severe  about  his  natural 
ambition.  As  for  the  v.dunie  before  us, 
it  is  fairly  well  described  by  a  Latin 
poet  : 

"Sum  bona,  sunt  qucdam  mediocria,  sum  mala 
plurft." 

The  critical  reader  will  probably  peruse 

•  The  Poems  of  Henry  Abbey.  Third  edition, 
enlarged.  Kingston.  N.  Y.  :  Published  by  the 
Authof.    1 1  . 35. 

Rhymes  of  Our  Planet.  Hy  Will  Carleton. 
New  York  :  Harper  &  Bros.  $1.2-;. 

After  Many  Years.  Hy  Rictia:  ]  lUnry  Savage. 
Chicago  and  New  York  :  F.  Tennyson  Neely. 

.American  War  K^llads,  i725-i5()5.  I'dited  bv 
George  Gary  Egglesion.  New  York :  G.  P.  Pui- 
nam's  Sons. 


with  most  plea'^nre  the  least  pretentious 
tilings  that  it  contains,  in  wiucli  there  is 
often  to  be  found  a  touch  of  true  poetic 
feelintr  and  also  felicity  of  expr**ssion. 
But  as  iox  the  longer  poems,  they  come 
perilously  near  to  prose.  Take  this 
from  **  Karagwe  ** : 

"O  ra»h  wife.  Sooth!  Tbj  true  buslmnd.  the 

North , 

Lovcth  tlue  yt  t.  thfu-^h  ihou  wc  ntest  uscray. 
In  Truth's  great  court,  where  thy  trial  wais  iicld. 
To  thee  was  gtantctl  no  bill  of  divorce.'* 

This  sounds  too  much  like  the  morn- 
ing  paper.   And  this  from  "Gettys- 

biirgf"  : 

"On  his  horse  Gates  shouldered  the  colours  ticst, 

haply,  it  should  be  lost) 
Till  he  knew  the  chance  of  iu  capture  was  safeilj 

weathered  and  erossad ; 
For  not  far  from  the  Seminary,  where  a  stone  and 

rail  fence  stood, 
He  ai^ain  formed  line  with  Biddle.  at  the  «dge  of 

a  narrow  wood. 

•        •        •         •  o 

"There  were  thiriv  <>ti<I  f.ve  armed  tbonsanda. 

with  this  savage,  warlike  will. 
Slave-holders  and  proud  woik-ICOmcfS,  and  for 

being  that,  fiercer  still." 

This  would  dn  ver}'  well  for  a  paper 
to  read  at  a  reunion  of  the  G.  A  R.,  but 
we  fear  that  it  will  not  **  live." 

Mr.  Will  Carleton's  former  rcpntati.  n 
has  been  very  much  overshadowed  of 
late  years  by  the  far  more  artistic  and 
sympathetic  work  of  Mr.  James  Whit- 
comb  Riley  ;  bttt  he  has  also  contributed 
to  his  own  eclipse  by  attempting  10  write 
in  a  too  pretentious  vein.  Mr.  Carleton 
is  not  a  poet,  not  even  a  minor  poet  ;  but 
some  of  his  earlier  rhymes  were  very 
cleverly  put  to^^ether,  and  were  redolent 
of  a  certain  native  humour.  The  pres- 
ent volume  from  his  pen  shows  that  the 
original  vein  is  about  worked  out,  though 
here  and  there  may  still  l)e  found  bits 
that  are  very  readable.  But  a^  tor  the 
seriously  intended  verses,  "  why,  the 
bellman  could  write  better  lines!*'  as 
old  Osbaldistone  said. 

Mr.  Richard  Henry  Savage,  the  au- 
thor of  My  Offiaat  Wife  and  Delilah 
I/ar/cm,  appears  as  .1  versifier  in  the 
handsome  volume  before  us,  of  which  it 
is  perhaps  sufficient  to  say  tliat  the  liter- 
ary quality  of  his  verse  is  fully  up  to  the 
level  of  his  prn^e  ns  seen  in  Di-Iiliih  t'f 
Harlem,  Tite  bcaimjj  of  liiis  remark, 
in  Bunsby's  phrase,  hes  in  the  applica* 
tion. 

Mr.  Eggleston  s  collection  of  songs  and 
verses  relating  to  our  early  colonial  wars. 


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the  War  of  the  Revolution,  the  War  of 
18x2-15,       Mexican  War,  and  the  Civil 

War,  is,  on  the  wholf-,  a  ven,'  interesl!n<r 
one,  though  the  title  ot  tlic  book  is  mis- 
leading^, inasniuch  as  not  lialf  of  the 
pieces  gathered  together  in  it  were  pver 
sung,  and  many  of  them  have  no  lyrical 
quality  whatever.  Yet  they  possess  a 
certain  value  of  their  own,  if  not  always 
for  either  historical  or  literary  merit. 
Mr.  Ei^teston  admits  to  his  collection 
not  only  the  popular  songs  of  the  periods 
mentioned,  but  also  many  of  the  famous 
poems  that  have  touched  the  national 
heart,  such  as  "  Paul  Rcvere's  F  ide," 
**  Old  Ironsides,"  "  The  Bivouac  of  the 
Dead,"  and  *'  Barbara  Frietchie,"  and 
basopened  the  door  pretty  wide  for  many 
other  compositions  that  are  neither  fa- 
mous nor  readable.  His  lack  of  dis- 
crimination is,  indeed,  very  noticeable, 
for  he  has  left  out  the  inspiring  ballad 
"  The  Battle  of  New  Orleans."  and 
Whitlier's  tine  poem,  '*The  Angels  of 
Buena   Vista"  which  is  by  far  the 


best  thing  called  forth  by  the  Mex- 
ican War,  and  Thompson's  "  High  Tide 

at  Gettysburg,"  and  has  clogged  his 
pages  with  such  dreary  baldcrduhh  ai» 

Brownell's  '*  Bay  Fight,"  which  occu- 
pies no  less  than  twenty- two  good 
pages.  To  include  such  a  production 
in  a  collection  of     ballads"  is  too 

preposterous.  But  one  can  forgive  even 
this  in  his  pleasure  at  finding  at  last  in 
permanent  and  attractive  form  such 

sj>!endid  bits  of  lyrical  history  as  are 
embodied  in  the  "  Carmen  Beliicosum," 
Mrs.  Howe's  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Re> 
public,"  "  Stonewall  Jarks!)ii"s  Way," 
"  Three  Hundred  Thousand  More,  "  and 
Mr.  Stedman's  grandly  indignant  poem, 
'*  Wanted,  a  Man,"  which  President  Lin- 
coln read  to  his  Cabinet  in  the  gloomiest 
hour  of  the  war.  Occasional  short  in- 
troductory notes  add  to  the  value  of  the 
collection,  which  is  also  illustrated  by  a 
number  ot  rather  skelcliy  designs. 

I",  A'. 


NOVEL  NOTES. 


AFTERMATH.  Pan  Seomid  of  A  Ktntmefy 
CardiiMi,  By  James  Lmae  Atlen.  New  Y«rk : 
Hwper  ft  Br«k  $i.oa 

^Tany  books  are  written  from  the  out- 
side ;  a  few  are  written  from  the  inside, 
and  it  is  to  this  exclusive  little  company 
that  Aftermathy  Mr.  James  Lane  Allen's 
new  novel,  belongs.  The  work  appears 
far  apart  from  the^asty,  restless  kind  that 
marks  the  vogue  of  the  moment.  Its 
sim[)licity,  its  reticence,  its  tranquillity, 
and,  most  of  all,  the  intellectual  satis- 
faction which  it  gives,  seem  to  pertain 
to  another  time  and  to  a  finer  and  more 
enduring  form  of  art.  And  yet,  as  a 
study  of  the  highest  inner  life,  it  is  as 
true  to  day  as  it  was  yesterday,  or  will 
be  to-morrow,  or  during  all  time,  so  long 
as  there  are  noble  men  and  women  in 
the  world. 

The  stor^'  is  the  second  part  of  A  Ken- 
tucky Cardinal,  and  flows  on  in  unbroken 
continuity,  as  though  it  were  inn  an 
afterthought,  and  the  two  parts  had  ai> 
ways  been  one.  There  is  the  same  de- 
liciously  novel  love-making  as  in  the 
beginoiog,  and  the  same  sparkle  of  line, 


fresh,  wholesome  humour  throughout. 
But  this  sunny,  dainty  fun  does  not  de- 
tract from  the  growing  earnestness  of 
the  story  ;  it  only  illuminates  the  depths 
that  are  sounded.  And  these,  as  revealed 
in  the  ful61ment  of  the  destinies  of 
Adam  and  Georgiana,  are  the  profound- 
est  known  to  the  human  heart.  Grad- 
ually he  is  drawn  farther  and  farther 
away  from  nature,  and  closer  and  closer 
to  his  own  kind.  And  as  they  "  ap- 
proach that  mystical  revelation  of  life 
which  must  come  with  marriage,"  they 
are  filled  with  "  a  beautifitl  wontler  at 
what  liicy  are,  at  what  love  is,  at  wlial 
it  means  for  a  man  and  a  woman  to  live 
together."  Nor  when  thev  are  husband 
and  wife  does  the  yearning  and  the  ques- 
tioning cease.  Thus  it  roust  always  go 
on.  this  ceaseless  effort  of  one  loving 
soul  to  reach  another  through  the 
throbbing  walls  of  flesh,  across  the  lone 
impassalde  gulfs  of  individual  being." 
And  the  greater  the  love,  the  lonelier 
the  soul — ^that  is  the  cruelty  of  love. 
Yet  the  mystery  never  lessens  the 
sweetness — and  that  is  the  mercy  of  love. 


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A^].im   paints  pictures  of  their  ideal 

honir  lite  : 

"  tic«iif{iana  s  gs»/c  was  very  dcrp  in  the  flames. 
And  how  sweei  her  face  was,  hi>w  iiioxprcssibly  at 
peace  !  i>be  bad  folded  tbe  wines  of  her  wbok 
life,  and  sat  by  the  hearth  as  still  as  a  brooding 
<lovi.'.  No  pa^t  laid  ils  disturbing  tou<  ti  on  her 
shoulder.  Instead  I  could  see  that  il  tiicrc  were 
any  tlight  "1  lu  r  initnl  uwav  trom  the  present,  it 
wait  tniu  the  future — a  ^low.  traaquil  flight  acrosit 
«he  years,  witkalt  the  happiness  tney  must  bring." 

Then  on  a  sprin;^  morning,    at  dawn, 

atnid  surli  sin^inj^  nf  birds  that  every 
tree  and  ^ard  became  a  dew  hung  bel- 
fry of  chimes,"  the  miracle  of  mater- 
nity deepens  the  mystery  of  love  ;  and 
Adam's  heart  ihrubs  through  his  playful 
words  : 

"  Hut  I  Kainbul  in  spirit  like  a  hawk  in  the  air. 
1-et  me  hood  myself  with  parental  cares  ;  for  I 
have  been  a  sire  fur  half  a  day.  1  am  speechless 
before  the  stupendous  wisdom  of  my  son,  in  view 
of  his  stupendous  ignorance.  Already  he  lectures 
to  the  ot<l  people  about  the  house  on  the  perfect 
tniiiluct  1)1  life,  .iii'.i  the  only  prejj.it.itmn  Ik-  rc- 
■quircs  tor  iiis  lectures  is  a  lew  drops  ot  uuik.  By 
means  of  these,  and  without  any  knowledge  of 
anatomy,  he  will  show  us  for  instance  what  it  is 
to  be  master  of  tbe  science  of  vital  function.  .  .  , 
He  has  no  cares  beyond  his  needs  ;  all  space  to 
bim  is  what  ho  can  fill,  all  time  his  instant  of  ac- 
tion. He  does  not  know  where  he  <  .mie  fioni, 
what  he  is,  why  here,  wbitber  bound ;  nor  does 
he  ask.  My  heart  ac^ei  helplessly  for  Mm  when 
be  shall  have  become  a  man  and  have  grown  less 
wise.  ...  If  I  could  put  forth  one  protecting 
prayer  that  would  cover  all  his  years,  it  would  I  c 
4hat  through  life  be  continue  as  wise  as  the  day  he 
was  born." 

But  after  this  there  are  no  more  words, 

Pfr.TVf^  or  cj.iy,  for  weeks.  Georgiana  has 
jKt^^cd  away,  and  Adam  is  silently  gath- 
ering np  the  frafi^ments  of  his  shattered 
Jife.  When  ho  run  speak  he  goes  quietly 
on,  saying  little  about  his  grief  : 

"  To-day  for  tbe  first  time  1  went  bacic  to  the 
woods.   It  was  pleasant  to  be  surrounded  again 

by  the  ever-livinj;  earth  that  feels  n<»  loss  and  has 
no  memory  ;  that  was  sere  yestt-riLiy,  is  green  to- 
d.iy,  will  i>c  sere  again  to-morrow,  then  green 
-once  more ;  that  pauses  not  for  wounds  and 
wrecks  nor  lingers  over  death  and  chanRe  ;  but 
onward,  ever  onward  along  the  groove  of  the  law, 
passes  from  Its  red  origin  in  universal  flame  to 
ils  white  end  in  universal  snow  .^tul  vet,  as  I 
approach  the  edge  of  the  forest,  it  (hough 
•iti  mvi-ilnr  Tympany  of  influences  came  Kcnily 
forth  to  meet  me.  and  sought  to  draw  me  back 
into  their  old  friendship.  I  fr)und  my  self  stroking 
the  trunks  of  the  trees  as  1  would  throw  my  arm 
around  the  shoulders  of  a  tried  comrade ;  1  drew 
down  the  liranchr";  and  plunged  my  face  into  the 
neiv  leavcsj  as  i:;to.-i  tonic  stream. " 

At  last  comes  the  aftermath — the  pale, 
late  growth  that  overspreads  the  har- 


vester! land,  bringing  peace  like  a  SO/<; 
quicL,  cloudless  twilight. 

THE  CHRONICLES  OF  COUNT  ANTOATiO 
liy  Anthony  Hope.    New  York  :  D.  Appicst-n 
&  Co.  fi.so. 

Mr.  Anthony  Hope  is  finding  out  his 
envia!)le  position.     Do  what  he  w:!!.  he 
has  the  power  to  please  most  j>cop»le 
Whatever  be  his  moods,  and  whatexer 
the  quality  of  his  perf.  .rm.nncr,   he  h 
never  awkward,  and  elegance  of  form 
in  any  literary  matter  popularly  inter- 
esting is  so  unt*)mm()n  that  t;^ratitu':r 
and  admiration  are  widespread  and  in- 
tense in  proportion.    Now  UuU  he  is 
finding  this  out,  it  is  nut  surprising 
that  he  should  lake  advantage  of  it,  aii  i 
give  pleasure  to  his  numerous  admirers 
as  frequently  and  with  as  little  trouble 
to  himself  as  possible.    It  is  impertinent 
to  pry  into  the  state  of  Mr.  Hope's  5«>ui 
to  see  if  it  is  growing  demoralised  by 
easy  triuniphs,  but  it  is  quite  justifiable 
to  say  that  a  little  more  effort  than  is 
to  be  found  in  his  latest  book  is  wanted 
to  keep  up  tbe  estimate  which  some  sia- 
cere  Init  discreet  arlmirers  have  formed 
of  his  powers.    The  stories  here  arc  en- 
tertaining, and  the  youth  of  fourteen 
who  should  disapprove  of  them  would 
do  so  from  mere  dulness.    But  there 
are  features  in  it  that  would  lead  one  to 
ix-Iievc  they  were  not  written  for  lads  in 
their  early  teens.    Yet  it  is  not  exactly 
a  book  for  men  and  women,  to  whom 
the  tales,  excellent  in  imafn^i^g  ^ 
many  of  them  are,  must  be  spoilt  by 
the  artificiality  of  the  mechanism,  ai»i 
the  conventionality  of  all  the  motives^ 
feelings,  and  expressions,  of  the  human 
beings  concerned.    Mr.  Hope  is  a  oov* 
elist  of  power,  and  he  iBTives  us  an  uniin< 
peachable  gift  book  of  a  quality  equalled 
l)y   a   tlozen   boys'    story  writers  any 
Christmas.     His  Antonio  he  calls  an 
outlaw  ;  but  he  is  the  outlaw  of  a  maid- 
en-ntint's  or  a  schoolinaster's  imagina- 
tion- »  impounded    of    demi-god  and 
family  pjistOf.    True,  he  appears  lotis 
through  the  narrative  of  a  holv  father, 
but  Mr.  Hope  chose  that  medium,  and 
if  it  was  unsuitable  for  the  rough  record 
of  the  wild  men  who  took  to  the  hills, 
he  is  responsible.    There  is  no  lack  of 
blows  and  battling,  but  all  the  rougb 
play  is  carried  on  in  so  genteel  an  at- 
mosphere that  it  sounds  like  sham-fight- 
in£r  all  the  time.    The  manner  of  tiie 
writing  is  after  this  familiar  style— 


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329 


"  Therefore  he  sent  word  to  Antonio,  that  if 
"Yxc  caiiKht  him.  he  would  hang  him  on  the  hill 
from  the  branches  of  the  tree  to  which  Aatonio 
fiad  bound  Paul,  and  would  leave  his  body  there 
for  three  times  three  days.  And.  this  mcssa^^e 
•coming  to  Antonio,  he  sent  one  privily  by  night 
to  the  n  lie  of  the  city,  who  laitl  riutsi.le  the  gate  a 
letter  for  the  Duke  ;  and  in  the  letter  was  written, 
*  God  chooses  the  hand.   All  is  wetL'  ** 

We  feci  sure  there  were  few  erasures 

\n  the  manuscript.  Once  havincj  caiiq;ht 
the  easy  swing  of  this  style,  there  is  no 
reason  why  one  should  ever  stop.  From 
these  unkind  observations  we  except 
some  portions  of  the  Chronic/i's.  where 
Mr.  Hope  has  taken  Lime  to  be  him- 
self ;  but  on  the  whole  his  facile  grace 
has  here  proved  itself  a  snare.  Let  us 
genially  call  this  latest  story  of  his  a 
relaxation  ;  yet  such  relaxations  should 
be  anonymous,  and  llicy  mitrht  safely 
be  so,  for  they  have  no  individuality. 

SIR  QUIXOTE  OF  TlIF  MOORS.  By  John 
Huchan.  New  York:  llcnr/  Holt  &  Co.  75 
Ctt. 

We  understand  that  this  is  the  first 

piece  of  fiction  hy  a  new  writer.  If  so, 
it  is  a  decidedly  promising  bit  of  work, 
full  of  humour  and  vitality,  and  it  de* 
serves  to  be  successful.  Tt  is  without 
doubt  one  of  the  best  stories  that  have 
been  issued  in  the  Buckram  Series,  and 

WC  coiiirratulate  llie  publlsluTS  on  llu'ir 
acquisition.  It  is  hard  to  say  just  what 
Mr.  Buchan  will  yet  do,  but  there  are 
-strong  evidences  of  a  master  hand  at 
work  in  this  delicious  little  iflyll.  To 
be  sure  he  will  suffer  by  comparison 
with  Stevenson  and  Crockett,  and  it  may 
be  fair  to  say  tliat  tnit  for  these  writers 
the  tale  had  never  been  written.  But  it 
is  by  no  means  an  imitation.  There  are 
traces  of  their  influence  in  his  manner, 
and  there  are  characteristic  touches 
which  remind  us  of  Weyman  as  well  as 
of  the  writers  already  mentioned  ;  but 
there  is  an  individn  il  quality  in  his  work 
and  a  certain  bewitchment  which  be- 
longs to  the  higher  forms  of  imagina- 
tion. F*o.>r  Sir  Ouixote  is  vi  ry  human, 
and  is  next  01  kin  to  most  ot  us  ;  but  we 
are  particularly  grateful  for  the  heroine, 
who  is  so  real  as  to  enlist  our  sympa- 
thies from  the  first,  and  whose  presence 
in  the  story  becomes  a  living  memory 
long  after  the  book  is  closed.  We  could 
lu^ver  have  forgiven  the  Sieur  de  Ro- 
haine  had  he  deserted  her  in  the  end. 
1'he  story  is  told  with  great  delicacy 
end  grace  of  diction,  and  pervading  it  is 


an  air  of  gentle  romance  like  the  fra- 
grant aroma  of  sweet  lavender  in  an  old 

garden.  Whatever  defects  exist  in  the 
story  arise  from  immaturity,  but  the 
power  of  reserve  which  is  evident  on 
every  page  makes  us  hope  great  things 
of  the  author.  We  shall  certainly  look 
with  cagcrucsb  lur  his  next  book. 

RUSSIAN  FAIRY  TALES.  From  the  SAatki 
of  Polevoi,  by  R.  Nisbet  Bain.  Illustrated  by 
C.M.Gere.  Chicago  :  Way  &  William*.  $3.00. 

COSSACK  FAIRY  TALF.S  AND  FOLK- 
TALES.  Illustrated  by  E.  U.  .Mitchell.  Se- 
lected, editea,  and  translated  by  R.  Nisbet 
Bain.    New  York  :  F.  A.  Stokes  Co.  $2.00. 

Mr.  Nisbet  Bain  has  added  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  folk  lore  of  an  inter- 
esting and  little  worked  field  of  the 
Continent,  as  well  as  contributing  to 
our  ever-increasing  delight  in  the  old- 
world  stories,  which  find  a  home  in  the 
hearts  of  all  wlio  have  not  altogether 
lost  the  fresh  sense  of  wonder  which  is 
the  prerogative  of  the  nursery.  When 
/{ussian  Fairy  Tales  appeared  in  Eng- 
land the  volume  met  with  a  generous 
reception,  very  gratifying  to  the  editor 
and  translator,  for  the  work  was  ardu- 
ous, and,  while  larc^ely  a  labour  of  love, 
the  attempt  to  bring  these  exotic  stories 
within  the  comprehension  of  English- 
thinking  minds  and  to  hope  for  their 
appreciation  was  still  an  experiment. 
The  success  of  this  initial  work  encour- 
aged Mr.  Bain  to  try  his  hand  at  a  sister 
volume  of  stories,  selected  from  another 
Slavonic  dialect  extraordinarily  rich  in 
folk-tales — the  Ruthenian.  We  venture 
to  think  that  Mr.  T?ain  has  stu-cecded 
even  better  in  this  volume,  chiefly  be- 
cause he  has  had  a  greater  variety  of 
folk-tale  to  drawn  upon.  There  is 
plenty  of  fun  and  fancy  in  the  Russian 
tales,  but  in  the  Cossack  stories  we  have 
more  of  the  fresh  spontaneity  and  naive 
sim))liclty  of  the  [uinutive  f<>lk-ta1e. 
Many  old  myths  and  foik-lore  data  are 
peculiar  to  the  Cossacks  consequent  on 
tlieir  t  oni;)arative  isolation  and  remote- 
ness from  other  European  peoples,  but 
this  is  a  matter  of  interest  which  affects 
the  professional  student  more  than  the 
reader.  The  latter  will  find  in  these  two 
volumes  abundant  sources  of  enjoyment 
and  delectation,  and  we  hope  that  the 
fine  manner  in  which  both  publishln«; 
houses  have  produced  these  books  will 
be  the  least  reason  for  awarding  them  a 
successful  entrance  into  this  country. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


LADY  BONNIE'S  TXPERIMKNT     V.:  Tighc 
Hopkins.    New  York  :  Henry  HoU  &  Co.  75 

CIS. 

Mr.  Evesdon,-<7//</x  Mr.  Mcnton  Pley- 
dell,  by  which  na.Tie  he  is  known  as  the 
author  of  a  work  on  horticulture,  is  sud- 
denly called  home  from  the  Continent 
on  legal  business,  and  on  the  way  from 
Dover  to  London  iie  impersonates  the 
part  of  a  hero  in  a  iiu  lodrama  Which 
his  friend  Ciubbe  is  bringing  out,  and 
narrateii  his  pretended  adventures  in 
cold  blood  to  an  intelligent,  rctined, 
and  sf-nsitivc  lady,  whom  he  had  met 
en  route  from  Calais  to  Dover  for  the 
first  time.  The  dAwuement  is  rather 
startling  for  the  experimenter,  who  is 
hypnotised  by  the  steady  stare  of  bis 
fair  listener.  He  arrives  in  London  and 
ascertains  from  his  l.iwyer  that  an  ec- 
centric old  lady  has  just  died,  leaving 
her  property  to  the  author  of  Tiu  Jato- 
bian  Garden^  which  he  may  utilise  by 
laying  out  the  plans  fondly  idealised  in 
his  book.  But  there  is  a  contestant  in 
the  case  in  the  shape  of  an  unknown 
lady,  who  it  turns  ont  is  nnwillinir  to 
interfere,  but  wiiose  father  ii>  inoic  than 
willing.  Mr.  Evesdon  is  invited  to 
Dene  Farm  tn  visit  Lady  Bomille  for 
the  purpose  of  assisting  her  to  set  up  a 
modem  Forest  of  Arden  or  Court  of 
Love,  as  the  author  conceives  it.  He 
finds  that  Lady  Bonnie  is  identical  with 
'  the  lady  who  listened  to  his  harrowing 
tale  in  the  r.tiluay  carriaj^c,  and  lir  falls 
in  love — Lady  Bonnie  has  a  husband — 
with  her  secretary,  who  it  appears  is  the 
niece  of  the  eccentric  testatrix,  and 
whose  claim  stands  in  the  way  of  the 
settlement  of  the  will  on  Mr.  Evesdon, 
the  author  of  The  Jacobean  Garden,  The 
plot  thickens  with  this  interesting  con- 
tretempSy  but  the  reader  wiii  guess  the 
rest.  The  story  is  written  in  a  lively, 
spirited  vein,  and  does  nf>t  tax  the 
reader's  attention  too  severely.  It  must 
not  be  taken  au  serieux,  or  its  illusion 
will  be  dispelled  ;  but  those  who  want 
light  entertainment  will  find  Lady  Bon- 
nit's  Experiment  very  amusing. 

ATTUXTEk'S.    By  G.  B.  Uurgin.    New  York  : 
G.  P.  Putfiun'f  Sons.  |i.oo. 

This  is  a  story  to  be  thankful  for. 
The  characters  bear  no  burdens,  nor  do 
they  trouble  themselves  with  problems  ; 
they  are  happy-go  lucky,  light-hearted 
creations  raised  up  for  the  reader's 
entertainment.   Mrs.  Tuxter's  grocery 


store  was  located  on  one  corner,  and  orr 
the  opposite  corner  stood  "The  Stoat 
and  Hammer,"  which  provided  the 
means  of 'slaking  the  phenomenal  arid- 
ity presumalily  caused  by  the  food 
and  condiments  sold  at  the  provis- 
ion shop.  Tuxter,  it  appears,  was  not 
above  frequenting  "  The  Stoat  and 
Hammer"  to  drink  confusion  to  Mrs. 
Tuxter,  whenever  an  opportunity  of- 
fered, and  tn  imperil  his  "  immnrtual'* 
soul  by  glancing  at  the  buxom  barmaid. 
Little  Drusilia,  the  infant  daughter  of 
Tuxter's  niece  of  that  name,  winds  her 
childish  way  into  his  heart,  and  gets- 
adopted  ;  Mrs.  Tuxter,  to  get  even  with 
her  spotise,  rescues  Thomas  Henry  from 
the  Foundling  Hospital  with  a  five- 
pound  note.  He  comes  well  recom- 
mended :  "  the  boy  is  some  sort  of  com- 
fort during  the  cold  nights,  if  only  to 
keep  one's  feet  warm.  Besides,  he  is  use- 
ful to  throw  things  at."  And  so  the  story 
starts  on  this  basis  with  its  amusingCock- 
ney  characters,  in  ilic  vicinity  of  Hol- 
born,  and  the  fun  is  kept  up  to  the  end, 
although  one  miist  admit  that  there  is 
more  humour  than  human  nature  in  the 
book,  barring  the  Tuxters  and  their  do- 
mestic  entourage,  with  whom  the  reader 
will  be  genuinely  entertained. 

TALES  OF  AN  ENGINEER.   By  Cy  Wartnan. 
New  York  :  CWlet  ScTibocr*t  Sons.  $i.25- 

As  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  felt  ad> 

ventnre  in  the  Sting  of  the  salt,  so  this 
engineer  thrills  to  romantic  daring  oa 
the  tron-rosd. 

"  He  loves  the  locomotive 
As  Ibe  flowcfs  love  tfae  Ics. 
As  the  soDf  •birds  love  tbe  strollglit. 

And  the  sailor  loves  the  sea." 

Indeed,  nnlil  one  lias  read  the  Tales  of 
an  Engineer,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
imagine  how  full  of  picturesque  allure* 
mcnt  the  track  is,  or  how  companion- 
able and  sympathetic  a  being  is  the 
black  steam-engine.  Cy  Warm  an  is 
like  a  good  sailor,  he  loves  the  person- 
ality of  his  engine  ;  and  he  has  nowhere 
more  prettily  expressed  this  than  in  his 
account  of  a  journey  on  a  French  en- 
gine : 

"  I  missed  the  sleepy  paniiiiK  o*  the  air-pump 
and  tlie  click  of  the  latch  on  the  reverse  lever 
There  was  no  bell  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  lAc 
rasping  phtbisicy  wblsUe.  I  wondered  if  u;e 
could  ever  undersund  each  otber»  if  sbe  woul^ 
respond  to  tny  loacb." 

He  has  also  a  poetic  faculty  of  settingl 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAU 


33 « 


forth  the  human  pathos  of  the  engineer's 
life  in  its  simplicity  and  self-sacrificing 
courage,  which  is  of  a  piece  with  the 
manhood  of  his  book.  There  are  few 
narratives  more  telling  than  that  mod- 
<est  account  of  an  engineer's  and  a  fire- 
man's death,  which  lie  chives  us  in  the 
'*  Death  Run."  it  has  the  sincerity  and 
simplicity  of  a  report ;  but  it  is  some- 
thint^  lietter  than  a  report. 

The  book  furnishes  some  technical  in- 
formation to  the  profession  and  those 
versed  in  the  professional  terms.  It 
also  gives  an  estimate  of  the  relation  of 
the  employee  to  the  railroad,  which,  we 
need  not  add,  is  a  manly  and  straight- 
forward utterance.  But,  beyond  these 
rather  practical  uses,  it  is  a  unique  con- 
tribution to  current  literature.  Its  pages 
have  the  energy  and  the  first-hand  in- 
-spiration  of  good  writing. 

THE  VILLAC.n  WATCH-TOWKR.  By  Kate 
Douglas  \Vii;Kin.  Boston:  Huughton,  Mifflin 
$i  Co.  $!.<». 

Mrs.  Wiggin  adojits,  more  deliber- 
-ately  than  heretofore,  the  manner  of 
serious  art  in  this  volume  addressed  to 
grown  up  readers.  And  a  praiseworthy 
ambition  is  this — to  quit  for  a  time  the 
condescension  to  the  young  person, 
which,  knowing  sin-  can  manage  it  with 
so  much  grace,  Mrs.  Wit^ijin  is  tempt- 
ed to  make  her  literary  mission.  Miss 
Alcott,  too,  was  not  alwajrs  content  to 
play  the  part  of  the  good-natured  aunt 
in  literature.  Yet,  in  the  case  at  hand, 
the  author  has  not  strikingly  justified 
her  departure.  These  six  sketches  of 
New  England  life  seem  scarcely  to  sound 
a  new  note.  Is  that  the  fate  of  all  be- 
lated travellers  on  the  well-worn  road 
of  New  England  country  fiction  ?  There 
are  no  actual  repetitions  here  of  well- 
worn  subjects  ;  yet  there  is  also  no  par- 
ticularly novel  point  of  view.  '*  .\  Vil- 
lage Stradivarius"  is  the  sketch  which 
comes  nearest  to  original  power.  More- 
over, the  contents  of  the  present  volume 
are  not  stories,  they  are  sketches — pre- 
liminaries to  the  real  achievement. 

The  charm  of  the  book  is,  after  all, 
the  old  charm  which  has  won  Mrs.  Wig- 
gin  her  well-deserved  popularity  ;  and 
that  consists  in  her  ease,  her  humour, 
and  her  sweet  and  wholesome  senti- 
ment, rather  than  in  any  stronger  pow- 
er. In  these  qualities  it  does  not  fait 
below  the  "  lovely  book,"  which  the 
author  wishes  might  have  borne  more 


worthily  her  dedication  to  tlic  "  dear 
old  apple-tree."  After  all,  we  have 
other  authors  to  the  front  w  ho  will  solve 
problems  in  dramatic  construction  and 
in  difficult  passion.  We  need  not  over- 
rate the  pretensions  of  this  pleasant  vol- 
ume, 

RED  ROWAN?^.    By  Mrs.  F.  A.  Steel.  New 

York:  Macmillan  &  Co.  $l.oo. 

Mrs.  Steel's  work  will  always  com- 
mand attention,  not  only  for  the  artistic 
merits  of  its  composition,  but  for  the 
independence  of  its  point  of  view.  For, 
in  spite  of  **  art  for  art's  sake,'*  we  read 
prol)lein  novels  with  a  confessed  inter- 
est in  the  problem  per  sc,  i^erhaps  it  is 
the  misfortune  of  our  intellectunlism, 
but  Mr.  George  Meredith  indulges  us  in 
our  foibles  as  well  as  many  another 
s,iri)ng  writer  less  unimpeachably  an 
artist.    After  all,  the  literature  of  play 

lovable  as  it  is,  and  very  desiral)le  as 
an  antidote  for  our  seriousness — is  out 
of  step  with  the  main  march.  It  is  not 
a  literary  period  of  y^wrr  humanism. 
And,  fortunately  for  us,  there  are  writ- 
ers who  can  make  the  "problem"  a 
legitimate  motive  in  imaginative  fiction. 
They  do  not  palm  off  theories  on  us  un- 
der a  poor  disguise  of  iiuman  drapery  ; 
they  give  us  living  human  nature — hu- 
man nature  not  distorted  on  any  Pro- 
crustean bed  of  a  point  of  view,  yet 
somehow  still  so  disposed  of  as  to  point 
the  moral.  And  if  that  moral  is  irre- 
vocably bound  up  in  the  vital  passions 
of  life,  it  rightfully  belongs  to  art. 

Two  years  ago  Mrs.  Steel's  first  book. 
Miss  Stuart's  Li's^iifv,  gaineil  favourable 
comment  from  the  press.  It  was  a 
novel  of  English  life  in  India,  told  with 
fine  regard  for  the  demands  of  striking 
and  original  action  in  the  story  and 
for  characterisation,  and  also  with  much 
passion  of  purpose.  The  purpose  has 
survived  .in  the  present  novel.  Told 
briefly  in  a  quotation  from  the  preced- 
ing novel,  it  runs  :  '*  Must  love  always 
be  handfast  to  something  else  ?  Or 
Was  it  possible  lor  it  to  exist,  not  in  the 
self-denying  penance  of  propriety  and 
duty,  but  absolutely  free  and  content  in 
itself?  Why  not?"  In  Jied  R(m>ans 
this  theme  is  presented  through  English 
and  Scottish  character  against  a  Scot- 
tish background,  with  less  dramatic  and 
picturesque  effect  than  when  it  was  set 
forth  on  Indian  soil — there  is  very 
little  action  so  called  in  Red  Rawatw 


Digitized  by  C^c^cwlt 


33^ 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


yet  with  a  lirm  control  of  the  motive, 
which  is  worlced  out  throuf^h  strong 

and  subtle  contrasts  oi  personality  and 
the  personal  relation,  and  with  a  more 
ambitious  dealing  in  the  complexities 

of  character. 

Mrs.  Stt'L-l's  work  has  a  masculine 
force  which  is  shown  not  only  in  her 
independence  of  convention  and  the 
stnck  phrase,  but  in  Im  t  almost  virile 
appreciation  of  passion.  It  is  an  appre- 
ciation, however,  which  is  bounded  by 
an  admiraljle  self-restraint.  Perhaps 
what  one  misses  most  in  her  book  is  the 
note  of  real  gaiety  ;  it  has  scarcely  more 
than  efforts  at  gaiety.  There  are  very 
few  women  writers  deeply  in  earnest, 
who  can  preserve  tlieir  seriousness  and 
at  the  same  time  the  irresistible  hu- 
mour which,  in  a  man's  case,  is  quite 
consistent  with  his  sense  of  the  deepest 
tragedy  or  purpose.  If  there  is  any 
criticism  to  make  on  the  technique  of 
Mrs.  Steel's  book,  we  should  say  that  it 
was  needlessly  diffuse,  seeing  that  its 
plot  is  little  relieved  by  palpable  action. 
Otherwise  it  is  a  sound  pirce  nf  \\'nrk- 
mansiiip  ;  a  criticism  ot  tlie  old  relation 
between  man  and  woman  which  deserves 
respect,  and  also  a  vivid  picture  of  life 
— actual  life,  though  chiefly  from  its 
subjective  side. 

AGAINST  HUMAN  NATURE.  By  Maria 
Louise  Pool.  New  York:  Harper  &  Bros, 
fi.oo. 

There  is  a  storv  told  of  two  ui^ly  men 
who  engaged  in  a  "  nuikiu^-lace  match." 
One  of  them  contorted  his  countenance 
tfi  a  doprec  which  the  spectators  be- 
lieved to  be  unsurpassable  ;  but  when 
the  second  man  "  made  a  face,*'  every 
one,  with  one  consent,  called  out  to 
him  to  "stay  as  God  made  him!" 
This  exhortation  might  almost  be  taken 
as  the  text  of  Miss  Pool's  last  novel,  if 
it  were  not  too  true  a  bit  of  drawing  to 
have  a  text,  though  the  moral  is  cer- 
tainly there  for  such  as  have  eyes  to 
discover  it.  The-  daughter  of  a  5las5a- 
chusetts  Vankec  and  a  Louisianian, 
brought  up — no  J  we  mistake  ! — j^rtw- 
'"K  among  the  wild,  free  niountains 
of  North  Carolina,  Temple  Crawford 
believed  that  because  her  mother's  mar- 
ried life  had  been  unhappy,  it  was  the 
sheerest  madness  for  any  one  to  marry 
for  love.  Far  better  to  begin  with  mu 
tual  esteem  and  affectionate  friendship. 


since  one  must,  in  any  case,  end  w  icri 
these.    As  for  herself,  she  is,  she  says, 
of  a  cold  temperament,  and  incapable- 
of  love  ;  therefore  when  she  *'  experi- 
ences religion**  under  the  preaching  of 
the  young  evangelist,  Richard  Mercer, 
she  quite  believe^  that  only  religion  hii< 
happened  to  her  and  not  love,  in  the 
smallest  degree.    Of  course  not  !  Thi* 
isonlv  a  hint  oi  the  ///.///of  the  ston,"  ; 
to  attempt  a  bald  outline  of  the  sequence 
of  events  would  be  to  do  the  boolc  ait 
injustice.     In  fact,  it  is  such  a  ?;pon- 
taneous  sort  of  thing  as  to  be  almost  un- 
just  to  itself;  there  are  no  marks  of 
construction  apparent,  but  things  "just 
happen."    It  is  only  by  rrmcmberrng 
Miss  Pool's  earlier  works  that  we  real- 
ise the  advance  she  has  made  as  an  ar- 
tist, and  that  A^aiml  Ilion.ni  \a'iirr-  is 
the  result  of  a  close  study  of  its  subject 
and  some  very  real  **  experiences." 
The  motif  already  indicated  (which  :> 
handled  with  a  delicacy  and  exquisite 
purity  that  cannot  be  over-praised), 
with  the  evangelistic  labours  of  the 
Mercers  and  the  tension  of  the  moun- 
tain background,  constitute  a  materiel 
which,  in  the  hands  of  some  writers, 
would  have  been  lurid  and  unnatural  as 
a  transformation  scene  in  an  extrava- 
ganza.   Miss  Pool  saves  herself  and  us 
by  her  wholesotnc  realism  and  her  bub- 
bling fun  ;   she  takes  her  tragedy  as 
"  Almina  K.  Drowdy,  of  Iloyt,  Mass.," 
takes  the  mountain  air  :  it  seemed  as  if 
a  person  could  be  taken  up  for  intoxi- 
cation, just  for  breathing  that  air,  but 
she  had  to  breathe  it,  as  it  was  the  only 
air  there  was.    Yet  even  the  "  relaxing 
woman"  and  "  the  abnormal  girl,  "  with 
whom  Temple's  shattered  nerves  bring 
her  in  <  on  tact,  are  not  simply  funny. 
The  current  of  tragedy  sweeps  steadily 
on  under  the  inimitable  **  bits"  whose 
setting  is  '*  Hoyt,  Mass.,"  and  we  real- 
ise, as  we  lay  aside  the  bciok,  that  we 
know  better  than  ever  before  how  the 
nervous  exhaustion  of  our  day  is  due  to 
a  strainerl  and  non  natural  mode  of  liv- 
ing, and  that  nothing  in  the  world  is  so 
well  worth  while  as  to  "stay  as  God 
made  us."    We  are  glad  to  recognise 
Miss  Pool  as  an  artist  of  genuine  merit 
and  of  a  distinctively  American  type, 
who  in  this  book  has  met  both  Miss  Wil- 
kins  and  Miss  Murfree,  each  on  her  own 
ground,  and  in  our  opinion  has  proved 
herself  a  better  craftsman  than  either. 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  UTERARY  pURNAL 


33$ 


THE  BOOKMAN'S  TABLE. 


STUDIES  OF  MEN.    By  George  W.  Smalley. 
New  York :  Harper  &  Bros. 

The  post  of  foreign  correspondent  to 

a  great  New  York  journal,  with  head- 
quarters at  London,  is  the  blue  ribbon 
of  American  joumidism.  The  winner 
of  it  has  a  good  inciune  assured  him,  an 
allowance  for  expenses  as  great  as  that 
of  many  an  ambassador,  and  bis  duty 
is  what  most  cultivated  men  would  re- 
gard as  pleasure.  To  mingle  with  the 
men  who  are  making  historj',  to  know 
intimately  the  representatives  of  great 
political,  Htf*rary,  and  financial  inter- 
ests, and  to  put  himself  in  touch  witii 
the  currents  of  a  nations  life — surely 
this  is  what  any  man  of  intellect  and 
broad  sympathy  would  hnd  a  rare  de- 
light  in  doing.  It  is  the  well-accredited 
American  journalist  alone  who  can  enjoy 
these  privileges  to  the  full.  He  is  suffi- 
ciently detached  from  any  personal  or 
partisan  interest  to  h^.  prrsoiui  grata  to 
Englishmen  of  all  shades  of  opinion  ;  yet 
he  IS  not  in  any  real  sense  of  the  word 
a  foreigner,  so  as  to  lie  viewed  with 
suspicion  ;  and  he  can  understand  the 
subtle  meaning  of  what  he  sees  and 
hears  as  no  Frenchman  or  German  could 
ever  do. 

Probably  no  one  wlio  has  yet  occupied 
this  enviable  position  was  ever  better 
fitted  by  nature  and  by  training  to  reap 
the  full  advantage  of  these  opportuni- 
ties than  Mr.  Smolley,  who  in  this  hand- 
some and  most  entertaining  volnme 
writes  down  some  of  the  observatiuus 
that  he  made  during  his  long  stay 
abroad,  of  the  great  men  of  onr  own 
time.  Cardinal  Newman,  Mr.  Balfour, 
Tennyson,  the  German  Emperor,  Prince 
Bismarck,  Professor  Jowxtt,  Professor 
Tyndail,  Sir  Edward  Burne-Joncs,  Presi- 
dent Camot,  Lord  Bowen,  Mrs.  Hum- 
phry  Ward — it  is  enough  to  enumerate 
these  to  show  how  wide  an  outlook  Mr. 
Smalley  has  taken  ;  for  they  represent 
the  whole  world  of  politics,  government, 
letters,  science,  scholarship,  and  art. 
Of  course,  from  the  nature  of  the  case, 
there  are  certain  restrictions  imposed 
upon  a  journalist  in  Mr.  Sinalley's  po- 
sition ;  becaube,  beia^  a  gentleman  and 
jiftvtng  personal  relations  with  the  sub- 
iects  of  his  bookf  be  cannot  speak  of 


them  as  freely  as  could  one  who  had 
viewed  them  wholly  in  an  exoteric  way  ; 

and  lieine  we  must  expect  to  find,  as 
we  do,  his  narrative  always  amiable  and 
optimistic  ;  yet  his  graceful  tact  does 
not  prevent  him  from  giving  one,  on 
the  whole,  a  very  fair  and  intelligent 
understanding  of  the  characters  that  he 
draws  for  us,  especially  as  it  is  not 
difficult  here  and  there  to  read  between 
the  lines,  and  to  hll  in  the  necessary 
shadows. 

Of  ill  tli'^  <i:  tchcs  in  this  volume,  we 
have  been  must  interested  in  that  of 
Lord  Tennyson,  partly  because  In  it 
Mr.  Smalley  has  written  with  less  re- 
serve than  in  the  others,  and  partly  be- 
cause it  throws  a  good  deal  of  light 
upon  the  personal  side  of  the  poet — a 
side  which  he  himself  sedulously  and 
almost  morbidly  kept  secret  from  the 
world.    His  consistently  repellent  atti* 
tude  toward  the  public  at  large  was.  in 
reality,  as  Mr.  Smalley  shows,  an  atti- 
tude deliberately  taken,  and  almost  a 
necessity.     "  He  was  able  to  live  his 
own  life  when  once  he  had  estabiistied 
a  reputation  for  moroscness.    It  was 
his  fixed  resolve  that  he  would  not  suf- 
fer his  life  to  be  frittered  away  in  mere 
civilities. ' *   Most  of  the  many  anecdotes 
which  Mr.  Smalley  tells  of  liim  are  new, 
and  they  are  all  extremely  interesting, 
so  that  we  wish  we  could  quote  some 
of  them  in  full.     How  he  onc  e  s(|iieezed 
the  Empress  of  Russia's  hand  ;  how  he 
put  an  omniscient  critic  of  his  poems  to 
confusion  ;  how  he  swigged  enormous 
quantities  of  port  wine  ;  how  he  drove 
the  hardest  kind  of  bargains  with  his 
publishers  ;  how  he  called  Lord  Hough- 
ton a  beast ;  how  he  was  frequently  rude 
to  ladies,  and  how  once  upon  a  time  he 
got  as  good  as  be  sent — all  these  things 
are  intensely  interesting,  and  are  typical 
also  of  the  fund  of  fresh,  authentic,  and 
delightful  memorabilia  with  which  Mr. 
Smalley 's  entire  book  abounds. 

ANIMA  PO£T^.  SekcUoM  from  tbe  unpub- 
lished Note  Books  of  Saroael  Taylor  ColciMge. 

Edited  by  Ernest  Hartley  Coleridge.    Boatoa  : 

iluughlon,  MitHin  ^  Co.    $2  ?o. 

It  would  seem  at  this  late  day,  when 
nearly  two  generations  have  passed 
away  since  0>leridge  left  us,  that  all 


uiym^ed  by  GoogI( 


314 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


his  writinjjs  had  been  made  public. 
And  yet  we  have  here  an  octavo  volume, 
uniform  with  the  Letters  of  Colei  tdge^xxh- 
Jished  in  the  spring,  full  ot  hitherto  un- 
published aphorisms,  reflections,  confes- 
sions, and  st'liloquie?;,  rollccted  under 
the  title  of  Anima  J'oetcz.  From  youth 
to  age  note-books,  pocket-books,  copy- 
books, of  all  shaiH  s.  sizes,  and  bindings 
accumulated  in  Coleridge's  possession. 
They  were  his  "  silent  confidants,"  his 
**  never-failing  friends'*  by  night  and 
by  day.  More  than  fifty  of  thesp  are 
«xtant^  and  their  contents  are  as  vari- 
ous as  the  versatility  of  Coleridge's 
genius  rould  make  them.  Ilillicrtobut 
little  use  has  been  made  of  this  life- 
long accumulation  of  literary  materia). 
Gems  of  thought,  rare  passages  of  beau- 
tiful diction,  autobiographic  fragments 
and  other  notes  of  singular  interest  and 
beauty  have  been  called  suocessively 
for  varying  purposes,  and  used  in  a 
number  of  works  pertaining  to  Cole- 
ridge, but  the  bulk  of  the  material  has 
been  left  for  the  present  editor  to  glean 
in.  Much  in  these  note-books  is  of  a 
private  and  sacred  character,  but  it  is 
nevertheless  certain  from  internal  evi- 
<lence  that  Coleridge  had  no  mind  they 
should  perish  utterly.  *'  Hints  and 
first  thoughts"  he  bade  us  regard  the 
contents  of  his  memorandum-hooks. 
"  It  was  his  fate,"  says  his  nephew, 
"  to  wrestle  from  night  to  mom  with 
the  of    the    Vision,    and  of 

that  unequal  con^bat  he  has  left,  by 
-way  of  warning  or  encouragement,  a 
broken  but  an  inspired  and  inspiring 
record. " 

The  selections  have  been  arranged, 
as  far  as  possible,  in  chronological  or- 
der, and  an  index  of  proper  names  and 
of  subjects  gives  completeness  to  the 
plan.  The  notes  begin  with  Coleridge's 
literary  career  and  extend  down  to  the 
summer  of  182^^,  when  he  visited  the 
Continent  with  Wordsworth.  After 
that  the  note-books  are  taken  up  almost 
wholly  with  metaphysical  and  theologi- 
cal disquisitions,  and  are  not  of  general 
interest.  Sufficient  in  quality  and  quan> 
tity,  however,  has  l>een  gathered  to 
make  a  rich  addition  to  English  litera- 
ture, also  to  add  one  more  volume  to 
those  profound  works  marked  by  that 
ahluence  of  intellectual  light,  that  free 
play  of  imagination,  and  that  literary 
charm  which  are  peculiar  to  the  genius 
of  Coleridge. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  JUD.\ISM.     Bj  Jo«ep*lae 
Lazarus.    Ncw  York:  Dodd,  Meabd    A  Col 

$1.25. 

This  is  a  series  of  essays  originally 
publij^ed  in  the  Century  and  in  the 
ish  Messrns^er  during  the  last  two  ye^rs  : 
tliey  are  earnest,  thoughtful,  and  well 
written.    Perhaps  the  strongest  impres- 
sion one  receives  from  them  is  of  the 
personality  of  the  author  ;    and  next 
comes  deep  sympathy,  as  for  the  prophet 
of  a  forlorn  hope.    Her  division  of  mod- 
ern Judaism  into  three  rla«;ses,  the  ex- 
treme orthodox,  or  Pharisees,  the  re- 
formed or  moderate  Jews,  and  the  Sad- 
durees,  who  are  mere  deists,  where  they 
are  not  pure  agnostics,  was  probaJblj 
mutatis  mutandis  as  true  eighteen  cen- 
turies ago  as  it  is  now  ;  in  fact,  the 
same  classification  obtains  in  everv*  re- 
ligion and  political  party,  as  the  French 
have  detected  and  formulated,  as  Right, 
Ct  ntre,  and  Left.    But  it  is  a  strange 
world  in  which  even  Miss  Lazarus  half 
gives  up  the  historic  personality  of  the 
great  Jewish  Lawgiver,  at  the  ven,'  mo- 
ment that  such  men  as  Sayce  and  Raw- 
linson  are  telling  us  that  the  list  of  the 
kings  of  Edom  in  Gen.  36  was  no  doubt 
copied  from  an  official  record  during 
the  Slay  of  the  Israelites  in  Eiiau'scoun- 
try  ;  and  the  Palestine  Exploration  So- 
ciety are  saying  calmly  that  the  Book 
of  Joshua  is  invaluable  to  them  as  an 
Itinerarium.    The  modem  Israelite  finds 
himself  placed,  as  soon  as  he  catches 
the  drift  of  modern  thought,  between 
the  horns  of  a  dilemma  ;  either  the  his- 
toric Christ  was  the  Messiah  of  his  na- 
tion, or  there  was  no  Messiah,  and  never 
will  be.     Miss  Lazarus  and  other  pure 
and  devout  souls  seek  to  evade  both 
Se\lla  and  Charybdis  by  announcing 
Israel   himself  as   the   Deliverer,  the 
Light  of  the  World — a  position  once,  in- 
deed, open  t't  him,  but  forfeited  ne.irly 
nineteen  hundred  years  ago.    The  en- 
thusiasm and  self-devotedness,  the  truly 
enlightened  world-patriotism  of  our  au- 
thor, move  one  almost  to  tears  ;  but 
where  will  she   find  the  Promethean 
spark  to  kindle  a  like  fire  in  her  nation  ? 
That  Jewisli  exchisiveness  is  doomed  to 
self-extinction  is  probably  clear  to  most 
of  us  ;  that  Jewish  monotheism  is  likely 
to  die  out  into  agnosticism  seems  sadly 
probable  ;  and  once  again,  as  in  the  old 
days,  a  prophet  has  risen  up  among 
them,  to  warn  them  of  the  way  of  es- 
cape from  the  evil  to  come ;  but  the 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


335 


Jews  were  never  wont  to  heed  their 

prophets  ovLTmiich  ;  will  tlicy  do  so  in 
the  end  of  the  days,  the  time  that  now 
is? 

THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  NUMBER.  By  James 
A.  McClellao  mod  John  Dewey.  Internaiioiul 
Education  Serici.   New  York :  D.  A^eKon  ft 

Co.  $r.50. 

The  present  volume  is  dcstgjned  to  ex- 
plain the  psychological  nature  of  num- 
ber, or  better,  perhaps,  to  explain  the 
idea  of  it,  and  then  to  apply  it  to  arith- 
metic for  the  purpose  of  assisting^  teach- 
ers in  the  work  of  impartinfir  mstnic* 
tion  upon  the  subject.  Professor  W, 
T.  Harris,  as  editor  of  the  series,  of 
which  this  volume  is  one  number,  writes 
a  preface  for  it.  There  are  two  main 
parts  to  the  work.  The  first  psycho- 
logically analyzes  and  defines  thi^  idea 
of  number,  and  the  second  shows  its 
application  to  arithmetic.  Both  the 
preface  and  the  main  body  of  the  work, 
however,  are  governed  and  pervaded 
by  the  notion  that  all  successful  teach- 
ing of  arithmetic  is  conditioned  by  the 
psychology  of  number.  This  is  dis- 
tinctly stated  in  one  case.  We  should 
flatly  deny  such  a  claim,  and  we  can 
only  think  that  all  such  conceptions  of 
the  subject  only  confuse  scientific  meth- 
ods and  objects  with  the  pedagogical. 
Psychology  is  a  great  help  in  teaching — 
vre  might  say  Indispensable ;  and  we 
should  understand  number  in  order  to 
teach  arithmetic  ;  but  we  do  not  know 
of  what  use  the  psychology  of  number 
can  be  in  arithmetic,  except  to  satisfy 
the  curiosity  of  the  learned. 

There  is  much  to  interest  the  student  in 
the  volume,  but  thisinterest  iscondition- 
ed  either  by  a  stronjr  curiosity  about  vtry 
abstract  things,  or  by  a  desire  to  make 
the  taslc  of  learning  and  teaching  arith* 
metic  much  easier  than  they  arc.  Yet 
we  do  not  see  that  the  latter  ptirpose  is 
served  by  the  discussion.  It  savours  too 
much  of  the  fad  so  prevalent  today,  of 
trying  to  overcome  tfie  practical  dilTi- 
culties  of  teaching  by  stuthng  some  ab- 
stract philosophy  down  the  teacher's 
throat.  The  reason  that  it  is  difficult 
to  arouse  much  interest  in  arithmetic 
in  the  minds  of  most  children  is  not 
that  they  lack  all  knowledge  of  the  psy- 
cholofry  of  number,  but  because  pure 
number  is  one  of  the  most  abstract  con- 
ceptions, and  because  they  may  consti- 
tutionally possess  other  interests  than 


are  gratified  by  mathematical  processes. 
Moreover,  we  can  say  a  great  deal  about 

number  that  is  both  useless  and  unnc  - 
essary.  If  we  were  content  to  say  tiiat 
it  is  only  the  process  of  individuation 
in  space  and  time,  which  it  is,  and  it  is 
nothing  more  than  this,  explaining  how 
this  distinction  in  time  and  space  rep- 
resented it,  we  should  express  all  that 
philosophy  ever  knew  about  tlie  sub- 
ject, and  present  all  that  any  pedagogue 
would  need  ;  and  it  would  even  be 
doubtful  whether  this  could  be  of  any 
special  service  to  him  in  his  art.  Suc- 
cess in  teaching  depends  more  upon  the 
power  to  excite  interest,  to  understand 
the  peculiarities  of  the  student's  mind, 
and  to  see  where  a  l>eginning  must  be 
made  in  presenting  a  subject,  than  upon 
the  psychological  basis  of  the  science 
taught.  Yet  there  is  no  trace  of  this 
assumption  found  in  this  book.  That 
it  is  an  interesting  and  useful  book  we 
do  not  question,  but  it  will  hardly  ac- 
complish what  it  is  designed  to  accom* 
plish.  It  can  only  encourap^c  .nhstract 
philosophy  in  regard  to  the  idea  of  num- 
ber, and  lead  to  a  false  method  of  study- 
ing the  minds  of  students  who  do  not 
like  mathematics. 

THE  REVOLUTIOX  OF  1S4S  By  Irabcrt  de 
Saint-Amand.  Translated  by  Elizabeth  Gilbert 
Martin.  With  portraito.  New  York :  Cbarlei 
Seribner'a  Sons.  $1.35. 

T(^  read  this  book  at  the  same  time  with 
any  life  of  the  first  Napoleon  is  almost 
to  convince  one's  self  that  the  greatest  of 
human  virtues  is  efficiency.  However 
one  may  recognise  Napoleon's  real  base- 
ness in  the  sphere  of  morals,  it  is  im- 
possible not  to  forget  it  all  in  the  con> 
tcmplation  of  his  supreme  mastery  of 
opportunity  ;  and  however  one  may 
eulogise  the  personal  amiability  and 
goodness  of  Louis  Philippe  and  Marie 
Am^lie,  it  is  impossible  not  to  p^rind 
one's  teeth  over  their  utter  fatuity  in 
the  i)resence  of  such  a  crisis  as  that 
which  drove  them  from  the  throne. 
This  imbecile  inefficiency  is  well  brought 
out  in  the  volume  before  us.  On  Feb- 
ruary 22d  of  the  revolutionary  year  1848, 
the  French  king  had  everything  in  his 
hands«->a  loyal  and  well-disciplined  force 
of  regular  troops,  officers  ready  to  carry 
out  the  most  enercjetic  orders,  and  a 
mob  still  self-distrustfvd  and  ready  to 
slink  back  to  its  h  s  :t  the  first  blaze 
of  cannon-fire.   The  vacillation,  the  de* 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


lay,  above  all,  the  suicidal  policy  of  call- 
ing out  the  National  Guard  who  were 
only  the  revolutionists  themselves  in 
uniforni,  lost  Louis  Philippe  a  throne 
and  lost  France  a  constitutional  mon- 
archy, a  r/gime  which  is  of  all  things  best 
suited  to  the  national  temperament. 

Had  Paris  but  bc<;n  strons^ly  occupied  in 

accordance  with  the  fine  military  plan  of 
Marshal  Gerard,  and  had  a  few  thou- 
sands of  the  foul  ruffians  of  the  barri- 
cades been  blown  to  perdition  by  the 
necessary  grapeshot,  France  would  have 
been  spared  the  long  debauch  of  the 
Second  Empire  and  the  putrid  scandals 
of  the  Third  Republic.  The  buuk  is 
very  interesting,  and  the  translation  is 
well  done,  except  for  a  few  infelic  itics, 
such  us  one  always  tinds  when  women 
translate  books  relating  to  military  or 
political  subjects.  There  are  four  good 
portraits  of  Louis  Philippe,  Marie 
Am^Iie,  Lamarttne,  and  Ledru'-Rollin. 

SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  POETRY  OP  ROB. 

ERT  HERRICK.  Edited  by  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D.  Alhetueum  Press  Series. 
Bottoa :  Giao  &  Co. 

This  \%  a  very  excellent  collection  of 
the  quaint  and  curious  things  in  Her- 
rick,  and  is  the  more  truly  representative 
because  Dr.  Hale,  as  he  says  in  his  pref- 
ace, has  by  no  means  restricted  himself 
to  tiie  best  examples  of  the  poet's  work, 
but  has  also  given  extracts  that  show 
him  nodding.  The  Introduction  in  sev- 
enty pages  is  admirably  done,  giving  a 
veryappreciativeacGOuntof  Herrickand 
his  poetry,  and  a  good  bibliography. 
The  notes  are  somewhat  less  to  be  com- 
mended, and  we  do  not  think  that  in 
their  preparation  the  editor  taxed  his 
mind  too  severely  ;  for  many  of  them 
are  much  too  obvious  and  some  not  ob- 
vious enough.  For  instance,  the  note 
on  "  hoofy  Helicon,"  in  the  '*  Farewell 
unto  Poetry,"  says  merely,  "  The  refer- 
ence is,  of  course,  to  Pegasus,  the  winged 
horse  of  the  Muses."  Now,  the  classi- 
cal scholar  does  not  need  this  note,  while 
the  non-classical  scholar  needs  a  fuller 
explanation  about  the  fans  caballinus  to 
make  it  clear  just  how  Pegasus  made 
Helicon  "hoofy."  "Hoofy,"  by  the 
way,  is  good.   W«i  like  "  hoofy.*' 


BOOKMAN  BREVITIES. 

Chinese  CharaeterisHes^  by  Arthur  H. 
Smith,  is  a  very  thorough  and  satisfac- 
tory study  of  the  Chinese  by  one  whose 


intimate  acquaintance  with  them  g^ives 
him  mtich  autliority.  Some  of  the  chap- 
ters, such  as  those  entitled  "  The  Absence 
of  Nerves,"  **  Contempt  for  Foreigners,** 
"  Flexible  Inflexibility,"  and  especially 
"The  Absence  of  Public  Spirit"  and 
**  Mutual  Suspicion,'*  are  curiously  illu- 
minative of  many  events  of  the  past 
year,  and  should  be  read  by  all  who  be- 
lieve, as  we  do,  that  the  Chino-Japanese 
War  was  only  the  prelude  to  a  great  po- 
litical and  military  drama  in  the  Far 
East.  The  book  is  published  by  the 
Fleming  H.  Revell  Company,  this  betn^ 
the  third  (revised)  edition.  There  are 
sixteen  fine  illustrations  from  jihoto- 
graphs.    The  price  is  § 2 . oo. 

Amm'i-an  Steam  Vessels  is  an  alljum- 
shaped  volume  of  496  pages,  giving  il- 
lustrations and  brief  descriptions  of 
pretty  nearly  every  type  of  successful 
steam  vessel  that  has  been  constructed 
in  the  United  States,  from  Fulton's  first 
steamboat  down  to  the  battleship  TnJiana 
and  the  American  Line  steamer  .S/. 
Pa^.  It  is  published  W  Mcsstb*  Smith 
and  Stanton,  of  New  Yoric  City,  and 
the  price  is  $5.00. 

The  Merriam  Company  of  this  city 
publish  Ammg  the  Pueblo  iMdiam,  by 
Carl  Eickcmeyer  and  Lilian  W.  Eicke- 
uieycr,  a  beautifully  printed  and  lav- 
ishly illustrated  volume  of  195  pagies, 
containincf  a  pleasantly  written  narra- 
tive of  a  journey  made  by  the  authors 
in  a  '*  prairie  schooner"  to  the  Pueblo 
territory  in  New  Mexico.     It  gives  a 

food  man^  interesting  details  of  the 
'ueblos  mmgl«l  with  personal  experi- 
ences and  ol)servations.    Price,  Si. 75. 

 The  American  Baptist  Publication 

Society  of  Phiiadelphta  send  us  Quick 
Truths  in  Quaint  Texts,  a  collection  of 
discourses  preached  at  various  times  by 
the  Rev.  R.  S.  MacArthur,  and  repre- 
senting a  certain  style  of  pulpit  oratory 
that  some  persons  regard  as  stimulat- 
ing.   To  this  estimable  class  we  fear 
that  we  do  not  belong.    The  following 
is  a  spwimen  brick  :  "  God  knows  streets  / 
in  cities.    He  knows  Fifth  Avenue,  he  I 
knows  Fifty-seventh  Street.    He  knows 
the  houses  in  the  streets."    This  is  in- 
teresting information.     One  needs  to 
pay  $1.35  for  a  book  of  sermons  in  or- 
der to  be  assured  that  an  omniscient 
Deity  is  aware  of  the  location  of  Fifty- 
seventh  Street.    The  title  of  the  last  ( 
sermon,  "  Divine  Heartburn,"  is  per-  \ 
haps  even  more  characteristic  of  how 


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A  LITERARY  PURNAL. 


337 


far  the  Rev.  Mr.  MacAithur  appreciates 
the  requirements  of  rtverence  and  good 

taste. 

The  Messrs.  Harper  have  added  two 
more  volumes  to  their  substantial  edi- 
tion of  Thomas  Hardy's  novels.  The 
publishers  are  doing  a  good  thing,  and 
one  that  we  fear  is  not  adequately  rec- 
ognised, in  issuing  a  uniform  edition  of 
Hardy's  works  ;  hitherto,  no  such  edi- 
tion has  existed  in  this  country.  The 
two  new  volumes  are  The  Rtturn  of  the 
Native  and  Tcss  of  the  Urbert'ilhs. 
And  tliis  gives  us  an  occasion,  which  is 
Opportune,  to  quote  apropos  of  these 
two  novels  from  an  old  letter  of  Mrs. 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton's.  written  some 
time  ago  from  abroad.  '*  There  is  no 
man,"  she  says  of  Thomas  Hardy, 
"who  writes  of  peasant  life  with  such 
insight,  such  power,  such  absolute  com- 
prehension as  does  the  author  of  Tess. 
I  heard  him  speak  once  of  a  book  it  was 
just  tlien  the  fashion  tu  praise,  and 
■which  dealt  with  a  tragedy  in  humble 
life.  ■  It's  not  the  right  thing,'  he  said. 
*  She  looks  down  at  her  people  and  pats 
them  on  the  head.  Her  attitude  is  all 
•\vronjif. '  Hardy  does  not  pat  his  peas- 
ants on  the  head — he  does  not  look 
down  at  them,  but  with  level  gaze 
straight  into  their  eyes — straighter  still 
into  their  hearts.  The  angel  of  Justice 
could  hardly  know  them  better — the 
angel  of  Mercy  could  hardly  deal  with 
them  more  generously  and  gentlv. 
Hitherto  The  Return  of  tJu  Native  has 
seemed  to  be  Hardy's  masterpiece,  but 
I  think  even  that  is  surpassed  by  Tess,  so 
splendid,  so  terrible,  and  yet  so  pit- 
eous." 

There  are  several  cheap  and  excellent 

reprints  going  on  at  present.  There  is 
the  collective  edition  of  Henry  Kinffs^ 
ley's  novels,  edited  by  Clement  K. 
Shorter  and  published  by  Messrs.  Ward, 
Lock  and  Bowden,  which  has  just 
reached  completion  in  twelve  volumes ; 
and  the  Messrs.  Macmillan  are  issuing  a 
delightful  reprint  of  Charles  Kingsley's 
works  in  the  most  tasteful  little  vol- 
nrnis.  It  wr-uld  have  been  preferable 
had  the  novels  been  complete  in  one 
volume.  Hypatia  has  been  already  pub- 
lished, and  to  this  is  now  added  Alton 
Locke,    Tii'i'    Yc\7>s  and  J!'<\^/:,\rrJ 

Jiol  in  all  six  volumes.  The  binding 
and  size  are  simply  perfect,  and  the 
type  and  paper  do  not  leave  much  to  be 
desired.   Price,  75  cents  per  volume. 


 ^Two  more  useful  and  pretty  series, 

which  the  Macmillans  are  issuing, 
are  the  Romances  and  Narratives  of 
Defoe,  and  the  Illustrated  Standard 
Novels.  T<:)  the  former  tliey  liave  just 
added  Tlie  Fmlunate  Miitress,  in  two 
volumes  (i^i.oo  each),  which  purports  to 
be  a  history  of  the  life  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Beleau,  known  1)y  the  name  of  T.ady 
Roxana.  It  is  curious  to  note  the  argu- 
ment for  "  free-love,*'  as'corapared  with 
marriage  in  this  romance  of  a  bygone 
day  ;  but  Defoe  put  such  pleas  only  into 
the  mouth  of  Roxana  in  her  unrepentant 
state.  Nobody  has  succeeded  yet  in 
identifying  any  one  as  the  original  of 
Roxana,  at  least  so  says  Mr.  Aitken, 
whose  excellent  and  thorough-going 
editing  gives  us  reason  to  rely  on  all  his 
statements.  Mr.  Yeats' s  illustrations 
continue  to  make  the  volumes  exceed- 
ingly attractive.  A  volume  of  Popular 
Tales,  by  Miss  Edgeworth,  is  the  latest 
addition  to  the  Standard  Novel  Series, 
with  illustrations  by  Chris  Hammond 
and  an  introduction  by  Anne  Thackeray 
Ritchie,  than  whom  no  better  person 
could  be  had  to  do  the  work  more  gra- 
ciously  and  with  admirable  competency. 
Mrs.  Ritchie  chara*  terises  these  tales 
neatly  in  her  openn  l;  sentences  :  "  We 
all  of  us  sometimes  v  tat  literature  not 
only  for  otirsclves,  tuit  for  simpler  souls, 
for  sick  and  sorrj'  people,  for  quiet  folk 
laid  by  and  wanting  distraction,  for  vil- 
lage libraries,  and  for  children  and  ser- 
vants. Few  books  would  seem  more 
suited  to  such  needs  than  some  of  the 
shorter  and  simpler  tales  by  Miss  Edge- 
worth."     Price,    $1.25.  Rambles  in 

Japan^  by  Canon  Tristram,  and  pub- 
lished by  the  Fleming  H.  Revell  Com- 
pany, is  an  attractive  and  entertaining 
volume  of  travel.  The  primary  object 
of  the  author's  rambles  was  to  master 
thoroughly  the  position  of  missionary 
work  in  Japan,  and  his  love  of  natural 
science,  at  the  same  time,  led  him  into 
many  pleasant  by-paths,  which  taken 
together  help  to  contribute  to  our  know- 
ledge of  a  race  "  destined  to  be  the 
British  of  the  Pacilic."  It  contains 
many  illustrations  by  Edward  Whymper. 
Price,  $2.00. 

Euginie  Grandet  has  just  been  added 
to  the  Dent  edition  of  I5alzac  (Macmil- 
lan), which  so  far — this  is  the  lifth  vol- 
ume— has  appeared  with  admirable  rej?- 
ularity.  It  is  superfluous  to  say  that 
where  Balzac  meets  with  detractors  and 


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338 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


depreciators,  here  they  meet  in  a  com« 

mon  recopfnition  of  Balzac's  great  merit 
and  excellence.  And  it  is  gratifying  to 
read  that  on  a  more  complete  and 

methodical  study  of  the  whole  works 
Mr,  Saintsbury's  "estimate  of  Balzac's 
goodness  has  gone  up  very  much — 
that  of   his  greatness  had  no  need  of 

raising."    (Price,  $1.50.)-  This  sanest 

of  critics  has  edited  and  Chris  Ham- 
mond has  illustrated  very  cleverly  a 
beautiful  edition  of  MiXrmontti' s  Moral 
Tales  ($2.00),  bound  in  attractive  covers 
in  black  and  gold,  with  full  gilt  edges, 
which  the  Messrs.  Macmillan  publish. 

 The   latest  volume  of  the  Lyric 

Poets  Series  is  a  selection  from  the 
poems  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  edited  by 

Ernest  Rhys.  (Price,  li.oo.j  In  Year 

Books  we  have  JJr.  Miller  s  Year  Book^ 


from  the  Messrs.  Crowell  ;  The  Can^r. 
Farrar  Year  Boffky  published  by  tb^ 
Messrs.  Dutton,  and  The  Helen  Jack$itm 
Year  Book^  with  the  imprint  of  Messn. 
Roberts  Brothers.  The  two  first  m-'^. 
tioned  come  in  white  cloth  covers  with 
design  in  gold. 

Mary  RonalcTs  Century  CMth'Setck,  with 
150  illustrations  pertaining  to  the  culi- 
nary art,  comes  from  the  Centurj-  Com- 
pany. It  is  of  an  encyclopaedic  charac- 
ter, as  one  would  expect  fn>m  iHt  im- 
print of  these  publishers,  and  is  intend- 
ed  to  be  practicable  for  the  kitchens  and 
dining-rooms  over  the  whole  counir}-. 
Susan  Coolidge  has  descended  tn  the 
New  England  kitchen  and  give:;  ihat 
domestic  domain  her  entire  attention. 
There  are  $87  pages,  and  the  price  is 
$2.00. 


WATCH  THEREFORE. 

In  Palestine  tlie  moonbeams  shine 

Upon  each  lonely  hill, 
Where  shepherds  keep  ilieir  drowsy  sheep, 

And  all  the  land  is  still. 

But  through  the  night  a  path  of  light 

Streams  out  across  the  way. 
While  servants  feast  until  the  East 

Gives  warning  of  the  day. 

"  Full  many  a  year,  in  hope  and  fear, 

A  band  of  slavish  men. 
We  watch  for  him  with  eyes  grown  dim,— 

He  will  not  come  again  V* 

Far  away,  at  the  dawn  of  day, 

I  hear  the  master  come, 
And  the  rhythmic  beat  of  his  horse's  feet, 

Nearer  and  nearer  home. 

But  no  one  waits  at  the  castle  gates, 

And  on  the  castle  floor 
The  sunliglit  creeps,  while  the  porter  sleeps 

Till  his  Lord  is  at  the  door  ! 

Herberi  MnOer  Met^wu 

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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


339 

4 


SOME  HOLIDAY  PUBLICATIONS. 


Two  sumptuous  books,  im[)orted  by 
the  Messrs.  Macmilian  from  the  old  and 
reliable  house  of  Messrs.  Archibald  Con* 
stable  and  Company,  deserve  honour- 
able mention  in  any  list  of  seasonable 
publications.  Tct'Bound  m  Kolguev  and 
The  Alps  from  End  to  End  are  both  mar- 
vels of  substantia!  and  artistic  book- 
making.  The  former  is  a  vividly  de- 
scriptive account  of  the  first  exploration 
by  any  KngHshman  of  the  large  island 
of  Kolguev,  which  lies  otf  the  coast  of 
Arctic  Europe.  Mr.  A.  Trevor-Battyc, 
the  author,  made  a  voyage  there  in  tlic 
summer  of  1894  in  a  little  yacht,  which 
through  rislc  of  Polar  ice  was  compelled 
to  return,  leaving  him  and  a  companion 
alone  on  the  island.  Their  subsequent 
adventures  and  rescue  by  a  solitary 
trader  bartering  for  furs  provide  excit- 
ing entertainment,  while,  Mr.  Trevor- 
Battye's  object  having  been  a  scientific 
one,  some  valuable  chapters  have  been 
contributed  to  our  meagre  knciwledge 
of  Arctic  subjects,  devoted  especially  to 
ornithology,  flora,  geology,  and  the  na- 
tive language  of  the  island,  which  until 
then  was  not  known  to  be  inhabited. 
There  are  three  maps  and  numerous  il- 
lustrations, many  of  them  from  sicetches 
by  the  author.  The  Alps  from  End  to 
End  is  Sir  W.  Martin  Conway's  book, 
which  is  a  description  of  three  months* 
climbing  in  the  Alps  "  from  end  to 
end,"  starting  from  the  first  snow-peak 
of  the  Maritime  Alps,  crossing  Switzer- 
land and  Tyrol,  to  the  last  snowy  Alpine 
peak,  in  all  ab(')ut  one  thousand  miles. 
The  climbing  was  done  between  June 
and  September,  1894,  so  that  the  vol- 
ume  is  one  of  ttv"  freshest  and  most 
comprehensive  in  its  scope  that  has  yet 
been  contributed  to  Alpine  literature. 
The  work  is  largely  picturesque,  being 
profusely  ilhtstrate<l,  one  htindred  of 
the  pictures  having  been  made  by  Mr. 
A.  D.  McCormicIc,  and  reproduced  to 
the  full  size  of  the  page  and  printed  on 
line  plate  paper.  Both  volumes  are 
large  octavo  in  sixe,  and  the  price  of 
each  is  $7.00. 

The  happy  possessor  of  Timothy 
Cote's  Old  Italian  Masters^  which  achieved 
distinction  as  one  of  the  most  success* 
ful  art  works  ever  issued  in  America, 
will  Welcome  his  Old  Dutch  and  Flemish 


Masters,  which  forms  a  companion  vol- 
ume to  his  first  superb  work,  published 
in  a  royal  manner  by  the  Century  Com* 
pany.  Readers  of  the  Ct-iitury  Afin^^azi/ie 
are  familiar  with  Mr.  Cole's  wood-en- 
gravings, which  have  spread  abroad  his 
fame  in  other  lands  beside  his  own. 
Professor  J.  C.  Van  Dyke  furnishes  the 
main  portion  of  the  text,  which  also  in- 
cludes Mr.  Cole*s  elucidatory  notes  on 
the  pictures  engraved  by  him.  The 
title-page  is  ornamented  with  a  deli- 
cately tinted  old  Dutch  border  that  will 

recall   fond   reminiscences  of  Delft  to 
many  readers.    It  is  a  rare  occasion  that 
brings  us  such  a  superior  and  magnifi-' 
cent  work  of  art  as  is  treasured  in  this 
volume.    Price,  $7.50 

The  Century  Company  have  added 
three  new  volumes  to  their  delightful 
and  ingenious  little  Thumb-nail  Series. 
(Price,  $1.00  per  volume.^  Mr.  Ed- 
wards  reappears  in  the  series,  as  is  his 
right,  and  there  is  something  harmoni- 
ous and  consistent  in  giving  his  work 
this  form.  The  Rivalries  of  Longhand 
Skori  Codiae  contains  ten  sketches  which 
have  recently  appeared  in  the  Century 
Magazine^  all  pertaining  to  the  romantic 
life  of  the  fisher-folk  on  the  islands  that 
lie  off  the  coast  of  Maine,  which  he  de- 
picts with  a  touch  no  less  delicate  and 
tender  than  that  which  he  makes  with 
his  brush.  In  this  field,  too,  Mr.  Ed- 
wards is  his  own  master,  and  has  no 
rival.  III  Notts  of  a  J'/oftSiional  Exile^  by 
E.  S.  Nadal,  there  is  collected  a  series 
of  sketches  in  which  fancy,  frolic,  and 
familiarity  mingle  with  the  various 
types  of  character  and  phases  of  life  ob- 
served at  an  imaginary  watering-place 
in  Europe.  The  sketches  give  the  pleas- 
ant and  unusual  impression  of  having 
been  composed  in  a  leisurely  way,  and 
many  quaint  conceits  appear  in  the  ram- 
bling, garrulous  narrative  about  men, 
women,  and  books.  For  there  never 
was  an  exile  who  did  not  contrive  to 
get  hold  of  books  of  some  sort ;  and  on 
reading  Carlyle's  Autobiography,  edited 
by  FrLMulc,  Mr.  Nadal  is  mcjved  to  re- 
flect on  the  autobiographies  that  have 
appeared  during  the  last  ten  years,  and 
to  conclude  that  the  position  of  theauto- 
biographer  has  been  in  nearly  every 
case  the  same — namely,  "  that  God  did 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


a  gfood  thing  when  He  m:u!e  liim  !" 
Not  the  least  charming  feature  in  the 
volume  is  the  gracious  portrait  of  a  cer- 
tain ynuni;  lady,  which  is  exquisitely 
drawn  in  the  "dedication."  The  re- 
maining volume  tn  this  series  to  be  men- 
tioned is  A  Madeira  Party,  wliich  con- 
tains a  chapter  of  quaint  lore  al)nut  Ma- 
deira wine,  discu^bcd  in  all  seriousness 
by  a  group  of  gourmets  in  Dr.  S.  Weir 
Mitchell's  entertaining  manner  ;  also  a 
dramatic  tale  of  the  French  Revolution, 
in  which  Dr.  Mitchell  has  surpassed 
himself  and  given  lils  readers  a  fresh 
surprise.  The  story  should  be  read 
some  winter  night  when  the  wind  is 
liowHhg  around  the  house  and  the  case* 
ments  are  rattling  about  your  ears,  but 
all  is  still  within  save  the  sound  of  the 
crackling  logs  and  the  occasional  gurgle 
of  the  wine,  as  you  hear  the  courteous 
voice  of  the  Duke's,  **  A  little  more 
Burgu  n  d  y ,  Monsieur  ?'  * 

If  Henry  Van  Dyke  is  as  magnetic  in 
the  pulpit  as  he  is  out  of  it,  those  who 
sit  under  him  are  to  i>c  envied.  No- 
't\-here  in  his  "  book  of  essays  in  protlta- 

yble  idleness,"  as  he  whimsically  calls  his 
latest  work,  Littic  Rivers^  do  we  find  the 
prating  preacher  in  evidence.  Every  page 
is  suffused  with  an  honest,  out-of-doors 
spirit  of  indulgence  in  the  "sensations 
sweet"  which  Nature  gives  with  lavish 
hand  to  her  votaries.  "  If  an  open  fire 
is,  as  Charles  Dudley  Warner  says,  the 
eye  of  a  room,  then  surely  a  little  river 
may  be  called  the  mouth,  the  most  ex- 
pressive feature  of  a  landscaiie."  Thus 
the  keynote,  which  he  strikes  in  the  prel- 
ude to  the  joyous  rambles  which  he 
takes  throui:;h  the  book  by  the  little 
rivers  of  diversified  scenes  and  charac- 
teristics. And  we  thank  him,  to  whose 
apt  scholarship  and  tenacious  memory 
we  owe  thanks  for  so  many  choice  bits 
of  literature  with  wliicli  lie  has  bejew- 
elled his  writings,  for  that  passage  from 
Stevenson's  "  I*rince  Otto,"  which,  in 
spite  of  so  much  late  Stevensonia,  we 
dare  to  quote :  "  There's  no  music/* 
says  Stevenson,  "  like  a  little  river's. 
It  plays  the  same  tune  (and  that's  the 
favourite)  over  and  over  again,  and  yet 
does  not  wearj'  of  it  like  men  fiddlers. 
It  takes  the  mind  out  of  doors  ;  and 
though  we  should  be  grateful  for  good 
houses,  there  is,  after  all,  no  house  lilee 
God's  otit-of-doors.  And  lastlv,  sir,  it 
quiets  a  man  down  like  saying  his  pray- 
ers/' The  Messrs.  Scribner,  who  pub- 


lish T.itth-  Rivers,  have  made  adelightf::; 
book  of  it  ;  the  cover  especiailj  cc- 
serves  an  encomium  to  itself,  and  tlx 
presswork  and  pictorial  features  are  i.T 
excellent  taste.  If  we  are  not  mistaJtet 
in  the  price  (it  is  marked  at  $2.oc),  the 
book  is  remarkably  cheap  for  the  fBOBer. 

The  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 
have  prepared  an  exquisite  scries  of  re- 
productions in  colour-work  after  orijiiMl 
desli^ns  by  expert  artists  f<^r  the  delecta- 
tion of  those  who  indulge  in  art  prod- 
ucts. The  price  of  Pansies  and  R^)& 
$2.00  each  ;  Dogs  and  Cats,  $1.75 ;  and 
Facsimiles  of  Water  Colours^  by  W.  Gran- 
ville Smith,  is  $5.00.  Theprare  beand. 
fully  bound  in  specially  designed  covers, 
and  are  neatly  enca?>ed  in  card  b  xe> 
They  make  a  most  alluring  display, and 
are  admirably  suited  for  holiday  gifts. 

When  the  publishers  of  that  deserved- 
ly  popular  book,  Besidt  tiu  Bofwit  Bria 
Bush^  conceived  the  idea  of  uking  die 
concluding  chapters  and  issuing  them 
separately  as  a  holiday  book,  with  illus- 
trations from  drawings  made  at"Dnini« 
tochty,"  they  did  something  forwhid 
the  admirers  of  Ian  Maclaren  will  fed 
exceedingly  grateful,    A  D^itor  oj  tu 
Old  School^  with  its  beautiful  afttstk  Mt- 
tinij  and  characteristic  drawings,  is  not 
a  book  to  pass  away  with  the  holiday 
fever ;  it  will  take  as  firm  a  place  snoBf 
books  of  permanent  interest  .is  Pr  Joha 
Brown's   little   classic,    Jiat   and  Hit 
Ft  icndi,  lo  wliich  it  will  form  a  delight- 
ful companion,  and  which,  indeed,  is 
said  to  have  suggested  this  definitiVs 
form  for  the  story  of  "  Doctor  Wcdum 
MacLure.'*    Mr.  Frederick  C.  Gordon, 
who  made  the  drawings,  imparts  ifi  "  ^ 
Visit  to  Drumtochty,"  on  another  page, 
some  interesting  information  relatii^ 
to  the  originals  of  the  characters  and 
places  of  the  BotmU  Brier  Busk  stories. 
Price,  $2.00. 

Standisk  of  Staniisk  has  aUays  been 
the  most  popular  of  Mrs.  Austin's  his- 
torical novels  of  the  Old  Plymouth  CoW 
ony.  The  story  of  Myles  Standish, «'« 
the  kniphtly  fervour  stirriirc:  '-n  1^'* 
blood,  has  an  entrancing  interest  for 
us  ;  the  history  of  his  times  is  made «p 
of  stem  facts,  indeed,  as  Mrs.  Austm 
pently  reminds  us;  but  mingling''^ 
ihem  is  a  thread  of  sweet  and  tciwW 
romance.  We  love  the  flower  with  a 
special  alTection  which  has  it>  f^^* 
deeply  imbedded  in  the  crannied 
and  its  bloom  has  a  beauty  foroiif^ 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


34« 


which  gains  by  its  floral  asceticism. 
Among  the  new  editions  of  standard 
works  which  have  come  to  us,  these  two 
volumes  rank  hiifh  in  the  beauty  and 
delicacy  of  uicir  worknianship  ;  ever^'- 
thing  about  them  is  in  good  taste,  and 
the  twenty  photogravures  by  iVank  T. 
Merrill  are  among  the  best  specimens  of 
this  mechanical  process  which  we  have 
seen.  And  Mrs.  Austin's  book  is  wor- 
thy of  it  all.  The  price  is  $5.00,  and 
the  publishers  are  Messrs.  Houghton, 

Mifflin   and  Company.  In  our  last 

number  we  had  occasion  to  commend 
the  illustrated  holiday  edition  of  J7/(v- 
watha  issued  by  this  firm.  Since  then 
wc  have  received  from  them  a  compan- 
ion volume,  bound  in  much  the  same 
style,  containing  the  poet's  Courtship  of 
Milis  Standish.  It  is  printed  in  clear 
type  on  supcrliue  paper,  and  a  profu- 
sion of  half-tone  vignettes  and  several 
full-page  illustrations  are  scattered 
throu^ti  the  pages.    Price,  $1.50. 

£mile  Zola's  Une  Page  d' Amour  has 
been  honoured,  under  Mr.  Vizeteily's 
translation,  entitled  A  Love  Episode^  to 
enter  the  lists  for  emprise  among  holi- 
day books.  Under  the  auspices  of  the 
J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  who  publish 
the  sole  authorised  English  version,  M. 
Z'da's  famous  novel  makes  a  gay  ap- 
pearance with  one  hundred  wood-en- 
gravings, of  a  piece  with  the  character 
of  the  work.  It  is  of  this  novel  that 
Zola  made  the  remark  to  a  friend  :  "  I 
will  make  all  Paris  weep."  Mr.  Vize- 
telly  claims  that  in  the  entire  domain 
of  fiction  it  would  be  di'firult  to  find  a 
more  pathetic  story  than  tiiui  of  Helenc 
Grandchamp's  struggle  with  passion, 
her  fall,  and  1/itter  punishment.  He 
likens  its  moral  effect  to  that  of  Adam 
Bede,  the  pathos  of  which  it  more  than 
rivals.  But  the  finish  is  not  such  as 
Geor^re  Eliot  would  have  made  it ;  M. 
Zola  IS,  above  all,  a  realist  from  first  to 
last.  The  story  is  in  one  volume — a 
rather  bulky  one — but  it  holds  well  to- 
gether, and  the  price  is  only  fa.oo.— — It 
will  not  ije  irrelevant  to  notice  here  a 
volume  containing  half  a  dozen  short 
stories  by  Zola  which  Messrs.  Copeland 
and  Day  have  published,  for  the  reason 
that  the  book  is  a  fine  example  of  dainty 
bookmaking,  and  the  cover  is  unique, 
being  in  imitation  of  the  French  style. 
Mr.  William  Fost'er  Apthorp,  who  has 
translated  the  stories  in  tliis  volume, 
which  bears  the  title  of  the  first  tale, 


Jacques  Damour,  is  a  well-known  French 
scholar  of  Boston,  and  this  adds  literary 
value  to  these  stories,  in  which  M.  Zola 
is  considered  by  many  critics  to  be  at 
his  best. 

Who  does  not  rememl)er  vividly  the 
first  time  ht^  read  The-  Wandering  JiK\ 
and  how  the  bewilderment  of  the  open- 
ing chapters  gave  way  before  the  insinu- 
ating mystery  which  crept  upon  him 
and  held  him  with  a  fierce  and  terrible 
fascination !  Messrs.  T.  Y.  Crowell 
and  Company  have  just  brought  out  an 
illustrated  edition  of  Eugene  Sue's  uni- 
versal favourite  in  two  volumes,  the 
text  of  which  is  reprinted  from  the  orig- 
inal Chapman  and  Hall  edition,  which 
is  by  far  the  best  translation  that  exists. 
A  good  library  edition  of  this  French 
masterpiece  has  been  murh  needed,  and 
these  publishers  ha\  c  given  us>  one  which 

is  cnMlitable  to  their  enterprise.  The 

volumes  are  a  little  large,  to  be  sure, 
but  that  is  not  a  serious  objection  when 
tiie  book  is  one  that  is  easily  handled; 
besides,  good,  clear  tyjie  is  the  first  es- 
sential, and  that  takes  space.  The  bind- 
ing is  substantial  and  meant  to  stand 
frequent  usage,  which  is  sensible,  and 
there  are  eighteen  full-page  illustrations. 
Price,  $3.00. 

W«t  welcome  an  old  favourite  from 
the  press  of  the  same  firm  in  Jane  Por> 
ter's  enthralling  historical  romance.  The 
Scottish  Chiefs.  In  1840  the  author 
wrote  a  **  Retrospective  Preface"  to  an 
illustrated  edition  which  then  appeared, 
in  which  she  referred  to  the  first  appear- 
ance of  her  story  (in  1809),  and  rertccted 
that  "  its  probable  labt  editiuu"  had 
now  been  called  lor.  And  yet  innumer- 
able editions  have  been  published  since 
then  ;  it  has  been  translated  into  sev- 
eral langruages,  and  circulated  all  over 
the  world  ;  and  it  has  received  the  stamp 
of  approbation  and  found  favour  during 
successive  generations  from  eminent 
critics  and  authors.  And  now  we  have 
it  again  in  a  handsome  form,  in  two 
volumes,  with  numerous  illustrations  of 
I'.r  ,  ^-nes  made  famous  in  llie  history 
of  Sir  William  Wallace  and  Robert 
Bruce,  printed  on  fine  plate  paper.  As 
in  The  Wandering  Jau,  the  typography 
is  excellent,  and  there  are  two  frontis- 
piece photogravures  ;  the  price  is  also 
the  same.  It  is  one  of  the  best  tales  of 
adventure  that  can  be  put  int'  i  the  hands 
of  young  people,  but  none  can  resist  its 
brilliancy  and  power. 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


34* 


THE  BOOKMAhf. 


For  elegance  in  form  and  embellish- 
ment, and  for  attractiveness  in  manner 
and  matter,  one  might  go  far  to  seek 
dainty  models  of  bookmakinjr,  such  as 
one  finds  in  the  volumes  of  the  Faience 
Library,  published  in  a  uniform  edition, 
at  §1.00  per  volume,  by  the  Messrs. 
Crowcll.  Four  volumes  have  just  come 
to  hand  in  this  series — namely,  TJie 
Famici-  by  Champfleury  ;  L'AvrUf 

hy  Paul  Marj^ueritte  ;  La  Belle Nivernaise 
and  Other  Stories,  by  Daudet,  and  the 
same  author's  famous  Tartarinof  Taras- 
con.  The  illustrations  are  very  clever, 
and  their  artful  interspersion  among  the 
text  malces  quite  an  attractive  page. 

Messrs.  T.ittle,  Brown  and  Company 
have  made  a  valuable  and  permanent 
contribution  to  the  library  in  their  edi- 
tion  of  Charles  Lever's  novels  of  adven- 
ture,  which  are  issued  in  continuance 
of,  and  uniform  with,  their  edition  of 
Lever's  military  novels.  The  novels  of 
adventure  have  been  considered  by 
many  to  contain  Lever's  best  work,  and 
they  have  enjoyed  an  extensive  popu- 
larity. Of  course,  no  one  expects  nowa- 
days to  become  wildly  enthusiastic  over 


Birket  Foster's  delightful  engravings, 
and  accompanied  them  with  selected 
passages  in  prose  and  poetry  under  the 
title,  Pictures  of  Rustic  Landscape.  Mr. 
John  Davidson,  one  of  the  stronger  of 
the  new  school  of  poets,  has  made  these 
selections,  and  has  done  his  work  as 
only  a  poet  and  a  scholar  of  eclectic 
tastes  and  refined  sensibilities  coold  be 
expected  to  do  it.    The  choice  passages 
are  confined  for  the  most  part  to  the 
works  of  our  best  artistic  writers,  ana 
are  remarkable  for  their  sug^^estiveness 
of  the  beautiful,  crraphic  presentation 
of  landscape  features,  delicacy  of  light 
and  shade  in  the  use  of  word-painting,, 
and  fine  imaginative  (juality.  Among 
these  writers  we  have  Richard  Jefferies, 
Stevenson,  Hamerton,  Pennell,  Carlyk, 
Gilbert  White,  Wordsworth,  Arnold, 
and  Tennyson.    Mr.  Davidson  also  con- 
tributes two  prose  poems  to  the  collec- 
tion.    The  book  is  well  bound  and 
beautifully  printed,  and  the   price  is 
$3.50.    An  engraved  portrait  of  the  ar- 
tist is  given  tn  the  frontispiece. 

The  publishers  of  The  Cfirisi  Child  zn 
Art^  by  Henrj'  Van  Dyke,  have  just 


Lever,  but  he  fills  a  place  in  Irish  liter-  issued  a  dainty  volume  by  the  same  au 
aturc  which  is  indisputably  his  own,    iKor  which  centres  about  the  Babe  of 

<  will  ahvavs  find  readersv/niethlehei 


and  his  work 
who  enjoy  an  old- fash iuned  story  of 
love  and  adventure,  of  mirth-provoking 
lautjhter,  and  entertaining  fun  on  a 
broad  scale.  Maurice  Tiernay^  the  Soldier 
of  Fortune^  deals  largely  with  Napoleon 
and  the  early  days  of  the  Emi/ire  ;  Sir 
Jasper  Care-w,  the  scenes  of  wliich  are 
laid  in  Ireland  and  France,  is  one  of 
Lever's  most  powerful  stories  ;  The  Con" 
fessions  of  Con  Crcgan  is  his^hly  amusing. 
It  is  related  that  the  humourist  tried 
the  experiment  of  publishing  this  novel 
anonymously,  with  the  result  that  it 
was  hailed  at  once  as  the  work  of  an 
author  who  would  eclipse  Lever !  Ro^ 
land  Cashel,  as  also  Con  Crci^an,  are  in 
two  volumes,  making  in  all  si.x  volumes. 
The  publishers  have  made  a  durable  as 
well  as  a  reputable  set  of  b(>oks,  and 
l!ic  illustrations  and  etchings,  the  for- 
mer irom  drawings  by  "  Phiz,"  and  the 
latter  by  E.  Van  Muyden,  increase  the 
value  an<l  lit<-rary  interest  of  this  edi- 
tion. Together,  six  volumes,  price, 
§15.00. 

What  so  rare  in  illustration  for  the 
eye  to  feast  upon  as  a  fine  old  wood- 
engraving  !  Messrs.  Longmans,  (ireen 
and  Company  have  collected  thirty  ot 


m.  The  StPry  (>f  the  Other  W:  - 
Man  realises  afresh  the  point  ui  view 
which  is  hard  for  us  to  grasp  at  the 
end  of  nineteen  centuries.  The  stn-r 
of  Artaban,  the  Median,  the  fourth  Wise 
Man  who  failed  to  reach  Bethlehem  with 
his  friends,  is  toUl  w  ith  great  tenderness 
and  with  wonderful  verisimilitude.  We 
follow  his  quest  for  the  King  thruugb 
the  temptations  and  disillusionment 
which  bring  discovery  at  last,  with  un- 
abated interest  ;  and  the  new^  light 
which  the  narrative  throws  upon  the 
beauty  of  Christian  charity  is  season- 
able. The  Messrs.  Harper  have  made 
an  uncommon  and  beautiful  piece  of 
book-making  of  Mr.  Van  Dyke's  Christ- 
mas message,  and  the  illustrations  by 
F.  Luis  Mora  add  lu  its  i>uggcblu cncss. 
The  price  is  $1.50. 

The  ever- popular  Beauties  cf  S';:kf- 
s/car£has  been  decked  out  by  the  Messrs. 
Crowell  for  the  holidays,  with  bindinff 
and  photogravure  illustrations  to  ter.pt 
the  eye.  it  was  through  reading  Mr. 
Dodd  s  Beauties  of  Shakespeare  that 
Goethe  was  led  to  study  the  great  Eng* 
lish  dramatist.  It  is  issued  in  two  neat 
liule  volumes,  and  the  price  is  $2.50. 
Of  all  that  La  Motte  Fouqu^  has  writ* 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


341 


ten,  his  Undine  will  perhaps  alone  live, 
but  that  assuredly.  Goethe,  who  found 
little  to  commend  in  the  other  writ- 
ings of  Fouqut^,  said  that  on  this  occa- 
sion the  auUior  had  struck  gold,  and 
Heine,  who  laughed  unmercifully  at  him, 
raved  about  Undine,  and  called  it  a 
*'  wonderfully  lovely  poem.  It  is  a  very 
kiss ;  the  Genius  of  Poesy  kissed  the 
sleeping:  Sprinj?  and  he  opened  his  eye- 
lids with  a  smile,  and  all  the  roses 
breathed  out  perfume,  and  all  the  night- 
ingales sang — this  is  what  our  excellent 
Fouqu6  clothed  in  words  and  called 
Undine."  The  story  has  been  translated 
from  the  German  and  published  by  the 
Messrs.  Stokes  to  meet  the  demand  for 
a  fine  edition  of  tliis  Wi^Tiuy  immorteile. 
Edmund  Gosse  contributes  a  critical  in- 
troduction, and  W.  v..  V.  Britten  a  num- 
ber of  illustrations.  The  book  is  printed 
and  bound  in  a  perfect  manner.  The 

price  is  $5.00.  -We  liave  also  to  notice 

a  work  from  the  same  firm,  which  com- 
mands our  respect  for  its  courage  and 
enterprise  in  issuing  a  number  of  holi- 
day publications  which  entail  great  ex- 
penoiture  in  their  lavish  production— 
the  work  in  question  being  Saint-Juirs' 
Tatrern  of  the  Three  Virtues,  with  sixty 
drawings  by  Daniel  Vierge.  Edmund 
Gosse  has  laid  his  approval  on  this  book 
also  ;  the  book  itself  is  a  sumptuous 
affair,  and  but  for  the  fact  that  it  is  in 
English  it  might  have  come  direct  from 
Paris.  As  a  work  of  art,  it  will  be  prized 
highly  ;  we  understand  that  only  125 
copies  have  been  bought  for  the  Ameri'* 

can  market.    The  price  is  §15. 00.  

The  Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  M ice ^  rendered 
into  English  by  Jane  Barlow,  and  tllus- 
tratef'  bv  1".  I>  I'fdford,  is  published 
by  the  Messrs.  Stokes.  Mr.  Bedford's 
decorative  designs  are  instinct  with  hu- 
mour and  phantasy,  and  are  truly  de- 
lightful \  the  type  is  beautiful  to  behold, 
but  very  trying  to  the  eyes  in  reading. 
We  rather  fear  that  the  interest  of  the 
book  will  lie  with  the  artist  ;  and  this 
is  a  pity,  for  Miss  Barlow's  work  bears 
the  inimitable  stamp  which  all  her  writ- 
ing carries. 

There  arc  many  who  will  find  in 
Messrs.  Revell  and  Company's  illus- 
trated holiday  edition  of  F.  B.  Meyer  s 
Shepherd  Psalm  ($1.25),  and  in  The' Star 
p/Betkhkem  ($r.5o),  by  Lyman  Abbott, 
with  desicjns  by  Dore,  Delarochc  and 
others,  published  by  John  Knox  McAfee, 
suitable  gift-books  for  Christmas-tide. 


The  text  is  In  fine,  clear  type  on  plate 
paper,  and  the  cover  designs  are  in  ex- 
quisite taste. 

The  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company  hnvf 
published  two  daintily  made  little  books 
which  offer  an  attraction  among  holiday 
books.  A  Literary  Pilgrimage  and  Lit- 
erary Shrines^  by  Dr.  Theodore  F.  Wolfe, 
contain  the  record  of  the  author's  senti- 
mental iourneys  to  the  scenes  commem- 
orated in  literature  by  eminent  and  well- 
beloved  authors,  and  to  their  homes. 
The  former  work  is  confined  to  English 
places,  as  the  latter  is  to  Amencan. 
There  is  a  pleasant  air  of  familiarity 
and  reminiscence  in  these  bookSi  also 
much  that  is  helpfully  suggestive,  much 
that  was  worth  recollecting  in  corre* 
spondence  with  some  of  the  authors  or 
in  gossip  with  their  friends  or  neigh- 
bours. The  bindings  are  neat  and  ele- 
gant, and  the  photogravures  of  historic 
places  enhance  the  merit  of  the  work. 
In  uniform  bindin^^.  price  $1.25  each. 

Messrs.  Little,  Brown  and  Company 
have  selected  from  the  numerous  ro- 
mances of  that  gifted  genius  who  styled 
herself  George  Sand,  tfiose  works  of 
hers  which  may  be  called  her  master- 
pieces, for  publication  in  a  very  attrac- 
tive, uniform  edition,  consisting  of  four 
volumes.  The  titles  are  Francois  the 
Waif,  The  DntTt  Pool,  Fadette,  and  The 
A/aster  AIvs<iic  W'orkirs.  The  edition  is 
limited,  and  the  workmanship  in  the 
making  of  the  books  is  executed  wor- 
thily and  in  excellent  .taste.  Price, 
$6.00  net.—  ■  ■  Two  books  of  permanent 
worth  as  well  as  of  holiday  interest 
come  to  us  from  Messrs.  Roberts  Broth- 
ers in  Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton's  Paint' 
irtg  in  France  and  Contemporary  French 
Painters  (price,  $3.00  each).  Mr.  Ha- 
merton's position  as  an  art  critic  and  a 
writer  of  polished  and  dii^nified  Eng- 
lish prose  is  too  well  known  to  need 
comment,  but  we  would  like  to  call  at- 
tention to  the  photogravures  of  the  fine 
examples  of  French  painting  which  ac- 
company the  text.  "There  are  thirty  of 
these  in  the  two  ▼cAumes,  all  choice 
subjects  and  representative  of  the  best 
product  of  contemporary  French  art. 

 John  C.  Winston  and  Company,  of 

Philadelphia,  have  issued  an  attractive 
pictorial  book  about  Westminster  Abbey 
and  the  Cathedrals  of  England  (price, 
$3-5°)i  which  is  largely  illustrated  from 
photographic  views  of  the  Cathedrals 
and  from  portraits  of  the  dignitaries  as- 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLe 


344 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


sociated  therewith.  The  contributors 
to  the  historical  and  graphic  descrip* 
tions  elucidating  these  views  and  j>(»r- 
traits  include  some  reverend  and  digni- 
fied names,  such  as  Dean  Farrar,  Dean 
Milman,  Dean  Stanley,  Venables  of 
Lincoln,  and  the  Dean  of  Winchester. 

 Messrs.  Lovcll,  Coryell  and  Com< 

pany  send  us  their  editions  of  Green's 
History  of  the  English  People  and  Justin 
McCarthy's oj  Our  Own  Times; 
the  former  in  four  volumes  (price,  $5  00) 
and  the  latter  in  two  (price,  $3.00). 
Illustrations  play  an  important  part  in 
these  volumes,  and  the  editing  has  been 
especially  well  done  in  order  to  bring 
the  works  of  these  authors  within  the 
practical  range  o(  the  average  reader. 
These  popular  editions  of  weU*known 
standanl  worlcs  are  admirably  adapted 


to  the  holiday  wants  of  those  whose 
taste  and  inclination  may  run  in  tlu» 

department  of  literature,  One  of  tbc 

most  important  books  of  the  season, 
and  one  that  will  be  eagerly  read  by 
obaervant  students  of  present*day  bts- 
tory,  is  Professor  Grosvenor*s  able  and 
•  comprehensive  work  on  Cotuiat:tint?j-U 
(price,  $10.00).   The  two  volumes  are 
superbly  and  profusely  illustrated  with 
350  pictures,  and  there  is  an  introduc- 
tion by  Lew  Wallace.    These  two  au* 
thors  explored  the   field  together  for 
years,  anri  constantly  stimulated  each 
other  in  his  special  w^ork  by  congenia.1 
and    inspiring   companionship.  We 
hope  to  give  an  extensive  and  caref  •? 
review  of  Professor  Grosvenor's  work 
in  our  next  number,  the  book  having 
appeared  just  as  we  go  to  press. 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 


An  unprecedented  number  of  new 
books  and  stories  for  boys  and  girls 

has  already  been  published,  and  still 
there  are  more  to  follow  before  the  sea- 
son's list  is  exhausted.  Surely  young 
people  were  never  so  well  catered  for  in 
the  matter  of  liieratnrc  as  they  are  now- 
adays. They  represent  a  class  whose 
needs  are  being  better  understood  eveiy 
year,  anrl  tlie  consequence  is  that  a  new 
and  more  carefully  trained  band  of  writ- 
ers is  constantly  coming  to  the  front. 
Besides,  there  is  no  more  severe  critic 
than  your  fresh-minded  bey  or  girl,  and 
he  or  sfic  is  at  no  pains  to  tell  you 
frankly — with  a  brutal  frankness,  the  au- 
thor tnij^ht  think — what  i>  his  or  her  opin- 
ion of  a  book.  The  old  authors  are  well 
represented,  and  many  new  and  untried 
ones  appear  on  the  list  of  juveniles 
that  follow.  As  far  as  possible  we  have 
sought  briefly  to  indicate  the  contents 
of  each  and  to  present  its  features  suc- 
cinctly, so  as  to  enable  the  reader  to 
juclgc  of  tlie  mertls  and  nature  of  the 
book.  This  list  by  no  means  includes 
all  the  new  juveniles,  but  it  docs  contain 
all  books  that  have  been  sent  to  us  up  to 
November  8th. 

Christmas  Week  at  /      J//7/,  by 

Dora  E.  W.  Spratt,  is  a  charming  little 
sketch  of  a  Southern  Christmas,  told 
largely  in  dialect,  and  with  simplicity 


and  truth  to  life.  It  is  prettily  bound 
and  illustrated.  (American  Baptist  Pub> 

lication  Society.  75  cents.)  The  Cen- 
tury Company  publish  the  following 
four  books  in  an  admirable  style,  with 
choice  covers  and  illustrations  t>y  the 
best  artists  :  fack  Baliistct  '  >  J-ot  tunes 
gfivesavivid  picture  of  ear  1}' colonial  life 
m  Virginia,  and  tells  the  story  of  an 
English  lad  who  is  kidnapped  and  sold 
as  a  servant  on  a  Virginia  plantation, 
from  which  he  runs  away  only  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  pirates.  He  escapes 
and  at  the  same  time  rescues  a  yoiirt;^ 
woman  who  had  been  caj)lured  and  held 
for  ransom.  Mr.  Howard  Pyle's  story, 
as  it  appeared  in  St  Nicholas,  has  been 
expanded  in  book  form,  and  his  clever 
illustrations  are  also  given,  suffering 
somewhat  from  their  reduced  slate. 
(Price.  $2.00  )  A  Boy  0/  tht  First  Em- 
//><r,  by  Elbridge  S.  Brooks,  which  also 
appeared  in  St.  Nicholas^  will  hardly 
prepare  the  mind  of  the  young  reader 
for  the  reception  of  the  real  Napoleon 
which  must  come  later  to  his  knowledge 
It  will  be  a  ruiie  shock  to  descend  from 
the  noble  picture  herein  painted  of  the 
Emperor  to  the  true  character  in  hb 
ii^nolilc  relations  to  liistory.  But  the 
romantic  idealism  of  the  story  will 
heighten  interest  in  human  life  apart 
from  its  particular  setting,  and  is  calcu' 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


345 


latcd  10  arouse  the  imagination  and  to 
stimulate  admiration  for  bravery  and 
loyalty  in  action  and  a  high  conduct  of 
life.  It  is  richly  illustrated  by  Mr. 
Ogden's  pictures,  also  taken  from  the 
magazine.  (Price,  $1.50.)  \n  Tin-  Hoi 
J^air,  by  James  Baldwin,  we  are  taken 
to  the  magic  land  of  Morgan  the  Fay, 
"where  every  noted  horse  known  to  leg- 
end  or  history  passes  through  a  glorious 
show  before  the  wondering  eyes  of  a  lit- 
tle American  boy.  Mr.  Baldwin's  deep 
affection  for  the  horse  and  his  wide 
knowledge  of  the  famous  steeds  of  an- 
tiquity and  in  literature  and  history  have 
gone  to  the  making  of  a  book  that  will 
astonish  the  reader  by  its  countless  en- 
tries in  this  marvellous  fair,  and  will  ap- 
peal to  all  who  love  horses,  brave  adven- 
ture, and  stirring  engagements  on  the 
battlefield.  The  uniqueness  of  the  idea 
will  add  to  the  surprise  which  the  book 
has  in  store  for  its  young  readers,  and 
older  ones  will  certainly  profit  by  it  as 
well.  The  illustrations  are  very  good. 
(Price,  S1.50.)  There  are  twenty-six 
stories  founded  on  heroic  incidents  in 
American  history  in  Hero  I'uies,  by 
Henry  C.  Loilge  and  Theodore  Roose^ 
velt,  fully  illustrated.  The  purpose  of 
the  book,  say  the  authors,  is  to  hold  up 
the  lofty  ideal  which  moved  these  heroes 
of  our  land  to  "  the  stern  and  manly 
qualities  which  are  essential  to  the  well- 
being  of  a  masterful  race,  the  virtues  of 

fenUeness  and  of  patriot!  ii"  (Price, 
1,50.)  From  H.  T.  Coates  and  Com- 
pany we  have  Under  the  J\.<d  FIdi;,  by 
Edward  King ;  Adrift  in  the  City,  by 
Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  ;  and  The  Young 
Rancher^  by  Edward  S.  Ellis,  stories  of 
ordinary  interest  and  mediocre  ability  ; 
perhaps  we  should  except  the  first  vol- 
ume, which  narrates  the  adventures  of 
three  American  boys  during  the  insur- 
rection of  the  Paris  Commune,  in  187 1. 
Its  descriptions  are  drawn  with  the 
directness  and  strength  which  an  eye- 
witness of  the  scenes  could  well  convey 
with  t!ie  ready  facility  of  the  special  cor- 
respondent's pen.    (Price,  ^1.25  each.) 

We  welcome  the  new  edition  of  Miss 
Hapgood's  translation  of  De  Amicis's 
Cuore,  with  its  beautiful  illustrations, 
said  to  be  the  work  of  clever  Italian  art- 
ists. This  Italian  schoolboy's  journal 
deserves  to  become  a  classic  among  juve- 
niles, as  indeed  it  promises  to  be,  there 
having  been  over  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  editions  within  the  last  ten 


years.  Cuore  is  the  Italian  lor  "  heart,** 
and  through  the  heart  of  a  young  Italian 
schoolboy  the  author  has  found  his  way 
to  the  hearts  of  all  boys,  whatever  their 
nftttotudlty.  (Price,  $1.50.)  TAe  Tkret 
Apprcnticc-s  of  Moon  Street  is  a  translation 
from  the  French,  accompanied,  if  we  are 
not  mistaken,  by  the  original  illustra- 
tions, which  have  all  the  vivacity  and 
pectiliar  characteristics  of  French  picto- 
rial art.  The  story  is  wholesome  and 
natural,  the  three  lively  youngsters  being 
as  fond  of  miscliief  and  of  getting  into 
scrapes  as  is  the  real  boy,  and  yet  we 
like  them  and  find  their  experiences  very 
amusing  and  their  conduct  instinct  with 
good  nature  and  honesty.  (Price,  $1.50.) 
A  new  edition  of  Half  a  Dozen  Boys^ 
with  some  cleverly  drawn  illustrations 
by  Frank  T.  Merrill,  ought  to  gain  a 
host  of  new  readers  for  Anna  Chapin 
Ray's  bright  story,  which  was  published 
five  years  ago.  The  atithor's  little  greet- 
ing to  her  "  boy  and  girl  friends"  has  a 
touch  of  pathos  in  it,  and  reveals  the  se- 
cret of  the  wholesome  reality  of  her  de- 
servedly successful  story.  "  They  are 
real  boys  still,"  she  says  of  iier  cliarac- 
ters,  **and  to-day  our  friendship  isasfirm 
as  ever;  but  in  the  tall,  digiiified  young 
students  I  miss  the  old  harum-scarum 
Teddy,  the  irrepressible  Phil."  (Price, 
$1.50.)  These  three  books  are  uniform 
in  binding  and  style,  which  are  in  the 
best  taste.  Jack  Aliens  a  story  of  ad- 
ventures in  the  Virginia  campaigns 
(1861-65),  ''^  ^  thoroughly  wholesome 
and  interesting  tale.  We  icel  that  too 
high  praise  cannot  be  given  Mr,  Warren 
Lee  Goss  for  this  scries  of  war  stories, 
and  we  are  sorry  to  learn  that  this  vol- 
ume is  likely  to  be  the  last ;  but  other 
fields  of  action  may  allure  his  pen  in  the 
future.  By  his  Jed  and  Tom  Clifton^  and 
now  his  Jack  Aiden,  he  has  more  than 
any  writer  we  know  illustrated  in  no  or- 
dinary fashion  the  lesson  of  the  Civil 
War,  with  all  its  inspiration  of  patriot- 
ism, endurance,  generosity,  and  broad 
feeling.  Many  of  the  descriptive  scenes 
are  drawn  with  fidelity  and  vivid  imagi- 
native power,  and  are,  we  can  well  be- 
lieve, *'  unexaggcratcd  recitals  of  real 
occurrences."  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to 
put  such  books  into  the  hands  of  boys 
and  girls.  (Price,  $1.50.)  Miss  Sarah 
E.  Morrison  follows  up  the  adventures 
of  the  youn^  pioneers  to  whom  we  were 
introduced  m  Chilhoiaee  Boys  in  a  new 
volume  entitled  CMlhowet  Be^s  in  War 


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346  THE  A 

• 

Time,  whicli  brings  them  into  the  excit- 
ing days  and  hardships  of  living  during 
the  War  of  1812.  Miss  Morrison  tells 
her  siory  with  j»cnuinc  feeling  and  ap- 
preciation of  historical  facts,  and  she 
keeps  her  boys  in  a  pretty  lively  state 
while  she  has  them  in  haiul,  so  that  the 
story  neither  suffers  from  dulness  nor 
exaggeration.  (Price,  $1.50.)  Both  these 
books  contain  illustrations  by  Frank  T. 
Merrill.  A  dainty  p^ift-bnnk  eitfier  for 
old  or  young  is  Dciir  I.ittlf  Marchioness, 
whic  h  enshrines  the  touching  story  of  a 
child^s  simple  faith  and  love,  and,  as 
Bishop  Gailor  says  truly  in  his  preface 
{the  story  is  anonymous),  it  will  appeal 
to  those  who,  in  passini;  tliroiij^h  dark 
waters,  have  found  their  help  and  bless- 
ing in  the  unquestioning  trust  of  child- 
hood." It  is  none  the  less  a  <  hild's 
book.  (Price,  $1.00.)  The  above  books 
are  published  by  Messrs.  T.  Y,  Crowell 
and  Company. 

Messrs.  T>  Ul,  Mead  and  Company 
have  added  to  their  several  juvenile  series, 
Elsie's  Journey  fin  Inland  tVaters,  by  Mar- 
tha  Finley  ($1.25)  ;  ^  Sherburne  Ronhiitce, 
by  Amanda  M.  Douglas  ($1.50)  ;  W  itch 
Winnie  at  Versailles^  by  Elizabeth  W. 
Champney,  with  many  illustrations 
($1.50)  ;  Padiiy  O'  Leary  an  J  hii  [.earned 
Pig,  a  bright  little  Irish  story  by  the 
same  author,  with  several  clever  illustra* 
tions  ($1 .00).  Cormorant  Crag,  by  Gcori^e 
Manville  Fenn,  is  an  unusually  interest* 
ing  tale  of  adventure  of  the  time  known 
as  the  smuggling  days  In  the  Channel 
Islands  lying  between  the  coasts  of 
France  and  England,  with  numerous 
illustrations.  (Price,  $1.50.)  Roger  Hu 
Jftirt^er,  by  Eliza  F.  Pollard,  com- 
bines the  exciting  romance  of  Red  Ind- 
ian adventure  which  every  boy  loves 
with  veracious  accounts  of  the  war  on 
the  Canadian  fnmtier,  in  which  Mont- 
calm and  Wolfe  appear.  The  narrative 
is  remarkably  well  done  ;  the  illustrations 
are  not.  (Price,  $1.25,)  A  much  warm- 
er word  of  praise  must  be  said  for  Stand- 
ish  O'Grady's  Chain  of  Gold^  a  brilliantly 
written  tale  of  adventure  on  the  wild 
west  coast  of  Ireland,  among  the  savage 
islanders  whom  we  met  not  so  long  ago 
in  Miss  Lawless's  Maekhn.  The  myste- 
rious "chain"  is  not  introduced  until 
near  the  end.  and  the  author's  disposal 
of  it  is  a  striking  example  of  that  charm- 
ing realism  and  higher  imaginative  pow- 
er which  differentiate  him  from  Mr.  Bal- 
lantyneand  Mr.  Henty,  who  would  have 


wrought  extravagant  wonders  out  of 
Mr.  O'Grady's  "  chain  of  gold."  Amoog 
the  story-books  of  the  year  there  are  noc 
likely  to  be  many  more  interesting  or 
fascinating  than  The  Chain  of  G^dd, 
which  may  be  read  with  equal  pleasure 
by  old  and  young.    (Price,  $1.25.) 

Kirk  Munroe's  latest  story,  Snat^Skoes 
and  Sledges,  begins  where  The  Fttr-Se^t 
Tooth  left  off,  and,  like  that  book,  will 
hold  the  interest  from  beginning  to  end 
in  spite  of  many  pa^es  of  descriptive  writ- 
ing.   The  expedition  up  the  Yukon  aad 
the  journey  across  the  Chilcoot  Moun- 
tains durine  the  winter  afford  opportuni- 
ties of  plucky  conduct  and  adveDtntoas 
daring  for  his  young  heroes.  Phil  and 
Serge,  which  are  not  neglected,  while 
in  the  old  Yankee  sailor.  Jalap  Coombs^ 
he  has  introduced  a  character  of  racy 
humour,  if  he  is  a  type,  who  lirightens 
the  story  with  his  comical  sallies  and 
ready  wit.    The  book  is  profusely  and 
excellently  illustrated.    (Price,  $1-5  ) 
An  excellent  scheme  o£  New  Testament 
instruction  has  been  adopted  in  A  Life 
of  Christ  for    Young   People,  by  Mary 
Hastings  Foote,  which  is  composed  of 
short  and  simple  questions  and  answers, 
following  the  events  of  Christ's  life  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  the  order  in  which 
they  occurred,    it  will  prove  to  be  an 
indispensable  book  in  the  home  or  in  the 
school.    We  are  pleased  to  see  that  an 
index  has  not  been  neglected.  (Price, 
ti.35.)    Both  books  are  published  by 

the  Messrs.  Harper.  Laird  and  Lee 

send  us  a  cheap  edition  of  De  Amicis's 
Cuore,  which  they  have  entitled  The 
Heart  of  a  Boy  ;  also  a  story  of  adventure 
called  Dick  and  Jack' s  AJx  rnfures  ort  SjMe 
Island,  by  B.  Freeman  Ashley,  both  with 
a  number  of  illustrations,  full  page  and 
in  the  text.    (Price,  75  cents  each.) 

Messrs.  Lee  and  Shepard  have  a  good- 
ly array  of  juvenile  publications  this  sea- 
son. First  and  foremost  there  is  the 
inevitable  Oliver  Optic  book,  Half 
Round  the  WoriJ,  which  was  made  nec- 
essary by  the  initial  volume  of  the  series 
which  appeared  in  the  spring.  Need 
we  say  that  the  story  will  be  welcomed 
eagerly  by  Mr.  Adams's  large  follow- 
ing?  (Price,  $1.25.)  Then  we  have 
another  addition  to  the  War  of  1S12 
Series  in  The  Boy  Officers  of  by 
Evetctt  T.  Tomlinson,  which  succeeds 
The  Ihn  Soldiers,  also  issued  in  the 
spring.    (Price,  ;$i.25.)    Of  course  ihC 

usual  illustrations  and  cannine-coloured 


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A  UTBRARY  JOURJNAL. 


347 


covers  make  brighter  the  attraction  of 
these  books.  Three  new  stories  in  the 
convenient  little  volumes  issued  by  this 
firm  for  children  are  Little  Daughter,  by 
Grace  Le  Baron,  which,  lilce  its  prede- 
cessor. Little  A/iss  faith,  in  the  Ilazle- 
wood  Stories,  is  a  sweet  and  wholesome 
tale ;  Kytue  Dunlee^  by  Sophie  May, 
whose  charming;  stories  for  children  have 
brought  pleasure  into  many  homes,  and 
Y«itt^  Master  Kirke^  by  Penn  Shirley, 
who  shares  with  her  sister,  Sophie  May, 
the  clever  knack  of  amusing  and  inter- 
esting the  young  folks  in  her  pleasant 
stories.  (Price,  75  cents  each.)  The 
Lottery  Tukety  by  J.  T.  Trowbridge,  is 
for  older  children,  and  appeared  in  the 
YotUKs  Companion  in  serial  form,  but  is 
now  expanded  with  the  addition  of  sev- 
eral chapters  which  swell  the  original 
Story  to  the  necessary  proportions  of  a 
book.  It  is  long  since  Mr.  Trowbridge 
won  the  hearts  of  boys,  and  girls  too,  by 
bis  lively  and  interesting  stories,  and 
the  present  one  will  enhance  their  pleas- 
ure. (Price,  $1.00.)  These  books  arc 
all  prettily  illustrated. 

The  popular  autlior  of  Colonial  Days 
and  Dames  has  contributed  to  juvenile 
literature  a  book  of  stories  that  ts  worth 
more  than  passing  mention.  To  begin 
with,  it  is  a  beautifully  made  book — such 
a  chUd's  book  as  would  delight  Ruskin, 
who  holds  that  you  cannot  begin  too 
early  to  educate  the  taste  of  children 
even  in  the  matter  of  ^ood  book -mak- 
ing. A  Last  Century  Maid  and  other 
Stories,  by  Anne  Hollingsworth  Whar- 
ton, contains  half  a  dozen  stories  and  as 
many  fuU-pi^  illustrations  which  illus- 
trate and  are  not  there  simph*  ft.r  embel- 
lishment. In  a  preface  she  makes  some 
explanations  with  reference  to  certain 
anachronisms  "  to  satisfy  the  historic  in- 
stincts of  any  grown  persons  who  may 
chance  to  scan  these  pages.'*  One 
"grown"  person  at  least  can  testify 
that  under  the  author's  charm  he  has  fol- 
lowed unquestionably  the  guidance  of 
her  wand,  as  if  'twere  a  kingdom  of  Bo- 
hemia, with  no  factum  in  real  life  behind 
the  illusion  that  held  him  spellbound. 
fPrice,  $1.50.)  The  J.  B.  Uppincott 
Company,  who  piil)Iish  this  enviable 
book,  also  have  their  imprint  on  A  Book 
0/  Nursery  Stags  and  Xkymes^  which  de> 
rives  its  great  value  and  attraction  not 
so  much  because  of  Mr.  Baring-Gould's 
cnthusiasn  as  an  editor,  as  from  the 
deoorathre  illustrations  lavished  upon 


every  page  by  members  of  the  Birming- 
ham Art  School  under  the  direction  of 
Arthur  J.  Gaskin.  Tlie  whole  produc- 
tion is  dominated  by  tlie  new  nujvement 
in  art,  and  the  book,  printed  on  hand- 
made paper  and  bound  in  black  linen 
with  cover  design  in  gold,  is  but  a 
featherweight  in  the  hand.  (Price, 
$2.00.)  The  same  firm  publishes  a  new 
story  for  girls  by  Rosa  Nouchette  Carey, 
entitled  Cousin  Mona  ($1.25),  and  two 
boy's  stories,  om,  Ifui^h  Aft'hille's  Quest, 
by  F.  M.  Holmes  ((1-  25),  being  a  tale  of 
adventure  in  the  days  of  the  Armada, 
and  the  other.  The  Wizard  King,  by 
David  Ker,  a  story  of  the  last  Moslem 
invasion  of  Europe,  told  with  vigour  and 
realism,  and  written  with  unusual  pow- 
er. This  is  also  a  book  that  "  grown" 
persons  would  thoroughly  enjoy.  (Price, 
$1.50.)  These  stories  are  fairly  well 
illustrated. 

A  new  volume  from  that  charming 
writer  of  stories  for  the  young,  Miss 
Nora  Perry,  is  something  to  I>e  sincere- 
ly grateful  for.  In  A  Flock  0/  Girls  and 
Bitys  she  has  given  us  eleven  stories,  ac- 
companied  with  a  number  of  fine  illus- 
trations, which,  like  all  she  has  written, 
are  full  of  delightful  interest  and  enter- 
tainment. Miss  Perry  knows  how  to 
keep  on  the  natural  plane  and  yet  make 
her  pictures  of  life  bright  and  unusually 
attractive.  The  book  has  an  excellent 
cover,  with  that  tone  to  it  which  distin- 
guishes the  aristocratic  book  from  tlie 
plebeian.   (Little,  Brown  and  Company, 

$1.50.)  ^Messrs.  Lovell,  Coryell  and 

Company  have  issued  A  Dash  to  the 
PoU,  l)y  Herbert  D.  Ward,  which  is  an 
exciting  adventure  i  la  Jules  Verne* 
(Price,  $i.oo.) 

Country  Pastimes  for  Boys^  by  P.  An- 
derson  Graham,  is  the  sort  of  book  that 
lots  of  boys — we  should  like  to  say  all 
boys— ^ill  covet,  and  its  handsome  cover, 

gilt  edges,  and  numerous  illustrations 
i2$z  of  them)  will  make  it  positively 
fascinating  to  the  boy  who  has  any  love 
for  natural  history,  and  what  boy  hasn't  ? 
It  is  published  by  the  Messrs.  Long- 
mans.   (Price,  $2.00.) 

The  Lothrop  Publishing  Company, 
under  its  neu-  <^rennisation,  is  evidently 
going  to  make  things  "  lium"  in  the 
world  of  children's  books.  The  list  of 
eight  new  juveniles  which  follows  de- 
mands a  more  extensive  notice  than  can 
be  given  here  with  the  limited  space  at 
our  command.   The  reader  may  take  it 


uiym^ed  by  GoOglc 


348 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


that  these  books  are  not  only  worthy  of 
attention  because  of  their  literary  merit — 

in  some  cases  unusual,  and  in  all  more 
than  ordinary — but  by  reason  of  the  care 
and  artistic  taste  which  has  been  ex- 
pended on  the  exterior  of  tlie  books. 
ThfBojf  lAUef  NapoUon  is  adapted  from 
the  French  of  Madame  Eue6nie  Foa  for 
American  boys  and  girls  (f  1,25)  ;  Child 
Sketches  from  George  Eliot  is  the  work  of 
JuliaMagruder  ($1.25),  with  illustrations 
by  R .  B.  Bitcli  and  Amy  Brooks;  The 
Children  s  Wonder  Book  and  The  Chil- 
dren s  Nonsense  Book  (price,  1 1.50  eacli) 
are  choicely  illustrated,  and  their  read- 
ing matter  composed  of  judiciously  se- 
lected nonsense  rhymes  and  stories  ; 
The  Partners  (91.50)  is  a  capital  story 
for  girls  by  the  popular  writer,  William 
O.  Stoddard  ;  The  Impostor^  a  football 
and  college  romance  by  the  late  Charles 
R.  Talbot  (*i.5o),  is  a  breezy  and  enter- 
taining story.  The  Hobbledehoy^  by  Belle 
C.  Greene  (>!i.25),  occupies  an  unusual 
field  in  juvenile  liction,  that  of  the  boy 

1'ust  turning  man,  whose  awkward  yet 
lonest,  groping  ambition  is  skilfully 
and  sympatlietically  rendered  by  the 
author.  Maurice  Thompson  has  written 
a  story  of  Florida  town  and  furcst  life 
called  The  Ocala  Boy,  in  a  merry  and  de- 
lip;htful  vein  which  has  the  advantage, 
beinif  a  Souihern  story,  of  having  Mr. 
E.  \V.  Kemble  for  illustrator  (j^i.oo). 
All  t!ic  illustrations  of  these  books  have 
been  contributed  by  carefully  selected 
artists,  some  of  whom  are  famous  in 
juvenile  art  work. 

The  Messrs.  Macmillan  publish  The 
Carved  lA&ns^  by  Mrs.  Molesworth,  a 
great  favourite  with  children,  whose 
Stories  are  always  acceptable.  It  is 
illustrated  by  L.  Leslie  Brooke  (Ix.oo). 

The  Child' s  Garden  of  Song  is  a  very 
beautiful  and  picturesque  piece  of  work, 
but  unless  there  is  a  New  Child  arising, 
we  fail  to  see  how  children  can  be  espe- 
cially attracted  by  it.  Tt  will  be  most 
appreciated  by  those  from  whose  sen^c 
of  WOndei  l.md  the  "  clmids  of  i^Iory" 
have  not  all  departed.  Slill,  adajited  as 
the  songs  arc  to  the  voices  of  children 
and  to  die  refinement  of  sentiment,  we 
may  be  mistaken  in  thinking  that  the 
work  may  not  prove  useful  as  well  as 
pleasing  to  the  child.  (A.  C.  McClurg 
and  Company,  I2.00.)  Jack  Midwood ; 
«r.  Bread  Cast  upon  the  Waters,,  by  Ed- 
ward S.  Ellis,  is  another  of  the  wildly 
extravagant  stories  from  this  writer,  who 


mistakes  coarse  fun  for  humour  too  often 
to  be  very  wholesome.    (The  Merriam 

Company,  *i.25.) 

Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  are  well 
represented  in  books  "  for  the  young- 
sters," as  their  advertisement  invariably 
runs.  The  Keeper  of  the  Salamander's 
Orekr,  by  Wilfiam  Shattuck,  is  a  re- 
markably well-written  and  strongly  con- 
ceived tale  of  strange  adventures  in  un- 
known climes,  at  least  the  geographical 
descriptions  are  indefinite  enough  to 
"  hitch"  the  scenes  to  any  known  point 
on  the  globe.  There  are  nearly  loo 
illustrations  ($2.00).  Thremgk  Fort-it  nnd 
Phii'i,  by  Ashmore  Russan  and  Fred- 
erick Boyle,  is  a  rather  extravagant  tale 
of  the  adventures  which  befall  an  orchid 
collector  and  his  party  while  in  search 
of  a  rare  exotic  specimen  ;  it  must  be 
said,  however,  that  it  is  intensely  inter* 
esting  (I1.50).  Evelyn  Raymond  lias 
given  us  another  elevating  and  enter- 
taining story  in  The  Mnskreum  Cave 
(ti.50)  ;  and  the  author  o{  JMa  Toouy's 
Mission  has  increased  her  volume  of  good 
work  and  her  reputation  for  thoroughly 
sweet  and  wholesome  writing  by  My 
Honty  and  Don.  (Price,  fi.oo  each.) 
TrinvUc  the  Jxunaic  ay  is  a  delicious  fable 
for  the  little  ones,  told  with  fine  simplic- 
ity by  Lily  F.  Wessclhoeft  (ti.25)  ;  A 
fiylh  Good  Sum//itr,  by  Mary  P.  W.  Smith, 
is  a  continuation  of  her  folly  Gmni  l^mes 
Jl'-i/r/r,  and  it  is  delit^htful  to  sec  how 
the  author's  stor)'-teHing  instincts  are 
strengthened  by  a  real  knowledge  of 
children  and  by  a  sympathetic  under- 
standing of  their  ways  which  w^ill  win 
the  affection  and  make  active  the  better 
nature  of  her  young  readers.  (Price, 
$1.25.)  In  the  bkefenokee^  a  story  of  war  - 
time  and  the  great  Georgia  swamp,  is 
by  I>ouis  Pendleton,  and  is  neither  bet- 
ter nor  worse  than  the  ordinary  adven- 
ture story  turned  out  with  the  regularity 
of  clock-work  by  industrious  writers. 
Ji'i'f :  A  fipy  of  Galilee ^  by  Annie  Fel- 
lows Johubion,  is  a  story  of  the  limes  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  the  events  and 
characters  of  the  Gos])el  narratives  are 
freely  used.  Joel  is  a  little  cripple  who 
is  made  whole  and  straight-limbed  by 
the  Rabbi  Jesus.  It  is  an  honest  tale 
plainly  told,  and  will  appeal  to  children  ; 
but  the  older  reader  wilt  miss  too  much 
that  he  would  wish  to  see  there,  and  find 
more  than  he  would  see  to  thoroughly 
enjoy  the  book  ($1.50).  JDarH^  ami 
Anton  is  a  sequel    Dear  Daughter  Dor^ 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


349 


by  A.  G.  Piympton,  with  the  au- 
thor's own  illustrations  (ti.oo).  Three 

little  books  (square  sixteenmo,  50  cents 
each),  Goostie  i  Van  and  Noeki<  fif  Tt^ 
pan  Sea^  and  Under  ike  StaUe  Doer^  a 

Christmas  story,  all  by  M.  Carrie  Hyde, 
exhaust  the  Messrs.  Roberts's  list.  The 
work  of  illustration  is,  on  the  whole, 
well  done,  especial  care  having  been 
given  to  the  ten  pictures  realising  New 
Testament  scenes  iu  J<jel :  A  Boy  of  Gali- 
lee. 

Messrs.  George  Routledge  and  Sons 
have  issued  four  juveniles  with  their 
London  imprint  which  are  of  unmistak- 
able English  manufacture.  Fighting  his 
iVayt  by  a  popular  English  writer,  the 
Rev.  n.  C.  Adams*  is  a  tale  of  clerical 
life  which  relates  the  spiritual  and  moral 
conflict  of  a  young  curate  who  presents 
a  noble  example  of  manly  conduct  and 
of  the  perseverance  of  the  saints.  It  is 
a  book  of  special  interest,  and  yet  it  is  of 
profound  human  interest  to  all,  particu- 
larly to  the  high-minded  youth  who  has 
to  measure  life's  fruition  not  only  by  his 
ideals,  but  by  a  wise  recognition  of  the 
truth  that  *'  growth  is  slow  where  roots 
are  deep."  (Price,  $1.50.)  h  rry  Boys 
Stories ;  Every  Girl's  Stories,  and  Every 
ChUtts  Sioiies  are  composed  of  selec- 
tions adapted  to  each  t^r:-:le  of  reader 
from  the  class  of  authors  known  as  safe 
and  combining  pleasure  with  profit, 

sometimes  also  information.  Numerous 
pictures  are  scattered  over  the  pages, 
which  number  over  500  in  each  volume. 
Covers  dipped  in  strong  primary  colours 
encase  their  respective  contents,  and  ar- 
rest immediate  attention.  (Price,  Is.oo 
per  volume.) 

Four  volumes  from  the  press  of  the 
Scribncrs  lie  on  our  table.  Three  of 
their  juveniles  have  already  been  noticed 
in  the  November  Bookm  ax.  Chief  among 
those  left  is  Mrs.  Burnett's  Two  Little 
Pilgrims'  Pr9gr€ss,  which  is  written  in 
much  tlie  same  delightful  manner  as  all 
her  stories  (we  except  Little  Lord  Eauntie- 
rv^asa  tourde  f&ree)^  gaining  something, 
perhaps,  l)y  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Burnett 
has  sought  in  her  novel  way  to  make 
capital  out  of  the  Chicago  Exposition. 
For  the  City  Beautiful,  to  which  lu  r 
two  little  pilgrims,  their  fresh  minds 
afire  with  reading  Bunyan's  allegory  (a 
book,  by  the  way,  which  ought  to  be  in 
every  child's  library),  set  out,  is  none 
other  than  the  White  City  of  which  they 
have  heard.   The  Fair  has  just  receded 


far  enough  into  the  distance  to  give 
Mrs.  Burnett  a  safe  perspective,  and  yet 

it  is  still  so  near  to  our  remembrance  as 
to  insure  immediate  interest  in  her  story. 
The  Illustrations  of  course  are  by  Birch. 
(Price,  I1.50.)  In  The  Garden  Behind  the 
Moon  we  prefer  Mr.  Howard  Pyle's  pic- 
tures to  his  print.  The  book  is,  as  would 
be  expected  where  Howard  Pyle  is  con- 
cerned, beautiful  throughout ;  and  if 
one  may  weary  of  the  text,  one  finds 
compensation  in  lingering  over  the  work 
of  the  artist  (f  2.00).  77/t'  Kanter  Girls 
is  a  fairy  tale  told  by  Mary  L.  B.  Branch 
to  the  accompaniment  of  many  illustra^ 
tions  drawn  by  Helen  M.  Armstrong, 
and  is  very  attractively  bound  and  print- 
ed ($1.50).  A  volume  of  Children* $  Sio- 
r/ts  ill  Avterican  Literature  has  been  com- 
piled by  Henrietta C.  Wright,  comprising 
the  literary  lights  between  the  years  1660 
and  iS6c.    (Price,  $1.25.) 

The  story  of  Zelinda  and  the  Monster  / 
i7r,  Beauty  and  the  Beast^  retold  after  the 
old  Italian  version,  and  finely  illustrated 
in  photogravure  by  the  Countess  of 
Lovelace,  is  another  of  those  delicately 
produced  books  which  we  hesitate  to 
put  into  the  hands  of  children.  It  is, 
we  fear,  to  the  "  children  of  riper  years," 
to  whom  the  preface  is  addressed,  that 
wc  must  look  for  the  fine  appreciation 
of  the  excellent  artistic  beauty  lavished 
on  this  work.  Messrs.  P.  A*  Stokes  and 
Company  import  ZcUtuLi  from  the  press 
of  Dent,  in  London,  which  is  a  criterion 
of  its  worthiness  as  a  work  of  art.^— 
Wayne  and  his  FrieitJs,  by  J.  Selwyn  Tait, 
author  and  publisher,  is  a  book  of  nine 
stories,  one  long  and  eight  short,  which 
are  more  than  ordinarily  interesting, 
and  appear  to  be  written  from  the  in- 
side by  one  who  knows  children,  but 
loves  them  better  than  he  knows,  for 
tenderness  is  one  of  the  notable  quali- 
ties in  the  work.  It  conLaias  some  good 
illustrations,  and  is  well  printed  and 
bound.  (J,  Selwyn  Taitand  Sons, 

 The  Desert  SMp^  by  John  Bioundelle- 

Burton,  is  an  evidence  that  the  wonder- 
ful in  imaginative  work  is  still  capable 
of  surprises.  Here  we  have  a  story  of 
adventure  as  strange  and  marvellous  in 
its  setting  as  anything  yet  imagined, 
and  the  more  surprising  is  it  that  the  in- 
vention is  not  purely  imaginary,  but  is 
founded  on  tradition  and  apparently 
substantiated  by  scientific  research.  But 
we  leave  the  reader,  boy  or  man,  to  ex- 
plore the  mysterious  region  described  in 


uiym^ed  by  GoOglc 


35« 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


this  story  for  himself.  (Frederick  Warne 
and  Company,  $1.25.) 

Tliomas  Whittaker  have  published  the 
following  stories,  all  by  writers  who 
have  already  won  a  hearing  from  boys 
and  girls  :  TJU  ReM  Commodart  ($1.15), 
being  memoirs  of  the earlit-r  arlvcntures, 
ashore  and  afioat,  of  Sir  Ascott  Dairym- 
ple,  by  David  L.  Johnstone,  which 
touches  on  a  subject  alrcad}'  ma(k'  fa- 
mous by  Mr.  Crockett's  Ratders  j  IVAere 
ike  Brook  and  Rioer  Meet,  by  Nellie  Hel- 
lis,  a  story  for  girls,  inculcating  the  truth 
that  "  highest  beauty  Hps  in  doing  sim- 
plest duty"  (I1.25)  ;  Thiitic  and  Rosi\  by 
Amy  Walton,  also  a  girl's  story,  with 
much  the  same  moral,  but  inferior  in 


quality  to  the  former  ($1.00).  The 
Brotker^oi  of  the  Coast,  by  the  same 
author  as  The  Rebel  Commodore^  is  a  story 

of  tfie  times  of  the  Commonwealth  in 
Lagiand,  and  Chailes  the  Second.  His- 
tory and  romantic  adventure  in  foreigii 
parts  are  interwoven.    Mr.  Johnstone 
writes  with  ease  and  dignity,  and  a  lofty 
tone  pervades  his  stories,  which  are  ad- 
vcnturous  without  extravagance,  and 
exciting  in  interest  without  exaggeration 
(1 1. 50).    7k V  College  Boys,  by  the  Rev. 
Edward  A.  Rand  (75  cents),  and  IVkite 
Tur  rtls, hy  Mrs.  Molesworth  ($i.oc).  c^v:- 
eludes   Mr.  Whittaker's  juvenile  list, 
which  sustains  its  high  repute  fc»r  purity 
of  principle  and  sweet,  wholesome  feeling. 


RECENT  EDUCATIONAL  PUBLICATIONS. 


The  present  widespread  interest  in 
Froebel  is  amply  testified  to  by  the 

rapidity  witli  which  excellent  books  on 
the  man  and  his  educational  theories 
come  from  the  press.  Following  hard 
upon  Mr.  Courthope  Bowen's  standard 
critique,  there  have  appeared  in  quick 
succession  Miss  Blow's  really  profound 
little  book  on  Symbolic  Education,  a  trans- 
lation of  Froebel's  Pddagogik  drs  Kinder- 
eartensy  and  now  a  capital  version,  also 
by  Miss  Blow,  of  the  Mutter-  und  Kose- 
Lieder.  The  title  of  the  last-named 
book  is  The  Mottoes  and  Commentaries  of 
Friedrich  Froebel's  Mother  Play  (New 
York  :  D.  Appleton  and  Company. 
$1.50).  The  value  of  the  bonk  is  en- 
hanced, as  is  that  of  all  the  volumes  of 
this  International  Education  Series,  by 
the  editorial  preface  from  the  pen  of 
Dr.  William  T.  Harris.  The  dtfiiculties 
in  rendering  Froebel's  uncouth  German 
and  his  often  ridiculous  symbolism  are 
well-nigh  insurmountable,  and  Dr.  Har- 
ris is  quite  right  in  saying  that  in  this  vol- 
ume Miss  Blow  has  transplanted  rather 
than  translated  the  ideas  of  Froebel.  The 
Kindergarten  movement  in  Great  Brit- 
ain and  America  has  suffered  from  two 
mutually  exclusive  causes — ignorance  of 
Froebel  on  the  one  band,  and  blind,  un> 
critical  adherence  to  his  dogmas  on  the 

other.  Just  now  the  second  cause  is 
most  active  ;  and  it  will  be  well  if  par- 
ents and  teachers  can  be  brought  to  read 
and  reflect  upon  such  sane  judgments  of 


Froebel  as  writers  like  Mr.  Bowen  and 
Miss  Blow  give.    The  strength  of  Froe- 
bel is  to  be  fotind  in  his  sy  mp:  thy  u  ith 
children  and  his  insight  into  their  na- 
ture.   These  Mutter-  und  Kose-Lieder  are 
a  wonderful  testimony  to  this  power. 
It  is  literature  for  mothers  and  children 
alike.    Miss  Blow's  enthusiasm  is  hard- 
ly extreme  when  she  writes  (p.  39): 
"  As  a  child's  book  this  little  collection 
of  songs  and  games  is  unique  in  litera* 
ture.    As  a  mother's  book  likewise  it 
has  no  ancestry  and  no  posterity.     I;  i> 
the  greatest  book  for  little  children  and 
the  greatest  book  for  mothers  in  the 
world." 

The  Deutsche  Zeitschrift  fur  Ausldnd- 
isches  Unterrichtsivesen  is  the  title  of  a 
new  pedagogical  quarterly  appeariog 
this  month,  and  announcing  as  its  pur- 
pose the  study,  from  the  German  stand- 
point, of  educational  S3rstems  and  edu- 
cational problems  as  they  present  them- 
selves  in   other   countries.  Although 
claiming  that  the  German  educational 
system  has  long  been  universally  ac- 
knowledged  as  the   foremost   in  the 
world,  the  prospectus  of  this  new  peri- 
odical confesses  that  in  many  respects - 
there  exists  in  this  system  a  tendency  to 
one-sidedness.   To  correct  this  tendency 
it  is  deemed  appropriate  to  g^ve  more  at- 
tention to  education  elsewhere.  Among 
several  subjects  worthy  of  immediate  at- 
tention are  mentioned  the  phenomenal 
growth  of  systems  in  other  couatrics, 


Digitized  by  Googb 


j4  uterary  journal. 


35' 


especially  France,  durintj  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  ,  the  education  of  woman,  in 
which  Germany  is  far  behind  her  neigh- 
bours and  the  countries  of  the  New 
World  ;  and  the  popularization  of  learn- 
ing by  such  methods  as  university  ex- 
tension, Chautauqua  circles,  etc.  Tlie 
work  of  the  periodical  will  be  carried  on 
under  two  distinct  heads :  first,  reports 
from  all  sorts  of  ctiucational  institutions, 
from  the  university  down  to  the  primary 
school ;  second,  scientific  articles  by  the 
foremost  educators  of  the  world  ;  and  in 
a  long  list  of  those  who  are  announced 
as  contributors  are  found  the  names  ul 
thefol lowing  Americans:  Professors  But- 
ler, of  Columbia ;  Hall,  of  Clark ;  Mun' 


roe,  of  T. eland  Stanford  ;  Montresor,  of 
City  of  New  York  ;  Russell,  of  Colorado 
and  Thurber,  of  Chicago.  A  lai^ge  num- 
ber of  papers  on  interestincr  subjects  are 
announced,  and  among  them  America 
seems  to  receive  her  tult  share  of  con- 
sideration. Careful  attetition  will  also 
be  given  to  educational  literature  from 
all  lands.  The  management  of  the  new 
venture  is  to  be  under  the  care  of  Dr.  J. 
Wychgram,  Director  of  the  Girls'  City 
Higli  School  in  Leipsic,  who  has  long 
been  occupied  with  the  discussion  of 
educational  questions,  and  who  has 
contributed  mucii  to  educational  lit- 
erature, especially  on  the  education  of 
women. 


AMONG  THE  LIBRARIES. 


The  Aguilar  Library,  which  is  one  of 

New  York's  free  i^ublic  lil)raries,  circu- 
lating annually  over  255,000  volumes, 
will  conduct  a  table  at  the  large  Fair  of 
the  Educational  Alliance,  to  be  held 
from  December  9th  to  December  21st 
inclusive,  at  the  Madison  Square  Gar- 
den. One  of  the  branches  of  the  library 
is  situated  in  the  Alliance  Building  on 
East  Broadway,  and  forms  a  component 
part  of  the  work  of  the  Alliance. 

This  corner  of  the  Garden  will  he  a 
shrine  for  all  book-loving  pilgrims. 
,  Here  will  be  found  a  cosy  library,  where 
the  weary  visitor  may  seat  himself  and 
wish  he  owned  all  the  charming  things 
atK>ut  him.  Here  he  may  purchase 
desks  and  dictionaries,  talil<-  lamps  and 
desk-chairs,  scrap-baskets  and  lamp- 
shades, all  kinds  of  stationery,  book- 
cases and  portraits,  autographs,  maga- 
zines, and  magazine-holders.  Among 
the  magazines  which  donate  a  year's 
subscription  to  the  table  arc  Thk  Book- 
II AN,  Scrt'^fter's^  and  T/u  Forum. 

Also  the  devoted  reader  may  cast  liis 
vote  (repeating  being  not  only  permit- 
ted. !>ut  encoTiraj^ed)  for  the  mo<;t  popu- 
lar American  author,  and  may  have  the 
satisfaction  in  assisting  in  placing  upon 
the  victorious  desk  a  beautifully  hand- 
'        painted  desk-set, 

I  Upon  the  shelves  of  this  unique  library 

(         will  be  presentation  volumes  that  will 
i        fairly  craze  the  ardent  autograph  col- 
lector, from  W.  D.  Howells,  Thomas 


Wcntworth    Higginson,    John  Fiske, 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich,  IT.  C.  Scudder, 
W.  C.  Brownell,  Hamilton  W.  Mabie, 
George  Woodbcrry,  John  Burroughs, 
Isabel  Hapgood,  Kate  Douglass  Riggs, 
Mary  Hallock  Foote,  Henry  Fuller, 
Hamlin  Garland,  Septima  Collis,  Will- 
iam Winter,  Carl  Schurz,  E.  C.  Stedman, 
Charles  Dudley  Warner,  Maud  W. 
Goodwin,  Frances  Hellman,  Ilckn 
Grey  Cone,  Frank  Stockton,  Oscar  S. 
Strauss,  Mary  Hartwell  Catlu-rwood, 
Margaret  Dcland,  Anna  Brackett,  Mary 
Putnam  Jacobi,  George  Haven  Putnam, 
Emily  James  Smith,  R.  W.  Gilder,  Ed- 
ward Eggleston,  Alice  Wellington  Rol- 
lins, Clara  Stranahan,  Lilian  Bell,  Mrs. 
James  T.  Fields,  Felix  Adler,  E.  D. 
Cheney,  George  Du  Mauricr,  Edward 
Bellamy,  John  Kendrick  Bangs,  Mrs. 
Schuyler  Van  Rensselaer,  Maria  L. 
Poole,  JIarriet  C.  Wright,  Theodore 
Roosevelt,  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart,  Vida 
Scudder,  Kate  Sanborn,  Anne  H.  Whar 
ton,  Lilian  Whiting,  Nonh  Brooks» 
Howard  Fylc,  li.  \V.  Townsead,  W.  O. 
Stoddard,  Mary  Mapes  Dodge,  Mar- 
{jaret  Sangstcr,  Kate  Clark,  William 
WiniLr,  Sarah  K.  Boiton,  and  many 
othei  s. 

Most  of  these  chose  to  sign  tlipirname, 
perhaps  adding  "yours  sincerely  '  or 
''faithfully,**  as  the  case  might  be; 
some  others,  however,  .ndded  interesting 
and  clever  inscriptions.  This  is  from 
Charles  Eliot  Norton : 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgLc 


35* 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


"Given  lo  the  Fair  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Aguilar  Free  Llbrarjr,  by  Charles  Eliul  Norton, 
wtih  the  wish  that  some  one  majr  (eel  with  Muter 
Slender.  *  I  had  rather  than  fortj  sbllUngi  I  had 
(this)  Bonk  i  >{  Songs  aod  Sonnets.' 

"Sbady  liiU.  Cambridge,  Oaober  19.  1895." 

Ill  one  of  his  books  Brander  Matthews 
waras  the  purchaser, 

"  See  that  the  signature  is  blown  in  Ibc  bottle.'* 

Miss  Louise-  Imogen  Guiney 

"  sets  bcr  mark  here  for  the  Aguilar  Free  U- 
braij  of  New  York,  00  the  soth  October,  189$." 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  quotes 

his  own  definition  of  poetry. 

Frank  Stockton  writes, 

"  With  kind  i«g»rds  to  the  ptirchaser  o(  this 
book." 

Goldwin  Smith,  on  the  Ay-leaf  of  his 

United  States^  quotes  Bacon  : 

"  These  times  are  the  ancient  times  when  the 
world  is  ancient."  etc 

Elbridge  S.  Brooks  sends  a  copy  of 
his  Leidir^ 

"With  the  best  wishes  of  the  autlior,  this  story 
of  a  forgotten  New  York  pmriui  is  odercd  as  a 
•pur  CO  true  Americanism.'* 

Palmer  Cox  trusts 

"ti»e  owner  of  this  Book  may  take  as  rnoch 
pleasure  in  perusing  its  pages  as  the  author  did  la 

preparing  them." 

There  will  be  found  also  many  inter- 
esting autograph  letters  for  sale,  from 
Austin  Dobson,  Max  O'Rell,  Stepniak, 

Edward  Freeman,  Madame  Adam,  JuU-s 
Claretie,  Jules  Verne,  and  others.  Chief 

in  interest  is  a  four-page  letter  from 


Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  It  is  dated 
Beverly  Farms.  August  8tb,  iSSa. 
Among  other  things  it  says : 

I  am  passinff  ;i  ()viirt  and  refreshing  stjmmfr 
at  this  ]iU;isaiii  seaside  retreat,  with  <>niy  my 
daughtrr,  who  lives  with  nit-  both  suimner  and 
winter,  having  let  her  own  chartnitig  house  to 
cone  to  me. 

*'  t  am  not  writing  anything  but  letters.  o(  whicb 
I  have  always  a  good  many  to  attend  lo.  How 
much  longer  I  shall  be  able  to  do  it  I  cannot  say; 
for  my  eyes  are  getting  more  and  more  dim,  and 
line  of  tlifiii  is  shirking  its  work  almost  tntircly , 
so  that  the  olhrr  is  liable  to  be  uverlaxftl.  ami  I 
am  beginning  to  think  of  a  staff  ami  Utile  dn^r  if  I 
have  to  grope  my  wuy  in  this  lower  sphere  oi  life 
much  longer. 

"  But  do  not  shed  the  sympathetic  tear  for  roy 
poor  eyesight,  for  you  see  that  I  can  write  almost 
legibly  ;  and  though  the  landsrape  has  a  mistiness 
about  it,  I  can  still  enjoy  my  view  of  the  ocean 
and  the  noUa  trees,  which  I  look  upon  every 
day." 

This  letter  was  presented  tu  iIjc  table 
by  Mrs.  Alice  Wellington  Rollins,  to 
whom  it  was  addressed.  It  is  marked 
^25.00,  which,  considering  the  quality 
of  the  letter,  as  well  as  the  go<Ml  cause 
it  assists,  is  certainly  a  modest  price. 

besides  Mrs.  Rollins,  a  number  of 
other  wetUknown  KtUrateurs  vill  assist 
in  1  1-  idinp  over  the  library  and  its  fas- 
cinating wares — Mrs.  Kate  Douglass 
Riggs,  Mrs.  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart,  Miss 
Marguerite  Merington,  Miss  Hapgood, 
and  Mrs.  Margaret  Sangster,  as  well  as 
some  ladies  better  known  in  other 
spheres — Miss  Emma  Thursby,  Mrs. 
Charles  Barnard,  and  Miss  Ragna 
lioycben. 

Annie  Nathan  Mt^fer, 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE 


In  the  July  number  of  Thk  Bookman 
we  tjave  n  li>t  of  the  works  of. several 
popular  Englisli  authors  as  they  ap- 
peared in  England  in  book  form,  and  tn 
rcs[innsc  tr»  requests  from  several  cor- 
respondents for  a  similar  list  of  R.  D. 
Blackmore's  books,  we  append  the  fol- 
lowing : 

Poems  by  Mclanter.    i2mo.  1854. 
Epullia,  and  Other  I'ocms.    8vo.  1855. 
Thp  Bugle  uf  the  Black  Sea.    i2mo.  1855 
The  Fate  qI  Franklin:  A  Poem*  Foolscap 
8to.  i96o. 

Thr  I"  . nil  and  Kruif  ■  f  Ol  !  A  Translation  in 
Verse  oi  the  First  and  Second  Gcuigics  of  Vergil. 
By  a  Market  Gaideoer.  1862. 


Clara  V..iiL;lian      3  vols.,  post  8vo.  1864. 
Cradock  Noweil.    3  vols.,  post  Svo. 

Lorna  Doonc  :  A  Romance  of  Exmoor.  3  vols., 
post  Svo.  1869. 

The  Oeoixies  of  Vergil.  Translated. 
1871. 

The  Maid  of  Sker.    3  vols.,  post  8vo.  187a. 

Alice  Lorraine :  A  Tale  of  the  Sooth  Dowaa. 
3  vols.,  post  8vo  1875. 

Cripps  the  Carrier:  A  Woodland  Tale,  svoia., 
post  8vo.  1876. 

Erema;  or.  My  Father's  Sin.  3  vols.,  post 
Svo.  1877. 

Mary  Anerley:  A  Yorkshire  Tale.  3  vols., 
post Svo.  I 8 So 

Cristowcll:  A  Dartmoor  Tale.  3  vols.,  pwsj 
Svo,  iF'=l2. 

The  Kvmarkable  History  at  Sir  Thomas  Up- 
more,  Bart.  2  vols.,  poet  Svo.  1884. 


uiym^ed  by  GoOgl 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL.  3St 

SprinKhavea  :  A  Tale  of  tbe  Grcttt  War.  S  Perlycruss ;  A  Talc  of  the  Wa«leni  HiUik  % 
vols.,  post  8 ro.    1887.  vols..  po«C  8vO.  1804. 

Kit  anj  Kitty  :  A  Story  of  Wcat  Middlesex.  3        Frini^illa    Some  Tales  in  Verse.    8vo.  iBgS. 
vol*.,  (Km  Svo.    1S90.  Slain  by  the  Doones.    Post  Svo.  189$. 


FALSE  CHORDS 

I  listen,  but  I  listen  all  in  vain. 

Amid  the  jangle  of  beribboned  lyres 

<The  which  our  modem  poets  strum  upon) 

For  some  heart-note,  some  echo  of  great  thoughts 

To  thrill  me  and  uplift  me  like  the  breath 

Of  sudden  brine  from  out  old  ocean's  breast, 

Fre$h>dashing  in  my  face  a  kiss  of  dawn. 

But  so  it  is,  that  all  I  hear — good  God  ! 
Is  art,  art,  art,  and  sidcly  plaintive  runes 
Of  flowers,  and  birds,  and  lovelorn  serenades* 
In  cunning  form,  fine  moulded  for  the  ear. 
Frail  word-mosaics  of  these  lesser  days ; 
Or,  failing  that,  there  comes  a  mystic  chant 
Of  dense,  dull  verse,  whose  secret  lies  in  gloom. 
Swathed  like  a  mummy  in  his  cerements. 

And  these  are  nothing  but  false  chords,  I  know  f 
For  true-bom  singers  smite  Apollo's  harp 
With  something  of  the  spirit  of  a  god. 
And  give  tlieir  very  life-blood  to  the  song. 

O,  muse  of  mine,  let  not  my  lyre  sound 

To  such  vain  pipings ;  grant  its  varied  moods 

A  touch  of  tears^-a  voice  of  nature's  own 

As  lucid,  and  as  free  and  undefiled  ; 

And  give  it  steel,  and  iron,  like  the  strength 

Of  clashing  sabres  and  of  bayonets 

And  black-mouthed  cannon,  wreathed  in  thunder  clouds, 

Whose  music  rolls  a  menace  o'er  the  skies 

Where  earth  b  shaking  to  the  tread  of  Mars. 

Ertuit  McGaffey. 


uiyiu^ed  by  Google 


* 

154 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


THE  BOOK  MART. 

For  Bookreaueks,  BooKeuy£RS,  and  Booksellers. 


EASTERN  LETTER. 

NewYokk,  November  i,  1895. 

The  tnoiith  opened  with  a  continuance  o(  the 
sale  of  higher  grade  text-books  for  colleges  and 
private  kIiooU.   The  expected  revival  In  library 

business  manifested  itself,  .'iiu!  t!it:  rt-quois  for 
catalogues  ami  price  lists  were  (ullownl  by  tiu- 
nicrotis  otiifts  (if  rc<fntlv  piiblistud  works  by 
Ihc  older  libraries,  while  the  new  unes  ppiu  rally 
start  with  the  standard  authors  of  the  pa<»t. 

The  custoamry  number  of  buyers  from  the 
smaller  towns,  who  take  the  opportunity  between 
ihc  seasons  to  make  their  purchases  for  autumn 
and  lioliday  trade,  have  been  nuiiceii  in  the  city. 
Thfir  ()r<)ers  are  mostly  confined  to  the  editions 
of  twelvemos,  sixteenmos,  and  sets  in  the 
cheaper  bindings,  together  with  an  assortment  of 
boolueta,  calendars  and  the  various  styles  of  juve- 
nile publirattons. 

Many  of  the  puljlishers  have  adopted  the  |>!an 
of  issuing  for  tlic  holiday  tr^dc  iiw  tdilioiis  of 
their  more  jiopular  works,  generally  in  two  twelve 
mo  volumes,  and  always  handsomely  illustrated 
and  attractively  bound.  Stamiish  cf  Standisk,  by 
Austin  :  Tal^s  of  a  Trat-elUr,  by  Irving  ;  The 
Wanderitijr  Jew,  by  Sue,  and  Spain,  by  De 
Atnii:is,  are  anionic  this  year's  piililirations, 
I'uciry  dues  nui  !>ecin  to  be  quite  so  popular  at 
present  as  in  the  past,  but  Last  Pofins,  by  James 
Russell  Lowell,  and  the  k'uh>rian  Antkohfy^  by 
E.  C.  Stedman,  are  having  a  ready  sale. 

Books  for  the  young  form  a  large  proportion  of 
the  season's  publications,  and  many  new  ones 
were  brought  out  during  October.  Mrs  Hurnett  s 
Ttoo  l.iltle  Pii^riins'  Progress  will  probably  lead 
in  point  of  sale,  closely  followed  by  Palmer  Cox  's 
The  Brotomes  Through  the  UmoH,  and  lod 
Chandler  Harris's  Mr.  RaMit  at  Home.  Snow 
S/ioes  and  S/eiii;es  and  Half  Kotind  tkt  ll'or'J  are 
attractive  for  boys,  while  lilsu's  Jonrttcv  and 
A  hli'ik  of  o/',  and  Boys  should  please  ^;irls 
The  Garden  Behind  ihe  Moqh,  LitfU  Miss  Pkabe 
Gay  and  Tht  ChiWt  GarJm  «/  Seng  are  for  the 
tiny  ones. 

In  noting  the  new  books  of  the  month  one 

is  almost  alarmed  by  their  naml  ers  —so  great,  in 
fact,  that  some  books  worthy  of  a  good  sale  must 
of  necessity  be  crowded  out  before  receiving  due 
atlcntioD. 

Fiction  is,  as  usual,  in  excess  of  all  other  sub- 
jects, the  most  prominent  of  which  have  been  J  he 
Chrvmtbi  of  Count  Antonio,  by  Anthony  Hope; 
A  Daui^htet  of  th,-  Tenements,  by  Kdward  W. 
Townsend  ;  In  !  ■xjir.r.ce  of  the  Kitit;,  by  C.  C. 
}Iotchkiss,  and  A  UnnL'n:  :n  Wigabond  and  Some 
Others,  by  F.  liupkinson  Smith.  More  substan- 
tial reading  is  represented  by  MenticuUurt.  by 
H.  Fletcher  ;  Ettctricity  for  Everybody,  by  Philip 
Atkinson,  and  Higher  CriHeitm  of  the  Pentateuch, 
by  W   H.  Croen 

While  sales  for  the  month  have  been  good,  and 
romfiarc  favourably  with  previous  years,  the 
boom  predicted  by  some  has  not  yet  been  felt,and 
it  remains  for  the  next  two  months  to  show 


whether  there  is  to  be  nnj  eacepdoaal  increase  is 
this  year's  business. 
T6e  popular  books  of  the  month,  in  the  order 

of  demand,  have  been  as  follnws 

The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

Two  Little  Pilgrims'  Progreas.    By  Fr«isces 
Hodgson  Burnett.  $1.50. 
B(  side  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bosh.    By  Ian  Mac- 

larcn.  %\ 

The  ViiiaKc  Waich  Toweffl.  Bj  Kate  Dooglas 
Wiggin.  $1.00. 
The  Men  of  the  Mosn-Hags.  By  S.  R.  Crockett. 

I1.50. 

College  Girls.  By  Abbe  Carter  Goodloe.  f  t.25. 

Don     liy  the  author  of  Laddie.    $1  - 

Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio.  Hy  Antborr 
Hope.    St  CO. 

A  Daiigluer  of  the  TcnenierUs.  By  Edward  W. 
Townsend.    $1  75. 

The  Wise  Woman.  By  Clara  Louise  Bun- 
ham.  81.25. 

Tlu  King's  Stiaiagera.  By  Stanley  J.  Wcyman. 

50  CIS 

A  Gentleman  Vagabond  and  Some  Others.  By 
F.  Hopkinson  Smith.  $1.35. 
About  Paris.  By  Richard  HarditlgDBvls.  $1^. 
My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maarten  Maanens. 

Princcion  Stories.    By  J.  L.  Wil!ia-tiv,    $1  00. 
The  Littk  Huguenot.    By  Max  I'embcrton.  75 
Cts. 

•  Mr.  Bonaparte  of  Corsica.    By  John  Kendrick 
Bangs.  ^1.35. 
A  Singular  Life.    By  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 

§1.25. 


WESTERN  LETTER. 

Chicago,  November  i,  1595. 

The  conditions  of  business  have  not  changed  to 
any  material  extent  since  our  last  report,  and 
much  that  was  said  regarding  ^ptembcr  will  ap- 
ply to  the  month  which  has  just  dosed.  Trade, 

ns  a  whole,  continues  steady,  and  although  sales 
are  f.iirlv  Rood,  ihey  might  be.  and  ought  tu  l^. 
a  ^re.it  de.il  better.  In  rcikiard  ti>  ui.oitsaie  tr.uie, 
the  country  bookseller  siiU  conhncs  his  purchases 
principally  to  current  literature  and  SUch  boo]»as 
are  always  in  demand,  and  he  seems  very  reluc- 
tant to  invest  in  what  is  technically  termed  holi- 
day «tnrk.  The  v.irifjus  cheap  lines  of  tv\  i  !\tint)S 
and  sixicentnos  are  selling  remarkably  \>a\- 
ticularly  those  which  arc  novel  and  auraciive  in 
binding,  Juveniles  are  being  bought  largely,  and 
are  upon  the  whole,  selling  better  than  any  other 
class  of  books  ;  in  fact,  juvenile  books  more  than 
hold  their  own.  and  It  would  seem  that  hard 
times,  eiihcr  fancied  or  re.d  make  no  diflferencc 
to  the  rising  generation.  Cheap  sets  of  stand- 
ard authors  arc  Roing  fairly  well,  but  the  better 
grades  of  sets  seem  to  move  more  slowly  every 
year,  until  just  before  Cbristmo,  when  diete  « 


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A  UTERAKY  JOURNAL. 


355 


usually  quite  a  rush  for  tbem.  Trade  In  Christ- 
mas bcx^klcu  and  calendars  is  fairly  aciive,  and 
would  be  better  if  there  were  not  such  a  sameness 
to  design  and  so  comparatively  few  novelties  this 
ycAT.  Retailen  complain  that  autumn  business  is 
fliov  in  opening  np,  and  mow  of  tbem  would  like  to 
be  busier  than  thef  have  been  this  month.  They  are 
hopeful,  however,  n  i  l  th  '<  rh  •  the  Rood  time  is 
only  postponed,  and  ihai  la  is  tnoruU'ti  slowness 
ertJl  be  made  up  later  on. 

7'hw  Litt/^  Pili^rims'  Progress,  a  very  ttappjT 
title,  was  undoubtedly  the  book  of  the  mmitb. 
It  will  probeblj  be  the  juvenile  of  the  teasoa. 
Prominent  books  of  tbe  month  were  A  Vitlam 
WtUeh  T0u»rr,  by  Kate  Doa(|l«s  Wiggin ;  1% 
tVift  Wom.sn.  hy  Clara  Loaise  Bumham ;  Tke 
Men  of  the  Muss- H^i^-; .  by  S.  R.  Crockett  ;  Chrom- 
icUs  of  Count  Aiitcnt,\  by  Anthony  Hope  :  an- 
other Brownie  book,  entitled  Broionies  77;/^';<;-^j 
/A*"  l/nioH,  by  Palmer  Cox ;  7'he  Baeheior's 
Christmas,  by  Robert  Grant  ;  Constantinople,  bjf 
Mario  .  Crawford.  Other  books  published  pre* 
iHons  to  last  month  which  are  selling  largely  are 
Cartel' iri's  Rhymes  of  our  PLini-t,  The  Stark  Mun- 
ri?  Ittt^rj.  Memoirs  of  <t  Mm  titer  of  prance, 
and  H^>iJ^  the  liijitnii  lirur  litis h.  This  l.ist 
book  was  ahead  ot  everything  last  month,  and 
The  Days  of  Auld  f  ang  Syne  is  being  very  im- 
patiently demanded  by  Ian  Maclaren's  numerous 
readers.  Tbe  crate  for  the  Chimmie  FatUm 
books  still  continues,  but  Mr.  Townsend's  new 
book,  A  Daughter  9f  tk*  Tenewunts,  is  not  yet 
mceiinir  with  as  Rreat  surress.  A  fair  demand 
for  T'  il''Y  caines  from  the  f.Tr  Western  Slates, 
otfuTwise  its  sale  lias  been  ordin.iry,  and  Tkt 
M  tnxfnan  has  also  dropped  off  a  iiiiie. 

The  whist  season  is  now  fairly  started,  and 
books  on  the  game  are  in  lively  demand.  Caveo* 
dish  leads  the  van.  and  appean  to  be  the  favoar> 
ite.  He  is  closely  pressed,  however,  in  popularity 
by  Foster,  whose  Whitt  Manual  is  undoubtedly 
the  best  .-Vnieriean  book  on  the  ^airie.  and  his 
Wkist  TmSus,  which  has  just  been  published, 
should  sell  well. 

Appended  is  a  list  of  the  books  which  were 
most  in  demand  daring  the  month,  and  in  addition 
lo  these  there  waa  mrite  a  good  call  for  anytbing 
relating  to  the  Soutn  Amenean  RepaMfcs,  caused, 
no  diiiiht.  by  the  Venezuela  trouble.  Many  jiei-plc. 
t.)i>,  w.iruevl  a  history  of  Cuba  and  ihc  present 
Cui;ar)  resolution,  but  ii n ftjrtunately  they  could 
not  be  accommodated.  South  Africa  alto  came 
in  for  its  share  of  attention,  and  bo^  of  lf»vd 
in  that  region  sold  well. 

Two  Little  Pilgrims'  Progress.  By  Frances 
Hodgson  Burnett  $1.35. 

Beside  the  Bonnfe  Brier  Brush.  By  Ian  Mac- 
laren  $(.25. 

Rhymcit  of  Our  i'ianet.  By  Will  Carleton. 
#1.25. 

Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio.  Hy  Anthony 
Hope.  $1.50. 

Tbe  Village  Watch  Tower.  By  Kate  Douglas 
Wicgio.  Ii.oa 

The  Wise  Woman.  By  Clara  Loolse  Bnmham. 
fi.25. 

Men  of  tbe  MfMut-Hags.  By  S.  R.  Crockett. 

♦1.50. 

Bachelors' Christma!>.  Bv  R«b' rt  ( 'rant.  01.50. 
Trilby.   By  G.  Do  Maurier.   f  i.7S> 
The  Stark  Mnnio  Letters.   By  Conan  Doyle. 


\V.   Townsend.    Each,  doth,  $IjOo;  paper. 

50  cts 

Menticulture.    By  Horace  Fletcher.    $1  00. 

The  Child's  Garden  of  Song.  By  W.  L.  Tom- 
lins.  93.00. 

Tbe  PriLOoer  of  Zeoda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

Brownies  Through  the  Union.  By  Palmer  Cox. 

9i-So. 

Joan  Haste.  By  H.  Rkler  Haggard.  $1.15. 


hlmmle  Paddeo*  ist  and  9d  aeries.   By  E, 


ENGLISH  LETTER. 
London,  September  33  to  October  19. 189s* 

The  opinion  of  the  competent  judges  referred  to 
in  the  last  report  has  so  far  proved  to  be  correct, 
for  a  welcome  revival  h.is  taken  place  in  business 
^;e^erallv,  home  and  lorei>^i>  trade  sharing  alike 
in  tbe  improvement.  At  the  moment  of  writing 
there  is  a  slight  falling  off,  b«C  this  is  according 
to  tiie  capenence  of  previous  years. 

The  practice  of  issuing  novels  for  the  first  time 
at  6s.  has  developed  this  branch  of  the  trade  into 
a  verv  important  one.  I:lach  month  this  class  of 
publication  he.ids  the  list  Of  bcSt-SelUog  WOrftSi 
and  is  likely  to  do  so. 

New  books  for  the  season  are  now  being  de- 
livered in  good  earnest,  more  than  one  thousand 
liavlng  been  published  during  tbe  period  Indicated 
above.  A II  branches  of  literature  are  represented, 
fiction  claiming  about  two-thirds  of  tlie  number 
stated. 

In  all  branches  of  literature  there  is  consider- 
able activity,  noticeably  s<j  anionic  the  more  ad- 
vanced works  on  Natural  History,  especially 
on  Birds.  Insects,  and  Fishes.  There  are  several 
very  choice  publications  of  this  class. 

Volumes  of  minor  verse  mn  conspictMaa  by 
their  number  .^11  the  skill  of  the  printer  and 
binder  has  been  lavished  upon  them,  but  it  avails 
not  to  secnre  the  patronage  of  an  i^preclativn 
public. 

In  the  list  of  works  enjoying  the  public  f.ivour  at 
the  present  moment  the  six-shUling  novel  appears 
in  strong  array.  Manv  of  the  works  mentioned 
have  figured  on  tbe  list  for  aom*  months,  and 
this  is  a  gratifying  ocenrrence  tn  an  age  of  ephem- 
eral 'iierature.  Indeed,  the  short  lives  of  ihc 
majority  of  publications  is  a  very,  very  seriiius 
matter  with  ^■f.'isi-t'u  rs.  that  is,  for  those  who  en- 
deavour tu  keep  a  weiUassofted  stock,  as  distin- 
guished from  tradesmen  wbo  simply  procnre  to 
order  what  is  required. 

Chioaidcs  of  Count  Antonio.  By  A.  Hope. 
6s. 

Men  of  the  Moss- Hags.    By  5.  R.  CrocketL 

6s. 

Lilith,    By  G.  Macdonald.  6s. 

Joan  H.-istc.    By  H.  Rider  Haggard,    (  s 

From  the  Memotr^  nf  a  Minister  of  France. 
By  S.  J.  Weyman.    (  s 

Besule  tbe  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Ian  Mac» 
laren.  68. 

Barabbas,    Bv  M.irie  T .  r- 11!  6s. 

Trilby.  By  G  Du  Maun.  r.  6s.  (Selling  as 
freely  as  ever. ) 

The  Manxman.    By  Hall  Caine.  6s. 

N'almond  Came  to  Pontlac.    Br  O. 
Pdrker.  6». 

Gerald  Evcrsley's  Priendshtp.  By  J.  E.  C. 
Welldon.  6s. 

Platform,  Press,  etc.   By  T.  H.  S.  EacoO.  6a. 


uiym^ed  by  GoOglc 


1  1^ 


356  THE  BOOKMAN. 

The  Wondetfoi  Visit.  By  H.  G.  Wctli.  si.  9-  Margaret    Whitbrop.     By  E«rle. 

nel.  (Scribncr.) 

Clarence.    Ry  Rret  Harte.    is.  6d.  4.  Singular  Life.    By  Mn.  Pttclp*  Ward.  fl.»$. 

The  CirbofK-fs     H\-  C   M.  Yonge.    38.  6d.  •  (Houghlon.) 

A  Woman  in  1 1.     Hy  Rit.i,    3s.  6U.  5.  S6nya  KovalAfSicy.    By  LeQCT.   tl.SO.  (Cen- 

The  WomMi  Who  Wottldn'l.  By  Liica*  Qeeire.  tury.) 

3s.  6d.  6.  Cruising  among   C«rribee«.    By  Stoddard. 

By  J.  Hocking.    3s.  6d.  >t«50.  (Scriboet.) 

At  Market  Value.    Bv  Grant  Allen.    3s.  6d. 

Thc^  One  Wbo  Lookttl  Oa.   By  F.  F.  MtmtrA.  BOSTON.  MASS, 

sor.    35.  6d. 

College  Sermons.    By  R.  JowetL    7s  M.  ^  Bonnie  Brier   Bush.     By  Maclaiea.  fI.S$. 

Plea  for  a  Simpler   Life.    By  G.  S.  Keith.  <Dodd,  Mead  &  Co  ) 

M.  6d.  s.  Heart  of  Life.   By  Mallock.  $1.2$.  (Patnam.) 

The  TcMcbing  of  Jesas.   By  R.  F.  Hocton.  3.  Kiog'a  Stntagem.    By  Wcymao.  50 

3B.6d.  (Plau  ft  Brace.) 

  4.  Meadow-rir.iss    By  Alice  Brown.  $i.S(i,fle<. 

(Copelarui  tV:  Day  ) 

jf.  Men  nt  the  Mosa^Hagi.  By  Crockett,  ti.501. 

SALES  OF  BOOKS  DURING  THE  MONTH.  >       .  ,^ 

^Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  France.   By  Weyt 

Mew  books,  in  order  of  detoaod.  as  sold  between  niMi.  $l.as  (Longman.) 
Ortober  I  and  November  i,  189$. 

We  guarantee  the  authenticity  of  the  following  BUFFALO,  N.  Y. 

lists  as  supplied  to  ns,  each  by  leading  booksellers  _^                .         1    ^  .  ^ 

ia  the  towfts  iHuned.  i*        Golden  Age      By  Gnuiame.  $1.3$. 

(Stone  &  Kimball.) 

NEW  YORK,  UPTOWN.  ^ft':^"/"|T;■'"'  ^^"kiTJI^I;?**^  By  Parker. 

y   81.50     u^ii'iie  «  Kimball  ) 

^  Men  of  the  Moas*Hags.   ByCraekett.   fi-so.  ^  Men  of  the  Moss.Hags.   ByCrockett.  $1.50. 

(Macinillan.)  (MacmilUn.) 

s.  College  Gifls.  By  Goodloe.  $i.as>  <Scrlb-  4.  Tryphena  in  Love.  By  Raymond.  75  ctSi. 

ner.j  (MacmiUao.) 

3.  Uncle  Remus.   By  Harris.    |a.oo.   (Apple  5.  A  Set  of  Rognes.   By  Barrett.  $1.50.  (Mao 

ton.)  millan  ) 

Bonnie  Brier  Rush.     By  M.idarcn.     I1.25.  Jt.  A   Wise   Woman.      By    Burnham.  $1.25. 

(D  "i  l.  Mead&Co  )  (Hoggbtoo.) 
Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  Fram  c.    By  Wey- 

man.    $125.    (Longman;.  )  CHICAGO,  ILL. 

X  About  Paris.   By  Da»is.  $1.25.   (Harper.)  ,          kittle  Pilgrims'  Progiess.   By  Burnett. 

««.AH.v.t..««».»  $»  5"-    (Scribner.)  _ 

MEW  YORK,  DOWNTOWN.  Village  Wat.  h  Tower.    By  Wiggia.  |s.O0l 

^  V^''h<S^^     ^  '  RhV"mc?JrS'ur''iS:i  By  Carleton.  f...^ 

*  "^^LmHI^o  >  ^rS^WJwom^.    By  Bnraham.    fx  .5. 

,.  Prisoner    of    Ze«Ia.    By   Hope.     75  ^  ^r/..S" "cSmis.     By    Gra.  t  $,.50. 


^  ^^"fv^.M'^  Mcn'inhe  Moss-Hags.    By  Crockett.  $1.50. 


(Century.) 

5.  Father  Siatlord.    By  Hope.    75  CU.  (Neely.) 


(Macmillan.) 


opc- 

Bonnie   Brier  Bu^h.     By  Madaneo.  $I.S5. 
(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.)  CINCINNATI,  O. 

jr.  Bonnie  Brier  Bosh.    By  Maclaren.  $f.sS' 

ALBANY.  N.  Y.  ,  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

Ronnie    Brier    Rush     Bv    Maclaren     fti  sc  Prisoner  of  Zenda.    By  Hope.    75  cts.  (Holt  ) 

^  (Dodd.  Meai  &  Co  i      '  '   ^  3"  ^hc  Law  of  Psychic  Phenomena.   By  H»l. 

m  Sir^e^^i^n VMi'wl^'',c^II"r^^  4.  Dlgene'uuM;.  ByNSu"    *v5o  (Apple.on.) 

^^Ck  3.  Bessie  CostrelL  I3y  Mrs.  Ward.  75  cts.  (Mac.  J.  Kentucky  Ordinal.    By  Allen.   $1.00.  (Har- 

^       ^(Stok'cso''^'*  Nobody.    By  Maaitens.  $1.75. 

^       ,■'   5.  Stark   Munro   Letters.     Bv    Doyle.     $1.50.  (Harper.) 
•     f<  -l^        (Applcton.)  CLEVELAND.  O. 

>  6j  The  Master.    By  ZaogwiU.  tt.JS.  (Harper.)  ^  r,,,,   Hush.    By  Maciaien.  91.15. 

.  "  "     >  ^  nncxnv    vf  \c«  (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co  ) 

'     ,  ,  KUblu.>.  MAbb.  ^   Me.idow.Grass.     By  Alice  Brown.  fl.SA. 

^  Life  of  Nancy.  By  Jeweit.   $1.35.   (Hough-         (Copelaod  &  Day.) 

^  ^  _a  s?'<  to")  ^  About  Paris.   By  Davis.  $1.15.  (Harper.) 

~  ^'.>ff>  Coming  of  Theodora.    By  White.    fl.«5.  4.  The    Village  Watch  Tower.    By  Wiggin. 
«SI»   (Houghton.)  ti.oo.    mouithton.  Mifflin.) 


J'  - 


^  uiym^ed  by  GoOgle 


A  LITEKAR 


0f  Bachelors'  Chrbtmw.    B]r  Gnui».  $r.$a 

(iicribner.) 

Zoraida.  ByLeQnciut.  $i.sa  (Stokca.) 

DENVER.  COL. 

^Fi'  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Ikfaelaren.  ft.35« 

(Dodd,  Mr.nl  \  Co  ) 
a.   Zoraida.    iiy  Le  Qucux.    $l.5u.  (Stokes.) 

3.  Her  Majesty.   By  Tompldos.    $i.oo.  (Pat- 

n.im.) 

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(Loogmans  ) 
Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  France.    By  Wey. 

man.    $1.25.  (Longmans.) 
About  Paris.    By  Davis.    $1.25.  (Harper.) 

DES  MOI.VES.  lA. 

Bonnie   Brier   Bush.    By   Maclaren.  $1.25. 
(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
9.  The  Manxman.   By  Caine.    I1.50.  (Apple* 
ton.) 

3.  The  Prisoner  of  Zeoda.   By  Hope.  7S  cts. 

fHolt.) 

4.  Lil.ic    Sunbonnet.      By    Cffoclcett.  #i.S5. 

(Appleton.) 

^er'Abont  Paris.    By  Davis.   $1.25.  (Harper.) 
6.  Degeneration,   by  Nordau.    i3.$a  (Appie* 
ton.) 

HARTFORD.  CONN. 

t.  The  Villa^^e  Watch-Tower.  By  Wiggin.  |i.oo. 

(Houghton.) 

^riTTTlie  Wise  Woman.    By  Bumham.  $i.«S. 

(Houghton  ) 

,^Men  of  the  Moss  Hags.    By  Crockett,  fi.50. 

(Macmillan  ) 

The  Bachelor  s  Christmas.    By  Grant.  $1.50. 

(Scribncr  ) 

5.  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio.    By  Hope. 

$1.50.  (Appleton.) 

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KANSAS  Cn  V,  MO. 

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3.  The  Head  of  a  Hundred.  ByGoodwin.  It.25. 
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^  B  onnie   Brier   Hush.    By   Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(Dv)<ld,  Mc.ul  X:  Co.) 
^  Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  France.    By  Wey- 

man.  $i.ss.  (Longmans.) 
6.  The  Manxman.  By  C^ne.  $t.5a  (Appleton.) 

LOS  ANGELES,  CAL. 

Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  fl.SS* 
(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

3.  My  Lady  Nobody.    By  Maartens.  ti.7S« 

(Harper.) 

}.  Prisoner  of  Zenda.     By  Hope.     75  cts. 
(Holt.) 

4.  Stark  Munro  Letters.   By  Doyle.    $1.50.  (Ap- 

pleton.) 

.4^  Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  France.    By  Wey- 
man.  1  Lont^tn.ins.  i 

About  Paris.    By  D.ivis.    $12!;.    (H.irper  ) 

Considerable  demand  again  for  Trilby  during 
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cent  visit  of  the  Palmer  Company. 


'  JOURNAL, 

LOUISVILLE,  KY. 

I.  College  Girl*.   By  Goodtoe.  $1.95.  (Scrtb- 
.  ner.) 

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man.    $1.25.  (Longmans.) 
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(McClurg, ) 

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t.  Bonnie   Brier  Bush.     By  Maclaren.  fl.35. 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 
6.  Stark  Mnnro  Letters.    By  Doyle,  ft.so, 

(Appleton.) 


NEW  HAVEN,  CONN. 

jr:  The  Wise  Woman.    By  Bumhain.  #i.x$. 

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mans.) 

PHILADELPHIA.  PA. 

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man.  $1.3$.  (Longman.) 
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(A[>[)U'ion  ) 

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nam.) 

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(Harper.) 

5.  Count  Antonio.   By  Hope,   ff.50.  (Apple- 

ton.) 

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man.) 

PORTLAND.  ORE. 

y.  Bonnie  Brier  Busb.     By  Mactaren.  $1.3$. 

(Dodd.  Mead  Co.) 
3.  The  Master.    By  Zangwili.  $1.75.  (Harper.) 

3.  My  Lady  Nobody.  By  Maartens.  ♦1.75-  (Har- 

per.) 

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(Copeland  &  Day.) 

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6.  Degeneration.    By  Nordau.    l3-50-  (Apple- 

ton.) 

PROVIDENCE,  R.  L 

f.  Stark  Munro  Letters.     By  Doyle.  $1.50. 

f  Appleton.) 

^.  Bonnie    Brier    Bush.     By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(Dodil,  Mead  A:  Co.  ) 

^  Men  of  the  Moss-Hags.    By  Crockett,    fx. 50. 
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7S  CIS.   (Preston  &  Rounds.) 


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ROCHi:STF,R.  N.  Y. 

^.  Bonnie  Brier  Hush.     By  Maclaren.  |l.35. 

iDodd.  Mead  &  Co  ) 
^  Memoin  of  «  Miawier  o<  France.    By  Wey< 

man.  ti.35-  (Loofauii.) 
3.  The  Stark  Munto  Letten.  By  Doyle.  $i.so. 

(Appleton.) 

^  About  Paris     R)  Davis.    $125.  (Harper.) 
5   Adventures  of  Caj^nain  ll<<rii.    By  Stockton. 

$1.50.  (Scribner.) 
6.  AaEmuit    Wooing.     By    Harrison.  %i.y>. 
(CcDlufy  Co.) 


SAN  FRAN'CISCO,  CAL. 

Hy  M.uhucii. 


tl.25. 
$i-75- 


^  B<Miiiic    Uricr  Bush. 

I  Do'ia.  M?^iul  iS:  Co  ) 
3.  My   Lady   Nobody.     Hy  Maarien^. 
(Harper.) 

3.  The  Master.  By  ZwigwiU.  ii.75>  (Harper.) 
jft  MeAoirt  of  a  Hlnlater  of  France.   By  W«y- 

man.    #1.25.  (Long^mans.) 
J(.  The  Men  of  the  Moss- Hags.    By  Crockett. 

$1  5<>  (M.icniillan.) 
6.  Degeneration.   By  Nordau.  $3.50.  (Appleton.) 

ST.  LOUIS,  HO. 

The  Wise  W  .m  m    By  Burnbara. 
(HoQRhton,  Mifflin.) 
8.  Princess  Soola.  By  M^gnuler.  $t.S5.  (Ceii« 

tary  Co.) 

3.  Count  Anioaio.    By  Hofie.   tt.s&  (Apple- 
ton.) 

M.  Bonnie  Brier  Binh.   By  Madaren.  fi.85. 

m  dd.  M«-ad&  Co.) 
^  Bachelors'    Christmas.     By   Grant.  $1.50. 

6.  Village  Watch  Tower.    By  Wiggin.  $1.00. 
(Hougbion,  Miflln.) 


TOLKDO.  O. 

Wise  Woman.   \\y  liurnhara.   $1.25.  (Hough* 
ton,  Mifflin  ) 
a.  My   Lady  Nobody.     By   Maartens.  $i.7S> 
(Harper.) 

3.  Singular  Life.  By  Phelpa.  fi.ss.  (Homghioii, 

Mifflin.) 

^  Men  of  the  Moss.Hagi.   By  CradKtt.  $1.90. 

( .MaLnullan.) 
5.  jo.m  liaste.   By  Haggard,    fi.so.  i^J0lO%• 

mans.) 

t.  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Madafen.  9l*^. 
(Dodd^Mead&Co.) 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C 

1.  Count  Aotonlo.    By  Hope.  I1.50.  {Apple* 

ton.) 

^.  Bonnie   Brier    Rush.     By  Maclaien.  9(.S5< 

(Dodd.  .VIcttd  &  Co.) 
jg^  Men  of  the  Mc^'Hagf.  By  Croekett.  $1  501. 

(Macmilian.) 

4.  Heart  ^  Ufe.  By  Matlock.  91.15.  (Put- 

nan.) 

^  About  Paris.  1^  Davis.  I1.35.  (Harper.) 
^lid  he'ors'  Chiislinaii.     By  Cimnt.  ft.so. 

(Scribner.) 

WORCESTER,  MASS. 

^^-^  Bachelors'   Christmas.      Hy    Cirant  $1.50. 
(Scribner.) 

2.  Princess  Sonia.    By  Julia  Magrudcr.  $'.25. 

(Century  Ci>.j 
3  Edible  Toadstools  and  Musbrooms.   By  Cib* 
■on.  $7.30^  (Harper.) 

4.  Uncle  Remus,        Harris.    |s.oow  (Apple- 

ton.) 

5.  Life  of  Nancy.  By  Jewett.  $s.ts.  (Hough- 

ton.) 

6.  Letten  olCeliaThaitler.  9t-S0.  (Hooghioa,) 


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THEOLOGY,  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

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Hea'.c  Pub.  C... 

Cam,  £.  S.— The  Development  of  Modern  Re- 
ligious Thought :  especially  in  Germany, 
tamo,  pp.  xv-d76,  |i.oo. 

Cong.  S.  S.  &  Pub.  Soc. 

DoucALL,  Lily.— A  Question  of  Faith,  ismo, 
pp.  iii-290.  Si. 25  Houghton,  M. 

Gr£EN.  W,  H.— The  Unity  of  the  Book  of 
Geaesis.  ismo,  pp.  xvii->563, 93.00. 

Scribner 

Hall.  J. — Light  Unto  My  Path;  being  Divine 
Directions  tor  Daily  Walk.  Chosen  and 
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365,  $1.50   Brent, i[n>'s 

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'97*  9'«oo   Raodolj^ 

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Oliver  (  inr.ids  Plucky  Fight.  lamo.  pp. 
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BKNKr>i(  r,  Annf.  Kknokick.— An  Island  Story. 
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Amer.  Baptist  Pub.  Soc. 

Bknninc,  Howe. — Goshen  Hill  ;  or,  a  Life's 
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American  Tract  Sac. 

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Bli  k,    KaTK   Lii.Y.— ThE   Hand    of    Faie  :  a 

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$1.00  Kerr 

BoARDMAN,  G.  D.— Coronation  of  Love.  8vo, 

pp.  V-5S,  75  cts  .\tncr.  Baptist  Pub.  Soc. 

BoLUREWono,  Rolf.— The  Crooked  Stick  ;  or, 
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Booth,  Mrs.  Eliza  M.  J.  Gollan. — A  Woman  in 
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BooTHBV,  Guy.— A  Bid  for  Fortune:  a  Novel, 
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Brooks,  Eldkiih.k  S.  — .\  Boy  of  the  First  Em- 
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DocniJ^s,  Amanda  M. — A  Sherburne  Romance. 

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Iota  — A  Comedy  in  Spasms,  isttm.  ;,;>  ii~28o, 
Ji.oo  Slokes 

Ja.viks.  G.  p.  R.—Richelica :  a  Talc  of  France, 
lamo.  a  vol*,,  pp  t-jCq  ;  v-347i  ^ - 

I'llUlam 

JcwKTT.  Sarah  OiNt.  The  Life  of  Nancy. 
161110,  pp.  3«a,  f  1.25  Jloughion.  M. 

JOHNSTOK»  AnnIB  FeLLOWs.— Joel :  a  Boy  of 
Galilee,   tamo,  pp.  H-353,  $i.$o  .  ..Robcm 

Jo.vKs.  AliCI  iMWHFRnz.— licatricc  of  liayou 
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Ker,  D.— The  Wiiard  King;  a  .Story  of  the 
Last  Moslem  Invasion  of  Europe,  ismo. 
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Kki  iii-wuk.  )<»IIN. — Thf  I.itt.-  ai^d  l  imi'S  of, 
with  Del. Ills  of  the  Hisii-ry  tin-  Nun* 
jurors,  by  the  author  of  "  Nicholas  Ferrar.'* 
Edited  by  Rev.  T.  T.  Carter,  lamo,  pp. 
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Kino,  AnMK  Ei<  lll■^kl;.  —  Kitwyl;  Stories,  i-'rnn, 
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D  ivs  of  ihe  Commune,  lamo,  pp.  iii-564. 
I1.25  Coatcs 

Lang.  Andrbw.— Mjr  Own  Fairy  liook.  ismo, 

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Thcoirj  ol  Electricity  end  Magnctitai.  lo/-. 

Camb.  PresB 

WimF.RSHKiM,  D.  R.— The  Structure  of  Man : 
an  Index  to  his  Past  History.    8/-  «//, 

Macmlllan 

MISCELLANtOUS. 

honw.  A.— In  Vercmica's  Garden.   9  -. 

MacmiUan 

Dawmn,  W.  J,— London  IdylU  5/-. 

UodderftS. 


PeOKBEi.,  F.— PcdaRORics  of  the  Kindergarten. 
Translated  by  J.  Jarvis.  6/-. 

FuuB,  Cd.  G.  A.— Information  in  War.  8A. 

Clowes 

Household  of  Sir  T.  More. — With  Introduction 
by  Rev.  T.  U.  Hutton.  lUastfsted.  6/-. 

Kimmo 

Huon  of  Bordeaux. — Done  into  English  by  Sir 
J.  Boarcbier.  and  now  retold  by  R.  Steele. 
10/6  .......Nutt 

Trf.vki.yas,  M.— The  Land  of  Arthur.  Its 
Heroee  and  Heroines .   6/.  H  ok 

Waithman,  p.  W. — Indolent  Impressions.   3,  6. 

Digby 


CONTINENTAL. 


HISTORY,  BIOGRAPHY,  AND  TRAVEL. 
BouB,  W.<-Rudolf  Henneberg.    is  M. 

Caustier,  E.,  etc.  —  Cc  iju  il  f.iut  mtirsailre  de 
Madagascar;  population,  resources*,  com- 
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Che'-m  1  "N  '  Cii  — Campagne  Monarchique 

d  Uciobcr,  1&75.    7  fr.    50  c. 

EsPftKANDtBU,  E.— Expedition  de  Surdaigne  et 
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Gi^sER,  E.— Die  Abyssinier  in  Arabien  uo4 
Afrilca.  Anf  Gmnd  neuentdccfctcr  Inichrif- 
ten.    10  M. 

Gt;iaAUb«  L.— Recherebee  topographiqoea  anr 

Montpelier  an  moyt-n  age.    8  fr. 
Kerdsc— Un  Boulevard  de  i'lslam  (Maroc.)  5 

fr. 

KovKLWiBSBa,  L.— Die  Kimpfe  Ungame  mitt 
den  Osmanen  bit  lur  Schlacht  bei  Mohice, 

Lafh-euh  L»fc  KKkMAiNr..\.vT.  p. — L*Amb.i!sj»adc 
de  France  en  Angleterre  sous  Henri  IV. 
Mission  de  Cbristopbe  de  Harlay,  Comte  de 
Beanmont  (i6oa-i6o5).   15  fr. 

LtNZ,  O. — WandtruiiKcn  in  Afrika.    4  M  20  c. 

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und  die  Machtsiellung  der  Europliachen 
Gross-Staaien  in  Ost-Asicn.    2  M. 

MoLDENiiALEK,  F. — Geschichte  dcs  hOheren' 
Schulwcscns  der  Kheinpruvins  unter  prcus- 
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MuLLRR.  E.~Geschlchte  der  Bernlscben  TaUfer. 
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ki»uii'.v,  A.  —  Paris  de  Siicle  en  Siecle.    25  fr. 
SCMEIHKRT,  J. — Der   Kricg  zwischcn  Dculsch- 

land  und  Frankreich  in  den  iahr  1870-71. 

IS  M. 

SCHwi.>u.  E.  Frhr.  von  ami  A.  Di>|i>cli.  .\usge- 
wahltc  Urkunden  zur  Verfassungsgcschichie 
der  deutsch-Osterrelchlscben  Erblaode  im 
Miitclalter.    12  M. 

Skpp,  Prof. — Neue  hochwichligc  Entdeckungen 
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Tkomcuin.  H. — Le  Conaeiller  Francois  Troncbin 
et  MS  Amis.  VolUire,  Diderot,  Grimm.  70 
fr.  50  c 

POETRY. 

BOBKMBR,  F.  M.— VolkMhtlmlicbe  Ueder  der 
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W'AiiNER, R.— Nachgelassenc Schriften  und  Dicb» 

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Wilis,  J.  J  — Theatre*  P  irisiens.   3  fr.  50C;. 

SCIENCE.  ART.  ETC 
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man.  100 M.  Liposcak,  A.  OerCbiocsiscii- 
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glyphea.   7  M.  80  c. 
jAOCAfto.  H.'-Catalogue  de  1*  Hore  valaisanne. 
aoM. 

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pERNER.  J.— Etudes   sur   Ics  Graptolites  de 

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THE  BOOKflAN 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Vol..  II. 


lANUARY,  1896. 


No,  5. 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMENT. 


One  more  bit  of  Trilbyana — perhaps 
the  last  that  we  shall  be  called  upon  to 
chronicle.  In  noting  it  we  shall  be 
obliged  incidentally  to  advertise  a  cer- 
tain proprietary  remedy,  but  we  are 
not  going  to  stop  for  a  little  thing  like 
that.  The  proprietor  of  the  remedy  in 
question  recently  brought  out  a  bro- 
chure entitled  T/if  True  TaU  of  Trilby 
Tfrsrly  Told.  It  summed  up  the  story 
of  Trilby  in  rhyme — her  love  for  Little 
Billee,  the  hypnotic  fiendishness  of 
Svengali,  and  all  the  rest,  and  then 
wound  up  with  the  following  touching 
verse  : 

••  Yes.  the  world  is  full  of  Trilbys 

Just  as  foolish  p'r'aps  as  she. 
Who  when  troubled  with  a  headache 

Seek  some  silly  remedy. 
Had  she  spurne*!  SvcnKali's  offer 

When  her  headache  made  her  sick. 
And  just  taken  Bronio-Seltzer, 

'T would  have  cured  her  just  as  quick  !" 

A  number  of  Trilby  pictures  accompa- 
nied this  choice  poem,  four  of  them 
being  taken  bodily  from  Du  Maurier's 
book  ;  wherefore  the  Messrs.  Harper  de- 
scended like  a  thousand  of  brick  on  the 
unfortunate  advertiser,  and  the  little 
pamphlet  has  been  suppressed,  so  that  it 
is  destined  perhaps  to  become  a  rare  and 
precious  thing  to  the  collectors  of  Tril- 
by literature.  We  should  be  templed  to 
say  something  harsh  about  the  severity 
of  the  Franklin  Square  firm,  were  it  not 
generally  understood  that  their  action 
in  such  cases  is  taken  to  please  Mr.  Du 
Maurier  himself,  who  greatly  dislikes 
such  a  use  of  his  productions. 

Our  English  cousins  have  received  a 
good  deal  of  diversion  from  the  descrip- 
tions which  several  interviewers  of  Mr. 
Hall  Caine  have  contributed  to  our  sen- 
sational newspapers,  especially  such 
minutiae  as  Mr.  Caine's  hair,  hands, 
stockings,  and  shoes.    One  well-known 


caricaturist  brooded  over  these  things 
until  the  sketch  below  was  the  result. 
There  is  an  impression  on  the  other  side 
that  we  are  somewhat  mystified  by  Mr. 

r  •  ^ 


HALL  CAINE. 
From  the  London  Sketch. 

Caine's  treatment  of  the  vexed  copy- 
right question.  Mr.  Henry  Van  Dyke 
illustrated  this  quandary  by  an  amusing 
story  which  he  told  at  the  Hall  Caine 
dinner  in  New  York.  An  old  darkey 
fishing  off  the  coast  in  the  Gulf  of  Mex- 


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ico  caught  a  terrapin,  which,  however, 
was  too  much  for  him,  and  pulled  him 
overboard.  On  reachinp^  the  surfare, 
after  much  blowing  and  spluttering,  he 
remarked  :  **  What  dis  nijsri^h  wan*  t' 
know  is,  whcddah  dis  nigL,Mii  is  a-fish- 
in",  or  whedduh  dis  fish  is  a-niggerin'  J" 
Mr.  Georf^e  Haven  Putnam,  in  the 
course  of  his  remarks,  said  that  *'  the 
Republic  of  Letters  liad  vanished,  and  in 
its  place  had  arisen  an  f)lij;jarchy  of 
which  Mr.  Cainc  was  a  representative 
pacha,  he  might  say,  A  Pafha  of  Many 
Talcs  r 

It   is   refreshing  amid  the  hubbub 

raised  by  tlie  contenti'in  hftwcrn  au- 
thors and  pubiisiiers  to  conic  upon  the 
following  letter  from  Robert  Louis  Ste- 
venson to  Messrs.  Chatto  and  Windus. 
"  You  sec,"  he  says,  "  I  leave  this  quite 
In  your  hands.  To  parody  an  old 
Scotch  saying  of  servant  and  master,  if 
you  don't  kivnv  that  you  have  a  cT'^nd 
author,  I  knuvv  that  I  have  a  good  pub- 
lisher. Your  fair,  open,  and  handsome 
draliiips  are  a  good  point  in  my  life,  and 
do  more  for  my  crazy  health  than  has 
yet  been  done  by  any  doctor."  As  re- 
cently as  August,  1893,  Stevenson  con- 
cludes a  letter  from  Samoa  thus  :  "  I 
hope  you  are  keeping  very  well,  and 
that  all  marches  in  Piccadillv  as  hereto- 
fore. I  am  far  out  of  the  battle,  and 
quite  tlone  with  London  ;  but  1  keep 
pleasant  memories,  dear  Mr.  Chatto,  of 
yourself  and  all  our  dealings.** 

Another  letter  which  these  publishers 
received  from  Stevenson  has  reference 
to  the  Father  Damicn  pamphlet,  and  is 
highly  characteristic  of  the  writer  : 
"  The  letter  to  Dr.  Hyde,"  he  says,  "  is 
yours,  or  any  man's.  I  will  never  touch 
a  penny  of  remuneration.  I  do  not 
Stick  at  murder  ;  1  draw  the  line  at  can- 
nibalism. I  could  not  eat  a  penny  roll 
that  piece  of  bludgeoning  had  gained 
for  mc." 

Apropos  of  our  criticism  in  these  col- 

umns  last  month  on  Mr.  lirander  Mat- 
thews's  colloquialism  "  chippincf  up"' 
for  "chipping  ///,"  there  is  a  simiiar 
animadversion  in  one  of  Georije  Eliot's 
letters  to  the  Blackwootis.  "  One  {gen- 
tleman has  written  me  a  very  pretty 
note,  * '  says  the  author  of  Damtl  Dtronda^ 
the  first  volume  of  which  had  just  been 


published,  "  taxing  me  with  liaviog 
wanted  insight  into  the  technicalities  of 

Newmarket,  when  I  tnade  I-tish  say.  '  1 
^'xWtake odds. '  I  Ic  judges  that  1  !>boul<i 
have  written,  *  I  will  lay  odds/  On  the 
other  hand,  another  expert  contends 
that  the  case  is  one  in  which  Lush  would 
be  more  likely  to  say,  *  1  will  takc 
odds.'  "  Mr.  Slatthews  may  find  solace 
in  the  retort  with  which  tlu-  It^ter  con- 
cludes :  "  I  told  m^'  correspondent  lhi»: 
I  had  a  dread  of  being  righteously  pe1t> 
ed  with  mistakes  that  wonL-i  make  a 
cairn  above  me — a  monument  and  a 
warning  to  people  who  w^ritc  novels 
without  being  omniscient  and  infalli> 
ble." 

We  have  elsewhere  noted  the  beautiful 

edition  of  White's  Sdbortie,  u1:i>  h  has 
just  been  issued  in  two  volumes,  wtth 
an  introduction  by  John  Burroughs  and 
numerous  illustrations  by  Clifton  John- 
son.   On  anntlier  page  there   will  *»« 
found  fuller  reference  tt)  this  work,  a> 
well  as  to  the  new  and  revised  edition 
of  Viiilc  Rt))iu<.  illustrated  jm.fitsidy  by 
Frost.    Mcsi»rs.  Applcloii  and  Company 
have  also  prepared  a  popular  edition  of 
Duni.is's  Three  Musketeers  (price,  ^^4.00) 
with  Leloir's  illustrations,  which  was  an 
attractive  feature,  though  an  expensive 
one,  among  the  last  season's  holiday 
ptd>!ications.    An  /ditioti  Je  luxe  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  copies  of  The  Manx- 
man has  also  been  made  by  the  same 
firm,  with  illustrations  taken  from  actual 
scenes  in  the  Isle  of  Man.    These  views 
were  selected  for  this  fine  two-volume  edi- 
tion by  Mr.  Hall  Caine,  who  has  also  put 
his  signature  to  each  copy  of  the  work. 

The  next  volume  in  Messrs.  Dodd» 

Mead  and  Company's  little  sixteenmo 
novels  will  be  from  the  pen  of  George 
Gissing,  and  is  entitled  The  Paying  Gu<st. 
The  story  is  written  in  a  light,  amusing 
vein,  unlike  Mr.  Gissini^j's  former  work, 
which  is  weighted  with  a  glooni\  pes- 
simism. The  Messrs.  Appleton  will  also 
issue  in  February  a  new  story  by  Mr. 
Gissing,  entitled  Sleeping  Fins, 

We  do  not  remember  until  now  to 
have  found  any  of  Mr.  Kipling's  work 
reminiscent  of  other  writers  ;  but  in  his 
SiconJ  Jungle  Book^  the  story  called 
"  The  King's  Ankus"  irresistibly  re- 
calls one   of   Chaucer's  Canterbury 


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A  LITERAKY  JOURNAL 


369 


Tales  ;  while  the  theme  of  his  "  Brush- 
wood Boy,  "  in  the  last  Century,  is  sim- 
ply Uu  Maurier  s  Peter  Ihbetson  turned 
inside  out.  Vet  whatever  Mr.  Kipling 
touches  he  makes  his  own  by  the  fusing 
power  of  genius. 

The  Eieniit^  Post  of  this  city  is  grow- 
ing comical.  Here  is  a  reviewer  who  in 
a  translation  of  La  Belle  Nivertuiise  sapi- 
ently  remarks  :  "  There  is  an  odd  sen- 
tence on  page  174.  It  reads:  'Some 
one  proposed  to  nit;  that  I  should  take 
in  Augustine's  reception.'  It  should 
surely  be,  '  Some  one  proposed  to  me 
that  \  should  go  to  Augustine's  recep- 
tion.' "  Really  the  Post  ought  to  make 
its  reviewers  learn  the  American  Ian 
guage  as  it  is  spoken,  so  that  they  may 
know  what  it  is  to  "  take  in  a  recep 
tion."  But  the  editorial  columns  yield 
some  fun,  too.  The  editf)r  quotes  the 
epigram  about  a  person  being  a  ministre 
/tranger  aux  affaires,  and  ascribes  it  to 
"  a  wicked  French  wit."  We  take  great 
pleasure  in  revealing  the  name  of  this 
wicked  and  witty  Frenchman.  It  is 
Otto  von  Bismarck. 

The  author  of  that  very  clever  "  novel 
of  a  suburb,"  Mr.  Bailey-Martin,  a  book 
which  has  been  much  written  and  talked 
about,  and  which  deserves  its  reputa- 
tion, has  written  a  new  novel  entitled 
Corruption,  which  is  reviewed  on  another 
page.  Mr.  Percy  White's  first  inten- 
tion was  to  follow  a  scholastic  career, 
but  after  some  time  spent  as  a  professor 
of  the  English  language  and  literature 
in  a  French  college,  he  drifted  into  jour- 
nalism. For  the  last  ten  years  he  has 
edited  Public  Opinion  (London),  which 
has  prospered  exceedingly  under  his  di- 
rection. During  that  time  he  has  been 
a  very  busy  leader-writer,  and  numer- 
ous short  stories  and  reviews  from  his 
pen  have  also  appeared  from  time  to 
time  in  the  magazines. 

Mr.  White's  first  novel,  Afr.  Bailey- 
Martin,  had  a  distinct  success  in  Eng- 
land, and  a  second  edition  has  been  re- 
cently issued  in  this  country  by  Messrs. 
Lovell,  Coryell  and  Company.  The 
author  believes  that  his  novel  has  been 
a  good  deal  misunderstood.  He  in- 
tended his  central  character  to  be  some- 
thing more  than  a  snob — in  fact,  a  sort 
of  up-to-date  cad  and  scamp  into  the 


bargain  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
it  was  Marie  Bashkirtseff's  Memoirs 
which  Mr.  White  once  reviewed  that 
suggested  him.  He  is  a  very  dissimilar 
person,  of  course,  but  the  Frenchwoman 
is  popularly  believed  to  have  meant  her 
self-revelations  to  be  a  valuable  human 


I'ERCV  WHITE. 

document,  and  Mr.  Bailey-Martin  had 
the  same  ambition  as  an  autobiographist. 
Mr.  Bailey-Martin  is  popularly  supposed 
to  have  emptied  half  the  houses  in  the 
suburb  which  is  made  the  scene  of  its 
story.  A'ini,''s  Diary,  an  infinitely 

touching  little  story,  true  to  life  and  yet 
tragic  in  the  highest  degree,  published 
last  spring,  will  empty  no  suburbs,  but 
its  pathos  will  come  home  to  even,'  one 
who  has  any  love  for  poor  human  na- 
ture, which  perhaps  is  what  Ma.x  Fem- 
berton  means  in  his  Foreword,  by  in- 
forming us  that  the  new  Pocket  Library, 
in  which  this  story  is  published,  will 
deal  "  with  the  humanity  of  the  human 
heart." 

The  Messrs.  Scribner  have  issued  a 
cheaper  edition  of  Mr.  Field's  Echoes 
from  a  Sabine  Farm.    We  omitted  in  the 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


^  -     *■  r 


k\0> 


JUJL 


ship,  as  well  as  for  its  in- 
terestinpj  contents.  Only 
130  copies  are  for  sale. 

m 

We  are  indebti  d  to 
Mr.  Arthur  Horn  blow, 
of  the  JVno  York  Dra- 
matic Mirror^  for  the 
autograph  letter  and 
portrait  of  Dumas  ac- 
companying Professor 
Cohn's  article  on  an- 
othrr  pape.  Mr.  Horn- 
blow  received  the  pho- 
tograph from  Dumas 
four  years  ago  while 
in  Paris.  M.  Dumas 
was  sensitive  about  the 
use  i)f  his  i>!\<)ti lixr.iphs 
by  the  trade,  and  in  part- 
ing with  this  one  said 
that  it  had  been  talcen 
at  a  private  sitting  by  a 
friend,  jind  was  one  that 
he  cherished  very  much. 
M.  Dumas  was  then  liv- 
ing in  ilie  Avenue  de 
ViUiers. 


December  Hook..\!an  to  iicknowledge  the 
courtesy  of  this  firm  in  allowing  us  to 
reproduce  the  photograph  of  Mr.  Field, 
which  is  in  their  possession. 

The  manuscript  ot  which  the  above 
fac-simile  is  a  part  was  begun  by 
Ibsen  in  Italy  immediately  after  the 
publication  of  U/wsis  (1881),  It  is  wholly 
autobiographical,  and  was  intended  to 
form  the  openintc  pages  of  a  book  to 
bear  the  title  From  itkun  to  Kome^  the 
former  name  being  that  of  the  poet's 
native  town  in  Norway.  The  plan, 
however,  was  presentlv  abandoned  for 
An  Enemy  of  the  Pf'opie  (1882).  The 
manuscript  was  ultimately  given  by  its 
author  to  his  biographer,  Henrilt  Jsger. 

The  articles  on  the  old  booksellers  of 

New  York,  by  Mr,  W.  L.  .Anciicws, 
which  have  appeared  from  time  to  time 
in  The  Bookman  during  the  past  year, 
have  been  e.xpandcd  and  published  in 
bof)k  form.  Those  who  are  acquainted 
Willi  Mr.  .\ii<irews's  other  books,  Roger 
Pt^fneami  Ms,  Art,  A  Lije  of  Jean  Grolicr, 
.4m(>rt{^  my  Hooks,  etc.,  issued  in  similar 
limited  editions,  will  appreciate  this  last 
volume  of  his  for  its  beautiful  workman- 


Tit*  Jied  Badge  of  Cour^ 

a^v.  by  Stephen  Cr.mf.  wliich  was  re- 
viewed at  length  in  the  November  Book- 
man, is  to  be  published  shortly  in  Eng- 
land by  Mr.  William  Heinemann,  who 
is  quite  enthusiastic  over  Mr.  Crane's 
work  and  its  promise. 


Much  as  we  tike  our  contemporary, 

the  Dial.  \vc  must  protest  earnestly 
when  it  begins  to  play  tricks  with  the 
English  language.  Here  it  is  using  a 
barbaric  verb,  '*  to  pe^iestal" — /./. .  to 
set  upon  a  pedestal.  This  may  do 
around  the  stock-yards,  but  the  Dial 
should  rrmcmber  that  it  has  Eastern 
friends  and  readers. 


Why  is  there  such  a  chorus  of  inter- 
ested astonishment  over  Professor  W.  L. 

Phelps's  cniirse  in  Fiction,  at  Yale  Uni- 
versity ?  Such  a  course  lias  been  given 
for  years  at  Columbia  by  Pro&sor 

nraiidrr  Matthews,  ami  for  some  time 
at  the  University  of  Chicago  by  Dr. 
Triggs. 

# 

Messrs.  Litth-,  Brown  and  Company 
will  publish  early  in  the  year  an  impor- 
tant work,  entitled  Irondads  in  Adiom^ 


uiym^ed  by  Googlc 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


371 


by  H.  W.  Wilson,  with  an  introduction 
by  Captain  A.  T.  Mahan.  It  will  be  in 
two  volumes,  and  will  be  profusely  illus- 
trated with  drawings,  maps,  plans,  etc.. 
and  will  contain  a  careful  survey  of  na- 
val warfare  during  the  last  half  century. 

Miss  Beatrice  Ilarraden  passed 
through  New  York  on  her  way  back  to 
California  at  the  beginning  of  Decem- 
ber, and  we  arc  glad  to  stale  that 
her  health,  although  somewhat  shaken 
by  the  strain  of  her  hurried  trip, 
seems  to  be,  on  the  whole,  improving. 
She  was  delighted  with  the  reception 
which  she  met  on  every  hand  in  Kng- 
land,  which  confirms  the  conviction  that 
Miss  Ilarraden's  work  has  made  a  deep 
impression,  and  has  created  an  interest 
in  and  a  warm  welcome  for  whatever 
she  may  write.  The  opening  chapters 
of  her  new  novel  arc  as  delighifid  as 
anything  she  has  written,  and  there  is  a 
keen  sense  of  hum{»ur  apparent.  The 
story,  when  it  is  finished,  will  be  twice 
as  long  as  S/iips  that  Pass  in  the  Ni^ht. 

Among  the  friends  whom  Miss  Ilar- 
raden met  while  in  London,  sh«!  spoke 
with  especial  warmth  of  Mr.  J.  U.  Crozier, 
whose  important  contribution  to  philo- 
sophic tht)ught  in  his  book,  Civilisation 
and  Pro^ffss^  is  to  be  supplemented  by  a 
second  volume,  which  will  be  published 
in  March  by  the  Macmillans. 

Miss  Margaret  Sherwood,  whose  clever 
little  story,  An  Experiment  in  Altruism, 
has  had  a  remarkable  success,  has  an- 
other volume  in  hand  which  will  prob- 
ably be  published  in  the  spring.  Some 
months  ago  Miinsey's  A/a^azine  an- 
nounced that  the  authorship  of  An 
Experiment  in  Altruism  was  unknown, 
and  that  it  was  not  probable  that  the 
author's  identity  would  ever  be  dis- 
closed. That  same  month  Tmk  Bookman 
announced  the  author's  name  in  these 
columns,  and  now  in  the  December 
Afunsey's  there  is  a  note  stating  :  "  It 
appears  that  '  I'-li/abeth  Hastings,'  who 
wrote  An  Experiment  in  Altruism,  is  named 
Margaret  Pollock  Sherwood."  Which 
is  quite  correct  if  rather  belated  news. 

Father  Tabb's  J\>ems  have  just  gone 
into  another  edition,  making  four  edi- 
tions in  all  within  a  year.  Vaa^abonJia. 
also  published  by  Messrs.  Copeland  and 


Day,  is  now  in  its  third  edition.  The 

Arabella  and  Araminta  Stories  promises 
to  be  a  great  success  as  a  child's  non- 
sense book  during  the  season. 

Mr.  lidwin  A.  Grosvenor,  whose  work 
on  Constantinople  is  reviewed  at  length 


EDWIN  A.  r.RUSVRNOR. 

on  another  page,  graduated  at  Amherst 
in  1S67,  being  salutatorian  and  class- 
j)ijet.  I  le  stmlied  at  Andover  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  and  in  Paris,  and  from  1873 
to  1S90  was  I'rofessor  of  History  at  Rob- 
ert College,  Constantino|)le.  An  ardent 
and  tireless  student,  all  his  time  was  de- 
vote<l  to  work  along  historical  lines. 
His  extensive  and  fretiuent  travels  in 
Europe  and  Asia  seem  like  romances, 
each  vacation  or  leave  of  absence  being 
consecrated  to  some  special  subject  of 
historical  research.  Thus  he  has  traced 
a  great  part  of  the  routes  of  the  Ten 
Thousand  and  of  Alexander,  many  of 
the  campaigns  of  Napoleon,  the  chequer- 
ed career  of  Joan  of  Arc  from  Domremy 
to  Rouen,  and  all  the  journeys  of  Saint 
Paul.  Mr.  (Jrosvenor  is  a  member  of 
the  leading  learned  societies  of  Southern 
Hurope,  such  as  the  Hellenic  Philologic 
Syllogos  of  Constantinople  and  the  Syl- 


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372 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


logos  Parnassos  of  Athens,  an  honour 
rarely  accorded  to  foreigners.  Resign- 
ing in  1890  from  Robert  College,  he 
spent  the  following  year  in  travel  in  the 
Balkan  Peninsula,  the  (ircek  Islands, 
Asia  Minor,  antl  Northern  Syria.  In 
January,  1892,  he  was  called  to  Amherst 
College,  as  Lecturer  in  History.  Dur- 
ing three  years — June,  1892,  to  June, 
1895 — he  was  head  of  the  Department 
of  French  Language  and  Literature  at 
Amherst,  and  also  for  two  years  mean- 
while, 1892-94,  head  of  the  Department 
of  History  in  Snnili  College.  At  the 
Amherst  Commencement  (^f  1895  he  was 
appointed  t*)  the  new  chair  of  Euro- 
pean History,  which  position  he  now 
holds. 

^  •  ■> 


WILLIAM  BLACK. 


The  first  instalment  of  Mr.  Black's 
new  novel,  which  is  to  appear  in  //«//•- 
per  s  throughout  the  year,  takes  us  once 
more  to  the  .Scottish  Highlaiuls.  whicli 
have  formed  the  background  of  his  most 
successful  stories.  The  poetry  of  Mr. 
Black's  Scottish  novels,  we  fear,  does 
not  lie  so  much  in  his  treatment  of 
Love's  young  dream,  which  he  once  in- 
formed us  in  Yolatuit'  is  the  sweetest 
thing  in  life,  "  and  the  saddest,"  as  in 
the  glamour  of  his  picturesque  descrip- 
tions of  Scottish  scenery.  As  in  the 
case  of  "  Coquette,"  in  .  /  Dauj^hter  of 
JIclhy\s\\Q  luid  been  born  and  educated 


in  France  before  being  transplanted  to 
her  Ayrshire  home,  so  in  that  of  Bri- 
seis,"  a  Greek  maiden  whom  we  dis- 
cover in  the  wooded  valley  of  the  Dee. 
the  contrast  brings  out  more  sharply 
and  with  fresh  beauty  and  wonder  the 
loveliness  of  the  scenery  and  the  pecul- 
iar characteristics  of  the  life  with  which 
she  is  environed. 

William  Black  was  born  in  Glasgow 
in  1 84 1.  As  a  boy  he  wished  to  be  an 
artist,  and  studied  for  some  time  in  the 
Glasgow  School  of  Art.  Before  he  was 
twenty,  he  contributed  to  the  Glasgimf 
W'cekiy  Citizen,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three  he  came  to  L(mdon,  where  he 
joined  the  staff  of  the  Morning  Star,  and 
became  special  correspondent  fc»r  that 
paper  during  the  war  t)f  1866.  His  first 
novel,  Ltne  or  Marriage,  was  published 
in  1867.  Next  came  //;  Silk  AHire^  Ktl- 
nteny,  and  Tfie  ^^onar^/l  of  Mincing  I^ne. 
He  made  his  reputation  by  Daughter 
of  J/et/i,  published  in  1S71.  Tom  Cas- 
silis,  belter  known  as  the  "  Whaup,"  is 
his  most  famous  character.  The  most 
important  of  his  other  works  are  Tfu 
Strange  AJventtires  of  a  Phaeton,  A  Prin- 
cess of  Thiile,  Three  Feathers,  Maiieap  f  */<»- 
let.  Green  J\istures  anJ  PiccaJilly,  J/ae- 
leod  of  Dare,  Yolande,  White  Heather,  In 
Far  Lochaher,  and  The  Xr,c  Prinee  For- 
tunatiis.  In  twenty  years  he  has  pro- 
duced over  twenty  books.  He  was  at 
one  time  assistant  editor  of  the  Daily 
A'r/i'.f. 

The  latest  Yellojv  Book,  just  issued  by 
Messrs.  Copeland  and  Day,  lays  more 
serious  claim  than  any  of  its  previous 
numbers,  perhaps,  to  our  studious  at- 
tention. The  influence  of  Mr.  Henry 
James  is  especially  remarkable,  as,  in- 
deed, it  always  has  been  on  the  little 
group  of  contributors.  Were  it  only  for 
Miss  Flla  D'Arcy's  powerful  story, 
"  The  Web  of  Maya,"  this  number 
would  be  interesting.  It  is  of  such  an 
exceedingly  high  order  of  merit  as  to 
confirm  our  claim  to  regard  her  among 
the  masters  of  the  short  story.  Mr.  Le 
Gallienne  and  Mr.  Crackenthorpe  are 
both  at  their  best,  and  "  The  Queen's 
Pleasure,"  by  the  editor,  is  as  daintj-, 
fascinating,  and  peculiar  in  its  qual- 
ity as  is  all  his  work.  The  "Yellow 
Dwarf"  is  generally  supposed  to  be 
Mr.  Harland  himself.    His  outspoken 


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373 


criticism  and  literary  preferences  are 
rather  amusing,  but  they  run  counter 
to  the  judgment  of  the  great  body  of 
readers,  which  is,  in  the  long  run,  trust- 
worthy and  a  sure  touchstone. 

Reading  Mr.  Anthony  Hope's  Hal/  a 
Hero  in  its  new  reprint  (Harper  and 
Brothers),  which,  by  the  way,  perpet- 
uates the  tyjiograpliical  slips  of  the  for- 
mer edition,  one  is  impressed  again  with 
the  fact  that  it  is  in  such  an  imperfect 
but  powerful  novel  as  this  that  Mr. 
Hope's  real  promise  seems  to  lie.  In 
this  book  he  shows  a  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature  and  an  interest  in  its  way- 
ward varieties  without  which  no  story- 
teller  can  hope  to  do  work  worthy  of 
being  called  literature.  But  adventure 
stories  were  the  fashion,  and  Mr.  Hope 
took  to  writing  them.  He  might  have 
used  his  serious  talents  in  this  depart- 
ment, but  he  did  not,  and  he  does 
it  less  and  less.  T/if  Prisoner  of  Zenda 
was  written  rather  too  much  from 
the  outside  ;  it  is  a  good  story  assuredly 
— lively,  varied,  original,  but  it  is  the 
story  of  a  clever,  adaptable  writer  who 
can  turn  his  hand  to  any  kind  of  work, 
and  never  do  any  of  it  badly.  Mr.  Hope 
is  perhaps  the  most  graceful  writer  of 
fiction  we  have  at  this  moment,  and  he 
has  solider  qualities  than  grace.  But  if 
he  is  going  to  do  one  thing  excellently 
— perhaps  two  things,  for  his  Dolly  Dia- 
Jof^ut's  is  more  than  the  work  of  a  clever 
literary  artist — it  is  not  on  the  order  of 
Tilt-  Prisoner  of  /.enila,  n*)r  on  that  of 
T/ie  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio,  but  after 
the  manner  of  Httl/  a  Nero.  These 
seem  ungrateful  words  to  use  of  one 
who  has  entertained  and  delighted  us 
so  often,  but  none  is  probably  so  well 
aware  of  their  truth  as  Mr.  Hope 
himself,  who,  we  incline  to  think,  has 
greater  things  in  view  while  diverting 
himself  and  us  with  stories  which — we 
can  take  his  word  for  it — have  cost  him 
little  trouble  in  the  writing. 

Not  many  magazine  managers  are  so 
obliging  as  those  of  the  Idler,  who  print 
the  following  "  notice"  on  the  cover  of 
their  December  number :  "  Objection 
having  been  taken  in  certain  quarters  to 
the  cover  of  the  Idler,  a  new  design  is 
in  course  of  preparation."  This  is  a 
dangerous  precedent,  and  we  shall  not 
be  surpriseil  to  learn  that  other  maga- 


zines are,  since  the  publication  of  this 
announcement,  being  pestered  with 
complaints  from  the  interesting  class  of 
correspondents  who  really  could  run  a 
magazine  so  much  better,  you  know,  if 
they  only  had  a  chance  !  Or  is  tliis 
oNigato  simply  a  quip  of  Mr.  Jerome's 
humour  ? 

One  of  the  most  interesting  articles 
in  this  number  of  the  Idler  is  an  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Clement  Scott,  poet, 
playwright,  and  critic.    The  first  dra- 


matic  notice  Mr.  Scott  wrote  was  on 
Romeo  and  Juliet  in  1863,  at  the  old  Prin- 
cess's Theatre  in  Oxford  Street,  Lon- 
don. He  possesses  one  of  the  finest 
theatrical  lil>raries  in  the  world,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  unique  collection  of  mod- 
ern play-bills.  S\t.  Scott's  knowledge 
of  continental  {)lays  and  playwrights  is 
singularly  complete,  and  woe  betide  the 
unhappy  dramatic  pilferer  who  does  not 
acknowledge  the  source  of  his  inspira- 
tion. Since  1879,  when  he  retired  from 
the  War  Office  on  a  government  pen- 
sion, he  has  been  on  the  editorial  staff 
of  the  Daily  Telegraph,  with  which  pa- 
per he  had  been  already  for  some  time 
closely  associated.  Some  of  his  plays, 
notably  DiplomacXy  Off  the  Line,  The  Cape 


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374 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


THOMAS  IIARnV. 

Mail,  and  Peril,  have  obtained  lasting 
popularity.  Among  the  poems  and  songs 
originally  contributed  by  him  to  Punch 
none  is  perhaps  so  well  known  as  The 
AfiJshipmite.  After  thirty-five  years  in 
journalism  these  words  of  his  have 
weight  :  "  What  do  I  think  of  journal 
ism  as  a  profession  ?  I  believe  in  my 
work,  and  think  that  a  young  man 
might  do  worse  than  become  a  journal- 
ist." Mr.  Scott  is  a  great  advocate  of 
out-of-door  sports,  and  played  in  the 
first  game  of  lawn  tennis  played  in 
England. 

We  confess  to  having  derived  consid- 
erable amusement  from  the  puzzled 
comments  elicited  bv  certain  so-called 


portraits  of  the  author 
of  Jude  the  Obscurt, 
which  have  appeared  in 
some  newspapers  lately. 
To  correct  any  wide- 
spread impression  which 
may  erroneously  be  con- 
veyed by  these  pictures, 
we  herewith  produce  a 
drawing  from  an  etched 
portrait  taken  from  life 
by  Mr.  William  Strang, 
wliich  was  made  for  Mr. 
Lionel  Johnson's  excel- 
lent treatise,  T/ie  Art  of 
Thomas  HarJy. 

Mr,  Hardy  was  bom 
in  Dorsetshire  some  five- 
and -fifty  years  ago.  He 
began  life  as  an  eccle- 
siastical architect,  and 
drifted    into    art  criti- 
cism, but  not  until  he 
was  about  thirty  did  he 
find  his  real  field  of  suc- 
cess in  novel  writing.  In 
1871  his  first  novel.  Des- 
perate Remedies,  was  pub 
lished,  followed,  in  1872, 
by  Under  the  Greemcood 
Tree,  and  in  1S74  by  Far 
from  the  ^f adding  Crcnvd, 
which  was  the  feature 
of  Cornhill  during  that 
year.    He  lives  at  Max 
Gate,  near  Dorchester, 
high   on  a  hill  which 
overlooks  many  of  the 
scenes   of    his  Wessex 
stories.    His  writing  is 
done  fitfully  and  irregularly  ;  in  parts  he 
prints  from  the  first  draught,  and  in  other 
parts  he  rewrites  again  and  again,  revis- 
ing liberally  in  the  proofs.    >Irs.  Hardy 
has  always  been  his  first  reader  and 
kind  critic.    It  is  difficult  to  get  a  really 
good  portrait  of  Mr.  Hardy,  and  doubt- 
less a  knowledge  of  this  fact  is  respon- 
sible for  the  bogus  likenesses  alluded  to. 

Mr.  Hardy  is  a  very  careful  and  ac- 
curate writer,  and  yet  on  one  occasion 
he  was  guilty  of  an  oversight  which 
most  writers  have  now  and  then  to  con- 
fess, as  when  Thackeray  killed  otT  a 
character  in  one  ntmiber  in  his  serial 
publication  of  a  novel,  and  continued 
his  conversation  quite  unconcernedly  in 


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the  next.  We  do 
not  refer  to  the 
mysterious  ap- 
pearance of  the 
child  in  the  Octo- 
ber instalment  of 
///</^  ///<r  Ohiiure  in 
Harper  f or  w h ich 
the  editor  and  not 
Mr.  Hardy  was  rc- 
sponsible,  and 
which  is  loj^ii-ally 
and  physiological- 
ly acctmnted  for  in 
the  book.  The  slip 
in  question  was 
cau>;l)t  in  proof, 
where  Mr.  Hardy, 
h  a  V  i  n  brought 
one  of  his  charac- 
ters to  the  very 
summit  «)f  a  hill, 
incontinently 
started  him  /// 
apain.  On  bring- 
ing it  to  thr  au- 
thor's attenti<m  he 
corrected  it  by  a 
p  o  s  t  a  1  -  c  a  r  d  <if 
characteristic  sitii- 
plicity  :  **  For  '  up' 
read  *  down.'  " 

Mr.  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson's 
Vaiiima  I.fttrrs, 
which  have  just 
been  published  by 
Messrs.  Stone  and 
Kimball,  t  h  r  o  w 
much  light  on  his 
They  prove  Stevenson  to  have  been  one 
of  the  most  hardworking  and  conscien- 
tious of  literary  men.  Indeed,  reading 
some  passagfs,  one  would  almost  call 
him  a  drudge.  He  had  great  misgivings 
about  his  books  as  he  wrote  them,  and 
these  did  not  disappear  on  their  com- 
pletion. But  when  the  proofs  came 
back  to  him,  his  spirits  generally  re- 
vived, and  by  the  time  they  were  all  in 
his  hands,  he  was  ready  lt>  pronounce 
the  book  quite  a  good  one.  It  turns 
out  that  77if  Ebb  Tide  was  practically 
his  own,  Mr.  Lloyd  Osbourne  having 
written  little  of  it.  On  the  other  hancl, 
The  Wrong  Box  belongs  almost  entirely 
to  Mr.  Osbourne.  The  letters  contain 
very    little   allusion    to  contemporary 


I 


KoKKKT  l.nfis  STKVKNSON. 
From  an  etchiHg  by  S.  tloilyer. 


literary  methods. 


writers.  There  are  references  to  Rud- 
vard  Kipling. 

Here  is  a  touching  bit  from  one  of  the 
Vaiiima  letters  :  "I  wonder  exceed- 
ingly if  I  have  done  anything  at  all 
good  ;  and  who  can  tell  me?  and  why 
should  I  wish  to  know  ?  In  so  little  a 
while  I  and  the  English  language  and 
the  bones  of  my  descendants  will  have 
ceased  to  be  a  memory.  And  yet — and 
yet — one  would  like  to  leave  an  image 
for  a  few  years  upon  men's  minds — for 
fun."  This  dark  frame  of  mind  suc- 
ceeded the  conclusion  of  "  the  excruci 
aiing  Ebb  Tide,"  and  is  one  of  the  fre- 
quent evidences  we  have  in  these  letters 
that  Stevenson  was  oftentimes  inclined 
to  take  a  gloomy  view  of  his  literary 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


■career.  "  A  very  little  dose  of  inspira- 
tion, and  a  pretty  little  trick  of  style, 
lonjf  lost,  improved  by  the  most  heroic 
industry,"  is  how  he  describes  his  work 
on  one  occasion. 

This  mood  is  rarely  expressed  in  liter- 
ature. Dite  Deuchars  of  Thrums  is  re- 
<orded  to  have  felt  it  by  Mr.  Barrie 
{when  he  was  still  '*  Gavin  Oj^ilvy'"  to 
us),  an<l  in  the  late  W.  \\ .  Story's  little 
volume  of  poems  we  have  this  isolated 
utterance  from  the  heart  of  a  man  whose 
outlook  and  grasp  on  life  was  always 
brave  and  cheery  : 

""  It  was  only  my  luck.  I  sup{>ose. 
And  ihc  day  was  deliRhtful  to  those 
Who  wore  rifjht  in  their  time  and  their  place. 
But  for  me,  I  did  nothing  but  race 
And  struggle,  and  always  in  vain, 
\Vc  cannot  have  all  of  us  prizes. 
And  the  pleasure  that's  missed  is  a  pain. 
And  one's  balance  goes  down  as  one  rises. 

■**  /\nd  I'm  tired,  so  tired  at  last 

That  I'm  glad  the  preat  day  is  past  : 


THE      ANCHOR"  TAVERN  AT  ST.  OGGS. 


The  pleasure  I  sought  for  I  missed. 

And  I  ask.  did  it  really  exist  ? 

Were  thev  happy  who  smiled  so  and  sakl 

'Twas  delightful,  exciting,  enchanting? 

I  doubt  it.  but  they  (>erhaps  had 

Just  the  something  I  always  was  wantinjc-" 

Many  an  old  town  to-day  slumbers 
unconscious  of  the  fact  that  it  has  been 
described  by  the  pen  of  a  great  novel- 
ist.   Such  an  old  town,  lying  on  the 
borders  of    Lincolnshire,   and    by  the 
banks  of  the  wide-sweeping  Trent,  is 
(lainsborough.     Probably  not  a  score 
of  pe«>i)le  have  known  that  George  Eliot 
ever  walked  along  its  narrow  streets, 
and  certainly  not  a  score  have  any  idea 
that  Gainsborough  is  the  original  of  Sl 
Oggs,  and  that  the  likeness  is  unmis- 
takable.   George  Eliot  visited  the  place 
twice,  once  in  1845,  when  she  witnessed 
the  "  idiotic  bazaar"  to  which  Maggie 
Tidliver  went  in  white  muslin  and  sim- 
ple, noble  beauty,  and  which,  fifteen  years 
later,  after  (»eorge  Eliot  had  become  fa- 
mous as  the  author  of  A  Jam  Btde, 
she  described  with  an  acuteness 
which  attests  her  wonderful  pow- 
ers of  observation  and  retention 
In  1S59  she  visited  Gainsborough 
again,  to  get  **  local  colour"  and 
to  refresh  her  remembrance  of  thf 
scenes.    The  Kect«^ry   at  which 
Maggie  lived  before  her  sad  death 
is  certainly  Morton  Hall,  where 
George  Eliot  was  staying  at  this 
time.   The  Rector  of  Scotton  can 
recollect  the  novelist  visiting  his 
father,  who  was  temporarily  oc- 
cupying Morton  Hiill  when  she 
became  his  guest  in  1859  ;  and 
from  a  hillock  in  the  garden,  he 
says,  Cieorge  Eliot  often  stood 
and  watched  the  river  and  its  life, 
which  she  so  graphically  described 
in  Till'  Mill  on  thf  Floss. 

Describing  St.  Oggs  in  Th<  .\fill 
on  the  J'loss  (Book  I.,  Chapter 
XII.)  George  Eliot  describes 
Gainsborough  ;  and  her  picture  of 
the  Old  Hall  by  the  riverside  is 
photographic  in  its  exactness. 
Tofton  in  the  novel  is  Morton, 
and  Kuckreth  is  Stockwith,  a  vil- 
lage several  miles  down  the  river. 
Lindum  is  Lincoln,  si.xteen  miles 
distant,  and  Laceham  is  a  thin 
disguise  for  Nottingham.  Con- 
stantly one  recognises  the  origi- 


'  Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL, 


377 


nals  of  little  bits  of 
<lescripti(»n.  The 
*'  Anchor  Tavern," 
which  was  a  rendez- 
vous for  sailors,  is 
the  "  Crown  and 
Anchor,"  a  little 
beer-house  in 
RritliTi.  Street.  Tiie 
Kloss  l)y  whose  side 
Tom  and  Maggie 
Tu  I  liver  wandered, 
**  with  a  sense  of 
travel  to  see  tlic 
rushing  spring  tide, 
the  a  w  f  u  I  .l^gir 
come  up  like  a  hun- 
gry monster,"  ir, 
the  river  Trent ;  the 
name  /Kgir  for  the 
tide  being  peculiar 
to  the  Trent.  The 
Ked  Deeps,  where 

Philip  and  Maggie  often  met,  are  the  Cas- 
tle Hills,  therc<l  sandstone  showing  clear- 
ly, and  Maggie  in  walking  to  them  from 
St.  Oggs  went  up  "tiie  Hill."  The  IliU 
is  a  favourite  evening  walk  with  the  peo 
pie  «)f  (iainsborough,  and  by  turning  to 
the  left  at  the  top  and  going  along  the 
jafreen-skirted  lane  leading  to  Thonock 
Hall — believed  to  be  the  original  of 
Park  House,  where  I'hilip  Wakem  lived 
— the  Reil  Deeps  arc  passed  close  by. 
l>orlcote  Mill  cannot  be  identified  ;  and 
in  placing  the  Mill  on  a  tributary  of  the 
Floss,  (ieorge  iiliot  departed  from  geo- 
graphical verity,  as  the  Trent  iuis  no 
tributary  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Gains- 
borough. Some  of  the  people  we  meet 
in  T/it-  Mill  on  the  Floss  may  be  studies 
of  real  characters,  as  in  the  case  of  Aihim 
liede^  but  the  chief  jioint  is  that  George 
Eliot  has  made  this  quaint  old  town  of 
Gainsborough  the  scene  of  a  story  which 
stands  out  like  a  promontory  in  iinglish 
literature. 

Readers  of  that  delightful  story,  .^/> 
Quixotc  of  the  Moors — ami  we  hope  they 
will  be  numerous — will,  we  fear,  be 
moved  to  think  that  "  Sir  yui.\ote" 
forfeited  all  right  to  his  title  at  the 
close  of  his  adventure.  \V"e  happen 
to  know,  however,  that  the  endings  of 
the  last  few  lines  of  the  American 
and  the  lilnglish  editions  are  different,  a 
rather  unusual  proceeding  happily.  We 
are  not  going  to  spoil  the  interest  in  the 
story  by  stating  just  wherein  they  differ, 


1 


MORTON  HALL. 

but  we  may  say  that  in  the  English  copy 
which  we  have  seen  Sir  Rohaine  is  true 
to  his  Oui.xotic  character  to  the  end,  and 
in  the  American  (both  are  authorised, 
curiously  enough),  as  already  indicated, 
his  Quixotry  is  repudiated  for  a  more 
human  course  of  action,  which  will  be 
more  likely  to  win  the  sympathies  of  the 
reader  ;  but  you  must  read  the  whole 
story  to  see  the  point  of  its  finale. 

Messrs.  L.  Prang  and  Company  of 
Boston  have  published  the  poster  to 
Lily  Lewis  Rood's  sketch  of  De  Cha- 
vannes  since  the  chat  with  Miss  Ethel 
Reed  appeared  in  tlie  December  Book- 
man. It  will  be  remembered  that  Miss 
Reed  was  at  work  on  this  poster  when 
onr  correspondent  calleil  on  her,  and  it 
was  not  thought  prol)able  then  that  it 
would  be  publishe<l.  We  admire  the 
enterprise  of  the  publishers,  and  we 
commend  the  poster  to  collectors.  It  is 
one  of  the  best  examples  of  Miss  Reed's 
art  in  this  Philistine  form. 

The  tendency  of  the  literary  impulse 
in  Canada  to  express  itself  in  verse  is 
markedly  strong  at  the  present  moment, 
at  least  in  ijuantily.  In  the  November 
Bookman  there  was  a  notice  of  The 
White  ll\ttn/>uni,  by  Miss  E.  Pauline 
Johnson  (Tekahionwake),  "  a  flower  of 
Canadian  culture,"  and  an  Indian  prin- 
cess of  a  proud  and  ancient  tribe. 
Messrs.  Lamson,  Wolffe  and  Company, 


378 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


who  are  Miss  Johnson's  " 
publishers,  have  also 
placed  their  imprint  on 
a  book  of  poems  entitled 
T/if  House  of  the  Tret-s 
and  Other  Poetns.  The 
author,  Miss  Agnes 
Ethelwyn  Wetherald, 
lives  at  Fenwick,  On- 
tario, and  has  made 
large  contributions  of 
verse  to  a  number  of  the 
leading  magazines. 
This  volume  will  intro- 
duce her  to  a  wider  audi 
ence,  and  enlarge  the 
circle  of  her  apprecia- 
tive readers.  We  have 
already  announced  Bliss 
Carman's  Jtehind  the 
Arras,  which  is  nov.- 
published.  The  decora- 
tive talent  of  Mr.  Tom 
B.  Meteyard  has  been 
utilised  in  illustrating 
the  poems,  which  he  has 
done  after  an  original 
fashion.  Then  there  has 
just  been  published  by 
Messrs.  Copeland  and 
Day  a  new  volume  of  poems,  entitled 
Lyrics  of  Earth,  by  Archibald  Lampman, 
one  of  the  group  of  young  Canadian 


ETHKLWYN  WETIIERAm 


singers.  Mr.  Lamp- 
man's  verse  is  also 
known  through  the 
magazinesand  by  a  little 
volume,  Amofi)^  the  Mil- 
let, which  appealed  a  few 
years  ago.  The  recog- 
nition which  he  has  al- 
ready received  will  be 
deepened  and  widened 
by  his  new  sheaf  of 
songs.  Another  volume 
entitled  1  he  Afagic  Housr 
and  Other  Poems,  by  Dun- 
can Campbell  Scott,  has 
just  been  issued  by  the 
same  firm.  Mr.  Scott  is 
a  young  man  under 
thirty,  employed  in  the 
Department  of  Indian 
Affairs  in  Ottawa.  A 
volume  of  stories  will 
appear  from  his  pen  in 
the  spring.  Like  Mr. 
Lampman  and  Mr. 
Scott,  who  both  live  at 
Ottawa,  Mr.  William 
Wilfred  Campbell  fills  a 
position  in  the  Civil  Ser- 
vice, and  devotes  his 
leisure  to  the  wooing  of  the  muses.  A 
poem  of  Mr.  Campbell's  will  be  found 
on  another  page.    Mr.  Campbell's  work. 


ARCHIBALD  LA.MPHAN. 


E.  PAULINE  JOHNSO.N. 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL.  379 


so  far,  shows  evidence  of  poetic  power 
and  strength,  and  he  has  in  a  larger  de- 
gree perhaps  than  all  the  others  dramatic 
intensity. 

Mr.  Tighe  Hopkins,  whose  slight  but 
amusing  novelette,  LaJy  Bonnie's  Ex- 
periment, was  noticed  in  the  December 
Bookman,  is  if  we  are  not  mistaken 
going  to  enjoy  a  wider  popularity  very 
soon.  He  has  been  writing  for  some 
time  ;  indeed,  credit  is  due  to  the  editor 
of  the  Leisure  Hour  for  "  discovering" 
him  about  five  years  ago.  A  story  of 
his,  entitled  T/ie  Incomplete  Adventurer, 
appeared  serially  in  that  magazine  dur- 
ing 1891,  at  the  same  time  that  Mr. 
Weyman's  Story  of  Francis  Cludde  was 
running  in  the  same  monthly. 

9 

Speaking  of  "  discoveries,"  we  believe 
it  was  Anthony  Trollope — as  complete 
a  failure  as  an  editor  of  St.  J\iui s  as 
Thackeray,  on  the  other  hand,  was  sue 
cessful  with  the  Cornhill  Miif^azine — who 
discovered  Mr.  Austin  Dobson.  We 
understand  that  Mr.  Dobson  com- 
menced in  ^V.  Pauls  with  the  poem, 
*'  A  Song  of  Angiola  in  Heaven." 

Alphonse  Daudet's  home  is  in  the 
Faubourg  Saint  Germain,  and  the  street 
in  which  he  lives  is  a  quiet  one,  whose 
sparse  shops  have  not  changed  their 
style  of  window  dressing  since  the  death 
of  the  Due  de  Berri.  Daudet's  study  is 
lighted  by  two  windows  which  look  out 
on  gardens.  Even  on  the  warm  day 
when  a  friend  sought  him  out  recent- 
ly, a  large  tire  was  burning.  Daudet  is 
a  southerner,  and  feels  tlie  cold  of 
Paris  keenly.  His  study  is  lined  with 
dwarf  bookcases,  so  low  that  one  has 
only  to  stretch  out  a  hand  in  order  to 
find  the  book  that  is  wanted.  Thurs- 
day is  his  "  at  home"  day,  when  he 
usually  invites  twelve  or  fourteen  friends 
to  dinner.  If  a  well-known  musician 
happens  to  be  among  the  guests,  the 
drawing-room  and  not  the  study  is  the 
place  of  entertainment. 

Messrs.  Piatt,  Bruce  and  Company 
have  just  published  In  the  Midst  of  Paris, 
by  Alphonse  Daudet.  it  is  profusely 
illustrated,  iind  makes  a  handsome  ap- 
pearance.   A  new  volume  of  stories  by 


1  ■  ~  ' 


Anthony  Hope,  entitled  Frivolous  Cupid, 
published  by  the  same  firm  a  few  weeks 
ago,  has  already  had  a  remarkable  sale. 

Collectors  of  posters  and  of  literature 
bearing  on  posters  will  read  with  inter- 
est two  announcements  that  have  just 
been  published.  One  comes  from  Paris, 
and  gives  notice  of  the  immediate  ap- 
pearance of  a  monthly  publication  styled 
Les  Maitrcs  de  I'  Affiche,  to  give  in  each  is- 
sue four  reproductions  in  colours  of  post- 
ers by  French,  English,  and  American 
artists.  The  first  issue  gives  posters  of 
Cheret,  Lautrec,  Julius  Price,  and  Dud- 
ley Hardy.  The  subscription  price  to 
foreigners  is  thirty  francs  a  year.  The 
publishing  house  is  the  Imprimcrie 
Chaix,  20  Rue  Bergere,  Paris. 

• 

The  second  announcement  comes 
from  Mr.  William  Tryon  Higbee,  of 
Cleveland,  O.,  who  is  bringing  out  a 
book  of  photographic  reproductions  of 
posters,  mounted  on  hand-made  paper. 
The  edition  is  limited  to  fifteen  copies, 
sold  by  subscription  only,  at  %2o  each. 


Digitized  by  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


Mark  T«ain  long  ago  commented  on 
the  fact  that  when  French  artists  paint 
the  Holy  Family,  Joseph  becomrs  a 
Frenchman  and  Mary  a  Frenchwoman  ; 
and  in  general  that  an  artist  In  some 
way  always  sulitly  transforms  his  sul> 
jccts  into  persons  of  his  own  national 
ity.  Tlie  Baron  de  Grimm*s  drawings 
of  President  Cleveland  that  appear 
in  the  Telegram  of  this  city  are  amusing 
instances  of  the  truth  of  this.  They 
evidently  resemble  Mr.  Cleveland,  ^et 
In  them  he  is  no  longer  a  Buffalonian 
or  a  Washingtonian,  but  a  fine  old  Ger- 
man Graf  with  a  castle  or  two  on  the 
Rhein  and  a  sliootin;,'  Iodide  in  the  Black 
Forest.  How  does  the  Baron  de  Grimm 
manage  to  do  this  ?  We  have  no  idea  ; 
but  he  does  it  nevertheless. 

Far  murr  mysterious  is  the  same  trans- 
raOf^rificatiiMi  when  effected  in  photog* 
rnphy.  Wr  liave,  for  instance,  n  plio- 
tograph  ot  a  friend,  a  good  American 
from  Brooklyn,  taken  by  Schemboche, 
of  Florence,  and  in  it  he  is  beyond  any 
question  a  true  Italian.  It  is  an  excel- 
lent likeness,  too.  And  so  a  French 
photographer  w'ill  turn  you  into  a 
Frenchman,  and  an  Austrian  pliotog- 
rapher  into  a  subject  of  the  Hapsburg 
Kaiser.  It  is  very  curious,  and  we 
should  like  some  professional  person 
who  knows  all  about  photography  and 
psychology  and  several  other  things,  to 
work  out  an  explanation  for  us.  Of 
course  the  spiritualists  and  other  occult 
persons  have  an  answer  to  the  question, 
but  we  want  something  scientific. 

Meyer's  Konversationskxtfcon,  which 
has  now  advanced  as  far  as  the  ninth 

volume,  proves  to  be  a  most  valuable 
work.  One  of  the  chief  claims  of  the 
publishers  is  that  the  articles  will  be 
scholarly  and  in  every  sense  up  to  the 
times.  This  is  dumoustrated  by  several 
articles  in  the  ninth  volume  ;  the  most 
striking  of  which  is  probably  that  on 
Japan,  to  which  twenty  two  pages  and 
a  good  map  of  Japan  and  Corea  are  de- 
voted. The  geography,  history,  and 
civilisation  of  the  Empire  are  liriefly, 
but  scholarly  discussed.  To  liie  person 
interested  in  the  German  colonies,  the 
article  on  Kamerun  will  be  attractive. 
The  articles  on  the  Jesuits  and  on  the 

Jews  are  especially  interesting  from  a 
listorical  and   ethnographical  stand- 


point. Among  literary  subjects  are  a. 
p^ood  presentation  of  the  history  of  Ital" 

lan  literature  ;  and  a  discussi.  n  of 
Junges  Deutschland,  which  corresponds 
with  the  best  current  opinions.  Medi- 
cine is  re[>resente<l  by  a  new  and  schol- 
arly article  on  hypnotism.  The  numer- 
ous illustrations  are  prepared  in  the 
most  artistic  manner,  quite  a  large num* 
ber  of  them  being  in  colours. 

A  well-known  author  of  this  city,  who 
owns  a  remarkable  collection  of  death- 
masks  of  distinjTuisIied  men.  having 
heard  that  a  certain  foreigner  had  made 
by  permission  a  mask  of  £ugene  Field, 
wrote  to  him  and  courteously  asked 
whether  a  replica  of  it  might  be  secured. 
A  reply  was  soon  received  couched  in 
very  brusque  language,  to  the  effect 
that  no  replica  would  be  furnished,  but 
that  the  original  mask  might  be  pur- 
chased of  him  for  a  thousand  dollars. 
Whereupon  the  author  sat  down  and 
wrote  the  following  letter : 

Dfjui  Sir: 

I  «D  in  receipt  of  your  note  in  whicli  you  de- 
cline to  allow  me  lo  muke  any  offer  for  a  replica 

of  v< :iir  dfiith  mask  of  Mt  Eui^'t-ne  FirKi,  Ijui  >•{• 
iv\  Id  sell  nic  the  urii;m;il  fur  .i  cliousainl  dolUrs. 
1  ff.ir  th.U  iny  colleciiun  must  remain  without  the 
mask  in  qin  siion.  as  also  of  any  mask  of  yourself  ; 
for  I  fcrl  rcri.iiii  that  when  the  time  comes  for 
the  making  o(  the  latter,  there  will  not  be  clay 
enough  aTailaUe  to  cover  your  cheek 

Very  tmlf  yours, 

® 

About  half  of  the  introductory  nnm- 
ber  t»f  the  new  Historical  A'n  iiu.'  is  taken 
up  with  book  reviews.  Some  of  these 
are  admirable,  and  witli  all  due  defer- 
ence to  the  sedate  goddess  of  scientific 
history,  it  may  be  said  that  they  lose 
nothing  of  historical  value  from  an  oc- 
casional bit  of  amusing  description  or 
sharp  characterisation.  It  does  one's 
heart  tcood,  for  instance,  to  run  across 
an  incidental  allusion  to  Von  tiulst's 
"  aerial  route**  over  the  "  ridges  of 
time."  Any  one  who  has  zigzagged 
through  space  on  Von  Hoist's  tangled 
metaphors  will  appreciate  it.  But  while 
the  uninitiated  may  venture  into  the 
magazine  throttgh  this  department — 
througli  the  back-door,  so  to  speak — let 
them  nave  a  care  how  they  enter  in  at 
the  stern  portals  of  the  opening  article 
oa  ■'  llialoryand  Democracy."  Froctd 
este profani I  The  birth  of  the  new  maga- 
zine is  here  announced  with  a  porten* 


i^iym^ed  by  Googlc 
I. 


A  UTBRARY  JOUKNAU 


tous  solemnity  and  a  pomp  of  rhetoric 
that  remind  one  of  the  remark  of  De 
Quincey's  servant-girl  after  one  of  her 
master's  speeches:  "  Lord  !  The  body's 
got  sic  a  sight  of  words."  Current  lit* 
eratun-  seldom  displays  such  tropical 
luxuriance  of  style.  Unlike  Von  Hoist, 
whose  metaphors  sometimes  begin  as 
rivers,  turn  into  thunderstorms  in  the 
middle  of  the  sentence,  and  emercfe  as 
raging  conflagrations  at  the  end,  the 
present  writer  sticks  to  his  figures  of 
speech  with  Vergilian  pertinacity — cor- 
rect, but  merciless. 

Far  be  it  from  Thr  Rookm  a\  to  quarrel 
with  the  suliject  matter  of  this  article.  It 
bows  submisbively  even  to  the  dictum 
that  "the  knowledge  which  is  unrelated 
to  philosophy  has  little  value,  if  indeed 
it  be  anythin^^  more  than  curious  infor- 
mation. Still  we  understand  that  the 
new  review  aims  \o  secure  for  its  arti- 
cles the  quality  of  good  literary  style, 
and  from  this  somewhat  frivolous  and 
superficial  point  of  view  we  venture  to 
suggest  a  more  sparincf  use  fif  Oriental 
imagery,  which,  though  it  survives  in 
the  pulpit  and  on  Commencement  Day 
platforms,  is  ruthlessly  ediird  out  of  ex- 
istence in  the  pages  of  the  successful 
magazines.  It  is  sometimes  difficult  to 
get  away  from  an  over-metaphorical  ora- 
tor or  parson,  but  a  magazine  can  be 
tossed  aside  without  scruple,  and  even 
when  popularity  is  not  the  chief  end  in 
view,  it  is  just  as  well  to  conform  to 
modern  requirements  in  matters  of  lit- 
erary style»  for  no  scientific  principle 
has  ever  yet  sufferetl  from  being  set 
forth  in  correct,  vigorous,  and  incisive 
English. 

* 

It  is  a  commonplace  to  say  that 
good  historical  writing  should  be  also 

good  literature,  but  at  the  present  time 
there  appears  to  be  some  danger  that 
American  historical  writers,  in  their 
devotion  to  facts  and  philosophy,  will 
neglect  manner  and  ffirm.  Notliing  is 
gained  by  making  learning  repulsive ; 
and  locomotion  by  means  of  pedagogi- 
cal stilts  is  ncitlier  raj)i(l  !ior  graceful. 
Therefore,  from  the  liumble  station  of 
a  mere  literary  critic,  we  urge  the 
learned  editors  of  the  new  review  to  be 
not  m»rtaphorical  overmuch — not  to  say 
too  much  about  the  rivers  of  history  and 
the  sands  of  time  and  the  launching  of 
the  frail  bark  of  historical  criticism — 


and,  above  all,  not  to  begin  a  sentence 
with  "Consequently,  therefore,"  or  to 
smotli'T  a  tender  idea  with  a  mass  of 
verbiage — in  other  words,  not  to  do 
any  more  violence  to  the  canons  of  lit- 
erary taste  til. in  tliey  would  do  if  they 
were  mere  plain  literary  men,  without 
any  profundity  of  subject-matter  t<^ 
make  amends  jfor  stupidity  of  style. 

We  have  been  much  interested  in  look- 
ing over  the  courses  prescribed  by  the 

Ministry  of  Public  Instruction  as  a  part 
of  the  general  scheme  adopted  for  sec- 
ondary education  in  France.  It  is  par- 
ticularly pleasant  to  see  so  many  Ameri- 
can authors  represented  in  the  courses, 
in  English  Literature.  Besides  Wash- 
ington Irving,  Franklin  (the  Aut4M&g» 
rap/iy),  and  Longfellow,  we  note  the 
names  of  Miss  Alcott  and  John  Ilabber- 
ton,  these  last  in  the  courses  for  girls» 
Th<*  titles  of  the  particular  works  ret  oin- 
mended  are  given  in  French,  and  An 
Old-Fashioned  Girl  and  Hehn*s  BaMes 
suffer  a  sea-change  in  figuring  respec- 
tively as  Une  Dotun^eHc  <}  la  Vieilie  Mode 
and  Lcs  Enjants  d'  Jlt'lctie. 

Fiona  Macleod,  whose  Pharais  and 
The  Mountain  Lovers  were  reviewed  at 
length  in  the  October  Bookman,  has  a 
series  of  short  tales  .and  episodes  under 
the  title  **  From  the  Hebrid  Isles,"  with 
some  fine  illustrations  of  Hebridean 
scenery,  in  the  December  Harper'' s.  In 
Miss  Macleod  the  Celtic  Scot,  or  more 
correctly,  the  Scottish  Highlander,  hith- 
erto alrnost  inarticulate  in  literature,  is 
striving  to  fnul  a  voice.  Tliere  is  a  genu- 
ine ring  in  the  sympathetic  utterance  of 
this  Celtic  writer  who  allies  herself  with 
her  people — "  we  of  the  passing  race  in 
the  isles  and  the  Highlands" — that  has 
its  pathetic  note,  as  she  mourns  that 
"  all  tilings  sacred  to  the  Celtic  race  are 
smiled  at  by  the  gentle  and  mocked  by 
the  vulgar.  One  day  will  come" — and 
the  note  swells  to  indignation — "when 
men  will  be  sorrier  iv>r  w  liat  is  irrevoca- 
bly lost  than  ever  a  nation  mourned  for 
a  lapsed  dominion.  It  is  a  bitter,  cruel 
thing  that  strangers  must  rule  the  heart 
and  brains  as  well  as  the  poor  fortunes 
of  the  mountaineers  and  islanders.  But 
in  doing  their  best  to  thrust  Celtic  life, 
Celtic  speech,  Celtic  thought  into  the 
sea,  they  are  working  a  sore  hurt  for 
themselves  that  they  shall  lament  in  the 
day  of  adversity. ' ' 


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ALKX ANDRE  DUMAS  FILS 


The  great  dramatist  who  secured  for 
the  name  of  Alexandre  Dumas  claims 
to  immortality  stronger,  perhaps,  than 
those  possessed  by  tlie  author  of  ^^onle 
Cn'sto  and  Lrs  Trots  Afousguetaires,  Alex- 
andre Dumas  the  younger,  in  a  long  and 
eloquent  note,  which  in  the  edition  of 
his  plays  follows  the  text  of  La  Princesse 
t/i-  Bii\^i/iiJ,  wrote,  a  few  years  only  be- 
fore his  death,  the  following  lines  : 
Hie  ft  ne  petit  /aire  gtie  je  tt'aie  />as  aim/, 
chcrch/  et  Jit  ht  r  /rit/,  gue  Jr  n'  aie pasvoiilu 
li-  hien,  gne  je  it  aie  pas  poursiiivi  tin  iJt'al. 
Tliese  words  express  the  idea  which  the 
author  of  Le  Demi-. Monde  wished  the 


world  to  preserve  of  him.  Whether  they 
represented  him  faithfully,  whether  the 
peculiar  strength  of  his  productions  is 
due  mainly,  or  at  least  in  part,  to  the  vir- 
tues which  they  describe  is,  it  seems  to 
us,  the  most  important  question  to  be 
examined  in  a  paper  the  object  c>f  which 
is  to  ascertain  what  place  he  is  \lo  hold 
in  the  eyes  of  posterity  amoiSg  the 
writers  whose  words  constitute  wJiat  we 
sometimes  call  permanent  literatutre. 

Of  the  features  so  tersely  claimed  for 
himself  and  his  life  by  Aiexandrie  Du- 
mas fds,  the  most  important  is  th«  ?  pos- 
session  of  an  "  ideal."    To   hav  e  an 


A  LITERARY  JOUKNAL 


3«3 


ideal,  or  better,  as  he  says,  poursuivre 
un  idMl,  gives  to  one's  life  and  work 
above  all  unity,  and  this  quality  of  unity 
is  what  must  strike  even  the  most  super- 
ficial observer  of  Dumas's  plays.  This 
is  wliat  at  once  distinguishes  him  from 
the  other  great  French  dramatists  whose 
life  was  contempornneous  with  his, 
J^mile  Augier  and  Victorien  Sardou. 
What  a  distance  between  La  Cigu/,  that 
charming  Greek  sketch,  and  Les  Four- 
ehambaultf  one  of  the  roost  searching 
studies  of  modem  society  ever  put  on 
the  stage  !  In  Sardou's  case  variety  be- 
comes almost  bewildering.  Are  Ma- 
dame Bindtm  and  Le  Rat  Car^y  Not 


the  public,  and  when  lie  poured  into  his 
prefaces  a  quantity  of  arguments  which 
he  had  been  unable  to  wortc  into  his 
dialogue.  This  began  about  the  year 
1867,  wlien  Dumas  was  a  little  over  forty 
years  of  age,  and  considered  iiimself 
mature  enough  tu  lecture  his  fellow- 
men,  and  especially  his  fellow-cmmtry- 
men,  including  the  women,  without  run- 
ning too  great  a  risk  of  appearing  ridicu* 
Ions. 

To  the  striking  unity  of  his  literary 
work,  however,  another  cause  may  per> 
haj)s  be  ascribed  in  addition  to  the  one 
we  have  just  pointed  out — viz.»  the  ex- 
ample of  his  father.  This  example  act- 


FA04iMnji  or  AirrocRAni  op  doicas  ms. 


Bons  Villa^ffi^  and  P<it>  i,-^  Sntiphine^  and 
Theodora  really  by  the  sutnc  author? 
In  Dumas  fils's  dramatic  production,  if 
we  leave  out  f.,'  Bijou  Jc  la  Rn'/w,  which 
he  wrote  when  only  twenty  years  of  age, 
and  which  was  never  presented  to  the 
real  public,  U  public  qui  y  va  de  sa  pihe 
de  cent  sous^  as  Sarcey  says,  we  find 
only  one  kind  of  plays,  what  the  au- 
thor's countrymen  call  des  //v.v  h 
thise,  Dumas  fils  always  wishes  to 
prove  something  ;  he  proves  it  to  his 
own  satisfaction,  and  is  ready,  or  rather 
waSf  to  write  at  the  close  of  his  book 
tiie  mathematician's  Q.  E.  D. 

A  time  even  came  in  his  life  when  it 
seemed  to  him  that  his  plays  alone  did 
not  make  his  ideas  sufficiently  clear  to 


ed  npon  him  as  a  deterrent.  No  illiis- 
trioiis  father  was  ever  mure  admired  by 
an  illustrious  son  than  the  author  of 
Monte  Crista  by  the  author  of  F^e  Demi- 
Monde.  The  opening  words  of  the  lat- 
ter's  Useours  di  rieeption  in  the  French 
Academy  were  so  touching,  only  be- 
cause of  their  undeniable  sincerity  ;  but 
for  all  that,  the  faults  of  the  father  were 
discerned  by  no  one  more  clearly  than 
by  the  son,  or  else  he  would  not  have 
written  Un  Phre  Ptvdigue,  one  of  his 
most  interestine^  plays.  Dumas  pere  was 
a  spendthrift,  and  not  in  money  matters 
only ;  he  squandered  the  splendid  gifts 
of  his  semi-African  nature,  which  made 
Michelet  write  to  him  :  Monsieur,  je 
vous  at  me  et  je  vous  admire ^  car  vous  c'tes 


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3«4 


THE  BOOKh4AN. 


une  des  forces  de  la  nature.  And  to  this 
uninterrupted  squandering  of  the  nioiit 
robust  literary  constitution  of  modern 
times  is  due  the  undoubted  fact  that 
the  place  of  the  elder  Dumas  in  perma- 
nent literature  is  by  no  means  secure. 
Generation  after  generation  has  l)een 
interested  and  amu:>ed  by  him,  and  yet 
his  influence  on  his  time  cannot  compare 
even  with  that  of  Engine  Sue  ;  and  he 
has  not  left  behind  him  a  single  work 
that  can  be  called  a  masterpiece.  The 
son  very  early  took  an  oath  to  himself 
that  he  would  be  a  better  manager  of 
his  intellectual  assets,  and  so  it  happens 
that,  with  natural  gifts  not  for  a  mo- 
ment to  be  compared  with  tliose  of  his 
father,  he  stands  out,  on  the  moment 
when  he  leaves  the  society  of  the  living, 
the  most  striking  figure  in  the  numer- 
ous  and  brilliant  array  of  France's  niae> 
teenth-century  dramatists. 

More  striking  even  than  Hugo  ?  Un> 
donbtcdly.  In  lingo's  admirable  reper- 
toin-  (these  are  Dumas  fils's  own  words) 
to-day  only  two  plays  remain  that  have 
tlie  })o\ver  of  riveting  the  attention  of 
the  public  to  the  stage,  Hernani  and 
Ruy-Blas,  and  even  here,  were  it  not  for 
the  music  of  the  lines,  the  incongruities 
of  the  drama  would  shock  the  spectator 
almost  at  ever>'  step.  Still  no  one  can 
deny  that  to  (lugo  Dumas  fils  is  indebt- 
ed, not  only  for  the  chief  inspiration  to 
which  he  owed  his  first  success,  but  also 
up  to  a  certain  point  for  the  general 
character  of  his  plays.  La  Dame  aux 
Camillas  is  a  descendant  of  Marion  De- 
hrme.  Both  Hugo  and  Dumas  under- 
took to  demonstrate  to  the  public  that 
true  love  can  exist  in  a  courtesan's 
heart,  and  can  cleanse  her  of  her  former 
impurity.  The  poet  did  it  with  the  ac- 
cumulation of  contrasts,  \vhi(  !i  was  Imtli 
a  need  of  his  own  nature  and  one  of 
the  principles  of  the  Romantic  School ; 
the  young  dramatist  with  the  innate 
logic  of  his  mind  and  the  simple  re- 
sources of  modern  lite  ;  there  Cardinal 
Richelieu,  bis  red  robe  and  the  scaffold, 
here  a  bourgeois  father,  and  death  from 
consumption. 

In  one  Important  respect  La  Dame  aux 
C,if/i/'/a<  fits  in  closely  with  the  rest  of 
Dumas' s  plays ;  otherwise  the  ditferences 
are  very  striking.  They  all  deal  solely 
with  the  Intercourse  of  roan  and  woman 
in  modern  sorietv.  especiallv  with  ir- 
regular intercourse.  Hardly  ever  in 
Dumas'ft  plays  is  the  question,  "Will 


.ffr.  So-and-so  marry  Miss  So-and-50. 
In       Detni-Moii  i<  u  e  do  not  care  very 
much  whether  Olivier  de  Jalin  is  orb 
not  to  marr)'  Marcellc  ;  we  are  much 
more  interested  in  the  development  kA 
La  Bartmned'Atige's  career.    In  Leslifes 
dc  Madame  Auhray\  in  Derii^,-,  the  ques- 
tion of  marriage  is  an  all-important  one  : 
but  in  both  cases  the  woman,  though 
unmarried,  has  become  a  mother  before 
the  beginning  of  the  play  ;  and  we  can- 
not help  calling  here  aiti-mitin  to  the 
fact  that  the  whole  of  the  dramatic  in- 
terest  in   an   otherwise  farcical  play, 
which  enjoyed  some  popularity  in  ihi^ 
country  about  fifteen  years  ago — ^Mr. 
Leonard  Grover's  Our  Boardiru;  Ifituse— 
was  due  to  his  bodily  transferring  into  it 
the  plot  of  Les  Id/es  de  Madame  Autray. 
In  La  Prhuesse  Georges  we  have  in  one 
couple  an  adulterous  husband,  in  the 
other  an  adulterous  wife.    Lit  J'trnme 
Claude  is  another  Sylvanie  d«  Terre- 
monde  ;  f.a  I'isifc  de  /^'iwrt  brings  in  con- 
tact with  each  other  a  man's  bride  and 
his  former  mistress.   What  is  it  that  at- 
tracted Dumas  fils  to  such  themes  as 
these  ?    The  last  charge  that  could  be 
fairly  brought  against  him  would  be 
that  of  catering  to  any  love  of  pruriency 
in  the  public  of  his  day.    In  support  of 
this  assertion  we  beg  to  call  attention 
to  a  characteristic  fact.    In  the  younger 
Dumas,   the  dramatist  did  more  than 
overshadow  tlie  novelist,  he  killed  him. 
After  beginning  to  write  for  the  stage 
he  very  soon  ceased  to  publish  novels. 
The  novels  he  wrote  are  ail  but  foigot- 
ten  ;  few  people  to-day  remember  that 
La  Dame  aux  Camelias  was  originally  a 
dramatised  novel.    Once,  however,  after 
years  of  dramatic  production,  he  turned 
again  to  novel  writing,  and  published 
^Affaire  Ch'i'imceau.    This  novel,  a  very 
Striking  one,  dealt  with  a  theme  essen- 
tially similar  to  that  of  his  plays.  Why, 
then,  a  novel  this  time  and  not  a  play  ? 
The  reason  was  seen  when,  after  years 
oi  importunities,  the  author,  who  always 
refused  to  dramatise  his  novel,  finally 
yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  a  younger 
brother  craftsman    and    allowed  Mr. 
Camllle  d*Artois  to  put  VAfaire  CUmen- 
ct-au  upon  the  stage.    The  thing  could 
not  be  done  without  the  introduction  ia 
some  scenes  of  decidedly  immodest  exbi> 
bitlons.    In  Dumas's  own  plays  there  are 
no  immodest  scenes.     His   natiire  in- 
stinctively   shrank    from  immodesty. 

Why,  then,  Is  there  such  a  current  el 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


385 


immodesty,  of  uncontrolled  sexiia!  pas- 
sion in  his  plays  ?  We  think  that  the 
irregular  circumstances  of  his  own  birth 
had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  case. 
Dumas'  was  what  the  French  call  un 
tempirameni  rfflichi.  He  could  not  but 
think  about  his  own  first  steps  in  life. 
He  lived  in  a  society  that  claimed  fam- 
ily as  its  corner-stone,  and  family  was 
to  him  all  but  unknown.  He  was  too 
loving  a  son  ever  to  briiifi^  aj::;^ain5^t  his 
father  a  direct  accusation  ;  but  that  he 
felt  iceenty  the  incompleteness  of  his 
//a/  civil  is  clear  to  any  thoughtful 
reader  of  his  plays  and  prefaces.  Once 
or  twice  the  expression  becomes  even 
painfully  clear,  m  Lc  Fih  Nature^  for 
instance,  and  also,  perhaps,  in  ^fonsienr 
Alplwnse^  which  we  might  be  tempted  to 
name  as  his  most  perfect  play  if  we 
were  compelled  to  award  that  distinc- 
tion. 

Dumas  fits  had  not  simply  an  ideal ; 

he  evidently  considered  himself  a  man 
with  a  mission.  He  had  been  compelled 
to  look  at  that  question,  the  intercourse 
of  the  sexes  in  modern  society,  and  he 
called  upon  society  to  settle  it  so  that 
nothing  i)ut  the  claims  of  civilised  hu- 
manity and  the  evolution  of  a  more  dig- 
nified manhood  sliould  be  allowed  to 
interfere  with  the  ennobling  passion 
of  love.  Bold  as  his  plots  are,  mar- 
riage passes  tlitoujrh  them  unassailed, 
provided  not  brought  about  by  ignoble 
considerations  of  ambition  and  money. 
Upon  this  point  his  plays  may  be  con- 
sidered a  robust  reaction  ap;aii)st  the 
bourgeois  cumcdies  of  the  ail  but  for- 
gotten, though  formerly  so  celebrated 
Eugene  Scrilie. 

But  moral  plays  (and  we  think  Dumas 
fils*s  plays  are  moral ;  he  also  unques- 
tioiiahlv  thouglit  so)  are  not  necessarily 
good  plays  ;  they  may  be  tedious,  and, 
as  60 i lean  says, 

'1\iUj  iii  f^fttres  sont  bons^  hon  It-  -^rnr^  fnnu\ritx. 

The  success  ot  Dumas's  plays  is  sufti- 
cieirt  proof  that,  at  least  to  the  public 
of  his  time,  his  plays  were  not  tedious. 
Moral  plays  may  be  weak  plays.  Du- 
mas's plays  are  strong  if  anything. 
What  is  it  that  makes  thcni  so  ?  In 
other  words,  in  addition  to  his  moral 
fire,  to  his  love  for  the  true  and  the 
good,  which  ought  to  be  in  every  man, 
although  we  do  not  expect  every  man 
to  be  a  great  dramatist,  what  are  Du- 
mas's qualities  } 


Before  we  state  what  qualities  he  had, 
let  us  name  one  which  he  did  not  pos- 
sess, or  at  least  the  possession  of  which 
by  him  does  not  reveal  itself  in  his 
plays.  We  do  not  think  that  he  was  a 
very  accurate  observer  of  the  outside 
world-  In  this  respect  he  seems  to  us 
inferior  not  only  to  Augier,  but  even  to 
Sardou,  some  scenes  of  whom  may  be 
considered  almost  perfect  photographs 
of  some  corners  of  modern  society. 
Dumas's  dialogue,  brilliant  as  it  is,  per- 
haps because  of  its  very  brilliancy,  is 
never  a  reproduction  of  the  conversa- 
tional style  really  in  use  among  the  kind 
of  people  he  puts  upon  the  stage.  The 
fact  was  noticed  more  than  once  ;  com- 
bative as  he  was,  he  never  answered  his 
accusers  upon  tliis  point.  Had  lie  done 
so,  he  would,  we  feel  convinced,  have 
acknowledged  the  charge  as  true.  On 
this  point,  as  on  many  other  ones,  he 
was  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  great 
French  dramatists  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  True,  he  did  not  write  his 
plays  in  alexandrines,  as  Conieille  and 
Racine  (lid  :  but  asCorneiUeand"RaCTnc, 
he  would  none  the  less  have  claimed  the 
right  of  using  in  his  plays  his  own  style. 
He  had  wit,  he  had  eloquence  ;  there- 
fore his  characters  are  witty  and  elo- 
quent. He  was  a  master  of  French 
style  ;  therefore  every  one  of  his  charac- 
ters almost  speaks  as  an  academician. 
The  strength  of  his  plays  does  not  lie  in 
their  faithfulness  to  life,  but  to  the  hu- 
man heart. 

The  outside  world  was  neglected  by 
Dumas,  however,  only  in  its  minor 
aspects.  Though  he  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  its  furniture,  so  that  his  plays 
could  almost  be  acted  without  any 
scenery,  and  to  its  small  talk,  so  that  his 
works  are  almost  entirely  free  from  allti- 
sions  to  any  of  the  subjects  of  society 
gossip,  he  was  fully  aware  of  its  moral 
condition,  of  its  philosophical  tenden- 
cies, of  its  imperious  duties  ;  no  patri- 
otic i'renchman  can  have  forgotten  the 
iMter  written  by  him  a  short  time 
after  the  close  of  the  war  of  1870,  in 
which,  after  describing  the  kind  of  ac- 
tivity he  wished  his  country  to  resuine, 
he  expressed  the  desire  that  on  hearing 
the  rumotir  arising  from  the  fields,  work- 
shops, studiijs,  and  schools  of  France, 
every  one  in  the  world  should  say, 
C'est  la  Frame  qui  travailU  ft  qui  se 
rachete.  His  plots,  therefore,  all  fit  in 
with  modem  society.    He  docs  not  go 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


far  for  his  characters.  They  are  men 
and  women  of  to-day  ;  they  are  French 
men  and  women  of  to-day.  Their  pas- 
sions, their  virtues,  tliclr  faults,  the 
ditficuliics  against  which  ihey  struggle 
are  all  modern  possibilities.  Dumas's 
plays  are  always  prolilctiis.  Here  is 
your  society,  he  says,  its  written  and 
unwritten  laws  ;  and  here  are  facts  that 
are  possible  in  it.  A  youn|3f  woman  has 
been  seduced  by  a  man  unworthy  of 
her ;  she  is,  however,  at  heart  a  noble 
woman  ;  she  meets  a  man  of  true  no 
bility  of  character,  but  a  respecter  of 
the  world's  ideas  or  prejudices :  what 
will  ha])jien  ?  {Diniu).  An  apparently 
flighty,  but  really  earnest  woman  dis- 
covers that  her  husband  considers  the 
obligations  of  matrimony  less  binding 
upon  him  than  upon  his  wife  :  what  will 
happen?  {Francil/on).  A  man  of  genius, 
but  of  an  unsuspecting  nature,  has  been 
lured  into  marriage  with  a  wnman  who 
is  all  lust  and  greed  :  what  will  happen  } 
{La  Fttnme  de  Claude)^  etc. 

Dumas's  dramatic  mnstruclion  is  sim- 
plicity itself.  liib  plays  need  but  a  short 
time.  Here,  again,  we  find  the  disciple 
of  the  classical  dramatists  of  France. 
Uf  course  no  writer  of  the  nineteenth 
century  would  think  of  subjecting  him- 
self to  the  tyrannical  rule  of  the  three 
unities  ;  but  the  romantic  contempt  for 
it,  which  is  clearly  visible  in  La  I}ame 
aux  CamdliaSy  has  entirely  dis;i])[)eared 
from  the  later  plays,  written  with  a 
serious  moral  purpose.  The  spirit  of 
the  famous  rule  is  respected  if  not  its 
letter.  Often  there  is  no  chnnj^e  of 
scenery  from  the  beginning  to  tlic  end  ; 
as  little  time  as  possible  elapses  between 
the  beg^inninsf  and  the  end  of  the  play  ; 
and  as  for  the  unity  of  action,  it  is  more 
carefully  respected  by  Dumas  than  by 
any  other  dramatist  save  Racine. 

His  characters  are  not  very  complex  ; 
their  nature  is  presented  to  us  almost 
solely  from  an  ethical  and  intelhctual 
Standpoint.    We  are  not  expected  to 


guess  at  anything  ;  what  we  ought  to 
know  is  clearly  told  us  ;  the  end  of  the 
play  is  really  the  conclusion  of  the  au- 
thor's reasoning.  His  characters  are 
real  men  and  women,  not  simply  pawns 
in  a  game  of  chess,  as  some  of  Sardou's 
characters ;  still  less  symbolic  bc-ings 
whose  actions  and  words  mean  some- 
thing that  the  spectator  neither  sees  nor 
hears.  Hence  in  his  plays  absolute 
clearness.  This  is  the  reason  why  they 
are  so  admired  by  Francisque  Sarcey, 
unless  we  should  say  that  Sarcey's  preat 
love  for  clearness  and  his  inabilitv  to  feei 
any  sympathy  for  the  works  which  do 
not  possess  that  merit  is  due,  partly  at 
least,  to  the  fact  that,  owing  to  the 
time  in  which  his  career  as  a  critic  was 
developed,  he  was  called  upon  to  criti- 
cise Dumas's  plays  oftener  than  those 
of  any  oilier  great  dramatist. 

After  all  this  shall  we  say  that  Dumas 
fils's  plays  are  perfect  ?  By  no  means  ; 
but  we  sincerely  believe  that  they  offer 
the  most  perfect  dramatic  products  of 
one  of  the  greatest  qualities  of  the  hu- 
man mind — viz.,  logic.  The  trouble  is, 
that  life  is  not  always  logical,  and  even 
that,  as  has  been  said  more  than  once, 
it  would  be  perfectly  intolerable  but 
for  man's  inconsistency.  But  when 
logic  is  clothed  with  the  eloquence  of 
Olivier  de  Jalin,  of  Jacques  Vignot.  of 
SAverine  de  Birac,  of  Madame  Aubray, 
of  Thouveiiin,  or  simply  of  Alexandre 
Dumas  fils,  when  the  moving  power  that 
underlies  the  argument  is  a  desire  not 
simply  for  success,  but  for  the  mastery 
over  the  minds  of  men,  and  when  that 
object  itself  in  the  eyes  of  the  author  is 
only  sec~ond  to  a  passion  for  the  true 
and  the  good,  the  product  resulting 
therefrom  caiinoL  be  an  indiilerent  one, 
and  it  possesses  that  inner  strength 
which  carries  works  of  art,  with  strong 
chances  of  a  favourable  sentence,  to  the 
tribunal  of  a  remote,  and  therefore  im- 
partial posterity. 

Adolphe  Cohn. 


Digitized  by  GoogI 


A  UTERAKf  JOURNAL 


387 


KATE  CARNEGIE,* 


CHAPTER  I. 

P  A  N  I)  K  M  O  N  I  U  M. 

T  was  the  morn- 
\n%  before  the 

Twelfth  fivc- 
and- twenty 
years  ago,  and 
nothinij  like 
unto  Muir* 
town  Station 
could  have 
been  found  in  all 
the  travelling 
world.  For 
M  u  i  r  t  o  w  n  ,  as 
everybody 
knows,  is  thecen* 
tre  which  re- 
ceives the  south 
era  iminigprant!» 
in  autumn,  and 
distributes  them, 
with  all  their  belongings  of  servants, 
horses,  dogSj  and  luggage,  over  the 
north  country  from  Athole  to  Suther- 
land. All  night  through  trains,  whose 
ordinary  formation  had  Ix  on  reinforced 
by  horse  boxes,  carriage  trucks,  saloons 
and  luggage  vans,  drawn  by  two  en- 
gines and  pushed  up  inclines  by  an- 
other, had  been  careering  along  the 
three  iron  trunk  roads  that  run  from 
London  li)  the  North,  Four  hours  ago 
they  had  forced  the  border,  that  used  to 
be  more  jealously  guarded,  and  had  be- 
gun to  converge  on  their  terminus. 
I*a^scngers,  awakened  by  tlie  caller  air 
and  looking  out  still  half  asleep,  miss 
the  undisciplined  hedgerows  and  many- 
shaped  patches  of  pasture,  the  warm 
brick  homesteads  and  shaded  ponds. 
Square  fields  cultivated  up  to  a  foot  of 
the  stone  dykes  or  wire  fencing,  the 
.strong  grey-stone  farmhouses,  the  swift- 
running  bums,  and  the  never-distant 

hills,  brace  the  niind.  Local  passengi  rs 
come  in  with  deliberation,  whose  austere 
faces  condemn  the  luxurious  disorder 
of  night  travel  and  challenge  the  de- 
fence of  Arminian  doctrine.  A  voice 
shouts  "  Carstatrs  Junction"  with  a 
command  of  the  letter  r,  which  is  the 
bequest  of  an  unconquerable  past,  and 
inspires  one  with  the  hope  of  some  day 
hearing  a  f  reebom  Scot  say  "  Auchterar- 

*Copfrigbt.  1895. 


der."  The  train  runs  over  bleak  moor- 
lands with  black  peat  holes,  through  al- 
luvial straths  yielding  their  last  ]Mckle 
of  corn,  between  iron  furnaces  blazing 
Strangely  in  the  morning  light,  at  the 
foot  of  historical  castles  on  rocks  that 
rise  out  of  the  fertile  plains,  and  then, 
after  a  space  of  sudden  darkness,  any 
man  with  a  soul  counts  the  ten  hours' 
dust  and  heat  but  a  slight  price  for  the 
sight  of  the  Scottish  Rhme  flowing 
deep,  clear,  and  swift  by  the  foot  of  its 
wooded  hills  and  the  "  Fair  City"  in 
the  heart  of  her  meadows. 

"  Do  you  see  the  last  wreath  of  mist 
floating  off  tlie  summit  (A  the  hill,  and 
the  silver  sheen  ot  the  river  against  the 
green  of  the  woods  ?  Quick,  Dad,"  and 
the  (ieneral,  accustomed  to  obey,  stood 
up  beside  Kale  for  the  brief  glimpse  be- 
tween the  tunnel  and  a  prison.  Yet 
they  had  seen  the  snows  of  the  Hima- 
layas, and  the  great  river  that  runs 
through  the  plains  of  India.  But  it  is 
so  with  Scottish  folk  that  they  may 
have  lived  opposite  the  Jungfrau  atMur- 
ren,  and  walked  among  the  big  trees  of 
the  Yosemite  Valley,  and  watched  the 
blood-red  afteiglow  on  the  PyramidSp 
and  yet  will  value  a  sunset  behind  die 
CuchuUin  hills,  and  the  Pass  of  the 
Trossachs,  and  the  mist  shot  through 
with  light  on  the  sides  of  Ben  Nevis, 
and  the  Tay  at  Dunkeld — just  above 
the  bridge — better  guerdon  for  their 

eyes. 

"  Aye,  lassie" — the  other  people  had 
left  at  Stirling,  and  the  General  fell 
back  upon  the  past — "  there's  just  one 
bonnier  river,  and  that's  the  Tochty  at  a 
bend  below  the  Loflge  as  we  shall  SeC 
it,  please  God,  this  evening." 

**  Tickets,"  broke  in  a  voice  with  au- 
thority, *'  This  is  no  the  station,  an' 
ye  'ill  hae  to  wait  till  the  first  diveesion 
o'  yir  train  is  emptied.  Kildrummie? 
Ve  change,  of  coorse,  but  yir  branch  'ill 
hae  a  lang  wait  the  day.  It  'ill  be  an 
awfu'  fecht  wi'  the  Hielant  train.  Muir- 
town  platform  'ill  be  worth  seein'  ;  it 
'ill  juist  be  michty,"  and  the  collector 
departed,  smacking  his  lips  in  prospect 
of  the  fray. 

"  I'pon  my  word,"  said  the  General, 
taken  aback  for  a  moment  by  the  easy 
manners  of  his  countrymen,  but  rejoic* 
bjr  J<din  Wstsoa. 


L>iyiii^L,G  Ly  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


ing  in  every  new  assurance  o£  home, 
*'  our  people  are  no  blate. 

"  Isn't  It  delicious  to  be  where  char- 
acter has  not  bf^en  worn  smooth  by  cen- 
turies of  oppression,  but  where  each 
man  is  iiimself  ?  Conversation  has  salt 
here,  and  tastus  in  t!ie  mouth.  We've 
just  heard  two  men  speak  this  morning, 
and  each  face  is  bitten  into  my  memonr. 
Nnw  ntir  turn  has  come/*  and  the  tram 
came  in  at  last. 

Porters,  averaging  six  feet  and  with 
stentorian  voi(  i  s.  ufrc  driving  back  the 
mixed  multitude  in  order  to  afford  foot- 
hold for  the  new  arrivals  on  that  mar- 
vellous landing  place,  which  served  for 
all  the  trains  which  came  in  and  all  that 
went  out,  both  north  and  south.  One 
man  tears  open  the  door  of  a  first  with 
rommanding  gesture.  "  A'  change  and 
hurry  up.  iSa,  ua,"  rejecting  llie  offer 
of  a  private  engagement  ;  "we  hev  nae 
tlnic  f(ir  tli.it  trade  the  day.  Yp  mnun 
cairry  yii  bags  yersels  ;  the  dogs  and 
boxes  "ill  tak  us  a*  oor  time."  He  un- 
locks an  unde-r  cnmpartment  and  draps 
out  a  pair  of  pointers,  who  fawn  upon 
him  obsequiously  in  gratitude  for  their 
release.  "Dorm  \vi'  v<\"  as  one  to 
whom  duty  denies  the  ordinary  cour- 
tesies of  life,  and  he  fastens  them  to  the 
l)asc  of  an  iron  pillar.  Deserted  itri me- 
diately by  their  deliverer,  the  pointers 
make  overtures  to  two  elderly  ladies, 
standing  hcu  ildered  in  the  crush,  to  be 
repulsed  with  umbrellas,  and  then  sit 
down  upon  their  tails  in  despair.  Their 
forlorn  condition,  left  friendless  amid 
this  babel,  get'^  upon  thptr  nerves,  and 
after  a  slighl  rehearsal,  just  to  make 
certain  of  the  tune,  they  lift  up  their 
voirpK  in  mi  lodimis  concert,  to  tlie  scan- 
dal of  the  two  females,  who  cannot  es- 
cape the  neighbourhood,  and  regard  the 
pointers  with  horror.  Distant  friends, 
also  in  bonds  and  distress  of  mind,  feel 
comforted  and  join  cheerfully,  while  a 
large  Mar  k  n  triever,  who  had  foolishly 
attempted  to  obstruct  a  luggage  barrow 
with  his  tail,  breaks  in  with  a  high  solo. 
Two  collies,  their  tempers  irritated  by 
obstacles  as  they  followed  their  masters, 
who  had  been  taking  their  morning  in 
the  second-class  refreshment  room,  fall 
out  by  the  way,  and  obtain  as  by  magic 
a  clear  space  in  wiiich  to  settle  details  ; 
while  a  fox*terrier,  escaping  from  his 
anxious  mistress,  has  monntpd  a  pile  of 
bo.xcs  and  gives  a  general  challenge. 

Porters  fling  open  packed  luggage 


vans  with  a  swing,  setting  free  a  cata- 
ract of  portmanteaus,  boxes,  hampers, 
baskets,  which  pours  across  the  plat- 
form for  yards,  led  by  a  frolicsome  black 
leather  valise,  whose  anxious  owner  has 
fought  her  adventurous  way  to  the  van 
for  the  purpose  of  explaining  to  n  phlrg- 
matic  Scot  that  he  would  know  it  by  a 
broken  strap,  and  must  lift  it  out  gen- 
tly, for  it  contained  breakables. 

"It  can  gang  itsel,  that  ane,"  as  tiie 
afflicted  woman  followed  its  reckless 
prrig-ress  with  a  wail.  "  Sail,  if  they 
were  a'  as  clever  on  their  feet  as  yon 
box  there  wud  be  less  tribble,**  and 
with  two  assistants  he  fell  upon  the  con- 
gpsted  mass  within.  They  perform 
prodigies  of  strength,  handling  huge 
trunks  that  ought  to  have  filled  some 
woman  with  repcntancp  as  if  they  were 
Gladstone  bags,  and  ligltl  vvcigliU  as  if 
they  were  paper  parcels.  With  uner- 
ring scent  they  detect  the  latest  label 
among  the  remains  oi  past  luslory,  and 
the  air  resounds  with  "  Hielant  train," 
"  Aiberdeen  fast,"  "  Aiberdeen  slr.w," 
"  Muirtown" — this  with  indifierence — 
and  at  a  time  "  Dunleith,**  and  once 
"  Kildrummie,"  with  much  rontempt. 
by  this  time  stacks  of  baggage  of  vary- 
ing size  have  been  erected,  the  largest 
of  wlii(  h  is  a  pyramid  in  shape,  with  a 
very  uncertain  apex. 

Male  passengers — heads  of  families 
and  new  to  Muirtown — hover  anxiously 
round  the  outskirts,  and  goaded  on  by 
female  commands,  rush  into  the  heart 
of  the  fray  for  the  purpose  of  claiming 
a  piece  of  luggage,  which  turns  out  to 
be  some  other  person's,  and  retire  hasiily 
after  a  fatr*sized  portmanteau  descends 
on  their  toes,  and  the  sharp  edge  of  a 
trunk  takes  them  in  the  small  of  the 
back.  Footmen  with  gloves  and  supe* 
rior  airs  make  gentlemanly  efforts  to 
collect  the  family  luggage,  and  are  re- 
warded by  having  some  hopelessly  vul- 
gar tin  boxes,  heavily  roped,  deposited 
among  its  initialled  glory.  One  elderly 
female  who  had  been  wise  to  choose 
some  other  day  to  revisit  her  native 
town,  discovers  her  basket  flung  up 
against  a  pillar,  like  wreckage  from  a 
storm,  and  settles  herself  down  upon  it 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  rpmains  un- 
moved amid  the  turmoil,  save  when  a 
passing  gun-case  tips  her  honnet  to  one 
side,  giving  her  a  very  rakish  air,  and  a 
p;ood-natured  retriever  on  a  neighbour- 
ing box  is  so  much  taken  with  her  ap- 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


389 


pcarance  that  he  offers  her  a  friendly 
caress.  Restless  people — who  remem- 
ber that  their  train  ought  to  have  left 
half  an  hour  ac^o,  and  cannot  realise 
that  all  bonds  arc  loosed  on  the  elev- 
enth—fasten on  any  man  in  a  uniform, 
and  suffer  many  ichufTs. 

*'  There's  nae  use  asking  me,"  an- 
swers a  guard,  coming  off  duty  and 
pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd  as 
one  accustomed  to  such  spectacles  ; 
**  a*m  juist  in  frae  Carlisle  ;  get  haud  o* 
a  porter." 

**  Cupar  Anpiis  ?" — this  from  the  por- 
ter— •'*  that's  the  Aiberdcen  slow  ;  it's 
no  made  up  yet,  and  little  chance  o't 
till  the  express  an'  the  Hielant  be  aff. 
VVhar  'ill  it  start  frae  ?"  breaking  away  ; 
forrit,  a'  tell  ye,  forrit." 
F.ithi  is  of  famiHcs,  left  on  guard  and 
misled  by  a  sudden  movement  "  forrit," 
rush  to  the  waiting-room  and  bring  out, 
for  the  third  time,  the  whole  expedition, 
to  escort  tliem  back  again  with  shame. 
Barrows  with  towering  piles  of  luggage 
are  pushed  through  the  human  mass  by 
two  porters,  who  allow  their  engine  to 
make  its  own  way  with  much  confi- 
dence, condescending  only  at  a  time  to 
sliotit,  "  A*  say,  hey,  oot  o*  there,"  and 
treating  any  testy  complaint  with  the 
silent  contempt  of  a  drayman  for  a  cos- 
termonger.    0»vi  hands,  having  fed  at 
their  leisure  in  callous  iiuiiffcrencc  to 
all  alarms,  lounge  about  in  great  con- 
teat,  and  a  group  of  sheep  farmers,  hav- 
ing endeavoured  in  vain,  after  one  tast 
ing,  to  settle  the  merits  of  a  new  sheep 
dtp,  take  a  glance  in  the  **  Hielant" 
quarter,  and  adjourn    the  conference 
once  more  to   the  refreshment-room. 
Groups  of  sportsmen  discuss  the  pros- 
pects of  to-morrow  in  detail,  and  tell 
stories  of  ancient  twelftlis,  wliile  chief- 
tains from  London,  in  full  Highland 
dress,  are  painfully  conscious  of  the 
whiteness  of  tlieir  let(s.    A  handful  of 
preposterous  people  who  persist  in  going 
south  when  the  world  has  its  face  north- 
wards, threaten  to  complain  to  head- 
quarters if  they  are  not  sent  away,  an<l 
an  official  with  a  loud  voice  and  a  subtle 
gift  of  humour  intimates  that  a  train  is 
about  to  leave  for  Dundee. 

During  this  time  wonderful  manaeu- 
'J,  \  vres  have  been  executed  on  the  lines  of 
rail  opposite  the  platform.    Trains  have 
left  with  all  the  air  of  a  departure  and 
disappeared  round  a  curve  outside  the 
\    station,  only  to  return  in  fragments. 


Ilalf-a-dozcn  carriages  pass  without  an 
engine,  as  if  they  had  started  on  their 
own  account,  break  vans  that  one  saw 
presiding  over  expresses  stand  forsaken, 
a  long  procession  of  luirsc  bu.xcs  rattles 
through,  and  a  saloon  carriage,  with 
people,  is  so  much  in  evideiice  that  the 
name  of  an  English  Duke  is  freely  men- 
tioned, and  every  new  passage  relieves 
the  tedium  of  the  waitlntj. 

Out  of  all  this  confusion  trains  be^in 
to  grow  and  take  shape,  and  one,  with 
gfreen  carriages,  looks  s<>  complete  that 
a  rumour  spreads  that  the  Hielant  train 
has  been  made  up  and  may  appear  any 
minute  in  its  ])hice.  The  sunshine  beat- 
ing through  ilie  >;lass  roof,  the  heat  of 
travel,  the  dust  of  the  station,  the  mov- 
ing carriages  with  their  various  colours, 
t!ie  shouts  of  railway  officials,  the  re- 
curring panics  of  fussy  passengers,  be- 
gin to  affect  the  nerves.  Conversation 
becomes  broken,  porters  are  beset  on 
every  side  with  questions  they  cannot 
answer,  rushes  are  made  on  any  empty 
carriages  within  reach,  a  child  is  knocked 
down  and  cries. 

Over  all  this  excitement  and  confu- 
sion one  man  is  presiding,  untiring, 
forceful,  ul)iquit<jus — a  Sturdy  man, 
somewliere  about  five  feet  ten,  whose 
lungs  are  brass  and  nerves  fine  steel 
wire.  He  is  dressed,  as  to  his  body,  in 
brown  corduroy  trousers,  a  blue  jacket 
and  waistcoat  with  shining  brass  but- 
tons, a  grey  flannel  shirt,  and  a  silver* 
braided  cap,  which,  as  time  passes,  he 
thrusts  farther  back  on  his  head  till  its 
peak  stands  at  last  almost  erect,  a  crest 
seen  high  a1)<;)ve  the  conflict.  As  to 
the  soul  of  him,  this  man  is  clothed 
with  resolution,  courage,  authority,  and 
an  infectious  enthusiasm.  He  is  the 
brain  and  will  of  the  wliolc  organism, 
its  driving  power.  Drivers  lean  out  of 
their  engines,  one  hand  on  the  steam 
throttle,  their  eyes  fixed  on  this  man  ; 
if  he  waved  his  hands,  trains  move  ;  if 
he  held  them  up,  trains  halt.  Strings 
of  carriages  out  in  the  open  are  carry- 
ing out  his  plans,  and  the  porters  toil 
like  maniacs  to  meet  his  commands. 
Piles  of  luggage  disappear  as  he  directs 
the  attack,  and  his  scouts  capture  iso- 
lated boxes  hidden  among  the  people. 
Every  horse  box  has  a  place  in  his  mem- 
ory, and  he  has  calculated  how  many 
carriages  would  clear  the  nortli  traffic  ; 
he  carries  the  destination  of  families  in 
his  head,  and  has  made  arrangements 


Digitized  by  Google 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


for  their  comfort.  "  Soon  ready  now, 
sir,"  as  he  passed  swiftly  down  to  re- 
ceive the  last  southerner,  "  and  a  sec- 
ond compartment  reserved  for  you," 
till  people  watched  for  him,  and  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  "  forrit  wi'  the 
Hielant  lug^ge,'*  inspired  bewildered 
tiiurists  with  ronfuh-nce,  and  became  an 
argument  for  Providence.  There  is  a 
general  movement  towards  the  northern 
end  of  the  station  ;  five  barrows,  whose 
lui;i;age  swings  dangerously  and  has  to 
be  iield  on,  pass  in  procession  ;  dogs 
are  collected  and  trailed  alon^  in  bun- 
dles;  families  pick  up  their  liags  and 
press  after  their  luggage,  cheered  to 
recognise  a  familiar  piece  peeping  out 
from  strange  goods  ;  a  bell  is  rung  with 
insistence.  The  Aberdeen  express 
leaves — its  passengers  reganling  the 
platform  with  pity— and  the  guard  of 
the  last  van  slamming  his  door  in  tri- 
umph. The  great  man  concentrates  his 
forces  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  for  the 
tour  de  forcf  of  the  year,  the  despatch  of 
the  Hielant  train. 
The  southern  end  of  the  platform  is 

now  deserted — the 
London  express dc- 
i     ^  parted  half  an  hour 

ago  with  thirteen 
passeneers,  very 
crestfallen  and  en- 
vious— and  across' 
the  open  centre 
porters  hustle  bar- 
rows at  headlong 
speed,   with  nri^. 

ri  terl  picces  of 
lui4L;.ii,^e.  Along 
the  e  d  g  e  of  the 
Highland  jjlallOrm 
there  stretclics  a 
solid  mass  of  life, 
close- packed,  mo- 

tionless,  silent, 
composed  of  tour- 
ist^, li'  igs,  families, 
ords,  dogs,  sheep 
farmers,  keepers, 
clericals,    do  g  s , 


CARMICHAKL  HAD  TAKEN  HIS  TUKM. 


footmen,  commercials,  ladies'  mai-^. 
grooms,  dogs,  waiting  for  the  empty  train 
that,  after  deploying  hither  and  thither, 
picking  up  some  trifle,  a  horse  box  or  a 
duke's  saloon,  at  every  new  raid,  is  now 
backing  slowly  in  for  its  freight.  The 
expectant  crowd  has  ceased  from  con- 
versation, sporting  or  otherwise :  re- 
spectable elderly  gentlemen  brace  them- 
selves for  the  scramble,  and  examine 
their  near-st  neighbours  suspiciously; 
heafls  of  families  gather  their  belong- 
ings round  them  by  signs  and  explain 
in  a  whisper  how  to  act ;  one  female 
tourist — of  a  certain  age  and  severe 
aspect — refreshes  her  memory  as  to  the 
best  window  for  the  view  of  Killiecran- 

kie.  The  luggage  has  been  piled  in 
huge  masses  at  each  end  of  the  siding  ; 
the  porters  rest  themselves  against  it, 
taking  off  their  caps,  and  wiping  their 
foreheads  with  handkerchiefs  of  many 
colours  and  uses.  It  is  the  stillness  be- 
fore the  last  charge  ;  beyond  the  outer- 
most luggage  an  arm  is  seen  waving, 
and  the  long  coil  of  carriages  begins  to 
twist  into  the  station. 

People  who  know  their  ancient  Muii^ 
town  well,  and  have  taken  part  in  this 
day  of  days,  will  remember  a  harbour 
of  refuge  beside  the  bookstall,  jir.  itected 
by  the  buffers  of  the  Highhuid  siding 
on  one  side  and  a  breakwater  ol  luggage 
on  the  other,  and  persons  within  this 
shelter  could  see  tfie  storming  of  the 
train  to  great  advantage.  Carmichael, 
the  young  Free  Kirk  minister  of  Dmm- 
tochty,  who  had  been  tasting  tlie  civili- 
sation of  Muirtown  overnight  and  was 
waiting  for  the  Dunleith  train,  leant 
against  the  back  of  the  bookstall,  watch- 
ing the  scene  with  frank,  boyish  inter- 
est. Rather  under  si.x  feet  in  height, 
he  passed  for  more,  because  he  stood  so 
straight  and  looked  so  slim,  for  his 
limbs  were  as  slender  as  a  woman's, 
while  women  (in  Muirtown)  had  envied 
his  hands  and  feet.  Rut  in  chest  mea>- 
ure  he  was  only  two  inches  behind  Saun- 
ders Baxter,  the  grieve  of  Drumbheugh, 
who  was  the  standard  of  manhood  hv 
whom  all  others  were  tried  and  (mostly) 
condemned  in  Drumtochty.  Chancing 
to  come  upon  Saunders  putting  the 
stone  one  day  with  the  bothy  lads,  Car- 
michael had  taken  his  turn,  with  the  re- 
sult that  his  stone  lay  foremost  in  the 
final  heat  by  an  inch  exactly.  MacLure 
saw  them  kneeling  together  to  measure, 
the  Free  Kirk  minister  and  the  plough- 


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39* 


men  all  in  a  bunch,  and  went  on  his 
•way  rejoicing  to  tell  the  Free  Kirk  folk 
tliHt  their  new  minister  was  a  man  of 
liis   hands.    His    hair   was   fair,  just 
touched  with  gold,  and  he  wore  it  rather 
long^,  so  that  in  the  excitement  of  preach- 
ing a  lock  sometimes  fi  11  down  on  liis 
forehead,  which  he  would  throw  back 
%vith  a  toss  of  his  head — a  gesture  Mrs. 
Macfa(l\  Lii,  our  critic,  thought  very  tak- 
ing.   His  dark  blue  eyes  used  to  enlarge 
with  passion  in  the  Sacrament  and  grow 
so  tender,  the  healthy  tan  disappeared 
and  If  ft  his  cheeks  so  white,  that  the 
mothers  were  terrified  lest  he  should 
die  early,  and  sent  offerings  of  cream 
on  Monday  morning.    For  though  his 
name  was  Carmichael,  he  had  Celtic 
blood  in  him,  and  was  full  of  all  kinds 
of  emotion,  V)ut  mostly  those  that  were 
brave  and  pure  and  true.    He  had  done 
well  at  the  University,  and  was  inclined 
to  be  philosophical,  for  he  knew  little 
of  himself  and  nothinc:  of  the  world. 
There  were  times  wlien  he  allowed  him- 
self to  be  supercilious  and  sarcastic ; 
but  it  was  not  for  an  occasional  jinc^le 
of  cleverness  the  people  loved  him,  or, 
for  that  matter,  any  other  man.    It  was 
his  humanity  that  won  their  hearts,  and 
this  he  had  partly  from  his  mother, 
partly  from  his  training.    Through  a 
kind  providence  and  his  mother's  coun< 
tr)'ness,  he  had  been  broucfht  up  among 
animals — birds,  mice,  dormice,  guinea- 
pigs,  rabbits,  dogs,  cattle,  horses,  till 
he  knew  all  their  ways,  and  loved  Gotl's 
creatures  as  did  St.  Francis  d'Assisi,  to 
whom  every  creature  of  God  was  dear, 
from  Sister  Sw.illow  to  Brother  Wolf. 
So  he  learned,  as  he  grew  older,  to  love 
men  and  women  and  little  chiUlren,  even 
although  they  might  be  ugly,  or  stupid, 
or  bad-tempered,  or  even  wicked,  and 
this  sympathy  cleansed  away  many  a 
little  fault  of  pride  and  self-conceit  and 
impatience  and  hot  temper,  and  in  the 
end  of  the  days  made  a  man  of  John 
Carmichael.    The  dumb  animals  had 
an  instinct  about  this  young  fellow,  and 
would  make  overtures  to  him  that  were 
a  certificate  for  any  situation  requiring 
character.      Horses  by   the  wayside 
neighed  at  his  approach,  and  stretched 
out  their  velvet  muzzles  to  be  stroked. 
Dogs  insisted  upon  sitting  on  his  knees, 
unless  quite  prevented  l)y  their  size,  and 
then  they  put  their  paws  on  his  chest. 
Hillocks  was  utterly  scandalised  by  his 
collie's  familiarity  with  the  minister, 


and  brought  him  to  his  senses  by  the 
application  of  a  boot,  but  Carmichael 
waived  all  apologies.  "  Rover  and  I 
made  friends  twodavs  :\<zo  on  the  road, 
and  my  clothes  will  laKe  no  injury." 
And  indeed  they  could  not,  for  Gar- 
ni iihael,  except  on  Sundays  and  at  fu- 
nerals, wore  a  soft  hat  and  suit  of 
threadbare  tweeds,  on  which  a  micro- 
scopist  could  have  found  traces  of  a 
peat  bog,  moss  off  dykes,  the  scale  of  a 
trout,  and  a  tiny  bit  of  heather. 

His  usual  fortune  befell  him  that  day 
in  Mturtown  Station,  f  >r  two  retrievers, 
worming  their  way  through  the  lug- 
gage, reached  him,  and  made  known 
their  wants. 

'*  Thirsty  ?  I  believe  you.  All  the 
way  from  England,  and  heat  enough  to 
roast  you  alive.  I've  got  no  dish,  else 
I'd  soon  get  water. 

'*  Inverness  ?  Poor  chaps,  that's  too 
far  to  go  with  your  tongues  like  a  lime- 
kiln. Down,  good  dogs;  I'll  be  back 
in  a  minute." 

You  can  have  no  idea,  unless  you 
have  tried  it.  how  much  water  a  soft 
clerical  hat  can  hold — if  you  turn  up  the 
edges  and  bash  down  the  inside  with 
your  fist,  and  fill  the  space  up  to  the 
brim.  Hut  it  is  difhcult  to  convey  such 
a  vessel  with  undiminished  content 
through  a  crowd,  and  altogether  im- 
possible to  lift  one's  eyes.  Carmichael 
was  therefore  quite  unconscious  that 
two  new-comers  to  the  shelter  were 
watchinq;  him  with  keen  delitjht  a<;  he 
came  in  bareheaded.  Hushed,  trium- 
phant— amid  howls  of  welcome — and 
knelt  down  to  hold  the  cup  till — drink- 
ing time  about  in  strict  honour — the  re- 
trievers had  reached  the  maker's  name. 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  like  a  bis- 
cuit said  a  clear,  sweet,  low  voice, 
with  an  accent  of  pride  and  just  a  fla- 
vour of  amusement  in  its  tone.  Car- 
michael rose  in  much  embarrassment, 
and  was  quite  confounded. 

They  were  standing  together — ^father 
and  daughter,  evidently — and  there  was 
no  manner  of  doubt  about  him.  A 
Sparc  man,  without  an  ounce  of  super- 
fluous flesh,  straight  as  a  rod,  and  hav- 
ing an  air  of  command,  with  keen  grey 
eyes,  close-cropped  hair  turning  white, 
a  clean-shaven  face  except  where  a 
heavy  moustache  covered  a  firm-set 
mouth — one  recognised  in  him  a  retired 
arrov  man  of  rank,  a  colonel  at  least,  it 
might  be  a  general ;  and  the  bronze  on 


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39* 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


his  face  suggested  long  Indian  service. 
But  he  tnij^t  have  been  dressed  in  Rob 

Roy  laitan,  cr  been  a  naval  officer  in 
full  uniform,  for  all  Carinichael  knew. 
A  hundred  thousand  faces  pass  before 
your  eyes  and  are  forgotten,  mere  physi- 
cal impressions  ;  you  see  one,  atui  it  is 
in  yuui  heart  for  ever,  as  you  sau  it  the 
first  time.  Wavy  black  hair,  a  low, 
straijjht  forehead,  hazel  eyes  with  lontj^ 
eyelashes,  a  perfectly-shaped  Grecian 
nose,  a  strong  mouth,  whose  upper  Hp 
a  curve  of  softness,  a  clear-cut  chin 
with  one  dimple,  small  ears  set  high  in 
the  head,  and  a  rich  creamy  complexion 
— that  was  what  flashed  upon  Car* 
micliacl  as  he  tiirned  from  the  retrievers. 
He  was  a  man  so  uaubservant  of  women 
that  he  could  not  have  described  a  worn* 
an's  dress  to  save  his  life  or  any  other 
person's  ;  and  now  that  he  is  married — 
he  is  a  middle-aged  man  now  and  threat- 
ened with  stoutness — it  is  his  wife's  re- 
proach that  he  does  not  know  when  she 
wears  her  new  sjiring  bonnet  for  the 
first  time.  Yet  he  took  in  this  young 
woman's  (!re>s,  from  the  smart  hat, 
with  a  wiiile  bird's  wing  on  the  side, 
and  the  close-fitting  tailor-made  jacket, 
to  the  small,  well-gloved  hand  in  doL(- 
skin,  the  grey  tweed  skirt,  and  one  shoe, 
with  a  tip  on  it,  that  peeped  out  below 
her  frock.  Critics  might  have  hinted 
that  her  shoulders  were  too  square,  and 
that  her  figure  wanted  somewhat  in 
softness  of  outline  ;  but  it  seemed  to 
Carmichael  that  he  had  never  seen  so 
winsome  or  high-bred  a  woman  ;  and 
SO  it  has  also  seemed  to  many  who  have 
jX<Tiic  farther  atleld  in  the  world  than 
tlie  young  minister  of  Drumtochty. 

Carmichael  was  at  that  age  when  a 
man  [)ii(les  himself  on  dressing  and 
thinking  as  he  pleases,  and  had  quite 
scandalised  a  Muirtown  elder — a  stout 
gentleman,  who  had  come  out  in  '43» 
and  could  with  difficulty  be  weaned 
from  Dr,  Chalmers — by  making  his  ap- 
pearance on  the  preceding  evening  in 
amazinp:  tweeds  and  a  grey  flannel  shirt. 
l:ic  explained  casually  that  for  a  fifteen- 
mile  walk  flannels  were  absolutely  nec- 
essary, and  that  he  was  rather  pleased 
to  tind  that  he  had  come  from  door  to 
door  in  four  hours  and  two  minutes  ex- 
actly. His  host  was  at  a  loss  for  words, 
becansp  he  was  comparing  this  unrr>ii- 
ventional  youth  with  the  fathers,  who 
wore  large  white  stocks  and  ambled 
along  at  about  two  and  a  half  miles  an 


hour,  clearing  their  throats  also  in  a 
very  impressive  way,  and  seasoning  the 
principles  of  the  Free  Kirk  with  snuf! 
of  an  excellent  fragrance.  It  was  hard 
even  for  the  most  generous  charity  to 
identify  the  Spirit  of  the  Disruption  in 
such  a  figure,  and  the  good  cl(it*r  crrewr 
so  proper  and  so  didactic  tliat  Car- 
michael went  from  bad  to  worse. 

"  Well,  you  would  find  the  '  <  "^"^rega- 
lion  in  excellent  order.  Tiie  rroies»ur 
was  a  most  painstaking  man,  though  re- 
tirliit;  in  disjiosliit >n,  and  his  s<-r:r;">ns 
were  thoroughly  solid  and  edifying. 
They  were  possibly  just  a  little  above 
the  heads  of  Drumtochty,  but  I  always 
enjoycti  Mr.  Cunninijham  myself."  r.^d- 
ding  his  liead  as  one  who  understood  all 
mysteries. 

"  Did  you  ever  happen  to  hear  the 
advice  Jamie  Soutar  gave  the  depuu- 
tion  from  Muirtown  when  they  came  up 
to  see  whether  CunuinL^Iiani  would  l>€ 
tit  ft)r  the  North  Kirk,  where  two  Bailies 
stand  at  the  plate  every  day,  and  the 
Provost  did  not  think  himself  good 
enough  to  be  an  elder  ?"  for  Carmichael 
was  full  of  wickedness  that  day,  and 
earning  a  judgment. 

I  lis  host  indicated  that  the  deputation 
had  given  in  a  very  full  and  satisfactory 
report — he  was,  in  fact,  on  the  Session 
of  the  North  himself — but  that  no  refer 
ence  had  been  made  to  Jamie. 

"Well,  you  must  know,"  and  Car- 
michael laid  himself  out  for  narration, 
"  the  pen])le  were  harassed  wit!i  raids 
from  the  Lowlands  during  Cunning- 
ham's time,  and  did  their  best  in  self- 
defence.  Spying  makes  men  cunnin::, 
and  it  was  wonderful  how  many  subter- 
fuges the  deputations  used  to  practise. 
They  would  walk  from  Kildrummie  as 
if  they  were  staying  in  the  district,  and 
one  retired  tradesman  talked  about  the 
crops  as  if  he  was  a  farmer,  but  it  was 
a  pity  that  he  didn't  know  the  difference 
between  the  cereals. 

**  *  Yon  man  that  wes  up  aifter  yir 
minister,  Elspeth,'  Hillocks  said  to  Mrs. 
Macfadyen,  '  hesna  hed  muckle  uioney 
spent  on  his  eddication.  "  A  graund 
field  o*  barley,"  he  says,  and  as  sure  as 
a'm  stannin'  here,  it  wes  the  haugh  field 
o'  aits.' 

**  *  He's  frae  Glagie,*  was  all  Elspeth 
answered,  '  and  by  next  Friday  we  'ill 
hae  his  name  an'  kirk.  He  said  he  wes 
up  for  a  walk  an'  juist  dropped  in,  the 
wratch,'   Some  drove  from  Muirtown, 


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393 


giving  out  that  they  were  English  tour- 
ists, speaking  with  a  fine  East  Coast  ac- 
cent, and  were  rebuked  by  Lachlan 
Campbell  for  breaking  tlic  Sabbath, 
Your  men  put  up  their  trap  at  the  last 
farm  in  Netheraird — ^which  always  has 
grudged  Drumtochty  its  ministers  and 
borne  their  removal  with  resignation — 
and  came  up  in  pairs,  who  pretended 
they  did  not  know  one  another. 

"  Jamie  was  hearing  the  Professor's 
last  lecture  on  Justification,  and  our 
people  asked  him  to  take  charge  of  the 
strangers.  He  fntmd  out  the  town 
from  their  hats,  and  escorted  them  to 
the  boundaries  of  the  parish,  assisting 
thrir  confidences  till  one  of  your  men  — 
X  think  it  was  the  Provost — admitted 
that  it  had  taken  them  all  their  time  to 
follow  the  sermon. 

'*  *  A'm  astonished  at  ye,"  said  Jamie, 
for  the  Netheraird  man  let  it  out  ;  '  yon 
wes  a  sermon  for  young  fouk,  juist  milk, 
ye  ken,  tae  the  ordin.u'  discoorses 
Surely,'  as  if  the  thought  had  just  struck 
him, '  ye  werena  thtnkin*  o*  callin'  Mais- 
ter  Cunnincrhani  tae  Muirtown. 

'*  *  Edinbuorgh,  noo  ;  that  micht  dae 
gin  the  feck  o  the  members  be  profes- 
sors, but  Muirtown  wud  be  clean  havers. 
There's  times  when  the  Drumtochty 
fouk  tliemsels  canna  understand  the 
cratur,  he's  that  deep.  As  for  Muir- 
town * — here  Jamie  allowed  himself  a 
brief  rest  of  enjoyment ;  '  but  ye've  hed 
a  fine  drive,  tae  sae  naethin*  o'  the 
traivcl.'  " 

Then,  having  begun,  Carmichael  re- 
tailed so  many  of  Jamie's  most  wicked 
sayings,  and  SO  exalted  the  Glen  as  a 
place  "  where  you  can  go  up  one  side 
and  down  the  other  with  your  dog.s, 
and  every  second  man  you  meet  will 
give  you  somethinsr^  to  remember,"  that 
the  city  dignitary  doubled  afterwards 
to  his  wife  "  whether  this  young  man 
was  .  .  .  quite  what  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  in  a  Free  Church  minis- 
ter." Carmichael  ought  to  have  had 
repentances  for  shocking  a  worthy  man, 
btit  instead  thereof  laughed  in  his  room 
and  slept  soundly,  not  knowing  liiai  he 
would  be  humbled  in  the  dust  by  mid- 
day to  morrow. 

It  seemed  to  him  on  the  platform  as  if 
an  hour  passed  while  he,  who  had  played 
a  city  father,  stood,  doihed  with  shame, 
before  this  commanding  young  woman. 
Had  she  ever  looked  upon  a  more  ab- 
ject wretch?  and  Carmichael  photo- 


graphed himself  with  merciless  accu- 
racy, from  his  hair  that  he  had  not 
thrown  back  to  an  impress  of  dust 
which  one  knee  had  taken  from  the 
platform,  and  he  registered  a  resolution 
that  he  would  never  be  again  boastfully 
indifferent  to  the  loss  of  a  button  on  his 
coat.  She  stooped  and  fed  the  dogs 
who  did  her  homage,  and  he  marked 
that  her  profile  w^as  even  finer — more 
delicate,  more  perfect,  more  bewitching 
thau  her  front  face  ;  but  he  still  stood 
holding  his  shapeless  hat  in  his  hand, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  had  no 
words  to  say. 

*'  They  are  very  polite  dogs,**  and 
Miss  Carnegie  gave  Carmichael  one 
more  chance  ;  *'  they  make  as  much  of 
a  biscuit  as  if  it  were  a  feast ;  but  I  do 
think  dogs  have  such  excellent  manners, 
thev  are  always  so  un-self-ronsrious. " 

'*  I  wish  1  were  a  do^^. "  said  Car- 
michael, with  much  solemnity,  and  after- 
\v arris  was  filled  with  thankfulness  tliat 
tiie  baggage  behind  gave  way,  and  that 
an  exasperated  porter  was  able  to  ex- 
press his  mind  freely. 

"  Dinna  try  tae  lift  that  box  for  ony 
sake,  man.  Sail,  yc're  no  feared,*'  as 
Carmichael,  thirsting  for  action,  swung 
it  up  tinaidcd  ;  and  then,  catchinv^  siijht 
of  the  wisp  of  white,  "'  A'  didna  see  ye 
were  a  minister,  an*  the  word  cam  oot 
sudden." 

"  You  would  find  it  a  help  to  say 
Northumberland,  Cumberland,  Wes^ 

moreland,  and  Durliam,"  and  with  a 
smile  to  Carmichael,  still  bare-headed 
and  now  redder  than  ever.  Miss  Car- 
negie went  along  the  platform  to  see 
thf  llielant  train  de|>->rt  It  was  worth 
waiting  for  the  two  n.uiules"  scrinnuage, 
and  to  hear  the  great  man  say,  as  he 
took  off  his  rap  with  deliberation  and 
wiped  his  brow,  "  That's  anither  year 
ower ;  some  o*  you  lads  see  tae  that 
Duideith  train."  There  was  a  day 
when  Carmichael  would  have  enjoyed 
the  scene  to  the  full,  but  now  he  had 
eyes  for  nothing  but  that  tall,  slim  fig- 
ure and  the  white  bird's  winiif. 

When  they  disappeared  into  the  Dun- 
leith  train,  Carmichael  had  a  wild  idea 
of  entering  the  same  compartment,  and 
in  the  end  had  to  be  pushed  into  the 
last  second  by  the  guard,  who  knew 

mo  "  <-f  Ills  regular  people  and  every 
one  of  the  Drumtochty  men.  He  was 
so  much  engaged  with  his  own  thoughts 
that  he  gave  two  English  tourists  to 


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394 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


understand  that  Lord  Kilspindie's  cas- 
tle, standing  amid  its  woods  on  the 
bank  of  the  Tay,  was  a  recently  erected 
dye  work,  and  that  as  the  train  turned 
oii  the  Norili  trunk  line  they  migjit  at 
any  moment  enter  the  pass  of  Killle- 
crankie. 

CHAPTER  II. 

PIACK. 

^  HE  last 
stage  now, 
Kit ;  in  less 
than  two 
hours  we 
'ill  see 
Toe  h  ty 
wood  s . 
The      V  e  r  )■ 
thought  makes 
me  a  boy  again, 
and  it  seems 
yesterday  that 
I  kissed  y  o  u  r 
mother  on  the 
door-stepof  the 
old  lodge  and 
went  off  to  the 
Crimean  war. 
••That's 

Muirtow-n  Castle  over  there  in  the 
wood — a  grand  place  in  its  way,  but 
nothing  to  our  home,  lassie.  Kilspin- 
die— he  was  Viscount  Hay  then — 
joined  me  at  Muirtown,  and  we  fought 
through  the  weary  winter.  He  left  the 
army  after  the  war,  with  lots  of  honour. 
A  good  fellow  was  Hay,  both  in  the 
trenches  and  the  mess-room. 

"  I've  never  seen  him  since,  and  I 
daresay  he's  forgotten  a  battered  old 
Indian.  Besides,  he's  the  big  swell  in 
this  district,  and  I'm  only  a  poor  Hielant 
laird,  with  a  wood  and  a  tumble-down 
house  and  a  couple  of  farms." 

"  You  are  also  a  shameless  hypocrite 
and  deceiver,  for  you  believe  that  the 
Camegies  are  as  old  as  the  Hays,  and 
you  know  that,  though  you  have  only 
two  farms,  you  have  twelve  medals  and 
seven  wounds.  What  does  money  mat- 
ter? it  simply  makes  people  vulgar." 

"  Nonsense,  lassie  ;  if  a  Carnegie  runs 
down  money,  it's  because  he  has  got 
none  and  wishes  he  had.  If  you  and  I 
had  only  had  a  few  luindrt-ds  a  year 
over  the  pay  to  rattle  in  our  pockets, 
we  should  have  lots  of  little  pleasures, 


and  you  might  have  lived  in  England, 
with  all  sorts  of  variety  and  comfort, 
instead  of  wandering  about  India  with 
a  gang  of  stupid  old  chaps  who  liave 
been  so  busy  fighting  that  they  never 
had  time  to  read  a  book." 

"You  mean  like  yourself,  dad,  and 
V.  C.  and  Colonel  Kinloch  ?  VV'here 
could  a  girl  have  found  finer  company 
than  with  my  Knights  of  Kiiit;  Arthur? 
And  do  you  dare  to  insinuate  that  I 
could  have  been  content  away  from  the 
regiment,  that  made  mc  their  daughter 
after  mother  died,  and  the  army  ? 

"  Pleasure  !"  and  Kate*s  cheek  flush- 
ed. "  I've  had  it  since  I  was  a  little  tot 
and  could  remember  anything — the  bu- 
gh  s  sounding  reveille  in  the  clear  air, 
and  the  sergeants  drilling  the  new  drafts 
in  the  morning,  and  the  regiment  com- 
ing out  with  the  band  before  and  you 
at  its  head,  and  hearing  '  God  save  the 
Utiecn  '  at  a  review,  and  seeing  the  com- 
panics  passing  like  one  man  before  the 
General. 

"  Don't  you  think  that's  better  than 
tea-drinking,  and  gossiping,  and  sew- 
ing meetings,  and  going  for  walks  in 
some  stupid  little  hole  of  a  country 
town  ?  Oh,  vou  wicked,  aggravating 
dad.  Now,  what  more  will  money  do  ?^ 

"  Well,"  said  the  General,  with  much 
gravity,  "  if  you  were  even  a  moderate 
heiress  there  is  no  saying  but  that  we 
might  pick  up  a  presentable  husband 
for  you  among  the  lairds.  As  it  is,  I 
fancy  a  country  minister  is  all  you  could 
exjiect. 

"  Don't  .  .  .  my  ears  will  come  off 
some  day  ;  one  was  loosened  by  a  cut 
in  the  Mutiny.  No,  I'll  never  do  the 
like  again.  But  some  day  you  will 
marry,  all  the  same,"  and  Kate's  father 
rubbed  his  ears. 

"  No,  I'm  not  going  to  leave  you,  for 
nobody  else  could  ever  make  a  curry  to 
please ;  and  if  I  do,  it  will  not  be  a  Scotch 
minister — horrid,  bigoted  wretches.  V.C. 
says.  Am  I  like  a  minister's  wife,  to 
address  mothers'  meetings  and  write 
out  sermons:*  P.y  tlie  way,  is  there  a 
kirk  at  Drumtochty,  or  will  you  read 
prayers  to  Janet  and  Donald  and  me  ?" 

'*  When  I  was  a  lad  there  was  just  one 
minister  in  Drumtochty,  Dr.  Davidson, 
a  splendid  specimen  of  the  old  school, 
who,  on  great  occasions,  wore  gaiters 
and  a  frill  with  a  diamond  in  the  cen- 
tre ;  he  carried  a  gold-headed  stick,  and 
took  snuff  out  of  a  presentation  boau 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


395 


'*  His  son  Sandie  was  my  age  to  a 

year,  and  many  a  ploy  we  had  together  ; 
there  was  the  jackdaw's  nest  in  the  ivv 
on  the  old  tower  we  harried  together, 
and  the  General  could  oidy  indicate  the 
delightful  risk  of  the  exploit.     **  My 
father  and  the  Doctor  were  pacing  the 
avenue  at  the  time,  and  caught  sight  of 
us  against  the  sky.    '  It's  your  rascal 
and  mine,  Laird,'  we  heard  the  minister 
say,  and  they  waited  till  we  got  down, 
and  then  cacli  did  his  duty  by  his  own 
for  trying  to  break  his  neck  ;  but  they 
were  secretly  proud  of  the  exploit, 
for  I  caught  my  fatlicr  showing  old 
Lord  Kilspindie  the  spot,  and  next 
time  Hay  was  up  he  tried  to  reach 
the  place,  and  stuck  where  the  wall 
hangs  over.    I'll  point  out  the  hole 
this  evening  ;  you  can  sec  it  from 
theother  sideof  theden  quite  plain. 

"  Sandie  went  to  tlie  church— 
I  wish  every  parson  were  as  straight 
— and  Kilspindie  appointed  him  to 
succeed  the  old  gentleman,  and 
when  1  saw  him 
in  his  study  last  .  . 

month,  it  seem- 
ed as  if  his  fa- 
ther stood  be- 
fore you, except 
the  breeches 
and  the  frill, 
but  Sandie  has 
a  marvcllows 
Stock  ;  what 
havers  I'm 
d  e  i  V  i  n  '  you 
with,  lassie.  * 

••Tell  me 
about  Sandie 
this  minute — 
did  he  remem- 
ber the  raiding 
of  the  jack' 
daws  ?'* 

**  He  did,"  cried  the  General  in  great 
spirits  ;  "  he  just  looked  at  me  for  an 
instant — no  one  knew  of  my  visit — and 
then  he  gripped  my  hands,  and  do  you 
know,  Kit,  he  was  .  .  .  well,  and  there 
was  a  lump  in  my  throat  too  :  it  would 
be  about  forty  years,  for  one  reason  and 
another,  since  we  met." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  the  very  words, 
dad,"  and  Kate  held  up  her  linger  in 
command. 

"  '  Jack,  old  man,  is  this  really  you  ?  * 
— he  held  me  at  arm's  length — *  man, 
div  ye  mind  the  jackdaw's  nest  ? '  '* 


'  MAMY  A  PLOY  WE  HAD  TOGETHBlt. 


*'  Did  he  ?  And  he's  to  be  our  padre. 
I  know  I'll  love  him  at  once.  Go  on, 
everything,  for  you've  never  told  me 
anything  about  Drumtochty." 

"  We  had  a  glorious  time  going  over 
old  times.  We  fished  up  every  trout 
again,  and  we  shot  our  first  day  on  the 
moor  again  with  Peter  Stewart,  Kil- 
spindie's  head  keeper,  as  fine  an  old 
Highlander  as  ever  lived.  Stewart  said 
in  the  evening,  '  You're  a  pair  of  prave 
boys,  as  becometh  yotir  fathers'  sons,* 
and  Sandie  gave  him  two  and  fourpence 

he  had  scraped 
for  a  tip,  but  I 
had  only  one 
and  eleven- 
pence  —  we 
were  both  kept 
bare.  But  he 
knew  better 
than  to  refuse 
our  otfe  rings, 
though  he 
never  saw  less 
than  gold  or 
notes  from  the 
men  that  shot 
at  the  lodge, 
and  Sandie  re- 
membered how 
he  touched  his 
Highland  bonnet  and 
sail,  *I  will  be  much 
obliged  to  you  both  ;  and 
you  will  be  coming  to  the 
moor  another  day,  for  I 
hef  his  lordship's  orders.* 
"  Boys  are  queer  ani- 
mals, lassie;  w^e  were 
prouder  that  Peter  ac- 
cepted our  poor  little  tip 
than  about  the  muirfowl 
we  shot,  though  I  had 
three  brace  and  Sandie 
four.  Highlanders  are  all 
gentlemen  by  birth,  and  be  sure  of  this. 
Kit,  it's  only  that  breed  which  can  man- 
age boys  and  soldiers.  But  where  am  I 
now  ?" 

**  With  Sandie — I  beg  his  reverence's 
pardon — with  the  Rev.  the  padre  of 
Drumtochty,"  and  Kate  went  over  and 
sat  down  faleside  the  General  to  antici* 

pate  any  rebellion,  for  it  was  a  joy  to 
see  the  warrior  turning  into  a  boy  be- 
fore her  eyes.  *'Welir 

**  We  had  a  royal  dinner,  as  it  seemed 

to  me.  Sandie  has  a  couple  of  servants, 
man  and  wife,  who  rule  him  with  a  rod 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


of  iron,  but  I  would  fortjive  that  for  the 
cooking  and  the  luyally.  After  dinner 
he  disappeared  with  a  look  of  mystery, 
and  came  hai  k  with  a  cohwehhcfl  liotlle 
of  the  old  shape,  short  and  bunchy, 
which  he  carried  as  if  it  were  a  baby. 

"•Just  two  bottles  of  my  f.ither's 
port  left ;  we  'ill  have  one  to-day  to 
welcome  you  back,  and  we  'ill  keep  the 
other  to  c<'lei)rate  y^iir  datis^hter's  mar- 
riage. '  He  had  one  sister,  younger  by 
ten  years,  and  her  death  nearly  broke 
his  heart.  It  struck  mc  fmm  something 
he  said  that  his  love  is  with  her ;  at  any 
rate,  he  has  never  married.  Sandie  has 
just  one  fault — he  would  not  touch  a 
cheroot  ;  but  he  snuffs  handsomely  out 
of  his  father's  box. 

"  Of  course,  I  can't  say  anything 
about  his  preaching,  but  it's  bound  to 
be  sensible  stuff." 

"Bother  the  sermons;  hc*S  an  old 
dear  him  self,  and  I  know  we  shall  lie 
great  friends.  We  'ill  liiri  together, 
and  you  will  not  have  one  word  to  say, 
so  make  up  your  mind  to  submit." 

"  We  shall  have  good  days  in  the  old 
place,  lassie ;  but  you  know  we  are 
poor,  and  must  live  quietly.  What  I 
have  planned  is  a  couple  of  handy  women 
or  so  in  the  house  with  Donald.  Janet 
is  going  to  live  at  the  gate  where  she 
was  brought  up,  but  she  will  look  after 
you  well,  and  we  '111  always  have  a  bed 
and  a  glass  of  wine  for  a  friend.  Then 
you  can  have  a  run  up  to  London  and 

fjei  your  things,  Kit,"  and  the  General 
OOked  wistfully  at  his  daughter,  as  one 
who  would  liave  niven  her  a  kingdom. 

"  Do  you  tiiiiik  your  girl  cares  so 
much  about  lu.xuries  and  dresses ^  Of 
course  T  like  to  look  well — ^fvery  woman 
does,  and  if  she  pretends  otherwise  she's 
a  hypocrite ;  but  money  just  serv^es  to 
make  some  women  hideous.  It  is 
enough  for  me  to  have  you  all  to  myself 
up  in  your  old  home,  and  to  see  you  en- 
joying the  rest  yon  have  earned.  We 
'ill  be  as  happy  as  two  lovers,  dad," 
and  Kate  threw  an  arm  round  her  fa« 
ther's  neck  and  kissed  him. 

"We  have  to  change  here,"  as  the 
train  began  to  slow,  "and  prepare  to 
see  the  most  remarkable  railway  in  the 
empire,  and  a  guard  to  correspond." 
And  then  it  came  upon  them,  the  first 
sight  that  made  a  Drumtochty  man's 
heart  wnrm,  and  assured  him  that  he 
was  nearing  home. 
An  engine  on  a  reduced  scale^  that 


had  once  spr^'cd  in  the  local  goods  de- 
|iartment  of  a  big  station,  and  tlicn,  hav- 
ing grown  old  and  asthmatic,  was  ttans> 

ferred  on  lialf-pay,  as  it  were,  to  the 
Kildrummie  branch,  where  it  puffed  be- 
tween the  junction  and  the  terminus 
half  a  dozen  times  a  day,  with  two  car- 
riages and  an  occasional  coal  truck. 
Times  there  were  when  wood  was  ex- 
ported from  Kildrummie,  and  then  the 
train  was  taken  in  detachments,  and  it 
was  a  pleasant  legend  that,  one  market 
day,  when  Drumtochty  was  ilr>\vn  in 
force,  the  engine  stuck,  and  Urums- 
heugh  invited  the  Glen  to  get  out  and 
push.  The  two  carriages  were  quite 
distinguished  in  construction,  and  had 
seen  better  days.  One  consisted  of  a 
single  hrst-class  compartment  in  the 
centre,  with  a  bulge  of  an  imposing  ap- 
pearance, supported  on  either  side  by 
two  see<jnds.  As  no  native  ever  trav- 
elled second,  one  compartment  had  been 
employed  as  a  reserve  to  the  luggage 
van,  so  that  Drumtochty  might  have  a 
convenient  place  of  deposit  for  calves, 
but  the  other  was  jealously  reserved  by 
Peter  Bruce  for  strangers  with  second- 
1  tickets,  that  liis  branch  might  not 
be  put  to  confusion.  The  other  car- 
riage was  three-fourths  third  class  and 
one-fourth  luggage,  and  did  the  real 
work  \  on  its  steps  Peter  stood  and  dis- 
pensed wisdom,  between  the  junction 
and  Kildrummie. 

But  neither  the  carriage  nor  the  en- 
gine could  have  made  history  without 
the  g^ard,  beside  whom  the  guards  of 
the  main  line — even  of  the  expresses 
that  ran  to  London — were  as  nothing — 
fribbles  and  weaklings.  For  the  guard 
of  the  Kildrummie  branch  was  abscdute 
ruler,  lording  over  man  and  beast  with- 
out appeal,  and  treating  the  Kildrum- 
mie station  master  as  a  federated  power. 
Peter  was  a  short  man  of  great  breadth, 
like  unto  the  cutting  of  an  oak-tree, 
with  a  penetrating  grey  eye,  an  immov- 
able countenance,  and  bushy  whiskers. 
It  was  understood  that  when  the  line 
was  opened,  and  the  directors  were 
about  to  fill  up  the  post  of  guard  from 
a  number  of  candidates  qualified  by 
long  experience  on  various  lines,  Peter, 
who  had  been  simply  wasting  his  lime 
driving  a  carrier's  cart,  came  in,  and 
sitting  down  Opposite  the  board — two 
lairds  and  a  farmer- — Iftoked  straight  be- 
fore him  without  making  any  applica- 
tion.  It  was  felt  by  all  in  an  instant 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


397 


that  only  one  course  was  o'pen,  in  the       At  the  sound  of  this  foreign  voice  with 
eternal  titness  of  things.     Experience    its  indecent  clamour,  I'eter  returned  and 
well  enough,  but  special  creation   took  up  his  position  opposite  the  speak* 

er,  while  the  staff  and  the  whole  body 
of  passengers — four  Kildrummie  and 
three  Drumtochty,  quite  sufficient  for 
the  rituation — waited  the  issue.  Not 
one  word  diil  Prtcr  drii^u  to  reply,  but 
he  fixed  the  irate  iruvcller  with  a  gaze 

so  searching,  so 
awful,  so  irresist- 
ible, that  the  poor 
man  fell  back  into 
his  seat  and  pre- 
tended to  look 
out  at  the  oppo- 
site window. 
After  a  pause  of 
thirty  seconds, 
I'eter  turned  to 
the  enffine-driver. 

*•  They're  a* 
here  noo,  an* 
there's  nae  use 
waitin'  langer ; 
ca*  awa*,  but  ye 
needna  distress 
the  engine." 

It  was  noticed 
that  the  fool- 
hardy traveller 
kept  the  full 
length    of  the 

i' unction  between 
limtelf  and  Peter 
till  the  Dunlcith 
train  came  in, 
while  his  very 
back  was  elo- 
(^uent  of  humilia- 
tion, and  Hillocks 
offered  his  snuff- 
box ostentatious- 
ly to  Peter,  which 
that  worthy  ac- 
cepted as  a  public 
tribute  of  admira- 
ti<»n. 

"  Look,  Kate, 
there  he  is  and 


was  better,  and  Peter  was  immediately 
appointed,  his  name  being  asked  by  the 
chairman  afterwards  as  a  formality. 
From  the  beginning  he  took  up  a  mas* 
terful  jiosition,  receiving  his  cargo  at 
the  junction  and  discharging  it  at  the 
Station  with  a 
power  that  even 
Drumtochty  did 
not  resist,  and  a 
knowledge  of  in- 
dividuals that 
was  almost  com- 
prehensive. It  is 
true  that,  boast- 
ing one  Friday 
eveninij  roncerU- 
ing  the  ' '  crood- 
.  ed  *  state  of  the 
trun,  he  admitted 
with  reluctance 
that  "there's  a 
stranger  in  the 
second  I  canna 
mak  oot."  but  it 
was  undersiDod 
that  he  solved  the 
problem  before 
the  man  got  his 
luggage  at  Kil- 
drummie. 

Perhaps  Peter's 
most  famous 
achievement  was 
his  demolition  of 
a  south  country 
bagman,  who  had 
made  himself  un- 
pleasant, and  the 
Story  was  much 
tasted  by  our 

fuard's  admirers, 
his  self-impor- 
tant and  vivacious 
gentleman,  seat- 
ed in  the  first,  was 
watching  Peter's 


rrrsft  was  iTAininio  m  ms  rAvoutrre  Arrrrvoi. 


leisurely  movements  on  the  Kildrummie  there  Peter  was,  standinginhisfavourite 
platform  with  much  impatience,  and  attitude,  his  legs  wide  apart  and  his 
lost  all  self-control  on  Peter  going  out-  thumbs  in  his  armholes,  superior,  ab- 
side  to  examine  the  road  for  any  distant .  stracted,  motionless  till  the  train  stop- 
passenger,  ped,  when  he  came  forward. 

"  Look  here,  guard,  this  train  ou^ht  "  Prood  tae  see  ye,  General,  coming 

to  have  left  five  minutes  ago,  and  I  give  back  at  laist,  an*  the  Miss  wi*  ye ;  it  Ml! 

you  notice  that  if  we  miss  our  connec-  no  be  the  blame  o'  thi"  fouk  up  bye 

tion  I'll  hold  your  company  responsi-  gin  ye  bena  happy.    Drumtochty  hes 

Ue."  an  idea  o*  itid ,  and  peety  the  maa 


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398 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


'at  tries  tae  drive  them,  but  they're 

OOUthy. 

"  This  wy,  an*  a'll  see  tac  yir  lug- 
gage," and  before  Peter  made  for  the 

Dunlcith  van  it  is  said  that  he  took  off 
his  cap  to  K.ite  ;  but  if  so,  this  was  the 
only  time  he  had  ever  shown  such  gal- 
lantry. 

Certainly  he  must  have  hern  flustered 
by  something,  for  he  did  not  notice  that 
Carmichael,  overcome  by  shyness  at  the 
sisjht  (if  the  Canirgics  in  the  first,  had 
hid  himself  in  the  &econd,  till  he  closed 
the  doors  ;  then  the  Carnegies  heard  it 
all. 

"  It's  I,  Peter,"  very  qui<'t!y  ;  "  your 
first  has  passengers  to-day,  and  .  .  . 
I  ll  just  sit  here." 

"  Conip  not  o'  that,"  afti-r  a  moment, 
during  which  Peter  had  simply  looked  ; 
then  Uie  hat  and  the  tweeds  came  stum- 
bling  into  the  first,  making  some  sort  o£ 
a  bow  and  muttering  an  apology. 

"AMI  tak'  yir  ticket,  Maister  Car- 
michael,"  with  severity.  "General," 
suddenly  relaxing,  "  thi*;  is  the  Froe 
Kirk  niinister  of  yir  ]Kiirisli,  an  a'ni 
jidgin*  he  'ill  no  try  tlic  st  cond  again." 

Carmichael  liftc<l  his  he. id  .ui  i  caui^ht 
Kate's  eye,  and  at  the  meeting  of  hu- 
mour they  laughed  aloud.  Whereupon' 
the  General  said,  "  My  fl:uit:;hter,  Miss 
Carnegie,"  and  they  became  su  friendly 
before  they  reach<Kl  Kildnimmie  that 
Carmichael  forgot  his  disgraceful  ap- 
pearancf,  and  when  the  General  offered 
him  a  liii  up,  simply  clutched  ai  the  op- 
portunity. 

The  trap  was  a  four-wheeled  dog-cart. 
Kate  drove,  with  her  father  by  her  side 
and  Carmichael  behind,  but  he  found  it 


necessary  %b  turn  round  to  g:tve  infer* 

mation  of  names  and  jilaccs.  and  he 
managed  that  he  could  catch  Kate's 
profile  half  the  time. 

When  he  got  down  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  by  Hillocks'  farm,  to  go  up  the  near 
road,  instead  tliereof  he  scrambled  along 
the  ridge,  and  looked  through  the  trees 
as  th<-  ( arriage  passed  below,  and  did 
not  escape. 

"  What's  he  glowerin'  at  doon  there  ?" 

Hillocks  enquired  of  Jamie  Sontar.  to 
whom  he  was  giving  some  dircciioos 
about  a  dyke,  and  Hillocks  made  a  re> 
connoissancc.  "  A'll  warrant  that's  the 
General  and  his  docfiter.  She's  a  weci- 
fauretl  lassie  an'  i>pcerily-look,in'. " 

"  It  cou  es  a',"  said  Jamie  to  himsrl: ; 
"  the  first  day  he  ever  saw  her  ;  but  it's 
aye  the  way,  aince  an'  ever,  or  .  .  . 
never." 

"  What's  the  Free  Kirk,  dad  ?"  when 
Carmichael  had  gone.  "Is  it  the  same 
as  the  Methodists  ?" 

"  No,  no,  quite  different.  I'm  not  up 
in  those  things,  but  I've  heard  it  \v.i«  a 
K>t  of  fellows  who  would  not  obey  the 
law  s,  and  so  they  left  and  made  a  kirk 
t'ur  tliemselves,  w  here  tlu  y  <lv>  wluttever 
they  like.  By  the  way,  that  was  the 
young  fellow  we  saw  giving  the  dogi 
water  at  Muirtown.  I  rather  like  him  ; 
but  why  did  he  look  «uch  a  fool,  and 
try  to  escape  us  at  the  junction  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  I  suppose 
because  he  is  a  .  .  .  toiili^h  boy.  .\nd 
now,  dad,  tor  the  Lodge  and  Tochiy 
woods." 

Ian  Madartn, 
{To  eoKtinMe4C% 


HAPPiNESa 

This  can  bring  it  to  me — 
The  farewell  sky  of  even  ; 

The  mystery  of  a  tree. 

Or  a  star  alone  in  1  leaven  ; 
The  thought  from  another  heart, 

Though  writ  on  a  page  it  be, 
That  is  of  my  thought  a  part — 

This  can  bring  it  to  me. 

Virginia  Woodward  Cloud. 


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1 


ALTTERARY  JOURNAL. 


LIVING  CRITICS 
III. — Lbsus  Stephen. 


When,  a  hundred  years  hence,  some 
one  s^ts  himself  to  write  the  history  of 
Ent^lish  critical  literature  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  he  will  probably  regard 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  as ''a  transition  fig- 
ure, and  see  in  his  work  a  l)ri(Iirc  si^in- 
ningthe  gulf  between  two  important  and 
sharply  differentiated  schools.  There 
were  certain  years  during  which  Lord 
Macaulay  and  Mr.  Walter  Pater  were 
contemporaries  ;  but  to  pass  from  the 
purely  literary  essays  of  the  former  to 
thcie  of  the  latter  is  like  passinj^  from 
one  uge  into  another.  It  sccnis  as  if 
something  of  the  nature  of  a  revolution 
were  neressary  to  arrotmt  for  (he  amaz- 
ing change  in  matter  and  manner,  in 
tone  and  atmosphere  ;  and  yet  the  stu- 
dent of  the  entire  literature  of  ilie  time 
sees  no  violent  cataclysm  of  portentous 
cleavage :  he  sees  nothing  but  a  series 
of  natural  and  orderly  stasres  of  devel- 
opment. One  of  these  stages  is  repre- 
sented in  a  most  delightful  and  interest- 
ing  fashion  liy  the  writer  whose  name 
Stands  at  the  head  of  this  article.  There 
is  no  doubt  that,  in  the  main,  Mr.  Leslie 
Stephen's  critical  work  has  more  in  com- 
mon with  the  Edinburgh  than  with  the 
Oxford  school.  It  is,  to  use  words 
which  are  in  some  danger  of  becoming 
terms  of  literary  slang,  "  judicial"  rath- 
er than  "  a;sthctic  ;"  its  conclusions  are 
based  rather  on  general  principle  than 
on  particular  sensibilities  or  prefer- 
ences ;  it  strives  after  impersimal  esti- 
mates rather  than  personal  ai>])rc(  i.i- 
tion<^.  Never! hele>s  there  is,  in  addition 
to  all  tliis,  a  constant  admission,  explicit 
or  implicit,  of  the  fact  that  even  the 
critic  cannot  jump  off  his  own  shadow, 
and  that,  though  he  must  appeal  to  the 
common  reason,  his  appeal  must  in  the 
nature  of  things  l)e  made  on  behalf  of 
some  individual  approval  or  disapproval 
which  it  is  his  business  to  justify.  Ma- 
caulay  made  it  a  charge  against  Southey 
that  what  he  considered  his  opinions 
were  iu  fact  merely  his  tastes.  If  I  un- 
derstand Mr.  Leslie  Stephen— and  mis- 
understanding of  so  lucid  a  wiiter  is  all 
but  impossible — he  would  say  ihat,  in 
matters  of  criticism  at  any  rate,  Southey 


was  right ;  that  a  man's  tastes  must  be- 
come his  opinions,  but  that  because 

opinion  5s  a  power,  a  factor  in  the 
world's  progress,  he  must  spare  no  pains 
to  assure  himself  that  the  taste  is  not  a 
mere  pers<inal  whim,  but  that  it  has  be- 
hind it  a  persuasive  justidcation. 

Thus,  in  the  opening  paragraph  of  his 
essay  on  Charlotte  Bronte,  Mr,  Stephen 
remarks  that  "  our  faith  in  an  author 
must,  in  the  first  instance,  be  the  prod- 
uct of  instinctive  sympathy  instead  of 
deliberate  reason.  It  may  be  propa- 
gated by  the  contagion  of  enthusiasm, 
and  preached  with  all  the  fervour  of 
proselytism.  But  when  we  are  seeking 
to  justify  our  emotions,  we  must  en- 
deavour to  get  for  the  time  into  the  po- 
sition of  an  Independent  spectator,  ap* 
plying  with  rigid  impartiality  such  meth- 
ods as  are  Mst  calculated  to  free  us 
from  the  impulse  of  personal  bias." 
That  such  a  critical  method  has  a  num- 
ber of  admirable  qualities  is  a  fact  too 
ol)vious  for  indication,  hut  the  qti.ilities 
have  their  inevitable  defects,  and  there 
is  something  in  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen's 
temperament  which  brings  them  into 
prominence.  He  is  so  much  afraid  of 
the  "  contagion  of  enthusiasm"  and  the 
"  fervour  of  proselytism"  presenting 
themselves  in  the  wroncr  place  that  it 
often  seems  as  if  he  (leiiberately  ex- 
cluded them  from  their  right  place. 
Emotional  fer\'onr  shonld  not  be  substi- 
tuted for  exact  statement  or  logical  ar- 
gument ;  but  the  one  is  necessarily  more 
telling,  the  other  more  persuasive,  when 
it  has  emotion  behind  it.  Enthusiasm 
should  never  outrun  reason^  but  it  may 
and  must  outrun  r(asr>ii!ii;^,  for  no  mere 
argument  can  justify  the  jiassionate  ad- 
miration of  any  masterpiece — say  the 
Confessions  of  an  English  Opium  Eater ,  or 
Keats's  lines  "  To  a  Grecian  Urn" — to 
any  person  by  whom  that  admiration  is 
unshared.  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen's  intel- 
lect is  a  trifle  over-dtiminant ;  he  forgets 
too  absolutely  w  hat  some  younger  crit- 
ics remember  too  exclusively,  that  what- 
ever intellectual  bravery  critii  ism  may 
arrogate  to  itself,  it  is,  in  the  last  anal- 
ysis, an  affair  of  tast^  of  sensibility. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


and  liiat  (though  the  saying  may  be 
pushed  to  unwise  applicfttioii^  Degusti' 
kui  non  est  ifisputandum. 

Mr.  Stephen's  suspicion  of  violent 
feeling  as  liable  to  be  overcbarged,  of 
strong  langaiage  as  liable  to  hv  exagger- 
ated, is  in  itself  so  natural  and  healtliy 
that  one  could  wish  it  made  itself  more 
manifest  in  contemporary  critical  liter- 
ature ;  but  his  maintenance  of  the  guard- 
ed attitude  is  a  little  too  persistent  He 
says  very  truly,  of  a  somewhat  hysteri- 
cal phrase  of  Kingslcy's,  that  it  *'  re- 
quires a  little  dilution  ;"  but  he  has 
such  a  horror  of  intellectual  intoxication 
that  he  keeps  the  diluting  water-bottle 
always  willuu  reach,  and  docs  not  fail 
to  use  it.  Many  people,  I  daresay,  feel 
that  Mr.  Stephen's  work  would  be  not 
merely  more  telling,  but  more  helpful, 
if  every  now  and  then  he  would  let  him- 
self go.  Partly  in  virtue  of  this  very 
moderation  —  this  instinct  for  sobriety 
and  balance  of  judgment — Mr.  Stephen 
is  a  more  trustworthy  critic  than  Ma- 
caulay  ;  but  he  does  not  assist  readers  in 
the  same  way  that  Macau  lay  w^as  wont 
to  assist  them. 

"  Homer  \%  not  more  decidedly  ihc  first  ot 
heroic  poets,  Shakespeare  is  not  mon;  decidedly 
the  first  of  dr.iiiiatisis,  Dcinosthencs  is  not  more 
decidedly  the  first  of  orutors  than  Boswell  is  the 
Srat  of  biographers."  "  Though  there  were  many 
ckverjiMm  io  England  daring  the  Utter  h«Jf  of 
the  Kvcnteenth  cenniry,  there  were  00I7  two 
minds  which  possessed  the  imaginative  faculty  in 
a  very  eminent  degree.  One  o(  these  minds  pro- 
duced the  PoTMUte  LoU,  (be  other  the  Pitgnm*t 
Progress," 

No  reader  of  these  sentences  can  feci 
any  uncertainty  about  Macaulay's  view 
of  the  place  in  literature  occujiied  liy 
Boswell's  biography  and  Bunyan  s  al- 
legory ;  but  it  is  by  no  means  so  easy 
to  be  sure  of  Mr.  Stephen's  view  of 
such  other  notable  book  as  Jiobitison 
Crusoe^  Clarissa^  or  the  Religio  Media. 
Every  one  renieml)crs  T-amb's  delightful 
Story  of  the  worthy  citizen  who  asked 
Wordsworth  if  he  did  not  think  that 
Milton  was  a  great  man.  If  we  ask  Mr. 
Leslie  Stephen  whether  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  Sterne,  and  Coleridge  were 
great  men,  he  at  once  devotes  to  them  a 
number  of  shrewd,  instructive,  and  illu- 
minating remarks,  and  having  thus  pro- 
vided us  with  materials  for  a  reply, 
leaves  ns  to  formulate  it  for  ourselves. 

Now  that  is,  of  course,  a  metljod  tan- 
talising to  the  youthful  student,  who 
wishes  to  be  told  without  any  ambiguity 


what  he  is  to  think  of  this  or  that  noble 
writer.  Criticism,  however,  is  not  writ- 
ten exclusively  for  youths  in  search  of  a 
literary  creed,  any  more  than  fiction  is 
produced  solely  for  the  consumption  of 
the  famous  or  notorious  young  person  ; 
and  I  think  there  are  few  mature  lovers 
of  letters  who  do  not  return  again  and 
again  to  the  work  of  Mr.  Leslie  Ste(ihen 
with  a  sense  of  refreshment  and  stimu- 
lation such  as  they  derive  from  the  ut- 
I e ranees  of  hazily  any  contemporary 
critic.  He  is,  to  use  a  good  old-fash- 
ioned word,  honoured  by  Ljamb's  em- 
pIo\  nu  iit  of  it,  so  satisfyingly  matter- 
ful.  He  will  not  write  a  single  sentence 
unless  he  has  not  merely  something  to 
say  but  something  which  he  is  impelled 
to  say  ;  witness  his  declaration  with  re- 
gard to  the  poetry  of  Shelley — "  I  feel 
no  vocation  to  add  to  the  mass  of  im- 
perfectly ap])reciative  disquisition."  A 
man  of  letters  who  has  the  courage  to 
confess  that  he  has  nothing  of  value  to 
add  to  Shelley  criticism  may  be  trusted 
not  to  lapse  into  chatter ;  we  may  be 
quite  sure  that  whatever  be  the  theme, 
his  treatment  of  it  is  a  response  tO  SOme 
unmistakably  audible  call. 

As  a  rule  the  men  in  whose  writings 
this  note  of  inipidsion  is  most  manifest 
are  lacking  in  the  matter  of  catholicity. 
In  one  set  of  ideas,  one  class  of  minds, 
they  are  genuinely  and  deeply  interest- 
ed, and  their  interest  in  a  favottrite 
theme  gives  to  their  utterance  wurimh, 
vigour,  and  arrestingness  ;  but  on  other 
themes  they  write  flatly  or  not  at  all. 
There  is  nothing  of  this  flatucij^  in  the 
writing  of  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen.  He  has 
no  raptitres  \  he  could  not,  and  perhaps 
would  not  if  he  could,  write  of  any  one 
as  Mr.  Swinburne  wiites  of  Victor  Hugo 
and  Charlotte  Bronte ;  but  there  is 
something  almost  as  marvellous  as  it  is 
delightful  in  the  range  of  his  discrimi- 
nating appreciation.  T  de>  net  shir  the 
epithet,  for  the  masterpiece  in  the  pres- 
ence of  which  Mr.  Stephen  would  not 
discriminate  has  yet  to  be  created  ;  but 
the  appreciation,  with  all  its  refinements, 
is  really  genuine  ;  and  admirers  of  such 
diverse  writers  as  Defoe,  Massinger, 
Crahbo,  Hawthorne,  and  Lord  Beacons* 
field  will  probably  agree  that  he  has 
said  things  ui  these  favovHtes  which 
they  would  liave  been  mui^  pleased  to 
say  themselves. 

There  is  a  certain  grip  in  Mr.  Ste- 
phen's work,  due  to  the  fact  that  he  Is 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


'as  much  interested  in  life  as  in  litcra- 
tiire  ;  or  perhaps  it  w  mhM  be  truer  to 
say  he  is  interested  in  iiicruture  mainly 
because  it  is  an  outcome  of  life.  There 
are  critics  who  seem  to  consider  it  n  fine 
thing  to  write  about  a  book  as  if  it  had 
no  personality  behind  it,  but  were  a  sort 
()f  litciaiy  Mclchi/cflfk  that  liad  sprung 
into  being  without  any  preliminary  proc- 
ess of  generation.  This  is  what  is  called 
disinterested"  criticism  ;  it  is  really 
criticism  that  is  truncated,  impover- 
ished, devitalised.  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen 
Is  content  to  be  a  man  first,  and  a  lit- 
erary connoisseur  afterwards  ;  and 
whether  it  be  a  merit  or  a  defect  of  his 
critical  estimates,  it  is  their  unfailing 
character  to  regard  literature  as  pre- 
eminently an  expression.  This  is  a  point 
upon  which  I  should  speak  without  hesi- 
tation even  had  I  no  guide  but  more  or 
less  vague  inferential  evidence  ;  but 
while  writing  the  foregoing  sentences 
accident  has  Ted  me  to  an  explicit  state^ 
ment  which  renders  doubt  impossible. 
At  the  opening  of  his  essay  on  "  Dr. 
Johnson's  Writings,"  Mr.  Stephen  sets 
himself  to  combat  the  opinion  enter- 
tained by  Macaulay  that  the  qualities 
of  a  man's  written  work  provide  no 
trustworthy  indication  of  the  quality  of 
the  man  himself.  Mr.  Stephen  admits 
that  there  may  be  obvious  differences 
which  impress  the  imagination^'^that 
the  man  u  lio  "  u  i  ites  like  an  angel" 
may  at  times  be  heard  to  "  talk  like 
poor  Poll  but  after  contending  that 
even  then  we  may  "  detect  the  essential 
identity  under  superficial  differences" 
he  utters  the  emphatic  manifesto  :  '*  The 
whole  art  of  criticism  consists  in  learn- 
ing to  know  the  liurnaii  being  who  is 
partially  revealed  to  us  in  his  spoken  or 
written  words."  There  is  no  difficulty 
in  placing  tlie  author  of  sncli  a  definition. 

Mr.  Leslie  Stephen's  style  is  the  style 
which  his  substance  makes  inevitable. 


The  manner  of  the  seer  or  the  rhetori- 
cian would  indeetl  be  an  ill-fitting  ves- 
ture fur  the  ihouglit  of  a  shrewd,  Im- 
morous  observer  who  knows  how  to  ad> 
mire  wisely,  how  to  condemn  sanely, 
but  who,  neither  in  eulogy  nor  condem- 
nation, will  allow  himself  the  perilous 
lu.xury  of  excitement.  Wordsworth 
once  in  his  life  took  too  much  to  drink, 
and  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  evidently  thinly 
that  it  was  a  good  thing  for  him.  Per- 
haps if  this  distinguished  critic  would 
allow  himself  a  single  bout  of  literary 
intoxication— if  he  would  only  indulg^e 
in  just  one  blatant  extravagance — we 
might  feel  him  nearer  and  dearer  than 
beK>re.    In  a  mad  world  there  is  a  cer- 

tain  high  degree  of  sanity  which  is  a 
trifle  irritating.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  certain  kinds  of  insanity  which 
are  more  irritating  still.  It  may  be  a 
sign  that  I  am  rather  a  poor  creature, 
but  I  am  more  than  content  to  take  Mr. 
Leslie  Stephen  as  I  find  him.  I  once 
wrote  an  essay  in  which  I  expressed  my 
appreciation  of  what  I  called  "  the 
poetry  of  common  sense/*  and  a  lady 
who  is  herself  a  most  charming  poet, 
professed  to  regard  it  as  an  elaborate 
j'eu  d'esprity  on  the  ground  that  poetry 
and  common  sense  are  antipodal.  Of 
course  she  spoke  with  autiioiity,  and 
she  may  have  been  right ;  I  cannot  tell. 
But  if  common  sense  be  expelled  from 
poetry.  I  linpe  the  poor  outcast  may  find 
a  home  with  criticism,  and  so  long  as 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  lives  and  writes,  this 
shelter  at  least  is  assured  to  her.  The 
common  sense — or  what  is  called  such — 
of  the  vulgar  is  not  a  thing  of  price,  and 
I  give  it  u|>  tsi  the  tormentors  ;  but  the 
native  shrewdness  which  is  reinforced 
by  wide  knowledge  and  keen  humour  is 
a  treasure  indeed,  and  there  Is  no  page 
of  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen's  from  which  it 
is  absent. 

James  Askcn/i  N&Me. 


LEOPOLD  SACHER-MASOCH. 


Leopold  von  Sacher-Masoch  is  a  name 
well  known  to  both  German  and  French 
literature,  althnngh  it  is  that  of  neither 
a  Frenchman  nor  a  German.  Both  lit- 
eratures may  to  a  certain  extent  claim 
him.  Most  of  Ills  work  has  been  written 
in  German,  but  some  of  his  novelsappear- 
ed  originally  in  French,  and  not  a  few  of 


his  shorter  stories  first  saw  the  light  in  the 
pages  of  the  Revue  dcs  Deux  Mondes.  He 
was  born  at  Lembetg,  in  Galicia,  in 
i8j6.  tlis  grandfather  had  been  the 
Austrian  Governor  of  Galicia  after  the 
disrTiend)ernient  of  Poland.  His  father, 
who,  at  his  marriage,  took  his  wife's 
name  of  Masoch  in  addition  to  iiis  own. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


was  the  iicad  of  tlie  Galician  police. 
His  native  language,  as  well  us  his  early 
edttcattOfi«  was  wholly  Slavonic.  He 
only  learned  German  when  a  lad  in 
Prague,  and  though  he  subsec^uently 
used  it  with  facinty  as  his  pnncipiu 
means  of  reacliinj^  a  literary  public,  it 
has  always  been  more  or  less  a  veneer. 
He  was  thoroughly  and  characteristi- 
cally a  Slav  in  his  whole  hahits  of 
thought,  and  whatever  the  environment 
of  his  stories  or  the  medium  in  which 
they  were  written,  it  is  in  Slavonic  lit- 
erature that  they  inherently  and  prima- 
rily belong.  At  the  outset  Sacher-Ma- 
soch  studied  jurisprudence  at  Prague 
and  Gra?,  at  whieh  latter  university  he 
subsequeiiily,  when  uiily  twenty-one, 
settled  as  docent  in  history.  His  literary 
work  at  the  beginning  was  historical  ; 
but  the  favor  accorded  his  lirst  novel, 
A  Gaiician  Story  {iZ$Z)y  determined  the 
direction  which  he  ultimately  followed. 
Ten  years  later  he  gave  up  the  idea  of  an 
academic  career,  and  devoted  the  rest  of 
his  life  to  literature.  In  1880  he  edited 
the  weekly  SeUetristische  BUtUt^  in  Buda- 
pest, and  from  1882-^5  the  review  Auf 
tier  HvJtc,  in  Leipzig.  He  subsequently 
lived  in  l*aris,  and  after  in  Lind- 
heim,  where  he  died  the  9th  of  last 
March. 

Althoucch  he  wrote  verse  and  several 
dramas  iliat  were  sugcessfuUy  produced 
in  Austria  and  Germany,  Sacher-Ma- 
soch's  best  work  was  done  as  a  novelist, 
but  even  more  especially  as  a  writer  ol 
short  stories.  No  recent  writer,  how- 
ever, has  produced  work  so  unequal  in 
quality.  Much  of  it  is  not  only  rela- 
tively good,  but  it  is  full  of  purpose, 
fresh,  vigorous  and  virile.  Some  of  it, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  but  the  ill  turned- 
out  product  of  a  literary  slop-shop,  un- 
worthy of  any  scrions  attention  at  all, 
and  this  apparently  not  because  there 
were  material  reasons  for  desiring  to 
turn  poor  literature  into  good  money, 
for  Sacher  Masoch  seems  to  have  had 
enough  of  the  goods  of  the  world  to 
keep  the  pot  boiling  without  it. 

His  material  Sacher- Masoch  has 
chosen  Uum  various  places.  He  has 
written  dubious  historical  novels  of  the 
Court  (A  Maria  Theresa,  and  several  of 
his  works  arc  cullcclions  ol  sliorl  blories 
of  low  phases  of  high  life  in  Vienna, 
French  in  intention,  but  in  tlw  Ger- 
man, in  which  they  are  written,  plump 
and  utterly  devoid  of  the  cspii^lerie  that 


in  the  case  of  this  sort  of  writinq;  is  the 
only  excuse  for  its  being.  Fortunately 
for  him,  tlie  author  had  a  better  source 
of  stippiy  nearer  at  home  in  the  Little- 
Russian  life  that  was  his  own  by  birth 
and  education.  It  is  here  that  he  has 
flone  by  all  odds  his  best  and  most  dis- 
tinctive work.  He  has,  in  fact,  opened  up 
a  new  world  to  us,  and  one  thus  far  al- 
most wholly  his  own  ;  a  world,  to  be 
sure,  seen  in  some  of  its  aspects  in  Tur- 
g^nieff  and  Tolstoy,  but  yet  here  under 
different  iightsand  with  different  colours. 
It  is  the  same  "  melancholy  Slavonic 
world,"  the  gloomy  landscape  of  steppe 
and  forest,  but  it  is  here  a  people  whose 
blood  siircfes  with  Oriental  heat  ;  a 
world  of  men  and  women  as  untamed  in 
their  passions  as  wild  animals,  and  as 
eager  to  gratify  them  ;  who  licit licr 
spare  nor  are  spared,  nor  expect  to  be 
spared.  If,  as  Sacher-Masoch  says, 
these  are  the  Slavs  *'  to  whom  the  near 
future  as  unquestionably  belongs  as 
does  to  the  Germanic  race  the  present,** 
then  may  Heaven  have  mercy  upon  the 
future,  for  here  is  a  folk  that  knows  not 
forbearance  in  its  faintest  promptings. 
As  to  the  inherent  truth  of  his  pictures, 
they  do  not  leave  one  in  doubt.  There 
is  in  his  evolution  of  plot  often  an  un- 
mistakable romanticism,  but  it  is  carried 
out  in  detail  with  a  realism  not  seUlom 
offensive.  In  iiis  mental  altitude  toward 
his  material  the  same  pessimism  SO  char- 
acteristic of  TurgcnietT  is  even  more  ap- 
parent in  Sac  iier- Masoch.  It  is  the 
Slavonic  birthright  of  the  one  as  well  as 
the  other,  and  not  a  matter  of  individual 
temperament,  iioth  of  these  men  are 
faithful  disciples  of  Schopenhauer,  our 
author  assertively  so  ;  but  they  arc  that 
primarily  not  because  ot  the  philoso* 
pher,  but  because  of  themselves.  His 
German  critics,  with  sweetness  and  light, 
have  called  him  a  pessimist,  a  cynic,  a 
Panslavist,  and  a  nihilist,  and  I  have  no 
douljt  but  that  confirmation  may  be 
found  in  his  books  for  all  these  several 
indictments. 

What  has  generally  been  regarded  as 
Sacher-Masoch' s  best  work  is  in  the 
cycle  of  sturics  called  by  the  common 
name  of  Tht  Lfgwy  of  Cain,  the  first 
part  of  which  was  written  in  1S70.  This 
first  part  was  received  in  Germany  with 
a  storm  of  critical  abuse,  which  the  sub- 
sequent parts,  however,  mollified,  and 
the  whole,  as  far  as  it  was  ever  complet- 
ed, even  received  at  the  end  from  many 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


quarters  an  extravagant  praise.  The 
autlior  himself  had  no  mean  ojiinion  of 
it.  In  a  little  work  on  the  I  'a/ue  of  Crtti- 
Hsm  (1873),  which  shows  pretty  conclu* 
sively,  amonjx  oilu'r  tlilns^s,  the  value- 
lessness  of  his  own,  he  modestly  says 
that  the  first  storv  of  the  cycle.  Dm 
Juan  of  Kelamea^  caused  a  sensation 
such  as  no  literary  work  has  caused  in 
Germany  since  H^Vr/Zwr.  .  .  .  The 
overwhelming  originality  of  the  entire 
comp()sit.ii)n  and  the  manner  of  its  pres- 
entation took  the  whole  reading  public 
at  once  by  storm/*  And  this  of  his  own 
work,  too  ! 

TAe  Lf^acy  of  Cain  {Das  Vermdchtniss 
JTatffs),  according  to  the  author's  own 
characterisation  of  its  purpose,  is  intend- 
ed to  illustrate  the  universal  struj^jrle 
for  existence  in  the  whole  field  of  human 
activity.  Its  entire  conception  is  robust 
and  original.  The  bei;iniiing  is  in  tlie 
form  of  an  epilogue.  A  sportsman,  who 
has  brought  down  an  eagle  with  a  shot 
of  his  rifle,  is  suddenly  greeted  with  the 
cry  of  "  Cain,  Cain,"  and  a  "  Wander- 
er," the  member  of  a  Russian  sect  whose 
members  flee  the  world  to  lead  an  ascetic 
life  in  the  forest,  confronts  him  with  the 
dead  bird.  "  What  have  you  gained  by 
this?"  he  aslcs  sternly.  *'  You,  too,  are 
of  the  race  of  Cain."  "  Break  loose," 
he  warns  him,  "from  the  legacy  of 
Cain  ;  learn  to  know  truth  ;  learn  to  re- 
nonnee  ;  U'arn  to  despise  life  and  Icivc 
death."  "  These  six.  Love,  Property, 
the  State,  War,  Work,  and  Death  are 
the  legacy  of  Cain,  who  slew  his  brother  ; 
and  his  brother's  blood  cried  unto  Heav- 
en, and  the  Lord  spoke  to  Cain  :  Thou 
Shalt  be  cursed  upon  the  earth,  a  fugi- 
tive and  a  vagabond."  The  words  oi 
the  "Wanderer"  in  the  prologue  thus 
present  the  great  problems  of  humanity 
which  it  is  the  purpose  of  the  whole 
cycle  of  this  "  novelistic  theodicy,"  as  it 
has  been  characterised  both  by  the  au- 
thor and  by  his  critics,  to  solve.  Each 
problem,  furthermore,  was,  according  to 
the  plan,  to  consist  of  a  series  of  six 
Stories.  The  first  five  of  these  were  in- 
lenih^d  to  illustrate  the  rule,  to  exhibit, 
in  other  words,  the  reality  as  it  is  in  life. 
The  last,  on  the  contrary,  was  to  contain 
the  exception,  and  to  present  the  ideal  to 
be  striven  for.  The  completed  whole 
was  thus  to  furnish  an  harmonious  solu- 
tion of  the  manifold  dissonances  of  hu- 
man life,  whatever  their  kiml.  It  is  a 
matter  for  regret,  for  TAg  Legacy  0/ 


Cain^  with  all  its  idiosyncrasies,  has 
always  the  unquestioned  element  of 
strength,  that  it  remained  but  a  torso. 
Lave  and  Property  were  the  only  parts 
ever  completed,  although  oi^portunity 
was  found  in  superabundance  for  work 
that  is  not  worth  reading,  and  assuredly 
was  not  worth  writing. 

Sacher-Masoch's  whole  problem,  as  he 
presents  it  in  The  Legacy  of  Cain,  is  a 
union  of  Schopenhauer  and  Darwin,  as 
he  himself,  in  the  tract  nn  t  ritu  ism,  al- 
ready mentioned,  carefully  points  out. 
Its  fundamental  ideas  are  as  follows : 
This  world  in  which  we  live  is  not  the 
best  possible,  but  rather  the  worst  pos- 
sible. Nature  and  man  alike  are  in» 
herently  bad.  In  the  air,  in  the  water, 
and  on  the  earth  all  animate  and  inani- 
mate nature  is  continuing  uninterrupt- 
edly the  strugfgle  for  existence.  Man, 
in  particular,  waives  an  unceasing  warfare 
with  his  surroundings.  Every  member 
of  this  unhappy  race,  too,  seeks  to  live 
at  the  expense  of  the  other,  ceaselessly 
striving,  like  Cain,  to  murder  his  broth- 
er, to  rob  him,  to  make  him  his  slave. 
Man,  however,  docs  not  remain  in  his 
original  bestial  condition.  By  the  de- 
velopment of  his  soul  and  his  intellect 
he  lifts  himself  gradually  above  it,  con- 
quers it,  and  in  the  struggles  of  centu- 
ries makes  himself  more  and  more  its 
master.  Neither  does  he  rest  here.  Not 
only  does  he  make  nature  serviceable  to 
him,  but  under  his  influence  nature  it- 
self changes  and  becomes  less  and  less 
his  enemy.  In  the  first  part,  Lo7'e,  the 
author  seeks  to  solve  the  problem  of  the 
sexes.  The  tirst  five  stories — 7/u  Don 
fuan  of  Kolomea^  The  Capitulanty  A  Mom- 
/ii^ht  .V(^/!f,  P/ato,  Vef!!/>  in  /v/rr— repre- 
sent the  various  pluises,  healthy  and 
morbid,  of  what  is,  from  his  point  of 
view,  the  natural  hostile  opposition  of 
the  sexes,  the  struggle  of  man  and  wom- 
an for  existence.  He  has  filled  out  the 
details  of  the  picture  with  a  terrible  real- 
ity, more  terrible  because  it  bears  the 
evident  stamp  of  truth.  Love  may  be 
joined,  upon  the  one  hand,  with  true 
affection,  with  poetic  fancy,  with  spir- 
itual sympathy,  or  it  may  be  accom- 
panied, on  the  other,  with  malevolent 
lust.  The  heartless  "  Venus"  of  the  last 
storv  in  this  way  knouts  the  man  who 
madly  loves  her  as  he  cringes  like  a  dog 
at  her  feet,  and  he  feels  a  physical  en- 
joyment in  the  smart  of  her  blows  !  It  is, 
in  fact,  because  of  the  physico-psycho* 


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404 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


logic  al  motive  of  this  curious  book  that 
specialists  in  neurology  have  siven  the 
name  '*  masochism'*  to  one  of  the  recog- 
nised foi^ms  of  sexual  prrvprsity.  The 
last  story  of  the  cycle,  MaruUa  ;  <?r,  ih€ 
Fairy  Tale  of  Love^  the  ideal  as  an  offset 
to  the  real,  is,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  the  weakest,  in  its  execution,  of 
all.  Woman,  the  daughter  of  Cain,  is 
by  man  raised  Spiritually  to  his  own 
Ifvol.  Sho  hurls  from  licr  the  ointment 
vvilii  wliiclislic  hasatiuiuted  his  feet  and 
the  knout  with  which  she  has  scourged 
his  1)ack,  Man  has  here  lifted  himself 
above  nature,  and  with  him  woman.  He 
Still  serves  nature,  but  nature  also  serves 
him.  He  perpetuates  the  race  and  con- 
tinues the  great  work  of  civilisation  in 
that  he  not  merely  brings  up  his  chil- 
dren, but  gives  them  the  impress  of  his 
own  spirit.  Like  a  new  Prometheus, 
says  the  author,  he  stts  at  the  sacred 

hearlhst(  UK-  of  his  family  and  forms  nicii. 

The  second  part  of  Sacber-Masoch's 
theodicy  continues  on  the  same  lines  an 
investigation  of  the  problem  of  Property. 
The  story  of  the  eternal  warfare  between 
the  rich  and  the  poor  is  told,  as  before, 
in  five  talcs — T/u  Folk  Tribunal,  The 
Hajdatnak,  Jlasara  Rabdy  A  Will,  Bait  I 
Hynien.  An  ideal  solution  is  contained 
in  the  sixth,  Th$  Paradise  on  the  Dities- 
Icr,  where  n  better  Tolstoy  deserts  his 
home  lo  live  among  the  people  and  found 
an  ideal  state  whose  basis  is  labour.  It 
is  here  that  the  author's  Panslavistic 


tendencies  come  most  distinctly  Into  the 
foreground.  It  is  the  Slav  who  is  to 
bring  al>out  this  regeneration  of  the  hu- 
man race.  Here  his  prose  epic  ends, 
unfortunately,  for  however  we  may  agree 
with  the  fundamental  statement  oi  his 
problem,  or  his  manner  of  solving  it,  his 
evident  seriousness  of  purpose  must,  at 
the  outset,  command  respect.  There  is 
no  question  of  its  value  as  a  series  of 
pictures  of  the  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
life  of  a  little-known  corner  of  the  world, 
and  there  can  scarcely  be  but  a  single 
opinion  as  to  the  graphic  power  of  the 
painter  who  has  made  them.  U  the 
fancy  is  at  times  too  g^lowing,  the  depict- 
ed passions  too  unrestrained  in  their  ap- 
peal to  a  Western  imagination,  it  is  the 
environment  at  fault  that  has  produced 
them. 

Sacher-Masoch  has  done  in  some  ways 
even  better  work  in  Der  neue  HM  {T^^ 

AfoJcri]  /,'!>,  1S74),  in  which  his  field  is, 
as  before,  his  own  Little* Russia.  This 
story,  particularly,  shows  undeveloped 
possibilities.  The  author's  earlier  im- 
petuosity has  been  brought  under  a  re- 
straint that  cannot  but  be  felt  to  be  more 
salutary,  and  his  point  of  view  of  life 
and  society  has  been  bettered  by  a  ma- 
turer  experience.  If  his  touch  is  truer, 
it  is  not,  however,  the  less  brilliant. 
The  Miuf.rn  Job  seems  to  prove  that 
Sacher-Masoch's  best  book  was  never 
written, 

If^ I  ££*  Ct 


THE  BLEST  OF  ALL  THE  BLESSED. 

Blest  is  that  man  who  never  yet  has  read 
A  line  of  thee,  O  Stevenson  ;  whose  head 

Has  still  to  grasp  thy  beauties,  Thackeray. 
Who  hath  not  learned  as  yet,  ye  gods,  to  stray 

Through  all  the  mazy,  mad  and  rich  delights 
Of  Haroun  Al  Rascbld's  one  thousand  nights ; 

Whose  life  has  yet  to  know  the  WOndrous  bUss 
That  Byron  throws  into  his  every  kiss ; 

To  whom  the  wisdom  of  Omar  Kh^'iyyAm 

Is  still  tight  sealed  ;  to  whom  the  kindly  Lamb 

Is  as  unknown  as  are  the  many  mute 
An<i  unambilious  Miltons,  sans  a  lute. 

Aye  blest  is  he  !    What  prayers  of  thanks  should  rise 
From  out  his  lips,  before  whom  so  much  lies ! 

John  Ktndmk  Bangs, 


A  UTBRARY  fyUMAL 


40j 


Otpyiiii^  i^QS*  ^  Tin  Qpninnr  Oi>> 


THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  ALL  CREATURES. 


Four  remarkable  books  on  nature* 
have  appeared  during  the  month.  One  is 
old,  one  is  new,  and  two — coming  be* 
tween — are  neither  old  nor  new  ;  yet  all 

are  in  a  sense  equally  modern.  They 
may  even  be  considered  books  of  the 
future,  as  being  proplietic  of  certain  re- 
lations of  man  to  animal  life,  wliieh  are 
imperfectly  realised  now,  but  towards 
which  the  race  is  surely  approaching. 

For  more  than  a  century  grateful 
readers  have  borne  testimony  to  the  en- 
during quality  of  Gilbert  White's  Sel- 
borne  ;  and  the  work  has  lonjr  been  safe- 
ly placed,  where  it  will  lon^  safely  re- 
main, on  the  shelf  of  the  little  classics 
of  the  world's  literature.  The  UncU 
Remus  of  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris  has 
attained  within  the  short  period  of  its 
appearance  a  still  wider  acceptance  as  a 
work  which  throws  a  new  light  of  the 
imagination  upon  the  lower  creatures, 
and  lifts  them  into  closer  relationship  to 
mankind.  Whether  or  not  it  will  ever 
attain  the  distinction  of  becoming  a 
classic,  remains,  to  be  seen,  but  the 
cliances  are  that  it  will ;  its  influence 
has  already  passed  intf)  the  history  cif 
literature,  and  su  far  at  least  there  can 
be  no  question  of  its  lasting.  Tke 
Jungle  Hook  of  Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling 
has  won  a  well-nigh  universal  audience 
within  even  less  time,  and  bids  fair, 

♦White's  Selborne.  Introduction  by  John 
Burroughs.  Illustrations  by  Clifton  Johnson. 
New  York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.  $4.00. 

Mr.  Rabbit  at  Home.  By  Joel  Chandler  Har- 
ris, illustrations  by  Oliver  Herford.  BoMon: 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &'Co.  $2.00. 

Uncle  Remus:  His  Songs  and  His  Sayings. 
By  Joel  Chandler  Harris.  Illustrations  by  A.  B. 
Frost.    New  York  :  I).  Appleton      Co.  $2.00. 

The  Second  Jungle  Kook.  Hy  Rudyard  Kip- 
lioe.  Dccurated  by  John  Lockwucxl  Kipling, 
Cr.B.  New  York :  Tiie  Century  Co.  $1.50. 


with  The  SecoiiJ  /iini:;/e  Book,  which  has 
just  been  published,  to  take  its  place 
also  on  this  hig^,  narrow  shelf  of  ever- 
living  works.  Unlike  as  they  arc,  tine 
books  have  this  in  common  :  that  while 
White  discarded  the  imaginaiion  which 
the  two  other  writers  use,  the  three  men 
have  severally  enlarged  our  human  hori- 
zon of  knowledge  and  sympathy  as  re* 
spects  nature  and  its  teeming  life.  Each 
is  a  w«)rk  that  no  other  man  could  have 
written  ;  each  contains  qualities  that 
roost  men  love  ;  each  has  an  artistic  form 
that  must  always  remain  a  delight  to 
encounter.  But  whether  these  or  any 
other  namcable  characteristics  contain 
the  secret  of  the  life  of  these  books — or 
of  any  hook — who  can  say  ? 

Mr.  burroughs,  best  fitted  of  all  men 
in  this  country  to  write  an  introduction 
to  this  superb  edition  of  Sf/hornc,  con- 
fronts the  problem  thus  ;  "  So  many 
learned  and  elaborate  treatises  have  sunk 
beneath  the  waves  upon  which  tliis 
cockleshell  of  a  book  rides  so  safely  and 
SO  buoyantly  !  What  is  the  secret  of  its 
longevity  ?  One  can  do  little  more  than 
name  its  qualities  without  tracing  them 
to  their  sources.  It  is  simple  and  whole- 
some, like  bread,  or  meat,  or  milk.  .  .  . 
White  was  led  astray  by  no  literary  am- 
bition. His  interest  in  the  life  of  nature 
was  only  a  scientific  one  ;  he  must  know 
the  truth  first,  and  then  give  it  to  the 
humanities.  How  true  it  is  in  science, 
in  literature,  in  life,  that  any  second- 
ary motives  vitiate  the  result !  Seek  ye 
the  kingdom  of  truth  first,  and  all  things 
shall  be  added."  But  this  graceful 
tribute  from  the  pupil  to  the  master  is 
not  a  satisfying  explanation  to  the  non- 
scientific.  Many  who  admire  White's 
work  know  nothing  of  and  care  little 
for  the  theme  of  which  it  treats ;  and 


Digmzca  by  '^j'.  -^'.yi 


4o6 


THE  BOOKMAhi, 


neither  nrciisc?.  nor  C'-r.- 
dcmns,  nor  absolves.  Sandy 
and  gently  they  make  judi- 
cial showing  of  etemai 
truths.  The  art  of  the  fabu- 
list in  particular  uplifts,  and 
is  truly  the  touch  that  rr.akes 
two  worlds  akin.  Hnnobling 
man  by  fostering  his  finest 
fcelings.it  invests  the  beasts 
of  the  field  with  the  interest 
and  almost  the  dignity  ot 
humanity.  Standing' alva3rs 
for  the  right  a^xainst  the 
wrong,  for  tin-  weak  against 
the  strong,  it  peoples  tneair 
and  the  earth  and  the  sea 
with  the  noblest  ideals  of 
which  the  human  mind  cao 
have  any  conception.  The 
very  attitude  of  the  fabulist 
and  of  all  writers  on  nature 
inclines  towards  nobility  and 
lr»ve  and  mercy,  nnr!  its  influ- 
ence must,  accordingly,  be 
for  universal  good.  Hov 
completely  Thoreau's  cyni- 
cism disappears  as  he  ap- 
proaches nature  and  the 
dumb  brother !  His  words 
are  then  all  sweetness  ;  his 
thoughts  are  then  all  peace. 
Compare  the  fables  of  La 
Fontaine  with  his  writings 
touching  the  society  in  which 
he  lived  !  The  misanthropy 
for  these  its  perennial  charm  must  re-  that  darkens,  the  evil  that  stains  his  other 
main  something  more  subtle  than  any  work,  mars  none  of  his  fables.  Contact 
branch  of  science.  No  matter  what  the  with  nature  seemed  to  loosen  the  wings 
truth  may  be.  White  will  always  stand  of  the  author's  beautiful  spirit — the  soul 
out  as  one  of  those  rare  spirits  forming  of  the  real  man,  not  the  creature  of  de- 
the  distinguished  group  to  which  Mr.  praving  environment ;  and  the  writings 
Burroughs  himself  belongs  ;  whose  work  that  he  did  when  thus  inspired  lire  as 
is  done  on  the  borders  of  the  human  works  f>f  pure  g<  ld  set  forever  in  solid 
and  the  sub-human  worlds,  and  helps  to  rock  crystal,  while  his  reviling  of  the 
bind  them  together.  Perhaps  this  sim-  world  has  long  since  faded  away, 
pie  thing  may  be  the  great  secret,  after  No  wonder,  then,  that  the  wisest  and 
all.  It  is  the  brotherhood  of  all  crea-  Ix  st  of  men  in  all  ages  have  valued  ani- 
tures  that  White  teaches,  which  brings  mal  folk  lore  and  turned  to  it  fr>r  help 
his  work  so  close  to  our  hearts  and  and  instruction  as  well  as  amusement, 
makes  it  as  sweet  and  true  and  living  to  No  wonder  tliat  it  has  bt  en  lec  tured 
US  as  to  those  who  read  it  first.  For  it  upon  in  the  greatest  universities  and 
is  a  fact  well  worthy  of  note  that  all  laughed  over  in  the  humblest  cottages, 
studies  of  nature  have  some  such  effect  No  wontler  that  Socrates  s<  laced  his 
as  this,  whether  they  be  simply  report-  last  da^s  in  prison  by  turning  iEsop's 
ed  through  the  reason,  like  White's,  or  fables  into  verse.  No  wonder  that  a 
,  vividly  transformed  by  the  imagination,  fable  went  home  to  the  heart  of  the 
as  are  Mr.  Harris's  and  Mr.  Kipling's,  poet-king  of  Israel  and  touched  his  con- 
Theirs  is  a  wisdom  that  does  not  scold,  science  as  no  argument  could  iiave  dune. 
Theirs  is  a  profound  science  of  life  that  No  wonder  that  the  first  great  epic  of 


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FRONTIsriECE  TO  "MR.   R.VHllIT  -XT  lIuMK." 

CupyriKbt,  1895,  by  HouKhlon,  Mifflin  &  Cu. 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


407 


Germany  was  Rcinekc  Fuchs  ;  or  that 
from  Germany  tlie  fable  may  be  traced 
back  to  Flanders ;  and  thence  further 
and  further,  till  it  is  lost  in  the  Orient. 

This  message  of  divine  tenderness, 
transmitted  first  by  a  Greek  slave,  has 
been  repeated  at  intervals  by  some  of  the 
greatest  minds  in  literature.  To  Amer- 
ica it  tirst  came  direct  through  the  writ- 
ings of  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  whose 
Uncle  Remus  stands  as  the  only  char- 
acter in  recent  national  fiction  which 
has  achieved  universality.  Uncle  Re> 
mus  follows  and  has  supplanted  Uncle 
Tom.  His  name  is  known  where  the 
name  of  the  author  is  not.  It  has  be- 
come a  household  word  in  other  coun- 
tries than  ours  ;  but  I 'Urlc  Remus  him- 
self is  distinctively  American,  justifying 
in  every  characteristic  his  national  ac« 
ceptance.  He  is  tlie  unicjue  African 
product  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  new  world. 
His  fun  is  the  peculiar  out> 
come  of  African  humour  •  >  . 
grafted  upon  American  wit. 
And  the  creatures  grouped 
about  him  are  no  less  dis- 
tinctivi'ly  American  than 
himself.  They  are  with- 
out exception  the  inhabi- 
tants of  our  own  firesides, 
and  fields,  and  woods,  and 
waters,  endowed  with  the 
familiar  failings  and  vir- 
tues, and  hopes  and  fears 
of  the  human  beings  who 
consider  them  brutes.  Mr.  Habbit  at 
Jfitine  could  n.)t  possibly  belong  to 
any  other  country  than  ours.  There 
is  no  more  resemblance  between  our 
shrewd  IBrer  Ra!)l)it  and  the  foolish  Hare 
victimised  by  Keineke  Fuchs  than  lies 
in  their  furry  coats ;  no  more  indeed 
than  between  Reineke  Fuchs  himself 
and  our  own  HrtT  Fox.  For  bold  Brer 
Rabbit  and  LJrer  l-  ox  are  far  more  dis- 
tinctively and  admirably  American  than 
most  of  the  heroes  of  American  novels. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  creations  of 
Mr.  Kipling's  fancy  are  remote  from  us. 
The  land,  the  scene,  the  flora,  the  names 
of  the  characters,  their  philosophy,  the 
very  atmosphere  that  surrounds  them, 
are  all  far  off  and  strange.  But  the  genius 
of  the  author  invoking  the  s{)ell  of  the 
fabulist  brings  us  at  once  into  sympathy 
and  a  feeling  of  kinship  with  these  stran- 
gers belonging  to  the  jungle  of  India. 
We  respond  to  the  tender  charity  of 
Mother  Wolf— as  old  as  Rome ;  to  the 


wisdom  of  Kna  —as  nlrl  as  knowledge  ; 
to  the  lofty  magnanimity  of  Akela  ;  to 
the  blundering  love  of  old  Baloo  ;  to  the 
splendid  courage  of  Bagherra  ;  and  to 
the  loyalty  of  Grey  Brother.  We  wince 
while  we  laugh  at  the  stinging  satire  on 
humanity's  vanities  and  vices  that  come 
to  us  from  the  Bandar-log,  the  Monkey 
People,  who  live  in  the  trees  above  the 
heads  of  the  nobler  beasts  and  look 
down  on  them. 

As  one  reads  the  brilliant  work  and 
thrills  to  its  true  deep  note,  the  wonder 
arises  whether  or  not  Mr.  Kipling  may 
have  received  inspiratif)n  from  ancient 
folk-lore  tales  rooted  in  the  local  en- 
vironment. Mr.  Harris  has  frankly  told 
us  that  such  is  true  in  the  case  of  his  own 
work  ;  and  certain  indications  would 
seem  to  point  to  a  similar  origin  of  the 
jungle  stories.  It  would  Ix-  interesting 
to  know,  but  no  matter  whether  the 
seed  of  the  beautiful  thing  came 
out  of  East  Indian  tradition  to 
blossom  from  Mr.  Kipling's  im- 
agination, or  whether  it  is  a  new 
and  spontaneous 
growth  ;  in  either 
.  .  case  it  is  a  great 
work — the  great- 
est, perhaps,  of 
^,  ^.  its  kind  in  many 


/'  K 

!• 

FROM  "  UNCLE  RKMIS." 

Copyright,  189S1  by  D.  Appltton  A  Co. 


Digitized  by  Google 


4o8 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


years,  past  or  to  come.  And  these  four 
books,  taken  together,  form  a  notable 
contribution  to  that  literature  of  human- 
ity which  moves  abreast  of  science,  of 
higher  intellectual  development,  and 
larger  benevolence.  Coming  to  us  on 
the  eve  of  Christmas,  they  seem  to  ac- 


quire  a  deeper  significance,  turning  our 
thoughts  on  the  shuttle  of  Time's  loom, 
backward  to  the  humble,  dumb  friends 
gathered  about  the  Manger,  and  for- 
ward to  the  happy  consummation  of  the 
ancient  prophecy  when  **a  little  child 
shall  lead  them." 


Copyright,  189s.  by  1  he  CnrruRT  Co. 


NIGHT  TAPESTRY. 

"  Not  in  entire  forgetfulncss. 
And  not  in  ntter  nakedncM, 
Bnt  trailing  donds  of  glory  do  we  cone 
From  God,  who  it  oar  home." 

An  airy  nothing  blown  upon  the  wind 

Did  tangle  in  the  meshes  of  my  dream. 

That  woven  was  of  air  :  a  iliemclcss  ilieme  ; 
A  weird,  pathetic  pattern  of  the  Blind  ; 
Here  plain  the  scroll — there  lacing  moonbeams  twined  ; 

The  which  with  phantasies  in  endless  stream 

Wove  I  in  darkness,  and  the  night  did  seem 
Dread  with  the  spectral  moments  of  the  mind. 

And  lo  !  my  threads  took  purpose  !    Dim,  unreal. 

An  instant  dwelt  about  the  WOOf  a  light. 
And  in  the  light  a  Shape  known  unto  me, 
Through  ages  upon  ages    .    .  . 

A  sudden  gust  out  of  the  windy  night. 
And  meaningless  again  my  tapestry  ! 

H.  If,  Dawbarm, 


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A  UiERAHY  JOURNAL 


409 


BOOKS  AND  CULTURE 
By  the  Author  of  "My  Study  Fire,"  "Short  Studies  im  Literature,**  etc. 


XI.-**  THE  LOGIC  OF  FREE  LIFE." 

The  ideas  which  form  the  substance 
or  substratum  of  the  greatest  books  are 
not  primarily  the  products  of  pure 
thouglit  ;  they  have  a  far  deeper  ori- 
gin, and  their  immense  power  of  en- 
lightenment and  enrichment  lies  in  the 
depth  of  lliLir  rootage  in  the  uncon- 
scious life  of  the  race.  If  it  be  true  that 
the  fundamental  process  of  the  physical 
universe  and  of  the  life  oi  man,  so  far 
as  we  can  understand  them,  is  not  in- 
tetlectual,  but  vital,  then  it  is  also  true 
that  the  formative  ideas  by  which  we 
live,  and  iti  the  clear  comprehension  of 
which  the  greatness  of  intellectual  and 
spiritual  life  for  us  lies,  have  been  borne 
in  upon  the  race  by  living  rather  than 
by  thinking.  They  are  felt  and  experi- 
enccMl  first  and  formulated  later.  It  is 
clear  that  a  flefinite  purpose  is  being 
wrought  out  through  physical  processes 
in  the  world  of  matter  ;  it  is  equally 
clear  to  most  men  that  moral  and  spir- 
itual purposes  are  being  worked  out 
through  the  processes  which  constitute 
the  conditions  of  our  being  and  acting 
in  this  world.  It  has  been  the  engross- 
ing and  fruitful  study  of  science  to  dis- 
cover the  processes  and  comprehend  the 
ends  of  the  physical  order ;  it  is  the 
highest  oflice  of  art  to  discover  and  il- 
lustrate, for  the  luobt  part  unconsciously, 
the  processes  and  results  of  (he  spiritual 
order  by  setting  forth  in  concrete  form 
the  underlying  and  formative  ideas  of 
races  and  periods. 

"  The  thought  that  makes  the  work 
of  art,"  says  Mr.  John  La  Farge  in  a 
discussion  of  the  art  of  painting  of  sin- 
gular insight  and  intelligence,  "  the 
thought  which  in  its  highest  expression 
we  call  genius  is  not  reflection  or  re- 
flective thought.  The  thought  which 
analyses  lias  the  same  deficienries  as 
our  eyes.  It  can  fix  only  one  point  at  a 
time.  It  is  necessary  for  It  to  examine 
each  element  of  consideration,  and  unite 
it  to  others,  to  make  a  whole.  But  the 
logic  of  free  life^  which  is  the  logic  of  art^ 
is  like  that  logic  of  one  using  the  eye, 
in  which  we  make  most  wonderful  com- 
pilations of  momentary  adaptation,  by 


cO'Ordinating  innumerable  memories, 

by  rejecting  those  that  are  useless  or 
antagonistic ;  and  all  without  being 
aware  of  it,  so  that  those  especially  who 
most  use  the  eye,  as,  for  instance,  the 
painter  or  the  hunter,  are  unaware  of 
more  than  one  single,  instantaneous  ac- 
tion." This  is  a  very  happy  formula* 
tion  of  a  fundamental  principle  in  art  : 
indeed,  it  brings  before  us  the  essential 
quality  of  art,  its  illustration  of  thought 
in  the  order  not  of  a  formal  logic,  hut 
of  the  logic  of  free  life.  It  is  at  this 
point  that  it  is  dilTerentiated  from  phi- 
losophy ;  it  is  from  this  point  that  its 
immense  spiritual  significance  becomes 
clear.  In  the  great  books  fundamental 
ideas  are  set  forth  not  in  a  systematic 
way,  nor  as  the  results  of  methodical 
teaching,  but  as  they  rise  over  the  vast 
territory  of  actual  living  and  are  clari- 
fied by  the  long-continued  and  many- 
sided  experience  of  the  race.  Every 
book  of  the  first  order  in  literature  of 
the  creative  kind  is  a  final  generalisa- 
tion from  a  vast  experience.  It  is,  to 
use  Mr.  La  Farge's  phrase,  the  co-ordi- 
nation of  innumerable  memories  ;  mem- 
ories shared  by  an  innumeralile  com- 
pany of  persons,  and  becoming,  at 
length  and  after  long  clarification,  a 
kind  of  race  memory,  and  this  memory 
is  so  inclusive  and  tenacious  that  it  holds 
intact  the  long  and  varied  play  of  soil, 
sky,  scenery,  climate,  faith,  myth,  suf- 
fering, action,  historic  process  through 
which  the  race  has  passed  and  by  wiiich 
it  has  been  largely  formed. 

The  ideas  which  underlie  the  great 
books  bring  with  them,  therefore,  when 
we  really  receive  them  in  our  minds, 
the  entire  background  of  the  life  out  of 
which  they  took  their  rise.  We  are  not 
only  permitted  to  refresh  ourselves  at 
the  Inexhaustible  spring,  but  as  we 
drink  the  entire  sweep  of  landscape,  to 
the  remotest  mountains  in  wiiose  heart 
its  sources  are  hidden,  encompasses  us 
like  a  vast  living  world.  It  is,  in  other 
words,  the  totality  of  things  which  great 
art  gives  us,  not  things  in  isolation  and 
detachment.  Mr.  La  Farge  wilt  pardon 
further  quotation  ;  lie  admirably  states 

this  great  truth  when  he  says  that  "  in 


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410 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


a  work  of  art,  executed  through  the 
body,  and  appealing  lo  the  mind  through 
the  senses,  the  entire  make-up  of  its 

creator  addresses  the  entire  constitution 
of  the  man  for  whom  it  is  meant."  One 
may  go  further  and  say  of  the  neatest 
books  that  the  whole  race  speaks 
through  them  to  the  whole  man  who 
puts  himself  In  a  receptive  mood  tow- 
ards them.  This  totality  of  influences, 
conditions,  and  history'  which  goes  to 
the  making  of  books  of  tliis  order  re- 
ceives dramatic  unity,  artistic  sequence, 
and  integral  order  and  coherenrp  from 
the  personality  of  the  writer,  lie  gaili- 
ers  into  himself  the  spiritual  results  of 
th<»  experience  of  his  peoi>le  or  his  ."j;-'. 
and  tlirough  his  genius  for  expresijiou  the 
vast  general  background  of  his  personal 
life,  which,  as  in  the  case  of  Homer, 
for  instance,  has  entirely  faded  from 
view,  rises  once  more  in  clear  vision  be< 
fore  us.  "  In  any  museum,"  says  Mr. 
La  Farge,  "  we  can  see  certain  great 
differences  in  things  ;  which  are  so  evi« 
dent,  so  much  on  the  surface,  as  almost 
to  be  our  first  impressions.  They  arc 
the  marlcs  of  the  places  where  the  worics 
of  art  were  born.  Cl'mate  ;  intensity 
of  heat  and  light ;  the  nature  of  the 
earth  ;  whether  there  was  much  or  little 
water  in  proportion  to  land  ;  plants, 
animals,  surrounding  beings,  have  help- 
ed to  make  these  differences,  as  well  as 
manners,  laws,  religions,  and  national 
ideals.  If  yon  recall  the  more  general 
physical  impression  of  a  gallery  ot 
Flemish  paintings  and  of  a  gallery  of 
Italian  masters,  you  will  liave  carried 
off  in  yourself  two  distinct  impressions 
received  during  their  lives  by  the  men 
of  these  two  rat  es.  The  fact  that  they 
used  their  ej'es  more  or  less  is  only  a 
small  factor  in  this  enormous  aggrega< 
tion  of  inHnenccs  received  by  them  and 
transmitted  to  us." 

From  this  point  of  view  the  inexhaus- 
tible significance  of  a  great  work  of  art 
becomes  clear,  both  as  regards  its  defi- 
nite revelation  of  racial  and  individual 
truth,  and  as  regards  its  educational  Of 
cultured  finality  and  value.  Ideas  are 
presented  not  in  isolation  and  detach- 
ment, but  in  their  totality  of  origin  and 
relationship  ;  they  are  not  abstrartinns, 
general  propositions,  philosophical  gen- 
eralisations ;  they  are  living  truus— 


truths,  that  is,  which  have  becnme  clear 
by  long  experience,  and  tu  which  men 
stand,  or  have  stood,  in  personal  rela- 
tions. They  are  ideas,  in  other  words, 
which  stand  together,  not  in  the  order 
of  formal  lofric,  but  of  the  "logic  of 
free  life."  Thev  are  not  lorn  out  of 
their  normal  relations  ;  they  bring  all 
their  relation shijis  with  them.  We  are 
offered  a  plant  in  the  soil,  not  a  flower 
cut  from  its  stem.  Every  man  is  rooted 
to  the  soil,  touches  through  his  senses 
the  physical,  and  through  his  mind  and 
heart  the  spiritual  order  of  his  time  ;  all 
these  influences  are  focused  in  him, 
and,  according  to  his  capacity,  he  gath- 
ers them  into  nis  experience,  fnrmti fates 
and  expresses  them,  i'he  greater  and 
more  productive  the  man,  the  wider  iiis 
contiict  with  and  absorption  of  the  life 
of  his  time.  For  the  artist  stands  near- 
est, not  farthest  from  his  contempora- 
ries. He  is  not,  however,  a  mere  medi- 
um in  their  hands,  not  a  mere  secretary 
or  recorder  of  their  ideas  and  feelings. 
Tie  Is  sejiaraled  froni  them  in  the  clear- 
ness of  his  vision  of  the  significance  of 
their  activities,  the  ends  towards  which 
they  are  moving,  the  ideas  which  they 
are  working  out  ;  but,  in  the  exact  de- 
gree of  his  greatness,  he  is  one  with 
them  in  sympathy,  experience,  and  com- 
prehension. They  live  for  him,  and  he 
lives  wiiii  them  ;  they  work  out  ideas  in 
the  logic  of  free  life,  he  clarifies,  inter- 
prets, and  illustrates  those  ideas.  The 
w  orkl  is  not  saved  by  the  remnant,  as 
Matthew  Amold  held;  it  is  saved 
through  tlic  remnant.  The  elect  of  the 
race,  its  prophets,  teachers,  artists — and 
everv  great  artist  is  also  a  prophet  and 
teacher — are  its  leaders,  not  its  masters  ; 
its  interpreters,  not  its  creators.  Tiie 
race  is  dumb  without  its  artists;  but 
the  artists  would  be  impossible  without 
the  sustaining  fellowship  of  the  race. 
In  the  making  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odys' 
sey  the  Greek  race  was  in  full  parlm  r- 
ship  with  Homer.  The  ideas  which 
form  the  summits  of  human  achieve* 
ment  are  sustained  by  immense  masses 
of  earth  ;  the  hic^hcr  they  rise  the  vaster 
their  bases.  The  richer  and  wider  the 
race  life,  the  freer  and  deeper  the  play 
of  that  vital  logic  which  produces  the 
formative  ideas. 

HamUtOH  W,  MaMe. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


WHEN  THE  BIRDS  FLY  HOME. 

Of  all  the  beauteous  days  to  me 

Of  all  the  circling  T^ac* 
The  da3'S  nf  vmith  and  hojie  and  love. 

The  days  of  dread  and  fear  ; 
The  days  that  reel  the  warm  son  in. 

The  days  that  wheel  him  out, 
Of  showeiy  May,  of  ieofy  June, 

Of  Winter's  frosty  rout ; 
The  days  so  plentiful  of  fate 

Of  life  and  death  to  come, 
Are  the  lonely  days  of  Autumn 

When  the  birds  fly  home. 

Then  a  fire  is  in  the  sumach 

And  a  mist  is  on  the  hillSt 
Ami  a  LCcntIf,  pensive  glamoUf 

The  whole  world  tills. 
Then  the  moms  are  grey  and  rainy 

With  a  windy,  driven  rack. 
The  fields  are  full  of  shining  pools, 

The  mullein  sialics  are  black; 
Or  the  nii^hts  are  clear  and  frosty 

To  the  world's  blue  dome, 
In  the  lonely  davs  of  Autumn 

When  the  biros  fly  home. 

Though  all  the  buds  and  flowers  are  dead. 

The  golden-rod  is  out, 
Flaminr^^  with  the  a^trr-bloom 

On  ail  tlie  hills  abuul. 
You  may  meet  them  on  the  roadsides. 

Yon  may  pick  th'-ni  in  the  lane, 
While  barnward  from  the  stubble-fields 

The  heavy-laden  wain 
Goes  with  far  shouts  of  lalxviir, 

With  the  arms  and  faces  brown. 
While  the  cattle  come  home  lowing 

And  the  sun  dips  down. 

Through  all  the  hollow,  smoky  day 

There  goes  a  lonely  call  ; 
'Tis  the  jay  across  the  stubble-fieids 

Presaging  of  the  Fall  ; 
Or  the  crow,  that  sombre  solitary. 

Among  his  darkling  pines  ; 
Or  the  chickadee  beside  the  brook 

That  on  its  amber  shnu-s  ; 
Or  the  plough-hoy  to  liis  drowsy  team 

Amid  the  furrowed  loam, — 
O  the  lonely  days  of  Autumn 

When  the  birds  fly  home ! 

O  the  world  is  full  of  waters 

And  a  sense  of  far-off  sound. 
And  a  thousand  mists  and  colours  risc 
From  wvudb  and  hills  around. 


4" 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


'Tis  the  splendour  of  the  AutumOf 

Tis  the  jrlory  of  the  Fall, 
When  the  King  of  Death  walks  silently 

Adown  his  bannered  hall  \ 
And  the  beds  of  sleep  are  making 

For  the  hearts  that  fain  would  fOam, 
In  the  lonely  days  of  Atittimn 

When  the  birds  fly  home. 

And  hrrc  I  hold  cf)mmunion 

With  the  King  of  rest  and  sleep. 
Where  he  hath  decked  his  honoured  ones 

By  wood  and  hill  and  deep  ; 
And  the  mighty  hills  are  keeping  guard 

In  all  their  gloried  glow, 
While  he  and  I  are  walking 

Willi  the  dead  of  long  acjo  ; 
With  the  sad  and  wistful  memories, 

Those  olden  ghosts  that  come 
In  the  lonely  days  of  Autumn  ^ 

When  the  birds  fly  home. 

WiUiam  Wilfred  CampbtU, 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  THE  SAGE 


A  beggar  crept  wailing  through  the 

streets  of  a  city.  A  certain  man  came 
to  him  there  and  gave  him  bread,  say- 
ing :  "  I  give  you  this  loaf,  because  of 
God's  word."  Another  came  to  the 
beggar  and  gave  him  bread,  saying  : 
**  Take  this  loaf  ;  I  give  it  because  you 
are  hungry." 

Now  there  was  a  continual  rivalry 
among  the  citizens  of  this  town  as  to 
who  should  appear  to  be  the  most  pious 
man,  and  the  event  of  the  shifts  to  the 
beggar  made  discussion.  People  gath- 
ered in  knots  and  argued  furiously  to 
no  i^attlcular  purpose.  They  ap])ealed 
to  the  beggar,  but  he  bowed  humbly  to 
the  ground,  as  befitted  one  of  his  con- 
dition, and  answered  :  "  It  is  a  singular 
circumstance  that  the  loaves  were  of 
one  size  and  of  the  same  quality.  How, 
then,  can  I  decide  which  of  these  men 
gave  firead  more  piously  ?" 

The  people  heard  of  a  philosopher 
who  travelled  through  their  country, 
and  one  said  :  "  Behold,  we  who  give 
not  bread  to  beggars  are  not  capable  of 
judging  those  who  have  given  bread  to 
beggars.  Let  us,  then,  consult  this 
wise  man." 

*'  But,"  said  some,  "  mayliap  this 
philosopher,  according  to  your  ruU  that 


one  must  have  given  bread  before  judg- 
in IX  they  who  give  bread,  will  not  be 
capable." 

*•  That  is  an  indifferent  matter  to  all 
truly  great  philosophers."  So  they 
made  search  for  the  wise  man,  and  in 
time  they  came  upon  him,  strolling 
along  at  his  ease  in  the  manner  of  phi- 
losophers. 

*'  Oh,  most  illustrious  sage,"  they 
cried. 

"  V'cs,"  said  the  philosopher  promptly. 

"  Oh,  most  illustrious  sage,  Uiere  are 
two  men  in  our  city,  and  one  gave  bread 
to  a  beggar,  saying  :  '  Becaiise  of  God  i. 
word.'  And  the  other  gave  bread  to 
the  beggar,  saying  :  *  Because  you  ait 
hungry.*  Now,  wliii  li  of  these,  oh,  m  ^st 
illustrious  sage,  is  the  more  pious  man " 

"  Eh  ?"  said  the  philosopher. 

"  Which  of  these,  oh,  most  illustrious 
sage,  is  the  more  pions  man  ?" 

"  My  friends,"  said  the  philosopher 
suavely  addressing  the  concourse,  "I 
sec  that  yon  mi>take  me  for  an  illus-  ♦ 
trious  sage.  1  am  not  he  whom  you 
seek.  However,  I  saw  a  man  answer- 
ing my  description  pass  here  some  time 
ago.  With  speed  you  may  overtake 
him.  Adieu." 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


4x3 


PARIS  LETTER. 


It  appears  that  in  conscquenc(^  of  the 
action  of  certain  Parts  Municipal  Coun- 
cillors, various  works  of  fiction,  and 
not&bly  JIfadame  Bopary,  have  been  with* 
drawn  from  circulation  at  the  Paris 
Municipal  Libraries.  This  tardy  con- 
demnation, as  immoral,  of  Flaubert's 
novel  is  amusing,  especially  in  the  Paris 
of  to-day.  Gustavc  Flaubert,  himself, 
would  be  delighted  with  this  measure, 
for,  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  he  had 
come  to  hate  the  very  name  of  MaJame 
Bwary^  and  used  to  be  quite  rude  to 
strangers  who,  on  their  introduction  to 
him,  complimented  him  on  tlie  book 
which  the  world  persisted  in  classifying 
as  his  masterpiece.  "  Hang  Madame 
Bcvaryf*  he  would  bellow  forth  in  real 
nnpj'pr.  *'  Madame  Btn'ary,  Madame 
Bavary  is — is  rubbish."  It  irritated  him 
tjO  be  known  only  as  the  author  of  this 
one  book,  when  lie  had  written  others  of 
equal  and  even  superior  merit.  Max 
Nordau  has  experienced  the  same  feel> 
ing.  People  would  talk  of  him  as  "  the 
author  of  The  Convrtttional  Lits'"  and  he 
has  told  me  that  liis  chief  object  in  writ- 
ing Entartuf^  was  to  shake  off  this  de- 

nomiiKilInn. 

The  sincerity  of  the  respect  with  which 
the  profession  of  letters  in  general  and 
that  of  poetry  in  particular  is  nn^arded 
in  France  by  the  powers  that  be,  has 
once  more  been  exemplified.  It  became 
necessary  a  few  days  ago  for  a  special 
rommissionrr  to  bt*  sent  l)y  tlu;  Govern- 
ment to  tlic  Fruncli  tied  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean. In  England  such  a  commis- 
sionrr  would  Iiavc  been  chosen  from  (he 
thousand  supernumeraries  ot  the  Gov- 
ernment offices.  In  France  a  poet  was 
chosen.  It  was  M.  Yann  Kibor  wlio 
was  selected  by  M.  Lockroy  to  carry 
out  this  mission.  M.  Yann  Ntbor  IS  a 
poet  of  the  sea.  a  writer  of  ballads  of 
the  *'  Yoho  !  ho  !"  variety,  a  man  in 
no  way  connected  with  politics.  We 
shall  have  to  wait  long  years  in  Eng> 
land  before  the  same  spirit  moves  our 
politicians.  Can  you  fancy  Weathcrly 
or  Clark  Russell  being  chosen  as  rep* 
resentatives  of  the  Cabinet,  because  of 
the  intimate  knowledge  of  maritime 
aii'airs,  and  of  the  keen  sympathy  with 

maritime  folk  shown  to  their  works  ?  It 


is  true  that,  as  a  son'in-law  of  a  poet, 
M.  Lockroy  has  a  larger  appreciation  of 
poets  than  most  politicians,  but  still 
there  is  no  precedent  for  a  selection  of 
tliis  sort.  Yann  Nibor,  it  ajipears,  was 
strongly  recommended  by  various  ad- 
mirals of  the  French  fleet,  who  all  testi- 
lied  to  the  popularity  of  the  poet 
amongst  the  sailors.  Nibor  is  a  man 
destined  to  be  popular.  He  is  a  fine 
athletic  fellow,  who  writes  swinging 
verse,  composes  his  own  music,  and 
sings  his  songs  with  quite  professional 
skill.  His  performance  is  a  great  fea- 
tur>^  at  Alphonse  Daudet's  delightful 
Thursday  soirees. 

'*  On  prend  son  bien  .  .  ."  you  know 
the  rest.  This  apparently  is  the  only 
explanation  which  Emilc  Zola  has  vouch- 
safed to  those  who  have  drawn  attention 
to  the  fact  that  one  notable  passage  in 
his  novel,  Nana^  was  "  lifted"  from 
Thomas  Otway's  tragedy,  Venice  Pre- 
servedy  or  a  Ptot  Discovered^  a  translation 
of  which  has  recently  been  given  in  per- 
formance at  the  Theatre  de  I'fFuvre, 
where  the  indebtedness  of  Zola  was  lirst 
noticed.  Readers  of  Xana  will  remem- 
ber the  scene  where  Count  Muffat  in  a 
paroxysm  of  amorous  imbecility  crawls 
about  Nana's  boudoir  and  plays  at  being 
a  dotr.  Reaflcrs  of  Venice  7%  t  seri'cd 
remember  the  passage  where  the  Sena- 
tor Antonio  performs  in  a  similar  man- 
ner for  the  delectation  of  Aquilina.  A 
comparison  of  the  text-h(»ok  in  Zola's 
novel  and  in  the  translaliou  from  Otway 
affords  the  best  proof  of  the  iiuK  lited- 
ness  of  the  French  novelist  to  the  Fng- 
lish  dramatist.  Here  are  the  parallel 
passages : — 

"  NANA." 

Le  e«mte  Muffot  fait  k  eJUen  cket  $0  maUrette. 

D'autres  fois,  il  tuit  uji  chien.  Ellc  lui  jciail 
son  mouchoir  p.ir(um6  au  bout  di-  l.i  pitte,  et  il 
devait  courir  le  ramasscr  avec  ies  liciils  en  se 
tralnant  sur  Ics  mains  et  sur  les  pieds. 

— Rappone,  CHar!  Je  vais  te  r^i^er.  si  tu 
fttnes !  Trfes  bien.  Ctear.  oMissant,  gentil ;  fab 
le  beau  ' 

Et  lui.aimant  sa  bassesse,  f^ofitant  la  jouissance 
d'etre  une  bmte,  aspirant  k  de.scendre,  criail : 

—Tape  plus  lort !  Plus  fort !  .  .  .  Hou  f 
Hott !  je  snis  eongi.  Tap«  done !  .  .  , 


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4X4 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


"VENISE  SAUVEE." 

//*  %(nat€ur  Antonio  tsl  rumanl  <{{  la  (ouflisane 
AquiUna  et,  sadiqitcntt'nl,  siucartu:  en  quadrupidf. 

I'll  <  hlcii,  inonscigncur  ! 

ilx-  senatcur  Antuniu  sc  jetie  1  i)tuU«  psttet, 
rampc  sous  la  table,  ei  abuie. ) 

— Ah !  vuus  me  monl«x?  Eh  bien,  vous  aurez 
des  ccittM  de  pied ! 

— ^Va !  de  tout  mon  ct^ur !  Dm  coups  de  pted ! 
.  .  .  EnCt>re.  encore  tli  <  i  i:;  s  de  pied  !  .  .  . 
Hou  1  Huu  1  Plus  furl !  I'lus  tori  !  Eacure  plus 
foril 

Speaking  of  Otway's  Vfnice  Preserwi^ 
Henry  Bauer,  the  first  critic  in  France, 
says  :  "  An  incomparable  spectacle,  of 
thchighest  grandeur  and  tragic  beauty." 

The  first  instalmf'nt  I  f  Leon  Daudet's 
new  story,  a  phantasv  called  Shake- 
speare's Jtmrney  in  the  J^orth  [announced 
in  the  July  Bookman],  ap[>ears  in  the 
Novemtier  is-^ue  of  the  Nouvflle  Rrcut. 
Leon  Daudet  propf)ses  to  show  from 
what  types — supposed  to  have  been  met 
by  Shakesp«'are  in  this  iiti.ii;i:i.ii  y  yiwv- 
ney  in  the  North  of  Europe — the  drama- 
tist drew  his  characters.  In  Denmarlc 
he  meets  and  converses  with  the  proto- 
type of  Hamlet,  and  so  on.  I  notice  in 
tile  same  number  of  Madame  Adam's 
magazine  the  first  instalment  of  a  new 
life  if  N'apole<m,  by  M.  Pmudhon.  One 
ha<i  tancieU  that  the  interest  in  Napo- 
leon's life  was  waning.  Apparently  it 
is  not. 

There  is  certainly  a  "  ring"  in  Paris 
amongst  writers  for  the  stage.  It  may 
be  noticed  that  tfMv<-  \vhr)se  dramatic 
works  are  accepted  tor  perft)rmance  are 
enerally,  if  not  invariably,  persons  in- 
uentially  connected  with  the  news- 
papers. It  was  partly  to  counteract 
this  ring  that  Antoinc  lounded  the  The- 
atre Libre.    I  remember  asking  Sardou 

to  lof*k  cVi  i'  .1  s!i(irt  nnc-nct  ]il:iv  f ''i' a 
friend  of  mine,  lie  did  so,  and  when  1 
saw  him  subsequently  in  his  town-house 
in  the  Rue  Genural-Fciy,  he  told  me 
that  the  play  was  1^  "  superb,"  j  achef- 
d'oeuvre,  3'^  "  Oiway  and  Marivaux  com- 
bined." I  then  asked  him,  on  behalf  of 
my  fi  icnd.  to  give  me  a  word  to  a  Pari- 
sian manager,  to  induce  tiie  nianager  to 
read  it.  Sardou  said  that  that  was  use- 
!i*ss.  tlic  aiilh(ir  iK-ii!'.;  .'in  unl-cnriwn  man. 
He  added  that  thcie  we!<  twenty  dogs 
on  each  stray  bone,  a  gang  of  wolves 
tearing  each  other's  throats  at  •  u  h 
stage-door.  Howf'v<T.  he  eventually 
wrote  a  very  enthusiastic  letter  of  intro- 
duction and  recommendation  to  a  Pari* 


sian  manager  who  has  always  professed 
his  desire  to  "  produce"  young  authors. 
I  gave  his  note  to  my  friend,  who,  on 
reading  it,  thought  his  fortune  made. 
This  took  place  in  1S89.    Till  the  diie 
of  writing — we  are  in  1895 — ^thc  author 
has  had  no  news  of  his  manuscript.  As 
I  have  said,  Antoine  tried  to  counteract 
this  ring,  and,  to  prove  his  sincerity,  I 
may  quote  the  case  of  M.  Fran<^ois  de 
Cure!,  a  yning  dramatic  author  wb"  re- 
cently attracted  much  ;itt'*nti<:>n.     M.  de 
Cure!  had  written  tli rrc  j  lays,  ail  of 
wlili  h  he  considered,  in  their  way,  ex- 
cellent.   Being  entirely  what  is  called 
'*  an  outsider,"  he  did  not  dare  approach 
Antoine  as  M.  de  Curel.  and  accordingly 
sent  the  three  plays,  each  under  adider* 
ent  pseudonym,  to  the  Director  of  the 
Th6&tre  Libre,  asking  in  each  case  for 
fair  consideration  tf»  he  given  to  e.^-^h 
play.    Within  three  weeks  M.  de  Cuici 
received  at  the  three  different  addresses 
q;ivi  n.  addressed  to  the  three  different 
lictilious  names,  warm  letters  of  accept- 
ance, with  invitations  to  call  and  arrange 
for  the  production  of  each  play.  He 
called  and  introduced  himself  succes- 
sively as  M,  I'n-iel.  M.  Chose,  and  M. 
So*and  so.    His  three  plays  were  played, 
one  at  the  Theatre  Libre.  <>ne,  on  M. 
Autoine's  recommendalioa,  al  the  \  ari- 
6t£s,  and  another,  on  the  same  recom- 
mendation, at  the  Theatre  Frangais. 
These    pieces   were :    L' Embers   d  um 
Sainte^  Vlrtrntie^  and  U Amour  Brod^. 
Besides  the  three  plays  n.imed,  M.  dc 
Curel,  thanks  to  M.  Antoine's  inrtuence, 
was  able  to  produce  in  the  same  year 
two  other  one  act  pieces,  Les  FossiieszxA 
La  Fi^iirixnte. 

The  legend  that  genius  is  an  infinite 
capacity  for  taking  pains  seems  inaccu- 
rate, at  least  as  far  as  dramatic  work  is 
concerned,  to  those  who  know.  The 
most  successful  plays  which  during  re- 
cent years  have  been  panluced  either  in 
London  or  in  Paris  have  literally  been 
written  currcnte  calamo.  For  instance, 
M.  de  Curel's  V Amour  BrOiU  was  writ- 
ten in  a  fortnight.  It  was  enthusiasti- 
cally received  at  the  Com^die  Fran9ai&e, 
the 'first  theatre  in  the  world.  I  could 
cite  many  otht^r  rases  tn  show  that  s^reat 
rapidity  of  production  is  not  incompati- 
ble with  great  popular  success. 

Every  one  who  has  been  to  Paris 
knows  of  Nadar  the  photographer.  Few 
know  that  Nadar,  before  he  was  a  pho 
tc  grapher,  was  a  novelist  of  great  dis- 


S 


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A  UTERARY  jOURSAL 


415 


Unction,  who  took  tu  photography,  be- 
cause, like  many  of  us  novelists,  he  had 

discovered  lliat  writinjj  does  m  t  always 
**  feed  its  man."  Well,  Nadar  has 
failed  even  as  a  photographer,  just  as 
from  a  commercial  point  of  view  he  had 
failed  as  a  nnvelisi,  .uid  is  now,  after 
fifty  years  ol  liguiation  on  the  Paris 
boulevards,  about  to  return  to  Marseilles 
a  grey-haired  and  ruined  man.  IK- 
spent  a  million  francs  during  the  siege 
of  Paris  in  balloons,  and  organised  the 
postal  servic  e  of  ilic  beleaguered  town 
— and  now,  apparently,  he  has  nothing 
beyond  a  volume  of  memoirs,  which  he 
proposes  to  publish.  Nadar's  real  name 
is  Tournachon.  He  came  to  Paris  as  a 
medical  student,  and  at  the  age  of  17 
published  a  novel  entitled  Robe  de  D/Ja- 
nirfy  which  was  followed  within  three 
years  by  his  Miroir  aiix  AlouetUs.  His 
next  was  to  draw,  and  he  drew  and  pub- 


Ushed  a  "  Pantheon"  of  caricatures  of 
men  of  the  day  of  1854.   And  then  find' 

ing  (  is  many  of  us  have  found)  that 
neither  writing  nor  drawing  is  very  lu- 
crative, he  took  to  business,  and  was,  in 
his  way,  the  best  pliotographer  of  Paris. 
But  even  business  failed  him,  because, 
being  an  artist,  he  applieil  all  the  profits 
of  his  trade  to  the  wildest  ventures. 
His  balloon,  **  Le  Geant,"  cost  him  a 
fortune.  It  nearly  cost  him  his  life,  as 
a  Prussian  non-commissioned  officer  was 
anxious  to  hanix  liini  when  '*  Le  Geant" 
fell  into  the  Prussian  Camp.  He  es- 
caped, however,  and  now  is  a  ruined 
man.  He  has  written  twelve  books,  of 
which  one  at  least  is  a  masterpiece. 
The  name  of  the  latter  is  Qua  mi  1  eta  is 
Etu^atd^  a  book  which  renders  raurger 

Robert  H.  Sherard, 

123  BovLEVARi>  Magenta,  Paris. 


IN  PARADISE. 

When  Mollie  laughs,  you  hear  the  rush 

Of  winds  among  the  forest  trees, 
The  joyous  outburst  of  the  thrush, 

When  twilight  prompts  his  melodies, 
And  other  sounds  as  quick  as  these 

To  lift  the  heart.    The  paths  are  green, 
Life  opens  for  her  down  its  leas, 

She  treads  them  blithely  :  she's  si.xteen. 

When  Phyllis  smiles,  the  darkest  sky 
Is  shot  with  sunlight  through  and  through  ; 

For  every  dimple  shown  thereby 

•  She  gains  a  lover,  ardent,  true. 

*Tis  vain  to  sigh  and  vain  to  sue, 
He  best  may  fare  who  long  can  wait 

For  favour  from  those  eyes  of  blue — 
The  years  she  numbers  are  but  eight. 

Order  my  life,  ye  Sisters  three. 

As  seemeth  best,  but  tyrant  me,  whiles. 
Abidance  in  that  Paradise 

Where  MulUc  laughs  and  Phyllis  smiles. 

Henry  Baldwin* 


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4i6 


THB  BOOKMAN. 


NEW  BOOKS. 


HISTORY  or  TIfE  UNITED  STATES  FROM 

1  Hi;  COMPROMISb"  OF  1850 .• 

In  the  third  volume  of  his  work  Mr. 
Rhodes  confirms  the  impression  created 

by  the  earlier  volumes,  that  he  is  giving 
lis  as  satisfactory  a  history  as  could  be 
expected  at  only  the  present  degree  of 
remoteness  in  time  Irom  the  period  of 
which  he  treats.  A  great  history  <>f  the 
Civil  War  is  as  vet  impossil)lL'  ;  ihe 
groundwork  of  f.i<  t  is  ik/I  vlI  ready  for 
the  finer  toticlies  <>f  jiliilnsophic  genius. 
A  good  history  is  not  only  possible,  but 
is  realised  in  the  work  before  us.  The 
pro'>pnt  volume,  like  its  i>r«-(Icre«;?;ors, 
gives  evidence  of  a  correct  appreciation 
by  the  author  of  the  scope  and  charac- 
ter of  the  task  that  he  has  undertaken, 
an  amazing;  degree  of  industry  and  in- 
telligence in  the  accumulation  of  mate- 
rial, and  a  praiscworlhy  spirit  of  irnjvir- 
tiality  in  framing  judgments  upon  men 
and  events.  However  one  may  differ 
from  his  conclusion  upon  any  particular 
point,  Mr.  Rhodes  leaves  no  room  for 
doubt  that  that  conclusion  has  been 
evolved  from  a  conscientious,  even  labo- 
rious, halanrincj  of  evidence. 

Tiie  third  volume  covers  the  period 
from  the  Presidential  election  of  i860 
to  the  capture  of  New  Orleans  in  April, 
1862.  The  main  narrative  is  preceded 
by  a  chapter  of  1x3  pages  on  the  social 
conditions  prevailincf  in  t!ie  decade  from 
1850  to  i860.  This  introductory  chap- 
ter— ^which  can  be  designated  only  by 
description,  since  Mr.  Rhodes  does  not 
honour  his  chapters  with  titles — is  one 
of  ^reat  value.  Its  calm  presentation 
of  facts  and  tendencies  in  connection 
with  the  commerce,  finances,  transpor- 
tation systems,  health,  amusements,  lit- 
erature, and  religion  of  the  people  fur- 
nishes a  much  needed  corrective  to  the 
impression  created  by  many  bo-callcU 
histories,  that  the  sole  occupation  of 
our  people  hetwecn  and  i860  was 

a  passionate  and  acriniunious  debate  on 
the  question  of  slavery.  In  treating  of 
the  tariff,  Mr.  Rliodes  rather  unneces- 
sarily, though  in  the  most  amiable  man- 
ner, drags  in  his  own  views  on  the  gen- 

*  History  of  ihc  United  States  from  the  Com- 

f romiM  of  1850.    By  lames  Ford  Rhodes.  Vol. 
II.,  1860-61.  New  Toifci  Harper  A  Biotfaen, 
#8.50. 


eral  subject,  and  incidentally  exhibits 
again  his  admiration  for  Daniel  Web- 
ster, by  presenting  and  endorsing  the 
ideas  of  the  latter  as  express^  in  1824. 
One  of  the  most  interesting  pas«iaijes  in 
this  chapter  is  that  on  the  health  of  the 
people.  The  author  has  gathered  to- 
gether frc)m  contemporary  literature  a 
large  number  of  passages  bearing  on 
the  subject,  but  he  fails  to  give  suffi- 
cient weight  to  the  fact  that  almost  all 
the  opinions  and  observations  embodied 
therera  relate  to  what  we  call  the  higher 
social  classes,  and  are  {uit  forth  by 
writers  of  a  satirical  tendency,  like 
Holmes  and  Curtis.  Mr.  Rhodes*s  con- 
clusion that  "  during  the  last  forty  years 
the  American  physique  has  unquestion- 
ably  improved,"  seems  tO  rest  too  much 
on  a  comparison  of  the  results  reached 
by  **  the  precise  observations"  of  such 
careful  statisticians  as  Emerson,  Everett, 
Holmes,  and  Curtis  (p.  72),  with  the  per- 
sonal dimensions  of  that  invinciMc  and 
irrepressible  optimist,  Edward  Atkinson 
(P-  74). 

The  two  lon^  chapters  in  which  are 
treated  the  events  between  Lincoln's 
election  and  the  fall  of  Sumter  consti- 
tute distinctly  the  best  history  of  the 
period  that  has  thus  far  been  written. 
The  author's  effort  to  be  perfectly  fair 
hrith  in  prescntin£j  facts  and  in  passing; 
judgment  upon  individuals  is  often  very 
conspicuous,  but  is  always  very  success- 
ful. That  I'uchanan,  while  weak,  was 
not  unpatriotic,  has  been  grudgingly 
conceded  by  a  few  Northern  writers  be- 
fore Mr.  Rhodes  ;  that  Jefferson  Davis 
was  really  sincere  in  his  expressions  of 
regret  at  leaving  the  Union  has  never 
before  been  presumed  without  discus- 
sion. Again,  take  the  theory  that  the 
sccei»i,ion  of  the  cotton  States  was  the 
outcome  of  a  plot  concocted  by  a  knot 
of  Southern  Senators  at  Wa&hinpfton  ; 
the  seven  pages  which  Mr.  Rhodes  de- 
votes to  laying  this  fancy  render  its  re- 
suscitation by  any  intelligent  being  an 
impossibility.  As  to  the  cttorls  at  com- 
promise in  and  out  of  Congress,  the  an- 
thor  is,  we  think,  disproportionately 
elaborate.  His  general  conclusion  is 
that  the  Crittenden  proposition,  if 
adopted,  would  have  warded  off  the 
crisis;  that  tlic  Republicans  were  re- 


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A  UTERARY  JOUKi^AL 


417 


sponsible  for  the  failure  of  this  propo- 
sition ;  and  that  Lincoln  was  chiefly  re- 
sponsible for  tin*  attitude  u{  the  Repub- 
licans. But  at  the  same  time  he  holds 
that  no  compromise  would  have  per- 
manently settled  the  issues  at  stake, 
and  that  morally  the  attitude  of  Lincoln 
was  justitiablc. 

Througfhout  the  whole  discussion  of 
Th  >  influfnces  that  determined  the  course 
of  events  in  the  winter  of  1860-61,  there 
is  one  point  at  which  Mr.  Rhodes  is 
fairly  open  to  criticism.  He  does  not 
ascribe  sufficient — indeed,  he  scarcely 
ascribes  any — importance  to  the  per- 
sistency of  extreme  party  antipathies 
during  the  period.  Tr)  the  uhserver  at 
the  present  day,  the  magnitude  of  the 
disaster  impending  overshadows  every- 
thine:  ;  but  at  the  time  itself  the  jieril, 
while  appalling,  was  yet  too  va^uc  in 
form  to  overcome  the  concrete  and  per- 
fectly definite  passions  of  recent  j^oiiti- 
cal  controversy.  Both  the  hesitation  of 
Buchanan  to  deal  sharply  with  SuuUi 
Carolina,  and  the  reluctance  of  Lincoln 
to  consider  compromise,  were  in  no  small 
measure  due  to  the  fear  that  some  party 
advantage  would  be  gained  by  Republi- 
can!; and  Democrats  respectively.  It 
was  very  hard  to  believe  that  civil  war 
was  actually  at  hand  ;  it  was  very  easy 
to  believe  that  great  popularity  would 
accrue  to  the  party  through  whose  rep- 
resentatives a  settlement  of  the  crisis 
should  be  effected.  Hence  the  policy 
of  "  masterly  inactivity"  on  the  part  of 
the  Republicans,  to  which  Mr.  Rhodes 
makes  only  a  passing  allusion  (p.  966). 
They  felt  that,  iiaving  won  the  election, 
they  should  have  the  credit  of  settling 
all  the  questions  involved  ;  and  there- 
fore they  thwarted  the  schemes  that 
promised  a  settlement  before  they  as- 
sumed charge  ot  the  administration. 
To  the  persistency  of  party  feeling  are 
also  to  f)c  attributed  the  suggestions  of 
impeachment  which  must  have  had 
some  influence  on  the  timorous  s;)irit  of 
Mr.  Bu(  lianan.  He  cmild  not  believe 
the  Republicans  incapable  of  combining 
with  the  extreme  Southerners  against 
him  in  proceedings  based  on  the  exer- 
cise by  him  of  doubtful  powers  in  ftp- 
posing  secession.  Mr.  Rhodes  appar- 
ently deems  the  impeachment  sugges- 
tions unworthy  of  mention.  Mis  inti- 
mated belief  (p.  187)  that  in  December 
the  Republicans  were  very  ready  "  to 
take  up  with  a  Democratic  leader  who 


would  stand  as  a  champion  for  the 
Union  and  for  the  enforcement  of  the 

laws,"  is  quite  irreconcilable  with  the 
analysis  of  Republican  feeling  which 
precedes  it,  as  well  as  with  the  ideas  de- 
veloped above. 

It  is  perha])S  well  that  tlie  aulliorchies 
not  undertake  any  formal  discussion  of 
the  more  purely  legal  questions  involved 
in  the  controversies  of  this  period.  The 
constitutional  law  of  the  situation  has 
been  treated  almost  ad  nauseam  by  other 
writers.  The  repeated  references  of 
Mr.  Rhodes  to  a  stipposed  distinction 
between  coercing  a  Slate  and  enforcing 
the  customs  laws  (cf.  pp.  303,  330)  are 
not  especially  happy.  There  was  no 
practical  difference  between  the  two  ; 
and  the  logical  difference  that  was 
worked  out  for  political  cfTect  merely 
arose  from  regarding  the  same  fact  from 
opposite  points  of  view.  The  attempt 
to  cxchide  from  consideration  the  cor- 
porate State  in  nsinpf  force  against  the 
individual  citizens  lliercof,  broke  down 
utterly  long  before  the  war  terminated. 
In  respect  to  the  questions  that  very 
early  arose  as  to  the  suspension  of  the 
h€Aeas  corpus^  Mr.  Rhodes  is  singularly 
inadecpiate.  His  three-line  reference  to 
the  Merry  man  case  at  Baltimore  (p.  391) 
is  inaccurate  as  well.  A  little  of  the 
space  assigned  to  the  efforts  at  compro- 
mise would  have  been  better  employed 
here.  Perhaps,  however,  the  whole 
matter  of  arbitrary  arrests  is  to  receive 
fuller  treatment  in  later  vohimes,  when 
the  time  is  reached  at  whicii  they  be- 
came a  very  important  political  issue. 

On  the  i-vents  after  Lincoln's  inaugu- 
ration Mr.  Rhodes  does  excellent  work. 
His  judgments  as  to  Lincoln,  Seward, 
and  McClellan  are  most  likely  to  be 
those  of  all  future  historians.  Possibly 
tlic  uulavourahle  reflections  on  Seward 
may  be  modified  by  fuller  light  at  some 
points.  McClellan's  "own  story"  has 
unfortunately  closed  the  way  to  any 
further  apology  for  its  author.  From 
unpublished  Sumner  manuscript  Mr. 
Rhodes  has  been  able  to  make  very  in- 
teresting and  valuable  contributions  to 
our  knowledge  of  foreign  opinion  on 
our  affairs  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war. 
la  dealing  with  niiUtary  matters,  tiie 
author  avoids  any  straining  after  dra* 
matii:  effect,  or,  at  any  rate,  fails  to  pro- 
duce such  effect.  The  battle  and  cam- 
paign maps  are  excellent. 

As  to  style  and  arrangement,  there  is 


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4i8 


THB  BOOKMAN, 


some  room  tor  criticism  in  this  as  in  the 
first  two  volumes.  It  is  hard  to  tell  the 
basis  of  the  chapter  divisions.  Neither 
topical  nor  chronological  order  alone 
explains  it.  The  chapters  are  exceed- 
ingly long — th<-  shortest  99  pages  and 
the  longest  165  !  in  each  there  is  a  con- 
fusing amount  of  abrupt  transition  be- 
tween unrelated  topics.  Mr.  Rhodes, 
however,  seeks  to  save  the  reader  un- 
necessary shock  by  the  mechanical  de- 
vice of  double  leads  between  paraj^raphs 
where  the  change  of  siit<i<N:t  i-^  ni«)Sl  vicj- 
lent.  This  mitigates  the  strain  some- 
what, and  saves  such  intellectual  paral- 
ysis as  is  inflicted  by  Pniffssor  MacMas- 
tcr  in  his  hop-skip-and-jump  rami)les 
from  subject  to  subject,  often  without 
even  the  paragraph  break.  In  respect 
♦o  style,  citlu'f  Mr.  Rhodes  or  his  liter- 
ary reviser  (sec  p.  637,  note)  is  guilty 
occasionally  of  peccadilloes.  We  fear 
that  the  effort  to  hoist  into  unlrrhnii  .il 
usage  the  word  "  envisage,"  and  even 
'*  envi?agement"  (p.  366)  is  foredoomed 
to  failure.  \\v  doubt  that  railroad 
bonds  are  technically  known  as  "  ac- 
ceptances" (p.  39).  "  The  nineteenth- 
century  Addison"  would  probably  not 
have  moulded  an  apostrophe  to  his 
"  million  readers"  in  just  this  shape  ; 
**  What  an  audience  to  address  words 
of  wholesome  morality,  healthy  criti- 
cism on  literature  and  art,  and  acute 
observations  on  society  to !"  (p.  94). 
He  would  have  thought  instantly  of 
Castlereagh's  great  feat,  in  concluding 
a  set  speech  in  the  Commons  with  the 
word  "its."  But  the  literary  vagaries 
of  Mr.  Rhodes's  work  seldom  affect  the 
clearness  of  his  meaning,  and  they  are 
not  to  be  taken  seriously.  Certainly 
they  are  the  farthest  possili I e  from  modi- 
fying the  judgment  that  he  is  making 
an  invaluable  contribution  to  historical 
science. 


HIS  FATHER*S  SON.<» 

In  these  days  of  tlie  sudden  swarming 
of  writers  toward  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
when  the  meat-axe  of  melodrama  tips 

the  standard  of  vie  toi  ious  romance,  the 
writing  of  a  story  of  modern  New  York, 
by  a  thorough  New-Yorker,  seems  to 
me  to  be  doubly  significant.  As  Mr. 
Matthews  in  the  past  has  been  interested 

*  His  Father's  Son :  A  Novel  of  New  York. 
By  Brander  Mutbcwi.  Neir  York :  Harper  & 
Bros.  $i<5o. 


in  the  realities  of  Amcrjcaa  life,  so  he 
continues  to  be.  The  recent  hurrah 
over  the  "shilling:  sfinrker"  seems  not 
to  have  changed  his  artistic  motive. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  writer  who  is 
moved  by  motives  deeper  than  love  of 
money — deeper  even  than  the  love  of  ^u-j- 
cess — docs  not  change  with  the  wine  of 
public  approval.  Purveyors  of  readinf; 
matter  for  t!ie  million  may  change  and 
do  change  as  often  as  ilic  buyers  of 
28  cent  volumes  at  the  bargain  counters 
may  change,  findinp:  themselves  quite 
happy  in  selling  prodigious  stacks  ot 
easily  made  books,  winking  meanwhile 
at  each  other  in  contempt  of  tlie  buyer. 
But  not  in  this  way  is  tlic  lasting  an  of 
any  nation  produced  ;  of  this  any  stu- 
dent may  convince  himself  by  a  study  of 
the  records  of  each  distinctive  age  of 
literature. 

I  think  there  can  be  no  controversy 
over  this  position,  for  the  attempt  v< 
think  its  converse  (as  Herbert  Spencer 
would  say)  is  ample  demonstration. 
Imagine  all  English  novi  lists  turning  to 
the  middle  age  of  France  for  their  mate- 
rial. Imagine  all  .American  novelists 
writing  of  (  ireece  in  the  time  of  Alex- 
ander, and  the  fair  minded  reader  will 
see  at  once  that  writing  of  such  sort  is 
likely  to  be  artificial  and  quite  lifeless. 
Tlie  belif'vers  in  an  American  literature 
rejoice  at  the  over-production  of  the 
cheap  romance.  It  is  largely  a  publish" 
ers*  reviv-d,  for  the  itard  ot  srnsational- 
ism  has  always  had  the  majority  ot  read- 
ers and  always  will,  just  as  the  Satut' 
day  Nig/it  <i.n<\  "the  Old  Sleuth"  stories 
outsell  Hawthorne  and  Miss  Wilkins. 
The  sale  of  such  literature  does  not  sur- 
prise the  student  of  men— be  does  not 

even  olijei  t  to  it  ;  lie  only  qnrsti.,ns  '^c 
sincerity  or  the  wisdom  of  those  cntic> 
who  put  the  author  of  the  "  killing  lale" 
English  tic t ion  above  George  Mere* 
dith  or  Thomas  Hardy. 

What  prevents  American  novelists 
from  buying  up  somebody's  memoirs  of 
this  or  t!iat  court,  and  grinding  out 
tales,  lour  per  year,  all  in  the  first  per- 
son ?  Nothing  but  literary  conscience. 
They  are  artists  in  motive.  They  are 
not  seeking  after  success  of  that  kind. 
Any  artist  should  not  be  too  successful. 
If  he  gets  to  be  the  rage  he  should  pull 
himself  up  short,  and  revise  not  only 
Ills  art,  but  himself. 

A  painter  friend  of  mine  when  he  finds 
himself  selling  his  fifth  picture  in  the 


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A  UTERARV  JOURNAL, 


419 


same  month  always  locks  his  door  and 

puts  himself  and  ar  t  on  trial.  I  am 
suspicious  of  a  man  who  studies  his  au- 
dience more  than  his  subject,  and  con- 
versely I  find  myself  drawn  to  a  man  like 
Henry  James  who  is  producing  the 
most  purposeful  and  meaninja^ful  and 
artistic  work  of  his  life  (see  TAe  Zessou 
of  the  Master)  at  a  moment  niion  such 
work  is  apparently  overlaid  and  crushed 
out  by  "  popular  romance." 

I  applaud,  therefore,  al  the  mitset  the 
theme  to  whicli  Braiulcr  Malliicws  ap- 
plies, himself.  It  shows  a  man  content 
to  keep  his  own  individual  p»)int  of  view 
during  an  apparent  uplifting  of  the  sen- 
sationalist upon  the  throne  of  art.  There 
is  110  j^rcat  sale  for  him  nor  f(ir  any 
other  man  who  sets  a  tlioughtfui  and 
contained  woric  of  art  before  the  people. 
This  is  no  new  word.  If  a  man  is  to 
succeed  largely  he  must  either  frankly 
ticlcle  to  lauj^htet  or  teach  the  primary 
classes.  Mr.  M.itthew  s's  book  does  nei- 
ther. It  is  a  book  for  readers  capable 
of  thought. 

Let  me  interpolate  right  hare  that  of 
the  best  of  Stevensnn  I  nm  a  profotind 
admirer.  I  read  all  that  Killing  writes 
with  joy.  I  don't  (ue  what  a  man 
writes  about  provided  he  is  a  sincere 
artist,  muved  to  his  choice  irresistibly, 
not  because  somebody  else  is  succeeding^ 
in  tliat  line.  Great  .irl  demands  a  great 
personality  behind  the  work.  I  feel  a 
distinctive  and  powerful  soul  behind 
Kiplintj's  work  and  Stevens  Mi's  work, 
just  as  I  feel  Meredith  and  Ibscn  through 
their  lines.  These  men  take  hold  of 
the  deeps  of  life,  and  it  matters  little  to 
me  whether  they  call  themselves  ideal- 
ists or  realists.  They  are  creative  souls. 
There  is  no  justification  in  art  of  imita- 
tion for  commercial  purposes.  Dumas 
may  be  allowable,  even  commendable  ; 
an  imitation  of  Dumas  is  abominable 
artistically,  )iowever  successful  on  the 
bargain  counters. 

Hu  Father's  Son  is  a  great  theme,  a 
contcmporanconf?  theme.  It  is  not  in- 
volved, and  contains  no  alien  elements. 
It  is  a  study  of  a  New  York  business 
m.in  and  his  son.  It  concerns  itself  very 
little  with  women  other  than  the  wives 
of  the  two  men,  and  not  at  all  with  so- 
ciety,  and  yet  it  interests  am!  convinces. 
It  adds  one  more  great  ligure  to  the  de- 
lineation of  American  business  men.  Ezra 
Pi<-rr(.'  is  worthy  to  be  catalogued  with 
Silas  Laphamand  G.  Milton  Northwick. 


It  is  a  grim  book,  written  with  pre- 
cision and  ease,  and  it  is  perfectly 
thought  out ;  yet  to  me  tlie  theme  is 
greater  than  the  treatment — ^that  is  to 

say,  it  is  r^-ZaW  rather  than  dramatised, 
though  this  applies  rather  to  the  first 
half  of  the  story  than  to  the  second  half  ; 
the  two  last  chapters  especially  rise  to 
powerful  drama.  There  in  no  wavering 
in  the  buriu — the  hand  which  holds  it  is 
firm,  calm,  certain— and  yet  this  calm- 
ness, this  firmne*;*?  may,  after  all,  show 
the  limitations  as  well  as  the  excellen- 
ces of  the  artist. 

The  author  has  not  permitted  liini^elf 
the  slightest  exaggeration,  but  this  sell- 
containedness  will  no  doubt  keep  many 
a  reader  from  perceiving  how  fine  and 
sincere  the  art  really  is.  There  is  no 
marked  peculiarity  of  style,  no  striving 
for  grace,  but  there  is  perfect  clarity. 
The  medium  is  so  transparent  that  the 
reader  forgets  its  necessary  presence  in 
his  interest  in  the  subject.  This  appears 
to  me  to  be  a  fine  achievement. 

Ezra  Pierce  represents  a  very  wide 
class  of  American  financiers,  who  do 
such  paradoxical  thincfs  in  public  and 
private  life  that  the  student  of  men  mar- 
vels as  if  studying  a  new  kind  of  animal. 
Abstemious  in  their  lives,  not  given  to 
loose  living,  sternly  intolerant  of  lying 
or  petty  deceits,  they  nevertheless  rob 
in  millions,  ami  wreck  in  the  fashion  of 
conquering  armies.  To  them  money 
made  withm  the  law,  no  matter  how  re- 
lentlessly  disaster  follows,  pfives  no  con- 
cern, does  not  appear  to  be  criminal ; 
it  is  merely  business.  Ezra  Pierce  lives 
(inietly,  morally  in  liis  home.  He  is 
faithful  to  his  wife  and  generous  to  his 
church,  but  relentless  to  his  enemies  in 
business.  He  despises  gambling,  and 
never  takes  chances — he  makes  chances. 

All  this  is  sorrowful  to  the  social  re- 
former, but  superb  opportunity  for  the 
novelist  ;  and  while  I  cannot  say  Mr, 
Matthews  has  made  the  very  largest  use 
of  his  theme,  I  feel  his  treatment  within 
tile  lines  lie  has  struck  out,  to  be  well- 
nigh  rtawless.  He  permits  himself  but 
few  actual  dramatisations  of  the  stormy 
inter-acticms  of  his  characters,  but  these 
few  are  worth  waiting  for. 

The  story  begins  with  the  coming 
home  from  college  of  Witislow  Pierce, 
and  his  entrance  into  business  with  his 
father.  It  ends  with  his  flight  to  Eu- 
rope. He  comes  and  gf^es,  but  the  grim 
old  captain  of  railroad  wreckers  stays 


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THt,  BOOKMAN, 


to  the  end,  never  petty,  always  master 

of  his  cmotiDns  anci  <jf  all  exterior  situa- 
tions. He  has,  ihrouRhout,  his  self-justi- 
fication, like  KroRstadt  in  A  Doll' s  Housi 
and  like  Bernick  in  The  J'ilUtrsof  SocUty^ 
and  he  remains  ahsnliitfly  unperceptive 
of  the  terrible  fact  that  he  has  corrupted 
his  son,  and  that  he  himself  is  a  thief 
and  bandit;  and  not  merely  tliis,  but  by 
the  art  of  the  novelist  the  reader  is  made 
to  admire  and  pity  the  old  man.  His 
strength  wins  ailniiralion,  his  loneliness 
and  lack  of  social  attachment  make  the 
heart  ache  for  him.    He  rises  to  epic 

Eroportions,  like  David  Marshall  in 
[enry  Fuller's  With  the  Procession. 
As  I  laid  the  book  down  I  had  the 
feeling  that  it  was  perfectly  authentic 
throughont.  It  moves  with  the  inexora- 
ble quiet  progress  of  duil^  life.  Noth- 
ing seems  forced,  there  is  no  set  ap- 
peal to  the  reader,  and  this  is  grateful. 
I  felt  behind  this  book  a  keen,  sane,  sym- 
pathetic intelligence,  neither  a  preacher 
nor  a  peddler  of  sentiment.  I  do  not 
know  Mr.  Matthews  save  through  his 
writing,  but  this  book  makes  me  feel 
that  I  have  not  hitherto  comprehended 
his  earnestness  and  sincerity. 

Of  a  certainty  many  people  will  say, 
"  Why  write  such  a  depressing  book  ?" 
There  is  no  answer  to  that  threadbare 
question  save  this  :  It  is  not  depressing 
to  strong  minds,  any  more  than  the  east 
wind,  salt  and  keen,  is  depressing  to 
vigorous  l)o(lirs.  Ti)'  s<'  stem,  manly 
books  are  good  to  rcaU.  They  are  the 
native  product,  the  mental  output  fit  to 
counteract  the  sickly  sentimentality  and 
the  bathos  of  the  atavistic  romance. 
Moreover,  the  public  has  no  dominion 
over  the  artist,  and  should  have  none. 

While  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood 
as  disposing  of  Mr.  Matthews's  book,  I 
must  Lomc  back  to  a  statement  of  my 
fceiiiit^  tliat  the  theme  of  Jlis  Father' s 
Son  is  greater  than  the  treatment  of  it, 
fine  as  that  treatment  really  is.  Within 
its  limits  it  is  perfectly  adequate,  Init  I 
feel  that  the  author  has  not  included 
enough.  He  has  passed  over  in  narra- 
tive mrm,  scenes  wait  h  to  my  mind  held 
tlie  finest  possibilities  for  drama.  I  have 
no  doubt  all  this  was  done  designedly, 
for  when  in  the  final  chapters  the  father 
and  his  son  come  face  to  face  in  n  reck- 
oning, there  is  no  hesitant  y  and  no  weak- 
ness in  the  dialogue. 

Sam  Sargeant  and  Cyrus  Poole,  as  well 
as  Ezra  Pierce  and  his  son  remain  in 


the  mind  vital,  accusable  as  any  men 

we  know,  and  to  produce  this  enect 
without  set  appeal  or  trick  is  roa&teiijr 
work.  The  reading  of  such  a  book  is 
an  intellectual  as  well  as  a  moral  stimu- 
lus, though  there  are  plenty  who 
disagree  with  me  on  these  very  poiai^. 

MamJim  Garland. 


CONSTANTINOPLE,  ANCIENT,  MEDLE- 
VAL,  AND  MODERN.* 

Of  all  the  books  of  thr  season  that 
arc  not  merely  holiday  publications. 
Professor  Grosvenor's  is  easily  the  most 
sumptuous  and  splendid.  And  it  is  not 
merely  to  its  externals  alone  that  these 
adjectives  are  to  be  applied.  The  book 
i;  '  '1  is  a  ri(  h  stiTc  of  sclii  ilarship  and 
minute  learning  set  forth  with  all  the 
attractiveness  that  a  finished  Itteraiy 
style  can  give  to  that  which  is  in  itself 
of  intrinsic  interest.  What  the  Com- 
mcndatore  Lanciani  has  in  part  done 
for  Rome,  Professor  Grosvenor  has 
wrought  for  the  other  capital  of  the 
Empire.  There  are,  indeed,  maay 
points  of  likeness  between  the  present 
volum<.-  and  the  two  tlelitclitful  books  in 
which  the  Italian  scholar  has  made  both 
pagan  and  Christian  Rome  live  for  us 
again.  It  has  the  same  abundant  knowl- 
edge gained  from  long  personal  ">b- 
servations  made  on  the  spot  ;  it  lias 
also  the  same  glow  of  enthusiasm  that  io* 
spires  the  it  ader  and  carries  him  along 
from  page  to  pa^e  with  all  the  fascina- 
tion of  a  great  historical  romance  ;  and 
it  is  also  faultless  in  the  literary  and 
artistic  setting  which  the  liberality  of 
the  publishers  has  given  it. 

Yet  there  are  points  of  difference, 
too.  Signor  Lanciani's  warmest  sym- 
|>athy  is  given  to  the  classical  period; 
Professor  Grosvenor's  to  the  modern. 
Tlie  former  sets  before  ns  on!v  an  ar- 
chajological  promulsiSy  a  sort  of  whet  for 
the  appetite,  which  often  tantalises  ratb* 

er  than  fully  satisfies  ;  wliile  ProfessiT 
Grosvenor,  with  ample  time  at  his  com- 
mand and  a  fixed  and  definite  purpose, 
rounds  out  his  work  to  a  most  gratify- 
ing amplitude,  bringing  his  account  of 

*  Constantinople.  Ry  Filwin  A.  Cro^jvcnor. 
Professor  of  European  History  at  Amherst  GJ- 
l(-i;e.  2  vols.,  iUastnted.  Boston:  Robcm 
Hros.  $10.00. 

Constantinople.  By  F.  Marion  Crawtad. 
New  York :  Qiarlcs  Scriboer's  Sons.  fi.sa 


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A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL 


the  city  down  to  the  present  day,  so 
that,  to  get  a  comparative  equivalent  for 
his  performance,  we  should  have  to 
unite  Lanciani's  books  with  the  great 
work  of  Grccforovius,  and  should  even 
then  have  a  gap  to  fill  with  the  missing 
history  of  the  last  four  centuries. 

General  Lew  Wallace,  who  has  writ- 
ten a  short  introduction  to  the  book, 
gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  way 
in  which  the  author  acquired  his  mate> 
rial  for  it  during  the  5'ears  when  he  oc- 
cupied the  chair  of  history  in  Robert 
College ;  how  under  the  guidance  of 
the  learned  Greek,  Dr.  Paspatis  of  Seio, 
he  roamed  over  the  site  of  ancient  By- 
zantiunif  exploring  the  quarters  now 
hidden  to -the  modern,  "  digi^in^;  into 
tumuli  in  search  of  data  for  this,  and 
that,  deciphering  inscriptions,  and  fix- 
ing the  relations  of  points"  with  that 
ever-increasing  glow  of  enthusiasm 
which,  perhaps,  the  archaeologist  feels 
in  a  higher  degree  than  any  other  mor> 
tal.  The  fascin.ition  of  hidden  treasure 
is,  of  course,  felt  by  the  whole  human 
race,  and  has  been  cunningly  played 
upon  by  the  writers  of  romance  from 
the  (hiys  of  Nitocris  down  to  those  of 
Monte  Cristo  and  Captain  Kidd,  and 
the  Gold  Bug,  and  Treasure  Island. 
But  what  is  the  glamour  of  mere  mate- 
rial gold  and  silver  hidden  in  the 
ground,  compared  with  the  intense  and 
indescribable  magic  that  casts  its  spell 
over  one  who  is  seeking  for  treasures 
that  may  not  only  be  of  rare  beauty  and 
artistic  perfection,  but  may  add  an  ap- 
preciable quantity  to  the  sum  of  human 
knowledge,  and  make  their  discoverer 
immortal  P 

Professor  Grosvenor  first  takes  up  the 
general  history  of  the  city,  which  he 
rather  too  briefly  sets  forth  in  a  single 
chapter ;  then  sketches  the  rise  of  the 
Ottoman  power  ;  passes  on  to  give  a  few 
pages  to  the  personage  whom  he  impres- 
sively styles  "  His  Imperial  Majesty  the 
present  Sultan" — the  bigoted  crit  throat 
whom  Europe  is  now  happily  preparing 
to  smash  ;  writes  a  chapter  on  the  Golden 
lloni  and  its  adjacent  towns  and  vil- 
lages ;  gives  a  very  full  section  of  some 
hundred  and  fifty  pages  to  the  Bos- 
porus (why,  in  these  latter  days,  does 
Professor  Grosvenor  write  it  "  Bos- 
phorus"  ?),  and  then  proceeds  to  his 
principal  task  of  dealing  with  Constan- 
tinople itself,  am  ient  and  mndern,  on 
a  detiuitc  system — first  the  ancient  city, 


its  splendours  and  existing  remains, 
and  then,  in  the  second  volume,  the 
city  of  mediaeval  and  modern  times. 
The  whole  narrative  weaves  together 

most  deftly  the  topographical,  histori- 
cal, archseological,  and  descriptive  ele- 
ments. The  great  drama  of  Byzantium 
and  the  Eastern  Empire  is  once  more 
set  before  us  with  all  its  gnrij^eous  mag- 
nificence, its  bloodshed,  its  decadence, 
its  great  d^Scle  when  the  Turk  swept 
over  its  defences,  and  l)y  the  scimitar 
of  his  janissaries  hacked  to  pieces  the 
last  of  the  Christian  emperors — a  gal- 
lant and  chivalric  fitjure.  The  modern 
city  is  minutely  drawn  with  the  most 
intimate  knowledge,  and  nothing  is  left 
for  the  reader  to  desire.  No  small  part 
of  the  attractiveness  of  the  book  comes 
from  the  wonderfully  line  illustrations 
that  are  lavishly  scattered  through  its 
pages  to  the  number  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty.  All  of  these  are  l>eautifully 
executed,  and  many  have  not  before 
been  given  to  the  world.  Their  range 
of  subject  is  very  wide.  From  the  coins 
of  the  Roman  emperors  and  the  por- 
traits of  the  Sultans,  to  the  beautiful 
bits  of  Oriental  architecture,  the  foun- 
tains and  mosques  and  palaces,  the  beg- 
gars in  the  streets  and  the  ladies  in  the 
imperial  harem,  everything  is  set  before 
the  eye  in  the  most  attractive  form. 

Within  our  limits  quotation  is  impos- 
sible, and  criticism  finds  litth^  to  fasten 
upon.  We  could  wish,  however,  that 
Professor  Grosvenor  had  indicated  the 
sources  of  his  ancient  and  mediaeval 
drawings — the  portraits  and  jilans  and 
views.  Likewise  we  regret  iliat  he  has 
adopted  the  strictly  Greek  forms  of 
proper  names,  not  because  we  consider 
this  pedantic,  for  it  is  not  pedantic  when 
done  by  a  scholar  like  Professor  Gros- 
venor, but  because  we  have  never  yet 
found  any  one  who  has  been  able  to 
carry  out  such  a  plan  consistently,  and 
because  inconsistency  sets  the  reader's 

teeth  on  edge.  Professor  Grosvenor  is 
no  exception  to  the  rule  ;  for  we  find  in 
his  pages,  for  example,  such  forms  as 
Palaiologos  and  Andronikc^s  side  by 
side  with  Plat«ea  and  Arcadius  and 
Basiliscus.  Nor  is  the  spelling  even 
of  the  same  names  always  the  same, 
•^ince  Anast'tsins  is  given  in  the  text  and 
Anustasios  ui  ilu;  index. 

Mr.  Crawford's  little  volume,  with  its 
exquisite  Turkish  cover  and  beautiful 
typography  and  pictures,  is  a  brightly 


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43a 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


written  chat  about  Constantirvplr  as  it 
is  to-day  and  from  the  tourist's  point  of 
view.  The  book  wilt  malte  a  very 
dainty  present,  especially  for  a  globe- 
trotter. 

ff.  T.  Peek, 


THE  VAILTMA  LETTERS.* 

The  value  of  these  letters  lies  in  their 
being  like  their  \vril<M-.  All  Stevenson's 
work,  when  it  was  successful,  was  a  more 
or  less  literal  transcription  of  his  every- 
day self,  liven  his  literary  discii>line 
tended  and  helped  to  this  end,  instead 
of  to  the  production  of  an  artificial  and 
unfamiliar  self.  Nn  writer  owed  so 
much  to  his  own  social  Qualities ;  and 
his  popularity  is  very  far  from  being  an 
exclusively  literary  one.  His  interests, 
his  views  of  life,  his  opinions  on  books, 
his  hopes,  his  despondencies,  his  eccen- 
tricities, heresies,  prejudices,  he  insinu- 
ates into  his  readers,  and  they  are  adopt- 
ed, cheered,  echoed,  in  most  unlikely 
quarters,  not  because  of  their  intrinsic 
worth  oi  reasonableness,  but  because 
they  were  liis.  and  had,  liierefore,  the 
most  winrnn!Li;  ot  advocates  and  ex- 
pounders.  The  X'ailima  Lettf*rs  are 
not  to  be  named  with  episu>lary  master- 
pieces. But  they  let  out  the  secret,  to 
whoever  has  nnt  already  guessed  it,  of 
Stevenson's  beguiling  inlluence.  Just 
what  delighted  you  in  Kidnappedy  or  The 
Netv  Atiibian  Xi:^ht:>,  or  in  the  Trarrfs 
with  a  Donkey,  is  here  to  delight  you  when 
he  is  speaking  of  his  own  private  con- 
cerns, or  of  Samoan  politics,  or  of  his 
literary  hopes  and  fears — his  sparkling 
fun,  hts  varying  moods,  his  austere  in- 
dignation, his  gentleness,  his  ready  con- 
fidence. If  Stevenson  ever  posed  at  all 
he  posed  in  naturalness,  in  being  so 
much  himself  that  no  one  could  mink 
him  other  than  he  was. 

But  though  he  had  no  other  pose  than 
this  most  laudable  one,  very  few  men 
have  made  more  effort  to  give  fine  cir- 
cumstance to  his  life.  To  live  in  Grub 
Street  and  dream  of  green  fields  or  of 
marble  palaces  under  sunny  skies  was 
not  his  idea  of  living  well.  The  con- 
tempt with  which  he  sometimes  spoke 
of  the  literary  callin^.:^  was  lu  tfei  tlv  sin- 
cere.    The  "jingle  ot  words"  intoxi- 

*  Vatlima  Letters.  Being  Correspondence  ad- 
dressed  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  to  Sidney  Col- 
vin.  NoTember,  iSoo— October,  1891.  a  vols. 
Cbtcaco:  Stone  ft  KfrabAll.  $a.«s> 


I  .it(  d  him,  hnt  it  was  to  be  an  artist  in 
Ufe  that  his  most  full-blooded  desires 
went  out.  And  his  Samoan  home,  with 
its  beautiful  site,  its  numerous  depen- 
dants, its  barbaric  dignity,  is  tiic  reali- 
sation of  the  picture  in  a  dream.  Think 
what  it  was  for  a  man  with  his  love  of  the 
grotesque,  and  the  coloured,  and  the  un- 
usual, to  live  amidst  this  kind  of  thing  : 

"  There  were  folks  In  ta£s,  and  folks  in  patch. 

work  ;  there  was  every  colour  of  the  niobow  in  • 

spot  or  a  cluster  ;  there  were  men  with  their 
heads  ^iM'.-il  wiih  powilt-icd  s.inii.il-waod,  others 
with  heads  all  purple,  iilutk  lull  of  the  petals  of  a 
flower.  In  the  tnidst  there  was  a  growing  fiekl  of 
oaupread  food,  gntrlually  covertog  acres.  .  .  ■ 
Atiotervals  from  unc  of  the  squatted  Tillages,  ao 
orator  would  arise.  Tbe  field  was  most  beyond 
the  reach  of  any  human  speaking  voice  ;  yet  ft 
was  possible  t<i  catc!i  sii.ittlics  of  this  ela^or.ite 
and  CUl-aoil-ilry  ur.itory  —  ii  was  possible  for  mc. 
for  iii'-taiirc.  t>)  <  atch  ilic  description  o!  itiy  ^\\\ 
and  myself  as  the  Aiii  Tusitala.  O  k  aiii  O  male 
tetele^die  chM  White  Information,  the  chief  of 
the  great  gDvemmeiits.    Gay  dcsiirnnti.  '>" 

Or  to  enjoy  the  mingled  horror  and 
exhilaration  of  his  work, 

"  weeding  out  b«re  olooe  by  the  garralous  water, 
imdcr  the  siteoce  of  the  high  wood,  broken  by 
incongruous  sounds  of  Mrd.  .  .  .   The  life  M 

[he  jiLints  (:'im<-  ttitnugh  my  finger  tips,  their 
hltuggks  I"  hc.irc  like  supplications.  I 
feel  myseU  blix"!  boltt-rcil  ;  then  I  look  f'ack  on 
my  cleared  grass,  and  count  myself  an  ally  in  a 
fair  qnarrel,  and  make  stout  my  heart" 

Or,  after  a  life  of  invalidism,  how  would 
the  adventurer's  heart  stir  at  this  physi- 
cal ability  for 

"twenty  miles*  ride,  sixteen  fences  taken,  ten 

of  the  miles  in  a  drcnchintj  rain,  seven  of  them 
fasting  and  iti  the  RumiinK  t^hill.  and  six  stricken 
hours  jHijiical  discussif>iis  by  .in  in[rr]>ri;tcr }  CO 

say  nr>[hiti^'  of  sleeping;  in  a  n.iti\e  Imuse 

Ik;  was  a  iiuudred  gallant  htrucs  in 
that  ride,  you  may  be  sure,  which  makes 
him  look  back  u  ith  disc^ust  (>n  the  "  pal- 
lid brute  that  lived  in  Skerryvore  like  a 
weevil  in  a  biscuit.'*  He  was  aware  of 
his  happiness. 

"  Fanny  and  I  rode  home  ;  and  I  nior aliscd  by 
the  way.  Could  we  ever  stand  £uro)>e  agaio? 
did  she  api>reciate  that  If  we  were  in  London,  we 
should  be  aetmaffy  jcttkd in  the  street?  and  there 

was  nobody  iti  the  whole  of  Britain  who  knew 
how  to  take  iv.i  like  a  gentleman  ?  *Tis  funny  to 
be  ihtis  of  tuo  r:ivilis.uii)t)s — or,  if  \  ou  like,  of  one 
civilisation  and  one  barbarism.  And,  as  usual, 
the  barbarism  is  the  more  engaging." 

I*ut  for  the  large  hospitality  he  dis- 
pensed, for  the  picturesqueness,  for  the 
very  possibility  of  living,  he  paid  dearly. 
There  is  this  other  side  of  the  picture 
given — humorously  enough  for  the  most 
part ;  but  his  brooier  writers  will  know 


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A  UTERAKY  JOUKNAL. 


4>3 


what  it  means.  Even  his  fertile  brain, 
liis  clastic  spirits,  were  being  drawn  on 

unduly. 

"  No  toil  has  been  -spared  over  the  ungrateful 
canvas  ;  and  it  :  ///  n  t  come  together,  Md  I  most 

live,  and  my  famiiy.  ' 

That  again  and  again  comes  up,  turned 
aside  with  a — 

"  Queer  thing  life,"  or,  I  Ix  licve  in  an  ulti- 
mate decency  of  things  ;  ay.  and  if  1  woke  in  hell, 
should  still  believe  it !  Hut  it  is  hard  walking, 
and  1  can  see  my  own  share  in  the  missteps,  and 

can  l)ow  my  head  to  the  result.  Tflce  an  old,  stern, 

unh.icjiv  i^evil  of  a  Noim m.-xn,  ;is  my  ultini.itc 
character  is.  .  .  .  Well,  li  Jaut  (uitiver  son  jar- 
din," 

Or, 

"  Weakling  generation.  It  makes  me  sick  of 
myself,  to  make  such  a  fash  and  bobbery  over  a 
rotten  end  of  an  old  nursery  yarn,  not  worth 

spitting  on  when  done." 

Yes,  the  book  rouses  a  protest  in  us  that 

forced  labour  should  ever  have  been 
wrung  from  this  free,  joyous  spirit,  and 
it  dt  niolishes  the  last  rag  of  Stevenson's 
brave  and  most  insincere  optimism. 
Perliajis.  however,  if  the  sad  notr  sound 
in  our  ears  above  the  gayer  ones,  our 
recent  loss  may  be  partly  the  cause. 
There  is  abundant  lu  knowledgment  licre 
of  good  times,  of  gaiety,  and  iniinite 
variety  of  interests  ;  and  it  were  surely 
an  unsympathetic  soul  who  would  wish 
for  more  hard-wrought  books  instead 
ot  tiie  pictures  of  his  throwing  himself 
with  headlong  generosity  into  the  native 
cause,  excrcisintj  patriarclial  autlinrity, 
gloating  over  the  melodious  Samoan 
tongue,  rejoicing  in  the  life-giving  air. 
These  letters  written  in  slang,  or  in  the 
language  of  tragedy  or  trilling,  indiffer- 
ently, paint  him  and  his  quick-changing 
nature  just  as  they  were,  and  thus  show 
the  best  f>f  Stevenson.  For  whatever 
be  tiie  linal  estimate  of  his  literary 
work,  his  own  life  was  his  greatest 
achievement. 


MR.  YEATS'S  POEMS.* 
•*  Ah.  leave  me  still 

A  little  i^p.irt'  for  th'-  r    r-  '.ic.th  to  fi!!  ; 
Lest  I  iHt  niort-  ticMr  njirniii'ii  [hiiii>>  ih.it  crave  ; 
The  weak  worm  hiiJiii^  ilown  in  it>  small  rave, 
The  field  mouse  running  by  mc  in  the  gross. 
And  heavy  noruU  hopes  that  (oil  and  pass ; 
Bat  seek  alone  to  bear  Uie  strange  ibings  latd 
By  God  to  the  blight  hearts  of  those  long  cfead 
And  icarn  to  chaunt  a  tongue  men  do  not  know." 

This  is  the  key  to  all  the  poetry  Mr. 

*  P  f-ms.  By  W.  B.  Yeftts,  Bostott :  Cope, 
land  vV  Day.  fi.50. 


Yeats  has  yet  given  us.  The  conscious* 
ness  of  two  worlds  is  ever  present  in  his 
dreams,  not  this  and  that  of  a  dim  fu- 
ture, but  one  co-existing  with  and  in* 

vading  the  other,  each  disputing  the 
other's  claims.  Perhaps  the  most  re- 
vealing thing  in  all  this  volume — we  are 
inclined  to  call  it  the  most  remarkable 
poem  —  is  '*  The  Man  who  Dreamed  of 
Fairyland."'  This  world  was  not  with- 
out its  interests  to  the  man ;  he  feil  in 
I'.  Bill  as  "  he  stood  among  a  crowd 
at  Drumahair,"  he  heard  a  Druid  song, 
and 

"  The  singing  shook  him  oni  of  his  new  ease." 

He  gatlicred  money  like  a  prudent  man, 
but  in  the  midst  of  his  reckonings  came 
a  song  again, 
"And  at  that  tinging  ke  was  no  more  wise." 

His  hot  blood  was  stirred  with  anger, 

but  as  he  turned  to  take  vengeance, 
vengeance  fled  before  a  tale  of  a  lonely, 
peaceful  fairy  folk,  and 

"  The  tale  drove  his  fine  sngry  mood  away." 

He  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  and 
there  he  mii<;ht  have  known  stillness, 

you  would  lliink. 

"  Were  not  the  worms  that  .s{)ired  about  his  bones 
A-telHng  with  their  low  and  reedy  cry, 
Of  bow  God  leans  liis  hands  out  of  the  sky, 
To  bless  that  isle  with  honey  in  His  iotr  s  ; 
That  none  may  feel  the  power  of  squall  and 
wave. 

And  110  one  any  lea'    ri  ivr.;  1  rlaticer  misS 
Until  i^e  burn  up  Nature  vviUi  a  kiss  : 

The  man  has  found  no  comfort  in  the  grave." 

These  are  not  the  poems  of  a  man 
who  linds  fairyland  convenient  because  it 
provides  pretty  and  picturesque  and  ro- 
mantic circumstance.  They  are  haunted 
1)V  '*  the  waj'ward  twilight  companies." 
t  or  in  the  balance  of  one  world  against 
another,  it  is  easy  to  see  which  scale  is 
the  more  lieavily  weighted — in  spite  of 
Cathleen  and  her  sacrifice,  in  spite  of 
the  very  human  *'  Ephemera,'*  and  in 
spite  of  the  rout^ii  ballads,  direct  trans- 
lations from  humanity.  The  human  na- 
ture, by  the  bye,  that  interests  hiuj  most 
lives  near  the  soil  and  the  roots  of  things. 
Rudeness  is  not  repellent  to  him,  and 
such  ballads  as  "  Moll  Magee"  are  fash- 
ioned not  after  literary  models,  but 
rather  after  the  rough  chanting  rhroni- 
clcs  that,  to  this  day,  ^ive  recent  and 
current  affairs  impressiveness  sung  by 
the  wandering  bards  of  Brittany. 

But  the  bliss  of  dreaming — and  its 
ruin,  too- 


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424 


THB  BOOKMAN. 


"  Nfii  maiden  hivrs  mc,  n  i  man  seeks  inv  help. 
Because  1  be  not  ol  ihc  ihinR?  1  dream,  " 

are  as  yet  more  native  themes.  Not 
many  of  us  love  poetry  very  much,  and 
a  moderate  lover  li.is  ijenerally  a  prefer- 
tncC  that  his  own  life,  idcalistM!.  should 
be  the  sturt  from  which  poetry  is  woven. 
We  do  not  think  Mr.  Yeats  appeals  to 
any  TTn.rlcrale  lovrrs.  But  there  are 
words  lor  those  who  hanker  after  what 
is  called  the  **  human  element,"  even 
outside  the  poems  named  above.  Wis- 
dom has  often  had  a  way  of  dwelling 
apart  from  those  it  lived  to  help  ;  and 
in  the  search  for  beauty  tenderness  is  a 
not  infrequent  comrade,  since  the 
searcher  finds 

"  In  all  poor  fuuUsb  things  that  iive  a  day 
Eccmal  Beauty  woadering  on  her  way." 

Mr.  YoittS  lias  rt-visfd  miicli,  and  not 
always  to  picui>c  liis  older  readers.  He 
has  cast  out  some  poems  which  deserved 
honourable  places,  and  which  surely 
will  Uf>t  krv't  k  at  the  doors  of  future 
ediliuiis  in  vaiu.  There  is  a  lack  uf  fin- 
ish in  some  of  his  work,  quite  distin- 
guishable from  his  artful  love  of  the 
crude.  ilis  plays  are  wanting  in  a 
dramatic  sense,  and  there  are  a  few 
mystical  poems  which  need  a  key.  Rut 
there  is  not  one  commonplace  line. 
There  is  hardly  a  misused  term.  There 
is  no  exaggeration,  no  eccentricity.  It 
is  the  verse  of  a  mnn  born  into  the 
ranks  df  the  poets,  who  sees  poetry  and 
breathes  it,  and  who  happens  to  have 
the  gift  of  words.  This  indeed  he  has. 
Listen  to  it  in  "  The  Lake  Isle  of  Inis- 
free,"  in  **  The  Rose  of  Battle,"  in  the 
almost  too  much  rewritten  **  Wander- 
ings of  Usheen,"  in  the  last  lament  of 
Oona  that  ends  the  "  Countess  Cath- 
leen 

■■  Thr  years  iikc  j;re;»t  lilac  k  oxer;  tlca'i  thr  world. 

And  God  the  berUstnan  goads  them  on  behind, 
And  I  Mm  broken  by  thtlr  passing  feci." 


THE  SORROWS  OF  SATAN.* 

Whenever  we  finish  the  perusal  of  one 
of  Marie  Corclli's  novels,  we  feel  an  in- 
tense desire  to  stamp  tiercely  on  the 
floor  and  cry  '*  Ha  !"  and  mutter  in  our 
beard,  and  address  the  first  person  who 
happens  along  as  a  "  vampire."  This 
is  an  unconscious  tribute  to  Mane  Co- 
relli's  power,  and  incidentally  an  indi- 

*  The  Sorrows  of  S:tian  Hv  Marie  CorcHi. 
Philadelphia  :  J.  B.  Lippincott  &  Co.    f  1.50. 


cation  of  what  sort  of  book  it  is  that 

Marie  Corelli  writes.  She  is,  in  fact,  in 
her  general  literary  style,  the  natu 
ral  successor  of  Ouida,  and  we  imagioe 
that  her  public  is  ifientical  with  I'lat 
upon  which  Ouida  in  her  best  days  used 
to  let  loose  her  exuberant  vocabulair 
and  her  pyrotechnic  imaginati  n  B  .- 
Marie Corelli's  morality  is  not  that  01 
Ouida — far  from  it.  In  the  present  vol- 
ume  she  is  very  severe  upun  the  prurient 
literature  of  the  day  ;  she  impales  Mr. 
Swinburne  with  many  adjectives,  she 
fleers  at  the  hypocrisy  of  society,  she 
denounces  th.  shams  of  modern  Chris- 
tianity, and  she  even  mocks  at  the  al- 
leged strictness  of  Her  Majesty's  court 
Altogether  she  undertakes  a  large  con- 
tract of  denunciation,  and  carries  it  out 
with  satisfactory  and  even  c.xu'ueriint 
completeness.  It  is  said  in  London  that 
Mr.  Andrew  Lang  has  had  the  honour 
of  serving  as  one  of  her  studies  for  ih'n 
volume ;  and  the  good  and  virtuous  hero- 
ine, Mavis  Cbire  who  writes  such  suc- 
cessful book^  is  evidently  Marie  Corelii 
herself,  as  the  initials  of  the  name  also 

help  to  show. 

The  liook  is  delit^htfully  diabolic,  and 
furnishes  at  lea^t  one  thnU  to  every 
three  pages,  which  is  all  that  any  one 
can  reasonably  a^k  for  at  the  price.  Sa- 
tan, it  appears,  comes  to  Loudon  in  the 
disguise  of  a  handsome,  mysterious,  and 
immensely  wealthy  prince,  w'hose  name, 
Lucio  Ram&nas,  learnedly  suggests  both 
Lucifer  and  Ahriman.  He  is  ver^-  popu- 
lar, though  his  eyes  often  have  a 
*'  strange  glitter,"  and  hr  m  a  infrequent- 
ly laughs  a  *'  mocking  iaugh."  He  is 
especially  loved  by  a  certain  Lady  Sibyl, 
whose  morality  has  been  seriou>ly  im- 
paired by  reading  Mr.  Swinburne's 
poems ;  and  she  nnally,  *'  with  a  sud- 
den, swift  movement,  fluntc  herself  upon 
his  breast,"  while  **  the  moonbeams 
showed  her  eyes  alii  with  rapture." 
Lucio,  strange  to  say,  thrust  her  from 
him  and  politely  callcil  Iier  "  la!-e  .mi 
accursed"  and  "  a  fair  iicnd"  and  other 
names.  Thereupon  she  resolved  to  kilt 
herself,  and  after  providing  a  libir.l 
supply  of  stationery  and  a  bottle  ol 
poison,  sat  down  before  a  large  mirror 
in  order  that  she  might  "  see  her  face 
radiate  in  the  glass,"  remembering,  as 
she  cheerfully  says,  that  in  a  lew  days 
the  worms  will  twine  where  the  smile  is 
now."  Having  done  this  ^lie  writes 
what  would  make,  we  should  estimate, 


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A  UTERAKY  JOURNAL, 


425 


some  sixty  pages  of  manuscript  about 
Mr.  Swinburne,  literature,  the  scientific 
heresies  of  the  day,  and  oilier  matters, 
and  then  takes  the  poison.  Although,  as 
she  says  herself,  **  torture  indescribable' ' 
makes  ber  "  a  writhing,  inoanin^g^,  help- 
less creature,"  she  keeps  on  writing  for 
some  fifteen  images  more,  and  at  the 
lost,  it  being  revealed  to  her  just  who 
Lucio  really  is,  she  ends  with  this  : 

"Serve  me,  dear  hand,  ooce  more  ere  I  depart ; 
.  .  .  my  loftnKd  spirit  most  aeixc  and  compel 
yoa  CO  write  down  tbi*  thin;  nntuuniible,  oat 

earlhly  rvt-s  in.iv  reai!  rind  c  irthly  souls  Lake 
timely  wjraiiig  !  ...  I  kimw  al  last  whom  I 
have  loved  !-  whom  I  have  chosen,  whom  I  have 
.worshipped !  .  .  .  I  know  who  cUima  my  wor- 
ship and  drags  me  lato  yonder  rolling  worki  of 
flame 

Besides  such  exciting  things  as  this, 
there  are  any  number  of  epigrams  and 
skits,  and  an  unusual  colleeiion  of  ad- 
jectives, besides  one  or  two  new  adverbs 
that  we  do  not  recollect  to  have  seen 
anywhere  before. 

Altogether  it  is  a  great  book  and  one 
to  be  recommended  to  all  who  like  this 
sort  of  thing.  When  they  have  finished 
it,  they,  too.  will  feel  an  intense  de- 
sire to  stamp  fiercely  on  the  floor  and 
cry  **  Ha  !"  and  mutter  in  their  beards, 
and  address  the  first  person  who  bap> 
pens  along  as  a  "  vampire.** 

If,  T,  P. 


A  NEW  VOLUME  OF  TENEMENT 
SKETCHES.* 

We  take  it  that  Mr.  Sanborn  was  orig- 
inally destined  by  the  Andover  House 
authorities  1  u-  a  statistical  thesis  in  the 
manner  of  Hull  House  Papers  orachap- 
ter  in  Charles  Booth's  East  London  ;  but 
that  when  he  donned  the  "  hoboe"  cos- 
tume for  the  sake  of  investigating  tramp 
lodging-hon<>es,  the  light  of  the  experi- 
ment brought  out  the  die  and  set  it. 
Henceforth  he  knew  himself  as  vaga- 
bond in  essence  rather  than  as  sociolo- 
gist. Even  if  it  were  not  for  the  con- 
Kssion  of  his  prefatory  note,  his  book 
was  doomed  to  betray  him.  No  one  but 
a  sympathetic  soul  could  enjoy  so  thor- 
oughly as  this  writer"  Gus,"  "  Scotty," 
"  Billy."  Saucer,"  and  the  rest  of  the 
gang  at  "  Moody's"  on  the  side  of  hu- 
mours <ind  manners. 

•  Moo,h  Lodging  House,  and  Other  Tenement 
Sketdus  By  Alvan  Frauds Sanbofo.  Boston: 
CopcLaDd  &  Day.  $1.3$. 


"A  l.iciy  disguises  an  inevitable  yawn  with  a 
jewclied  hand  or  a  dainty  fan.  Gui,  impelled  by 
a  kindred  aeiue  of  dccomm,  always  prctendi  va 
be  adjuatiiig  a  iKm-esisteDt  garter  or  a  sntpeoder. 
when  he  is  goaded  10  aeratching  by  an  uncom- 
monly virulent  bite.  Either  his  manners  or  his 
intelligence  would  be  adeauate  to  the  most  ex- 
Ctailve  circles  of  the  dty. 

And  (tf  Hilly,  the  "  rclipotis  bum,"  who 
sees  the  mission  breakfast  through,  even 
to  sitting  on  the  '*  anxious"  seat : 

"  I  have  seen  cniiu^h  of  thcso  fellows  to  assert 
that  they  have  cxi'«  rt  knowledge  of  all  the  prom- 
ising signs  of  convL-rsimi  and  ateqvhe  capable  of 
counterfeiting  them  when  tbey  see  anything  to  be 
gsrined  tbereby.  Besldei  there  b  a  fine,  old-fadh- 
ioned  gallantry  about  them  that  makes  them  re- 
luctant to  refuse  a  lady  anything  she  asks,  even  to  a 
change  of  heart.  '  Ce  one  femaae  vent.  Dku  le 
vcnt.^ 

Yes,  Mr.  Sanborn  is  an  inveterate  hu- 
mourist. Apart  from  these  quotations, 
no  respectable  social  investic^ator  ever 
fell  like  him  to  quoting  Charles  Lamb 
and  Montaigrne,  when  he  had  the  pick 
of  all  the  government  reports  in  the 
State  House  Library. 

But  while  these  sketches  are  not  in 
essence  of  statistical  inspiration,  neither 
are  they  the  literary  fancies  of  the  Chim- 
mte  Fadden  order.  "They  are  mere 
transcripts  from  life.  I  have  written 
true  things  simply  about  poor  people. 
That  is  all,"  says  their  author.  And, 
indeed,  in  his  book  there  is  not  even  so 
intentional  a  use  of  fact  for  literary 
ends  as  a  London  writer,  Mr.  Morrison, 
who  is  equally  well  supplied  with  real- 
istic data  of  llie  slums,  has  given  us. 
Mr.  Sanborn  has  exploited  tile  vie  intime 
of  the  lodging-house  tramp  with  as 
great  thoroughness  and  as  great  care  to 
avoid  literary  elaboration  as  Mr.  Flint 
in  his  tramp  studies.  And  for  this,  if 
for  no  other  reason,  his  work  has,  in 
spite  of  himself,  the  sociological  value 
which  he  humorously  deprecates.  No 
hint  of  reform,  as  an  ulterior  end  of  his 
curious  excursions  into  the  life  of  the 
bummer,  indeed  appears,  and  for  some 
people  its  presence  would  be  the  only 
moral  justification  of  Mr.  Sanborn's 
rftle.  Yet  for  all  that,  perhaps  011  ac- 
count of  that,  his  book  is  for  the  philan- 
thropist. If  he  states  disgusting  and 
debasing  details  with  a  matter-of-fact 
brevity  strange  to  the  sensational  re- 
former, and  if  he  views  the  submerged 
tenth  with  a  humorous  com|>laceiicy 
which  would  completely  disconcert  Mr. 
William  Morris  and  the  (-hanijiions  of 
the  people,  he  at  least  strikes  a  brave 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


blow  at  the  sertimrntalism  which  is  at 
the  root  oi  most  of  our  mistaken  deal- 
ings with  the  poor  and  the  social  out- 
cast, liy  ncitluT  iH'ini^  shocked  by 
facts  nor  seeing  thcra  for  better  or  worse 
than  they  are.  Moreover,  Mr.  Sanborn, 
being  a  liumourist  and  happily  unencum- 
bered by  a  theory,  escapes  pric^tjism.  and 
by  his  cameradcrie  with  low  lite  accon)- 
pushcs  precisely  what  the  people  who 
decry  the  barriers  between  rich  and 
poor  manage  to  prevent,  that  sentiment 
of  social  sympathy  which  is  the  birth 
not  nf  (  ondition,  but  of  a  strange  sense 
of  kinship  in  human  frailty  and  nuble- 
ness  between  ourselves  and  other  people. 

Mr.  Ilowells  predicts  the  "  still  more 
faithful  form  of  contemporaneous  his- 
tory," which  is  to  supersede  *'  the  faith- 
ful iKirtrayal  of  life  in  fiction."  And 
after  nading  Mr.  Sanborn's  book,  we 
can  resign  ourselves  to  such  a  prophetic 
future,  knowing  that  it  would  exclude 
neither  humour  nor  entertainment. 

E^th  Baker  Broum, 


FROM  THE  "  BIBELOT"  PRESS. 

The  dainty  little  volumes  from  Mr. 
Thomas  B.  Mosher's  press  in  Portland, 
Me.,  are  w**!!  worthy  of  s(K-cial  mention. 
The  exceliciiL  bookmaking,  careful  edit- 
ing, and  choice  of  subject  are  especially 
ad  iptrd  to  the  tastes  and  needs  of  the 
artistic  connotsseur  and  literary  scholar. 
In  the  Old  World  Series  we  have  the 
Rubdixdt  i >/  Omar  Khaywim,  re  n d  e red  i  n  t o 
English  verse  by  Edward  titzgerald, 
with  a  sonnet  by  Mrs.  Marriott  Watson, 
a  Toast  to  Omar  Kluivv'iin  by  Tlieodore 
Watts,  an  appreciation  of  ir~itzgerald  by 
Mr.  Irving  way,  the  scholarly  young 
publisher  of  Messrs.  Way  and  Williams, 
and  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  article  on  Khayydm, 
together  with  notes  and  remarks  on  the 
various  editions  of  the  Rubdmit.  This 
?;eries  also  contains  Mr.  .Andrew  Lang's 
translation  of  Auiaisin  anJ  Nicolittc^ 
being  a  direct  reprint  ir<iTn  the  very 
scarce  edition  of  tSSj.  The  original 
etched  title-page  (with  a  curious  error 
in  its  date)  and  three  woodcut  designs 
by  Jacnmb  Hood  are  a!so  reprodnced 
in  this  edition.  The  Bibelot  Series  con- 
tains The  Blesud  Damoul :  a  Bo^k  of 
Lvrii-s\  cho'^en  from  the  works  of  Dante 
Gabriel  Kossetti,  and  The  Sonnets  of 
MkAael  Angth  in  rhymed  English,  by 


Tohn  .\ddington  f>ymonds.  These  are 
printed  on  tine  hand-made  paper  with 
deckel  edges.  Mr.  Mosher  has  also 
made  a  neat  little  brochure  of  Waller 
I'ater's  Child  in  the  House,  which  is 
printed  on  Japan  paper. 


A  BOOK  ABOUT  FANS.* 

Considered  as  a  history  of  the  fan, 

this  book  is  vinsalisfactory  :  it  is  strange 
that  the  subject  has  not  yet  had  such 
adequate  consideration  in  English  as  the 
books  by  Hlondid  and  I'/anne  contain. 
We  agree  with  i!>e  author  that  "it  re- 
pays careful  study,"  and  that  the  fan. 
"  almost  defines  what  the  artistic  pro- 
ductions of  a  nation  were  at  a  given 
period."  For  this  reason  one  desires 
more  complete  and  exhaustive  research 
on  the  "  butterfly  of  art"  than  is  found 
here. 

The  Oriental  fan  is  passed  by  with 
distressing  rapidity,  and,  althotigh  the 
story  is  told  of  the  Chinese  Emperor's 
favourite,  who,  to  revive  his  waning 
affection,  sent  to  liim  (a.d.  550)  the  fa- 
mous Autumn  Fan— by  which  name  a 
neglected  wife  is  stilt  known  in  China 
-^ith  versa^  these  are  omitted  : 

"  O  fair  white  silk,  fresh  from  the  wearer**  toooi. 

Clear  as  the  frost,  bright  as  the  winter's  snow. 

Sec  friciid>hip  fashions  out  of  ilu-c  .1  f.m. 

Hound  as  ilie  round  moun  shines  in  h'.av  u  above. 

At  home,  abroad,  a  close  compani"ii  itu  u. 

Stirring  at  every  move,  the  grateful  gale  ; 

And  yet  I  fear,  ah  me  I  that  autumn  chills, 

CooUog  the  djriac  Sumner's  torrid  race. 

WHI  see  thee  laid  neglected  oo  the  shelf. 

All  thought  of  hygooe  days  bygone  like  them.'* 

Very  insufficient,  too,  are  the  allusions 
to  its  iilciary  hislury.  Fancy  touching 
upon  the  subject  and  forgetting  Austin 
Dobson's  /)',.•//>/..'/ c/;  ,1  F>in  that  Belonged 
to  Madame  de  J'ompadour^  conceived  in 
such  exquisite  taste,  beginning : 

•'Chicken-skin,  delicate,  white. 
Painted  by  Carlo  Vanloo. 
Loves  In  a  riot  of  Ugbt, 

Roses  and  saporous  blue,"  etc., 

and  ending  with  the  deep  note  under 
the  deftly  blown  and  beautifully  col- 
oured verse-bubble : 

"  Wh'Tf  .irf  tlic  scLicls  it  knew? 
VVeavings  of  pku  atid  of  plan  ? 
But  where  is  the  Pompadour,  too  ? 
This  was  the  Pompadour's  f.m  !" 

•  A  Book  About  Fans.  By  M.  A.  Flory. 
With  a  Chapter  on  Fan-Collecting  by  Mary  Cad- 
walader  Jones.  New  Yorlc :  Macnillao  &  Co. 
$a.5a 


I 


i 


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It  might  have  interested  the  reader  to 
quote  from  Coryat's  Crudities  and  learn 
what  the  famous  traveller  said  in  quaint 
words  about  the  fans  he  saw  in  Italy  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  carried  by  men 
as  well  as  women.  And  where  is  the 
story  of  Eleanf)ra  d'Este's  fan,  which, 
kissing  passionately,  she  threw  at  Tas- 
so*s  feet  in  an  agony  of  distress  to  tell 
her  heart's  secret,  h<)}>cless  love  ?  Steele, 
too,  in  the  Tatler^  has  a  clever  essay 
about  a  coquette  and  her  fan,  which 
bears  repeating. 

X<)  incntion  is  made  nf  "chicken- 
skin,  "  tiie  leather  prepared  with  al- 
monds and  spermaceti,  favoured  by  fops 
and  belles  of  the  sevrntccnth  and  ciq;h- 
teenth  centuries,  and  used  for  fan- 
mounts  ;  and  no  hints  arc  given  of  the 
"  eccentric  fans" — save  a  '*  dagger-fan" 
(»f  the  Italian  Renaissance —such  as  the 
"  doubled  fan,"  the  "  parasol  fan,"  the 
"  scent-bottle  fan,"  the  dressing-case 
fan,"  such  a  complicated  one  as  was 
sliown  in  Vienna  in  1873,  bearing  upon 
each  rib  scissors,  a  fork,  knife,  spoon, 
<'t(\,  wliit  h  CKiild  l)e  removed  without 
disarranging  ilie  sticks,  and  the  Chinese 
curio,  which,  being  opened  the  reverse 
way,  threatens  to  fall  apart. 

No  fault  could  be  found  with  the  ex- 
amples of  fans  shown  in  the  beautiful 
reproductions,  yet  we  could  wish  forad- 
diti*mal  ones.  Some  pictures  from  the 
Greek  vases  would  have  been  interest- 
ing as  specimens  of  the  fan  and  in  the 
manner  of  usinq;  it  ;  and  we  desire  an 
illustration  or  two  from  the  curious 
fans  of  the  eighteenth  century  referred 
to  generally.  They  deserve  a  more  de- 
tailed notice.  Among  them  are  the 
"conversation  fans"  (not  incuiioned), 
which  give  the  rtUsoH  d' (tr(  to  Addison's 
essay  in  thi?  Spectator  ;  "fortune-telling 
fans,  '  "riddle  fans,"  "dance  fans," 
"  botanical  fans,"  "  almanac  fans," 
"  piinci|)lcs-of-politeness  fans,"  *'  pun- 
ning-biil-of-farc  fans,"  fans  containing 
political  and  social  caricatures,  portraits 
of  Napoleon,  Wellington,  and  other 
celel')ritics,  scenes  from  the  /y'^xx''"'' 
Opera  arui  i/ti/Iiicr' s  Trauu,  sketches 
by  Hogarth,  cameos  by  l3artoh»/zi.  and 
musical  and  card-parties,  all  of  which 
are  contained  in  Lady  Charlotte  bchrci- 
ber*5  folio  de  luxe^  entitled  Fans  and  Fan- 
Lfaz'cs  (I.cuulnn,  188S).  I'lum  this  at 
least  we  might  have  had  the  "  Ranelagh 
fan, "  showing  the  Rotunda  and  people 
strolling  under  the  shrubbery,  as  did 


the  beautiful  Gunning  sisters  with  Hor- 
ace Walpole,  or  Beau  Tibbs  and  his  ' 
party  when  they  spent  such  a  disap- 

pointinc^  eveninsj. 

The  period  of  the  French  Kcv(jluiion, 
too,  affords  a  wide  range  for  illustra- 
tion. No  mention  is  made  in  the  book 
of  the  "  weeping  willow,"  the  leaves  of 
which  when  inverted  showed  pictures 
of  the  Royal  family,  and  there  is  no 
hint  of  the  "  transparent  fan,"  which 
held  against  the  light  revealed  its  true 
political  sentiment.  Such  a  fan  pro- 
cured for  Madame  de  Cevennes  her 
death,  and  such  a  one,  secretly  obtained, 
she  waved  at  the  guillotine. 

Part  II.  is  devoted  to  Fan-Painting, 
and  Part  IIL  to  Pan- Collecting.  Three 
pages  out  of  twenty-nine  in  the  latter 
are  given  to  the  subject ;  the  others  are 
die^ressions,  rather  wide  of  the  mark, 
and  repetitions  of  data,  such  as  the 
"  cabriolet  fan"  and  the  *'  Vernis  Mar- 
tin," already  described  on  pp.  41  and 
49. 

For  the  amateur  the  book  in  its  artis- 
tic setting  may  be  useful,  but  the  pic- 
turesque history  of  woman's  toy,  sword, 
and  sceptre  remains  to  be  written. 

Esther  Singleton. 


A  NOVEL  OF  LUBRICITY.* 

Habitual  readers  of  The  Bookman 
will,  we  think,  acquit  us  of  any  especial 

prudishness  in  our  literary  judgments. 
When  a  writer  of  distinction  has  set  be- 
fore himself  a  definite  and  consistent 
theory  of  his  art,  and  is  evidently  trun}. 
ed  by  it  in  his  work,  it  is  always  by  his 
own  canon  that  we  are  desirous  of  meas- 
uring his  success.  One  may  disagree 
al)solutely  w  itii  his  conception  of  what 
that  canon  ought  to  be,  and  yet  accord 
the  warmest  praise  to  the  consistency  and 
{)erfcction  of  his  achievement.  There- 
fore, while  it  is  impossible  to  commend 
the  literarv  formulas  of  M.  de  Maupas- 
santand  Mr.  George  Moore,  for  example, 
it  is  equally  impossible  to  deny  that 
whatever  Lhey  have  done  is  stamped  in 
every  line  wi  l:  tistic  excellence  and 
iutelicctual  sincerity. 

But  when  we  come  to  Mr.  Thomas 
Hardy*s  latest  piece  of  fiction,  it  is  nec- 
essary to  differentiate.  The  ex})osure 
of  the  human   form   in  I  In-  clis^ecling- 

*  Jude  the  Obscure.  Uy  Thumas  ilardy.  New 
York :  Harper  ft  Bros,  ii.75. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


room  under  the  calm,  dispassionate  paze 
of  the  anatumi&t  shocks  no  one  ;  the 
same  exposure  by  the  body-snatcher, 
who  rifles  the  grave  to  gloat  with  lewd 
and  sordid  joy  over  the  same  exposure, 
is  revolting  to  every  sanely  human  in- 
stinct. And  so  in  literature,  unmorality 
diffrrs  {-(t/o  from  immorality.  The 
naturalistic  school  of  France  regards  life 
from  the  point  of  view  of  a  theory  in 
which  mnrals  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  sense 
of  the  word  have  no  place  whatever ; 
but  the  immunity  accorded  to  these  men 
cannot  by  any  conscientious  critic  be 
granted  to  ^!r.  Mardy.  His  social  envi- 
ronment, his  racial  temperament,  and 
the  literary  traditions  in  which  he  has 
been  r<*:irfd  arc  not  those  of  France  or 
of  Gaiicia  ;  and  his  work  must  there- 
fore be  tried  by  the  ethical  and  artistic 
standards  of  tlic  men  of  his  own  blood. 
Hence  it  is  that  wc  must  condemn,  with 
not  the  slightest  shade  of  qualification, 
the  latest  volume  frc>m  his  pen  as  being 
both  a  moral  monstrosity  and  an  out- 
rage upon  art. 

To  those  of  our  readers  who  first 
made  Mr.  Hardy's  acqiuiintance  in  his 
2fss  and  in  the  present  novel,  this  may 
seem  to  bean  unreasonable  assertion ;  but 
fr.rtunatrly  his  reputation  and  his  fully 
formulated  theory  of  fiction  were  estab- 
lished years  ago  in  his  eariier  and  bet* 
ter  books.  In  them  appear  all  his  ex- 
tremely poworftil  jxifts  (*f  narrative.  In 
tlicm  appears  also  his  profound  and  un- 
mitigated pessimism.  With  this  pes- 
viinism  one  can  have  no  quarrel,  ttuuit^h 
it  is  clearly  false  to  life  ;  for  if  it  be  un- 
true that  everything  happens  for  the 
In  st  in  this  best  of  worlds,  it  is  quite 
equally  untrue  that  everything  happens 
for  the  worst.  But  this  is  nothing  to 
the  point.  In  A  Pair  of  Blue  Eyes  (his 
strongest  work),  in  77te  Trumpet  Major^ 
and  in  The  Keiurn  of  the  Native  there  were 
seen  gifts  that  placed  him  among  the 
foremost  nfivelists  of  the  century.  If 
some  passages  in  all  of  these  were  coarse, 
the  coarseness  was  only  incidental,  and 
was  almost  unavoidable  in  one  who  is 
fond  of  delineating  the  lives  and  habits  of 
thought  of  the  half-pagan  peasantry  of 
Wessex.  In  Jude  the  Obscure  there  ap- 
pc.'ir  the  same  pessimism  and  much  of 
the  same  power  ;  but  there  has  been 
gratuitously  and  wantonly  injected  into 
it  sncli  a  stream  of  indecency  as  can 
iind  no  counterpart  in  any  of  his  other 
works,  and  no  excuse  in  anything  that 


has  ever  been  put  forth  in  explanation 
of  his  literary  methods. 
The  characters  of  the  book  are  Jude 

Fawley,  a  peasant  by  birth,  who  is  pos- 
sessed of  an  intense  yearning  which  is 
never  gratified,  for  scholarly  distinction, 
and  of  refined  and  spiritual  traits  which 
exist  side  bv  side  with  a  hirkinix  ](,ve  :  f 
sensuality  and  drink  ;  une  Arabella,  a 
typical  barmaid,  coarse,  brazen^  and 
cunning  :  Jude's  cousin  Sue,  an  Angli- 
cised version  of  one  of  Marcel  Prevost's 
tlemi'Vierges ;  and  a  certain  village 
schoolmaster  named  Phillotson,  who 
has  some  unexplained  sexual  peculiari- 
ties at  which  Mr.  Hardy,  for  a  wonder, 
only  hints.  Jude  is  tricked  into  an  early 
marnage  witfi  Arabella,  and  Sue  is 
forced  into  one  with  i'hiilotson.  Both 
marriages  are  ended  by  divorce,  where- 
upon Jude  and  his  cousin  live  together 
in  unlawful  relations,  until  an  accumu- 
lation of  disasters  converts  Jude  into  a 
sceptic  and  Sue  into  an  hysterical  Jrvate, 
whereupon  they  separate,  Sue  remarr}- 
injj  her  schoolmaster  as  a  matter  of  con- 
science, and  Jude  remarrying  Arabella 
as  a  matter  of  desperation. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  an  outline  of  the 
story,  which,  even  as  Mr.  Hardy  tells  it, 

is  improliable,  but  whicJi  one  would  not 
criticise  were  it  not  for  his  extraordinary 
lack  of  reticence  in  the  telling.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  plot  that  justifies  the  gross- 
ncss  with  which  he  has  chosen  t.>  elabo- 
rate its  details.  Nor  is  this  grossness 
the  grossnessof  the  English  novelists  of 
the  last  century — of  Fieldini^  .md  Srncl- 
lett — with  whom  Mr.  Hardy  iias  many 
traits  in  common.  It  does  not  suggest 
the  rude  virility  of  youncj  and  Insty  Eng- 
lishmen, with  huge  calves  and  broad 
backs  and  vigorous  health  ;  of  strapping 
fellows  who  roar  out  their  broad  jokes 
over  a  mug  of  ale  in  the  tap-room  of  a 
country  inn.  It  is  rather  the  studied 
satyriasis  of  approaching  senility,  sug- 
gesting the  morbidly  curious  imaginings 
of  a  masochisl  or  some  other  form  of 
sexual  pervert.  The  eagerness  with 
which  every  unclean  situation  is  seized 
upon  and  carefully  exploited  recalls  the 
spectacle  of  some  foul  animal  that 
snatches  greedily  at  great  lumps  of  pu- 
trid offal  which  it  mumbles  with  a  hid- 
eous delight  in  the  stenches  that  drive 
away  all  cleanlier  creatures.  We  do 
not  desire  to  dwell  upon  this  subject. 
Uur  great  objection  to  it  is  that  it  is 
whol^  unnecessary,  that  in  forcing  us 


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429 


to  batten  upon  such  carrion,  Mr.  Hardy 
is  sinning  against  light  and  wtlfuly  mar- 

rinQ  our  appreciation  of  liis  pras|)  upon 
higher  and  nobler  qualities  than  are  the 
attributes  of  a  scavenger. 

Some  one  may  say  that,  although  Mr. 
Hardy's  earlier  work  be  of  a  different 
character,  he  has  a  perfect  right  to 
change  his  point  of  view  ;  that  if  he  pre- 
fers  to  accept  the  nattiralistic  theory  of 
fiction  in  the  full,  he  is  at  liberty  to  do 
so  ;  and  that^  by  our  own  admission,  it 
is  improper  to  quarrel  witli  him  merely 
because  he  has  selected  an  unpleasant 
subject  and  drawn  it  to  the  very  life, 
carrying  out  the  delineation  with  merci- 
less logic  and  without  abatinp^  a  jot  or 
tittle  from  the  requirements  of  realism. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  /ude  tht  Obseurt  is 
not  a  realistic  work.  It  is  not  a  truth- 
ful reproduction  of  life.  It  sacrifices 
the  probabilities  everywhere  to  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  plot.  When  he  makes 
Arabella  appear  and  disappear  just  at 
the  proper  moment,  like  a  marionette, 
bringing  her  unexpectedly  on  the  scene 
as  the  diabola  ex  mafhina  whenever  a 
fresh  complication  is  essential,  and  shift- 
ing her  from  one  part  of  England  to  an- 
other according  to  tlie  autlior's  needs, 
Mr.  Hardy  is  no  realist.  The  double 
marriage  of  Jude  and  Sue,  their  double 
divorce,  and  tin-  curious  transposition 
of  their  respective  beliefs  and  disbeliefs, 
so  that  each  ends  when  the  other  begins 
^11  this  is  done  to  produce  an  elect 
and  to  make  a  startling  contrast,  and 
not  because  it  is  true  to  life ;  for  in  life 
things  do  not  happen  in  this  chiastic 
wav.  The  fact  is  that  Mr.  Hardy  tries 
to  ride  two  horses — to  be  at  one  and 
the  same  time  a  romanticist  and  a  real- 
ist, demanding  for  himself  the  romanti- 
cist's license  in  plot  and  the  realist's 
license  in  incident.  The  result  is  a 
book  that  has  none  of  the  recognised 
claims  to  high  literary  rank  ;  for  it 
neither  teaches  a  useful  lesson,  nor  is  it 
true  to  life.  It  is  simply  one  of  the 
most  objectionable  bi>i)ks  tiiat  we  have 
ever  read  in  any  language  wliatsoever. 

One  circumstance  we  feel  compelled 
to  mention  in  order  to  give  a  finishing 
blow  to  the  theory  that  Mr.  Hardy's 
art,  such  as  it  is,  is  disinterested  and 
sincere.  When  the  story  appeared  as  a 
serial  in  ITtirprr's,  it  was  a  compara- 
tively decent  work.  The  author  had 
studiously  eliminated  the  most  outra- 
geous of  his  lubricities.   In  producing  it 


as  a  book,  he  carefully  sifts  in  the  omit- 
ted filth,  supplies  the  lacunae  with  the 
necessary  filUng,  and  sends  it  forth  with 
all  its  present  rancid  revelations.  In 
other  words,  he  furnishes  a  mild  arti- 
cle for  the  family  magazine  and  a  highly 
spiced  one  for  the  dura  ilia  of  the  gen- 
eral public.  Is  this  the  attitude  of  a 
great  literary  artist  with  a  single  and 
consistent  theorj'  of  his  art  ?  Is  it  not 
rather  the  canny  suppleness  of  the  smug 
peddler  who  with  equal  indifference 
vends  a  child's  primer  or  brings  out 
with  a  knowing  leer  a  bundle  of  flash 
stories  ? 

Some  time  ago  we  asked  a  distin- 
guished  critic  what  lie  thought  of  one 
of  the  younger  of  the  French  naturalis- 
tic-novelists. '*  Oh/*  be  said,  careless- 
ly, "  lie  is  merely  speculating  in  smut." 
"The  expression  is  a  crude  one,  and  we 
should,  perhaps,  apologise  for  writing 
it  down  here  ;  yet  it  serves  our  purpose 
excellently  well,  for  in  our  judgment 
frankly  and  deliberately  expressed,  in 
Jude  the  Obscure  Mr.  Hardy  is  merely 
speculating  in  smut. 


SUCCESSWARD.* 

Successtoard^  by  Edward  W.  Bok,  is  a 
book  so  comprehensive  in  its  scope  and 
so  final  in  its  conclusions,  that  it  leaves 
nothing  further  to  be  said  upon  the  vari- 
ous problems  of  life.  Indeed,  the  satis- 
faction of  possessing  so  complete  a  guide 
to  health,  happiness,  and  heaven  is 
only  marred  by  the  thought  that  its  au- 
thor can  have  nothing  more  to  give  th€ 
world.  Yet  we  would  nut  have  it  other- 
wise. In  dealing  with  questions  which 
have  lierctoforc  been  considered  diffi- 
cult, or  even  beyond  solution  by  the  hu- 
man mind,  Mr.  Bok  manifests  a  sim- 
plicity of  treatment,  a  certainty  of  grasp, 
and  an  insolence  of  security  which  give, 
within  the  compass  of  one  small  volume, 
results  which  are  often  sought  in  vain 
through  many  learned  works. 

Perhaps  no  chapter  in  Succesmai a  il- 
lustrates this  characteristic  of  the  book 
so  well  as  that  entitled  "  His  Relig- 
ious Life."  Here  Mr.  Bok  puts  to 
shame  the  theologians  of  all  time,  sets 
at  rest  the  questionings  of  humanity, 
and  makes  an  end  of  all  controversy. 
He  says  :  "  It  [a  religious  life]  means 

•  Successward.  By  Edward  W.  Bok.  Fleming 
H.  Revell  Co.  fi.oo. 


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430 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


simply  the  living  of  an  uprigrht  tife,  a 

life  of  respectability.  This  is  ail  liiat  a 
religious  life  means."  lieforc  reachint^ 
this  conclusion  Mr.  Bok  attempts  w  itli  a 
splendid  audacity  what  a  lesser  man 
would  shrink  from  even  conceiving, 
(le  offers,  in  short,  a  sort  of  expui^ated 
edition  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
especially  adapted  for  six-cdiiiv^  a  young 
man  toward  the  goal  of  worldly  success. 
Only  Mr.  Bok,  we  are  sure,  would  ven- 
ture this  ;  and  we  hope,  too,  that  the 
Christian  Church  will  feel  its  indebted- 
ness to  our  author,  since  he  expresses, 
on  the  whole,  his  approval  of  its  institu- 
tion, and  recommends  it  to  the  patron- 
age of  ambitious  young  men.  Remark- 
able as  this  chapter  is,  the  following 
revelation  of  the  depths  of  a  young 
child's  mind  attracts  especial  notice. 
**  Enough  it  is  to  know  that  there  is  a 
God.  .  .  .  That  is  all  that  is  given  us 
to  know.  It  is  all  that  the  new-bom 
infant  can  kuuw**  ! ! 

Upon  the  subject,  "His  Attitude  to- 
ward Women,"  Mr.  I?ok  is  naturally  very 
much  at  home.  lie  acknowledges  that 
'*  some  men  never  get  to  a  point  where 
they  understand  women."  We  have, 
indeed,  heard  of  such  ourselves.  Not 
belonging  to  that  class,  however,  our 
author  proceeds  to  enlighten  it,  once 
for  all.  and  clears  up  the  vexed  question 
of  woman  as  readily  as  he  did  that  of 
religion.  He  deals  kindly  with  the 
weaker  vessel,  and  with  an  o[)ulence  of 
good  nature  exclaims  :  "  How  a  man 
can  be  a  hater  of  woman  t  realty  cannot 
understand."  Now  this  casual  remark 
reveals  a  hitherto  unsuspected  state  of 
affairs.  Still,  it  remains  to  be  said  tliai 
men  deserve  some  credit  for  so  gallantly 
concealing  their  aversion,  and  we  now 
await  from  the  editorial  page  of  the 
Ladies*  Home  Journal  9.  rebuke  to  young 
women  for  hating  yount;  men. 

"  The  yuestion  of  Marriage"  is  al- 
ways interesting,  but  it  proves  more 
than  commonly  so  in  the  pages  of  Suc- 
cessward.  A  quite  oricfinal  rule  is  offered 
to  guide  young  men  in  the  choice  of  a 
wife,  for  Mr.  Bok  observes,  '  Only  in 
rare  cases  do  we  find  the  useful  and  or- 
namental combined  in  a  single  woman." 
With  married  women,  presumably  the 
case  is  difTerent — alas  tor  the  young 
men  I  Mr.  Bok  shows  but  a  just  appre- 
ciation of  his  own  capacity  when  he 
sums  up  the  whole  matter  thus  :  **  These 
are  the  only  points  which  I  or  any  other 


writer  can  possibly  advance  rcgarc 
this  question  of  marriage." 

Suci'fsnvarJ  also  treats  of  such  matters 
as  self-knowledge,  success,  business, 
dress,  amusements,  and  the  sowing  of 
wihl  oats.  In  his  rem.irks  upon  these 
subjects  Mr.  Bok  corrects  a  quite  gen- 
eral, though  evidently  erroneous  impres- 
sit»n.  Imai^ininv^  that  high  an  l  f  r  . 
character  is  the  result  of  a  man's  inuaie 
love  of  decency,  or  of  his  appreciatioo 
of  the  beauty  of  holiness,  we  have  here- 
t*>fore  called  that  man  a  prl-z  who  fol- 
lows moral  precepts  tor  the  sake  of  busi- 
ness or  social  advantage ;  but  we  ac* 
know  ledge  our  error,  and  again  defer  to 
Mr.  Edward  W.  Bok. 

One  only  regret  do  we  feel  in  laying 
down  Successu'jrd.  In  the  first  chapter 
we  read  :  "It  is  necessary  that  the 
workman  should  understand  his  tools." 
Now,  when  Mr.  Bok  undertook  to  write 
a  btnik  he  doubtless  understood  the 
English  language.  Vet,  we  grieve  to 
say,  it  plays  him  the  sorriest  tricks  im- 
aginable !  Upon  every  occasion  the  ele- 
gant turn  of  a  phrase  eludes  his  search; 
and  as  for  the  pert  preposition  and  the 
artful  adverl),  the  way  they  slip  around 
Irom  under  his  pen  and  pop  themselves 
into  the  wrong  places  is  really  surpris- 
ing ;  but  if  Mr.  Bok  had  paused  to  study 
the  English  lantjuape  the  WOrld  would 
still  await  Huccessward. 


SOME  RECENT  CLASSICAL  BOOKS.* 

Dr.  V'errall's  handsome  volume  on 
Euripides,  like  everything  else  that  he 

writes,  is  characterised  by  learning, 
luciftitv,  and  inirenuitv.  The  last  qual- 
ity is,  indeed,  the  one  that  is  most  gen- 
erally associated  by  scholars  with  Or. 
VerralTs  name  ;  and  the  present  work 
in  this  respect  will  not  detract  from  hi^ 
reputation.    At  the  same  time,  this  tn- 

*  Euripides  the  Rationalist.  By  A.  W.  Vemll, 
Litt.D.  Cambridge  University  PrcM.  NewYoft: 

Macmillan  &  Co.  $1.90. 

The  H;tiuiutt  111  I'i.no.  In-  Percy  B.  ShcUcy. 
Chicago;  Way  &  Wil.iiuns.  sjii-so. 

Selections  from  Plato  for  English  R«:,idcre. 
From  Joweu's  Traoslatioa.  Edited  bjr  M.  J. 
Knight  a  vols.  Oxford :  Clarendon  Press.  Nev 
Yoik    Macmillan  Co. 

S.ipph'i :  Memou.  Text,  and  Translation.  By 
iknry  I  horntun  Wharton,  M.A.  CllicafO :  A.  Cf. 
Mt^Clurg  A:  Co.  $2.25. 

l  iomcri  Ilias.  Edited  by  Walter  Leaf,  UILD. 
New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  $8.00. 

P.  Vergili  Matonia  Opem.  Edited  by  T.  E. 
Page,  M.A,  New  York :  MacmiUan  &  Co.  |s.oa 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


genuity  is  almost  always  entirely  per- 
verse, and  devoted  lo  the  discussion  of 
the  non-existent.  He  would  have  us 
In  lieve  tliat  the  plays  of  Euilpides  were 
not  SO  much  great  dramatic  pieces  writ- 
ten with  the  single  purpose  that  charac* 
teriscs  the  plays  of  iiischylus  and  Sopho- 
cles, but  rather  with  a  mocking  spirit, 
to  poke  fun  at  the  national  religion  and 
the  traditional  legends  of  the  Hellenic 
pfoplf .  This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss 
at  length  his  theory  and  the  argument 
upon  which  he  bases  it.  Suffice  it  to 
sav,  that  his  conception  of  the  underlying 
motive  of  the  Euripidean  dramas  ap- 
pears to  us  worthy  of  a  place  beside  the 
Neronian  hypothesis  as  to  Persius  and 
Petronius.  A  hidden  meaning  that  is  so 
much  hidden  as  to  leave  its  very  exist- 
ence unsuspected  for  more  than  two 
thousand  years  is  one  who«.e  reality  we 
arc  certainly  justified  in  suspecting ; 
and  to  attempt  to  give  it  form  and  sub- 
stance at  this  late  day  is  pretty  surely 
destined  to  be  labour  lost. 

We  cannot  conceive  how  Messrs.  Way 
and  Williams  were  induced  to  waste 
good  paper,  a  h.'indsome  cover,  and  so 
much  beautiful  typography  upon  Shel- 
ley's translation  of  Plato's  Symposium. 
As  a  translation  it  is  far  less  easy  and 
idiomatic  than  Jovveti's,  and  it  is  disfig- 
ured by  the  crudity  of  introducing  the 
Latin  names  of  the  gods  into  a  Greek 
text.  Moreover,  the  most  curious  and 
instructive  passage  of  th^  whole  dia- 
logue is  omitted.  The  only  word  in 
Greek  letters  in  the  whole  volume  con- 
tains two  typograpiiical  errors.  More 
to  be  commended  is  the  collection  of 
typic  al  passages  from  the  different  dia- 
logues in  Jovvett's  translation^  now  pub- 
lished by  the  Clarendon  Press,  and  ed> 
ited  with  an  introrlnctriry  account  of 
Plato  by  M.  J.  Knight.  To  it  is  prefixed 
the  preface  that  Dr.  Jowett  wrote  for  Mr. 
Purves's  Seltctimu  s  and  a  brief  summary 

of  each  dialoirnc  is  given  in  the  proper 
place.  While  ihe  et'feci  ut  the  whole  is 
rather  scrappy,  as  might  be  expected  of 
a  work  intended  f^r  University  Exten- 
sion readers,  it  may  prove  to  be  of  value 
in  exciting  a  taste  for  further  reading  in 
Plato  ;  and  therefore  it  can  be  con- 
scientiously recommended.  Granted 
tl)at  its  plan  is  good,  that  plan  has  been 
carried  out  with  judgment  and  dis- 
cretion. 

Why  is  it,  we  siiouici  like  to  know, 
that,  after  twenty- four  centuries,  the 


name  of  Sappho  is  still  so  potent  a  spell 
to  conjure  by  ?  A  few  stanzas  of  her 
verse  and  a  stray  word  here  and  there 
preserved  in  tlie  ]iac^es  of  the  c^ram- 
marians  who  quote  them,  arc  all  tliat 
remains  to  us  of  her  poetry,  and  prctiy 
nearly  everything  told  of  her  personal- 
ity is  mythical  ;  yet  not  scholars  only,, 
but  ail  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  feel 
an  undefined  and  mysterious  interest  in 
her.  f)nlv  a  short  time  ago,  when  the 
present  writer  iiappened  to  be  in  a  little 
out-of-the>way  town  in  Connecticut,  the 
village  lawyer,  a  liard-faced  Yankee  as 
dry  as  a  chip,  came  to  him  and  asked, 
with  much  earnestness,  where  he  could 
find  a  translation  of  the  lyrical  remains 
of  Sappho.  He  knew  no  Greek,  and 
was  by  no  means  u  man  of  literary 
tastes  ;  yet  he  wanted  to  know  all  that 
was  to  be  known  of  Sa[)[)ho.  What  is, 
then,  the  source  of  tins  widespread 
interest?  We  suspect  that  it  springs 
partly  from  the  nunantic  legend  of  her 
love  for  Phaon,  which  is  absolutely  un- 
historicat,  and  of  her  tragic  death,  which 
is  even  less  supported  by  any  scrap  of 
evidence.  Probably,  ton,  the  shadow 
of  scandal  associated  wiih  lier  uaxnc  has 
also  something  to  do  with  it,  and  this 
f /></,  v  Welcker  and  Mr.  Wharton)  does 
rest  upon  some  tangible  authority. 
Whatever  the  reason,  Mr.  Wharton's 
dainty  volume,  which  in  tliis,  its  third 
edition,  is  enlarged  from  20a  to  ajf 
pages,  will  delight  a  multitude  of  **  burn- 
ing Sappho's"  admirers,  and,  like  the 
j>recedinij  editions,  will  prove  a  boon  to 
the  collector  of  beaiuitiii  bo(iks.  It  is 
as  complete  as  any  one  could  wish.  Its 
cover  !->  dt-siLCiied  by  Aulire\-  Beaidblcy, 
its  rough-edged  paper  is  of  the  best,  and 
its  Greek  type  was  procured  at  Berlin 
by  special  permi-->inn  of  the  Imperial 
Government,  The  memoir  prefixed  to 
the  fragments  is  erudite  and  satisfac- 
torily full,  telling  what  is  known  and 
what  is  conjectured  rej^arding  Sappho's 
life  and  history,  willi  a  sketch  of  the 
various  critical  works  that  have  been 
written  on  the  sishjert,  and  of  the  mod- 
ern books  suggested  by  it,  including 
even  a  mention  of  Daudet*s  Saphv^  which 
in  nothing  but  its  title  recalls  the  fair 
Lesbian.  Each  scrap  of  Sappho's  poetry 
is  then  given,  even  to  the  single  words 
cited  by  the  Greek  lexicographers,  and 
many  translations  anrl  imit.it i^ns  in  En- 
glish are  given  in  their  proper  place,  their 
authors  including  Frederick  Tennyson, 


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THE  BOOKKIAN. 


Michael  Field  rrotessor  Palgrave,  John 
Addington  Symonds,  Gladstone,  Sir 
Richurd  Burton,  Swinburne,  Edwin  Ar- 
nold, and  many  others.  A  t»il)!!(igraphy 
of  editions  and  works  on  ^juppho  fills 
eighteen  pages  at  the  end.  There  arc 
three  f;iuj  itftgravures—  one  r>f  Alma 
Tadema's  ideal  head  of  bappho,  one  of 
Mitylene,  and  one  of  the  frag:ments  of  the 
Fayum  parchment  bronu;ht  irnm  Ei;y]«t 
in  1879  and  ascribed  to  Saj»pho  by  BlabS 
in  1880,  largely,  however,  through  the 
processes  of  subjective  criticism.  .Mtcj- 
gether  l!icr<:-  is  little  left  to  be  desired. 
One  criliciiiu  we  feci  compelled  to  make, 
and  that  is  on  the  rather  childish  way  in 
which  throiit^ti<  >ut  the  prefatory  memoir, 
the  quantity  ot  some  of  the  syllables  in 
the  |)  roper  names  has  been  marked. 
This  has  been  done  in  a  very  hap- 
hazard fashion,  some  of  the  least  known 
names  being  unmarked,  and  some  of  the 
best  known  having  the  quantity  of  the 
penult  carefully  indicated.  We  must 
say  that  a  person  who  does  not  know 
how  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Theocri- 
tus is  probably  not  tlie  sort  itf  person 
who  would  desire  a  book  of  such  a  char- 


acter as  this  ;  while  the  indicated  long^ 
and  shorts  are  an  eyesore  to  the  scholar. 

It  is  related  of  a  certain  distinguished 
man  that  he  learned  the  Latin  language 
in  order  to  be  able  to  read  for  himself 
the  story  that  was  partly  told  in  certain 
fine  old  illustratiuiis  tliat  interested  him 
when  a  boy  in  an  edition  of  Lucan.  lo 
like  manner  we  think  that  any  true 
b(K)k  lover  would  almost  be  viilling  to 
learn  both  Greek  and  Latin  for  the 
pleasure  of  reading  the  exquisitely 
iKautiful  texts  contained  in  the  twovoU 
nmesof  the  Messrs.  Macmillnn's  Parna^ 
siis  Library  now  before  us.  They  area 
delight  to  the  cye»  and  lure  the  lover  of 
the  classics  to  peruse  once  again  tlie  twi> 
greatest  epics  that  the  world  pusses&es. 
Dr.  Leaf  has  employed  the  heavy-faced 
archaic  type  from  tlie  new  font  thai  he 
so  much  admires,  and  in  his  preface  has 
a  fling  at  the  spidery  Aldine  typography. 
For  our  part,  a  good,  clear,  beautifully 
rounded  font  of  Porsoninn  type  is  the 
perfection  of  Greek  priming  ;  yet  Dr. 
Leaf's  pages  are  so  elegant  as  to  satisfy 
the  most  exacting  connoisseur. 

Jf.  T.  P. 


NOVEL 

THE  ONE  WHO  LOOKED  ON.   By  F.  P. 
Montriior.    New  York :  D.  Appletoo  &  Co. 

$1.25. 

Miss  Montr£sor  lias  a  distinct  quality 
among  story-writers.  It  is  safe  to  pre- 
dict a  more  con<;piruous  and  lasting  suc- 
cess for  her  than  for  many  who  have 
equal  mental  and  imaginative  gifts  and 
even  more  interesting  material  to  work 
on.  It  is  a  spiritual  rather  than  an  in- 
tellectual distinction  hers,  and  it  is  the 
powerful.  The  stuff  emt  of  which 
iicr  two  books  have  been  mainly  woven 
is  not  of  certain  interest ;  her  charac- 
ters, if  they  presented  themselves  to  us 
in  life,  we  might  like  to  argue  with  or 
we  niiglit  disapprove  of.  liut  intro- 
duced by  her,  we  accept  them  and  judge 
them  from  their  own  standpoint.  She 
has  the  same  effect  on  us  as  a  sympa- 
thetic voice.  It  is  not  easy  more  closely 
to  define  what  made  many  readers  to 
whom  the  relic^i'^ns  novel  is  distasteful, 
and  others  whose  artistic  fastidiousness 
was  far  from  being  satisfied,  read 


NOTES. 

fhe  Nigkwayt  and  Hedges  with  unusual 

pleasure.  Whatever  it  was,  it  is  present 
here  again  in  this  slighter  book,  which 
is  less  directly  religious  in  its  subject 
and  treatment.  Gentleness  or  tolerance 
in  her  dealings  witli  humanity  might 
sum  it  up,  but  perhaps  quietism,  un- 
attached to  any  particular  doctrine, 
most  nearly  describes  its  elT<-et.  It 
would  be  unfair  to  compare  the  two 
books.  The  first  was  elaborate,  am- 
bitious, varied.  This  one  is  shorter, 
slighter,  more  limited  in  theme  and  in 
cident.  But  it  is  substantial  enough  to 
contain  one  real  character,  perhaps  two 
— only  Sir  Charlc?;  was  within  the  pow- 
er of  a  great  many  able  writers  to  cre- 
ate, and  Susie  of  very  few.  The  good 
people  in  novels  who  are  as  l:\  i:i'.:: 
the  wisely -foolish,  golden-hearted  Susie, 
are  not  numerous.  We  take  this  op- 
portunity again  of  commending  to  our 

readers  the  work  of  a  new  writer  which 
has  been  deservedly  popular  in  Eng- 
land, and  to  which  no  meretricious 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


433 


qualities  contributed.  Oiu-  looks  to 
Miss  Montr^sor's  future  with  mingled 
con6deiice  and  curiosity. 

A  SON  OF  THE  PLAINS.    By  Arthur  Pater- 
goii.  New  York:  MacmilUn&Co.  $1.9$. 

Twenty  years  ag  so  Mr.  Paterson 
tells  us,  the  Santa  trail  had  not  yet 
encountered  its  deadliest  foe — ^the  Atchi- 
son, Topekaand  Santa  F6  Railway — and 
the  man  who  embarked  on  a  journey 
across  the  plains  carried  his  life  in  his 
hands.  Many  grim  adventures  were 
the  lot  of  travelle^rs  who  traversed  the 
trail  at  thai  lime  ;  some  never  got  to 
the  end  to  tell  of  them,  borae  down  by 
drought  and  wenriness,  or  mnssarrerl 
by  Arapahoe  Indians,  while  their  wag- 
ons blazed  around  them.  Mr.  Pater- 
son's  story  opens  in  the  siimmnr  of  1873 
gon  the  Santa  trail,  and  before  many 
pages  have  been  read  we  are  already 
bent  on  a  most  exciting  adventure. 
Two  young  ladies  have  been  captured 
by  the  Arapahoes,  and  their  daring  res- 
i  iie  by  Nat  Worslcy  luads  to  an  iiittn-- 
esting  love  story,  which  mingles  with 
the  subsequent  adventures  of  Nat  and 
his  friends  ere  they  arrive  at  their  des- 
tination in  safety.  Even  then  there  is 
misunderstanding  and  playing  at  the 
serious  game  of  cross  purposes,  and  the 
tale  flac:s  a  little  until  interest  is  whipped 
•  lip  ai^aia  in  Nat's  bold,  single-handed 
I  I  apt  to  recover  Maizie  from  ilic  vile 
clutches  of  Sai^dy  Rathlee  and  Xati  in 
the  saloon  at  Amenta.  There  are  some 
vivid  descriptions  in  this  portion  of  the 
book,  and  the  narrative  quickens  the 
pulse  as  the  movement  gains  rapidity 
and  grows  exciting.  The  climax  is  well 
rcachpil  and  handled,  and  the  book-  is 
laid  down  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction. 
Mr.  Paterson  has  told  his  story  well, 
and  the  fifjhting  scenes  and  graphic  de- 
scriptions of  life,  the  portrayal  of  char- 
acter, and  the  startling  tactics  resorted 
to  at  momentous  stages  in  the  story  de- 
note a  close  acquaintance  with  the  sub- 
ject, as  well  as  force  of  imagination  and 
the  ability  to  record  his  impressions  in 
a  Hiicct  and  vivid  manner.  There  still 
arc  traces  of  crudity  in  the  m.mipula- 
tion  of  his  characters,  and  the  sisters, 
Maizie  and  Bel,  are  not  clearly  realisecl 
at  tirst ;  indeed,  they  seem  to  suffer  from 
a  masculine  lack  of  comprehension  and 

an  obtuscness  conrrrninc;  woineij.  But 
the  story  once  begun  will  not  fail  to 
bold  the  reader's  attention,  for  its  merit 


lies  in  the  human  interest  whicli  we  are 
compelled  to  take  in  the  fortunes  of  its 
characters. 

HKATRICK  OF  HA  YOU  TECHE.    By  Alice  ' 
Ilgenfritx  Jonei«  Chicago :  A.  C.  MeClorg  ft 

Co.  I1.25. 

If  the  author  of  this  story,  which  re- 
commends itself  to  the  reader  by  creating 
an  immediate  interest  in  its  heroine  and 
her  setting,  had  confined  herself  to  a 
small  canvas,  Beatrice  of  Bayou  Tec  he 
would  have  been  a  distinct  gain  to  the 
studies  and  stories  of  American  life. 
It  is  disappointing  to  find  the  subtle 
charm,  the  clever  touches,  the  truthful 
ancl  beguiling  local  coloitr,  and  the  in- 
timate and  unusual  reci>lIection  and 
portrayal  of  childhood's  sensations, 
whicli  are  expressed  in  the  first  seven 
chapters,  degenerate  into  mere  medioc- 
rity. She  makes  the  fatal  mistake 
of  becoming  So  interested  in  the  peo|)Ie 
of  her  imagination,  that  she  loses  the 
editorial  faculty  of  suppressing  unneces- 
sary details,  and  develops  a  seiitiinen- 
taUty  tliat  seems  to  have  been  engen> 
dered  by  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  three-volumed  productions  of  ati- 
ilwresses  who  always  garbed  themselves 
in  white  with  blue  ribbons  and  twined 
a  pink  rose  or  white  camellia  in  their 
ringlets. 

The  description  ut  the  slave-child 
Beatrice,  connected  to  an  old  Southern 
family  by  ties  «f  hlornl,  is  a  strong  pro- 
test against  the  institution  of  slavery  ; 
and  this  child,  who  "  was  like  a  little 
fai  (iff  inland  bay,  echoing,  though  it 
knows  not  why,  the  pulse-throbs  of  the 
"  and  her  limited  world  in  the  court* 
yard  of  an  old  mansion  in  New  Orleans, 
are  admirably  suggested.  The  descrip- 
tions of  the  river-journey  to  the  La 
Scala  Place,  the  planl<iti<m,  the  house, 
the  cabins,  and  the  Southern  life  are 
well  done  ;  and  excellent  is  the  picture 
of  the  little  house  to  which  Beatrice  and 
her  grandmother,  Mauma  Salome,  are 
Consigned  upon  their  arrival.  It  stands 
in  a  patch  of  bright,  rustic  flowers,  and 
within  is  de<  o.rated  with  odds  and  ends, 
including  pictures  pinned  ujjun  the 
walls,  a  calico  (piih  on  the  bed,  a  bat- 
tered brass  randlcslii. k.  and  a  liroken 
vase,  whose  crippled  side  was  always 
next  the  wall.  Here  the  old  woman 
smokes  and  plays  the  banjn  to  the  de- 
lighted audience  of  Robespierre,  the 
cat.   It  is  in  such  scenes  that  the  au- 


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434 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


thor  is  most  happy.  Immediately  upon 
the  introduction  of  her  hero  the  note  of 
excellence  stops,  and  the  restless  mov- 
ing of  her  characters  from  one  coiintry 
to  another — they  travel  everlastingly — 
and  the  shifting  of  scenes  reveal  the 
weaicness  of  the  untutored  novelist. 

THE  CHARLATANS.    By  Robert  Bocfaanmn 

ancf  Henry  Murray.   Cblcago:  F.  Tennyson 

N'ecly.  $1.25. 

While  we  have  the  publisher's  word 
for  it  that  The  Charlaians  ts  not  an  at- 
tack cm  Theosophists  nor  a  satire  on 
hypnotism,  there  is  suHicicnl  evidence 
in  the  context  to  prove  that  the  authors 
are  not  friends  of  Theosophy.  In  fact, 
they  show  an  inclination,  by  inference, 
to  misrepresent  the  tenets  of  the  belief. 
Lonl  Wanborough  and  M<  rvyn  Darrell, 
on  the  verge  of  being  unreserved  con- 
verts, reveal  remarkable  ignorance  of 
the  cult  not  to  have  discovered  the 
"charlatan"  11  Woodville,  almost  at 
his  first  appearance.  A.  P.  Sinnett  and 
others  lead  us  to  believe  that  nature 
holds  no  secrets  that  adepts  of  Theoso- 
phy  have  not  fathomed.  Woodville's 
speech,  during  a  conversation  with 
Lord  Wanborough,  and  his  manner 
were  enough  to  excite  suspicion  in  the 
veriest  neophyte.  He  says  :  "  We  make 
no  pretence  to  supernatural  power.  All 
we  contend  is  that  every  where  around 
us  there  are  Jones  which  are  unexplained^ 
and  possibiy  unexplainable."  Woodville 
so  clearly  proclaims  himself  an  impostor 
that  it  seems  superfluous  to  bring  him 
to  confession.  The  delineation  of  the 
character  of  liis  companion,  Madame 
Obnoskin,  is  more  consistent,  and  the 
study  of  Woodville's  character,  the  de- 
velopment of  his  better  instincts  and 
capabilities  under  the  influence  of  Isa- 
bel's love,  is  skilfully  drawn.  This  is 
especially  seen  near  the  close,  which  is 

l)y  far  tlie  l)est  part  of  the  book.  I'l oni 
the  point  of  view  of  art  the  conclusion 
might  be  justified,  but  we  are  not  con- 
vinced. It  is  a  pity  that  Woodville  and 
Isabel  could  not  have  been  reconciled, 
or  rather  married,  as  reconciliation, 
though  tt  did  not  actually  occur,  was  as 
good  as  accomplished.  And  every 
reader  will  speculate  regarding  the  fate 
of  Isabel  after  her  lover's  tragic  death. 
The  story  is  founded  on  the  drama  of 
the  same  name,  and,  apart  from  its  in- 
consistencies, is  well  told,  and  the  in 
terest  in  its  plot  fairly  sustained. 


A  C U M  BKRLAN  D  V F.N  DETTA.  AND  OTHER 
STORIES.  By  I<Hn  Foi.  Jr.  N««  Yd*: 
Harper  .1'  Bros.  #1.25. 

It  is  difficult  to  feel  any  sympathy 
with  the  class  of  people  snthisMOkto 
whom    mbonshine"  and  pistols  are  the 
natural  inspirations  of  ever)- motive  in 
life,  and  the  accompaniments  to  every 
event  and  ceremony  ;  and  a  shock  falls 
across  the  reader's  mind  to  realise  that 
such  a  community  of  lawlessness  should 
exist  in  a  country  that  calls  itself  ovfl* 
ised.  This  volume  does  not  read  like  fic- 
tion.   It  seems  to  have  been  cut  out  of 
the  Cumberland  Mountains  by  a  bold, 
firm  hand,  which,  if  it  give  the  rugged 
uess  and  ferocity  of  tlie  landscape  and 
the  brutal  and  repulsive  traits  of  the 
mountaineers,  does  not  forget  to  add 
the  flowers  that  bloom  upon  the  prcc- 
pices,  and  the  pnsoiitive  and  impressive 
sentiment  of  violentv>.  untaught  natarei 
The  atmosphere  of  the"s4:.enen',  the  pur- 
pie  seas  of  mountains  that^wave  over 
and  between  Virginia  and  Kentucky, 
the  wreathing  veils  of  mist,  thfi  gfccn 
and  bronze  of  tree  and  moss-ctT^J^^ 
slopes,  the  cool,  green   shadows,  ^ 
sharp,  massive,  grey  boulders,  the  de« 
sweeps  of  valley,  the  odour  of  tlie  earth.  I 
the  dripping,  sparkling  dew,  the  notes  d 
of  birds,  and  the  hints  of  laurel,  rho-  I 
dodendron,  and  violets  could  not  have  \ 
been  given  by  any  save  a  son  of  the 
soil.    Here  among  such  awe-inspiring 
scenes,  depressing  to  those  who  are  not 
natives,    the    people— miners,  Hioon- 
shiners,  and  raiders — are  as  wdd  as'^c 
eagles  and  catamounts  that  haunt  n|5 
lonely  crags. 

Of 'the  stories,  the  first,  "  A  Mountain  ^ 
iiuropa,  '  is  the  best.  It  is  melodramatic,  M 
but  such  life  is  hardly  to  be  exagger-  || 
ated.    Briefly,  it  is  the  story  of  a  moon-  \ 
shiner's  daughter,  who  wins  the  heart  ^ 
of  a  young  engineer  from  New  Yoi*, 
.md  is  killed  imnu-diately  after  her  wed- 
ding by  her  drunken  lather,  receiving  a 
shot  intended  for  her  husband.  The 
other  tales  arc     A  Cumberland  Ven- 
detta," its  sequel,  "The  Last  Stetson," 
and  a  shin  I  dialect  sketch  "  On  Uell-f«r- 

Sartain  Creek." 

BUNCH  GRASS  STORIES.  By  Mis.  U«d«> 
W.  Bates.   Pbiladdphla:  J  B.  UppiacattCow 

♦«  25 

With  two  exceptions  this  collection 
composed  of  sketches  of  Western  lif^l 
ambitious  sketches  they  are  too,  v^th 


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435 


occasional  rhetorical  touches  that  betray 
more  of  affectation  than  of  art.  The 
two  exceptions  are  **  Inspiration  at  the 
Cross  Roads,"  a  talc  of  an  artist's  psy- 
choloi^i*  al  evolution  in  the  time  of  Louis 
XIV.  of  France  ;  and  "The  Black  SHlII," 
a  gruesome  narrative,  with  the  sacritice 
of  Agamemnon's  daughter  before  the 
siege  of  Troy  as  the  pivotal  episode. 
The  eight  stories  are  interestingly  told, 
and  show  uncommon  skill  in  construc- 
tive art  ;  but  all  leave  the  same  unsatis* 
factory  impression asof  somethingstriven 
for  by  the  author,  and  not  quite  attain- 
ed. Tlie  something  laclcing  arises  from 
a  certain  crudity  nf  expression  .inr!  raw 
experience  of  life.  Situations  arc  over- 
drawn, facts  are  falsified  for  the  sake  of 
effect  ;  character  is  sketched  with  vig- 
our, but  without  regard  to  fidelity  of 
portraiture.  Everywhere,  however, 
there  is  evidence  of  latent  Strength,  nor 
is  this  so  far  ol>sctired  as  to  he  beyond 
development  by  the  writer.  More  prac- 
tice, keener  study  of  motive,  a  clearer 
recognition  of  the  common  rules  of  art 
and  the  courage  to  cut  out  fine  phrases 
would  enable  the  writer  to  form  a  style, 
and  to  get  an  outlook  on  life  which 
should  prove  of  more  than  ordinary 
power. 

STOLEN  SOULS.     By  WiUiam  Le  Qucax. 
New  York :  F.  A.  Stokes  Co.   f  i.oo. 

**  Anybody  who  likes  hypnotism  and 

Xihilism,"  says  .Anthony  Hope,  "and 
secret  murder  artistically  performed  by 
exotic  drugs,  ladies  of  great  beauty  and 
small  scruples,  and  an  astonishing  <//- 
mwrmfiit  V)  every  story,  cannt^t  do  better 
tiian  try  Mr.  Lc  yueux's  S/o/rn  Si>///s. 
The  book  is  downright  sensationalism, 
of  course,  but  I  do  not  know  why  I  for 
Mr.  Le  Queiix  either)  should  apologise 
for  that :  it  is  good  and  even  gorgeous 
sensationalism,  and  therefore  well  justi- 
fied of  existence.  We,  or  the  sensible 
among  us,  like  all  sorts  of  people,  and 
we  ought  to  like  all  sorts  of  books  also, 
so  long  as  they  are  cfood  <>f  their  sort." 

Perhaps  it  is  uiiu:>ual  to  ijuote  one 
novelist's  estimate  of  the  work  of  a 
l)rother  of  the  craft,  arnl  its  sujierfliious- 
ness  as  criticism  may  be  suspected  by 
many  who  consider  the  novelists  in 
league  \\  itJi  one  another  ;  but  in  llie 
present  instance  Mr.  Hope's  apprecia- 
tion flescribes  more  faithfully  than  we 
can  hope  to  do  the  nature  and  extent  of 
Mr.  Le  Queux's  work.   The  reader  who 


takes  up  S/olen  Sou/s  will  find  time  slip 
easily  away  as  he  finishes  one  story, 
only  to  begin  the  next,  Wfrnflerinpf 
whether  Mr.  Le  Queux's  ingenuity  and 
inventive  fancy  will  ever  fail  him. 
Sti'ffii  S<>uh  is  (or  tlie  most  part  Rus- 
sian in  background,  with  secret  socie- 
ties and  Anarchists  mixed  up  in  the 
horrible  yet  fascinating  compound,  for, 
as  has  already  been  hinted,  there  are 
horrors  and  surprises  galore  abound- 
ing in  these  queer  stories,  but  they 
are  pleasant  horrors,  and  we  are  too 
conscious  of  the  cleverness  of  the 
artist  to  feel  profoundly  the  startling 
effects  and  tragic  climacterics  of  his 
strangely  wrought  tales.  Stoiett  Sou/s 
wilt  be  welcomed  among  the  ephemeral 
books  which  ungrudgingly  contribute 
to  our  entertainment  and  help  us  some- 
what to  unstring  the  bow  of  life  for  a 
brief  season. 

FETTERED.  YET  FREE  :  A  Study  in  Heredity. 
By  Annie  S.  Swan.  New  York  :  Dodd,  Mead 
&  Co.  $1.35. 

There  is  a  fascination  for  most  of  us 
in  the  bare  thought  of  Scotland,  the 
land  of  mists  and  cakes,  of  romance  and 
porridge  ;  and  some  of  us  feel  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  any  study  of  heredity 
that  has  to  do  with  its  hard-headed, 
soft-hearted  people.  We  can  fancy  the 
distaste  with  which  their  Calvinistic 
souls,  nourished  on  Free  Wilt  and  Elec- 
tion, must  recoil  frrmi  the  tlu»iielit  of  an 
inherited  ban.  It  was  surely  a  Scots- 
woman who  said  :  **  I  was  a  liar  by  na- 
ture until  I  found  out  that  lying  ran  in 
the  family,  and  that  cured  me,'*  There 
arc,  however,  usually  two  parents  in 
every  household,  and  wc  are  as  likely 
to  inherit  good  from  one  as  evil  from 
the  other  ;  moreover,  we  are  not  seat 
into  the  world  altogether  finished  as  to 
character,  l)ut  are  left  room  to  develop 
into  correspondence  with  our  environ- 
ment and  along  lines  largely  determined 
by  our  own  volition.  This  is  the  phi- 
losophy which  is  expressed  by  Miss 
Swan's  title  ;  and  in  the  working  out  ol 
her  thesis,  that  humanity,  though  fet- 
tered by  ancestral  traits,  is  yet  free  in 
great  measure  to  determine  its  own  ca- 
reer. She  has  given  us  a  very  charming 
picture  of  lifi'  in  the  *'  Kingdom  of 
Fife,"  and  some  very  human  characters. 
It  must  be  admitted  that  she  is  a  trifle 
prolix  ;  the  book  would  be  improved 
by  cutting  down ;  yet  even  diffuseness 


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43® 


.  THE  BOOKMAN. 


is  a  refreshing  variety  in  these  days  of 
hurrv',  when  it  pives  the  feeling  that 
the  author  has  phrnty  of  time  for  a  chat. 
The  lines  of  her  picture  are  occasionally 
indistinct  ;  and  Trances  Slieldon  ih  a 
more  successful  portrait  than  the  avow- 
ed heroine  :  more  might  have  been 
made,  perhaps,  ot  tlic  Brabant  episode, 
and  Mary  Heron  certainly  comes  off 
with  less  than  slu-  (Icsi  rves.  But  here 
and  there  are  scenes,  such  as  the  fare- 
well between  Kerr  of  Haugh  and  his 
wife,  that  for  dignified  siinplicity  and 
pathos  could  hardly  be  improvf-fl  ;  and 
Kerr  himself,  with  all  his  sins  uj)ua  his 
head,  "rough  tyke,"  and  fond  of  a 
"glass  too  miicli."  is  yet  exceedingly 
lovable.  One  would  rather  like  to  have 
Eleanor  marry  Adrian,  if  it  were  possi- 
ble, l)iit  jH-rhaps  modern  science  would 
justly  interpose  ;  and  at  least  she  gets 
her  deserts.  For, 

"  She  that  will  not  when  she  may. 
When  she  wUl  she  shall  have  nay." 

A   nUKSTIOX  OF  FAITH.    By  L.  Dougall. 
Boston:  iluughiun.  Mifflin  &  Co.  ^r.oo. 

We  are  out  of  all  patience  with  Miss 
Dougall.  She  has  a  strength  of  hand, 
a  vividness  of  fancy,  an  originality  of 
conception,  which  might  place  her  very 
high  among  our  writers  of  fiction  ;  and 
she  is  sacrificing  them  all  to  the  desire 
to  preach.  Now  prc.irhinp;  in  art  is  in- 
sincere ;  it  isn't  straightforward  to  pro- 
fess to  tell  a  story,  and  suddenly  spring 
a  moral  upon  the  unsuspecting  reader  ; 
if  he  does  not  resent  it,  it  is  because  he 
is,  like  the  children,  used  to  it,  and  sup- 
poses it  to  be  the  correct  thing.  All 
that  the  artist  may  do  is  t<>  hold  the 
mirror  up  to  nature  ;  if  tiie  scene  of  his 
choice  contain  a  moral,  the  frame  of  the 
mirror  will  doubtless  serve  to  isolate  it 
for  the  better  observation  of  the  be- 
holder ;  but  to  point  it  out,  by  so  much 
as  a  linger,  is  presumptuous,  and  should 
be  unnecessary.  We  may  illustrate  by 
referring  to  Mrs.  Deland's  Philip  and  hi s 
Wife,  and  to  Miss  DougalTs  own  first 
pii!)lis!ie<i  novel,  Bfi^gars  All.  Tiie  lat- 
ter had  also  the  advantage  of  a  plot  of 
singular  character,  so  unusual,  indeed, 
that  the  author  has  ever  since  been 
hampered  by  a  vain  desire  to  rival  her 
own  work,  and  in  consequence  has 
given  us  stories  whose  framework  is 
cheap,  whose  colourincr  is  tjatidv,  and 
whose  motive  is  clap-trap.  \n  A  (^ues- 
Homo/Faitkt  her  latest  work,  genius  or 


chance  has  supplied  her  with  another 
motif,  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  which 
have  been  marred  by  the  two  tendencies 
which  we  have  indicated.  The  half- 
crazed  father,  who  is  willing  to  lose 
even  his  own  soul  to  bring  his  erring 
son  to  the  Ix  lief  in  the  mercy  of  God — 
could  anything  be  finer  ?  But  Miss 
Dougall  has  her  little  sermon  to  preach  ; 
or  perhaps  the  handling  of  such  a  theme 
was  too  great  for  her ;  and  so  literally 
and  metaphorically  the  struggle  for  a 
soul  is  tucked  into  a  comer,  and  ser\-es 
only  as  an  occasion  of  misunderstand- 
ing between  Alice  and  her  lover,  in 
consequence  of  which  everything  in  the 
book  is  out  of  focus.  Amy,  who  should 
have  been  a  bit  of  character  drawing 
equal  to  Rosamond  Vincy,  is  forced  to 
he  verbally  e.xplained  by  the  author; 
and  there  are  pages  and  pages,  after  the 
climax,  of  pure  homiletics  !  Vet  in 
spite  of  it  all  the  story  is  bright  and  in« 
teresting. 

NADYA:  A  TALE  OF  THE  STEPPES.  Bv 
Oliver  M.  Norris.  New  York:  F.  H.  Revcll 
Co.  it.s$. 

Mr.  Norris  makes  no  auempt  at  Hoe 

writing  in  Nadya,  but  there  is  charm  in 
the  simplicity  of  his  style,  and  there  is 
iucidcnl  enough  in  liis  story  to  make  it  an 
attractive  one.  The  description  of  the 
life  of  the  Stand ists  would  alone  repay 
a  perusal  of  the  book.  The  author  has 
woven  a  plot  out  of  good,  because  un- 
common, material.  In  the  CouiitesN 
Olga,  a  noblewoman  of  great  wealth,  he 
has  depicted  more  simplicity  than  a  read- 
er of  Russian  novels  is  led  to  believe 
is  possible  in  the  nobility  of  Russia. 
Mikhail,  the  leader  of  the  Stundists,  and 
Nadya,  the  daugiuer  of  a  fanatic  ferry- 
man, are  lovable  characters  ;  not  so 
Vladimir.  Grisha,  the  deformed  son  of 
Vladimir's  uncle,  and  the  General  form 
the  dark  background  against  whieli  ilu- 
nobility  of  the  others  shines  out  with 
more  than  ordinary  brilliancy.  In  spile 
of  the  lack  of  studied  attempt  at  fine 
writinp;;,  there  are  several  scenes  which 
are  told  with  force,  and  almost  with 
dramatic  intensity.  The  death  of  the 
ferryman  and  the  defence  of  tlie  Pass 
by  Sergei  and  his  troops  during  the 
Russo-Turkish  war  are  examples.  Read- 
ersof  Tolstoy  and  Turgenieff  will  recog- 
nise in  Nadya  almost  a  suspicious  fidel- 
ity to  the  Russian  scenery  and  character 
as  portrayed  by  the  Slav  novelists,  and 


W  UThkAkY  JOURNAL. 


437 


there  is  at  limes  even  that  forced  avoid- 
ance nf  criticism  nf  Russian  institutions 
whicli  marks  liie  Russian  novel  of  do- 
mestic manufacture. 

PAUL   HLfilOi  S   FlCiURES.     By  Aiison 
McLean.    London  and  New  York:  r.  Wame 

&  Co.  ?.t25. 

It  is  perhaps  owing  to  a  fault  or  flaw 
tn  the  critic  «  '*  ocular**  that  he  is  un- 
able to  understand  why  a  collection  of 
short  stories  must  have  a  thread  to  hang 
upon,  as  though  they  were  sausages  ! 
In  PaulHtriofs  Pictures  the  connection 
is  very  awkwarflly  managed  ;  and  what- 
ever else  the  mysterious  Paul  may  have 
been,  he  was  certainly  not  an  artist,  to 
value  pictures  for  their  '*  story"  rather 
than  their  intrinsic  merit.  The  stories 
themselves,  it  may  be,  needed  some  such 
fictitious  sentimental  interest ;  for,  taken 
alone,  one  doesn't  quite  see  why  they 
exist  ;  but  there  are  some  rather  pretty 
bits  of  description  of  English  rural 
scenery,  anfl  certainly  they  will  never 
bring  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  the  young 
person.  In  fact,  the  pictures  which  are 
scattered  pn  tty  liberally  over  the  pacfcs 
will  probably  induce  many  a  young  per- 
son to  take  the  book  down  from  the 
shelves  of  the  Sunday-school  library, 
and  pronounce  it  "very  pretty  read- 
ing ;"  and  she  will  not  detect  that  pic- 
tures, letter-press,  and  piety  are  all  of 
abitut  the  same  calibre,  hut  will  enjoy 
it  ail,  along  with  the  rest  of  her  milk 
and  water. 

CORRL  l^  i  iON.    By  Percy  While.    New  York  ; 
D.  Appleioa  &  Co.  $i.ss< 

Mr.  White's  very  amusing  novel,  Mr. 
F^ai'cx- .\Ta>  tin,  w  hich  appeared  last  year, 
ensured  a  large  number  of  readers  for 
the  next  book  from  his  pen  ;  and  there- 
fore C,yrruf>fi.^f!,  in  spite  of  its  repulsive 
title,  will  doubtless  dnd  many  pur- 
chasers. They  will  be  doomed,  we 
think,  to  disappointment.  J/r.  BaiUy- 
Afiirtin  was  light  in  touch,  unpretentious 
in  structure,  and  based  upon  accurate 
observation  aii<l  knowledge.  As  a 
stuily  in  cads  il  w.is  in  some  respects 
deserving  of  comparison  with  Thack- 
eray's similar  but  more  farcical  story, 
y/'  r.!fitl  Boots.  But  Mr.  White's  suc- 
cess has  apparently  been  taken  by  him 
too  seriously,  so  that  he  has  now  tried 
to  give  us  a  psychological  novel  deal 
\n<^  witli  the  deeper  things  of  life  and 
touching  upon  the  world  of  politics  and 


society.  Needless  to  say,  the  attempt 
is  not  a  success ;  for  Mr.  White  has 
neither  the  knowledge  nor  the  power 
necessary  for  the  self-imposed  task.  Nev- 
ertlieless,  the  book  is  rcachil^le  in  spite  of 
its  too  ambitious  plan.  The  reader  will 
probably  smile,  however,  at  finding  the 
hero  and  heroine  in  tlie  most  intense 
moments  of  their  unlawful  love-making 
priggishly  regaling  each  Other  with  quo- 
tations from  Browning  and  Shell(  >  ,  and 
discussing  in  academic  phrase  the  phi- 
losophy of  life.  It  is  probably  luo  much 
to  ask  of  Mr.  White  that  he  go  back  to 
school  and  refresh  his  knowle<lg<-  of  the 
English  grammar,  but  we  may  reason- 
ably express  the  hope  that  in  his  future 
liooks  he  will  either  abstain  from  quot- 
ing Scripture,  or  else  take  the  trouble 
to  verify  his  allusions  to  it.  When  he 
speaks  of  the  "  doubting  P<ter^*  and 
when  he  refers  to  the  sixth  command- 
ment when  he  evidently  intends  the  sev- 
enth, the  effect  is  rather  comic.  And 
why  does  he  continually  spell  "  dipso- 
mania" with  a  "  y"  ? 

LONDON  IDYLLS.    By  W.  J.  Daw«op.  Bos- 
ton :  T.  Y.  Crowell  &  Co.  $1.25. 

The  mysteries,  tragedies,  the  hard- 
ships and  humours  of  London  life  are 
the  materials  of  Mr.  Dawson's  tales. 
He  knows  no  better  storehouse  than  the 
great  city.  "  Its  life,"  he  says,  in  his 
preface,  "  is  the  true  epic  of  the  mod- 
ern world.  The  next  great  poet,  when 
he  comes,  will  be  nourished  on  the 
breasts  of  London."  In  the  meanwhile, 
its  air  is  full  of  stories,  and  he  tells  ten 
of  those  he  has  listened  to.  Not  all  of 
them  are  very  characteristic  of  London 
— the  scene  of  "  The  Music  of  the  Gods," 
for  instance,  might  be  laid  in  Bagdad 
just  as  fitly.  But  most  arc  concerned 
with  streniiotis  modern  London  lives, 
with  lurking  modern  London  tempta- 
tions ;  and  Mr.  Dawson  proves  that  he 
knows  London  well,  from  East  to  West, 
from  the  laundress's  tub  to  the  fashion- 
able rector's  pulpit.  Many  grades, 
many  circles,  and  many  opinions  are 
represented  in  these  thoughtful  and  im- 
pressive stories,  which  speak,  in  diUer- 
ent  accents,  the  language  of  the  very 
hour  that  is  with  us.  Since  Mr.  Daw- 
son wrote  The  Kedemfiim  of  Ett\i>ard 
Strakan,  published  a  few  years  ago,  he 
has  made  rapid  strides  in  the  art  of 
writing  fiction,  and  London  Idylls  awakes 
expectancy  by  the  possibilities,  hitherto 


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THE  BOOKIAAN, 


unguessed  at,  which  it  discloses  in  the 
author. 

A  MAN  AND  HIS  WOMANKIND.    By  Nora 
Vynn6.    New  York:  Hcory  Holt  &  Co.  7S 

CIS. 

Miss  Nora  Vynn^  is  ft  promising 

young  writer,  and  her  new  novel,  pub- 
lished in  the  very  pretty  and  convenient 
Bucliram  Series,  is  a  t air  specimen  of 
her  work.  It  Is  tlu-  st  >ry  of  a  man  who 
is  ven,'  miirh  mothered  by  his  women- 
kind.  His  wife»  a  lady  journalist  rather 
older  than  himself ;  his  sister,  and  his 
mother,  all  live  with  liiin,  aiul  endeav- 
our to  protect  and  shield  him.  When 
he  finds  it  out  he  is  very  angry,  concetv- 
inpf  not  unnaturally  that  his  business 
might  he  to  (In  something  in  the  way  of 
shielding  ijiein.  MissV'ynne  works  out 
her  plot  dearly  and  pleasantly,  bm  she 
seems  to  stop  short  in  the  middle  of  her 
story,  although  we  feel  she  could  have 
gone  on  and  ended  it.  It  is  the  silliest 
of  all  literar)'  crazes,  an  1  one  that  it  is 
high  time  was  severely  criticised,  to  be- 
lieve that  it  is  artistic  to  pull  up  ab- 
ruptly in  the  middle.  We  should  have 
liked  it  if  the  author  <»f  ./  Afar:  and  His 
Womankind  had  continued  lier  narrative 
a  little  longer,  and  told  us  what  hap> 


peneii  wiien  Dick  Ccdicsson  found  his 
old  hair-brush. 

GARRISON  TALES  FROM  TONQUIN.  By^ 
James  O'Neill.  Boston  •  CopelanfKV  Day.  $i  .:*5. 

Up  to  the  present  time,  the  new 
French  colony  in  the  Far  East  has 

been  terra  incognita  to  writers  of  English 
fiction  ;  so  that  Mr.  O'Neill  has  the 
honour  of  being  the  first  of  our  ex- 
plorers in  a  field  which  has  as  yet  been 
worked  by  nonr  l)iit  Frenchmrn.  sucb  as 
Paul  Bonnetain  and  a  few  others.  The 
dainty  little  volume  in  which  this  virgin 
soil  is  now  broken  for  Enc^lish  readers 
is  well  worthy  of  careful  perusal,  for 
the  stories  are  exceedingly  well  told, 
and  are  tinged  for  the  most  part  with  a 
certain  mystery  or  melancholy  that  re- 
flects tlie  spirit  of  the  Orient.  They 
nearly  all  tell  of  the  members  of  the 
French  army  of  occupation,  but  the  set- 
ting of  the  picture  is  strange  and  pictur- 
esque. Mr.  O'Neill  g^ves  a  glossary  of 
Anamcse  words  at  the  end  of  the  book, 
wliich  dues  not,  however,  cover  all  the 
expressions  that  are  found  in  the  text. 
The  cover  is  one  of  the  most  striking 
and  original  that  we  liave  ever  seen,  the 
stamped  oriental  paper  for  it  having 
been  especially  manufactured  in  Tokyo. 


THE  BOOKMAN'S  TABLE. 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR.  Bj-  Charles 
Lowe.  Public  Men  of  To  day  ScricB-  New 
Vork  :  Frederick  W.irne  &  Co. 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  com- 
mend the  excellent  scries  in  which  the 
present  volume  is  the  fourth  to  appear, 
and  we  ran  onlv  repeat  with  still  qrcater 
emphasis  our  former  praise  after  pe- 
rusing Mr.  Lowe's  most  readable  book. 
His  qualifications  arc  evident  to  all  who 
know  his  biography  of  Prince  Bismarck, 
and  recall  his  bright,  entertaining,  and 
somewhat  journalistic  style,  lie  is  espe- 
cially fortunate  in  having  for  his  subjt «  t 
in  the  volume  before  us  so  piquant  and 
remarkable  a  personality  as  the  German 
Kaiser,  wJio  i>  prr<bal)ly  the  ^v^c^<.\  inter- 
esting ligure  on  the  stage  of  interna- 
tional politics  to-day — a  picturesque  and 
puzzling  prince,  about  whom  men's 
opinions  range  from  thinking  him  an  in- 
spired genius  to  mocking  at  him  as  a 
hare-brained  fool.  A  young  man  who 
passes  from  the  comparative  obscurity 


of  an  heir  presumptive  to  the  dazzling 
hegemony  of  the  most  military  nation 
in  the  world ;  who  dismisses  with  a 
wave  of  the  hand  a  minister  like  Bis- 
marck ;  who  threatens  princes  and  par- 
liaments as  readily  as  he  denounces  so- 
rialists  and  democrats  ;  who  rec^artls 
himself  as  God's  anointed,  and  brings 
the  monarchy  of  the  Middle  Ages  Into 
the  sceptical  atmosphere  of  our  century's 
en{l  ;  who  commands  ships  and  drills 
armies,  and  leads  orchestras,  and  regu- 
l.iics  tashions,  and  has  an  eye  on  every- 
iluiitj  from  dipl«)macv  to  cookini; — could 
any  one  write  a  dull  iiook  about  such  a 
curiosity  as  this  ? 

Mr.  Lowe  ti  lls  his  story  in  a  most  fas- 
cinating manner,  with  a  wealth  of  amus-  , 
ing  and  instructive  anecdote,  and  with  ' 
no  great  bias  toward  any  especial  theory 
regarding  the  young  Emperor,  though 
his  view,  on  the  whole,  is  perhaps  too 
favourable.  The  truth  about  the  Kaiser 
probably  is  that  he  is  really  a  very  able 


.J. 


Die 


A  UTEKARY  JOUkNAL 


439 


and  capable  prince,  hut  one  who  lacks 

so  utterly  a  sense  (if  httmoiiras  to  mnke 
all  his  gifts  a  source  of  danger  to  him- 
self and  to  his  Empire.  A  youth  who 
takes  himself  with  stu  h  tromendous  seri- 
ousness can  scarcely  see  things  in  their 
proper  perspective ;  and  some  day  or 
other  he  will  almost  certainly  plunge 
into  some  rash  and  reckless  venture  tliat 
may  lose  him  his  throne  and  teach  him 
thtng;s  of  whit  ii  lu'  dors  not  dream.  In 
commending  Mr.  I-owe's  book  vvc  liave 
the  same  objection  to  make  tliat  we 
brought  against  his  Alexander  III.  some 
time  ago — that  liis  ciiapter  headings  are 
ridiculously  sensational  and  silly,  re- 
sembling nothing  in  the  world  so  much 
as  a  bit  of  the  conversation  of  Mr.  Alfred 
Jingle.  "  Hi.  Hismarck  !  Hi,  Kaiser  ! 
— kt  iiinti\i^>  atm  Ainoris — '  Who  ii>  he  that 
Cometh  like  an  honoured  guest  ? ' — A 
sword  of  honour  and  a  salvo  of  artillery 
— The  '  nation  in  arms  '  versus  the  '  na- 
tion in  eloquence  ' — '  Spectemur  agendo* 
—  '  Er  lebe  hoch  .'  '—Hurrah  !"— what  a 
wild-eyed,  drunken  sort  of  heading  is 
this  for  a  chapter  of  history !  While  we 
are  carping,  too,  we  must  mention  the 
absurd  passac^e  in  wliic  li  Mr  Luwe  com- 
pares the  Duke  of  Kdinburgh  with  \'ua 
Moltke,  and  implies  (p.  140)  that  the 
German  nation  p;ained  a<;  much  in  his 
accession  to  the  Duchy  of  Saxe-Coburg 
as  it  lost  in  Moltke's  death  !  Really, 
Mr.  Lowe  must  l)e  as  la(  kinv^  i:i  the 
sense  of  humour  as  the  Kaiser  himself. 
The  book  contains  a  portrait  of  the  Em- 
peror and  one  of  the  Empress,  both 
from  photographs  taken  in  London. 

A  VICTORIAN'  ANTlIOLOnv  Srlfclions 
illuslraun^;  ih<„'  i-diior's  cntica.  icv  icvv  ui  British 
poetry  in  itu-  n  i^'ti  of  \':Lioria.  Edited  by  Ed- 
mund Clarence  htedtii.iii.  With  brief  biogra- 
phies of  the  authors  quoted,  frontispiece  por- 
trait of  Queen  Victoria,  and  a  vignette  of  the 
Poets'  Corner  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Bos- 
ton :  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  $a.5«> 

Few  writers  are  so  well  eqtiipped  by 
past  training  and  experience  to  prepare 
an  anthology  of  Victorian  poetry  as 
Mr.  Stedman.  His  Victorian  Poets  has 
becf»me  a  standard  work  Imth  in  Eng- 
land and  America,  and  it  is  natural  that 
in  availing  himself  of  the  wide  range 
and  richne*;s  of  this  field  of  juictry, 
he  should  follow  closely  his  original 
scheme,  so  that  this  volume  forms  a 
companion  to  his  critical  work,  furnish- 
incf  ex.ininU's  whtrh  illustr.ito  liis  views 
and  estimates  of  the  poetry  of  the  last 


sixty  years.    It  is  superfluous  tO  say 

tliat  Mr.  Stedman  has  hrstnwrd  the  most 
conscientious  care  in  the  making  of  this 
anthology,  and  that  he  has  shown  an 
excellent  taste  and  an  admirable  tact  in 
his  choice  of  representative  poems. 

One  is  tempted  when  an  anthology 
romes  into  his  hands  to  look  for  his 
favd\irite  poems,  and  too  often  judg- 
ment is  meted  out  to  the  editor,  not  on 
the  score  of  fairness,  but  largely  through 
mere  prejudice.  Every  lovt-r  of  poetry 
has  his  best-loved  poems,  and  while  it 
is  possible  for  an  editor  to  make  such  a 
Selection  of  universally  liked  poems  as 
would  enable  him  to  steer  clear  of  the 
Scylla  and  Charybdts  of  personal  pre- 
dilection or  prejudice,  he  would  not  be 
human  did  he  not  (according  to  the 
critic)  make  some  mistakes.  For  ex- 
ample, on  turning  to  the  name  of  Eugene 
Lee-Hamilton,  we  felt  a  flush  of  pleas- 
ure when  we  saw  that  the  sonnet,  "A 
Flight  from  Glory,*'  had  been  included. 
This  sonnet,  whicli  we  quote  entire 
(from  Sonnets  oj  the  W  in^icss  Hours)^  is, 
by  its  nobility  of  thought,  daring  im- 
agination, and  consummate  art,  worthy 
of  immortality  and  of  companionship 
with  Blanco  White's  one  sonnet : 

*'  Once,  from  the  p.irapct  of  gems  and  glow. 
An  Angel  said  :  '  O  God  !  the  heart  groWSOoU 
On  these  eternal  battlements  of  gold, 

Where  all  is  pure,  but  cold  as  virgin  snow. 

"  '  Here  sobs  are  never  heard  ;  nt)  salt  tears  flow  ; 

Here  ihefK  ate  nunc  to  h<-lp,  nor  sick  nor  old; 

No  wrong  to  fight,  no  justice  to  uphold  : 
Grant  ne  thy  leave  to  live  man's  life  below.' 

**  •  And  then  annihilation  ?'  God  replied. 

'  Yes,'  said  the  AnRcI. '  even  ili.  r  Ii    id  price; 

For  earthly  tears  are  worth  etertia.  mgiil.' 

'  Then  go,'  said  God.    The  Ai)is'el  opened  widc 
llisdauling  wings,  gazed  back  on  Heaven  ihricc 
And  pluf^ed  forever  from  the  walls  of  Light." 

But  on  referring  to  the  cluster  of 
poems  under  the  head  of  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  we  were  disappointed  not  to 
find  the  incomparable  lines  in  which  he 
describes  the  youthful  walks  in  the  mid- 
summer  dark,  in  "midnights  worth 
many  a  noon"" 

"  Ane  went  hame  wi'  the  itber,  an'  then 
The  ither  went  hame  wt'  the  ither  twa  men, 

An'  b.iith  wad  return  liim  the  service  again. 
And  the  mune  was  shinin' clearly. 

"  Now  Davie  was  first  to  get  sleep  in  bis  head, 
'The  best  of  frien's  mean  twine,*  he  said, 

'  I'm  weariet.  sf'  li'-rr  I'm  awa  to  my  bed.' 
And  the  mune  was  shinin'  clearly  ! 


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440 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


*'  Twao'  them  walkin'  and  crackin'  their  lane. 
The  tnoroia'  licht  cam'  grey  and  plain. 
And  the  birdies  yammert  wn  stick  and  stane. 
And  the  munc  waa  ahinin*  clearly ! 

"  O  yean  ayont.  O  ytars  awa. 
My  Iad<i,  ye'll  mind  wbate'er  beia', 
My  lads.  yeUl  mind  on  (he  bietd  o'  the  law. 
When  the  mune  was  shinin'  dearly." 

The  viiliime  is  a  bulky  one,  being 
printed  un  gouU  paper  aad  to  clear  type  ; 
but  for  those  who  would  like  to  nave 
the  work  in  two  convenient  volumes,  and 
are  willing  to  pay  thf  price,  there  is  a 
large-paper  edition,  liuiiicd  to  250  cop- 
ies, to  be  had  at  tio  net. 

SONGS   AND  OTHER  VERSES.    By  DoUie 
Radford.   Pbtiadelphia :  J.  B.  Lippiocott  Co. 

$i.2<;. 

Mrs.  Kadford'«>  verses  arc  informed 
with  a  Identic  spirit  of  complete  faith 

nrif!  t<:ni(]rriu-ss.  Vuu  feel  that  she  is  in 
her  proper  attitude  to  lite  when  she  is 
inditing  pretty  versicles  of  timorous 
hope  and  joy  and  fear  and  regret. 
There  is  never  an  inordinate  touch  of 
passion  in  these  little  lyrics.  They  are 
far  from  the  great  highways,  and  wan- 
der pleasantly  through  the  lanes  and 
meadows  of  human  experience.  The 
genius  is  domestic  ;  it  sits  by  the  fire, 
and  regartls  the  jiast  with  tender  and 
submissive  regret,  the  present  with  ami- 
able joy,  and  the  future  with  a  wibiful 
wonder.  The  air  and  attitude  arc  that 
of  a  child,  or  that  of  a  woman,  if  you 
like.  The  storms  blow  over  Mrs.  Rad- 
ford's head  ;  wc  are  in  a  pretty  Arcadia, 
when  we  read  her  verses,  where  the  pas- 
sions have  faded  into  quiet  shadows 
which  are  likely  to  do  no  one  any  harm. 
There  we  may  be  as  full  of  dim  senti- 
ments as  we  please,  and  extract  a  sweet 
content  out  of  all  our  mild  emotions. 
Aspirations  become  guileless  and  desires 
innocent ;  witness  these  pretty  verses : 

"Because  I  l>uilt  my  nest  so  high, 

Musi  I  despair 
Ii  .1  iicri winil.  with  bitter  cry, 
I'asscs  the  lower  branches  by, 

And  mine  makes  bare  ? 

'*  Because  I  hun^  it.  in  my  pride» 
So  near  the  skies. 
Higher  than  other  nests  abide, 

Must  I  !  iincni  if  far  and  wide 

1 1  sr.r.tLTcd  lies  ? 

"I  shaii  nol  Imilil  fim!  L)ui:il  my  best, 
Till,  Siifcl  *  uiin. 

I  hang  alofi  tny  new  made  nest. 
High  as  of  old,  and  ace  it  rest 
As  near  the  sun." 


In  this  pacific  house  of  dolls  we  may 

look  for  no  rude  violence.  For  any- 
thing save  sweetness  you  may  search 
Mrj..  Kudlord's  verses  in  vain,  though 
the  stanzas  entitled  "  To  a  Stranger" 
have  a  deeper  sense  in  parts. 

TWO  YEARS  ON  THE  ALABAMA.  By 
AnhurSinclair.  Boston :  Lee  &  Shepaid.  $}.oa 

This  handsome  volume  of  344  pages 

and  ^3  illustrations  is  a  very  entertain- 
ing  account  of  the  cruise  of  the  famous 
Confederate  privateer  from  the  time 

when  she  slipped  out  of  the  Mer><  \  in 
July,  1863,  to  the  day  when  she  was 
sent  to  the  bottom  by  the  guns  of  the 
K far  surge.  The  author,  the  son  of  a 
Commander  in  the  United  States  Navy 
who  resigned  in  1861  to  support  the 
C' 'nfederacy,  wa>  a  lieutenant  on  the 
ALilhima  during  the  whole  pct  iod  <>f  her 
depredations,  and  tells  the  story  m 
a  much  more  optimistic  spirit  than 
other  chroniclers  whi)  have  depicted 
her  crew  as  insubordinate  ruffians,  and 
the  life  on  board  of  her  as  at  times  some- 
thing like  a  floating  hell.  Mr.  Sinclair 
notes  the  various  ships  captured,  the 
manner  in  which  the  cuiiliscated  cargoes 
of  silks,  pianos,  bric-^-brac,  and  mer- 
chandise were  invariably  scattered  to  the 
waves,  and  how  the  ships  thcm&eives 
were  frequently  given  to  the  flames; 
but  he  also  tells  of  the  consideration 
with  which  the  Alabama's  prisoners  were 
treated  ;  how  their  private  property  was 
never  taken  from  them  ;  how  the  priva- 
teer's officers  gave  up  their  cabins  to 
any  ladies  taken  from  the  prizes  ;  and 
how  captors  and  captives  drank  cham- 
pagne, chatted,  and  llirted  just  as  though 
the  war  were  but  a  itciion.  It  is  curious 
to  note  that,  although  the  English  Gov« 
ernment  was  more  strictly  neutral  than 
the  French,  the  Alabama  always  got  the 
wannest  reception  in  the  English  ports, 
and  the  most  wary  and  non-committal 
treatment  in  the  ports  Ih  !. .iiiT;r,rr  to 
France.  Mr.  Sinclair's  narratnc  is  told 
with  no  pretension  to  literary  style; 
but  it  is  an  instructive  and  tliorougly 
readable  version  of  a  very  famous  cliap- 
ter  of  the  Civil  War. 

BATTLES  UF  ENGLISH  HISTORY.  By 
Hereford  B.  George.  New  Yorlc :  Dodd,  Mead 
ft  Co.  $a.oa 

This  is  a  book  with  a  meaning  and  a 
purpose.    The  subject,  as  barely  dc- 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


441 


scribed  i  i  i  'i  l^  title,  w  ould  be  congenial 
and  ca>\  lo  llie  mere  compiler;  a  hun- 
dixrd  mighl  lake  it,  and  none  of  iiu  be 
much  the  wiser  for  their  lazily  or  labo- 
riously borrowed  repetition  of  old  facts. 
But  Mr.  George  has  seen  a  real  gap  in 
our  more  accessible  historical  books. 
Historians,  as  a  rule,  art*  not  interested 
in  military  details,  and  they  omit  them, 
or  blunder,  or  speak  of  them  vaguely. 
Military  works,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
too  technical.  He  has  tried  »  >  explain 
clearly  and  accurately  for  civdian  read- 
ers what  he  thinks  should  be  part  of  an 
ordinary  liberal  education.  Not  that 
he  considers  battles  the  most  important 
Incidents  in  history.  But  they  have 
been  important  ;  over  and  over  again 
their  issue  depended  on  their  having 
been  fought  in  this  or  that  way,  under 
such  and  such  conditions  ;  and  he  has 
no  doulit  that  deiinite  knowledge  on  the 
deciding  circumstances  will  be  found 
interesting.  By  his  clear,  orderly  nar- 
rative and  Ills  plans  lie  has  made  it  so  ; 
and  on  reading  his  recital  trom  the  bat- 
tle of  Hastings  to  the  Indian  Mutiny, 
we  find  point  being  continually  given 
to  patriotic  triumph,  or  to  the  longing 
that  some  lost  field  had  been  ruled  other- 
wise— 

"  From  fate's  dark  book  a  leaf  been  torn. 
And  Floddeo  bad  been  Baaoockburo." 


BOOKMAN  BREVITIES. 

.'\  new  and  cheaper  edition  of  Philip 
Gilbert  Hamerton's //wtf^/waZ/W/  in  Land- 
siiipf  ($2.00),  issued  by  the  Messrs.  Rob- 
erts, who  publish  his  works  in  this  coun- 
try, is  welcome.  Nothing  could  be  bet- 
ter said  ol  this  book  than  what  the 
Athenaum  said  of  the  original  edition  : 
"  Excejit  the  author  of  Af,hl,  r  n  Pdiritrrs, 
no  one  has  a  better  right  to  deal  with 
the  noble  and  difficult  suliject  indicated 
bythetitleof  this  work  than  Mr.  Hamer- 
ton.' '  There  are  some  fine  illustrations. 
The  less-known  stories  of  the  author  of 
Our  yi//tix'-  have  been  collected  and 
published  by  the  Messrs.  Mactnillan 
iti  ihcir  Craalurd  Series  (;^2. 00).  Country 
Stories,  by  Mary  Russell  Mitford,  is  dis- 
tinguished by  the  sariie  pleasant  hnmntir, 
grace  of  style,  and  keen  love  of  country 
life  which  have  made  Our  Viitage  an 
English  classic.  The  sketches  are  hap* 
pily  illustrated  from  pen-and-ink  draw- 
ings by  George  Morrow. 


Under  the  Old  Elms  contains  some  in- 
terestini^  pages  of  personal  recollections 
of  celebrated  visitors  who  foregathered 
from  time  to  time  under  the  hospitable 
and  historic  roof  of  Governor  and  Mrs. 
Claflin  at  Newtonvillc,  Mass.  As  might 
be  expected,  the  gleanings  are  not  im- 
portant,  and  will  add  nothing  to  the 
permanency  of  the  names  Mrs.  Claflin 
conjures  with,  but  it  is  pleasant  to 
breathe  the  literary  atmosphere  created 
bv  one  who  enjoyed  an  intimacy  with 
Dr.  Sanmel  V.  Smith,  Charles  Sumner, 
James  Freeman  Clarke,  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  and  liis  sister,  the  author  of 
Utule  Tom's  Cabin.  A  chapter  is  given 
up  to  the  description  of  the  celebration 
which  was  given  to  the  latter  on  her 
seventieth  birthday  in  "  under  the 

old  elms,*'  and  now  that  the  author  of 
America  is  gone,  we  read  the  following 
with  melancholy  interest :  "  Dear  Dr. 
Smith  !  Of  ail  those  of  his  generation 
who  used  to  tread  the  paths  under  '  The 
Old  FJms,'  he  alone  is  left."  The  book 
is  tastefully  bound  and  printed.  Messrs. 
T.  Y.  Crowell  and  Company  are  the 

publishers  ;  the  price  is  $1.00.  From 

the  same  firm  we  have  Sunshine  for  Shut- 
i/iSf  compiled  by  a  "  shut-in."  There  is 
a  passive  of  prose  or  verse  for  each  day 
of  the  year.  To  the  same  order  belongs 
A  Daiiy  Staff  for  Li/e's  Pathway^  pub- 
lished by  the  .Messrs.  Stokes  in  white 
and  gold  binding  with  full  gilt  cdpes 
price,  $1.25).  A  Garden  0/  Pleasure 
Roberts  Brothers,  $2.00)  and  Broken 
Notes  from  a  Grey  Xunnery,  by  Mrs.  J.  S. 
Hallock  (Lee  and  Shepard,  $1.25),  are 
also  year-books,  but  on  the  principle 
that  "  who  loves  a  garden,  still  his  Eden 
keeps,"  and  consist  of  rambling  reveries 
and  reflections  on  Nature  and  on 
Nature's  God.  Both  are  illustrated. 
Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  continsi''  tlie 
issue  of  Balzac's  novels  througii  tlie 
medium  of  Miss  Wormeley's  excellent 
translation  with  A  Daughter  of  Pre 
(price,  $1.50)  ;  also  we  have  another 
volume  from  the  Messrs.  Macniillan, 
adding  Mereward  tin  ll'akr  (  75  cents)  to 
their  fine  new  series  ot  Charles  Kings- 
ley's  novels.  Othello  is  the  latest  vol- 
ume of  the  Temple  Shakespeare  (price, 
.15  cents  per  volume),  being"  issued  by 

the  same  firm.  Messrs.  Houghton, 

Mifflin  and  Company  have  made  a  selec- 
tion of  Mr.  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich's 
/./At  Lyrics  (jirice,  §i.oc),  and  have 
given  them  a  tasteful  setting  in  a  dauny 


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44* 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


form.  /  1  /  /V  v ,//;,/  PalUids  of  Ilfine  and 

olhcr  German  poeis  before  going  into  a 
second  edition  was  revised  and  en- 
lar^erl,  and  CMtnes  fn»m  the  Knicker- 
bocker Press  in  a  binding  of  delicate 
white,  pale  green,  and  gold. 

Messrs.  Macmillan  and  Company  have 
given  pn?)!irat!on  to  ;i  w.lume  of  ser- 
mons of  uauijual  t  h.n  iu  aiul  force  in  the 
late  Professor  Jowett's  College  Sermons 
($2. no),  rditcd  liy  lii^  friend,  Dean  Fre- 
manilc.  The  style  is  direct  and  simple, 
but  the  late  Master  of  Ballioi  knew  how 
to  reach  tlic  undtMstandinj:^  and  the 
heart.  He  is  espe(  ially  felicitous  and 
suggestive  in  treating  such  themes  as 
*'  Youth  and  Religion,"  "  The  Joys  and 
Aspirationsof  Youth,"  "  .Stu<iy,"  "  Con- 
veri>aLiua,"  "  Success  and  I'ailure,"  and 
"  The  Completion  of  a  Life's  Work." 
This  is  one  of  the  few  books  of  sermons 
one  can  well  afiord  to  lay  up  for  the 
use  of  a  lifetime.  A  volume  composed 
princ  ipall)  <  tf  iTicnim  ial  sermons  is  prom- 
ised for  a  future  occasion.  This  we 
should  believe  will  be  well  received. 
 Tliougktt from  the  IVri tings  of  Rich- 
ard Jefferies  is  a  beautiful  little  I)ook, 
published  by  the  Messrs.  Longmans, 
which  deserves  a  wide  circulation,  and 
which  ii  is  hoped  will  induce  many 
readers  to  study  Jetferies's  entire  works. 
It  is  printed  in  red  and  black  and  deli- 
cately bound.    Price,  $1.25. 

Messrs.  Stone  and  Kimball  continue 
their  fine  limited  edition  of  English 
classics  with  Southey's  English  Scanun 
and  Walton's  Z/rrx.  We  have  already 
called  attention  to  tiic  laudable  ambi- 
tion which  has  moved  this  firm  to  pro- 
duce excellent  examples  of  model  book- 
making  in  these  volumes,  and  gladly 
do  so  again.  The  price  is  remarkably 
low,  and  can  scarce  do  more  than  cover 
the  cost  of  production.     Price,  $1.25 

per  volume.  A  volume  of  essays  by 

the  late  Walter  Pater  has  been  gath- 
ered together  by  Mr.  Charles  L.  Shad- 
well,  who  makes  his  preface  valuable 
by  subjoining  a  chronological  list  of 
Pater's  published  writings.  We  note 
an  interesting  fact,  that  a  period  of  live 
years  was  given  up  to  the  composition 
of  Afarius  the  Epicurean,  which  is  con- 
sidered to  be  the  most  highly  finished 
t)f  all  his  works,  and  the  expression  of 
his  deepest  thought.  Miscellaneous 
Studies,  published  by  the  Macmillans 
uniform  with  the  previous  volumes,  con- 
tains, among  other  papers,  notably 


•*  Prosper  M^rimec,"  "Raph  1.  1.  '  **Pas. 
cal,"  and  "  The  Child  in  the  House.** 
Price,  $1.75.  ^Thc  editor  of  the  New 

York  (^herz'rr,  while  scckinj^  snmnic-r 
days  in  the  West  Indies  during  the  win- 
ter months,  used  his  eyes  to  good  advan- 
tage, and  has  written  a  book  ^M>ot  it 
all.  Readers  of  Acres^  Russia  and  Be- 
yond the  Rockies  need  no  lengthy  intro- 
duction to  Mr.  Stoddard's  entertaining 
and  informing  papers  in  his  new  book, 
Cruising  among  the  Cartbees.  ^uite  a 
number  of  full-page  illustrations,  very 
well  executed,  accompany  the  text,  and 
the  Messrs.  Scribner,  who  publish  the 
book,  have  given  it  a  presentable  ap- 
pearance. The  price  is  $1.50.  An- 
other book  of  travel  and  <  ihser\'ation  nf 
strange  men  and  manners  is  that  fur- 
nished by  the  Messrs.  Harper  in  Miss 
Woolson's  Afentone,  Cairo,  and  Corfu. 
There  are  some  vivid  descriptions  in 
these  pages,  much  that  is  amusing  and 
fresh  in  the  material  collected  here,  and 
the  blending  of  illustrations  and  text 
go  happily  together  to  make  an  un- 
usually picturesque  book.  Although 
these  papers  appeared  at  intervals  in 
Harper  s  Magazine,  they  present  quite  a 
new  appearance  in  book  form,  as  thej 
were  not  only  largely  rewritten,  but 
considerably  added  to.  "  At  Mentoue" 
made  its  initial  appearance  as  far  back 
as  1884  ;  this  sketch,  by  the  way,  is  in 
the  form  of  a  novel,  but  is  really  a  record 
of  travel.  Price,  $1.75.  The  Harpers 
have  also  collected  the  unequal  but  not 
uninteresting  Italian  stones  which  werf 
written  by  Miss  Woolson  for  the  Atlantic 
and  Harper's^  and  have  published  them 
in  two  volumes — namely.  The  Front 
Yard  and  Other  Stories  and  Dorothy  and 
Other  Stories  ;  price,  $1.25  per  volume. 

A  Guide  to  the  Paintings  of  Venice,  by 
Karl  Karolfy,  will  be  an  indispensable 
handbook  to  many  art  students.  It 
contains  an  historical  and  critical  ac- 
count of  all  the  pictures  in  Venice,  with 
quotations  from  the  best  authorities, 
and  also  furnishes  brief  biographies  of 
tlie  Venetian  masters.  It  is  i^sued  by 
the  Macmillans,  and  the  price  is  $1.50. 

In  Inmates  of  My  House  and  Garden 
(Macmillan  and  Company^  $*"5c) 
Brightwen  evinces  a  keen  eye  for  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  a  heart  brimful 
of  sympathy  for  all  dumb  creatures. 
This  and  a  ready  pen  have  enabled  her 
to  contribute  to  "popular  science"  an 
entertaining  collealon  of  essays  about 


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443 


things  that  we  all  have  seen,  but  have 

not  observed  critically,  or  studied  lor 
pleasure  or  profit.  She  describes  the 
habits  of  lemurs,  squirrels,  owls,  wrens, 
tortoises,  insect  and  plant  life,  and  also 
imparts  rrnich  good  counsel  by  the  way. 
There  is  an  appeal  for  more  interest  in 
nature.    The  suggestions  as  to  methods 

of  study  arc  trite  hut  llclpful  to  )'()Uth- 
ful  readers,  and  it  is  to  them  that  the 
book  will  prove  especially  attractive. 
There  is  an  apparent  effort  to  avoid 
heaviness  in  style,  and  to  be  scientifi- 
cally exact  vvilhoul  obscurity. —  J'/ie  Life 
of  John  Livingston  Nevius^  by  Helen  S. 
Coan  Nevtus,  has  just  been  published 
by  the  Fleming  H.  Reveli  Company 
($2.00).  Mr.  Neviuswas  for  forty  years 
a  missionary  in  China,  and  this  book  is 
dedicated  to  his  memory  by  his  widow, 
who  is  the  author  of  the  work.  It  is  a 
notable  contribution  to  missionary  liter- 
ature, and  no  more  authentic  record  of 
missionary  experience  in  that  country  is 
extant.  Mrs.  Nevius  was  constantly 
with  her  husband,  and  ll)us  liad  excel- 
lent opportunities  to  observe  her  hus- 
band's work  among  the  people.  The 
volume  comes  at  an  opportune  time. 
Those  who  wish  to  get  a  clear  idea  of 
the  missionary  situation  in  China  will 
probably  find  what  they  seek  in  Mrs. 
Coan  Nevius's  work  better  than  in  any 
other  work  of  recent  date. 

Messrs.  Boericke  and  Tafel,  of  Phila- 
delphia, [)ublish  a  very  complete  Life  of 
Hahnemann^  written  by  Dr.  T.  L.  Brad- 
ford, which  is  of  much  interest  even  to 
those  who  are  not  especially  concerned 
in  medical  matters.  The  history  of  the 
processes  on  which  Hahnemann  finally 
established  his  system,  the  narrative  of 
his  long  and  finally  trinmj)Iianl  strnj:^p;le 
against  prejudice  and  tradition,  and  the 
personal  details  of  his  singularly  pure 
and  upright  life  make  excellent  read- 
ing. To  tliose  who  are  interested  in 
the  history  of  medicine  the  book  par- 
ticularly  commends  itself,  whether  they 
be  disciples  of  Hahnemann's  school  or 
not  ;  for  it  is  difficult  now  to  deny  that 
the  rise  of  homoeopathy  has  exercised  a 
very  powerful  influence  upon  the  other 
school,  as  well  as  upon  the  medical  art 
in  general,  doing  away  with  the  kilt-or> 
cure  treatment  that  was  once  the  rule, 
and  stimulating  the  scientitic  develop* 


ment  of  preventive  medicine.    Price,  in 

cloth,  $2.50  ;  in  half  morocco,  $3.50. 

Blue  and  Gold  is  the  title  of  a  small 
volume  of  verses  by  Mr.  William  S. 
Lord,  printed  at  the  Dial  Press,  Chicago. 
The  edition  is  limited  to  150  copies,  each 
of  which,  we  believe,  costs  ^2.40.  A 
printed  slip  which  accompanies  the  book 
informs  us  tliat  many  have  already  bccn 
sold,  which  is  evidence  that  the  author 
has  a  goodly  supply  of  devoted  friends; 
for  we  hardly  think  that  love  of  poetry 
would  lead  any  one  to  become  a  pur- 
chaser An  equally  adnurablc  anthol- 
ogy could  be  easily  gathered  from  the 
back  files  of  any  country  newspaper  that 
allows  the  local  poet  to  cavort  in  its  col- 
umns.  Of  mucn  greater  merit  is  the 
dainty  little  volume  by  Fanny  II.  Run- 
nells  Poole,  entitled  A  Bank  of  Violets^ 
published  by  Messrs.  G.  P.  Putnam's 
Sons.  In  it  are  many  parages  that 
unite  a  delicate  fancy  with  graceful  ex- 
pression. In  Mr.  Louis  M.  Elshcmus's 
Moods  of  a  we  cannot  find  anything 
that  we  can  conscientiously  commend. 
If  the  author  is  not  a  foreigner,  he  is, 
at  any  rate,  unacquainted  with  some  of 
the  most  elementary  metrical  rules  of 
English  verse,  and  there  are  indications 
of  equal  unfamiliartty  with  the  nicer 
distinctions  of  the  English  language. 
This  book  is  published  in  an  edition 
limited  to  600  copies,  by  Charles  Wells 
Moulton,  of  Buffalo.  From  the  same 
city  comes  Thoughts  in  l\rse,  by  Mr. 
Clifford  Howard,  published  by  the  Peter 
Paul  Book  Company.  Its  lines  show  a 
good  deal  of  technical  finish  despite  an  ex- 
cessive use  of  syncopation  in  such  fre- 
quent forms  as  *'  t'ward,"  "  flick'ring," 
"ev'ry,  *  "  inex'rable,"  whlspVing/' 
and"  falt'rinc:."  There  are  many  pleas- 
ant little  fancies  embodied  in  Mr.  How- 
ard's pages,  and  occasionally  a  striking 
melody.  One  of  his  adjectives,  how- 
ever— *' aphroditic" — he  should  hereaf- 
ter eschew  as  being  incorrectly  formed. 

The  Messrs.  .Xppleton  send  us  Mr. 
(/rinnell's  well-written  Story  <f  the  In- 
dian, in  their  Story  of  the  West  Scries, 
illustrated  with  a  number  of  photo- 
gravures. It  is  an  neeoiint  of  the  man- 
ners, customs,  and  habitat  of  the  Ameri- 
can Indian  to-day,  with  a  number  of 
stories  gathered  by  the  aullior  from  the 
Indians  themselves.    The  price  is  $1.50. 


Digitized  by  Google 


444 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


SOME  HOLIDAY  PUBLICATIONS 


The  choicest  holiday  buuk  ol  the  sea- 
son is  assuredly  T/ir  ComeJics  of  William 
S/!,!krsf'rtT7-,\  which  is  m.i(ic  invahiahle 
by  the  series  of  drawings  it  contains 
from  the  pencil  of  Mr.  Edwin  A.  Abbey. 
There  are  131  full-page  pht)togravures  ; 
the  size  is  hirge  octavo,  and  the  work  is 
in  four  volumes,  printed  on  beautiful 
paper,  with  deckel  edges,  gilt  tops,  and 
elegantly  bound  in  half  ch'tli.  It  is  the 
most  sumptuous,  as  it  is  the  most  ex- 
pensive— ^but  not  expensive  in  propor- 
tion to  its  worth — of  all  the  festive  books 
thai  make  this  season  gay  and  glad  with 
their  beauteous  handiwork.  Published 
by  the  Messrs.  Harper  ;  price,  $30.00. 
From  the  same  h(nise  comes  Mr.  Alfred 
Parsons" s  Aolfs  in  Japan^  which  many, 
wlio  have  followed  its  appearance  in 
Harper's,  will  wish  to  possess  in  book 
form,  and  to  those  who  missed  these 
exquisite  studies  of  mountain  and  tem- 
ple anri  of  an  interesting  humanity  we 
commend  the  work  for  its  intrinsic 
value,  begotten  of  the  moment's  need,  as 
well  as  for  its  exterior  and  artistic 
beauty.    Price,  $3.00. 

Olii- ll'orlii  Japan:  I.ei:;cnds  of  thf  JAind 
of  the  Goiis,  retold  by  1  rank  Kinder,  and 
finely  illustrated  by  T.  H.  Ivoliinson, 
comes  in  a  gorgeous  cover  of  flaming 
cherry-red  and  gold,  inside  and  out ;  and 
with  an  anci«?nt  mistin(•^s  and  charm  of 
legendary  lore  in  its  pages  which  brings 
refreshing  to  the  reader  surfeited  with 
the  mighty  matter  published  about  mod- 
ern Japan.  Tlie  tales  contained  in 
this  volume  hav«'  been  selected  with  a 
view  rather  to  thtii  beauty  and  charm 
of  incident  and  colour;  and  to  the  stu- 
dent and  the  lover  of  primitive  romance, 
as  also  to  the  unwearied  reader,  there  is 
a  fund  of  singiihir  .md  tai csque  inci- 
dent and  marvel  in  these  tales  which  re- 
flect the  antique  texture  into  which 
Japanese  life  and  thought  has  been  in- 
terwoven. The  book  lias  hvcn  lieauti- 
fully  printed  in  lingkuid  Iruin  the  type 
and  not  from  plates,  and  is  published 
here  by  the  Messrs.  Macmillan  ;  price, 
$r.oo.  Messrs.  Macmillan  and  Com- 
pany also  publish  A  Midsummer  Nights 
Dream  ($2.00),  printed  by  the  Messrs. 
Dent  I  if  T.ondon.  It  is  edited  I'V  Israel 
Gollancz,  editor  of  the  Temple  Sliake- 
speare,  and  has  a  charming  introduction 


by  him  in  an  epistuhu  y  form.  The  illus- 
trations by  Robert  A.  Betl  are  full  of 
luimnnr  and  sensibility,  and  are  well 
executed.  Paper,  print,  and  binding 
are  all  that  could  be  desired. 

In  our  December  number,  under  this 
caption,  we  commended  the  new  scries 
of  Charles  Lever  s  novels  which  the  en- 
terprising Boston  house  of  Messrs.  Lit- 
tlr.  Thrown  and  Company  have  in^^t  com- 
pleted. We  have  again  liie  pleasure  ol 
introducing  our  readers  to  a  new^  series 
of  another  wofld-famed  n->v!-list,  Wt\- 
andre  Dumas.  This  firm  publishes  the 
standard  edition  of  Dumas's  works  in 
this  country,  and  in  respon-r  to  repeat 
ed  re(]U(  >is  for  an  extension  of  the  vol- 
umes already  issue<l,  they  have  further 
obliged  Engli>-h  rraiirrs  i  f  Dumas  by 
adding  tlu-  follow  iul;  novels  to  li:s  trans- 
lated works  :  Ascanio,  a  romance  01 
Francis  I.  and  Benvenuto  Cellini,  in 
two  volumes  ;  T/te  War  of  Women,  a  ro- 
mance of  the  Fronde,  two  volumes ; 
Blacky  the  Story  of  a  Dog^  and  Tales  of 
the  Caucasus,  in  all  six  volumes,  with 
decorated  c  lotii  bindincT,  gilt  top,  price. 
^.00  ;  or  in  plain  cloth  for  $7.50.  Each 
volume  has  a  frontispiece  in  |  i  -. 
gravure.  \  companion  work  to  Mr. 
Garrett's  beautiful  volume  of  liiizaUtkni 
Songs  comes  from  the  press  of  the  same 
firm,  bound  exquisitely  in  ul.itc  cluth 
with  an  appropriate  covet  design,  aad 
printed  on  hand -made  paper.  Alto- 
gether Victorian  Son^t^'s  makes  an  accepta- 
ble holiday  hook,  with  its  twent\  f 
page  photogravures,  its  etched  iilustfd- 
tions,  and  numerous  head  and  tail  pieces 
from  pen-and-ink  drawings.  Mr.  Gar- 
rett has  put  his  heart  into  this  work,  3H 
he  did  in  the  former  volume,  and  tfae 
publishers  have  don<-  their  part  with  ex- 
ceeding good  ta^tc  and  caretuines». 
Mr.  Edmund  Gosse  contributes  an  in- 
troduction to  this  selection  of  Victorian 
lyrics.    Price,  $6  00. 

Since  noticing  the  Messrs.  Sioktrb 
holiday  books  in  our  last  nuniber  we 
have  received  from  them  Mr.  Walter 
Besanl's  book  on  Westminster  with  13: 
illustrations.  Mr.  Besant's  preceding 
vi>hKne  on  London,  of  which  the  prrsenl 
woik  is  a  successor,  wai  drsfrvr<f!1  v  'i»r'' 
received,  and  cerlainiy  lew  men  ol  Uit 

present  day  in  London  have  the  knowl- 


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445 


edge  and  aliility.  and  the  sympathy  with 
the  subject  which  Mr.  Hesant  possesses  to 
make  it  so  peculiarly  fascinating  and  in- 
valuable in  its  picturesque  and  informing 

uses.    Price,  $3.00.  Ainorijr  Messrs. 

L.ce  and  Shepard's  attractions  fur  the 
holidays  are  Poems  of  tke  Famts  selected 
anfl  illustrated  by  Alfred  C.  Hastman, 
in  substantial  binding  and  printed  on 
plate  paper  on  one  side  only,  as  is  also 
an  t'lL'Lcantly  furnished  volume  of  verse 
and  illustrations,  On  Whtas  i>f  Fancy 
Jiknvn,  by  Mary  Vale  Shaplcigh  ;  and 
Aunt  Billy  and  Other  Sketches^  by  Alyn 
Yates  Keith  (Si.25\  In  all  three  vol- 
umes there  is  a  breezy  scnsaiiua  of  rural 
culture,  which  is  exhilarating  to  tired 
town  livers  ;  whethrr  they  will  awake 
to  the  privileges  offered  them  in  these 
pages  is  an  open  question. 


A  may;nificently  printed  and  lavishly 
illustrated  book  is  Episcopal  Palaces  of 
England,  by  the  late  Canon  Venablos, 
published  by  Thomas  Whittaker  of  this 
city.  It  contains  a  chapter  on  each  of 
ten  episcopal  palaces  of  the  l£nglish 
dioceses,  prefaced  by  one  on  Lambeth 
Palace,  the  seat  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Eight  of  these  chapters 
are  from  the  pen  of  Canon  Venables 
himself,  who  did  n(>t  livi-  to  complete 
tilt;  work.  The  other  three  arc  by  dis- 
luigui.shed  ecclesiastics.  l  iicre  are  over 
a  hundred  illustrations,  the  work  of  Mr. 
Alexander  Anstcd,  besides  the  firic 
etched  frontispiece  depicting  Lambeth. 
The  book  ;s  a  most  beautiful  and  inter- 
esting one,  and  will  attnu  t  equally  the 
loyal  Churchman  and  the  student  of  early 
English  architecture.    The  price  is  $6. 


BOOlvS   FOR   BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 


Parents  who  have  experienced  diffi- 
culty in  finding  books  suited  to  children 
between  the  ages  of  four  and  six,  will 
thank  us  for  calling  their  attention  to  a 
unique  publication  which  has  just  arrived 
from  the  far  West.  The  Litllc  Boy 
who  Lived  on  the  Hill  is  "  a  story  for  wee 
bits  of  tykes,"  by  Annie  Laurie,  and 
illustrated  by  "  Swin,"  who,  if  we  mis- 
take not,  is  identical  with  the  eccentric 
artist  who  is  responsible  for  the  "in- 
artistic aberrations"  which  garnish  the 
pages  of  the  Lark.  Both  illustrations 
and  text  are  on  a  level  with  the  vision 
and  vocabulary  of  the  wee  bits  of  tykes, 
and  are  depicted  with  all  the  realism  of 
child  life.  But  the  book  must  be  seen 
to  be  appreciated ;  we  were  sorely 
tempted  to  reproduce  (»ne  of  the  jiic- 
turcs,  but  found  choice  in  the  matter 
impossible.  The  publisher  is  William 
Doxey^,  of  San  Francisco.  For  chil- 
dren just  beyond  this  age  and  upward 
there  arc  tw»>  beautiful  volumes  pub- 
lished by  the  Alpha  Publishing  Com. 
pany,  which  commend  themselves  by 
the  quality  of  their  storie^  and  sketches 
and  numerous  illustrations.  Little  Men 
and  Women  ($1.50)  and  Babyland  (Iti.oo) 
rank  amr>ng  the  V>est  and  most  popular 
bound  volumes  which  come  lo  us  an- 
nually at  the  holiday  season.  Another 

bound  volume,  which  will  especially 
prove  acceptable  to  boys,  is  Harper  s 


Round  Table  for  1895.  The  name  was 
changed  from  Harper's  Youn};  People 
last  April,  when  several  new  features 
were  introduced  to  this  boy's  weekly 
periodical,  which  has  made  it  more  pop- 
ular than  ever.  Harper' s  Rounl  Table 
is  skilfully  edited,  as  is  manifested  by 
the  variety  of  topics  of  interest  which 
appeal  in  its  pages  to  the  varied  needs 

and  tastes  of  boys  and  girls.  Mr. 

Thomas  W.  Knox,  well  known  as  the 
author  of  The  Boy  Travellers,  has  writ- 
ten a  Boy' s  Life  of  General  Grant,  which 
sliouki  be  popular.  It  contains  a  num- 
ber of  illustrations,  and  is  published  by 
the  Merriam  Company.    Price,  =?i.5o. 

The  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company  have 
brought  out  a  new  reprint  of  Mr.  W.  O. 
Stoddard's  Chumley  s  ^ost,  a  story  of  the 
Pawnee  trail,  with  several  illustrations  ; 
they  have  also  published  a  new  story  of 
George  Manville  I'enn's,  entitled  The 
Youn^  Castellan,  a  tale  of  the  English 
Civil  War,   with  iilustralions.  Price, 

$1.50.  The  Messrs.  A ppleton  publish 

Mr.  Hezekiah  Butterworth's  latest  boy's 
story,  entitled  'JVte  Knight  of  Liberty^  a 
tale  of  the  fortunes  of  La  Fayette.  The 
illustrations  in  the  book  have  received 
especial  attention  ;  the  book  itself  >s>  " 
substantial  piece  of  manufacture.  Pric«. 

§1.50.  Messrs.  A.  C.  McClurtr  ■^'^l 

Company  have  issued  A  Child  oj  j^^.g 
canyy  another  of  Marguerite  Bou 


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44^ 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


charming  stories.  The  illustrations, 
well  executed,  are  by  Will  Phillips 
Hooper,  and  the  publishers  have  taken 
pains  to  make  a  beautiful  book  in  bind- 
in|2j,  letter  press,  and  paper  for  the  story 
of  little  Ralfaello's  fortunes  in  the  land 
of  Tuscany.  Price,  $i  .50.— —  Messrs. 
Longmans,  Green  and  Company  did 
well  to  import  77/f  Y'cuni:;  I'retenJers^  by 
1£.  II.  Fowler,  with  its  childish  drollery 
and  simplicity,  its  exquisite  pictures 
against  an  English  background  so  ten- 
der, so  true  tf)  the  life  of  the  child  \\  <  n  ld. 
There  are  twelve  illustrations  by  Philip 
Burne  Jones,  which  are  excellently 
drawn.  We  hope  this  briijht  little  story 
will  find  its  way  \x\\.n  the  lumds  of  many 
of  our  young  people  ;  it  is  a  book  that 
will  touch  them  with  genuine  feeling, 
which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  mrst 

juveniles.  Jacob  and  the  Maven^  with 

other  stories  for  children,  bv  Frances 
M.  Pcard,  is  a  beautifully  artistic  book. 
The  type  is  bold  and  clear,  and  the  pic- 
tures by  1  Icy  wood  Sumner  exhibit  an 
unusual  imaginative  quality  in  the  ar- 
tist ;  one  Hnj^t-rs  over  them,  and  ttirns  to 
them  again  and  again,  so  that  if  'twere 
but  for  the  illustrations,  one  would 
be  tempted  to  carry  the  book  home. 


Mr.  lilbridge  S.  Brooks,  whose  many 
volumes  for  boys  and  girls  daily  increase 

their  indi  htcdiR-ss  tu  tlic  ver-^.^ilitv  of 
his  genius  for  contributing  to  liie  enter- 
tainment and  necessities  of  young  peo- 
ple's literature,  has  written  a  book  en- 
titled Great  Men  s  Sons,  in  which  he  tells 
us  who  they  were,  what  they  did,  and 
how  they  turned  out,  giving  us  a  pai>s- 
int?  c^limpse  at  the  sons  of  tin-  \Mir!i!'s 
mightiest  men  from  Socrates  to  Napu- 
leon.  Mr.  Brooks  is  a  fMunstaking  and 
careful  writer,  and  the  information 
which  he  furnishes  about  these  great 
men's  sons  may  be  relied  upon  as  trust- 
worthy. There  arc  a  number  of  illus- 
trations. It  is  publislicd  by  Messrs. 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  and  the  p:ice  is 

$1.50.  The  Merriam  Company  have 

piilili^lii  d  another  ot  Mr.  Edward  S. 
Ellis's  stories  tor  boys,  entitled  Youag 
Conduttor,  or  winning  his  way,  which  is 
the  second  volume  of  their  Through  on 

Time  Series.  A  Girl  0/  thf  Conimutu^ 

by  G.  A.  Ilenty,  is  published  by  Messrs. 
R.  F.  Fenno  and  Company,  without 
illustrations.  The  rover  has  a  blazing 
design,  with  a  wt>nian  in  red  as  the  cen- 
tral figure,  behind  which  the  sun  is  set- 
ting in  golden  splendour. 


AMONG  THE  LIBRARIES. 


The  Ecole  dcs  Chartes  at  Paris  has, 
this  year,  a  course  of  lectures  on  bibliog- 
rapliv  and  library  administration  given 
by  M.  Charles  Mortet,  of  the  Biblio- 
theque  Sainte  Genevieve. 

A  similar  course  on  the  administration 
of  Arc  hives  is  given  bv  M.  Desjardins, 
Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Archives  of  the 
Department  of  Instruction. 

The  work  of  publishing  catalogues  of 
the  mantisrripts  on  the  European  libra- 
ries is  steadily  going  on.  A  recent  addi- 
tion in  this  field  is  Martini,  CaUttof^o  di 
niatioscritti  ^rechi  csistcnte  nelU  bibliotahe 
itiilianc,  of  which  Vol.  I.  has  just  been 
completed  (Milan  :  Iloepli). 

A  new  library  building  is  in  course  of 
erertion  for  the  University  nf  Giaz. 
The  corner  stone  was  laid  on  June  4ih  of 
this  year,  and  a  Festschrift  issued  in 

celebrati  on  nf  tlie  event. 

Tlie  l^niversity  of  Freiburg  also  has 
in  prospect  a  new  library  building. 

As  is  generally  known,  the  matter  of 


printing  a  catalogue  of  the  Hihliotlu"  que 
Nationale  of  Paris  has  been  long  consid- 
ered and  practically  decided  upon.  A 
specimen  f  -  i.  h  a  catalogue  is  given  in 
a  recent  number  of  the  BulUtin  of  the 
library,  comprising  the  name  Aristotle, 
in  48  pages  and  741  entries. 

Mr,  Ellsworth  Totten,  librarian  of  the 
Union  League  Club,  is  about  to  retire 
on  account  of  continued  and  serious  ill 
health.  Mr.  Totten  has  been  in  this 
library  for  the  past  fifteen  years,  and  it 
is  to  be  hoped  that  his  faithful  seivice 
will  not  be  li>st  sight  of  by  the  authori- 
ties of  the  Union  League.  Mr.  W.  B. 
Childs,  who  was  for  some  time  an  as> 
sistant  in  the  library  of  Columbia  Col- 
lege, has  been  engaged,  for  the  present, 
as  librarian, 

Mr.  George  W.  Cole,  librarian  of  the 
[tuhlic  library  at  Jersey  City,  has  re- 
signed on  account  of  ill  health.  Mr. 
Cole  has  been  at  the  head  of  the  library 
since  its  foundation  in  1888,  and  his  ad- 


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ministration  has  been  successful.  Mr. 
Colo  was  for  years  treasurer  of  the 
Anicncan  Library  Association,  and  has 
been  president  of  the  New  York  Library 

Club. 

The  library  of  the  Leland  SUnford, 
Jr.,  University  seems  to  be  in  a  state  of 

repose,  as  it  sufTers,  in  common  with  the 
rest  of  the  institution,  from  the  pcndincf 
suit  against  the  Stanford  estate.  Its 
librarian,  Mr.  Woodruf,  is  on  an  extend- 
ed leave  of  abs'^nrc,  studying  at  Cornell 
and  in  New  York.  The  library  has  re- 
cently issued  a  catalogue  of  its  collection 
of  r.iilroad  books,  which  is  one  of  the 
richest  in  existence  and  numbers  about 
fottr  thousand  titles. 

Dr.  K.  Pictsch,  who  has  been  for  the 
past  five  years  in  the  Newberry  T-ibrary. 
has  accepted  a  call  as  Instructor  of  liie 
Romance  Languages  in  the  Chicago  Uni- 
versity. 

Coliimhiu  College  Library  has  added 
during  the  past  three  months,  since  Sep- 
tember ist,  8554  volumes.  It  has  just 
received  over  two  thousand  bound  dis- 
sertations on  subjects  in  the  literature 
and  philology  of  the  English  and  the 
Romance  lancT'iage?;. 

The  gift  of  ^ic.ooo  by  Mr.  b.imuel  P. 
Avery,  of  New  York,  to  increase  the  en- 
dowment of  the  Avery  Architectural 
Library  in  Columbia  College  Library, 
has  jtist  been  made  public  by  the 
Trustees.  The  Cataloiruc  of  the  Avery 
Library,  a  volume  of  1150  pages,  is 
being  bound  by  Mathews,  and  will  be 
ready  for  distribution  shortly* 

The  scholars  of  Germany  are  con- 
trasting the  public  spirit  and  interest  of 
the  Prussian  Government  of  to-day  in 
matters  of  literature  and  science  with 
the  enterprise  of  Frederick  the  Great  125 
years  ago.  The  building  of  the  Royal 
Library  of  Berlin  has  for  a  lonj^  time 
been  entirely  inadequate  for  the  storage 
of  that  magnificent  collection.  As  now 
surrounded  by  Other  structures,  it  is  also 
far  from  secure  against  fire,  A!!  at- 
tempts to  obtain  from  the  Government 
the  means  for  a  new  library  have  thus 
far  been  inefYcctnal,  Tlie  five  milliards 
from  France  were  appropriated  for  other 
purposes,  and  the  national  library  of 
Germany  has  no  present  prospect  of  a 
suitable  home.  The  building  now  occu- 
pied was  projected  by  Frederick  the  Great 
shortly  after  the  Seven  Years'  War, 
when  the  little  kingdom  of  Prussia  war 
exhausted  by  the  ravages  and  exertions 


of  that  struggle.    Yet,  despite  the  great 

poverty  of  the  State,  in  1774  the  build- 
ing was  begun,  and  completed  in  1780. 
The  third  library  in  importance  in  the 
world  certainly  deserves  briter  at  the 
hands  of  the  German  people  and  State, 
the  race  which  claims  to  lead  in  scholar- 
ship and  the  ideal  interests  of  humanity. 

Quintus  Icilius,  a  favourite  of  Fred- 
crick,  half  pedant,  iialf  court  jester,  is 
said  to  have  been  the  author  of  the  well- 
known  motto  on  the  Berlin  library, 
"  Nutrtmcntum  Spiritus."  Frederick 
intended  this  to  mean,  and  the  wise 

translati'  it.  "  Food  of  the  S|)irit  or 
Soul  \"  but  the  translation  of  the  com- 
mon people  in  Berlin  is  **  Spirit  (or  alco- 
hol) is  food." 

Tlif  Amerjean  Library  Association  is 
working  up  plans  to  hold  its  anniial 
meeting  in  1897  in  Furope.  combining 
with  it  a  two  months'  trip.  Already 
more  than  a  hundred  persons  have  sig- 
nified their  intention  of  taking  the  trip. 

Active  efforts  are  beint;  m.iclr  to  repair 
the  loss  occasioned  by  the  recent  fire  in 
the  library  of  the  University  of  Virginia. 
By  this  disaster  a  targe  part  of  the  con 
tents  of  the  library  was  destroyed  A 
gentleman  in  New  York  is  said  to  have 
iriven  $25,000  to  renew  the  library.  The 
Trustees  of  Colum!)i;i  C<  iMcge  have  voted 
to  make  a  ^if t  of  books  from  the  dupli- 
cate collection  of  Columbia  Library. 

Mr.  H.  Carringion  Bolton,  in  a  letter 
to  the  Nation,  dissents  from  the  policy 
which  has,  for  example,  so  elaborately 
decorated  the  Boston  Public  Library 
that  it  has  berome  a  showplare  overrun 
by  tourists  aiui  art  amateurs,  to  the 
serious  detriment  of  readers  and  inves- 
tigators, lie  fears  tiiat  when  rdl  the 
Abbeys,  and  Sargcnts,  and  Whistlers 
are  in  their  places,  as  projected,  the 
readers  may  as  well  abandon  the  build- 
ing to  the  siglitseers. 

A  new  library  building,  to  cost 
§50,000,  is  in  process  of  erection  for 
the  Ohio  Weslcyan  I/ni versity.  It  is 
to  have  a  capacity  of  175,000  volumes, 
with  seminar  rooms  and  a  lecture  room. 

The  corner-stone  of  the  new  library 
given  by  President  Low  to  Columbia 
College  was  laid  without  formal  cere- 
monies on  December  7th.  The  build- 
ing will  be  completed  next  year. 

The  trustees  of  the  New  York  Publu: 
Library,  Astor,  Lenox,  and  Tilden  foun- 
dations, have  nrc^anized,  by  the  election 
of  Mr,  John  Bigelowas  President  of  the 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


I 


Board  ;  Mr.  George  L.  Rivrs  as  Secre- 
tary, and  Mr.  Edward  King  as  Treas- 
urer. 

Tl  icre  is  being  established  'u\  New  York 
a  Criminal  Law  Library^  for  which  rooms 
have  been  set  apart  in  the  new  Criminal 
Courts  Building.  Colonel  Fellows,  Dis- 
trict Attorney  o£  New  York,  has  given 
his  library  of  2000  volumes  as  a  nucleus, 
and  funds  are  in  hand  which  will  enable 
a  good  beginning  to  be  made.  This  is, 
perhaps,  the  first  library  devoted  tu 
criminal  law  in  this  country.  If  it 
should  have  the  effect  of  elevating  and 
im[)roving  liic  criminal  procedure  in 
tltis  city  utid  bring  the  administration of 
justice  in  our  liigherand  lower  courts  to 
something  like  the  propriety  and  dig- 
nity befitting  such  institutions,  it  will 
be  one  of  the  most  important  libraries  of 
the  city. 

It  is  perhaps  not  too  late  to  mention  the 

breaking  of  ground  for  the  proposed  libra- 
ry of  the  University  of  the  City  of  New 
Ynric  on  its  new  site.  This  took  place 
^vith  due  ceremony  on  Octo!>er  19th.  It  is 
planned  to  erect  a  building  capable  of 
holding  a  million  volumes.  Whether  New 
York  City  needs  an  addition  to  the  large 
libraries  for  scholars  already  in  active 
course  of  creaction,  the  .\cvv  Vork  Public 
Library  and  the  Library  of  Columbia 
College,  is  questionable.  It  would  seem 
that  one  great  library  devoted  to  tlic 
general  public^  like  the  projected  new 
Public  Library,  and  one  library  devoted 
to  university  research,  like  that  of  Co- 
lumbia, would  be  as  much  as  New  York 
City  will  either  be  able  to  realise  or 
need.  The  energy  and  lofty  ambition 
of  the  authorities  of  the  New  York  Unt- 

versitv  are  worthy  of  all  commendation. 

The  New  Yoric  Free  Circulating  Li- 
brary has  caught  the  craze  of  library 
instruction,  and  has  a  series  of  classes 
devoted  to  cataloguing  and  other  library 
work.  If  the  institutions  which  organ- 
ise and  carry  on  classes  for  instructing 
young  women  in  library  work  were 
obliged  to  give  bond:s  lo  lind  ihem  em- 
ployment at  the  end  of  their  course  of 
study  t!ie  sympathies  of  librarians  would 
not  so  uiica  be  called  out  in  behalf  of 
women  with  a  few  rudiments  of  library 
work  anxious  for  positions  which  unfor> 
tunately  do  not  exist. 

The  Boston  Public  Library  has  recent- 
ly issued  a  new  edition  of  its  Handbook^ 
which  gives  some  illustrations  of  the 
new  building.   A  noticeable  feature  of 


the  administration  of  the  Boston  Public 
Library  at  present  is  the  great  liberality 
with  which  readers  are  admitted  to  spe- 

cial  reading-room  and  special  collections 
without  credentials  or  special  permis- 
sion. While  much  has  been  written  and 
done  in  the  direction  of  freely  admitting 
readers  to  library  shelves,  perhaps  no 
great  public  library  has  ever  been  so 
free  in  its  policy  as  the  Boston  Public 
TJbrar}'  is  now  trying  to  be.  This  is  in 
marked  cunirast  to  the  policy  pursued 
in  the  old  building,  where  all  persons  ex- 
cept the  library  employes  were  zealous- 
ly excluded  from  the  shelves. 

The  Carnegie  Library,  at  Pittsburg, 
which  was  dedicated  on  November  5th, 
probably  deserves  the  wide  advertising 
which  it  has  enjoyed  in  the  public  presa. 
The  building  is  certainly  a  handsome 
one,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  it  will  be 
found,  in  use,  as  practically  convenient 
as  it  is  described  to  be  beautiful  in  archi- 
tectural appearance.  Mr.  Carnegie's 
benefactions  musi,  in  general,  have  the 
credit  of  being  practically  useful  in  fbe 
form  in  which  he  has  made  them. 

In  England  the  subordinate  employ^ 
in  the  several  libraries  have  formed  an 
independent  organisation,  which  they 
call  the  I.il)rary  Assistants'  Association, 
which  is  distinct  in  its  membership  and 
aims  from  the  Library  Association  of  the 
United  Kingdom.  This  latter  organisa- 
tion, then,  would  appear  to  be  reserved 
for  the  heads  of  libraries  or  the  higher 
officials.  Unless  the  library  assistants 
were  unkindly  snubbed  by  their  official 
superiors  and  debarred  from  member- 
ship in  the  older  association,  the  forma- 
tion of  an  independent  society  for  the 
lower  officials  in  libraries  would  seem  to 
be  un  unwise  step.  In  this  country  the 
younger  employes  in  libraries  find  their 
membership  in  the  American  Library 
Association  valuable  for  two  things : 
first,  for  the  instruction  and  hints  they 
gather  in  the  meetings  of  tlie  Associa- 
tion ;  and  second,  because  the  Associa- 
tion gives  iljcm  an  opportunity  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  heads  of  libraries 
and  to  make  themselves  better  known  to 
these  persouij. 

The  Library  Association  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  tiie  regular  organisation  of 
librarians  in  Great  Britain,  has  just  held 
its  eig^hteenth  annual  meeting.  A  com- 
parison  of  the  subjects  of  the  papers  and 
the  discourses,  which  occupied  the  time 
of  the  meeting,  with  those  of  the  earlier 


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meetings  show  that  while  fifteen  years 

ago  the  librarians  of  Great  Britain  read 
papeis  on  literary  history,  bibliography, 
and  the  contents  of  their  libraries,  they 
have  now  adopted  the  policy  of  the 
American  Libran*  Association,  which 
talk's  of  nothing  but  the  administration 
and  technical  work  of  libraries*  includ- 
ingf  cataloguing,  or  of  the  history  and 
progress  of  library  movements.  On  the 
Continent,  however,  the  periodicals  de- 
voted to  libraries  are  still  chiefly  filled 


up  with  bibliographical  and  literary 

studies  usually  far  removed  from  the 
real  life  of  to-day. 

Mr.  W.  F.  Stevens,  of  the  Railroad 
Men's  Library,  is  the  president,  for  the 

present  year,  of  the  New  York  Library 
Club,  and  its  secretary  is  Miss  Josephine 
A.  Rathbone,  of  the  Pratt  Institute  Li- 

brar)'.  Its  first  meeting  of  the  season 
was  held  at  the  Mercantile  Library. 

George  If.  Saker, 


THE  BOOK  MART. 


For  BooMBADiRS,  Bookbuvirs»  akd  Booxsbllirs. 


EASTERN  LETTER. 
Ntw  YoKK,  Ocoember  i,  189$. 

The  month's  business  opened  rather  quietly, 
bul  immediately  after  Election  Uay  a  decidcfi  im- 
provement set  in.  The  new  books,  especially  in 
fiction,  have  been  well  received,  but  the  roost  pop- 
ular unooff  tbem  have  unquestionably  been  the 
16000  edtnoiM  of  UaiMi;  CUwks.  some  of  tbe 
pabHiliers  having  nm  ottt  ol  m»aj  tida  on  their 
lists. 

New  holiday  books  and  editions  continue  to  be 
issued,  the  latest  of  these  bein^'  / '.■<7;>/-/j«  .V';;^-s, 
by  Kdmund  D.  Garrett,  Joseph  Jefferson's  A'l/ 
Van  H'i>ii:U.  Constantinople,  by  Edwin  A.  Gros- 
venor,  and  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art^  by  Mn. 
Jameson. 

Works  of  trwei  have  beea  aomeroiu  amonf 
the  seuon's  odtpM.  and  Include  :  Itttniont,  Cairo 

auJ  C<"  fu.  by  Constance  Fcnimnre  Woolson  ; 
J-'rtfiti  tJu  Black  Sea  Ihron.^'i  }\-r \,ta  tiu.i  Indta, 
by  Edwin  Lord  Weeks  ;  A'.irn^u.i  in  by 
Canon  Tristram,  and  Crutsmg  among  the  Car^ 
ihbees,  by  Charles  A.  Stoddard. 

The  new  fad  of  coUectiag  posters  has  brought 
out  two  handsomely  iUostrmted  books  on  tbia  sub- 
ject enUiled  Pietmrt  Fcstrrs,  by  Charles  Hiatt, 
and  Tkt  Jtfodnn  Paster.  The  latter  is  accom> 
panied  by  a  numbered  poster  of  artistit  design. 

Some  very  hand^nme  specimens  of  tlic  buok- 
inakers"  irt  ire  anioiiL;  the  holiday  productions, 
The  Abbey  Shakesfeare,  La  Ciartrtutf  d«  Farme, 
hj  Henri  Beyle,  and  the  /ditim  d$  ImM  ot  7%r 
Maiumam  being  fine  examples. 

Tbe  incfteased  nomber  of  RhiBtnitions  now  ts* 
sued  by  some  of  the  publishers  in  their  new  books 
is  remarkable,  and  while  these  of  necessity  add 
somewhat  to  the  price,  ilu  v  cnh.un  e  their  attrac- 
tiveness so  as  more  than  to  pay  for  their  cost  by 
the  increased  s.il<-  iht  y  create. 

The  great  luimSer  of  publications  issued 
still  continues  to  h<:  a  feature  of  the  season  \ 
dopUcadon  of  titles  is  f  reqoeot.  and  it  is  beeom* 
Inflr  a  matter  of  speculation  as  to  whetlier  the 
public  will  be  .nb'e  to  use  sufficient  qoandties 
to  [lay  for  the  makiiiL;  in  many  instances. 

Perhaps  the  thr<.-e  most  proiriif.cnt  and  saleable 
books  of  the  month  have  been  The  A'cd  Cockade, 
by  Stanley  J.  Weyman  ;  The  Second  Jungle  Book, 
bv  Rndjrsjrd  Kipling,  and  Tk*  £>ay$  «/AmidL»its 


&fne,  by  Ian  Maclaren  ;  but  these  have  been 
closely  followed  by  Casa  Braccio,  by  F.  Marion 
Crawford ;  The  S^r&ws  of  Satan,  by  Marie 
Corelli  ;  and  Frivolous  Cupid,  by  Andiony  Hope. 
In  addition,  several  other  new  novels  are  bav- 
injT  a  K'Jod  sale. 

Outside  of  fiction  vvu  find  among  the  recent 
books  in  demand  Gathering  C/cudj,  by  K.  W. 
Farrar  ;  iMttrs  bv  Motiktw  Arnold  and  £urttf4 
in  Africa  im  tke I^imeUmtA  CmHuy,  by  Etbabeth 
W.  Latimer. 

The  recent  death  of  Eugene  Field  hai  created  a 
fresh  demand  for  his  works,  A  Lit/It  Sook  «/ 
ll'cstem  Verni-  beiu^  most  calle<!  for. 

Trade,  on  the  whole,  for  the  month  can  cinlybc 
said  to  be  fair,  for  while  many  recent  booLs  are 
selling  well,  re-orders  for  books  purchased  plenti- 
fully early  in  tbe  season  are  light,  and  reports  of 
slow  salel  up  10  date  are  frequent. 

A  laffe  propoctiooof  the  following  list  of  best* 
selling  boon  win  be  seen  to  consist  of  new  books 
Issoed  during  t}ie  past  month. 

The  Red  Cockade.  By  Staiih  y  J.  Weyman. 
$1,50. 

The  Second  jungle  Book,  iiy  Rudyard  Kip- 
lioK  #1.50. 

The  Days  of  Anld  Lang  Syne.  By  Ian  Uac- 
taien.  fl.SS 

Casa  Braocto.  By  F.  Marion  Cimwferd.  %  vols. 
$3.00. 

Frivotons  Copld.    By  Anthony  Hope.  7S 

cts. 

The  Sorrows  of  Ssmb.  By  Marie  CotdU. 
$1.50. 

The  Prisoner  of  Zeada.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
75  cts. 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.   By  Ian  Mao* 

Inren.    f  I  25. 

The  Village  \Va.lch-Tu\ver.  Hv  Kate  Douglas 
\Vi^i;in-  >!i.0O. 

Two  Little  Pilgrims'  Progress.  By  I'rancei 
Hodgson  Burnett,  ft.  5a 

Aftermath.  By  Jmnes  Lane  Allen.  $1.50. 

The  Wise  Wonaa.  By  Claim  Lootto  Bora- 
bam.  Ir.95. 

Fort  Frayne.     By  Captoin  Charles  King. 

$1.25 

The  Princess  Sonia.  Bv  Tulia  Matjruder. 
$1.50. 

The  An  of  Living.   By  Robcn  Grant.  $3.50 


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4$o 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


WESTLRN  I  ETTER. 

Chicago.  !>c<  cm!>cr  i,  1S95. 

Trade  fluctnated  very  much  during  November, 
and  the  month  was  in  many  respects  disappoint- 
ing. During  the  first  half  of  the  month  business 
was  sluggish.  A  temporary  contraction,  how- 
ever, is  aUvav-j  experienced  during  the  early  days 
of  November,  and  trade  usually  expands  again  as 
the  month  advances.  This  year  s  experience 
proved  no  exception  to  the  rule,  for  the  last  two 
weeks  were  fairly  active,  country  orders  eapecially 
bfin^;  very  good.  It  would  seem  from  the  way 
couiui  y  buvcrs  are  ordering  that  they  expect  ho!i- 
d.iy  (  usiness  will  be  confined  prin<  i[  illy  to  recent 
literature,  such  as  the  best  novels,  notable  books 
of  travel,  history,  and  biography.  It  is  noticeable 
that  each  year  aces  the  lines  of  demarcation  be* 
twcett  what  are  known  as  holiday  boots  and 
books  which  are  considered  suitable  for  all  sea- 
sons of  the  year  drawinir  closer,  and  it  would 
seem  that  one  rtiay  s.ilr-U  ]>i<  iliii  ti.at  within  a 
very  short  while  tti'"  <  l'i-iiiii<-  hniid  iys  1"-Mik.s  will 
entirely  disappcu       N  il  mach  tan    be  said  at 

E resent  about  what  are  likely  to  be  the  favourite 
ooks  this  Christmas,  for  with  the  exception  of 
jiivt  nlles  and  the  new  and  popul.ir  books  of  tlie 
hour  ilicre  is  little  evidence  of  prclcrcnce. 

The  November  output  of  new  books  was  a 
verv  generous  one.  and  many  books  appeared 
which  mav  be  expected  to  sell  Inrgely  throughout 
tlus  holiday  season.  Foremost  among  the  great 
leaders  in  fiction  were  Ian  Maclaren's  Days  of 
/..).  '■  ,  .iii  'tlici  v<jlume  of  his  incom- 
naiablt  Ui uuu^n: iity  sketches  ;  Cosa  /Sniccio,  by 
Marion  Crawford  ;  ///(/«■  tht-  Ol'scurf,  by  Thomas 
Hardy  ;  Thf  Rfd  L\><  kaJt\  by  Stanley  Weyman  . 
Marie  Corelli's  Sorro-^^'s  of  S,ii,in  ;  'flu  Arna:iM_^ 
Marriage,  by  George  Meredith ;  Slain  by  the 
Dooms,  by  R.  D.  Blackmore,  and  The  Seemd 
Juni;U  [tk>k.  by  Rudyard  Kipling.  NV  w  nivcnilcs 
were  well  represented,  the  most  not  1!  t  I  x  iii^  .  / 
CliilJ  of  J'tisiitny,  by  Marguerite  liouvLt.  .Mixt 
of  the  choice  books,  which  are  pre]  .m  ,!  espe- 
cially for  the  holidays,  are  now  stocki  li,  umI,  per- 
haps, the  most  rtcktrcMs  of  them  ail  are  the  Ab« 
bey  edition  of  Shakesprarf^s  Comedies,  in  four  vol- 


umes ;  I')Sf|)li    IrfTcrson's  Win':':,  run 

taining  the  itxi  of  the  play  a,s  attt:'.!  Ly  Mr. 
Jeflferson,  and  l^iclorian  Sfn^'s,  collected  and 
illustrated  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett.  Other  im- 
portant liooks  of  permanent  as  welt  as  of  holiday 
interest  are  the  Buckthorne  edition  of  Irving's 
TaUt  of  <t  Traveller  and  Consiantincfle,  by 
Edwin  A,  Gri i'?venor. 

As  mi;^ht  bt-  cxjKrcird,  the  untimely  de.itli  of 
Eugene  I'icM  iticrcisfd  tht.-  s.iles  <>(  his  bni'ks  ; 
in  fact,  the  drmanil  lias  \M-f\\  sii<  h  thai  neither  the 
liooltaellerB  nor  his  publLsbcrs  have  been  able  to 
keep  pace  with  it.  While  his  Little  Book  0/ 
Western  Verse  has  sold  better  in  actual  quantity 
th.m  any  of  his  other  bo.iks.  ilicn:  has  bctii  a  re- 
markable call  for  his  two  books  of  child  verse, 
With  Trumpet  otul  Drum,  nnd  Imm  Sanf^t  of 
Childhood. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  recent  books, 
and  one  that  is'  meeting  with  much  success,  is 

Ward  Hill  Lamon's    Rfcolleetions  of  Abraham 

Lincoln  from  /<•  1S65.     There  arc  m.inv 

biographies  of  Lincoln  ti>  choose  from,  thfsc 
most  inquircil  fur  at  present  being  Arnxild's  I'J'' 
of  LisHolH,  perhaps  the  best  one-volume  life  yet 


published,  and  the  two-volume  worlis  by  Henidoo 
and  Welk  and  John  T.  Morse,  T  r. 
Most  of  the  old  favonfites  soU  well  last  mo>>w> 

especially  BaiJ:  thr  Bonnie  Brier  Buih  »Xid  Tht 
J'l  I  ;{>ner  of  ZniJ.i.  Other  books  that  had  are* 
mark.dile  sale  were  Z  ',,-  Bachelor  s  Chris!'  ■  .  hv 
Robert  Grant  :  -4  Stux»lar  Life,  by  EuiJ^bcih 
Stuart  Phelps  ;  Ahvmcj  of  Our  Plauet,  by  Will 
Carleton  ;  Barabbiu,  by  Marie  Corelli ;  H^'h^n 
Vatmond  Came  to  PonHae.  by  Gilbert  Parker,  and 
Ponv  7'r.::h,  by  Frederic  Remington.  It  IS 
pleasant  to  record,  too.  that  Robert  Louis Steven- 
son's books  arc  still  sellinK  '.ar^^.-lv  The  demand 
for  the  Chimmie  Fad>ien  books  vt.  now  not  more 
than  ordinary,  and  the  craie  for  books  on  the 
silver  question  has  entirely  subsided- 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  books  which  sold 
best  rluritij.;  N'nvenil'er: 

The  Days  oi  AuM  l-ang  Syne.    By  lao  Mac- 

laren.    $1  25.  ^ 

The  Second  Jungle  Book.  By  Rudyard  Kip- 
ling. $1.25. 

The  Red  Cockade.  By  Stanley  J.  \Neyman. 
$1.50. 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Brush.   By  Un  Mac- 
larcn.  $1.25. 
Jode  the  Obscure.    By  Thomas  Hardy.  fi-TS- 
<;;aga  Braccio.    3  vols.    By  F.  Marion  Craw- 
ford.  $aoa  , 
Sorrows  of  Saun.    By  Marie  CorelU.    f  i-50« 
A  Child  of  Tuscany.    By  Marguerite  Bouvet. 

$1.50. 

Europe  in  Africa  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 
By  Elizabeth  W.  Latimer     |:!  5'^ 

Slain  by  the  Dooncs.  P.y  K  D.  Blackmore. 
$1.25. 

The  Prisoner  of  Zeoda.   By  Anthony  Hope. 

75  <^ts- 

Two  Little  Pilgrims'  Progress.    By  Frances 
Hodgson  Burnett,    ft. 50. 
Tbe  Bachelor*'  Christmas.   By  Robert  Gnnu 

t'-SO*  ..    . . 

A  Gentleman  Vagabond.   By  F.  HopUnson 

Smith.  I1.35. 
A  Singular  Life.    By  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 

ENGLISH  LETTER. 
London,  October  21  to  November  23,  1S95. 

The  autumn  trade  has  been  satisfactory  as  a 
who.c,  and  liooksollers  arc  buying  more  trrclv  in 
anticipation  ol  an  improved  Christmas  business. 
On  all  hands  the  publishers  are  offering  excellent 
value.  Bookselling,  from  the  nature  of  the  call- 
ing, certainly  deserves  to  be  more  profitable  than 
it  is  \  arioiis  attempts  are  made  from  time  to 
lime  ic(  iiniirovf  its  status,  but  so  far  the  spirit  of 
underselling  has  been  too  strong  for  permanent 
good  to  be  effected. 

Foreign  and  colonial  trade  (the  latter  especially) 
has  considerably  improved  since  onr  last  writ- 

The  three  volntTie  novel  question  still  (  r ops  up 
at  intervals.  Of  c<jursc  it  niusibc  better  f  :r  bcuk- 
sellers  if  novels  in  one  volume  arc  bought  instead 
of  being  borrowed  from  libraries.  Hence  the 
action  of  some  of  the  last-named  instittitions  in 
this  matter  is  paradoxical,  to  say  the  least  of  it. 
Miss  Braddon's  opinion  of  the  question,  recently 
published  in  the  JVestmimttr  Gautte.  is  well 
worth  reading. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


4S« 


The  liieralure  of  Xa^urai  History  cootioues  to 
receive  many  valuable  addJliom,  which  <i««j  A 
ready  sale  (or  their  class. 

Many  translations  of  Continental  works  are  be- 
ing issoed,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  by  iar  tlie 
gfeater  number  are  translated  by  ladies. 

The  outpat  of  new  books  and  new  editions 
shows  no  sign  of  abatement,  and  their  number  is 
sUuhtlv  in  excess  of  last  month.  One  naturally 
ask:>,  How  raaiiy  will  live,  even  for  the  present 
season  ? 

Just  now  fairy  tales  constitute  the  principal 
item  in  the  new  books  brought  out  for  children. 
Ireland  and  Thibet,  Japan  and  North  America— 
in  short,  the  entire  giobe-'linve  been  raoaaeked  to 
meet  the  demand,  as  old  poidbty  at  the  world,  tot 
"something  new." 

The  trade  arc  very  busy  vsitli  Christmas  num- 
bers and  annuals,  many  tons  of  which  are  being 
distributed.  The  labour  involved,  in  proportloR 
to  the  return,  is  enormous.  In  some  instances 
three  qvarters  of  a  Imndredwdght  has  to  be  dealt 
with  for  a  sovereign  or  so. 

The  Days  of  AuU  Lang  Syne.  The  Men  of  the 
M:':i-/i,!-s,  and  7'rj/<!»)' arc  the  three  leading  books. 
The  Uitcr  continues  to  be  in  demand  as  freely  as 
ever.    Its  sale  is  unprecedented. 

Large>paper  editions  of  illustrated  and  other 
books  have  had  Ifaelrday,  ihcfe  being  tittle  iaqniry 
for  them. 

The  list  of  leading  boolm  requires  ntde  com- 
ment. Theology  is  by  no  means  neglected,  but 
the  sale  of  most  worlu  of  this  class  is  compara 
livelv  limiird.  Tlic  remainder  of  the  list  speaks 
for  itvf-li,  but  the  order  of  the  titles  has  no  signifi- 
cance 

The  Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne.  By  Ian  Msc- 
laren.  6s. 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  By  Ian  Mac* 
laren.  6s. 

The  ?  irows  of  Satan.    By  M.  Corelli.  6s. 
The  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio.    By  A.  Hope. 
Csj 

Trilby.    By  G.  Du  Maurier.  Os. 

Peter  Ibbetson.    By  G.  Du  Maurier.  6s. 

Judc  the  Obscure.    By  T.  Hardy.  6s. 

rrom  the  Memoirs  of  a  Minister  of  Pnnoe. 

By  S.  J.  Weyman.  6s. 

Corruption.    By  Percy  White.  6s. 

Scylla  or  Charvbciis.     Bv  R.  F?rout;hton.  6s. 

The  One  Who 'Looked  On.  By  F.  F.  .Monlr6- 
aor.    .;s.  c.l. 

All  .Slen  are  Liars     Hv  j.  Hocking.    3s.  6d. 

Cheer  !  Boy-,.  (  hcer      By  C.  Russell.    3S.  6d. 

The  Woman  Who  Did.  By  Grant  Allen,  sa. 
6d.  net. 

The  British  Barbarians.  By  Grant  Allen  3a. 

6d.  net. 

A  Matter  of  Skill     Ry  B.  Whitby.    3s.  6d. 
The  Desire  of  the  Lves.    By  Grant  Allen.  3s. 
fid. 

The  Vailima  Letters.  Hv  R  L.  Stevenson. 
19.  6d. 

A  Knight  of  the  While  Cross.  By  G.  A.  HenQr. 
6s. 

Throqgh  Riiisiaa  Snows.   By  G.  A.  HeoQr. 

5s. 

T;ir  Cirbonels.    By  C.  M.  Yongc.    3s.  bd 
College  Sermons.    By  B.  Jowetk    7a.  6d. 
The  Teaching  of  Jesus.  By  R.  F.  Honoa. 
3s.  6d. 

The  Gnmcys  of  Earlham.  By  A.  J.  C  Hare, 
a  vols.  95s. 


SALES  OF  BOOKS  DURING  THE  MONTH. 

New  books,  in  order  of  demand,  as  sold  between 
Novembe.  i  and  December  i,  1895. 

We  guarantee  the  authenticity  of  the  foUowing 
lisu  as  supplied  to  us,eaeb  by  leading  booksellers 

in  the  towns  named. 

MEW  YORK,  UPTOWN. 

yff  Days  of   Auld   Lang  Syne.    By  Maclaren. 
$1.25.    (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
a.  Little  Rivers.    By  Henry  Van  Dyke.  $a.00w 
(Scribner's.) 

3.  Vailima  Letters.    By  R.  L.  Stevenson.  9t.SS. 

(Stone  &  Kimball.) 

4.  Two    Littl'     I'ilgrims'  Progress.    By  MiS. 

Huriiea.    ft. 50.  (Scribner's,) 

5.  Slain  by  the  Dooncs.    Hv  R.  D.  BlackmOK. 

91.35.   (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

6.  The  Other  Wise  Man.  By  Henry  Van  Dyke. 

9i.Sa  (Harper.) 

KEW  YORK,  DOWNTOWN. 

1.  Henticntmre.  By  Fletcher.  $1.00.  (McQaig.) 

2.  Sorrows  of  Satan.   By  Corelli.  $1.50.  {up- 

pincott.) 

3.  Lilith.    By  Macdonald.    $i.2S-    (Dodd.  Mead 

&  Co.) 

4.  Prisoner  of  Zenda.  By  Hope.  75cu.  (Holt.) 
$.  A  Gentleman  Vafabood.   By  Smidi.  9(.as> 

(Houghton.) 

6.  Casa  Braccto.    By  Crawford.   |t.ao,  (Mae- 
millan-) 

BALTIMORE  MD. 

^  Days  of   Auld    Lang   Sync.    Bv  .Maclaren. 

«t.9$.    (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 
a.  Heart  of  Life.   By  Maiiock.    $1.50^  (Put* 

naros.) 

^  Chronicles  of   Count  Antonio.    By  Hope. 

$1.50.  (Appleton.) 
4.  Sorrows  of  Satan.   ByCorelU.  $1.50.  (Lip* 

pincott.) 

jffc  Casa  Braccio.   By  Crewfoid.  $a.oo.  (lCac> 

millan.) 

6.  Men  of  the  Moss-H^.  By  Crockett.  $1.50. 
(MacmiUan.) 

BOSTON,  MASS. 

ji^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  t^as. 

(Dodd.  Mend  ft  Co.) 
A  Da3fs  of  Auld  Lang  Syne.    By  Hadareo. 
*^     f  1.25.   (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 
^  Red  Cockade.   By  Weyman.  Iljo.  (Har 

per.) 

^  Casa  Braccio.   By  Cnwfoid.   fa.00.  (Ifac* 

millan.) 

jf:  Chronicles  of   Count  Antonio^    By  Hopei. 

$1.50.  (Appleton.) 
6.  Jude  the  Obsenre.   By  Hardy.   fi.75«  (Har- 
per.) 

BUFFALO,  N.  Y. 

Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne.  ^  Madaren.  $Z.aS. 
(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
a.  Golden  .A^c.  By  Graham.  fLag.  (Stoae* 

Kimball. ) 

3,  When  \'almond  Cam«  to  Pontiac.  By  Parker. 
$1.35.    (Stone  &  Kimball.) 
.4.  Daoghler  of  the  Tenements.  ByTownaead. 
ti.75.  (LoveU,  CoryelL) 


Digitized  by  Google 


4sa  THE  BOOKMAN. 

^Bachelora'  ChrUiroas.     By    Grant.     #i.5«.  >S  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maciaren.  $1.25. 

(Seribner.)  (Dodd,  Me«l «  Cd.> 
6.  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonto.    By  Hope. 

$1.50.    (Applcton.)  LOUISVILLE.  KY. 

CHICAGO.  ILL.  xt  D«y»  of  Auld  Lang  Syne.     By  Mac^rcn. 

,.          ,  ^     il.as.    (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

Days  of   Auld  Lang  Syne.     By  MarUren.  Memoir.s  of  a  Minister  of  France.    Bv  Wev- 

$1.25.    (Dodd,  Mead  &Co.)   nan.   $1.25.  (Longmans.) 

».  Second  Jungle  Book.    By  Kipling.    $1.50.  Cumberland  Vendetu.   By  Fo«.  $1.25.  UUr- 

(Cenlurv.)  p^^  j 

3.  Gentleman  Vagabond.    Bf  HopktlMOO  Smith.  Colonial  Dames  and  Good  Wives.    By  Ewle. 

I1.25.   (Houghton.)     ^       ,            „  $1.50.  (Houghton.) 

^Chronicles  <f   c  -unt  Aotoaio.   By  Hope.  College  Girt»/^  By  Goodloe.  $i.as.  (Scrib- 

$1.50.    (Appleton.)  ner) 

5.  Vailima    Letters.     By   Stevenson.     f».a5-  6.  Prisoner  of  Zend*.   By  Hope,  fi.oo.  (Hoic) 

(Stone  &  Kimball.) 

6.  Two  Little  Pilgrims'  Progress.   By  Mrs.  Bui-  r^.v^nA 

nect.  fi.sa  (Seribner.)  MOM  REAL.  CANADA. 

.^.»^.mt^<t  A «.«  Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne.   By  Madaren. 

CINCINNATI.  OHIO.  ^    jf^j    (Dodd.  Mead  A  Co.) 

I.  Aftermath.    By  Allen.    $..00.    (Harper.)  2.  I  iU     Sunboonet.-     By    Crockett.  $1.00. 

^  fitnfc  BH:?^'!!:h"'    By  iaclaren.    |t..5.  I  M«j  oC  the  Moss  Hags.    By  Crockett.  »t.co. 

>  fiSdors- Chris^mi.    By  Gr«it.    Il-So.  5-  Mcn^^"         Nfinister  of  Fr««:e.   By  Wey. 

/c__;l,_-,_  V                     '  man.    $1.00.  vl-ongraans.) 

5.  VSfeman  Vagabond.   By  Smith.  $1.*$.  6.  Tiger  of  Mysore.   By  Henty.  I1.50.  (Scrib- 

(Houghton.) 

>fc  Casa  Braccio.    By  Crawford.   |a.oa   (Mac-  j^-p^y  HAVEN.  CONN, 
millan.) 

CLEVELAND.  OHIO.  ^.  Casa  Braccio.    By  Crawford.    ^2.00.  (Mac- 

millan.) 

Bachelors'   Christmas.     By   Grant.    $X.sa  A  Days  of  Auld  L*ng  Syne.     By  Maclarcn. 

(Seribner.)  $i.a5.  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

*•  D.iys  uf  Auld  LanK  5^vne.    By  Madanm.  3.  Second  Jungle  Book.    By  Kiphng.  ft.50. 

*^    $1.25.    (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  (Ceniury.) 

^Chronicles  of  Count  Antonlo.   By  Hope.  4.  Jude  the  Obscure.  By  Hardy.  $1.75- 

$1.50.   (Applcton.)  per)  ...  * 

X.  The  Red  Cockade.    By  Weynan.    $1.50.  5.  Letters  of  Matthew  Arnold.  $3.00.  (Mac- 

(Harper.)  mUlan.) 

5.  A  Gentleman  Vagabond.    By  Smith.   $1.25.  6.  Gentleman  Vagabond.     By  F.  Hopkiosoo 

Ohui^rhKu)  )  Smith.   $i.ss>  (Houghton,  Mifllin.) 

6.  Bernicia.    By  .Mrs.  Uarr.  $1.25.  (Dodd,  Mead 

ft  Co.)  PHILADELPHIA.  PA. 

DES  MOINES.  lA.  ^        Cockade.   By  Weyman.  »t.so.  (Hsr- 

JK  Bonnie  Brier  Rush.     By  MaclaTett.     fl-SS-  P^^-)  _     „  , 

(Dodd.  .Mcaid     Co.)  ^  D.iys  of  Anid  Lang  Syne.    By  Maclarea. 

a.  Village  Watch  Tower.    By  Wlggln.  $I.as.  $'            xld.  Mead  &  Co.) 

(Houghton.)  3.  Sorrows  (if  S,it;in.    By  Corelli.    fi.50.  (Lip 

jg!  Days  of  Auld   Lang  Syne.    By  Madaren.  pincoit  i 

tt.as.    (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co  )  liadu  lyrs.    Chnsunas.     By  Gran^f^^ .  ju. 

4.  The  Wise  Woman.     By  Bumham.    $i.a5.  (Scribners.) 

(HouKhton.)  5.  A  Monk  of  Fife.    By  Lang.   $l.as>  (Lon^- 

Casa  Hraccio.     Hv  Cr.iwtufU.     $2.00.    (Mac-  mans.) 

*^     mill.Tn  )  6.  The  Wise  Woman.   By  Burnham.  $1.35. 

6.  The  Golden  Age.      By  Grahame.     $I.as.  (Houghton.) 
(Stone  ft  Kimball.) 


KANSAS  CITY,  MO. 


PORTLAND,  ME. 


Bonnie  Brier  Bnsh.    By  Maciaren.    Si.  35. 
^  Chronicles  of  Count  Anionio.    By  Hope.         (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

$1.50.   (Appleton.)  a.  The  Vi'lnpr  Watch-Tower.  By  Wiggin.  f  x.oo, 

y2.  Days   of   Auld    Lanij   Svnc.     By  Maciaren.  (Houghton  ) 

I1.25.    (Dodd.  .Mca.l  A;  Co.)  3.  Adventures       i    1  uin  Hom.    By  StOCktOfl. 

3.  Captain  Horn.    By  ijlockion.    $1.50.    (Scrib-  $1.50.  (Scril 


ncr.j  4.  About  Paris.    ;  ;  Havis.    $1.25.  (Harper.) 

jfi  Casa  Braccio.    By,  Crawford.   $2.00.   (Mac-  5.  Letters  of  Celia  Thaxter.  $1.50.  (Houghton.) 

millan.)  6.  My  Lady  Nobody.  By  Maartens.  fi.75  (Har- 
S.  Beatrix.   By  Balsae.  $(.50.  (Roberts.)  per.) 


' '    •..  ^i^}^        ,  i .   C  w      ?y  :  A  <  C  t  0  n  Digitized  by  Gooole 


A  UTBRAKY  JOURNAL.  45i 

ST.  PAUL.  MINM.  TOLEDO.  O. 

^Days  of   Auld    L^ng   Sync     By  Madareo.  ,   j^c   Wise  Woman.     By  Burnham.  $1.25 

$1.25.   (Dodd,  Afeadi  Co.)  IHounhton  ) 

^The  Tied   Cockade.     By   Weyman.     $1.50.  .   5  nRuIar  Liie.    By  Phelps.    $1.25.  (Hough- 

3.  Vnia^^c    Watch-Towcr,    By  Wiggin.    .?.,oo.  ^  Q^y,  of  Autd  Lang  Syne.    By  Maclaren. 

1 1  ii>iit;ht'iii, )  4i  »e    (DcxM  Mead  A  Co.) 

jt.  Chronicles   of   Count  Antonio.     By  Hope.  .        *      „>  ,  ,  V...—    d»                 •«  »n. 

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Atkinson,  Blanche—A  Comnionplace  Girl.  Cr. 

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Carey,  Rosa  NovcMim.— Sir  Godfrey's  Grand- 
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Fraser,  W.  C— The  Wbaups  of  Durley.  Cr. 
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Ga.nt,  F.  A  Ptrftct  Womanhood;  a  Story  of 
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Gaunt,  Marv.— The  Moving  Finger :  Chapters 
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Hartma.n,  F.— Among  the  Gnomaa :  an  Occult 
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Hatton,  J.— When  Greek  meets  Greek  ;  a  Novel. 
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Keichtley,  S.  R,— The  Cavaliers.  Cr.  Svo,  pp. 
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HISTORY,  RIOGRAPHY.  AND  TRAVEL. 

AvELor,  H.  et  N^zifeRE,  J.  de  la. — Moni^aegro, 
Bosnle,  Herx^govlne.   10  fr. 

BamaL,  G.'^'L'Epopfe  de  Waterloo.  6  fr. 

Benedbtti,  Le  Comte.— Essais  diplomatiqoca : 
Ma  Mission  ^  Ems.   7  fr.  50  c. 

BokSLLi,  O.— Chases  politiqnes  d'Egypte  (1883- 

1895).    6  fr. 

Caro,  G. — Genua  und  die  Mttcbte  am  MiiteU 
meer  (t«S7^i3rt).  Vol.  L   10  M. 

C<        :   K  !'.  — Hisioire  du  M<>iu£n6gro  vt  de  la 
Bonnie,  depuis  les  orij^ines.    7  fr.  50  c. 

F£raud-Girauu,  L.  J.  D. — Eiais  et  souveraios. 
18  fr. 

JinXtAN,  Camille,— n istoire  de  Bordeaux  dcpnls 
les  origines  jus  qu'  en  1895.    30  fr. 


Knoke,   F.— Die 
Deutschland. 


rdmischen 

5  M. 


MoorbrUekeo  In 


LBOUt,  G. — M6decins  ct  empoisooneurs  au  X  Vile 
Siide.   7  Ir.  50  c. 


LmoTU,  G.— Le«  gaartiers  de  Pari*  pendar' 
la  R8votntlon.   50  fr. 

Ltias,  H. — Das  Kriegswesen  der  Alten  mit  be- 
sond.    BerHcksicht,  der  Strategic.    9  M. 

LiKRs,  11. — Kricgewesen  der  Alten.    q  M. 

LoiziLLO.N,  H.— Lcttres  £crites  de  Crim4e.   C  ff. 

MASMorrAN.  P.-^Le  Royaumc  d'Etnirie  (1801- 

1807).    7  fr.  50  c. 

Masson,  F. — C.ivelicrs  de  Napot6on.    60  fr. 

Mkcukun,  X.. — La  Finlande  au  XIXe  Steele. 
SOfr. 

Mulmenti,  p.— Carpaccio,  son  Tempi  «l  Son 

CEuvrc.   6  fr.  75  c. 

MoKTXutn,  0.->La  civilisation  primitive  en 
lulie  depuis  rinirodncdon  des  mteiix. 
ISO  M. 

Rovx.  M.  S.— La  V8riiA  snr  VAlliance  franco- 

ni?sc.    3  fr.  50  c. 

ScHULiN,  Ph.  F.— Die  Frankfurter  Landgemein^ 
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Staffer,  P.— La  FamiUe  el  le»  Amis  tie  Mon- 
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5  M. 

Thomas.  G. — iStnda  turU  Grtee:  Bcaux<Artt. 

let  Sill  ^,  i  t  l.i  Pi>(uilaiion.    3  fr.  50  c. 

Trotigncin,  L. — Kn  Miditerranfee.    3  fr.  50  c. 

WlTTK,  H. — Die  Altern  HohenioUern  und  ibre 
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WusTMANN,  G.— Qucllen  tat  Getchiehte  Leip> 

zif^s.    10  M. 

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AttXAMDKB.  A.— Histoire  de  la  Peinture:  £colea 

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Amklum;,  W. — Die  Basis  des  Praxiteles  aus 
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BODEMAKN,  E. — Die  Li-ibniz-IIandschriften  der 
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la  Ville  de  Colmar.    5  fr. 

•CoKDBMOY.  E.  J.  DK.— Flore  de  I'lle  de  la  Re- 
union.  20  fr. 

Fraii  om,  G.^La  PlantP.    cn  fr, 

Havard,  H.— Histoire  de  TOrfAvrerie  Fran^aise. 
40  fr. 

JULLIIN.  .'\Ei.--Musiquc  :  Melanges  d'Histoircet 
dc  critique  musicale  et  dratnatique.    5  (r. 

Jtf tUKK.  A.— Maaique.  s  'r. 

Lacombb.  L^Pblloeoplile  et  Moaique.   7  fr. 

Soc. 

I<AVIOMAC,  A.— La  Musique  ct  les  Musicicos. 
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Xeymarie,  L.  i>f..  — L'Oeuvre  de  Gillea  Demar* 
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MiGNON,  A. — Les  Origines  de  la  ScolasUquea  et 

Hugues  dc  Saint- Victor.    12  fr. 

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Paukert,  F.— AliAre  uod  anderes  Icirchliches 
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^EUTHEN,  H.  G.— Geaehicbte  der  Mathemaiik  in 
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Block,  Maueice. — Femmes  AUace:  aonveaira 
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Boas,  F. — Indiaoische  Sagea  voo  der  oordpacifi> 
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Bois,  J. — La  Douieur  d'Aimer.   3  fr.  50  c. 

BovcROT.  H.-— La  Tcrflette  4  la  Coar  de  Kapo- 

l6on.    5  fr. 

Brftov,  J.— Un  Pcintre  pays.in.    3  fr.  50  c. 

Chkrbuuez,  v. — Apres  Fortune  failc.  3  fr.  50  c 

CWlEON,  A.— Pierre  DaouL   3  fr.  50  c 

Datin.  H.  L'Bnfant  abandonoA.  3  fr.  so  c 

DCaotniDi,  Pavl.  Potolca  mlUlalrea.  6  fr. 

Domiic,  R.— Les  Jcunes.    3  ^r.  50  c 

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Gtt  MKHT.  E. — Sorciers  el  Magiciens.    3  fr.  50  c 

Hello,  E.— Lc  Sifede.    3  fr.  50  c. 

HiNZELtN,  E.— Le  Hnititaie  PSdift.  3  fr.  so  c. 

JULLiARD,  E.— Femmes  d'Orient  et  Femncs 

Eun>pfcnncs.    3  fr.  50  c. 

Lafokest,  Dvnvr  oe.— MademoiseUe  de  T.  3 
ft.  SO& 

LULAMC,  M.— L'CEuvre  de  Mort.    3  fr.  50  c. 

Lbhmamm,  R.— 'ErioDemRgea  einc  KOnatlefa. 
7M. 

Lksshaft,  p.— rEdocation  de  rBnfant  dana  1a 

FaiTiille.    5  fr. 

LiEBEKMAN'N,  F. — Ueber  die  Leges  Edwardi  Con- 
fcaaovis.  3  H.  60  f. 

Litre,  K.—Les  R6gimentt  d'ArtlUerfe  k  ^ed  de 

la  Garde.    13  fr. 

MaSl,  p.— Les  demten  bomme*  rooges.   3  fx. 

5DC 

MahaLIN,  p.— Le  Filleul  d'.^ramis.    3  fr.  50  <■ 

MsNO&s,  Catiills. — Lit  Cbemin  du  Coeur.  3  fr. 
50  c. 

Ml^ELLER,  K.  F.— Andreas  Ilypcrius.   Eio  Beit* 
rag  zu  seiner  Cbarakteristik.   4  M. 

Meumer,  Mme.  S.— Plalsir  d'Amoar.  3  fr.  50c 

Motmtii.,  E."L*Aaiottr  aubUme^  s  fr.  so  c 

Moi-LiN,  M.— La  Coafeadoo  d'an  Rnyaaa.  3  fr. 

50  c. 

MOHtJ^BECK,  E. — Eulogc  Schneider.    1793.  10 
M. 

Perrit,  p.— Les  Demoiselles  de  Uti,   3  Ir. 
50  c. 

Reepmaker :  PnriScatioo.  3  f  r.  50  e.  . 

RicHKPiN,  J. — Flamboche.    3  fr.  50  c. 
RoMAiN,  C— La  PrStre  Ambroise.  3  fr.  50  c 
RossvY,  J.  H.  Eytimab.  jfr.  soe. 

R/.KWI'SKI,  S.— Les  Filles  du  Rhin.    3  fr.  50  c. 
SiBiLLOT,  Paul.— L6geodes  ct  curiosities  des 

HMera.  n>  f r. 
U/ANNR,  O.— Contes  de  la  Viagtleme  Anin^ 

20  fr. 

Vanderem,  F.— Le  Cbemin  de  Velours.    3  fr. 

50  c. 

ViBERT,  P.— Les  Industries  oatfoaalea,  lO  fr. 

ViLLauas.  J.  OS.— Noaveanx  Cootes  de  Garni* 

son.    3  fr.  50  c. 
Wagner,  C.^ — Lc  Long  dc  Chemin.    2  fr. 
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In  the  tixth  volume  of  the  Witch 
Wimmtt  leriWi  th«  benine  coniinuet 
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Fife  Am  iiu  ihc  Indians.    Hy  F.LI/A  F.  Follakh. 

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Miu  Fuilani'»  itlory  (oUowt  the  fortunes  of  Montcalm 
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includitig  that  element  of  Red  Indian  adventw*  which 

every     .y  Ii  vci  to  read. 

Elsie's  Journey  on  Inland  Waters.  By 

Maki  ma  FiNLi  V  t '•25- 
In  her  la»t  volume  Mi»»  Finley  left  Elsie  and  her  ffieiul* 
at  the  World's  Fair  in  Chicago.  She  BOW  conliaMe*  their 
history  by  bringing  them  hooM  ovw  ^  iuaaa  waters  of 
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A  Sherlmrne  Ronuuice.    By  Amanda  M. 

Doi;cLAS,  author  uf  the  Sherburne  Series,   f  i.jo. 
Mi»  DougLis  was  importuned  by  her  readers  after 
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pen  and  pencil.  By  W.  H.  Bkakd,  with  about  fifty 
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lafOTT.   F^lly  niusttai. 


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Blue  JadBCU  of  1812.  A  History  of  the 
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A LIST  OF  BOOKS  ISSUED  IN  CHOICE  AND  LIMITED  EDITIONS  BY  THOMAS 
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THE  OLD  WORLD  SERIES 

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*00k  lover.    PRICB  PBB  VOCbkli.  fi^  NBT. 

100  copies  each  of  these  two  books  printed  on  Japan  vellum  at  ^2.50  net. 

I.  ~RUBAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KHAYYAM.    Rendered  into  English  Verse  by  Edward  Fiti- 

Gerald.  Second  edition  now  ready. 
Thiaisnotamararaprlntof  THE  BIBSLOT  edition,  but  haa  been  edited  with  a  view  to  making  Plts- 
Oanld's  woodarfal  vanioit  iadlopeosablo  to  ita  praaaat  OI#D  WORLD  nkapa. 

II.  ~AUCASSIN  AND  NICOLETfi.  Done  into  Engliah     Aodraw  Lang.  Second  edition 

in  Press. 

Of  the  four  complete  translations  into  tnglish  of  this  exquisite  old  French  love  story,  that  by  Andrew 
Lang  is  unquestionably  the  finest.  The  "  OLD  WORLD  "  edition  reproduced  in  artotype  the  etched  title-page 
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•ad  dainty  gold  laals.  Bach  laaua  haa  baaldea  an  wiclnu  covar  daslcn  and  Is  atilctly  llmllad  to  735  copiea. 

v.— SONNETS  OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO.   Now  for  the  Pint  Time  Tmttlated  into  Rhyiiied 
English  by  John  Adding^on  Symonds.   $1.00  net. 
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Sepia  on  Japan  vellum. 

VI.  —  THE  BLESSED  DAMOZEL.    A  Book  of  Lyrics  Choacu  from  the  Works  of  Dante 
Gabriel  Rossetti.    $1.00  net. 

This  edition  has  some  MS.  readings  to  the  poem  of  JKNNY,  that  are  not  included  as  yet  in  any  of  the 

collected  editions. 

IV. — FEI.ISE.  A  Book  of  Lyrics  Choua  from  the  Earlier  Poem*  of  Algernon  Chnrlee  Swin- 
trarne,  Including  "Cleopatra,"  a  Poem  Omitted  from  ait  Edition*  oRhc  Collected  WoriEt. 

net, 

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in  Press.  Price  7$  cente  net. 

It  aeamed  desirable  to  issue  Pater's  esrly  "Imaginary  Portrait"  in  a  shape  and  Ctyla  tbat  would  be  at 
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KaqalsUely  printed  on  JAPAN  VSLLUM,  narrow  iftmo,  da«ia  up  In  fleaible  covon,  with  aaalcd  outslda 
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THE  ENGLISH  REPRINT  SERIES 

The  Edition  is  as  Follows  : 

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numbered  1  to  400.    Price  as  given.    NO  MORIS  COPIES  WILL  Hk  PRIN TEU. 

I._G£ORGE  MEREDITH   Modem  Love,  with  Foreword  by  E.  Cavazza.  1891. 

OUT  OF  PRINT. 

IL—JAMES  THOMSON.   The  City  of  Dreadfnl  Night,  with  Intiodaction  bj  E. 

1892.   Smail  paper,  $'i,00  net. 

tll. — ^ROBERT  BRIDGES.  The  Growth  of  Love  with  a  Brief  and  General  CooaMwatioa  hy 

Lionr!  Johnson.    1894.    Svtalt  paper,  $2.00  net, 

HOMEWARD  SONGS  BY  THE  WAY.   A.  E.   Price  ?i.oo  net. 

This  little  book  has  already  passed  through  two  editions  in  Dublin,  and  in  it  there  is  that  hlfhaot  lyrio 

note,  mystic  thou>;h  it  be  at  times   that  places  these  songs  with  the  select  few  of  to-dny. 

Thrrc  were  issued  935  copies  in  sin.ill  quarto  sliapc,  choicely  printed  on  Viin  Gelder  paper,  with  ortg- 
lastl  cover  design  and  title  page,  each  book  wrapped  and  sealed  in  the  style  Mr.  Mosher  hss  made  a  dia* 
tiDffuiahlOK  featura  of  hia  editioaa  ovor  all  others 


fhlovera  who  are  not  yet  acquainted  with  Mr.  Mosher's  editions  would  do  well  to  procure  hIa  New  List — 

s  choice  little  affair,  unique  in  style,  mailed  (or  3-cent  stamp. 

THOMAS  B.  MOSHER,  37  Exchange  St.,  Portland,  Me. 

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xii  THt:  HOOKMAN  ^D^ER  TISER 

The  Works  of  Austin  Dobson. 

POETIS. 

By  Austin  Dorson.    New  revised,  cnlnrc;cil  ami  complete  edition  fmm  new  plates,  with  portrait  etched  from 
life  by  Win.  Str.ing,  and  s<;ven  fuil-p.ij?c  etchings  by  Ad.  1  .il.iu/c.    Two  volume?.,  i^mo     The  fir^t 
edition  A  ill  Iv  limited  as  lull  .a  ,  ih-  niimbtTs  printed  l>eing  lor  b  sth  England  and  A  ru  -  i 
50  copies  on  Japait  paper  with  etchings  in  two  states,  anj  signed  by  the  artist.    The  portrait  signed 

hy  author  as  well  as  artist.   2  vols. ,  fso.oo  net . 
%o  copies  in  Japan  pap^^r,  etctiings  with  lemarque.   a  vols.,  $1  (.00  net. 

300  co|>ies  on  nana-mide  paper ;  proof  impressions  of  the  etchings  with  remarque.   3  vols.,  $10.00 

net. 

7>o  copies  on  dcckel-ed^c  i>.i[»cr.    F.tchings  on  hand-aiaJc  paper.    2  vols  .  S>-00 

The  author  has  revised  and  re-arrangeil  his  pnems  especially  for  this  edition,  and  has  included  some 

poems  never  before  published.    The  cover  designs  are  by  George  Wharton  Edwards.  The 

typography  by  John  Wihon  Jk  Son's  University  mss,  Cambridge. 

R05INA  AND  OTII6R  POEHS.    By  Airsin  Dobson.    With  fllty  illustrations  by  Hugh  Thomv?n 
Uniform  with  the  same  author'<i  Beau  Brocadt.    Cloth,  full  cover  in  gold,  from  design  by  the  artist, 
tdmo,  $3.00. 

Nothing  can  K-  more  fitting  than  that  Hugh  Thomson  should  illustrate  Austin  Dohson's  poetry  The 
Ballad  of  Bcju  BrocuU-  was  a  phcnomcaal  success,  and  "  Rosiiu  "  will  surely  have  the  sanac  vo^fue. 

FOUR  FRENCH  WOnBN.  Being  sketches  of  Mademoiselle  de  Corday,  Madame  Roland,  Madame  de 
Genlis,  and  the  Princess  Lamballe.   With  an  etched  portrait  of  Mademoiselle  de  Corday.    lomo^  cloth, 

$1.00. 

IIHistnted  edition,  with  14  photogravure  portraits.  Octavo,  cloth,  t2.oo>. 

Wll-LIAn  HOQARTH.  A  Memoir,  witti  R'Ntntrr  ij  Iiv  md  Catalogue  of  Prints  and  Paintings.  With 
numerous  illustrations  and  photogravure  reproductions.    Octavo,  cloth,  uet,  $7.50. 

HORACE  WALPOLB.   A  Memoir,  illustrated  with  1 1  etchings  by  Percy  Moran.   EdHkm  de  line» 

limited  to  4  copies  on  v  itu  n,  prices  on  appli  ,!ti n  ;  >o  copies  on  Japan  paper,  #20.00  (exhausted); 

4:1;  copies  on  Dickinson  s  hand-made  paper,  $m.  >o  w,  / 

HORACE  WAUPOLE.   A  Memoir,  illustrated  with  14  pliotu^ravure  portraiu.    Octavo,  cloth.  $3.00. 

ElOHTeBNTH  CENTURY  VHlNETTES.  With  portrait.   i6mo,  cloth,  fi.oo. 

Illii'^!'  !;  ■  !    '  f  .[1,  nct.tvf  1 1.  1!^  wilh  14  portraits  in  photogravure.    S2  00. 

EIQHTEENTH  CENTURY  VKINETTES.  Second  Series.  Octavo,  illustrated  with  portraits  in  photo- 
gravure, uniform  with  *'  Eighteenth  Century  Vignettes,"  first  series.  $3.00. 

THE  SUN  DIAL.   A  Poem     iilustratcd  with  designs  reproduced  in  photogravure,  and  with  many  dec- 

(•r:i1'vi-  ]i  iji-s  ill  ]>i-ri  (o.!  '"k.  by  Geo.  Wharton  liJw.i;.''      'J'liarto,  cloth,  $7. so. 

THE  BALLAD  OF  BEAU  BROCADE*  AND  OTHER  POEMS.  With  $0  illustrations  by  Hu^h 
Thomson,  tamo,  cloth,  $3.00. 

PROVERBS  IN  PORCELAIN.   To  u  i  h  is  added  Au  Revoir,  a  dramatic  vignette,  with  illustrations 

by  Bernard  Partridge.    8vo,  cloth,  gilt,  $j.(x>. 

Large-paper  edition  with  impressions  of  the  illustrations  on  India  paper,   fra.oo  ntt. 

THE  riBMOIRS  OF  A  PROTESTANT,  condemned  to  the  Galleys  of  France  for  hi>  Rdigion. 
Wntten  by  himself  1  ranslated  by  Oliver  Goldsmith.  With  an  introduction  by  Austin  Dobson.  a 
volumes,  buckram,  $2.30. 

His  style  has  distinction,  elegance,  urbanity,  precinon,  an  exquisite  clarity.  Of  its  kind  it  is  as  neariy 

as  possible  perfect.    You  think  of  Horace  as  you  reail  ;  and  you  think  of  those  among  our  own  eighteenth- 
century  poets  to  whom  Horace  was  an  inspiration  and  an  example.    The  epithet  is  usually  so  iii-^t  that  it 
seems  to  h.i\i  ^--w-  iru  1  hi-.w-^  with  the  noun  it  qualifies;  the  nuLiplior  is  mostly  so  appropriate  that  :t 
leaves  in  doubt  as  to  wiiellur  it  suggested  the  poem  or  the  poem  suggested  it  ;  the  verb  is  never  in  excess 
the  idea  it  would  convey  ;  the  effect  of  it  all  is  that  "  something  has  got  itself  uttered,"  and  for  i;<-x>d. 

The  singer  of  "  Dorothy  '  and  "  Beau  Brocade"  is  of  another  race.  He  is  "  the  co>mate  and  brother 
in  exile"  of  Matthew  Arnold,  and  the  poet  of  "  The  Unknown  Eros."  Alone  among  modem  Eitglish  bards 
they  stand  upon  th.it  ic  nt  wiy  which  is  the  best  ;  attentive  tn  the  pleadings  of  the  Qassic  Muse,  heedfid 
always  to  give  such  thoughts  as  they  may  breed  no  more  than  their  due  expression. 

W.  E  HENLEY,  in  "  t^itws  mnd  Hecf^o-s/' 


DODD,  HEAD  &  COMPANY,  •="•" ^venuc.na 


21st  Street,  New  V«»rk. 


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THE  BOOKHAN 

A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


Vol.  II.  FEBRUARY,  1896.  No.  6. 


CHRONICLE  AND  COMMENT. 


As  predicted  in  the  December  number 
of  The  Bookman,  Lord  Salisbury  has 
appointed  Mr.  Alfred  Austin  to  be  Ten- 
nyson's successor  as  Poet  Laureate.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  repeat  what  we 
have  already  said  regarding  this  ap- 
pointment. By  it  the  historic  office 
ceases  to  be  what  it  has  been  for  nearly 
a  century — the  literary  headship  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race,  a  splendid  and  impe- 
rial distinction.  The  Laureate  is  no 
more  the  great  singer  of  whole  nations  ; 
he  is  only  a  local  13ritish  versifier  with 
whose  lines  it  is  safe  to  say  that  not  fifty 
thousand  of  his  own  countrymen  are 
familiar.  Doubtless  Mr.  Alfred  Austin's 
muse  will  emit  in  a  somewhat  squeaky 
voice  the  necessary  number  of  nerveless 
nothings  whenever  a  royal  personage  is 
born,  or  betrothed,  or  buried  ;  but  this 
is  all.  Alfred  the  Great  has  given  way 
to  Alfred  the  Little.  Let  us  draw  a 
veil  over  the  sight.  It  is  too  melancholy 
to  contemplate  or  to  write  about. 

« 

The  new  Poet  Laureate  may  not  be 
one  of  the  most  sublime  of  Bards,  yet 
he  evidentl)'  has  a  good  share  of  com- 
mon sense.  We  very  heartily  commend 
his  first  public  act  since  his  appointment, 
in  refusing  to  lend  his  name  to  the  hys- 
terical yelp  sent  forth  by  a  number  of 
English  authors  in  the  shape  of  an  ap- 
peal to  their  American  fellows  apropos 
of  the  V^enezuclan  affair.  We  under- 
stand that  Mr.  Hall  Caine  is  responsible 
for  the  phrasing  of  this  preposterous 
document,  and  we  congratulate  Mr. 
Austin  on  having  had  the  sense  to  let  it 
severely  alone.  All  it  meant  was  that 
the  signers  were  afraid  of  losing  the  in- 
come which  they  derive  from  their 
American  copyrights. 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  the  Ven- 
ezuelan correspondence  Lord  Salisbury 


uses  the  noun  "United  States"  as  a 
plural  noun,  while  President  Cleveland 
and  Mr.  Olney  employ  it  with  a  verb 
in  the  singular.  The  English  diplomat 
writes  "the  United  States  are/"  the 


ALKRED  AUSTIN,  POET  LALREATE, 


Americans  say  "  the  United  States  is." 
Some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  it 
used  to  be  said  that  this  was  the  lin- 
guistic and  grammatical  ear-mark  of  the 
Republican  as  contrasted  with  the  Demo- 
cratic party,  the  former  in  its  platforms 
and  other  pronouncements  regarding 
the  United  States  as  a  grammatical  as 
well  as  a  political  entity,  and  the  latter 
viewing  it  as  plural.  But  pretty  nearly  all 
Americans  now  use  the  word  as  a  sin- 
gular noun,  and  while  this  may  be  some- 


46o 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


what  difficult  to  the  student  of  formal 
grammar,  in  the  sphere  of  transcenden- 
tal grammar  it  is  wholly  (Icfcusiijle  and 
soundy  for  it  is  based  upon  a  great  and 
ttnassailable  verity. 

Opinions  naturally  differ  as  to  Presi- 
dent Cleveland's  action  in  writing  his 
Venezuela  message  ;  but  Tut  Hook- 
HAN  can  cordially  commend  him  for  one 
thinq:  in  mnnertion  witli  it,  and  that  is 
tliat  throughout  the  whole  of  it  he  care- 
fully abstained  from  splittini;;  a  single 
infinitive.  This  shmvs  that  Tirr,  I^mik- 
man's  remarks  oa  his  former  bad  exam- 
ple have  struck  home  ;  and  a  reward  has 
already  ( ome  to  him,  for  even  the  Lon- 
don ^Spectator,  which,  naturally,  does 
not  like  the  message,  speaks  of  its  lan- 
guage as  characterised  by  stateliness 
and  force." 

m 

Mr.  Anthony  Hope  writes  to  The 

Bookman  as  follows  : 

Sir  :  I  observe  in  your  January  issue 
(which  you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  send 
me)  a  statement  that  a  firm  named 
Messrs.  Piatt,  Bruce  and  Company  have 
puhHshe<l  "  a  new  volume  of  stories,  by 
Anthony  Hope,  entitled  Frivolous  Cu^id^  ' 
and  that  the  book  has  already  had  a 
considerable  sale. 

I  beg  leave  to  state  in  your  columns 
that  I  know  nothiiii^  alxjut  these  stories, 
that  I  have  never  written  any  story  or 
any  vohitne  of  stories  under  the  title-  of 
Frivolous  CupiJ,  and  that  I  am  in  no  way 
responsible  for  this  publication.  The 
stories  are  very  probably  written  by  nie. 
I  have  not  seen  the  volume.  But  since 
I  myself  exercise  a  strict  censorship  with 
regard  to  the  republication  of  my  earlier 
essays,  I  do  not  desire  that  in  Amerira, 
where  1  have  received  such  kind  and 
generous  encouragement,  I  should  be 
held  responsi!)]e  for  what  may  be,  in 
my  own  judgment,  entirely  unworthy 
of  republication. 

In  askinti  yon  to  oblige  me  by  jMib- 
lishing  this  letter,  I  may  add  that  I  shall 
be  grateful  to  any  other  journals  which 
will  give  it  an  increased  publicity.  I 
have  the  honour  to  be,  sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

^HfAmy  Hope. 

LoNOOK,  England,  January  s,  1896. 

So  much  has  been  written  and  printed 
about  the  Dunraven>Defender  cuntro* 


versy  that  The  Bookman  must  have  its 
say.    For  our  part,  we  think  that  in  the 

later  phases  of  the  affair  thf  Ear!  re- 
ceived extremely  shabby  treatment.  Of 
course  he  ought  to  have  made  his  pro- 
test at  the  time  of  the  race  and  demand* 
ed  an  investigation  of  his  grounds  for 
suspicion  then  ;  but  his  failure  to  do  so 
was  only  an  error  of  judgment.  As  to 
the  recent  inquiry,  no  reasonable  person 
supposed  that  Lord  Dunraven  could 
justify  his  suspicions  by  proof  of  mathe- 
matical or  legal  exactness  ;  it  would  be 
enough  if  he  could  show  that  there  were 
suspicious  circumstances  connected  with 
the  race  ;  and  this  we  think  he  has  actu- 
ally done.  When  he  first  stated  in  Encf- 
land  that  he  thought  ballast  had  been 
put  aboard  the  /V/^ff</<fr  after  the  official 
measurement,  what  a  hnul  of  derision 
went  up  from  the  American  yachtsmen  ! 
Yet  it  has  now  come  out  that  this  thing 
was  actually  done,  and  done  in  the  night, 
too,  in  a  furtive  way.  Of  course  it  is 
explained  that  the  ballast  was  only  a  part 
of  the  original  ballast  which  had  been 
temporarily  removed  in  order  to  Ik-  rnt 
into  more  cunvcnieiit  size  ;  yet  ihc  act 
was  surely  enough  to  excite  mistrust, 
and  was,  therefore,  from  every  point  of 
view  deplorable.  In  these  contests  it  is 
not  enough  to  be  absolutely  free  from 
unfairness;  there  should  be  nothing  to 
give  colour  to  the  slightest  word  of  sus- 
picion. 

The  proceedings  of  the  New  York 
Yacht  Club  in  the  recent  investigation 
were  also  very  far  from  commendable. 
The  secrecy  of  the  inquiry  made  a  bad 
impression  on  disinterested  persons. 
Then,  although  this  was  merely  a  pri- 
vate affair  of  gentlemen,  the  New  York 
Club  employed  oiu-  of  the  ablest  law- 
yers in  the  country,  v>ne  famous  as  a 
cross-examiner,  and  set  him  upon  Lord 
Dunraven  as  if  hoping  to  confuse  and 
entangle  him  in  some  minor  inconsisten- 
cies. A  sneak  thief  might  do  this  in  the 
hoi)e  of  1>efoc;ginu;  a  jury  and  discredit- 
ing an  honest  witness  ;  but  the  gentle- 
men of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  ought 
not  to  have  done  it,  for  it  smacked  of  a 
guilty  conscience. 

Particularly  shameful  was  the  treat- 
ment of  the  Earl  liy  the  American  press, 
especially  the  press  of  New  York  City. 
Apart  from  offen^ve  caricatures  and 
stupid  jokesi  they  chronicled  the  prog-> 


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A  LITBKAKY  JOURNAL, 


461 


ress  of  the  investigation  under  such 
headings  as,  "  Dnnraven  on  the  Rack," 
"  Dunraven  under  Fire,"  and  so  forth. 
Lord  Dunraven  had  come  over  here 
doubtless  at  a  great  deal  of  personal  in- 
convenience, lie  made  his  statements, 
answered  all  tiie  questions  asked  of  him, 
and  then,  having  important  interests  to 
look  after  at  home,  returned  to  England 
at  the  earliest  possible  date.  Thereupon 
one  of  the  greatest  of  the  New  York 
journals  chronicled  his  departure  under 
the  heading,  "  Dunraven  Steals  Away." 
Now,  as  he  engaged  his  passage  and 
went  aboard  the  steamer  precisely  as 
any  other  indivi<lual  does,  nothing  less 
like  "  stealing  away"  could  easier  be 
imagined  unless  he  had  gone  on  board 
the  Umhria  preceded  by  a  brass  band 
and  followed  by  a  regimental  drum- 
corps.  Altogether,  the  whole  episode 
is  very  discreditable  to  Americans  :  and 
we  imagine  that,  in  the  future,  American 
sportsmen  and  gentlemen  will  find  it 
agreeable  to  say  very  little  about  it. 

John  Oliver  Hobbes  has  come  and 
gone,  leaving  a  trail  of  epigrams  behind 
her.  Most  of  these  arc  characteristically 
spiced  with  malice,  and  one  may  ser\'e 
as  a  specimen  of  all  the  rest.  It  is  re- 
lated that  at  the  theatre  one  night  some 
one  pointed  out  to  Mrs.  Craigie  a  lady 
in  the  opposite  bo.x  as  being  a  well- 
known  American  novelist  who,  like  Mrs. 
Craigie  herself,  writes  over  a  masculine 
nom  lie  i^uerrc.  Some  details  were  added 
as  to  her  intense  and  vivid  nature. 
"  Why,"  said  the  informant,  "  the  other 
day  some  one  asked  her  whether  she 
had  decided  how  she  wt>ul(l  prefer  to 
die  ;  and  she  answered  that  she  had  long 
ago  made  up  her  mind  on  that  point. 
Said  that  she  had  decided  to  be  kissed  to 
death  !" 

Mrs.  Craigie  put  up  her  lorgnette  and 
took  a  long  look  at  the  latly. 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  she  said,  aftcra  short  in- 
spection ;  "  she  evidently  intends  to  be 
immortal  !" 

Which  was  clever  but  hardly  fair,  as 
the  lady  in  question  is  not  at  all  bad- 
looking. 

Mr,  Guy  Booth  by 's  A  Bid  for  Forlune^ 
published  recently  by  the  Messrs.  Apple- 
ton,  has  been  dramatised,  and  will,  it  is 
expected,  be  produced  at  a  well-known 
London  theatre  almost  immediately. 


Mr.  George  Augustus  Sala,  who  died 
after  an  illness  of  many  weeks  at  Brigh- 
ton, on  December  8tli,  aged  sixty-si.x, 
had  outlived  his  reputation,  or,  rather, 
he  had  lived  in  a  generation  which  did 


UEtiKUE  AUGUSTUS  SALA. 


not  know  him.  The  truth  is,  that  his  style 
had  greatly  deteriorated.  Those  who 
know  his  early  work  are  aware  that  he 
was  a  man  of  real  force.  In  the  U'eUotue 
Gufst  and  in  Tfmple  Bar,  as  well  as  in 
other  periodicals,  some  of  which  have 
been  long  dead,  will  be  found  the 
strongest  specimens  of  his  work.  Among 
the  best  and  most  trustworthy  accounts 
of  his  early  history  is  that  supplied  by 
Edmund  Vates  in  his  admirable  volume 
of  reminiscences. 

Mr.  Hamlin  Garland,  whose  new 
novel,  Jiose  of  Dutcher  s  Coolly,  has  just 
been  published,  has  been  in  the  city 
during  the  last  two  months.  Mr.  Gar- 
land, who  was  born  in  i860  in  the  State 
of  W^isconsin,  comes  of  sturdy  Scotch 
Presbyterian  stock,  which  perhaps  ac- 
counts for  his  radical  and  argumenta- 
tive turn  of  mind  ;  undoubtedly  he  has 
inherited  the  dogged  persistency  and 
aggressiveness  of  his  ancestry.  His 
boyhood  and  youth  were  spent  on  his 
father's  farms,  and  his  knowledge  of 
agricultural  life  in  the  West  has  been  a 


Google 


4C2 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


(        2/  ^ 


Strong  element  in  his  books.  He  re- 
ceived his  education  from  the  country 
schools  and  a  Western  seminary,  and 
spurred  by  the  literary  passion,  he  set 
out  for*  Boston  when  he  was  free  to  do 
so.  and  entered  on  his  career  with  ad- 
mirable courage  and  ambition  In  1891 
he  published  his  first  and  best  book, 
Af  tiin- Travelled  Rihxds.  A  Spoil  of  Office, 
A  Member  of  the  lliirJ  Home,  and  Prai- 
rie Folks  followed  during  the  next  year  ; 
A  Little  Norsk  and  Prairie  Sont^s  ap- 
peared in  1893.  Crumbliti(^  Idols — that 
literary  monument  of  magnificent  con- 


tempt and  naivet6  — 
was  published  in  1894. 

Some  one  should 
write  a  monograph  on 
the  inconsistency  of  au- 
thors in  the  names  of 
their  characters,  due  to 
forgetfulness.  Thack- 
eray, for  instance,  was 
a  great  blunderer  in 
this  respect,  and  in 
Vanity  Fair  his  blun- 
dering is  more  conspic- 
uous than  in  any  of 
his  other  novels.  Sev- 
eral of  the  important 
characters  come  out  at 
the  end  of  the  book  with 
Christian  names  quite 
different  from  those 
with  which  they  started 
in  the  earlier  chapters. 
What  brings  this  to 
mind  at  the  present  time 
is  a  perusal  of  Mr.  I  lam- 
lin  Garland's  new  nov- 
el, Rose  of  Dtttihers 
Cooll}\  which  is  reviewed 
on  another  page.  In 
the  ninth  chapter  of  this 
book,  Dr.  Thatcher  is 
several  times  addressed 
by  his  sprightly  niece 
as  "  Uncle  Joe"  (p.  97)  ; 
but  a  little  later  he  is 
unconsciously  (on  the 
author's  part)  trans- 
formed into  "Uncle 
Ed"  (p.  104),  and  his 
wife  addresses  him  as 
"  Edward"  (p.  103), 

Mr.  Ouiller-Couch, 
whose  /</  and  Wandering 
Heath  are  reviewed  on 
another  page,  hopes  to  finish  his  long- 
promised  serious  story  by  the  end  of 
May.  We  welcome  "  Q"  back  to  the 
field  of  fiction  again,  where  undoubtedly 
his  best  work  lies. 

The  Messrs.  Stokes  will  shortly  issue 
Mrs.  Andrew  Dean's  (Mrs.  Alfred  Sidg- 
wick)  new  story,  ll'oman  with  a  Future, 
at  present  being  published  serially  in 
the  Illustrated  London  A^nvs.  We  were 
most  favourably  impressed  with  Mrs. 
Dean's  clever  story,  The  Grasshof>pers, 


Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURh/AL 


4*3 


rfrs 


published  last  spring,  and  which  was  re- 
viewed in  our  July  nuint>er. 

Mr.  Thomas  J,  Wise,  the  eminent 
English  collector,  has  secured  a  little 
manuscript  story  entitled  Mungo  the 
American^  written  by  Alfred  Lord  Ten- 
nyson when  he  was  fourteen  years  of 
age.  It  is  to  be  incorporated  in  the 
biography  of  the  late  Poet  Laureate. 
Through  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Ckirirnt 
K.  Shorter,  the  able  editor  of  the  /////j- 
trated  London  Nnvs^  we  are  able  to  give 
fac-similes  of  the  title-pape  and  first 
page  of  this  interesting  juvenile  work. 

The  remaining  manuscripts  of  Char- 
lotte Bronte  in  the  possession  of  her 
husband  and  others  have  now  been  pur- 
chased for  publication.  They  are  far 
more  numerous  and  important  tlian  it 
had  been  imagined,  and  will  make  a 
substantial  and  valuable  addition  to  the 
body  of  her  work,  alike  in  prose  and 
poetry,  a  very  large  number  of  hitherto 
unknown  letters  liaving  also  been  re- 
covered. A  biographical  volume  will  be 
published  entirely  made  up  of  fresh  mat- 
ter, and  repeating  nothing  that  has  al- 
ready appeared  in  Mrs.  Gaskell's  bi- 
ography. 

V 

In  the  memoir  of  Lady  Eastlake,  re- 
cently published  in  London  by  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, it  is  admitted  that  she' wrote  the 
famous  or  infamous  review  of  ^am  Eyre 
In  the  Quarterly  Review,    Credit  is  given 


to  The  liooKMAX  for  first  unearthing  this 
fact.  A  letter  from  Lockhart  to  Lady 
Eastlake  is  published  which  shows  that, 
as  miLclit  have  been  expected,  he  was  in 
full  sympathy  with  his  contributor.  No 
confirmation,  however,  Is  given  to  the 
thenrv  tluit  Lo(  khart  was  himself  ]>art 
author  of  the  review,  and  tliai  the  more 
unpardonable  phrases  came  from  him. 
We  have  always  distrusted  this  tlirnry, 
even  as  advocated  by  such  authorities 
as  Mr.  Lang  and  Dr.  Wright.  There  is 
not  a  shadow  of  reason  to  suppose  that 
Lady  Eastlake  either  had  or  needed  any 
assistance,  and  much  in  her  biography 
shows  that  Such  writing  came  to  her 
naturally. 

Not  many  months  ago  The  Bookuak 
stated  that  I'aul  X'erlaine'sliterary  career 
was  piaclically  al  an  cud.  The  news  of 
his  recent  death  is  a  melancholy  con- 
firmation of  our  opinion.  Born  in  1841, 
and  long  famous  in  France,  it  is  only 
lately  that  England  and  America  b^ 
'  ime  familiar  with  his  name,  thanks  to 
the  very  able  advocacy  by  Mr.  Georee 
Moore  of  his  claims  to  recognition.  He 
was  a  strange  and  striking  figure,  more 
mediaeval  than  modern,  and  was  often 
appropriately  compared  with  Francois 


4«M(!  A>  AM^   y^.^  ^ 
.       ■-*  •  Vmi^  A 

f^s^Z^   ,^0^^    Af«^^^    jCn.  JttfJU* 


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464 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


I'Al  i.  VKKI.AINE  AT  HOME.     (IIV  VAMKK.) 

Villon.  In  his  mode  of  life  the  com- 
parison was  true  ;  but  Verlainc  was  far 
the  greater  poet.  Living  like  a  beast 
in  the  foulest  haunts,  this  man,  with  the 
head  of  a  philosopher  and  the  face  of  a 
satyr,  hideous  with  disease,  defiant  of 
all  the  laws  of  life,  revelling  in  obsceni- 
ties and  the  grossest  imaginings,  did 
nevertheless  produce  some  of  the  purest 
and  most  spiritual  poems  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen,  written  in  lines  of  such 
strange  haunting  harmonies  as  the 
French  language  never  before  knew. 
He  was  a  wonderful  being,  half  criminal 
and  half  angel,  and  the  world  will  soon 
forget  the  part  of  his  life  and  work  that 
were  of  the  earth,  and  remember  only 
what  was  worthy  of  its  admiration. 

® 

Verlaine  was  a  friend  of  that  other  poet, 
Arthur  Rimbaud,  who  wrote  when  only 
fifteen  years  of  age  a  number  of  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  verses.  Soon  after 
he  fell  under  the  influence  of  Verlaine, 
and  was  led  by  him  into  a  life  of  de- 
bauchery. One  night  in  Brussels,  while 
both  of  them  were  enraged  by  drink, 
they  quarreled,  and  Verlaine  stabbed  his 
companion.  For  this  he  was  impris- 
oned for  two  years  at  Mons.  Rimbaud 
recovered  and  repented  of  the  life  he 
had  been  leading,  and  by  way  of  ex- 
piation immured  himself  in  a  monastery 
on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea.  He  has 
never  written  a  line  of  verse  since  then. 

V^erlaine  knew  Fnglish  well,  and  once 
wished  to  get  permission  to  translate 
the  poems  of  Tennyson  into  French. 
Mr.  Moore  saw  the  Macmillans  about  it, 
V)ut  at  that  time  Verlaine  was  unknown 
in  England,  anti  so  no  answer  was  ever 
given  to  the  request.    That  the  permis- 


sion was  not  granted  was  an  irreparable 
loss  to  English  as  well  as  to  French  lit- 
erature. 

m 

When  Miss  Harraden  passed  through 
Chicago  eastward  bound  about  three 
months  ago,  she  was  the  guest  of  a  lunch- 
eon which  Mr.  Eugene  Field  gave  in 
her  honour.  On  her  return  she  was 
much  touched  on  learning  that  it  was 
his  last  function  in  behalf  of  any  one, 
and  she  has  written  the  following  letter 
to  the  editors  of  Thk  Hook.man,  which 
we  take  great  pleasure  in  printing  ; 

Dkar  Sirs:  In  connection  with  the  recent 
death  of  .Mr.  Eugene  Field,  it  may,  1  think,  inter- 
est your  readers  to  know  that  I  was  the  last 
HnKlii'h  Ruest  to  whom  he  showed  his  genial  hos- 
pitality. Scarcely  three  weeks  after  the  luncheon 
which  he  gave  to  welcome  me  to  Chicago.  I  saw 
from  a  London  newspaper  that  he  had  passed 
away  from  us  ,  and  on  my  return  to  the  West  I 
heard  the  sad  account  from  his  Iriends,  and  learned 
something  more  about  his  life  and  his  difficulties 
and  his  many  bright  gifts,  and  read  some  of  his 
unpublished  verse,  smiling  in  spite  of  myself  over 
his  fun  and  ready  wit. 

He  was  a  stranger  to  me  personally,  and  1  only 
saw  him  on  that  one  occasion  when  he  welcomed 
me  so  kindly  ;  but  I  cannot  resist  writing  these 
few  lines  in  the  hope  that  some  of  his  many  warm 
friends  may  chance  to  read  them,  and  may  learn 
how  glad  I  was  to  have  seen  him,  and  how  sorry 
I  am  that  they  have  lost  him. 

Yours  very  truly, 

Bkatkick  Harradex. 

Sa.n  Diego,  Cai.. 

In  the  December  number  of  The 
Bookman  we  inadvertently  omitted  to 
credit  the  photograph  of  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son as  '*  Rip  Van  Winkle"  to  Falk,  by 
whose  permission  it  was  printed. 

We  are  made  conscious  daily  that 
young  men  are  seeking  more  and  more 
an  entrance  into  journalism.  It  may 
be  a  truism,  and  yet  it  seems  necessary, 
when  confronted  by  so  much  ignorance 
and  misconception  on  the  part  of  those 
who  are  convinced  that,  failing  all  else, 
any  one  can  "  write  for  the  papers,** 
making  a  lucrative  living  on  easy  terms 
amid  agreeable  circumstances,  to  say 
that  the  sole  guiding  principle  which 
controls  admission  to  the  Press  or  ad- 
vance in  its  ranks  is  merit.  In  jour- 
nalism, more  than  in  any  other  prttfes- 
sion,  a  man  gets  on  by  his  own  effort, 
and  only  by  that.  There  is  no  royal 
road  to  advancement  in  the  Press  ;  the 
highest  talent,  and,  failing  that,  the 
most  sedulously  nurtured  skill  and  cul- 


'  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL, 


465 


ture,  are  the  only  passports  to  promo- 
tion, and  for  these,  proprietors  and  edi- 
tors of  newspapers  will  pay  almost  any- 
thing ;  and  they  ask  no  other  qualitica- 
tion,  neither  blood  relationship,  social 
distinction,  not  even  academic  training. 

To  such  as  would  become  journalists, 
we  would  advise  the  study  of  a  book 
published  a  few  years  ago  in  England — 
a  book  that,  by  its  faithful  portrayal  of 
the  life  of  a  journalist  who  aspired  to 
the  height  of  his  profession  and  attained 
it,  is  worth  far  more  than  any  amount  of 
theoretical  discussion  of  the  question. 
It  is  a  book  that  we  have  read  and  re- 
read with  increased  interest  and  instruc- 
tion — namely,  tlic  L/'/i-  of  James  Afac- 
donell.  Journalist.  Among  his  confreres 
Macdonell  was  known  as  one  of  the 
ablest  and  most  brilliant  of  modern 
journalists,  and  his  untimely  death  was 
a  cause  of  keen  regret  to  those  who 
mourrK-d  him.  In  the  simple  annals  of 
his  life,  the  aspirant,  who  imagines  the 
successful  journalist's  life  is  all  beer  and 
skittles,  will  discover  what  patient  study, 
what  self-denial,  what  strenuous  effort, 
and,  more  essential  than  all,  what  rare 
natural  gifts  are  needed  to  achieve  the 
position  into  which  Macdoneil  toiled. 

It  is,  we  believe,  not  generally  known 
that  Charles  Dickens's  father  became  in 

his  last  desolate  days  a  writer  for  the 
Press.  When  Dickens  was  made  editor 
of  the  Daily  Nnvs,  he  thoughtfully  pro- 
vided for  his  father  by  installing  him  as 
leader  of  the  Parliamentary  corps  of 
that  journal.  He,  of  course,  knew  noth- 
ing of  journalism, 
was  not  even  capable 
of  writing  shorthand. 
Providentially  he  was 
not  required  to  take 
notes,  but  generally 
to  overlook  things— 
a  post  which  exactly 
suited  Mr  Micawber; 
for  it  is  well  known 
that  Dickens's  father 
stood  as  the  lay  fig- 
'  ure  of  David  Copper- 
field's  incomparable 
friend.  Only  a  few 
years  aero  there  died 
an  original  member 
of  the  DaUf  News 
Parliamentary  corpa 


w^ho  had  a  distinct  remembrance  of  his 
first  respected  leader,  his  grandly  vague 
conception  of  his  duties,  and  his  almost 
ducal  manner  of  nut  performing  them. 

We  confess  to  a  great  Interest  in  the 
fortunes  of  Dickens's  father — Mr.  Micaw- 
ber. In  the  height  of  his  prosperity  it 
seems  that  his  salary  in  the  Navy-Pay 
office  was  as  much  as  ;^35o  a  year. 
When  Charles  Dickens  was  born  it  was 
jC 200.  It  was  in  Gower  Street,  Lon- 
don, that  Mrs.  Micawber  covered  her 
street  door  with  a  brass  plate,  on  which 
was  engraved,  "  Boarding  Establish- 
ment lor  Young  Ladies."  Mr.  Micaw- 
ber is  described  as  "  a  well-built  man, 
rather  stout,  of  very  active  habits,  a  lit- 
tle pompous,  and  very  proud  (as  well 
he  might  be)  of  his  talented  son.  He 
dressed  well,  and  wore  a  goodly  bunch 
of  seals  suspended  across  his  waistcoat 
from  his  watch  chain." 

There  is  an  incident  connected  with 
the  accompanying  illustration  of  Mr. 
Micawber's  cottage  in  Devonshire  which 
is  characteristic  of  him.  Readers  of 
Forster's  Life  of  Diikcns  will  recall  how 
Dickens  tried  to  settle  his  troublesome 
pater  in  Devonshire,  and  how  enthusi- 
astically he  gloried  in  his  acquisition. 
But  Mr.  Micawber  did  not  see  it,  and 
returned  to  London.  The  place  is  de- 
scribed by  Mrs.  Nickleby,  who  hailed 
from  Devonshire,  in  Nicholas  Nicklely 
(Part  11.,  Chapter  XXIII.).  "I  don't 
think,"  wrote  Dickens,  "  I  ever  saw  so 
cheerful  or  pleasant  a  spot."  That  un- 
reasonable Micawber  ! 


Digitized  by  Google 


466 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


mindedly  human  in  Tfss  and 
vilely-minded  in  /uJc  t"  We 
should  say  not.  Our  theory 
of  Mr.  Hardy's  work  is  that 
it  has  for  some  lime  been  ex- 
hibiting signs  of  increasing 
decadence  ;  that  while  Ttss 
was  powerful  as  a  storj-,  it 
showed  all  the  symptoms  of 
moral  perversion  ;  while  JuJe 
makes  it  evident  that  the 
process  of  degeneracy  has 
reached  the  point  of  rotten- 
ness. In  other  words,  our 
correspondent,  in  assuming 
that  the  spirit  shown  in  Tfss 
is  "  high-mindedly  human," 
is  taking  loo  much  for  grant- 
ed, and  simply  begging  the 
whole  question  at  issue.  But 
it  is  refreshing  to  get  letters 
such  as  hers,  and  we  wish  her 
a  Happy  New  Year  all  the 
same. 


V 


The  original  (»f  **  Paul  Dombey,"  by 
the  way,  was  the  little  deformed  child 
of  Fanny  Dickens  and  her  husband. 
The  child  died  not  long  after  his  moth- 
er's death. 

Mr.  George  Gissing  thinks  that  the 
very  important  novel  upon  which  he  is 
now  engaged  will  occupy  him  during 
the  whole  of  this  year.  So  entirely 
absorbed  is  he  in  this  work  that  he  is 
very  reluctant  to  take  any  contracts  for 
short  stories  just  n«)W,  an<l  is  declining 
proposals  of  the  kind  very  freely. 

An  esteemed  reader  in  the  South 
writes  us  regarding  our  review  of  JuJt' 
the  Obscure  in  the  last  Book.man — "  your 
astonishing  review,"  she  calls  it — and 
asks  the  question,  "  Can  a  man  be  high- 


Mr.  W.  T.  Homaday,  the 
hunter,  naturalist,  and  trav- 
eller, whose  book  of  travel. 
Two  Years  in  the  Jun^^le, 
achieved  instant  success  and 
popularity  upon  its  publica- 
tion some  ten  years  ago,  is 
to  publish  a  novel  of  character 
and  adventure  through  the 
Messrs.  Peter  Paul  Book  Com- 
pany about  the  middle  of  Feb- 
ruary. The  story  has  been 
appearing  in  the  pages  of  Thf 
Illustrated  Buffalo  Express, 
and  it  seems  that  in  its  serial  form  it 
has  created  quite  a  sensation.  This  is 
the  more  remarkable  when  we  remember 
that  stories  by  the  foremost  writers  of 
the  day  have  been  printed  in  the  same 
paper.  The  Man  Who  Jtecame  a  Savage, 
the  author  says,  "  practically  wrote  it- 
self." 

We  desire  to  call  attention  to  a  new- 
work  by  the  author  of  The  War  7'her 
Lot'ed  at  Grimf<at,  just  published  by 
Messrs.  James  Pott  and  Company.  Mrs. 
Rentoul  Esler  has  been  often  called  the 
Mary  Wilkins  of  England  ;  and  though 
there  are  great  differences  between  the 
two  writers,  there  is  enough  similarity 
to  justify  the  name.  The  curious  blend- 
ing of  refinement  and  strength  is  the 
most  remarkable  characteristic  of  her 
books,  and  'MiJ  Green  Pastures  is  quite 


Google 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


467 


equal  to  any  of  its  predeces- 
sors. The  book  is  beautifully 
printed  and  daintily  bound. 

Mr.  G.  A.  Storey,  A.R.A.,  is 
writing  his  recollections,  and 
he  will  have  the  volume  ready 
in  the  spring.  Mr.  Storey  has 
worked  in  nearly  every  quar- 
ter of  Hurope,  and  his  amazing 
fund  of  anecdote  should  help 
him  to  produce  a  really  inter- 
esting book. 

The  early  portraits  of  Ten- 
nyson and  Browning,  which 
we   present   to  our  readers, 
were  especially  engraved  for 
The    Bookman    by    Samuel  , 
Lawrence  and  J.  C.  Armytage 
respectively.      An    excellent  "jl 
handbook  on  the   late  Poet  ^ 
Laureate,  entitled  A  Tennyson 
Primer^   has   just  been  pub- 
lished by  Messrs.  Dodd,  Mead 
and   Company,  and    on  an- 
other   page    there    will  be 
found  a  notice  of  the  complete 
one-volume  (Cambridge)  edi- 
tion   of    Robert  Browning's 
works     recently    issued  by 
Messrs.   Houghton,    Mifflin  and  Com- 
pany, and  now  in  its  third  edition. 


entirely  to  the  production  of  larger 
books. 


A  birthday-book  compiled  from  the 
writings  of  Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling  has 
been  in  preparation  for  some  time,  and 
will  probably  be  issued  towards  the  end 
of  the  year.  We  believe  that  Mr.  Kip- 
ling's Second  Jttn}:^te  Book  has  sold  more 
rapidly  than  any  book  previously  pub- 
lished by  him. 

Few  persons  are  probably  aware  that 
in  one  of  his  finest  ballads,  "  The  Co- 
nundrum of  the  Workshops,"  Mr.  Kip- 
ling puts  the  building  of  the  Tower  of 
Babel  before  the  Deluge.  We  submit 
this  to  Mr.  Kipling's  attention,  and  sug- 
gest that  if  he  will  instruct  the  printer 
to  transpose  the  third  and  fourth  verses 
in  the  next  edition  this  unpardonable 
biblical  anachronism  will  disappear. 

We  trust  our  best  hopes  for  Anthony 
Hope's  future  are  to  be  realised  in  the 
reassuring  news  that  reaches  us  that  he 
is  now  anxious  to  abandon  the  writing 
of  short  stories,  and  to  confine  himself 


When  George  Macdonald  finished  his 
latest  book,  Z///M,  he  fully  expected  that 
it  would  be  his  last  work.  He  has  now 
returned  to  his  home  in  Bordighera, 
and  is  conscious  of  an  access  of  vigour. 
In  consequence  he  has  begun  to  write  a 
new  story. 

The  Strand  Mai^azint\  at  the  popular 
price  of  ten  cents,  has  made  a  consider- 
able advance  in  its  American  circula- 
tion during  the  last  few  months.  This 
magazine,  which  has  hitherto  eschewed 
serials,  attempts  a  new  departure  in 
publishing  as  its  first  serial  Dr.  Conan 
Doyle's  new  novel,  entitled  Rodney  Stone, 
which  will  continue  through  most  of  the 
year.  Dr.  Doyle's  new  story  is  a  pic- 
ture of  English  life,  mainly  of  the  period 
of  George  III.,  and  is  said  to  be  full  of 
graphic  passages,  among  the  best  bits 
being  a  description  of  a  prize  fight.  It 
will  be  interesting  to  compare  the  latter 
with  the  famous  pugilistic  scenes  in 
The  Amazi\i^  Marriage. 


468 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


We  give  herewith  a  portrait  of  M. 
Gaston  Boissier,  who  succeeds  the  hitc 
M.  Houssaye  as  Secretaire  Perpetuel  of 
the  French  Academy.    M.  Boissier  is  a 


r 


M.  GASTON  BUISS1F.K. 

most  unusual  type  of  scholar,  extremely 
learned,  yet  possessed  of  great  literary 
gifts.  His  work  on  Cicero  and  his 
friends  sold  like  a  popular  novel  ;  and 
his  latest  book,  L'  Afriqtif  Roniaine,  is  a 
rare  combination  of  archieological  and 
historical  knowledge  with  a  style  of 
singular  charm. 

Ian  Maclaren's  next  new  work  will  be 
a  book  on  practical  religion  entitled  The 
Mind  of  the  Master.  This  is  expected 
to  appear  about  the  middle  of  February. 

One  of  the  finest  appreciations  of  the 
work  of  James  Lane  Allen  which  we 
have  yet  seen  appeared  in  Harper's 
ll'eek/y  of  December  21st.  It  seems  that 
a  strong  colouring  of  local  truth  charac- 
terises nearly  all  his  work.  Among  other 
interesting  facts  we  learn  that  "  a  dim, 
unnoticed  tablet  on  the  walls  of  an  old 
Kentucky  church  told  nothing  to  the 
present  generation  but  the  death  of  the 


Rev.  James  Moore  until  '  Flute  and 
Violin  '  touched  the  vanishing  halo  of  a 
hard  and  saintly  life  ;"  also  that  "  the 
whole  tissue  of  Aftermath,  his  latest 
story,  is  shot  through  with  historic 
threads,  with  which  are  interwoven  the 
love  and  knowledge  of  nature  that  make 
the  great  charm  of  A  Kentucky  Cardinal. 
The  irresistible  reference  to  the  reign  of 
the  Kentucky  poetess  under  the  regency 
of  Mr.  Prentice  may  be  verified  by  the 
dusty  files  of  the  sacred  Journal.  The 
several  light  but  telling  touches  upon 
the  sensitive  subject  of  'justifiable* 
homicide  may  also  be  verified,  should 
any  one  doubt,  by  the  dockets  of  Ken- 
tucky's courts.  And  close  by  will  be 
found  the  record  of  Miss  J3elia  Web- 
ster's sudden  departure  from  Kentucky 
to  her  home  in  Vermont,  and  the  longer 
stay  at  the  State  capital  of  her  principal, 
the  Kev.  Mr.  Fairbanks.  It  is  j^leas- 
anter  to  know  that  the  two  greatest 
Kentuckians,  Lincoln  and  Clay,  once 
really  walked  together  under  the  trees 
at  Ashland  just  as  the  story  is  told  in 
Aftermath  ;  and  pleasantest  of  all  is  the 
true  account  of  the  challenge  accepted 
b)'  Mr.  Lincoln  to  the  duel  that  was  not 
fought  because  he  chose  a  monstrous 
broadsword  that  his  own  arm  alone 
could  wield,  so  compelling  the  chal- 
lenger to  keep  an  inglorious  peace. 

"  Rut  while  thus  rooted  in  Kentucky 
life  and  history,"  continues  this  writer, 
"  these  stories  are  sent  upward  through 
some  subtle  power  inherent  in  the  au- 
thor that  lifts  them  above  the  common- 
place, though  never  above  the  truth.  It 
is  this  trait — which,  for  lack  of  a  better 
name,  may  be  called  the  quality  of  trans- 
figuration— that  gives  Mr.  Allen's  essen- 
tially realistic  work  its  inseparably  poetic 
aspect.  And  it  is  the  two  together, 
this  transfiguring  touch  and  this  strict 
adherence  to  underlying  reality,  that 
make  his  stories  unlike  those  of  any 
other  writer." 

No  one  may  ask  now  ' '  Who  is  Stephen 
Crane,  and  what  has  he  done  ?"  Has 
he  not  written  The  Black  Riders  and  The 
Red  Bad^^e  of  Courage,  and  been  dined 
by  the  Philistines  ?  Mr.  Stephen  Crane 
is  the  first  guest  to  be  introduced  to  the 
Society  of  the  Philistines,  and  the  dinner 
given  by  them  in  his  honour  at  Buffalo, 
on  Decemer  19th,  was  no  myth,  but  a 


Gc 


A  LITERARY  JOURNAL. 


469 


very  hilarious  affair,  at  which  he  made 
a  speech,  a  regular  Black  Rider  poem 
that  scintillated  with  flashes  of  wit,  to 
the  merriment  of  all.  "  Since  he  had 
recovered  from  College,"  he  had  thrown 
off  the  sophomoric  yoke,  and  was  doing 
what  he  could  to  give  to  the  world  the 
best  that  he  had.  "  I  write  what  is  in 
me,"  said  he,  "and  it  will  be  enough 
to  follow  with  obedience  the  promptings 
of  that  inspiration,  if  it  be  worthy  of  so 
dignified  a  name."  In  introducing  the 
guest  of  honour,  Mr.  Elbert  Hubbard 
spoke  of  the  "  strong  voice  now  heard 
in  America,  the  voice  of  Stephen  Crane." 
The  Philistines  had  had  a  hard  time 
from  the  beginning,  when  driven  out  of 
their  country  by  a  tribe  of  invaders  who 
had  been  slaves  in  Egypt,  and  had  "  the 
pull  with  the  publishers  !"  Mr.  Harr)' 
P.  Taber,  the  editor  of  the  "  periodical 
of  protest,"  presided  gracefully  as  toast- 
master. 

Many  regretted  that  they  could  not 
assist  at  the  "  Hanging  of  the  Crane." 
Maurice  Thompson  would  have  been 

fiven  "  great  pleasure  to  sit  over  against 
tephen    Crane   at   an    eating  bout." 
Miss  Louise  Imogen  Guincy  was 

*'  Eyeless  in  Gaza,  at  the  mill  witii  slaves, 

Herself  in  bonds  (not)  under  Philistine  yoke." 

Others  doted  on  Stephen  Crane,  though 
they  didn't  "  understand  his  poetry  any 
more  than  they  understood  the  inscrip- 
tion on  the  monolith  in  Central  Park." 
In  a  happy  spirit  of  parody,  Mr.  Hayden 
Carruth  wrote  to  the  Society  : 

"  I  S.1W  a  man  reading  an  invitation. 
Anon  he  chortled  like  a  bull-frog — 
Like  a  billy-be  dasted  bull-frog. 
It  was  a  dinner! nvitation. 
Which  accounted  for  the  chortle. 
'  They  will  have  Grub,"  quoth  the 
Man. 

'  Better  yet.  Grape  Juice  ;  I  will  go  ! ' 
The  red  chortle  died  on  his  white  lips. 
His  ashy  hand  shot  into  his  black 
Pocket. 

A  gray  wail  burst  from  his  parched. 
Brown  throat 

Like  th;  scarlet  yowl  of  a  yellow 
Tom  Cat^ 

The  Man  didn't  have  the  price  I 
Which  accounted  for  the  wail. 
I  left  him  cursing  the  Railroad 
Company,  with  great,  jagged. 
Crimson  curses." 

It  is  gratifying  to  record  the  immense 
success  which  Mr.  Crane's  new  novel. 


The  Rfd  JiaJf^e  of  Courage,  is  having  in 
England.  Since  our  last  issue,  in  which 
we  stated  that  Mr.  Heinemann  had 
launched  Mr.  Crane's  book  with  enthu- 


THE  TIME  HAS  COME*.  THE  VALRU5  SAID^ 
"TO  TALK  OF  MANY  THINGS; 


FAC-SIMU.K  OK  COVER  DRSlUN  O.N  THE  CRANK  IJINNER 
MENU. 

siasm  on  the  English  market,  we  have 
had  successive  reports  of  its  warm  recep- 
tion, and  the  critics  seem  vying  with 
one  another  in  singing  its  praises  until 
we  understand  that  Mr.  Crane  bids  fair 
to  be  the  author  of  the  hour  in  London. 
T/ie  New  A'rrinc;  of  which  Mr.  W.  E. 
Henley  is  the  editor,  has  a  criticism  of 
Mr.  Crane's  work  written  by  Mr.  George 
\VyndhaiT>  in  its  January  nuinber,  and 
the  same  magazine  promises  to  publish 
a  new  story  of  a  warlike  character  by 
Mr.  Crane  in  February. 

Why  is  it,  we  might  ask  again,  that  in 
America  critics  are  less  sure  and  readers 
slower  to  discover  a  good  book  in  spile 
of  the  genius  in  it  ?  Except  for  a  review 
of  his  Miif^gie,  a  Girl  of  the  Streets,  in 
The  Arena,  printed  a  few  years  ago,  in 


47° 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


STKfHKN  CKANK. 

which  Mr.  Hamlin  Garland  solitarily 
hailed  the  author  as  one  to  be  reckoned 
with,  Thk  liooKMAN  was  the  first,  if  we 
are  not  mistaken,  to  call  attention  to  Mr. 
Stephen  Crane  and  his  work.  This  was 
done  in  an  article  which  was  widely 
copied  throufjhout  the  States,  printed  in 
the  May  number  of  Thk  Bof)KMAX,  on 
the  appearance  of  T/if  Black  Riders,  and 
Ot/ur  Lines.  Yet  he  has  not  received  the 
recognition  in  his  own  country  which  his 
recent  novel  at  least  should  evoke — 
whatever  dissentient  voices  may  say 
about  his  "  Lines" — and  which  they 
across  the  sea  have  been  so  quick  to 
award  him.  The  book  has  its  defects — 
what  book  by  a  youth  of  twenty-four 
could  be  without  them  ? — btit  let  us  be 
generous  to  the  genius  that  has  been  ap- 
plied to  an  experience  common  to  every 
novice  in  war  so  as  to  make  it  glow 
and  tingle  with  a  tremendous  force  of 
leality.  The  narrative  is  stamped  with 
truth.  The  youth's  mind  as  well  as 
the  field  of  active  service  in  which  he  is 
a  recruit  is  a  battleground.  The  dark, 
fearful,  and  inglorious  moments  leading 
up  to  his  acquittal  in  the  end  mark  the 
genuine   development   of   the  untried 


civilian  into  the  capable  and 
daring  soldier.  Exactly  what 
militaiy  courage  means  for 
the  average  man  you  will 
learn  here.  Here  also  are  pic- 
tures of  war  that  are  masterly. 
The  book  is  marked  through- 
out by  the  quiet  power  that 
war  had  proved  the  hero  of  it 
to  possess. 

# 

In  the  Life  and  Letters  of 
George  Eliot,  under  date  De- 
cember 30th,     1855.  appears 
this    entrv   in    her    Journal  : 
"  Read   the  Shaving  of  Shag- 
pat     (George  Meredith's)." 
and  on  the  day  following  an- 
other entry  :    "  Wrote    a  re- 
view of  Shagpat."     In  a  letter 
dated  January  iSth,  1S56.  she 
writes  to  a  friend  :   "If  you 
want   some   idle  reading,  get 
The  Shaving  of  Shagpat,  which 
I  think  you  will  say  dcser\es 
all  the  praise  I  gave  it."  Not 
until    the    following  autumn 
did  George  ICliot  write  her  first 
story  in  Scenes  of  Clerical  Life. 
Previous  to  this  the  author  of 
The  Amazing    .\/arriage  had 
sought  literary  expression  in  poetic  form, 
and  had   been  a  close  associate  in  his 
youth  of  the  Rossettis  and  their  friends. 
In  all  likelihood  George  Eliot  became  ac- 
quainted with  Meredith's  work  through 
Lewes,   to   whose    paper,    The  Leader, 
(ieorge    Meredith    had   contributed  a 
metrical  tribute  to   Alexander  Smith, 
saluting  the  latter's  sonnet  on  "  Fame" 
as  the  "  mighty  warning  of  a  poet's 
birth."     Mr    Meredith    is   a    man  of 
sixty  seven  years  of  age,  and  has  lived 
for  the  most  part  in    solitary  retire- 
ment with  his  daughter  near  Box  Hill, 
c(mtiguous  to  London.    He  was  partly 
educated  in  Germany,  which  fact  per- 
haps gave  colour  to  his  after  work  ;  he 
was  trained  for  the  law,  but  preferred 
tf»  become  a  poet,  in  which  capacity  he 
made  his  entrance  into  literature. 


Mr.  Meredith's  work  in  poetry  is  pub- 
lished in  this  country  by  Messrs.  Rob- 
erts Brothers  in  the  following  volumes  : 
Liallads  and  J'oems  of  Tragic  LJfe,  A  /head- 
ing of  Luirth,  Modern  Love,  and  The  Limpty 
Purse,  and  Other  L^oenis,  which  latter  con- 
tains that  fantastic  poem,  "Jump-to- 


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471 


Glory-Jane."  All  Mr.  Mer- 
edith's novels  are  published 
in  a  uniform  edition  by  the 
same  firm,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Lord  Ormont  and  his 
Aminta  and  his  latest  nov- 
el, 7V/<*  Amazi/it^  Marria^e^ 
which  are  published  by  the 
Messrs.  Scribner  ;  also  his 
early  stories  recently  reis- 
sued by  Messrs. Ward,  I>ock 
and  Bovvden,  under  the  ti- 
tle of  A  Tale  of  Chhe. 
Throujjh  the  courtesy  of 
this  firm  we  are  able  to  give  ■ 
the  accompanying  portrait  ( 
of  Mr.  Meredith  which  is 
taken  from  a  recent  pho- 
tograph. 

Mr.  Andrew  Lang  once 
put  Mr.  Meredith's  limited 
literary  appreciation  in  a 
few  neat  sentences.  "  Mr. 
Meredith,"  he  said,  "may 
err  in  a  wilful  obscurity,  in 
a  too  eager  search  for  points 
and  epigrams,  in  the  leaps 
and  bounds  of  too  agile  a 
wit,  and  these  things  have 
harmed,  and  will  harm,  his 
popularity.  But,  like  the 
crudeness  of  Mr.  Brown- 
ing, they  only  endear  him 
more  to  an  inner  circle  of 
admirers.  The  fairies  of 
literature  gave  him  all  good 
gifts,  but  added  a  Celtic 
wilfulness.  We  do  not  read 
him  to  pass  away  the  hour, 
as  many  read  Mr.  Besant, 
always  a  skilled,  occasion- 
ally a  luimorous  story-tell- 
er, or  as  more  read  Miss 
Braddon,  or  wander  by  the 
streamside  and  kill  grilse  with  Mr.  Will- 
iam Black." 

In  Life  of  December  5th  appeared  an 
amusing  article  entitled  "  The  Tribula- 
tions of  an  Author,"  setting  forth,  side 
by  side,  such  adverse  and  favourable  no- 
tices of  a  certain  novel  as  fairly  bewil- 
der the  reader,  and  make  one  despair 
of  anything  like  true  criticism  based  on 
essential  truth  in  many  of  our  news- 
papers and  journals.  The  initials 
"P.  L.  F."  thinly  disguise  Mr.  I*aul 
Leicester  Ford  as  the  author  of  the  arti- 
cle.   About  two  years  ago  Mr.  Ford 


wrote  a  novel.  The  Uotwitrahle  Peter  Stir- 
Zing.  "Then  I  subscribed  shekels,"  he 
says,  "  to  a  press  agency  for  all  reviews 
of  the  book  which  should  appear.  *  I 
don't  expect  many  favourable  notices,' 
I  lied  to  myself,  '  but  at  least  I  shall 
learn  my  faults  and  failings.'  "  The 
extracts,  taken  from  actual  notices, 
whether  for  praise  or  for  blame — and 
they  are  equally  doled  out— are  of  the 
most  wearisome,  stereotyped  kind,  and 
appear  as  if  they  had  been  appropri- 
ated from  the  advertisements  of  other 
books  and  tagged  onto  this  one.  Well 
may  Mr.  Ford  be  in  despair  to  know 


,  Google 


47« 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


"  wIiilIi  half  of  till-  critics  read  my 
book,  and  wliicli  halt  didn't." 

* 

One  K  siilt  of  this  article  was  the  gain 
oi  a  new  if  rather  belated  reader  of  Mr. 
Ford's  clever  novel.  The  book  has  been 
talked  about  a  good  deal  of  late  and 
w«*  have  notici  d  that  it  has  figured  on 
scvrtai  fjccasiijiis  among  tlie  best  six 
selling  books  duringf  the  year,  so  that 
curiosity  was  already  arotised,  and  need- 
ed but  this  spur  to  make  us  take  up  the 
book  and  taste  for  ourselves.  We  do 
not  intend  to  add  to  Mr,  Ford's  bewil- 
derment, but  we  can  assure  him  that  we 
read  the  pages  of  his  book  thoroughly 
and  appreciatively.  It  is  a  good  Ameri- 
can novel,  as  good  in  its  way  and  as 
powerful  in  its  study  of  human  nature 
under  ( t  rtain  conditions  as,  let  us  say, 
Anthony  Hope's //</iy  a  Ifiro.  We  could 
certainly  never  read  so  capital  a  story 
as  The  Honourable  Peter  Stiriing  without 
looking  forward  with  expectancy  and 
interest  to  the  author's  next  novel. 

Our  Boston  correspondent  rficiuly 
called  on  the  author  of  An  Experiment  in 
Altruism^  which  is  now  in  its  third  edi- 
tion, and  learned  some  interesting  facts 
about  the  writer  and  her  work.  Miss 
Margaret  Pollock  Sherwood  docs  not 
pose  as  an  author,  but  speaks  of  herself 
as  having:  follnwcf!  the  convent!,  unl  path 
of  the  student  and  teacher.  Graduating 
from  Vassar  in  1886,  she  spent  the  next 
two  years  abroad  in  travel  and  study  at 
Oxford  and  ZUrich.  On  her  return  she 
became  an  English  instructor  in  Welles- 
ley  College,  which  position  she  stil! 
holds.  Miss  Sherwood  belongs  to  a 
brilliant  family.  She  has  a  sister  in  Bal- 
timore who  is  a  suct  essful  doctor,  and  a 
brother  who  is  Professor  of  Political 
Economy  at  the  Johns  Hopkins  Univer- 
sityt  in  the  same  citv. 

Miss  Sherwood  says  of  An  Experiment 
in  Altruism  that  she  intended  it  in  no  way 
as  a  satire.  In  f.ict.  the  sociological  part 
of  the  sketch  was  simply  meant  to  serve 
as  a  background  to  throw  into  relief  the 
character  for  whose  sake  solely  the  little 
book  was  written.  She  named  the  story 
The  Lad  ;  and  the  change  of  title  urged 
by  the  publishers  has,  slir  imagines,  led 
some  of  her  readers  to  mistake  her  pur- 
pose. Miss  Sherwood  declines  to  speak 
of  further  authorship,  but  none  the  less 
do  we  feel  that  she  has  the  gift  of  liter* 


an,*  expression  and  that  she  has  some- 
thing in  store  yet  which  may  be  account- 
ed literature.  Her  first  book,  mean- 
while, is  a  striking  example  of  the  ijreat 
deal  of  life  that  goes  to  make  a  little  art. 

• 

We  learn  from  a  correspondent  in  the 

South  that  our  surmise  concerning  the 
identity  of  "  Swin,"  the  artist  of  The 
Little  Boy  Who  Lived  on  the  Ifill-^ne  of 
the  most  original  four-to-six-year-old 
juveniles  published  this  season — with 
Gelett  Burgess,  of  The  Lark,  is  incor- 
rect. These  clever  illustrations,  we  are 
informed,  are  the  work  of  Mr.  Svvinner- 
ton,  of  the  San  Francisco  Examiner^  who 
is  primarily  a  caricaturist  of  consider- 
able talent.  Several  of  the  clever  de- 
signs which  have  adorned  the  covers  of 
The  Lark  were  drawn  by  Mr.  Ernest 
Peixotlo.  The  much-covetef!  poster  nf 
a  piping  faun  which  was  i:>i,ued  with 
The  JMrk  last  May  was  drawn  by  Mr. 
Bruce  Porter,  an  artist  in  San  Francisco. 

The  new  international  magazine  Co$- 

III, '/<(''!-<,  published  by  Fisher  Unwin,  in 
London,  will  contain  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson's  last  story.  Weir  of  Hermis- 
ton,  during  the  first  four  months  of  its 
issue.  This  story  has  been  pronounced 
by  many  besides  Mrs.  Stevenson  the  best 
that  he  ever  wrote.  Stevenson's  other 
post-humous  novel.  S^u'itf  /rrr,  which  will 
begin  to  appear  in  M i  CIu >  / probably 
before  the  end  of  ttie  year,  is  eonsiuered 
the  better  serial.  The  first  instalment 
of  Anthony  Hope's  new  story,  entitled 
Pkroso  (not  Pkroto)^  which,  as  we  have 
already  stated  in  Thk  Hookm ax,  is  the 
best  serial  that  has  been  written  for  some 
years,  will  appear  in  McClure's  in  ApriL 

Of  the  many  portraits  of  Stevenson, 
the  one  most  liked  by  his  mother  was 

painted  by  John  S.  Sargent,  at  Bourne- 
mouth, England,  in  18S5.  It  was  or- 
dered by  Stevenson's  fiiends,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Charles  Fairchilds,  of  Boston,  and 
is  now  in  their  private  gallery  It  has 
never  been  reproduced.  It  siiowa  Ste- 
venson sitting,  with  legs  crossed,  in  a 
large  wicker  arm  chair.  In  the  hand 
of  his  uplifted  right  arm  a  cigarette  is 
held  as  only  he  could  hold  one.  The 
left  hand  rests  on  the  crossed  leg,  and 
on  the  index  finger  appears  the  iarve 
silver  ring  he  used  to  wear.  While  we 
first  impression  is  one  of  vagueness,  the 
portrait  grows  upon  you  as  you  study  it, 


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A  inERAKY  JOURNAL, 


473 


and  the  fine  eyes,  the  beautiful  brow, 
and  the  long,  sensilve  face  stand  out  with 
a  convincing  impression  of  the  spiritual 
force  and  tenderness  that  burned  and 
animated  the  frail  frame. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  that 
certain  of  Stevenson's  friends  stood  as 
originals  for  some  of  his  characters 
in  T/ie  Wrecker.  For  example,  "Jim 
Pinkerton"  is  believed  to  be  no  other 
than  Mr.  S.  S.  McClure,  who  syndicated 
the  South  Sea  letters,  and  also  placed 
several  of  his  shorter  novels.  "  Loudon 
Dodd,"  in  the  same  novel,  is  a  free  por- 
trait of  Mr.  Will  H.  Low,  the  painter, 
one  of  Stevenson's  dearest  friends,  with 
whom  he  had  lived  much  of  the  life 
treated  in  the  chapters  describing  the 
old  student  days  in  Paris.  In  one  of 
the  Stevenson  family  scrap-books  there 
is  a  photograph  of  Tin  Jack,  a  rather 
pleasant-looking  young  man,  seated 
under  a  flowing  palm-tree,  who  was  a 
welcome  visitor  at  V'ailima,  and  who 
we  understand  was  the  original  of  "  Tom 
Haddon."  There  is  also  in  the  same 
scrap-book  a  photograph  of  Tom  Day, 
a  fine,  stalwart  seaman — the  very  ideal 
of  Nares — of  whom  Stevenson  wrote  : 
"  The  part  that  is  generally  good  is 
Nares,  the  American  sailor.  That  is  a 
genuine  figure.  Mad  there  been  more 
Nares,  it  would  have  been  a  better  book." 

It  is  a  byword  that  the  height  of  a 
pressman's  ambition  is  to  write  a  play  ; 
indeed,  Mr.  T«)vvnsend  remarked  to  us  a 
few  months  ago,  when  Mr.  Hopper  sug- 
gested his  dramatising  Chimmie  Faddetty 
that  he  was  almost  alone  among  his  con- 
freres in  believing  that  he  could  not 
write  one.  Nevertheless,  as  we  stated 
then  in  the  August-September  Book.man, 
we  were  sanguine  of  an  exceptional  suc- 
cess in  his  case,  and  with  the  assistance, 
we  understand,  of  Mr.  Augustus  Thomas, 
Mr.  Townsend  has  constructed  a  stage 
piece  from  his  famous  sketches  of  Chim- 
mie which  has  evidently  all  the  popular 
elements  of  "  go"  in  it.  The  play  is  a 
good  one  in  itself,  but  its  realisation  of 
scenes  and  characters  owes  much  to  the 
book.  Mr.  Charles  II.  Hopper,  in  his 
role  of  light  comedian,  is  admirably  suit- 
ed to  the  part  of  "  Chimmie,"  and  he 
is  well  supported  by  the  other  charac- 
ters, who  for  the  most  part  arc  taken 
from  the  sketches,  and  show  a  close 
study  of  their  prototypes.     An  excel- 


MK.  CHARLES  H.  HOI'FER  AS  '*  CHIMMIE  KAUUEN." 
Fruni  a  photograph  by  Moreno. 

lent  comic  feature  is  introduced  in  the 
person  of  Mrs.  Murpliy  (Miss  Marie 
Bates),  a  highly  amusing  old  Irish 
woman.  The  favourite,  however,  would 
seem  to  be  Mi.  Paul,  who,  it  will  be 
remembered,  has  a  fondness  for  "  small 
bots. "  The  invasion  of  the  Bowery 
element  on  the  boards  beyond  the 
barbed-wire  fence  is  something  of  a 
novelty  ;  to  be  sure,  there  is  more  light 
comedy  in  the  play  and  less  of  the  mel- 
odramatic than  usually  go  with  the  pres- 
entation of  Bowery  life  on  the  stage  ; 
still  it  is  to  be  viewed  as  yet  in  the  light 
of  an  experiment. 


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474 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


MARCEL  PR^:VOST. 


Among  the  younger  generation  of 
contemporary  French  writers  of  fiction, 
Marcel  Provost  is  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful and  interesting,  although  he  is, 
perhaps,  the  least  known  by  the  reading 
public,  particularly  outside  of  his  own 
country.  This  seeming  paradox  is  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  M.  Provost  is 
entirely  a  "  new"  man,  and  that,  with 


MARCEL  PR&VOST. 

one  exception,  his  books  have  not  been 
translated. 

I  have  not  been  able  to  gather  any 
biographical  data  concerning  this  au- 
thor. The  latest  (1892)  edition  of  Vape- 
reau's  Dictionmtire  drs  Cotit(mporains  does 
not  mention  him,  although  this  work  is 
supposed  to,  and,  as  a  rule,  does  con- 
tain a  biographical  notice  of  every  pub- 
lic man  in  France.  It  would  seem, 
therefore,  that  previous  to  1892  M.  Pre- 
vost  had  not  attracted  any  attention  as 
a  writer.  I  have  heard  vaguely  that  he 
was  educated  to  be  an  engineer,  but 
preferred  the  pursuit  of   letters,  and 


made  his  literary  d^but  in  the  columns 
of  a  Paris  newspaper. 

His  earlier  books,  Le  Scorpion  and 
Choncfutte,  had  no  marked  success,  al- 
though both  volumes  ran  through  sev- 
eral editions.  It  was  his  third  novel. 
Mile.  Jaufre  (1890),  that  first  entitled 
him  to  be  ranked  among  the  makers  of 
good  literature,  and  first  acquainted  the 
public  and  the  critics  with  his  name. 

Mile.  Jaufre  is  the  only  daughter  of  a 
physician — a  widower — who  has  endeav- 
oured to  bring  up  his  child  on  the  same 
scientific  principles  with  which  he  treats 
his  patients.  Theoretically,  his  plan 
is  sublime  ;  practically,  it  is  a  failure. 
The  girl  follows  only  her  own  instincts, 
succumbs  to  the  first  blackguard  who 
crosses  her  path,  and  is  deserted  by  him 
when  she  is  about  to  become  a  mother. 
She  conceals  her  disgrace,  and  when 
asked  in  marriage  by  an  honourable 
man  accepts  his  hand,  but  her  con- 
science prompts  her  afterwards  to  reveal 
her  secret.  The  man  casts  her  off,  but 
ultimately  returns  to  her,  after  she  has 
passed  through  a  long  martyrdom.  This 
work  is  mentioned  by  Jules  Lemaltre 
in  the  fifth  series  of  his  Impressions  Lit' 
t/raires.  After  stating  and  deploring 
the  fact  that  there  is  to  be  found  in  con- 
temporary literature  so  little  that  is  new, 
the  critic  says  :  "  This  book,  however, 
impressed  me  as  striking  an  entirely 
new  note.  I  may  even  say  that  I  do 
not  know  of  any  period  in  our  literature 
when  so  young  an  author  has  displayed 
in  his  writing  so  much  seriousness  of 
thought,  intelligence,  and  wisdom,  such 
keen  powers  of  obser\'ation,  such  an  in- 
timate knowledge  of  life  and  men.  His 
style,"  adds  the  critic,  "  is  facile  and 
graceful.  His  vocabulary  is  rich,  even 
luxurious."  In  many  respects  M.  Le- 
maltre thinks  Provost's  style  resembles 
that  of  George  Sand. 

This  opinion,  emanating  from  a  critic 
of  M.  Lemaltre's  standing,  is  very  high 
praise.  It  gives  to  M.  Prevost  the  dig- 
nified position  of  a  writer  of  recognised 
talent,  and  completely  refutes  the  im- 
pression that  he  belongs  to  the  erotic 
and  sensational  school — an  impression 
which  many  persons  who  have  read  only 
his  Demi-Vierges  have  heretofore  had. 


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The  best  book  that  Marcel  Fr6vost  has 
yet  written  is  unquestionably  La  Confes- 
sion d'un  Amant  (Lemerrc»  1891).    It  has 

not  had  witli  the  public  the  remarkable 
success  that  attended  llic  puijUcation  of 
Lettrts  des  FemnuSy  but  large  sales  are 
not  always  a  guarantee  of  a  book's  in- 
trinsic worth.  Ferdinand  Brunetiere, 
who  in  the  French  literary  world  holds 
a  |)nsition  analogous  to  tliat  occupied 
in  England  by  Andrew  Lang,  discusses 
La  Confession  eTun  Amant  at  considerable 
length  in  his  Essais  sur  la  Litt/rature  Con- 
temporaine.  He  writes  :  "  No  one  will 
regret  reading  this  book,  and  M.  Marcel 
Prevost  must  take  care  that  his  next 
novel  does  not  fall  below  La  Confession 
iT un  Ama/U  in  literary  quality." 

In  this  story,  which  promises  to  be* 
come  a  classic,  and  on  which  rest  his 
chances  to  enter  the  Academy,  Marcel 
Provost  shows  himself  to  be  an  exponent 
of  the  highest  form  of  romanticism.  Tn 
fact,  Prevost  asserted  his  championship 
of  romanticism  in  an  article  he  recently 
wrote  for  the  Paris  Figaro  under  the 
caption,  "  Le  Roman  Romanesque  Mod- 
erne."  In  thi:s  article  he  maintains  that 
the  romanticist  will  be  the  favourite  nov- 
elist of  the  future.  "  The  reader  of  the 
future,"  he  says,  "  wiil  demand  of  the 
novelist  a  more  intimate  acquaintance 
with  his  (the  reader's)  ideals  and  aspira- 
tions, and  will  insist  upon  a  literature 
less  disdainful  of  reflecting  them.  Ro- 
mance and  the  ideal  aie  the  very  life- 
blood  of  the  human  soul  and  conscience  ; 
they  are  part  of  humanity,  its  passions, 
its  emotions,  and  its  boundless  hopes." 

Prevost  also  excels  as  a  psycholosrical 
writer.  He  takes  delight  in  elaborate 
analyses  of  the  human  soul  and  passions, 
his  work  in  this  direction  bearing  com- 
parison with  the  best  passages  from 
Paul  Bourget.  La  Confession  d'un 
Amanf,  indeed,  combines  the  delicate 
picturesqueness  of  George  Sand's  In- 
diana with  the  keen,  sca1pel<like  mental 
analysis  of  Y^o\xt^^I\  Mt  nsonges.  There 
is  not  a  commonplace  note  throughout 
the  story,  a  better  title  for  which  might 
have  been  The  Confession  of  a  Sentiment 
/j/isf.  Its  hero  is  a  rich  and  handsome 
young  Ftenrtunan  of  the  provinces,  who 
is  early  attiac:ted  towards  the  opposite^ 
sex.  but  who  has  formed  a  high  ideal  of 
womankind.  He  meets  many  women 
he  admires,  some  whom  he  could  per- 
haps loVe,  biit  lOve,  in  lits  rase,  proves 
elusive.    Each  time  he  is  about  to  take 


the  woman  to  his  heart  he  mistrusts  his 
own  feelings,  he  knows  that  mere  ani- 
malism and  not  his  soul  has  attracted 
him  towards  her,  and  he  flees  her  pres- 
ence, lie  loves  in  this  way  the  wife  of 
his  cousin,  an  older  man  than  he,  and 
who  has  befriended  him.  He  strucjgles 
against  the  passion,  but  finally  suc- 
cumbs, and  the  author's  analysis  of  his 
remorse  constitutes  one  of  the  chief 
beauties  of  the  book.  In  order  to  break 
off  this  Haison^  which  he  deplores  rather 
for  its  immorality  and  its  treachery  than 
for  its  dancfer,  M.  Prevost's  hero  en- 
gages hiniseit  to  a  young  girl,  a  neigh- 
bour of  his  in  the  country.  But  he  finds 
it  impossible  to  banish  from  his  heart 
the  love  that  is  forbidden,  and  vviien, 
later,  the  married  woman  dies,  he  writes 
to  his  young  fianc/t,  telling  her  the 
truth  and  bidding  her  an  eternal  fare- 
well. 

The  foregoing  slight  sketch  cannot, 
of  course,  do  justice  to  the  beauty  of 
literary  composition,  the  loftiness  of 
sentiment,  the  sincerity  of  pathos,  or 
the  intensity  of  the  human  interest  con- 
tained in  the  pages  of  La  Confession  d' un 
Amant.  That  no  one  has  cver  trans- 
lated it  into  English  is  surprising.  An 
earlier  novel  somewhat  similar  in  tone 
and  atmosphere  bears  the  picturesque 
title  of  VAutomned'uneFtmiiic.  Prevost 
has  also  published  a  volume  of  clever 
sketches  under  the  collective  title  Notre 
Campagne  (1895),  and  a  novel  called 
Cousine  Laurty  which  has  run  througii 
eleven  editions. 

I  now  come  to  the  work  of  Marcel 

Prevost's  which  has  aroused  more  com- 
ment and  attracted  mure  readers  tl>an 
any  of  his  earlier  books.  1  i  li  le  to 
his  now  celebrated  I^tlres  an  I'\'mmc%. 
It  is  not  easy  to  |^ive  to  these  letters  of 
women  the  unstmted  praise  they  de> 
serve,  judged  from  the  purely  literary 
standpoint,  for  they  have  one  defect 
which  has  so  far  deterred  any  English 
translator  from  attempting  to  put  them 
into  our  language.  The  letters  discuss 
very  frankly,  sometimes  almost  inde- 
cently, the  relations  of  the  sexes,  and 
are  nearly  all  supposed  to  be  written 
by  one  woman  to  another,  the  corre- 
spondent thinking  no  one  but  the  reci- 
pient will  sec  the  epistle.  Even  in 
I'rance,  where  the  paterfamilias  might 
not  object  seriously  to  Daudel's  Sapho 
being  put  into  the  hands  of  his  daugh- 
ters, it  is  probable  that  he  would  draw 


I* 

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476 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


the  line  at  i'l  evost's  Ltttres  des  Fcmmes. 
Not  that  the  letters  are  vulgar  or  offen- 

sivel}*  realistic,  or  as  picturesquely  in- 
decent as  some  of  the  pages  of  Maupas- 
sant. They  are,  on  the  contrary,  most 
gracefally  written,  and  each  is  a  master- 
piece of  ingenuity  and  wit.  So  manv 
editions  (nearly  fifty  in  alik  of  the  book 
were  sold  in  France  that  tne  publishers 
induced  M.  Fr^vost  to  write  snme  more, 
which  he  did  under  the  title,  I^'ouielUs 
Zetires  ies  Femmes. 

Provost's  latest  hook,  l.,-s  Drnu'-J'ii-ri^cs, 

was  translated  into  English  by  the  writer 
last  summer  under  the  title  TAe  Demi- 
Virgins.  The  title  was  an  unfortunate 
one  for  this  country.  Its  bn!dne<;s 
shocked  the  booksellers,  and  very  few 
dealers  of  good  Standing  could  be  in- 
duced to  piit  any  copies  on  tlieir  coun- 
ters. The  book,  therefore,  did  not  have 
the  same  success  over  here  that  it  had 


had  in  Paris.  A  dramatisation  of  the 
story  made  by  Marcel  Provost  himself 

has  had  a  run  of  over  one  hundred 
nights  at  one  of  the  liuulevard  theatres. 
The  demi-virgin,  as  explained  by  the 
author  in  his  preface,  is  the  young  girl 
of  to-day,  who  c^oes  ever)'where,  sees 
everything,  reatls  every  book,  and,  by 
the  freedom  allowed  her,  becomes  initi- 
ated into  ever}'  phase  of  life.  A  better 
and  briefer  way  to  define  the  t^'pe 
would,  perhaps,  be:  the  girl  who  is 
pliy^ically  pure  and  morally  impure. 
The  story  M.  Provost  has  woven  around 
this  idea  is  very  dramatic  and  interest- 
ing. All  the  characters  are  admirably 
drawn  and  arc  true  to  life,  and  the  book 
is  vigorously  and  picturesquely  written, 
but  as  a  piece  of  literature  it  is  many 
degrees  inferior  to  La  Coufessum  d" un 
Amant. 

Arifmr  HornUvw. 


WAR  IS  KIND. 

Do  NOT  WEEP,  MAIDEN,  FOR  WAR  IS  KIND. 

Because  your  lover  threw  wild  hands  toward  the  sky 
And  the  affrighted  steed  ran  on  alone, 
Do  not  weep. 
War  is  kind. 

Hoarse,  booming  drums  ok  the  regiment. 

Little  souls  who  thirst  for  kight, 
These  men  were  born  to  drill  and  die. 

The  tJNEXI'LAINED  GLORY  FLIES  ABOVE  THEM, 

Great  is  the  battle-god,  great,  and  his  kingdom-^ 

A  FIELD  WHERE  A  THOUSAND  CORPSES  LIE. 

Do  not  weep,  bade,  for  war  is  kind. 

Because  your  father  tumbled  in  the  yellow  trbnchbSi 

Raged  at  his  breast,  gulped  and  died. 

Do  not  weep. 
War  is  kind. 

Swift  di  .azint.  flag  or  thf.  kicimfnt. 
Eagle  with  crest  of  ke»  and  gold, 
These  men  were,  bor,n  to  drill  and  die. 
Point  for  them  the  virtue  of  slaughter, 
Make  plain  to  them  the  excellence  of  killing 
And  a  field  where  a  thousand  corpses  lie. 

Mother  whose  heart  hung  humble  as  a  button 

On  the  UkKiHT  SPLENDID  SHROUD  OF  YOUR  SON, 

Do  not  WF.rv. 

War  is  kind.  Stc^kcn  Cratu. 


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All 


DOANE  ROBINSON. 


Tlio  world  has  so  many  makers  of 
tame  and  tiresome  jingles  who  are  pos- 
ing as  poets,  that  it  is  realty  refreshing 
to  find  a  pleasant,  merry  f<'llo\v  who 
doesn't  set  up  or  try  to  get  set  up  in 
business  as  a  bard,  although  he  happens 
to  have  the  knack  of  rhyme  and  can 
string  together  amusing  or  striking 
verses. 

Jonah  Leroy  Robinson  !  Fame,'  in- 
deed. woii!«l  have  to  possess  a  sort  of 
whale-mouth,  in  order  to  sport  such  an 
odd  name  with  "  due  emphasis  and  dis- 
cretion." It  is  easier  to  let  his  curious 
baptismal  preface  go  by  the  board  and 
call  him  by  his  nickname,  Doane.  As 
Doane  Robinson  he  is  known  in  some 
parts  of  Wisconsin,  Minnesota,  and 
South  Dakota,  where  lie  has  worked  as 
a  farmer,  a  lawyer,  a  State  official,  and 
a  special  correspondent  of  some  excel- 
lent papers,  and,  I  believe,  as  an  editor 
of  one  or  two  audacious  literary  or 
political  ventures  of  a  weekly  kind 
which  were  especially  beloved  of  the 
gods. 

Robinson  is  a  rather  tall  man  with 
stooping  shoulders,  this  pathetic  de- 
formity to  an  otherwise  handsome,  man- 
ly figure  having  been  contracted  in  the 
hanl  years  when  this  htimourist  bent 
over  the  hoe  and  followed  the  plough. 
His  features  are  clean-cut  and  good, 
and  his  eyes  are  fine,  larpt-,  and  light 
haxel  in  colour,  with  an  almost  femi- 
nine softness,  even  when  they  look  a 
laugh. 

It  was  said  of  Edgar  Foe  that  he  was 
never  known  to  laugh  audibly.  I  fancy 
the  same  might  be  said  of  Doane  Rob- 
inson ;  but  if  so,  it  is  due  simply  be- 
cause a  feeling  of  weariness  has  crept 
into  his  risible  muscles,  for  no  man  was 
ever  quicker  to  see  a  joke  and  to  let  it 
unconsciously  be  seen  in  his  glance. 

Some  of  our  American  humourists 
who  have  gained  considerable  voirne 
are  simply  burlesquers  or  exaggerators 
of  ideas  intrinsically  absurd.  Much  of 
their  patiently  spun  humour  is  only  word- 
deep.  To  be  sure,  much  of  Shak- 
spcare's  is  of  the  same  slight  kind, 
cheap  and  easy  plays  upon  words  or 
travesties  of  some  mere  fantastic  fashion 
of  the  day  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 


Shakspeare's  threat  humour — and  all 
true  humour,  it  seems  to  me — is  that 
which  is  or  emanates  from  character ; 
in  fine,  the  humour  of  humanity,  such 
as  the  master  of  tragedy  gave  to  us  in 
Falsiat'f. 

This  is  the  kind  of  humour  which 

Doane  Robinson  evinces,  and  therefore 
only  rarely  does  this  wild  Westerner 
get  into  the  magazines  :  though  to  the 
credit  of  the  Century  it  should  be  ad- 
mitted that  some  of  his  poorest  work 
has  occasionally  enliven^  its  pages. 
When  T  say  that  Robinson's  humour 
seems  to  me  of  the  Shakspearian  kind, 
let  me  not  be  misunderstood  as  compar- 
ing his  modest  little  muse  with  that  of 
Sweet  Will,  thoucjh  that  might  be  all 
right  and  jin  dc  iSl'iU,  since  Mr.  Howells 
has  demonstrated  Shakspeare's  inferi- 
ority to  till-  1( iiii^-winded  and  tiresome 
Kalmucks,  Turgeniert  and  Tolstoy,  and 
therefore,  by  implication,  Shakspeare's 
immeasurable  inferiority  to  Mr.  How- 
ells's  own  self. 

Most  of  us  who  have  lived  in  the  rude, 
crude  West  have  encountered  odd  speci- 
mens occupying  official  positions.  Even 
in  the  South  1  remember  a  distinguished 
Justice  Shallow  before  whom  a  coloured 
brother  i)Ieade(!  i^nilty  to  a  certain  ill- 
advised  expcrinieiiL  in  oruilhulugy. 

**  Haven't  you  been  in  dis  yar  court 
befo',  sah  ?"  queried  the  Judge.  The 
prisoner  admitted  it.  "And  didn't 
you  plead  guilty  once  befo',  sah  ?"  de- 
manded His  Honour  still  more  sternly. 
"  You  did,  sah  ?  Well,  wha'  de  dcbbil 
you  mean,  sah,  by  tryin'  tcr  play  that 
gametwiceton  dis  yar  court  ?  Iganny" 
(South  Mississippiaq  for  I  guess) — "  \ 
ganny,  sah,  I'll  try  you,  sah,  an'  /amine 
dese  yar  witnesses  an'  find  Ottt,  sah, 
whether  vi>'  i^uiltv  or  not." 

And  this  Solon  actually  put  the  county 
to  an  expense  of  eight  dollars  by  exam- 
ining four  witnesses  to  prove  the  con- 
fessed guilt  of  "God's  ebony  image" 
there  present. 

Robinson,  in  the  following  verses, 
presents  to  us  an  equally  characteristic 
Western  edition  of  a  Daniel  come  to 
judgment,  with  an  original  way  of  ap- 
plyins?  law  for  tlie  lienetit  <»f  the  Judge's 
little  poker-game  exchetjuer. 


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478 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


THE   CROWNER'S  QUEST. 

I  air  a  justice  of  the  peace, 

As  knows  the  rules  of  law, 
Ukf-wisr  I  air  fauiiliiir 

W  ith  ilu-  principles  of  draw. 
'Tnrar  ihe  murnin'  of  the  freabet. 

The  Gmtes  an'  Sam  an'  me 
War  acroM  the  board  dlacuaaln* 

A  p'int  in  chancer^e, 
Wh'  n  .1  "■tr.iiiK'cr  from  the  mountalfl, 

A  inulc  a-ridin"  down. 
Somehow  got  tangled  in  the  ford 

Whar  he  fell  oflT  an'  drown. 
Wall,  I  suminoned  for  a  jury 

To  set  upon  him  Uuu 
The  two  Gates  boys       pardtier  Smb, 

But  fust  I  made  'em  iwor 
Ter  make  a  true  tnventory 

Of  alt  they  hr  ir.t  ,,n'  saw. 
An'  so  brin^'  in  a  vcnlic' 

Accordin'  to  tllc  i;ivv. 

Then  we  rolled  in  the  defendant. 

An'  w'en  the  search  wax  done. 
We  hadn't  found  a  single  thiag 

But  jest  a  leetle  gan> 
So  that  jury  fixed  a  verdic' 

That  couldn't  be  appealed. 
They  found  "  the  (lai  ty  goiltJT 

Of  carryin'  com  <  ali  1 
A  weapon  that  wu/  •i  ineevDtts, 

Contrairy  to  the  law.' 
They  sutd  "a pleloer caee nor  thla 

Nobody  never  mw." 
Then  I  loched  it  to  the  pris'ner» 

Accordin'  to  the  rule— 
I  fined  him  fifty  dollars. 

An'  levied  od  hie  mule. 

The  fun  in  the  following  poem  seems 
to  me  to  mark  a  great  advance  in  Rob- 
inson's art.  As  a  studv  in  senile  de- 
pravity it  reminds  me,  thouf^h  it  is  en*- 

tirely  different  and  profcnindlv  orii^iii.'il, 
o£  that  wonderful  scene  in  Dickens's 
(Xd  Curiosity  SAofi,  where  the  old  sexton 
is  cheerfully  digging  a  grave  for  the 
other  old  man  whom  he  has  known  so 
long. 

ONE  OF  THE  PALL& 

t  wcic-  .1  jKill  to  tiic  liiiivin", 

Joe  s  finally  out  o'  the  way; 
Nothin'  special  ailin'  o'  him,' 

Jest  or  age  and  ginr'l  dec«y. 
Hope  to  the  Lord  \t  I'll  never  be 
or  en'  decreepit  an'  useless  as  he. 
Ctiss  to  his  fambly  the  last  five  year — 
Mt'iisiruus  cxpi-iiviv,-  with  keepflodcnr— 
'Sides  all  the  fuss  an"  xvurryin', 
Terribul  trial  to  ^:it  so  oli:  — 
Cur'us  a  man  U  continny  to  hold 
On  to  life,  w  en  it  s  easy  to  see 
His  chances  for  Uvin',  tho'  dreffelly  sUm, 
Are  better^n  hh  fambly 's  atonin*  for  him. 

Joe  'uz  'at  kind  of  a  li  ini^rr  <in  - 
Heiln't  tut  sense  o'  the  time  lo  quit  ; 
Siiintcd  ilcsrrccshi;!!  an' stall-fed  grit 
Helped  him  unbuckic  many  a  cinch 
Whar  sensible  men  'ud  a  died  in  the  ptndl. 

So  I'm  kind  o'  tickled  to  hev  him  gone ; 


Hesicd  for  once  and  laid  auay. 
(rii  tnni  liiwn  whar  he's  boun'  to  stay  J 
And  1  were  a  pall  to  his  buryin'. 

Knowcd  him  more  n  sixty  year  a  back — 
Used  to  be  somm'at  older  than  liim — 

Foiu^t  him  one  night  to  a  huskin'  bee. 
Licked  him  In  manner  uncommon  cnmplete  ; 

Every  one  said  't  a  lie.tiTtifiil  ficrht — 
Joe,  he  wa'iit  satisfied  with  it  Ihct  way. 
Kc[i'  dinitin'  a^ori^-  an'  w'en  he  got  throuKh. 

The  wust-lookin'  critter  'at  ever  you  sec 
Were  stretched  on  a  bed  rigged  up  in  dMlia]r~ 
They  carted  me  home  the  foUerin  day. 

Got  me  a  sweetheart  purty  an*  trim — 
Tolc  me  'at  I's  a  heap  lik'ler'n  Joe  ; 

Mittenetl  him  tu  ii  t  t     Hiii  ]"<•  kcp'  nn  the  traek, 
Follered  lu  r  numd  ary  pi. iff  slic  'iid  t;o  ; 

I  c)ffcrcd  to  lick  lum.     Says  she  :  "  It  s  a  treat, 

Le's  watch  an'  fin'  out  what  the  poor  crtticr  1 
do." 

Watched  him,  believin'  the  thing  'us  all  right — 
Hiat  identical  gai  is  Joe's  wkidcr  tO'Dight. 

Run  to  be  jestice.  then  Joe.  be  mo  too  ; 

Knowed  I  'nz  pop'lar,  an'  he  hadn't  a  friend. 
So  thar  want  no  use  o'  my  hurryin'. 
'l.ci  tio:i  forn<-  oil  and  we  counl»'d  the  \  ntcs, 

I  hadn't  enough  and  Joe  had  em  to  lend  ; 
So.  all  the  way  throtiv,'h.  1  been  taUa' oolea 
O*  Joe's  low,  disagreeable  way. 
An  it  tickles  me  now  to  be  able  to  iay 

He's  bested  fer  good  in  the  end ; 
Got  Mm  down  whar  he's  bona'  to  stay, 
And  I  were  a  pall  to  hia  hofyin*. 

Comment  on  this  tnie  picture  of  the 
comddie  humaine  is  almost  superliuous. 
Forgive  me,  therefore,  for  saying  that 
rme  of  the  profoundest  bits  of  colour 
here,  to  my  vision,  is  the  line  ' '  Used  to 
be  somm'at  older*n  htm,**  indicating 
how  the  fact  oi  liis  lifelong  rival's  death 
had  so  rejuvenated  the  old  sinner  as  to 
make  htm  delude  himself  into  the  fancy 
that  he  really  has  beaten  Joe  by  grow- 
ing young  or  staying  young,  just  in  the 
same  way  as  he  tries  to  fool  himself  into 
the  belief  that  he  had  Joe  well  thrived 
at  titr  hnskini^  bee  ;  only  Joe  was  mean 
enough  not  to  stay  thrashed.  We  all 
know  such  men  as  Joe.  Thank  Heaven, 
the  country  abounds  with  tluni,  and 
they  .ire  the  salt  of  civilisation.  It  is 
philologically  worthy  of  note  that  the 
word  (///<//  is  tised  here  with  its  true 
metaphoric  value.  It  comes  from  the 
Spanish  word  amha^  a  girth  or  cingle  ; 
hence,  metaphorically,  a  tight  hold  or  a 
tight  place. 

It  would  be  hardly  fair  to  Doane  Rob- 
inson not  to  give  a  specimen  of  liis 
pathos  as  well  as  of  his  humour.  Dialect 
has  been  overdone  both  in  poetry  and 
prose  by  the  magazinistf. ;  and  the  army 
of  cultured  persons  who  skip  anything 


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479 


that  looks  like  dialect  is  no  doubt  grow- 
incc  very  rapidly.  Yet  I  ask  such  n  ad- 
ers  tu  make  an  exception  and  read  this 
poem,  partly  because  the  broken  Hn^- 
li^h  of  tlu'  Standiiiavlan  farmers  of 
Southern  Minnesota  and  South  Dakota 
is  a  comparatively  fresh  exhibit,  and 
chiefly  because  this  poem  puts  a  wliolt- 
economic  condition  in  a  nutshell.  It  is 
not  merely  an  expression  of  individual 
character ;  it  is  a(  type.  These  Scandi- 
navian farmers  Wf^rk  their  wives  like 
cattle,  and  not  all  ot  tliem,  i  fear,  have 
the  f^race  to  wake  up,  like  Tina's  hus- 
band, even  when  it  is  too  late,  to  the 
consciousness  ot  their  own  brutality  and 
to  the  wholesome  bitterness  of  a  vain 
repentance  and  a  long  regret." 

For  the  easy  comprehension  of  this 
rare  bit  of  private  human  history,  let 
me  explain  a  few  phrases  and  words. 
'*  Mek  mae  vooman  by  mae  scurse" 
means  "  keep  my  wife  well  scared  of 
me,"  or  in  a  state  of  proper  subjection, 
"  scurse"  Ix  int;  their  attempt  at  a  past 
participle  for  scared.  "  Hardt"  means 
loud  and  stern  and  also  held  hard  or 
ti^-htly  t^rasped.  "  Mens  sk.d  keep  her 
party  hardt"  —  man  ought  to  hold  her 
pretty  well  or  tightjy  in  hand.  *'  Yoin- 
ing,"  of  course,  is  joining,  and  "  eider" 
is  either,  standing  for  otherwise  or  else. 
*'  Cheap  by  lectin  ven  preis  daer,"  sig- 
nities  economical,  when  times  are  haid. 
May  I  add  one  mor«*  word  a!)out  llie 
line  art  shown  in  making  il»c  husband 
use  to  the  last  the  very  same  phrase 
\vith  whiih  he  had  bullied  her  up  to 
work  in  the  morning,  only,  when  the 
truth  dawns  upon  his  benighted  soul, 
with  a  new  and  terrible  signification  In 
the  syllables  ? 

TINA. 

Dese  haer  Tina,  shaemae  vooman  ; 

\'c  h.u  n  m.irriat  lirty  year. 

Shae  bacn  lirs  tret  vurkin  vooman, 

Cheap  Xxf  leefin  ven  preis  daer. 


Ay  baen  very  gudc  boss-fallar, 
Mek  mae  vooman  by  mae  scurse  ; 
Efecy  moroin'  bardt  ay  lat  her 
Youst  ven  »an-set-up  appurse : 
"  Coom,  Tina,  up  mier,  vake  op." 

Vooman.  dose  bacn  much  quveer  peoples. 
Mens  skal  keep  her  puny  hardt 

F.idrr.  shae  vil  bacn  snuiart  peoples 
Yoinin^  liosc  haer  s»outrag<-  ( ruil. 
Better  ilcn  a\'  tank  to  mek  Iht 
V'alk  op  slrrit,  ven  «;hrifTp  ay  say, 
Laksbae  tiiak  ay  g^in'  kek  her, 
Ven  ay  call  by  bteckia  day  : 
"  Coom,  Tina,  op  haer,  vake  op." 

•        •        »        «  « 

Vos  ay  h.uT  desf  t.il  ui'-'.  il'ictore? 
Tina  ncvei  vake  no  more  ? 
Deae  bae  nickin  funny,  dociore. 
Open  mae  dose  badc'room  door  * 
Tina.  Tina,  ay  baen  coomin. 
Svecl         Tin.'i,  h.tcr  mac  quveck! 
Ay  noi  i>t.:iy.  ay  ni>t  tjussin  ; 
Tina,  \!.ui\c  \  il'o,  haer  mac  j^pcak  ; 
Cooni,  Tina,  op  haer,  vake  op  * 

Doane  Robinson  has  written  other 

things  in  prose  as  well  as  rhyme,  brim- 
ming with  quiet  quaintncss  and  the 
most  felicitous,  natural,  unforced  fun. 
Since  he  has  no  faculty  f<>r  posiiis^  as  an 
apostle  of  literary  or  ethical  novelties, 
and  no  advertising  fulcrum  in  the  shape 
of  a  mutual  admiration  bureau,  such  as 
some  of  our  alleged  poets  and  novelists 
happily  for  themselves  possess,  he  still 
remains  practically  unknown  ;  but,  when 
the  right  historian  of  literature  arrives, 
I  believe  that  his  plain  name  will  be  found 
worthy  of  mention.     Meantime,  it  is 
pleasant  to  know  that  his  State,  South 
Dakota,  poor  as  she  is  in  monetary  ways 
just  now,  is  rich  enough  at  least  in  a 
sense  of  humour  to  do  reverence  to  his 
talents,  and  also  clever  enough  to  ap- 
preciate his  personal  character. 

Henry  Ausii*. 


BETWEEN  THE  UNES. 

Could  you  but  read  what  characters  are  writ 
Between  the  lines  so  lambent  with  their  wit. 
No  mirth'provoking  comedy  you'd  see. 
But  sorrow's  tale— a  dark  life*tragedy. 

CiiniM  ScfiUari. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


MR.  GODK.IN  AND  HIS  BOOK. 


The  collection  and  publication  in  book- 
form  of  some  of  the  most  characteristic 
of  Mr.  E.  L.  Godkin's  editorial  writ- 
ings* render'  appropriate  and  timely  a 
brief  consideration  of  the  work  of  one 
who  has  long  held  a  quite  unique  posi- 
tion in  contemporary  American  journal- 
ism. This  attempt  should  be  the  more 
seriously  made  in  tliat  Mr.  Godkin's  in 
Auence  as  an  editor  is  very  far  from  ex- 
ercising a  merely  ephemeral  and  passing 
incident.  Wc  shall  not  be  guilty  of 
exaggeration  if  wc  say  that  it  has  left  a 
lasting  mark  upon  the  social  and  eco- 
nomic history  of  the  nation. 

Mr.  Godkin  at  xhc  vory  outset  of  his 
career  was  exceptionally  fortunate  in 
finding  a  broad  field  in  which  to  develop 
his  powers  and  to  cfain  experience. 
Most  American  editors  of  distinction 
have  bejjun  their  careers  in  the  news- 
paper ofRci-s  of  somr  small  town  or  city, 
and  have  thence  worked  their  way  tow- 
ards metropolitan  and  national  eminence. 
In  the  process  they  have  necessarily  ac- 
quired an  invaluable  knowledge  of  the 
mysteries  of  practical  journalism,  and  a 
minute  acquaintance  with  the  temper 
and  requirements  of  tlic  American  pub- 
lic ;  yet  they  have  also  in  their  formative 
period  lost  much,  owing'  to  their  purely 
local  enviri innu'iit  and  the  intensely  lo- 
cal influences  to  which  they  have  been 
subjected.  They  are,  in  consequence, 
too  (jften  imbued  with  prejudices  that 
hamper  their  intellectual  freedom. 
Their  horizon  is  too  narrow,  their  opin- 
ions too  provincial,  and  their  mental 
processes  too  deticicnt  in  perspective. 
The  practical  result  is  scon  in  the  fact 
that  while  they  are  quick  to  recognise 
the  drift  of  jMihlir  oj^inion,  thev  arc  de- 
licient  in  the  qualities  that  would  enable 
them  to  direct  this  drift,  to  mould  and 
shape  this  opiniMn,  and  to  guide  it  tow- 
ards wise  and  worthy  ends.  They  are 
admirable  followers,  but  weak  and  un- 
certain leaders. 

Mr.  Godkin,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
fortunate  enough  to  bet^in  his  labours 
in  a  position  that  gave  him  a  large 
and  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the 

*  ReiecdoBS  und  Comments.  Bv  Edwin  Law. 
reno*  Godkin.  New  York :  Cbaries  Scribncr  s 
Sons.  |8.oo» 


great  world  ;  so  that  his  cast  of  mind 
is  truly  cosmopolitan.  Born  in  Ire- 
land in  1831,  he  received  his  academic 
education  at  ilie  Queen's  College  in 
Belfast,  and  on  its  completion  he  at  once 
established  a  connection  with  the  Lon- 
don £>aily  JVews,  which  sent  him  as  its 
correspondent  to  the  East  in  the  stirring 
days  of  the  Crimean  War.  In  Turkey 
and  Russia,  from  1854  to  1S56,  he  was 
brought  into  personal  contact  with 
men  of  great  distinction  in  many  fields 
of  influence — soldiers,  diplomats,  civic 
ofi'ucTS  of  eminence,  and  keen-witted 
journalists — from  whom  he  acquired  an 
invaluable  funtl  (»f  kiiovvlrdge  relating 
to  politics,  diploniacy,  hi>.tory,  and  in- 
cidentally of  human  nature.  Leaving 
the  P-ast  at  the  conclusion  of  ilu-  war, 
he  travelled  in  the  United  States  as  the 
representative  of  the  same  great  jour- 
nal, bringing  to  bear  upon  both  our  jk-o- 
ple  and  our  institutions  keen,  analytical 
observation,  and  the  unprejudiced  mind 
of  a  disinterested  stronger.  During  our 
Civil  War  he  acted  m  the  dual  rapacity 
of  correspondent  fur  the  Diiuj  A'ewi  and 
for  the  New  York  Times,  thus  establish- 
int^  a  definite  connection  w  ith  American 
journalism.  At  the  end  of  the  war,  in 
1S65,  he  was  made  editor  of  the  Nation 
in  New  York  City,  and  in  the  following 
year  the  ownership  of  that  periodical 
passed  into  his  hands.  In  1881,  when 
the  Nation  was  made  the  weekly  edition 
of  the  New  York  Evrninf^  Post,  he  as- 
sumed the  joint  editorship  of  the.  latter 
journal  with  Mr.  Horace  White,  and  in 
this  position  has  ver^'  greatly  extended 
the  sphere  of  his  labours  and  of  his  in- 
fluence. 

As  an  editor,  Mr.  Godkin  has  always 
displaced  the  characteristics  that  we 
have  just  noted  as  lacking  in  so  many 

American  editorial  oflices.  So  far  fioni 
being  in  any  way  swayed  by  the  breath 
of  public  favour,  he  has,  perhaps,  too 
often  gone  to  the  oUier  extreme,  and, 
by  what  appears  to  many  to  be  n  kind 
of  perversity,  has  exulted  in  setting  him- 
self in  direct  opposition  to  the  popular 
tide.  Tn  th is  way  there  have  been  times 
when  his  aggressive  independence  has 
put  in  jeopardy  the  success  of  a  worthy 
cause,  and  has  not  infrequently  es- 


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A  LITEKAKY  JOURNAL, 


tratijijcd  somr  of  its  most  conscientious 
supporters.  Yet  in  the  main,  as  his  at- 
titude has  become  better  understood,  it 
has  oftLti  at  last  been  triumphantly  vln- 
dtcatc(i  ;  and  some  very  marked  revo- 
lutions in  the  national  "mind  can  be 
traced  unmistakably  to  the  persistent 
and  powerful  hammering  of  Mr.  Godkin 
upon  the  door  o£  the  national  con- 
science. It  is  possible  to  cite  chapter 
and  verse  in  support  of  this  assertion  ; 
for  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  all  the 
most  important  questions  of  our  recent 
political  history  were  raised  to  promi- 
nence in  the  first  instance  largely  by  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Godkin.  They  were, 
of  course,  in  any  case  bound  to  arise  in 
time  and  to  chnmoMr  for  solution  ;  but 
it  was  Mr.  Godkin's  clear  sight  that 
penetrated  the  future  and  detected  their 
imminence,  as  it  was  his  couracjcous  in- 
dependence that  forced  them  to  the 
front  and  hastened  on  their  considera- 
tion. Tlie  settlement  of  ()ur  monetary 
system  upon  a  gold  basis,  the  reform  of 
the  civil  service,  the  gradual  abolition 
of  a  protective  tariff,  the  enactment  of 
stringent  laws  for  ensurincr  the  purity 
of  elections,  tlie  iiicidenial  introduc- 
tion of  the  Australian  ballot,  with  the 
reform  of  municipal  government  upon 
a  non-partisan  footing,  and  the  sepa- 
ration of  local  and  national  elections—^ 
to  recall  these  issues  is  inevitably  to 
bring  to  mind  Mr.  Godkin's  part  in 
their  evocation  and  decision,  so  far  as 
they  are  yet  decided.  In  almost  every 
case  he  has  had  at  first  to  contend  with 
persistent  opposition,  unlimited  ridicule, 
and  disheartening  indifference  ;  yet  in 
every  case,  also,  by  sheer  force  of  char- 
acter and  power  of  argument,  he  has  in 
the  end  impressed  his  views  upon  one  or 
anotherof  tfie  national  parties.  Whodoes 
not  remember,  for  instance,  the  torrent 
of  contemptuous  mockery  with  which 

almost  everv  one  received  liis  first  de- 
mand for  a  civil  service  in  which  the  non- 
political  appointments  should  be  made 
from  considerations  of  fitness  alone, 
and  with  a  tenure  made  independent  of 
political  expediency  ?  How  the  poli- 
ticians sneered  and  jeered!  The  spirit 
that  animated  Roscoe  Conkling  when 
he  insultingly  dubbed  George  William 
Curtis  '*  a  man  milliner"  was  reflected 
in  a  thousand  newspaper  offices  and  in 
the  sardonic  comments  of  a  hundred 
political  committee-rooms.  Snivel*ser> 
vice  reform"  was  the  popular  name 


for  Mr.  Godkin's  proposed  system  ;  and 
even  the  ordinary  citizen,  with  no  politi- 
cal axe  to  grind,  chuckled  quietly  over 
the  visionary  aspect  of  what  Mr.  Dana 
called  "Cliinese"  methods.  Yet  the 
civil  service  of  the  nation  is  now  very 
largely  organised  as  Mr.  Godkin  had 
sus;c;ested,  and  to-day  no  responsible 
politician  dares  to  suggest  a  reversion 
to  the  spoilsman's  ways.  The  same 
thing  is  true  of  Mr.  Godkin's  other 
struggles.  The  gold  basis  has  so  far 
successfully  been  maintained  as  the 
foundation  of  American  finance,  the 
drift  of  national  legislation  is  setting 
steadily  towards  a  revenue  tariff,  the 
Australian  ballot  is  in  use  in  some  form 
in  nearly  every  State  and  Territory  of 
the  Union,  municipal  elections  are  now 
largely  divorced  from  the  Federal  ballot- 
incj?,  and  they  are  often  fought  and 
won  on  the  principle  of  strict  non-par- 
tisanship  in  matters  that  are  strictly  lo> 
cal.  To  have  played  so  large  a  part  in 
the  achievement  of  such  results  as  these 
would  in  itself  be  a  crown  of  honour  to 
any  man  ;  to  Mr.  Godkin  the  honour  is 
the  greater  because  for  a  long"  time  he 
fought  the  battle  quite  alone  against  ail 
manner  of  obloquy,  and  carried  it 
through  to  a  triumphant  issue  by  the 
force  of  his  own  sincerity  and  the  con- 
vincing power  of  his  argument. 

Nor  is  it  merely  In  t!i  political  field 
that  he  has  left  a  permanent  mark. 
The  influence  of  his  writings  upon  the 
social  history  of  our  people  is  more  in- 
tangible and  subtle,  but  no  less  real. 
When  he  began  his  work,  the  country 
had  just  passed  through  a  great  convui- 
si^m  that  had  shattered  the  whole  fabric 
of  our  social  system.  The  old  tradi- 
tions had  shrivelled  and  been  swept 
away  in  the  frames  of  the  Civil  War. 
The  day  of  small  things  had  forever  de* 
parted.  Thousands  of  men  had  grown 
suddenly  rich,  and  great  fortunes  had 
fallen  to  the  possession  of  persons 
who  had  no  conception  of  how  to  use 
them.  It  was  an  apotheosis  of  the  tiou- 
r<ra»x  riches^  an  era  of  shoddy,  the  cycle 
of  Jim  Fisk  and  Tweed,  an  epoch  that 
Mr.  Godkin  himself  has  very  neatly 
characterised  as  the  "  chromo  stage"  of 
our  civilisation.  Its  crudencss,  vulgar- 
ity, and  tawdry  ostentation  were  bar- 
baric beyond  belief.  Men  seemed  to 
have  no  standard  but  a  money  standard, 
and  out  of  unlimited  money  they  were 
able  to  get  only  the  sort  of  cheap*and- 


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THk  BOOKMAN. 


EUWIN  LAWRENCK  t;ol>KIN. 

nasty  display  that  would  dclijjlit  the 
heart  of  an  African  savage.  It  is  dif^^- 
cult  to  do  juslicL-  to  the  inllucncc  which 
the  Nation^  under  Mr.  Godkin's  editor- 
ship, exercised  at  this  period  in  crystal- 
lising; such  elements  of  refinement  and 
good  taste  as  existed,  into  a  leavening 
and  illuminating  force.  Mis  shafts  Hew 
fast,  and  the  wit  and  fun  with  which 
they  were  barbed  demolished  many  a 
social  absurtlity,  and  pierced  through 
the  veil  of  barbarism  that  darkened  the 
eyes  of  many  worthy  but  uninstructed 
men.  The  high  standard  of  literary 
achievement  which  the  JWition  never 
dropped,  the  gospel  of  art  and  learn- 
ing that  Mr.  Godkin  always  preaches, 
have  at  last  given  to  American  society  a 
definite  ideal,  which  more  and  more 
with  every  year  Americans  are  accept- 
ing and  endeavouring  to  attain.  Inci- 


dentally, too,  the  work 
of  Mr.  Godkin  has  had 
an  elevating  influence 
upon  journalism.  Never 
for  a  moment  has  he 
allowed  his  columns  to 
exhibit  any  of  the  more 
discreditable  features  of 
the  irresponsible  press. 
Never  has  he  ceased  to 
denounce  and  to  hold  up 
to  contempt  the  baseness 
of  its  practices,  its  cheap 
wit,  its  ignorance  of 
history,  its  malevolent 
injustice,  its  clap-trap 
rhetoric,  its  shamelessly 
offensive  outrages  on 
personal  privacy.  There 
is  to-day  still  much  to 
be  desired  in  our  press, 
but  the  great  metrof>oli- 
tan  journals,  at  any  rate, 
now  adopt  in  the  main 
a  tone  of  courtesy  and 
<lignity  that  was  once 
unknown. 

It  may  be  asked  how 
such  an  inlluence  as  we 
ascribe  to  Mr.  Godkin 
could  be  so  effectively 
exerted  through  the  col- 
umns of  a  weekly  pa- 
per whose  circulation 
lias  never  been  a  large 
one.  The  question  is  a 
very  natural  one.  It  is 
probable  that  the 
lion  has  never  possessed 
more  than  ten  thousand  subscribers, 
and  the  circulation  of  tlie  Post  is  not  a 
large  one.  Moreover,  Mr.  Godkin's 
editorials,  while  they  represent  the 
perfection  of  a  certain  style,  are  not 
likely  to  be  regarded  as  "  good  read- 
ing" for  the  masses,  who  like  slang- 
whanging  and  the  beating  of  the  big 
drum.  liow,  then,  has  he  succeeded  in 
finally  impressing  his  views  upon  the 
great  body  of  the  people  ?  The  an- 
swer is  easv.  Mr.  Godkin's  <-//<•///<>/<',  his 
ten  or  twenty  thousand  readers,  are  a 
picked  class.  They  are  not  ten  or 
twenty  thousand  casual  persons  forming 
a  stray  drop  in  the  bucket  of  the  popu- 
lation. They  are  rather  representative 
men — men  of  high  professional  or  com- 
mercial standing,  authors,  lawyers,  edi- 
tors, experts  in  tlieir  own  lines — in  other 
words,  men  who  individually  wield  a 


\ 


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A  UTERARY  JOUKNAL 


4S3 


strong  influence  upon  many  others.  It 

is  men  of  this  type  for  whom  Mr.  God- 
kin  writes,  and  when  he  has  convinced 
and  won  over  these,  he  has  secured  ten 
thousand  apostles  of  his  doctrine,  almost 
every  one  of  whom  is  a  strong  positive 
force  in  the  community.  It  is,  then, 
not  directly  upon  the  masses  that  he 
works,  but  through  his  immediate  circle 
of  readers  ;  and  this  accounts  for  the 
fact  that  among  the  people  at  large  his 
name  is  little  known.  Hundrctls  of 
thousands  of  voters  are  to-day  following 
implicitly  Mr.  Godkin's  lead  who  have 
no  knowledge  of  his  existence.  But 
the  public  men  to  whom  they  look  for 
teaching,  the  editors  of  the  newspapers 
whence  they  get  their  !)ias,  tiiese  are 
Mr.  Godkin's  pupils,  receiving;  from 
him  the  arguments  and  the  elucidations 
which  they  pass  on  in  a  new  form  to 
the  great  constituency  whnm  they  serve. 
We  could  mention  many  newspapers 
that  take  their  cue  in  this  manner  from 
the  editor  of  ihtt  E'  c'niia:^  Po^f  .•  and  there 
is  a  New  York  journal  of  which  we 
wot  that  seldom  fails  to  give  its  readers 
in  the  morning;,  in  a  sadly  diluted  con- 
dition, some  one  of  the  crisp,  convincing 
editorials  of  the  Post  of  the  night  be- 
fore. 

This  leads  us  naturally  to  a  short  con- 
sideration of  Mr.  Godkin's  literary  style 
and  manner,  as  to  which  one  need  only 
say  that  to  a  cultivated  reader  they  arc 
absolutely  perfect  of  their  kind.  The 
leading  articles  of  the  Pest  and  Nation 
presuppose  always  not  only  intelli- 
gence, but  education  on  the  reader's 
part.  They  abound  in  allusions  of  the 
kind  that  arc  heard  in  the  intimate  and 
familiar  intercourse  of  men  of  culture. 
There  is  never  anything  the  least  pedan^ 
tic  in  this.  The  style  is  ease  and  sim- 
plicity itself.  It  is  crisp  and  neat  ;  the 
sentences  are  short  and  to  the  point, 
oftentimes  wholly  colloquial ;  but  the 
ease  is  not  that  of  a  loafer  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, but  of  a  gentleman  in  the  easy- 
chair  of  his  club.  Anecdote  abounds, 
and  apt  illustration  is  one  of  tlie  most 
telling  of  Mr.  Godkin's  many  valuable 
gifts.  Had  he  been  a  preacher  of  eco- 
nomic truth  in  acatleinic  strain  lie  would 
never  have  succeeded  \  it  is  his  appreci- 
ation of  the  comic,  his  amusing  persi- 
flage, his  delicate  yet  absolutely  destruc- 
tive irony  that  make  his  argument  and 
exposition  and  invective  so  tremen- 
dously effective.    This  last  quality — his 


irony — is  a  weapon  that  he  uses  with 

consummate  mastery.  Its  touch  is 
light,  yet  it  can  make  the  apparently 
imposing  cause  of  an  adversary  shrivel 
like  a  leaf.  Anything  more  intensely 
exasperating  than  some  of  his  strokes 
cannot  well  be  conceived  of ;  and  we 
believe  that  he  is  the  only  journalistic 
opponent  who  has  ever  been  able  to 
rouse  the  veteran  Dana  to  serious  wrath. 
He  has  mastered,  also,  many  ty[)ographi- 
cal  subtleties,  and  especially  the  psy- 
chology of  the  quotation  mark  and  the 
capital  letter,  whose  use  as  weapons  of 
offence  he  has  developed  to  a  science. 
He  knows  the  exact  shade  of  meaning 
that  each  will  convey  to  the  mind,  and 
has  pushed  this  knowledge  intf)  the 
sphere  of  the  transcendental.  For  in- 
stance, he  has  occasion  to  speak  of  the 
political  henchmen,  who  are  indicated  in 
such  popular  phrases  as  "  So-and-so  is 
one  of  the  boys,"  or  "  So-and-so  is  solid 
with  the  boys."  Now  in  speaking  of 
these  persons,  an  inferior  writer  would 
use  quotation  marks  and  say  "  the 
boys,"  which  would  be  ineffective  and 
commonplace.  Mr.  Godkin,  however, 
is  too  deep  to  do  anything  so  lame  and 
impotent  as  that.  With  a  subtle  in- 
stinct he  chose  the  capital  letter,  and  in- 
troduced his  readers  to  the  Boys  as 
though  they  were  some  tribe  or  sepa- 
rate race.  Then  in  man^  editorials  he 
discussed  with  much  gravity  the  general 
attitude  of  a  Boy  and  the  workings  of 
a  Boy's  mind,  and  what  a  Boy  would  do 
under  various  hypothetical  conditions, 
until  he  so  tickled  his  readers'  sense 
of  the  ludicrous  that  they  could  only 
lie  back  in  a  chair  and  explode  with 
laughter.  Just  why  the  capital  letter 
should  have  had  this  power  we  have  not 
the  remotest  idea  ;  perhaps  Mr.  Godkin 
himself  does  not  know.  But  he  did 
know  perfectly  well  what  he  was  about 
and  could  calculate  to  a  dot  exactly  the 
effect  that  he  was  going  to  produce. 
When  he  uses  the  quotation  marks  in- 
stead of  capitals,  he  is  equally  correct  in 
his  judgment,  and  in  his  hands  they 
have  an  indescribably  derisive  effect. 
They  are  generally  employed  to  render 
ludicrous  some  phrase  or  sentence  that 
has  heretofore  been  taken  seriously  by 
the  public,  such  as  "  plain,  blunt  man," 
"getting  near  to  the  people,"  "the 
true  American  spirit,"  "  point  with 
pride,"  or  "  afriend  tosilver.  '  Itis sur- 
prising how  powerful  these  purely  typo- 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


graphical  devices  become  as  he  uses 
them  ;  and  he  is  so  well  aware  of  this 
as  to  employ  them  with  great  frequency, 
so  that  in  every  page  of  his  book  which 
is  now  before  us,  they  appear  and  re- 
appear continually. 

Having  said  this  much  concerning 
Mr.  (lodkin  and  his  work,  it  remains  to 
consider  a  very  curious  phenomenon, 
and  one  that  has  long  been  remarked 
upon  as  a  sort  of  psychological  mystery. 
It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  while  the 
most  intelligent  and  thoughtful  readers 
of  the  Post  follow  its  lead  almost  im- 
plicitly, and  cheerfully  admit  its  high 
character,  their  personal  feeling  for  it 
is  one  that  might  almost  be  called  dis- 
like. They  accept  its  monitions,  but 
abuse  the  monitor  ;  and  this  feeling  is 
so  general  as  to  have  found  expression 
in  a  very  clever  epigram,  which,  as  we 
printed  it  in  the  October  Book.man,  we 
need  not  here  repeat.  Now  this  is  a  re- 
markable thing  ;  for,  as  a  rule,  the  regu- 
lar readers  of  a  paper  usually  feel  a  sort 
of  loyalty  toward  it  such  as  they  enter- 
tain for  a  great  political  leader.  In 
Greeley's  day  the  Tribuiu's  subscribers 
were  almost  fanatical  in  their  devotion 
to  that  great  editor,  and  they  formed,  as 
it  were,  a  Sacred  Band  in  American  pol- 
itics. The  same  thing  is  true  of  Mr.  Wat- 
terson's  clientage,  and  of  that  of  many 
another  leading  journal.  Why  is  it  not 
also  true  of  the  Posit  Why  do  those 
who  read  it  most  steadily  and  whom  it 
most  deeply  influences  have  nothing  but 
flings  and  gibes  for  it  in  their  conversa- 
tion ?  This  has  long  been  one  of  the 
mysteries  of  contemporary  journalism, 
and  no  one  seems  able  to  give  a  philo- 
sophic answer  to  the  question.  With  a 
certain  amount  of  diflidence  we  are 
going  to  attempt  its  solution  here,  hav- 
ing considered  it  very  carefully  and  hav- 
ing formed  a  theory  which  may,  at  any 
rate,  serve  as  a  working  hypothesis.  It 
is  only  proper  to  say,  before  proceeding 
further,  tliat  the  present  writer  has  no 
personal  .'icquaintance  with  Mr.  Godkin, 
and  knows  him  only  thnjugli  his  pub- 
lished work  ;  so  that  when  mention  is 
made  of  him,  it  must  be  understood  as 
referring  to  him  in  his  editorial  capacity 
alone,  and  as  he  appears  to  a  conscien- 
tious reader  of  his  writings. 

In  the  first  place,  tlie  tone  of  the  Post 
is  one  that  is  suggestive  of  a  certain  in- 
fallible superiority,  such  as  compara- 
Livcly  few  arc  willing  to  recognise  as 


attainable  in  this  imperfect  world.  To 
the  constituents  of  some  journals, 
however,  such  a  tone  might  be,  if  not 
agreeable,  at  any  rate  more  or  less  im- 
pressive ;  but  the  readers  of  the  Post, 
being  in  the  main  highly  educated  men, 
are  apt  to  resent  it  as  being  just  a  little 
too  overpowering.  The  virtue  of  the 
Post,  in  fact,  is  rather  more  oppressive 
than  many  another's  vice,  and  irresis- 
tibly recalls  the  famous  lines  of  Horace — 

"  Insani  sapiens  nomcn  feral,  xquus  iniqui. 
Ulira  quam  satis  est  virtutem  si  petal  ipsam." 

Moreover,  when  one  sets  himself  up  as 
a  Superior  Person,  it  behooves  him  to  be 
very  sure  that  the  reasons  on  which  this 
superiority  is  based  shall  never  be  open 
to  question.  But  in  the  case  of  the 
Post,  there  is  now  and  then  to  be  seen  the 
little  rift  within  the  lute,  that  seriously 
impairs  the  perfection  of  its  music  ;  or, 
in  other  words,  its  practice  does  not  al- 
ways appear  to  coincide  with  its  profes- 
sions. Thus,  its  ostensible  attitude  is 
that  of  an  impartial,  fair-minded  ob- 
ser\'er,  whose  sole  mission  is  to  deal  out 
justice  with  an  even  hand,  being  ele- 
vated far  above  the  sordid  considera- 
tions of  party  and  policy.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  any  one  who  has  read  the  Post 
for  a  few  months  knows  that  it  is  one  of 
the  most  partisan  papers  in  existence. 
Its  devotion  is  not,  to  be  sure,  given  to 
either  of  the  great  political  parties  ;  but 
to  the  party  of  which  the  editors  of  the 
Post  are  the  only  consistent  members. 
That  is,  whoever  does  not  follow  in  the 
lines  that  they  have  laid  down  are  its  op- 
ponents, to  be  treated  with  just  as  much 
bitterness  as  can  be  found  in  any  of  the 
most  conspicuous  instances  of  the 
"  journalism"  for  which  Mr.  Godkin  ex- 
presses so  much  abhorrence.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  case  of  Mr.  Blaine.  There 
are  many  persons,  of  whom  the  present 
writer  is  one,  who  had  no  admiration  for 
Mr.  Blaine  as  a  politician,  and  who 
thought  him  ver)',  very  human  as  a 
man,  yet  who  had,  nevertheless,  a  certain 
amount  of  liking  for  him.  It  rather 
grated  on  their  sense  of  reason  and  jus- 
tice to  find  the  Post  hunting  him  with  an 
intensity  of  hatred  that  seemed  little  less 
than  malignant.  That  all  his  motives 
were  base,  that  he  never  was  actuated 
by  a  patriotic  impulse,  and  that  every 
action  of  his  public  career  sprang  from 
cither  greed  or  a  low  cunning,  no  moder- 
ate man  could  well  believe  ;  yet  the  Pfsi 


Goo< 


A  UTEKARY  JOURNAL, 


4«5 


tried  to  make  all  men  believe  it.  The 

re?;iilt  was  prnl)ably  the  creation  of  a 
certain  bympatiiy  tor  Mr.  Blaine  by  the 
very  organ  that  denounced  him.  It  is  gen  • 
erally  thought,  too.  that  a  certain  toler- 
ance of  Tainiaany  riilL-  in  iliis  city  wasap- 
preciably  fostered,  because  the  extreme 
violence  of  the  Post's  denunciations  led 
to  a  reaction  in  the  minds  of  its  readers. 
In  some  cases  the  treatment  which  was 
accorded  to  individuals  savotirod  very 
Strongly  of  ordinary  "journalism,  "  as 
when  the  Post  conceived  the  notion  of 
clippiuLj  its  oppotients'  names  and  speak- 
ing of  them  habitually  as  "  Billy"  and 
"Mike"  and  "  Hughey"  and  "Tom." 
Coming  from  the  Post,  and  being  carried 
to  great  lengths,  this  rather  repelled 
than  convinced  ;  and  when  one  day  the 
irreverent  Mr.  Dana  came  out  in  the 
Sun,  and  carelessly  spoke  of  Mr.  God- 
kiu  as  '■  Larry,"  it  was  not  merely  the 
cohorts  of  Tammany  that  were  amused. 

The  «>ame  f^cnera!  remark?  are  true  of 
tiie  Post' i  treatment  of  great  public  ques- 
tions, as.  for  example,  that  of  the  pro- 
tective t.irilf.  To  Mr.  Godkin  th('  taritT 
is  anathema,  an  accursed  thing,  spawned 
in  selfish  greed  and  perpetuated  by  cor- 
ruption. But  most  Americans,  even 
those  who  regard  protection  as  au  eco- 
nomic error,  are  by  no  means  willin|f  to 
admit  that  it  lias  been  to  l!ie  United 
States  an  unmixed  evil.  Thuy  feel  that 
it  was  a  very  high  price  to  pay  for  the 
attainment  of  certain  ends,  but  they  rec- 
ognise the  good  that  it  has  done  in  the 
past,  and  when  they  find  Mr.  Godkin 
seeing  only  the  greatness  of  the  price 
and  quite  oblivious  of  the  benefits,  they 
begin  to  question  both  his  fairness  and 
his  omniscience. 

More  slrlkini^  still  is  an  incident 
in  his  crusade  fur  inlernational  copy- 
right. Probably  no  one  did  better 
service  in  brinijint^  about  the  present 
arrangement  lor  protecliag  foreign  au- 
thors ;  but  Mr.  Godkin  was  not  con- 
tent merely  to  advocate  this  measure. 
He  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  de- 
nounce those  publishers  who,  prior  to 
its  enactment,  had  reprinted  foreign 
books  in  the  United  States,  which  under 
our  laws  they  had  a  perfect  right  to  do. 
His  denunciation  was  for  a  long  time 
general ;  but  at  last,  for  reasons  satis- 
factory to  himself,  he  singled  out  a  re- 

putable  firm  in  lili^  citv,  which  liail  re- 
printed the  EfujclaPadia  Britanmca^  and 
made  a  special  and  very  virulent  attack 


upon  it  as  guilty  of  "  piracy,"  holding 
up  a  clerical  member  of  the  firm  to  par- 
ticular obloquy,  reading  him  a  lecture  on 
the  eighth  commandmeiit,  and  implying 
that  he  was  a  robber  who  was  dealing 
in  stolen  goods.  Some  one  very  prompt- 
ly called  Mr.  Godkin's  attention  to  the 
fact  that  his  own  paper  was  filled  every 
evening  with  advertisements  of  foreign 
books  similarly  reprinted  by  many  other 
firms,  and  that  if  to  reprint  such  l)ooks 
were  "robbery,"  then  he  was  himself 
promoting  the  sale  of  stolen  goods  and 
encourac^inq;  a  crime.  Thi^  lot;;ic  of  this 
was  quite  unanswerable,  and  Mr.  God- 
kin made  no  attempt  to  answer  it ;  but 
said  rather  lamely  that  he  could  not  in- 
vestigate the  source  of  all  tlie  books  that 
were  advertised  in  his  paper.  Subse- 
quently it  became  known  that  the  /'cj/ 
itself  had  been  taking  stories  from  the 
English  magazines  and  printing  them  in 
its  Saturday  supplement ;  so  that,  on  the 
whole,  its  maj^nificent  attitude  as  a  great 
moral  teacher  lust  sunietliing  of  its  im- 
pressiveness. 

Another  interesting  episode  occurred 
last  spring,  when  the  Post  became  en- 

faged  in  a  controversy  with  Professor 
K.  A.  Selii^man,  of  this  city,  on  the 
constitutionality  of  the  income-tax. 
After  a  series  of  editorials  from  the 
and  of  letters  from  Professor  Seligman, 
the  /'"if  cited  a  high  authority  at  length 
in  sup[>()rt  of  its  position,  and  then  hur- 
riedly ex[)res5ed  its  intention  of  closing 
the  whole  discussion.  But  the  Profes- 
sor was  not  to  be  disposed  of  in  so  sum- 
mary a  fashion  ;  and  his  standing  was 
too  high  and  his  eminence  as  an  econo- 
mist too  great  for  the  Post  to  refuse  him 
a  further  hearing ;  so  that  the  matter 
was  carried  further,  until  the  Post  was 
forced  to  admit  that  it  had  misquoted 
its  authority,  and  had  done  so  in  such  a 
way  as  practically  to  make  hiin  say  al- 
most the  exact  reverse  of  wiiat  he  act- 
ually did  say  on  the  subject.  This  is 
one  of  the  very  rare  occasions  when  the 
Post  has  been  obliged  to  acknowledge 
an  error  committed  by  it ;  and  an  unholy 
joy  prevailed  amont*'  its  readers,  who 
may  yet  erect  a  statue  to  Professor 
Seltgman  as  a  public  benefactor. 

Space  compels  us  to  abst^iin  from  too 
many  citations  to  illustrate  the  point 
that  we  are  mining ;  but  we  must  men- 
tion one  or  two  more  instances.  The 
first  relates  to  the  Presidential  campaign 
of  1893,  when  the  Aitf  was  supporting  the 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


Democratic  national  ticket.  A  munici- 
pal Tammany  ticket  was  before  the 
voters  at  the  same  time,  and  it  was  gen- 
erally known  that  if  the  latter  were  at- 
tacked by  the  reform  element  in  the 
city,  the  Tammany  men  would  sell  out 
the  national  candidates  in  order  to  elect 
their  own  city  officers.  Now  the  Post 
has  always  held  that  one  should  act  in 
municipid  matters  without  any  thought 
of  party,  and  never  mix  considerations 
of  expediency  with  a  plain  civic  duty. 
Yet  at  the  time  of  this  election  it  had 
not  a  word  to  say  regarding  the  Tam- 
many candidates  ;  nor  did  it  print  its 
customary  "  Voters'  Directory,"  in 
which  it  always  describes  the  Tammany 
men  as  "thugs,"  "murderers,"  "fel- 
ons," and  other  equally  unpleasant 
things.  Some  wiclced  Republican  wrote 
to  the  editor  and  asked  for  the  publica- 
tion of  the  JPosCs  usual  information  to 
voters ;  but  a  profound  silence  followed 
the  letter.  Then  some  one  went  to  the 
Post  office  and  offered  to  pay  for  the  in- 
sertion of  its  •*  Directory"  at  the  regu- 
lar advertising  rates.  The  offer  was  re- 
fused :  tlie  editf>r  pre5;pntly  madf*  a 
rather  vague  and  ambiguous  explanation 
in  his  columns;  and  general  hilarity 
reigned  among  the  unrepenerate  at  find- 
ing Mr.  Godkin  playing  the  "  practical 

Eolitician"  and  turning  his  back  upon 
is  own  civic  ifleals. 

Finally,  a  personal  incident  must  be 
recorded.    The  Post  had  p  u  blished  some 

very  scorching  editorials  on  the  conduct 
of  those  citizens  who  buy  favours  from 
the  police,  and  thus  encourage  black- 
mail and  the  demoralisation  of  the  force. 
Many  ears  must  have  tinj^led  when  those 
scathing  articles  were  read,  and  many 
backs  must  have  winced  as  the  lash  de- 
scended. Well,  the  time  came  when  a  cer- 
tain Tammany  leader  brought  a  libel  suit 
against  Mr.  Godkin  ;  and  a  policeman 
was  sent  to  the  editor's  house  to  secure 
his  attendance  at  the  court.  The  hour 
of  his  call  was  a  very  inconvenient  one, 
and  so  Mr.  Godkin  otTered  the  police- 
man a  live-dollar  bill  to  arrange  matters 
more  agreeably.  This  was  precisely 
what  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  out 
of  every  thousand  New  Vorkers  would 
have  done  under  the  same  circum- 
stances ;  but,  unfortunately,  Mr.  God- 
kin was  the  one  person  in  New  York 
who  could  not  a£[ord  to  do  it,  and  it  pro- 
duced a  profound  sensation.  Mr.  God- 
kin himself  felt  that  something  would 


have  to  be  said  ;  and  he  published  an 
explanation  couched  in  a  humorous  vein, 
to  the  effect  that  New  York  being  gov- 
erned  by  a  band  of  robbers,  any  one 
who  fell  into  their  power  might  prop- 
erly ransom  himself,  and  that  the  five 
dollars  was  such  a  ransom,  with  much 
more  to  the  same  effect.  It  was  gen- 
erally felt  that  the  humour  was  rather 
forced,  and  that  the  explanation  hardly 
fitted  in  with  the  ijeneral  preaching;  )f 
the  Post.  And,  indeed,  it  was  hard  to 
see  why  his  defence  could  not  be  urged 
with  equal  force  on  behalf  of  the  citizens 
whom  Mr.  Godkin  had  just  been  cover- 
ing with  iiis  denunciation. 

AH  these  points  that  have  here  been 
touched  upon  are  individually  very  iri- 
riing,  and  even  when  taken  together  they 
do  not  constitute  a  very  formidable  in- 
dictment for  inconsistency  or  arroje;anre. 
To  the  constituency  of  most  of  our  great 
journals  they  would  pass  unheeded  or  as 
subjects  of  only  casual  comment.  But, 
as  has  already  been  observed,  the  con* 
stituency  of  the  Post  and  Nation  is  not 
an  ordinary  body  of  readers  ;  it  is  an 
assemblac^c  of  critics,  whose  faculty  for 
criticism  has  been  sharpened  and  pointed 
by  Mr.Godkin  himself;  and  it  is  precisely 
in  proportion  as  his  editorial  utterances 
are  deemed  weighty,  that  those  utter- 
ances are  carefully  and  even  finical  ly 
e.xamined. 

There  is  another  element,  also,  that 
enters  into  their  estimate  of  the  man 
and  his  work  that  is  far  more  sub- 
tle, and  therefore  much  more  difRcult 
to  explain  to  the  i^eneral  reader,  though 
its  presence  perceptibly  colours  the 
judp^ment  which  the  clients  of  the  Post 
pass  upon  that  organ.  Happily  in  the 
volume  now  before  us  Mr.  Godkin  has 
himself  aided  in  making  our  meaning 
comprehensible. 

In  his  estimate  of  John  Stuart  Mill, 
Mr.  Godkin  has  written  these  very  strik- 
ing sentences : 

"He  [Mill]  was  vi-nr-'nc;  .  .  in  what  ire 
may  call,  ih<jiik;h  imt  m  m)  i  .id  sense,  the  .ini- 
itial  siilc  ut  iii.ui  .s  n.ituic.  He  sutTcrcil  m  hi* 
treatment  of  all  the  questions  uf  the  day  from  ci- 
cessof  culture  and  deficiency  of  Uood.  He  uadcff* 
stood  «nd  allowed  (or  men's  error*  of  jadgmeaC 
and  for  their  ignorance,  and  for  their  dolh  ami 
in  HfTt  rerK  e  ;  but  of  appreciation  of  the  force  ol 
their  (jasiiions  his  speculations  contain  little  sign." 

Now  it  would  be  impossible  to  ex- 
press more  perfectly  than  is  done  in 
these  words  the  exact  opinion  which  tb« 


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A  UTERAK  Y  JOURNAL. 


487 


majority  of  his  readers  hold  regarding 
the  editor  o£  the  Eveni^  Post^  so  far  as 
such  an  opinion  is  based  upon  their 
knowledge  oC  him  through  his  editorial 
writint^s.  It  seems  to  them  as  though 
the  spirit  u£  the  Post  were  a  spirit  evoked 
wholly  from  the  Dismal  Scienc^^ 
spirit  of  fads  and  figures  and  formulas, 
a  bloodless  impersonation  of  mere  logic, 
a  spirit  incapable  of  any  glow  of  pas- 
sion, or  of  any  sympathy  with  the 
purely  emotional  side  of  individual  and 
national  temperament.  This  calmness 
and  coldness  are  in  many  respects  a 
source  of  strength  and  influence.  In 
dealing  witii  questions  of  finance  and  of 
administrative  reform,  such  qualities 

give  enormous  power  to  the  expositions 
of  the  /Vj/,  for  they  conduce  to  clear 
seeing  and  sound  thinking,  and  enable 
their  possessf)r  to  brush  aside  all  the 
purely  minor  issues  in  any  great  ques- 
tion, and  to  hew  his  way  straight  to  the 
root  of  the  matter.  But  when  questions 
of  another  kind  arise — questions  involv- 
ing national  prejudices  and  susceptibili- 
ties, questions,  in  other  words,  that  ap- 
peal primarily  to  sentiment — the  tone 
of  the  I'oit  is  so  unsympathetic,  so  ap- 
parently unappre(  iative  of  the  gpreat 
depth  and  power  of  passion,  as  to  put  it 
altogether  out  of  court  and  nullify  the 
force  of  its  contentions.  This  is  seen 
in  a  small  way  in  its  treatment  of  minor 
occurrences,  in  its  discussion  of  lynch 
law,  for  instance,  and  of  occasional  in- 
cidents that  involve  social  principles. 
As  a  rule,  the  most  uncompromising  op- 
ponents of  the  "  higher  law,"  the  stern- 
est enemies  of  the  principles  of  private 
vengeance,  are  nevertheless  able  and 
willing  to  recognise  the  wild  justice  of 
much  that  has  at  times  been  done  by 
men  who  have,  under  exceptional  con- 
ditions, taken  the  law  into  their  own 
hands.  Most  men  recognise  that  there 
at!  and  always  will  I)c  offences  for 
which  the  written  code  provides  no  ade- 
quate redress.  Yet  the  Post  would  ap- 
pear to  hold  that  neither  to  preserve  the 
safety  of  a  community,  nor  to  protect 
the  honour  and  purity  of  the  home, 
must  men  under  any  circumstances  re- 
vert to  the  primitive  means  of  defence  ; 
that  no  outrage  can  be  so  gross,  no  in- 
sult SO  foul  as  to  justify  the  individual 
in  an  appeal  to  physical  force  outside  of 
the  slow  machinery  of  the  law.  Is  there 
not  the  divorce  court  ready  to  redress 
the  insulted  honour  of  the  husband? 


Are  tliere  not  the  civil  trlhiinals  always 
sitting  to  mulct  the  offender  and  to 
soothe  the  wounded  spirit  by  a  tidy  lit- 
tle award  of  dollars  ?  What  is  honour 
anyway?  Something  to  be  included 
between  derisive  quotation-marks  and 
spoken  of  as  *'  honour." 

And  this  same  attitude,  so  repugnant 
to  the  most  elemental  principles  of  hu- 
man nature,  is  conspicuously  seen  in  the 
PosCs  handling  of  international  con- 
troversies. That  under  any  circum- 
stances a  nation — or,  at  any  rate,  the 
United  States — may  rightly  and  justly 
appeal  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword 
seems  liardly  within  the  sphere  of  the 
Post's  philosophy  ;  but  all  questions  af- 
fecting the  sentiment  of  luitionality  are 
consistently  treated  from  the  commer- 
cial, or  perhaps  we  should  say,  the  eco- 
nomical standpoint.  A  reader  of  the 
Post  gets  the  impression  that  even  if  the 
country  were  invaded  by  a  foreign 
army,  that  journal  would  scarcely  coun- 
sel armed  resistance,  so  long  as  the  ma- 
rauding forces  spareid  what  it  is  fond  of 
calling  its  "  counting-room,'*  Take  a 
typical  case  that  every  one  will  remem- 
ber as  happening  some  tliree  years  ago, 
when  the  sailors  of  a  United  States  man- 
of-war  were  assaulted  in  tlie  streets  of 
a  Chilean  city.  They  had  been  guilty 
of  no  offence  except  of  wearing  their 
country's  uniform  ;  yet  they  were  set 
upon  by  the  mob,  knocked  down,  beat- 
en, and  at  last  dragged  by  the  police 
through  the  streets  with  ropes,  and  flung 
into  prison.  At  the  same  time  the  house 
of  the  American  Minister  suffered  a  spe- 
cies of  blockade,  swarms  of  spies  were 
set  upon  him,  and  a  high  officer  of  the 
Chilean  Government,  in  his  utlicial  ca- 
pacity delivered  an  harangue  filled  with 
studied  insults  tf)  the  President  and 
people  of  the  United  States.  Now  there 
could  iiardly  seem  to  be  room  for  two 
opinions  al)out  the  duty  of  the  Ameri- 
can Government  in  such  a  crisis.  Had 
the  sailors  been  Englishmen,  Valparaiso 
'would  have  been  very  promptly  and  ef- 
fectively shelled  as  soon  as  a  squadron 
could  get  wiliiin  range  of  it.  But  wiiat 
was  the  attitude  of  the  Evening  Post  f 
Why,  it  figured  up  the  c(jst  of  bringing 
Chile  to  her  senses,  and  said  that  it 
would  be  a  pity  to  spend  all  that  money 
on  a  mere  pitiful  question  of  national 
honour.  What  were  those  sailors  doing 
there  anyhow  ?  Why  didn't  they  stay 
on  their  ships?    What  business  had 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


American  ships  down  there  in  Chile  ' 
Allcr  all,  a  lew  sailors  were  of  no  great 
consequence,  and  if  we  had  to  fight 
Chile,  a  c^ofid  many  men  wcnild  prob- 
ably be  killed,  not  to  mention  all  the 
money  that  would  be  wasted.  And  so 
forth,  and  so  fort!i.  Finally,  when  it 
had  called  the  American  Minister  "  a 
Blaine  Irishman,**  and  docked  his  name, 
and  spoken  of  him  as  "  Pat,"  the  J^os/ 
felt  that  the  last  word  on  the  subject 
had  been  said.  Fortunately  tlx-  govern- 
ment at  Washington  <li(l  not  pay  much 
attention  to  Mr.  Godkin  at  this  junc- 
ture, but  by  a  threat  of  instant  war 
broufirht  up  the  Chilean  Jingoes  with  a 
round  turn,  and  made  them  apologise 
and  eat  dirt,  and  indemnify  the  men 
whom  they  had  outraged  ;  after  which 
there  was  a  great  calm  all  along^  the 
western  coast  of  South  America. 

Now  it  is  not  at  all  probable  that  Mr. 
Godkin's  private  and  personal  views 
quite  coincide  with  his  editorial  utter- 
ances on  these  mailers.  He  doubtless 
feels  about  them  very  much  as  does 
any  other  man.  But  he  presumably 
recognises  the  undoubted  fact  that 
Americans  as  a  pi  o])le  are  too  much 
swayed  by  sentiment,  and  in  his  desire 
to  check  this  fault,  he  ignores  consider- 


ations of  sentiment  altogether.  And  in 
going  to  such  an  extreme  he  makc^  a 
fatal  mistake  ;  for  there  is  something 
abi.uit  the  /'I's/'s  altitude  so  smug,  so 
cold-blooded,  so  epicene,  as  in  one  very 
important  sphere  to  annihilate  alto- 
gether an  influence  which,  with  a  more 
sympathetic  spirit,  it  might  otherwise 
exert  for  good  and  useful  ends. 

The  book  before  us  contains  many 
illustrations  of  all  that  is  most  charac- 
teristic in  Mr.  Godkin's  writing.  The 
papers  on  *'Chromo  Civilisation," 
"John  Sttiart  Mill."  "The  Evolution 
of  the  Summer  Resort,"  "  Panics," 
*'  The  Morals  and  Manners  of  the  Kitdi- 
en,"  and  "Court  Circles"  are  classics 
in  their  way  ;  and  the  one  on  "  Physi- 
cal Force  in  Politics"  should  be  printed 
in  letters  of  gold  and  sent  to  every-  ami- 
able lunatic  who  goes  about  agitating 
for  the  alleged  "  rights"  of  women. 
But  it  is  invidious  to  make  any  selection 
when  all  arc  so  good  ;  and  the  book 
should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  one 
who  loves  to  watch  the  play  of  a  bril- 
liant intellect  finding  its  expression 
through  the  medium  of  a  singularly 
lucid  and  tUuminattng  style. 

^,  T,  Peek, 


THE  LOVE-LETI  ER 

This  fluttering  sheet  of  paper,  snowy  white, 
A  dove  of  Venus  is  whose  glad  behest 
It  is  to  bear  my  message  on  its  breast 

Unto  my  Sweet  across  the  leagues  of  night. 

And  when  btneatli  the  singing  stars  its  flight 
Is  done  then  shall  it  liud  a  downy  nest 
Amid  the  laces  of  her  gown  and  rest 

Upon  her  bosom,  dreaming  of  delight. 


Up  then,  my  bird,  and  spread  your  pinions  wide. 
The  quest  is  happy,  though  the  way  be  long  : 

Joy  your  companion  is,  and  I.ove  your  guide. 
And  hope  within  your  heart  beats  ever  strong  ; 

Godspeed  !  would  I  might  journey  at  your  side 
And  hear  with  you  her  lips  repeat  my  song. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


489 


KATE  CARNEGIE.* 


By  Ian  Maclaren. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  HOHB  OF  MANY  GENBRATIONS. 

T  was  the 
custom  of 

the  former 
time  to  con- 
struct roads 
on  a  straight 

line,  with  a 
preference 
for  uphill 
and  down, 
and  engi- 
neers refus* 
ed  to  make 
a  circuit  of 
twenty 
yards  to  se 
cure  level 
round, 
'here  were 
two  advan- 
tages in  this 
uncompromising  principle  of  ccmstruc- 
tion.  and  it  may  be  doubtful  which  com- 
mended itself  most  to  the  mind  of  our 
fathers.  Roads  were  dnuned  after  the 
simplest  fashion,  because  a  standing  pool 
in  the  hollow  had  more  than  a  compensa- 
tion in  the  dryness  of  the  ascent  and  de- 
scent, while  ilie  necessity  of  sliddering 
down  one  side  and  scrambling  up  the 
other  reduced  driving  to  the  safe  avt  i  age 
of  four  miles  an  hour — horse-doctors 
forming  a  class  by  themselves,  and  being 
preserved  in  their  headlong  career  by 
the  particular  Providence  which  has  a 
genial  regard  for  persons  who  have  too 
little  *  sense  or  have  taken  too  much 
liquor.  Degenerate  descendants,  anx* 
ious  to  obtain  the  maximum  of  speed 
with  the  mimimum  of  exertion,  have 
shown  a  quite  wonderful  ingenuity  in 
circumventing  hills,  so  the  road  between 
Drumtochty  Manse  and  Tochty  Lodge 
gate  was  duplicated,  and  the  track  that 
plunged  into  the  hollow  was  now  for- 
saken nf  wheeled  traffic  and  overgrown 
with  grass. 

*  Copyright,  1896.  by  John  Wataon. 


"  This  way,  Kate  ;  it's  the  old  road, 
and  the  way  I  came  to  kirk  with  my 
mother.  Yes,  it's  narrow,  but  we  'ill 
get  through  and  down  below — it  is  worth 
the  seeing." 

So  they  forced  a  passage  where  the 
overgrown  hedges  resisted  tlic  wlu-els, 
and  the  trees,  wet  with  a  morning 
shower,  dashed  Kate's  jacket  with  a 
pleasant  spray,  and  the  rail  of  the  dog- 
cart was  festooned  with  tendrils  of  honey- 
suckle and  wild  geranium. 

"  There  is  the  parish  kirk  of  nrnm- 
tochty,"  as  they  came  out  and  halted  on 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  "  and  though  it  be 
not  much  to  look  at  after  the  Norman 
churches  of  the  south,  it's  a  brave  old 
kirk  in  our  fashion,  and  well  set  In  the 
Glen."' 

For  it  stood  on  a  knoll,  whence  the 
ground  sloped  down  to  the  Tochty,  and 
it  lay  with  God's  acre  around  it  in  the 
shining  of  the  sun.  Ilalf-a-dozen  old 
beeches  made  a  shadow  in  the  summer- 
time, and  beat  off  the  winter's  storms. 
One  standing  at  the  west  corner  of  the 
kirkyard  had  a  fuller  and  sweeter  view 
of  the  Glen  than  could  be  got  anywhere 
save  from  the  beeches  at  the  Lodge  ; 
but  then  nothiiii.^  like  unto  that  can  be 
seen  far  or  near,  and  I  have  marvelled 
why  painting  men  have  never  had  it  on 
their  canvas. 

"  Our  vault  is  at  the  cast  end,  where 
the  altar  was  in  the  old  days,  and  there 
our  (lead  of  many  generations  lie.  A 
Carnegie  always  prayed  to  be  buried 
with  his  people  in  Drumtochty,  but  as 
it  happened,  two  out  of  three  of  our 
house  have  fallen  on  the  field,  and  so 
most  of  us  have  not  had  our  wish. 

"  Black  John,  my  grandfather,  was 
out  in  '45,  and  escaped  to  France.  He 
married  a  Highland  lassie  orphaned 
there,  and  entered  the  French  service, 
as  many  a  Scot  did  before  him  since  the 
days  of  the  Scots  Guards.  But  when 
he  felt  himself  a-dying,  he  asked  leave 
of  the  English  government  to  come 
home,  and  he  would  not  die  till  he  laid 
himself  down  in  his  room  in  the  tower. 
Then  he  gave  directions  for  his  funeral, 
how  none  were  to  be  asked  of  the  county 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


folk  but  Drumtnonds  and  Hays  and 
Stewarts  from  Blair  Athule  and  such  like 

that  liad  been  out  with  the  Prince.  And 
he  made  his  wife  promise  that  she  would 
have  him  dressed  for  his  coftin  as  he 
f  K'dit  on  CuUodcn  field,  for  be  had 
kept  the  clothes. 

"Then  he  asked  that  the  window 
shniild  he  opened  (hathemiijht  liearthe 
lilting  of  the  burn  below  ;  and  he  called 
for  my  father,  who  was  only  a  young 
lad,  and  commanded  him  to  enter  one 
of  the  Scf>tti?;h  rcp^iments  and  be  a  ifival 
kingsman,  bince  ail  was  over  with  the 
Stewarts. 

"  He  said  a  prayer  and  kissed  liis 
wife's  hand,  being  a  courtly  gentleman, 
and  died  listening  to  the  sound  of  the 
water  running over  the  stones  in  the  den 
below." 

**  It  was  as  good  as  dying  on  the 

field,"  said  Kate,  her  face  flushing  with 
pride  ;  "  that  is  an  ancestor  worth  re- 
membering ;  and  did  he  get  a  worthy 
funeral  Y' 

"  More  than  he  asked  for  ;  his  old 
comrades  gathered  tronj  far  and  near, 
and  some  of  the  chiefs  that  were  out  of 
hiding  rame  down,  and  they  bronchi 
him  up  this  very  road,  with  the  pipers 
playing  before  the  coffin.  Fifty  gentle- 
men buried  John  Carnegie,  and  every 
man  of  them  had  been  out  with  the 
Prince. 

"  When  they  gathered  in  the  stone 
hall  you  'ill  sec  soon,  his  fricnd-in-arms, 
Patrick  Murray,  gave  three  toasts.  The 
first  was  *  the  king,'  and  every  man 
bared  his  head  ;  the  second  was  '  to  him 
that  is  gone  ; '  the  third  was  '  to  the 
friends  that  are  far  awa  ; '  and  then  one 
of  the  chiefs  proposed  another,  '  to  the 
men  of  Culloden  ; '  and  after  that  every 
gentleman  dashed  his  glass  on  the  floor. 
Though  he  was  only  a  little  lad  at  the 
time,  my  father  never  forgot  the  sight. 

**  He  also  told  me  that  my  grand- 
mother never  shed  a  tear,  but  looked 
prouder  than  he  ever  saw  her,  and  be- 
fore they  left  the  hall  she  bade  each  gen- 
tleman good-bye,  and  to  the  chief  she 
spoke  in  Gaelic,  being  of  Cluny's  blood 
and  a  gallant  lady. 

"  Another  thing  she  did  also  which 
the  lad  ronhl  not  fnrpet,  for  she  brought 
down  her  husband's  sword  from  the 
room  in  the  turret,  and  Patrick  Murray, 
of  the  T louse  of  Athole,  fastened  it  above 
big  fireplace,  where  it  hanijs  unto 
lay,  crossed  now  with  my  lather's, 


as  you  will  sec,  Kate,  unless  we  stand 
here  all  day  going  over  old  stories.  " 

"  They're  i^h^notis  stories,  dad  ;  whv 
didn't  you  icll  liicin  lu  me  before?  I 
want  to  get  into  the  spirit  of  the  past 
and  feel  the  Carnegie  blood  swinging  in 
my  veins  before  we  come  to  the  Lodge. 
What  did  thev  do  afterwards,  or  was 
that  all  ?" 

**  They  mounted  their  horses  in  llie 
courtyard,  and  as  each  man  passed  out 
of  the  gate  lie  tookol?  his  hat  and  bowed 
low  to  the  widow,  who  stood  in  a  win- 
dow 1  will  show  you,  and  watched  till 
the  last  disappeared  into  the  avenue; 
but  m\-  father  ran  out  and  saw  them  ride 
down  the  road  in  order  of  threes,  a 
goodly  company  of  gentlemen.  But 
this  Slight  is  better  than  horsemen  and 
swords." 

They  were  now  in  the  hollow  between 

the  kirk  and  the  Lodge,  a  cup  of  green- 
ery surrounded  by  wood  Behind,  they 
still  saw  the  belfry  thruu^;!.  the  beeches; 
before,  away  to  the  right,  the  grey  stone 
of  a  turret  showed  among  the  trees.  Tlie 
burn  thai  sang  to  Black  John  .''an  be- 
neath them  with  a  pleasant  sound,  and 
fiflv  yards  of  turf  climl)ed  up  to  the  cot- 
tage where  the  old  road  joined  the  ncvh 
and  the  avenue  of  the  L>odge  began. 
Over  this  ascent  the  branches  vr.n. 
through  which  the  sunshine  glimroercki 
and  fltckered»  and  down  the  centre  cane 
a  white  and  brown  cow  in  charge  of  as 

old  woman. 

"  Il'h  Bell  Kobb,  that  lives  in  the  cx't- 
tage  there  among  the  bushes.  I  was  at 
the  parish  school  w  ith  her,  Kate — shr  - 
just  my  age — tor  we  were  all  Joh; 
Thamson's  bairns  in  those  days,  and  i;;  ' 
our  learnincj  and  our  licks  together 
laird's  son  and  cottar's  daughter. 

People  would  count  it  a'  queer  mis- 
ture  nowadays,  but  there  were  some  a  : 
vantages  in  the  former  parish  scht- 
idea  ;  there  were  lots  of  cleverer  subal 
terns  in  the  old  iv^iment.  but  none  kntv 
his  men  so  well  as  1  did.     I  bad  pla\t 
and  fi.>ught  with    their    kind.  Wuu 
you  mind  saying  a  word  to  Bell  . 
just  her  name  or  something  ?"  for  th  •  [ 
was  a  new  lite  to  the  pride  of  the  ng 
ment,  as  they  called  Kate,  and  Came^it 
w.is  not  sure  how  slie  inight  take  :'• 
Kate  was  a  lovable  lass,  but  like  ever* 
complete  woman,  she  had  a  temper  ai>J 
a  stock  of  prejudices.    She  was  * 
catnfraift'  with  all  tin'-  men.  alfhoujih  !'' 
heart  was  whole,  auu  with  a  few  wotucs 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


49* 


that  did  not  mince  their 
words  or  carry  two 

faces  ;  but  Kate  had 
claws  inside  the  velvet, 
and  once  she  so  handled 
with  her  tongue  a  young 
fellow  who  offended  her 
that  he  sent  in  his  pa- 
pers. What  she  said 
was  not  much,  but  it  was 
memorable,  and  every 
word  drew  UckmI.  Her 
father  was  never  quite 
certain  what  she  would 
do,  although  he  was  al* 
ways  sure  of  her  love. 

"  Do  you  suppose, 
dad,  that  I'm  to  take  up 
with  all  your  friends  of 
the  jackdaw  days  ?  You 
seem  to  have  kept  fine 
com[>;iny."  Kate  was 
already  out  of  the  dog- 
cart, and  now  took  Bell 
by  the  hand. 

"  I  am  the  General's 
daughter,  and  he  was 
telling  me  that  you  and 
he  were  playmates  long 
ago.  You  'ill  let  me 
come  to  see  you,  and 
you  'ill  tell  me  all  his  ex- 
ploits when  he  was  John 
Carnegie  ?" 

"  To  think  he  minded 
me,  an'  him  sae  lang 
awa'  at  the  weary  wars." 
Bell  was  between  the 
laughing  and  the  cry- 
ing. "  We're  lifted  to 
know  oor  laird's  a  Gen- 
eral, and  that  he's  got- 
ten sic  honour.  There's 
nae  bluid  like  the  auld 
bluid,  an*  the  Carnegies  cud  aye  afford 
tae  be  hamely. 

"  Ye're  like  him,"  and  Bell  examined 
Kate  carefully  ;  ' '  but  a'  can  tell  y ir 
mither's  dochter,  a  weel-faured  mettle- 
some lady  as  wcs  ever  seen  ;  wae's  me, 
wae's  me  for  the  wars,"  at  the  sight  of 
Carnegie's  face  ;  *'  but  ye  Mil  come  in 
to  see  Marjorie.  A'll  mak  her  ready," 
and  Belt  hurried  into  the  cottage. 

**  Marjorie  has  been  blind  from  her 
birth.  She  was  the  pet  of  the  school, 
and  now  Bell  takes  care  of  her.  Havid- 
son  was  telling  me  that  she  waiued  to 
support  Marjorie  off  the  wages  she  earns 
99  a  6eld  hand  on  the  farroSi  and  the 


W'  f  1^ 


'1  AM  THB  ocmntAL's  SAOOKna." 


parish  had  to  force  half-a-crown  a  week 
on  them  ;  but  hear  this." 

"  Nevermind  hoo  ye  look,"  Bell  was 
speaking.  A'  canna  keep  them  wait- 
in*  till  ye  be  snoddit." 

"  Gie  me  ma  kep,  at  ony  rate,  that 
the  minister  brocht  frae  Perth,  and 
Drumsheugh's  shawl ;  it  wudna  be  re- 
spectfu'  to  oor  Laird,  an'  it  his  first 
veesit ;"  and  there  was  a  note  of  re- 
finement in  the  voice,  as  of  one  living 
apart. 

"Yes,  I'm  here,  Marjorie,"  and  the 
General  stooped  over  the  low  bed  where 
the  old  woman  was  lying,  "  and  this  is 
my  daughter,  the  only  child  left  me ; 


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49' 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


you  would  hear  that  all  my  boys  were 
killed." 

We  did  that,  and  we  were  a'  wae  for 
ye  ;  a'  thocht  o"  ye  and  a'  saw  ye  in  yir 
sorrow,  for  them  'ai  caitua  see  ootside 
see  the  better  inside.  But  it  'til  be  some 
rnmfort  to  be  in  tlu-  hame  o'  yir  peoplL- 
aince  mair,  and  to  ken  ye've  dune  yir 
wark  weel.  It's  pleasant  for  us  to  think 
the  licht  'ill  be  burnin*  in  the  windows 
o'  the  Lodge  again,  and  that  ye're  come 
back  aifter  the  wars. 

"  Miss  Kate,  wull  ye  lat  me  pass  ma 
hand  ower  yir  face,  an'  then  a' 11  ken 
what  like  ye  are  better  nor  some  "at  hes 
the  joy  o'  seein'  ye  wi'  their  een.  .  .  . 
The  (ilen  'ill  be  the  happier  for  the 
sichl  o'  ye  ;  a'  thank  ye  for*^'ir  kindness 
to  a  puir  woman." 

**  If  you  begin  to  pay  compliments, 
Marjorie,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  of 
that  cap  ;  for  the  pink  is  just  the  very 
sliade  for  your  complexion,  and  it's  a 
perfect  shape.  " 

"  Ma  young  minister.  Maister  Car- 
michael,  seleckit  it  in  Muirtown,  an*  a' 
heard  that  he  went  ower  sax  shops  to 
find  one  to  his  fancy  ;  he  never  forgets 
me,  an'  he  wrote  me  a  letter  on  his  holi- 
day. A'bndy  likes  him  for  his  bonnie 
lace  an'  honest  ways." 

"  Oh,  I  know  him  already,  Marjorie, 
for  he  drove  up  with  us,  and  I  thought 
him  very  nice  ;  but  we  must  go,  for  you 
know  I've  not  yet  seen  our  home,  and 
I'm  just  tiiiiilinix  with  curiosity." 

"  Vou  'ill  not  leave  without  breakin' 
bread ;  it's  little  we  hae,  but  we  can 
offer  ye  oat-cake  an'  milk  in  token  o'  oor 
loyalty  ;"  and  then  Bell  brought  the 
elements  of  Scottish  food  ;  and  when 
Marjorie's  lips  moved  in  prayer  as  they 
ate,  it  seemed  to  Carnegie  and  his  daut^h- 
ter  iike  a  sacrament.  So  the  two  went 
from  the  fellowship  of  the  poor  to  their 
ancient  house. 

They  drove  along  the  avenue  between 
the  stately  beeches  that  stood  on  either 
side  and  rear  lied  out  their  branches,  al- 
most but  not  quite  unto  meetins;,  so  that 
the  sun,  now  in  the  south,  made  a  train 
of  light  down  which  the  General  and 
Kate  came  home.  At  the  end  of  the 
beeches  the  road  wlictled  to  the  right, 
and  Kate  saw  for  the  first  time  the  dwell- 
ing-place of  Iier  peojde.  To(  lity  I-odire 
was  ot  the  fourth  period  of  Scottish  cas- 
tellated architecture,  and  till  it  fell  into 
disrepair  was  a  very  perfect  example  of 
the  sixteenth  century  mansion-house, 
where  strength  of  defence  could  not  yet 


be  dispensed  with,  for  the  Camegies 
were  too  near  the  Highland  border  to 
do  without  thick  walls  or  to  risk  habita- 
tion on  the  ground  floor.  The  build- 
ings had  first  been  erected  on  the  L 
plan,  and  then  had  been  made  into  a 
quadrantjle,  so  that  on  the  left  was  the 
main  part,  with  a  tower  at  the  south- 
west corner  over  the  den,  and  a  wing  at 
the  south-east  coming  out  to  meet  the 
gate.  On  the  north-east  and  north  were 
a  tower  and  rooms  now  in  ruins,  and 
along  the  west  ran  a  wall  some  si.x  ft  ct 
high  with  a  stone  walk  three  feet  from 
the  top,  whence  you  could  look  down  on 
the  burn.  A  big  gateway,  whose  doors 
were  of  oak  studded  with  nails,  with  a 
grated  lattice  for  obser\'ation,  gave  en- 
trance to  the  courtyard.  In  the  centre 
f»f  thcr  yard  there  was  an  ancient  oak  and 
a  draw  well  whose  water  never  failed. 
The  eastern  face  was  bare  of  ivy,  except 
at  the  north  corner,  where  stood  t!ie 
jackdaws'  tower ;  but  the  rough  grey 
stone  was  relieved  by  the  tendrils  and 
red  blossoms  of  the  hardy  tropiolum 
which  despises  the  rich  soil  of  the  south 
and  the  softer  air,  and  grows  luxuriantly 
on  our  homely  northern  houses.  As  they 
came  to  the  gateway,  the  General  bade 
Kate  pull  up  and  read  the  scroll  above, 
which  ran  in  clear-cut  stone  letters— 

TRY  AND  THEN 
TRVST.  BETTER  GVDE 
ASSVRANCE 
BOT  TRUST  NOT 
OR- YE.TRY  •  FOR  ■  FFAR 
OFREPENTANCE. 

"  We've  been  a  slow  dour  race.  Kit, 
who  never  gave  our  heart  lightly,  but 
having  given  it,  never  played  the  traitor. 
Fortune  has  not  favoured  us.  for  acre 
after  acre  has  gone  from  our  hands,  but. 
thank  God,  we  ve  never  had  dishonour." 

"  Anrl  never  will,  dad,  for  wc  are  the 
last  of  the  race." 

Janet  Macpherson  was  waiting  in  the 
deep  doorway  of  the  tower,  and  ir  ive 
Kate  welcome  as  one  whosc^cestors 
had  for  three  generations  serV^  the 
Camegies,  since  the  day  Black  Johi?^ 
married  a  Macpher^c  .n.  ^.^h 

"  Calf  of  my  iu  art,"  she  cried,  and 
took  Kate  in  her  arms.  "It  iss  your 
foster-mother  that  will  be  glad  to  see 
you  in  the  home  of  your  people,  and  will 
be  praying  that  God  will  give  you  peace 
and  c;o(k1  days." 

Then  they  went  up  the  winding;  i>tone 
Stair,  with  deep,  narrow  windows,  and 


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came  into  the  dining-hall  where 
the  fifty  Jacobites  toasted  the 
king  and  many  a  gathering  had 
taken  place  in  the  olden  time.  It 
was  thirty-five  feet  long  by  fif. 
teen  broad,  and  twenty-two  feet 
high.    The  floor  was  of  flags 
over  arches  below,  and  the  bare 
stone  walls  showed  at  the  win- 
dows and  above  the  black  oak 
panelling  which  reached  ten  feet 
from  the  ground.    The  fireplace 
was  six  feet  high,  and  so  wide 
that  two  could  sit  on  either  side 
within.    Upon  the  mantelpiece 
the  Carnegie  arms  stood  out  in 
bold  relief  under  the  two  cross- 
ed swords.    One  or  two  por- 
traits of  dead    Carncgies  and 
some  curious  weapons  broke  the 
monotony   of   the   walls,  and 
from  the  roof   hung   a  finely 
wrought  iron  candelabra.  The 
western  portion  of  the  hall  was 
separated  by  a  screen  of  open 
woodwork,  and  made  a  pleasant 
dining-room.    A  door  in  the  cor- 
ner led  into  the  tower,  which 
had  a  library,  with  Carnegie's 
bedroom  above,  and  higher  still 
Kate's  room,  each  with  a  tiny 
dressing  closet.    For  the  Car- 
negies  always  lived  together  in 
this  tower,  and  their  guests  at 
the  other  end  of  the  hall.  The 
library     had     two  windpws. 
From  one  you  could  look  down 
and  see  nothing  but  the  foliage 
of  the  den,  with  a  gleam  of  wa- 
ter where  the  burn  made  a  pool, 
and  from  the  other  you  looked 
over  a  meadow  with  big  trees  to 
the  Tochty  sweeping  round  a 
bend,  and  across  to  the  high  op- 
posite banks  covered  with  brush-wood. 
First  they  visited  Carnegie's  room. 

**  Here  have  we  been  born,  and  died 
if  we  did  not  fall  in  battle,  and  it's  not 
a  bad  billet  after  all  for  an  old  soldier. 
Yes,  that  is  your  mother  when  we  were 
married,  but  I  like  this  one  better,"  and 
the  General  touched  his  breast,  for  he 
carried  his  love  ne.xt  his  heart  in  a  sil- 
ver locket  of  curious  design. 

Three  fine  deerskins  lay  on  the  floor, 
and  one  side  of  the  room  was  hung 
with  tapestry  ;  but  the  most  striking 
piece  of  furnishing  in  the  room  was 
an  oak  cupboard,  sunk  a  foot  into  the 
wall. 

"  I'll  show  you  something  in  that  cabi- 


:  1 

1  -Tto. 


JANET  MACI'HKKSOK  WAS  WAITING  IN  THE  DEEP  IX>OKWAV. 


net  after  luncheon,  Kate  ;  but  now  let's 
see  your  room." 

"  How  beautiful,  and  how  cunning 
you  have  been,"  and  then  she  took  an 
inventory  of  the  furniture,  all  new,  but 
all  in  keeping  with  the  age  of  the  room, 
"  You  have  spent  far  too  much  on  a  very 
self-willed  and  bad-tempered  girl,  and 
all  I  can  do  is  to  make  you  promise  that 
you  will  come  up  here  sometimes  and  let 
me  give  you  tea  in  this  window-seat, 
where  we  can  see  the  woods  and  the 
Tochty." 

•'  Well,  Donald,"  said  the  General  at 
table  to  his  faithful  servant,  "  how  do 
you  think  Drumtochty  will  suit  you  ?" 

"  Any  place  where  you  and  Miss  Kate 


494 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


will  be  living  is  a  good  place  for  me,  and 
there  are  six  or  may  be  fourmenlhef  been 
mectinp  that  hef  the  language,  but  not 
good  Gaelic — just  poor  Perthshire  talk," 
for  Donald  was  a  West  Highlander, 
and  prided  himself  on  his  better  speech. 

"  And  what  about  a  kirk.  Donald  ? 
Aren't  you  Free  like  Janet  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  Free  ;  but  it  iss  not 
to  that  kirk  I  will  be  going  to  here,  and 
I  am  telling  Janet  that  she  will  be  caring 
more  about  a  man  that  has  a  pleasant 
way  with  him  than  about  the  truth." 

"  What's  wrong  with  things,  Donald, 
rince  we  lay  in  Edinburgh  twenty  years 
ago,  and  you  used  to  give  me  bits  of  the 
Free  Kirk  sermons  ?" 

*'  It  iss  all  wrong  that  they  hef  been 
going  these  last  years,  for  tliey  stand  to 
sing  and  they  sit  to  pray,  and  they  will 
be  using  human  hymns.  And  it  iss  great 
pieces  of  the  Bible  they  hef  cut  out,  and 
I  am  told  that  they  are  not  done  yet,  but 
are  going  from  bad  to  worse,"  and  Don- 
aid  invited  (inestiontng. 

*'  What  more  are  they  after,  man  ?" 

"  It  will  be  myself  that  has  found  it 
out,  and  it  iss  only  what  mii^ht  be  ex- 
pected, but  i  am  not  saying  that  you  will 
be  believing  me." 

"  Out  with  it,  Donald  ;  let's  hear  what 
kind  of  people  we've  come  amongst." 

"  They've  been  just  fairly  left  to  them* 
selves,  and  the  godless  bodies  hef  taken 
to  watering  the  whisky." 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  SECRET  CHAMBER. 

HE  cabinet 
now,  dad, 
and  at 
once,"  when 
they  went  up 
the  stairs  and 
were  standing 
in   the  room. 

Just  give  me 
three  guesses 
about  the  mys- 
tery ;  but  first 
let  me  examine." 

It  was  pretty  to  sec 
Kate  opening  the 
doors,  curiously 
carved  with  hunting 
scenes,  and  search- 
ing the  interior,  tap- 
ping with  her  knuckles  and  listening  for 
hollow  sound. 


"Is  it  a  treasure  we  are  to  find? 
Then  that's  one  point.    Not  in  the 

cabinet  ?  I  have  it  ;  there  is  a  door 
into  some  other  place;  am  I  not 
right 

"Where  could  it  be?  We're  in  a 
tower  cut  ofi  from  the  body  of  the 
Lodge,  with  a  room  above  and  a  room 

below  ;"  and  the  General  sat  down  tO 
allow  full  investigation. 

After  many  journeys  up  and  down  the 
stair,  and  many  questions  that  brought 
no  light,  Kate  played  a  woman's  trick 
up  in  her  room. 

*•  The  General  wishes  to  show  me  the 
concealed  room  in  this  tower,  Janet,  or 
whatever  you  call  it.  Would  you  kind- 
ly tell  us  how  to  get  entrance  ?  You 
needn't  come  down  ;  just  explain  to 
me  ;"  and  Kate  was  very  pleasant  in- 
deed. 

"  Yes,  I  am  hearing  there  is  a  room  in 
the  tower,  Miss  Kate,  that  strangers  will 
not  be  able  to  find  ;  and  it  would  be  very 
curious  if  the  Carnegies  did  nf)t  have  a 
safe  place  for  an  honest  gentleman  when 
he  was  in  a  little  trouble.  All  the  good 
houses  will  have  their  secret  phu  es,  and 
it  will  not  be  easy  to  find  some  of  them. 
Oh  no ;  now  I  will  remember  one  at 
Glamis  Castle.  .  .  ." 

"  Never  mind  Glamis,  nurse,  for  the 
General  is  waiting.  Where  is  the  spring  ? 
is  it  in  the  oak  cabinet  ?" 

•*  It  will  be  good  for  the  General  to 
be  resting  himself  after  his  luncheon, 
and  he  will  be  thinking  many  things  in 
his  room.  Oh  yes,"  continued  Janet, 
settling  herself  down  to  narrative,  and 
giving  no  heed  to  Kate's  beguiling  ways, 
"old  Mary  that  died  near  a  hundred 
would  be  often  telling  me  stories  of  the 
old  days  when  I  wass  a  little  girl,  and 
the  one  I  liked  best  wass  about  the  hid' 
ing  of  the  Duke  of  Perth." 

^*Yott  will  tell  me  that  to-morrow, 
when  I  come  down  to  see  your  house, 
Janet,  and  to-day  you  'ill  tell  me  how  to  ^ 
open  the  spring." 

"Hut  it  would  be  a  pity  not  to 
finish  the  story  about  the  Duke  of 
Perth,  for  it  goes  well,  and  it  will  be 
good  for  a  Carnegie  to  hear  it."  And 
Kate  flung  herself  into  the  window- 
seat,  but  was  hugely  interested  all  the 

same. 

"  Mary  was  sitting  at  her  door  in  the 
evening,  and  that  would  be  three  days 
after  CuHoden,  for  the  news  h.id  lieen 
sent  by  a  sure  hand  from  the  Laird, 
when  a  man  came  riding  along  the  road, 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


495 


and  as  soon  as  Maiy  saw  him  she  knew 

he  was  somebody  ;  but  perhaps  it  will 
be  too  long  a  story,"  and  Janet  began 
to  arrange  dresses  in  a  wardrobe. 

*'  No,  no ;  as  you  have  beg^n  it,  I 
want  to  hear  the  end  ;  but  quick,  for 
there's  the  room  to  see  and  the  rest  of 
the  Lodge  before  it  grows  dark.  What 
iike  was  he  ?" 

**  He  wass  a  roan  that  looked  as  if  he 
would  be  commanding,  but  his  clothes 
were  common  ^rc\\  and  stained  with  the 
road  He  wass  very  tired,  and  could 
hardly  hold  himself  up  in  the  saddle, 
and  his  horse  wass  covered  with  foam. 

"  '  Is  this  Tochty  Lodge  ? '  he  asked, 
softening  his  voice  as  one  tr>ing  to  speak 
humbly.  *  T  am  passing  this  way,  and 
have  a  message  for  Mistress  Carnegie  ; 
think  you  that  1  can  have  speech  of  her 
quietly  ? ' 

'*  So  Mary  will  go  up  and  tell  the  lady 
that  one  wass  waiting  to  see  her,  and 
thcit  he  seemed  a  noble  gentleman. 
When  they  came  down  to  the  courtyard 
he  had  drawn  water  for  his  horse  from 
the  well,  and  wass  giving  him  to  drink, 
tliinking  m'^re  of  the  beast  that  had 
borne  luia  Lhaii  of  his  own  need,  as  be- 
came a  man  of  birth. 

"  At  the  sight  of  the  lady  he  took  off 
his  bonnet  and  bowed  low,  and  asked  if 
he  might  have  a  private  audience,  to 
which  .Mlstrpss  Carnegie  replied,  '  We 
are  private  here,'  and  asked,  *  Have  you 
been  with  my  son  }  * 

"  '  We  fought  together  for  the  Prince 
three  days  since — my  name  is  Perth.  1 
am  escaping  for  my  life,  and  desire  a 
brief  rest,  if  it  please  you,  and  bring  no 
danger  to  your  house.' 

"^Ye  had  been  welcome,  my  Lord 
Duke,'  and  Mary  used  to  show  how  her 
mistress  straightened  herself,  '  though 
you  were  the  poorest  soldier  that  had 
drawn  his  sword  for  the  good  cause,  and 
ye  will  stay  here  till  it  be  safe  for  you 
to  escape  to  France,' 

**  He  was  four  weeks  hidden  in  the 
room,  and  ahhdugh  tlie  soldiers  searched 
all  the  house,  ihcy  could  never  lind  tlie 
place,  and  Mrs.  Carnegie  put  scorn  upon 
them,  asking  w  Iiy  they  did  her  so  much 
honour  and  whom  they  sought.  Oh  yes, 
it  wass  a  cunning  place  for  the  bad 
times,  and  you  will  be  pleased  to  see 
it." 

"  And  the  secret,  Janet,'*  cried  Kate, 
her  hand  upon  the  door ;  "  you  know  it 
quite  well." 

"  So  does  the  General,  Catherine  of 


my  heart,"  said  Janet,  "  and  he  will  be 
liking  to  show  it  himself," 

So  Kate  departed  in  a  rage,  and  gave 
orders  that  there  be  no  more  delay,  for 
she  would  not  spend  an  afternoon  seek- 
ing for  rat-holes. 

No  rat-hole,  Kit,  but  a  very  fair 
chamber  for  a  hunted  man  ;  it  is  twenty 
vears  and  more  since  this  door  opened 
last,  for  none  knows  the  tiick  ut  it  i>ave 
Janet  and  myself.   There  it  goes." 

A  panel  in  the  back  of  the  cabinet  slid 
aside  behind  its  neighbour  and  left  a 
passage  through  which  one  could  squeeze 
himself  with  nn  effort. 

"  We  go  up  a  stair  now,  and  must 
have  light ;  a  candle  will  do ;  the  air  is 
perfectly  pure,  for  there's  plenty  of  ven- 
tilation;" and  then  tliey  crept  up  by 
steps  in  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  till 
they  stood  in  a  chamlier  under  six  feet 
high,  but  otherwise  as  large  as  the  bed- 
room below.  The  walls  were  lined  with 
wood,  and  there  were  two  tiny  slits  that 
gave  air,  but  hardly  any  light.  The 
only  furniture  in  the  room  was  an  oaken 
chest,  clasped  with  iron  and  curiously 
locked. 

"  Our  plate  chest,  Kit ;  but  there's 
not  much  silver  and  gold  in  it,  worse 
luck  for  you,  lassie  ;  in  fart,  we're  a 
pack  of  fools  to  set  store  by  it.  There's 
nothing  in  the  kist  but  some  old  clothes, 
and  perhaps  some  buckles  and  such  like. 
I  dare  say  there  is  a  lock  of  hair  also. 
Some  day  we  will  have  a  look  inside." 

"  To-day,  instantly,"  and  Kate  shook 
her  father.  "  You  are  a  dreadful  hypo- 
crite, for  I  can  see  that  you  would  rather 
Tochty  were  l)urned  down  than  this  box 
be  lost.'  Are  there  any  relics  of  Prince 
Charlie  in  it?  Quick." 

"  Be  patient  ;  it's  a  difficult  key  to 
turn;  there  now;"  but  there  was  not 
much  to  see — only  pieces  of  woollen 
cloth  tightly  folded  down. 

"  Call  Janet,  Kate,  for  she  ought  to 
see  this  opening,  and  we  'ill  carry 
everything  down  to  my  room,  for  no 
one  could  tell  what  like  tbin^  are  in 
tiiis  gloom. 

•*  Yes,  Perth  lived  here  for  weeks,  and 
used  to  go  np  to  the  gallery  where  Black 
John's  motiier  sat  w  ith  iier  maid  ;  but 
the  son  was  hiding  in  the  North,  and 
never  reached  his  house  till  he  came  to 
die." 

First  of  all  they  came  upon  a  ball  dress 

of  the  former  time,  of  white  silk,  with  a 
sash  of  Macpherson  tartan,  besides  much 
fine  lace. 

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496 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


ITS  A  DjmCt'LT  KBV  TO  TURN.' 


"  That  is  the  dress  your  grandmother 

wore  as  a  bride  at  the  Court  of  Ver- 
sailles in  the  seventies.  She  was  only  a 
lassie,  and  seemed  like  her  husband's 
daughter.  The  Prince  danced  with  her, 
and  they  counted  the  dress  something 
to  be  kept,  and  that  night  Lochiel  and 
Cluny  also  had  a  reel  with  Sheena  Car- 
negie, while  Hlack  John  looked  like  a 
young  man,  for  he  had  been  too  sorely 
wounded  to  be  able  to  dance  with  her 
himself."  And  then  the(ieneral  earned 
down  with  his  own  hands  a  Highland 
gentleman's  evenintr  dress,  trews  of  the 
Royal  tartan,  an<i  a  m  Ivei  coat  with  sil- 
ver buttons,  and  a  light  plaid  of  fine 
cloth. 

"And  this  was  her  husband' s  dress 
that  night ;  but  why  the  Stewart  tar- 
tan ?•• 

'*  No.  lassie,  that  is  the  suit  the  Prince 

wore  at  Hol\ rood,  where  ht-  tj^ave  a 
great  ball  after  I'restonpans,  and  danced 
with  the  Edinburgh  ladies.  It  was 
smuggled  across  to  France  at  last  with 
Other  things  of  the  Prince's,  and  he  gave 
it  to  Carnegie. 

"  It  will  remind  you  of  our  great 
days,"  he  said,  "  when  tli<-  Stewartssaw 
iheir  friends  in  Mary's  I'alace." 

Last  of  all,  the  General  lifted  out  a 
casket  and  laid  it  on  his  table.  Within 
it  was  a  brooch,  such  as  might  once  have 
been  worn  either  by  a  man  or  a  woman  ; 
diamonds  set  in  gold,  and  In  the  midst 
a  lock  of  fair  hair. 


"  Is  it  really,  father?  .  . 
And  Kate  took  the  jewel  in  her 

hand. 

"  Ves,  the  Prince's  hair — his 
wedding  present  to  Sheena  Mac- 
pherson." 

Kate  kissed  it  fervently,  and 
passed  it  to  Janet,  who  placed  it 
carefully  in  the  l>ox,  while  the 
General  made  believe  to  laugh. 

"  Your  mother  wore  the  brooch 
on  great  occasions,  and  you  will 
do  the  same,  Kit,  for  auld  lang 
syne.  There  are  two  or  three 
families  left  in  Perthshire  that 
will  like  to  see  it  on  your 
breast." 

**  Yes,  and  there  will  maybe 
be  more  than  two  or  three  that 
will  like  to  see  the  lady  that 
wears  it."    This  from  Janet. 

'*  Your  compliments  are  a  little 
latf,  and  you  may  keep  them 
to  yourself,  Janet  ;    it  would 
have  been  kinder  to  tell  me.  .  .  .*' 

' '  Tell  you  what  ?"  And  the  General 
looked  very  provoking. 

"  I  hate  to  be  beaten."  Kate  first 
looked  angry,  and  then  laughed.  "  What 
else  is  there  to  see  ?" 

**  There  is  the  gallery,  which  is  the 
one  feature  in  our  poor  house,  and  we 
will  try  to  reach  it  from  the  Duke's  hid- 
ing-place, for  it  was  a  cleverly  designed 
hole,  and  had  its  stair  up  as  well  as 
down."  And  then  they  all  came  out 
into  one  of  the  strangest  rooms  you  could 
find  in  Scotland,  and  one  that  left  a 
pleasant  picture  in  their  minds  who  had 
seen  it  lit  of  a  winter  night,  and  the 
wood  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  Kate 
dancing  a  reel  with  Lord  Hay  or  some 
other  brisk  young  man,  while  the  Clen- 
eral  looked  on  from  one  of  the  deep  win- 
dow recesses. 

The  gallery  extended  over  the  hall 
and  Kate's  drawing-room,  and  measured 
fifty  feet  long  from  end  to  end.  The 
upper  part  of  the  walls  was  divided  into 
compartments  by  an  arcading,  made  of 
painted  pilasters  and  flat  arches.  Each 
compartment  had  a  motto,  and  this  was 
on  one  side  of  the  fireplace  : 

A  *  nice  *  wyfc  *  and 
A  *  back  doore 

Oft  '  maketh  '  a  rich 
Man  *  poore. 

And  on  the  other : 

Give  liberalye 

To  neldfvl  -  folke  ' 


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497 


Denye  '  n.inc     of  • 
Them  "  al  ■  fur  '  lidc 
Thow  ■  kna»vest  '  heir 
In  -  this  lyic  '  of  what 
Chaunce  '  UMJ  *  tb« 
BefoU. 

The  glory  of  the  p^allcn',  however, 
was  its  ceiling,  which  was  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  work,  and  so  wonderful 
that  many  learned  personi;  used  to  come 
and  study  it.    After  the  great  disaster 
when  the  Lodge  was  sold  and  allowed 
to  fall  to  pieces,  this  fine  work  went 
first,  and  now  no  one  examining  its  re- 
mains ci'iild  liave  imagined  how  wonder- 
ful it  was,  and  in  its  own  way  how  beau- 
tiful.   This  ceilincj  was  of  wood,  paint- 
ed, and  senii-cUiplicul  in  form,  and  one 
wet  day,  when  we  knew  not  what  else  to 
do,  Kate  and  I  counted  more  than  three 
hundred  panels.    It  was  an  arduous 
labour  for  the  neck,  and  the  General  re- 
fused to  he!p  tis  ;  but  I  am  sure  that  we 
did  not  make  too  manv-,  lor  we  worked 
time  about,  while  the  General  took  note 
of  the  figures,  and  our  plan  was  that 
each  finished  his  tale  of  work  at  some 
'amaxtn^  beast,  so  that  we  could  make 
no  mistake.    Some  of  the  panels  were 
circles,  and  they  were  filled  in  with  coats- 
of-arms  :  some  were  squares  and  they 
contained  a  bestiary  of  that  day.    It  was 
hard  indeed  to  decide  whether  the  cir- 
cles or  the  squares  were  more  interest- 
ing.    The  former  had  the  arms  of  every 
family  in  Scotland  that  had  the  remotest 
cuniicction  with  the  Carnegies,  and  be- 
sides swept  in  a  wider  field,  comprising 
David,  Kin'4  of  Israel,  who  was  j^laced 
near  Hector  ot  Troy,  and  Arlliurol  Brit- 
tany not  far  from  Moses— all  of  whom 
had  ajipropriate  crests  and  mottoes.  In 
the  centre  were  the  arms  of  our  Lord 
Christ  as  Emperor  of  Jndea,  and  the 
chief  part  of  tlicm  was  the  Cross.  But 
it  came  upon  one  with  a  curious  shock 
to  see  this  coat  among  the  shields  of 
Scottish  uohh  s.    There  were  beasts  that 
could  be  rcctjgnised  at  once,  and  these 
were  sparingly  named  ;  but  others  were 
astounding,  and  above  them  were  in- 
scribed titles  such  as  these  ;  bhoe-lyon, 


Musket,  Ostray  ;  and  one  fearsome  ani- 
mal in  the  centre  was  designated  the 
Ram  of  Arabia.   This  disputy  of  her- 
aldry and  natural  history  was  rcinforeed 
by  the  cardinal  virtues  in  seventeenth 
century  dress :  Charitas  as  an  elderly 
female  of  extremely  forbiddinj^'  aspect, 
receiving  two  very  imperfectly  clad  chil- 
dren ;  and  Temperantia  as  a  furious- 
looking  person— male    on   the  whole 
rather    than    female  —  pouring  some 
liquor — surely  water — from  a  jug  into 
a  cup,  with  averted  face,  and  leaving 
little  to  be  desired.    The  afternoon  sun 
shining  in  through  a  western  window 
and  lingering  among  the  black  and 
wliitc  tracery,  so  that  the  marking  of  a 
shield  came  into  relief  or  a  beast  sud- 
denly glared  down  on  one,  had  a  weird, 
old-world  effect. 

"  It's  half  an  armoury  and  iiait  a 
menagerie,*'  said  Kate, "  and  I  think  we 
'ill  have  tea  in  the  library  with  the  win- 
dows open  to  the  Glen."  And  so  they 
sat  together  in  quietness,  with  books  of 
heraldry  and  sport  and  ancient  Scottish 
classics  and  such  like  round  them,  while 
Janet  went  out  and  in. 

"  So  Donald  has  been  oblie:ed  to  leave 
his  kirk  ;' '  for  Kate  bad  not  yet  forgiven 
Janet.  "  He  says  It's  very  bad  here ;  I 
hope  vou  won't  go  to  such  a  place." 

"  What  would  Donald  Macdonaid  be 
saying  against  it?"  enquired  Janet,  se- 
verely. 

"Oh,  I  don't  remember — lots  of 
things,  lie  thought  you  were  making 
too  much  of  the  minister,** 

"  The  minister  iss  a  good  man,  and 
hass  some  Highland  blood  in  him, 
though  he  hass  lost  his  Gaelic,  and  he 
will  he  %'ery  pleasant  in  the  house. 

"If  1  wass  seeing  a  sheep,  and  it  will 
be  putting  on  this  side  and  that,  and 
quarrelling  with  evervhndy,  do  yOU 
know  what  1  will  be  thinking?" 

•*  That's  Donald,  I  suppose ;  well  ?** 

"  I  will  say  to  myself,  that  sheep  iss  a 

Soat."  And  Janet  left  the  room  with 
m  laurels  of  victory. 

{To  be  continued.) 


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49« 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


LIVING  CRITICS. 
IV.— Mr.  R.  H.  Hvttom. 


There  i?,  prol5al)ly  no  Eiicjlis?!  journal 
that  wields  a  stronger  inHuence  over 
thoughtful  men  than  the  Spectator. 
Then-  is,  moreover,  none  tliat  has  more 
marked  and  recognisable  characteristics 
of  its  own.  In  both  its  great  depart- 
ments of  politics  and  literature  the.^r- 
(iitor  has  for  many  years  struck  an  un- 
mistukubie  iioic.  Tu  iiavc  distinguished 
itself  from  other  papers  by  exaggeration 
or  violence  of  style  and  lone  would  have 
been  comparatively'  easy  ;  but  neither 
in  its  political  nor  in  its  literary  articles 
is  the  Spectator  guilty  of  excess.  We 
may  differ  from  its  views,  but  wc  must 
acknowledge  the  ffdmess  of  its  intention 
and  the  almost  invariable  moderation 
with  which  that  intention  is  expressed. 
The  Spectator  has,  as  much  as  any  indi- 
vidual man,  a  character  of  its  own  ;  but 
it  is  a  character  which,  like  some  of  the 
creations  ot  dramatic  genius,  impresses 
us  rather  by  its  even  good  sense,  and 
sanity,  and  calm  intelligence,  than  by 
the  abnormal  development  of  a  few 
traits.  To  have  stamped  such  a  char- 
acter upon  the  gre.it  paper,  and  to  have 
won  for  it  the  respect  of  so  many  well- 
educated  readers,  is  no  small  exploit. 
The  men  who  have  performed  it  are 
men  worthy  of  study.  They  are  more 
than  merely  clever,  or  able,  or  talented 
men.  They  must,  of  course,  be  that 
first  of  all  ;  but  they  must,  moreover, 
have  the  power  of  sympatliy  and  the  fac- 
ulty of  leadership.  '  They  have  moulded 
others  in  their  own  image,  or  have  given 
them  a  complexion,  as  Nature  herself 
dictates,  as  it  were,  the  colour  of  her 
creatures.  The  Spectator  is  the  Specta- 
tor :  it  is  not  a  mere  collection  of  essays 
issued  periudically  by  one  publishing 
hc-'Usc. 

Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton  modestly  describes 
his  own  as  much  the  smaller  share  in 
this  remarkable  work — the  high  esti* 
\v.:\'.<-  i)f  which  here  given  is  mine,  not 
his.  But  at  any  rate,  to  have  had  a 
share  in  it  at  all  marks  Mr.  Hutton  as 
something  more  than  an  individual 
critic.  He  is  not  to  be  measured  merely 
by  the  work,  important  as  it  is,  whicti 
bears  his  own  name.    He  is  also  the 


head  of  what  may  fairly  be  called  n 
school.  Consciously  or  unconsciously, 
he  has  influenced  the  majority,  at  least, 
of  the  numerous  writers  who  must  have 
collaborated  in  the  weekly  literary  arti- 
cles of  the  Spectator.  This  is  the  first 
point  to  be  insisted  upon  in  an  appre- 
ciation of  Mr.  Hutton  as  a  critic.  We 
must  put  to  his  credit  not  only  all  that 
is  of  merit  in  his  writings,  but  that  per* 
sonal  power  which  he  has  wielded  over 
others. 

Probably  if  we  can  explain  this  power 

we  shall  have  a  clue  to  the  explanation 
also  of  Mr.  Hutton 's  own  literary  work. 
The  less  is  included  within  the  g^reater ; 
and,  highly  as  I  esteem  Mr.  Hutton's 
writings,  I  suspect  (and  to  any  one  not  in 
the  secrets  of  the  Spectator  it  can  only 
be  a  conjecture)  that  he  has  done  even 
greater  work  as  an  editor  tlian  he  h.is 
as  an  author.  We  must  ask,  then,  what 
are  the  qualities  necessary  to  such  suc^ 
cess.  In  the  first  place,  the  editor  who 
impresses  himsel/  upon  men  will  prob- 
ably prove  to  be  a  man  of  many  inter- 
ests. Men  are,  as  a  rule,  first  attracted 
by  what  is  like  themselves  ;  they  may 
be  afterwards  won  to  respect  and  per- 
haps to  imitate  what  is  unlike.  Now, 
variety  of  interest  is  certainly  one  of 
the  features  of  Mr.  Hutton's  literary 
woi  k.  His  style  is  not  particularly  flex- 
ible, but  the  range  of  his  subjects  is 
wide.  His  Studies  in  Farliament  prove 
that  he  has  not  wholly  confined  himself 
to  the  province  of  literature  ;  he  is 
widely  known  as  a  writer  on  theological 
topics  ;  and  there  is  great  diversity  of 
theme  even  in  his  more  strictly  literacy 
essays. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  regard  Mr. 
Hutton  as  the  exponent  of  a  literary 
craft,  viewed  as  a  thing  apart.  To  him, 
rules  of  art  are  always  in  intimate  rela- 
tion to  rules  of  life.  Thus,  in  his  ex- 
tremely able  and  interesting  essay  on 
"  Goethe  and  his  Influence,  "  he  criti- 
cises Goethe  for  the  wmnoral  character 
of  his  genius  and  work.  It  has  often 
been  done,  but  it  has  rarely  been  done 
so  well  ;  and  of  course  Mr.  Hutton 
avoids  the  Philistine  fallacy  that  every 


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A  LITEKARY  JOURNAL  499 


work  of  art  must  have  *'  a  moral,**  a 

sort  of  tag  to  catch  the  gye  of  those  who 
cannot  read  between  the  lines.  His 
complaint  is  that  in  Goethe  there  is 
nothing — uf  llic  moral  kind — between 
the  lines  to  read  Here  there  is  some 
exaggeration.  In  the  character  of 
Faust,  for  example,  wc  may  detect  more 
of  a  moral  fonndation  than  Mr.  Ilutton 
perceives.  But  there  is  also  a  solid  ba- 
sts of  truth  in  his  view:  and  perhaps  its 
principal  fault  Hes,  not  so  mnch  in  any 
positive  error,  as  in  the  partial  insensi- 
bility displayed  to  the  fascination  of  the 
pure  intellect.  Goethe's  critical  detach- 
ment and  his  ability  to  fix  "  his  eye  on 
nature's  plan**  as  an  observer,  not  as  an 
actor,  are  qualities  outside  the  sphere 
of  Mr.  Hutton's  sympathies.  He  un- 
derstands, but  he  does  not  like  ;  he  is 
repelled  rather  than  attracted. 

We  are  led  therefore  to  notice  that 
the  rules  of  life  in  relation  to  which  Mr. 
Hutton  always  views  the  rules  of  art 
are  of  a  specially  theological  cast.  He 
is  himself  quite  conscious  of  this  char- 
acteristic of  his  work,  and  he  frankly 
avows  that  the  principles  upon  wliich 
his  literary  criticisms  are  founded  are 
as  theological  as  those  of  the  theologi- 
cal essays  themselves.  The  phraseology 
is  accurate,  and  it  points  to  a  limitation 
which  would  not  have  been  indicated 
had  it  been  possible  to  say  that  the  prin- 
ciples in  question  are  as  religious  as  those 
of  the  essays  dealing  with  religion. 
There  is  perhaps  something  too  much 
of  dogma  in  the  background  of  Mr.  Hut- 
ton's  criticism  ;  and  it  is  partly  this  that 
Stops  the  flow  of  his  sympathy  towards 
Goethe.  It  must  be  added,  however, 
that  Mr.  Hutton's  sympathy,  though 
not  limitless,  is  wide  ;  if  it  were  not,  he 
could  hardly  have  done  the  work  as  an 
editor  with  which  I  have  credited  him. 
Mr,  Hutloa  can  appreciate  and  praise 
generously  those  wlio  dissent  from  even 
his  most  cherished  theological  beliefs. 
George  Eliot  rejected  Christianity,  but 
few  have  estimated  her  work  more  highly 
than  lie.  Matthew  Arnold  rejected  it 
likewise — ^at  least  as  it  is  taught  by  the 
Churches ;  but  we  may  safely  say  that 
there  is  no  critic  who  has  so  long  and 
so  steadily  as  Mr.  Hutton  maintained 
the  greatness  of  Arnold's  poetry.  Both 
these  writers  attract  him — Arnold,  be- 
cause the  critic  has  detected  the  |>off's 
deep  sympathy  with  the  creed  his  lalel- 
lect  compels  him  to  reject,  and  the  rapt 


tone  so  frequent  in  his  verse.  George 
Eliot,  again,  attracts  him  because  of  the 
spectacle  of  a  moral  nature  very  deep 
and  strong  labouring  to  exist  without  a 

God.  Mr.  Hutton  does  not  believe  in 
the  possibility  of  doing  so,  and  he  thinks 
the  very  appearance  of  success  is  due  to 
the  unconscious  use  of  those  principles 
and  beliefs  which  George  Eliot  denies. 
The  interest  in  the  effort  is  not  de- 
stroyed, it  is  even  increased  for  the  critic 
by  his  conviction  of  its  ultimate  futility. 
The  English  writers,  unlike  Goethe,  are 
themselves  engaged  in  the  conflict,  and 
it  is  for  this  reason  that  they  are  in  the 
critic's  mind  discriminated  from  Goethe. 

There  is  clearly  a  certain  loss  involved 
in  Mr.  Hutton's  building  his  criticism 
on  a  theological  substructure.  Very 
many  in  the  present  day  dispute  the  in- 
tellectual soundness  of  that  substruc- 
ture ;  still  more  would  maintain  that, 
sound  or  not,  it  must  be  tried  by  tests 
which  he  and  those  who  think  with  htm 
would  hardly  accept.  But  on  the  whole, 
as  compared  at  least  with  criticisms  of 
art,  as  a  thing  completely  detachable 
from  the  other  interests  of  life,  the  gain 
outweighs  the  loss.  Nearly  all  the  criti- 
cism  that  is  remembered  has  a  reach  far 
beyond  the  sphere  of  purely  technical 
questions,  or  of  the  mere  analysis  of 
beauty.  Goethe,  Coleridge,  Lamb, 
Ste.-Beuve,  Scherer,  Arnold,  all  agree 
in  laying  a  broatl  intellectual  foundation 
for  their  criticism.  Goethe,  the  great- 
est of  them,  is  distinguished  above  the 
rest  for  his  wide  intellectual  sweep  ;  and 
Aristotle,  the  one  man  greater  than  even 
Goethe,  who  ever  examined  the  ground- 
work of  literary  art,  is  also,  appropri- 
ately, the  one  man  who  surpasses  him 
in  the  range  of  his  critical  principles. 
Mr.  Hutton,  though  he  is  not  the  equal 
of  these  giants,  is  by  virtue  of  his  meth- 
od associated  with  this  lionourable  com- 
pany. 

We  find  then  that  the  most  prominent 
features  of  Mr.  Hutton's  criticism  are 
variety  of  interest  and  a  sympathy,  com- 
prehensive  indeed,  but  not  entirely 
catholic.  The  unifying  principle  is 
given  by  theology,  and  theology  deter- 
mines likewise  the  limits  of  the  sympa- 
thy. When  there  is  no  strong  theologi- 
cal reason  for  either  sympathy  or  an- 
tipatfiy  his  preferences  are  first  for  men 
of  wliolesomc  tone,  and  secondly,  for 
men  who  to  literary  talent  unite  a  com- 
prehension of  public  life.   The  absence 


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THE  ^KhiAN. 


of  complete  whnlr<;omrness  accounts  for 
an  occasiunal  asperity  in  the  judgment 
on  Cariyle.  The  wholesomeness  of 
Wordsworth  is  part  of  the  srcn-t  of  Mr. 
Uutton's  admiration  fur  him.  His  ad- 
miration for  Arnold,  too,  is  all  the  higher 
because  he  Is  (onvinced  that  the  poet's 
meditative  melancholy  never  saps  his 
manliness ;  there  is  an  *'  irrepressible 
buoyancy"  behind  it  all.  But  above  all 
it  is  illustrated,  as  is  likewise  the  second 

Soint,  bv  the  excellent  monograph  on 
COtt.  Mr.  Hutton  responds  in  a  mo- 
ment to  the  manly  simplicity  of  Scott. 
So  do  most  critics  who  have  the  least 
touch  of  a  similar  quality  in  themselves. 
So  did  even  Cailylc,  who  never  failed 
more  hopelessly,  or  was  more  conspicu- 
ously wrong-headed,  than  in  his  essay 
on  Scott.  But  it  has  spurred  few  to  la- 
bour, as  Mr.  Hutton  has  laboured,  to 
understand  Scott  the  man,  even  more 
perhaps  than  Scott  the  author.  SU sede- 
btti  is  the  touchiugly  simple  inscription 
on  the  seated  statue  of  Scott  in  the 

vaults  of  the  Advocates'  Lilirary  in 
Ediubuigh.  By  its  very  brevity,  by  the 
absence  of  name,  or  date,  or  further 
specification,  it  indicates  the  personal 
appeal  Scott  makes  to  so  many.  No 
one  can  doubt  who  "  he"  is,  and  every 
one  wishes  to  know  liow  he  used  to  sit, 
and  all  about  hiiu.  Since  Lockhart's 
gieat  Life  no  writer  on  Scott  lias  :>hown 
more  clearly  than  Mr.  Hutton  the  force 
of  this  personal  interest.  Ilis  hook  is 
conspicuous  in  ihc  series  to  which  it  be- 
long as  almost  the  only  one  which  gives 
an  impression  of  the  man  even  more 
than  of  the  writer.  Perhaos  its  only 
rival  in  this  respect  is  the  volume  in  the 


same  series  which  deals  with  John- 
son. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  Mr.  Hutton*s 

treatment  (jf  Scott  illustrates  also  his 
preference  for  men  who,  while  they  are 
men  of  letters,  love  to  tidce  an  outloolc 
into  public  life.  He  justly  commends 
Scott  on  the  ground  that  "you  can 
hardly  read  any  novel  of  Scott' sand  not 
become  better  aware  what  pulilic  life 
and  political  issues  mean."  He  is  here, 
perhaps  unconsciously,  praising  Scott 
for  observing  in  the  novel  the  principle 
he  himself  observes  in  criticism.  If 
good  criticism  must  be  wider  than  any 
mere  body  of  technical  rules,  still  more 
must  pood  creative  art  go  beyond  its 
apparent  limits.  In  this  no  doubt  Mr. 
Hutton  is  reflecting  his  own  life  and  ex- 
periences. His  journalistic  connections, 
his  contact  with  many  men  and  many 
phases  of  life,  have  confirmed  what  was 
probably  an  inherent  tendency  of  mind, 
and  made  him  look  abroad  for  truth. 
Happily  for  him,  those  connections  have 
l)een  of  the  best  kind.  That-  he  has  al- 
ways and  in  all  his  writings  escaped  the 
evils  associated  with  journalism,  it  would 
be  too  much  to  say.  But  he  has  been 
saved — if  he  ever  was  in  peril — from  the 
parochial  narrowness  which  is  the  be- 
setting danger  of  perhaps  All  except  the 
very  hii^hest  circles  of  pure  literature. 
There  is  no  ct  uvvd,  said  KeaLs,  more  vul- 
gar than  the  lileiary  crowd.  Mr.  Hut- 
ton has  none  of  tliis  vvdsjarity,  because 
he  has  learned  lo  live  and  to  think  with 
Statesmen  and  men  of  the  world  as  well 
as  with  men  of  lettets. 

Hugh  Walker, 


AGE  AND  YOUTH. 

Yonder  apart  he  dreams  who  oncc  to  fray 

The  swiftest  sjied,  now  white  and  slow  and  still  : 
Sudden  a  girl's  voice  wakes  him  with  a  thrill 

Like  antique  Memnon  touched  by  rising  day. 


Pmp  Betker  GmIm, 


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A  UTERAKY  pUKNAL  501 

BOOKS  AND  CULTURE. 
By  the  Author  or  "My  Study  Firr/'  "Short  Studies  m  Literature,"  etc. 


XII.-THE  IMAGINATION. 

The  Lady  of  Shalott,  sitting  in  her 
tower,  looked  into  her  magic  mirror  and 

saw  the  wliolc  world  go  by — monk, 
maiden,  priest,  knight,  lady,  and  king. 
In  the  mirror  of  the  imagination  not 
only  the  world  of  to-day,  but  the  entire 
movement  of  human  life  movfs  before 
the  eye  as  Uic  ihrongs  ot  living  men 
move  on  the  streets.  For  the  imagina- 
tion is  the  real  magician,  of  u  hose  mar- 
vels all  simulated  magic  is  but  a  clumsy 
and  mechanical  imitation.  It  is  the  real 
power,  of  wlilch  all  material  powers  are 
very  inadequate  symbols.  Rarely  taken 
into  account  by  teachers,  entirely  ig- 
nored by  educational  systems  and  phi- 
losophies, it  is  the  divinest  of  all  the 
powers  which  men  are  able  to  put  forth, 
because  it  is  the  creative  power.  It  uses 
thouglit,  but,  in  a  way.  it  is  greater  than 
thought,  because  it  builds  out  of  though  t 
that  wliicli  thought  alone  is  powerless 
to  construct.  It  is,  indeed,  the  essen- 
tial element  in  great  constructive  think- 
ing; for  while  we  may  have  thoughts 
untouched  by  the  imagination,  one  can- 
not think  along  high  constructive  lines 
without  its  constant  aid.  Isolated 
thoiiirhts  come  unalteuded  by  it,  but 
tiic  Liiiakiiig  which  issues  in  (Hganised 
systems,  in  comprehensive  ituerpreta- 
tions  of  thinc^s  and  events,  in  those  no- 
ble generaiisations  whicii  have  the  splen- 
dour of  the  discovery  of  new  worlds  in 
them,  in  those  concrete  embodiments  of 
idea  which  we  call  works  of  ait,  is  con- 
ditioned on  the  use  of  the  imagination. 
Plato's  Dialogues  were  fashioned  !)y  it 
as  truly  as  Homer's  poems ;  Hegel's 
philosophy  was  created  by  it  as  definitely 
as  Shakespeare's  plays,  and  Newton  and 
Kepler  used  it  as  ireely  as  Dante  or 
Rembrandt. 

Upon  the  use  of  this  supreme  facuhy 
we  depend  not  only  for  creative  power, 
but  for  education  in  the  highest  sense 
of  the  word  ;  for  culture  is  the  highest 
result  of  education,  an<i  the  final  test  of 
education  is  its  power  to  produce  cul- 
ture. Goethe  was  in  the  habit  of  say- 
ing that  sympathy  is  essential  to  all  true 
criticism  ;  for  no  man  can  discern  the 


heart  of  a  movement,  of  a  work  of  art, 

or  of  a  race  who  does  not  put  liiniself 
into  heart  relations  with  that  which  he 
is  trying  to  understand.  We  never 
really  possess  an  idea,  a  bit  of  knowl- 
edge, or  a  fact  of  experience  until  we 
get  below  the  mind  01  it  into  the  heart 
of  it.  Now,  sympathy  in  this  sense  is 
the  imnc^ination  touched  with  feelinpf  ; 
it  is  the  imu^ir.alion  bringing  thouglit 
and  emotion  into  vital  relation.  In  the 
process  of  culture,  therefore,  the  imag- 
inaliun  plays  a  great  part  ;  for  culture, 
it  cannot  too  often  be  said,  is  knowl- 
edge, observation,  and  experience  incor> 
porate  into  personality  and  become  part 
of  the  very  nature  of  the  individual. 
The  man  of  culture  is  pre-eminently  a 
man  of  imagination  ;  lacking  this  qual- 
ity, he  may  become  learned  by  force  of 

industry,  or  a  scholar  by  virtue  of  a 
trained  intelligence,  but  the  ripeness, 
the  balance,  the  peculiar  richness  of 

fil^re  which  characterise  the  man  nf  cul- 
ture will  be  denied  him.  The  man  of 
culture,  it  is  true,  is  not  always  a  man 
of  creative  power ;  but  he  is  never  de- 
void of  that  kind  of  creative  quality 
which  transforms  everything  he  receives 
into  something  personal  and  individual. 
.\nd  llie  more  deeMlv  one  studies  the 
work  of  the  j^reat  ariisis,  the  more  dis- 
tinctly does  he  see  the  immense  place 
which  culture  in  the  vital,  as  contrasted 
with  the  academic,  sense  held  in  their 
lives,  and  the  great  part  it  played  in  their 
productive  activity.  Dante,  Goethe, 
Tennyson,  browning,  Lowell  were  men 
possessed  in  rare  degree  of  culture  of 
both  kinds  ;  but  Shakespeare  and  Burns 
were  equally  men  of  culture.  They 
shared  in  the  possession  of  this  faculty 

of  inakinj^  all  they  saw  and  knew  a  part 
of  themselves.  Between  culture  of  this 
quality  and  the  creative  power  there  is 

something  more  than  complete  unity  ; 
there  is  almost  identity,  for  they  seem 
to  be  two  forms  of  activity  of  the  same 
power  rather  than  distinct  faculties. 
Culture  enables  us  to  receive  the  world 
into  ourselves,  not  in  the  reflection  of  a 
magic  mirror,  but  in  the  depths  of  a 
living  soul  :  to  receive  that  world  in 
such  a  way  that  we  possess  it,  it  ceases 


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Soa  THE  BC 

to  be  outside  us  and  becomes  part  of  our 

very  nature.  The  creative  power  en- 
ables us  to  refashion  that  world  and  to 
put  it  forth  again  out  of  ourselves,  as  it 
was  originally  put  forth  out  of  the  life 
of  the  divine  artist.  The  creative  proc- 
ess is,  tlwrefore^  a  double  process,  and 
culture  and  genius  stand  in  indissoluble 
union. 

The  development  of  the  imagination, 
upon  the  power  of  which  both  absorp- 
tion of  knowledije  and  creative  capacity 
ilepend,  is,  tliercfore,  a  matter  of  su- 
preme importance.  To  this  necessity 
educators  will  some  day  open  tlieir  eyes, 
and  educational  systems  will  i>ome  day 
conform  ;  meantime,  it  must  be  done 
mainly  b)-  individual  work.  Knowl- 
edge, discipline,  and  technical  traiaing 
of  the  best  sort  are  accessible  on  every 
hand,  bat  the  development  of  the  fac- 
ulty which  unites  all  these  in  the  high- 
est  form  of  activity  must  be  secured 
mainly  by  personal  eflort.  The  richest 
and  most  accessible  material  for  this 
highest  education  is  furnished  by  art, 
and  the  form  of  art  within  reach  of 
every  civilised  man,  at  all  times,  in  all 
places,  is  the  book.  To  these  master- 
pieces, which  have  been  called  the  books 
of  life,  all  men  may  turn  with  the  as- 
surance that  as  the  supreme  acliieve- 
ments  of  the  imagination  they  have  the 
power  of  awakening,  stimulating,  and 
enriching  it  in  the  highest  degree.  For 
the  genuine  reader,  who  sees  in  a  book 
what  the  writer  has  pnt  there,  repeats 
in  a  way  Llie  process  through  which  ihe 
maker  of  the  book  passed.  The  man 
who  reads  the  ///</(/ and  the  OJj-ssry  with 
his  heart  as  well  as  his  intelligence 
must  measurably  enter  into  the  life 
which  these  poems  describe  and  inter- 
pret ;  he  must  identify  himself  for  the 
time  with  the  race  whose  soul  and  his> 
toric  character  are  revealed  in  epic  form 
as  in  a  great  mirror ;  he  must  see  life 
from  the  Oreek  point  of  view,  and  feel 
life  as  the  Greek  felt  it.  He  must,  in  a 
word,  go  through  the  process  by  which 
the  poems  were  made  as  well  as  Iccl, 
comprehend,  and  enjoy  their  final  per- 
fection. In  like  manner  the  open-heart- 
ed and  open-minded  reader  of  the  Book 
of  Job  cannot  rest  content  with  that  no- 
ble poem  in  the  form  which  it  now  pos- 
sesses ;  the  imaginative  impulse  which 
even  the  casual  reading  of  the  poem 
liberates  in  him  sends  him  behind  the 


finished  product  to  the  life  of  which  It 

was  the  immortal  fruit  ;  he  enters  into 
the  groping  thought  of  an  age  which 
has  penshed  out  of  all  other  remem- 
brance, he  deals  with  a  problem  which 
is  as  old  as  man  from  the  standpoint  of 
men  who  have  left  no  other  record  of 
themselves.  In  proportion  to  the  depth 
of  his  feeling  and  the  vitality  of  his  im- 
agination he  must  saturate  himself  with 
the  rich  life  of  thought,  conviction,  and 
emotion,  of  struggle  and  aspiration,  out 
of  which  the  greatest  of  the  poems  of 
nature  took  its  rise.  He  must,  in  a 
word,  receive  into  himself  the  living 
material  upon  which  the  unknown  poet 
worked,  in  such  a  process  the  imagina- 
tion is  evoked  in  full  and  free  play  ;  it 
insensibly  reconstructs  a  life  gone  out 
of  knowledge;  selects,  harmonises, 
unifies,  and,  in  a  measure,  creates. 
It  illuminates  and  unifies  knowledge, 
divines  the  wide  relations  of  thought, 
and  discerns  its  place  in  organic  connec- 
tion with  the  world  which  gave  it  birth. 

The  material  upon  which  this  great 
power  is  nourished  is  specifically  fur- 
nished by  the  works  which  it  has  cre- 
ated. As  the  eye  is  trained  to  discover 
the  line  of  beauty  by  companionship 
with  the  works  in  which  it  is  revealed 
with  the  greatest  clearness  and  power, 
so  is  the  imagination  developed  by  in- 
timacy with  the  books  which  disclose  its 
depth,  its  reality,  and  its  method.  The 
reader  of  Shakespeare  cannot  follow  the 
leadings  of  his  masterly  imagination 
without  feeling  a  liberation  of  his  own 
faculty  of  seeing  things  as  parts  of  a 
vast  order  of  life.  He  does  not  gain 
the  poet's  creative  power,  but  he  is  en- 
larged and  enriched  to  the  point  where 
his  own  imagination  plays  directly  on 
the  material  about  it;  he  receives  it 
into  himself,  and  in  the  exact  measure 

in  which  he  learns  the  secret  (jf  absorb- 
ing what  he  sees,  feels  and  knows,  be- 
comes master  and  interpreter  of  the 
world  of  his  time,  and  restorer  of  the 
world  of  other  times  and  men.  For  the 
imagination,  playing  upon  lact  and  ex- 
perience, divines  their  meaning  and  puts 
tis  in  possession  of  the  truth  and  life 
that  are  in  them.  To  possess  this  magi- 
cal power  is  to  live  the  whole  of  life  and 
to  enter  into  the  heritage  of  history. 

BamiltM  W.  MaMe. 


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A  UTBHAKY  JOURNAL, 


S03 


SHALL  AND  WILL  AGAIN. 


A  RxpLv  TO  Miu  Barr. 


Mr.  Robert  Barr's  paper  on  Shall  and 

Will  in  the  December  Bookmax  is  so 
delightful  a  bit  of  whimsy  that  it  is 
perhaps  better  to  make  no  serious  com- 
ment upon  it.  Yet,  as  true  words  are 
often  spoken  in  jest,  so  jestful  words 
are  not  seldom  taken  for  true  ;  and  Mr. 
Barr's  screed»  in  effect,  preaches  a  doc- 
trine danj;erous  to  the  dignity  and 
beauty  of  the  English  tongue. 

The  delicate,  sensitive  use  of  shall 
and  7.'/// — and  more  broadly,  the  delicate 
sensitive  use  of  English  words  as  a 
whole — is  the  very  touchstone  of  style. 
A  feeling  for  the  nuances  of  lanjjnaj^e, 
for  the  niceties  of  mood,  tense,  and 
form  which  imply  its  historic  life,  is 
and  evrr  has  been  the.  hall-mark  of  the 
eood  and  the  great  writer.  Although 
It  is  a  fact  that  English  has,  in  the 
rough  altiiti  11  of  tht:  miturit's,  become 
a  speech  comparatively  uninllectional, 
it  is  also  to  be  kept  in  mind  that  stiffi- 
cient  of  the  historical  past  of  Englisli 
remains  to  allow  of  a  host  of  subtle 
word-uses  harking  back  to  good  old  cus- 
tom and  revered  with  the  best  tradi- 
tions. English  to-day  is  by  no  means 
the  "  grammarless  tongue"  which  Rich- 
ani  Grant  White,  in  a  chapter  con* 
demned  by  all  philolotrists,  <>nre  de- 
clared it  to  be.  The  riglu  inauipula- 
tion  of  shall  and  will  is  just  one  of  the 
cases  in  point,  showinir  tlie  writer's 
literary  culture,  his  instinctive  grasp  of 
reputable  speecb>modes.  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  say,  catetjorically,  that  no  great 
English  stylist  can  be  mentioned  who 
does  not  uniformly  prove  himself  a 
master  of  tlie  V("ry  different  shadings 
gained  by  the  proper  handling  of  these 
auxiliary  words.  Contrariwise,  their 
mishaiKlling  alwavs  bespeaks  the  lark 
of  literary  experience.  I  have  before 
me  a  letter  from  the  editor  of  a  well- 
known  moiulily,  in  which  s/iiill  and  will 
are  placidly  interchanged  from  Alpha 
to  Omee^a.  The  impression  of  vulgarity 
made  by  this  Stylistic  defect  is  as  strong 
as  if  I  hhould  see  the  writer  use  his 
knife  in  lieu  of  his  fork  at  table. 

Nor  is  the  philosophy  of  s/tall  and  will 
such  a  deep  or  difficult  thinp.  Tlie 
following  simple  table  tcUs  the  whole 


Story,  and  should  bother  neither  Mr. 
Barr  nor  any  one  else : 


I  shall 
Tboa  wilt 
He  will 

We  shall 
You  will 
They  will 

I  will 

Thou  shalt 
He  shall 

We  will 
You  ichail 
They  shall 


.  Expi 


ftttnrhjr. 


Exp; 


volition. 


This  exposition,  illuminated  by  a  few 

examples*  can  be  made  part  and  parcel 
of  one's  scientific  knowledge  in  five 
minutes*  time,  so  that,  thereafter,  the 
statement  in  a  letter  that  *'  I  will 
be  pleased  to  see  you,"  shall  grate 
(as  It  should  grate)  upon  your  linguis- 
tic nerves,  and  you  shall  be  able  to  say 
why  it  is  wrong — because  volition  is  im- 
plied where  the  expression  of  pure  fu- 
turity was  intended.  Newspaper  Eng- 
lish is  notorious  for  this  failing,  and  it 
is  a  bStise  which  is  spreading,  woe  worth 
the  day  ! 

But  r.<A  f  >r  a  moment  do  I  mean  to 
claim  tiiuL  a  scU-cunscious,  analytical 
explanation  of  the  use  of  shall  and  will 
is  necessar}'  to  the  avoidance  of  sin. 
Not  at  all.  The  writer  who  is  naturally 
called  to  literature,  and  whose  com- 
merce with  c^reat  books  is  wide  and 
deep,  will  handle  this  problem,  as  he 
will  others,  by  instinct.  Intuition,  not 
analysis,  will  guide  him.  A  thorough 
immersion  in  the  main  stream  of  Eng- 
lish literature,  together  with  due  exer- 
cise in  the  craft  of  writing,  will  make  it 
impossible  to  admit  such  a  blemish  upon 
the  fair  page  of  one*s  style.  Very  in- 
teresting, and  calling  for  a  special  word 
of  reply,  is  Mr.  Barr's  reference  to  the 
Scotch  inability  to  discriminate  between 
shall  and  will.  Concerning  this,  it  may 
be  said  that  there  is  no  evidence  in  the 
older  English  literary  monuments  that 
the  Scotch  (/.<•.,  Northern  English)  were 
careless  about  the  liandlini^  <jf  these 
auxiliaries.    The  tliulcciicul  variations 


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5<>4 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


between  Northern,  Midland,  and  South- 
ern English  in  the  twelfth  century  and 

afterwards  exliibits  no  such  weakness. 
Moreover,  1  make  bold  to  claim  that  no 
Scotch  writer  in  modem  times  of  the 
first  rank  is  indifferent  t  )  the  clearly  de- 
fined distinction  between  s/taii  and  7vi//. 
Stevenscm  is  a  Scot,  and  surely  a  great 
stylist,  a  master  of  exquisite  English  ; 
safe  to  say  that  his  work  may  be  searched 
up  and  down,  through  and  around  for 
a  single  misuse  of  this  locution.  When 
in  the  Vailima  Littns  (vol.  ii.,  p.  55)  he 
says,  "  I  will  iiui  allow  ii  to  be  called 
Umavti  book  form,"  we  can  rest  assured 
that  he  meant  w///,  the  e:<prpssi()n  of  a 
very  decided  personal  decision,  and  not 
duM^  which  would  have  jifiven  the  sen- 
tence a  totally  different  and  paler  colour. 
Nay,  I  believe  Mr.  Barr  humorously  ex- 
aggerates his  own  incapability  to  grap- 
ple with  these  words.  lie  is  too  good 
a  writer  not  to  have  ihc  feeling  for  style 
sufficient,  for  example,  to  make  him 
know  instanier  that  the  commandment 
•*  Thou  shalt  not  steal,"  with  its  im- 
perious flavour  and  obvious  volitional 
quality,  becomes  changed  when  written 


"  Thou  wilt  not  steal,"  where  we  get 
simply  an  unimpressive  predication  as  to 

thieving  in  time  to  come.  This  is  an  ex- 
treme example,  but  a  perfectly  fair  one. 

It  is,  then,  important  to  keep  alive  a 
sense  of  the  respective  colnurs  of  ihall 
and  will  in  English  style.  The  differ- 
ence is  based  firmly  upon  an  historic  de«  ^ 
velopment,  and  has  been  perpetuated 
and  adorned  by  the  choicest  and  hap- 
piest writers  for  some  six  hundred 
years.  The  tyro,  the  vulgarian  and 
the  provincial  will  always  be  detected 
in  such  misuses  as  these,  and  the 
inteffrity  and  purity  of  the  mother 
tonc^iip  ran  be  conser\'cd  only  by  a  rec- 
ognition ot  such-like  felicities  of  dic- 
tion. Whether  we  come  at  the  truth 
throTigh  the  head  by  gramyiar,  or 
through  the  heart  by  the  assimilation 
of  literature,  matters  not  much.  But  it 
will  be  a  bad  day  for  English  style  when 
the  ears  of  our  reputable  makers  of  es- 
says, poems,  and  stories  are  not  keen  to 

those  llatcraiil  alnises  of  the  tongue  well 
exemplilied  in  the  modern  jugglery  with 
lAsffand  wiU. 

Xickard  Burtm, 


ENIGMATICAL  MOLLY. 

Quaint  little  Molly,  delighting  to  tease. 
Sits  while  I  read  to  her  under  the  tree>;. 
Her  mischievous  eyes  solely  bent  on  the  buuk, 
With  a  prim  and  demure  intellectual  look, 
But  when  I  attempt  to  imprison  her  hand, 
Quaint  little  Molly  dues  not  understand  ! 

When  I  say  she  is  "  distant"  she  tries  to  look  grave  : 
Pray,  how  in  the  world  would  I  have  her  behave  ? 
Then  I  artfully  seek  to  make  matters  riK^re  clear 
By  showing  that  "  distant"  means  "  not  very  near  ;" 
My  sage  definition  in  vain  I  extend, 
For  dear  little  Molly  does  not  comprehend  ! 

When  she  plays  the  piano  with  exquisite  art. 
Revealing  the  wealth  of  her  womanly  heart, 
I  muse  in  my  soul  if  she  ever  can  know 
Why  a  nocturne  of  Chupin  should  sadden  me  so  : 

"l  is  the  little  musician,  I  long  to  explain, 
Who's  the  cause  of  my  vaj^iie,  indefinable  pain. 

Then  she  gives  me  a  pansy,  ere  homeward  1  go. 
In  my  button-hole  daintily  fastened  just  so  r 
But  what  says  her  heart  when  1  tell  lier  the  thout^lit 
Which  the  magical  touch  of  her  fingers  has  wrought 
Should  I  question  a  spliinx  it  would  answer  as  well ; 
For  wise  little  Molly  refuses  to  tell  \ 

Herbert  Mulier  Hopkins. 


1 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


505 


PARIS  LETTER 


One  was  amused  to  read  in  the  papers, 
after  Alexandre  Dumas's death,  the  nar- 
ratives about  him  which  were  contribut- 
ed by  so  many  correspondents.  From 
these  narratives  of  interviews  and  so 
on  the  reader  must  have  formed  the 
opinion  that  Dumas  was  a  man  as  acces- 
sible to  strangers  as  are  most  content- 
porary  men  of  letters,  and  fully  as  ap- 
preciative of  the  value  of  reclame.  Such 
an  opinion  is  an  erroneous  one,  for  there 
was  not  perhaps  in  Paris — not  exceptinjif 
the  President  of  the  Fiench  Republic — 
a  man  mure  inaccessible  than  was  Du- 
mas. He  disliked  and  avoided  not  the 
vitli^tis  alone,  l)ut  mankind  in  pfeneral. 
The  reason  of  his  dislike  was  an  inherent 
one ;  it  was  made  up  partly  of  morgue 
and  partly  of  nervousness.  His  manner 
^as  cold  and  reserved.  I  do  not  re- 
member ever  to  have  seen  him  unbosom 
himself.  Stay  !  Once  I  did  so  see 
him,  and  that  was  on  the  first  occasion 
on  which  I  saw  him.  That  was  many 
years  ago.  I  had  corresponded  with 
him,  but,  knowing  his  aversion  to  stran- 
g^erS|  I  had  never  approaciied  him.  One 
day,  however,  I  was  asked  by  a  friend 
to  procure  for  I.ady  Dorothy  Neville  the 
signature  of  Alexandre  Dumas ^/j  in  her 
birthday  boolc,  a  book  which  contains 
the  autograph  of  almost  everybi;dy  of 
high  rank  or  of  high  distinction  who  has 
lived  and  had  his  being  during  the  last 
sixty  years.  (I  had  already  procured 
for  this  same  book  the  last  signature 
that  Victor  Hugo  ever  wrote  ;  in  fact,  it 
was  to  write  iiis  name  there  that  he  took 
pen  in  liand  for  the  very  last  time — some 
days  before  his  death.)  It  was  the  sort 
of  thing  one  does  not  readily  do  for 
one's  self  ;  more  willingly,  however,  for 
others.  By  some  mistake  as  to  the  en- 
trances to  the  house  in  the  Avenue  de 
Villiers,  I  got  into  Dumas's  kitchen  in- 
stead of  into  his  hall.  The  cook,  who 
received  me,  sent  my  note  and  Lady 
Dorothy' s  birthday-book  upstairs,  and 
accommodated  me  with  a  chair.  She 
took  me,  I  believe,  for  some  one  for  a 
charity  ;  a  mah  who  had  called  for  a 
subscription  with  a  little  book.  She 
told  me  that  it  was  very  unlikely  1  should 
get  anything,  and,  being  in  an  amiable 
mood,  entertained  me  while  I  was  wait- 
ing with  her  conversation.    U  appeared 


lliat  1  had  called  ju^lat  Dumas's  lunch- 
eon-hour,  and  had  come  into  the  kitchen 
just  as  preparations  were  being  made 
for  an  omelette.  It  was  an  omelette  in- 
vented, so  the  cook  told  me,  by  Mon- 
sieur's father,  into  the  composition  of 
which  red  pepper  entered  largely,  as  to 
which  she  remarked  that  there  was  no 
accounting  for  individual  tastes.  I  spent 
an  amusing  quarter  of  an  hour  listening 
to  her  gossip  and  to  the  remarks  of  the 
other  servants,  none  of  whom  seemed 
particularly  well-disposed  towards  their 
master.  There  was  full  material  there 
to  furnish  a  contributor  to  a  society 
paper"  with  at  least  a  page  of  personal 
paragraphs  as  spiced  as  was  the  omelette 
of  feu  It'  pi  re  de  Monsieur,  Our  conver- 
sation was.  however,  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  Dumas  himself.  He  appeared 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  the  first 
indication  I  had  of  his  presence  was  a 
loud  laugh.  He  called  me  upstairs,  and 
conducted  me  to  his  study,  and  was 
laughing  all  the  way.  No  doubt  he  had 
lunched  comfortably,  and  was  in  a 
eupeptic  humour.  For  my  part,  I  never 
could  understand  what  so  tickled  his 
fancy.  He  said  that  it  was  very  droll 
that  I  should  have  been  sitting  in  his 
kitchen,  and  he  said  that  he  was  sure — 
in  si)ite  of  my  protestations — that  1 
would  publish  in  the  American  ^aper  to 
which  I  was  then  acting  as  Pans  corre- 
spondent a  full  account  of  **  Dumas's 
House  Below  Stairs."  At  the  same  time 
he  begged  me  not  to  betray  the  recipe 
of  his  Mther's  omelette.  He  then  wrote 
his  name  in  Lady  Dorothy's  book,  and 
kept  me  chatting  on  all  kinds  of  subjects 
for  over  an  hour.  I  often  saw  him  after- 
wards, both  at  his  house  and  in  society, 
but,  as  I  have  said  before,  his  manner 
was  always  cold  and  reserved.  I  knew 
that  he  was  very  sensitive  about  his 
birth,  and  bore  a  grudge  against  society 
for  its  manifestly  unjust  attitude  towards 
children  who,  like  himself,  arc  born  out 
of  wedlock.  I  have  conversed  with  him 
on  the  subject  of  illegitimacy,  aiul  I  re- 
member that  I  once  pleased  him  by  de- 
scribing somebody  as  somebody  else's 
natural  father,  when  one  usually  would 
have  referred  to  the  latter  as  the  former's 
natural  son.  He  said  that  the  descrip- 
tion would  sound  well  in  a  play.    He  was 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


506 

'  a  sentimental  man  au  fond^  as  indeed 
most  cynics  are,  and  each  year  used  to 

carry  flowers  to  the  cemetery  tn  arlnrn 
the  erave  of  the  heroine  of  the  Dame 
aux  Cam&im — an  action  which  was  cer- 
tainly not  dictated  by  a  feeling  of  grati- 
tude— as  has  been  maliciously  suggested 
— for  the  excellent  material  both  picto- 
rial and  dramatic  supplied  by  the  career 
of  Mars^'iit^rite  the  frail  and  the  fair. 

One  is  not  surprised  that,  in  spite  of 
the  large  debt  owed  to  him  by  the  French 
public,  Dumas's  chnrartrr  should  have 
been  so  much  attacked  since  his  death. 
He  was  not  sympatkique,  and  a  habit  he 
had  of  nec;lei'tintj  liis  rorrespondence 
gave  a  good  deal  of  offence.  In  the  last 
years  of  his  life  he  had  made  it  his  rule 
never  to  open  any  letters  the  handwrit- 
ing on  which  was  unfamiliar  to  him. 
About  a  year  ago  I  received  a  long  let- 
ter from  him,  in  answer  to  one  of  mine 
in  which  T  had  cfimplained  of  not  having- 
received  any  answer  to  a  previous  com- 
munication, in  which  he  told  me  that  he 
had  at  that  time  in  his  study  consider- 
ably over  live  hundred  letters  which  he 
had  not  opened  and  did  not  expect  to 
open.  Pc(>]ilc  do  not  like  such  Napo- 
leonic treatment  of  their  communica- 
tions, and  many  must  have  borne  a 
grudge  against  Dumas. 

I  was  venr'  sorry  to  hear  of  the  death 
of  Barthelemy  dc  St.  llilaire,  whom  for- 
merly I  frequently  used  to  visit.  He 
was  emphatically  a  "  grand  old  man," 
fully  as  worthy  of  the  title  of  "  le  grand 
Franks'*  as  was  my  poor  old  friend 
Ferdinand  de  Lesseps.  His  was  a  splen- 
did example  of  the  hygienic  value  of 
temperance  and  steady  hard  work.  Al. 
most  all  his  time  was  spent  in  Jiis  study, 
which  was  comfortably,  even  luxurious- 
ly furnished.  A  peculiarity  of  his  was 
that  all  the  year  rDund  he  kept  a  bright 
wood  fire  burnini::  in  this  room,  which 
made  a  visit  to  him  in  the  summer  some- 
what of  an  ordeal  to  less  chtUy  mortals. 
P)Ut  he  was  sn  amialde,  so  interesting, 
so  admirable  to  contemplate  that  one 
always  enjoyed  a  call  at  the  little  house 
in  Fassy.  He  was  especially  courteous 
towards  Englishmen,  and  expressed  for 
British  policy  unbounded  admiration. 
He  described  our  occupation  of  Egypt 
as  a  benefit  not  only  to  that  country  but 
to  civilisation,  and  this  was  the  political 
topic  upon  which  he  was  most  eloquent. 
It  is  not  surprising  that,  hohhng  such 
views  on  this  subject,  he  should  have 


been  very  unpopular  in  Paris,  4>ut  I  do 
not  remember  ever  to  have  heaid  any 

aspersion  on  liis  private  character.  He 
was  a  boon  to  journalists,  and  especially 
to  foreign  correspondents,  for  he  was  al- 
ways ready  to  speak  on  political  mat- 
ters, but  only  on  such  matters  as  to 
which  he  was  fully  informed.  He  al- 
ways refused  to  express  himself  on  ques- 
tions which  he  had  not  sludieti.  Tlie 
last  Iclttr  which  I  received  from  him — 
written  in  a  firm  hand — was  to  telt  me 
that  he  could  not  enlighten  me  on  a  cer- 
tain point.  "And,"  he  added,  "you 
know  that  T  never  speak  except  tn  eoit' 
ndiisatii,-  ih  tduse."  One  hoj^es  tluit  his 
life  may  be  written,  for  guidance  and 
example.  If  life  is  worth  living  at  all, 
surely  it  is  such  a  life  as  was  lived  for  J 
upwards  of  ninety  years  by  Barthelemy  1 
do  St.  Hilaire.  1 

Apropos,  I  hardly  can  believe  that  St. 
Hilaire  was  the  patje  who  carried  the 
news  of  the  birth  of  the  King  of  Rome 
to  the  Empress  Josephine.  The  Kinfi^ 
of  Rome  was  born  in  iSij,  and  in  that 
year  Barthelemy  de  St.  Hilaire  was 
about  seven  years  old. 

Jules  Moinaux,  wlio  died  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  month,  was  a  police-court 
reporter  who  had  raised  bis  craft  to  the 
dignity  of  an  art.  He  used  to  seize  on 
the  comic  side  of  any  rase  wliich  he 
heard,  and  develop  the  trivial  story  into 
a  fine  piece  of  humour.  Later  he  in- 
vented cases  and  contributed  a  long 
series  of  '*  Tribunaux  Comiques"  to  the 
papers.  These  sketches  were  afterwards 
republished  in  bonk  form.  ^!orc  thrtn 
a  score  of  these  volumes  were  published, 
each  running  into  many  editions.  Poor 
Moinaux,  however,  had  higher  ambi- 
tions, and  tried  his  hand  at  writing 
novels.  But  the  public  had  "  nailed 
him  to  the  specialty"  (to  use  Max  Nor- 
dau's  phrase)  of  comic  police-court  re- 
porting, and  would  have  none  01  his 
other  books.  This  embittered  his  life, 
and  here  again  the  man  who  was  a 
jester  in  public  was  in  private  a  very  un- 
happy man. 

In  connection  with  the  dispute  be- 
tween M.  Paul  Bourgetand  hii  publish- 
er over  the  tatter's  account  of  co^j^es  of 
Outre-Mer  proposal  mooted 

years  by  Hector  Mafot  has  once  moi 
been  under  discussion  in  literarj'  circleii^ 
in  Paris.    Malot  having  reason  to  ^ou  Id t 
his  publisher's  accounts,  proposed  thjit 
the  author  should  be  entitled  to  aftix.  to 


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507 


each  copy  of  his  book  a  stamp,  which  he 
would  obliterate  by  signing  his  name 
across  it.  No  copies  were  to  be  sold 
witliout  such  a  slump  ;  unstamped  copies 
to  be  treated  as  pirated.  The  scheme  was 
backed  by  the  Socicte  ties  Romanciers, 
but  it  never  came  into  practice.  Some 
publishers  expressed  themselves  quite 
ready  to  agree  to  siu":}i  a  condition, 
Others  declared  that  such  a  proposal  was 
a  deliberate  insult  to  them  ;  Zola  re- 
fused to  co-operate.  "  You  can't  expect 
me  to  waste  my  time  in  signing  my 
name  in  each  of  the  100,000  copies  of  the 
various  editions  of  each  of  niy  hooks." 
OllentloriT  said  that  it  would  be  difficult 
for  him  to  send  Pierre  Loti  s  books  after 
him — say  to  Japan— for  the  purpose  of 
obtaininj^  his  sit^iiature.  Similar  objec- 
tions were  everywhere  urged,  and  the 
plan  fell  through.  It  strikes  me  as  im- 
practicable,  though  no  doubt  book-buy- 
ers would  like  to  see  it  put  into  practice. 
Who  wouid  not  prefer  his  copy  of  a  fa- 
vourite novel  signed  by  the  author? 

In  one  respect  the  English  author  has 
the  advantage  over  his  Frencli  ion/iere. 
It  is  a  rule  in  French  printing  houses 

that  a  certain  number  of  t(,>jnes  of  any 
book  printed  belong  by  right  of  custom 
to  the  "  chapel" — the  members  of  which 
drink  to  the  health  of  the  autlior  and  to 
the  success  of  the  book  on  the  proceeds 
of  these  copies. 

It  is  a  sign  of  the  times  that  there  is 


shortly  to  be  issued  in  Paris  a  French 
argot  dictionary.  Dictionaries  of  argot 
into  French  have  long  existed,  Delvan's 
Dktionnaire  de  la  Langue  Verte  being 
perhaps  the  best,  and  Barrere's  Argot 
and  Slangy.  Now  a  demand  lias  risen 
for  a  book  by  the  help  of  which  the 
young  psehuHeux  or  psihufteuse  may  be 
able  to  translate  the  Frent  1i  into  slang, 
so  as  to  give  a  thoroughly  de  siecie 
flavour  to  his  remarks  or  hers. 

An  excellent  book,  giving  the  history 
of  the  novel  in  France  during  the  whole 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  has  recently 
been  puldished  by  Calmann-Levy,  It  is 
a  valuable  addition  to  any  library. 

Daudet's  Souden  dc  Famille  will  not  be 
finished  until  the  spring.  People  say 
that  it  contains  some  of  the  best  work 
he  has  yet  done. 

Zola  will  as  usual  set  his  name  down 

as  a  candidate  for  the  fauteuil  at  the 
Academy  which  has  been  vacated  by  the 
death  of  Alexandre  Dumas.  I  do  not 
think  that  he  has  the  slightest  chance  of 
success.  Academicians,  even  those  in 
sympathy  with  him,  disapprove  of  his 
persistence,  which  looks  like  an  attempt 
to  force  their  hands.  Dumas,  by  the 
way,  was  next  to  Francois  Coppee, 
Zola's  warmest  supporter  for  the  Acad* 
emy. 

Robert  H.  Shtrard. 
133  Boulevard  Magenta,  Paris. 


ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA. 
From  the  French  of  Josfc>MARiA  de  Heredia. 

Their  eyes  beheld  below  the  palace  height 

Where  Egypt  lay  in  sultry  slumber  deep. 

Where  o'er  the  Delta  dark  the  river  steep 
Towards  Safs  or  Bubastis  rolls  thick  might. 

The  Roman  cuirassed  heavy  as  in  ficjht. 

Warrior  and  captive  wooing  infant  sleep, 

Against  his  victor  heart  felt  fall  and  leap 
Voluptuous  her  heart  in  close  delight. 
Moving  her  pale  brow,  wreathed  with  tresses  brown. 
Towards  him  whose  senses  her  sweet  perfumes  drown, 

She  raised  her  lips  and  lucent  orbs,  and  o'er 

Her  bcndinp  low  the  ardent  emperor 
Beheld  in  those  wide  eyes,  gold-starred  as  night, 
One  boundless  sea,  where  sped  a  fleet  in  flight. 

Philip  Baker  Goetz, 


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THE  BOOKMA^r. 


NEW  BOOKS. 


y    LETTERS  OF  MATTIILW  ARNOl  D.» 

The  cifct^L  of  t!u-  publication  t)l  M.a- 
thew  Arnold's  letters  will  be  to  increase 
respect  for  him,  by  suppbMiu  nttng  the 
impressiun  u(  his  books  widli  mure  direct 
and  various  knowledge  of  his  personal' 
ily  in  certain  aspects  that  fi'und  imper- 
fect reHection  in  either  his  verse  or 
prose.  He  was  believed  to  be  super- 
cilious, hard,  amd  narrow  ;  but  the  first 
two  of  these  epithets  will  not  loncfer  be 
applied  to  him  in  an  unqualified  way, 
and  the  question  of  his  narrowness  be- 
comes simji!ific<!.  His  sense  of  siiperi- 
ority,  which  was  felt  to  be  offensive, 
was  college-bred  and  a  part  of  his  aca- 
demir,  rvcn  his  Oxford  nature,  and  !iis 
hardness  turns  out  to  be  a  hardness  o£ 
opinion  only  and  not  of  character.  On 
the  unlitcrary  sidr  he  gains  as  a  man  in 
ordinary  human  relations,  and  becomes 
essentially  of  a  persuasive,  if  not  a  win- 
ning type— one  of  those  natures  in  which 
there  is  an  attractive  and  to  some  an 
overmastering  charm.  It  is  seldom  that 
a  writer  who  has  published  so  much  and 
for  so  loniif  a  time  is  so  matcriaily 
served  by  tlie  private  records  of  his  lite  ; 
in  this  instance  the  letters  of  his  daily 
c<  'ni[)t)si(ion  are  an  addition  to  the  stores 
of  literature,  and  particularly  on  the 
side  of  character. 

Matthew  Arnold  was  of  too  complex 
a  make  to  permit  of  any  ready  analysis 
of  his  nature  or  any  brief  presentation 
of  its  elements,  nor  do  these  volumes 
afford  material  for  such  an  estini.tt?- 
To  take  the  most  marked  deficiency  ui 
the  letters,  he  was  of  permanent  interest 
in  lilrranirc  as  a  poet  ;  but  these  are 
not  the  letters  of  a  poet.  It  is  true  that 
they  exhibit  sensitiveness  to  the  milder 
elements  of  landscape,  but  nn  more  than 
belongs  to  a  cultivated  man  without  the 
gift  of  poetry  ;  and,  in  general,  they 
show  no  traces  of  that  inward  life  of  the 
emotions,  that  hrat  and  himinousnoss 
of  temperament,  that  grace  and  ucitiht 
of  phrase  which  characterise  the  inti- 
mate and  personal  records  ^4  i)octs' 
lives.  One  must  go  to  Arnold  s  poems 
to  find  the  "  faculty  divine  ;*'  and  to 

•  Letters  of  Matthew  Arnold,  1848-8S.  Col- 
lected an'l   .irr.iiii.Tii         (  i<-.  ,rv;r_-   W.    ¥..  Russell. 

3  vols.  >>cw  Vurk  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  ^3.00. 


say  that  is  to  limit  the  range  of  these 

letters  in  the  most  important  phase  of 
his  interest  to  literature  On  the  other 
haivd,  much,  too,  that  is  here  is  in  no 
way  characteristic  of  his  life  as  diflereot 
frrim  other  lives  ;  the  story  of  his  k»ng 
labour  in  the  schools,  honourable  and  in- 
structive as  it  is,  does  not  place  him 
apart  ;  others,  hundreds  of  otlicrs,  lived 
just  such  lives  in  the  routine  of  their 
mill-round  ;  and  the  large  portion  of 
the  letters  which  is  concerned  ui'h  such 
details,  whatever  its  educational  inter- 
est, does  not  lift  him  as  an  inspector 
and  commissioner  into  the  place  of  pub- 
lic discussion.  The  substantive  part  of 
the  volumes,  however,  does  present  him 
in  certain  well-defined  personal  ways 
which  can  he  licrhtly  touched  on. 

The  deepest  impression  is  made  by 
the  public  spirit  he  everywhere  and  un- 
ceasingly shows.  Tn  a  true  •^rnse.  !ie 
was  a  public  man.  As  his  father's  son 
he  would  instinctively  mould  his  life 
upon  this  phm,  and  his  circumstances 
favoured  his  development  along  its  lines. 
He  was,  merely  as  a  school  inspector, 
brought  into  constant  contact  with 
many  parts  of  the  population  and  with 
men  of  all  kinds  ;  and,  as  a  i-'oreign 
Commissioner  on  Education,  he  saw 
several  State  svstcms  on  t!u-  Cintinrni 
in  a  way  to  inform  and  stimulate  fiis 
civic  interest ;  and  the  subject  of  edu- 
cation  itself,  which  was  his  lifelong  topic 
for  almost  daily  work  and  thought,  is 
one  intimately  bound  up  with  the  mod- 
ern State  throughout  its  vital  system. 
With  his  tastes  and  traininij,  his  imagi- 
naiiuii  and  his  historic  sense,  it  was  in- 
evitable that  he  should  become,  as  he 
ditl,  in  such  surroundings,  a  critic  ot 
civilisation,  mainly  of  its  English  phase, 
but  incidentally  of  its  foreign -states  also, 
lie  was  not  only  a  critic;  he  meant  to 
make  his  ideas  prevail,  and  was  a  con- 
scious reformer.  He  took  the  practical 
side  of  the  matter  with  the  greatest  seri- 
ousness. The  language  he  uses  con- 
cerning himself,  in  connection  witli  his 
hopes  of  influence,  touches  the  verge  of 
discretion.  "I  mean."  he  writes  in 
1864,  "  to  deliver  the  middle  class  out 
of  the  hainl  (*t  their  Dissenting  minis- 
ters ;"  and  again,  in  1S69,  in  rrmncrti'~n 
with  the  Irish  Church  Bill,  he  writes ; 


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509 


**  The  Protestant  Dissenters  will  triu  m  ph, 

as  I  was  sure  tliey  would.     But  I  am 
equally  sure  tiiat,  uut  of  the  House  and 
the  fight  of  politics,  I  am  doing  what 
will  sap  them  intellectually,  and  what 
will  also  sap  the  Housl'  of  Commons  in- 
tellectually, so  far  as  it  is  ruled  by  the 
Protestant  Dissenters  ;  and  more  and 
more  I  am  convinced  that  this  is  niy 
true  btJ^iIlcss  at  present,"    He  began, 
early  in  manhood,  with  an  unflattering 
view  of  tlte  state  of  civilisation  in  liis 
own  country  ;  and  he  undertook  to  give 
th«*ni  what  he  thought  they  most  needed 
— the  great  gift  of     intelligence."  He 
declares  that  he  made  his  statements 
clear,  incisive,  and  unflinching,  as  an  in- 
cident to  the  polemical  mission  of  his 
pen  ;  and  he  meant  to  attract  attention 
by  his  satire — the  satire  which  he  in- 
vented.   Perhaps  the  striking  thing  in 
all  this  is  not  that  he  believed  himself  a 
crusader,  but  that  he  is  so  solitary  in 
his  crusade.    He  never  writes  as  if  he 
had  fellows,  or  any  small  band  <}f  fol- 
lowers with  htm  ;  he  stands  alone  and 
hews  away  with  his  single  sword  at  the 
great  dragon.    It  is  very  fine,  but  it 
looks  very   lonesome,  and  meanwhile 
for  the  others,  whose  egoistic  attitude 
was  not  unlike  his  own,  for  Ruskin  and 
Cai  ly!e  he  has  only  an  averted  eye,  con- 
gratulating the  one  that  in  evening  dress 
his  fancy  is  forbidden  to  wander  through 
the  world  of  coloured  cravats,  and  com- 
menting upon  the  other  that  the  Eng- 
lish peo[)le  did  not  need  any  sermons  on 
"earnestness."    What  one  feels  is  tlie 
thorough  conviction  of  Arnold  that  he 
is  doing  the  one  thing  needful  for  Eng- 
land, and  doing  it  with  all  his  might ; 
and,  similarly  in  the  case  of  other  na- 
tions, ii  lie  dislikes  our  country  and 
thinks  the  Belgians  the  most  despica)>le 
people  in  I'uropf,  and  is  much  bored  by 
the  Teutons  wherever  found,  and  is  not 
quite  sure  about  the  French  being  saved 
either,  nil  this  is  of  one  piece  with  his 
ever-present  sense  of  the  desperate  con- 
dition of  the  *'  Protestant  Dissenters'* 
and  those  who  are  above  and  below 
them.    His  induence  was  certainly  great 
in  the  minds  of  his  readers,  and  he  lib- 
eralised others  by  adding,  at  least,  his 
own  to  thfir  oriijinal  narrowness  ;  for 
it  cannijt  but  be  alluvved  that  his  range 
is  as  narrow  in  the  academic  way  as  that 
of  the  Protestant  Dissenters  in  tlie  trrcle- 
siasttcal  way,  nor  can  this  be  regretted 
siace  it  was  necessary  for  the  work  he 


had  to  do  that  his  mind  should  be  of  a 

rifle-bore.  He  was,  however,  a  soldier 
of  fortune,  and  unattached  to  any  com- 
mand ;  and  one  result  is  that  one  looks 
for  the  continucrs  of  his  work  in  vain. 
If,  as  he  said,  the  Broad  Church  among 
the  clergy  died  witli  Arthur  Stanley,  did 
not  his  own  untimely  departure  take  the 
issue  of  Philistinism  out  of  the  English 
arena  ?  He  has  left  a  noble  example  of 
public  devotion  and  of  perfect  intellec- 
tual bravery  in  a  fii^htini;  cause  ;  noth- 
ing that  has  been  said  above  is  meant  to 
limit  that  truth ;  but  his  example  rather 
than  his  principles  seem  to  survive,  and 
possibly  one  reason  is  that  he  put  his 
principles  into  the  form  of  phrase  and 
watchword,  telling  at  the  time,  but  phrase 
and  watchword — sucli  words  as  "cul- 
ture" and  "  barbarians  '  and  "  sweet- 
ness and  light" — a  generation  soon 
wears  tliin,  and  tepid  imitators  have 
now  dissolved  them  away. 

Next  to  Arnold's  public  spirit  and  the 
ways  into  wlneli  it  led  him,  his  asides 
as  a  literary  critic  are  the  passages  of 
broadest  interest.  It  is  marvellous  how 
he  found  anay  time  or  stret\trth,  in  an 
existence  so  bf)nnd  down  to  labour  of  a 
differcnl  kind,  to  attend  to  literature, 
and  his  conditions  inusi  be  held  to  bear 
the  blame,  if  any  tiu  ie  be,  for  the  small 
amount  of  poetry  that  he  produced  in 
comparison  with  his  contemporaries, 
lie  did,  however,  make  a  lasting  repu- 
tation as  a  critic  of  literature  in  widely 
different  fields,  and  the  wonder  is  that 
he  obtained  such  a  survey  as  he  did. 
His  knowledge  was  certainly  neither 
catholic  nor  profound,  as  b  plain  in  his 
essays.  The  letters  often  show  the  es- 
says germinating  in  his  mintl,  but  they 
add  little  of  opinion  in  detail  or  of  gen- 
eral principle.  A  few  brief  sentences 
occur  here  and  there,  which,  though 
transparently  honest,  were  not,  it  must 
be  remembered,  deliberately  so  stated 
for  the  World  to  read.  He  thought 
George  Sand  the  greatest  spirit  in  Eu- 
rope since  Goethe,  and  he  tells  us  the 
letters  of  Dc  Musset  to  her  were  those 
"of  a  gentleman  of  the  very  first  wa- 
ter." He  dismisses  Mrs.  Browning, 
naturally  anti-pathetic  to  him,  by  say- 
ing :  "  I  regard  her  as  hopelessly  con- 
tirmcd  in  her  aberration  from  health — 
nature,  beauty,  and  truth."  Bums, 
too  :  "  Burns  is  a  beast,  with  S|ili-ndid 
gleams,  and  the  medium  in  which  he 
Oved,  Scotch  peasants,  Scotch  Presby- 


Digitized  by  Google 


THB  BOOKMAN. 


terianism,  and  Scotch  drin'  ,  '  repul- 
sive." Swinburne  was,  wlu-n  first  soen. 
**  a  pseudo-Shelley, "  and  always,  using 
one  hundred  worids  to  the  service  of 
one.  But  there  are  very  few  of  these 
remarks,  by  the  way  ;  the  letters  are 
not  expHcitty  literary  in  interest ;  one 
conchides  tli.it  AiTi^ld  said  all  he  had 
to  say  in  his  essays  and  used  up  the 
stock  of  his  knowledge  and  ideas  as  rap> 
idly  as  he  accumulated  it.  What  he 
says  of  Tennyson  must  be  quoted  :  "  I 
do  not  think  Tennyson  a. grand  tt  puis- 
sant isprit;  and  therefore  I  do  not  really 
set  much  store  by  him,  in  spite  of  his 
popularity."  This  was  in  1864,  and 
there  is  more  of  the  same  sort  both  be- 
fore and  after.  The  marked  passaije  cA 
all  is  the  following  :  "  My  poems  repre- 
sent, on  the  whole,  the  main  movement 
of  mind  of  the  last  quarter  of  a  rtMitiir\ , 
anf!  thus  they  will  probably  have  their 
day  as  people  become  conscious  to  them- 
selves of  what  that  movement  of  mind 
is,  and  interested  in  the  literary  produc- 
tions which  reflect  it.  It  micrht  be  fairly 
urged  that  I  have  less  p  i-  ii  al  senti- 
ment than  Tennysf)n,  ati.i  less  intellec- 
tual vigour  and  abundance  than  Brown- 
ing ;  yet  because  I  have,  perhaps,  more 
of  a  fusi'Ui  I'f  t!ie  two  than  either  oi 
them,  and  have  more  regularly  applied 
that  fusion  to  the  main  line  ot  modem 
development,  I  am  likely  enough  to 
have  my  turn,  as  they  have  had  theirs." 
This  is  exceedingly  interesting^  bio- 
graphically,  and  being  in  a  home-letter  is 
relieved  nf  anv  appearanee  of  undue 
egotism  lluit  it  might  otherwise  bear. 
Arnold,  as  a  poet,  has  certainly  been 
accepted  with  iiiurh  c^realer  authority 
and  even  pe>pulariiy  in  his  class  than 
seemed  likely  at  the  time  of  the  pabti- 
cation  of  his  principal  verse.  Such  lim- 
itations as  he  had  in  criticism,  as  shown 
above,  however,  are  neither  different 
nor  greater  tlian  his  essays  themselves 
exhibit. 

It  is  when  we  come  to  the  last  and 
greatest  interest  of  these  letters,  to  that 
which  will  be  perennial  so  lonij  as  Ar- 
nold's name  is  remembered,  iluit  we 
find  ourselves  grateful  without  qualifi- 
cation for  the  g^ift  his  family  have  here 
made  to  literature  ;  these  volumes  have 
dignified  its  records* with  a  singularly 
n(jbl»-  memory  of  private  life.  Few  who 
did  not  know  Arnold  personally  could 
have  been  prepared  for  the  revelation 
of  a  nature,  so  true,  so  amiable,  so  duti- 


ful.   In  every  relation  of  private  life  he 

is  here  shown  to  have  been  a  man  of  ex- 
ceptional constancy  and  plainnc:sS.  The 
letters  are  mainly  home-letters  ;  but  a 
feiv  friendships  SLi^<^  have  yielded  up 
their  hoard,  and  thus  the  circle  of  pri- 
vate life  is  made  complete.  Every  read- 
er must  take  delight  in  t!ie  mental  asso- 
ciation with  Arnold  in  the  scenes  of  bis 
existence,  thus  daily  exposed,  and  in  his 
family  affections.  A  nature,  warm  to 
its  own,  kindly  to  all,  cheerful,  fond  of 
sport  and  fun.  and  always  fed  from  pure 
fountains,  and  with  it  a  character  so 
founded  upon  the  rock,  so  humbly  ser- 
viceable, so  continuing  in  power  and 
grace,  must  wake  in  all  the  responses  of 
happy  appreciation  and  leave  the  charm 
of  memory.  Here  was  a  man,  to  take 
only  the  kernel  of  the  whole,  who  did 
his  duty  as  naturally  as  if  it  rrtjcind 
neither  resolve  nor  effort,  nor  thought 
of  any  kind  for  the  morrow,  and  he 
never  failed,  seemingly,  in  act  or  word 
or  sympathy,  in  little  or  great  thincrs  , 
and  when  to  lliis  one  adds  the  clear 
a;ther  of  the  intellectual  life  where  he 
habitually  ninved  in  liis  eavn  life  apart, 
and  the  humanity  ot  his  home,  the  gift 
that  these  letters  bring  to  us  may  be  ap- 
[irecialed.  It  is  the  man  himself,  but 
set  in  the  atmosphere  of  home,  with 
sonship  and  fatherhood,  sisters  and 
brothers,  and  children  and  children's 
chihlren,  with  the  bereavements  of  years 
fully  accomplished  and  of  those  of  baby- 
hood and  boyhood—*  sweet  and  whole- 
some I'nijlish  he^me,  with  all  the  el.'i;ii 
and  sunshine  of  the  English  world  liriti 
ing  over  its  roof-tree,  and  the  soil  of 
Enedand  beneath  its  stones,  and  English 
duties  for  the  breath  of  its  being ;  to 
add  such  a  home  to  the  household  rights 
of  English  literature  is  perhaps  some- 
thing from  which  Arnold  would  have 
shrunk,  but  it  endears  his  memory. 

George  £.  Woodbtrry, 


MR.  WILLIAM  WATSON'S  NEW  VOL- 
UME.* 

Mr,  William  Watson  exercises  the 
judgments  of  the  day,  as  many  worse 
and  better  writers  have  done  before 
him.    It  is  the  extreme  difficulty  of 

*  The  Falhtr  «  f  iIk-  F'>t(  st.  and  other  Poems. 
Uy  William  Watson.  Chicago  :  Sloac  &  Kim- 
b«lL  |i.S5. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


placing  him  in  his  proper  position  that 
embarrasses  the  critics,  and  has  so  far 

succeeded  in  separating  the  literary 
world  into  two  camps.  There  are  fa- 
natics upon  citlicr  bide  ;  he  has  been  as 
much  be-littled  as  be-lauded  ;  and  even 
to-day,  after  the  interval  of  some  years, 
the  two  parties  face  each  other  witli 
some  bitterness.  The  truth  is  that  Mr. 
Watson  had  the  misfortune  to  be  thrust 
upon  the  world  by  over-excited  friends. 
They  were  too  lavish  with  their  admira- 
tion, and  nothing  must  suit  but  the 
rounH  world  must  e^o  join  the  exiiltinij 
chorus  of  worship.  The  pa.'an  oi  wel- 
come was  too  loud  and  ample  ;  from 
generous  it  p^rcw  rather  to  lu-  elTiisive, 
until  in  the  end  the  poet  himself  ran  the 
hazard  of  losing  his  head  and  accepting 
the  inamlate  liis  enthusiasts  would  force 
upon  him.  And  this  indiscreet  eulogy 
has  aroused  in  opposition  a  no  less  un- 
generous detraction.  Mr.  Watson  has 
been  declared  to  possess  all  the  gifts, 
and  to  lack  a  single  tident.  He  has 
been  received  by  the  Sptttator  as  the 
finest  voice  since  Milton,  and  ridiculed 
by  caustic  cynics  lor  a  feeble  echo  of 
the  greater  dead.  One  may  be  quite 
certain  that  the  truth  lies  well  within 
these  boisterous  extremes. 

And  yet  it  is  more  than  a  little  hard 
to  define  th(;  area  of  his  scope  as  a  j>oet. 
But  the  plainest  fact  taken  from  a  re- 
gard of  his  published  works  is  that  his 
lyrical  faculty  is  weak  and  halting  ;  in 
truth,  that  hf  is  not  a  lyric  poet  at  all. 
We  have  only  to  consider  the  two  mild 
and  inoffensive  poems  classed  in  the 
present  volume  unrler  the  head  < >f  Lyrics, 
to  be  persuaded  of  iliis  defect  in  Mr. 
Watson's  qualifications. 

'*  I  do  not  ask  to  have  my  fill 
Of  wino.  or  l<>vc,  or  fame. 
I  du  not,  (or  a  liule  ill. 
Against  ihe  god>  exclaim, 

*•  One  boon  of  Fortune  I  imploie, 
With  one  petition  kneel : 
At  least  carets  me  not,  before 
Thou  break  me  on  thy  wheel.** 

This  is  immaculately  phrased,  but  has 
not  the  faintest  lyrical  suggestion.  It 
wholly  lacks  that  lilt  of  emotion,  that 
fervour  of  persuasion,  that  single-mind- 
edness  which  go  to  compose  the  lyrics 
of  our  real  lyrists — Tennyson,  Swin- 
burne, Shelley,  even  Browning,  and 
Wordsworth  himself.  For  Wordsworth, 
beaeathbis  phlegmatic  mental  currents. 


was  capable  of  that  fountain-gush,  as  it 
were,  of  feeling  to  which  a  lyrical  out- 
burst may  be  compared.  One  is  tempt- 
ed to  think  that  Mr.  Watson  recognises, 
even  il  he  does  not  wholly  realise,  this 
deficiency  in  himself.  In  the  "  Apoto* 
gia"  which  concludes  this  xohimc,  and 
which  constitutes  a  personal  detence 
against  his  critics,  he  ventures  to  say  : 

"  Unto  such  as  think  all  Art  Is  cold. 

All  music  unimpassionpd.  if  it  tircathc 

An  ardour  not  of  Eros*  lijjs.  :iiul  l:N>vv 

Willi  lirt.'  iMt  caught  from  Ajihr.  iitv's  breast, 

Be  it  enoujjh  to  say.  that  in  man's  Hie 

Is  room  for  great  emotions  unbegot 

Of  dalliance  and  embracement,  unbegot 

E'en  of  the  purer  nuptials  of  the  soul ; 

And  one  not  pale  of  blfi  'cl,  to  human  touch 

Nor  tardily  responsive,  yn  may  know 

A  deeper  transport  .imi  a  mit;hticr  thrill 

Than  comes  of  commerce  with  mortality, 

When,  rapt  from  ail  relation  with  his  kind. 

All  temporal  and  immediate  circumstance. 

In  silence,  in  the  visionarjr  mood 

That,  flashing  li(;ht  on  the  dark  deep,  perceives 

Order  beyond  this  coil  and  errancy, 

Isled  from  the  fretful  hour  he  stands  alone, 

And  hears  the  eternal  movement,  and  beholds 

At>ove  him,  and  around,  and  at  his  feet, 

In  million-billowed  consentaneousness. 

The  flowing,  flowing,  flowing  of  the  world." 

This  fine  passage,  which  in  a  way  may 

be  said  to  plead  in  excuse  of  lyrical  de- 
ficiency, illustrates  in  its  very  excellence 
the  summits  and  limits  of  Mr.  Watson's 
true  jiowcrs.  His  note  has  ostensibly 
bt  t  II  (li'i  ived  from  Wordswt)rth,  but  is 
far  too  complex  for  this  simple  explana- 
tion. His  tnind  is  certainly  of  that 
chastened  r(  fh-t  tlveness  which  mainly 
characterised  Wordsworth.  But  Mr. 
Watson  has  brought  something  of  his 
own  to  the  fusion,  and  not  a  little  of 
Others.  He  is  a  very  diligent,  dexter- 
ous, and  delicate  craftsman,  which  cer- 
tainly Wordsworth  was  noj.  His  sen- 
tences are  polished  to  perfection,  and 
shine  and  glitter.  There  is  an  abun- 
dant precision  of  form  about  his  verses 
which  renders  them  indefinitely  attrac- 
tive upon  the  first  glance.  But  there  is 
more  than  this  skill  in  Mr.  Watson. 
He  ha«;  a  very  rrmarkrihle  equipment 
for  a  poet.  Almost  every  talent  or 
quality  which  is  exacted  in  order  to 
master  the  medium  of  his  art  he  pos- 
sesses in  fulness.  The  most  notable 
feature  in  his  verse  is  its  invariable  dig- 
nity. He  has,  too,  an  austere  grace  in 
his  periods  w  hii  h  is  wonderftiHv  takine^. 
And  he  cmphns  a  most  felicitous  sense 
of  phrase.  Instances  may  be  picked 
out  of  every  page.    The  collocation 


Digitized  by  Gobgle 


5t9 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


"tempestuous  joy"  is  chosen  wirb  a 
sure  band  ;  there  is  resonance  ami  ihc 
echo  of  battle  in  "  The  long  lines  of  im- 
perial war;"  "The  vi^nls  of  Eternity, 
and  Silence  patient  at  my  feet"  wears 
the  music  of  Tennyson.  And  here, 
again,  are  a  few  quite  triumphant  lines  : 

"The  South  s!iall  Uvs^,  Oic  East  sh.i!l  bligbt. 
The  red-rose  of  the  Duwo  shall  flow  ; 
The  niillion  /UieJ  stream  of  A'ljfktf 
Wide  in  ft&treal  meadows  fli>w  ; 
And  Autumn  mourn  ;  and  everything 
Dance  to  the  wild  pipe  of  tJie  Spriog." 

Or  here,  again,  is  ndmtralile  phrasing, 
touched  and  improved  witn  stt>tlc  ap- 
preciations :  ' 

**When,  as  yonder,  thy  mistress,  at  height  of 
her  mutable  glories. 
Wise  from  the  magical  East,  comes  like  a 

Ah,  she  comes,  she  arisesi, — impassive,  emo- 
tionless, bloodless. 
Wasted  and  ashen  of  cheek,  soning  ber 
minawith  pcirl." 

With  his  fine  ear  Mr.  Watson  never 
makes  a  mistake  in  music,  and  the  eto> 

quence  of  his  melodies  is  almost  the 
most  persuasive  part  of  his  high  talents. 

This  real  and  great  distinction  of  his 
work  emphasises  the  regret  that  Mr. 
Watson's  inspiration  is  not  more  indi- 
vidual.   It  seems  that  he  has  yet  to 
reach  Iiis  i)ersonal  magic.    Mr.  Watson 
has  taken  it  to  heart  that  echoes  of 
other  poets  have  been  said  to  resound 
in  his  pages.    But  surely  this  chagrin  is 
unnecessary.    No  one  accuses  him  of 
being."  the  soriy  mime  of  their  nobil- 
ity.'    One  may  nnd  memories  of  Tenny- 
son, or  Wopflswortli.  or  Swinburne,  or 
Keats^  or  Milton,  without  a  thought  of 
discredit  to  Mr.  Watson  or  dishonour  t  j 
these  great  poets.     Such  discoveries 
would  mainly  prove,  were  they  ijennino, 
that  Mr.  Watson  has  not  yet  cuine.  to 
his  own,  and,  like  all  young  poets,  is 
affected  by  the  no!>le  traditions  of  Eiis^- 
lish  liieraiure.    That  Mr,  Watson  may 
not  yet  take  rank  with  these  great 
names  is  as  certain  as  that  no  one  kn<»\\  s 
now  what  he  may  achieve  in  the  future. 
At  present  it  would  appear  as  if  crafts- 
manship was  ])iovid(  d  him  in  excess  of 
inspiration.    For  example,  a  very  stren- 
uous, rich,  and  eloquent  piece  of  work 
is  the  "  Hymn  to  the  Sea,"  yet  it  im- 
presses one  rather  as  a  dignified  and 
beautiful  exercise  than  as  a  real  achieve* 
ment.    Mr.  Watson  begins  bj  profess- 
ing to  "  capture  and  prison  some  fugi- 


tive breath  of  thy  descant,  Thine  and 
iiis  own  as  thy  roar  lisped,  on  ihc  lips 
of  a  shell.*'  Yet  the  poem  canoot  be 
said  to  breathe  ttie  sea.  It  is  not  mari- 
time ;  we  get  neither  sound  nor  sceat, 
as  we  do  in  half-a-dozen  of  Mr.  SvIb- 
bume's  full-flowing  verses,  rough  and 
fragrant  with  the  salt  sea-winds.  We 
do  not  feel 

"  The  teeth  of  the  hard,  glad  weather, 
The  blown.itct  (ace  of  the  aea." 

In  short,  Mr.  Watson's  "  Hymn,"  full 

as  it  is  of  fine  passacfes  anrl  comforting 
phrases,  is  not  the  oflering  of  a  failhtul 
worshipper :  it  is  the  compliment  of  a 
polite  strantrer. 

The  ease  and  dignity  of  Mr.  Watson  s 
language  are  the  very  qualities  by  whidi 
he  was  fir^t  remarked  as  an  epigram- 
matist. .And  he  keeps  still  the  faculty. 
His  closes  are '^^variably  sounding. 
Here  is  one  :  -*v. 

"  Now  touching  goal,  now  ba^tsard  hnrled-" 
T«>ils  the  indomitable  world. '^^^ 

"  Man  and  his  HttlencM  perish,  erased  ^ 
error  and  cancelled. 
Man  an.l  his  K'eatness  sumve,  lost 

gicatiu-ss  of  (jixi." 

Or,  once  more  (to  conclude  a  eulogy  o£ 
Burns) : 

"And  white,  tbrough  adamantine  doors. 
In  dreams  flung  wid( . 
We  hear  resound,  oo  morul  shores. 
The  Immortal  tide." 

The  hook,  in  short,  conserves  Mr. 
Watson's  real  reputation,  and  while  it 
cannot  be  said  to  justify  the  extreme 
claims  of  has  adherents,  marks  a  gen< 
uine  advance  upon  bis  earlier  work. 

H,  S.  MarrioU  Watson. 


MR.  HAMLIN  GARLAND'S  NKW  NOVEL.* 

it  is  almost  needless  to  siv  tli.ii  Mr 
Garland's  latest  story  is  franklv  reaU 
istic  ;  it  is  a  pleasure  to  add  tli'at  it  is 
well  written,  strong,  and  in  the  main 
wholesome.  It  is  not  particularly  novel 
in  conception,  and  perhaps  derives  its 
chief  interest  from  its  local  colour  ;  but 
the  realists  have  long  since  accustomed 
us  to  this  from  the  day  when  they  began 

•  Rose  of  Dutchcr's  Coolly.    By  Hamlin 
land.  Chicavo:  Stone  ft  KlmtMdL  •i.so  S^' 


1 


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A  UTERAKY  JOURNAL. 


to  use  the  methods  of  Balzac  without 
his  supreme  knowledge  of  the  human 
mind  and  heart.  Th  is  is  but  to  say  that 
in  its  characters  and  its  action  Mr.  Gar- 
land's story  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be 
sufficiently  marked  by  the  inevitable  aud 
elemental  qualities  that  characterise  the 
poetry  and  fiction  that  we  unhesitatingly 
call  great ;  but  it  is  not  to  affirm  that 
we  need  despair  of  finding  such  qualities 
in  future  work  from  his  honest  and  able 
pen.  Indeed,  1  for  one  shall  be  sur- 
prised if  Mr.  Garland  does  not  reach  a 
very  hitjh  position  amonc^  our  writers  of 
fiction,  for  he  has  powers  of  imagination, 
style,  and  thought  that  are  distinctly 
admira!)Ie  and  promising.  He  has  a 
field  of  exploration,  too,  that  is  new  and 
interesting,  and  he  is  absolutely  tinham- 
pered  by  the  provincial  iih  a  that  our 
American  life  offers  less  striking  oppor- 
tunities to  the  novelist  than  that  of  the 
Old  World.  In  short,  what  Mr.  Gar- 
land chiefly  needs  to  find  in  order  to 
take  his  true  position  as  a  writer  of  fic- 
tion is  a  character  oi*  characters  marked 
by  elemental  greatness,  movins::;^  ii|M>n 
the  inevitalilc  line  which  is  the  rLSuiia.nt 
of  the  action  and  reaction  of  the  human 
will  and  llie  mystertous  force  uhicli  we 
call  fate  or  Providence.  It  may  be  some 
comfort  to  him  and  to  ourselves  to  re- 
member that  Mr.  Thoma*;  Hardy,  a 
writer  of  whom  Mr.  Garland  not  infre- 
quently reminds  us,  did  not  make  this 
discovery,  so  indispensable  to  the  great 
novelist,  until  he  began  to  write  the 
story  of  Tess  D'Urberville's  tragic  fate 
when  he  was  upward  of  fifty  years  of 
age. 

Rase  of  DuUker^s  C(wlty  is  a  tale  of  the 

mid-West,  its  action  taking  place  on  a 
farm  in  W^isconsin,  at  the  University  of 
that  State  at  Madison,  and  in  Chicago. 

The  heroine,  who  gives  the  book  its 
somewhat  bizarre  title,  is  an  idealised 
specimen  of  the  farm-girl  with  capaci- 
ties and  aspirations  above  her  station, 
whose  life  is  laid  open  to  ns  from  her 
earliest  infancy  until  l»cr  hnal  solulioa 
of  the  problem  of  sex  by  marriage  with 
a  distinccuished  Ctiicaqo  journalist  at  tlie 
age  oi  twenly-lhice  or  luur.  This  j>rnb- 
lem  of  sex  worries  Rose  consideralil y, 
and  evidently  wnrrit  s  .Mr.  Garland,  l<tr 
it  is  cropping  up  cuniiiiually  in  iiis  book, 
oftentimes  in  seemingly  unnecessary 
places,  altlx  .ii^h  ii  i->  only  lair  to  adcl 
that  his  muid  i6  not  so  dominated  b}'  it 
as  Mr.  Hardy's  seems  to  have  been  in 


his  latest  story.  I  am  far  from  suggest- 
ing that  the  problem  of  sex  should  be 
ignored  in  the  work  of  any  serious  stu- 
dent of  life ;  but  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
that  it  is  necessary  for  a  novelist  to  lay 
any  great  stress  on  the  repeated  ellecL 
upon  his  heroine  of  viewing  the  lithe, 
"  clean"  limbs  of  fier  masculine  adorers. 
I  have  quoted  the  adjective  "  clean"  be- 
cause Mr.  Garland  seems  extraordinarily 
fond  of  it.  His  men  are  more  or  less  all 
"  clean,"  and  I  find  it  impossible  to  take 
the  epithet  everywhere  in  a  moral  sense. 
Yet  I  can  hardly  believe  that  personal 
cleanliness  is  such  a  rare  thing  in  the 
mid- West  that  it  has  to  be  accentuated. 
Be  this  as  it  may.  Rose,  with  her  prob- 
lem of  sex  to  solve,  makes  her  way 
through  a  multitude  of  tithe,  clean  ad- 
mirers in  a  very  interestini^  manner.  It 
matters  little  whether  the  means  by 
which  she  ^ts  to  Madison  and  makes 
her  d3ui  in  Chicago  might  be  used  by  a 
romancer  without  the  least  suspicion 
that  they  were  realistic,  for  the  descrip- 
tion of  her  life  at  the  university  and  of 
the  impression  that  the  rush  and  tumult 
of  the  great  city  make  upon  her  is  not 
merely  realistic,  but  finely  conceived  and 
executed.  No  writer  not  endowed  with 
high  artistic  capacity  could  have  set  so 
vividly  before  us  Rose's  graduation  day, 
and  no  writer  not  in  full  sympathy  with 
elemental  humanity  could  have  drawn 
so  true  and  life-like  a  character  as  her 
whole-souled  and  simple  father,  John 
Dutcher,  the  farmer.  The  people  whom 
the  masterful  young  woman  meets  and 

takes  captive  in  Oiicago — the  female 
physician,  the  moody,  strenuous  jour* 
naiist  (who  reminds  us  of  Knight,  the 
reviewer,  in  Hardy's  A  Pair  vf  Puut  I:\''s) 
— are  interesting  enough,  but  they  do 
not  move  the  heart  as  the  rough  Wiscon- 
sin  farmer  does  when  his  poetess  daugh- 
ter and  her  editor  lover  come  across 
him  weeping  in  the  clover  field  for  the 
loss  of  the  child  whom  he  has  educated 
out  of  his  own  sphere  of  life.  It  is  be- 
cause Mr.  Garland  has  drawn  this  char- 
acter and  conceived  this  scene,  because 
in  his  descriptions  he  shows  thai  he  pos- 
sesses the  eye  of  a  naturalist  and  llic 
imagination  of  a  poet,  because  he  has  a 
direct  and  vic:orons  style  wlTu  h  is  not 
without  originality  and  charm,  and,  last- 
ly, because  he  is  so  sincerely  honest  in 
the  methods  and  purposes  of  his  art  that 
I  resrard  this  Story  of  Western  life  as  not 
only  good  in  itself,  but  also  indicative  of 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


its  author's  power  to  give  us  higher  and 
finer  work  in  the  near  future.  It  would 
be  pleasant  to  quote  in  support  of  these 
views  picturesque  paragraphs  and  preg- 
nant spntpnres,  scattered  as  they  are 
through  this  beautifully  printed  vol- 
ume ;  but  space  is  lacking,  and  gems 
suffer  when  torn  from  their  setting. 
The  reader  may  find  them  at  his  leisure  ; 
and  I  feel  sure  that  when  he  has  read 
the  whole  story  he  will  share  my  opinion 
that  a  book  so  honest  and  strong  and 
racy  of  the  soil  deserves  the  praise  of  all 
who  arc  interested  in  the  upbuilding  of 
our  national  literature. 

ly.  r.  Trent, 


PERSIA  AND  INDIA .• 

The  two  books  that  we  have  before  us 
cover  in  part  the  same  ground,  inasmuch 

as  each  opens  with  observations  of  travi-! 
in  the  Black  Sea  and  in  the  regions  ad- 
jacent to  that  classic  body  ojf  water ; 
and  each  gives  a  picture,  froin  different 
points  of  view,  of  modern  Persia  and 
the  Persians.  Mr.  Wilson,  however, 
writes  as  one  long  a  resident  in  the  coun- 
trv,  and  llu  refore  with  an  exaet  and  in- 
timate knowledge  of  llie  inner  life  of  the 

people  ;  while  Mr.  Weeks's  is  the  nar- 
rative of  a  very  clever  and  observant 
traveller  who  is  also  an  artist,  and  who 
has  a  happy  faculty  of  singling  out  the 
most  strikiiitj  and  characteristic  features 
of  a  country,  and  setting  them  down 
with  all  the  zest  of  one  to  whom  they 
are  fresh  and  piquant.  The  result  is 
that  both  volumes  are  extremely  enter- 
taining, and  in  so  far  as  they  are  similar 
in  subject,  they  very  admirably  supple- 
ment one  another.  Mr.  Wilson,  it 
should  be  said,  does  not  write  at  ail  like 
the  typical  missionary,  but  with  all  the 
humour,  liberality,  and  genial  sympathy 
of  a  cultivated  man  of  the  world  ;  so 
that  nowhere  in  his  book  have  we  found 
a  touch  of  tlie  f>,i>ui'ifi'  that  is  usually 
to  be  expected  in  works  like  this.  At 
the  very  outset  the  reader's  attention  is 
attracted  by  the  author's  amusing  ac- 
count ol  the  Persian  estimate  of  the 
United  Stales.  Wc  are  informed  that 
there  has  prevailed  a  general  impression 

N  •  Persian  Life  and  Customs.  By  the  Rev. 
S.  G.Wilson,  MA.  Nevv  York:  The  Fleming 
H.  Revell  Coni)  iny  I1.75. 

Fioni  the  k  Sr. I  thron'.;h  Persia  and  Indi.i. 
Hy  Edwin  Lord  Weeks,  illustrated  by  ihc  author. 
Mew  York :  Hatper  Ac  Bros.  •3.50. 


that  America  is  a  place  where  pfold  grows 
upon  trees,  and  which  is  peopled  by  de- 
scendants of  Columbus  and  the  red  men : 

"  It  is  a  strange  country,  withoal  a  king,  and 
whose  power  they  [the  Persiu>sJ  have  never  felt 
and  scarcely  rccojfnise.  The  Sbab  u  said  to  have 
asked,  '  How  many  soldiers  have  the  United 
Slates?'  When  told  fifty  thousand,  he  replied. 
'It  is  not  much  of  a  country  *  iM  i  .  r.il  I  1  f  n. 
when  on  a  tour  of  the  world,  knew  i  tiier  how  to 
Impress  His  Majesty.  To  the  same  question  he 
replied,  '  Ten  millioo'.'  The  establishinent  of  dip- 
lomatic rotations  between  the  two  coomries  i» 
tendir^;  x<>  foster  commerce  and  develop  more 
intimate  interoalionad  acquainUncc.  The  Chicago 
Exposition  incxcaaed  ttaeir  knowledge  of  each 
other." 

Mr.  Wilson  tells  a  story  that  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  hasty  assumptions  often 
made  by  travellers : 

'•  America  is  known  as  the  New  World.  An 
Americ.in  traveller  in  Persia  heard  repeatedly  the 
phrase  in  Turki.  '  Y.inki-dun  \.\  <t.in  cii'  illt-  i>  "f 
the  New  World),  which  he  s.v.is  Juiid  M  mtc'i  rtiing 
as  '  Yankee-Doodle  dandy.'  Perhaps  some  one 
may  yet  cite  this  aa  a  legitimate  etymology. " 

One  can  scarcely  open  the  book  any- 
where without  lighting  upon  something 
instructive  or  amusing.  Mr.  Wilson's 
account  of  the  Russian  oil-wdls  along 
the  Black  Sea  is  new  and  valuable.  So 
is  his  narrative  of  the  complications  at- 
tendant upon  the  intn  diiction  of  rail- 
ways and  telegraphs  into  the  land  of 
Xerxes.  Very  illuminating  is  what  he 
has  to  say  of  the  practical  workings  of 
polygamy.  The  general  notion  prevail- 
ing in  VVestcrn  countries  is  that  the 
plural  wives  in  the  East  area  gentle  and 
submissive  lot  ;  but  this  book  does  not 
bear  out  the  idea.  The  Persian  wife 
pilfers  her  husband's  property,  commits 
adultery  whenever  she  gets  the  chance, 
and  makes  the  house  a  bedlam.  Hence, 
a  Persian  proverb  to  the  effect  that  "  A 
man's  worst  enemy  is  his  wife  and 
another  runs,  '*  A  dog  is  faithful ;  a 
woman  never."  A  moUah  of  Tabri* 
l>re ached  asermon  in  a  mosque,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  typical  passage  : 

"They  tell  us  that  thtr:-  .  re  dragons  and  scor- 
pions In  bel).  I  am  ti<  <i  ntraid  of  them.  1  have 
a  worse  hell  on  earth  Mjr  two  wives  with  their 
jealousies,  quarrcllings,  tbetr  demands  for  dress, 
etc..  give  tin-  no  peace.  1  could  well  leave  them 
for  other  torments." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  women  say, 
"  When  the  gates  of  hell  are  opened, 
the  Mussulman  men  will  po  jn  tirst." 
One  of  them  remarked  to  Mrs,  Wilson  ; 

"Your  Prophet  did  well  for  yoar  wotnen : 
ouis  dkl  not.   I  shall  have  words  with  our 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


PropTief  when  T  see  fiini  in  the  next  world,  for 
giving  men  permission  to  have  a  plurality  ol 
wive*." 

Nevertheless,  tlic  Persian  woman  is  in- 
tensely domestic  in  the  sense  that  her 
whole  life  is  bound  up  in  her  family,  and 
she  looks  forward  eagerly  to  marriage, 
especially  if  she  be  fat,  in  which  case 
she  knows  that  she  will  long  retain  her 
husband's  favour.  A  married  woman 
once  came  to  the  mission  asking  for 
mrdirine  to  make  her  stout.  "  Why," 
said  some  one,  '  your  figure  is  good." 
"No/*  she  answered;  "my  husband 
threntrns  to  divotx:e  me  because  I  am 
not  fat." 

Mr.  Wilson*s  account  of  the  illimitable 

dishonesty  and  mendacity  of  t!ie  Per- 
sians is  very  striking,  with  ific  instances 
that  he  gives  of  their  very  original  dodges 
for  cheating.  The  whole  chapter  on 
business  life  is  well  worth  readinp;.  Sn, 
too,  is  his  description  of  the  Persian 
leperSi  though  their  disease  is  really  not 
leprosy,  but  elephantiasis.  Space  pre- 
vents us  from  dwelling  further  upon 
many  other  curious  details  in  which  the 
book  a!>ouncIs.  We  can  only  say  that  it 
is  most  readable  throughout,  and  well 
worthy,  too,  of  serious  attention.  Eight 
photogravures  and  a  map  add  to  its 
value. 

Mr.  Weeks  is  most  entertaining  in 

that  portion  of  his  volume  that  has  to 
do  witli  India.  Admirers  of  Rudy  ird 
Kipling  ought  all  to  read  his  ciiauters 
on  the  land  of  the  Babu  and  the  Brah- 
min :  or  at  any  rate  to  look  at  the  ex- 
quisite illustrations  with  which  he  has 
so  lavishly  embellished  his  text.  Any- 
thing more  artistic  and  he auLiftd  than 
some  of  them  we  have  yet  to  see  in  a 
work  of  travel.  The  magnificence  of 
till-  T.ij  Mahal,  which  architectural  ex- 
perts regard  as  the  aesthetic  rival  of  the 
Parthenon,  will  be  no  mystery  to  one 
who  has  Mr.  Weeks's  fine  drawings 
before  his  eyes  ;  and  there  are  liesides 
innumerable  pictures  of  rare  bits  of  carv- 
ing, of  quaint  Oriental  gateways  and  bal- 
conies, of  marble  courts  and  plasliing 
fountains,  latticed  windows,  teak-wood 
doorways,  and  fantastic  friezes  that 
will  set  the  artist  wild.  The  life  of  the 
modern  Hindu  finds  also  ample  illustra- 
tion. Nautch  girls,  jugglers,  snake- 
charmers,  fakirs,  native  policemen, 
Afghans,  flower-sellers,  soldi-Ts,  trades- 
men, and  wallahs  arc  all  drawn  from 
the  life;  while  the  Anglo-Indian  ele- 


ment is  represented  by  sketches  of  gar- 
den-parties, polo-n\atches,  mess-tents, 
and  ladies  out  shop^jing,  wherein  we  can 
rcccguise  Mrs.  Golightly,  the  Gadsbys, 
and  other  Kiplingesque  figures,  over 
and  over  again.  The  text  of  Mr. 
Weeks's  narrative  is  by  no  means  merely 
an  excuse  for  the  pictures,  but  is  always 
bright,  modern,  and  entertaining  ;  and 
the  best  compliment  that  we  can  pay 
it  is  to  say  that  it  will  temporarily  make 
the  reader  forget  the  rival  attraction  of 
the  illustrations.  The  book  as  a  whole 
is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  most  charming 
volumes  that  the  season  has  produced. 

/f.  T.  P. 


THE  DAYS  OF  AULD  LAN(3  SYNE.» 

TVi^*  Daj'S  of  AuLI  L^h;^  Syne  is  the 
complement,  not  the  supplement,  much 
less  the  seqiu'l,  to  />,  star  ihe  Bonnie  Brier 
Bush.  The  scene  is  indeed  the  same  ; 
the  cast  is  substantially  the  old  D rum- 
toe  ht\'  one — with,  however,  Lachlan 
Campbell  and  Donald  Menzics  left  out 
of  the  action  of  the  piece,  though  evi- 
(h  iitly  looking  on  lovingly  at  the  wings, 
and  ready,  as  well-coached  understudies, 
to  rush  in  and  do  their  best  should  Hil- 
locks or  Burnbrae  or  the  redoubtable 
Drnmsheugh  himself  break  down.  But 
the  new  play  is  essentially  lay  and  mun- 
dane ;  there  are  in  it  no  seventh  heaven 
raptures,  transfigurations,  or  sermon- 
tastings.  A  second  reading  of  the  book 
has  left  me  in  doubt  as  to  whether  there 
is  any  Free  Kirk  or  any  Dissent  wnrth 
speaking  of  in  Drumtochty.  There  is 
Burnbrae,  to  be  sure,  who  would  rather 
leave  his  farm  than  be  disloyal  to  his 
Disruption  creed.  But  even  Burnbrae 
is  a  man  of  stiong  common  sense  as  well 
as  of  earnest  i  i)nvictic»n.  In  another 
epocli  he  would  probably  have  f'lntjht 
at  Drumclog,  and  certainly  at  Dunkcld, 
though  I  should  think  not  at  Ayrsmoss. 
He  was  of  the  stock  of  whrtm  Burns,  in 
spite  of  his  Moderatism — the  Burns,  by 
the  way,  of  fact,  not  of  Allan  Cunning- 
ham— ^wrote : 

"  The  Solemn  League  and  Covenant 

Now  brings  a  smile,  now  brings  a  tear, 
But  Sacred  Freedom,  too,  was  thein ; 
If  thott'n  a  slave.  Indulge  tby  sneer." 

♦  The  Days  of  Auld  Lang  Svnc.  By  Ian 
MacUren.  New  York:  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co. 
fz.85. 


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5.6 


THE  BOOKMAU. 


R.  sirlcs,  Burnhrao's  battle  is  fought  and 
won — the  pulverisation  of  that  rather 
too  feeble  caricature  of  Claverhouse,  the 
English  factor,  is  perhaps  the  best  inci- 
dent in  a  book  full  of  good  incidents — 
by  Dr.  Alexander  Davidson,  the  parish 
minister,  who  is  an  old  Moderate,  in 
other  words,  a  perfectly  "  straii^ht,"  but 
not  at  all  spiritualised  layman,  vvitii  a 
white  tie,  a  very  stiff  upper  lip,  and  a 
snhlici's  conception  cf  loyalty  to  duty. 
Hesities,  all  through  I  he  Days  of  Autd 
tang  Syne,  Hillocks,  Bumbrae,  Soutar, 
Drumshcupfh,  and  all  the  rest,  includinj^ 
even  the  Doctor,  are  thinking  less  of 
their  ministers,  texts,  sermons,  and  "  ex- 
periences," than  of  such  completely 
terrestrial  concerns  as  sales,  crops, 
leases,  weather,  and  old — but  not  cold 
— loves.  Beside  the  Bonnie  B>  irr  Busk 
gave  Tis  the  first-day-in-the«wcek  Drutn- 
tochty  ;  in  J'he  Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syn£ 
we  have  the  parish  as  it  is  six  days  in 
seven,  and  the  most  of  whose  inhabitants 
are  good  churchmen— or  Free  Church- 
men, as  the  case  may  be — ^whose  "  re- 

ligiiin  In  common  life"  finds  expression 
in  silent  action  even  more  than  in  fam- 
ily worship. 

It  is  perhaps  because  Dnimtochty  in 
its  week-day  clothes  is  more  difficult  of 
adequate  portraiture  than  Drumlochty 
in  its  Sunday  liest,  that  I  consider  Ian 
Maclaren's  new  book  a  distinct  advaMrf 
on  its  predecessor.  I  think  the  trans- 
figaratton  of  Donald  Menzies  in  Beside 
the  Bonnie  Ihirr  Bush  trembles  on  the 
verge  of  unreality,  and  that  the  holder 
of  MacWhammel  scholarship  would 
have  been  truer  to  life,  not  to  speak  of 
conscience,  had  he  preached  his  New 
Learning  sermon — "  Semitic  environ- 
ment" and  all — rather  than  have  acted 
in  the  possibly  l)eautiful  and  certainly 
Carlyleau  way  he  did,  even  although  he 
thereby  pleased  his  aunt  and  the  spirit 
of  his  mother.  Here  I  find  no  unreality 
— although  there  is  abundance  of  what 
Mr.  Arnold  in  his  ignorance  of  the 
depths  of  Scottish  nature  termed  "  in- 
tolerable pathos" — not  even  in  the  little 
tragedy  of  the  servant-girl  who  went  to 
London,  or  in  the  loves  of  the  "  close" 
Drumsheugh  and  the  nippy-tongucd 
Jamie  Soutar.  And  this  makes  me 
hasten  to  say  that  while  there  is  almost 
no  spirituality,  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
emotion  in  The  Days  of  Auld  Lang  Syne. 
That  emotion  overflows  its  banks  as 
often  as  the  Tochty.  As  a  matter  of 


fact,  Ian  Maclaren,  while  obviously — 
never  more  obviously  than  in  his  new 
book — a  humourist  by  nature,  is  a  senti* 

mentalist  by  mission.  That  is  to  say, 
he  has  set  himself  deliberately  to  lay  bare 
the  recesses  of  simple  Scottish  tender- 
ness and  love,  to  oppose  these  realities  to 
the  so-called  realism  of  the  Rougon- Mac- 
quart  horrors,  hiuI — ^alas  that  one  should 
have  to  say  so  ! — of  the  Wessex  of  Jyde 
(he  Obscure.  And  that  he  has  siicreeded 
is  beyond  doubt.  In  the  death  ot  Lily 
Grant  in  **  A  Servant  Lass"  the  author 
is  seen  at  his  very  best — better  than  in 
the  death  of  the  "  lad  o'  pairts,"  which 
is  to  me  a  trifle  too  "  exalted,"  or  in  the 
death  of  MacLure,  which  is  too  long 
drawn  out.  Jamie  Soutar  plays  many 
parts  excellently  in  this  book,  but  his 
intrusion  into  "  A  Ser\'ant  Lass,"  pre- 
venting it  from  becoming  too  depress- 
ingly  sad,  is  perfect.  Ian  Maclaren  is 
not  always,  it  is  true,  up  to  the  mark  of 
"  A  Servant  Lass."  Drumsheu-^irs  love- 
secret  is  too  long  and  too  elaborately 
sustained  ;  I  for  one  should  have  pre- 
ferred him  to  remain  a  consistent  cur- 
mudgeon to  the  end,  instead  of  turning 
out  a  pilgrim  of  love  in  disguise.  But 
above  all  things,  excess  of  an  essentially 
optimistic  sentimentalism  has  induced 
him  to  make  tiie  one  blunder  of  his  new 
book,  to  pen  the  almost  maudlin  last 
chapter.  Ian  Maclaren  can  in  most  re- 
spects stand  comparison  with  Mr.  Bar- 
rie,  but  his  "  Oor  Lang  Hame"  can  only 
be  ctmtrasled,  and  unfavorably  for  its 
author,  with  the  return  of  the  "  son  from 
London"  in  A  Window  in  Thrums^  which 
appears  to  have  suggested  it.  The  ap- 
pearance of  this  son  in  Thrums  as  a 
pariah,  the  agonies  of  his  conscience, 
the  little  touches  of  neighbourly  kindli* 
ness  which  oupjht  to  temper  the  bfncot- 
ting  of  him  as  a  moral  leper  by  his  old 
friends,  but  which  in  reality  only  add  to 
its  pangs,  his  return  to  London  presu- 
mably to  make  a  Urear>'  best  of  it  with 
"  the  woman  who  has  played  the  devil 
with  his  life" — these  constitute  the  most 
awful  piece  of  real  (for,  being  moral,  it 
is  real)  Scottish  tragedy  that  has  ever 
been  published.  Compared  with  there> 
turn  of  Jamie  McOvduimpha  to  Thn;ms, 
that  of  Chairlte  Grant  to  Drumloch- 
ty, to  Drumsheu)iph*s  heart,  and — had 
that  beeti  necessary — to  DrumsheuKh's 
cheque-book,  seems  flat  and  almost 
poor. 

If  Ian  Maclaren  is  a  sentimentalist  of 


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S'7 


Set  (ami  almost  scientific)  purpose,  he  is 
a  humourist  by  nature.  If  Bfsi<fr  (he 
Bonnie  Brier  Bush  indicated  this  iti  un- 
mistakable fashion,  The  Days  of  AulJ 
Lting  Syne  places  the  fact  beyond  all 
question.  What  is  more,  it  demon- 
strates the  variety  as  well  as  the  quality 
(•f  its  author's  humour.  When  he  kt-cjis 
it  free  from  emotion  as  he  does  entirely 
in  **  A  Triumph  of  Diplomacy,"  and  al- 
most entirely  in  "  Good  News  from  a 
Far  Conntry,"  and  in  the  "  Nippy 
Tongue"  section  of  Jamie  Suuiar's  his- 
tory, he  comes  nearer  to  Gait  than  any 
of  his  contemporaries,  Mr.  Barrie  him- 
self not  excepted.  I  have  said  that  "  A 
Servant  Lass"  is  Ian  Maclaren's  high- 
water  mark  as  yet.  Rut  fnr  pure  and 
dry,  but  not  ungenial  drollery^  there  is 
nothing  in  this  volume  or  in  its  prede* 
cessor  to  match  Hillocks'  ingenious  de- 
vices to  secure  the  renewal  of  his  lease 
on  good  terms,  or  the  successful  efforts 
of  the  Drumtochty  worthies  to  magnify 
their  professor  in  a  far  country,  who 
happily  does  not  die  like  Domsie.  Jamie 
Soutar's  hits,  as  at  the  cockney  temper- 
ance lecturer  and  the  too  confidcMit  evan- 
gelical preacher,  are  delicious.  His  end 
IS  perhaps  a  trifle  overdone,  and  sugpfests 
the  mendacious  captain  in  "  Peter  Sim- 

ele,"  who  affirms  with  his  last  gasp  that 
e  has  known  a  man  five  with  uie  death 
rattle  in  his  throat  for  six  weeks.  But 
it  is  eminently  quotable  and  Dean  Ram- 
sayish.  "  Kirsty  Stewart  came  to  share 
thenight  watch  with  Elspeth,  imt  neither 
prestjmed,  till  nearly  daybreak,  when 
Kirsty  declared,  with  the  just  weight  of 
her  medical  authority,  that  all  was  over. 

*  He  hes  the  1  ).,k,  an'  his  hands  are  as 
cold  as  ice  ;  feel  his  feet,  wumman.' 

*  A'  canna  find  them,'  said  Elspeth, 
making  timid  explorations.  '  They  used 
to  be  on  the  end  o'  ma  legs,'  remarked 
Jamie,  as  if  uncertain  where  they  might 
now  be  placed." 

Mr.  Watson's  humoiir — I  say  Mr. 
Watson's  rather  than  Ian  Maclaren's 
advisedly — is,  however,  seen  at  its  rich- 
est and  :  t  in  his  sketch  of  Archibakl 
MacKittnck,  otherwise  "  Posty."  This 
Is  the  best  and  most  toughly  Scottish 
character  of  the  "  carl  hemp"  order  Mr. 
Watson  has  yet  drawn — full  of  the  na- 
tional pride  as  well  as  the  national  hu- 
mour, prone  to  small  sinning  in  the  way 
of  an  occasional  dram,  but  tierri*lv  "  in- 
dependent in  his  sinning,"  withal  tender 
and,  as  bis  death  shows,  capable  of  giv- 


ing away  his  life.  "  Past  Redemption" 
is  not  so  perfectly  artistic  as  "  A  Servant 
Lass,"  but  it  is  a  very  good  second. 
Whether  or  not  it  be  true,  as  rumour 
has  it,  thtit  Ian  Maclaren  has  s.iid  irood- 
bye  to  Drumtochty,  he  has,  in  Hillocks, 
Jamie  Soutar,  Domsie,  Burnbrae,  Posty, 
and  r)riimslHiii;h  (at  all  events  Drums- 
hcugh  before  he  was  found  out),  made 
most  important  additions  to  the  portrait- 
gallery  of  that  Scottish  character  which 
is  nine  tenths  of  Scottish  national  life, 
even  although,  being  more  given  to  self- 
effacement  than  to  self-advertisement, 
it  is  only  one  tenth  of  its  public  history. 

'    WilHam  W^Ulace, 


"Q'S»»  NEW  STORIES* 

Within  the  month  Mr.  Quiller-Couch 

has  given  us  two  new  books.  One  is  a 
novel  called  /a,  and  the  other  is  a  vol- 
ume of  short  stories  entitled  IVaHdering 

Hfiiih.  Coming  tlius  toifetlu-r,  they  are 
to  be  compared  not  only  with  his  fore- 
going work,  but  with  each  other. 

As  between  the  two,  la  seems  more 
likely  to  win  for  the  brilliant  young 
Ct)rnishmau  tlic  larger  audience  that 
must  wait  upon  a  better  acquaintance 
with  his  writini^s.  Of  these,  American 
readers  probably  know  best  Noughts  an  J 
Crosses  and  Tke  Splendid  Spur^  and  meas- 
ured  by  these,  ]VanJerini^  Hrath  is  some- 
what disappointing.  For  while  some  of 
the  new  stories  are  marked  by  the  same 
power,  there  is  no  apparent  advance;  and 
the  work  as  a  whole  is  less  harmonious. 

The  chief  cause  of  this  loss  of  atmos- 
phere appears  to  be  a  departure,  sudden 
and  far,  from  the  writer's  iniliiU.  And 
it  is  certainly  a  long  liiglu  from  Corn- 
wall to  Colorado,  or  California,  or  wherw 
ever  in  the  West  the  scene  of  the  longest 
story  is  laid.  Tliis  Western  story,  "  The 
Bishop  of  Eucalyptus,"  is  good  in  its 
way  ;  but  it  comes  to  us  like  a  bel.ited 
echo  of  Bret  Harte.and  looks  as  strangely 
out  of  place  among  these  quaint  tales  of 
the  Cornish  coast  as  a  sombrero  would 
look  on  a  lishcrman's  head.  This  is  said, 
however,  in  full  consciousness  of  the 
national  prejudice   against  European 

•  WiindcrinR  Heath.  Ky  .\.  T.  yuilh  r  Couch. 
New  York  :  Charles  Scribncr's  Sons. 

la.  By  A.  T.  yuillerCouch.  New  York: 
Charles  Scritmer's  Sons.  7$cts. 


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5'8 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


"  studies"  of  onr  nwn  q:r<  it  \Vr<;t. 
Moreover,  it  is  herewith  cuulessed  that 
the  better  they  are  done  the  more  they 
are  resented.  But  there  can  be  nothings 
of  the  kind  to  discredit  <  f  ifirism  of  cer- 
tain other  stories  which  iiKir  the  dibtinc- 
tive  quality  of  the  work.  "The  Simple 
Shepherd,"  "A  Young  Man's  Diary," 
and  "  The  First  Parish  Mutiny"  are  all 
"as  irrelevant  as  life  itself/*  to  quote 
from  i.nc  of  thnii  ;  as  incongruous  where 
they  arc  placed  as  pale  pastels  would  be, 
painted  on  a  frowntnf^  cliff. 

But  these  aside,  and  the  work  that  re- 
mains is  such  as  A','i/r/!fs  and  O  (  f  »v.*"  and 
T/i^  Deifctiibie  JJiu/ry  led  us  to  <  x])ect. 
ImiUI,  tender,  huniDi'Uis,  and  unitjue,  it 
is  thoroughly  satisfying.  In  tlio  tlrst 
story  particularly  Mr.  yuiller-Couch 
brings  us  to  share  without  reserve  the 
recently  expressed  opinion  of  Mr.  Harrie', 
tKat  "  Q"  has  caught  the  magic,  the 
tragic  human  voice  of  the  sea  beyond 
any  other  writer  of  his  time.  Its  deep- 
est note  is  sounded  in  the  "  The  RoU- 
Call  of  the  Reef."  A  more  powerful  ap- 
peal to  the  imagination  can  scarcely  he 
ronr(  i\  (  (l  than  the  marshalling  of  these 
drowned  hosts,  on  the  beach  at  midnight 
by  spirit  trumpet  and  drum.  The  cur- 
rent of  the  author's  intention  seems  to 
L>e  always  in  this  direction,  toward 
the  spiritual  influence  of  the  sea  rather 
than  toward  its  merely  material  aspect. 
Nor  does  he  shrink  from  dealing  boldly 
with  the  supernatural  as  a  large  and 
recognised  clement  of  life  within  the 
ocean's  spell.  Somrtinirs  he  touches  it 
seriously,  even  reverently,  a.s  in  "The 
Roll-Call  of  the  Reef,"  thus  producing 
fine,  cfrave  rffrrts.  .\LC.iin,  he  treats  it 
with  such  wild,  whimsical  humour,  that 
— «s  in  **  My  Grandfather,  Hendry  Wat- 
ty"— vaL;iii  memories  of  Pantagruel  are 
conjured  up. 

But  if  the  clarity,  the  simplicity,  and 
the  force  of  Mr.  (juilier-Couch's  man- 
ner have  been  formed  upon  any  classic 
model,  it  seems  less  unlikely  to  have 
been  Sterne  than  Rabelais.  In  fact,  a 
certain  iiulefinablc  llavonr  pervading 
three  of  the  stories  can  hardly  be  ac- 
counted for  other  than  by  an  uncom- 
monly close  acquaintanc  e  with  Sterne. 
Two  of  these  stories,  "  My  Grandfather, 
Hendry  Watty,"  and  *•  Widdershins," 
arc  well  (  ailed  "  A  Droll."  The  third, 
"  The  Flowing  Source,"  is  not  so  chris- 
tened, but  ought  to  have  been.  **  'Tis  the 
nicest  miss  in  the  world,"  says  the  first, 


"  that  I  was  born  the  grandson  of  my 
own  father's  father,  and  not  another  mao 
al  toge  t  her.  Hend  ry  Watty  was  the  name 
of  my  grandfather  that  might  Iiav  <•  been  ; 
and  he  ahvavs  maintained  that  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  he  was  my  grand- 
father, and  made  me  call  him  so.  'Twas 
such  a  narrow  shave.  'Tis  a  curious 
tale,"  indeed  ;  one  of  riotous  fun  of  a 
gruesome  sort ;  of  dead  men's  jokes  and 
the  fantastic  tricks  of  marine  ghosts. 
"  Widdershins "  is  quieter  and  more 
sane,  and  for  that  reason  better  bears  out 
the  fancied  resemblance.  Then  there  i^ 
the  striking  coincidence  of  the  name  of 
Farmer  Joby,  u  ho.  like  Uncle  Toby,  has 
trouble  with  his  i  ve .  And  although  it  is 
not  tlic  Widow  Wadman  who  comes  to 
the  rescue  in  this  case,  iicr  prototype 
the  Widow  Waddilovesoon  after  appears 
in  "The  Flowing  Source,"  and  makes  a, 
singular  request  of  the  master  of  that 
wayside  inn.  **  Oh,  certainly,"  he  re- 
plied, "  and  went  home  and  thought  it 
over.  Women  were  a  puzzle  ;  but 
had  a  dim  notion  that  if  he  could  lay 
his  hand  on  the  reason  why  the  Widow 
Waddilove  prcfcrn d  onlinary  carriers  to 
prize  tumblers,  he  would  hold  the  key 
to  some  of  the  secrets  of  the  sex.  He 
thought  it  over  for  three  days,  during 
which  he  smoked  more  tobacco  than 
was  good  for  him.  At  about  four  o'clodt 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  a  smile 
enlarged  his  face.  He  set  down  his 
pipe,  smacked  his  thigh,  stood  up,  sat 
down  again,  and  began  to  laugh.  He 
Intighed  slowly  and  flt-li!>crately — no', 
ioudly — for  the  t;reatcr  part  of  the  even- 
intj:,  and  woke  ujt  twice  in  the  night  and 
shook  the  bedclothes  into  long  waves 
with  his  mirth." 

But  these  half-earnest  comparisons 
the  Wf.rk  (^f  Mr.  Oiiiller-Coiu  h  with  th.i: 
of  those  old  masters  who  painted  oni} 
the  nude  should  not  be  mtsunderstoMl. 
His  humour,  like  theirs,  is  certainly  ro- 
bust, and  sometimes  a  little  boisteroii- 
perhaps,  but  it  is  never  broad.  On  the 
con t  ran,-,  his  books  are,  in  fact,  far  freer 
from  indelicaov  than  many  recent  one> 
that  deal  with  daintier  themes.  For  w  hile 
he  does  not  fear  to  come  close  to  the 
deepest  and  saddest  truths  of  life,  \\( 
approaches  tliem  with  gravity  and  re- 
serve. 

The  finest  example  of  this  trait  of  hi? 
art  may  perhaps  be  found  in  /a.  Cer- 
tainly no  story  was  ever  more  feai  iessly 
and  more  thoughtfully  aimed  at  the  very 


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5«9 


heart  of  life.  It  is  only  a  little  book,  a 
mere  miniature,  but  the  work  is  so  curi* 

oiisly  compressed  that  it  has  all  th«-  force 
and  freedom  of  a  large  canvas.  It  is  a 
Story  of  the  Cornish  coast,  and  of  the 
types  thai  belong  there — to  the  grim 
rocks,  the  salt  spray  and  the  roar  of  the 
surf — to  the  whole  ceaseless  conflict  that 
humanity  wages  with  the  sea.  But  la's 
is  the  centr.il  Mccurc,  drawn  so  large  and 
clear  and  strong  that  the  i»thers,  good 
as  they  are,  shrink  beside  it.  Only  one 
character  is  alien  and  dim.  This  is  the 
Second  Adventist  preacher,  la's  lover, 
and  the  vagueness  of  the  portrayal 
Serins  again  to  shi^w  that  the  author's 
strength  lies  within  his  milieu.  And 
yet  his  work  is  in  no  sense  provincial. 
This  simple  story  of  a  fisher-girl  of 
Cornwall  becomes  universal  in  that  it 
represents  the  ruin  ihuL  unruly  passion 
may  cause,  and  the  sacrifice  thai  chas- 
tened Ime  will  make.  Even  the  shad- 
owy form  of  the  lover  grows  more  dis- 
tinct and  significant  as  it  comes  to  stand 
for  the  weaker  nature  in  all  such  situa- 
tions, without  firmness  to  resist  or 
strenfifth  to  be  true.  Strange  seems  the 
Cornish  custom  of  the  wooing  of  the 
man  by  the  maid.  But  if  la  leads  on 
the  downward  path,  it  is  also  she  who 
first  turns  back.  The  author  has  made 
her  very  distinct  :  this  sph  ndid  young 
savage  whom  love  tames  and  suffering 
civilises.  Not  once  does  the  strong  line 
of  her  character  waver  timli  r  hi>  firm 
hand.  He  docs  not  show  her  as  moved 
to  repentance  by  any  sudden— or  grad- 
ual-— conviction  ()f  sin  ;  but  solely  by  fear 
of  harm  to  the  man  she  loves.  A 
woman  like  la  can  have  no  religion 
separate  from  her  love.  As  the  wreck 
has  come  through  her,  so  must  the  res- 
cue also  come.  "  We  have  done  wick- 
edly," says  the  preacher  we.ikiy,  .uui 
without  apparent  purpose  to  <1..  inher- 
wise.  '*  Have  we?"  answers  ia  vaguely, 
while  her  heart  is  breaking  with  the  re- 
solve to  ijivc  him  tip.  It  is  for  !iis  sake 
— not  lor  her  own.  Love  leaches  an 
ignorant  woman  wisdom  and  gives  a 
blitid  one  siglit.  She  can  see  now  what 
she  could  not  see  at  first,  thai  his  career 
is  blasted  unless  they  part  before  their 
relations  are  known.  He  is  not  hard  to 
persuade  ;  and  when  he  is  gone,  and  is 
safe  and  honoured  among  men,  the 
storm  breaks  on  la's  defenceless  head. 

It  is  the  oi  l  trat^edy  over  again  in  an 
out-ol-thc-way  corner  of  the  world ; 


and  the  attitude  of  this  Cornish  Ashing 
hamlet  toward  this  fisher^girl  is  the  atti* 

tude  of  the  world  toward  the  erring 
woman.  "  Through  the  weeks  of  pesti- 
lence she  had  fairly  earned  the  love  and 

gratitude  of  many  ;  but  the  debt  was 
never  paid.  Her  fault  cancelled  it. 
Women  whose  children  she  had  nursed 
nodded  as  she  passed  their  door,  but 
they  did  not  invite  her  to  step  in." 
The  stor^  comes  to  no  conclusion ; 
such  stories  can  have  no  end.  Ia  mere- 
ly passes  out  of  sii^ht,  leadiii'^  her  cliild  ; 
seeking  on  the  other  side  ot  the  merci- 
less sea  the  peace,  and  the  pardon,  that 
must  seek  still  farther  to  find. 

George  PrtsUftt* 


'  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  AMERICAN 

LlTLKATURl:.* 

.\  thoroui^hly  good  hook  for  young 
people  is  almost  invariably  one  of  the 
best  books  that  grown  people  can  read. 
Similarly,  an  introduction  to  any  study, 
if  done  as  it  should  be,  by  a  man  capa- 
ble of  writing  not  merely  the  introduc- 
tion, but  also  the  study  itself,  is  certain 
to  be  of  interest  to  the  most  advanced 
student. 

Mr.  Brander  Matthews's  volume  on 
American  literature  is  a  piece  of  work 
as  good  of  its  kind  as  any  American 
scholar  has  ever  had  in  his  hands.  It 
is  just  the  kind  of  book  which  should 
be  given  to  a  beginner,  because  it  will 
give  him  a  clear  idea  of  what  to  read, 
and  of  the  relative  importance  of  the 
authors  he  is  to  read  ;  but  it  is  much 
more  than  merely  a  book  for  beginners. 
Any  student  of  the  subject  who  wishes 
to  do  good  work  hereafter  must  not  only 
read  Mr.  Mattliews's  book,  but  must 
largely  adopt  Mr.  Matthews's  way  of 
looking  at  thinc^s  ;  for  these  simply  writ- 
ten, unpretentious  chapters  are  worth 
many  times  as  much  as  the  ponderous 
tomes  which  contain  what  usually  j>asses 
for  criticism  of  our  literary  work  ;  and 
tin-  principles  upon  which  Mr.  Matthews 
insists  with  such  quiet  force  and  good 
taste  are  those  which  must  be  adopted, 
not  only  by  every  student  of  American 
writings,  but  by  every  American  writer 

•  An  IiiiiiHluction  lo  the  Study  o(  Acnencan 
Liicraiure.  By  Brander  Matthews.  New  Yofki 
Amerioui  Book  Co. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


if  he  is  going  to  do  work  that  is  really 

worth  doing. 

In  his  opening  chapters  Mr.  Matthews 
verv  liappily  defines  literature  as  "  a 
written  record  so  skilfully  made  as  to 
give  pleasure  to  the  reader."  It  seems 
rather  thnt  it  should  lie  noccssary  to 
insist  upon  the  fact  that  the  essence  of  a 
book  is  to  be  readable ;  but  most  cer- 
tainly  the  average  scii  iitific  or  historical 
writer  needs  to  have  this  elementary 
proposition  drilled  into  his  brain.  Per- 
haps if  this  drilling  were  once  accom- 
plishril,  wc  Americans  would  stand  a 
grtatci  chance  of  producing  an  occa- 
sional Darwin  or  Gibbon  ;  though  there 
would  necessarily  be  some  havDc  in  ilie 
ranks  of  those  small  pedants  who  with 
laborious  industry  produce  works  which 
are  never  read  (.■xrcptinq;  by  other  small 
pedants,  or  else  by  the  rare  master  who 
can  take  the  myriad  bricks  of  these 
myriad  little  workers  and  out  of  them 
erect  one  of  the  great  buildings  of 
thought. 

Perhaps  the  best,  because  the  most 
original,  point  made  by  Mr.  Matthews 
is  his  insistence  upon  what  American 
literature  really  is.  Me  shows  that  it  is 
a  branch  of  En5.^]i^,h  literature,  but  not 
a  branch  of  that  portion  of  English  lit- 
erature which  is  created  contemporane- 
ously  in  the  British  Isles,  and  which  he 
very  appropriately  calls  British  litera- 
ture. American  literature  of  this  cen- 
tury, tike  British  literature  of  this  cen- 
tury, is  a  branrh  of  the  great  stock  of 
English  literature,  the  literature  com- 
mon to  all  the  Englisit  speaking  peoples. 
In  the  past  not  <v,ily  English,  but  also 
American  authors  have  often  seemed  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  the  literature 
produced  in  Groat  Britain  at  the  present 
day  was  in  a  peculiar  sense  the  English 
literature  of  the  present  day,  and  the 
representative  in  the  direct  line  of  the 
English  literature  of  the  past.  This  Is, 
of  course,  not  true.  A  New  York  nov- 
elist is  no  more  and  no  less  the  heir  of 
th«'  creator  of  "  Moll  Flanders"  than  is 
a  London  novelist.  The  Biglow  papers 
contain  as  much  of  the  broad  humanity 
of  Chaucer  as  any  contemporary  pncm 
published  in  Great  Britain,  and  their 
author  was  as  much  influenced,  con- 
sciously  or  unconsciously,  as  his  average 
British  contemporary,  by  the  man  who 
five  centuries  before  had  written  high 
thoughts  in  a  homely  tongue. 


It  seems  extraordinary  that  it  should 
have  been  left  to  Mr.  Matthews  to  for- 
mulate what  so  many  Americans  had 
felt — namely,  that  the  American  has 
precisely  the  same  right  to  the  English 
speech  as  the  Briton.  He  is  not  the 
Briton's  younger  brother,  any  more  than 
he  is  his  elder  brother.  Each  has  an 
equal  claim  to  a  common  inheritance — 
the  inheritance  of  the  great  hmguage 
and  literature  which  are  the  most  pte- 
cious  possessions  of  the  two  nations.  If 
the  present-day  literature  of  cither 
America  or  Great  Britain  depart  in  any 
way  from  the  standards  of  tiie  past — as 
depart  it  must — the  departure  must  be 
judtjed  purely  on  its  own  merits,  and 
without  the  least  regard  to  what  course 
literature  is  taking  in  the  other  country 
at  the  same  time.  England  has  no  more 
right  to  set  the  standard  for  America 
than  America  has  to  set  the  standard 
for  England.  The  standard  is  set  partly 
by  the  great  masters  of  the  past,  partly 
by  the  force  and  good  taste  of  the  mas- 
ters of  the  present  day  ;  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  any  artificial  standard  raised 
in  the  other  countrj*  ;  and  neither  coun- 
try has  the  slightest  right  to  treat  a  va- 
riation from  its  own  standard  as  being 
a  variation  from  the  true  standard  of 
English  literature.  These  points  hare 
been  successfully  elal>orate(I  by  Mr, 
Matthews  in  his  *'  Americauisros  and 
Briticisms,"  which  is  by  far  the  most 
noteworthy  critical  or  literary  essay 
which  has  been  published  l)y  any  Ameri* 
can  writer  for  a  score  of  years. 

American  literature  must  naturally 
develop  on  its  own  lines.  Politically. 
Americans,  unlike  Canadians  and  Aus- 
tralians, are  free  from  the  colonial  spirit 
which  accepts,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  inferiority  of  the  colonist  as  com- 
pared to  the  man  who  stays  at  home  in 
the  mother  country.  We  are  not  en- 
tirely free  as  yet,  however,  from  this 
colonial  idea  in  matters  social  and  liter- 
ary. Sometimes  it  shows  itself  in  an 
uneasy  self-consciousness,  whether  nf 
self-assertion  or  self-deprcciaiion  ,  ba: 
it  always  tacitly  admits  the  assump 
tion  that  American  literature  should  in 
some  way  be  tried  by  the  standard  of 
contemporary  Britbh  literature.  Mr. 
Matthews,  with  entire  good  temper, 
and  with  complete  absence  of  literary 
Chauvinism,  shows  the  folly  of  this 
view. 


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In  dealing  with  the  authors  wliom  he 
has  chosen  as  represeniaLivcs  o£  Ameri- 
can literature,  Mr.  Matthews  has  sketch- 
ed briefly  tiie  life  and  life-woik  of  each. 
lit  has  accomplished  the  dilhcult  feat 
of  writing^  so  as  to  be  **  understanded  of 
the  nniltltudc,"  without  conveying  any 
impression  o£  writing  t^iWit  to  the  mul- 
titude. Each  chapter  is  eminently  read- 
aMt:  and  intcrL-slinir  ;  b'lt  it  also  always 
contains  a  singularly  just  estimate  of 
the  author's  real  worth.  Mr.  Mat> 
thews's  wide  and  deep  acquaintance 
not  only  with  American  literature,  but 
with  the  literatures  of  other  countries, 
enables  him  to  place  each  author  abont 
where  he  belont^s.  Of  course  there 
mu^l  be  individual  ditTercnces  of  opin- 
ion. The  present  reviewer,  for  instance, 
is  inclined  to  think  that  the  rrlative  im- 
portance given,  on  the  one  hand,  to  Ilal- 
leck  and  Dralce,  and  on  the  other,  to 
Motley  and  Prescott  and  Walt  Whitman 
could  with  advantage  have  been  re- 
versedf  and  that  more  stress  might  have 
been  laid  upon  some  of  Lonfffellow's 
ballad-Uke  poems,  such  as  **  The  Dis- 
covefer  of  the  North  Cape,"  and,  espe- 
ci.illy.  the  '*  Saga  of  King  Olaf  but 
these  are  matters  of  detail.  There  is 
very  little  room  for  division  of  opinion 
as  to  the  exLcdk-nce  of  Mr.  Matthews's 
amuu^ement  as  a  whole  and  as  to  the 
soundness  of  his  judgments.  He  pre- 
serves always  the  difficult  proper  bal- 
ance between  sympathy  and  justice. 
He  deserves  especial  credit  for  recog- 
nising in  Parkman  the  greatest  Ameri- 
can historian.  No  hftter  little  sketch 
of  I'^ranklia  hais  ever  appeared  than  that 
which  he  gives  ;  he  is  profoundly  sm« 
pressed  by  Franklin's  greatness,  and  yet 
he  shows,  in  a  sciUciicc  in  which  he  con- 
trasts him  with  Abraham  Lincoln,  his 
appreciation  of  that  side  of  Franklin's 
character  wherein  the  philosopher  £ell_ 
short.  His  power  of  appreciating  in-' 
finitely  different  qualities  is  shown  by 
his  capital  sketches  of  Cooper  and  Haw- 
thorne. Where  all  the  work  is  so  good 
it  is  difficult  to  thi  KJse,  but  the  chapters 
on  LfOwell  and  Holmes  are  singularly 
appreciative  and  just. 

In  Mr.  Matthews  lias  produced 

an  admirable  book,  both  in  manner  and 
in  matter,  and  has  made  a  distinct  ad- 
dition to  the  very  literature  of  which  he 
writes. 

Tiuadore  Hoosa  eli, 


MR.  DOUGLAS  SI  ADEN  AND  "THE 
JAPS."* 

Mr.  Sladen  has  written  a  novel  upon 

the  question  of  marriagL*  with  a  deceased 
wife's  sister,  and  in  the  course  of  it  has 
done  one  or  two  things  very  well.  For 
example,  he  has  drawn  a  lively  picture 
of  English  and  American  society,  or  of 
a  certain  section  of  it,  in  Japan.  It  is 
not  a  very  pretty  picture.  Those  who 
fignr«-  in  it  appear  to  louk  npon  life  as 
entirely  a  matter  of  beer  and  skittles, 
or  of  their  equivalents  among  the 
"  smart"  people  of  Vi)kohama  :  and 
"  smartness,"  as  Mr.  Wells's  Uncle  says, 
"  is  the  foam  of  the  ocean  of  vulgarity, 
cast  up  by  the  waves  of  that  ocean,  and 
caught  by  the  light  of  the  sun."  Still, 
the  men  among  them  at  any  rate  have 
the  saving  grace  of  an  honest,  if  rather 
slap-bang,  chivalry,  for  which  we  can 
forgive  them  their  slang  and  their 
whisk».y-and-sodas.  Again,  Mr.  SlacK-n, 
without  being  aggressively  informing, 
tells  us  a  good  &aX  about  Japan  and 
the  Japanese.  He  turns  his  background 
to  humorous  account.  When  Philip 
won  Mary's  hand — at  the  moment,  ow- 
ing to  the  accident  which  had  discov- 
ered their  hearts,  her  fingers  were 
"  masses  of  bleeding  pulp  ;"  but  we  pass 
til  at  over— 'the  lovers  were  together  in 
a  Japanese  room.  "In  Japanese  rooms 
there  is  no  furniture.  It  was  so  hard  to 
be  decorously  affectionate  on  the  floor 
that  they  sneaked  out  and  sat  at  the 
top  of  the  ladder-like  stair."  Mr.  Sla- 
den's  chief  feat,  however,  is  in  making 
his  heroine,  Hryn  Avon,  grow  in  our 
regard  in  spite  of  starting  very  low  down 
in  it  and  doing  little  to  carry  her  up 
higher.  Rrvn  on  the  tennis  lawn,  ur 
Bryn  discussing  every  tiling  she  shouldn't 
with  Mr,  Spong,  or,  indeed,  Bryn  any- 
where in  company  with  her  sister  Mary, 
is  an  exceedingly  disagreeable  young 
lady.  And  to  the  very  end  of  otir  ac- 
quaintance with  her,  she  scarce  ever 
fails  to  do  the  wrong  thing.  To  take  a 
case  :  Even  if  her  cousin  Bell  had  not 
been  so  really  good  to  her,  she  ought 
not  to  have  breathed  a  hint  to  Runney 
of  the  conduct  of  Bell'b  husband  ;  her 

Romney-tngs  were  always  high-falutin* 

•  A  Japanese  Marriage.    By  Oqui^  Slwlen. 
New  York  :  MacmilUo  &  Co.  #1.35. 
The  Japs  ai  Home.    By  Douglas  SUdeo.  Whh 

portr.iiL  .iiid  1 1>  >  i11us(r.ai<  >ns.  NewY^l^t*  Want, 
Lock     bowdcQ  ^Ltmited;. 


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/ 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


* 

and  in  bad  taste.  Nevertheless,  in  spite 
of  all  this,  in  spite  of  fior  extraordinary 
beauty,  of  which  siie  and  Mr.  Sladen 
are  so  irritatingly  conscious,  we  liice 
Bryn,  and  like  her  more  and  more,  and 
have  sutticicnt  sympathy  for  her  tu  be 
glad  to  take  our  leave  of  her  happy  with 
Philip.  What  Mr.  Slad<  ii  fails  to  do  is 
to  heighten  our  sense  of  the  wrong  done 
by  the  existing  law  to  the  deceased 
wife's  sister.  His  case  is  too  much 
compounded  <if  rari  fullv  selected  out- 
rages. The  picture  of  lii .  English  vicar, 
and  of  his  household  in  which  Bryn 
finds  a  home  for  a  time,  is  simply  gro- 
tesque. Besides,  in  marrying  Mary 
Avon,  Philip  made  a  mistake.  It  was 
Bryn  whom  he  otit^ht  to  have  married, 
not  Mary  ;  and  Bryn  knew  it.  Bryn, 
by  the  way,  had  a  wonderful  way  of 
knowing  things.  When  Mr.  MaUidene's 
fingers  met  hers,  in  helpinq-  her  over  a 
gate,  his  iiaud  was  tingiing  in  a  way 
which  put  her  on  her  guard  !  So  that 
Bryn  deliberately  stepped  into  the  fur- 
nace when  she  became  Philip's  house- 
keeper. The  result  is — ^very  unreason* 
able,  no  dc)u!)t — tliat  \vc  find  a  perverse 
joy  in  the  knowledge  of  arbitrary  trials 
to  chasten  the  Bryns  of  this  world  (who 
improve  under  them  wonderfully),  and 
to  put  ditHculties  in  the  way  of  the  cock- 
a-hoop  theories  of  novelists  about  the 
increase  of  human  happiness  and  the 
hiichcst  end  of  existence. 

in  u  uiu<  h  pleasanter  vein  is  Mr.  Sla- 
den's  Japs  at  Home,  of  which  the  fifth 
edition  has  just  been  issued  with  some 
**  Bits  of  China"  added.  Mr.  Sladen  is 
here  the  keen-sighted  observer  with 
ready  sympathies  and  a  jolly  honJiomit' 
which  makes  him  the  best  of  compan- 
ions through  a  book  of  this  sort.  He 
has  sampled  almost  every  phase  and 
form  of  Japanese  life  so  that  he  may  be 
able  to  tell  us  of  chibs  and  dancing 
girls,  its  firemen  and  funerals,  its  street 
life  and  temple  worship,  its  novels  and 
naval  reviews  ajid  theatres  and  curio 
shops.  "  As  was  natural  for  an  im- 
pressionlst,"  he  says,  *'  I  have  written 
for  the  most  part  in  the  lighter  vein, 
but  rideniem  dicere  verum  quid  vetaf.** 
He  adds  that  if  he  were  writing:  the 
book  now  he  should  write  it  from  a 
more  serious  standpoint.  Wc  much 
prefer  the  book  as  it  is  with  its  camera 
obscura  reproduction  of  tlie  panoramic 
procession  of  Japanese  life  as  it  flashed 

itself  at  a  happy  moment  on  the  retina 


of  the  artist's  volatile  brain.  The  book 
is  profusely  and  humorously  illustrated. 


THE  AMAZING  MARRIAGE.* 

Mr.  Meredith*s  latest  story  does  not 

lose,  gains  rather,  if  read  in  bits.  This 
is  not  all  dispraise,  for  it  means  the  book 
is  good  all  through,  and  that  each  por- 
tion  will  somehow  reward  you.  E.xcept 
for  one  man's  character,  and  even  that  I 
is  so  complex  and  contradictory  that  its  [ 
understanding  can  best  be  reached  I . 
staples,  with  pauses  between,  there 
nothing  that  needs  to  be  viewed  as  a 
whole.    The  first  chapters  arc  magnifi* 
cent,  and  we  are  not  alftne.  iio^sibly,  in 
feeling  disappointment  that  the  mar- 
riage of  the  Old  Buccaneer  and  Coant- 
ess  Fanny  was   not  the  amazing  one 
chosen  for  the  serious  stor\'.    There  you 
have  a  quick,  dashing  romance.  After 
it  you  settle  down  to  one  that  needs 
much  explanation.    The  plan,  however, 
is  excellent.    You  hear  the  curious  tik 
now  from  Fleetwood's  side,  now  from 
his  wife's,  now  as  amusingly  travestied 
by  Dame  Gossip.    Then,  in  no  other  i 
story  has  Mr.  Meredith  let  loose  more 
of  his  lyrical  faculty.    His  spirits,  too.  I 
are  high  ;  his  humour,  save  where  hi* 
heroine  is  concerned,  alert.   Hissketchtt  i 
of  the  parasites  that  flocked  round  Fleet-  ' 
wood  are  inimitable.    And  his  narrativi; 
powers  are  here  and  thereat  tluirlive 
liest.    But  these  powers  do  not  wail  o' 
nnr  sentimentalities,  for  unqiiesliotiaVh; 
the  strongest  portion  of  the  book  is  thi  j 
ghastly  marriage  scene,  the  furious  dti«  • 
of  the  wrathful  bridegroom  and  his  a:-  , 
ject  bride,  and  his  fiendish  entertain-  1 
ment  of  her  at  a  prize-fight.  | 
Fleetwood  draws  away  our  bestattec  ' 
tion  from  the  other  characters.   Tik  j 
curious  mixture  of  brains  and  brutalirr,  | 
of  superfine  instincts  and  caddishno>.  ( 
of  black  moods  and  »  <<Ti\-entional  elt-  , 
gance,  in  the  young  spoiled  millionai;' ) 
nobleman,  is  treated  by  a  master  hue.  | 
He  is  only  not  so  perfectly  siicccssfui 
the  Egoist,  because  he  is  iniinitely  m'^ 
complex  and  difficult  for  us  to  t>kt 
in.    Readers,  it  should  ever  be  rcmc^ 
bered,  make  one  of  the  conditions  oi- 
writer*s  success.   With  the  wanderici: 
scholar  of  Nature  who  lascmates  us 

•  The  Amazing  Marriage.    By  George 
dith.    New  Yorlc:  Charles  Scribiier*s  Sods.  • 
vols.  Ia.50. 


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sn 


the  beginning,  }ic  is  in  imperfect  sym- 
pathy. Woodseer  settles  down  to  do- 
mesticity prematurely  ;  there  were  fur- 
ther ticvelopmenls  iuhis  history,  for  cer- 
tain. Perhaps  We  seldom  accept  Mr. 
Mereditli's  characters  as  inr\  iiably  what 
he  makes  them.  Marry  Richmond's  fa- 
ther and  Sir  Willoughby,  of  course,  are 
exceptions.  Is  tilts  a  lack  in  them,  nr  a 
proof  of  strong  human  interest,  prompt- 
in]^  us  to  interfere  with  their  opinions 
and  careers  as  we  like  to  do  with  those 
of  our  flesh  and  blood  neighbours  ? 
Something  of  both.  For  instance,  when 
our  sympathies  are  being  tossed  to  and 
fr(j  between  Fleetwootl  and  his  wife,  we 
do  not  say,  at  one  black  point,  Ves, 
here  he  was  a  brute  ;  Mr,  Meredith  was 
creating  a  brtitc.  On  the  contrary,  we 
grow  indignant,  and  say  it  is  against 
nature,  which  means  against  our  desires. 
So  with  C.trinthia— which  brings  US  to 
an  interesting  point. 

Mr.  Meredith  has  perhaps  his  warmest 
admirers  among  women.  Some  of  them 
hold  him  to  be  their  hv^i  interpreter. 
Well,  he  cherishes  a  wealth  of  kindly 
feeling  towards  them,  and  he  has  a  rare 
sense  of  justice,  ami  uf  c!ii\alry.  But 
his  observations  oi  tliem  are  not  very 
wide.  Only  one  or  two  types  does  he 
deeply  understand.  .\nd  then  there  is 
that  crying  offence  of  his — his  forgive- 
ness of  Diana's  meanness.  He  may  go 
on  multiplying  his  types  of  men.  Long 
ago  he  came  to  the  end  of  his  women. 
We  like  his  Amazons  as  a  rule.  They 
are  excellent  comrades.  And  at  the 
ver!>al  flescripttonof  this  one,  Carinthia, 
Wc  kindle. 

"  LivifiR  faces,  if  they're  to  show  the  soul, 
which  is  ih'  Mar  on  the  peak  of  bc.'\iii>.  rnu--t 
lend  theiiJscUcs  to  coimiiotion.  Natuic  dues  it 
in  a  breezy  tree  or  over  ruffled  waters.  Repose 
has  never  such  splendid  reach  as  animation — I 
mean  in  the  living:  face.  Artists  prefer  repose. 
Only  nature  can  express  the  uttermost  beauty 
with  her  gathering  and  tuning  of  discofds.  Well, 
your  mistress  has  that  beauty." 

Again,  from  Woodseer's  notebook, 

"  From  :iiiriuir  t'l  I'cr.utc  she  is  ilie  rocit  that 
loses  the  sun  at  night  and  reddens  in  the  mum- 
UIg. 

But  the  Carinthia  that  plays  an  active 

part  is  a  bore.  In  Fleetwood's  most 
brutal  moments  we  have  a  sneaking  sym- 
pathy for  him  ;  she  had  the  worst  fault 
to  a  quick  spirit  like  hi^ — ohtuseness. 
Life  had  to  bore  iiules  with  a  pickaxe  to 
kt  understanding  into  her.   She  goes 


about,  in  the  beginning  at  least,  with 

muffled  hands  and  veiled  eyes,  and  can- 
not see  how  her  weary  quotations  of  her 
father,  and  her  clawing,  abject  manners, 
rile  the  man  upon  whom  she  has  be- 
stowed her  affection.  The  Sjiirii  of  hu- 
mour docs  not  breathe  in  her  or  on  her. 
But  she  might  be  excellent,  we  own,  as 

Mademoiselle  de  Levellier,  fighting  in 
Spain  with  the  Carlists. 
The  bookt  makes  one  brbtle  here  and 

there,  but  it  is  the  best  work  Mr.  Mere- 
dith has  given  tis  since  Diana  of  the 
Crossways^  and  if  without  the  charm  of 
that  it  is  also  without  its  alienating  fea- 
ture. And  it  reveals  Mr.  Meredith's 
sympathies  more  openly  than  almost 
anything  else  in  his  prose.  He  is  the 
Welshman  here,  and  Wales  may  be  proud 
to  claim  2'fu  Amasing  Marriage.  Great 
nonsense  is  often  talked  in  connection 
with  the  Celtic  Renascence.  But  Mr. 
Meredith  has  much  of  interest  to  say 
concerning  race  characteristics,  and  one 
truth,  which  is  almost  a  discovery,  fine- 
ly uttered — 

"  Now,  to  the  Cymry  and  to  the  pure  Kelt,  the 
past  is  at  their  elbows,  continually.  Hie  past  of 
their  lives  has  lost  neither  face  nor  voice  behind 
the  shroud  ;  nor  are  the  passions  of  the  flesh,  nor 
is  the  animate  soul,  wanting  to  it.  (  hht  r  races 
forfeit  infancy,  forfeit  youth  and  manhood  with 
their  progression  to  the  wisdom  hrc  may  bestow. 
These  have  each  stage  always  alive,  quicit  at  a 
word,  a  scent,  a  sound,  to  conjure  up  scenes  !o 
spirit  and  in  flame.  Historically,  they  still  march 
with  Cailwalladcr,  with  Llewellyn,  with  Glen- 
dower;  sing  with  Aneurin,  Ta'Iitsiii.  ulil  I.ly- 
warch  ;  individually,  they  arc  in  the  heart  <  f  th<- 
injury  done  them  thirty  years  back,  or  thrilSin;;  to 
the  glorious  deed  which  strikes  an  empty  buckler 
for  most  of  the  sons  of  Time.  An  old  sea  rises 
in  them,  rolling  no  phantom  billows  to  break  to 
spray  against  existing  rocks  of  the  i^ore." 


THE  MAKERS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.* 

Dr.  John  Brown  of  Bedford  is  dis- 
tinguished hnth  in  l'",ni.^],uui  ami  Ameri- 
ca not  only  as  a  successful  and  warm- 
hearted clergyman,  but  as  the  author  of 
the  biograpliy  of  I?unyaii  which  has 
been  accepted  as  the  linal  book  on  the 
subject.  His  seventeenth-century  learn- 
ing,  especially  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  is 
proved  afresh  in  this  admirable  account 
of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  which  draws 

•  l  he  I'iltjrini  I'.ithcis  of  New  England  and 
their  Puritan  Surccsb' irs.     My  John  Brown,  B.A., 

I).  D.    New  York :  Fleming  H.  Rcveli  Company. 

I2.50. 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


freely  on  State  papers,  manus(  ripls, 
auihoriiies,  and  origiual  documents, 
and  makes  especial  use  of  Bradford's 
long^-lost  Hi^ory  of  Piymouth  Plantation. 
Dr.  linnvn  has  a  second  qualifi.  alicin  to 
be  the  historian  of  a  great  movement  : 
he  is  in  hearty  though  discriminating 
sympathy  with  the  spirit  of  the  men 
whom  he  portrays.  After  a  preliminary' 
chapter  on  the  orij^ins  of  En[a;lish  Pun* 
tanism,  we  are  iiuiiiduced  to  the  two 
friends,  Williaai  Brewster  and  William 
Bradford,  round  whose  lives  the  main 
interest  of  the  stf)ry  centres.  It  was  un- 
der the  roof  (if  Urewster's  manor  house 
at  Scrooby  liiaL  the  "  separated"  Clmrch 
met,  which  had  John  Robinson  for  its 
minister.  Dr.  Brown  traces  w  ith  minute 
research  the  genesis  and  then  the  exodus 
of  this  little  persecuted  society  of  the 
faithful.  They  found  refiiu^e  first  at 
Amsterdam,  and  thence  migrated  to 
Leyden,  where  Arminius  had  just  died, 
and  Rembrandt  was  ijrowing  into  man- 
hood, and  the  strife  between  Remon- 
strants and  Counter-Remonstrants  had 
come  near  to  civil  war.  John  Robinson 
himself  took  public  part  in  this  con- 
troversy ;  and  Dr.  Brown  devotes  a 
chapter  to  a  careful  account  of  his  writ- 
injrs. 

But  old  Holland  was  not  destined  to 
become  the  cradle  of  a  new  finj^land. 

After  many  plans  and  prayers,  and  de- 
lays and  disappointments,  the  Jlayjiower 
sailed  west,  and  landed  her  band  of 
emigrants  on  Plymouth  Rock,  in  the 
early  winter  of  lOjo.  Dr.  Brown  re- 
peals wilii  new  l'rcblmc.->.s  aad  accuracy 
the  pathetic  tale  of  their  hardships  and 
perils,  their  datintlrss  faith  and  forti- 
tude. Bradford,  who  was  chosen  gov- 
ernor in  1621,  and  Brewster,  who  be- 
came "  l!ltK  r"  and  practically  pastor, 
guided  the  young  colony  through  its 
first  fateful  years.  The  Pilgrims  re- 
verted instinctively  to  first  principles  in 
politics,  as  in  religion.  It  is  curious  to 
read  how  their  early  communism  soon 
gave  place  to  private  property.  Mean- 
while the  Puritan  exodus  from  Stuart 
tyranny  rapidly  increased.  Hndicott 
and  Winthrop  founded  Salem  and  Bos- 
ton, and  large  bodies  of  settlers  colo- 
nised Massachusetts  Bay,  and  spread  up 
the  Connecticut  Valley.  In  May,  1643, 
the  deputies  (jf  26,000  emigrants  signed 
articles  of  a  mutual  confederacy  of  New 
England  Colonies— the  mustard  seed  of 
;he  future.    But     the  greatest  man 


among  the  founders  of  Plymouth  Plan- 
tation did  not  live  to  see  that  day  for 
a  month  earlier,  '*  to  the  great  sadness 
and  sorrow  of  them  all,"  William  Brew- 
ster had  died. 

We  cannot  help  wishing  that  Dr. 
Brown  had  found  space  to  write  hi^  \  er- 
diet  on  Roger  Williams  and  the  begin- 
nings of  Rhode  Island.  We  are  curious 
to  know  how  far  he  concurs  in  Dr.  Dex- 
ler's  strictures  on  that  much-debated 
and  remarkable  personality.  But  it  is 
not  possible  to  deal  with  every  point  in 
one  moderate  volume.  We  especially 
appreciate  the  genial  tone  in  which  the 
la>t  cliaptcrs  describe  some  of  the  har^h- 
er  sidi  s  of  primitive  New  England  life. 
Hath  tu\vn^llil)  w.is  dominated  by  its 
minister  and  its  meeting-house.  How- 
ever stem  the  winter,  worship  went  on 
witfinut  a  fire.  Judge  Scwall  writes: 
"  Bread  frozen  at  the  Lord's  table  .  .  . 
yet  was  very  comfortable  at  meeting.** 
Sermons  lasted  from  two  to  four  or  five 
hours.  The  '*  tithing  man"  moved 
among  the  pews  "recalling  sleepers  to 
consciousness  with  his  wand."  The 
constables  at  Salem  had  orders  "  to  at- 
tend at  the  three  great  doors  of  the 
meeting-house  every  Lord's  Day  .  .  . 
tn  keep  the  doors  fast  and  siifTer  none 
to  go  out  before  the  whole  exercise  be 
ended."  Nay,  a  man  at  New  Haven 
was  punished  by  tlie  town  for  venturing 
to  say  that  he  ' '  received  no  protit  from 
the  minister's  sermons;**  a  man  at 
Plymouth  who  "  spoke  deridingly  of 
the  minister's  powers,"  and  another  at 
Andovcr  \v!io  "  cast  uncharitable  retlcc- 
tions  on  his  pastor,"  Were  lined  and  de- 
pri\  ed  of  the  sacrament.  Church  music 
was  rudimentary  ;  there  were  only  about 
ten  tunes  in  use,  and  a  volunteer  pre- 
centor "  set  the  Psalm."  Judge  St  vs  .dl 
records  in  his  diary  how,  "  His  voice 
being  enfeebled,"  he  came  to  gri«f  in 
this  oflice  :  "  I  intended  Windsor,  and 
fell  into  High  Dutch.  .  .  .  The  Lord 
humble  me  and  instruct  me."  And 
again :  **  In  the  morning  I  set  York 
tune,  and  nn  the  second  going  over  the 
gallery  carried  it  irresistibly  to  St.  Da- 
vid's, which  discouraged  me  very 
much." 

We  have  said  more  than  enough  to 
show  how  the  vivid,  human  picturesque 
touches  in  Dr.  Brown's  bonk  balance 
and  relieve  his  scholarship  and  research. 
The  Pilgrim  Fathers  live  and  move  and 
endure  and  overcome  aa  bis  pages ;  to 


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liave  told  their  story  worthily  is  his 
highest  praise.  And  he  does  show  how, 
after  allowing  for  alt  drawbacks,  '*  there 
was  in  these  makers  of  New  England  a 
jrrand  niaslt*rftd  sincerity,  a  nf)hle  cour- 
age of  couviciion,  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  the  authority  of  righteousness 
in  hum. Ill  life,  ariif  an  evor-prrsrnt  con- 
sciousness ot  (iod's  personal  rule  over 
the  world  in  spite  of  all  its  confusions." 
Of  them,  too,  it  may  surely  be  said  that 
their  works  do  follow  them.  Professor 
Seeley  defined  and  tested  religion  by 
what  he  called  its  "  ttation-making  pow- 
er." Plymouth  R<n  k  ( <  <ntirms  the  defi- 
nition and  attests  its  irulli. 

Dr.  A.  E.  Dunning,  of  the  Congrega- 
ii(>njl.'>t,  h.is  wiittrn  a  sjiiriltMl  iiilroduc- 
tion  to  liie  work,  in  wiiich  he  says  that 
**  it  is  a  most  welcome  evidence  of  the 
strong  ties  that  hind  Rn^i^land  and 
America  together  tlxat  an  Englishman 
has  here  chronicled  the  noblest  chapter 
in  our  <Mrly  history,  with  so  genuine  an 
insight  into  its  character  and  dignity 
that  in  both  nations  it  will  be  read  with 
equal  interest."  There  are  numerous 
illustrations  by  Charles  Wliymper  taken 
from  original  sketches,  many  of  them 
curious  and  quaint  reminders  of  *' the 
makers  of  New  England." 

T,  If,  Darlcm. 


MR.  HOWELLS  AS  A  POET.* 

Mr.  IIowclls  is  so  universally  admitted 
to  hold  the  primacy  among  living  Ameri- 
can men  of  letters  as  to  make  liis  ajipcar- 
ance  in  a  new  field  of  effort  an  event  of 
peculiar  interest.  That  he  should  turn 
to  poetry  is  particularly  certain  to  excite 
both  curiosity  and  comment,  for  in  many 
ways  his  theory  of  art  is  one  that  finds  its 
most  natural  exemplification  in  prose, 
eschewing  as  it  dof^s  the  ideal  and  hold- 
ing fast  to  the  obvitms  and  the  actual. 
These  productions  of  his,  therefore,  con- 
ceived in  poetical  form,  have  an  unex- 
pectedness about  them  that  will  inevi- 
tably lead  to  their  being  read  with  a 
sensation  not  unmingled  with  surprise. 

The  tirst  and  strongest  impression  that 
one  gets  from  the  perusal  of  this  volume 
is  an  impression  of  intense  sadness.  A 
profound  melancholy  pervades  every  one 

•Stops  'A  V.iri  .iis  Ouills.  Hy  William  Dean 
Hoirells.  Illustrated  by  Howard  Pylc  New 
York  i  Harper  &  Bros.  |8.$a 


of  the  short  poems  that  are  here  collect- 
ed. There  is  scarcely  a  line  that  sounds 
the  note  of  carelessness  and  joy  ;  and 
when  the  major  chord  is  struck,  it  only 
gives  addition. d  intciisil)'  to  tlic  minor 
that  invarial)ly  succeeds.  This  melan- 
choly, this  pervasive  sadness,  one  cannot 
quite  call  pessimism,  for  it  docs  not 
spring  from  a  pessimistic  spirit.  True 
pessimism  is  seldom  dissociated  from 
cynicism,  and  is  by  no  means  inconsis- 
tent with  a  tone  of  gaiety.  The  stand- 
point of  the  real  pessimist  is  that  which 
is  indicated  in  the  famous  savins^, 
"  TluTc's  nothing  good  and  tlicrc's  noth- 
ing true,  and  it  doesn't  signify."  Mr. 
Howells,  too,  holds  apparently  that  there 
is  nothing  good  and  nothing  true,  but  to 
him  it  signifies  very  much  indeed.  It 
wrings  his  heart  and  afflicts  his  whole 
being  with  a  sense  of  pain  and  of  disa])- 
pointment.  The  lines  in  which  his  feel- 
ing finds  expression  describe  the  mind 
of  one  who  has  hoped  much  and  met 
nothing  but  disillusion  ;  of  one  whose 
nerves  are  overstrained,  whose  spirit  is 
sickened,  and  whose  verjr soul  is  sorrow- 
ful and  despairing.  Life  is  one  great 
failure — a  mystery  whose  veil  is  quite 
impenetrable,  and  which,  if  one  could 
penetrate  it,  would  doubtless  show  us 
only  forms  more  fearful  and  anguish  still 
more  intense. 

This  mental  attitude  is  one  that  the 
readers  of  Mr,  Ilowells's  later  novels 
have  come  to  recc»gnise  to  some  extent ; 
it  finds  voice  in  the  social  discontent  of 
Hazard  of  Ntii.'  Fortunes  and  The  World  of 
Chance  ;  and  even  in  the  half-humorous 
pages  of  A  Traveller  from  Jltruria  this 
undercurrent  of  melanclioly  i^  percepti- 
ble ;  yet  nowhere  before  is  the  impression 
so  powerfully  conveyed  as  in  these  scat- 
tered poems  ;  for  here  there  is  no  by- 
play, no  mitigating  humour,  notliing  to 
distract  the  attention  of  the  reader  from 
the  dominant  motive  ;  and  the  very 
brevity  and  concentration  of  the  thought 
drive  its  full  meaning  home  to  the  con- 
sciousness. 

A  quotation  or  two  may  serve  to  show 
the  tone  and  temper  of  tiie  whole.  Take, 
for  instance,  this  poem  entitled  **  He< 
rcdity"— 

That  flwollen  paunch  you  are  doomed  to  bear 

Your  ^'uttoDoiis  1^ r.inilsire  u<eil  to  wear; 
That  lo!i>;uc,  al  oiicc  so  ii^jhi  and  dull. 
Wagged  in  your  grandam's  cin;ity  skull; 
That  leering  of  tbe  sensiul  eye 
Your  faiber,  wbco  he  came  to  die, 


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L(jtl  your^  akxic  ;  aiul  ihal  cheap  tiirt, 
Your  mother,  pave  you  from  the  dirt 
The  ximper  which  she  used  upon 
So  maay  men  ere  be  was  won. 

Your  vanliy  and  ^rced  and  lust 
Are  each  your  portion  from  the  dost 
Of  those  that  died,  and  from  the  tomb 

Made  you  what  you  must  needs  Ixcomc. 
I  ilo  not  hold  you  au^ht  to  blame 
For  sin  at  second  hand  and  shame: 
Kvii  could  but  from  evil  spring  ; 
And  yet  away,  you  charnel  thing ! 

Still  more  characteristic  is  this,  called 
"  To-morrow** : 

Old  fraud,  I  know  you  In  that  gay  disguise. 

Til  il  lir  of  hof>c,  tJi.it  promise  of  suip"'-'"  . 
liciicaih  your  bravery,  as  you  come  tins,  way, 
1  see  the  soniid  presence  <^f  To-day  ; 
And  1  shall  see  there,  long  ere  you  are  gone, 
Alt  the  dull  Yesterdays  that  I  have  known. 

And  this,  called     Calvary"  : 

If  He  could  doubt  on  His  triumphant  cross, 

How  much  more  I,  in  the     'V-  it  .md  loss 

Of  seeing  all  tny  siciti^h  dreamij  tuihlled. 

Of  having  lived  the  very  life  I  willed, 

Of  being  ail  ibai  I  desired  to  be  ? 

My  God,  my  God  !  why  bast  Tbou  forsaken  me  ? 

And  in  another  poem,  which  wc  can- 
not take  space  to  quote  in  full,  Mr. 
Howells  jrives  his  whole  view  of  life — a 
hurried,  meaningless  rout,  amid  which 
mail  is  a  bewildered  guest,  one  who  was 
not  asked  to  come,  who  has  never  seen 
his  host  or  had  from  him  a  word  of 
welcome  ;  but  who,  as  he  stands  i,.i/ing 
on  t(u'  fcnl:-;!i  srcnr  ,ili<iut  liim,  hears 
from  time  to  time  a  ghastly  shriek  as 
some  one  is  hurried  away  to  be  seen  no 
more.  Each  page  bears  witness  to  a  like 
emotion,  an  emotion  almost  of  disgust 
at  the  cross-purposes  and  senseless  lolly 
of  all  that  men  see  and  hope  and  do. 
The  Weltsihmerz,  l!i<'  tirJium  vitCS^  castS  a 
grey  light  over  every  line. 

It  is  all  very  strong  writing.  As 
literature  it  ranks  very  hii^li.  D'kS  it 
rank  equally  high  as  poetry  t  Let  those 
who  can  claim  to  speak  with  some  de« 
gii  i  f  authority  give  an  answer  to  this 
question.  For  our  part,  wc  do  not  think 
that  these  impressions  of  life  gain  much 
from  the  metrical  form  in  wiiich  they 
ajjpear.  Without  it,  pii!)lished  as  short 
prose  iiaj.ii  cssions,  like  some  of  Mr,  Ham- 
lin Garlaiul's,  they  would,  we  think,  be 
ecjtially  effi'ctive  ;  f'>r  their  cxrrllr nrc 
from  a  literary  point  of  view  depends 
wholly  upon  their  possession  of  thequal- 
itit->  iIi.U  are  peculiarly  conspicuous  in  all 
of  Mr.  Ho  wells 's  work.   A  marvellously 


keen  eye  for  detail,  a  strong  grasp  upon 
the  characteristic  features  of  what  he 

wishes  us  to  see,  an  iinerrinc;  in-tii,<  I  in 
language,  and  an  exquisite  sense  of 
word-values — all  these  are  present  in 

his  verse,  but  yet  no  more  so  than  in  his 
prose.  Take  his  striking  winter  scene 
from  the  poem  called  Labour  and 
Capital**— 

A  spiteful  snow  spit  ihrouf^h  the  bitter  day 

In  little  stinging  pellet*  gray, 

And  crackling  on  the  fiuzen  StfeeC 

About  the  iron  feet. 

Broad  stamped  in  ma^y  shoes, 

Shar|H-nc.!  ,ifi<l  i  .  irked  for  winter  use. 

Of  the  huge  Normati  horses,  plump,  and  round. 

In  burnisbed  brass  and  shining  leather  bound. 


And  hunchf  il  above  the  load. 

Above  the  (Juiupany's  horses  like  a  load. 

All  huKjied  together 

Against  the  pitiless  weather. 

In  an  old  cardigan  jacket  aiid  a  cap 

Of  mangy  fur. 

And  a  frayed  comforter 

Around  his  stiffened  cbin.  too  scant  to  wrap 

ills  purple  ears. 

And  in  his  blinking:  r-y«:<  uha;  li.i'i  Keen  tr-..r> 
But  that  they  seemed  lo  have  frozen  there  as  they 
ran, 

Thi  f  ■mp.^ny's  man. 

Thi>  really  gains  nothini,''  from  the 
rhyme,  wiiich  is  only  an  incident  and 
adds  nothing  to  the  effect  of  what  in 
pure  prose  wouM  he  an  ecjually  per- 
fect picture,  making  one  almost  shiver 
as  he  reads. 

Nor  is  the  structure  of  the  verse 
wholly  satisfactory,  for  it  is  too  often  at 
variaiice  with  the  requirements  of  rhyth- 
mical consistency.  One  is  tempted  to 
attribute  the  frequency  of  this  scazonic 
movement  to  technical  inexperience  ; 
but  Mr.  Howells  is  too  thoroughly  an 
artist  to  make  this  cxpl.m.ili' m  tenable. 
It  is  likely  that  he  purposely  admits 
irregularities,  as  a  musician  admits  dis- 
soi)aii>jes,  ti-  heicrhten  the  effect  of  what 
is  regular  and  metrically  normal  in  the 
adjacent  lines.  Tennyson  did  this  fre- 
quently, far  too  frequently,  in  fact,  in 
his  later  verse,  just  as  some  of  the  Latin 
poets  broke  the  inevitable  monotony  of 
their  hexameters  by  playing  tricks  with 
the  cesnra.  l?ut  Mr.  II  vAells  should 
have  remembered  that  while  this  is  al- 
lowable and  even  commendable  in  long: 
stretclK  s  of  verse,  it  is  a  positive  defect 
in  a  poem  of  only  a  dozen  or  twenty 
lines,  in  reading  which  the  ear  does  not 
have  time  to  tire  or  to  deinand  v.triety, 
but  is  far  better  pleased  with  perfeclioa 


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of  melody  aiid  regularity  of  cadence. 
The  last  line  of  the  third  passage  quoted 
above  will  illustrate  what  we  mean.  At 
the  tirst  reading  one  stumbles  over  it 
most  unpleasantly.  Of  course,  reread* 
inrr  it,  one  can  crowd  it  into  a  normal 
measure  by  a  sort  of  crasis  in  the  words 
**  thou  hast"  ;  but  this  is  at  best  a  Pro- 
crustean operation  that  is  sure  to  offend, 
and  is  in  every  way  a  blemish  on  the 
verse  and  a  source  ol  vexation  to  the 
reader. 

Harry  Thurston  Feck, 


HEDONISTIC  THEORIESw* 

In  these  days  of  ethical  movements, 

when  even  politics  are  bec^innincf  to  feel 
the  force  of  moral  ideas,  it  would  seem 
a  pity  that  our  best  thinkers  should  still 
confine  themselves  so  exclusively  to  the 
discussion  of  questions  of  purely  the- 
oretic interest.  Perhaps  their  attitude 
is  due  to  a  Vielief  tliat  eiimmoii  sense  is 
better  able  than  philosophy  to  guide  the 
affairs  of  mankind  ;  but  even  so,  it  would 
be  a  satisfaction  ti .  liave  a  code  of  scien- 
tific morality  with  which  at  least  we 
mi^ht  disagree. 

Professor  Watson's  book,  hOWever, 
in  s[)iie  of  tiie  fact  that  it  assumes  tlie 
form  ut  liisiorical  criticism,  is  by  no 
means  out  of  touch  with  practical  life. 
Utility  is  still  the  ideal  of  tlie  threat  ma- 
jority of  political  theorists  and  practical 
politicians,  and  under  the  disguise  of 
this  vaguest  of  terms  we  e an  in  most 
cases  find  a  concealed  or  acknowledged 
hedonism.  Any  criticism,  therefore, 
that  may  serve  to  unfold  the  implica- 
tions of  this  thcor)%  will  render  good 
service  to  the  cause  of  right  living. 

In  some  respects,  the  title  of  this  work 
is  niisleadiiM^.  We  .ire  led  to  expect  a 
history  ol  iiedonism  from  its  origin  to 
our  own  day,  and  the  student  of  the  his< 
tory  of  philosophy  or  ethics  iniL^ht  natu- 
rallv  turn  to  its  pages  for  the  determi- 
nation of  some  obscure  point  in  the  his- 
tory of  his  science.  He  would  probably 
look  in  vain.  There  is  no  detail  of  bio- 
graphical or  bil>liographical  interest. 
We  are  not  told  when  or  why  the  sys- 
tems under  discussion  were  written,  f>r 
even  tlie  torm  in  which  they  appeared. 
In  fact,  the  historical  environment  has 

*  Hedonistic  Theories  from  Axistippias  to  Her- 
bert SpenrfT.  Ry  Jnhn  WaCSOQ.  N«W  York: 
Macmiilan  <S:  Co. 


dropped  out.  In  its  place  we  have  the 
successive  systems  reduced  to  their  low- 
est lot^ieal  terms,  in  order  that  we  may 
follow  clearly  and  unhindered  the  de- 
velopment of  the  principle  of  pleasure. 

From  this  it  is  plain  for  whom  tlic 
book  was  intended.  It  is  not  for  the 
historical  student,  or  at  least,  not  for 
the  beginner  in  the  history  of  thought. 
The  logical  or  illogical  character  of  the 
svstems  is  made  too  evident.  It  would 
be  impossible  for  one  coming  for  the 
first  time  to  the  study  of  these  thinkers 
tiirough  this  book,  ever  to  understand 
how  it  was  that  such  illogical  systems 
could  have  arisen.  The  lack  of  atmos- 
phere would  render  impossible  a  just 
estimate  of  historic  values.  But  for  an 
intro<luction  to  systematic  ethics,  this 
work  serves  admirably.  One  by  one 
the  elements  of  hedonism  are  discussed 
and  criticised  as  they  historically  ap- 
pear, so  that  by  the  time  we  reach  the 
most  complex  formulation  of  the  theory 
we  have  already  a  firm  basis  from  which 
to  view  its  added  dinieulties,  and  have 
no  neetl  to  discuss  again  its  foundation 
principle.  When  Hobbes  has  been  dis- 
missed, Mr.  Spencer  need  not  long  de- 
tain us. 

The  success  with  which  Professor 

Watson  has  accomplished  his  task  is 
but  another  witness  to  his  well-known 
philosophic  breadth  and  critical  judg- 
ment. It  is  no  light  thing  to  separate 
the  essential  frf»m  the  arcitlental  in  philo- 
sopliic  systems,  and,  in  paring  away  the 
historical  detail,  to  avoid  omitting  that 
which  is  necessary  to  loi;ieal  complete- 
ness. That  the  reconstruction  of  the 
past  has  been  done  with  faithful  impar- 
tiality, no  (UK-  can  diuibt.  In  its  Ay/o// 
development,  hedonism  has  not  had  a 
clearer  exposition.  And  this  has  been 
done  "  in  familiar  and  untechnical  lan- 
guage," as  the  author  has  purposed  to 
do.  So  simple  and  clear  is  his  exposi- 
tion that  a  hasty  reading  might  leave 
the  impress!  11  that  this  was  pliilosopliy 
made  easy,  and  unworthy  of  more  seri- 
ous attention  ;  but  as  we  proceed  we  find 
that  this  simplicity  is  due  to  that  com- 
plete mastery  of  his  subject  which  en- 
ables the  author  to  present  the  argu- 
ment  free  frotn  all  that  is  accidental  and 
irrelevant.  The  book  is  probably  the 
result  of  lectures,  since  it  is  given  out  as 
a  supplement  to  the  author's  recent 
work  on  Comte,  Mil!,  and  Spencer,  the 
origin  of  which  was  class-room  work. 


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THB  BOOKMAU. 


The  criticism  is,  of  course,  from  the 
idealistic  standpoint,  and  the  work  is 
another  instance  of  the  fact  that,  in  this 
school,  as  Mr.  St  hiller  note?;,  "  whom 
they  would  destroy,  they  commentate." 
The  objectifying  work  of  thought  is 
traced  in  fvi  ry  formulation  of  an  ideal. 
Unless  man  be  content  to  follow  his  in- 
sttticts  blindly  and  unconsciously,  he 
must  accept  the  t,nii(lance  of  reason  in 
his  life,  since  abstract  pleasure  is  an  im- 
possible idea.  Even  the  pleasure-seeker 
**  is  not  seeking  pleasure  for  itself,  he  is 
seekinc^  to  still  the  immortal  craving  to 
realise  himself,  to  find  the  means  of 
spealcing  peace  to  his  own  spirit.  He 
cannot  avoid  framing  an  ideal  of  Iiiinself 
and  seeking  to  make  it  an  actual  experi- 
ence." That  ideal  cannot  be  pleasure 
in  its  abstractness,  since,  as  Mr.  Watson 
neatly  phrases  the  "  hedonistic  para- 
dox," "  The  moral  man  does  not  aim  at 
it,  and  the  immoral  man  who  does  aim 
at  it  cannot  obtain  it." 

Norman  Wilde, 


THE  THISTLE  STEVENSON.* 

It  was  meet  that  this  line  edition  of 
Stevenson's  collected  works  should  be 
collated  and  prepared  for  publication 
in  the  land  wliii  h  was  the  first  to  hon- 
our him  with  p  opularity,  "  for,"  wrote 
Mr.  Barrie,  some  eight  years  ago,  "  the 
Americans  buy  his  books,  the  only  hon- 
our a  writer's  admirers  are  slow  to  pay 
him.  Mr.  Stevenson's  reputation  in  the 
L'nited  States  is  creditable  to  thatcoun- 
tr)',  which  has  given  him  a  position  here 
(Great  Britain)  in  which  only  a  few  saw 
him  when  he  left." 

In  that  same  article  Mr.  Barrie  echoed 
the  expectations  of  Stevenson's  admirers 
at  that  time  in  speakinj^  r,f  "  \\\c  p^r^at 
book,  for  which  we  arc  ail  taking  notes. 
We  want  that  bit?  book  ;  we  think  he  is 
capable  of  it,  aiul  so  we  cannot  afford 
to  let  him  drift  into  the  seaweed."  But 
he  did  drift  away  from  us  never  to  come 
back,  and  ikuv  he  IS  a  year  dead,  and 
"  the        book"  can  never  be  written. 

But  let  us  not  be  misuuderstuuU. 
Many  readers  of  Stevenson,  reading  of 
his  life  in  the  South  Seas,  easily  ideal- 

*  The  Novels,  Travels,  Essays,  and  Poems  of 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  Thistle  edilion.  i6 
vols.     New  York:  Charles  Scrlboer'i  Soot. 

193.00, 


ised  the  existence  down  there  as  one 
never  ending  i/Wtt  Jar  nunte,  with  Na- 
ture as  a  generous  provider,  and  with 
little  else  for  the  exile  to  do  hut  nnw 
and  then  to  gratify  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse to  sit  down  and  write  one  of  those 
masterpieces  of  fiction  that  seemed  al- 
most to  write  themselves.  One  of  the 
most  potent  lessons  of  Stevenson's  life 
lies  in  the  fact  that  life  for  him  since 
young  manhood  had  been  a  fight,  not 
only  towards  gratifying  an  ambition  to 
be  a  literary  man,  but  for  very  existence 
itself.  Courage  tn  work,  when  Wurk 
means  exhaustion  of  the  smallest  physi- 
cal resources ;  coura^  to  hope,  when 
hope  seemed  to  go  ever  fartlier  before, 
and  courage  to  go  on  without  a  mo- 
ment's begging  of  quarter  were  his,  and 
while  he  found  at  V'ailima  that  his  phy- 
sical power  was  at  its  best,  even  then  to 
most  men  the  bitterness  of  the  struggle 
would  have  warped  and  nullified  the 
best  of  talents.  And  as  to  his  drifting 
south,  his  heart  was  always  with  his  na- 
tive land  ;  where  will  be  found  sadder 
words  than  these?  "And  then  you 
could  see  Vailima,  for  it's  beautiful, 
and  my  home  and  tomb  that's  to  be  ; 
though  it's  a  wreneli  not  to  l)e  plantrd 
in  Scotland — that  1  can  never  deny — if 
I  could  only  be  buried  in  the  hills  under 
the  heather  and  a  table  tombstone  like 
the  martyrs  where  the  wbaups  and 
plovers  are  crying." 

The  Thistle  edition  of  Stevenson's 
works — and  fittingly  so  i^  it  called — is 
in  every  respect  worthy  of  the  most  be- 
witching; of  nineteenth  century  writers. 
Bound  in  red  polished  buckram,  with 
titles  and  cover  design  in  gold  stamps, 
printed  from  De  Vinne  type  on  hand- 
made paper,  with  deckel  edges  and  gilt 
tops,  one  can  readily  see  that  no  pains 
or  expense  has  been  spared  to  make  this 
edition  as  handsome  and  Substantial  as 
it  could  be.  The  volumes  are  delight- 
ful to  handle,  and  m<ikc  an  exquisite 
library  set.  The  edition  is  complete 
with  the  CK*  eption  of  Stevenson's  post- 
humous works,  chief  of  which  are  St, 
Ives  and  Wtir  of  Hermist<tn^  still  un- 
printed  and  wliirh  it  is  sadly  knr)\vn  to 
Stevenson's  friends  are  merely  frag- 
ments. The  illustrations  in  photogra- 
vure have  been  drawn  by  the  well-known 
artists  William  Hole,  R.S.A.,  Tloward 
Pylc,  J.  Alden  Weir,  William  II.  Hyde, 
and  others^  and  there  is  a  portrait  of  Ste* 
venson  from  a  photograph  by  Notman. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


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The  bookmakinc:  and  editing  seem  per- 
fect, and  in  the  whole  work  we  find 
nothing  to  cavil  at,  but  everything  to 
commend. 


^ST.  PAUL  THE  TRAVELLER  AND  THE 
ROMAN  CITIZEN  • 

Professor  Ramsay's  volume  on  St. 
Paul  has  grown  out  o{  lectures  delivered 
at  Auburn  Theological  Scuiinary,  Johns 
Hopkins  University,  Harvard,  and  Mans- 
field College,  Oxfdrti.     As  the  tith'  indi- 
cates, they  chiefly  concern  themselves 
with  the  outward  conditions  and  move- 
ments of  the  apostle's  life,  not  with  his 
tlieology.    In   other   words,  they  are 
based  upon  the  Book  of  Acts  rather 
than  on  the  Gpistlcs  of  St.  Paul.    In  his 
researches   in   Asia    Minor,  Professor 
Ramsay  found  hinisclt  frequently  con- 
sulting the  Book  of  Acts,  as  one  of 
the  authorities  for  its  topography,  an- 
tiquities, and  society.    At  hrst,  as  he 
owns,  he  was  prejudiced  a^instit  as  an 
authentic  witnevs  of  fi rst-contury  his- 
tory ;  but  gradually  this  prejudice  was 
removed,  and  in  its  place  there  grew  up 
entire  confidence  in  it  as  a  guide  and  an 
ally  in  obscure  investigations.    And  the 
present  volume  is  not  so  much  a  history 
of  Paul  for  its  own  sake  as  a  prolonged 
e.xhibition   of   the    trustworthiness  of 
Luke's  narrative.    It  is  an  attempt  to 
show  that,  instead  of  being  the  mere 
second-century  romjiilcr,  groping  .mtl 
stumbling  among  uni^nown  places,  mis- 
understood circumstances,  and  anachro- 
nistic customs,  or  a  mere  dull  editor  witli 
scissors  and  paste,  collecting  random 
scraps  of  sensational  legends  and  glue- 
ing them  together  without  intelligence, 
Luke  is  a  iiisliuian  of  the  first  rank, 
trustw(»rtliy,  and  possessing  a  firsl-iiand 
knowledge  of  tlie  greater  part  of  what 
he  rcr(M  (!s,  guided  by  an  unfailincc  sense 
of  proportion,  which  tells  him  wliat  to 
omit  and  what  to  relate,  and  able  to 
present  his  material  In  a  clear  antl  sim- 
ple narrative.    Certainly  no  one  has  a 

•  St.  Paul  the  Traveller  .ind  ihe  Romao  Citizen. 
Ry  W.  M.  Ramsav,  D.C.L.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 
lium.mitv,  Ai.or<iL-f.-n.  New  Yorlc:G.  p.  PuU 
nam's  Suns.  $3.00, 


better  right  to  pronounce  an  authorita- 
tive judgment  on  the  historicity  of 
the  Acts  than  Professor  Ramsay.  He 
has  studied  the  history  of  the  first  cen- 
tury as  very  few  have  done,  so  that,  as 
any  of  his  readers  could  detect  anachro- 
nisms in  a  nineteenth-century  book,  he  is 
familiar  witli  what  is  congruous  and 
what  inc«ingruous  with  the  first  century  ; 
but,  especially,  he  has  carried  this  bo<jk 
open  in  his  hand  tlirouv^h  the  localities 
in  which  its  scenes  are  laid.  He  pos- 
sesses the  knowledge  of  an  expert,  which 
justifies  him  hc.th  when  he  condemns  the 
"  error  and  bad  judgment"  which  pre- 
ponderate in  what  at  present  passes  for 
historical  criticism  and  when  he  assigns 
to  the  P.ook  of  Acts  a  highest  place 
among  historical  works. 

The  importance  of  such  a  judgnnent, 
even  limited  and  conditioned  as  it  is, 
can  scarcely  be  overestimated.  The 
fresh  light  which  Professor  Ramsay 
throws  on  certain  passa5]^es  in  the  career 
of  St.  Paul  is  also  considerable  ;  and 
still  more  considerable  is  the  sense  of 
reality  which  he  imparts  to  the  uliole 
narrative.  He  very  truly  remarks  that 
Luke  **  expects  a  great  deal  from  the 
reader  .  .  .  there  are  many  cases  in 
which  to  catch  his  meaning  properly, 
you  must  in>ugiue  yourself  standing, 
with  Paul,  on  the  deck  of  the  ship  or 
before  the  Roman  official  ;  and  unless 
you  reproduce  the  scene  in  imagination 
you  miss  the  sense."  The  great  and 
lastint(  merit  of  Professor  Ramsay's 
book  is  that  it  enables  even  the  unim- 
aginative reader  thus  to  see  what  is  nar- 
rated. He  will  not  always  see  what 
Professor  Ramsay  sees,  still  less  will  he 
ahva\  s  infer  what  Professor  Ramsay  in- 
fers ;  but  he  will  feel  that  the  ground  he 
treads  is  si  lid.  and  the  persons  he  hears 
of  are  real  and  living.  The  Book  of 
Acts  becomes  a  new  book,  and  excites 

a  new  interest.  Almf^st  every  sugges- 
tion made  by  Professor  Ramsay  will  be 
contested  by  scholars  ;  but  no  one  will 
deny  that  he  vivifies  the  narrative  and 
proves  its  trustworthiness,  and  that  St. 
Paul  becomes  more  than  ever  a  real  fig- 
ure and  one  of  the  greatest  of  men. 

Marcus  Doiis. 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


NOVEL  NOTES. 


A  VIRGINIA  COUSIN  AND  BAR  HARBOUR 
TALES  ISv  Mrs  I'.urii  fi  Harrison.  Boston 
and  New  V«irk  :  1.  uns<in,  WolfTc  &  Co.  $1.25. 

li  certain  gracefully  unimportant 
books  came  from  unknown  authors, 

nothing  need  be  said.  But,  unluckily, 
such  is  rarely  if  ever  the  case,  for  the 
reason  that  only  ilie  practiced  pen  can 
clothe  commonplaces  with  grace.  And, 
since  a  recognised  place  in  nation.il 
literature  has  its  penalties  as  well  as 
its  privilejifes,  a  new  book  by  Mrs.  Bur* 
ton  Harrison  cannot  be  passed  by  even 
with  a  silence  that  would  be  kind.  Yet 
it  is  hard  to  know  what  to  say  about 
A  Virginia  Cousin  an,!  Ptir  Harbour  Tales. 
Flowing  smoothly  from  cover  to  cover, 
the  three  stories  leave  nothing  more 
than  a  mental  blur,  too  indistinct  to  be 
remembered  longer  than  the  turning  of 
the  leaves.  All  that  remains  is  regret — 
for  the  author's  vanished  charm. 

The  characters  are  those  of  the  au- 
thor's earlier  stories — the  two  typical 
matrons  representing^  the  old  and  the 
new  r/i^intf  ;  the  sophisticated  clubman 
and  his  guileless  cousin  ;  the  subtle  city 
girl  and  the  hard-headed  business  man. 
They  arc  all  familiar,  but  they  seem 
more  unreal  and  remote  than  iisna!. 
And,  wheliicr  in  New  V'ork  or  al  Bur 
Harbour  or  on  the  Blue  Ridge,  or  "  lean- 
ing abstractedly  aijalnst  a  rr>!iiTTin"  in 
Rome>  they  are  always  saying  the  same 
things,  but  less  aptly  and  less  wittily 
than  tlicy  have  said  them  before.  This 
is  trying,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  no  one 
does  anything  but  talk.  No  incident 
interrupts  the  flow  of  conversation.  A 
boy  tumbles  off  his  pony,  but  the  others 
never  stop  talking  ;  and  he  begins  again 
as  soon  as  he  gets  his  breath.  A  man 
falls  ont  of  a  boat,  and  there  is  an  effort 
here  to  have  something  happen.  The 
machinery  positively  creaks  with  the 
strain  ;  hitt  nothint^  rloes  happen  beyond 
a  ducking  and  the  making  of  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  woman  to  ask  the  ducked 
man  where  his  manners  are. 

Thus,  in  a  dispirited  way,  as  if  the 
characters  themselves  were  tired,  the 
dialogue  drags  along.  There  is  not  a 
glimmer  of  the  wit  that  sparkled  through 
The  Aiii^lomaniacs.  There  is  no  sign  of 
the  fresh  thought  that  gave  Interest  to 
A-  Bcuhclor  Maid,   Indeed,  at  one  par- 


ticularly heavy  point  it  becomes  necessa- 
ry to  bring  in  as  a  vocal  recruit  a  country 
corporal  who  d'»es  not  Ix-Imiij  to  the  old 
original  set.  He  can  scarcely  be  called 
an  acquisition  ;  but  he  does  what  he  is 
t  xperteil  to  <]o.  and  talks  without  stop- 
ping through  seventeen  pages.  What 
about  1  Let  him  answer  who  can  say 
what  it  is  all  about. 

A    COMEDY   OF  SENTIMENT.     By  Mix 
NoTdan.  New  York :  F.  Tcnaysoa  Kcdj.  $1.50. 

The  fame  of  Ilerr  Xordau's  versatility 
has  spread  even  here  ;  so  that  the  discov* 
ery  that  he  can  write  a  clever  novel  will 

not  be  an  astonishing  addition  to  his 
other  accomplishments.  This  is  a  clever 
novel  ;  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  it  is 
a  story  written  by  a  very  able  man — one 
whoniii:;hc  1)0  partial,  unfair.  s!iort>itrht- 
cd,  and  arrogant,  as  able  men  often  are, 
but  who  could  not  write  balderdash ;  nor, 
from  clumsiness,  misrepresent  what  he 
actually  understood.  It  is  an  episode  in 
the  life  of  a  scientific  man  who  falls  into 
the  toils  of  a  designing  woman,  and  has 
a  narrow  escape.  We  confess  we  should 
have  respected  him  more  had  he  not  es- 
caped. In  some  respects  he  is  most 
wnrtliy,  devoted  to  his  niotlier,  with 
whom  he  lives,  <ie!iverin<4;  u[i  te)  her  his 
salary  as  he  receives  it,  and  havings  no 
secrets  from  her  till  Frau  IClirwt  in  comes 
into  his  life.  But  there  is  another  side 
of  him  which  revolts  us.  While  giving 
way  to  his  sensual  passions  he  is  per- 
fectly aware  of  his  folly,  and  he  exhibits 
a  hard,  calculating,  and  most  unhumor- 
ous  temper  throughout  his  liaison,  which 
is  complicated  by  his  weak  and  insincere 
attempt  to  play  the  part  of  devoted 
lover.  As  for  Paula,  the  less  said  about 
her  the  better.  Her  efforts  to  entrap 
Bruchstadt  are  so  noisy,  violent,  and 
vulgar  that  they  would  disgust  a  tavern- 
haunter  :  and  when  he  is  in  lier  toils  she 
keeps  him  there  by  the  grossest  flattery 
for  the  most  sordid  pecuniary  reasons. 
TIio>e  who  read  7/!v  Comi-Jr  .'f  S, ',t:  •  'nt 
within  a  reasonable  time  after  reading  a 
much  greater  book,  Jude  the  Obseure^ 
may  observe  a  certain  likeness  between 
Paula  and  Arabella.  But  the  dash  of 
generosity  in  llic  ruugli,  coarse  Arabella 
is  wanting  in  this  woman  of  culture, 
who,  if  less  ugly,  is  more  corrupt.  Of 


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A  LITERARY  JOURNAL 


53< 


course,  Herr  Nordau  looks  on  her  as  she 
ought  to  be  looked  on  ;  but  there  is  so 
little  relief  to  her  vileness,  Bruchstiidt's 
prosaic,  calculating  nature,  and  his 
ridiculous  c;ame  of  lov<»,  affording  none 
at  all,  that  the  picture  is  more  sordid  and 
more  cruet  than  we  like  to  look  at,  save 
on  the  canvas  of  one  whose  art  and 
whose  human  sympathy  are  greater  than 
Herr  Nordau's. 

A  GENTLEMAN  VAGABOND  AND  SOME 
OTHERS.  By  F.  Hupkinson Smith.  Botton  : 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  $i.aS' 

Those  who  remember  the  story  of 
*•  John  Sanders,  Labourer,"  in  the  iicrib- 
mr*s  of  some  six  months  ago  will  need 
no  further  invitation  to  look  into  this 
little  volume  which  Mr.  Hopkinson 
Smith  has  added  to  the  plenteous  short- 
story  library.  An  acquaintance  with 
Sanders  and  that  canine  apology  of 
a  "doggie,"  and  the  throb  of  pity 
which  we  are  made  to  feel  for  the  poor, 
deformed  little  orphan,  gives  one 
the  chord  of  the  whole  melodrama, 
whether  its  characters  be  dogs  or  men  ; 
for  the  former  receive  no  small  share  of 
the  author's  sympathy,  and  will,  we  be- 
lieve, be  as  readily  appreciated  by  the 
reader.  The  stories  are  t^.ithered  from 
here,  there,  and  everywhere,  and  what- 
ever their  defects,  all  possess  the  essen- 
tial quality  of  humau  interest.  The 
common  denominator  oi  the  collection 
is  llieir  all-pervading  humauity,  which 
warms  one  to  a  healthy  sympathetic 
glow  and  inspires  a  reneweil  faith  in  hu- 
man nature.  Occasionally  one  feels 
some  misgiving  at  the  lavish  show  of 
colour  in  description  or  grotfS(|ueiicss 
in  figure.  "  Here  and  there  one  hnds  a 
vagabond  pure  and  simple,  and  once  in 
a  lifetime  a  gentleman  simple  and  pure," 
says  the  author.  It  seems  to  have  been 
his  good  fortune  to  have  met  several  ex- 
amples of  this  genus  Aoma^  and  he  has 
certainly  not  lacked  generosity  in  shar- 
ing their  acquaintance  with  us.  "  Ma- 
jor Slocum"  arouses  a  lurking  suspicion 
that  we  are  being  deceived  in  liiiu,  and 
that  there  is  something  wanting  to  that 
gentleman's  perfection.  In  fact,  an 
afterthought  may  be  convincini^  on  lliis 
point.  There  is  an  audacity  in  the 
sketch,  and  a  freshness  of  Southern  life 
and  warmth  of  colour  which  are  fasci- 
nating. The  individuals  in  iliese  stories 
may  be  diiierent,  but  tiie  type  is  the 
same,  whether  they  be  found  in  the 


apartment  of  a  Continental  express,  in 
the  grafted  product  of  southern  chivalry, 
or  in  the  nondescript  flagmen  in  a  rail- 
road yard  .  ' '  Baader"  and  **  The  Lady  of 
Lucerne"  are  European  experiences,  the 
latter  story  remarkable  it  tor  nothing  else 
than  for  the  description  of  the  organ  re- 
cital at  vespers  in  the  great  church  at 
Lucerne.  "Jonathan"  and  the  May- 
time  pictures  of  the  Bronx  banks  and 
Hrockway's  Hulk  arc  bits  of  canvas, 
that  will  fit  very  delightfull)'  and  famil- 
iarly into  some  panel  of  one's  vacation 
or  spring  ramble  experiences. 

THE  NEW  WOMAN.    Bv  Mrs.  E.  Lynn  Lin- 
ton.   New  York :  The  Mcrriam  Co. 

Wtiile  such  hooks  as  this  can  he  writ- 
ten and  read,  then  surely  we  are  in  need 
of  a  Nordau  to  point  out  our  degeneracy. 
Mrs.  Linton's  audacity  and  reckless  in- 
dulgence in  strong  language  will  proba- 
bly be  admired  by  those  whose  taste  will 
not  be  offended  by  her  exaggerations. 
The  good  people  in  tfie  book  are  tire- 
some with  excess  of  virtue  ;  the  bad  ones 
are  terrible  indeed ;  and  the  various 
types  of  the  new  woman,  on  whom  Mrs. 
Linton  throws  the  search-light  of^  her 
satire,  are  weird  triumphs  of  the  author's 
fancy.  She  fairly  revels  in  their  de- 
pravities, and  we  get  several  pages  of 
description  like  this  :  '*  They  were,  for 
the  mo  [  ^l,  married  women  with  un- 
congenial husbands."  "  Protesting  wives 
and  reluctant  motliers"  demanding 
"  unfettered  liberty  and  supreme  pow- 
er." "  Queer  mixtures  of  manly  breadth 
and  feminine  charm,"  who  "  smoked  and 
drank  with  fast  men,"  and  were  one  and 
all  "  good  judges  of  wine,  cigarettes, 
and  every  kind  o£  mixed  drink. "  Phoibe 
Harrington,  the  central  figure,  and  the 
newest  of  these  new  women,  has  pome- 
gninate  lips  and  bleached  hair.  She 
also  has  a  long-buii'cring  iiusbaad,  whom, 
at  various  times,  she  calls  a  brute,  a 
block,  a  tyrant,  a  wretch,  a  dricd-up 
mummy,  a  liar,  and  an  awful  hound  ! 
When,  at  the  end,  the  poor  man  mildly 
packs  his  trunk  to  leave  for  more  peace- 
ful scenes,  Phoebe  bursts  into  a  "  violent 
flood  of  tears"  and  wails,  "  Can  I  never 
win  him  back  to  real  love  and  undo  the 
mistakes  of  this  wretched  past  ?"  This 
is  painful  or  funn^%  according  to  the 
point  of  view  ;  and  if  more  is  desired,  it 
can  be  found  nausi'am  in  tlie  450  pages 
of  this  remarkable  work.  In  an  appro- 
priate spirit  of  satire,  the  book  appears 


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THE  BOOKMAN, 


in  a  tasteful  binding  that  suggests  re- 
finement. 

ALL  MEN'  ARE  LLXRS.    R>  Joseph  Hodiog. 

Hoston  :  Roberts  Bros     fs  5'>. 

Mr.  Hocking  has  written  a  strong 
story  showinj^  how  a  life  can  be  ruined 

when  it  losrs  f.iith  in  mh-Jtu'S'^,  .iit'I 
how  the  broken  life  can  be  healed  and 
the  lost  character  redeemed  when  that 
faith  is  regained.  The  hero  is  firrniirht 
on  the  scene  overflowing  with  ebullient 
youth,  with  a  fresh  unspoiled  vision 
that  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 
and  with  a  heart  l.rirnfn!  nf  glad  hope 
that  cries  mi  UtspiiafiJu^'/i  I  In  spite 
of  his  high  hopes  and  aspirations  and 
his  stock  of  belief  in  life's  \vi>rth,  he 
is  first  soured  by  cynical  teachers,  and 
then  heart-broken  by  his  wife's  treach- 
ery, until  he  disbelieves  in  everything 
and  rushes  into  wild  sensuality.  He 
is  rescued  and  restored  at  last  by  a 
faithful  friend,  and  a  pure  and  piti- 
ful woman.  We  have  grave  doubts  as 
to  Mr.  Hocking's  I'  g.il  accuracy,  and 
we  are  confident  that  Mr.  John  Burns — 
the  stnrv  is  laiii  in  Li oidnn  — W(  mid  re- 
pudiate his  black  picture  of  Batiersea. 
There  are  glaring  blemishes  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  story  and  also  in  its  de- 
tails»  and  notwithstanding  that  it  is  a 
powerful  book,  and  that  it  has  been 
written  with  a  sincere  purpose  to  uplift 
and  to  point  out  the  dangers  uf  unbelief 
and  pessimism  which  lie  in  wait  for  the 
unwary  youth,  we  doubt  whether  sudi  a 
presentation  of  life  is  wholesome  and 
etiectual  for  good.  Do/uK<in  has  been 
responsible  for  many  imitations  which 
have  a  certain  fascination  for  the  young 
man  withheld  by  a  mural  leash  from 
**  seeing  life,"  but  who  may  allow  him- 
self to  imagine  it  in  fiction. 

THE  VEIL  OF  LIBERTY.  A  Tale  of  the  Gi- 

r  Mi  iii^s    HyPi^roone.  New  York :  MaemlUaii 

A.  Co.  I. 

A  convenient  and  altogether  erroneous 
opinion  exists  about  the  writing  of  his- 
torical novels,  and  it  is  entertained  by 
a  good  many  novelists  to-day  who  find 
histor>'  suggest  more  exciting  incidents 
and  more  picturesque  characters  than 
their  own  invention  could  supply.  It 
is  that  the  less  history  you  know,  the 
more  superficial  your  researcli  and  the 
more  popular  \-onr  sources,  the  better 
your  historical  novel.  Like  most  con- 
venient theories,  It  is  all  wrong.  Scott, 


Dumas,  Thackerav.  were  saturated  u  ith 
the  history  and  literature  of  the  time 
they  presented  to  us  in  ficftion.  And 

that  they  had  a  grip  of  the  material  is 
at  least  one  reason  why  their  novels 
have  a  grip  on  us.  Just  at  this  moment, 
when  we  are  flooded  with  thin  and  su- 
perficial liistorical  romance,  entertain- 
ing enough,  some  of  it,  for  half  an  hour, 
but  unsatisfying,  and  slipping  from  the 
memory  and  the  imaginn'i  .n  in  Ic-s 
time  than  we  allowed  for  the  reading  of 
it,  it  is  pleasing  to  recognise  the  exist- 
ence of  a  robuster  school.  Of  course, 
historical  learning  is  far  from  being 
enough,  and  all  the  reading  of  which 
there  is  evidence  in  TMi  Veil  of  Liberty 
might  have  gone  for  nought,  so  far  as 
making  a  vivid  picture  ot  the  time  is 
concerned,  without  imaginative  and 
artistic  powers.  But  "  i*eronne'*  has 
these,  also  a  trained  and  a  lively  style, 
an  eye  for  the  picturesque  and  the  dra- 
matic, and  a  good  understanding  of  hu- 
man nature.  Is  it  indiscreet  to  be  curi- 
ous about  the  authorship  of  an  anony- 
mous novel  we  have  admired  and  en- 
joyed ?  The  Wi'f  i\f  Liberty  is  not  by  a 
novice.  We  had  thought  that  so  inti- 
mate a  knowledge  of  last  century  France, 
so  discritninating  and  detailed  an  appre- 
ciation of  French  Protestantism,  could 
be  set  down  to  the  credit  of  no  one  but 
Miss  Betliani  Kdwards,  tlionirh,  it  is 
true,  she  is  not  fond  of  dwelling  on  the 
shadier  sides  of  the  Revolution.  If  we 
are  entirely  wrong,  at  least  neither  Miss 
Betham  Edwards  nor  *'  Peronne"  has 
reason  to  feel  aggrieved  by  the  juxta- 
position of  their  names.  The  pictures 
of  revolutionary  France  in  this  novel 
are  often  masterly  and  always  of  inter- 
est. The  close  acquaintance  of  the 
writer  with  the  facts  and  factions  of  the 
time  is  not  wasted,  for  this  knowledge, 
used  artistically,  has  given  an  ease,  a 
fulness,  and  a  vividness,  which  belong 
to  no  novel  spun  out  of  a  popular  man- 
ual or  perhaps  a  couple  of  gossipy 
memoirs.  And,  likewise,  we  canm  t 
withstand  the  intense  interest  which 
the  author  takes  in  her  central  per- 
sonages, the  family  Villas.  Such  an 
energetic  concern  is  contagious. 

SUNSHINE  ANTD  HAAR.    Ry  Gabriel  SeUnm. 
New  York  :  Harper     Brothers.  $1.25. 

Mr.  Setrtun  has  selected  a  Fileshire 
mining  village,  Barncraig,  as  the  centre 
of  his  observations.   In  bis  second  book 


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A  UTEKARY  JOURNAL 


he  further  ill'astrates  the  character  and 

customs  of  the  inhabitants  by  storu's  of 
varied  tones.  Those  written  in  a  gen- 
tle sentimental  vein  are  best  as  stories — 
'*  Ekk7*S  Road,"  for  ihstance— and  some 
portions  of  the  longer  tale,  **  Lo\\*rie 
and  Linty  ;"  though  the  ways  peculiar 
to  Barncraig  may  be  most  viL,n»i()nsly 
presented  in  '  The  Return  of  Big  WuU" 
and  •*  The  Creeling  of  Big  Tam. ' '  The 
latter  and  a  few  like  them  give  detailed 
descriptions  of  old  customs  now  dead 
or  dying  ;  and  in  relics  and  survivals 
Gabriel  Setoun  is  evidently  interested. 
But  we  dont)t  if  it  is  as  the  chronicler 
of  such  he  will  find  his  work,  or  even  as 
the  painter  of  distinctive  Scottish  types. 
The  talents  and  sympathies  here  dis- 
played point  rather  tn  h\<?.  success  in  the 
novel  of  present-day  romance  and  senti- 
ment, Scotland  being  the  scene,  of 
course.  We  iin.ii^iiic  that  he  belongs 
by  right  more  to  the  school  of  Dr,  Mac- 
donald  than  of  Mr.  Barrie.  Be  that  as 
it  may,  here  and  in  Barncraig  he  has 
essayed  to  be  the  historian  of  a  limited 
locality  in  a  series  of  tales  nearly  all  of 
which  claim  our  sympathetic  interest. 
But  it  is  a  pity  he  included  the  prefa- 
tory paper,  "  Red  Leticr  Days."  It  is 
nearly  worthless  as  local  lore  ;  and  as  a 
pirre  of  writintj — well.  Gal)riel  Setoun 
can  do  much  better,  and  so  must  every 
writer  who  is  to  take  a  creditable  place. 

THE  THRKK  IMPOSTORS.    Bj  Arthur  Ma- 
ebeo.     Keynotes  Scries.     Boston:  Roberts 

Bros.  %\.oo. 

The  horrible  is  sweet  to  the  taste  of 
Mr.  Machen.  lie  plays  with  it  a  little 
frivolously  at  times,  but  n<iu  and  then 
it  does  s«!riously  take  hold  of  him,  and 
on  some  of  these  occasions  it  impresses 
us.  A  curious  medley  is  this  book  of 
the  sensational,  the  trivial,  and  the  oc- 
cult. Written  on  an  old  plan,  some  idea 
of  ltd  design  and  tone  may  be  gathered 
*rom  thinking  of  Stevenson's  Dynamiters^ 
•vith  the  sprightliness  and  fun,  [)ut  not 
♦he  frivolity,  left  out,  and  with  dark  oc- 
cult sin  substituted  for  the  grotesque. 
Every  now  and  again  wp  are  struck  with 
admiration  of  the  picturesque  and  sug- 
gestive writing,  and  sometimes  we  think 
the  same  overweights  what  had  been  a 
better  story  if  more  plainlv  and  briskly 
told.  We  thought  for  a  time  that  Mr. 
Machen  was  foolim^  us  with  his  horrible 
hints  (we  had  forgotten  the  contents  of 
the  prologue).    The  hunt  of  the  gold 


Tiberius,  the  ingenious  imaginations  of 

the  three  impostors,  wc  had  thought 
might  end  farcically.  Perhaps  his  learn> 
ing  in  the  black  arts  would  so  have  been 
wasted,  but  w  c  wish  he  had  s  -me  re- 
straining qtialities  that  would  ki  cp  him 
from  writing  such  horrors  as  those  in 
his  last  chapter. 

GA  IiiKklXr,  CI.OIIDS.  A  Talc  of  the  Days 
of  St.  Chrysosiiiin.  Bv  F.  W.  farrar.  New 
York  :  Lotif^miins.  Green     Co.  $2.00. 

The  writer's  earlier  novel.  Darkness 
and  Da7vn,  had  a  brighter  theme.  It 
represented  the  early  struggle  of  the 
Church  with  patjanism.  and  the  victory 
of  Christianity,  which  had  only  its  pu- 
rity and  integrity  to  fight  for  it  against 
the  strongest  worldly  weapons.  The 
present  story  tells  of  the  re-invasion  and 
the  partial  triumph  of  the  world.  At 
the  end  some  cif  ilic  evil  is  seen  to  be 
abating,  the  martyrs  are  honoured,  and 
the  prosperity  that  overtakes  the  worthy 
hero  Philip  are  significant  of  the  worst 
terrors  being  over.  Rut  on  the  ro.ul  to 
this  peace  readers  have  to  walk  thiuugii 
scenes  of  terrible  corruption  and  cruelty 
— the  vague  rumours  of  history  being 
bared  of  the  vagueness  which  has  hid 
much  of  the  ugly  truth  about  the  perse- 
cutions. As  a  work  of  history  it  has 
greater  merit  than  as  fiction.  Evidence 
has  been  weighed  and  sifted,  and  char- 
acters judged  calmly,  with  due  consid- 
eration of  the  circumstances  of  the  time. 
The  painful  nature  of  much  of  the  story 
may  deter  a  good  many  from  its  perusal, 
thoui;h  it  should  be  salt!  horrors  have 
not  been  piled  up  sensationally,  but 
only  described  with  such  literalness  as 
shall  not  allow  them  to  escape  the  no- 
tice of  unimaginative  readers.  And  its 
length  is  against  it.  Students  of  Church 
history  can  alone  appreciate  tlic  consci- 
entious care  and  labour  that  have  ^one 
to  make  this  lifelike  picture  of  the  tast- 
em  Empire,  but  though  frivolous  read- 
ers will  not  read  Gathering  ClouJs  at  all, 
one  need  not  be  seriously  instructed  to 
recognise  the  interest  and  the  beauty  of 
the  career  of  Chry«;nsfom  and  his  friends 
as  Dean  t  arrar  has  drawn  them. 

TUii  RED  COCKADE.  By  Sunley  S.  Wey- 
man.  New  York :  Harper  &  Broa.  %\.io. 

Mr.  Stanley  Weyman's  stories  are 

greedily  and  unthinkincjly  dev. m red. 
Any  reader  who  stops  to  think  must  re- 
spect them.    There  is  an  evenness  about 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


the  workmanship  which  can  only  be  the 
result  of  great  care.  And  thouj^h  the 
average  English  sentiment  on  historical 
mattfTS  is  cff-nrrally  rcflrrted — which 
adds,  of  course,  to  their  chance  of  popu- 
larity— the  characters  are  never  the  pup- 
pets that  t?i«'  oonveiJiional  adventure- 
Story  is  content  with.  Mr.  Weyman 
does  not  write  of  another  age  than  his 
own  to  shelter  his  ignorance  of  human 
nature  among  the  imposing  circum- 
stances of  famous  events.  There  is  a 
group  of  characters  here  that  not  only 
look  wrll  ulun  sfpn  in  motion  in  a 
crowd,  but  an-  n  al  and  living  no  mat- 
ter how  closely  y>  ui  examine  tliem.  The 
most  noteworthy  is  tiu-  Royalist  Froment 
of  Nimes,  but  the  aristocrats,  Madame 
de  St.  Alais  and  her  spirited  son,  with 
thtMi  wonderful  rnnfidrncc  in  the  in- 
vincibility of  the  noblesse,  and  their 
**  Weare'France/'are  hardly  less  vigor- 
ously presented.  The  hero  is  no  great 
hero,  though  he  is  brave  enough.  Cir- 
cumstances are  unkind  ;  and  at  different 
times,  and  always  for  good  reasons,  he 
dons  t!ie  white,  the  tricolour,  and  the 
red  cockades.  But  that  he  is  driven  to 
dealing;  with  so  many  factions  makes 
him  peril  a  ps  nil  the  better  as  the  central 
personage  of  the  story. 

HERHKRT  V.WI.rVN'FRT.    15.-  C  F.  Keary. 
Phil;i(l<_-:[)hi.i  :  J.  U.  L;pjiuit<i;!  C>.  $1.2:;. 

For  Mr.  Keary's  talents  wc  iiave  warm 
admiration.  We  shall  continue  to  be- 
lieve for  long  that  he  has  thr  power  to 
write  fiction  of  an  uncommonly  good 
kind.  In  The  Two  Lanerofts  there  was 
thought  and  there  was  observatii  >n  u  hirh 
could  only  come  out  of  a  man  who  had 
looked  closely  at  things,  ju<lged  for  him- 
self, and  had  a  large  experience  of  hu- 
man character.  It  contained,  too,  sug- 
gestions of  keen  interesttoall  who  watch 
the  artistic  temperament  other  than 
siij^erfirially.  This  present  book  can  be 
recoinincnUed  as  a  readable  story.  Those 
who  have  not  built  high  hopes  on  its 
author  will  be  astonisluni  lo  Iiear  it  hard- 
ly criticised.  And  it  does  not  lack  care- 
ful and  elaborate  work.  But  it  is  an 
entire  dij^appointment,  for  in  spite  of 
bright  spots  here  and  there,  it  is  what 
The  Tkuo  Lancrofts  emphatically  was  not, 
a  commonplace  novel.  There  is  a  hitch 
in  the  hero  somewhere.  He  is  m^ant  to 
be  a  man  of  marked  character  and  abil- 
ity, an  impressive,  imposing  person.  We 
caa  only  think  of  him  as  a  well-dressed 


club  man,  who  took  a  trip  to  India.  He 
is  slow,  conventional,  idea-less,  and  with 
the  capabilities  of  injustice  which  such 
a  nature  possesses.  There  are  t^ood 
sketches  of  character  in  tiic  book.  There 
is  not  one  character.  The  sensational 
episode  is  ugly,  and  we  think  false. 
\Vhat  has  gone  wrong  ?  We  have  an 
idea  that  it  is  the  society  which  the  book 
is  filled  with  that  is  partly  to  blame. 
Unless  dealt  with  by  genius,  there  is  no 
class  so  hopelessly  dull  in  fiction  as 
the  respectable,  fairly  well-conducted, 
moneyed  and  hin<led  minor  aristorracy 
of  England.  Tiie  painters  and  ihe  lit- 
erary  folks  introduced  here  are  infected 
!tv  tlie  c^cTTcral  dTilnrsi,  !iv  the  inarticu- 
lateness ot  the  slow-brained  set  in  which 
Herbert  Vanlennert  moved  and  had  his 
undisting^uished  being.  But  we  do  not 
for  a  moment  think  Mr.  Keary's  power 
has  gone  because  this  book  might  have 
been  written  by  a  much  less  able  man. 

THE  nORSEM.\N  S  WORD.    By  Neil  Roy. 
New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  $1.25. 

A  very  original,  romantir,  but  most 
ill-told  story.  The  material  is  new,  the 
background  has  been  little  used  before, 
and  the  central  personage  is,  take  him 
altogether,  strikingly  presented.  But 
it  is  unendurably  long ;  many  of  the 
scenes  intended  to  illustrate  character 
and  custom  in  the  north  of  Scotland  arc 
wearisome,  and  here  and  there,  where 
reflection  is  indulged  in,  there  is  a  de- 
scent to  the  utterly  common  place—  this 
too  from  a  writer  wiio  has  an  unusucd 
amount  of  imagination,  who  shows  real 
power  in  de.iling  with  htini;  n  character, 
and  has  a  gift  of  picturesque  descrip- 
tion. Whatever  be  its  faults,  it  has  strik- 
ing and  interesting  features  Readers 
of  Borrow  will  remember  his  tale  of  the 
smith  who  roused  his  horse  to  frenzy, 
and  soothed  it  out  of  madness  by  the 
utteranre  nf  some  mvsterious  words 
That  is  hint  enough  ot  the  subject  of 
this  story,  where  horses  appear  under  a 
stranger,  wilfler  aspect  than  we  arc  now 
wont  to  regard  them.  Mr.  Roy  has 
made  good  use,  we  can  see,  of  some  im- 
jMt  ssive  legends  of  the  strip  of  i  oi;r:try 
where  his  story  is  laid,  not  very  far  from 
the  Moray  Firth  ;  but  for  the  working 
out  of  the  character  of  Kelpy,  his  sullen 
and  pathetic  hero,  he  lias  liad  to  depend 
on  his  own  powers.  And  Llie  imagina- 
tion of  lew  wuuld  have  been  equal  to 
the  strange  and  difficult  task. 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


.535 


THE  LITTLE  ROOM  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
Uy  Madclene  Yale  Wynne.  Chicago  :  Way  & 
Williami.  $1.35- 

On  first  reading  "  The  Little  Room" 

in  Hitrffr's  Afas^azinr,  onp  was  half  in- 
cliiicil  to  think  llial  its  author  had  not 
wriUenareal  *'  tale  of  mystery"  after  all, 
but  was  just  ;)Iayiiii^  a  jokr  on  the  reader. 

Author  :  Well,  which  was  it,  a  china 
closet  or  a  little  room  ? 

Reader  :  I  don't  know. 

Author  :  Well,  I  don't  know  either. 

But  Mrs.  Wynne  did  know,  and  has 
conceded  a  bit  to  the  reader's  curiosity 
by  giving  us  a  sequel  to  her  title  story 
in  the  present  volume.  It  points  us  to 
the  psychology  of  suggestion,  and  we 
run  ti)  Mr.  Iludson's  Laio  of  Psychic 
riicnomcua^  witii  a  feeling  o£  relief  that 
we  have  not  been  played  upon,  after  all, 
but  that  there  is  somcthint;  like  a  re- 
spectable scientific  clue  to  that  tantalis- 


ing little  room.  The  author  might  have 
made  the  original  story  more  sugges- 
tive, a  few  of  us  think,  by  including  in 
it  the  hint  of  the  sequel.  But  then,  that 
would  have  denied  us  a  little  excitement, 
and  lost  the  story  much  of  its  pleasant 
notoriety.  The  tour  stories  that  com« 
plete  the  volume  are  all  slitjht  in  mo- 
tive, but  gracefully  told.  One  of  them, 
*'  The  Voice,"  is  even  exquisite  in  its 
happy  blending:  of  psychical  mystery 
and  delicate  allegory. 

It  takes  a  powerful  genius  to  create  a 
story  of  mystery  like  "  The  House  and 
the  Brain"  and  "  Thrawn  Janet,"  stories 
that  seize  us  with  the  shuddering  liorror 
of  the  unseen.  The  present  author 
would  never  feel  the  call,  we  imat^ine, 
to  hide  her  head  under  the  bed-clothes 
In  the  dark.  But  she  seizes  the  pictu> 
resque,  the  poetic  hints  of  a  strange 
psychic  world,  with  a  very  neat  fancy. 


THE  BOOKiMAiN'S  TABLE. 


ROBERT  BROWNING'S  COMPLETE  POET- 
IC AND  DRAMATIC  WORKS.  Cambridge 
edition.     One  \>iiiine.    Boston:  Houghton. 

Mifflin  &  Cu.  $3.uo 

BROWNING  STUDIES.  Edited,  with  an  In- 
tro'.uction,  by  Edward  Berdoc,  >I.R.C.S.  New 

Y'irk  :  Macmillan  &  Co,    $2  2;. 

At  last  we  have  Browning  complete 
in  one  volume.  The  problem  of  bringing 

the  entire  prictical  and  dramatic  works 
of  Robert  Browning  into  one  volume 
presented  difficulties  which  are  obvious, 
and  apparently  irn]>ossible  to  <>M'r(  otnc. 
Yet  we  have  it  now  before  us,  a  not  un- 
wieldy octavo  volume,  with  type,  paper, 
and  binding  all  in  good  taste,  and 
wholly  legible.  Not  content  wttli  ac- 
complishing so  much,  several  liagaients 
have  been  ijuhnlrd  n(,t  to  be  had  in 
any  other  edition  ;  there  isa  bifigiaphical 
sketch  of  the  poet  ;  an  appendix  con- 
taining the  essay  on  Shelley,  notes  and 
indices  of  titles  and  first  lines  ;  and  it 
contains  a  linely  engraved  portrait  of 
Browning  and  an  engraved  title-page 
with  a  vignette  view  of  Asolo.  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company  have 
won  deserved  praise  for  their  compendi- 
ous and  nratly  prepared  vrtlumes  in  the 
Carnl^riiiL^i-  Edition  ftf  tlie  Poets,  but 
they  have  surpassed  all  former  efforts  by 
their  present  enterprise. 
Mr,  £dward  Berdoci  who  has  been 


one  of  the  most  energetic  members  of 
the  Browning  Society,  and  whose  name 
is  more  closely  associated  with  the  poet's 
work  llian  that  nf  any  other  critic  or  stu- 
dent, has  edited,  with  an  introduction, 
a  series  of  select  papers  emanating  from 
the  afore-mentioned  society  and  pub- 
lished in  a  Vdlume  called  /?av>7i7//w^ 
Studies.  "  There  is  no  more  remarkable 
fact  in  the  histoiy  of  literature,  and  no 
greater  dlss^rarr  to  Eni^lish  criticism," 
says  Mr.  Berdoe,  **  than  the  treatment 
meted  out  to  Robert  Browning  for  half 
a  century.'* 

"  Ye  British  pocts  who  like  me  not," 

complained  the  greatest  poet  since 
Shakespeare,  after  writing  for  thirty- 
five  years ;  but  before  the  time  came 
when  all  too  soon  he  left  us,  apprecia- 
tion had  grown  so  warm  and  the  de- 
mand for  his  works  had  so  enormously 
increased  that  he  could,  in  his  own  last 
words,  "  greet  the  unseen  with  a  cheer.'* 
So  that  in  the  end  it  was  well,  as  it  in- 
variably is  ;  for  the  public  is  sane  in  its 
judixments  if  not  always  quick  to  rerog- 
ni.se  genius.  The  enthusiastic  admirers 
of  Robert  Browning  have  been  prone  to 
forc;et  that,  as  Colrridije  aptly  said  of 
Milton,  he  strode  so  far  in  front  of  the 
men  of  his  time  as  to  be  dwarfed  by 
the  distance    Now  that  his  com* 


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536 


THE  BOOKMAN, 


plete  works  have  been  issued  in  one  vol- 
ume in  the  Cambridge  Edition,  there 
will  be  an  opporninity  for  a  wi  ler  au- 
dience to  come  forward  and  listen  to 
Browning,  whose  voice  always  sounds 
the  clarion  note  of  hope,  and  these  Studies 
will  undoubtedly  be  acceptable  to  many 
students,  new  and  old.  We  say  "  stu- 
dents" advisedly,  for  Browning  himself 
said  that  he  never  intended  his  work  to 
be  read  over  a  cigar. 

Nearly  half  of  the  first  volume  of  Lit' 
erary  Aiucdotes  of  the  J\'inftt\'riffi  Crnfnrv, 
edited  by  Dr.  Robertson  Nicoil  anti  Mr. 
Thomas  J.  Wise,  which  has  just  been 
published,  is  devoted  to  materials  for  a 
bibliography  of  the  writings  in  prose 
and  verse  of  Robert  Browning.  The 
value  and  importanri*  .,f  tliis  coiitrihu- 
tion  to  Browningiana  are  very  great. 


A  fac-simile  of  the  well-known  song 
from  Pippa  Passes"  in  Robert  Brown- 
ing's handwrituig  herewith  repro- 
duced fr(jm  this  work.  An  early  por- 
trait of  the  poet  is  given  on  p«^e  466. 

THE  JOURNAL  OF  COUNTESS  KRASINSKA. 
Chicago  :  A.  C.  M  Clurt,'  A:  Co.  $1.35. 

It  was  a  happy  thought  that  prompt- 
ed the  young  Countess  Krasinska  to  be- 


gin, on  her  sixteenth  birthday,  the  writ- 
ing of  her  memoirs,  which  w  ould  be  of 
interest  were  it  only  for  tlic  xrvM  pic- 
ture they  present  of  the  social  and  do- 
mestic life  of  the  Polish  aristocracy  dur- 
ing the  latter  half  of  t!ie  eighteenth  cen- 
tuiy.  But  a  deeper  value  tiian  this  at- 
taches itself  to  the  journal  of  the  Count- 
ess Krasinska,  great-grandmother  of 
Victor  Immanuel  ;  who,  though  married 
to  a  king's  son,  yet,  as  the  translator 
tells  us,  *'  spent  her  beautiful  youth  in 
wandering  and  humiliation." 

There  is  something  deiiciously  quaint 
in  the  very  absurdity  of  what  consti- 
tuteri,  for  Frances  and  her  sisters,  a  lil>- 

eral  education. 

"  We  learn  vocabularies.  diLti'  igucs  .ind  «*iitc- 
ilotrs  by  heart  from  a  tc\t  tio.  k.  .  .  .  Return- 
ing to  our  room,  we  learn  German  vocabularies, 
we  write  letters  and  exercises,  and  Madame  dic- 
latet  to  us  Ike  verses  of  a  Freoch  poet,  Malesber- 
bcs." 

Later,  at  a  fashionable  school  in  War- 
saw, the  girl  writes : 

"  Before  the  end  of  my  chicit'on  I  n.ust  learn 
enough  to  be  able  to  paint  \\\\\\  colours  a  dead  tree, 
on  oru-  br.inch  ot  which  is  a  wtf.uh  of  flowers 
with  the  initials  of  my  honoured  parent*,  to  wbooi 
I  shall  offer  my  work  as  a  token  of  gratitude  for 
the  education  I  have  receivetl." 

Before  going  to  school  the  young 
countess  writes  a  lively  account  of  her 

elder  sister's  betrothal  and  wedding, 
and  gives  delightful  pictures  of  her  own 
stalely  but  happy  home  life, 
t  The  deeper  si^ificance  of  the  book, 
however,  is  manifested  wlien  the  school- 
girl becomes  the  belle  of  Warsaw  soci- 
ety, and  wins  the  heart  of  the  king's 
eldest  son,  the  Duke  of  Courland.  The 
story  of  her  love  and  brilliant  hopes,  of 
her  brief  bliss  and  her  long  disillusion* 
ment,  is  one  which  is  best  told  in  her 
own  simple  words.  It  is  also  one  whicb 
teaches,  quite  unconsciously,  yet  with 
almost  startling  force,  life  lessons  which 
mornlists  and  writers  of  fiction  might 
pruckiini  in  vain.  The  pathos  of  these 
memoirs  is  only  enhanced,  as  it  must 
he  ill  all  such  cases,  Ijy  the  thought  that 
their  author  could  not  know  that  the 
story  of  her  sorrows  would  prove  of 
value  to  future  generations. 

PICTURE  POSTERS.   By  Charles  Hiatt.  New 
York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  $4.00. 

MODERN  ILLUSTRATION.    By  Joseph  PM- 

nell.    New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  |t3.50. 

Tliesc  two  Ii.-'.'nI'-Mme  and  useful  v>.l- 
ume:>      modern  uud,  couteuiporary  an 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


537 


in  the  sphere  of  the  bookmaker's  inter- 
est are  imported  from  the  press  of 
Messrs.  George  Bell  and  Sons.  Picture 
Posters  contains  a  short  history  of  the 
illustrated  placard,  with  numerous  re- 
productions of  the  most  artistic  exam- 
ples in  all  countries.  Not  only  is  this  a 
book  of  immediate,  practical  interest,  it 
presents  with  a  fascination  of  subject 
and  treatment  such  a  history  as  we 
would  desire  in  a  work  of  brief  com- 
pass. The  first  chapter  discloses  the 
historical  fact  that  the  poster  is  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  obvious  forms  of 
advertisement,  an  incident  of  the  most 
crude  and  ancient  of  civilisations,  and 
Mr.  Iliatt  cites  Callades,  an  artist  men- 
tioned by  Pliny  as  the  Ch^ret  of  his 
age.  '*  He  was  the  great  artistic  adver- 
tiser of  ancient  Rome,  just  as  Ch^ret  is 
the  great  artistic  advertiser  of  modem 
Paris."  Naturally  cfmsiderable  space 
is  devoted  to  the  pictorial  poster  in 
France,  which  absorbs  half  of  the  book, 
the  remaining  half  being  portioned  out 
to  Iingland,  America,  and  other  coun- 
tries in  which  the  poster  is  found.  To 
the  American  reader  it  will  appear  that 
his  particular  field  has  been  cursorily 
reviewed,  although  Mr.  Iliatt  shows  a 
wide-awake  acquaintance  with  poster 
artists,  even  including  Miss  Ethel  Reed, 
whose  work  has  only  become  known 
within  the  last  few  months.  France, 
England,  and  America  would  in  all  jus- 
tice require  a  volume  each  to  itself,  and 
considering  Mr.  Hiatt's  limitations,  his 
work  has  been  admirably  done  and  not 
without  trreat  expense  and  trouble  in 
collating  Utclb  and  collecting  posters. 

Modern  Illustratuyn  appears  under  the 
auspices  of  the  lix-Libris  Series,  Ltlitdl 
by  Gleeson  White,  whose  excellent  en- 
terprise and  artistic  instinct  led  him  to 
choose  the  mi)st  distinctivily  qualified 
person  of  all  others  to  compose  this 
work.  With  great  simplicity  and  with 
a  warmth  of  feeling  that  is  evident  in 
the  lir>t  words  of  the  preface,  Mr.  Pcii- 
nell  has  done  his  work  laithtuUy  and 
conscientiouslv.  More  than  this,  he  be- 
get-^  cnilnisiasni  in  the  reader,  and  as  a 
master  of  the  cratt  and  an  ardent  stu- 
dent of  illustrative  art,  he  has  largely 
contributed  to  our  knovvledi^e  of  the 
subject  out  of  a  plenteous  and  well-reg- 
ulated storehouse  of  material.  Begin- 
ning with  a  general  survey  of  modem 
illustration,  he  proceeds  t*)  describe  the 
methods  of  to-da^,  and  trace;*  their  ori- 


gin and  development.   Under  separate 

chapters  lie  lakes  uj)  French,  English, 
and  American  illustration  ;  also  illustra- 
tion in  Germany,  Spain,  and  other  coun- 
tries. Numerous  examples  of  the  stages 
of  illustrative  work  in  each  countr}'  are 
given,  and  few  can  conceive  at  what  tre- 
mendous pains  the  editor  and  author 
have  l)een  to  select  and  obtain  these 
illustrations.  The  collection  of  posters 
is  fun  to  this  more  stupendous  under- 
taking. For  both  these  Iiooks,  which 
have  entailed  a  vast  amount  of  thank- 
less drudger)',  of  which  only  the  expert  is 
cognisant,  we  are  greatly  indebted  to 
the  promoters  of  the  scheme  and  those 
who  have  accomplished  it. 

MONEY  IN  POLITICS.  By  J.  K.  Upton,  ex* 
Awbuuii  Treuurer  of  the  united  Stales.  Boi< 
ton:  Lothrop PuUisbing Co.  fi.as. 

The  title  of  Mr.  Upton's  really  valu- 
able book  is  misleading ;  one  instinc- 
tively looks  for  accounts  of  the  corrupt- 
ing influence  of  money  in  the  many  bat- 
tles at  the  polls  fought  by  American  citi- 
zens, but  instead  fmds  an  accurate  his- 
tory of  money  in  the  United  States. 
This  is  a  second  edition  of  tlie  work, 
and  has  been  extended  and  revised  to 
conform  to  present  conditions.  Any 
history  of  money,  whether  scientific  or 
historical,  ought  to  begin  with  a  state- 
ment of  what  money  is — ^that  is,  the 
oflice  and  function  of  money — and  then 
the  physical  and  material  substance  of 
money  ;  also  why  and  how  it  gets  to  be 
an  interchangeable  measure  of  values. 
Mr.  Upton  gives  the  history  of  "  peag" 
or  sea-shell  currency  of  the  Indians  of 
Long  Island,  and  also  of  the  attempt  of 
Massachusetts  to  make  corn  (no  doubt 
Indian  maize,  and  not  corn  in  the  En- 
glish meaning)  a  legal  tender,  and  the 
same  experience  with  toliacct;  in  Vir- 
ginia. These  facts  might  be  pondered 
with  profit  by  the  modem  "  fiat  money" 
school. 

The  history  then  proceeds  rcgnlarly 
to  give  ua  account  ot  coluuial  coins  and 
mints,  the  paper  issues  of  the  cohuiics, 
the  introduction  of  the  Spanish  dollar, 
the  value  of  shillings  in  the  several  col- 
onies, issue  of  United  States  notes,  na- 
tional l)ank-notes,  the  decisions  of  the 
Supreme  Court  on  tlie  legal-tender  ques- 
tion, and  other  matters  of  interest.  The 
history  is  authentic,  and  is  an  armoury 
from  which  to  draw  conclusive  argu- 
ments a^aiusl  the  wild  ivheuics  of  in- 


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THE  BOOKMAN. 


flation  and  unsoundness  so  constantly 

urged  upon  the  people. 

Tin-:  nwvTiioRNr  trfe  avd  othfr 

I'OliMS.  Hy  Nathan  HasktU  Dole,  Boston  : 
T.  Y.  Crowcll  &  Ca  fi.SS' 

Mr.  Nathan  Haskell  Dole  has,  with 

the  assistaiu  t'  of  Mrs.  Louise  Cliandler 
Moiilton  ami  Mr.  Arlo  Bates,  made  a 
selection  from  the  songs,  sonnets,  and 
vfrs  dt  soci/t/^  of  which  he  has  been  an 
occasional  contributor  to  the  pncfes  of 
our  leading  magazines  and  periodicals 
during  the  last  twenty  years.  TAe  Haw- 
thorn  Tree  anJ  Oth  r  /*,  "is  attracts  us 
by  the  simplicity,  spontaneity,  aud 
cheerful  optimism  of  its  contents  and 
the  altsencc  of  anything  like  fin  ,,v  ii'.  de 
decadence.  Here  is  a  slight  specimen 
of  his  lighter  vein  taken  at  random  ;  it 
is  called  "  Confession." 

It  was  a  charming  day,  my  dear, 
Ao  August  day  some  years  ago ; 

From  me  you  rah  away,  my  dear. 

Down  thru'  the  shaded  tvalk  yott  know. 

I  s.iw  your  tliutcrin^  drapery 

While  mid  the  sun-f)(-ckt  trccS  like  SHOW. 
I  fi>llow«r<.l  ti)  the  grapery, 

And  there  I  found  you  all  aglow. 
And  when  I  kissed  your  dicck.  my  dear. 

To  pay  you  for  the  way  you  sped. 
You  pursed  your  lips  to  speak,  my  dear; 

Da  you  remember  what  you  wid  ? 
You  s.tid,  "  I  love  ■' — ah  '  yes,  you  did, 

Why  then,  i  prav,  this  teii  tale  red  ? 
You  s-iid.  •"  I  love  —ctmfess  you  did  !— 

*'  *  I  love  sweet  grapes  *  was  what  I  said." 

The  little  volume  is  handsomely  bound 
and  printed  in  clear  type  on  fine  paper. 

THE  ROOK  OF  ATHLETICS  AND  OI  T-OF- 

DOOR  SPORTS  IMited  by  Norman  W. 
Hmgh.4m.  Jr.  l>o»tMU  .  Lothiop  PuUisbing 
Co.  $i.so. 

Boys  nerd  intelligent  guidance  in  their 

athli'tio  pursuits  :  .uul  this  it  is  the  aim 
of  ihf  Jn\<K  ,y  Ath.etus  to  furnish.  .\11 
the  wdUknown  and  much-practised 
sp»»rts  art-  subjects  of  carefully  written 
pai>ers  l>y  nun  who  are  recos^nised  au- 
thorities in  tluir  sevoral  spheres.  Thus 
thr  iMv;.ousfr  ilu*  Loav^ie  of  .American 
Whrrluu-it,  Ki:k  Mvnrv^c,  is  tlic  author 
»,>t  l!u"  cli.ipicr  i.n\  cycling.  He  unques- 
tion.ddv  knows  what  he  is  writing  about, 
aiul  his  ailviio  nutv  bo  toi!c>\\ed  with 
pioUl.  i >t hers  cviually  well  kn  >wn  trive 
t>^mmon-srn»e  directions  roi^a: the 
|n.icttce  vf  other  sporu.    "  Adviv*  to 


School  Football  Captains,"  by  Arthur  J. 
Cunimock,  Harvard's  football  captain  ; 
"  How  to  Handle  a  College  Nine,"  by 
Lawrence  T.  Bliss,  Yale's  base-ball  cap>- 
tain,  and  so  on  ;  in  tennis,  rowing,  run- 
ning, jumping,  skating,  swimmin$; — 
some  niastt  I"  of  the  art  ^ivcs  u  h  ih.some 
rules  for  the  benefit  of  boys  and  girls 
who  are  about  to  take  part  in  strength 
and  health -promoting  exercises.  None 
of  the  subjects  is  discussed  in  a  scientific 
way.  The  practical  rightfully  predomt- 
nates,  as  it  is  understood  with  greater 
en«t»,  and  is  itself  Inisfd  upon  the  result 
of  and  in  niauy  instances  contains  the 
opinions  founded  upon  carefully  assimi- 
lated scientific  knowledge. 

IM.AGTNATIOK         LA5JDSCAPE  PAIKT- 

IN'f.     F.v  F.  G.   Hamcrton.     New  Editioil. 

N»  w  N  orii  •  Macmillan  vS:  Co.  $2.00. 

This  is  perhaps  the  roost  original  thing 
Hamerton  ever  wrote ;  certainly  the 

nii'st  stimulating.  He  was  tacklincT  a 
hard  subject;  be  did  not  say  the  final 
word,  and  he  was  sometimes  rather  ver- 
bose and  vague.  But  over  and  over 
again  he  suggests  the  attitude  towards 
the  art  of  landscape  which  we  feci  is  the 
true  (  uo  This  is  an  eminently  practi- 
cal subject,  if  art  is  to  appeal  to  tlte 
many.  At  every  picture  galler)'  you  will 
hear  remarks  lowing  that  the  idea  of 
iiTia^iuati' 'H  ooiiiiting  for  anything  in 
painting  is  never  entertained  at  all. 
Poets  nave  a  less  ignorant  public  to 
cater  for.  This  book  of  Mr.  Hamer- 
ton's  is  one  that,  written  pleas*intly,  and 
addressed,  as  all  his  work  so  particu- 
larly is,  to  the  English  mind,  might  do 
somethincf  to  brinij  t<>  prrv^ns  of  ordi- 
nary culiivalion  a  glini:nc:ing  of  what 
pictorial  art  aims  at.  The  pictures  from 
Claude.  Corot,  Diirer,  Constable,  Tur- 
ner, and  many  others,  are  charming. 

AK  ARTIST  IM  THE  HIMALAYAS.   Bt  A. 

D.  McCormick.  IMustrate^^l  by  over  icx)  Origi- 
nid  Sketches  made  on  the  Journey.  New  York: 
Macmillaa  &  Co.  t|.5a 

There  must  be  few  readers  of  adven- 
ture and  travel  who  have  not  read  Sir 
William  Conway's  account  of  his  Hima- 
layan exploration.  They  will  remember 
that  the  artist  of  the  expedition.  Mr. 
McCormick,  look  a  very  active  and 
pluckv  part  in  the  enterprise.  Mr.  Mc- 
Cormick now  ananpts,  very  success* 


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A  LlTEkAKY  JOURNAL 


539 


fully,  to  pivp  an  idea  of  t)ic  pkturesque 
aspect  of  the  journey,  and  a  personal 
narrative  which  will  appeal  to  tne  lover 
of  scenery  and  the  searcher  for  adven* 
ture  rather  than  to  the  geographical  stu- 
dent. Between  his  lively  story  and  his 
admirable  sketches  he  has  made  a  very 
attractive  book.  He  has  put  in  nothing 
trivial  that  is  not  humanly  or  pictu- 
resquely interesting,  and  by  his  spirited 
view  of  things,  his  appetite  for  the  new 
and  strange,  and  his  enthusiasm  for  his 
leader,  he  makes  friends  of  his  readers 
inevitably.  He  is  full  of  gratitude  to 
fate  for  his  share  in  the  expedition,  the 
year  spent  in  it  being,  he  says,  "  the 
fullest  in  inv  life,  the  Strangest,  the  most 
wonderful."  The  pursuit  of  art  has  not 
enfeebled  his  energies.  **  There  I  came 
closest  into  contact  with  real  men  and 
real  fic^hters  ;  there  I  learnt  what  it  is 
to  engage  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict 
with  the  mightiest  forces  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  and  there  1  saw  what  persever- 
ance, foresight,  and  endurance  can  hope 
to  accomplish." 

A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  By 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson .  Illuttrated  bjr  Charles 
Robinsnn.    N'cw   York :  CbarlcR  Scriboer** 

Sons.  $1.50. 

The  little  children  of  Mr.  Robinson's 
imagination  are  the  drollest^  the  most 

innocent  of  thiiiL(s.  Has  he  illustrated 
Stevenson  ?  There  may  be  two  opinions 
about  that.  But  he  has  depicted  child- 
hood  in  all  its  remoteness  from  the 
grown-up  land,  in  its  heroic  and  fantas- 
tic imaginings,  in  its  long  thoughts  and 
its  short  sight.  An  1  Stevenson  did  that 
in  his  own  inimitable  and  individual 
way.  Poet  and  artist  meet  and  pari  in  an 
interesting  fashion.  And  it  is  not  mere- 
ly as  a  hook  of  graceful  pictures  that 
this  one  whi9h  Mr.  Robinson  has  done 
so  much  to  malce  beautiful  will  be  treas- 
ured. It  is  Stevenson's  exquisite  Child' s 
Garden  with  still  more  childhood  put 
into  it, 

THE  ART  OF  LIVING.  By  Robert  Grant. 
New  York :  Charles  Scribaer*s  Sons,  fs-so. 

This  is  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Robert 

Grant  has  ever  done,  but  we  do  not  re- 
gard this  Jictum  as  particularly  high 
praise ;  for,  from  the  days  of  the  Har- 
vard lampoon  down  to  the  present  time, 
Mr.  (irant  has  put  forth  more  inanities 
than  any  other  American  writer  who  has 
a  respectable  following  of  readers.  But 


this  book  is  really  clever  in  spots,  and 
one  could  gather  quite  an  anthology  of 
amusing  things  from  its  pages,  ft  is 
not  a  good  book  to  present  co  the  aver- 
age young  couple,  however,  for  its  large 
and  liberal  views  about  money  will  make 
them  discontented.  We  tecommend  it, 
therefore,  to  all  persons  who  regard  any- 
thing less  than  $10,000  a  year  as  pov- 
erty \  and  it  may,  perhaps,  be  safely 
read  by  those  who  consider  this  sum  a 
comfortable  income  ;  but  those  who 
think  $5000  a  year  comparative  wealth 
should  let  the  book  alone,  or  else  buy  it 
merely  for  a  table  ornament,  which  they 
may  very  properly  do,  as  its  cover  is  a 
dream  in  gold  and  delicate  green. 

THE  LAUREATES  OF  ENGLAND  1  from  Ben 

Jonson  to  Alfred  Tonnvson.  Hy  Kcnyon 
West.  New  York :  The  Frederick  A.  .Stokes 
Co. 

This  very  timely  volume  contains  well- 
condensed  accounts  of  the  various  per- 
sons who  have  held  the  office  of  Poet 
Laureate  from  Ben  Jonson's  time  to  our 
own.  Now  that  Mr.  Austin  has  been  in- 
stalled and  has  given  the  world  a  taste 
of  his  qualities  in  the  absurd  stanzas 
pub'ished  by  him  in  the  Times  of  Jan- 
uary iith,  celebrating  that  very  much 
bedraggled  hero  "Dr.  Jim,"  American  in- 
terest in  the  question  of  llie  laureateship 
will  speedily  wane.  Yet  because  a  few 
really  great  names  have  adorned  the  of- 
fice, the  present  volume  will  have  a  per- 
manent value  for  reference,  especially  as 
it  contains,  after  the  sketch  of  each  laure- 
ate's life,  a  number  of  illustrative  selec- 
tions of  his  poetical  work,  chosen  with 
much  taste  and  discretion.  After  all,  Mr. 
Austin  need  not  shrink  from  challeng- 
ing a  comparison  of  his  worst  work  with 
the  best  of  such  feeble  nonentities  as 
Tate,  Pye,  and  Eusden.  Mr.  West's 
book  gives  portraits  of  the  subjects  of  his 
sketches,  and  some  general  '*  fanc^** 
illustrations  of  the  poems,  among  which 
the  one  on  page  13  looks  as  though  it 
had  escaped  from  tluit  interesting  an- 
nual entitled  Lc     u  an  Salon. 

A  LONDOli  GARLAND.  Selected  from  Five 
Centuries  of  English  Verse.  By  W.  E.  Hen- 
ley. Wiih  Pictures  bv  Memhcrs  of  the  Society 
ol  illustrators.  London  and  New  York  :  .Vfac- 
miUan  tL  Co. 

This  is  the  book  of  books  for  London- 
ers this  season.  It  will  stir  such  as  have 
the  good  fortune  to  acquire  it  as  no  ora- 
torical appeals  to  their  civic  pride  could 


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540 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


do.  For  that  poets  long  ago,  and  on 
till  now,  loved  it  and  sang  of  it,  and  that 
a  band  <>f  ani^is  to-day  have  pictured  it 
in  endlesii  aspects,  must  appeal  strongly 
to  their  imagination.  One  often  hears 
that  the  lovers  of  London  have  been  few 
and  those  not  ardent,  that  the  great 
place  has  not  the  capacity  for  inspiring 
human  affection,  as  Paris  has,  for  in- 
stance. IVrhaps  this  Garland  will  effec- 
tively contradict  that. 

Mr.  Henley  says  of  his  Antholoi^, 
that  it  is  "a  choice  for  illnstratinn." 
We  have  no  <^uarrcl  with  tliat,  and  no 
particular  desire  for  completeness.  It 
is  a  good  choice,  any  way  considered. 
He  thinks  it  will  be  found  "  to  example 
many  differences  in  method  and  the  point 
of  view  which  have  ruled  and  passed  in 
English  poptry  in  the  lout;  years  divid- 
ing the  I^on<l((ii  <»l  Ciiaucer's  Prentice 
and  Dunbar's  panegyric  and  the  London 
of  'Piccadilly'  and'  'In  the  Rain."" 
That  will  interest  a  student  of  literature. 
What  will  interest  others  more  is  the 
sense  of  the  growing  age  <>f  ilu-  place 
that  comes  over  you  as  you  read  on  from 
songs  that  sing 

"  The  sands  In  Chettey  Fields 

Or  th'"  i^rops  in  silvtr  Thames 

to  Mr.  Ileniey'sown  descriptif)n  of  King 
F(jg  ;  the  sense,  too,  of  growing  coin- 
plexily.  grim  endeavour,  and  yet  no  ex- 
liaustion.  Its  present  vigour,  in<leed, 
seems  symbolised  in  the  surprising  life 
in  the  work  of  the  galaxy  of  artists.  Al- 
most every  notable  illustrator  of  the  day 
has  contributed  a  picture,  and  no  care 
has  been  spared  in  the  reproduction.  It 
is  a  sumptuously  produced  book.  And 
what  is  not  the  same,  but  a  much  belter 
thing — it  is  a  beautiful  and  interesting 
one. 


BOOKMAN  BREVITIES. 

Two  prettily  illustrated   books  in 

dainty  dress  are  T/if  Spt\talor  in  LonJon, 
being  a  selection  from  the  essays  of 
Addison  and  Steele  (price,  $2.00),  and 

JkouiiJ  about  a  B>  i}^/iton  Coach  Office,  by 
Maude  Egert'on  King,  published  by  the 
Messrs.  .Vlacmillan.  Only  second  in 
charm  to  the  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 
essays  in  Thr  St rctator  ^vei  those  in  w  tiich 
tlie  town  iilc  iu  Oueen  Anne's  linie  is 
(lamtily  described  and  gracefully  satir- 
ised. Most  of  the  latter  arc  contain.  1 
in  The  Spcttator  in  London — the  chapters 


on  the  coffee  houses,  on  the  operas,  and 
the  playhouses,  on  London  cries,  on 

fine  ladies,  their  patches  and  head- 
dresses, on  citizens,  shops,  and  beggars. 
It  is  superfluous  now  to  speak  well  of 
them.  Mr.  Ralph  Cleaver  has  a  grace- 
ful, dainty  and  humorous  pencil.  It  is 
the  old  Brighton  of  the  Georges  that  is 
described  in  Round  about  a  Brighton  Coaih 
Office.  The  writer  has  succeeded  in  re- 
habilitating old  Brighton  and  its  queer 
characters  with  a  fascinating  pen.  The 
robust  and  gentle  personalities  that 
cluster  about  the  old  coach  office  are 
effectively  portrayed,  and  the  few  lightly 
drawn  sketches  of  them,  and  the  scenes, 
merry  and  sad,  from  their  daily  life, 
make  us  long  that  we  had  liad  the  good 
luck  to  be  one  of  tlii'ir  number.  The 
illustrations  by  Lucy  Kemp-Welch  are 
drawn  witli  quiet  power  and  charm. 

Two  more  volumes  have  been  added 
to  the  Illustrated  Standard  \ovels  ($1.25) 
issued  by  the  Macmillans,  namely,  Pride 
and PrejuHre^  by  Jane  Austen,  illustrated 
I)y  Pro*  k,  and  S\hil :  or,  The  Twc  ,A'.?A'>;.'^ 
by  Benjamin  Disraeli,  illustrated  by  F. 
Pegram.  "  One  of  the  curiosities  of 
modern  criticism,'  Mr.  Austin  Dob- 
son  begins  his  Introtiuction  to  Miss  Aus- 
ten's novel,  "  is  a  marked  impatience  of 
new  prefaces  to  old  books."  We  con- 
fess to  the  allrc^ation  as  a  rule  ;  but  the 
special  htnessof  this  eighteenth-century 
chronicler  to  the  work  in  hand  makes  a 
strong  and  irresistible  plea  to  its  excep- 
tion in  his  case.  Mr.  Dobson  ha:>  done 
his  work  admirably,  and  this  biographi- 
cal and  critical  essay  will  adt!  am  ilier 
contribution  to  the  pleasant  and  fragrant 
gleanings  in  a  bygone  generation  with 
which  he  has  enriched  literature.  Mr. 
n.  D.  Trail  makes  a  good  advocate  f.  r 
Disraeli's  Syii/f  which,  he  says,  has  al- 
ways held  and  will  always  hold  the  fore- 
most place  among  the  works  of  its  author 
witlr-thc  student  of  English  social  his- 
tory, and  with  the  critic  of  English  lit- 
erature. 

In  TAe  Law's  Lumber  AtwfM  (A.  C. 
McClurg  and  Company)  Mr.  Francis 
Watt  has  traced  the  histor}-  of  some  of 
the  quaint  and  curious  usages  of  the  old 
English  law,  such  as  the  "  benefit  of 
clergy,"  the  application  of  "  peine  forte 
et  dure"  to  a  person  refusing  to  plead 
to  a  charge,  "  deodands,"  the  right  ul 
sanctuary,  trial  by  ordeal,  and  other 
prai  til  es  of  the  bad  old  times.  It  is  of 
interest  to  iearu  thai  the  "  peine  forte  et 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL 


54« 


dure"  {i.e.,  crushing  beneath  an  enor- 
mous weight  of  iron)  was  inflicted  by 
an  Enf^lish  court  as  late  as  the  reign  of 

Genrire  11.  (1726),  and  that  trial  by  com- 
bat was  not  formally  abolished  until  the 

yeartSiQ,  (Price,  li. 00.)  In  Mr.  F.  A. 

Ober's  Jou-phlne,  Emprfss  ,[f  the  French, 
we  have  a  work  of  the  J.  S.  C.  Abbott 
order,  which,  with  a  delightful  disre- 
gard of  facts  and  the  evidence  of  his- 
tory, depicts  Madame  Beauharnats  as  a 
persecuted  but  impeccable  being,  too 
good  for  this  earth,  and  naturally  much 
too  good  for  lu  r  Corsican  husband.  It 
is  always  pleasant  to  believe  that  an  em- 
press with  a  romanttc  history  is  g^ood 
and  pure  and  cfenerally  virtuous,  but 
one  has  to  draw  the  line  somewhere, 
-  and  we  think  that  we  shall  draw  it  at 
Josephine.  (The  Merriam  Company, 
New  York.) 

Beamti/itl  IFtnags,  by  Mr.  Louis  H. 
GiI)son,  is  a  beautiful  book,  its  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  or  so  of  plans  and  illus- 
trations representing  the  most  interest- 
ing and  attractive  structures  in  many 
lands  and  many  ages,  and  giving  both 
interiors  and  extemrs.  From  the  tem- 
ples of  Greece  and  the  chateaux  of  med- 
iaeval France  down  to  the  huts  of  the 
Alaskan  Indians,  everything  of  interest 
and  beauty  is  included.  The  boc^  is  a 
delitjhtful  one.  and  will  be  a  source  of 
pleasure  to  the  lover  of  the  arts  of  archi- 
tecture and  decf)ration.  Of  the  text  it 
is  sLitllcient  to  say  that  it  admirably  sup- 
pleiiicnts  die  illustratiuas.  (T.  Y.  Crow- 
ell  and  Company,  $3.00.) 

A  Ct-'ifurv  of  German  Lyrics,  by  Kate 
Freiligrath  Kroeker,  is  a  dainty  little 
volume  of  translations  from  the  Ger- 
mans best  known  in  lyric  poetry.  The 
English  renderine  is  spirited  and  grace- 
ful, and  has  few  if  any  traces  of  the  awk- 
wardness that  renderings  from  the  Ger- 
man are  too  apt  to  reveal.  (The  Fred- 
erick A.  Stokes  Company.)  Mr. 

Nathan  Haskell  Dole  has  translated  six 
of  Verga's  short  Sicilian  stories,  among 
them  CavalUria  Rusticana.  The  selec- 
tions are  judiciously  made,  and  the  trans- 
lation is  adequate  if  somewhat  less 
praiseworihy  than  that  of  Cavazza. 
The  Joseph  Knight  Company,  of  Bos- 
ton, pulilish  the  volume  in  their  Round 
Table  Librarv,  which  also  includes  the 
following  volumes  :  The  Starling,  by 
Norman  Macleod  ;  Littfr  fdyl/s  of  the  Big 
Worlds  by  W.  D.  McCracken  ;  Arnt^  by 
Bjamsteme  Bjdruon;  and  An  AHU 


Phi!.'-  -^-^:'-r  in  Pan's,  from  the  French  of 
Emile  Souveslre.  These  little  books 
are  prettily  gotten  up,  including  sev- 
eral half  tone  pictures,  and  there  is  a 
very  complete  biographical  account  of 
BjSmson  preceding  the  novel  by  him. 
The  price  of  each  volume  is  $1.00.  The 
illustrated  edition  of  Mr.  Barrie'*^  1/v 
Lady  Nicotine,  which  we  have  already 
spoken  of  an  our  December  number,  is 
now  ready,  and  makes  quite  a  pictu- 
resque book. 

The  Messrs.  Macmillan  have  brought 
out,  in  a  heaxitifully  printed  volume,  a 
version  of  the  famous  mediaeval  story  of 
Reineke  Fuchs,  the  text  being  a  mod- 
ernisation of  Caxton's  translation  by  the 
late  Sir  Henry  Cole.  Numerous  pic- 
tures by  Frank  Calderon  immensely  en- 
hance the  value  and  interest  of  the  book, 
which  has  also  an  introduction  and  notes 
by  Joseph  Jacobs  dealing  with  the  his- 
tory of  the  tale  from  the  standpoint  of 
folk  lore  and  also  from  its  semi-politic  . 
and  social  side.    The  price  is  ts.oo. 

Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Com- 
pany have  added  The  Complete  Poetical 
W0rks  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  ($2.00) 
to  the  Cambridge  edition  of  the  poets. 
This  series  deserves  to  be  popular  ;  each 
volume  is  printed  in  clear  type,  on  good 
paper,  and  the  editing  has  been  care- 
fidlv  H.one,  while  such  features  as  por- 
traiLs  01  ilie  poets,  vignette  illustrations 
of  celebrated  views,  biographical  esti- 
mates of  the  authors,  and  appendices 
and  indices  make  the  work  in  each  case 
more  complete  and  valuable  than  in  its 
more  extensive  form.  -A  new  edition 
of  Tolstoy's  Anna  Kar^nina^  in  Mr. 
Dole's  able  translation,  has  been  issued 
by  the  Messrs.  Crowell.  This  edition  is 
illustrated,  and  has  a  fine  photogravure 
portrait  of  Tolstoy  as  frontispiece.  Tlie 
price  is  $1.50.  — The  United  States 
Book  Company  have  reissued  in  their 
Lakewood  Series  (paper  covers,  price 
50  cents)  Ibsen's  Prose  Dramas  in  two 
volumes.     There    is  an  introduction 

by  Mr.  Edmund  Gosse.  In  paper 

covers  we  have  also  two  more  volumes 
of  Macmillan's  Novelists'  Library  (price 
50  cents),  A  Strange  Elopement,  by  W. 
Clark  Russell,  and  The  Last  Toiukes,  bv 
•Mrs.  W.  K.  Clifford.  The  second  vol- 
ume of  Lyi  iiiti  Voitty  from  the  Bible 
(fi.oo)  and  WiUr  r  Babies  (75  cents),  by 
Charles  Kinj^sley — in  the  fine  pocket 
edition  now  being  issued — have  also  just 
been  published  by  the  same  firm.— - 


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54* 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


Sermons  for  the  Church  Year,  by  Phillips 
Brooks,  is  published  by  Messrs.  E.  P. 
Dution  and  Company. 

Mr.  Berkeley  Updike  of  Hoston  sends 
usa  beautiful  edition  ot  iiaus  Andersen's 
The  Nighting9le^  which  Is  exquisitely 
illustrated  in  modern  decorative  design 
by  Miss  Mary  Newill,  o£  the  Birming- 
ham School  of  Art.  The  old  style  type 
is  used,  and  the  printint:  i:^  done  on  hand- 
made paper.  As  its  sub-title  defines  it. 
The  Nightingith  is  '*  a  story  for  children 
and  a  (Munablc  for  men  and  women.'* 


The  price  is  only  $1.25.  We  have  also 
received  from  Mr.  Updike  the  first  num 
ber  for  1 896  of  an  AmertcaQ  edition  of 
The  Quest.  Three  numbets  are  issued 
annually,  and  the  subsci iptiuii  price 
is  $2.00.  This  magazine  is  printed  by 
tlie  Birminpfhani  Guild  of  Handicraft, 
and  expresses  the  ideas  of  those  art- 
ists who  are  associated  with  it  The 
first  number  contains  a  delightfully  in- 
teresting article  by  William  Morris 
on  some  buildings  in  the  Kelmscott  dis* 
trict 


AMONG  THE  LIBRARIES. 


The  New  York  Library  Association, 
the  organisation  of  librarians  for  New 
York  State,  lield  its  usual  meeting  for 
this  section  oi  the  State,  on  January 
10th,  in  conjunction  with  the  New  York 
(Citv)  Library  Club.  An  interesting 
series  of  papers  was  read  and  discussed 
at  the  two  sessions  during  the  day,  and 
in  the  evenincT  the  State  Association 
was  the  guest  of  the  New  York  Library 
Club  at  its  annual  dinner.  The  New 
York  Lilu  ary  has  now  been  in  existence 
more  than  ten  years,  and  this  dinner 
and  occasion  celebrated  the  tenth  com- 
pleted year. 

There  was  inaugurated,  in  November, 
at  Milan,  a  School  of  Bibliology,  for  the 
training;  of  persoDS employed  inthebook 
trade.  Its  courses  of  instruction  cover 
liucc  years.  Tlie  first  year  deals  with 
the  history  of  books,  the  second  year 
willi  the  technique  of  books  and  book- 
making,  and  the  third  year  with  bibli- 
ography and  bookselling  from  the  com- 
mercial standpoint. 

The  innocent  item  in  the  last  issue  of 
Thb  Bookman  relative  to  a  possible 
oversupply  of  would-be  library  em- 
ployes from  the  numerous  library 
schools  of  various  grades  has  called 
fi)rlh  S'ime  protest  from  persons  inter- 
ested. If  it  is  true  that  all  graduates  of 
these  schools  who  are  reasonably  capa- 
ble find  sooner  or  later  suitable  places, 
we  ought  all  to  rejoice^  and  the  man- 
agers of  the  schools  can  afford  not  to  be 
oversensitive  toward  the  feeling  on  the 
part  of  librarians  that  there  is  danger  of 
overproduction.  Many  people,  perhaps 
not  well  informed  in  the  matter,  think 


the  law  schools  are  turning  out  more 
lawyers  than  are  needed  ;  but  the  law 
schools  have  never  looked  on  this  notion 
as  a  grievance  or  an  evidence  of  lack  of 
sympathy  with  their  work.  The  schools 
for  library  training  that  are  doing^  i^ood 
work  and  making  no  misrepresentations 
to  the  public  have  only  to  go  ahead  and 
let  the  relations  of  supply  and  demand 
settle  themselves.  Yet  the  calling  into 
existence  of  more  and  more  schools  is 

itself  a  cleclaratioii  to  the  public  that 
there  is  a  probable  demand  for  their 
graduates.  The  librarians  who  are  con* 
scious  of  the  great  pressure  for  places 
may  be  pardoned  for  doubting  this. 

The  New  York  Free  Circulating  Li- 
brary, whose  library  class  was  the  text 
for  ail  this,  assures  ns  that  its  class  is 
intended  only  tor  training  its  ou  a  em- 
ployes, and  is  not  likely  to  increase  the 
visible  supply.  It  should,  therefore,  be 
honorably  acquitted. 

The  Proceedings  of  the  Denver  Cem- 
ferfnce  of  tJu-  American  Library  Asso- 
ciation has  just  appeared.  The  papers 
read  seem  to  be  of  perhaps  more  Ulan 
usual  interest.  The  articles  on  interna- 
tional or  co-operative  indexes  to  scien- 
tific literature  mark  a  widening  impulse 
if  they  do  not  give  full  solutions  I  tbr; 
direction  of  accomplishing  completely 
for  all  what  the  strongest  libranes  can 
now  do  for  themselves  oidy  partially. 
If  the  scientists  who  feel  the  need  most 
strongly  and  are  making  the  most  stir 
will  clearly  formulate  what  they  con- 
ceive themselves  to  need,  and  let  the 
librarians  fix  the  form  and  method  of 
such  index  work,  the  best  results  will  be 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


543 


achieved.  Some  of  the  papers  read  at 
the  Denver  Conference  seem  to  under- 
rate the  extent  and  difficulty  of  the  task. 
For  instance,  the  subject  index  which 
any  two  persons  with  scissors  and  paste 
could  make  in  one  year  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety's catalogue  of  scientific  papers 
might  be  worth  storing  where  rent  was 
low,  but  would  not  be  wortli  printing. 
Inadequate  and  faulty  work  in  this  direc- 
tion is  worse  th  in  none,  as  it  stands  in 
the  way  of  good  work.  Discussion  and 
investigation  will  set  us  in  the  right  di- 
rection  in  the  details  of  this  line  of 
work.  The  plans  for  such  an  undertak- 
ing should  be  shaped  in  this  country, 
where  cataloguing  and  indexing  have 


been  brought  to  higher  perfection  than 
in  Europe. 
Dr.  George  E.  Wire,  who  has  for  the 

past  five  years  had  cliariLje  of  the  medi- 
cal section  of  the  Newberry  Library,  in 
Chicago,  has  resigned  his  position.  Dr. 
Wire  has  during  that  time  arranged  and 
put  in  order  that  part  of  the  Newberry 
Library  which  incorporates  the  books 
of  the  Medical  Library  Association  of 
Chicago  an(i  the  medical  works  from 
the  Chicago  Public  Library,  and  thus 
forms  one  of  the  largest  and  most  im- 
portant medical  libraries  in  the  West. 

Gsarge  H,  JBaker, 


THE  PASSING  OF  PAN. 

Laughter,  velvet-lipped,  runs  ringing 

A  I!  nlong  the  woodland  ways, 
And  a  strange,  bewitching  singing 

Fills  the  glad  Arcadian  days ; 
Ripple-rocked,  the  slender  naiads 

Rush-fringed  shores  expectant  scan 
For  attendant  hamadryads. 

Heralding  the  path  of  Pan. 

Tlirough  the  swaying  bushes  sliding. 

Dark-eyed  nymphs  before  him  trip, 
And  the  gpd,  with  stately  striding. 

Follows,  laughter  on  his  lips  ; 
While  the  wild  bird-hearts  that  love  him 

In  the  haunts  tintrod  by  man, 
Riot  rapturously  above  him. 

Heralding  the  path  of  Pan. 

From  the  yellow  beds  of  mallows 

Gleams  the  glint  ot  golden  hair, 
Nereids  from  the  shorewise  shallows 

Fling  a  greeting  on  the  air  ; 
Slim,  white  limbs,  divinely  fashioned, 

Of  the  fair  immortal  clan 
Sway  to  harmonies  impassioned, 

Heralding  the  path  of  Pan. 

Round  his  brow  a  wreath  he  tosses^ 

Twined  with  asphodel  and  rose. 
And,  triumphant,  o'er  the  mosses. 

Song- saluted  on  he  goes  ; 
Frail  wood-maidens  wiio  adore  him. 

When  he  rests,  his  temples  fan. 
When  he  rises,  run  before  him, 

Heralding  the  path  of  Pan  \ 

Guy  H^eimare  Car rry/. 


Digitized  by  GO' 


544 


THE  BOOKMAS. 


THE  BOOK  MART. 


For  Bookrkaoers,  Bookvuvers,  and  Booksbllbiis. 


EASTERN  LETTER. 

NEwYokX,  January  i,  1S96. 

TIm  holiday  trade  has  come  and  gone  wiih  its 
eoMoiiiaiy  nish  aad  confusion.  In  total  nesului  it 
ba»  probably  not  exceeded  previous  years,  but  in 

ihf  luiinfier  of  titles  sold  there  has  unquestior.ihly 
Ix  eii  an  irureasc.    The  Rrowini?  tendency  to  pur 
ch.is<;  iiicxiKTisivc  hixik--  in   pn  lerc  tu  c  to  costly 
works  has  also  been  ctnkini^ly  aianitcated  during 
the  past  holiday  business. 

The  leading  books  of  the  season  have  undnubt* 
edly  been  Ian  Maclaren's  BtsiJe  the  BmmieBrUr 
Busk  aod  Tlu  Da^s  9/  AuU  JL»ng  Synt.  The 
cheap  editions  of  the  former  were  haraly  out  in 
time  for  Chrisimas,  l/ut  il  is  gratify  in  (;  to  imtethat 
the  demand  for  tlicsc  is  confinetl  almost  cxi  lusive- 
ly  to  the  authorisvil  nlitions.  This  is  lUii-  to  the 
.    prompt  and  ener^c^ii''  ■i<  ii<u)  of  the  publishers. 

The  works  of  Euyi  tu-  Field  continue  to  be  hi 
mndl  btvour,  the  publishers  repeatedly  being  on- 
Able  to  fill  tbeir  orders.  The  Story  »f  tkt  Otktr 
Wise  Afan  aod  Littk  River$,  both  by  Henry  Van 
Dyke,  and  Robert  Grant**  (wo  books,  The  Bach- 
elor's CAri's/mas  and  Th,-  Atl  .-•>'  /  i;ing,  were  very 

Sopular.     The  Second  J  mi.:!.   Book,  bv  Rudyard 
:ipling,  and  the  illustrated  editionof  Mr.  Hsrrll'l 
Uncle  Remus  also  sold  tcitdily. 

Of  the  more  expensive  illustrated  books,  Con- 
tt«ntiMfiUt  by  Edwin  A.  Giosvcnor,  P'idariaH 
Sttws,  by  Edmund  D.  Garrett,  and  Joseph  Jeffer- 
aon  s  Ri^  Van  WinJt/e  were  most  popular. 

Juvenile  literature  of  all  kinds  sold  freely. 
T7.\<  /.//,'/(•  Pilt^rims"  Progress,  \>\  Mrs  Hiiriictt. 
Mr.  Kaht.  'it  at  Home,  by  Mr.  iiarris,  and  The 
Brownut  shi.^ugh  the  Ummt^  by  Palmer  Coa, 
were  ibe  leaders. 

Fiction  occupied  a  prominent  place  in  the  holi* 
day  porchaaei,  and  the  works  of  all  the  popular 
authors  of  the  day  were  In  good  demand.  Tk* 

Red  Cockade,  The  Pruttur  of  Zenda,  The  Manx- 
man, and  Slain  by  the  Dooncs  being  the  special 
ftlVoiirii<s 

The  humorous  books  of  John  Kendrick  Bangs, 
particularly  his  recent  Houic  on  the  Styx, 

Cki/t  and  a  juvenile  eniitled  liu  Advtt^- 
H$n$  »/  Twt  DiOek  JMU  »nd  «  Gaitiweg  received 
many  ordera. 

Religious  works  were  largely  called  for,  notably 
Phillips  Brooks's  and  Canon  Farrar's  Year  /?,  1  ^  r. 
The  Shefherd  Psalm,  hy  V.  B.  Meyer.  ;ui<i  //, 
Chrs'l  (.'.!-'ie  to  the  Church,  by  A.  J.  Gordrm. 

Recent  publications  are  naturally  few  in  num- 
ber, Mrs.  Oliphant's  The  Makers  of  Modtm 
Romt,  The  Vailima  Letttrt,  by  R.  L.  Stevenson, 
and  Litttrt  fy  Matthew  ArtMd  being  the  most  im- 
portant 

The  reports  so  far  from  the  regular  booksellers 

inflirritc  hm  .»  t'air  hnlidav  trails  :  this  rn.iy  In-  par 
tialiv  aCLuiititfil  f.  .r  l'\  ilie  inLicu-sidj^  pioiuincnce 
t;ivfn  to  the  luisiness  In'  the  Dry  Goods  stores, 
which  i<  SI  ijrc-what  unfi -rttit^at?",  ri<  the  average 
book  dcpartnifnt  is  a  i" "r  futj^tituie  for  thc 
well««tocked  iiook-siore  to  the  true  book  buyer. 

Leading  books  in  point  of  sale  for  the  month 
were  as  foiUowB : 


Beside  the  Boniite  Brier  Bush.  By  Ian  Mac- 
laren.  $1.35. 

The  Day^  of  .Atild  Lnn^  Sync  By  lau  Mac- 
larcii. 

Two  LitUe  Pilgrims'  Progress.   By  Fimnoes 
Hodgson  Burnett.  91.50. 
The  Second  Jungle  Book.    By  Rndyard  Kip- 

litig.  $1.50. 

The  Prisoner  of  Zcnda.   By  Anthony  Hope. 

75  cts. 

The  Story  of  tbe  Other  Wise  Man.  By  Heniy 
Van  Dyke.    $1  SO. 

A  House  Boat  on  the  Styx.  By  John  Ken- 
drick Bangs.  $i.ss. 

The  Red  Cockade.    By  Sunley  J.  Weyman. 

Slain  by  the  Dixmc-s.    Bv   R    D.  Blackmore. 

The  Village  Watch-Tower.  By  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin.  $t.oo. 

A  Singular  Life.  By  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 
I1.25. 

The  WiM»  Woman.    By  Clan  Louise  Bum- 
ham,  fi.ss. 
C.isa  Braedo.  By  P.  Marion  Crawford,  a  vols* 

Little  RivLTs.    Hy  Henry  Van  Dvkc,  $2.00. 
The  iiachelor  s  Christmas.    By  Robert  Grant. 
$1.50. 

Mr.  Rabbit  at  Home.  By  Joel  Chandler  Har- 
ris. $1.50. 

The  Brownies  thraugh  the  Union.  By  Palmer 
Cox.  ft.sa 

WESTERN  LETTER. 

Chicago,  January  i,  1896. 

In  reviewing  tbe  December  trsde,  tbe  first  thing 
that  strikes  one  is  that  there  was  no  falling  off  in 

the  bulk  of  thi  \  i.'  i  'kmc.  fur  sales  ran  ahead 
ot  l.ist  yr.ir  in  .j.i.^i.'.iL)  ,  but  the  receipts  make  it 
evident  t'lat  the  purchases  were  smaller  anil  the 
items  less  expensive.  Cosily  buoki>arc  not  boi'ght 
nowadays  during  the  holidays  as  formerly.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  the  tempting  beauty  and  artistic 
neatness  of  many  of  the  recently  published  books 
has  interfered  largely  this  year  with  tbe  sale  of 
more  expensive  works.  Country  business  during 
the  month  was  inr)der.ilely  good,  8n<l  orders  <  ailed 
mostly  for  itjcx pensive  books.  Retail  trade  in 
Clui  ai;o  was  fair,  and  compared  with  last  year's 
record  made  a  good  showing,  and  had  it  not  been 
for  the  deplorably  wet  weather  which  prevailed 
during  the  week  before  Quistmas.  the  receipts 
would  doubtless  have  been  above  the  average  of 
the  last  season. 

The  books  which  sold  best  durir^^  the  holidays 
in  their  respective  classes  were  as  follows:  In 
fiction  Ian  Maclaren's  two  hookii.  Beside  the 
BoumU  After  Bush  and  7 he  Days  of  A  u Id  Lang 
Sytu.  were  closely  followed  by  7 he  PrisoHer  »f 
ZenJa.  by  Anthony  Hope:  Rodyard  KIpIings 
two  Jangle  Books  ;  A  House  Boat  on  the  Sfvx.  by 
John  Kendrick  Bangs  ;  7'Ae  Holy  Cross  and  A 
UUk  B^ek  p/BrtJUaUe  Talee,  by  Eugene  Field ; 


Digitized  by  GoOglc 


A  LITEKARY  JOURNAL 


545 


A  flimuith  and  A  Knttiuky  Cardinal,  by  James 
Lane  Allen;  Thf  HitihcU'r'i  Chri slums,  by  Rob- 
ert Grant,  and  .4  SiHs^iti-.r  !  i /, .  by  l.li/.ihcth 
Stuart  I'hclps.  Among  the  juvtiiiics  ihe  must 
papular  were  A  Child  of  TusaiHy.  by  Marguerite 
Bouvet ;  Two  LittU  iHtgrimt  Ptogrtss^  bjr  Mrs. 
Hodgson  Burnett ;  Btvnmut  through  the  Vnim, 
by  Palmer  Ct»x  ;  Tales  from  Amfrican  Uis- 

tor\\  by  Theodore  Roosevelt  and  H.  C.  Lodj^e  ; 
/\I ill's  fourtu-v  on  fnlaiiJ  IVatfrs,  by  Martha  Fin- 
ley,  and  Troof^cr  /\oss anil  Sigiiitl  flit//e,  by  Captain 
Charles  Kin^;.  The  old  favourites  also  sold  well, 
particolarlv  the  Elsie  Hooks,  Miss  Alcott's  stories, 
those  by  Kate  Douglas  Wiggio,  and  Ihe  nuroer- 
ous  work^  of  G.  A.  Heniy.  In  poetry  the  demand 
was  very  great  for  EuRcne  Field's  books  of  verse, 
and  those  by  James  Whitcom!)  RiUy,  whili!  the 
demand  for  the  standard  poets  were  up  to  the 
average. 

Among  the  fine  holiday  books,  Abbey's  C^mtiiits 
of  Shitki-sN-iirf  sold  well,  and  Joseph  leflcr- 
son's  AV^  Vau  Winkle  went  splendidly.  Tkt  City 
of  tkt  SuUans,  by  Clara  E.  Clement,  also  bad  a 
fair  sale,  Init  i.tki.n  a  uhntr  the  sales  tif  liooks 
in  this  class  were  btluw  iht  average.  In  hi--tori- 
cal  works  and  books  of  travel  the  favoiiritcs  were 
CDnstantim>plt,\>'!j  Marion  Crawford  ;  1  he  Mitkers 
of  Afadem  ktmu,\»y  Mrs.  Oliphant  ;  Xotes  in  fifan, 
by  Parsons ;  Ettr^fe  in  Afriea  in  tkt  JViiuUfHth 
Century,  by  Mrs.  Latimer,  and  the  new  edition  of 
D'Amicis,  Sf'  i! i:  .rnJ  v*,;(;',Tr  /  In  art  books 
the  best  scllt  i  s  ultc  (  '.',/  DuUh  and  Tlemi-ih  Mas- 
ttrs,  the  new  tiw  \  lume  edition  of  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son's  works.  Ctibson's  /)ra wind's.  Churches  and 
Castles  of  .\fi-di,i-7  al  France,  by  W.  C.  Larned,  and 
Beautiful  Uoutts,  by  Louis  H.  Gibson.  In  biog- 
raphy, essays,  .science,  belles-lettres,  the  leaders 
were  The  Bi't'k  Hunter  in  London,  by  William 
Roberts;  Mattlie-.o  Arnold's  Letters;  IJterary 
Shrines  and  Literary  Pil^rimai^es,  by  Thcoilore  F. 
Wolfe  ;  A  .Seientifie  Demonstration  of  a  Future 
Life,  bv  Thomsijn  Jay  Hudson  ;  ALenioirs  of  Xa- 
poieon,  by  Constant,  and  lAe  Tailiina  iMters,  by 
K.  L.  Stevenson.  Outside  of  the  above  classes 
the  following  miscelUneoos  books  met  with  more 
than  average  sales  :  Pouy  Tmeks.  by  Frederick 
Reriii;)i,'t'in  :  Fltctrieity  for  /?'r  rt /,  ,/;',  hy  Philip 
AiUiii>un  ;  Colli i^e  Girls,  by  A  t"  (iofniloe  :  The 
IVorld  /beautiful,  by  Lili  iri  \ViutiMi(  ;  Because  I 
Lcri-e  *}'■'«.  by  Anna  E.  Mack,  and  ll'hite  City 
Chips,  by  Teresa  Dean. 

"The  cheap,  mutilated  reprints  of  Beside  the 
Bonnie  Brier  Bush  did  not  affect  the  sale  of  the 
authori>ci!  ci.wi\\y.K-\\-  t-ilitirin  iluririL;  Di >  cnibrr,  fi>r 
it  sold  DcUcr  iluui       any  time  sirici-  u  w.is  |>ii 
lishcd. 

ik>oks  on  Wagner  and  his  operas  have  been  in 
lively  demand  since  the  recent  season  of  Warner 
opera  in  this  city  began  ;  those  most  enquired  lor 
being  Stories  from  tkt  Wetgner  Operas,  by  Miss 
Guerber.  and  Tke  Standard  Operate  by  George  P, 
Upton. 

Tin-  C.mit't  kI^i-  ciliii.  Ills  i>f  Ifiiltiics.  r.' invjfcllow. 
Whitlier.  afid  Hruwiiiiig  are  having  good  sales, 
and  we  hoi>c  the  series  will  be  extended. 

The  books  which  sold  best  in  actual  numbers 
last  month  were : 

The  Days  of  .\uld  Lang  Syne.  By  laii  Mac^ 
laren,    $i  as. 

Two  Little  Pilgrims*  Progress.  By  Frances 
Hodgson  Burnett.  $I.$0. 

iiesidc  the  Bonnie  Brier  Brush.  By  Ian  Mac- 
laicD.  $l.S5. 


The  Second  Jungle  Book.  By  Rudyard  Kip* 
ling.  $1.50. 

A  Scicntifir  Dcmon-itr.uion  of  a  Futurc  Life. 
By  Thomson  Jay  Hudson.  $I.S^ 

A  H  ouse  Boat  on  Ihe  Styx.  By  John  Kendrick 
Bangs.  $i.3S- 

Anermalh.    By  Jamet  Lane  Allen,  fl.ooi. 

The  Prisoner  oi  Zenda.  By  Anthony  Hope. 
7<;  cts. 

A  Child  of  Tuscany.   By  Marguerite  Bouvet. 

#150. 

The  Bachelor's  Christmas.  By  Robert  Grant. 
$i.So. 

A  Singular  Life.   By  Elisabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 

$1  25. 

The  Sorrows  of  Sat.in.  By  Marie  Corelll. 
$1.50 

College  Girls.  By  Abbe  Carter  Goodloe. 
•l  25 

Brownies  through  the  Union.  Hv  Palmer  Cox. 
$1.50. 

The  Red  Cockade.  By  Stanley  J.  Weyman. 
•'.SO- 


ENGLISH  LETTER. 
LoKDON,  November  2$  to  December  31.  tSqs* 

Great  is  the  j"y  in  the  bookscliin^^  trade  at  the 
revival  that  has  taken  place.  Wbetht  r  it  is  Christ- 
mas trade  only orapermanenl  impr(i\ c:n<  tit,  time 
will  show.  As  we  write,  the  wholesale  trade  is 
at  its  wits*  end  to  get  all  the  orders  in  hand  com. 
ptett  il  in  time  for  the  retailer  to  receive  his  parcel 
bcfi)re  Christmas.  The  colonial  and  continental 
business  has  been  very  good  for  the  peri«>d 
named. 

The  leading  book  of  the  season  and  fuile  prin- 
ceps  is  Trilby.  It  is  selling  at  the  rate  of  several 
tons  per  month.  Following  it  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance, as  being  next  in  popular  favour,  are 
Crockett's  S-oeetheart  Travellers  and  Mane  Cfi. 
relli's  Si)rr,>:.''  r'  Satan. 

The  demand  l<ir  fairy  tales  continues  un.ibated. 
Mr.  Baring-Goul  i  s  Lullection  is  in  great  request. 
Drawing-room  uble  txtoks  are  fast  disappear, 
ing.  The  public  will  not  buy  brx.ks  which  are 
issued  merely  to  be  looked  at.  They  ioMSt  upon 
having  a  readable  text,  to  which  the  illustrations 
are  servants,  and  not  by  any  means  the  masters. 
Hence  the  active  enquiry  for  fiction  in  fine  edi- 
tions Defoe,  Fielding,  Dum.is,  iialzac.  Poe, 
.Smollett,  and  other  authors  of  established  rep- 
utations are  being  sold  in  very  dainty  dress. 

Minor  poetry  is  decidedly  at  a  discount,  and  it 
is  doubtful  if  it  is  often  heard  of  outside  a  ceiuin 
street  whit  h  is  funcd  f  .r  its  production.  The 
poetry  of  U  iUiani  Walson  is  in  gfiod  request,  and 
it  seems  as  if  one  of  the  poets  of  the  century  has 
appeared.  His  Fathrr  of  the  forest  has  been 
very  well  received.  1  hf-rc  is  a  good  dt  aiand  for 
Annuals,  Diaries,  and  Almanacs,  but  the  rush  for 
the  two  latter  classes  commences,  strangely 
cri  uiL;!!  on  N'c-u  Year's  Day.  A  very  favourite 
bo  k  f  r  the  season  is  one  of  the  volumes  of 
Dr.  J.  R  MLler  s  ;,.i]iul,ir  re'.i t;i ' lus  writing;?;,  which 
arc  issued  in  a  delicate  uniform  binding  at  2s.  6d. 
each  by  Ho  i  ler  and  Stoughton.  Thousands  have 
been  sold.  There  are  a  few  secessions  from  the 
ranks  of  magazine  literature,  as  is  usual  at  the 
end  .f  the  year.  They  are  not  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  specify. 

Appended  is  a  list  of  the  leading  books  of  the 


Digitized  by  Google 


$46 


THE  BOOKMAN. 


^t•iiSon.    It  wouM  appear  to  show  u  wide  range  ^  Bachelor's    Christmas.     Bv    Rnbrrt  Giant, 

of  taste,  but  this  rnluiiiii  chronicU-s  .uui  must  not  $:  5<'  iScribner.i 

criticiae.    Many  ul  the  titles  have  been  named  in  5.  Other  Wise   Man.     By    Henry   V  in  Dyke, 

previous  lists.    The  st-lctium  has.  huwcver.  been  $150.  (Harper.) 

made  after  opniidcrable  and  careful  caquirjrt  and  6.  Jude  the  Obacure.  By  Thomas.  Hardy.  $i.7S- 

m»j  be  Caltcn  as  a  correct  index  <rf  llie  most  (Harper  ) 
po|MilaT  books  of  the  moment. 

NEW  YORK,  DOWNTOWN. 

Trilbv.    Rv  G<-or>4f»  Du  Maurier  fm. 

The  Sorrows  of  Saian.    By  Marie  Corelli.    68.  P.  Bonnie  Brier   Bush      Bv   .Maclarcn.    $1  2?. 

The  Days  of  Anid  Lang  Sjrne.   By  Ian  Mac-  (Du  id,  Me.id  \  Co.) 

laren.    6s.  >r  Auld    Lang    .Svne.     By    Maci  iren.  $1.25. 

Sweetheart  Travellers.  By  S.  R  Crockett.  6s.  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

My  Honey.   By  the  aothor  of  Tip  Cat.   $s.  JC  Bachelor's  Christmas.     By  Grant.  t.so. 

The  Carboneh    Bv  C  M.  Yohrv.    y».  fid.  (Scribncr.) 

The  Tiger  of  Mvsr.rr.    Hv  r,  A.  Hcntv    6s.  4  Little  Riveii.   By  Van  Dyke.   $>.oo.  (Sctlb- 

A  Knight  of  the  White  Crois.   liy<i.  A  Ht-ntv,  ner.) 

6s.  ^.  Second  Jungle  Book.    By  Kipling,    f  LJO. 

Through  Ku&sittii  Snows.    By  G.  A.  Henty.  (Century.) 

Ss.  6.  Uncle  Remus.   By  Harris.  is.O0i.  (Apple- 

The  Story  of  Roaioa.   By  Austin  Dobson.  ss.  ton.) 

The  Father  of  the  Forest.   By  William  Wat-  ALB.\N  V.  X.  V 

son.    3s.  6d.  net. 

A  Message  for  the   Day.    By  J.  R.  Miller,  ^/f^ Beside   the    Hninie  Brier   Bu.sh.     By  Mac- 

3s.  6d.  laroii      ^i  2~i     i  I '    iMead  &  C>'>  I 

A  Chilli's  Garden  of  Verses.    By  R  I.  Steven-  Jif  Auld    I-aiii;    Syne      By    Maclaren.  $1-2$. 

son.    =;s  net.  (Oodd.  Mea.l  &  Co  ) 

The  Wallypog  of  Why.    By  G.  £.  Farrow.  ^  Second  Jungle  Book.    By  KipUog.  fi.50. 

SS.  (Centurjr  Co ) 

Katawampus.    Bv  E.  A.  Parry.    3s.  (xi.  4   Little  Swiss  Golde.    By  Parkhurst.     30  cts. 

The  Gurneys  of  Earlham.    Hy  A.J.  C.  Hare.  (Revell.) 

2  vols     2^s  5.  Slain  by  the  Dooncs.    By  Blackmore.  $1*5. 

The  Red  I  ruc  Siory  Book.    By  A.  Lang.   68.  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

The  Story  of  a  Cat  and  a  Cake.   By  M.  Bram*  6.  The  ( );licr  Wise  Man.   By  Van  Dyke.  It.50. 

ston.   3s.  6d.  (Harper.) 

The  Chronicles  of  Connt  Antonio.  By  A.  Hope. 

6s.  BALTIMORE.  MD. 

The  Red  Cockade.    By  S.  Weyman.  6s. 

I  h         nd  Jungle  Book.    Bv  Rudyard  Kip-  >' Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maclaren. 

linR.    Os  (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

The  One  Who  Looked  On.   By  F.  F.  Montrt.  I>«c»or  of  the  Old  School.     By  Madarcn. 

sor    3s  6d.  $3.uo.    (Dudd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Ian  Mac-  R**'  Cockade.    By  Weyman.  ft-so.  (Har- 

The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.    Bv  Anthony  Hcipe.  X  Auld  Lang   Syne.     By    Maclaren.  fl.ss- 

6d.  (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

Stewart  (Robert  and  Lc  uis.ii     By  Mary  E.  Bachelor's   Christma.s.     By   Grant.  $1.50. 

Watson,    -s  M.  (Scribners.) 

A  Lady  of  England  (A.  L.  u.  K.).    By  Agnes  6.  Slain  by  the  Doones.    By  Blackmore.  $1.25. 

Gibernc.    7s.  6d.  (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

Diet  in  Sickness  and  Health.   By  Mrs.  £. 

Hart.   3s.  6d.  BOSTON.  MASS. 

The  Teaching  of  Jesus.   By  R   F.  Horton.  -  ^  . 

«-  6d.  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaicn.  $i.2<;. 

5*  (Dodd.  Mt  a.I  A- C<..) 

^.  Days  of    AulJ    I  .um    Svne.    By  Maclaren. 
$1.25.    (Uodd.  Mra.!  .V  Ci. 

SALES  OF  BOOKS  DURING  THE  MONTH.  ^  ^JSf^TandTbay"/ 

Xewbooks.inorder  . f  ie. ,a„d  as  sold  between  ^flSi^nu^r"  '        Ed.  by  RusscU.  f 3-00. 

^el^a^iiueelhe^liti^^^^^^^^^  ^irttf' ' ^  ^""^ 

lists  as  supplied  to  US. each  by  leading  booksellers  ^  s.n.ular    l  ife.    By  Phdpa  Ward.  41.25. 

in  the  towns  named.  (Houghton.)        '  »" 

NEW  YORK.  UPTOWN.  BUFFALO.  N  Y. 

uld  LanK  Syne,    iiy  Ian  Maclaren.   $1.2$.  Red  Cockade.    By  Weyman.  ti.50.  (Har- 

'  Dodd.  Meail  &  Co  )  per.) 

■tor  of  the  t)ld  s.  hool     By  Ian  Maclaren.  2.  Vaitima    Letters      By    S(«v«nson.  $4.ts. 

go     (Dodd,  Mead  »V  Co.)  (Stone  \  Kiiiibiill.) 

e  Rivers.    By  Henry  Van  Dyke,   fs.00.  ^  Honse  Boat  on  the  Styx.   By  Bangs.  $1.1$. 

^tooer.J  (Harper  .J 


Digitized  by  Google 


A  LITERARY  pURj^Ai 


54? 


Bachelor's  Christmas.     By  Gran|.  $1.5% 
(Scribner  ) 

5.  The  Wise  Woman.    By  Burnliam.    $1 25. 

(Houghton  ) 

6.  Gentleman  Vag.tbond.    By  Hopkinioii  Smith. 

$1.25.    (lluugtiion  ) 

CHICAGO,  ILL. 

><  Auld     Lang    Sync.    Uv     Maclaren.  $i.9S' 
(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

3.  A  Scientific  Oemon»tration  of  a  Future  Life. 

Hudson.   $1.50  (McClurg.; 
jtr  House  Boat  00  the  Styx.   By  Bangs.  $1.25. 
(Harper.) 

4.  Child  of  Tnaeany.  By  Boiivet.  |i.$a  (Mc- 

Clurg.) 

Bachelor's     CbristPUM.    By  Grant. 
(Scribner.) 

6.  Aftermath.   By  Allen.  9i.oa  (Harper.) 
CINCINNATI.  O 

.(f^^Second  Jungle  Book.    Hy  Kipling.  $1.50. 
(Century.) 

2.  Afurmalh.    By  Allen.    $i.<x).  (Harper.) 

3.  K  en  lucky  Cardjoal.   By  Allen.  $i.<m.  (Har- 

per.) 

4.  Hie   Yellowstone    Park.       By  Chittenden. 

•1.50.  (Robert  Clarke  Co ) 
jf,  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 


/(Dodd.  Mead  ft  Co  ) 


Days  of  Aold   Lang  Svne.    Hv  Maclaren. 
Ii.ss.   (Dodd.  Menl  &  Co.) 

CLEVELAND.  O. 

^.  Bonnie  Brier    Hush.     By  Maclaien,  $1.35. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

^  Bachelor's   Christmas.    By  Grant.  |l-50. 

(Scribners  ) 

j^.  Anld   Lang  Svne.     By   Maclaren.  f  1.25. 

(Dodd.  Me.id  .V  Co.) 

4.  Vatliin.i     [.itK  r^.      By    Stevenson.  $2.25. 

(Stone  \  Kimball.) 

^Red  Cock.ide.    By  Wcyman.    $1.50.  (Har- 
per.) 

House  Boat  on  the  Styx.    By  Bangs.  $1.35. 
(Harper.) 

DENVER.  COL. 

Auld    Lang    Svne.    By  Maclaien. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &' Co) 

^  Bonnie   Brier  Bush.   By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

^Bachelor**    Christmas.   By  Grant  fl.SO, 

(Scribner. ) 

4.  Art  of  Living.    By  Grant.   $3.50.  (Scribner.) 

5.  SiiiKu!  kr  Life.    By  E.  S  Phelps  Ward,  tf.95* 

(Houghton  ) 

6.  Sorrows  of  Satan.    By  Corelli.   $1.50.  (Lip 

piocott ) 

DES  MOINES,  I  A. 

Bachelor's     Clitisini.i>,     Hy     (ir.iitt.  $1  jo. 
(Scribner.) 

3.  Love  Songs  of  Childhood.    Hy  Eugt-ne  Field. 
$1  «x>.  (Scribner.) 

3.  The  Master.    By  Zangwill.  $1.75.  (Harper.) 

4.  Stain  bv  the  Doones.    By  Blackmore.  $1.25. 

fPodd.  Mca<l  &  Co.) 

y  honnic    Brier    Bush.    By    Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(Dodd.  .\Ie,..l  \  Co.) 
6.  Titus.    By  Kiagsley.  $1.00.  (Cook.) 


KANSAS  CITY,  MO. 

Bonnie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 
(Dodd.  Me.id  vSc  Co.) 
..•THed  Cockade.    By  Wcyman.   9i'50.  (Har- 
per.) 

jg.  Auld  Lang   Syne.     By   Maclaren.  $1.3$. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

4.  Chronicles  of   Count  Antonio.    By  Hope. 

$1.50.  (Appleton.) 

5.  Aftermath.    By  Allen.    $1.00.  (Harper.) 

6.  Uncle  Remus.    By  Harris.    $3.00.  (Apple- 

lon.) 

LOS  ANGELES.  CAL. 

I.  Jude  the  ObMure.   By  Hardy.  $1.75.  (Har- 
per.) 

A  Davs  of  Auld  LanK  Svne.    By  Maclaien. 

$1.35.    (Dodd.  Mead  iS:  Co.) 
jjff  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  Ifaclaren.  $i.SS* 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

4.  Aftermath.    By  Allen.    $I.OO.  (Harper.) 

5.  Two  Little  Pilgrims'  Progress.   By  Burnett. 

$1.50.  (Scribner.) 

6.  Seconil  Jungle  Book.    By 'Kipling,  $1.50. 

(Century.) 

LOUISVILLE.  KY. 

1.  Colonial  Daincs  and  Goud  Wives.    By  Earle. 

§1 .50.    (  Hoii^^hton  ) 

2.  Siain  bv  the  Doones.    By  Blackmore.  ^1.2$. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

3.  Sorrows  of  Satan.    By  Corelli.  $i.$o,  (Up* 

pincott.) 

4.  Casa  Bracclo.    By  CAwfofd.  $84)0.  (Mac* 

millan.) 

5.  My  Sister  Henrietta.    By  Renan.  $1.25. 

(koberu.) 

6.  College  Girls.  By  Goodloe.  $1.25.  (Scrib- 

ner.) 

NEW  HAVEN,  CONN. 

Bonnie   Brier   Bush.    By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 
(Oodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 
^  Auld    Lang    Syne.     By  Maclaren.  $1.25. 

(D.-dd.  Mead  Co.) 

3,  Lmle  Journeys.     Hy  Hubbard.    $1.75.  (Put- 
nam I 

^  Biichclor's  Christmas.      By   Grant.     $1  50. 
(Scribner.) 

5.  Little  Rivers.    By  H.  Van  Dyke.  $3.00. 

(Scribner.) 

6.  Miles  Standish.   By  Austin.  $6.00.  (Hough- 

ton.) 

PHILADELPHIA.  PA. 

^Bonnie  Brier  Bush.    By  MacUiren.  $1.8$. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

jl^Auld  Lang   Syne.     By  Maclaren.  $1.2$. 

(Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

jjn  Second  Jungle  Book.    By  Kipling.  $i.so. 

(Century.) 

^  Bachelor  s  Chiistmu.    By  Grant.  $t.sa 

(Scribner.) 

5.  jack  Ballister's  Fortunes.     By  Pyle.  Si. 5a 

I  Cenlury. ) 

6.  House  i^oat  on  the  Styx.    By  Bangs.  $1.25. 

(Harper.) 

PORTLAND.  ORE. 

^  Auld    Lang    Syne.    By   Maclaien.  $1.2$. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co  ) 

Bachelor's  Christmas.    By  Grant.  $1,501 

(Scribner.) 


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548  THE  BOOKMAN. 

3.  Sorrows  of  Satan.    By  Corelli.    *i.5o.    (I-ip-  ^  Red  Cockade.    By  Weyman.    $1.30.  (Har- 

pincott.)  per  ) 

^  Red  Cuckade.    By  Weyman.   $1.50.    (liar-  6.  Sorrows  o(  Sataa.    By  Corelli.   #1.50.  (Lip- 

pcr.)  pincott) 

5.  Golden  Age.   By  Grahame.   Ii.ja  (Stone  &  ST.  PAUL,  MIN'.V, 

Kiroball.)  M. 

6.  Litde  Rivei*.    By  Van  Dyke.  #8.00.  (Sertb-  ^  ^"J*  5""  Maclarea.  $t.»5' 

ner )                         *                 »  (D«idd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

PROVIDENCE.  R.  I.  ^  ^d' M^d  y  'co/'  '''^ 

jt.  Auld  Ung  Syne.     By  Maclaren.     fi.aj.  >  Bachelors    ChriMdaaa.   By    Gtant.  $1.50. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  (Scribner.) 

X  House  Boat  onthe  Styx.    Bv  Bangs.   $1.35.  ^Second  Jungle  Book.   By  Kiplinf.  $l.so. 

ill..rptr  1                             '  (Centonr.)       „  „ 

*  Red  Co^UJc.     By  Weyman.    $1.50.    (Har-  5   Village  Welch  Tower.    By   Wiggm.  5i-00. 

per)  I  lliiuyhli>n  ) 

^  Second   Tunj^le   Book.    By  Kipling.    $1.50.  6.  Rip  Van  Winkle.  By  Jefferson,  fs  oo.  ^Dodd. 

(Ceniiuvj  MeadftCo.> 

5.  OmaUniioople.   By  Clement.   $3.00.  (Estea  ^ 

ALaariat.)  TOLEDO.  O. 

6  Litilc  Rivers.    By  Heory  Van  Dyke.    |s.oo.  ^  Bonnie  Brier  Bush     By  Maclaren. 

(.Scribner.)  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.) 

ROCHESTER.  N.  Y.  ^         ^  >^<^  Woman.   By  Burnham. 

'    *    '  (Houghton.) 

t.  Coastn  Anthony  and  I.    By  Martin.    $1.25.  3  Singular  Life.   By  Mrs.  Phe1p«  Wafd.  tl.35. 

fStribncr.)  1  Houghton.) 

ScuMid   Jungle   Hiiok.    By    KiplinR.    $1.50.  j^.  H^chclor's    Chri.stmas.      By    Gr.inl.  $1.50. 

(CcntLiry  I  (Scribner.) 

3  Two    Lilile    Pilgrims'  Progrrs^.      By    Bur-  5.  Princess  Aline.    By  Davis.    $1.25.  (Harper.) 

neit.   $1.50.   (Scribner.)  6.  Prisoner  of  Zenda.   By  Hope.  7scts.  (Holt.) 

4.  Idylliau  of  the  Country  Side.    By  Ellwaoger. 

Q        $1^5    (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  TORONTO.  CA.\ ADA. 

J  5.  A   Gentleman   Vagabond.      By   HopklMon  ^          ....  . 

"        Smith.    $1.25.   (Houghton.)  Day*       Auld  Lang  Syne.    By  Maclaren. 

^    6.  .S,nv;ul.ir  I.ik-.    By  E.  S.  Phelps  Waid.    tl.SS.  <Rrvc!!,1 

(Houghlon.)  f^'^'i    Cockade     Hv  Wevni.m     ?i.75.  tl.25. 

~         '  .intt  75  cts.  (Harper.) 

7                      SALT  LAKE  CITY.  UTAH.  ^^Century.?"^''  ^^'^ 

V  X  Bonnie  Brier  Bush     By  Maclaiva.   $X.*S.  ^                           Crawford.   $2.00.  (Mac- 

1       'H^         (Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.)  milian.)  «  ^ 

/                 2.  Prisoner  of  Zenda.    Bv  H  pf     "  cts.  (Holt  )  yg^  B.ichelor  s    ChriStnUtt.     By  Grant.  $I.SA- 

'             -^^Days   of   Auld    Lam^    Svn.-     Hy  Maclaren.  (Scribner.) 

»       *    ^'          $1.25     (Dodd  Mf  i  l  \  (  .  t  6.  Men  of  the  Moss.H.tKv     B\  Cmrkett.    75  Cts, 

4  Afieraiath,    By  Alkn.   $1  cx).   (Harper.)  and  $1.25.    Colomaltdmon.  (Bell.) 
;      '        1  J.  R.  Miller  Year- Book.   11.25.  (CroweU.)  ,„   ...  „  ^ 

'     «  .  *•  6.  Keniu  ky  Canlinal.   By  Allen:  $1.00.  (Har-  WASHINGTON,  n  C 

-li         P«^f-;  I.  Poems     Hv  Field,    <ii.oo-91.25.  (Scribner.) 

•     ^      .               SAN  FRANCISCO.  CAL  Bonnie  Hri.  r  Bush    ByMaclsfen.  fits. 

•     ^  (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co ) 

J  I.  LUtle  Boy  Who  Lived  on  the  Hill.    By  Mrs.  ^  The  Bachelor's  Christmas.  By  Grant.  $1.50. 

O.  BUck  (Annie  Laurie.)   ti.oo.   (William  (Scribner.) 

,                      Doxey.)                                ^  ^.  Sorrows  of  Satan.    Bv  Corelli.    $1.50.  (Lip- 

,  — —         a.  Vailima  Letters    By  Stevenson.  fa.9S.  (Stone  pincott.) 

1^^-         &  Kimball  )                           «          „  j<  House  Boat  on  the  Styx.    By  Bangs.  $1.25. 

^          J,  Two  Little  Pilgrim '^  Prnt.res».   By  Mrs.  Bur-  (Harper) 

M                    nrti    $150    (ScFil.ncr.)  6.  Other  Wise  Man.     By  Van  Dyke.  $1.50. 

Th-                Boririif  Brier  Bush.    By  Maclaren.  $1.2$.  (Hamer ) 

..^  m         (Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  ^ 

^  >^  Jf.  Bachelor'*    Christmas.   By    Grant,   fi.sa  WORCESTER.  MASS. 

J    9          (.Scribner.)  , 

'    *     y   6.  Letters  of  Matthew  Arnold.    $3  w    (Mac-  i.  Literary  Shrines  and  Literary  Pilgnnage.  By 

*■     i        milian.)  Wolfe.   $2.50.  (Lippmcott.) 

LOUIS    MO  L'"'^  Rivers.    By  Van  Dyke.    $2.00.  (Scrib. 

••  •                                  ■           -  .  •     -  ji^.^  ^ 

Jr.  Bachelor's    Christmas.     Bv    Grant      $1  =<>  if  B  nuie  Brier  Bush.     By  Maclaren.  $125. 

:f         (Scribner.)  1  Dodd,  Mi-.^i  \  Co.) 

'  ^        ^  Auld    Lang    Syne.    By    Maclaren.     $1.25.  j^:  Days  of   Auld   Lang  Syne.     By  Maclaren. 

(Dodd.  Mead  &  Co.)  ^    $1.35.    ( Dodd.  Head  ft  Co.) 

i       House  Boat  on  the  Styx.   By  Bangs.   $i.3S.  $.  Spain.    By  De  Amicis.    ls>oa    (Porter  ft 

(Harper.)  Coates.) 

>        4.  Pony  Tracks.   By  Remington.  l3.oa   (Har-  6.  \"  i     iti     n^s.    ByGairetc  96.oOi.  (Little 

per.)  Brown  «  Co.) 


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A  UTERARY  JOURNAL. 


549 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  DURING  THE  MONTH. 


AMERICAN. 

THEOLOGY  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

BftOOKS,  Rev.  PhilUPS.— Sermons  fur  the  Prin- 
ciprtl  Festivals  and  Fasis  of  the  Church 
Year.    8vo,  pp.  viii-351,  I1.75  Dutton 

Brown,  Wm.  Montgomkry.— The  Church  for 
Americans.  8vo,  pp.  xHi->44(»,  9i«35> 

Whitaker 

HiNKsoN.  KATMAMHt  Tynan.— Our  Lord  s  Com- 
ing an  d  Childhood.    Sis  Miracle  Plays. 

8vo,  pp.  iii-91. 12.00  «.'/  Lane 

HOUOHTON,  Louise  Seymi>1'k.— Antipas,  Son  of 
Chuia,  and  Others  Whom  Jesus  Loved. 
i2mo,  pp.  vi-246,  $1.50      ...••<•  Randolph 

/tluDsoN,  Thomas  Jay.— .'\  Scientific  Demonstra- 
tion of  the  Future  Life,  tamo,  pp.  sa6,  $1 .  so. 

McCIurg 

Jennings.  MaryE. — Asa  of  Bethlehem,  and  His 

Household.    i6mo,  pp         $1.25  Randolph 

Shkllby.  p.  B.  —The  Banquet  of  Plato.  i6mo, 
pp.  136,  %t.  50.   •  Way  &  W. 

The  Union  Coi.i.ece  pRAnn  vi  I.i  1  ti  rk^  Pm- 
terfield  Course.  Vol.  I.,  8vo,  pp.  429.  t3  «>. 

Neely 

FICTION. 


Andersen.  Hans  Chki^i  i  \s.— The  Nightingale. 
Small  4to.  pp.  iii-i7.$i.25  Updike 

AtfSTiN.  MAtUE  Mason.— Ccosioo.  i6mo.  pp. 
vii'iS9,  li.oo  Harper 

Balowis,  Mr<  At TKrit — The  Shadow  on  the 
Blind,  and  Other  Ghost  Stories.  i2mo.  pp, 
xii-309.  $1.50  Macmillan 

BAU A'  ,  H  r  i  "The  Que=;t  of  the  Absolute. 
Translated  by  Ellen  Marriage,  with  a  Pref- 
ace by  George  Saintsbury.  tamo,  pp  s-z^i*. 
^1.50  Macmillan 

Bartlktt,  Mrs.  E.  B.— Pleasant  Days  at  Maple- 
wood.   8vo,  pp.  375i  9''So  Ireland 

Bl-m  KM  iKi  .  R  !)  — Slain  by  the  Doones.  i6mo, 
pp.  vu-244,  11.25  Dodd,  M. 

Burton.  R.— Dumb  in  June.  i6mo,  pp.  viii-88. 
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IIUMI'll  llo.rlU.  Mrs.  M<...|i..n,  C.  I>. 
UllllUU  ^l"y        ^^>l>>•-^s.  and 

*l^**"*t*  i.|l>rr%.       Ki-r    rjirs,  relcrrntcs, 
II'  1 1  <  ...  sriiil   si  .imp  to 

WILLIAM  A.  DRE.SSER.  IMkKf  ioR, 

nb  I'irnc  Kiiilding,  liostim.  Mass. 


^X^HE  American  Writing 
I  Machine  Company, 
237  Broadway,  New 
York,  announce  the 
publication  of  their 
artistic  Illustrated** 
Catalogueof  the 


Qligraph 


I* The  Standard  ^ 

Th«l  means  much! 
The  Oldest  w©  Tt»e  Strongest  ®v  The  Beit 

»»  lk>  ih.ne  by  whlcK  oth«r»  >r«  co».|.«r«d  and  l».«d 

Remington  Trpewriler 

H  «4  kM  »K«>^  b«CT  the  cnitrtoo  of  txcelkoce  f« 

Number     \j  Model 
b  thrUksl  mirVol  (KD«i*s5  «t  far  o*«»  »  «m  »t.  NumcrOUS 

useful  improvements  ««»  ttra 


Typewriter 

.  Attention  is  also  invited 
to  their  complete  and  at- 
tractive Catalogue  of  *  * 
Typewriter  Supplies  of  all 
kinds,  including  samples 
of  Typewriter  Papers  and 
Manuscript  Gjvers  **^^ 

'I'Wof  ptiWii  I'lom  v,iU  b*  wn:  on  .  pf ' 


B 

_  Imprinf 


THE  DENSMORE, 

"  The  World's  Greatest  Typewriter." 


Icurljcrk  gpp^ng 

Z>Z0'^rz  pearl  Slrcct. 

IMctts.-  mention  TllK  nr^KMAM  In  wHtinvr  to  a.lvertiHfrH. 


Ust  month  we  pave  proof  tha|Mt  h« 
key  touch.  It  i  also  th,  P,ost  fj\l  '.'f^' 
convertible  ipecd  c^cajH-ment  can  he  ^<  /'>r'^,, 
of  a  screw,  so  that  the  fastest  ^-P*"!:" 
cannot  ^?et  ahead  of  the  machnie  and  d^u^^ 
letters.  •  No  other  typewriter  has  this  tnn-rtiJ^JJ 
i.rc    The  quick  struke  is  not  only  lor  the  cxprfl  ^ 
incidentally,  makes  of  learners  tar'd  orerjti«. 

DEHSMORE  TYPEWRITER  CO..  316  BroadfijJ' 


•una  roiNTiwo  Moo«,  to**- 


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