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Mary Webb. 

The N-Y. "Sun "This 

is une of the greatest novel 

modern times.' 






One of the classics of the war. 
Now in its 5th edition. $1.90. 

Janet Laing. 

Miss Laing's creations are skil- 
fully handled and amusing. $1 50. 



Dolf Wyllarde. 

This author needs no intro. 
duction. $1.50. 

W. J. Dawson. 

The author of "Shenstone" 
lives up to his reputation in this 
delightful book. $1.50. 

Henri Barbusse. 

novel of 

Still the outstandin 
the war. $1.50. 


We have such a wide range of 
exclusive and artistic Juveniles. 
that we find it impossible to list 
them here. Ask for JUVENILE 





Salomon de la Selva. 




Thomas Walsh. 

Francis Hackett 

A truly wonderful volume of 
tys. $2.00. 


Alfred Gordon 
(Of Montreal). 
Mr. Gordon's Work is 
known to lovers of poetry. 


Norah M. Holland. 
In th • opinion of a most fear- 
less critic Canada's Greatest Poet . 



L. Lewisohn. 

A rare book of rare value, $1.50. 




Emile Cammaerts. 

The great Belgian singer. 


Si nd for our CATALOGUE of 
BOOKS of POETRY selected 
from many lists, and all of 
which we will carry in stock. 




William H. Moore. 

Published in September. 

Tin' most talked of and Heat- 
edly discussed Canadian 1 k of 

Modern Times. 

Third large edition already ne- 
cessary. $1.75. 



Dr. Frank Crane. 

A book of good cheer and corn- 
fur! by a well-known and popu- 
lar author. $1 25. 


Francis Grierson. 
wf?U Author of "The Invincible Al- 

11.25. lianee." etc. $1.25. 

Edward Jenks. 
A comprehensive view of the 
system under which the Empire 
iverned. expresed in simple, 
untechnical language. $2.00 



Edited by 

S. J. Cbapman, C.B.E. 





Georges Duhamel. 

With "Under Fire" this great 
French work will live for all 
time. $1.50. 


740 Titles— Cloth 60c. 
Leather and Pigskin, $1.25. 

Dickens-Scott — in fact every 
title that you would like to se- 
lect for your friends. 

100 Titles. 

A selection of the best MOD. 

Send for our CATALOGUE of 
these LIBRARIES. Over 20,000.. 
000 sold to date. 

ll»ll« H >ll| > ■ ■ t* 


J. M. DENT & SONS, LTD., Publishers 

2fc and 27 Melinda Street - - - TORONTO 


A Quarterly devoted to Literature, the Library and the Printed Hook. 



J. A. DALE, Professor of Education, McGill University 
H. T. FALK, Lecturer on Social Service, McGill Uni- 

HON. W. S. FIELDING, Editor Canadian Journal of 
Commerce, formerly Finance Minister of the Domin- 
ion of Canada. 

J. M. GIBBON, General Advertising Agent C. P. R., 
formerly editor of "Black and White." 

I. J. HARPELL, President of the Industrial & Educa- 
tional Press. 

R. E. HORE, Editor Canadian Mining Journal. 
F. S. KEITH, Secretary of the Canadian Society of Civil 

W. LOCIIHEAD, Professor of Biology, Agricultural 
Dept., McGill University. 

GEORGE H. LOCKE, Chiel Librarian, Toronto Public 


0. D. SKELTON, Professor of Political Science, Queens 

A. STANSFIELD, Professor of Metallurgy, McGill 
University, Editor "Iron and Steel. 

J. N. STEPHENSON, Editor Pulp and Paper Maga 
W. LAIRD TURNER, Editor Canadian Textile Journal. 


THE CANADIAN BOOKMAN is published quarterly by the Industrial & Educational Press Limited, at the Garden 

City Press, Ste. Anne de Bellevue, P.Q. 

J. J. HARPELL, President and Managing Director 
A. LONGWELL, Vice-President 

Copyright, Canada, 1918, by the Industrial & Educational Press, Limited 

A. S. CHRISTIE, Eastern Manager, 

B 30 Board of Trade Building, Montreal 
H. W. THOMPSON, Western Manager. 

614 C.P.R. BuiMing, Toronto 


Ste. Anne de Bellevue, P.Q., January, 1919 

$1.50 PER ANNUM 


The Canadian Bookman — A Salutation 1 

Bookishness in Canada 2 

The Need for More Bookishness in Canada 4 

A Symposium by President E. W. Beatty (Canadian Pacific Railway); Sir William 
Peterson; the Bishop of Ontario; Sir Robert Falconer; the Dean of Halifax; the 
Premier ol Ontario; the Principal of Upper Canada College; The Provincial Treasurer 
of Ontario; Professor E. F. Scott (Queen's University); the Bishop of Montreal; Pro- 
fessor S. H. Hooke (Victoria College, Toronto); the Principal of University College, 

The Book Agent, by Stephen Leacock IT 

Why Neglect Early Canadians? by R. H. Hathaway 20 

Some Canadian Illustrators, by St. George Burgoyne 21 

Rhymes With and Without Reason, by J. M. Gibbon 26 

Francis Grierson, by Jean S. Foley 35 

Potted Prejudices, by Warwick Chipman 40 

Revery of a Bookish Librarian, by George H. Locke 42 

Out of the Storm: Poem, by .). A. Dale 43 

Clio in Canada, 1918: A Review of Historical Publications of the Year by \V. S. 

Wallace 4 4 

A Desirable Compromise: Verse, by J. E. Middleton 4C 

For War Doubts: Verse, by W. D. Lighthall 46 

Canadian Publishers and War Propaganda, by Hugh S. Eayrs 47 

H. G. Wells Again Incandescent ("Joan and Peter") by J. A. Dale 49 

.1. M. Gibbon's "Drums Afar": A Review 51 

Fisheries of the North Sea, by F. William Wallace :,.! 

/ Some Recent Canadian Verse, by J. A. Dale 53 

Twentieth Century Librarianship, by Mary J. L. Black 58 

Library Notes 59 

J. T. M. Anderson's "The Education of the New Canadian," by H. T. Falk 62 

Notre Dame de Montreal: Poem by Margaret Hilda Wise 63 

Mining Books 65 

Canada's First Publishing House (the Methodist Book Room), by E. .1. Moore .... 71 

Books on Metallurgy, by Alfred Stansfield 74 

Labour and Capital After the War, by Howard T. Falk 76 

A Lesson for Canadian Cities, by W. D. Lighthall 7, 

Making Farmers Into "Big Business," by W. Lochhead 78 

"This Way Out of Chaos," by O. D. Skelton 80 

Among the Booksellers 83 

CANADIAN BOOKMAN January, 1919. 






Author of "Hearts and Faces." 
Third Canadian Edition. Cloth. $1.50, Net. 

, i 

"Drums Afar" is the spiritual pilgrimage of a 
young English Oxford student who goes over the 
regular course and learns many things without 
realizing iust why he is learning them — among 
them, how to love an American girl of very com- 
pelling personality (the most vital portrait the au- 
thor has yet done) — and finally grasps the meaning 
of his life when his country calls to him at the out- 
break of the Great War. To the woman the vision 
comes later; and the very poignant situation which 
arises when the man follows his duty to his country 
and himself is treated with great dramatic force and 

Montreal in the early days of the war provides 
a very vivid background for the most dramatic pas- 
sages of the love-story- 


In The Canadian Magazine. 




January, L919. 




Canadian Bookman's Bookmen 


Editor of the "Canadian Bookman.' 

A brief ton Tll( . ,.,| lt „,. s .,„,| rea( j era ,,, „,„.., ., ,„. m „i,. 

WOrd by Hie cal as the "Canadian Bookman" Bhould bi 
on a footing of mutual friendship and con- 
fidence. Such a footing ca ily be estab- 
lished by ans of an introduction; and 

realizing that the native modesty of the 
species will effectually prevent the Editoi 
and t lie Editorial Committee of the "Book 
man'' from introducing themselves, the 
Publishers are herewith taking up the 

Owing i" the wide variety of interests 
solved by the "Canadian Bookman," whi ■ 
undertakes to acl as a guide to the litera 
t »e of the industries as well as of the arts, 
the Editor must be a man of wide reading 
and experience. Such an Editor the Pub- 
lishers have found in Mr. B. K. Sandwell, 
who since 1M0 has been Associate Editor 
and Editor of the Financial Times, of Mont- 
real, who is a Member of the American 
Academy of Political and Social Science, who 
is Lecturer on the History of Commerce iu 
Motrin University School of Commerce, and 
Lecturer on Journalism in McGill University 
Extension Department, and who moreover in 
the opinion of those competent to judge is 
one of the best read men in Canada today. 
Although born in England, Mr. Sandwell 
came with his father to Toronto at the age 
of 11, in 1888, and as he has lived in Canada 
for nearly thirty years can surely be claimed 
as Canadian. Educated at Upper Canada 
College, where he rose to be head of the 

school, he proceeded to Toronto University, where he graduated with first class 
honours in classics in 1897. After three years of journalistic work in England. 
Mr. Sandwell joined the staff of the Montreal Herald, where he served for 
nine consecutive years, chiefly as dramatic and literary critic. Tn 1910 he as- 
sisted in the foundation of the Financial Times, which owes its success in no 
small degree to his brilliant pen. 

A frequent contributor to Canadian and American periodicals, Mr. Sandwell 's 
humour has also penetrated less capitalistic skins, through the columns of the 
Canadian Magazine, World 's Work, University Magazine, etc. Always keenly 
interested in the drama. Mr. Sandwell was one of the judges of the Earl Grey 
Dramatic Competition. Add to those qualifications the fact that he is an ac- 
complished musician, and you realize that the Publishers and readers of the 
"Canadian Bookman" have reason to congratulate themselves on their good 
fortune in securing so versatile an Editor. 

The Publishers feel that they have also been fortunate in enlisting the services 
of a very strong Editorial Committee, which will be made yet stronger as occa- 
sion requires by the addition of recognized experts upon branches of technical 
and specialist literature not yet represented. The complete list of this Com- 
mittee will be found on the index page, and it will be seen that they are all 
men who combine the two necessary qualifications of a first-class knowledge 
of their subject or subjects, and a thoroughly practiced hand in writing about 
them. Several of the members of this Committee, however, are men who in ad- 
dition to their specialist qualifications, are well known throughout Canada for 
their services to general culture, correct thinking and spiritual growth, and 
who have welcomed the opportunity to perform some of these services through 
the columns of the "Canadian Bookman." Foremost among these is Profes- 
sor J. A. Dale, whose co-operation has been invaluable in the production of the 
first issue of this magazine, and whose absence for a brief period upon educa- 
tional work among the Canadian troops during the term of demobilization will 
not prevent him from making his personality felt in the "Bookman" in the 
coming year. Others whose presence on the Committee is similarly the result 
of a deep interest in the progress of Canadian thought and culture are the Hon. 
W. S. Fielding, formerly Finance Minister of Canada, and Dr. George H. Locke, 
the inspirational Chief' Librarian of the City of Toronto, and the Dominion's 
most eloquent apostle of Literature. 

With smh co-operation as this, the Publishers are launching the "Canadian 
Bookman" upon its career in the full confidence that it will serve a useful 
and will therefore achieve a deserved success. 






January, 1919. 


The New Era 

The first issue of the new Canadian Book- 
man appears at a moment which happens also 
to mark the beginning of a new era in the his- 
tory of mankind, and, very particularly, in the 
history of Canada. That this is so is not by 
design. The date of this first issue was planned 
many months ago, long before there was any 
hope that November, 1918, would see the col- 
lapse of the Teutonic Alliance and the com- 
mencement of the return to a state of peace. 
On the other hand, it is not wholly a coinci- 

The world at large, and Canada in especial, 
during the generation preceding 1914, passed 
through an age of extreme pre-occupation in 
"practical" affairs. It was an age of immense- 
ly rapid development of material wealth and 
enlargement of man's command of the resources 
of the planet; an era of intense competition to 
obtain the benefit of those resources; an era of 
trust in those resources as the sufficient foun- 
dation of human happiness. This era came to 
an end in a way which, we now see, was prob- 
ably the only way in which it could end. Its in- 
tense competition, and the pride and self-con- 
fidence which it bred in some of the most sue 
eessful of the competitors (and this does not 
refer exclusively to Germany, for while Ger- 
many began the war, many other nations made 
the war possible — a world state-of-mind, so to 
speak, was its begetter), led to culminate in a 
four-year struggle in which absolute force was 
the sole decisive factor in the destinies of the 
world. We have lived through that terrible 
period. We have seen our own country per- 
form its full share in that conflict, we have 
learned the lessons which can be taught only by 
suffering and sacrifice glorified by a noble 
cause, and we have seen the conflict end, as 
any long-drawn-out conflict of the kind must 
end. in the victory of the side whose force was 
backed up by the moral strength of a high and 
noble principle. And we stand today, along 
with the other great nations of a purified world, 
at the beginning of a new era which will cer- 
tainly be vastly different from both the era of 
foi and the era of materialism which preced- 
ed it. 

It is too early yet to forecast the character of 
this new era with any precision. But it does 
not seem too early to be confident that it will 
be in one respect an era of ideas, an era of pro- 

found and general thought, not about the pure- 
ly material problems which preoccupied us un- 
til four years ago, but about the more im- 
portant things — the nature and purpose of 
life, the relation of man to his fellows and to 
his Creator, the meaning of the human race and 
its slow and painful but evident upward pro- 
gress, the contribution of each nation and each 
individual to the sum total of the achievement 
of humanity. 

And if this era is to be an era of ideas, it fol- 
lows that it is to be also an era of books, since 
books are the one great medium through which 
ideas of communicated and perpetuated. Not 
the purely material books which have over- 
occupied our attention for more than a genera- 
tion — though science will obviously have still 
its honoured part to play. Not, certainly, the 
merely sentimental, narcotic, idea-less books, 
miscalled books of the imagination, which have 
formed the literary food of too many of us who 
did not wish to be bothered with ideas. But 
real books, containing real ideas about the im- 
portant things of life, whether expressed in the 
form of fiction, or of religion, or of philosophy, 
or of poetry, or of history, or of science in the 
broader and deeper sense of the word. It was 
this conviction, of the coming of an era of ideas 
and of books, which was strong in the minds of 
the founders of the new Canadian Bookman and 
which led them to select the present as an ap- 
propriate time even though when they selected 
it it seemed unlikely to be a time of peace, for 
the establishment of a purely Canadian perio- 
dical which should deal with them, not as mass- 
es of paper and binding, nor as so many square 
inches of type, nor as speculative adventures in 
search for "best-sellers", but as the vessels for 
the containing and the imparting of ideas — 
and of ideas suited to the uses of Canadian 
readers. In this sense, the appearance of the 
Canadian Bookman at the very dawn of this 
new era is not a mere coincidence. The Cana- 
dian Bookman is itself one of the phenomena of 
the new era. 

Evidences of the dawn of such an era as we 
have described are plentiful enough. We at 
home in Canada can see them in the character 
of the books on the front shelves of our book 
stores, and in the drawing-rooms and studies 
of our friends. We can see them in the con- 
versation of the social gatherings, in the fre- 
quentation of our public libraries, in the growth 

January, 191£ 


■ ml new vigour of cultural societies, in the ser 
mons in our churches, the teaching in our 
schools. And ye1 we ser only a fraction of 

them. The best of our youth is still far from 
us, in Prance and Flanders or in training 
camps and hospitals on the road to and from 
the battle-fields, and it is their mentality which 
will make the mentality of Canada when they 
return to us. And if all accounts agree, the 
life of camp and battle-field has produced 
in their minds such a ferment of ideas and 
curiosities, such an interest in the things of the 
spirit ; such an eager open-mindedncss, as could 
never have been produced in fifty years of 
peace. Mr. J. M. Dent, the noble English pub- 
lisher whose cheap editions of real books have 
been among the greatest gifts that modern 
science has made to mankind, was in this coun- 
try recently, and reported that army life had 
produced, both among British and Canadian 
troops, an immense new interest in literature 
and ideas. Nor is this surprising, contrary 
it may be to past experience of war. This war 
has been fought, for the first time in history, 
by absolutely democratic armies, in which rich 
and poor, educated and uneducated, cultured 
and uncultured, have fought side by side in the 
iron-closed brotherhood of common peril. Each 
class has learned to understand and value the 
other, in a way that our peace-time conditions 
have never allowed. The man who knew noth- 
ing of books, and in old cared nothing for them, 
has seen with his own eyes, in the person of his 
own chum, what books and a knowledge of 

books may mean to the spirit of man in hour 

■ ■I luffering and peri! And he who has 
this will never be contemptuous of books again, 

nor his children after him. 

To this new interest in ideas, and in the 
books which convey them, there is added in the 
Case of ( 'a i i.idians a neu national self-conscious 
ness. a new demand that idea- he judged not by 
the standards of any other nation, however 
closely allied by kinship or economic circum- 
stance, but by the standards of our own coun- 
try; a new output of ideas by Canadians them- 
selves, and a new belief in those ideas as being 
probably the best expression of Canadian re- 
quirements, the best solution of Canadian prob- 
lems and a consequent new demand for ve- 
hicles of criticism and discussion concerning 
this purely Canadian output. 

At such a moment, it seems to us, the under- 
taking of the new Canadian Bookman is 
justified. Like most periodicals in the hour of 
birth, it is not likely that it realises in its first 
issue, oi' will realise perhaps for many issues to 
come, all the ideals of its projectors. Some of 
them cannot be realised without the assistance 
of a considerable body of readers, and of more 
friends that can be counted on by any publica- 
tion before its first appearance — albeit the 
Canadian Bookman has already received such 
indications of friendship and kindly co-opera- 
tion from Canadians in all walks of life and all 
parts of Canada and elsewhere as to prove that 
there is a widespread desire for the service 
which we aim to render. 


January. 1910. 

Bookishness in Canada 

There is too little Bookishness in Canada. 

We make no apology for using the word Bookishness in a 
favorable sense, to describe something which we believe any 
nation needs, in due proportion, for its proper intellectual and 
spiritual development. Canadians have too long contrasted 
Bookishness and Actuality, Bookishness and Experience, even 
Bookishness and Business, as if one alone of the two terms had 
any reference to what is real and important in life. It is time to 
recall that there is a knowledge, and a highly valuable know- 
ledge, which can only be derived from books, just as there is also 
a knowledge which can only be derived from experiences and 
personal contacts, and that the wise man is he who blends these 
two knowledges in due proportions, not the man who wholly and 
contemptuously neglects either of them. 

There is too little Bookishness in Canada. The Printed 
Book is too small a factor in the life of the Canadian people. 
There are many communities, of no higher natural intelligence 
and no sounder average education than our own, in which books 
exert a more active and widespread influence, and impart a 
broader culture, than they do in Canada. 

Into the profounder reasons for this insufficient valuation 
of the Printed Book we need not enter. They are associated 
with the youth of the country, its preoccupation with material 
problems, its astoundingly rapid development of wealth. They 
are remedying themselves with the passing of time. 

But there are a number of contributory causes for our lack 
of Bookishness. which can and must be combatted before the 
Book can be raised to its proper place in Canadian life and Cana- 
dian esteem: and it will be the business of the Canadian Book- 
man to examine into these causes and to do all in its power to 
aid in combatting them. 

Foremost among them is the extraordinary competition to 
which the Book has lately been subjected by other methods of 
appealing to the human mind or senses and of occupying the 
human attention. 

The Book is a very ancient invention and has not. except in 
respect of cheapness of production, been much improved in the 
last few generations. But three very recent inventions, two in 
the realm of music and one in the realm of pictorial representa- 
tion, have supplied it with new and powerful competitors. The 
player-piano, the phonograph and the moving picture are keen 
rivals of the Book through the demands which they make upon 
the time of the public. 

The important feature of this rivalry is its intense agres- 
siveness. It employs all the resources of a high-pressure sales- 
manship campaign of the most modern type. Incredible sums of 
money have been and are being spent to popularize these three 

January, 1919. CANADIAN BOO KM Ah 

mechanical contrivances throughoul the civilized world. The 
taste for books is Left, like the wild mustard seed, to propagate 
itself as and where it will, while the taste for "movies" and "re 

cords" is assiduously cultivated by thousands of experl publi- 
cists with tools costing millons of dollars. 

We have no protest to voice againsl these invent ions or 
against their campaign of popularization. All three of them 
have distinct cultural value and a great capacity for affording 
pleasure. Within proper limits, in due proportions, all three are 
good thing's for the human race. It is only when they begin to 
drive out other good things that there begins to he need, not for 
protest, but for counter measures. It is only when they seem 
likely to leave no room for the Book in the homes and hearts of 
many Canadians, that the true friend of the Book must bestir 
himself and seek to defend the Book's proper territory. That 
time, in Canada, seems to us to have come. 

The Book is a singularly composite product. To place the 
completed article in the hands of the consumer requires the 
services of the author, for the making of it; the publisher, for 
the physical production of it; the bookseller and the Library, for 
the distribution of it. Within the world of books, the interests 
of all these differing classes are diverse and, in some respects, 
conflicting. When it is a question of defending the Book itself 
against its rivals, of advancing it in the affection and esteem of 
the public, their interests are indistinguishably one. 

It is these common interests, the interests of the Book itself, 
which the Canadian Bookman is designed and pledged to 

The value of technical and specialist periodicals is too well 
recognized at this date to need explanation here. They perform 
many functions, not the least of which consists in keeping the 
common interests of a trade, a profession, a social class or a 
group of whatever kind, constantly before the members and 
the community at large; in reconciling the minor differences be- 
tween members of the group; and in bringing the best intelli- 
gence of the group to bear uoon the improvement of the erronn's 
work and position. The book business in Canada (including in 
that term everybody from the author to the reader, in virtue of 
their supreme community of interest) has suffered seriously in 
the nast from the lack of such an organ. The Canadian* Bookman 
is intended to supply it. 

Our desire is. bv iust and informed criticism, by constant 
voicing of the claims of literature, by maintaining a forum for 
the discussion of all bookish matters, by bringing the producers 
and consumers of the Book into a move sympathetic and under- 
standing relation, to promote Bookislmess in Canada, to cause 
two books to be read whew one wns skimmed before (and those 
two to be better books and more Canadian books than was the 
one), and so to foster Canadian authorshin, Canadian publish- 
ing, and Canadian reading In so domg, we do not doubt to be 
serving in the making and strengthening of a Canadian nation. 


January, l'Jl'J. 

The Need of More Bookishness 

in Canada 


Contributed by twelve of the Leaders of Canadian Business, 
Education, Religion, Government, Literature 
and Public Life 


Books and the Intense Life 

By E. W. Beatty, K.C., President 
of the Canadian Pacific Railway 

■|^N|^M"l^<t -#-»..#"•.*•«•«•* 

r N the days of Methusaleh, the chief end of 
1 mail was to live a long life. To-day it is 
not the length, but the intensity of the life that 
counts, the wise man crowding all he can into 
every minute. There are different ways of in- 
creasing intensity of life — for instance, the 
way of the "mixer" who from his social ac- 
quaintances picks up information and experi- 
ence, much of which may be of practical use to 
him, and all of which makes him a more inter- 
esting human being. His life has become fuller 
through his conversation. The reader of good 
books might be called an ••intellectual mixer" 
who converses through the printed page with 
minds often greater than his own. If he reads 
wisely and assimilates what he reads, his intel- 
lectual life is so much more intense, and pro- 
vided that he does not become merely bookish, 
so much better a citizen he becomes. 

The greatest mistake a business man can 
make is to confine his interest only to his of- 
fice. He loses perspective and thinks of the 
world as revolving round his business, although 
that in reality is but a speck in the universe. 
Instead of being, as he fancies, "ou the job," he 
lives in a mentally isolated village off the track 
and out of touch with the intellectual traffic 
of the world, which uses the book as its chief 
means of communication. 

If the policy of the Canadian Bookman is to 
act as a guide to current literature, particular- 
ly such literature as has a bearing upon Can- 
adian life and good citizenship, it should fill 
a long felt want in our periodical publications. 
And if the Canadian Bookman should undertake 

as part of its programme a propaganda to es- 
tablish libraries, however small, in every com- 
munity in Canada, that alone would justify its 
existence. In these days of cheap reprints of 
standard authors, it is astonishing how many 
worth-while books can be purchased for a hun- 
dred or even fifty dollars. If the Canadian 
Bookman were to publish a list of recommended 
books for the nucleus of a library in a small 
Canadian community, together with practical 
suggestions as to how funds should be raised, 
how the library should be managed and how 
reading circles are best run, it would give im- 
petus to a movement which would be of im- 
mense value to Canadian citizenship. Excellent 
work is done no doubt in small communities by 
the existing travelling libraries, but the travel- 
ling library has too much of a transient char- 
acter, and no Canadian community, however 
small, should rest content till it has a collection 
of good books which it can call its own. 

_»..#. .«..#.. •..«.. •-••... 


The Appetite for Books 

By Sir William Peterson, K.C.M.G., 
Principal of McGill Unieersity 



To the Editor : 

I AM quite disposed to agree with what you 
propose to say in the first issue of the .new 
Canadian Bookman — a periodical to which we 
must wish all possible success. There are a good 
many people who, to use your own words, "read 
too few books, and those few not well selected, 
own far too few books (here I am sure you will 
have the booksellers with you!) and attach too 
little importance to books generally." 

Of course, there is always the other side. 

January. L919. 

r \\ I/)/ | \ r.ooh 1/ LA 

"Bookishness," unrelieved and unadorned, is 
nut an enviable quality. I have seen manj read 
crs in the British Museum, Eor instance, whose 
external appearance proclaimed thai they were 
unduly "bookish." So far as it implies a want 
of interest in things practical, the epithet is 
not a complimentary our, anil general!] speak- 
ing it is not so intended. It is like the other 
Word "academic," which is always meant as a 
reproach. I have even known many professors 
who would not care to he called either "book- 
ish" or "academic" They would not want to 
have it thought that they are blind to the world 
of men and things outside of hooks. But the 
fact that reading is sometimes overdone should 
not be used to cover a deficiency in literary 
and intellectual interest. Some people do not 
read enough. Look over the hooks in any house, 
and you will soon have an approximate estimate 
of the owner's tastes and sympathies. "By their 
books ye shall know them!" Some are quite 
frank about it. They do not believe in books 
overmuch: they are men of affairs. And then 
is always the housekeeper, to whom "a hie' booK 
is a big nuisance ! " 

I must not speak disrespectfully of journal- 
ism. A great deal of the best literature was pro- 
duced originally in newspaper form. But there 
are a good many people who seem to read no- 
thing but newspapers. And when you sec a 
housefather going home in the end of the week 
with his pockets bulging out with Sunday edi- 
tions, you may be sure he will read nothing else 
when he is done with them. He will want the 
rest of the week to recover from his orgy ! We 
have all been faithful students of the daily pa- 
per for the last four years, and the newspaper 
proprietors, at least, have no right to complain. 
But when the war is over, we shall have to "go 
back to our muttons!" We shall have to find 
a substitute for the great drama which has 
been unfolded before our eyes from day to day 
in the newspaper press. We shall have to con- 
tent ourselves with the ordinary epic of life. 

It is here, I think, that your pica will come 
in for more and better reading. I don't want 
to speak as if I believed that people should al- 
ways have in hand a great classic, or an epoch- 
making book of any kind, past or present. The 
man who would make a boast of such a habit 
might fairly be suspected of intellectual insin- 
cerity. But with the excellent reprints that are 
now so easily obtainable, there is very little ex- 
cuse for not having some degree of touch with 
what is best in literature. A man never knows 
till he tries how much he can do in this way to 
extend the range of his interests and to widen 
his intellectual horizon. I know a Travelling 
Library Department where volumes of biog- 

raphy, adventure, sciei and the like are 

spread 111 generous profusion before the eye, and 

are being eagerlj looked for by a large and 
ever-growing constituency throughout the l>" 

minion. There is something there to suit every 

taste, including a large assortment of fiction 
and other recreative literature. With such 

stores to draw upon, it would be simply in 
sible Eor any one not to read. 

What is the use of teaching children the me- 
chanical art of reading, if we fail to instil in 
their minds a genuine appetite for good sound 
books, and if we neglect as is so often the ease 
where the opportunity of ownership is lacking 
— to sec that the appetite has something to feed 
on? The libraries are always with us the 
shrines where, as Bacon finely said, "all the re- 
lies of the ancient saints, full of true virtues, 
are preserved and reposed." When Mr. Bal- 
four was in .Montreal in the summer of 1917, I 
reminded him that it was thirty years, almost 
to a day, since I had sat beside him on the plat 
form from which he delivered his St. Andrews 
Rectorial address on "The Pleasures of Head 
ing." In one way or another we can all have 
access to books. And those of us who under- 
stand the value' of daily reading will always 
have on hand some good sound book, by way of 
supplement to the daily newspaper. For one 
thing, the type and format will usually be found 
to be much more attractive. And there will be 
in addition the opportunity of improving our 
taste, of gaining a further interest in literature, 
and of acquiring at the same time a standard of 
discrimination between good and bad. Some of 
use may possess too many books; they are apt 
to be an encumbrance in an otherwise well-regu- 
lated household. Others have too few: for them 
the sense of ownership is still a joy in prospect. 

.— ..«..t..i..»..«i.»..i « ■ i • '• " 

I The Need for Background ! 

! By the Rt. Rev. Edward J. Bidwell, 

i Bishop of Ontario I 

■■«..» .« '■■■»■.■"»-•-«•■■■■■■'» " • • ■'.»..«■■»"« ••■•■«■ ».■■■.». » »' 

Children of men! not that your age excel 

In pride of life the ages of your sires, 

But that ye think clear, feel clear, bear fruit 

The Friend of man desires. — Mat thru- Arnold. 

BEFORE [ was called to more purely cleri- 
cal work some ten years ago, I had been 
a schoolmaster for upwards of twenty years, 
first in England and afterwards in Canada. 
The schools in which I worked in both countries 


January, 1910. 

were mainly boarding schools of a good class, 
the pupils of which came from well-to-do and 
often wealthy homes. I have frequently been 
asked how in my opinion Canadian boys of this 
type compare with English boys. It is an in 
teresting question, but this is not the place to 
attempt a full answer. I will merely note one 
marked difference between the two, which is 
germane to the subject in hand. Speaking gen- 
erally, the English boy who attended the class 
of school of which I was the Head would come 
from a home in which there was in greater or 
less degree some atmosphere of culture (in the 
true, not the German sense), or where, at any 
rate, books and "book talk" - were common. 
.Most of them had more or less acquired the 
reading habit, and had some familiarity, even 
if slight, with good literature. The result was 
that one had some sort of ;i background to rely 
upon in one's teaching of subjects belonging 
to the literary side of education. Also, that de- 
partment seemed often to attract the brightest 
minds among my pupils. 

In Canada, I found conditions very differ- 
ent. There were, of course, marked exceptions 
but in the majority of cases there was a conspic- 
uous absence among the boys of any trace of 
that bent towards and taste for literary sub- 
jects which a congenial home atmosphere pro- 
duces. They clearly had not lived amongst 
books. Allusions to even the widest-known fig- 
ures in such classics as Scott, Dickens, or Thack- 
eray were Greek to them. Their reading, if 
they read at all, was apt to be confined to the 
lightest kind of ephemeral magazine. The so- 
ealled "practical" subjects, such as mathema- 
tics and science, were the most popular. These 
boys were, as a rule, wonderfully clever with 
their hands. They knew all about guns, en- 
gines, sailing-boats, canoes, and so forth. But 
for the majority, of course allowing for ex- 
ceptions, the great field of literature had no 

As I grew more familiar with Canadian con- 
ditions, I was able to account for this deficiency. 
In a country like ours, where there is such an 
insistent call for every sort of energy to deal 
with its vast and undeveloped resources, the 
whole atmosphere tends to produce the kind of 
mind which seeks its satisfaction in a career 
which is, to use the ordinary phrase, a practi- 
cal one. I do not think that the question of 
making money has much to do with this ten- 
dency. I have known boys who could have at- 
tained distinction at a University prefer to en- 
ter the Royal Naval College, or the Royal Mili- 
tary College, because they wished to get at 
something "practical" with as little delay as 
possible. In the same way with those who chose 

business careers. It was the idea of handling 
big things which attracted them. It became clear 
that this was the atmosphere they had breath- 
ed in their homes, and found surrounding them 
everywhere. In such an atmosphere, books be- 
come merely the means of acquiring the neces^ 
sary technical knowledge. The cult of litera- 
ture as in some measure at any rate an end in 
itself could not possibly spring from such soil. 
That a love of books and reading, an appre- 
ciation of good literature of every kind, should 
be grafted on to this wonderful practical abil- 
ity is much to be wished. The solely practical 
life for one thing is apt to become exceedingly 
sterile, especially when age diminishes activi- 
ties. And I believe it to be generally true that 
the man with the widest interests, which would 
certainly include literary interests, is in tin- 
long run more useful to the community than 
the one idea'd expert. Moreover, it is to this 
lack that we owe much of the crude judgments 
which disfigure our political and social think- 
ing. It is natural for a country like Canada to 
look to the future. But it is a fatal mistake 
to suppose that the wisdom of the past can be 
ignored. Canadian life would be both fuller and 
richer if our people read more and 'bought 
more. My present position involves ■'. gr-a.t 
deal of travelling. I converse with all sorts 
and conditions of men. Only once have I en- 
joyed a conversation about books, and that was 
with a young mail-clerk, with whom I discussed 
the relative merits of Tennyson and Browning. 
I have had numbers of most interesting talks, 
tut always about ••practical" subjects. [ am 
speaking, of course, of casual crnversations with 
strangers, not of journeys with friends. 

Any effort to make of us a nation that places 
a higher value upon books and all that they 
stand for deserves unqualified support. Mat- 
Inew Arnold's lines have to us a particular 
message. We are rather inclined to be obsessed 
with the idea of making our age excel "in pride 
of life," of exploiting our tremendous material 
resources, of progressing by leaps and bound* 
in our knowledge and mastery of the great 
forces of nature. So that we are apt to forget 
that man does not live by bread alone. But tins 
is a mistake for which, if we persist in it, we are 
likely to have to pay dearly in the long run. 
Especially now, with all the difficult problems 
that face us, do we need to "think clear, feel 
clear, bear fruit well." A great step towards 
this consummation would be a complete change 
of heart in the current ideas of the value of 
books, and the creation of an atmosphere favour- 
able to the appreciation of true literature in our 
Canadian homes. That is the purpose with 
which the Canadian Bookman is launched. 




( i \ i/'/ i \ BOOKM i \ 

■ * . ■ . 

j The Reading Public in 

By Sir Robert A. Falconer, K.C.M.G., 
President of the University of Toront 

ONE of tin' greatest pleasures that a reader 
has in visiting London or Edinburgh is 
to stray into a book-shop and browse among 
the latest books. To read reviews of books in 
the literary columns of papers and magazines 
is one thing:; to pick up the book, glance 
through the table of contents and turn over 
the pages is something quite different. K •- 
views do make one buy books, but for one that 
is bought through a review, three will be bought 
by the reader who casually picks from the coun- 
ter well printed volumes or a new publication 
of which he has not heard. A book-loving peo- 
ple, a city that has readers, will boast of its 
good book-shops. Is it the shops that make the 
readers, or the readers who make the shops? I 
fancy that it is the readers who make the shops. 
If so, the reason that we have so few good book- 
shops in Canadian cities is that we have so few 
readers who are interested in books. As a Can- 
adian, I regret to own that we are far behind 
the Old Land in this respect. Possibly on the 
average our cities have as many good readers as 
those of the United States, but we have a long 
way to go before we get within sight of London 
or Edinburgh. Of course, by readers, I do not 
mean newspaper readers. 

We have some very creditable journals, and 
papers are read widely and intelligently. On 
the whole, the readers exercise independent 
judgment, I should imagine, and are not bound 
to tiie editorial opinions over-slavishly. Our 
people who read these papers are not more 
provincial than people of the same class in the 
Old Country; they are just as able to exercise 
robust common-sense, and they do so. But it 
is very doubtful whether they appreciate the 
style and logical development of an editorial as 
the educated Englishman does, though they will 
take the substance out of it quite as quickly. 
Now the genuine book-lover does enjoy style. 
Half of his pleasure comes from the way in 
which the idea is expressed ; he enjoys the art 
that prevents simple things from becoming the 
obvious, that finds words that are not worn like 
fingered current coin, that fits the thought with 
the exact expression, that completes and rounds 
out in a sentence or paragraph one idea before 
confusing it with another. 

One who enjoys the literary art in this sense 
will always be a reader, and as he grows older 

he will appreciate the truth of the words which 
are inscribed on the Toronto Public Library, 
"Non referi quam multos sed quatn botws half eat 
libros." The young man is inipatienl to read 
the bunks thai the world is talking about; the 

Older man is content to sit of an evening with 

his favourite writer brooding over ; that 

are familiar. II.- dues nut wary of fine art ami 
sententious or shrewd observations. A combin- 
ation of human wisdom with chaste ami ad. 
quale winds brings never failing pleasure. 

Hut this leads me t.. remark further that the 

good reader has not n ssarily a voracious ap 

petite he is critical, Selective, makes his own 
choice, and enjoys himself in doing so. He is 
not eager to find from the shopman what the 
best seller of the past month has been, nor does 
he contribute very largely to make the fortune 
of the popular novelist or witty essayist. I 
fancy, however, that a reader's taste may be 
judged in a measure at least by his liking for 
an essay, for its pith and essence lie in its 
treatment of a well chosen theme within a mod- 
est compass. An effective essay must exhibit 
literary skill. 

But a good reader also finds pleasure on occa- 
sion at least by wandering through the ampler 
spaces of history or fields of thought set out 
in a series of volumes, or in good biography. 
There are times when one finds it a labour to 
thread one's way through the narrow and well 
trimmed hedges of succinct and closely-com- 
pacted argument as in a small plot where a 
clever gardener has used every inch of space. 
Then one turns to the leisurely writer who is 
not afraid to cany one off into some comfort- 
able digression, and when he has quietly ex- 
plored it will bring one back again in his own 
good time to the main highway of his discourse. 

Such a reader wishes to own the book he en- 
joys and he also delights in a good, piece of 
workmanship — well printed, well bound, and 
well illustrated. In the matter of book-making 
we Canadians have still a long way to go. "We 
have to learn much in the art of printing, and 
even more in the art and practice of binding. 
We have not yet the traditions of a great book- 
making centre such as Edinburgh or Boston, 
nor have we yet had the generations of work- 
men who have handed on the technique from 
age to age, and who know how to use their in- 
struments with such precision that they pass 
the boundary that separates art from mere 
utility. This lack is also due in measure to the 
fact that we have in Canada few people who 
buy a fine book for the book's sake. If more 
of our people loved books well enough to spend 
money upon handsome or even well printed 
volumes, we should before long have publishers 



January, 1910. 

who would undertake to produce them, and 
skilled workmen who would spend pains upon 
then) and take pleasure in their finished ar- 

But fortunately the genuine reader is not de- 
pendent upon an expensive edition to satisfy 
his taste. No one can get his pleasure more 
cheaply than the reader in these days of series 
for the average man which are within the reach 
of all. Nor are these cheap editions carelessly 
produced for the most part. Their large circu- 
lation makes it possible to print them well and 
to hind them in convenient and often artistic 
form. And in peace time the cost of carriage 
and the customs duty are so small that these 
good books can be placed at a low price even in 
the Canadian village. It is not therefore for 
lack of books, beautiful and cheap though for 
the most part imported, that we have not a large 
reading public in Canada. It is because we 
have not developed a sufficient taste for litera- 
ture. My experience leads me to believe that 
there are more women than men in Canada who 
are good readers. Possibly they have more time, 
though that is doubtful when household duties 
are so manifold and constant; I rather think 
that women make more time, and that men 
spend the hours on politics or in clubs; where- 
by men learn it is true average human nature 
in a direct fashion within the narrow range of 
their own home town, but they miss the wider 
experience of humanity which is preserved in 
literature, history, philosophic speculation and 
idealism ; and therefore, while effective for the 
many things that can be settled by the judg- 
ment of the man-on-the-street, they are not able 
to form as well balanced decisions on human af- 
fairs and policies which are determined by ideas 
that find only occasional embodiment in the 
limited circle in which they move. 

i . .»..•..•.-•--•■. •-■•-»--•••< 


j Good Books the Bulwark 
of Democracy 

By the Very Rev. E. P. D. Llwyd, D.D., 
Dean of Halifax 

THE appearance of a magazine like the 
Canadian Bookman is a happy omen. 
Such a publication may serve a double func- 
tion — to educate opinion with reference to the 
value of literature in general ; and to guide the 
Canadian mind to a wise selection from among 
the myriad publications which invite attention. 
Observation seems to point to the conclusion 
that the reading public among US is only a tiny 

fraction of our total. Democracy rests upon 
enlightened intelligence, and the food of intel- 
ligence is information. Canada belongs in the 
list of democratic nations: it is clear, therefore, 
that the lamp of knowledge must be kept ever 
burning in our midst, or one of the necessary 
safeguards of national life will be wanting. 

Education has a two-fold aspect: there is the 
education which society in a manner imposes 
upon its members, and there is the education 
which a man gives himself. Perhaps the more 
important of these is the latter, for it is through 
the convictions thus arrived at that the indi- 
vidual citizen is able to influence the convic- 
tions of the whole. The importance of opinion 
becomes more clear as social development ad- 
vances. No instructed contribution to the form- 
ing of that collective judgment is without va- 
lue. Therefore no citizen can afford to be 
uninformed with reference to the movement of 
life around him; and it follows by inevitable 
logic that he must be a reader. The product of 
his own brain may be insignificant and poor, 
but converse with the master minds of former 
ages, or with the thoughts agitating the think- 
ers of the present, will bring fertility out of 
barrenness, and useful service instead of men- 
tal vacancy. The average man is not expected 
to share in public assemblies, yet there is a par- 
liament in which all must be prepared to speak 
and plead, the parliament of street, and club, 
and drawing room. Here things of moment are 
propounded, and a basis is sometimes arrived 
at for decision. This implies education, that 
in the clash of striving conceptions, the particu- 
lar thought each man alone can give may not 
be lost. 

Moreover, the education of one's self by read- 
ing is indispensable to the living of the liberal 
life. Professionalism, with its twin brother, 
dogmatism, are the abiding perils of a world 
of specialization. The tendency of special stud- 
ies is to foster a certain stiffness of mind, 
where knowledge becomes mechanical and its 
only channel is the rut. He talks like a pro- 
fessor, men say. The corrective of all such spe- 
cialism, with its Sir Oracle side-issues, is broad- 
er human intercourse, of which a part is inter- 
course with the best that has been thought and 
said by the thinkers of the past. This seems 
to have been in the mind of that earnest writer, 
Matthew Arnold, as the instance of his empha- 
sis upon culture — the freshening of the brain 
by the steady in-pouring of a current of new 

For those whose vocation is that of public 
teacher, the purchase of new books and the mas- 
tery of their contents acquires peculiar import- 

January, 1919 


f i 

ance. Freshness of mind as well as width ot 
view are al stake for them. I gelecl for illus 

tration the profession with which I am si 

familiar. Ii is s;iiil thai mosl clergymen cease 
reading after college. If this were even meas- 
urably true, the knell <>1' pulpil influence would 
have begun to toll. A reading laity pre-sup- 
poses a reading and thinking clergy. Even the 
trash mis-called popular fiction has been known 
to glean a theme here and there from theologi- 
cal harvest fields, and preachers have been 
heard of who have found crumbs of sermon 
suggestion even in the hooks resulting. I do 
not, however, agree with the accusation of a 
non-reading clergy, except in so far as the de- 
fect may he an outcome of poverty. The p l o 
vision of a more ample income by their congre- 
gations would raise the intellectual product of 
the pulpit one hundred per cent in a year. Nor 
would this involve sensatioualism, straining af- 
ter effect, or preaching over the heads of the 

I once heard a church member say, relative 
to a contribution for the increase of his minis- 
ter's salary: "What need of all this reading of 
books and magazines? We want the Gospel, 
and the Gospel pure!" He really meant he 
wanted it cheap, and the cheap Gospel is al- 
ways the dearest in the end. A cheap Gospel is 
apt to be a narrow one, whereas the real Gospel 
is as big and as universal as life. The scale of 
salaries needs increase in all the teaching pro- 
fessions in the name of a more thorough cul- 
ture. When one sees the compensation ( ?) of 
school teachers as announced in press advertise- 
ments for the filling of vacancies, one stands 
aghast in wonder how such a sum can feed and 
clothe the body, let alone take care of the nour- 
ishment of the mind. 

Some one may instance our great public lib- 
paries as havens of refuge for the man of small 
income addicted to intellectual pleasures. It is 
matter for thankfulness that even the impe- 
cunious can find in such institutions a place in 
the literary sun. But for my part I must con- 
fess to a certain obsession in favour of owner- 
ship. I like to feel that a book wdiich I have 
learned to value is my own, and I fancy that in 
this respect there is a sort of tribal likeness am- 
ong students. Property rights in a book have 
something of a corresponding savour to that 
feeling of property in a friend which sets him 
in a niche by himself above all mere casual ac- 
quaintance. Since the entrance of the small 
book into the market — yes, even where the cov- 
eted volume is of less manageable cost — a care- 
ful and selective purchaser can make a little 
money go a great way. Few men exist in Can- 
ada who cannot afford one good standard book 

every three a ths. The reading material thus 

sel frrr for use, an, i ii,.- increase in noble liter 
ature upo ir shelves, I na up quite startling 

al tin- end ill'. Bay, ten years. 

1,1 'l" 1 selection of books, such a magazini 
this oughl to prove invaluable. How to choose 
wisely amidsl tin- ,■,,/,,,/ librorum now Flooding 

tin' literary market is the problem of the aver 

age reader, It is said that the currenl output 
i s ahinit one hundred thousand volumes a year. 

Such a fart sheds illumination upon the va- 
riety of human interests, and the immense oul 
reach of the modern mind into the realms of 

nature, history, and experience. Hut it carries 

confusion also. Literature becomes Thebes, 
the city of a hundred gates, and there is bewil- 
dermenl in store for whoso seeks t,, ehoose am- 
ong SUCh a multitude of outlets into the fields 

of thought. 

Most of us have our literary preferences, in 
whose formation we have followed our taste or 
our experience. Or we have obeyed the guid- 
ance of such experts in hook lore as Lord Ave- 
bury or Lord Acton. From their superior judg- 
ment may have issued appreciation on our part 
of the great literature which in Milton's words 
is "the previous blood of a master spirit, pre- 
served unto a life beyond life." From lists al- 
so like those of Everyman 's Library, we may 
have learned in what other directions our feet 
may turn in quest of knowledge. But the great 
mass of current literature still remains an un- 
charted sea. For this the magazines must be 
to some extent our guide. The Spectator, the 
Times Literary Supplement, the admirable re- 
views of the Athenaeum and the Nation, and 
now the pronouncements of their youngest sis- 
ter, the Canadian Bookman — he who serves his 
taste from the weekly and monthly banquet pro- 
vided in these, will surely not altogether miss 
the joys of the feast of literature. 

. «..»..»..»■■«.■«■.«■.<. .»..#.,».. 

—"♦••>■■••■•■••■••■■•'■♦■■»■'•■'•■'••'•■'•■'■' 9 • ■•■■» 

Literature as a Force in 
Canadian Development 

By the Hon. Sir William Hearst, 
K. C. M. G., Premier of Ontario. 

I COULD wish nothing better for Canada 
than that every home in the land had in 
familiar and frequent use a collection of the 
best and brightest books. We would then be 
a greater people, intellectually as well as mor- 
ally, and, I doubt not. happier and more pro- 
sperous. Siuee it is not the good fortune of us 
all to possess such a treasure. I am glad to 



January, 1919. 

know that many of us can have it in part, and 
that all can have aeeess to it in one way or an- 
other. Inasmuch as literature is the sum to- 
tal of recorded human knowledge, it is uni- 
versal in its scope, both as to time and place. 
What mortal man can hope to be familiar with 
a realm so vast and unbounded? At m «t, 
we can only study and assimilate such books 
as are of direct benefit and interest to us, and 
acquire a casual acquaintance of a limited num- 
ber of others. For the average busy man the 
problem is to know what books are most 
worthy of his time and attention. He is lucky 
indeed if some kind friend will introduce him 
to a good book which he can approach with 
confidence and cherish as a permanent posses- 
sion and companion. Someone has said that 
books are our best friends for they never de- 
ceive us. It is well to have as many friends 
as possible, especially if they be of the kind 
described. But there are books and books. 
Many there are which are an estimable bless- 
ing to the human race and others which we 
could spare with advantage. Unfortunately it 
happens usually that if a book is denounced as 
thoroughly pernicious in its influence, that 
fact is sufficient to attract hosts of curious and 
thoughtless readers. Therefoie, in the long 
run it pays to ignore such undesirable litera- 
ture rather than to denounce and thereby ad- 
vertise it. So much there is in our libraries 
and bookstores that is good and wholesome 
that, in spite of many glaring exceptions, books 
are among the best influences in the world to- 
day. I take it that the province of the liter- 
ary critic is first and last to help us in our 
ehoice of books. Such a guide is like an explor- 
er who locates valuable deposits, sometimes in 
the most unexpected places, and points them 
out to us. If the critic is given either to ful- 
some flattery or to censorious fault-finding, 
he fails in his mission. It is his duty to be 
truthful and honest without allowing himself 
to be prejudiced or biased. Above all, I think 
it is the duty of the book-wise to educate the 
popular taste to a due appreciation of what 
is highest ami best. In a country like Canada, 
which is still undeveloped in many respects, 
a greater appreciation of good books will tend 
t _> increase the market for them as well as the 
talent to produce them. Literature must, and 
will, be an essential part of our progress and 
development as a nation. All honour to what 
Canadians have done and are doing at home 
and abroad, but their efforts will not bring the 
results they ought if they are not stepping- 
-.t o ties to greater things in the future. We are 
a young, vigorous, ami progressive country, 
and I look to see the development of our liter- 

ature not only keep step, but lead our advance 
in every branch of national effort. 

»..».. «..*.. s .. s ..«..*.. «..».. »..«. ... .«..•..«..». ....,..# 

j Books Should Not Be 
1 aken Neat 

By William Lawson Grant, M. A., 
Principal of Upper Canada College 

WRITING in 1839, Arnold of Rugby lament- 
ed the decay of the habit of solid reading, 
and ascribed it to "the great number of excit- 
ing books of amusement, like 'Pickwick' and 
'Nickleby. ' " What would he have said of 
to-day, when Dickens has been succeeded by 
the scrappy magazine and the still scrappier 

The young Canadian has few intellectual in- 
terests. Our girls are healthy and clean, but 
their infinite gibble-gabble can only come from 
minds intellectually unawakened. Our boys 
are naturally keen and intelligent. They have 
attained special distinction in the most tech- 
nical and scientific branch of the fighting 
forces, the air-service. But their interest in 
ideas is small. Indeed, they rather pride them- 
selves as practical men on a lack of interest 
in abstractions. "He is not strong on ab- 
stract ideas," was the praise recently given by 
a great Canadian newspaper to a great Can- 
adian business man. 

Of course, reading has its dangers. Nowhere 
was reading so rife as in Germany. Unfor- 
tunately, that country tended to take its books 
and its ideas neat, as some people do their 
brandy, and with results even more disastrous. 
Reading, as Bacon said long ago, must be 
"perfected by experience," "for natural abili- 
ties are like natural plants, that need pruning 
by study ; and studies themselves do give forth 
directions too much at large, except they be 
bounded in by experience." But Canadians 
at present need the study much more than the 
experience, and are much more apt to wander 
into the land of Philistia than into the wilder- 
ness of Pedantry. 

Our schools, in the attempt to teach English 
Literature thoroughly and scientifically, have 
divorced reading from reality. The unhappy 
pupil is taught not to read shakespeare, but 
to "do" him, with the result that poor Shakes- 
peare gets so over-done as to be quite unpalat- 
able; not to read Coleridge, but to study "The 
Ancient Mariner," with a view to discover- 
ing whether "I wist" is a corruption of 
ge-wiss, or only a preterite of uritan, and such 

January, 1919. 

CANADIA \ BOOR '/ 1 \ 


other pedantic lore. In the natural recoil from 
English so taught, our hoys and girls fly to 
Gene Stratton Porter, and satiate their souls 
with slush. 

Yt't there is no Deed Eor teacher or publicist 
to be discouraged. One must remember thai the 
solid reading of which Arnold spoke was done 
by a small and select class. If there has been in 
that class any Lowering of standard, there has 
been in the other classes an enormous levelling 
up. The figures published by our great public- 
libraries show how much reading is done, and 
how solid much of it is. The success of such 
series as Everyman's Library tells the same tale. 
Making every necessary reservation, there is 
evidently in Canada a large reading public 
ready to have their standards raised by just 
such a publication as the Canadian Bookman: 
ready to be taught that, as John Milton said, "A 
good book is the precious life-blood of a master- 
spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose 
to a life bevond life." 

Cheap Magazines, Crime 
and Insanity 

By the Hon. Thomas William McGarry, 
Provincial Treasurer of Ontario 

.•'■'.•■♦.» ■#■■■>■•*•* ■» »—»« 1 1 1 1 1 

n>..t.i«.i» n « » i> 

WE Canadians, it must be acknowledged, 
are not a "bookish'* people. We even 
lay no claim to the title as book-collectors, 
book-lovers, or book-readers. Not that there 
are not some among us who like to see and 
possess good and beautifully bound "books, 
and have carried their hobby so far as to make 
a large collection of them, and there are others 
who have gathered together a few books, as 
they have made friends, well-loved and inti- 

If we were to judge by the number of daily 
papers sold in our country, we should feel 
inclined to deny the charge that we were not 
a reading people. In fact, we know that much 
of our time is consumed in reading newspaper 
gossip, which time, if spent on good books, in 
a few years would bring about amazing results 
towards increasing the number of well-inform- 
ed people. Consider the appalling amount of 
written matter that is needed to feed the daily 
press. It is impossible, considering the present 
state of education, that there should be enough 
cultured persons, male and female together, to 
supply the insatiable monster. 

Again, if we were to judge by the class of 
literature displayed on news-stands, heaps of 

magazines of all colors and designs, and glance 
over the contents, and try to judge the effeel 
such reading matter would have on our peo- 
ple, who in their idle and receptive hours con- 
sume such emotional ami lurid stuff as the ma- 
j Tii) of magazines contain well, one should 

■i"' wonder at the increase of crime and insan- 
ity in our midst. It is a great misfortune to 
have a vulgar mind, ami even the desultory 

reading of some of the magazines, claimed to be 
"best sellers," cannot hdp bul tend to blunt 
our finer feelings, and when people read no- 
thing but this so called literature, what can 
one expect bul vulgarity and coarseness? "We 
must, of course, except the two extremes, those 
who have naturally such sound and excellent 
taste that nothing readable will corrupt it, 
and those so depraved that they will not ap- 
preciate the higher things even when thrust 
upon them. 

Education is almost universal, but if a man 
knows how to read, and not what to read, his 
case is more desperate so far as culture is con- 
cerned, than that of him who does not read at 
all. A man may be cultured and have the know- 
ledge of but a few books, and so too, one 
may be an omnivorous reader and have a very 
vulgar mind. What I should like to see is 
more time given to the study of literature in 
our schools, commencing in the early grades, 
and continuing through the high school. Our 
boys and girls can early be taught to love the 
good books, and thus their taste for the best 
in literature would be formed, and in the years 
to come the list of Canadian fictional wri- 
ters and poets, historians and scientists will 
be vastly increased, and they will make their 
mark throughout the English-speaking world. 
Our achievements in the great war have been 
a tremendous advertisement for Canada and 
everything Canadian. All the world will now 
want to know something about this busy young 
nation, that has not merely taken a place am- 
ong the greatest military nations, but has ac- 
tually become the spearhead of the greatest of 
them. It cannot be otherwise than that Can- 
ada will fill a great place in the eyes of the 
world during the years that are next to come, 
and it is well that our literature should have 
worthy representatives. Canadian produc- 
tions must stand on their own merits; they 
have to compete as literature against the pro- 
ductions of Britain, the other British dominions 
and the United States, and if they cannot stand 
on their own merits, they will fall. On the 
other hand, if they are worthy to endure, it 
will not be because they are Canadian, but be- 
cause they have insight, vigour, originality and 



January, 1919. 


The Shelf of Third Rate 
Novels : A Current Plague j 

By E. F. Scott, D. D., Professor of New 

Testament Literature, Queen's 


A MAGAZINE which aims at promoting a 
wider interest in books ought to re- 
ceive a welcome from all who are concerned for 
the true progress of Canada. There are many 
book-lovers in this country, and they are often 
to be found in unexpected places; but it must 
be admitted that we are not, in the mass, a 
reading people. The book-store, even in our 
larger towns, has a struggle to survive, and 
can only do so by displaying toys and tobacco 
and Christmas gifts along with its modest col- 
lection of volumes. In numberless houses which 
are perfect in all matters of plumbing and up- 
holstery you will find only a shelf or two of 
third-rate novels to bear witness that the 
human mind has achieved something in other 
directions. There is perhaps no country with 
anything like the same pretensions to a higher 
civilization in which books play such a minor 
part in the general life. For this condition 
of things there are no doubt many causes, but 
one of them may be worth mentioning, because 
it could easily be remedied. Most of our books 
have necessarily to be imported and the Gov- 
ernment does its best to exclude them by a 
duty which makes their price prohibitive. What 
is the purpose of this most stupid and vexa- 
tious of all taxes, which at most can add only 
a few thousand dollars to the revenue, at the 
cost of starving the intellectual life of the coun- 
try? Home industries ought to be encouraged; 
but does the Government seriously expect to 
stimulate native genius by this sheltering of 
its market from the competition of English 
and French writers? (German books are ad- 
mitted free!) There can be no question that 
if books were made cheaper in Canada they 
would be more generally bought and read. In 
the Canadian Bookman the down-trodden class 
of book-buyers has at last found an advocate. 
Is it too much to hope that you may be able 
to effect something in this matter for our de- 

One often hears it argued that the neglect 
of books, however it may be explained, is na- 
tural in a new country, and is creditable to us 
rather than otherwise. Our people, we are 
told, are fully occupied with their great prac- 
tical task of developing this vast territory. 
By-and-by they will gain leisure for art and 

literature and all the rest, but for the present 
they have more urgent work on hand. But it 
is hard to see how this excuse will serve for 
Canada as we know it. in this twentieth cen- 
tury. Is it not time that the ordinary well-to- 
do Canadian should cease posing as a grim 
pioneer, engaged in a constant battle with the 
wilderness? His battle — waged for the most 
part in a comfortable city office — is not really 
so exhausting as to use up all his energies. 
He could relax occasionally for a little quiet 
reading and thinking if he wanted to. For 
that part, the very fact that this is a new coun- 
try makes it the more necessary that we should 
cultivate the love of books. In older coun- 
tries men have the past around them in all 
their daily life, and are kept in touch, alufosi 
without knowing it, with the great traditions 
of the race. Here we must preserve our hold 
of them through the medium of books, or else 
lose them altogether. 

It would not be difficult to show tha* if our 
people had more of the habit of reading they 
would be all the better fitted for those orae- 
tical tasks to which they have specially devot- 
ed themselves. Nobody can deny the sagacity 
and keenness of mind of the average Canadian, 
but his limitations are also apparent. His 
judgments, however intelligent, are apt to be 
hard and narrow. He often misses the real 
drift even of a practical question for want of 
a little sympathy and imagination. With all 
his shrewdness he is prone to a curious sim- 
plicity, which takes men at their own valua- 
tion, and allows an open door to mediocrities 
and charlatans. These are precisely the de- 
fects which are cured by reading, and cannot 
very well be cured in any other way. The mind 
cultivated by books may not be any stronger 
than nature made it, but at any rate it becomes 
broader, more supple, more sure in its criti- 
cism of men and things. It is safe to say that 
if our people had only read more, they wou'd 
have held back from various wild schemes 
which they have had cause to regret. They 
would have acted on something else than a 
hand-to-mouth policy on one matter and an- 
other that vitally concerned their well-being. 
In their search for guides and counsellors they 

would never have fixed on the Hon. Mr. 

hut this is touching on delicate ground. 

Books are not everything, and with the 
warning of Germany before us we do not wish 
to build the future of Canada on a purely 
bookish foundation. But when all is said, the 
world's best wisdom and its loftiest thoughts 
and imaginations are stored up in books, and 
if we neglect them we make ourselves infinite- 
ly poorer. Canada has wakened of late years 

January, L919. 

CANADIAN lit)t>l\ 1/ l \ 


to a knowledge of its wonderful material 
wealth, and is seeking by everj means to make 
ii more fully available. Bui as one of the 
British nations we possess a treasure still more 
wonderful, in the greatesl literature thai the 
world has known. Let us make better use of 
this part, of our inheritance. 

1 ■ ■ ■ ■ i n aii 

j The Tragedy of Mental 

By Samuel Henry Hooke, M.A., B.D., 
Assoc. Professor of Oriental Literature 
Victoria College, Toronto 


Nothing save mental blindness can be sin; 
All seeing saves, all hearing, all delight. 

THE mad Shepherd," Mr. Jacks' most 
delightful creat'on, speaks of a condi- 
tion which he describes as being "stuck in 
one's skin.'' Books are not necessarily a 
remedy for it. Merely bookish people indeed 
acquire a solid calf-skin binding which is even 
harder to break through than the integument 
they were born in. But the really great things 
in literature have only come from people who 
had learnt how to escape from their skin. 
Hence great literature may be one way of es- 
cape. It may serve as the magic looking 
glass for those who will break through it into 
the real world of truth and beauty behind it. 
The condition which Bernard Shaw has so long 
waged his brilliant warfare with, his bugbear 
of Philistinism, is just the state in which so 
many of us spend our lives without being 
aware that anything is wrong with us. It is a 
state, in Masefield's phrase, of "mental blind- 
ness," of being "stuck in one's skin." Like 
Peter Bell, of famous memory, we find in the 
primrose by the river's brim a simple prim- 
rose, and we thank God that we are as other 
men are. 

In his poem 'The Wanderer," Masefield 
has a vivid passage describing a winter morn- 
ing's walk, "breasting up the fells." He says: 

And soon men looked upon a glittering earth. 

Intensely sparkling like a world new-born; 
Only to look was spiritual birth, 

So bright the raindrops ran along the thorn. 

So bright they were, that one could almost 

Beyond their twinkling to the source, and 

The glory pushing in the blade of grass, 

Thai hidden soul which makes the Flowers 

tl |- thai "spiritual birth," the sudden Hash 
"'' seeing thai saves, thai delivers from the 
mental blindness thai is the real sin againsl 
the Holy Ghost. 

Canada has alreadj shown thai -I an 

bring seers to the birth. No one not hopelessly 
stuck in his skin could look al Tom Thorn 
son's pictures of the Canadian North with- 
out some sense Of awe. There was a man who 

had seen the realitj behind the veils, had seen 

God face to lace and died of it. 

But, rightlj used, the remedy thai lies near- 
est to us is greal literature. A young and 

virile country, es] ially in this age of effi 

ciency and industrialism, is in danger of ma- 
terialism, which is jusl another name for be- 
ing stuck in one's sk'n. It is not easy to create 
standards of value that cannot be measured in 
terms of the dollar. But the right use of the 
best books is one of the most potent forces to- 
wards the creation of a spirit which can make 
a nation truly gnat in the best sense.„ It was 
Virgil's spirit that led Dante to the final 
sublime vision of the power "that moves the 
sun in heaven and all the stars." One who 
has been brought, by consorting with the seers 
who have written down their visions, to see 
something of the beauty that is truth, can say 
with the hero of the old fable of Apuleius, "I 
have eaten rose leaves, I am no longer an ass." 

^-^"•"• " ■'■•■■•■■•■■•■■•■■•'■•"•■^■■•■■•■■•■■■II — . ■■■»■■»■■■! ■ « *»»■■■•« « ■ 9 


j Literature the Handmaid 
I of Religion 

| By the Rt. Rev. John Farthing, D.D., 

i Bishop of Montreal 

% ■■«..«. ■ ■.§.. »■■«■■». .1. ■ >■■«.« >..■..«.■♦■.«..»■. «.,»,.«..»..«-«..«..«-«..»^~«..»..«_«..«„ 

IT has been said that literature and life are 
indissolubly bound together. The litera- 
ture of a nation expresses its life. The life 
of a nation is complex. Even in the in 
dividual there is the ever continuing struggle 
of the baser against the better self. This 
struggle is bound to show itself in the litera- 
ture of the nation. When the baser gains the 
ascendancy, it will result in the lowering of 
the whole moral stamina of the people. For 
this reason I have been alarmed to notice the 
multiplication of the Short Story Magazine, 
which depicts the frivolous and the sensual 
phases of life, and ignores, sometimes even 
ridicules, the pure and noble. Minds fed at 



January, 191 it. 

such a trough are bound to be corrupted, and 
we shall inevitably see the result in low ideals 
and morals. This style of literature is a men- 
ace to the country. 

The time is most opportune to put forth a 
propaganda for the creation and circulation of 
the best in literature. During the war all our 
leaders in Church and State, in speeches, in 
books, and through the press, have been put- 
ting before the people the higher and nobler 
ideals of life; sacrifice and service, liberty 
and righteousness, have not only been advo- 
cated, but have been exemplified in thousands 
of lives. Our own young men and women 
have become as real heroes and heroines as any 
of the nations of the past have produced. This 
has awakened a new spirit of nationhood 
among us, and has made these virtues a great 
national possession; and the pride of posses- 
sion will stimulate the desire to emulate. What 
the war has won in national idealism, peace 
must not destroy. What our heroes have re- 
vealed in our national life, must be utilised in 
the days of peace. The danger to the nation 
is not over when peace is signed. We must 
cling to the ideals with which we aroused and 
maintained our morale, and we must continue 
to strive to realise them in the life of the na- 
tion, and embody them in our national tradi- 

This can only be done by developing the 
spiritual life through religion. The greatest 
aid to religion is good literature. By good I 
do not mean necessarily that which is directly 
dealing with religious subjects. All that is 
ennobling and pure is religious, whether it be 
history or fiction. 

The task before us is great. There must 
first be created a love for good literature. A 
literature which expresses the high ideals 
which have inspired the nation during these 
years of struggle will be eagerly read. This 
can be the preparation for the best in other 
fields of literature. The best way to create 
this love for the good is to provide good lit- 
erature, which will be within the comprehen- 
sion of the ordinary person. The circulation 
of the best from other lands is important ; but 
what is more important, to my mind, is to 
create a Canadian literature, which will ex- 
press our national ideals. Literature must 
do even more than express life, it must mould 
it. Canada has clone much in this field already, 
of which we can be proud. It is a good begin- 
ning. We must encourage our own writers, for 
as we have produced as good soldiers as any 
other nation, why should we not produce as 

good writers? Before literature can mould the 
life of the nation it must be brought within the 
reach of even the poorest of our people. We 
want a cultured poor as much as a cultured 
rich. To attain this we must have cheap edi- 
tions of the best works ; cheap magazines 
which will drive out the cheap and nasty ones 
which are doing so much harm to our youth. 
We must have more and better public libraries 
where the poorest man can obtain, freely, the 
very best books. 

It is because I understand that the Cana- 
dian Bookman will strive diligently to create 
the love of the good, and to supply that litera- 
ture, that I wish it every success in its work, 
and will gladly do what I can to help it in its 
great purpose. 

Canadian Indifference 
to Books 

By Maurice Hutton, M.A., LL.D , Principal 
of University College, Toronto 

IF any man ought to know the deficiency of 
Canadians in the matter of books and book- 
reading a teacher of the classics should know 

Our men — as they have shown in this war — 
are the equals, to say the least, of the people 
of the United Kingdom in courage, enterprise, 
self-reliance, versatility of mind, and general 
handiness; they are deficient in their love of 
books, in their interest and grasp of literature 
and history; and it is in the classics more than 
anywhere else that this deficiency betrays it- 

One might suppose a priori that our students 
would be scholars as competent as those of Ox- 
ford and Cambridge; handicapped, though they 
be, by the comparative scarcity of a literary 
home-atmosphere in this new country, doxibly 
handicapped by the deficiencies of our school 
system, its congested time-tables and list of 
subjects, and its indifference to languages (ex- 
cept English, which is generally acquired bet- 
ter indirectly via the classics) yet one might ex- 
pect that their more serious and business-like 
attitude of mind, and their greater industry, 
and Scotch grit would enable them to overtake 
the easy-going cricketers of the great English 
public schools ; if they do not, and they show 
no signs of doing so in classics, the cause lies 

January, 1919. 




in the matter of books and reading, or rather in 
the lack of books and reading. 

There are two or three trays in which this 
may be illustrated. In Oxford and Cambridge 
a student hardly expects to read bis authors in 
term time; he gives term time to Lectures and 
essays and athletics; he does the greater pari 
of his private reading — without which lectures 
are a snare and a delusion — in the long vaca 
tion : the best men have private tutors then for 
at least a month, but in any case they expect 
to get through the texts of Plato and Aristotle, 
Cicero and Tacitus. Thucydides and Herodo- 
tus then. 

Conditions in this country are absolutely dif- 
ferent. I cannot recall any student of whom I 
am positive that he had this advantage: the ma- 
jority even of the best students have spent 
their long vacations in other ways, and have 
worked hard — however unintentionally and un- 
willingly — at forgetting in the summer the nod- 
ding acquaintance with the men of light and 
leading of the ancient world (still men of light 
and leading on all serious subjects of history and 
philosophy for the serious thinkers of to-day . 
which they had begun to acquire in term time. 
It is partly an inevitable result of res angusta: 
partly of the Canadian impatience with books : 
but in either case it is fatal to scholarship and 
to understanding of the subject. 

The same thing is illustrated even more vivid- 
ly by the comparative size of the students' lib- 
rary in the two lands : no one dreams in Oxford 
and Cambridge of "dying: on the college lib- 
rary for the ordinary good editions of the clas- 
sics : he has his own library, even if he sells it 
gaily for a song when he graduates and passes 
on gratis the notes with which he has enriched 
his authors. But here I have seen good stu- 
dents relying even for Liddell and Scott on the 
library ; or content with the horrible small edi- 
tion, which is an even greater crime and greater 

I knew one good scholar in Oxford who did 
this, and wrote out unknown words on slips of 
paper and consigned the slips to his pocket, with 
a view to consulting L. & S. when he happened 
next to be visiting a rational friend : he did it 
solely and wholly to be eccentric and for para- 
dox sake, just as he also enquired one day in the 
heat of summer whether his friend had enjoyed 
football that afternoon. He had his reward, the 
reputation of an eccentric ; he lost the good de- 
gree which was otherwise his natural right, and a 
better right than the dubious title of an eccen- 
tric and "an intellectual": intellectuals have 
no intelligence, and L. & S. are as essential to 
intelligent study of the Greeks as L. S. and D. 
to an intelligent use of life. 

A wise man not merely demands the lai 
edition nf Liddell & Scott, be wants three copies 

of it for his use ;,t college, one for use at 

home, one for use m ins summer cottage 
Preighl charges forbid the incessant transpo 
tion of this ponderous bul essential articli 
baggage. I aever realised learning » 

heavy," said a witty Irish cabbj t once 

on one of the i asions on which I wa 

over much not to duplicate but move my work 
ing library. 

Obviouslj the same explanation as before 
count for this difference: res angusta, but also 
indifference and impatience with books. 

Now I know all that may be said against 
indifference and impatience with books. 
doubting Dr. Jowett for nothing. "I am con- 
vinced as much time is waste, 1 in reading as in 
anything," he once said. No doubt! but the 
answer to this scepticism is, as usual, more 
scepticism. Time is wasted in reading; but 
time is wasted no less in business meetings and 
in administration: in college councils and r 
senate meetings, and in examinations and in 
other forms of serving- tables. Happy those 
gifted spirits who can employ these fruitless 
hours in drawing caricatures (as I. once saw- 
Oscar Wilde doing-, while T was stniL'L'ling- with 
a Creek prose paper). Happier still those who 
can employ them in composing Greek and Latin 
verses. But happy in humble measure even 
those who have the minor gift, which has some- 
times been permitted to me. of passing those 
hours in refreshing sleep. 

Time is wasted everywhere and in every way: 
but even desultory reading- often brings a few 
words, a few lines, which go far to repay the 
waste, and leave a sense of satisfaction and 
literary enjoyment. 

T was reading for example the other day a 
very serious and somewhat pacifist journal, 
when I stumbled across this phrase, inserted 
only as an awful warning-, but calculated to 
serve the other purpose of literary edification — 
"a world without war would be one long damned 
Sunday afternoon walk." The desultory read- 
er sometimes entertain angels unawares: there 
is a world of personal temperament, even of na- 
tional character, lit up and illumined by that 
audacious and happy cynicism. 

I know that there are other thing-s still to be 
said against the possession of books. 

When I contemplate my demise, which must 
necessarily be drawing nearer. T shudder for 
those orphaned babes to be launched on an un- 
kind world : why many of these volumes inter- 
leaved and annotated illegibly from head to foot, 
from side to side of the interleaving, will be the 
only proof that I once filled a chair : and when 



January, 1919. 

I am gone and the Red Cross requests them for 
making rags and bandages, the only proof of 
me will be obscured and buried in bandages and 
rags, and some successor in the chair will find 
perhaps that I belonged to some solar myth, 
natural to the history of the University of To- 
ronto in its crude beginnings. 

I see the danger and can do nothing to avert 
it : my only son is a soldier with no intelligence 
in such directions: my daughters are intelligent 
in other directions: my wife — why every good 
wife is impatient of a scholar's library, and pro- 
perly: she has more reason to be jealous of 
them, than of any more animated flame which 
ever came between her and him, and shut her 
out of a wifely paradise. "We all know in- 
stinctively, even when we arc talking of states- 
men, not of scholars, that Mr. Asquith, the last 
of the reading statesmen of England, gives no 
occasion for wifely jealousy of the kind that in- 
terests reporters and interviewers of the socie- 
ty journals: we are just as sure, nevertheless, 
that he gives occasion for the other jealousy, 
when he is happy in his library and curses cau- 
cus meetings and cabinet councils, and even the 
Houses of Westminster and all similar triviali- 

This is a serious drawback to the acquisition 
of books and library, that they come to nothing, 
and are shovelled up for sixpence — if not into 
a bloody ditch — yet into a useful furnace. But 
again the answer to the doubt and the demurral 
is further doubt. So is life itself shovelled up 
and comes to nothing, the life of action, not less 
than the life of thought. What is Bismarck's 
ghost feeling to-day 1 He worked for a long life- 
time for Germany: he succeeded beyond all 
other men apparently: he set back the 
hands of the clock — a feat reputed impossible 
by the Toronto Globe — for well nigh seventy- 
five years, and now it is all ending as we «ee 
to-day. He has ruined his countrymen by his 
masterful actions, even though not a single de- 
tail of their madness and their fall can be traced 
to him, even though he set himself against every 

detail, so far as he could anticipate it. But the 
spirit — though not the details — of his policy 
has counted and has undone the land for which 
he sacrificed everything, his good conscience 
and his good nature, his common-sense, and his 
intelligence. He would have been a much more 
useful German, if he had eschewed national am- 
bitions and specialized — like Mr. Balfour — in 
theological metaphysics, or like Mr. Gladstone 
— whom he so scorned — in vain imaginations 
about Homer. Or, again, in humbler life — a 
Canadian clears the bush and builds a shack, 
and founds a home and laboiirs with his hands 
till he is too tired to think or read : but the set- 
tlement of the country takes another line, and 
within twenty years the house is falling to 
pieces, and the porcupines camp in it and the 
bind-weed binds it and "action" has been 
checkmated not less decisively than thought. 
The net results of life cannot be measured by 
such external standards: or, as Aristotle puts it, 
to do nothing, that is to live the student's life 
of books and thought, is not to do less, sometimes 
it is to do more, than is permitted to the man of 
action: for he is judged by external results and 
cannot reject this standard of judgment, and the 
results are often nil : the other life at least had 
reality, even intensity, while it lasted : it was 
autarkes, sufficient to itself, however insuffi- 
cient from that social point of view, which 
rides at us like a nightmare at the present mo- 
ment, as though we had no individual souls 
and no personal ex : stence. 

I have strayed far from the Canadian stu- 
dent and his impatience with books, with his- 
tory, with the past : but it all comes down to 
this, that he is too unlike the German and the 
Frenchman and the Russian and the Italian; 
too contemptuous of lofty theory and serious 
reading; even more indifferent to these things 
than the English student whom of Europeans he 
approaches most closely : too American. He may 
even be content with Walt Whitman for litera- 
ture.. It is time to stop : before some condem- 
nation even more severe escape my reckless pen. 

January, 1919. 

I ' I \ I/'/ I \ /.wh*A l/.IA 


The Book Agent: 

or Why Do People Buy Books.? 


THE ancient Romans, s.. I have been ered 
ibly informed, had a currenl Baying which 
pan, "Cur, hominem unius libri; Beware 
the man with one book." 'This has been inter- 
preted bj the faulty scholarship of to-daj to 
imply a warning against the superior educa- 
tion nf the man who has studied only one 
book, but has studied thai book well. The 
meaning was really quite different. The motto 


simply meant : Beware of the man who eomes 
into your office with one book under his arm ; 
in other words, watch out for the book agent." 
The Roman book agent, with his thin black 
toga and his muffler round his neck, was no 
doubt as formidable a figure as his lineal de- 
scendant of today. He came into Marcus Tul- 
lius Cicero's office just as he does into yours 
or mine. He walked past the didascuh and 
the stylists working in the atrium as easily as 

he walks pasl the stenographers in our i uter 
offices. He removed his muffler with the same 
deliberation. He spread ou1 a papyrus on the 
desk, ami when he laid one lean finger as em- 
phaticallj upon it as he lays it to-daj upon an 
illustrated prospectus, and said, "I am offering 
here a proposition," the same shock went 
through Cicero as it dotes through you or me. 
... "This." said the book agent, "is a set of Poly 
u hius." "I do not want it." murmured 

t licero. " We are practically giving this 
away." said the agent. "T don't care." 
Cicero said doggedly, "I don't 
it and T won't have it. and you can't 
make me take it." The agent turned 
over his papyrus till he came to the 
picture of a Creek chariot. Then he 
to k Cicero's head in his hands and 
twisted it into position. "Look." he 
said sternly. Tn spite of himself 
Cicero's eyes kindled with interest. "Ts 
that a chariot?" he murmured. "It 
is," said the agent. "It is done in 
parchment by our new graphite pro- 
cess. The illustrations of this work 
are alone worth the price. Would 
you like to see a picture of a trireme 
dune in red ink?" Cicero looked and 
was lost. Ten minutes later the agent 
walked out of the office with a signa- 
ture from Cicero promising to pay 
monthly instalments for seven years, 
while Cicero sat gazing fixedly at the 
picture of a trireme till one of his 
clerks touched him on the shoulder and 
recalled him to life. 

Such is. and such has been since the 
days of the Roman, the art of the book 
agent. He worked it then. He works 
it still. Nor is there any doubt about 
it that the art by which he -sells 
books is a sort of hypnotism. He look- the busi- 
ness man straight in the eye with one fore 
finger pointed directly at the business man's 
brain — or the place where it was before the 
agent came into the office. — and he says in a 
deep vibrating voice, "Have you read Macau- 
lay's History?" 

Xow the matter of Macaulay's History has 
been for twenty years the vulnerable point in 
the business man's intellect, and he knows it. 
For twenty years he has meant to read Macau- 



January, 1919. 

lay. and at the wards, "Have you read it?" he 
falls prone on his desk, his face buried in his 
hands. The book agent lays the History be- 
side him, signs the receipt and moves out. No 
one dares to stop him. His eye is turned stern- 
ly upon the lady stenographers. If they move 
an eyelash he'll sell them "How to Invest Your 
Savings and Make a Million." This, as they 
have no savings, fascinates them always. Nor 
can the doorkeeper stop him, nor the elevator 
boy. If they try to, the agent will sell them 
"The Life of Ulysses S. Grant." All door- 
keepers, janitors and elevator boys reach out 
instantly for "The Life of Ulysses S. Grant," 
and read themselve insensible with it, sitting 
motionless on a little stool. 

The book agent in the business office is real- 
ly only a part of the larger and unexplored 
phenomenon, Hypnotism in Business. I am 
convinced that a large part of our business 
transactions are effected by hypnotising and 
being hypnotised. The bond dealer and the 
real estate man are merely hypnotists pos- 
sessed of an occult power. Had they been 
born in India they would have passed for 
saints. The book agent is but a humble repre- 
sentative of the same class. Nor is it only 
in the business office that the book agent is 
able to work his peculiar hypnotic trick. It 
operates equally well on the farms. I can 
distinctly remember from my country child- 
hood the spectacle of the book agent driving 
with his horse and cutter, his muffler wrapped 
about his long neck, and his head moving from 
side to side, looking for farmers. He beck- 
oned the farmer inside the house. The farmer 
followed him from the barnyard like a fas- 
cinated dove. The door closed upon them. Fif- 
teen minutes later the agent drove away with 
a five-dollar bill added to his collection, and 
the farmer was left sitting hunched in the 
kitchen rocker motionless, with "The Polar 
and Tropical Worlds" lying unopened on his 
lap. His family coming in on such a man of- 
ten thought that he had been murdered. But 
he had not. 

But the book agent of to-day no longer 
deals in a single book. Even so bulky a work 
as "The Polar and Tropical Worlds." which 
measured 14 inches x 10 inches x 5 inches, and 
contained 700 cubic inches of information, is 
not big enough for up-to-date business. The 
ho ik that the agent carries now is a mere sam- 
ple, or dummy, and represents a "set" run- 
ning anywhere from twenty volumes to a 

Experience shows that a shrewd and calcu- 
lating business man who would never buy one 

book, taken singly, without scrutinizing its 
price and its utility, falls entranced at the 
mere aspect of a "set" of them. And the more 
sweeping the "set" is, the more centuries it 
covers, the more solid thought it embodies and 
the higher the price of it, the more easily does 
the man "fall" for it. The psychology in the 
thing is this. Every man is at heart an ego- 
tist. He wishes — if one may put it in the 
plain every-day language of a textbook on 
psychology — "to extend his personality be- 
yond the limits of his identity." So when he 
sees a glittering array of books, or glittering 
illustrated prospectus, with the title "The 
World's Great Thinkers from Bacon to Beelze- 
bub," he is seized with a desire to include the 
whole thing within himself. He wants, as it 
were ,to swallow it. He feels that if he reaches 
out and buys that set of books he will incorpor- 
ate the entire mass of information inside him- 

The book agent, aware of his power, unfolds 
the prospectus and points with his finger. 
"See," he says. "Bacon." "Bacon," repeats 
the business man. "Montesquieu," says the 
agent, still pointing. "Montesquieu," repeats 
the business man in a daze. "Spinoza," says 
the agent "Spinoza," murmurs the business 
man, almost in a trance. "Swedenborg and 
Occult Philosophy," says the agent. This is 
the coup de grace. "Occult Philosophy" 
catches the business man as easily as the "Life 
of Ulysses S. Grant" catches the elevator boy. 
The agent slips the pen into his hand and he 
signs, still hypnotised. 

Nor does the hypnotism readily pass off. The 
business man receives the books in due time 
at his home, and he shows them to his wife, 
hypnotising her. "See," he says, "Spinoza," 
"Spinoza," she repeats. "And look at this, 
Swedenborg and the Occult Philosophy." 
"Swedenborg," she murmurs. There is a touch 
of pride in both of them. Let the neighbours 
look to it, unless they also buy a "set" of "The 
World's Great Thinkers." The business man's 
wife and her housemaid, as they clean up the 
"Thinkers" to the roar of a vacuum cleaner, 
like to feel that they live in a cultivated home. 

T have named the business man as the typi- 
cal victim not through any malice towards him 
hut as the mere statement of a fact. He is 
the typical victim. The professional classes 
(the lawyers and the doctors) are much hard- 
er. The lawyer will perhaps buy an 'Encyclo- 
paedia of Farming" just as a farmer will buy 
an 'Encyclopaedia of Law," and a doctor will 
buy a book called "The Horse." just as a liv- 
ery stable keeper will buy a book called "The 

January, 191!). 



Doctor." But this, after all, is small busin 
For the sale of a "History of Peru in Twenty 
Volumes from Atahuantepec bo Pocohontas," 
there is nothing like a business man, prefer- 
ably a director of one of our great, companies. 
This man has in his palatial home a room 
which is called his study, where he plays 
poker. A well bound "History of Peru" in 
twenty volumes of gilt and leather standing 
on the shelf behind the dealer gives to a game 
of poker a touch of dignity, and — to a new 
player — a feeling of security that is worth the 
price. It is natural indeed for the entering 
guest who sees his host sitting in a great 
leather chair before a brass fender, in a room 
lined to the ceiling with books, to feel that he 
is in the presence of the kind of cultivated 
scholar who would scorn to lie about open- 
ing a jackpot, or carry an extra ace under the 

But as against all other classes, the univer- 
sity professoriate is absolutely immune from 
the attacks of the book agent. It is impos- 
sible to sell a book to a professor. As well 
sell cabbage to a market gardener. I have my- 
self seen a whole Faculty Room full of profes- 
sors dispersed at one stroke by a book agent 
who came in and offered to give them a one- 
dollar dictionary for thirty-five cents. They 
knew too much. Yet if the agent had offered 
them fifteen-cent shares in an oil mine, or 
debenture stock, at four cents, in a salt refin- 
ery, they would have risen to it like brook 
trout in June. 

Nor is anything that has been said above to 
be taken to mean that the book agent is in any 
sense a faker or a humbug or a social para- 
site of no use to the world. Quite the con- 

tra r\ An accepted doctrine of evolution 

bes us that nothing Burvi 
euliar functions in Borne way fit it for its en- 
vironment. Everything baa its purpose, and 
the book agent has his. It is his peculiar 
vice to society thai he goes aboul inoculating 
people with the idea of the dignity of learning, 

the majesty of the written word and the BU 

iritj of the things of the mind over the 
brute force of the body. Now this is the 
tissue by means of which, invisible and unper 
ceived, our socia] fabric holds together. A 

world without hooks would degenerate into a 
bear garden. Big business would climb to the 
top of the pole and snarl its lesser fellows into 
anarchy. It is I ause we keep up the pleasant 

pretence that their are other things in the 
world besides money and the grOBSer - 
factions which it commands that the world 
spins on as it does— creaking a good deal, but 
still moving. The business man holds tight to 
his money bags, but pays his homage to the 
power of art and letters when he buys his 
"History of Peru." And the book agent who 
untwines his scarf in the office and confronts 
the business man in his chair is, if he but 
knew it, a very Daniel of enlightenment in the 
den of the lions of greed. 

More power to him in his task. And more 
power also to all such other efforts and agen- 
cies as are applied, directly and indirectly, to- 
wards the same end. and especially to this 
present venture of a Canadian Bookman which. 
with this number, puts forth its earliest leaves 
and the promise of its later fruit. May it flour- 
ish, among the eager scramble of our com- 
merce, like an old-world garden, hidden in the 
heart of a metropolis, where the sounds of the 
street are stilled in a sequestered silence. 



January, 1919. 

Why Neglect Early Canadians? 


SOME months ago. in a newspaper article 
about a selection of books by Canadian 
writers made for the Canadian Society 
of New York City, it was stated that consider- 
able difficulty had been experienced in mak- 
ing the selection owing to the fact that while 
there are many collectors of Canadiana — 
that is, books about or relating to Canada — 
there seemed to be few, if any, collectors of 
Canadian literature. This is a peculiar fact, 
for fart it undoubtedly is. particularly when 
n i^ considered that in all other countries col- 
lectors of native literature — by which is meant 
works of an imaginative character as distinct 
from works of historical, scientific or other 
more or less material character -- are num- 
erous. Take the United States, for example, 
chiefly because it. in a physical sense, is the 
nearest of all countries to as. Here collectors 
of the original editions of the work of native 
writers abound in the cities, in the t >wns and 
elsewhere, and the competition for the more 
desirable of such editions has led to results ab- 
solutely astonishing. For instance. Edgar 
Allan Poe's first book. '"Tamerlane and Other 
Poems " of which only about three copies are 
said to be still in existence, brought $2,500 at 
auction in Xew York some twenty years ago, 
and if another copy were offered to-day it 
is not improbable that it would realize $10,000 
or more. Then the copy of Poe's second book. 
"Al Aaraff. Tamerlane, and Minor Poems," 
which Poe used in preparing "The Raven and 
other Poems." brought $2,900 at the same 
time, ami some time later the excessively rare 
first issue of his "Murder in the Rue Morgue" 
sold for no less than $3,800, the highest price 
ever paid for a book by a native writer of 
the United States. And Poe is not the only 
United States writer whose books' bring extra- 
ordinary prices, for some years ago $2,200 was 
paid for what was said to be a unique issue 
of Longfellow's "New England Tragedy." 
These prices, it must be admitted, stand by 
themselves; but there are several staore at 
Least of books by these and other writers, such 

as Irving, Lowell, Emerson. Mark Twain, etc.. 
which readily bring sums running into three 
figures when offered at auction. 

Now turn to Canada, and what do we find? 
Is there a single book other, perhaps, than 
historical in character by a Canadian which 
would bring so much as $25 if offered at auc- 
tion in Montreal or Toronto to-day? So far 
as I am aware, but one book is at all likely to 
approximate this figure— "St. Ursula's Con- 
vent, or The Nun of Canada," which can 
proudly boast of being the first Canadian 
novel — but if it should ever do so it would be 
because of U. S. competition, for it ranks as 
one of the desirable items of early American 
fiction, a line of collecting which many col- 
lectors across the line follow. 

But, it will be asked, have we now, or have 
we ever had, any writers in this country whose 
books are likely to be sought after as the U.S. 
collectors seek for books by Poe. Longfellow, 
etc.? It is, of course, for Father Time alone 
to answer that question, but if it were put to 
me I should not hesitate to say emphatically, 
"Yes." We may not have produced a Poe in 
this country so far, but I do not think that it 
will be denied that we have had, and now 
have, writers among us whose work will not 
lose by comparison with the best that is being 
done in England or in the United States. 

Of course, my purpose in writing in this way 
is not to advocate or encourage the paying of 
fancy prices for first or other rare editions 
of our Canadian writers. What I wish to do 
is to stimulate interest, if I can, in these writers 
by urging the collection of their books upon 
those who have felt the collecting spirit. The 
intellectual standards of any people may be 
best judged by the interest it displays in its 
own literature, and how better can the exist- 
ence of that interest be evidenced than by men 
here and there busying themselves in bringing 
together the books which enter into or make up 
that literature? 

January, L919. 

( i \ i/'/.i.v BOOH 1/ I \ 


Some Canadian Illustrators 


ILLUSTRATORS in Canada" would have 
condensed this article, for few are they in 
number. The field is Limited and the opportuni- 
ties are restricted. The subjecl of "Canadian 
Illustrators," however, offers a wider field, and 
even scratching the surface in a cursory way re 
veals surprises. Many illustrators who havi 
tablished themselves in the United States are 
sou-, of this Dominion. 

It has long been the fashion, among those who 
have pride in Canada and curse the hope that 
some day a distinctive national art and litera- 
ture may he hers, to he almost angry with Bliss 

(ARTICLE No. 1) 

and " Who's Who 

heniL' regarded as Amen 
can artists. A few names that immediately 
come to mind are Jaj Hambidge, Arthur 1 1 
big, Arthur William Brown, I'.. Cory Kilverl 
John Conacher, II. -I. Mowat, and Norman Price. 
The late Philip Boileau was a < 'anadian. 

Given tin' market, Canada would quickly de- 
velop illustrators, though modern illustrative 
methods utilized by newspapers tin-eaten to roll 
the aspiring draughtsman of tie- most valuable 
training he could acquire. The introduction of 
the photographer and the perfection of the half- 
tone plate is. excepl for special purposes, driv- 

- -v 

Illustration by Miss Mary Essex. 

— By courtesy of "The Veteran.' 

Carman. Roberts. Stringer and a few other wri- 
ters for leaving the Dominion and establishing 
themselves in the United States. It was a sim- 
ple instance of going to the market. In the ease 
of Canadian illustrators the settlement of many 
in the Republic seems to have been the natural 
step after receiving their artistic training across 
the border. Associations had been formed, high 
art is, possibly excepting portraiture, a notor- 
iously poor business, and illustration was a mar- 
ketable product. So we see a little band of Can- 
adian illustrators making their place and name 
away from home and, except in their own circle 

ing the black and white draughtsman from the 
field. The cartoon and the '•comic" still re- 
quire him and he can be utilized in preparing 
the "lay-out"— the line design which frequent- 
ly frames a group of half-tone photographs in 
newspapers and magazines. How valuable is 
the experience gained by a newspaper artist who 
aspires to serious illustration can be irathered 
from the personal opinion of Charles W. Jeff- 
erys. the leading illustrator in Canada. "I 
worked in New York for some years on the Art 
Staff of The Herald in the palmy days of pen 
and ink drawing. Though the work was exact- 



January, 1919. 

ing and strenuous, I count the experience gain- 
ed there as most valuable. It gave me a know- 
ledge of life at first hand, a training in quick 
and accurate observation, and in the graphic 
expression of life and character that I do not 
think I could have got in any other way." 

The occasion will produce illustrators in Can- 
ada as surely as it has done in Great Britain 
and on the Continent where, in pre-war days, an 
abundance of illustrated periodicals offered a 
wide and ready market for work meritorious 
and otherwise. As a magazine and book pub- 
lishing centre in an important way Canada is 
as yet in its infancy, and the opportunity for 
a Canadian artist to illustrate the work of a 
kinsman comes so rarely as to be something of 
an event. Years ago such a chance came to the 
late Henri Julien when Harper's Magazine pub- 
lished Louis Frechette's Canadian folk-lore 
stories. Julien, who excelled in depicting the 
French-Canadian habitant in his native sur- 
roundings — in the fields, sugar maple groves, 
or festive jollifications — besides his illustrative 
work as chief artist on the Montreal Star, was 
able to utilize his knowledge of historical events 
and costume in the Quebec Tercentenary num- 
ber of the Montreal Standard. 

The work of Canadian illustrators in the bulk 
is marked by a wholesome spirit, and, as a rule, 
reflects the attitude of the artist towards life. 
Fortunately, too, the publishers for which so 
many Canadian illustrators do work issue from 
their presses publications aimed to enlighten 

and entertain readers still content with the one- 
God-one-wife standard of their hardy ancestors. 
The macabre is- generally absent, and who shall 
say we are the losers thereby? 

Charles W. Jefferys, the leading illustrator 
working in Canada today, has had a wide and 
varied experience, and a long list of illustrated 
books to his credit. Born in Kent, England, he 
confesses to being caught young and growing up 
in Canada. The way was not always smooth 
and many stages which must have proved irk 
some had to be passed before he arrived at his 
present high place. Study in the classes of the 
old Toronto Art Students' League, and instruc- 
tion in the studios of G. A. Reid and C. M. 
Manly, was followed by that most valuable edu- 
cation of all — practical work. In the practice 
of lithography, commercial advertising design- 
ing, and newspaper illustration he "picked up" 
most of his art education. Then came his work 
on the New York Herald. As special artist for 
that paper he "covered" some important as- 
signments — the Pullman strike, Bryan Conven- 
tion, and Pan-American Exposition among oth- 
ers. Eighteen years ago he returned to Canada 
resolving to express something of its life and 
landscape. This period has not been without 
its discouragements and Mr. Jefferys has turned 
his hand to many kinds of art work — illustrat- 
ing books, magazines and newspapers, design- 
ing for advertising purposes, painting in oil and 
water color and teaching drawing. In 1900 
as special artist of the Toronto Globe he "cov- 
ered" the Royal Tour of the Duke and Duchess 
of Cornwall and York — the present King and 
Queen. For several years, too, he gave a cer- 
tain amount of his time and work to the Toron- 
to Daily Star. Most of 
t li e leading Canadian 
periodicals have printed 
his work, and the stu- 
dents in the schools of 
Ontario can enjoy his 
drawings in the readers 

Slip cover by R. E. Johnston, for "The Suicide of 
Monarchy," by Baron de Schelking. 



CAS I/'/ i \ BOOK 1/ I \ 


now in use. < Canadian history iii particular has 
interested him and man} of his illustrations 
have deall with Hi.' life of the pasl in < !anada. 
This sympathy with the past is indicated bj 

the titles lit' some of the I ks he has illustrated : 

Wacousta, A Tale of the Pontiac Conspiracy, by 
.Major Richardson; Brock by YV. 1,'. Nursey; 
Tecumseh, by N. S. Qurd; Uncle .inn's tana 
diaii Nursery Rhymes, by David Boyle; 'The 
.Makers of Canada, 10 volumes; Madeleine de 
Vercheres, by A. (i. Doughty; The Chronicles 
of Canada, 32 volumes; and <'M .Man Savarin, 
by E. W. Thomson. 

.Mr. Jefferys has shown practical interest in 
matters artistic. He was one of the founders 

of The Arts and Letters Club of Toronto, ami 

of the Society of Graphic Art, He is an a 
ciate of the Royal Canadian Academj of Arts, 

president of the Ontario Societ) of Artists, anil 

instructor in free hand drawing and watei 
color in the Department of Architecture in the 

Universitj Of Toronto. Por some years he has 

been of the Fine Arts i lommissionera of the 

Canadian National Exhibition, and a member 
of the Council of the Toronto Art Museum, 

'< I composition and clean rigorous virile line 

characterize his pen ami ink illustrations. 

John Sloan Gordon, although horn in Brant- 
ford, can be counted a Hamilton artist as he 
settled iii the "Ambitious City" when nine 
months old. At sixteen he was employed in a 
railwaj office and three years later was able 
to develop his taste for drawing in the Art De- 
partment of the Howe}] Lithographing Com- 
pany, and by attending the nighl classes of the 
Hamilton Art School. Later he opened a studio 
and by painting watercolors of a popular 
sort, which found a fairly ready sale, was 
enabled in 1895 to go to 
Paris, where he studied 
drawing at Julien's and 
under i onstant and Lau- 
rens. After a stay in 
London. Edinburgh and 
Glasgow, lie returned to 
Canada in 1897, and re- 
suming life in Hamilton 
he turned his energies to 
designing book covers. 
illustrations for the Can- 
adian Magazine, the 

Slip cover by R. E. Johnston, for "The Suicide of 
Monarchy, ' ' by Baron de Schelking. 



January, 1919. 

Christmas issues of the Toronto Globe, and 
decorative drawings for Eraser's books pub- 
lished by Charles Scribner. lie illustrated "The 
Master of Life," by W. D. Lighthall, K.C., of 
Montreal. Mr. Gordon, who is a member of the 
Ontario Society of Artists, is head of the Art 
Department of the Hamilton Technical School. 

F. S. Coburn, probably best known by his 
illustrations to the late Dr. Drummond's "Habi- 
tant" and other dialect poems dealing with 
French-Canadians, was born at Upper Mel- 
bourne, Que., and studied in Montreal, Berlin, 
Prance, London, and New York. As a painter 
he is well known. He has illustrated the works 
of Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe, Washington Irv- 
ing. He has probably been happiest in his draw- 
ings of the habitant, 
and the illustrations 
to Frechett e 's 
" Christ m a S in 
K re n c h Canada" 
were done by him. 

The work of Fer- 
gus Kyle, Toronto, 
has appeared in the 
Canadian Magazine 
and the Courier. He 
is better known as a 
cartoonist. He is at 
present overseas with 
an artillery unit. 

E. J. Dinsmore is 
a Torontonian, and 
his advance in the 
field of illustration 
has been rapid — his 
first published draw- 
ing having appeared 
since the war began. 
He studied at the 
Central Ontario 
School of Art, and 
the Pennsylvania 
Academy of Art and 
Design, and has 
worked under such 
well known artists as 
C. M. Manly, Daniel 
Garber, Joseph Pear- 
son and Henry Mc- 
( 'arter. Several prizes 
and scholarships went 
to him during his 
student days. Fond of travel, he has 
seen much of America and Europe, and was 
in Holland when the war broke out. Mr. 
Dinsmore's work now appears continuously in 
three Canadian publications — Maclean's Maga- 
zine, Canadian Home Journal, and Canada 
Weekly. His taste in art runs to the work of 
Brangwyn, Crisp, Sorolla y Bastida, Zuloaga, 
Degas, Steinlen, and Pennell, though the in- 
fluence of any of these artists is not apparent 
in his illustrative work which is done in black 
and white wash. Tramping, paddling, and sail- 
ing an- Mr. Dinsmore's favorite pleasure pur- 
suits, a taste as thoroughly and enthusiastically 
shared bv his wife. 

Illustration by Arthur Heming, for "The Cow 
Puncher, " by K. J. C. Stead. 

H. W. Cooper, who went overseas with the 
Canadian Army Service Corps, and is now at- 
tached to the Intelligence Branch of the Can- 
adian forces in France, though an Englishman 
by birth, worked several years in Toronto. His 
clever and interesting pen sketches of life at 
the front, accompanied by sprightly written 
comment, have appeared in recent issues of 

T. G. Greene has specialized in illustrating 
stories of rural Ontario life. His work in this 
connection displays knowledge and sympathy. 
These illustrations have appeared in the Courier 
and Presbyterian publications. 

The drawiugs of children by Miss Maud Mc- 
Laren are sympathetic in character. Her work, 

which appears in the 
Canadian Magazine, 
the Canadian Home 
Journal, and Every- 
woman 's World, 
shows a strong sense 
of decorative compo- 

Miss Estelle Kerr 
is a writer-illustrator 
who has contributed 
to the Canadian Mag- 
azine and the Cour- 
ier. She studied at 
the Art Students' 
League, New York, 
and in Paris, Switz- 
erland, Italy and 
Holland. As a paint- 
er, landscapes and 
portraits have spe- 
cially interested her. 
"Little Sam of Vol- 
endam, " a book of 
rhymes and pictures, 
she published in 1908. 
Miss Kerr is now ov- 
erseas engaged in 
war work. 

K. E. Johnston is 
another Toronto ar- 
tist who is forging to 
the front in the field 
of illustration. Born 
in the Queen City in 
1885 he put in three 
or four vears woi'k- 

ing at almost anything, then studied drawing 
under William Cruickshank, and at 19 serious- 
ly engaged in designing for commercial pur- 
poses, and did illustrating for various Canadian 
magazines. Then followed five years in Lon- 
don where he studied under J. Walter Sick- 
ert, pupil of Whistler and a leading art critic, 
and at the Polytechnic. While he did some il- 
lustrations for light fiction his time in London 
was principally occupied with advertising work. 
Eighteen months before the outbreak of the 
war he returned to Canada and joined the art 
staff of Toronto Saturday Night. A book- 
jacket for Baron de Schelking's "Suicide of 
Monarchy" is one of the most effective designs 

January, 1919. 

C I \ I/'/ l \ BOOK M I \ 

he has done since his return. At presenl In- has 

under contemplation the illustrati I' a I k 

dt' humorous essays lis a well known Canadian 

Dorothy Stevens, whose etchings of Continenl 
al scenes have been reproduced iirthe Canadian 
Magazine, is well known as an exponenl of that 
medium and also as a painter. She is a member 
of the Chicago Society of Etchers, ami a win 
ner of the Royal Canadian Academj travelling 
scholarship. She studied m Toronto and Paris. 
Two of her prints have been acquired for the 
Canadian National Gallery, Ottawa. 

.Marguerite Puller Allan is a .Montrealer and 
a student of the Art Association of Montreal 
classes directed by .Mr. William Brymner, 
C.M.G., R.C.A., past President of the Royal 
■Canadian Academy. She continued her train 
in<* at the Art Students' League, New York, 
and the Art Institute of Boston, and in Canada. 
until recently, has been best known as a painter. 
Mrs. Allan has contributed verses and illustra- 
tions of interest to children to St. Nicholas and 
the Youth's Companion. Recently John Lane 
published "The Rhyme Garden." written and 
illustrated by her. Quaint composition and the 
effective employment of black and white masses 
in a decorative way characterize the drawings 
of this volume. 

■Mi- Vlai garel Marj I U tic last tun 

names grace lei drawings) was born in Toronto 
and commenced her training at the A rt School 
of the Albright An Gallerj in Buffalo, where 
her teachers were Marj Coxe, Ernest Posbery, 
ami Urquharl Wilcox. While there she won a 
scholarship to the Art Students' League in New 
Fork mi, of eight given by that school 
throughout the United States. Here she stud 
ied portrait painting under William M. Chase, 
and drawing under Frank Vincent DuMond, 
Kenneth Hayes Miller and Eugene Speicher. 
Natural talent and industry were again reward 
ed with a scholarship in the Life chiss. another 
in the Sketch class, ami honorable mention in 
the Chase Portrait Class. Her published work 
has appeared in the < lanadian Home Journal, 
the Canadian Magazine, Everywoman's World. 
the Canadian Courier, Canadian Poultry Jour 
nal. By-Water Magazine and the Veteran. Am 

mi- her illustrated stories were a serial. "The 
Magpie's .Vest." by Isabel Patterson, and two 
\>\ Arthur Stringer. In the Dominion Govern 
ment's Victorj I, nan Poster Competition si ■ 

ceived one of the prizes. Miss F.ssex is ; , mem- 
be!- of the Art students' League, and of the 
Three Arts Club, both New York bodies. 
tT<> h, Continued. 


Illustration by Chas. W. Jefferys, from "Old Man 
Savarin" (C. W. Thompson). 



January, 1919. 

Rhymes With and Without Reason 


POETRY," said Don Marquis once in his 
column in the New York Sun, "Poetry 
with us is a business; it takes time, muscular 
effort, nervous energy and, sometimes, thought 
to produce a poem."' In the same vein he said, 

Poetry is something we once got paid 

A dollar a line for; 

But we're not going to tell you the name 

Of the Magazine; 

We're saving it. 

A third of his definitions was 

Poetry is something Amy Lowell says 
Carl Sandburg writes. 

While in a more serious mood he gave this defi- 
nition : 

Poetry is the clinking together of two unex- 
pected coins 
In the shabby pocket of life. 

With airy definitions such as these in mind, 
the classic definition of Theodore Watts-Dunton 
in an old edition of the Encyclopaedia Britan- 
nica seems elephantine. "Poetry," he says (I 
quote from memory), "is the concrete and artis- 
tic expression of the human mind in emotional 
and rhythmical language." Ponderous, you 
will say, and yet there are those who take poetry 
seriously, to whom poetry represents the sup- 
reme rendering of beautiful thoughts. 

They are not in the majority, I fear — other- 
wise poverty and poetry would not so often go 
hand in hand. To quote Don Marquis again, 
"Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping 
a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and wait- 
ing to hear the echo." 

Poverty, however, has not kept the poet from 
singing — never indeed were poets so numerous 
and so prolific as today. "Poets," says one 
editor, "seem as numerous as sparrows through 
the cool sunshine, and almost as quarrelsome." 
Their name indeed is legion. A hundred of 
them are represented in the Anthology of "The 
New Poetry," edited by Harriet Munroe and 
Aliee Corbin Henderson, the editors of the Chi- 
• magazine called "Poetry." and yet this 

anthology omits many familiar names — Law- 
rence Binyon, Katherine Tynan, Francis Thomp- 
son, Bliss Carman and Alan Seeger, for instance. 
These hundred who are apparently the elect are 
responsible for over two hundred volumes quot- 
ed in the bibliography and for vast quantities of 
stray verse scattered through innumerable mag- 
azines. When the editors of ' ' Poetry ' ' not very 
long ago asked for a poem on a certain subject, 
over seven hundred manuscripts came in re- 
sponse through the mails. 

What is the reason for this apparently ir- 
repressible output? Is it because, as Don Mar- 
quis faintly insinuates, there are magazines that 
pay a dollar a line, or is it because the human 
race — particularly the race on this side of the 
Atlantic — is growing more imaginative, more 
idealistic, more sensitive to music of words ? Or 
is it — and this is one of the thoughts which 
have come from recent reading — is it because 
the discovery or re-discovery of "free verse" 
removed the barriers of rhyme and let in the 
multitude? Are there so many poets today 
because poetry, now that it may be rhymeless 
and irregular in rhythm and form, looks easier 
to write? 

Rhythm and quantities, indeed, though they 
may unconseio\isly tickle the ear, are not very 
extensively understanded of the people. "The 
public," says Richard le Gallienne, "is a good 
deal like a pretty girl I was talking to the other 
day. 'Of course,' I said to her 'you know what 
hexameters are, don't you?' 'Sure,' she re- 
plied, 'I had a ride in one the other day through 
the Park.' " 

Yet it is only fair to say that the leaders in 
the free verse movement are scholarly poets — 
Ezra Pound, for instance, or Richard Alding- 
ton — familiar in the original with the literature 
of Greece, which indeed in the choruses of 
Aeschylus and Sophocles provides the irrefut- 
able precedent. Aldington belongs to thfe 
group known as Imagists, whose creed is to 
use the language of common speech but to 

January. 1919. 



employ always the exact word, not the 
merely decorative word; to create new 
rhythms as the expression of new words; to 
allow absolute freedom in the choice of sub 
ject; to present an image rendering particulars 
exactly and not dealing in generalities, however 
magnificent and sonorous; to produce poetry 
that is hard and clear, never blurred nor indefi- 
nite ; to be concentrated. 

Typical is Aldington's "Choricos," with the 


Thou art an healing wind 

That blowest over white flowers 

A-tremble with dew; 

■Thou art a wind flowing 

Over long leagues of lonely sea; 

Thou art the dusk and the fragrance; 

Thou art the lips of love mournfully smiling; 

Thou art the pale peace of one 

Satiate with old desires; 

Thou art the silence of beauty, 

And we look no more for the morning; 

We yearn no more for the sun, 

Since with thy white hands, 


Thou crownest us with the pallid chaplets, 

The slim colorless poppies 

Which in thy garden alone 

Softly thou gatherest. 

Ezra Pound, in spite of his eccentricities and 
egoism and postures, has a lyric quality of high 
order. Here is "The Return," descriptive of 
the Furies and just as Greek as could be: — 

See, they return; ah. see the tentative 
Movements, and the slow feet, 
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain 
Wavering ! 

See, they return, one, and by one, 
With fear, as half-awakened; 
As if the snow should hesitate 
And murmur in the wind, 

and half turn back, 
These were the " Wing 'd-with- Awe," 


Gods of that winged shoe! 
With them the silver hounds, 

sniffing the trace of air! 

Haie ! Haie ! 

These were the swift to harry; 
These the keen-scented; 
These were the souls of blood. 

Slow on the leash 

pallid the leash-men ! 

That, you will say, is a Greek subject, but here 
is a lyric on New York which Sappho might have 
written : 

My City, my beloved, my white ! 

Ah slender, 
Listen ! Listen to me, and I will breathe into 

thee a soul. 
Delicately upon the reed, attend me ! 

do I know thai I owi mad, 
Fur In it an ti null m,i peoplt surly with tra\ 
Then is no maid, 
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had 

My f'ity, my beloved, 

Thou art a maid with do brea 

Thou art Blender as a silver r I, 

Listen to me, attend me I 

And I will breat lie into thee a soul, 

And thou shalt live for ever. 

Ezra Pound lias given a new flair to the i 
gram, as for instance in "The Garden": 

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall 
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensing- 
ton Gardens, 
And she is dying piece meal of a sort of emo- 
tional anaemia. 

And round about there is a rabble 

Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the 

very poor. 
They shall inherit the earth. 

In her is the end of breeding. 

Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. 

She would like some one to speak \o her, 
And is almost afraid that I will commit that 

Born of Greek inspiration also is that volume 
of free verse poems which is perhaps the only 
instance in recent years of poetry becoming a 
best seller— I refer to the "Spoon River Anth- 
ology." The title is, I take it. an admission of 
the debt the poet owes to the Sepulchral Epi- 
grams of the Greek Anthology, numbers of 
which have that ironic vein which is the keynote 
of their Spoon River offspring. Edgar Lee 
Masters, of course, has created an entirely new 
and original work — has merely taken an old 
idea and applied it with modern methods, and 
with admirable skill and breadth of vision. One 
wishes that in his later poems he had attained 
the same heights. Unfortunately he seems to 
be concerned now more with quantity than 
quality, and is endeavoring to prove to the very 
prolific Miss Amy Lowell that he can write more 
verse per month than she. 

Although free verse or vers libre, the unrhyni- 
ed verse with lines of irregular length, is gen- 
erally taken to be a modern movement, it is more 
strictly a revival. Rhyme is a comparatively 
recent invention — barely known before the tenth 
century and not accepted into English litera- 
ture till the days of Chaucer. But most re- 
vivals are due to intense emotion which bursts 
the bonds of moribund rite and tradition, and 
the revival of free verse is no exception to the 
rule. It is the expression in literature of the 
same spirit of unrest which has introduced im- 



January, 1919. 

pressionism into painting, flower masses into the 

old formal garden, and Debussy, Strauss and 
Scriabine into music 

Rhyme was definitely established as a suit- 
able form for English verse by Chaucer. It 
had been used before, but never so happily. 
Two centuries later it had become so popular 
that it was even considered vulgar, and some 
of the more accomplished poets in the days of 
Elizabeth reacted into blank verse. 

In the seventeenth century rhyme came into 
fashion again, so much so that Dryden in his 
"Defence of Poetry" could say, "Blank verse 
is acknowledged to be too low for a poem. ' ' The 
royalist rhymesters of his day were certainly 
accomplished — daintiest of all being Robert 
Herrick, as for instance in "To Daffodils": 

We have short time to stay, as you; 

We have as short a spring; 
As quick a growth to meet decay, 

As you, or any thing. 
We die 

As your hours do, and dry 

Like to the summer's rain; 
Or as the pearls of morning's dew. 

Ne'er to be found again. 

But for 150 years after Dryden rhyme and 
rhythm became so formal and conventional that 
poetic expression was stifled, the truly lyric 
note being almost confined to the less sophisti- 
cated poets of Scotland. 

The spirit which came into literature about 
the time of the French Revolution broke down 
this stiff conventionality — and the nineteenth 
century opens with more elastic metres. Words- 
worth, Byron, Shelley and Keats rang changes on 
the old iambic pentameter, Byron in particu- 
lar reverting to the more musical, if more in- 
tricate Spencerian stanza, Wordsworth brows- 
ing around in blank verse or sonnet form, while 
Shelley wove rhyme patterns of his own, intro- 
ducing anapaestic and dactyllic measures. 

English metre became still more elastic in 
the hands of the Victorians — Roberl and Eliza- 
beth Browning, Swinburne, Dante and Christina 
Rossetti, William Morris, Matthew Arnold and 
Tennyson, while a distinctive rhythm was 
used by George Meredith in his "Love in the 
Valley," a rhythm which ignores the old tum- 
ti-tum measure, and while using a classical 
metre follows the stress and rests anil time in- 
tervals of natural speech: 

Under yonder beech-tree single on the green- 
- Couched with her arms behind her golden 

Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly. 

Lies my young love sleeping in the shade. 
Had 1 the heart to slide an arm beneath her, 
Press her parting lips as her waist I gath- 
er slow, 
Waking in amazement she could not but em- 
brace me : 
Then would she hold me and never let me 

The American poets of that time were more 
or less mild echoes of their English contempor- 
aries until Walt Whitman sent an electric shock 
through the world of rhymes with his "Leaves 
of Grass," 

, Nowadays, except to Bostonians and others 
of that kind who take American literature of the 
19th century seriously, Walt Whitman is too 
often a verbose old man whose long-winded lines 
are a useful soporific just before turning out 
the lights, but in his time he certainly did good 
by setting poets a-thinking, and like the cur- 
ate's egg he is excellent in parts. There are 
indeed some who claim that as a sleep inducer 
Walt Whitman must yield place to that other 
darling of the Bostonian, Sir Rabindranath 

Rhyme was shocked, but it was not killed, 
and the poetry of the late nineteenth and early 
twentieth centuries was still predominantly 
rhymed. Much of that rhyming was of high 
technical skill, for the English were becoming 
a more musical nation, more sensitive to the 
niceties of metrical harmony. 

Now if all English verse in rhyme had been 
written with equal skill, there might have been 
no movement in favor of vers libre. But rhyme 
in less inspired poets has led to inversions of 
phrase which disturb the natural sequence of 
thought, it encourages the use of obsolete phrases 
used only because they easily rhyme — such as 
meseems, bedight, forsooth, and the like — it re- 
sults in artificial expression, it has been re- 
sponsible for doggerel-writers like Longfellow 
or the confused involutions of a thousand Son- 

Hence a new school of poets which declares 
"Away with rhyme! — Let us express our emo- 
tions without this fetter, in natural language of 
our own time, with rhythm if you please, but 
not necessarily in lines of regular length. Let 
us consider the content rather than the form of 
our poetry." 

"There must," says Ezra Pound, "be no book 
words, no periphrases, no inversions. There 
must be no cliches, set phrases, stereotyped, 
journalese — no straddled adjectives (as 'addled 
mosses dank') — nothing that you couldn't in 
some circumstance, in the stress of emotion, say. 
Every literaryism, every book word fritters 

January, L919, 

CA \ \l>l l.\ BOOh IMA 


auav a scrap of the reader's patience, a scrap of 
his sense of your sincerity. When our really 
feels and thinks, one stammers with simple 
speech." Elsewhere he gives as his ideals: 

1. Direct treatment. 

'2. Use absolutely no word that does not 
contribute to the presentation — use no 
superfluous word, no adjective which 
does not reveal something. Avoid ab- 

3. As regards rhythm, compose in the se- 
quence of the musical phrase, not in se- 
quence of a metronome. The rhythm must 
correspond exactly to the emotion or 
shade or emotion to be expressed. Your 
rhythm structure should not destroy the 
shape of your words or their natural 
sound or their meaning. 

To illustrate what this prophet of free verse 
means, take the 23rd Psalm. The metrical ver- 
sion used in the Scots Kirk is rhymed and runs: 

The Lord's my Shepherd; I'll not want. 

He makes me down to lie 

In pastures green ; he leadeth me 

The quiet waters by. 

The Authorised Version has no inversions, such 
as "down to lie," "pastures green," Quiet wa- 
ters by," but follows the natural sequence of 
thought. Its lines are of irregular length, but 
who will say it has not just as much claim to 
be called poetry? At any rate it is "free 
verse ' ' : 

The Lord is my Shepherd : I shall not want 
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures 
He leadeth me beside the still waters. 

One modern, who in certain of his verses prac- 
tises the direct simplicity and unfettered 
rhythm which Ezra Pound preaches is ( 'arl 
Sandburg, a Chicago poet whose chief handi- 
cap is that he seems to have read nothing earlier 
than Walt Whitman. As a result he lacks self- 
criticism, is to often unmusical, and is therefore 
best read in anthologies. His "Under the Har- 
vest Moon" has admirable felicity of phrase: 

Under the harvest moon, 
When the soft silver 
Drips shimmering 
Over the garden nights, 
Death, the gray mocker, 
Comes and whispers to you 
As a beautiful friend 
Who remembers. 

Under the summer roses 
When the flagrant crimson 
Lurks in the dusk 
Of the wild red leaves, 

Love, With little hands, 

i lomea and touches you 
With a thousand memoi 

And asks you 

Beautiful, unanswerable questions. 

Bead the little nine line word picture I 
and you must admil that rhyme and uniform 
symmetry of syllables are non-essentials: 

Desolate and lone 

All night long on the lake 

Where fog trail-, and mist creeps, 

The whistle of -., boat 

< alls and cries unendingly, 

lake sonic lost child 
In tears and trouble 

Bunting the harbor's bre 
And the harbor's eyes. 

Carl Sandburg is not always so inspired. He 
likes to be thought a roughneck, and prints as 
poems what mighl better be .■kissed as indiffer- 
ent prose. Take for instance "lee Handler'": 

I know an ice handler who wears a flannel 
shirt with pearl buttons the size of a 

And he lugs a hundred-pound hunk into a 
saloon icebox, helps himself to cold ham 
and rye bread, 

Tells the bartender it's hotter than yesterday, 
and will be hotter yet tomorrow, by 

And is on his way with his head in the air and 
a hard pair of fists. 

He spends a dollar or so every Saturday night 
on a two hundred pound woman who 
washes dishes in the Hotel Morrison. 

He remembers when the union was organized 
he broke the noses of two scabs and 
loosened the nuts so the wheels came off 
six different wagons one morning, and 
he came around and watched the ice 
melt in the street. 

All he was sorry for was one of the scabs bit 
him on the knuckles of the right hand, 
so they bled when he came around to the 
saloon to tell the boys about it. 

A little of this kind of thing at first amuses, 
but very soon it palls. The truth is that the 
vers librists write too much or at least have too 
much published. You have to wade through 
acres of camouflaged prose to find the thrill 
of sincere emotion. Rhyme at its worst was 
never so verbose as this. Too many of the vers 
librists fancy that a catalogue of names or epi- 
thets is impressive, whereas it is merely dull. 
Walt Whitman who introduced this fashion, 
suffers the penalty. Walt is more often prais- 
ed than read. 

Vers hire is too often used as a cloak for 
slipshod, slovenly writing by a host of eharla- 



January, 1919. 

tans, of whom the most impudent are to be 
found in the 1917 volume of a publication en- 
titled "Others," e.g., Walter Conrad Arens- 
berg whose "Axiom"' I quote: 

From a determinable horizon 

spectacularly from a midnight 
which has yet to make public 

a midnight 
in the first place incompatibly copied 
the other 

in observance of the necessary end 

the simultaneous insularity 

of a structure 
a little longer 

than the general direction 
of goods opposed 

These, however, are but the campfollowers of 
the movement parading as soldiers, and their 
Falstaffian braggadocio provokes little more 
than derision. Yet in spite of the eccentrics, 
the fact remains that verse of a very high or- 
der has been written in the last twenty years 
without the metrical and rhyming conventions 
of preceding centuries. Within the last ten 
years just as fine poetry has been written in free 
verse as in rhyme, and poets are foolish to deny 
themselves this freedom from metrical fetters. 

Rhyme is the natural refuge of the minor 
poet. Without its aid he is unable to create 
a phrase which has much chance of being re- 
membered. Without its aid in many cases he 
could not write anything at all. It is the rhyme 
which suggests his thoughts. He makes the 
throstle sing because it rhymes with spring, his 
sky is blue because it rhymes with dew. Now, 
if the thought suggested by a rhyme is really 
a good thought, there is no harm done. It is a 
good thing for the race when a child is born of 
love. It is also a good thing for the race when 
love is born of a child. The chances are then 
all the greater that there will be more children 
to follow. 

In the ease of Keats, whose manuscripts with 
all their variant readings and corrections have 
been at the mercy of Buxton Forman, there is 
lie question that the rhyme was often father 
to the thought. So that the minor poets do 
rhyme in good company. 

The vers librists are also in good company. 

Shakespeare's plays are dated by the preval- 
ence or paucity of rhyme; the rhyming plays 
are for other reasons also proved to be the ear- 
lier. Sidney Lanier in his "Science of English 
Verse" points out that Shakespeare in his later 
plays such as "Measure for Measure*' uses so 

many run-on lines and phrase groups which 
insert pauses within the body of the line, that 
the line group is practically obliterated for the 
ear. Were it obliterated for the eye also by the 
typesetter, Shakespeare would admittedly be- 
long to the vers librists. Collins in his " Ode 
to Evening" discards rhyme successfully in a 
metre which is not blank verse although it re- 
tains a symmetry of lines. 

Such, however, was the charm of carefully 
handled rhyme that it could not be killed. It 
was well suited to the English temperament, 
which always has preferred melody to orches- 
tration and tunes to tone pictures. 

In the hands of certain poets of rich vocabu- 
lary rhyme has proved an added charm to fine 
thought. The most ardent champions of free 
verse admit the magic of John Keats. Take 
the '"Ode on a Grecian Urn," for instance, the 
second verse : 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play 
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear 'd 

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone : 
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not 
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; 
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, 
Though winning near the goal — yet, do not 
grieve ; 
She cannot fade, though thou hast not 
thy bliss, 
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair ! 

Yet so far from being a necessary quality of 
poetry, rhyme is at the best a convention. It is 
possible to write real poetry in rhyme just as 
it is possible to express real grief while wear- 
ing a top hat and frock coat at a funeral, but 
there are other ways also both of writing poetry 
and of expressing grief. 

Of all the forms of rhyme, familiar to Eng- 
lish verse of the last fifty years, the most 
severely conventional is probably the Sonnet, 
and particularly the Petrarchan form. This 
form of Sonnet requires the poet to find four 
rhyming words twice over within eight lines, 
a strain on vocabulary which was too much for 
Shakespeare who appropriated an easier form 
of Sonnet for his particular use. However, the 
minor poet of to-day revels in this Petrarchan 
form. The result has been an appalling output 
of distorted language and twisted thought. Such 
a metre is as fatal to natural movement of 
thought as the average corset is to the female 
figure. Of course if you are used only to the 
corsetted figure, you may think the Venus of 
Milo indecent. 

January, L919. 



Rhyme is essentially an appeal to the ear, but 
the ear is doI the only avenue of approach to 
the human intelligence. In the days of the bal 
hnl monger, poetry was more spoken than read, 
Imi in these days of the printed page, verse is 
read a hundred times to once when it is said 

Free verse which in practised hands allows a 
Line to a phrase, however short or long that may 
be, presents the thought in the form which 
most easily gets home to the reader. The wri- 
ter of five verse who chops his lines irregular- 
ly, without any method or reason except to be 
eccentric, is merely a poor craftsman who does 
not understand his tools. Hut the skilful wri- 
' ter of free verse, to use the phrase of a printer, 
••makes type work.'" and "making type work" 
is just as legitimate an aid to the poet as the 
repetition of a note in rhyme. 

There are, of course, slaves who become so 
used to their servitude that they would be un- 
happy as freemen, and so there are rhyming 
poets who shudder at the thought of free verse. 
It savours to them of license. And yet if they 
only take courage and brave an ignorant ridi- 
cule, how much could they accomplish? I 
think, for instance, of Sara Teasdale, whose 
"Love Songs'" was voted by a committee of the 
Poetry Society of America the best book of 
poems published in 1917. Sara Teasdale is the 
most skilful and dainty of rhymers — rather 
thin in thought but perfect in technique. Of 
her ' ' Love Songs ' ' there is only one in free verse, 
but how much higher it stands than the others 
in intensity. "But Not to Me" is typical of 
her rhyme: 

The April night is still and sweet 
With flowers on every tree; 

Peace comes to them on quiet feet, 
But not to me. 

My peace is hidden in his breast 

Where I shall never be ; 
Love comes tonight to all the rest. 

But not to me. 

Compare with this her unrhymed poem 
' ' Summer Night. Rivei side 

In the wild, soft summer darkness 

How many and many a night we two together 

Sat in the park and watched the Hudson 

Wearing her lights like golden spangles 

Glinting on black satin. 

The rail along the curving pathway 

Was low in a happy place to let us cross 

And down the hill a tree that dripped with 

Sheltered us. 

While your kisses and the flowers, 
Palling, falling 
Tangled my hair .... 

The frail white stats moved slowly over the 

And now, far oil' 

In the fragrant darkness 

The tree is tremulous again \\ ith bit 

For June comes back. 

Tonighl what girl 

Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her 

This year's blossoms, clinging in its coils? 

Between the formal symmetrical rhymed 
verse and the irregular fi verse there are cer- 
tain poems with lines of irregular length, hut 
still rhymed, which may he called transition. 
Notable among these are | ms by T. S. Eliot, 

Ford Madox Hueffer and Conrad Aiken. T. S. 
Eliot has a curious -kill in suggesting atmos- 
phere -the atmosphere particularly of English 
middle class life — least inspiring of subjects to 
the ordinary poets — as for instance in the 
"Portrait of a Lady," the opening of which 
runs : 

Among the smoke and fog of a December af- 

You have the scene arrange itself — as it will 
seem to do — 

With "I have saved this afternoon for you"; 

And four wax candles in the darkened room. 

Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead ; 

An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb. 

Prepared for all the things to be said, or left 

We have been, let us say. to hear the latest 

Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and 


Conrad Aiken who is technically one of the 
most expert of the younger American poets, and 
who is a critic rather than a defender of un- 
rhymed verse, is particularly happy with this 
transition form in his poem "Disenchant- 
ment." The most impressive use of this form 
is however, that by Ford Madox Hueffer. who 
with unconventional rhythms and unexp 
rhymes keeps the mind alert to music of extra- 
ordinary charm. Here for instance are the 
ing lines of that wonderful poem called 

This is Charing Cross ; 

It is one o'clock. 

There is still a great cloud, and very little 

light : 
Immense shafts of shadows over the black 

That hardly whispers aloud. . . . 
And now ! . . . . That is another dead 




January. 1919. 

And there is another and another and an- 
other .... 

And little children, all in black, 

All with dead faces, waiting in all the waiting- 

Wanderiug from the doors of the waiting room 

In the dim gloom. 

These are the women of Flanders: 

They await the lost. 

They await the lost that shall never leave the 

They await the lost that shall never again come 
by the train 

To the embraces of all these women with dead 
faces ; 

They await the lost who lie dead in trench 
and barrier and fosse 

In the dark of the night. 

This is Charing Cross; it is past one of the 
clock ; 

There is very little light. 

There is so much pain. 

And it was for this that they endured this 

gloom ; 
This October like November, 
That August like a hundred thousand hours, 
And that September, 

A hundred thousand dragging sunlit days 
And half October like a thousand years. . . 
Oh. poor dears! 

In this Chicago anthology of "The New 
Poetry," edited by these leaders of the modern 
poetry, I find only one poem ascribed to a Can- 
adian, and that Canadian does not appear in 
the Valhalla erected by Mr. John Garvin in his 
encyclopaedic volume of Canadian poets. Bliss 
Carman is dismissed by the Chicago editors as 
belonging to the nineteenth century — the one 
ewe Canadian lamb who apparently counts in 
the twentieth century being a lady of the name 
of Constance Lindsay Skinner. Born in Brit- 
ish Columbia, this lady was brought Tip among 
a tribe of Indians and the poems cited are her 
interpretation into English of the Indian spirit 
and romance. They are "free verse," and to 
me are fine verse — even though they do not 
rhyme like Mr. Garvin's galaxy of stars. Here 
is one called "The Song of the Search": 

I descend through the forest alone. 
Rose-flushed are the willows, stark and a- 

In the warm sudden grasp of Spring; 
Like a woman when her lover has suddenly, 

swiftly taken her. 
I hear the secret of the little leaves. 
Waiting to be born. 
The air is ;i wind of love 
From tin- wings of eagles mating — ■ 
o eagles, my sky is dark with your wings! 
The hills and the waters pity 
The pine I rees reproach me. 
The little moss whispers under my feet, 

"Sou of Earth, Brother, 

"Why comest thou hither alone?" 

Oh, the wolf has his mate on the moun- 
tain — 
Where art thou. Spring-daughter? 
I tremble with love as the reeds by the river, 
I burn as the dusk in the red-tented west, 
I call thee aloud as the deer calls the doe, 
I await thee as hills wait the morning, 
I desire thee as eagles the storm ; 
I yearn to thy breast as night to the sea, 
I claim thee as the silence claims the stars. 
earth, Earth, great Earth. 
Mate of God and mother of me, 
Say, where is she, the Bearer of Morning, 
My Bringer of Song? 
Love in me waits to be born, 
Where is She, the woman? 

Bliss Carman is discarded by these Chicago 
anthologists probably because of his recent 
verse, which certainly seems to have lost Ihe 
original fire. Yet his unrhymed verses in the 
cycle entitled "Sapho" belong to this century, 
and are better than many of those print- 
ed. Take for instance these two: — 

The courtyard of her house is wide 
And cool and still when day departs. 
Only the rustle of leaves is there 

And running water. 

And then her mouth, more delicate 
Than the frail wood-anemone, 
Brushes my cheek, and deeper grow 
The purple shadows. 

There is a medlar-tree 

Growing in front of my lover's house, 

And there all day 
The wind makes a pleasant sound. 

And when the evening comes, 
We sit there together in the dusk, 

And watch the stars 
Appear in the quiet blue. 

These two poems are frankly inspired by 
Greek spirit and follow Greek rhythms. Yet 
they are simple and direct, and belong to to-day 
just as much as to two thousand years ago. Had 
the later Bliss Carman developed on such sim- 
ple forms of expression, Canadian poetry might 
well have been the richer. 

Although the output of poetry by Canadians 
is considerable, so far it has been only minor 
poetry — in certain cases of admitted charm and 
in many cases of technical excellence. There 
is, however, no strong vigorous voice of individ- 
ual note whose message arrests attention from 
the whole English-speaking world. There is 
nothing in Canadian poetry on as impressive 
a scale as Canadian landscape or commensur- 
ate with Canada's vast forests, great rivers and 
tremendous distances. 



I w miilcr w hether i li is is nol due in pa rl al 
[easl in the shackles of rhyme, to the metrical 
conventions which Canadian poets have almosl 
without exception blindly accepted. How can 

the spirit lit' a half-tamed new continenl I s 

pressed in a courtly seventeenth century jingle? 

In the case of one of the finesl of the young 
Canadian singers, i find that these shackles 
chafe Arthur Stringer, who in spite of a re 
cent lapse into purely commercial movie melo 
drama has given evidence of greal literary abil 
ity and is a lyrical poet of no mean order. I 
remember how six years ago 1 was thrilled by 
a few lines of verse ascribed to him by a Can- 
adian paper. They were headed 'One Night in 
the North West. ' ' and ran : 

When they flagged our train because of a 

broken rail, 
1 stepped down out of the crowded car. 
With its glamour and dust and heat and babel 

of broken talk. 
I stepped out into the cool, the velvet eool. of 

the night. 
And felt the balm of the prairie-wind on my 

And somewhere I heard the running of water, 
I felt the breathing of grass. 
And I knew, as I saw the great white stars. 
That the world was made for good! 

You will find that verse in his volume of 
poems entitled "Open Water.*' Now listen to 
what Arthur Stringer say-, in his preface to that 
book : — 

.Modern poetry is remote and insincere, not 
because the modern spirit is incapable of feel- 
ing, but because what the singer of today has 
felt has not been directly and openly express 
ed. His apparel has remained mediaeval. He 
must still don mail to face Mausers, and wear 
chain-armour against machine-guns. The one- 
time primitive directness of English was over- 
run by such forms as the ballade, the chant 
royal, the rondel, the kyriell, the rondeau and 
the rondeau redouble, the virelai and the 
pantoum, the sestina. the villanelle, and last. 
yet by no means least, the sonnet. 

The twentieth century poet, singing with 
his scrupulously polished vocalisation, usual- 
ly finds himself content to re-echo what has 
been said before. He is unable to "travel 
light"; pioneering with so heavy a burden is 
out of the question. Rhyme and metre have 
compelled him to sacrifice content for form. 
It has left him incapable of what may be call- 
ed abandonment. 

Unable to express himself adequately in the 
conventional tradition of end-rhymes, Arthur 
Stringer therefore takes to free verse. In this 
mode he is not always successful i1 is not so 
easy as it looks — a certain monotony due. 1 

thing, i" too greal regularity of line lengths, 
weakens the effect of some of his experimi 
But on the whole he gives an impression of in- 
and sincere emotion which comes refresh- 
ingly after so much conventional rhyming. Here 
arc two typical verses ; 


Remote, in some dim room. 

On this dark April morning suit with 

I hear her pensive touch 

Fall aimless en the keys. 

And stop, ami pla\ again. 

And as the music wakens 

And the shadowy house is still, 

How all my troubled soul cries out 

For tilings I know not of 

Ah. keen the quick chords fall. 

And weighted with regret. 

Fade through the quiet rooms; 

Ami warm as April rain 

The strange tears fall, 

And life in some way seems 

Too deep to bear! 

The thin gold of the sun lies slanting on the 


In the sorrowful greys and muffled violets 
of the old orchard 

A group of girls are quietly gathering apples. 

Through the mingled gloom and green they 
scarcely speak at all. 

And their broken voices rise and fall un- 
utterably sad. 

There are no birds, 

And the goldenrod is gone. 

And a child calls out. far away, across the 
autumn twilight; 

And the sad grey of the dusk grows slowly 

And all the world seems old | 

Duncan Campbell Scott is another establish- 
ed Canadian poet who has experimented with 
free verse, though not so extensively or with 
such success as Arthur Stringer. Here is his 


The Earth moans in her sleep 
Like an old mother 
Whose sons have gone to the war. 
Who weeps silently in her heart 
Till dreams comfort her. 

The Earth tosses 

As if she would shake off humanity, 

A burden too heavy to be borne. 

And free of the pest of intolerable men. 

Spin with woods and waters 

Joyously in the clear heavens 

In the beautiful cool rains. 

ing gladly the dumb animals. 
Aid sleep when the time conies 
Glistening in the remains of sunlight 
With marmoreal innocency. 



January, 1919. 

Be comforted, old mother, 

Whose sons have gone to the war; 

And be assured, Earth, 

Of your burden of passionate men, 

For* without them who would dream the 

That encompass you with glory? 
Who would gather your youth 
And store it in the jar of remembrance? 
Who would comfort your old heart 
With tales told of the heroes? 
Who would cover your face with the 

All rustling with stars. 
Ami mourn in the ashes of sunlight, 
Mourn your marmoreal innoceney? 

You will find the poem in the volume called 
"Lundy's Lane"— and such as it is. it seems 
to me the best in the book. 

A few months ago Isabel Kcelestone Mackay 
sent me a book of her verses called "Between 
the Lights" on the flyleaf of which she wrote, 
"I think that 'Indian Summer' is almost the 
only one that's any good." Now is it a coin- 
eidence that -'Indian Summer" is the only poem 
in that book in which the rhyme is almost neg- 


I have strayed from silent places. 
Where the days are dreaming always; 

And fair summer lies a-dying, 
Roses withered on her breast. 
I have stolen all her beauty. 
All her softness, all her sweetness; 
In her robe of golden sunshine 
I am drest. 

I will breathe a mist about me 
Lest you see my face too clearly, 
Lest you follow me too boldly 
I will silence every song. 
Thro' the haze and thro' the silence 
You will know that I am passing; 
When you break the spell that holds you 
I am gone. 

In the last few months Mrs. Mackay has come 
under the spell of free verse, and although she 
has not yet discarded rhyme, she finds an ease 
of expression in this newer mode which comes 
as a relief after the old hunt for rhymes. Ar- 
thur L. Phelps is another Canadian poet who 
is very nearly a convert. The most perfect 
thing in Marjorie L. C. Pickthall's "The Lamp 
of Poor Souls" is her free verse "Improvisation 
on a Flute." 

Put yourself in the place of the writer whose 
soul is burning with a great message. What 
would the Songs of David or the Song of Solo- 

mon have been if they had had to conform to 
the rules of the rhyming dictionary? Job had 
many grievances, but the Lord never asked him 
to reply only in sonnet form. It is a great 
thing for English literature that this "chain 

Author of "Drums Afar," "Hearts and Faces, 


mail," as Arthur Stringer calls it, is being 
laid aside — an admirable costume for a fancy 
dress ball but no longer suited for this freer 
world. It would be a great thing for Canadian 
literature if it kept pace with the times instead 
of lingering in the drawing rooms of the early 
Victorians. The times are moving. Dynasties 
are falling, are being swept away. The whole 
world is aflame with a war against the over- 
bearing tyranny of military caste. The voice 
to-day is the voice of the people, not the voice 
of a special caste. So too with poetry, where 
metrical rhyming forms are only the shibboleth 
of imaginary rank, of imaginary finish and 
style, of imaginary caste. They are a fashion 
which for seven hundred years has dominated 
certain languages of Europe, a fashion, how- 
ever, which shows every sign of passing away, 
and being relegated like the harpsicord and the 
crinoline into the domain of the museum and 
of history. 

January, 1919. 



Francis Grierson 



AMONG contemporary men of letters no one, 
I think, gives so unique an impression as 
Francis Grierson. Long ago he proved himself 
of the immortal fellowship of the great essay- 
ists, at the same time proving himself a master 
of the essay in an unprecedented manner. And 
prior to this literary manifestation, the world 
knew him as a new and remarkable power in 
musical improvisation. 

In his double capacity of musician and of 
writer he owes nothing to any school or any 
master or method. To both arts he brought a 
singularly instinctive knowledge. "Don't 
study," said Auber, the French composer, after 
hearing Mr. Grierson play when he was yet a 
youth. "Perhaps if you study music you will 
lose, or at least spoil, your strange gift." And he 
did not study. He let mind and fingers lead 
him where they would through the chromatic 
tints and tones of instantaneous melody. 

Then, after the musical side of his nature had 
predominated for many years, he turned at 
middle-age to literature. And again in this art 
he allowed his "strange gift" free play. lie 
improvised in the medium of prose as rhythm- 


ically, themically, dynamically, as he had im- 
provised on the piano. Improvisation is, indeed, 
the law of his being, the secret of his power, the 
quintessence of his uniqueness. He reminds us 
somewhere that "the true authoritative mood is 
instinctive; it is not put on as a warrior would 
don a coat of mail." And the words strike the 
keynote of his own moodal temperament. 

All essays have, or should have, the air of be- 
ing an impromptu. But the Grierson essay leaves 
one with no impression of being cunningly made 
to appear as if dashed off under a single im- 
pulse. Its immediacy is fundamental. It is 
rooted not so much in the pencraft as in the 
electric propitiousness of its author's personal- 
ity. A personality which, no matter how long 
the period of waiting, never utters itself through 
the written word until the imperative mood is 
reached. It is this sudden flash of irresistible 
illumination that constitutes the impromptu 
mood of .Mr. Grierson's essays. As an essayist 
he is the psychic improvisatore. 

The oneness of Mr. Grierson's nature is again 
to be found noted in his seclusion. His musical 
personality found, and still finds — for he re- 



January. 1919. 

tains to this day his rare gift— its best exp 
sion in presence of a small group of sympath 
listeners. He rarely pleys in largt' isscm- 
blies. And in like manner his literary per 
ality reaches out to the appreciative few. His 
literary appeal is not a wide one, save in a par- 
ticular sphere. He never writes for the "great 
public.'" He is a mandarin of letters. I 
can imagine nothing more unfortunate happen 
ing to Mr. Grierson than to be "acceT-tcd" in 
the most popular sense of the term. For his 
fine eclecticism in art and thought, while re- 
strictive in its appeal, is one of the brightest 
facets of his alert and scintillating mind. Nor 
is there any tedious Pharisaism in his acute 
feeling of selection. It is intuitive and sincere. 
It is inspired by an unfailing sense of the econ- 
omy of moods and emotions. It is inspired also. 
that subtle egotism of the intellect, and p rhaps 
chiefly, by a clairvoyant fa 'ulty of piercing 
through the temporal to tie' eternal. 

It is easy to miss the rare, preponderant spir- 
ituality which infuses Mr. Grierson 's aristoc- 
racy of intellect and spirit. The word "provin- 
cial" is sprinkled through his pages; a certain 
ironic //</;//( /(/• tinges his keen discriminal 
and the casual reader exclaims: "The superior 
hi!" But the diligent eye detects not dis- 
dain of tie' lesser, but innate love of the best. 
"Character," writes Mr. Grierson, "distinguish- 
es one man from another, and gives identity; 
true personality distinguishes one man from all 
others, and gives originality." He is one con- 
scious of possessing that potent personality, and 
acutely aware that such original potency spi 
from the soul, from man to man. Ilis egotism, 
ifore, as Hazlitt said of Cobbett's, is "full 
of individuality and lias room for Very little 
vanity in it." 

It may be that much of Mr. Grierson's at- 
traction lies in a singular equality of indepen- 
I individuality and imperturbable imperson 
ality. The quality and character of his ideas 
mpersonal ; their manner and method strik- 
ingly personal. Early in life he put from him 
the "hypothesis of chance," as bo calls it: 
as youth ripened into maturity, more and more 
did the law of phenomenal relativity in casual 
things become the touchstone of his sympathies 
and sentiments. It is this consciousness of un- 
conscious correspondence that forms tie- artistic 
consistency of his essays. That is the fluid 
that binds the whole together, and that under- 
lies his critical valuations and his intimate ut- 
terances alike. He weighs everything, pi rsons, 
principles, practices, in this scale of infinite har- 
monious progress. With clairvoyanl ubiquity 
he floats and flows with its recondite flux. Yet, 
he is never obscurely rged in metaphj 

abstractions. It is the concrete seen in the lar- 
ger movement of a psyehic progression that is 
always his point of departure. He is a practical 
mystic: subtle in thought yet substantial, clear 
and direct in treatment. In short, his feet are 
firmly planted on the earth while his eyes fol- 
low the Gleam. '•Sonic writers," he complains. 
"inhabit the seventh floor of intellect. We nev- 
er walk in to see them, we take a lift and go 
up: we. visit them by a process of mechanics 
and metaphysics — but we are always glad to 
get back, even by sliding down the balustrade." 
In his capacity of thinker. Mr. Grierson is not 
of this brain-befogging fraternity. He inhabits 
the ground floor of philosophic speculation, 
even if it has a sub-space of things foreign to 
conventional thought and contains, above all, 
that ■■(irru'ri boutique" of self-seclusion so dear 
to the heart of Montaigne. 

.Just here, it may be well to peer for a mo- 
ment into the privacy of that "arrien 
boutique," for Mr. Grierson charms by a ssrene 
spirit of detachment. Singular it is that one 
who has sei n so much of the world should be 
so iit; nil by it in his tastes and opinions. 

i livini v. liter has had a wider European ex- 
:iee His personal history reads like a 
romance. Horn in England, he was still in his 
first year when his parents emigrated to Am- 
erica. After a boyhood spent in the Lincoln 
country and in St. Louis on the eve of the Civil 
War. he returned, in youth, to Europe, and for 
twenty or more years travelled at will through 
tin principal capitals and towns. His wonder- 
ful musical gift won him early fame, and his 
alar qualifications of mind brought him 
into touch with the makers and shapers of the 
world, political, social, artistic and intellectual. 
He knew at that period the hardships of a Bo- 
hemian existence and the privileges of success. 
Yet. throughout this Ion": contact with great 
men and women, this nomadic wandering along 
the fair-ways and by-ways of life, he took on 
no colours unnatural to himself. He drew much 
from books, more from human intercourse, but 
most of all from deep thinking on original lines. 
Everything in his writings relating to this 
period of his career, is the full expression of 
himself in relation to these things. When we 
read his "Parisian Portraits." for instance, in 
which lie gives us vignettes of Mallarme, Ver- 
laine, Princess Helene Racowitza, Pauline 
Viardot-Garcia, Princess Bonaparte Ratazzi, 
and others famous in art and society 
with whom he talked, and of whose hos- 
pitality he partoolc at that time, we observe 
that it is the humanist close to the coil of human 
ity yet persisting in his own being, who studies 
these men and women of genius. From the first 

January, 1919. 


he seems in have had a mind thai moved in 
singular isolation, under all circumstances, in 
whatever company. Some men are born : 

Montaigne was < of these; Francis Grierson 

is another. He moves always with the cycle 
of his own experiences. 

I>ut, to remain with the impression I'm' the 
seclusion which his work exhales is traceable 
solely to an instinct of self-dependence, would 
be a grave mistake. H derives Eundamenl 
from that amalgam of possession of one's self 
and of a timeless mind which moves freely 
through time that has already been noted as his 
■animal characteristics. Individual, and with 
a vigour and boldness of verdict which surprises 
uh?le t charms, Mr. Grierson is absolute iu his 
■ wn sphere of experiene? and intui^on. But 
the bed-rock of his absolutism is the law of pro- 
gressive psychic harmony which, as we have 
seen, is the central sun of his thought from 
which all rays radiate. Witness the following 
extract from an essay on "The Psychic Power 
of Genius": 

When Walter Savage Landor said: "Give 
me ten competent minds as readers," he knew 
that the dynamic force of his intellect would 
harmonize with the latent or active forces of 
ten competent minds unknown to him, and so 
act and react on others. He knew that the 
psychic waves evolved in his brain would 
flow on through others, fulfilling the intended 
mission of an inexorable and immutable law." 

It is the recognition of an "intended mis- 
sion" in the law of intellect that underlies his 
own intellectual absolutism. We feel, when 
reading him, that we are in the company of one 
who has' come to terms with a clear, strong vision 
of life evoked from personal knowledge, yet who 
is. at the same time, acutely aware of its alli- 
ance with the ordered onflow of intuitive 
energy. Hence, he is detached even from his 
own detached self-possession, since his main view- 
point is that of a timeless movement from which 
the element of chance has been eliminated. 

Yet, if he is somewhat of a Determinist, he is 
not a facile optimist. Moreover, his quietude 
is marked by no creed of quietism. He is em- 
phatic about the imperative quality of the orig- 
inal mind, maintaining that he who is absolute 
in his own sphere of intuition "will no more 
think of tempering his speech with smiles, or 
his writings with suave apology, than a general 
would think of asking a traitor's pardon before 
having him executed." And he will brook no 
idea of persons of talent being "instruments" 
of higher powers, his claim being that "the high- 
er powers are always the powers of the individ- 
ual." Like Bergson, he fuses individual energy 
and the vital push of life's harmonious advance 

in one in vement. Perhaps il pi 

tome of his idea of the personal and the psychi 
cally mathematical, as well as of the practical 
nature of his mysticism, is to be round in this 
passage : 

Everything in the world of intellect and 
inspiration is produced by natural means. 
Then- is no visible line between the material 
and the spiritual, human consciousness bi 
only the last and highesl i le of the physi- 
cal; for the laws of mind harmonize with 

those of all the forces know n in matter. 
What we call psychical manifestations are 1 1 i 1 1 
distinct from other manifestations of natural 
law, and we have ceased to talk about the 
"super-natural," science having rendered the 
word meaningless. 

Prom such a passage one L'ets a glimpse of 
that sanity and proportion which characterise all 
the utterances of this man of rare spiritual vi- 
sion. And to complete the picture of his unique 
universality, we have his spirited confession 
that "we shall not reach finality until the hist 
flicker of light goes out on the shores of silence 
and eternity." 

These generalisations may perhaps reveal 
something of the point of view which runs 
through Mr. Grierson 's work as a whole. But 
they must not be allowed to overflow my sp 
and it is time to take a closer survey of his 
essential qualities and characteristics. 

Mr. Grierson is an essayist in a new manner. 
His style is aphoristic to a degree unprecedented 
in the annals of the English essay. He has an 
unusual power of prismatic focussing in trench- 
ant phrases. There is little sequential flow in 
his essays; the thought, which is strong, original 
and individual, comes in swift flashes of im- 
promptu illumination. It leaps forward, it 
recoils, with bewildering movement. Almost 
every sentence is an entity in itself, summing 
up a whole mental position. Yet. the cohesive 
power remains unimpaired, for in each essay 
the barbs of thought of which it is composed are 
radiations of a single, swift, vibrating mood; 
while their vivid, immediate manner is allied to 
a rhythmic sense which tones and shades the 
lightning flash of epigram into a consecutive 
unity of haunting, measured mush'. He is 
acute, but never angular. His prose reminds one 
of Pater's in its oracular impression, although 
it exhibits a power of condensing language for- 
eign to the long-paragraphed style of the older 
writer. And his essay-form is peculiarly hi! 
own, for he has been the first to combine in 
perfect unison the vigorous spring of the aphor- 
ism proper and the subtle, quiet movement of 
the traditional essay. His magical and penetra- 
tive aphorisms arc replete with a philosophic. 



January, 1919. 

force which opens a door to many moral vistas. 
Moreover, most of them are unlikely to tease 
posterity with the note of their hour, since they 
are steeped in that universal perspicuity which 
traverses the ages. 

Mr. Grierson first appeared in print in the 
year 1882, when he published "Miscellaneous 
Discourses," a series of lectures which he had 
delivered in London 'in 1880, and whose titles, 
"Militarism in Germany," "The Influence of 
Modern Literature from a Spiritual Stand- 
point," revealed a "modern" alive to the ques- 
tions of the hour. But his first genuine literary 
adventure was an opuscule of aphorisms and 
short essays, written in French, and entitled 
"La Eevolti Idealiste." The modest brochure 
was published in 1889. Mr. Grierson was liv- 
ing in Paris at the time, where the air was then 
tremulous with the first stirrings of an idealis- 
tic reaction. The spirit of Positivism was wan- 
ing; Naturalism was in its death-throes; men 
were turning against the elimination of meta- 
pbysics from philosophy, of the faculty of won- 
der from life. Already, Zola was perturbed by 
the sound of voices crying in the midst of the 
triumphant march of exact knowledge, "Assez 
de verite, donnez-nous de la chimin." Already, 
a number of young writers, calling themselves 
Symbolists, were responding to the cry with a 
literature drenched in the mystic vapours of 
the unknowable. But the movement was still 
awaiting an articulate voice when "La Revolte 
Idealiste" appeared, suggesting tentatively but 
in prophetic accents, the direction of its goal. 
The result was startling but abiding. Within 
a few weeks after the publication of the little 
book, the author was hailed by fraternal spirits 
in many lands as a prophet of the new mystical 
phase then groping its way into philosophy and 

To this movement of Modern Mysticism, 
Francis Grierson undoubtedly belongs. He was 
a herald of its dawn ; he is still engaged in put- 
ting his index finger on the points of its pro- 
gress. He has a special mysticism of his own, 
if you will, evoked by the singular seer-like 
quality of his nature. But he is of the com- 
pany of Maeterlinck and Bergson, and of the 
increasing number of writers whom we may call 
spiritual emancipators. That is to say, he is 
of that band of modern mystics who have not 
laid rude hands on the work of the rationalist, 
emancipators of an age that is spent, but have 
extended their great mental bequest into the re- 
gion of the unseen. 

Mr. Grierson may best be described as an 
alert and original advocate of the "third king- 
dom." He sees the ultimate uprising out of the 
fusion of intellect and feeling, of reason and in- 

tuition, of science and soul, of a psycho-artis- 
tic and psycho-mental faculty capable of get- 
ting nearer to life's meaning and its expression 
in form than anything that has gone before. In 
his later volumes of essays, "Modern Mysti- 
cism," "The Celtic Temperament," "The Hu- 
mour of the Underman," where his philosophy 
of life is intimidated with a rare sensitiveness 
of expression, this idea flashes forth at unex- 
pected angles from the various themes. He may 
be discussing "Beauty in Nature," or letting 
his probing irony run over the subject of 
"Parsifalitis," but below the surface is the 
current of th's conviction. 

"La Rcvoltr I dial hie" revealed Mr. Grier- 
son at the outset as a watcher on the tower ; and 
perhaps one of the principal ingredients of that 
marked flavour of author which pervades all 
his writings, is a strange clairvoyance. His seer- 
like faculty is most pronounced in his "Invin- 
cible Alliance," where the predictive sentences 
fad one after the other like the stroke of an elec- 
tric bolt. The unity of the Anglo-American 
people, the beginning of "a reign of affairs, the 
like of which the world has never seen," an 
"agnostic agony," a new era which "will be a 
forcing time not only for grains, but for in- 
dividuals" — these are some of the predictions 
of this volume, which was published in the 
spring of 1913 ; predictions which the war has 
brought within bounds of fulfilment. Once 
again, as in 1889, Mr. Grierson is here a pro- 
phetic force, the man who reasons from reality to 
reality with incisive intuitional discernment. 

I said at the beginning that Mr. Grierson 
never writes for the "great public." But there 
is always an exception to prove every rule ; and 
I must now qualify that statement, for his 
latest volume of essays. "Illusions and Reali- 
ties of the War," is nearer to a general liter- 
ary appeal than anything he has yet written. 
The eclectic only crosses the pages of this book 
at rare intervals. It is a direct and drastic ut- 
terance of a drastic time, penned by one who is 
forever aware of the vitality of language. Mr. 
Grierson has the power, when dealing with a 
period of history, of producing its internal at- 
mosphere by a subtle affinity of style. His 
"Valley of Shadows" conjures up the spiritual 
and intellectual atmosphere of the Illinois 
prairie in the days preceding the Civil War; 
and the feat is accomplished not only by draw- 
ing the simple, native characters with sharp, 
impressive strokes, but by a simplicity and lan- 
guid leisureliness of diction which exhales the 
tranquility of primitive habits and thought. The 
main theme of the "Parisian Portraits" is the 
passing of Napoleon and the Second Empire; 
and the intellectual atmosphere of the dying 

January, 1919. 

CANADIAN i:ooi\)l.\S 


period is again portrayed no1 alone by clear, 
intimate pictures of its greal personalities, bu1 
by a piquancy and finesse in the mode of ex- 
pression which is affianced to the very essence 
of their passing salons. And now again, when 
he would summon up the internal atmosphere 
of the present moment of "drastic material ac- 
tion" he adopts a manner in consonance with it 
which makes his hook the very embodiment of its 
intangibility. This, we suspect, rather than the 
abandonment of the combination of acuteness 
of intellectual faculty and delicate literary ex- 
pression which marks his earlier essays, is the 
secret of the more conventional flavour of " Il- 
lusions and Realities ef the War." The sub- 
ject is less exclusive than those of his former 
volumes; the style is less exclusive; and it is 
well, for this is a book that should be in the 
hands of all those who would learn something 
forcible and convincing about that modern 
psychology which the author claims is playing 
"the dominant role" in the war. 

In the essay "An Era of Surprises," are 
these words: "What makes the present so mar- 
vellous is the train of surprises that is passing 
at express speed while only a few observers get 
a clear view of the panorama of events seen 
from the window 7 ." The batch of essays with 
which he presents us in "Illusions and Reali- 
ties of the War" is the view which has passed 
under his own keen, inspecting gaze. And he 
puts his index finger on the true and the false 
in the panorama of events. He writes scath- 
ngly of "Prussian Provincialism," and warn- 
mgly on "The New Teutonic Pcychology. " 
With devastating frankness he diagnoses the 
irony of "The Ironic Iron Crosses," and an- 

swers convincingly the question, "Does War 
Change Human Nature'.'" ,\ .... , to be ex 

pected, prop] y is also lodged in Ids pen. ami 

in "The Awakening" and "The Great Recon 
struetion" we gel glimpses of the future. And 
the constructive consistency of this volume is 
so satisfying. It has its own clear point of 
view. Its contents, though dealing with sub- 
jects as diverse as Anglo-American Unity and 
The Rag-Time Rage, are all of a piece. Taken 
as a whole these penetrative essays achieve their 
aim, and give a clear and acute picture of the 
internal atmosphere of the political, social, and 
spiritual changes taking place in the stress and 
agony of the war. 

The charge of too much interpretation and 
too little criticism may be laid against this eon 
sideration of Francis Grierson and his work. 
But the exegctical method has been purposely 
adopted, for since exegesis is far more personal 
than criticism it serves better to disengage from 
an author's literary output the personality lurk 
ing in the background. And Grierson 's books 
have that precious quality of personality to a 
superlative degree. He is a modern Montaigne, 
writing always within the bounds of his owii 
temperament and with the objective authority 
of one who has thought things out for himself 
His mind is of the generating order rather than 
the creative. He is creative in his memorable 
expressions and in the transmittance of tem- 
peramental impression rather than new thought. 
This is why one must view him exegetically. 
Moreover, if I recommend him without compro- 
mise it is in the hope of adding still further 
to the empire of one who regards literature as 
an addition to life. 


CANADIAN BOOKMAN January, 1919. 

Potted Prejudices 


I HAVE applied this title to the sayings of 
a friend of mine, much given to epigram 
and irony. He was a great student of the mas- 
ters in those styles, and cherished many a choice 
example, always increasing his store. I re- 
member how he would quote from Herodotus 
the tale of Leander swimming across the Hel- 
lespont to Hero and back again, and how he 
prized its conclusion :—" So they say who tell 
the tale, but if yon ask me, I should say that 
he went in a boat." 

Or he would take from Clarendon the pic- 
ture of the presbyters around the sick-bed of 
Cromwell, telling- God Almighty what great 
things the patient had done for Him, and how 
much more need God still had of his services. 
From old Thomas Fuller he quoted still more 
largely, as, for example, that "quirking" com- 
ment: "Such is the charity of the Jesuits that 
they never owe any man any ill-will, making 
present payment thereof." And you may lie 
sure that Heinrich Heine, that Prometheus of 
all wit, was to him an inexhaustible tonic in 
a world of compromise and cant. 

His own adventures of the tongue were brief 
and mainly double-edged. They were gaunt and 
spare and never showy. Paradox he despised, 
defining it as platitude standing on its head. 
He had, indeed, a passion for defining. He call- 
ed it putting salt on birds' tails. He despaired 
of ever touching the bird. The besl of defini- 
tions, he thought, was after all nothing but a 
prejudice. Perhaps it was the more inform- 
ing just on that account. He shook his head 
over the attempts of scientists to concoct defini- 
tions so durable that they would force their 
meaning upon some curious man from Mars who 
might one day visit the ruins of this alien world. 
Take, for instance, this of the Standi) I'd Metre: 
"A piece of metal whose length, at 0° centi- 
grade is 1,553,164 times the wave length of the 
red line of the spectrum of cadmium, when the 
latter is observed in dry air at a temperature of 
15 on the ordinary hydrogen scale at a pres- 
sure of 664 millimetres of mercury at centi- 

What would the Martian know of centigrade, 
of mercury, of the ordinary hydrogen scale? 
Prejudice and all, or perhaps because of the 
prejudice, he, if a psychologist, might get more 
meaning from my friend's definition of the 

Metric System as a damnable contrivance to 
turn Anglo-Saxondom into a collection of ciph- 

You perceive that my friend has a bit of a 
temper and a certain bias against science. It 
leads him to say of 

A GUINEA-PIG— That it is a small labor- 
atory pet, supposed to react like a tiger 
to experiments that are never made in 
the jungle : 

and to gibe at 

AN EXPERIMENT— As an attempt to 
know nature by means that nature does 
not know: 

He has wearied of the facile conclusions up- 
on heredity drawn by those whose chief occu- 
pation is to promote bigamy among sweetpeas, 
and has had the temerity to remark, apropos of 

MENDEL'S LAW— That barring bees, and 
given a sufficient number of genera- 
tions; you can generally find what you 
are looking for : 

He is even more captious in describing 

EUGENICS — As pessimism doing its best; 
or how to improve everybody when 
you think that nobody can be im- 

My friend had at one time some small experi- 
ence of law. Perhaps he was waiting an uncon- 
scionable while for the distribution of an in- 
heritance, which will account for this somewhat 
acid definition of 

AN EXECUTOR — As one who is always in 
Europe : 

He must, too. have been involved in a trial it- 
self, for he remarks that 

AN EXPERT WITNESS— Is one whom it 
costs a considerable sum to contradict: 

It was his boast that in his short day. he had 
done a useful amount of public service, for he 
sums up 

A COMMITTEE— As talk: baulk: walk- 
There ran through many of his remarks a 

gentle irony of scepticism, as when he says of 


C I \ l/'/ I A BOOH l/.I.V 


OMNIPOTENCE Thai i| is the power to 
avoid the final teal of one's limitations. 

It is in a somewhal sterner mood thai he 

A HYPOCRITE (in,, whose preaching is 

superior to my practice. 

Apparently he means qui accuse, s'excuse. Iii a 

similar spirit he used to confess, with some heat 

ing of the breast, thai 

A BORE — Is anybody who prevents from 
being a bore. 

His outward life was plain ami strict, a 
fitted so universal a critic; but a due regard for 

others as well as his sense of humour kept him 
from extremes. 

SACKCLOTH -He said, is a rough ma- 
terial likely to scratch more hacks than 
the wearer's. Ami so he avoided it. 

Indeed, for all his practice, emotionally he 
leaned towards Epicureanism. Therefore, he 
praised happiness as more than you need to have 
for what you do not need to do. 

But he could never have been a sybarite. His 
uncomfortable sense of responsibility was too 
strong. When asked, for instance, of "Women's 
Rights, lie sternly answered, ".Men's Duties,' 
Freedom to him was something given rather 
than something- got. He knew his Kant, and 
rang the changes on that magnificent motto: — 
"Act so that the maxim of thy spirit may he 
capable of being a universal law." 

He used this as the test of all actions. Crimes. 
he said accordingly, are what nobody could 
commit if everybody committed them. 

I should tell you, if you have not already 
guessed it. that he was a bachelor: perhaps, in- 
deed, too critical to be tamed to domestic uses. 

"MARRIAGES" — He once remarked, "are 
made in Heaven. I will wait till I get 

And again — "If the grande passion is always a 
solo, who wants the duets?" 

Perhaps there was a special reason for his 
unattached condition. 

CONSTANCY— I have heard him aver, is 
an authorized impertinence. 

Was this bitterness, or only a playful perver- 
sion of logic? as thus: — "An authorized con- 
stancy is not impertinent. An unauthorized con- 
stancy must be impertinent." Was this a divid- 
ed heart, or only, as the logicious say. an un- 
distributed middle ? 

And yet there must have been some suscep- 
tibility in him, or he would never have paid 
his homage to beauty as — the presence of an ex- 
ceptional quantity of something that is not 
there. And you may be quite sure that there 
was a flame somewhere down in him. for it was 
he who said of 

TRAGEDY Thai it v. indifferei 

io cine's indiffen 

This is the word of one who would rather perish 
than stand aloof, lie put it more lightly: "It is 
onlj the ineffectual angel that never singes his 

I would not have you think my friend a cynic. 
He had indeed laughed at cynicism as "Adam's 

its first collar," and defii 
critic s.,i ,,!' lit',- by one who has not lived." 
He has said of 

DEMOCRACY 'I iiat ii wis government of 

the vulgar, by the vulgar, for the vulgar; 

W That it was the knowledge of 

how to i e-arrange the pasl of what to 
do when you can no longer do it : 

HOPE- That it is Faith with her clothes 

stolen : 

Yet he had a sound belief of his own, which 
entitled him to declare of 

PRAGMATISM That it is a broad cr I 

that is quite satisfactory to these only 
w hose creed is still broader 

It was. in fact, his very sense of irony that 
made him endlessly impatient of so raw and fu- 
tile a thing as cynicism: and this sense of irony 
was not restricted to comment. He found the 
world itself saturated with irony. He saw 
again and again in operation a merciless logic 
of contrariness that almost overawed him as he 
bowed before its master-pi s. He was un- 
moved when noting that the Cods make instru- 
ments of our pleasant vices wherewith to scourge 
us. For him the play was far more pointed when 
he perceived that men may be betrayed by what 
is fine within. The thing that might have been, 
frustrated by the effort to attain it: the ful- 
fillment of half a hope murdering the hope it- 
self: his armour stifling the warrior: his devo- 
tion defeating the lover; the heart of the priest 
made ashes by the heat of his prayer; — these 
for him were the dramas the Cods could attend 
when all the sad wit of men had been reduced to 

And when he asked himself by what mood 
men should meet these bitter humours, the very 
irony he summoned up was a confession of baf- 
flement. Resignation, he answered, is a dose 
that fits us for more of the same. The meek in- 
herit the earth — and like worms can never be 
rid of that dusty inheritance. 

And yet, and over all. he was an optimist. 
The last thing I ever heard him say. was the 
paraphrase of history as "looking at a star in 
a well." This implied a certain confidence in 
humanity as much as in the Heavens. A month 
later the war splashed like a stone into his well. 
and he went out to die for his star. 



January, 1919. 

Revery of a Bookish Librarian 


IT is a sign of youth to desire knowledge, to 
long to know of the great world, to iden- 
tify oneself with adventure and to project 
oneself into other existences. Some people 
retain that youthful spirit, and, even to what 
is external old age, preserve that freshness of 
view, that many sidedness of interest and that 
enthusiasm which is so attractive to all their 
friends. They have a background in life, a 
mental background, that is so varied and 
adaptable as to accommodate itself and seem 
in some degree suitable to almost every scene 
or experience of daily life. 

I suppose there is no one without a mental 
background, and there are probably no two 
persons with exactly the same mental back- 
ground. I wish that some artists could realize 
this truth. Our mental backgrounds are con- 
ditioned by our experiences in life, and there- 
fore are ever changing. We sometimes speak 
of the mental background as our "education," 
and too often this is looked upon as a state in- 
stead of a process. We are being changed 
in our attitude or being influenced by every 
thing we meet. Therefore, we can understand 
those who claim that our environment is all 
important in our lives. 

If that environment is unpleasant or monot- 
onous — and sometimes these terms are inter- 
changeable — we long for a life and experi- 
ences which take us away from our surround- 
ings. These we find in the association of peo- 
ple whose experiences have been collected by 
some one who has given them form and pro- 
portion so' that we can share that life and en- 
joy it with them. This may take the form of 
a drama with actors upon a stage, or it may 
be pictured in book form. In either case it is 
successfully done when without effort or awk- 
wardness we mingle freely with our new ac- 
quaintances. We are not interested — indeed 
we cannot be — in a picture of life all the de- 
tails of which are familiar to us ; nor again 
in a picture of life in which none of the de- 
tails are familiar. Just as in a company we 
need some familiar acquaintances to make the 
company congenial, but we wish also to meet 
some different persons, to make some new ac- 
quaintances, so that the experience will bring 
pleasure. This occurs to me when I hear 
people say that they wonder why Canadians 
do not road more Canadian books, and in- 

deed they go' so far as to say that they think 
a novel about Toronto would be of intense in- 
terest. I can think of nothing which to me 
would likely be duller. 

I read that I may enlarge my acquaintance, 
and I have this great advantage in using 
books for this enlargement. I have the pleas- 
ure of choosing the persons with whom I can 
associate. The people who live in books are 
just as real and many times vastly more in- 
teresting than the people who live in our cit- 
ies or towns and whose oral production is the 
sign of their existence. 

Then again those whom one meets every 
day are the shadows of the universal types 
with whom one is acquainted in the great 
chronicles of life in the books. I often see 
Pecksniff on King Street, Micawber on Vic- 
toria Street, Jingle drops into the Club some- 
times, the Baxters of the immortal "Seven- 
teen" live near me and I often see Leacock's 
Dean Drone on Avenue Road. 

In other words, I read that I may under- 
stand life better and make friendships — that 
most desirable of all earthly things. Friends 
are the greatest asset in the world — if you 
don't use them — and the friends in books are 
not usable but merely enjoyable and inspiring. 
And when two of us meet who have read the 
same book with pleasure we take a keen de- 
light in talking of "our mutual friends" 
for they are his as well as mine, and often he 
and I understand each other better because of 
our mutual friends. 

Indeed, we who are older and getting older 
ought to read, I suppose, like boys and girls 
who believe in the reality of the characters de- 
scribed, who live the lives of those characters, 
especially those who do something, conquer 
somebody or something, and who dislike so 
much the disillusionment indulged in by some 
older person who takes the joy out of life by 
saying that "it is only a story and never hap- 

The practical question back of all this is the 
lack of opportunity with so many to become 
acquainted with these desirable persons. In 
many places there are but few books, and in 
many other places there are no persons to 
introduce us to these desirable and interesting 
books. The loneliest place in the world is a 
big city. One reason is that there are so many 

January, L919. 



possibilities Eor pleasure if one could 011I3 be 

introduced to One or two, and thus effect an 

entrance. Even so in the big world of books 

where eaeli year we have so many books de- 
siring to be received into good book society 
where there will be immortality. Some few 
are desirable, many more are too ordinary to 
be of more than passing interest, and still 
others are only flashy imitations. 

A public library is the great world of books 
where only the vieious and needlessly vulgar 
are excluded. The ordinary rubs shoulders 
with the "high-brow" and one is sure in such 
a cosmopolitan crowd to find some of his 
. friends. It may have the defect of its virtues, 
however, in that its organization has so far 
found difficulty in doing more than merely 
furnishing the place where one may meet the 
people in the books. The ideal, which would 
be reached quicker if the financial means were 
provided, is that there be a mediator or intro- 
ducer between the visitor or newcomer and 
the "inhabitants" of the shelves. The re- 
viewer in the old time journals used to do 
something towards that end, but he is almost 
extinct. Certainly his imitator in our daily 
press is but a forty-ninth cousin so far as in- 
tellectual relationship is concerned, and he 
smacks too often of the business and the ad- 
vertising pages. 

My greatest pleasure is to introduce some 
person of my acquaintance to some of my 
"book-fellows," and when I find a chap, say 
like Archibald Marshall, who takes me away 
from my surroundings and introduces me to a 
lot of charming people in a different environ- 
ment, I cannot rest until I tell some person of 
the pleasant company in which I spent last 
evening. He says, "What were they like?" 
and I tell him just enough to interest him 
and not enough to satisfy him. 

I recognize that some persons would not be 
at home in their company, and therefore I 
must exercise discretion. Not long ago I met 
two men. one of whom asked me if I had read 
anything very interesting lately. I recom- 
mended a book which contained characters 
which I thought would interest him. Not long 
afterwards I met his companion, and he up- 
braided me with poor judgment, for he had 
procured the book I had recommended, and 
had found it deadly dull. My answer was 
that I was not at all surprised. If he would 
recall the circumstances, he would remember 
that I had not recommended the book to him, 
but to his companion. 

I am supposed to know something of circu- 

lation of books, as the chief Librarian of the 
largest library system in our country, and 
more and more I am convinced that there are 

thousands id' persons Longing to break into 
book fellowship, hut there are not those who 
can and will introduce them; so that they will 
enjoy the Mieiety. I try it every year with 

some s| ial author, anil so far with very grati 

fying resulta 

Out of the Storm 

FIERCE threatenings stand in the sky to- 
Fear uncouth in the sky — 
Garner morn thy sovran light 
For my love's sleep! 

Waters of drowning beat on my brain, 

Flung sheer out of the sky — 
Soft as the hum of a fairy rain ^ 

Soothe my love's sleep! 

Sweep the clouds out of the sky, dread wind, 

Dead weight out of the sky — 
With hushed feet thread the lanes star-lined 

Of my love's sleep 

Sword of God ! hast reft me of sight 

Flashing dire from the sky? 
Strike if thou must with merciful might 

Through my love's sleep! 

All the night's wrath have I watched and live, 

Deepen 'ng wrath in the sky — • 
Age-loved Night ! some mother-touch give 

To my love's sleep! 

At last a wan light, a tremor of death, 

Fainting flush in the sky — 
Die away painless, fluttering breath, 

In my love 's sleep ! 

Believe it is hope that is born, mad brain — 

God's face dim in the sky! 
Break dawn ! with aureoled pain 

Arch my love's sleep! 

By day it seems such a little thing — 

Night and a haunted sky; 
But Death or Life it bore on its wing 

To my love's sleep. 

J. A. Dale. 



-January, 191!). 

Clio in Canada, 1918 


HISTORICAL studies in Canada have always 
been vigorous. Canadians have taken an 
interest in their country's past that has 
been in some respects exceptional. Since the 
outbreak of the Great War, however, this inter- 
est has somewhat waned. The all-absorbing de- 
mands of the present, the enlistment in the army 
of some of the younger historians, the high cost 
of printing and paper — all these have combined 
to produce a slump in the output of Canadian 
historical literature. During 1918 this slum 
has been especially marked. It is significant 
that during 1918 the Champlain Society, which 
for many years now has issued annually one or 
two volumes of first-class importance for Can- 
adian history, has ceased publication for the 
time being; and even the veteran "Review of 
Historical Publications Relating to Canada," 
which has attained its twenty-first birthday, 
has contented itself this year with issuing 
merely an index of previous volumes. 

The year, however, has not been barren. In 
the sphere of polities and government, Mr. Ed- 
ward Porritt has published his "Evolution of 
the Dominion of Canada." An aftermath of the 
harvest of books published in 1917, celebrating 
the fiftieth year of Confederation, has appeared 
in the Abbe Groulx's "La Confederation Can- 
adiennr." and in Mr. Gosnell's " Fifty Years of 
Confederation," a collection of newspaper 
sketches. Two books of a narrower appeal are 
Professor W. P. M. Kennedy's "Documents of 
the Canadian Constitution," and Professor Le- 
froy's "A Short Treatise on Canadian Consti- 
tutional Law," which contains an admirable 
historical introduction by Professor Kennedy. 
In the field of general history, a book of con- 
siderable importance is the Rev. R. G. MacBeth 's 
"The Romance of Western Canada"; and two 
books of unusual iuterest just issued are Pro- 
fessor George M. Wrong's "The Conquest of 
New France," and Professor W. B. Munro's 
"Crusaders of New France." Unfortunately, 
these last two books are published in a series of 
fifty volumes, entitled "The Chronicles of Am- 
erica," published by the Yale University Press, 
and cannot be procured except in the set. Last- 
ly, there are the books about the war. The third 
volume of "Canada in Flanders," which has 
been written by Major Charles G. D. Roberts, is 
now published; a most informing pamphlet, 
entitled "Canada's War Effort, 1914-1918," 
has been issued by the Director of Public In- 
formation at Ottawa ; and a rapidly growing 
list of books embodying the experiences of re- 
turned Canadian soldiers, repatriated prisoners, 
and war correspondents has seen the light. These 
books are the raw material of history; but per- 
haps they do not fall strictly within the spher • 
of this survey. 

The most important of these books is perhaps 
Mr. Porritt'- "Evolution of the Dominion of 

Canada,"* more on account of the possi- 
r.ilities latent in it than on account of wnai ii 
actually achieves. It is not an easy book to re- 
view, because oue cannot be quite certain of the 
goal which the author has set before him. I 4 " 
his aim was to write a handbook of Canadian 
Government, he has included in his pages much 
more than was necessary, if indeed books like 
Lord Bryce's "The American Commonwealth" 
or President Lowell's "The Government of 
England" may be taken as criteria. A good 
deal of the book, for instance, is taken up with 
a historical sketch of Canadian development. 
If, on the other hand, Mr. Porritt 's object was 
to write a review of Canadian constitutional his- 
tory, his arrow has fallen short of the mark. 
With him, Canadian constitutional history be- 
gins, for some occult reason, at 1783. He ig- 
nores those years pregnant with fate which fo'- 
lowed the conquest of Canada by the British; 
and he omits all mention of the French period, 
though a knowledge of that period is necessary 
to a proper understanding of the Province of 
Quebec. One is uncertain, too, whether the 
book was intended for popular use, or for the 
use of students. If it was intended for the man 
on the street, Mr. Porritt might well have omit- 
ted the foot-notes with which his pages are en- 
cumbered; if it was intended for the student, 
his references should have been, not to second- 
ary authorities, but to the sources of Canadian 
history. This feature of his work is indeed a 
serious blemish. When one finds him leaning 
on secondary authorities like Miss Weaver's "A 
Canadian History" or the books published in 
the popular "Chronicles of Canada" series, 
one begins to have doubts about his method of 
writing history. The day is past when tertiary 
authorities are deserving of respect. 

Mr. Porritt is not thoroughly familiar with 
Canadian history. It may be doubted whether 
Macaulay's schoolboy exists in Canadian schools 
to-day ; but if he did, he at any rate would know 
better than to credit Mackenzie and Papiueau, 
as Mr. Porritt does (p. 93), with having advo- 
cated responsible government in Canada before 
1837. This error, however, is pardonable be- 
side the statements that "military rule" ex- 
isted in Canada from 1763 to 1774 (p. 66), and 
that Prince Edward Island and British Colum- 
bia "came under the terms of the British North 
America Act" (p. 211). These are "howlers" 
worthy of being included in a schoolmaster's 
collection. And yet, despite these and many 
other mistakes, the book is not without a dis- 
tinct value. The chapters dealing with the gov- 
ernment of Canada will not be read by any Can- 
adian, no matter how learned in the law and 

•"Evolution of the Dominion of Canada: Its Gov- 
ernment riiel Its Politics.'' Bv Edward Porritt, New 
York: World Book Company." 1918. Pp. xix, 540. 

January, 1919. 


custom of the constitution, without interest and 
profit. Ii often happens thai an outside ob 
er will see things in a better perspective than 
those inside. Mr. Poi a Englishman li\ 

ing in tlic d tes, and the unusual angle 

from which he writes gives his sketch of Can 
iuliaii political institutions a freshness and vivid 
uess uo1 found certainly in sir John !■ 
dot's "How Canada is Governed" or in .Miss 
Agnes Laut's •■The Canadian Commonwealth," 
the only other two books which attempt to cover 
the same ground. If .Air. Porritt had confined 
himself to the present, and had left the pasl 
severely alone, his hook would have been on a 
different plane. 

The hooks on Confederation by the Abbe 
Groulx and by Mr new. 

and do not require more than mention. Nor 
dues Professor Kennedy's "Documents of the 
Canadian Constitution" need an extended no- 
tice. It is intended primarily for students of 
Canadian constitutional history, to whom it 
should be a boon, owing to tl ha1 other 

source-books of Canadian constitutional history 
are out of print. Prom the standpoint of the 
layman, it is a pity that Professor Kennedy has 
not included in his book a greater number of 
documents illustrating the history of the period 
since 1867. The book then would have had great 
value as a work of reference. But in selecting 
documents for a source-book of this sort, it is 
probable that no two people would agree com- 
pletely ; and it would be ungracious not to con- 
fess that Professor Kennedy has carried out a 
very necessary and admirable task in a way that 
leaves few loopholes for criticism. 

"The Romance of Western Canada "t is a 
book intended to be read by him who runs. It 
is a plain, unvarnished, but interesting account 
of the history of the Canadian West. As Sir 
John Willison points out in his "Foreword," it 
is vital that the people of Eastern Canada 
should know the history of the West: and the 
book should be a source of profit to them, as 
well as to the people of the West, for whom it 
was doubtli 3S primarily written. It is a story 
that is not lacking in picturesque elements. The 
adventures of the early explorers and fur-trad- 
ers, the struggle between the Hudson's Bay men 
and the Nor 'westers, the founding of the vision- 
ary Selkirk colony on the Red River, the Kiel 
rebellions, even the mushroom like growth of 
the West within the last generation — all these 
are instinct with drama and romance. Cana- 
dians do not perhaps always realize how for- 
tunate they are in the possession of a history 
second to none in those qualities which go to 
the making of a striking and picturesque narra- 

For writing the history of the West. Mr. Mae- 
Beth has unusual qualifications. A son of the 
Red River colony, he has lived through much 

♦"Documents of the Canadian Constitution. 1759- 
1915." Selected ami Edited by W. P. M. Kennedy. 
Toronto: Oxford University Press. 1918. Pp. xxxn, 

that he describes. His I k has therefore some 

what the character of that of an eye « iti 
Ten portraits of important figures in western 
history, such as Riel and Schultz, Norqnay and 
Greenway, drawn from life, give his | 
iginal value. At the same time, he has not neg- 
lected the printed materials already avail 
for the history of the West. His pages are not 

indeed burden, d. as are those of Mr. I'orritt. 

with fool notes and bibliographical references; 
but every paragraph betrays a long and fami- 
liar knowledge of his subject. In a book which 
purports to survey the history of the v 
West, it may perhaps be objected that Mr. Mac- 
Beth has devoted undue spi to the history of 

the Red River colony, the importance of wl 

in western history may easily 1 sagger 

But this is natural and pardonable in a son of 
the colony. In view of the cursory character 
of some parts of the book, one might wish that 
Mr. MacBeth had limited himself to those pass- 
ages in western history of which he has had per- 
sonal knowledge ; but in that case we should 
have lost the advantages of having a general 
survey. And without doubt the advantages of 
having a popular history of Western Canada 
written to some extent at first hand, with the 
vivid and veracious accent which such a char- 
acter gives it. arc not be despised, especially 
when it is written also with the rare charity and 
impartiality which Mr. MacBeth everywhere dis- 
plays. To the general reader "The Romance of 
Western Canada'' may be commended without 
reserve: and even the professional historian will 
not find it without value. 

Detailed reference to the books on New 
France by Professor Wrong and Professor 
Munro may well be omitted here until the en- 
tire series of "The Chronicles of America" is 
published, when Professor Skelton's '"The Can- 
adian Dominion," to be included in the same 
series, may also be reviewed. The general char- 
acter of these books may be indicated by saying 
that they are similar in type to "The Chronicles 
of Canada" published several years ago. They 
aim at telling the story, in a manner at once 
popular and scholarly, of some one phase of 
North American history. 

In the third volume of "Canada in Flan- 
ders"* Lord Beaverbrook has handed over his 
pen to Major Charles G. D. Roberts. Major 
Roberts tells the story of the Canadian Corps 
from the arrival of the Fourth Canadian Divi- 
sion in France in August. 1016, to the end of 
the fighting on the Somme in the late autumn of 
that year. During this period Major Roberts 
was himself with the Canadian Corps: and he 
has thus been able to draw, not only on the 
splendid collection of historical material which 
the Canadian Record Office has been making, 
but also on his personal observation. The book 
suffers, as do its predecessors, from the obvious 
limitations under which it has been written; 
indeed, the remarkable thing is that it has been 
possible to write it at all. Canada is the only 

t"Th£ Romance of Western Canada." by B. G. 
MacBeth. Toronto: "William Brlggs. 191*. Pp. xii, 
209. $1.50. 

•"Canada in Flanders." Volume III. By Major 
Charles G. P. Boberts. With a Preface by Lord 
Beaverbrook. Toronto: Ho.lder and Stoughton. 1918. 
Pp. xiv, 144. 



January, 1019. 

country which has attempted, during the actual 
progress of hostilities, to publish an official ac- 
count of the fighting in which her troops have 
been engaged. There must be an interesting 
story behind the publication of these books, 
when one considers the rigorous censorship 
which has elsewhere wrapped the details of the 
war in obscurity. 

Major Roberts' volume is a distinct improve- 
ment on it predecessors. There is in it none of 
that fulsome flattery of prominent officers and 
politicians which marred the first volume of 
' ' Canada in Flanders. ' ' As might be expected, 
the book is written in fine nervous English. 
The style is, if anything, a trifle reserved; 
though here and there Major Roberts opens out 
into a purple passage, such as that describing 
the appearance of one of the "Tanks" at Cour- 
celette, which deserves to become classic. 

Human details abound. The fickle fortunes of 
war are well illustrated in the story of the raid 
which nearly miscarried because "the bugler 
who was to have sounded the signal to retire 
fell into an exceedingly muddy and unsavoury 
shell-hole and lost his bugle." One can see that 
bugler in the mind's eye. One likes, too, the 
story about the Canadian soldier, covered with 
Somme mud and soaked with Somme rain, who, 
when challenged by a sentry's "Halt. Who goes 
there?" grunted, "Submarine U 13." When 
one remembers how much there must have been 
that Major Roberts would have liked to say, 
but has not been able to say, his volume begins 
to assume the character of a tour de force. 

Such are the chief contributions which the 
year 1918 has made to Canadian history. It is 
not perhaps a notable list ; but in war time we 
must be content with small mercies. 

A Desirable Compromise 


ELODY scarcely allowed, 
Discords the whole of the way, 
Such is "Good Music" to-day, 
Dull, and precipitous-browed. 

Sentiment, pathos gone wrong, 
Soft as the brain of a sheep, 
Pretty, and vulgar — and cheap. 

This is the Popular Song. 

Why are composers to-day 
Sloppy, or dry as a prune? 
Oh, for a Schubert-y tune 

Set in a Modernist way! 

J. E. Middleton. 

For War Doubts 

Life is a little section square, 

Cut from a picture vast and rare. 

If we could see the whole design 
We would not change a single line. 

— W. D. Lighthall. 

January, I'.H'J. 



Canadian Publishers and War 



ONE often hears the "man in the street," 
that vague and elfin maker of pronuncia- 
memtos, declare, with an Injured air, that 
America has shown her Knowledge of the value 
and effect of war propaganda, '"it that Canada 
has lagged far behind. Every possible force 
towards the securing of :i national will to 
trounce Germany has been harnessed by the 
directors of propaganda in the United States, 
our informant goes on. Moving pictures, per- 
iodicals, transportation, theatre, pulpit, daily 
press. — those in control of these have set their 
hand and seal to a definite and direct course 
heading propaganda- wards — down there. In 
Canada, alas and alack — and here the injured 
one shakes his head as he visualizes his coun- 
try going to the demnition bow-wows — we do 
not know the art of propaganda: we do not re- 
cognize its tremendous worth : we do not gauge 
its importance as a weapon in our national ar- 
moury, and so on. 

Canadian publishers of books, however, beg 
to be excused from taking the count. They 
don't agree. They think that so far as propa- 
ganda along effectual lines is concerned they . 
have done their bit. An examination of the 
facts seems to substantiate their contention. 

In over four years of w T ar Canadian publish- 
ers have distributed probably at least one thous- 
and different war books, all of which have had 
sales varying from one hundred only to twenty- 
five, thirty and forty thousand — old books and 
new books, wise books and foolish books, books 
intimately connected with and bearing on the 
Great "War and books that had no possible re- 
lation whatsoever. In fact, anything that men- 
tioned war, this war or any war, was a war 
book. As Canada was in the war, Canadian 
publishers followed suit. For Fall and Spring 
and Fall and Spring and Fall, bringing us to 
the end of 1916, war books had their innings. 
The public tired : it was the weariness that 
comes from over-feeding. But shortly America 
was to join the Allies, and Canadian publishers, 
to oblige their American connections, urged a 
renewal of the diet of war books. American 
publishers sold war books by the hundred thous- 
and — they had just entered the war. Canadian 
houses counted themselves fortunate, in most 
cases, to sell them by the thousand. The reason 
is patent. They had done their part as propa- 
gandists at a time when propaganda counted, 
and though their work in this cause did not 
cease till the war was over, the part that re- 
mained was not so vital in importance. The 
prime need was men : it is conceivable that a, 

potential aid to their securing and drumming- 
up was the sale of a certain few books, and par- 
ticularly in tin' early months of the war. 

War-time book publishing which has con- 
tributed to propaganda effort may be divided 
into six main classes, 

1. Books detailing the argument for the 
Great War. 

2. Books of adventure and experience. 

3. Books which were concerned to discover 
the Allies to the World. 

4. Books reflecting personal emotion. 

5. Books depicting the humorous side of 

6. Books developing the national attitude to 
Peace and Reconstruction. 

In the first of these classes come books like 
Sir Edward Cook's "Why the .Empire is at 
War"; "Germany and the Next War" by Bern- 
hardt Grave's "Secrets of the German War 
Office" (since much discredited but invaluable 
propaganda in its way). These two or three are 
each types of large numbers of titles which, in 
1915, the Canadian public read with avidity. 
The succinct, simple and complete statement 
of Sir Edward Cook as to British war aims, 
printed in both French and English, was pro- 
paganda of a very real kind indeed. The bra?- 
adoccio quality wf Bernhardi's book inspired 
the reader to a personal share in the task of 
settling forever all that kind of talk. 

In the second class, books of adventure and 
experience, there have been books touching on 
every phase of the war. The books of "Taff- 
rail" and "Bartimeus" in their way are epics 
of the splendid part the British Navy was 
playing, particularly in the opening months. 
"My First Year of the War." Frederick Palm- 
er's book, which had an amazing popularity, 
could not but stir the souls of men and impel 
them to some sort of effort. "Kitchener's 
Mob" by James Norman Hall told yet another 
story of the brave and srallant gentlemen who 
saved France and also England at the Batt 1 ^ 
of the Marne. Empey, a brutish looking ser- 
geant, thrilled fifty thousand Canadian readers 
by his "Over the Top." a book that tore the 
heart out of the personal experience of the com- 
mon soldier in the trench. Indisputably his 
book made many men make the decision that re- 
sulted in the donning of khaki. "Private Peat" 
was more ladylike in his treatment of the same 
theme, but he counted his readers in Canada 
by the tens of thousands. George Pearson's 
"Escape of a Princess Pat" — one of the finest 
pieces of descriptive writing in these many 



January, 1919. 

years— immortalised those first Canadians in 
the war. 

Books in this class, of course, are more numer- 
ous than in any other. There was excuse for 
most; reason for some, and all had the effect 
of harping on the one theme: that those they 
told of were doing their bit. The inferred in- 
terrogation was "What about you?" Certain- 
ly in the very fact of publishing such books Can- 
adian publishers were indisputably doing pro- 
paganda work that counted. 

Of books which attempted to clear up evident 
errors in the minds of neutrals — notably the 
United States before its entry— as to the reason 
for the Allies being at war, their part in the 
work and their way of bearing and doing their 
part, there were not enough. 

An outstanding example of this class was H. 
G. Wells's "Mr, Britling Sees it Through," 
probably the sincerest bit of work that Wells 
ever did. "Mr. Britling." I venture to think, 
discovered England and the English to Ameri- 
ca. It dwelt alike on their drawbacks, their 
foibles, their blunders, and their magnificent 
and wholehearted effort. It might have been 
written by an outsider who is commonly sup- 
posed to see most of the game, so shrewd, so 
meticulously truthful, so character-faithful 
was it, "Christine," by Alice Cholmondeley, 
was another book whose propaganda value along 
this same line was immense. It showed the Eng- 
lishwoman for what she was against the back- 
ground of the German mind and character. 
Margaret Sherwood's "Worn Doorstep," "A 
Hill top on the Marne" by Mildred Aldrich, 
and a few others all contributed to this end. It 
is important to remember that fiction played its 
part. "Changing Winds," by St. John Ervine, 
from the point of view of the character analy- 
sis, it contained, possibly belongs in the second 
class of which I have spoken. But it was in- 
directly the means of telling the truth about 
the Irish and the English in war time, and as 
such belongs in this third class. So does Mary 
Sinclair's "The Tree of Heaven," one of the 
greatest novels of oilr time ; we shall see it as 
such when we get away from these stressful 

This class could not be disposed of without 
mention of Ian Hay's invaluable propagandist 
book "Getting Together." Its author saw that 
the United States misunderstood the attitude of 
England and the English. He set to work and 
wrote a book which had an appreciable effect 
towards the end of sweeping away this misun- 

There are many other books which helped 
along this line of discovering the purpose and 
aim of the early Allies, notably Britain. Can- 
ada needed and therefore heeded such books. 

In the fourth class, books of verse had an im- 
portant place. The poignancy of Rupert 
Brooke's poetry, in view of his death, touched 
the world. John McCrae's "In Flanders Field" 
rang through two hemispheres. Bernard Trot- 
ter, in his "Canadian Twilight" and other 

poems, verse of exceptional merit, and Alan 
Seeger in his poetry, notably "I have a ren- 
dezvous with Death," stirred readers' in their 
respective countries to a sense of the high call- 
ing of which these sang so strikingly. Along 
another line Harold Begbie's verse "Fighting 
Lines" and, much more lately, Douglas Dur- 
kin's "The Fighting Men of Canada," sal 
glory of the rank and file in stirring fashion. 
In prose Henri Barbusse, whose "Le Feu" had 
an extraordinary sale, made us aware of the very 
filth and smell of warfare as the French poiltt 
knew it. The book had its place as propaganda. 
This class contained perhaps the most effective 
propagandist books of any. singe they appealed 
to the intellect. They were for the men of think- 
ing mind. They dealt not so much with the ac- 
tualities of warfare as with the thoughts and 
impulses and emotions of those making war, in- 
dividually each in his own corner of the world 

Empey in "Over the Top" may be said — if a 
vulgarism is permitted — to have "got them go- 
ing." But the soldier-poets laid bare their in- 
most thoughts; their message was for the stu- 
dents and thinkers. 

Very valuable propaganda indeed has been 
Bairnsfather's work, as a cartoonist, now pub- 
lished in five books. It was necessary that the 
lighter side of war be seen. There is a comical 
and humorous viewpoint as the soldier and sail- 
or know, and Bairnsfather's drawings and 
Edward Streeter's "Dere Mabel" did their part 
in emphasising it. Books in this class are few, 
but in putting them out publishers achieved re- 
sults as propagandists. 

The fifth class is important and daily grow- 
ing more so. To it belong such titles as Mr. 
Wells's "In the Fourth Year of the War," per- 
haps the sanest pronouncement on the attitude 
of the people composing the Allied nations to- 
wards Peace. Theodore Marburg's "Lea Erne 
of Nations" books and Mr. Dillon's "Eclipse 
of Russia" are two among many scores of pub- 
lications discussintr post-war problems. The fu- 
ture will bring many more, one ventures to 
think, as it is bound to bring a good deal of 
matter referring to the place in the sun, which 
the new Germany is to be permitted to hold. 

It should be said, in conclusion, that the pro- 
paganda work done by Canadian publishers has 
not been entirely haphazard. There has been 
plan and method in the decision to accept or re- 
fuse the average war book, and in the decision 
the fact of usefulness or uselessness from a pro- 
paganda standpoint has undoubtedly been a 
factor. The publishers might have paraphrased 
the saying of the old singer as to the relative 
value of hymns and laws and cried: "Let us 
make the reading of the people, we care not — ' 
makes the laws." They have treated their call- 
ing in these war years as a serious one and a 
high, and without their efforts the light of pro- 
paganda could not have shone to half the pur- 
pose it has shone. 

January, 1919. 



H. G. Wells Again Incandescent 

By J. A. DALE 

TIIK fiction of to-day is turning its atten 
tion very gravelj to education. Some 
'it' the mosl remarkable of recent n ivels 
"in to reveal the building-up or under- 
mining l of i baracter and mind, in read i 
the swiftly changing circumstances of the last 
few years. A whole school of brilliant writers 
have vividly portrayed the growing pains of 
modern youth, undergoing the process I' edu- 
cation in institutions [ess responsive than they 
to change. Never has there been an age so 
documented as this, so consciously and volum- 
inously recorded, thanks largely to the writ- 
ers of fiction. The future historian of our 
time will find sonic of his most living material 
in the records of sharp and subtle changes of 
atmosphere, in that most sensitive medium, the 
mind of youth. 

Here is a subject made for Mr. Wells. And 
now. too. is the moment suited to his genius 
when young and old (both ideas and people) 
are suddenly halted as by a sentry on the way 
they were carelessly treading. Of course many 
(people and ideas) will slink by : but Mr. Wells 
has both the determination ami the skill to 
make us face the facts as he very earnestly 
sees them. This goes to the root of Mr. Wells' 
success in this remarkable book. The pano- 
rama of society leaves a photographic, bio- 
graphic, record on his mind. His observation 
is so alert and his memory so crowded that, 
without his immense energy, his store of ex- 
perience would be a mere welter — at best an 
inexhaustible fund of anecdote. T have used 
the word ''genius" of this book. "Joan and 
Peter.** The justification could not be better 
said than in the famous passage of Coleridge: 
"To carry on the feelings of childhood into 
the powers of manhood; to combine the child's 
sense of wonder and novelty with the appear- 
ances which every day for perhaps forty 
years had rendered familiar . . . that is 
the character and privilege of genius, and one 
of the marks which distinguish genius from 
talents.'* Mr. Wells" observation is as fresh. 
as restless, as completely absorbed and as eas- 
ily distracted, as a child's. But with all this 
apparent incontinence of interest, there is the 
scientist's sense of the immanence of great 
principles in little things: and there is (though 
to a less extent I the artist's sense of their rele- 
vance to his composition. And behind all is 
a resolute, persistent, passionate ardour for the 
welfare of humanity. 

Judged simply as a story, the plot marches 
firmly and clearly throughout, without any 
of those violent unnatural expedients which 
Mr. Dixon Scotl in the case of "Marriage") 
justly called "artless." It is full of interest 
and excitement, with many a deft and happy 
touch. Some of its episodes are masterly; such 

as Peter's flying, -loan's dancing, ami the 

scenes in which Wilmington and -loan bring 

er to his senses. Indeed in the personal 

relations n, which the ordinary novel would 

its attention, the central characters 

form a moving study, much of it done without 
ous ulterior motive, and with an extreme- 
ly sensitive sympathy. -loan is a true hero- 
ine, drawn with insight and tenderness and 
strength, and in the working out of her rela- 
t'on t'i Peter .Mr. Wells has dealt successfully 
with a difficult psychological problem in very 
concrete terms. Many of the minor characters 
arc drawn with zest and skill, with the author's 
old wealth. of resource in satire, comedy and 
farce. Mr. Wells makes little further addition 
here to his series of studies in sex pathology; 
his deep and practised sensitiveness to the sex- 
ual under and over tones stands him in better He has drawn with clean justice and 
reverence a normal woman in her relations to 
men. in Dolly and Joan; while the distaste of 
Oswald and -loan and Wilmingtdn for mere 
vicious indulgence sets the whole matter in a 
more wholesome perspective, the benefit of 
which it is obvious that Mr. Wells himself 

Mr. Wells then gives us full measure in his 
story. Its epic scale is due to the fact, that 
the influences moulding the lives of his char- 
acters are realised as moulding the fate of 
society, especially of England, and the Brit- 
ish Empire. This gives him his chance for 
frank pamphleteerng which is bound to be 
very annoying to many of his readers, and 
intolerable to some. Like his own Oswald he 
turns a fierce red eye (the effect is greatly 
enhanced by its being om eye! on his con- 
temporaries. Probably there is no reader who 
will not find some source of irritation in 
these tirades; but it is the critic's business (and 
the wise reader's advantage) to keep his tem- 
per and arrive at a sound judgment. The 
11 vel is an improvisation, much of it masterly 
in the extreme, and unerring in literary skill ; 
but sometmes careless, and more often incom- 
lv worked out. Even for Mr. Wells' 
swiftly moving thought and instantaneous vis- 
ualisation, the actual amount of time spent in 
writing this too long novel has been too short, 
and the success of his workmanship follows 
the variations of his mastery over the particu- 
lar material in hand. Much of this belongs to 
the atmosphere of what Mr. Dixon Scott called 
ieties for scolding Society." in which Mr. 
Wells, like Mr. Shaw, was brought up. 

Much more essential, however, is what I 
am tempted to call, the modesty of Mr. Wells. 
He is of course a radical in type: take this 
known fact, and the present book, as data. He 
takes as his angle of vision a clearly defined 



January, 1919. 

character with a verifiable set of opinions, 
and tries it out against the actualites. Oswald, 
by his education in the Navy and in Africa, 
and by his mutilation in the heroic deed which 
gained him the V.C., is set apart from the or- 
dinary influences which mould the minds of 
people brought up (like the class to which he 
belongs) in a fixed circle of conventions. 
Still further removed by long absence and all- 
absorbing work, he returns to look at English 
society, at once with detachment and with a 
passionately clear ideal of the imperial des- 
tiny. The situation immediately becomes con- 
crete. He is not a mere critical spectator. He 
has to provide, within the resources of Eng- 
lish society and education for his wards Joan 
and Peter — an education which shall prepare 
them for their share in the imperial heritage 
of privilege and responsibility. This is the cen- 
tral theme. By the accidents of orphanage 
and birth Joan and Peter are similarly cut 
off, and their isolation is admirably depicted. 
It would be hard to find more excellent and 
appealing studies of childhood, in its inar- 
ticulateness and helplessness, yet in the imag- 
inative completeness of its world; all the fas- 
cinating interplay of dependence and inde- 
pendence. Having thus set his characters he 
leaves them to puzzle it out in the complex 
situations of their environment — puzzle it out 
as so many of heroes have done, as Mr. Wells 
has done himself, through a long career of 
thinking aloud in the hearing of the public. 

It would certainly be a paradox to say that 
Mr. Wells is not positive. But it is as certain- 
ly true that his fundamental quality is scien- 
tific — the testing out of hypotheses, a never 
defeated, if generally baffled, research. Oswald 
and Peter will follow their own experience 
and character in attempting to work out the 
puzzles of life, and Mr. Wells will give them 
every chance to arrive at their different con- 
elusions. Even Peter's Old Experimenter is 
only one phase of Mr. Wells' very experimental 
God — this time, an image made less in the 
likeness of man than a symbol of the whole 
process by which all life adapts itself without 
ceasing, to environments only dimly under- 
stood, and only capriciously friendly. It is a 
tribute both to Mr. Wells' science and his art 
that the problems over which he and his char- 
acters are exercised are left unsolved ; for they 
are the deepest of problems, and he leaves in- 
tact their final quality, that their solution is 
beyond us. Not that he is without clues, both 
in his science which has taught him what is 
known about the biological processes, and in 
his intense faith in the power of knowledge 
and trained goodwill. Mr. Wells has in some 
of his work shown a weakness for prophecy; 
perhaps the modesty I note here is a recent 
acquisition. But even in dealing with his main 

theme, education, of which he does know a 
great deal, he rejects the easy way of a pre- 
mature solution. It would take far too long 
to follow Oswald and his wards on their edu- 
cational pilgrimage, but those who are anx- 
ious about educational problems (they 
must be callous whom the war has not 
shaken into anxiety) will find them of ab- 
sorbing interest. The criticism is bitter and 
destructive; but what are the enemies? The 
mere list shows how fundamentally construc- 
tive the criticism must be. All his batteries 
are trained on stupidity, self-deception, cant, 
intolerance, ignorance, prejudice. If he at- 
tacks the schools, it is because he sees in some 
of them these very qualities, fraught with dis- 
aster past, present and future, being fostered 
in the very institutions which should destroy 
them. He blazes at the thought of the lost 
time, the lost power for good, the fumbling 
incompetence; "the generations going to 
waste, like rapids." He knows that man at his 
best can stop it ; but he knows, too, that we 
have as yet only "the faintest idea of the 
possibilities and responsibilities of education." 
The general fogginess about what education 
can and ought to do, and by what means — 
the debate carried on in vague, slippery terms, 
any* attempt to elucidate which leads to exas- 
peration — all this is well done. But it is only 
right to add that educational opinion and prac- 
tice is moving, and that some of Mr. Wells' 
school pictures already look old-fashioned. For 
the purpose of this novel he has in mind ex- 
clusively the training of those who are des- 
tined to belong to the "directing classes" — ■ 
the natural point of view of his Oswald. Even 
within these limits he can not convey a com- 
plete idea of English education. The Eng- 
lish way leaves so much to personal initiative, 
that the discontents and aspirations, becoming 
rapidly more articulate during the last fifteen 
years, have bred a promising freedom and var- 
riety. Neither are there any men more worthy 
to be called guardians than the best type of 
English public-schoolmaster, nor any more 
fruitful nurseries than the old universities. One 
of the world's great undeveloped sources of 
"wealth" is the bringing of this personal in- 
spiration to the character building, not of the 
happy few, but of every one with the capacity 
of response. Then the business of the com- 
monwealth will be done with more humanity 
and better workmanship — with fewer of the 
mistakes which depress and anger not Mr. 
Wells only, and with more of the steadfast 
purpose and trained knowledge which has gone 
into man's scientific achievements. That is 
the hope that lies deep in Mr. Wells' thought 
and gives it its extraordinary incandescence, 
("Joan and Peter." by H. G. Wells, Macmil- 
lan, Toronto, $1.75.) 

January, 1919. 




Drums Afar," by J. M. Gibbon 

y} V his second novel, bearing the resounding 
±J title "Drums Afar." Mr. John Murray 
Gibbon definitely establishes himself as 
the most important novelist domiciled in Can- 
ada. This is a much less sweeping statement 
than might appear at first sight, for Canada 
does not happen at presenl to be the abiding- 
place of any great number of novel-writers 
whose importance extends beyond the narrow 
limits of the cradle-bars of the infantile Cana- 
dian Novel. ~Slr. Gibbon is not a Canadian, is 
not trying to write the Canadian Novel, and is 
in no wise circumscribed by the cradle-bars. 
Although living in our midst, he writes honks 
which belong, by all the indications of style and 
contents, to the new Younger School of English 
fiction — and to a Scottish branch of it ; and to 
discuss him in relation to Canada is merely to 
evade the difficult task of placing him in re- 
lation to the other rising young novelists of 
Great Britain. We must he thankful (to Pro- 
vidence and the Canadian Pacific Railway'i that 
we have him in our midst, and that he is more 
and more devoting his art to Canadian subject- 
matter; but it would he absurd to claim him as 
a Canadian author or to assert that his hooks 
are the product of a Canadian environment. It 
is scarcely likely, even should he live here for 
the rest of his life, that he will ever he one of 
the parents of the Canadian Novel. He may. 
however, be one of the obstetricians assisting at 
its hirth; for he is certainly helping Canadian 
writers to see the pictorial qualities and drama- 
tic values of ranch of the current life of our 
country which they have been grossly neglect- 
ing in their ill-advised hunt for true Canadian 
romance in the lonely wastes of the hinterland 
or the vague and shadowy days of the past. 
"Drums Afar" makes the present-day life of 
Montreal a part subject (not the whole subject. 
hut quite an important part) of a very vivid 
and very romantic narrative, and puts the 
Windsor Hotel into current literature (perhaps 
into permanent literature — who knows?) by 
staging in one of its luxurious suites a very 
poignant and tremendously human love -quarrel 
between an Oxford graduate and the daughter 
of a Chicago millionaire. It is typical of our 
lack of confidence in our own "atmosphere" 
that no Canadian writer (even if one of them 
could have written this scene as well as Mr. 
Gibbon) would have dreamed of staging it in 
such a place. 

Novels concerning love and marriage between 
an English youth and an American girl have 
been plentiful enough in recent years, but none 
of them, we believe, has devoted quite so much 
skill and care to the portrayal of what the two 
parties, and their respective families and en- 
tourages, really think about the other country 
and its institutions and manners. The real 
theme of "Drums Afar" is the growth of un- 
derstanding between England and the United 

states; and Canada plays her pari chief 

a mediator in the pr< sa of mutual revelation. 

The Americans understand Canada in spite of 
her being British, and are thereby helped to a 
better understanding of the British themselves; 
the Britisher begins by scorning Canada Mr 
Gibbon refrains from giving as details of the 
behavior of noisy Canadians in England prior 
to 1914, which gave rise to this Bcorn, but leaves 
room for a horrible suspicion that some of our 
des Scholars were in part responsible) and 
ends by learning from Canada his own weak- 
nesses and acquiring a conception of Anglo- 
Saxondom which he could not have obtained 
from any number of years in Oxford. The re- 
sult is a development of mutual sympathy and 
understanding which is genuinely typical of 
the process which has been going on in all three 
countries ever since the war began to knead 
them together. 

The chief defect of the novel is one which is 
common also to "Hearts and Faces." the au- 
thor's earlier work, and to not a few of the 
younger English novelists. It is an excessive 
pre-oeeupation with external detail. Time and 
again Mr. Gibbon forgets all about his charac- 
ters in the joy of telling us all about some new 
place to which he has taken them. His informa- 
tion is illimitable. If it were not for the loss 
to the art of fiction, we should be strongly 
tempted to nominate him as successor to that 
Herr Baedeker who is now, we fear, permanent- 
ly dismissed from his post of chief guide-book- 
writer to the English-speaking traveller. He 
can give you the effect produced by a great 
mountain at sunrise, the ensemble of a famous 
restaurant, the decoration of Mrs. Van Schuy- 
ler's tea-room at Newport, the furniture of a 
Goettingen boarding-house, the noise of the 
Chicago Pit. each in twenty lines of crisp stac- 
cato sentences. At a conservative calculation, 
his hero and heroine in this novel travel between 
twenty and thirty thousand miles during the 
action, and the important part is that the read- 
er has to go with them. As a result, he is too 
busy studying the scenery to learn much about 
the character of his companions, and they never 
have time to stop and reveal themselves fully. 

For all that. Madeline Raymond, the Chicago 
girl with the lovely voice and the picturesque 
vocabulary, is drawn in sufficient relief to be 
a highly desirable, if not absolutely a loveable 
character, and as soon as she begins to take 
shape, which is not until nearly half-way 
through the volume, the story becomes much 
more gripping than when it was concerned 
merely with the university experiences, the Eu- 
ropean travels and the calf-love affairs of the 
comparatively shadowy Charles Fitzmorris. 
Owing to Mr. Gibbon's method, we know all 
about what Charles wears, and what he reads, 
and how he decorates his rooms, and what he 
thinks t^or rather what he says he thinks — much 



January, 1 ( J19. 

of the dialogue is merely a snappy exchange of 
opinions on all sorts of current topics), but we 
do not know much about what he is. beyond that 
he is a very decent sort of Oxford man with i 
ther more than the usual enterprise and ac 
sibility to new ideas, and that we are quite pleas- 
ed when he manages to win such a charming 
prize as Madeline — and wish he would not (>••- 
fordise quite so solemnly as he does after 
first "passionate kisses." 

"I believe I'm still a savage," she whispered, 
as she drew back panting for breath. 

As for Charles, he said: 

"I believe I would like you better as a savage than 
as a citified sophisticated Chicago girl. It is this 
raw primal nature that has bridged the ocean and the 
three hundred years between us. My God, how beau- 
tiful you are! " 

It is really wonderful how Oxford men can 
carry on psychological analysis in the most try- 
ing circumstan 

There are a number of excellent minor • 
act ts, though the plot flickers so rapidly and 
constantly that we seldom get a chance to con- 
template them carefully. Madeline's father is 
a good example of the best type of American 
business man. There is no villain, if we ex- 
cept tin- German Empire and a Cockney adver- 

tisement writer, who perpetrates the following 

highly quotable dithyramb: 

Buun's Blue Pills came to the modern children 
of Israel like manna in the oasis. They are like 
Mecca to the Arab steed and sweep like the Assyrian 
upon the fold of intestinal troubles. Like Orion and 
the Pleiades, Bunn's Blue Pills float above our dark 
and troublous life, lighting our way to the carefree 
digestion of the cassowary, in whose spacious stomach 
a stone becomes as soft and succulent as Turkish De- 
light. The discovery of the United States by Christo- 
pher Columbus was nothing as to this world-upheaving 
discovery by Professor Bunn, who stands like Mosej 
upon a peak in Darien, holding his rod over the prom- 
ised land of impregnable digestions. 

One notable service, both to Canada and the 
world at large, which "Drums Afar" is likely to 
perform is the introducing to a larger public 
of the exquisite folk-songs of Old French Can- 
ada, which Mr. Gibbon's hero and heroine per- 
form in Pierrot style at Henley in the days be- 
fore the war. For that matter, we cannot eon- 
ceive of anybody reading this book without ac- 
cumulating some few additional scraps of know- 
ledge about the world and its peoples from the 
author's astounding storehouse. But is there 
any authority for clipping the last syllable of 
the lady's name in "Marianne s'en va-t-au 
moulin," as Mr. Gibbon insists on doing? (S. 
B. Gundy, Toronto, $1.50 net. i 

Fisheries of the North Sea 

THERE is a noticeable dearth of literature 
in book form on the commercial fisheries 
of the world. "Writings on the subject 
are numerous, hut mostly in government blue 
books, and small pamphlets are they found, 
and usually in technical language not under- 
stood by the layman. "The Fisheries of the 
North Sea," by Xeal Green, is a welcome ad- 
dition to piscatorial bibliography. The writer 
shows a distinct grasp of the subject and an 
unusual knowledge of the fisheries of Scan- 
dinavia. France, Germany, Russia, Canada and 
the United States. It is a little book, but its 
chapters are well balanced and show evidences 
of some clear thinking. Mr. Green gives a 
light and comprehensive sketch of the history 
and the natural advantages of the North Sea 
fisheries, and, while dealing particularly with 
that prolific fish-producing area, he introduces 
several interesting features on fish migrations, 
methods of fishing, value of catches in other 

The principle back of the book is the need 
for greater development of the North Sea 

fisheries after the war. He complains of the 
lack of interest in the fisheries on the part of 
the public and their apathy to the importance 
and economy of fish as a food. A note of 
warning is sounded as to continental competi- 
tion in the exploitation of the North Sea fish- 
eries after peace is declared, and he advises 
British fishermen to be prepared to maintain 
supremacy in an industry which means much 
to Britain in export trade and in the manning 
of naval and merchant ships. 

All that Mr. Neal says can be applied to 
Canada in the development of our own fisher- 
ies, and we heartily recommend this book to 
Canadians — not only those directly interested 
in the fishing industry, but also those thought- 
ful citizens who are now studying ways and 
means for the economic development of our 
natural resources as a medium for paying our 
debts and adding to the wealth of the Do- 
minion, i Methuen & Co.. London, 4s. 6d. net.) 

F. William Wallace. 

January, 1919. 

I i \ I/'/ I \ BOOR 1/ i \ 

Some Recent Canadian Verse 

By J. A. DALE 

Norwood, Robert W.: "The Modernists." McCIel 

land, Qoodcbild & Stewart, Toronto, $1.25. 
Redpath, Beatrice: "Drawn Shutters.", To- 

ronto, $1.25. 
Aikins, Carroll: "Poems." Sherman, French & Co., 

Boston, 85c. 
Middleton, Jesse Kiljjur: "Sea I'o^'s :iml Men at 

Anus." McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, To 

ronto, $1.50. 
Gordon, Alfred: "Vimy Ridge and New Poems." J. 

M. 1 >"ut & Son, Tmi onto, $1.25. 

H R. NORWOOD'S new vclunic "The -Mod- 
ernists," has an unusually interesting 
plan. His Modernists arc people who were 
"modern" in their day, who saw through and 
beyond the current conventions, discerning the 
religion of the future. Through their lips he 
aims to show the vital quality of religion in the 
historic development of man, from the primitive 
savage to the modern scientist. His method is 
to take a series of historic characters and make 
them reveal their inmost heresies in dramatic 
monologue, in the Browning manner. It is a 
grandiose scheme, and one to stir the imagina- 
tion. Mr. Norwood works it out with the fer- 
vid enthusiasm of his emotional temper, enter- 
ing with eager warmth into the imaginary 
thoughts of his characters, in order to show 
how they foreshadow or illuminate or re-inter- 
pret the figure of Christ. It is indeed a won- 
derful pageant of history that is conjured up 
by the mere list of his pioneers — beginning with 
the nameless Prometheus of the cave-men. and 
leading, through Pharaoh Akhenaton, Paraoh's 
daughter, Moses, Naaman, the Prophet of Che- 
bar, Socrates, Vashti, Balthazar (one of the 
Magi), the wife of Pilate, doubting Thomas. 
Mary, Paul. Porphyry, Dante. Joan of Are, 
Bruno, and across a considerable gap to Dar- 

The ambitious scale of Mr. Norwood's ven- 
ture draws special attention to his style, and 
this is not evenly equal to his zeal. The verse, 
while easy and abundant, lacks Too often the 
distinction that comes from the self-control of 
the artist. Real felicities, though there are 
many of them, are more rare than they should 
be considering Mr. Norwood's fund of imagery 
and sense of music. If he tries (like Keats) to 
"surprise by a fine excess." he lacks as yet that 
craftsmanship which alone can put excess to 
good artistic use. and so produce the surprise 
that is followed by satisfaction. For plastic, as 
is the material of poetry, it needs a firm and 
clean handling to give that air of finality which 
distinguishes the best art. Mr. Norwood chal- 
lenges a high standard. Browning himself 
achieved a rolmst control of a riotous imagination 
and immense knowledge, to an extent unusual 
with him. in "Cleon" and "Karshish" — mas- 
terly studies which must inevitably be recalled. 
Two more modern poems of the same kind have 

recently shown the .sane wealth of imagery, bul 
in other respects present an interesting con- 
trast: Mr. Lascelles Abercrombie 'a "Sale of 
St. Thomas" (in the Georgian Poetry I 
1911 L2), and Mr. Vautier Golding's "Miriam" 
(in the University Magazine). The former is 
pictorial and unconcerned with prophecy 
vivid recreation of the doubting apostle face to 
face with his life-work, alone, at the beginning 
of his journey to India. The latter is an inter- 
pretation of the mind of the mother of Jesus 
a most thoughtful piece of work, as sober and 
masterly in execution as it is glowing and pic- 
turesque in imagination. 

Mr. Norwood's epilogue is a very inadequate 
"Voice of the Twentieth Century." It is not 
altogether Mr. Norwood's fault if without the 
help of emotional stimulus and a picturesque 
dramatic setting, our unhappy century makes 
but a ragged appearance in the gorgeous proces- 
sion, and is a laggard in spite of the poet's lash. 
When he can no longer interpret, without eon- 
tradietion the first stammerings of prophecies 
now safely fulfilled, his facile imagery forsakes 
him. It is as though on a bleak day a door had 
blown open in Mr. Norwood's heated apart- 
ment, or an uncorked bottle of soda-water ap- 
peared from his cellar of heady wine. 

With Mrs. Redpath 's volume "Drawn Shut- 
ters," we turn to an art of carefully recognised 
limitations, done well within the writer's pow- 
ers, and done consistently well. It suggests at 
once the sister art of the brush. Her colour 
scheme is admirably set by the title poem, and 
so is the range of moods it paints : it is gray 
and shadowed, with cool greens and silvers, 
whose dominance is emphasised by the intrud- 
ing splash of sunlit red. Even in "Full Noon" 
the heat and colour preclude movement and al- 
most stifle life, while they deepen the harmony 
of the prevailing grays. 

Her most persistent thoughts are of sleep and 
weariness and death, of inert rebellion, and long- 
ing for a vague escape, and vain backward 
brooding upon tragedy — tragedy not recalled in 
piercing detail, but in a narcotic day-dream; 
and the lines move listlessly in keeping with the 
thought. Some of her happiest effects are of 
actual day-dreams: for example, "The Dancer" 
calls up a delightful interpretation of motion 
and sound in terms of picture. Her characters 
are dreamers: such as her gentle "Sailor." who 
had never been out of town, but lived in his 
dreams of the sea, (so unlike those of Mr. W. II. 
Davies' captivating but prevaricating seaman!). 
And the spirit to which she gives most poignant 
and intimate expression is that of the "Dead 
Soul" so hopeless] v unfledged that it will nev- 
er have the strength to rise from the earth. Mrs 
Redpath gives evidence, as in "Earth Love." of 



January, 191'J. 

a less passive attraction to the earth than sheer 
inability to leave it : will she not open her drawn 
shutters and interpret her world in the light 
of day? But meanwhile she has made a real 
harmony of her little room in the gallery of art. 

Mr. Aikins wins respect at once by his Dedi- 
cation, which shows a sober dignity of thought 
and music, not unworthy of its reminiscence of 
some of Wordsworth's best loved lines. This im- 
pression is confirmed. The little volume is 
pleasant reading, varied in mood and versifi- 
cation ; but always full of charm, the expression 
of a real lyrical gift. The range is not wide 
and the scale is small; but the touch is both 
sure and light. Mr. Aikins' taste is fine and 
delicate, and his thought rings true. 

With Mr. Middleton's volume we turn sharp- 
ly to the events of war. Many of these lyrics 
sing of heroic and pitiful tilings, written while 
the news was fresh. They are set in a back- 
ground of memories of the old "seadogs and 
men-at-arms" whose spirit lives on in those up- 
on whom their task has fallen today. These un- 
pretentious verses breathe a manly patriotism, 
which finds expression in many robust forms. 
Mr. Middleton is one of the many saddened men 
who see their ideals violated and their boys lost 
in their defence, while they are themselves re- 
jected from the service and relegated to less clear 
and simple duties. But this succession of cour- 
ageous lyrics which has appeared from time to 
time in the Toronto Daily News is part of h ; - 
"bit." His readers do not forget that, even if 
its poetic quality be slight, 

The song that nerves a nation's heart 
Is in itself a deed. 

The title of Mr. Alfred Gordon's new volume 
sets a theme of abiding glory, to which his tri- 
bute of song is a thoughtful study of Canada 
under her new experience of military fame. He 
shows her turning, in the midst of exultation, 
to the old Motherland sobered, a long familiar- 
ity with successful war and its responsibilities to 
unboastful silence. In this poem, and in "Spring 
1916," there is a simple strength of thought and 
workmanship, that augurs a greater permanence 
than can be expected of most war-verse. These 

two have something of the quality which dis- 
vinguishes Wordsworth 's war poetry, and is rare 
so far in the poetry of today — the combination 
of deep feeling and restraint, tin absence of 
merely literary or pictorial adornment, the con- 
centration on things missed by more facile 
writers, and the remoteness from ephemeral 
accidentals. The same quality is shown in "Not 
Made with Hands," which is not, however, a 
war poem. 

There is a strongly contrasted group of war- 
ballads celebrating such stirring incidents as 
the silence of forty British prisoners before 
Byng's attack at Cambrai, or the return of a 
riddled aeroplane with its pilot dead. A third 
group consists of short and searching studies of 
less obvious soldier types — ' ' The Coward, ' ' 
"The Conscientious Objector," "The Con- 
script": the man who goes to fight to escape 
suicide, and the man who goes because he is 
haunted by the eyes of "Fallen Comrades." 
The lament for "John McCrae" takes the poppy 
theme and makes a finely contrasted picture 
from Swinburne. Of the other poems, which 
display considerable versatility, one calls for 
special mention — "The Little Son of the Pro- 
phet." The crisis in which the prophet reveals 
his mind is of great interest and strongly han- 
dled. After fulfilling his long and hard pre- 
paration in the wilderness, he has done his mis- 
sion of denunciation, and the fresh fire of the 
Lord's message has died down. He has long- 
looked for one to take up his mantle when the 
tint- comes, and his choice has fallen on a lad 
whom he loves. But the boy disappoints his 
hopes, and proves unequal to the heavy burden 
• if prophecy. This opens the deeper issue of the 
conflict between the desires of the human heart 
and the life of ascetic dedication — with the final 
cleaving doubt of the validity of the revelation 
of God's will. The situation is convincingly per- 
sonal and historic: its power lies in its being 
also universal. It is a type of a crisis constant- 
ly recurrent in the relation of elder and young- 
er. Technically it is a good example of Mr. 
Gordon's art at its best — the combination al- 
ready noted of deep feeling and austere work- 

January, 1919. 

( i \ i/'/ i \ tiOOKlA i \ 

George lies' "Canadian Stories" 

IN one of his essays. Bacon sagely remarks, 
"The mixture of a lie doth ever lend zesl 
to appetite." It may be in response to 
Rome such unconscious impulse that so many 
travellers along certain well-defined paths in 
the world of hooks turn for "zesl " into the easj . 
wandering by-paths of frictions even though 
it may be harsh to apply to fiction the "short 
and ugly." name id' lie. It has been said, more- 
over, that every newspaperman in North Amer- 
ica is secretly writing a play. Why is it not as 
reasonable to suppose that every writer who has 
not yet attempted it, privately cherishes the am- 
bition to try his hand at that most elusive me- 
dium, the short story? 

It is hard to imagine the appetite of George 
lies requiring zest. No man has preserved his 
enthusiasms more fresh and buoyant than he. 
Possessed of that leisure which in so many cases 
is fatal to all sustained effort, he has never fall- 
en victim to futility or mere dilettantism in 
either his interests or his writings. Spending 
the major portion of each year in New York and 
the rest in Montreal, he knows an incredibly 
large number of the people best worth know- 
ing in both places. Some day perhaps he will 
take time to write a volume of reminiscences 
which will be very well worth reading. 

It was perhaps to his intimate friendship 
with Mark Twain and to more than a passing 
acquaintanceship with Robert Louis Stevenson 
that he owed his final inspiration to write. From 
his earliest boyhood the story of the work of the 
world's greatest inventors had always interest- 
ed him. An early and long-sustained friend- 
ship with Thomas A. Edison gave him much of 
the personal interest for the .two books which 
made his reputation as a writer on scientif 
studies, "Flame, Electricity and the Camera" 
and "Inventors at Work," both now out of 
print. These were followed by "Great Ameri- 
can Inventors," with admirable sketches of 
Fulton, Whitney. Blanchard, Morse, Goodyear, 
Ericsson, Mergenthaler and several others. 

What is a man with these leanings doing am- 
ong the short story writers? one asks. Perhaps 
this slender little book of tales marks the defi- 
nite transition of interest in a ripe intelligence 
from things to men. These "Canadian Stories" 

are all studies of men rather than chronicles of 
events, examples of the queer evolutions of that 
queerest of all created things, the human mind. 
They will have unusual interest U,v the Mont 
realers who remember their city as it was from 

forty years to half a century ago, for their 
background is in nearly every case the Montreal 
of that period. How many of the characters 

which pass across the pages under fi.-titions 
names may he recognized by those who remem- 
ber those days it would be hard ami perhaps a 
bit dangerous to say. 

Mr. lies is not one to dally with the well-es- 
tablished and easily recognized artifices of the 
professional teller of tales. Part of the charm of 
these little stories is what lies hidden betwen 
the lines. Here and there there is a hit of the 
real Montreal of other days, as in "Who Killed 
John Burbank?" here and there a whimsical 
tribute to the changeability of human nature as 
in "Slight Repairs." "As Others See Us" is 
perhaps the most original and best told of the 

Following these there is a reprinted lecture de- 
livered last year at Hackley School on "Choos- 
ing Books,'* slightly autobiographical and very 
practical, a real guide for one taking the short- 
cut of the five foot shelf. There is an excellent 
but too short list of "books to be read" with it. 

Then, by way of good measure, as it were, 
there are a few pages of epigrams, some of 
which may be given as samples : 

Hope is faith stretching out rts hands in the dark. 

An art is a handicraft in flower. 

A superstition is a premature explanation that has 
outstayed its time. 

If there were no cowards there would be no bullies. 

Eighteous indignation may be spleen in disguise. 

Men will never disap>point us if we observe two 
rules, (1) to find out what they are, and (2) to ex- 
pect them to be just that. 

A man may be called generous who suffers from 
mere pecuniary incontinence. 

Many an old library is not a quarry but a grave- 
yard. Its inscriptions tell us only of the dead. 

My son, honour thy father and thy mother by im- 
proving upon their example. 

Altogether Mr. lies" first venture into the 
field of fiction has been a happy one. It is to 
be hoped it will not be his last. I The Witness 
Press. Montreal. $1.) 


January, 1919. 

The Distinction of Hergeshemier 

DISTINCTION," in novels, as in whiskies, 
is the result of a subtle blending of 
many qualities, some of them too deli- 
cate and elusive for classification. It has not 
hitherto been a characteristic mark of any class 
of American fiction. Strength, audacity, indus- 
try, observation, sentiment, sympathy, invention, 
mechanical skill — all of these in turns, and 
sometimes all of them at once, have been ex- 
hibited by the American novel often enough ; 
but they- have left it measurably below the 
level of the corresponding English product, in 
the opinion of those who judge literary 
values with a discriminating palate, by reason 
chiefly of the lack of this one quality or blend 
of qualities called distinction. Not one of them 
hitherto has imparted the feeling that it was 
the product of a mind at once delicate and 
dexterous, both in the matter of its thought 
and in the manner of its expression. Just as 
certain men and certa'n women produce, at an 
instant's glance or in a few words of conversa- 
tion, the effect of "race," of "family," of a 
distinction which goes further back than any- 
thing that the individual himself can have 
achieved by h's own actions or experiences, so 
there are certain writers who give one the same 
satisfying feeling after fifty pages of their 
writing (and never cancel it by a lapse into 
commonness) ; and s>uch writers have heen 
rare in American imaginative literature since 
it cut itself loose from its English ancestry. 
Joseph Hergesheimer, who now has three im- 
portant books to his credit, is one of them. He 
is a very recent addition to American litera- 
ture, and one for which Americans should be 
thankful. American critics have compared him 
with several English writers of "distinction," 
but only with one American — Hawthorne. 

"The Three Black Pennys" (Penny is a pro- 
per name, and the compositor and proof- 
reader will therefore please refrain from cor- 
recting this plural into Pennies or Pence), the 
latest Hergesheimer novel, is thoroughly and 
intensely American, unless we are to take the 
rash and unjustified course of declaring that 
distinction is an un-American quality. It 

deals with American life over a period of one 
hundred and fifty years, with the development 
of an American family, with American social 
conditions; and it does so with an insider's 
knowledge and sympathy. It cannot be wholly 
a coincidence that both in its form — that of 
three mating episodes in successive genera- 
t ons of the same family, — and in its milieu — 
that of a family of great ironworkers, — it 
agrees absolutely with the famous English 
play "Milestones"; but it certainly owes no- 
thing to that play except a suggestion. It is 
not the operations of the parental and family 
influences which interest Mr. Hergesheimer, 
as they did Messrs. Bennett and Knoblauch; 
his characters are too powerful to be much 
governed by such influences, and the three 
stories are clean-cut depictions of strong in- 
dividuality, chiefly shown in the workings of 
the sex instinct — told by a man who writes 
about sex with the absolute detachment of the 
artist and not with the pornographic over- 
emphasis of our leading magazine contribu- 
tors, nor the slightly shamefaced glance-and- 
run methods of the more honest American 

The reader who has access to a bookstore 
need not take our word for the qualities of the 
Hergesheimer work. They stand out as not- 
ably in the style, the writing, as in the con- 
ception. Let him pick up a copy of "The 
Three Black Pennys" and peruse the opening 
page, beginn'ng: "A twilight like blue dust 
sifted into the shallow fold of the thickly 
wooded hills." If that page does not give him 
acute satisfaction, he need not bother any fur- 
ther; the book is not for him. A reader who 
is not accessible to distinction in language will 
not be truly devout before distinction in 
character-drawing and philosophy. . . . 
The wrapper informs us that Mr. Hergesheimer 
is Pennsylvania Dutch of many generations 
standing, and that he is thirty-seven years 
old, and that there are not "interesting 
details" in his life — which is quite the most 
interesting thing that it could tell us. (S. B. 
Gundy, Toronto, $1.50 net.) 

Fist Fights In Far B.C. 

THAT large school of fiction-readers who 
are thrilled by the vivid description of a 
good fist fight will find plenty of this 
form of entertainment in "My Brave and Gal- 
lant Gentleman," by Robert "Watson, who has 
studied Jeffrey Farnol to some purpose. It is 
the story of an Englishman's experiences while 
keeping a country store in a remote lumber- 
ing district in British Columbia, and some of 
the incidents are good literary material. Such, 
for instance, is the story of the dour old Scots- 
man, Andrew Clark, who has said no word to 
his wife for ten years on account of a vow that 
he would never speak to her again if she did 
something in disobedience to his orders, and 

who is eventually brought to reason by be- 
ing penned up in the chicken-house for many 
days without feed ; his breakdown, when he 
calls for his wife and confesses that the ten 
years have been years of torture for himself, 
is very beautiful human material, simply told. 
The handling of the main story is amateurish, 
and it seems unnecessary that the hard-fight- 
ing hero should have to become eventually the 
Earl of Brammerton and his lady-love of the 
backwoods turn out to be Lady Rosemary 
Granton. Mr. Watson is to be congratulated 
on his title, which is eminently calculated to 
make Mr. Farnol jealous. (McClelland, Good- 
child & Stewart, Ltd., Toronto, $1.50 net.) 

January, 1919. 

C l \ l/»/.I.V i:ooi(\l I \ 

Willow, the Wisp, and the Way 
of the Wilds 

A RCI11K 1'. McKishnie (one pauses to re 
fleet how totally differenl ;i brand of 
Literature be would undoubtedly bave produced 

had lie elected to sign himself with the indoors 
appellation of Archibald I is by virtue of inherit- 
ance anil long practice the foremosl of our lum- 
ber limit litterateurs, the most accomplished of 
our furnishers of fishing-camp fiction. There 
is, apparently, an inexhaustible demand for 
novels about the "smell o' the woods an' the 
call o' the birds," and the "clear-fringed 
shores'* of the "placid lake" with their "rush 
lined shallows," and big, muscular, open-air 
men to whom the stars "sing out in the hushed 
night with a melody atune 
with the eternal chord upon 
which hung all the harmony" 
of their respective worlds. 
There is a whole Dominion 
full (for the most part) of 
city-dwellers, convinced that 
human nature only finds its 
real, all-round development 
in the vast primeval loneli- 
ness of the forest — but not 
by any means prepared to 
seek their own development 
there and abandon the de- 
lights of the movie-show and 
the departmental store ; and 
these have an unconquerable 
yearning to read about "the 
big, simple law of the forest, 
which reads, " 'Everythin ' 
pays sooner or later,' " and 
which they therefore conceive 
to be something totally dif- 
ferent from any law current 
in Toronto, Montreal, New 
York or Petrograd. Mr. Mc- 
Kishnie feeds their yearning with much skill 
and with a real knowledge of the woods and 
solitudes over which he thus sentimentalises (a 
knowledge which must at times make him blush 
to sentimentalise so), and a growing knack of 
contriving a workable plot. "Willow, the 
Wisp" (the title raises the old question whether 
an author has a right to name or nickname his 
characters with a sole view to inflicting a pun 
upon his readers i is at least Mr. McKishnie's 

Archie P. McKishnie 

third novel, and in all respects excepl thai of 

originality of literary style it is a decided ad- 
vance on its predecessors. The vagueness of 
characterization which made it difficult to I 
up an tnteresl in the personages of the former 
books is still present, but in the case of the 
i ponj iiKiiis beroine of the new one the mis' 
of the northern lakes occasionally pari suffi 
ciently to enable ber to take some sorl of form 
and beauty, albeit a form highly reminiscenl of 

various "Girls" of various geograph 
sub-divisions of the United States who have giv- 
en their names to many recent American novels 
and their wind-blown hair and abbreviated 
skirts to the illustral 
of the same. About his 
new hero, also. .Mr. Mc 
Kislmie has hung an ingeni- 
ous aura of romance by mak- 
ing him a sort of natural- 
born animal tamer, who plays 
with bears and foxes as other 
men with cats abd does, and 
who is savi d from an impend- 
ing relapse into his old-time 
drug habit by the affection- 
ate solicitousness of a huge 
and ferocious female lynx. 
A regular modern Daniel! 
When a man like this j 
into a complicated love af- 
fair and a feud with lav, 
neighbours at the same time, 
one naturally wants to know 
how he is going to come out 
of it, and so one reads to the 
cud of a novel which seems 
at times a trifle over-burden- 
ed with descriptions of sun- 
sets and purple mountains 
and tamaracks and forest - ringed lakes 

The end is all that the most sentimental read 
er could wish for ; the good are happy and mat- 
ed, the bad are punished and hated. But then 
have we not that good old "law of the forest'' 
to ensure just that retributive justice which. 
in our less primitive cities, and other places 
where the forest has been chopped down, so 
often misses its mark '.' < Thomas Allen. To- 
ronto. $1.35.) 

CANADIAN BOOKMAN January, 1919. 

Twentieth Century Librarianship 

By Mary J. L. BLACK 

j T is a long step from the scholarly musty old 
gentleman one has so often seen pictured 
as guarding- the library, wrapped up in 
his books, without an eye or thought to the out- 
side world, to the alert business-like personage 
one now sees moving quickly around the streets, 
meeting the world in their offices and factories, 
coming in constant contact witli commercial 
life, and who introduces himself as the city 
librarian. This new type may be scholarly and 
have a wide book knowledge, but to him boo'- 
are only a means to an end, and so he realizes 
that this constant contact with the work-a-day 
world is necessary in order that he can learn 
their book needs, and put the enormous mass of 
printed material at their disposal. To him, 
there is little virtue in having a book on the shelf 
unless there is also a reader at hand to enjoy 
and use it, and so to him, there is more joy and 
glee in finding a reader than even in getting 
possession of a fine and rare edition. If this 
modern were asked to enumerate the qualifica- 
tions necessary for successful librarianship, he 
would surely put the spirit of service and know- 
ledge of people even before a knowledge of books 
and all three would precede an acquaintance 
with library technique and business training. 
The interested public, however, soon recognize 
that the last mentioned qualification exists also, 
and that their librarian is not a sentimental 
and altruistic missionary indulging in works of 
supererogation, but rather a sane and practical 
member of society who desires to create a need 
for his service in the public life, that will carry 
his calling far beyond the class of the sinecure. 
With this object in view, the modern public 
library has developed with all its reference fa- 
cilities of books and periodicals, newspaper 
clippings, and trade bibliographies to which 
everyone has the easiest possible access. That 
the public library is an institution instituted for 
the purpose of catering only to a special class 
or group of classes is a fallacy from which it 
is very hard to get away, the whole history of 
the movement conducing to that misconception. 
Our musty old friend begrudged allowing even 
students to use his books, but his prejudices 
were at last overcome. Following his regime 
came the library of our childhood which was an 
institution for mechanics as well as students. 
Since then the children have come to their own. 
but often at the expense of these former groups, 
and following the recognition of the children's 
reeds has come an appreciation of the claims of 
young people. It is only, however, since our 
business-like librarian has taken charge, that 
the thought has come to us, that the public 
library is not specifically a students' library, 
or a mechanics, or even a children's, but a citi- 
zens' library, and that unless it reaches direct- 
ly as well as indirectly every class of citizen in 

the community, it is not fulfilling its normal 

This idea presents a problem much greater 
than anything with which our librarian has 
ever been confronted before, and it is one 
that can only be solved approximately during 
the present generation. In the days to come, 
when the children growing up will have all been 
taught in the schools how to read, and in the 
public libraries what to read, the problem of 
the librarian in his relationship to the adult 
members of the community will be greatly sim- 
plified. By then, everyone will have been train- 
ed to recognize in the public library, the natural 
laboratory, where all workers in the community 
will turn for inspiration and new ideas, or for 
means for developing those ideas which already 
have come to them through their practical ex- 
perience. Then, that antagonism, which though 
often unnoticed, is nevertheless most general 
between the practical man of experience, and 
the baok taught man. will have disappeared, for 
by then, we will have all learned that book 
information is of no value if not put into use, 
and that personal endeavor is but slightly to 
one's credit, unless the worker knows from 
books as well as from personal experience that 

Librarian, Fort William, Ont. 

January, 1919. 



he is getting the besl results in the easiest 
and quickest way. Thru, the Librarian will be 

able to stand, equipped with his I ks and his 

knowledge of them, and wait Eor the public to 

'■'i when occasion requires, but much thai 

makes twentieth century librarianship interest- 
ing will have passed away. How tame his life 
will he, when the man about town turns to the 
public library for bis literary needs as natur- 
ally as to his club for bis social requirements, 
and when even the trained student realizes 
thai there is a world of bibliographies of bib- 
liography with which he could not personally 
hope to be acquainted, but which is available 
at the public library. Probably other fields 
of.activity will open themselves to him, but in 
the meantime we congratulate ourselves that 
ourduty lies in these days of development when 
the fight is still keen, and when the citizen at 
large is turning with a wondering eye to the 
hitherto unappreciated treasure trove of 
printed matter in the city's public library. 

A Working Library of Pulp 
and Paper Literature 

SOME time ago the committee on Techni- 
cal Education of the Technical Section 
of the Canadian Pulp and Paper Asso- 
ciation were asked to suggest a list of books 
and periodicals that would serve as the foun- 
dation for a working library in a pulp or paper 
mill reading room or the town library of a 
mill town. It was decided that such a list 
should include some general subjects besides 
strictly pulp and paper material because of 
the diversity of work necessary in such a 
mill. Consequently, the following list is sug- 
gested. It can be extended if desired, especial- 
ly along scientific lines. 

Pulp and Paper. 

Chapters on Papermaking, Beadle. 

The Manufacture of Paper, Sindall. 

Technology of Papermaking, Sindall. 

Wood Pulp and Its Uses, Cross, Bevan & 

Practical Papermaking, Clapperton. 

Text Book on Papermaking, Cross and 

Dyeing of Paper Pulp. Erfurt. 

Papermaker's Poeketbook, Beveridge. 

Paper Mill Chemist, Stevens. 

Chemistry of Papermaking, Griffin- & Lit- 
tle. (Out of print.) 

Treatment of Paper for Special Purposes, 


General Chemistry, as McPherson & Hen- 

General Physics, as Carhart & Chute. 

American Machinists Handbook, Colvin & 

Steam Power Plant Engineering, Gebhardt. 

American Electrician's Handbook, Terrell 

Engineer's Handbook, as Kent or Iraut- 


Paper, New York. 

Pulp and Paper Magazii I Canada. Mont- 
Power, New York. 
Engu ring News Etacqrd, New Yoi 

Canadian Chemical Journal, Toronto. 
Canadian Forestry Journal, Ottawa. 
Industrial Management, New York. 

Library Notes 

THE Board of Management of the Windsor 
Public Library have in their selection of 

a librarian to succeed the late Miss Pran- 
ces E. McCrae shown a wisdom not always dis 
played by public bodies. When a librarian was 
to be appointed, instead of regarding the office 
as a plum for some retired school-teacher or 
other untrained and inexperienced local aspir- 
ant, the Board set out in search of a person who 
possessed the necessary qualifications. The de- 
velopment of library work in the province for- 
tunately gives now a fairly wide field of choice. 
The appointment finally came to Miss Agnes I. 
Lancefield. of the Toronto Public Library staff, 
who for several years has bad charge of the Riv- 
erdale Library. One of the strongest branches 
in the Toronto system. Miss Lancefield is a 
daughter of the late Richard T. Lancefield. who 
for some years was Chief Librarian of the Ham- 
ilton Public Library. She will bring to the re- 
sponsible position to which she has been ap- 
pointed, not only an enviable record of achieve- 
ment, but a capability, an enthusiasm and strong 
personal qualities which promise high success 
in her work. The day has passed when a per- 
son who "just loves reading" and is "awfully 
fond of books" can hope to pass on these quali- 
fications. As a component nart of our educa- 
tional system the Public Library demands the 
service of highly-trained intellects, united with 
attractive personal finalities and inspired with 
a strong public spirit to make it a force in the 
upbuilding processes of the community. 

IN the trinity of cities of Ontario (Toronto, 
Ottawa and Hamilton) where the growth 
of population has brought them under the 
clause of the Public Libraries Act which pro- 
vides for the appropriation of only one-fourth 
of a mill on the dollar of assessment, the ques- 
tion of salary increases has become at once a 
live issue and an embarrassing problem. The 
extraordinary increase in the cost of living — 
nearly double what it was at the beginning of 
the war — has made the present schedule of 
salaries altogether inadequate, and the income 
unfortunately has not grown in anything like 
proportion to the development of the work, so 
that Boards which gladly would advance the 
salaries find themselves without the funds to do 
so. The remedy lies obviously in the raising of 
the library rate for such cities, and this is be- 
ing pressed urgently upon the authorities in 
Queen's Park. That something will be done to 
give relief at the approaching meeting of the 
Legislature may be taken for granted. 



January, 1919. 

THE Library Training School for the Pro- 
vince of Ontario, conducted under the 
supervision of Mr. W. 0. Carson, Inspec- 
tor of Public Libraries, is now in progress in 
the Art Eoom of the Toronto Reference Lib- 
rary. Twenty -five students registered this year, 
coming from various parts of the Province, and 
one from as remote an 'outside point as Halifax. 
I nsf ruction in the several branches of library 
work is being given by heads of departments of 
the Toronto and London Libraries. A series of 
lectures by specialists, dealing with various 
lines of intellectual activity, has been a useful 
feature of the course. The school is intended 
only for those who already have entered library 
work, enabling them to acquire a wider grasp of 
the work than they would be likely to gain in 
the course of their regular duties. Incidentally 
a result is a supply of trained librarians, from 
whom to choose when important positions are to 
be filled. The entire expense, including the 
railway fares of the students, is borne by the 

THE Western University, London, has had 
the good fortune to become the perman- 
ent repository of the remarkable col- 
lection of books gathered during his 
life time by Mr. J. Davis Barnett, of 
Stratford. This well-known library con- 
tains one of the most notable collections of 
Shakespearean works in existence, and also one 
of the largest and best collections of Canadiana. 
Under the terms of the bequest, Mr. Barnett will 
have charge of the library, a guarantee of its 
service to the public being all that could be 
wished. The collection embraces more than 40,- 
000 volumes. 

The Library and the Soldier 

THE free library is distinctly a new world 
institution. No country of the Old 
world has opened up branches and demo- 
cratized the iise of books and reading rooms 
for circulation and research purposes as have 
the United States and Canada. 

At the moment the American Library As- 
sociation is included in the important socie- 
ties clubbing together for a great war chest 
campaign for funds. The other societies are 
the Y.M.C.A.. the Y.W.C.A., the Knights of 
Columbus, the Jewish Welfare and the Salva- 
tion Army 

When the United States entered the war, its 
government granted the A. LA. one million dol- 
lars. Their slogan was one million dollars for 
one million books for one million soldiers. And 
with that first money they built camp build- 
ings to house their books, and a place where 
the new magazines could be found, and where 
questions could be answered all da3' long. Then 
as the boys went overseas, the books went 
along also. One hundred and thirty-nine hos- 
pitals have been supplied from that fund, and 

130 naval stations have books as well as 232 
ships. This time they ask for $3,500,000 as 
their share of the fifteen millions to be raised. 
Their plans for the future are of even larger 

Now in a quiet way Ontario has not done 
badly in this matter of good books for our 
men. The Board of Education has been al- 
lowed to spend handsome sums buying books 
for the army camps. The Inspector of Librar- 
ies has been allowed to purchase generously 
of books for the Y.M.C.A. camps. 

In the Province of Quebec the McGill 
Alumnae association has catalogued a library 
of 5,000 volumes, and placed it in the Drum- 
mond Street home for soldiers in Montreal. 
They have also libraries in the two large hos- 
pitals. But the Westmount Library has given 
a more personal attention to the boys who 
have gone from that municipality. The staff 
of that library have, without any outside help, 
sent steadily parcel after parcel of good novels 
to the boys in France, and in every case they 
have had the most grateful letters in reply. 
The librarian has always been careful to choose 
books she knew each particular boy liked. For 
instance, she recalled that one boy would read 
naught but western tales. Zane Grey, Cullum 
and Curwood. Another had a leaning toward 
Oppenheim and Mystery. A third insisted on 
historical romance, where the hero wears a 
cape and a slouch hat, and says, "I prithee 
Sirrah," whatever that means. 

Perhaps the best missionary work in Mont- 
real has been done by the librarian of the 
Y.M.C.A. Library on Drummond Street, where, 
with small means and a very small salary she 
has given much personal interest to the sol- 
diers who from time to time come to her desk. 

Let's Pretend 

I name my brothers in a prayer, 

Who are upon the sea, 
Lynn, with brown and tumbled hair, 

Lloyd and Deak, the three. 
O the days we whittled boats 

And sailed them on the sea. 

The sea was running past our door, 

A mountain brook and clear. 
And little bays we scooped and shaped 

To keep our fleets from fear. 
Each bay we manned ; each ship we named, 

And launched it with a cheer. 

O little whittled boat that went 

So slowly round the bend, 
O happy days of make-believe 

When will this anguish end? 
Tears in my eyes? I am not now 
So good to "Let's Pretend." 

Mary Carolyn Davies, "The Drums in Our 

January, 1919. 

' l \ l/'/.l.\ BOOK 1/ l \ 


Weeding Out the War Books 

IN the mind of the reviewer upon whose desk 
books upon the war have, during the lasl 
four years, been piled almost literally by 

the ton, the appearan »f another of the same 

category evokes as a rule but a passing interest. 
As a matter of i'aet out of every hundred "war 
hooks" which have appeared, about ninety-six 

merit nothing more than a speedy oblivion, to 

which they are doomed. The war has been so 
enormous, mi complex and so tremendous in its 
reaction upon every human ■•motion that very 
few writers who have had real experience upon 
the firing step or with the guns have }i,-r}\ able 
to catch and fix more than an isolated and 
sometimes quite unimportant phase of it. Par, 
far too many war hooks have been merely con- 
scientious hits of second-class newspaper re- 
porting or. worse even than this, so obviously a 
striving after a literary style, so heavily patch- 
ed with purple as to he of little permanent 

"The Real Front" (Arthur Hunt Chute), 
falls happily between these two extremes. 
Captain Chute saw the Balkan campaigns as 
a war correspondent and had, in consequence, 
both a journalistic training in observation and 
a sort of basis of comparison, however, inade- 
quate, to begin with. In addition to these ad- 
vantages he has a very distinct literary style. 

The result is a book which is quite notably 
above the ordinary, a sufficiently well connected 
account of the formation of the first Canadian 
contingent, from Valcartier through Salisbury 
Plain — "the bitterest fight we ever fought." 
as Captain Chute describes that unfortunate 
period of training — right to the firing step be- 
fore the first battle of Ypres. together with a 
series of independent sketches and impressions. 

"War in the first line trenches today is less 
glorious than a slaughter house in Chicago," 
says ( 'aptain Chute. So far as material glories 
are concerned he is no doubt right — there is 
little of the bugle-blowing, sabre-waving 
"glory" about it such as we have, probably 
quite erroneously, been accustomed to associate 
with the warfare of another day. But was war. 
even then, so glorious? If we were asked to 
pick out an incident of war as typically glori- 
ous many of us would no doubt select the charge 
of the Light Brigade at Balaclava. And yet 
Captain Chute reports a conversation with one 
of the surv ; vors of the great feat and the aged 
man carried "out of the valley of death" im- 
pressions of something the very reverse of glor- 
ious. As a matter of fact warfare probably nev- 
er has been glorious to the men engaged in it. 
But in the more genuine glory, in the glory of 
eourage in the face of death at its most hideous. 
of endurance under such tests as man has never 
known before, of unselfishness when every in- 
stinct Urged the reverse, of idealism, of gentle- 
ness, of chivalry to a foe lost apparently to ev- 
ery impulse of humanity, of utter consecration 

"•''> faculty to th • common task in 8U ch 
TJ < laptain Chute has, thank God, not found 
this war to he lacking. 

I quote just one of manj quotable sketche 
modern warfare. It concerns a brigade head- 
quarters during heavy action : 

1 au the thick walla muffled every 

" • -'"■ far awaj 

'.■ "i' fli- Btricken men could nut be heard. 

W1:r " ""■ jan 1 was afraid that the 

chateau would Boon he about cur head calm 

"•' tD lier gave me faith in the invulnerability 

of the walls. The great, dark, panelled room was 
wrapped in gli brigadier -.-it in a cha 

'he window, the adjutant sat at a 'phone, a. 

As I gazed at the face of the brigadier that tor- 
nado of battle without seemed in another world. His 
long, lean frame was sunken deep in his chair. In 
ttie twilight all his minor t. |,ut a 

bold, high forehead. a pallid countenance and eves as 
black as the night itself, were clearly discerned." The 
red and gold of his insignia gave the one relieving 
touch of color. Looking upon him. sitting there so 
sombre and aloof in the gloom of the chateau, I seem- 
ed to be regarding a portrait by Rubens of some old 
Fhmish master. 

Outside, the shell-swept dip of the road and the 
hunted figures reminded one of battle. But in the 
room with the brigadier there dwelt the' calm of ves- 
pers. Once during the early afternoon a shell came 
crashing through the upper stories of the chateau. 1 
was all atremble. But the br'gadier, with whom I was 
conversing at the moment, merely raised his eyebrows 
and with cold indifference announced: "That's pretty 
cloie, my boy. Go on, my boy, go or. Don't let that 
interrupt you." 

Now and again a sudden ring of the 'phone told of 
a frantic cry from the trenches or the guns. Often 
the adjutant breathed with excitement a- lie told por- 
tentous news. Sometimes there was a pause as the 
chief glanced at a map of pondered dispositions. 
But his imperturbable calm was unbroken and always 
in that quite low-spoken voice he gave hi.- answer. 

Many a time thereafter, when I had been far 
forward in the midst of battle, there came with a 
steadying peace the picture of that brigadier. Two 
weeks later our line was suddenly pierced by the foe. 
Consternation reigned in the trenches. During those 
awful moments of suspense, while I sat in battalion 
headquarters telegraphing to our guns, there flashed 
before me in the shadow the memory of that serene 
and steadfast face. In a moment of such importance 
for us the memory of the brigadier seemed transcen- 
dental, as the thought of God Himself. — (Harpers, 
New York.) 

In the high-pressure output of war books 
which has marked the year 1918, a very pleas- 
ant and. informing volume by a Canadian offi- 
cer has failed to receive the attention which it 
merits. This is 'A Surgeon in Arms," by Robert 
•T. Manion, who served as a captain in a medical 
unit accompanying the Canadian Corps in some 
of its finest work at Vimy Ridge and elsewhere, 
ed th. .Military Cross, and is today, as 
representative for Fort William and Port Ar- 
thur, one of the most useful members of the 
new House of Commons. It is a simple and 
straightforward account of the experiences of a 
man who was obviously equally at home among 
the headquarters officers and the privates, t 1 - 
Oxford undergraduates of the British of fie 



January, 1919. 

ness and the most wildly Western of the Can- 
adians, and found much human substance in all 
of them. He had an interesting adventure 
with the Prince of Wales in territory which was 
far from being "safe," he collected an immense 
number of really good messroom anecdotes, he 
made some keen and scientific observation of 
the behaviour of men in difficult situations and 
of the effects of shell-shock— and he is com- 
pletely silent as to the act of gallantry which 
secured him his own decoration. Most of the 
officers who figure in his anecdotal collection 

are thinly disguised by initials and dashes, but 
the military reader will have little difficulty in 
placing them. Part of the charm of the discur- 
sive narrative may be due to a strain of Irish 
blood in the author. Surely nobody but an Irish- 
man would have told us, concerning a fine Red 
Indian soldier from Canada, that but for the 
tinge of his skin "one would take him what he 
is — a well-informed, educated North Ameri- 
can." (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, To- 
ronto, $1.50.) 

The Education of the New Canadian 


— A Ruthenian mother lay dying. She asked 
to see "Meester Teacher." He came; she 
took his hand, and, with tears streaming down 
her toil-hardened face, in broken English she 
said, "Meester Teacher, you good, you like my 
Mary, my John — me want them go school learn 
English — me go away — good bye — me see you 
after." And then she died, but not before she 
had seen into the soul of a true Canadian, 
whose heart was as large as the prairies. 

— I was at a concert in a little rural school, 
where the children, all non-English, were re- 
citing; I noticed a tall young man sobbing 
bitterly. I asked him why. In broken Eng- 
lish he told me that he had been denied the 
privilege of learning English in a public school. 
He had been the victim of a tolerance which 
permitted a parochial school where English 
was seldom taught. 

At random I have selected two out of many 
charming incidents related in J. T. M. An- 
derson's "The Education of the New Cana- 
dian." One wonders whether the realiza- 
tion of the value of education ever stirs the 
soul of humble English-speaking Canadian 
mothers as it did these "foreigners." 

The first 142 pages of Mr. Anderson's pains- 
taking effort to arouse interest in this very 
serious problem have little of human interest 
and their appeal will be chiefly to the student ; 
in them he has given us an excellent digest of 
the 1911 census returns as they concern the 
immigrant, and by the aid of well selected 
passages from more extensive writings, such 
as Dr. Emily Balch's "Our Slavic Fellow Citi- 
zens," has given as a pen portrait of the Old 
Land home conditions of our immigrant popu- 
lation. Bi-lingualism, multi-lingualism and 
mono-non-English-lingualism, as instanced by 
the Mennonites, are discussed with a courage 
and conviction which comes from a first- 
hand knowledge, obtained by actual experi- 
ence, of the dangers they involve. 

Chapter VIII., devoted to the methods of 
teaching English, must convince any impar- 
tial reader that the direct method is the one 
and only method for the children of New-Cana- 
dians, and incidentally it affords an excellent 

proof of the futility of attempting to teach 
foreign languages to English children as we 
still do for the most part. 

It is not until Mr. Anderson tells the story 
of Marion Bruce, the. department store sales 
girl, who through selling ribbons and other 
trifles to illiterate foreign girls, caught the in- 
spiration which made her an ideal teacher, if 
a somewhat unorthodox one — it is not until 
then that he convinces us that his interest in 
his subject is soul-deep and not merely aca- 
demic. Therefore I would recommend that the 
reader start at Chapter IX., convinced that it 
will result in his reading the book from cover 
to cover. 

The problem of finding the right type of 
teacher would be solved if Mr. Anderson's 
book could be read by all the young women 
in our stores and offices, for I am convinced 
there are many potential Marion Bruees 
amongst them. 

When on January the first, 1918, an "ade- 
cpuate knowledge" of English or French be- 
came a pre-requisite to the granting of Cana- 
dian or Imperial citizenship, it automatically 
imposed upon our Provincial Governments the 
responsibility of establishing Adult Night 
Schools, and Mr. Anderson rightly looks to 
such schools as the surest way to prevent the 
debauchery of a foreign electorate. 

To those of us who have seen the New-Cana- 
dian in our larger cities, Mr. Anderson's book 
leaves much to be discussed, for he treats his 
subject almost solely from the rural stand- 
point ; the Canadianizing of the city children 
of our New-Canadians is a problem in itself, 
and Mr. Anderson wisely limits his discussion 
to the field for whicli his position as School 
Inspector under the Saskatchewan Govern- 
ment eminently fits him. 

The book should be widely read in the four 
western provinces by all who lay claim to be 
really interested in this vast problem of assimi- 
lation, and no Canadian, wherever he lives, can 
claim to know his country unless he already 
knows much of what Mr. Anderson gives in 
such palatable form. (J. M. Dent & Son, To- 
ronto, $2.50.) 

January, 1919. 


Mining Books 

IT is generally recognized thai when the war- 
is over and tlic manufacturing of muni 
tions erases. Canada must develop her rial 

ural resources more rapidly and more et't'i 
eiently. We have great mineral deposits thai 
are known, and these must be developed and 
mined by the hest known methods. We have 
also large onprospected areas in which min- 
eral deposits probably occur, and the deposits 
must be found. Books that convey information 
that will help the prospector or the mine op- 
erator have therefore a great field for useful- 

Mining being one of Canada's basic indus- 
tries and the development of our natural re- 
sources being of the utmost national import- 
ance, we naturally expect to find the Dominion 
and Provincial Governments taking a promin- 
ent part in the dissemination of useful infor- 
mation concerning minerals, mines and meth- 
ods of treating ores. 

At Ottawa we have a Department of Mines 
for the purpose of gathering information, mak- 
ing investigations, and advising the public, and 
particularly those interesting themselves in 
mining, of the results of the work. The varied 
publications of the Department of Mines in- 
clude many important treatises as well as re- 
ports of progress. Those provinces which 
have control of their mineral resources have 
similar organizations; Ontario, British Col- 
umbia, Quebec and Nova Scotia mines depart- 
ments issue annual reports on mining. The 
Department of the Interior which controls the 
mineral resources of the Yukon, Alberta, Sas- 
katchewan and Manitoba, has recently pub- 
lished an attractive volume on gold mining in 
the Yukon. One of the most valuable treatises 
recently published in Canada is the report of 
the Ontario Nickel Commission, which covers 
in a masterly way the nickel industry. 

Aside from Government publications there 
are a few books on minerals and mining pub- 
lished in Canada. Some years ago Copp, 
Clark & Co. published a little book by Dr. W. 
G. Miller, Provincial Geologist of Ontario, en- 
titled "Minerals and How They Occur." Most 
of the mining and metallurgical books used in 
Canada are published in the United States. 
We will review some of the more recent ones 
in these columns later. 

In 1914. shortly after the beginning of the 
war. and in recognition of the great need for 
concise information concerning our mineral 
resources, the Mines Publishing Co., publishers 
of the Canadian Mining Journal, undertook 
the publication of the "Canadian Mining Man- 
ual." Three editions have been published, and 
a fourth is now in preparation. This new edi- 
tion will be ready in December. 

In this new edition of the Canadian Mining 
Manual is to be found information concerning 
all minerals, and metals produced in Canada, 
mid all mining and metallurgical companies 

operating in Canada. Two Chief objects aimed 
al are to present in .•our,-,- form matter of in- 
terest to persons connected with the industry 

and to attract attention to the o| > port unit ies for 
development of our mineral resources. The 
volume is exceptionally well illustrated with 
colored plates, half-tones and line cuts. A 
large number of mineral specimens are shown 
iu natural size and color, these plates includ- 
ing some of the best reproductions of ore that 
have ever been printed. Numerous maps 
show in what parts of Canada known mineral 
areas are situated. Detail maps show some of 
the most active mining districts. Photographs 
of plants and the men in charge of mining and 
metallurgical works are numerous. The vol- 
ume is attractively bound in cloth. The page 
is large, 8." x 11", to permit the use of the col- 
ored plates and maps and to allow illustrations 
to be run closely to their text. 

This edition being published about the end of 
the year, it has been possible to give a prelimin- 
ary summary of progress during 1918. The 
recently published official records for the year 
1917 are also summarized. Some of the import- 
ant developments during 1918 are then briefly 
referred to. 

In the section of the book devoted to mine 
products an attempt has been made to present 
some useful information concerning the char- 
acter, use and occurrence of each mineral. The 
minerals are treated in alphabetical order, and 
the amount of space given to them varies. Ow- 
ing to the great demand recently for informa- 
tion concerning certain minerals and metals. 
special attention is given to "war minerals," 
such as maguesite, fluorite, pyrite, molybden- 
ite, etc. 

If the mineral is produced in considerable 
quantity, there is given information concerning 
nature and composition of the mineral, places 
of occurrence in Canada, methods of mining 
and treating the ore, selling prices during 1918 
and uses. If the production is very large, or 
of special importance, as in the case of coal 
in Nova Scotia, Alberta and British Columbia ; 
gold, silver and nickel in Ontario; asbestos, 
chromite, magnesite and molybdenite in Que- 
bec; copper, lead and zinc in British Colum- 
bia, several pages are devoted to the industry. 

A second large section of the book is de- 
voted to mining and metallurgical companies 
operating in Canada. In each case is given the 
office address and the location of the property 
and the name of the manager. In most cases 
capitalization, names of directors, officers, na- 
ture of operations, recent financial statement 
and record of production during the last year 
are given. The companies are treated in al- 
phabetical order. 

Another feature of the book is a list of the 
companies classified according to product. 
("Canadian Mining Manual. 1918," edited by 
Reginald E. Hore. Mines Publishing Company, 
Toronto, $5.) 



January, 1019. 

A Novel of Hate for Hatred 

THERE have of late years been those am- 
ongst us who have sought to erect hatred 
into one of the cardinal virtues — hatred 
of individuals, hatred of a uation, not the im- 
personal and eminently righteous hatred which 
loathes the sin while leaving it to God to judge 
the sinner. It has been surmised that "Q" 
(Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch I wrote his latest 
novel, "Foe-Farrell." with the express inten- 
tion of combatting this new gospel of implac- 
ability; and it is true that in the epilogue to 
his masterly study of the psychological effects 
of hatred upon both subject and object he does 
make an immediate application to "this blast- 
ed war." Says Major Sir Roderick Otway, who 
has told the tale in a series of quiet evenings, to 
his fellow-officers in their common dug-out: 
"As I see it, the more you beat Fritz by becom- 
ing like him, the more he has won." And it is 
true also that a perusal of this tale, and a care- 
ful scrutiny (such as the perusal will inevit- 
ably suggest) of the lives of men and women 
whom we ourselves personally know, who have 
allowed the motive of hatred to become active 
and predominant in their lives, will bring 
forcibly before us the deterioration of 
character which hatred brings about. This is 
one strong reason why "Foe-Farrell" may be 
commended to those who are in search of a 
good novel for a Christmas gift. It is a book 
whose influence cannot fail to be for the bet- 
terment of the spirit. Another reason is that 
"Q" is one of the few authors of the present 
day who, having a very enthralling tale to tell, 
can still be trusted to preserve the niceties of 
a just literary style amid all the excitement. 
And the third reason is that "Foe-Farrell" : 
precisely an enthralling tale. 

Foe is the hater and Farrell the hated. In 
the beginning the right is absolutely, incontest- 
ably, on the side of Foe. While his wound is 
fresh he would be justified (since we do not 
ask for cool judgment and self-restraint from 

men who are in exquisite suffering) in almost 
any form of attack against his base and coward- 
ly opponent. But it is a law of nature that Time 
must heal all things, and that that which Time 
cannot heal is not fit for life; and Foe refuses 
to be healed. He has money and leisure, and 
he sets himself to the deliberate task of making 
existence intolerable for Farrell. He converts 
his hatred into an art, playing with exquisite 
skill upon all the weakest ner\es of Farrell 's 
system, and when Farrell, through the unsel- 
fish love of a woman, is on the point of rising 
to the utmost of his capabilities and making 
himself and his life worth while. Foe inter- 
venes and hurls him down to the depths. Fin- 
ally, by an act of calculated baseness of which 
the pre-hatred Foe would have been utterly 
incapable, he abandons Farrell alone upon a 
desert island (the story of the shipwreck and of 
the drifting boats with the survivors is one of 
the finest things that "Q" has evei tvritten), 
and thus surrenders all the moral advantage 
which he ever had over his adversary. And as 
the character of Foe deteriorates under the in- 
fluence of the hatred-virus, so the character of 
Farrell. partly as the result of his unjustified 
persecution, gradually strengthens in some re- 
spects, and the ultimate catastrophe is preci- 
pitated by an act of singular generosity on his 
part, which maddens the now obsessed Foe to 
the point of actual murder. 

"We do not believe that this tale was set go- 
ing in Sir Arthur's mind by any propagandist 
motive. It is too good a tale for that, told with 
too much zest and too racy an interest, not in 
its moral, but in its matter. Hatred is always a 
profoundly interesting subject to the psychol- 
ogist, and there is plenty of it even in times 
of peace. An author like Sir Arthur does not 
write his important novels as if they were pam- 
phlets or tracts for the times, which is no rea- 
son why they should not be timely. (Macmillan, 
Toronto. $1.50) 

Notre Dame de Montreal 

I enter those great doors, 

And all around me is so dim and still, 

I fear to tread the floors 

Lest my own footsteps in the treading will 

Cry out my presence there; 

And. for I feel so small in that great place. 

I do not even dare 

To look about me, but would fain efface 

Myself in some back pew, 

And see the kneeling figures at their prayer. 

And candles, lit anew; 

The smell of incense in the shadow'd air; 

The straggling light of day; 

The saints that look down calmly from the 

wall ; 
\nd — more than I can say — 
The nameless Silence that is over all . 

Margaret Hilda Wise. 

January, L919 

CANADIAN Hook 1/ 1 \ 


A New Birmingham 

SI >.\1 B people, when the} go oul lor a walk, 
like a companion who will take them by 
the most direct possible route to the 
place where they want to go. Others like a 
companion who is not sure that they want to 
go anywhere, and who will take them wander- 
ni- all round the adjacent country and dilate 
upon the beauties oS tihe wayside flowei-B, 
the architecture of the houses, the culinary 
(tract iees of the inhabitants as revealed by 
chimney-smokes, and kiteheii-door aromas. 
Taste in story-tellers varies in much the same 
way. Those who like the divagatory method 
like "George A. Birmingham," and there is no 
denying the Irish charm of his comments by 
the way. Canon Haimay is a "natural born" 
story-teller, ami can weave a plot — enough of 
a plot to carry his gentle meandering narra- 
tive — upon any foundation of circumstances 
that may be given him ; so it is not surprising to 
find him romancing mihlly and pleasantly 
about the war. "The Island Mystery" is not 
particularly good literature, certainly not com- 
parable witli its author's best work, such as 
"Spanish Gold - ' or that exquisitely whimsical 
yet gently satirical play, "General John Re- 
gan"; but it will while an hour very ingra- 
tiatingly, and will leave a few enlightening re- 
flections in the reader's mind. It deals with 
an American pacifist millionaire, his daughter 
Daisy, who wants to be a real queen, an Irish 
M.P., with a keen eye for 20 p.c. commissions, 
King Konrad Karl of Megalia, a villain in the 
person of von Moll of the Kaiser's secret ser- 
vice, and a hero in the person of Captain 
Phillips, of the British Merchant Marine. 
These disport themselves upon an island which 
the American millionaire buys from Konrad 
Karl in order that his daughter may have 
something to be queen of, and the action takes 
place in and near August, 1914. Enough said. 
One is left with the feeling that Mr. Oppen- 
heim could have done something like this much 
better, and that Canon Hannay could have 
done something much better, but quite differ- 
ent. This in spite of the fact that there are 
many pages bearing the authentic Hannay 
touch of humor, which Mr. Oppenheim could 
not begin to approach in a lifetime, and that 
Konrad Karl's passion for twisting the English 
idiom is genuinely' and exquisitely ludicrous. 
(McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto, 

A Vancouver Novel 

IF the amateur novelists and poets of British 
Columbia (who appear to be somewhat 
numerous) had one-half as much of techni- 
cal skill as they have of enthusiasm for the 
beauties of their glorious Province, they would 
be a formidable band of artists. But high ro- 
mantic beauty in a landscape is a positive dan- 
ger to those inexperienced writers who at- 
tempt to portray that beauty or to suggest that 

romai in verse or tale. Familiar them-' 

w nil the aesthetic effeel of the place v. 
their imagined comedy or tragedy occulta, 

they think that that effeel can be conveyed to 
the ordinary reader- |,\ a few place names 
and a I'ew conventional adj.- 1 

Vl ouver. is beyond all doubt the world's 

ideal spot for love niakiu<_' in a canoe; but the 
reader who has not 8 een :t will hardly imag- 
111. it from Robert Allison Hood's description 
of its charms at sundown : 

The Bhimmerlng lints of crimson and violet and 

3 .li..w and sold; il \- r:i.i- 

iance gradually dies away, the dark blues and ] ur- 

of tin- lolls outlined I he sky; the f; 

ing li-lii^ of tli'' fishin th.! 

on; .-in. I then, i full of ^'aple, 

behind, the town nil cheery with its str.-.-t lamps 

ana its countless gleaming win. lows. 

All of these things are common to several 
thousand other bays on the world's surface, 
and strangely fail 1.1 evoke the characteristic 
quality of English Bay. Nor does the enumer- 
ation of such names as "Second Beach," "Fer- 
guson Pont." "Stanley Park." "Point At- 
kinson" do any more for us. though to the 
writer those terms are doubtless loaded with 
poetic significance, derived from his personal 
experiences. It is always the amateur in 
water-colors, who selects as subject the old 
family homestead where he or she was brought 
up. or the little island where they picnicked 
in summer and where love's young dream 
first shed its rosy light ; thereby trying to 
make local sentiment do the work that should 
be done by art. The professional carefully se- 
lects his subject not for any adventitious ro- 
mance which it may possess in his mind and his 
alone, but for its pure representable beauty, 
and sets himself to portray that heauty just 
as if he had never seen the place before and 
never made love or been made love to in the 
midst of it. To do that he needs technique, in 
literature just as much as in water-colors, and 
the above extract will show that Mr. Hood has 
not the technique. His novel is called "The 
Chivalry of Keith Leicester," and is as ama- 
teur in character-drawing and action as in de- 
scription. (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, 
Toronto, $1.50). 

Courage and Audacity? 

WHETHER it was courage or audacitj 
which led to the decision to offer to the 
Canadian and American public an Ei 
lish translation of the early novel, "L'Enfer," 
by the famous author of "Under Fire," is a 
question which must be decided by the reader 
after he has formed his opinion of the merits 
and sincerity of the book; it was certainly one 
or the other. This astonishing novel has had 
an immense vogue in France, owing in part to 
the unashamed nakedness of some of its epi- 
sodes, but in part also to its undeniable and to 
some minds attractive philosophy. It should 
be added that a good many pages of the book 



January, 1919. 

are utterly impossible of general publication in 
English, and are omitted without much indica- 
tion to the English reader of what he may be 
missing. How far these ultra-frank portions 

of the narrative may be n ssary to convey the 

full value of Henri Barbusse's philosophy, it 
is a little difficult to tell when one has read the 
French version before the English, as in the 
case of the present critic. Certainly the book 
is not one to be read in English by anybody 
who can possibly read it in French; but that 
has somewhat the air of a general statement 
which might be applied to all translations. "The 
Inferno" is the record, in autobiographic form, 
of two or three months spent by a neurotic, im- 
aginative and analytical young Frenchman in a 
Paris lodging house where his room possesses a 
concealed hole in the wall which enables him to 
observe everything which goes on in the ad- 
jacent apartment. Such a device, capable of 
being used for a tale of the baldest animalism, 
is also capable of being used for the exposition 
of a picture of human life as it might be seen 
by a piece of furniture, or rather by a non- 
human spirit confined to a single spot and pos- 
sessing but a single sense, that of sight, and 
beholding only the isolated event of a moment or 
of an hour, without any of the processes which 
lead up to and follow it. And so seen, life has 
a new aspect, an aspect which will be repugnant 
to most people, but which is undeniably inter- 
esting — an aspect of almost mechanical inevit- 
ability, of cruelty, of intense isolation of the 
human individual, of a meaningless aud bar- 
barous repetition of animal processes. The 
kinship with the philosophy of "Under Fire" 
is unmistakeable, a philosophy of revolt against 
the compulsion which drives the spirit of man, 
capable of such soaring flights, through the 
dreary round of the necessities of the flesh. 
"He perceives," says Edward J. O'Brien, the 
translator, in a clever little Introduction, "that 
each man is an island of illimitable forces apart 
from his fellows, passionately eager to live his 
own life to the last degree of self -fulfilment, 
but continually thwarted by nature and by 
other men and women, until death interposes 
and sets the seal of oblivion upon all that he 
has dreamed and sought." Such a book is not 
to be hastily dismissed for going too far, nor 
its translation for not going far enough. (Mus- 
sou, Toronto, $1.50.) 

Good to Walk the World With 

Good to walk the world with, 

Such a mate! 
Good to love and live with, 

Soon and late. 

Good to take God's sending, 

Though it be 
But a by-path wending 

To the sea. 

Good to walk the path with. 

Such a friend! 
Good to sail the sea with. 

At the end. 

— Carroll Aikins, "Poems." 

A Literary Elephant Piling Logs 

THEODORE Dreiser, as an American writer 
has already remarked, does not do him- 
self justice when he attempts to write 
short stories; but that is far from saying his 
short stories in the volume "Free, And Other 
Stories" are not worth reading. Perhaps 
they fail from the point of view of the people 
to whom short stories are a mere means of 
titilating their rather feeble consciousnesses in 
the intervals between working, eating, sleep- 
ing and exploring sex. They are not of the 
kind designed to whip the flagging interest 
of the tired servant girl ; nor the paregoric 
to soothe minds that might otherwise discover 
their own vacuity. They are not outstanding 
good examples of the story-telling art. But 
they are acceptable and readable comments on 
life — and on Mr. Theodore Dreiser; especially 
Mr. Dreiser. 

Dreiser — to paraphrase an American ad- 
mirer of his — requires a large canvass. He 
is no painter of miniatures, though occasional- 
ly he does a bit of excellent character draw- 
ing in a short paragraph. He is obviously a 
German-American, with the German clumsi- 
ness, slowness, patience, and the American 
wistful sincerity and obsession with the things 
of sex. He works like an elephant piling 
logs, but the logs are interesting and well- 
piled. In the short story he is cramped for 
room. His sincerity will not allow him to use 
the short-cuts, the stagey devices, the "ef- 
fective" arrangements of the brilliant short- 
story writer. He spurns invention and 
stalks solemnly ahead with his record of truth 
as he sees it. 

These short stories reveal Dreiser in the 
same way that an intellectual's attempt at 
small talk in a parlour usually reveals the 
intellectual. His style is not musical. His 
construction is not neat, but there remain a 
certain shrewd but kindly insight into human 
motives and a certain dogged sincerity in re- 
cording them. Only occasionally he forgets to 
remain detached from his stories. He is more 
a student, awed a bit by the procession of life 
as he sees it, than an artist. That other mod- 
ern American, Ilergcsheimer, is more the artist. 
Dreiser's hand is a bit thumby. He sometimes 
forgets that there are people in the world who 
have outlived the distressing manifestations 
of early sex impulses. But Dreiser is sincere, 
shrewd and able in his big round way, and no 
mean figure in the little world of real Ameri- 
can letters. 

It might be said of him that he is apparently 
probing always for what is universal, not what 
is exceptional. In this book of short stories, 
for example, there are not individualities such 
as a Dickens presents. Dreiser scorns the 
novel, the melodramatic and is arrested only by 
some new and glowing symbol of the human, 
the constant, the universal. Sometimes he 
holds up as universal something not so at all. 
The first story "Free," fails on that account. 
"McEwen of the Slave-makers" is merely an 





experiment. 'Bui "The Second Choice," 
"Nigger Jeff," "The Losl Phoebe," and ' Old 
Rogaum and His Theresa these ring true. 
"Tlie Losl Phoebe" and "Old Rogautrt and Bis 
Theresa" have a nicely restrained tenderness 
that places them in a high class. "A Story nf 
Stories" is the besl newspaper tale the presenl 
writer has read hut that leaves il Ear below 
the other just mentioned. "Will Sou Walk 
into my Parlor, " is interesting, bul not excep 
tional. The stori.s toward the hack are, even 
I'm- Dreiser, dull; ho has not articulated his 
idea. But Dreiser himself is too unusual 
among Amer can writers to b< idemned for 

a dull moment or two. It is g 1 to read an 

American who never tries to he brilliant, who 
is just a patient, wise and honest draftsman 
of life as he sees it. i Musson, Toronto, $1.50 . 

A Canadian's Beautiful Book 

IT is not often that a Canadian author en- 
joys the privilege of seeing his work pro- 
duced in such exquisite printed form as 
that in which the Bodley Head (in Canada, S. 
B. Gundy i has embodied "Canadian Wonder 
Tales," by Cyrus Maemillan. The score or 
mole of rich color illustrations by George 
Sheringham, one of the English painters who 
are most deft in designing for modern color- 
reproduction processes, would alone engage 
the attention of the seeker after fine bookcraft. 
even without the special Canadian interest of 
the subject-matter and the Foreword by Sir 
William Peterson, K.C.M.G. The latter docu- 
ment reveals the fact, which will be no news 
to many Montrealers, and to students of Can- 
adian folklore generally, that Captain Mae- 
millan, the author of this volume, is a soldier- 
student, who interrupted his teaching work 
in Montreal to go overseas with one of the 
McGill Batteries, and who completed the tran- 
scription and arrangement of the Tales in the 
intervals between periods of artillery activity 
"Somewhere in France." The author's method, 
says Principal Peterson, resembles that of the 
Brothers Grimm. He lias taken down from 
the lips of living people "a series of stories 
which obviously contain many elements that 
have been handed down by oral tradition from 
some far-off past." Most of them are animal 
stories, in which the fox. the bear, the beaver 
and the eagle speak with human tongues and 
exhibit many human qualities. Some contain 
mythical explanations of the origin of natural 
phenomena, such as the Northern Lights. The 
book is designed primarily to interest children ; 
but even they, we should have supposed, would 
have appreciated some hint of the sources of 
the respective stories, which appear on the sur- 
face to be partly Indian (of many different 
tribes!, partly Eskimo, and partly primitive 
French-Canadian, but are not accompanied by 
any information which would enable us to 
distinguish one class from the other. Pos- 
sibly ^Captain Maemillan proceeds on the 
theory that if Canadian children are nourished 

upon the substance of Canadian folklore in 

their early youth, thej will develop an inter 

est in its origins and signifieai when they 

reach mature years; Inn this tl ry should not 

have prevented him from giving some Blight 
historical explanation even in the present vol 
umc, which we conceive is one thai will be 
treasured and referred to for many years by 

such children as have the freshness of mind 
to appreciate it. 

The talcs are narrated with wonderful sim- 
plicity and directness, and without the taint 

est suspicion of moralising or didactiveness 

precisely, In fact, as the primitive narrators 
who have handed on the oral tradition would 
tell them in t In- i- own wigwams or cabanes or 
Air. Sheringham \s illustrations, while 
highly decorative and full of technical skill, 
contain no attempt at realistic local color, but 
considering the nature and purpose of the book 
we are not disposed to make tiiat a subject of 
reproach. II s style is wonderfully delicate and 
refined, and those who wish their children to 
form then- earliest conception of the primi- 
tive inhabitants of Canada in a thoroughly 
poetic atmosphere — an atmosphere of mists 
ami stars and aurora shot through with magic 
and wonderment — cannot do better than to 
place in their hands this collection of Wonder 
Tales. iS. 11. Gundy, Toronto.) * 

For Children Over Thirty 

FOR children who have graduated from the 
class in Aubrey Beardsley and taken their 
first lessons in Van Gogh, we know of no 
better volume for the succeeding stage of 
their instruction than "The Rhynie Garden," 
by Marguerite Buller Allan, a well known 
artist and poet of Montreal. That few children 
reach this stage of taste-development before 
the age of thirty in no wise affects the issue. 
Mrs. Allan's volume conveys in some mysteri- 
ous manner the impression of being intended 
for children, but nowhere does she suggest that 
it is intended for young children — say those 
under thirty. We tried it on one young man 
of nine and found him extremely contemptp- 
ous, but this proves nothing save the spread of 
Philistinism among the rising generation. 
Some children of over thirty may feel a cer- 
tain hesitancy about purchasing "The Rhyme 
Garden.'' for their own enjoyment, on ac- 
count of its obvious lack of solemnity of pur- 
pose; to all such we would recommend that 
they buy it as a Christmas present for some 
juvenile child in the household, and then sur- 
reptitiously abstract it while the juvenile is 
occupied with some more exciting gift, It is 
ten to one that the juvenile will not miss it. 
and a hundred to one that the donor will be 
overjoyed to get it back. Mrs. Allan's wildly 
exuberant extravagances of color and line 
familar to a good many Canadians from her 
exhibit in recent art shows) are a delight to 
the sophisticated eye. and her verse is thor- 
oughly in keeping with their fantastic play- 



January, 1919. 

fulness. There are eight color plates and a 
large number of black-and-white decorations 
in the text. The flavor of the verses is better 
given by a sample than by any amount of 'de- 


The scarecrow watched the moon come up 
And laughed both long and loud, 

The timid, disconcerted moon, 
Sank back behind a cloud. 

And when the morning sun shone out, 

The scarecrow mocked the sun, 
He laughed so much the ears of wheat, 

Joined gaily in his fun. 

"The splendid sun and stately moon, 

Why do you jeer at these, 
Whose beauty every poet sings ? ' ' 

I asked him. "Tell me, please." 

The scarecrow in a softened mood 

Wept very bitterly. 
He said, "I have to laugh at them, 

Or they would laugh at me.' ' 

The same idea is repeated in another form 
in the verses entitled: "The Disagreeable Bull- 
dog,'' which tell us how the bulldog mocked at 
the half-shaved poodle, and "cared not in the 
least" when that sensitive animal grieved and 

He just continued mocking him; 

You never would have guessed 
How much he envied in his heart, 

The way the poodle dressed! 

Is it too much to conjecture that these alle- 
geries contain the artistic profession of faith 
of Mrs. Buller Allan, and her fellow innova- 
tors at recent Canadian picture-shows? Is she 
notifying the Philistines that they cannot laugh 
at her, according to the rules of the game, be- 
cause she and her art have first laughed at 
them? s. B. Gundy, Toronto). 

Fighting France 

AMONG the propaganda volumes of the 
year 1918 (whose book lists on this con- 
tinent have been largely made up of vol- 
umes issued with the primary intent of ad- 
vancing the sympathy and understanding be- 
tween different nations of the anti-Teutonic 
alliance, and especially between the United 
States and her various colleagues), there are 
few with more claim to a permanent place in 
literature than "Fighting France," by Ste- 
phane Lauzanne, lieutenant in the French 
Army, Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, edi- 
tor-in-chief of Le Matin, and this year a mem- 
ber of the French Mission to the United 
States. M. Lauzanne, though a journal'st by 
profession, is also an artist in language ; the 
two things are less incompatible in France 
than in most English-speaking countries. He 
does not, however, write in English, and the 
translation of the present volume, by John L. 
B. Williams, a former fellow of Princeton, 
shows occasional traces of undue hurry, such 
■as tlir meaningless literalism: "articles (of the 

Hague Convention; which . . . offer a pro- 
digious interest to actuality." Generally 
speaking, however, the peqfeet clarity and 
simplicity of M. Lauzanne 's writings shows 
clearly enough through the translation. 

Part of the book is devoted to an exposition 
of France's war aims, and is of the highest in- 
terest at the moment when this review is be 
ing written. M. Lauzanne dwells upon some 
of the difficulties surrounding the project of 
the League of Nations, and shows how many 
sentimentalists have overlooked one absolute 
prerequisite which the President laid down for- 
cibly enough. This is the condition embodied 
in President "Wilson's statement that "no auto- 
cratic government could be trusted to keep 
faith within a partnership of nations or ob- 
serve its covenants." A Germany still militar- 
istic is, to M. Lauzanne, a Germany with whom 
no League is possible. And he proposes that 
the Allies use their economic power to break 
down Germany's militarism if Germany does 
not break it down herself. Let the Allies say 
to Germany, he suggests: "As long as you 
have a military and naval budget of four hun- 
dred millions of dollars, we regret that we shall 
be unable to sell you wool and copper. "We re- 
gret that we shall be unable to buy anything 
from you. But, if you reduce this budget by 
half, we are willing to give you one million 
metric quintals of wool and 125,000 tons of 
copper." And so on, increasing the permitted 
volume of trade with every reduction in the 
German war machine. (McClelland, Goodchild 
& Stewart, Toronto, $1.50). 

Lt.-Col. L. G. Desjardins' book entitled 
" 1/Angleterre, le Canada et la Grande 
Guerre," which rapidly passed through two 
editions in the original French, has now been 
translated into English under the title of 
"England, Canada and the Great War." It 
is an able statement of the views of that con- 
siderable element of the French-Canadian 
population which heartily supports the action 
of Canada in going into the war to the limit of 
its powers and resources, and while its au- 
thor's chief object in writing the original ver- 
sion was to set before his French-speaking 
countrymen a more correct view of the inter- 
national situation than that which had been 
most noisily brought to their attention by a 
section of their press (a function which was 
evidently fulfilled with some success), the 
present translation will be of value for the 
purpose of showing English-speaking readers 
the point of view of a pro-war "Canadien." 
The translation, unfortunately, is far from be- 
ing idiomatic, and does not do justice to Col- 
mud Desjardins' style. In substance the book 
is. by the very nature of its origin, negative 
and critical rather than constructive — a cor- 
rective of Bourassism rather than an all-round 
exposition of Canadianism. At the beginning 
of this year there was occasion for such a 
negative, and corrective work, but the need 
can scarcely be permanent. 


Canadian booh m \ \ 

The Cow Puncher 

ROBERT J. C. Stead stands oul somewhal 
from among the younger generation of 
residenl Canadian novelists, in spite of 
being as much addicted as any of thera to the 
Wild Wesl lo, -airs so favi ured by our Am- 
erican cinematograph friends, owing to a cer- 
tain unmistakeable sincerity of literary pur 
pose. Whether this sincerity is any greal as 
sistance for the production of a frankly melo- 
dramatic frontier novel is open to some doubt, 
Imii it will certainly be of value when Mr. 
Stead takes to the portrayal of more normal 
and more accurately observed Canadian life. 
At present he creates the impression of a 
man who is rather reluctantlj and warily 
grinding the handle of a well-worn Ameri- 
can patent novel-producer, guaranteed to turn 
out a readable story upon the insertion of the 
proper ingredients, but needing for its best 
effects the masterful grip of a Jack London or 
a Rex Beach. Mr. Stead has both the advan- 
tage and the disadvantage of knowing his. 
Canadian West very well indeed as it is to-day. 
This makes it easy for him to give a life-like 
and sincere picture of the normal, every-day, 
routine events which make up most of the life 
even of a Westerner at this advanced date in 
"Canada's Century,*' but difficult for him to 
daub his canvas convincingly with the very 
thick and juicy "romantic" colours demanded 
by the patron of the true Wild W T est novel and 
movie-show. In some respects, therefore, "The 
Cow Puncher," Mr. Stead's third and latest 
novel, falls between two stools. It is both 
the best and the worst thing one can say 
about it. that it would make up well into a 
moving-picture scenario. 

Mr. Stead's recipe as employed in this novel 
may be told in a few words. First catch a 
ranch-hand, young, first-class horseman, inno- 
cent of the wiles of the world, and endowed 
with a fine vocabulary of Western slang and 
an inability to comprehend any other lan- 
guage. Then bring on a pretty young woman 
who has accident in car, necessitating her 
staying at the ranch to tend father with 
broken leg. Mix well and leave to simmer 
until youthful rancher has glimpses of the 
higher life. Hero breaks into newspaper re- 
porting, passes thence into real estate in the 
good old days before tax sales filled whole 
pages of the western papers — and makes his 
pile. Re-enter pretty girl of first chapter who, 
however, gets involved — oh, quite innocently 
— with hero's partner, the bad man of the 
novel. Hero begins to find out that real es- 
tate millions have their drawbacks and has 
qualms of conscience. The war then becomes a 
factor, and brings to an end the usual current 
of cross-purposes between hero and heroine 
which is necessary for the novelist's objects; 
for the war performs the same function as in 

John Murray Gibbon's novel of bringing the 
pair t > a better understanding of our an 
other's higher natures, ami the hero enlists, 

Author of "The Cow Puncher." 

marries the heroine, and sends her hack from 
England to grow wheat on the old ranch for 
the Empire's needs. The conclusion is well 
told, but it is too good and too sincere a con- 
elusion to seem fitting at the end of a tale in 
which the mechanical appliances of the liter- 
ary journeyman of melodrama — the frequent 
gunplay, the unmitigated villain, the deep dark 
plot, the secret war between the "interests," 
the frequent accident and the long arm of co- 
incidence—have been so assiduously em- 
ployed. It is a conclusion worthy of a bigger 
conception — worthy perhaps of the bigger 
novel which Mr. Stead is even now preparing 
to write. This is how it is told, and it is a good 
sample of the style of our Western novelist- 
poet : "And so, in that little white-washed 
home, where the brown hills rise around and 
the placid mountains look down from the dis- 
tance, and a tongue of spruce trees beyond 
the_ stream stands sentinel against the open 
prairie, she is carrying on. not in despondency 
and bitterness, but in service and hope. And 
so her sisters, all this world over, must carry 
on. until their sweetness and their sacrifice 
shall fill up and flood over all the valleys of 
hate . . . And if von should chance that 
way. and if you should win the confidence of 
young Three-year-old. he may stand for you 
and say. with his voice filled with the honor 
and glory and the pride of it. 'My father was 
a soldier. He was killed at Courcelette. ' " 
(Musson, Toronto. $1.50.) 


January. 1 !>10. 

The Canadian Annual Review 

yX one particular point of bookishness Can- 
adians can afford to h ild their heads high 
in the presence of almost any other nation- 
als (useful word, that — one of the few really 
desirable vocables added to the English lan- 
guage, or at least to the commonly accepted 
part of the English language, as a result of 
the wan. We have an annual review of our 
own Canadian affairs, which is notably super- 
ior in completeness, selectiveness, arrangement 
and convenience to that of any other country. 
It is true that the range of affairs to be re- 
viewed is narrower in Canada than in such a 
country as the United States or Great Britain; 
but nevertheless it is no inconsiderable 
achievement to bring all the important busi- 
ness even of Canada, within the scope-of a 050- 
page v lume as effectively as does Mr. Cas- 
tell Hopkins in "The Canadian Annual Re- 
view (1917)", just issued from the press of 
the Canadian Annual Review, Limited ($6). 
As almost all Canadian book-buyers and lib- 
rary-users are familiar with the scope and use- 
fulness of this publication it is not necessary 
to enlarge upon it: but for those few who are 
not thus familiar we would merely say that 
there is practically nothing which has been 
done or said, in any way affecting Canada, in 
tlie twentieth century, which is not to be 
found duly recorded in the seventeen volumes 
of this unique publication. That a good many 
of the things thus recorded, especially at elec- 
tion times, are things which we would willing- 
ly let perish, does not affect the value of the 
book: they will not perish, whatever we may 
wish concerning them, and when by the ef- 

flux of time we arrive at a sufficient dis- 
tance from them we may derive profit and 
edification even from the record of our own 

Author of the Canadian Annual Review. 

A Door That Leads Nowhere 

ALAN Sullivan's book, "The Inner Door," 
is not a good book. Only the fact that 
Sullivan is a Canadian, lives in Toronto, 
and has told a number of good Esquimaux 
stories in his volume "The Passing of Ool-i- 
but," makes it even necessary to say so. The 
upstanding and unpardonable sin of this last 
work of Sullivan's is its insincerity. The au- 
thor has no real sympathy with any theme in 
his book except the sex theme. That, in itself, 
might pass if it were not so clear that the pre- 
tentious pretended •'study" of labor prob- 
lems in a Canadian factory has obviously been 
dragged in to offset the sex theme and to give 
the book the appearance of having an intel- 
lectual appeal which it hasn't. Sullivan tells 
a low-life Love story, passing well. His pen 
warms up when dealing with the alarms of 
waking adolescence. Even at that it goes a bit 
mad and traces such absurdities in this new 

1 k as "His throat grew stiff and parched. 

The girl was terrifically potent and from her 
]i ured the ever-amazing appeal of her child- 
bearing sisterhood " Ho-hum! 

But if this author would stick to self-con- 
- tious love-makings and the pathological 
symptoms of aboriginal passion — his heroe's 
minds never seem illumined in these exalted 
and exhausting periods — he would hold at 
Least one audience. Student of sociology or 
economics he is not. In attempting such things 
he betrays laziness in observation, lack of 
sympathy or real insight into the hearts of the 
struggling poor — and succeeds only in making 
one feel that he is faking clumsily. 

Toronto may indeed be dull, but not so pow- 
erful a soporific as Mr. Sullivan dispenses 
when he attempts to describe any phase of its 
life. "Ool-i-but" was not so very bad. The 
plots were good to begin with. But "The In- 
ner Door" is distressing. (Gundy, Toronto, 

January, 1919. 



Canada's First Publishing House 


WHEN Egerton Ryerson, al a Methodisl 
Conference in Ancaster, Wentworth 

County, Ontario, in L829, persuaded 

a number of his brother preachers thai 

a denominational newspaper was advisable and 

induced them to subscribe for stock in the 

new institution at $20 each, he and they 
surely had little idea that less than a centurj 
afterward the publishing business then in- 
augurated would grow to have a turnover of 

approximately a million dollars a year, and 

would he housed in one of the finest and largest 

publishing h o m e s 

on the continent. 

And yet, this is 

identically w h a t 

has occurred. 

With the money 
subscribed by his 
brethren and him- 
self, R\ erson rod 1 
to New York on 
horseback shortly 
afterward, p u r - 
chased type and 
presses, and on 
November 21 of the 
same year the first 
number of The 
Christian Guardian 
was issued. This 
was the direct be- 
ginning of Canada 's 
pioneer publishing 
house. It apparent- 
ly became early evi- 
dent that the insti- 
tution was to fill a 
large place. A reso- 
lution of the Con- 
ference the follow- 
ing year provided 
for the change in 
The Christian 
Guardian fro m 
quarto to folio form, 
"making it the larg- 
est paper published in the province except the 
Kingston Chronicle." The expenses were an- 
nounced as being over $60 a week ! We are 
not told whether this included the editor's 
salary, but the encouraging statement was made 
that if the amounts due — over $2,000 — were paid 
up, all claims would be met. 

The book-selling and book-publishing depart- 
ments of the business came along naturally in 
the ordinary course of events, with the develop- 
ment of business in the province. It was found, 
for instance, that The Guardian office was a 

The Venerakle 

convenient place m which the preachers and 
members of the Church mighl secure what hooks 
they wished, and consequently a stock of Bibles, 

hymn hooks, and a limited number of such theo- 
logical and religious volumes as were then likely 
to he in demand, was provided. 

Apparently the amounts <\\\r were paid up. 
In any event The Guardian prospered. largely, 
perhaps, owing to the fact that its editor, Ryer- 
son, believed it his duty to devote a good deal 
of time and space to the reporting of political 
news. Through this, the journal soon became 

one of the influ- 
ential organs of the 

Prosperity along 
financial lines was 
apparently also in 
evidence, for before 

the passing of many 

years, the accrued 
profits v of the busi- 
ness made possible 
the repayment of 
amounts originally 
subscribed by the 
p r e a c h e r s, and 
around this hinges 
a notable fact, 
namely, that Can- 
ada's largest pub- 
lishing house has 
actually no capital 
stock! As then, the 
same policy has 
been followed since. 
Accrued profits 
have been put into 
the business from 
war to year, and 
this has led, as noted 
above, to the estab- 
lishment of one of 
the finest manufac- 
turing and publish- 
ing plants in Am- 
15 erica. 
As time went on, the scope of the House was 
naturally enlarged. It became evident, after a 
little time, that it was a poor policy to allow 
machinery which was used for the printing of 
The Guardian and other periodicals which were 
subsequently established to stand idle. Conse- 
quently, the directors of the business began to 
do commercial work as printers and manufac- 
turers. With the concurrence of the church, 
this policy has been maintained until now the 
printing plant, comprising some twenty lino- 
type machines and some twenty-four evlinder 

Book Steward. 



January, 1919. 

presses, is kept occupied turning out the twenty- 
three periodicals and the numerous books issued 
by the house, as well as the work of other church 
departments, and in the way suggested above, 
as commercial printers. 

When the demand for out-and-out Canadian 
books began to materialize, it was very natural 
that the Methodist Book and Publishing House, 
with the requisite plant and equipment, should 
be interested. Various difficulties in the way 
of cheap importations, high-priced paper and 
other conditions, which still, by the way, largely 
prevail, made the situation a somewhat trouble- 
some one to face. However, the House has al- 
ways had a most strong interest in matters Can- 
adian, and at that time, as ever since, all pos- 
sible encouragement was given to Canadian 
authors and Canadian books. Along in the 
eighties, this matter of book publication had 
grown to the extent of warranting a special 
department, and E. S. Caswell, now secretary 
of the Public Library Board in Toronto, was 
brought from his position in the shipping de- 
partment, and given charge of this work. 

Our early Canadiana owes a good deal to the 
encouragement of the House, which to a large 
extent believed in producing Canadian books, 
even if at times, the probability for large com- 
mercial returns did not seem to be bright. A 
page might be taken in listing books such, for 
instance, as Mrs. Traill's "Pearls and Pebbles," 
' ' Studies in Plant Life, " " Canadian Wild Flow- 
ers," Campbell's "Dread Voyage," and others 
of the type which now stand as classics in our 


The Methodist Book and Publishing 
Queen and John streets, To 

libraries. Naturally, a good many of the books 
issued in those days, as' since, were volumes o± 
local history and biography, and in these we 
have presented to us the foundations not only 
of Canadian history, but of our succeeding arts 
and letters. 

Later still, as the book-selling end of the 
business continued to develop, a separate de- 
part ment was established to look after the sales 
to the retail booksellers, and the institution thus 
became one of the earliest wholesale or jobbing 
houses in Canada. Naturally, it was not pos- 
sible to carry this on solely with local produc- 
tions, and in consequence importations from 
Great Britain and the United States were also 

When one gets this far in outlining the activi- 
ties of the business, the query usually arises 
as to what becomes of the profits of an insti- 
tution conducted on such an unusual basis, and 
thereby hangs an interesting story. The Meth- 
odist Book and Publishing House, of course, is 
the property of the Methodist Church. Just r.o 
what branch of the Church it belongs, or in 
v. hat way it is owned, is somewhat of a moot 
question, and one for which the answer has 
ni ver definitely been called. However, soon 
after the institution got on its feet financially, 
a proportionate amount was set aside from the 
profits every year to a fund which is used for 
the support of the worn-out Methodist preach- 
ers, their wives and children. No individual 
has ever received a penny directly from the 
profits of the business, and what profits have 

been made have been 
regularly and con- 
tinuously divided as 
already suggested, 
one portion going to 
the upbuilding and 
maintenance of the 
business, and the 
other to this "Super- 
annuation Fund," as 
it is called, for the 
aid of the Methodist 

Another question 
w h i c h frequently 
crops up is, "How is 
the business conduct- 
ed? Who is respons- 
ible for it?" 

While the business 
is practically run as 
any other, by a board 
of directors and a 
manager, these of- 
ficials are not bv any 
means denoted *"■ 
such in the anna's 
of the institution. At 
the General Confer- 
ence of tlie Methodist 
Church, which meets 
House, corner quadrcnuiallv. t h P 

ronto. board of directors 

January, 1919. 

C I Y.m/.I.Y BOOK l/. I \ 


or a "Book Committee" which is responsible for 
the management of the institution Eor the suc- 
ceeding Eour years, is elected. At the same time 
a "Book Steward," really the managing direc- 
tor, is elected, who is more directly responsible. 
The Book Committee meets annually, with a 
semi-annual executive session, supervising the 
policy of the Book steward, as dues any other 
similar body in other business, 

Quite as familiarly known, perhaps even more 
so, than the name "Methodist Book and Pub- 
lishing House." is the name "BriggS." Thirty- 
six years ago, the Rev. William BriggS, who had 

made a name for himself in pastorates in the 
most important churches in Canada, was elected 
Book Steward. And so practically have his 
efforts and his policies in conducting the busi- 
ness appealed to his brother preachers and the 
members of the church generally, that he is still 
in office, although his resignation, to take effect 
next summer, has been handed in to the Annual 
Conference, and was regretfully accepted. 
Under Dr. Briggs, the business has developed 
into the large place 
in Canadian business 
affairs it now oc- 
cupies, and largely 
under his guidance, 
the publication side 
of the business as 
devoted to books has 
been developed. It 
may safely be said 
that it was largely 
through Dr. Briggs' 
interest in thing;: 
Canadian that many 
of the Canadian 
classics referred to 
above were published, 
and had he not as- 
sumed this interest, 
it is altogether prob- 

>-■■'- I ■■ ■ 

-frlZR, ^C^fit£^j u *jfi-' 

able that dozens of 

such volumes would never have seen the light. 

The combination of preacher and business 
man is said by many to be somewhat anomalous, 
but from foundations which were well and truly 
laid in his boyhood days in a business house 
in England, the present Book Steward has de- 
veloped an executive ability which has placed 
him on a par with the heads of the largest busi- 
ness institutions of the Dominion. A fact which 
should be interesting to readers of the Canadian 
Bookman is that Dr. Briggs still maintains 
his strong interest in publication matters, so 
much so that he very closely supervises, and 
quite occasionally writes himself, letters to 
authors regarding prospective books. Dr. Briggs 
believes primarily in close attention to detail 
business and in providing the very best of ser- 
vice to customers. One of the interesting fea- 
tures in the daily procedure of the Institution 
is what has been familiarly dubbed "Parade." 
To explain this point it must be known that the 
head of the House himself goes over everything 
but the detail matters of the morning mail, and 

Facsimile of a letter which provided for the found- 
ing of the Methodist Book and Publishing 

the remainder is then distributed to the lead of 

the depart incuts, at this brief morning gather 

ing in his office. If any has been remiss in 

his duties, or it appears that an in ju I ICl 

been done anj customer, the opportunity is 
taken of impressing the situation quite strongly 
at the time. Another remarkable tact, perhap 

is that \)\\ BriggS is at his desk almost w it limit 
except inn mi every working day of the year. 
For a man of his years, his health is exceed in- 
good, and it is very infrequently that lie cannot 
he found at his own office on the third floor 
of the building at Queen and John streets. Tor- 
onto, ready t>> look after any matter of policy, 
or to nice) any members of the church. Most 
heads of businesses of this size are somewhat 
closely protected in their offices. Dr. BriggS is 
democratic in seeing almost anyone who wants 
to approach him. It js not an unusual sight 
to see the chair at his right, which has just been 
vacated by the General Superintendent of the 
Church, or by some high dignitary of some other 
denomination, occupied by a girl in her teens 

from the instit ution 's 
bindery. The same 
spirit of democracy 
is carried largely 
through the plant 
I tee of the socie.l fea- 
tures of the institu- 
tion is the cafeteria, 
where the four or five 
hundred employees 
are served with noon- 
day luncheon at cost. 
In similar places in 
most businesses, a 
separate room is set 
aside for the heads of 
the departments and 
the president. Not so 
here. Almost any 
day. the Book Stew- 
ard may be seen in 
the Book Room's cafeteria eating his luncheon 
while in conversation with an office boy, or 
with the driver of one of the firm's delivery 

Those who know Dr. Briggs and the success 
which has attended his efforts in the institu- 
tion, attribute a good deal of this latter to his 
ability for picking men. and with this goes a 
belief in promotion. An instance was given 
where a subordinate was brought down to take 
the head of a newly-established department. The 
same policy has been followed throughout the 
institution until now, witli perhaps one or tw- 
exceptions, the several departments are directed 
by managers who came in as boys, who have 
grown up with it, and have made their places 
as they came along. When, for any reason, a 
vacancy occurs, the first thought in the Book 
Steward's mind is the possibility of filling the 
place by the promotion of someone who has 
been filling a less important position previously, 
and in most cases it must be said that his 
judgment is exceedingly good. 


CAN A 1)1 .L\ BOO KM AS 

January, 1919. 

Rather a notable feature in Canadian Pub- 
lication circles was the completion and the plac- 
ing on the market last October, of the "New 
Methodist Hymn Book," a compilation which 
has since taken a very large place in the wor- 
ship of the denomination in Canada. This, it 
should be noted, was the first Hymn Book of 
any denomination for which the type was set, 
and the actual printing and binding done in toto, 
in Canada. The books of the other denomina- 
tions have been printed in England, and im- 
ported, the "publication" in such cases being 

distribution and sale only. 

What the future may bring for Canada's 
pioneer publishing house is something that can- 
not well be even imagined now. With the 
post-war growth of business and population in 
the Dominion, there is no doubt but that a con- 
sequent growth in the institution will follow. It 
seems probable that within the next few years 
material additions may he necessary to tlie al- 
ready vast h ime depicted in the accompanying 

Books on Metallurgy : " De Re Metallica 


METALLURGY is one of the oldest of the 
arts; a knowledge of its mysteries was 
highly prized in olden days, and its 
practice has been shrouded in secrecy even in 
modern times. The manager of many a metal- 
lurgical works would refuse admittance to 
visitors for fear of disclosing some secret on 
which the technical and financial success of 
the industry was supposed to depend. Under 
these conditions metallurgical literature was 
limited, although important works were writ- 
ten and advances were slow. In recent years 
a mure liberal spirit has been observed; nowa- 
days, it is generally recognized that a plant 
from which visitors are excluded is probably 
behind the times, and as a result of the freer 
exchange of knowledge and ideas the art and 
science of metallurgy are making rapid pro- 

Under these conditions metallurgical litera- 
ture is world-wide in scope and distribution. 
Processes that are limited in use to a par- 
ticular country or district are becoming fewer 
and of less importance, and metallurgists in 
any country can keep in touch with the ad- 
vances in the science and practice of their 
art in all parts of the habitable world. It will 
be clear, then, that there is scarcely such a 
thing as English metallurgy, Scotch metallur- 
gy, Canadian metallurgy; although we some- 
time, speak of American metallurgy, having 
in mind the fact that on this continent smelt- 
ing methods have been undertaken on a larger 
scale and with a freedom from precedent that 
was unknown in the past in European coun- 
tries. Hooks on metallurgy, when written in 
English, are usually published in London or 
Xew York, and authors who may happen to 
be located in Canada have their works pub- 
lished in one of these places. Technical books 
of this kind involve much work in writing and 
considerable expense in printing and publish- 
ing, the reading public in Canada is small, 
and. in consequence, Canadian publishers are 
unable to handle such hooks. A work of any 
importance, on a subject of such wide-spread 
interest, must be brought out by publishers 
having world-wide affiliations, and the only 
limiting circumstance is the survival of dif- 

ferent languages, which still makes it neces- 
sary to translate English books into French, 
Spanish, German and other languages, while 
metallurgical works in those tongues are 
translated into English. We may almost re- 
gret the medieval custom of writing in Latin 
so that all scholars would understand. 

Although it will he impossible to observe a 
chronological order in dealing with works on 
metallurgy, it seems fitting to place in this 
introductory article a notice of the first book 
of any importance dealing wth the subject of 
metallurgy. "De Re Metallica'* — written in 
Latin by (ieorgius Agricola early in the six- 
teenth century and published in 1556 — has at 
last been worthily translated into English by 
Herbert Clark Hoover and Lou Henry Hoover, 
and was published in a de luxe edition in 1912. 
The noble part which Mr. Hoover has played 
in the present war adds interest to the labour 
of love which occupied him and his wife for 
about five years. 

Ge mius Agricola (Georg Bauer) was born 
at Glauchau in Saxony in 1494, about the be- 
ginning of the revival of learning, and his 
writings, although to us they seem archaic 
and somewhat obscure, mark a great ad- 
vance when compared with contempor- 
ary writings on the subject. One of the 
features of ""De Re Metallica" is the large 
number of wood-cuts, which have been repro- 
duced, faithfully, in the translation. The fol- 
lowing extracts will indicate the character of 
the work, which covers the subject of mining, 
ore-dressing, assaying, smelting and refining 
of metals as known at that time. 

The preface is addressed : 

To the most illustrious ami most mighty dukes of 
Saxony, Landgraves of Thuringia, Margraves of Meis- 
sen, [imperial Overlords "t Saxony, Burgraves of AI 
tenberg and Magdeburg, Counts of Brena, Lords of 
Pleissnerland, To Maurice, Grand Marshall and Elector 
of the Holy Koman Empire and to his brother Au- 

In it he states: 

Without doubt, none of the arts is older than 
agriculture, but that of the metals is not less an- 
cient; in fact they are at least equal and coeval, - 
for no mortal man ever tilled a field without imple- 

January, L919. 


incuts. In truth, in all the works of agriculture, at 
"i the other arts, implements are uaoil which are 
wade from metals, or which could not be made with 
out the use ..I metals; for this reason the tnetali are 

ni the greatest necessity to man. 

With reference to the alchemists he writes: 

These masters teach their disciples thai the base 
metals, when smelted, are broken up; also thej teach 
the methods by which they reduce them to the prim 
ary parts and remove whatever is superfluous in 
them, and by supplying what is wanted make oul 

of them tin' precious metals that is, gold and silver 
— all of which they .airy out ill a crucible. Whe- 
ther they can ilo these things or not I cannot dei idej 
but, seeing that so many writers assure us with all 
earnestness that the) have reached that goal for 
which they aimed, it would seem that faith might 

lie placed in them; yet also seeinK that we ilo not 

read of any of them ever having become rich by 
this art, .... I shouhl say the matter is dubious. 

Iii Book I he writes: 

.Many persons hold the opinion that the metal in- 
dustries are fortuitous and that the occupation is one 
of sordid toil, and altogether a kind of business re- 
quiring not so much skill as labour. But as for my- 
self, when I reflect carefully upon its special points 
one by one, it appears to be far otherwise ' 

He also argues against the prevailing belief 
that it is wicked to have or obtain metals: 

In the first place then, those who speak ill of the 
metals and refuse to make use of them, do not see 
that they accuse and condemn as wicked the Creator 
Himself, when they assert that He fashioned some 
things vainly and without good cause, and thus they 
regard Him as the Author of evils, which opinion is 
certainly not worthy of pious and sensible men. In 
the next place, the earth does not conceal metals in 
her depths because she does not wish that men 
should dig them out, but because provident and sa- 
gacious Nature has appointed for each thing its 
place. ' ' 

With respect to the divining rod he writes: 

There are many great contentions between miners 
concerning the forked twig, for some say that it is 
of the greatest use in discovering veins, and others 
deny it. Some of those who manipulate ami use the 
twig, first cut a fork from a hazel bush with a knife, 
for this bush they consider more efficacious than any 
other for revealing the veins, especialy if the hazel 
bush grows above a vein. . . .Since this matter re- 
mains in dispute and causes much disseution amongst 
miners, I consider it ought to be examined in its own 

merits The Ancients, by means of the 

divining rod, not only procured those things neces- 
sary for a livelihood or for luxury, but they were 
also able to alter the forms of things by it; as when 
the magicians changed the rods of the Egyptians into 
serpents, as the writings of the Hebrews relate; and 
as in Homer, Minerva with a divining rod turned the 
aged Ulysses suddenly into a youth, and then re- 
stored him back again to old age. . . . Therefore 
it seems that the divining rod passed to the mines 
from its impure origin with the magicians. Then 
when good men shrank with horror from the incan- 
tations and rejected them, the* twig was retained by 
the unsophisticated common miners, and in search- 
ing for new veins some traces of these ancient 
usages remain. 

Although doubtful about the divining rod, 
Agricola believed in subterranean demons: 

In some of our mines, however, though in very few, 
there are other pernicious pests. These are demons 
of ferocious aspect, about which I have spoken in 
my book "De Animantibus Subterraneis. ' * Demons 
of this kind are expelled and put to flight by prayer 
and fasting. Some of these evils, as well as certain 
other things, are the reason why pits are occasion- 

abandoned. But th. fii i a, .. i principal i -. 

that they .i.. not j i. -id metal, 

His instructions to aasayera read correctly 

at tin- present time: 


It ,s necessary that ti„. assayer who ., testing ore or 
metals should be prepared ai , :i ii tl,iu K s 

aecessa r.v ... assaying, and thai be should close the 
doors oi the room ,„ which the 

,|,M " 1, , lMS ' '««« < intenl on the 

ror him to place his bal- 

■'"■;■- ", a case, so that when b the little 

buttons ol metal the scales maj ,.,, b .. 

a draught of air. J 

1 may add in full his instructions for assay- 
ing an ore of gold, to show how closely they 
resemble our modern methods: 

Mix one part of this ore, when it has been roasted 
crushed and washed, with three parts of some pow- 
der compound which melts ore, and sii parts of lead 
1 i ut the charge into the triangular crucible, place it in 
the iron hoop to which the double bellows reaches 
and heat t.rst in a slow fire, and afterward gradu- 
ally ,,, a fiercer fire, till it melts and flows like 
water, it the ore does not melt, add to it a little 
more ot these fluxes, mixed with an equal portion of 
yellow litharge, and stir it with a hot iron rod until 
it all melts. Then take the crucible out of the hoop, 
shake oft the button when it has cooled, and when it 
has been cleansed, melt first in the scorifier and af- 
terward in the cupel. Finally, rub the gold which 
has settled in the bottom of the cupel, after it has 
been taken out and cooled, on the touchstone, in order 
to find out what proportion of silver it contains. 

Book IX. on the smelting of ores begins as 

follows :— 

Since I have written on the varied work of pre- 
paring the ores, I will now write of the various 
methods of smelting them. Although those who burn 
roast and calcine the ore, take from it something 
which is mixed or combined with the metals; and 
those who crush it with stamps take away much; and 
those who wash, screen and sort it, take away still 
more; yet they cannot remove all which conceals 
the metal from the eye and renders it crude and un- 
formed. Wherefore smelting is necessary, for bv 
this means earths, solidified juices, and stones are 
separated from the metals so that they obtain their 
proper colour and become pure, and mav be of great 
use to mankind in many ways. When the ore is 
smelted, those things which were mixed with the 
metal before it was melted are driven forth, because 
the metal is perfected by fire in this manner.' 

The following is a description of the smelt- 
ing of a complex ore containing gold, silver, 
copper and lead: 

After a quarter of an hour, when the lead which 
the assistant has placed in the forehearth is melted, 
the master opens the tap-hole of the furnace with a 
tapping bar. . . . The slag first flows from the 
furnace into the forehearth, and in it are stones 
mixed with metal or with the metal adhering to them 
partly altered, the slag also containing earth and 
solidified juices. After this the material from the 
melted pyrites flows out, and then the molten lead 
contained in the forehearth absorbs the gold and sil- 
ver. When that which has run out has stood for 
some time in the forehearth, in order to be able to 
separate one from the other, the master first either 
skims off the slags with the hooked bar or else lifts 
them off with an iron fork; the slags, as they are 
very light, float on the top. He next draws off the 
cakes of melted pyrites, which as they are of med- 
ium weight hold the middle place; he leaves in the 
forehearth the alloy of gold or silver with the lead, 
for these being the heaviest, sink to the bottom. 



January, 1919. 

With regard to iron smelting the author 
writes: — 

Very good iron ore is smelted in a furnace almost 
like the cupellation furnace. The hearth is three and 
a half feet high, and five feet long and wide; in the 
centre of it is a crucible a foot deep and one and a 
half feet wide, but it may be deeper or shallower, 
wider or narrower, according to whether more or less 
ore is to be made into iron. A certain quantity of iron 
ore is given to the master, out of which he may 
smelt either much or little iron. He being about to 
expend his skil and labour on this matter, first 
throws charcoal into the crucible, and sprinkles over 
it an iron shovel-ful of crushed iron ore mixed with 
unslaked lime. Then he repeatedly throws on char- 
coal and sprinkles it with ore, and continues this un- 
til he has slowly built up a heap; it melts when the 
charcoal has been kindled and the fire violently 
stimulated by the blast of the bellows, which are 

skilfully fixed in a pipe. He is able to complete this 
work sometimes in eight hours, sometimes in ten, and 
again sometimes in twelve. In order that the heat 
of the fire should not burn his face, he covers it en- 
tirely with a cap, in which, however, there are holes 
through which he may see and breathe. 

This work, as translated by Hoover, con- 
tains in addition to the translation, an enor- 
mous number of explanatory foot notes by 
the translator; it contains more than 600 
pages, 9 inches by 13 inches, and is bound in 
vellum. It was published for the Translators 
by the Mining Magazine, London. 

Alfred Stansfield. 

MeGill University, 
November, 1918. 

Labour and Capital After the War 


PEACE is with us once again, the world, we 
are told, has been made safe for Democ- 
racy . . . and, is any one going to 
add, Industrial Autocracy? It is not uncom- 
mon to hear these days some little god in the 
kingdom of Industrial Autocracy decrying 
against the Bolshevik element in Canada, and 
this book has only strengthened my desire to 
say each time: "Look and see whether the 
conditions which produced the Bolshevik ele- 
ment in Russia have any counterpart in Can- 
ada." Professor S. J. Chapman's symposium 
on "Labour and Capital after the War" 
(was there any significance in his reversion 
of the order in which we usually see these two 
associated in the daily press?) includes 
amongst its contributors men and women 
whose right to express an opinion will be un- 
questioned, for they have earned it by close 
contact with the problem and the experience 
of many years. 

The village of Port Sunlight on the banks 
of the Mersey has done as much to make Wil- 
liam Lever famous as has the soap that carries 
the same name. Lord Leverhulme, as he is 
now, would probably be the first to admit 
that his interest in the welfare of his em- 
ployes and his business success have been in 
the relation of cause and effect. This Com- 
mercial Baron writes: "Our manufacturers 
have been progressive in the adoption of ma- 
chinery, plant and mechanical utilities, but 
have been singularly indifferent to the human 
element in productive enterprise, — the human 
element has been ignored and human needs 
have been neglected"; and later: 

It is merely so much pompous nonsense to talk of 
reconciling Capital and Labor. The days for "re- 
conciling" Capital and Labour as ordinarily under- 
stood — if every such days existed, which I doubt — 
have vanished in the smoke of war. To-day's pro- 
gramme must go much deeper than mere attempts to 
prevent strikes and disputes; it must include the 
placing of employer and employee on the footing of 
equal opportunities, and of sharing the profits of 

trade and commerce between all the three elements 
necessary for production, viz., Capital, Management and 
Labour. The tool user must become joint owner of 
the tools he wields. . . . Labour demands, and 
justly demands, the best conditions of living, and suf- 
ficient leisure; not for loafing, but for the attainment 
of a higher standard of education and refinement, 
combined with opportunity for healthful recreation. 

When an Industrial Baron in England, which 
knows what war is as we do not in Canada, 
speaks in this strain, then the industrial mag- 
nates of Canada may listen with more pa- 
tience to Mr. R. H. Tawney, the wounded 
Soldier Scholar, the Student of Humanity, 
who has seen the Whitechapel laborer from 
the intimate perspective of a resident of Toyn- 
bee Hall and also as a fellow Tommy in the 

To single out any one of a dozen passages 
in Mr. Tawney 's all too short thirty-five pages 
seems invidious, but the kernel of the truth 
seems to be expressed in these words in which 
he sums up his plans for social reconstruc- 

The details of the transformation may be complex, 
but the principle is simple. It is that instead of the 
workers being used by the owners of capital with 
the object of producing profits for its owners, capi- 
tal should be used by the workers with the object of 
producing services for the community. 

His closing paragraph is this: 

It is possible that the pathetic instinct to demand 
payment for privileges, as though it were a kind of 
service, will re-emerge jaunty and un-repentant out 
of the sea of blood and tears in which it has been 
temporarily submerged, and that in a world where 
not a few have given all, there may still be classes 
and individuals whose ideal is not to give but to take. 
Such claims, if they are made, may be regarded with 
pity, but without apprehension. Men who have en- 
dured the rigour of war in order to make the world 
safe for democracy, will find ways of overcoming 
the social forces and institutions which threaten that 
cause in time of peace. 

Mr. F. Dudley Docker and Sir Hugh Bell 
contributes articles which are of especial in- 

January, 1919. 



teresl to employers, while Mr. J. R, Clynes, 
M.P., and others, will appeal chiefly to the 
employee; the Bishop of Birmingham, out of 
courtesy, I suppose, was given the first chap- 
ter, which deals with "Social and Moral Un- 
rest," but when he talked of "the immoral 
rest (inactivity) of the man or woman living 
and working under unsatisfactory conditions 
who makes no effort to better them, who, as 
he himself says, "has had her mental and 
physical vitality lowered until she is hardly a 
sentient being." I wondered whether he would 
call the apathy of the average clergyman to 
these same conditions "immoral rest" or "op- 
portune inactivity." 

A summary of the work of the standing 

committee on Plans and Propaganda of the 

Canadian National R Detraction groups haa 

just reached me. Ii makes frequent refer- 
ence to the symposium under review, which 
fact will, I hope, induce many Canadians to 
read it ; for unless we have learnt our lesson 
from this war. we shall find that the end of 
one war is but the prelude to another. The 
workers have fought in France and Flanders 
for freedom for us all ; must they return to 
fight, as Mr. Tawney terms it, a commercial 
Mnrhi I'll/if ik, which is the social counterpart 
of the temper over which we have just been 
victorious? ("Labour and Capital After the 
War." a symposium edited by Prof. S. J. 
Chapman. Dent, Toronto, $2.) 

A Lesson for Canadian Cities 


AMERICAN Cities: Their Methods of 
Business," by Arthur Benson Gilbert, 
M.A., is a strong and clear-headed vol- 
ume on city economics which should be read 
by all thinking business men, although writ- 
ten by an ex-professor. The author announces 
that his ideas are chiefly due to the influence 
of the celebrated Tom Johnson, the late mayor 
of Cleveland, "the first man in the United 
States to grasp clearly the principles by which 
cities must be promoted." "The Johnson prin- 
ciples that made Cleveland the best city in 
his time in the United States must," he says, 
"soon receive universal recognition." Ac- 
cording to him the foundations of an ideal 
city will be found in long-sighted scientific 
business management, after wheh will follow 
the artistic and cultural excellences; merely 
"honest" government fails because of stupid- 
ity, and ordinary "business man's govern- 
ment" is too short-sighted and superficial. 
Competition today is so keen, between cities 
as well as business firms, that even well en- 
dowed and well-situated communities must 
fail as against those where system and effi- 
ciency are thoroughly adopted, and it is neces- 
sary to save every leak and develop every ad- 
vantage to the full. 

Therefore the city's first object should be 
to furnish special advantages (differentials) 
to its business. To do so it must favor pro- 
duction — rather than ownership, and make its 

first care the prosperity of the, working 
classes, like the Germans. "Cities live by 
their business life with the outside world, and 
on this foundation build religion, culture and 
morals." Hence all wastes must be avoided: 
the ward system, graft, monopolies, debauch- 
ery, bad housing, private-owned waterfronts, 
poor terminal facilities. The old system of 
mayor and council must give way to the Man- 
ager plan of government, complete and exact 
surveys must be drawn up and applied, the 
city must acquire and operate its chief pub- 
lic utilities so as to deliver good services at 
cost. All these points are strongly and in- 
telligently discussed in a manner appealing to 
business men. The author regrets that busi- 
ness classes often oppose some of these im- 
provements because they have not thought 
them out. At the same time perhaps he does 
not sufficiently allow for peculiarly composed 
communities like polyglot Montreal, nor for 
the necessity of effort at the same time by 
other elements than those of business, such as 
the churches and settlement workers. And 
have not the German communities over em- 
phasized materialistic idealB of progress? 
Nevertheless, it is true that our responsible 
business men have not as a whole properly 
backed up those who work for reforms nor 
grasped the full injury done to themselves by 
bad civic conditions and mismanagement. 
(Macmillan, Toronto, $1.50.) 



Jamiarv, 1919. 

Making Farmers Into "Big Business" 


WHILE it is generally acknowledged 
that the Grain Growers' Associations 
have done great service for the wheat 
farmers i' the prairie provinces during the 
last twelve or fifteen years in their fight for 
right against the might of certain organized 
interests, few persons outside of those who 
are intimately connected with the Associations 
are acquainted with the details of the work. 

The full story of the co-operative efforts of 
the farmers has now been told for the first 
time by Mr. Hopkins Moorhouse in "Deep 
Furrows" in a way that will appeal to the 
imagination of most readers. In these days of 
1'nited Farmers' Ass'ociati as, -Mr. Moorhouse's 
book should be of great interest to the farmers 
of Eastern Canada, for it points out clearly that 
success in the west was only attained by the 
loyal co-operation of all the members and the 
fortunate selection of leaders. 

To the economist "Deep Furrows" will be. 
of interest as it describes the stages of de- 
velopment of the grain growers association, 
from the formation of the first local associa- 
tion to the amalgamation of the Grain Growers' 
Company of Manitoba with the Alberta Farm- 
ers' Co-operative Elevator Company into the 
United Grain Growers Limited. This united 
company is the world's greatest farmers' co- 
operative enterprise. It has more than 35.000 
shareholders, assets of six millions, and a turn- 
over last year of one hundred millions. It 
operates nearly 500 grain elevators, 250 floor 
warehouses. 200 coal sheds, two implement 
warehouses, a large timber mill, and a large 
timber tract. 

The conditions that made co-operative action 
necessary on the part of the farmers are fully 
discussed. They complained of excessive dock- 
age charges and unfair weight at the elevators, 
and of the monopoly enjoyed by the elevator 
owners in the purchase of grain whereby the 
prices were kept excessively low. The Royal 
Commission that investigated the matter in 
1899-1900 found the farmers' grievances justi- 
fied, and the Manitoba Grain Act of 1!)00 was 
an effort to remedy matters; but the elevator 
owners continued their obi methods, hedging 
behind the railway company, which did not 
furnish enough ears to carry away the grain 
from the warehouses and elevators as stipulated 
in the Act. 

In the fall of 1!I01 the farmers were called 
together at Indian Head by W. R. Motherwell 
and Peter Dayman for the purpose of taking 
action against the elevator owners and the 
railway. At this meeting the Territorial Grain 
Growers' Association was formed, and in 1H02 
it took legal action against the C. P. R. and won. 

The ruling spirit among the farmers for the 
next few years was E. A. Partridge of Sinta- 
luta. He was sent to Winnipeg to report on 
the methods of grading wheat, but he had not 
been long in his position before he saw the 
necessity of the farmers themselves marketing 
their wheat if they were ever to get satis- 
factory returns. Accordingly he called meet- 
ings throughout the province and brought the 
plan to the attention of the wheat growers. 
The response was cold at many places, but fin- 
ally in 1906 the Association bought a seat in the 
Winnipeg Grain Exchange and began to do 
business on its own account in the consignment 
of grain. It met at first with strong competi- 
tion from organized interests, especially from 
the grain dealers of the Exchange. Thus, when 
the Association declared a plan of a patronage 
dividend the Grain Exchange took away its seat 
seat, on the ground that the dividends con- 
trary to the rules of the Exchange. Such action 
threatened the existence of the Associaiton. 
so it appealed to the Manitoba Government to 
have the seat restored. The Government threat- 
ened to revoke the charter of the Exchange if 
it refused to recognize the farmers, who at the 
same time withdrew their plan of patronage 

Instead, therefore, of paying dividends, the 
company built up a powerful reserve fund, 
which it used to extend its scope of operations. 
In spite of opposition, however, the organiza- 
tion prospered, becoming the largest factor in 
the handling of grain in the Winnipeg Ex- 

Such, in brief, is the history of the Grain 
Growers' Company as told in "Deep Furrows. ' 
Of the many dramatic incidents in the struggle 
of the farmers for their fair and just rights. 
described to the writer in forceful language, 
the most outstanding were the troubles with 
the railway and the banks, the government 
contr 1 of the elevators, the founding of the 
Grain Growers' Guide, tinder the editorship 
first of E. A. Partridge and later of Roderick 
McKenzie, the federal control of the terminal 
elevators, the exposure of "Observer," and 
some of the experiences with foreign shipments 
of grain. 

"Deep Furrows" brings out in relief the 
names of those farmers who bore the heavy 
part of the exacting ami responsible task, not 
only of organizing and directing the company 
but of overcoming the great opposition that 
continually faced it. Such men as YV. R. Moth- 
erwell, Peter Dayman. J. W. Scallion, J. A. 
McIIarg, E. A. Partridge. John Miller. John 
Sibb Id. John Kennedy, E. A. Fream and T. A. 
Creraf get due credit for their fine services. 
The must surprising feature of the struggle in 

January) 1919. 



many respects was the adaptability, shown by 
the leaders to meet the critical situations as 
they arose. Plain Farmers became captains of 
finance and organization. 

It must be remembered, however, thai "Deep 
Furrows" is written from the standpoint of 
the Grain Growers. Perhaps some of the 

criticisms of the actions if the C. P. R. ami 

cei tain banks would be Ilowed it' the com- 
panies concerned were allowed to make explan- 
ons on the h hole. Mr. Moorehouse has done 
liis task well, and •' peep Furrows" desen 
wide .ale on account of its intrinsic historical 
value and as a c ntribution to the literature of 
economics. Prom a literarj point of view it 
" ould lose none of its effectiveness if the P 
v "ill were omitted. 

Recent Publications on Agricultural Subjects 

T1IK field of agriculture is so large and 
varied that it is very difficult to keep 
readers fully informed as to the contents 
of the many excellent books that appear from 
time to time. These books may be roughly 
classified into two groups: (1) the more or 
less technical for the students of agricultural 
colleges, and (2) the popular or semi-scientific 
for sehools and the general reader. The first 
group contains a longer list than the second. 
Publishers, as a rule, are alert and send out at 
intervals both lists and reviews of new books, 
but these reaeh booksellers mainly. Some 
Departments of Agriculture in the U. S. and 
Canada publish lists of recent additions pre- 
pared by their librarians, which sometimes 
find their way into the hands of librarians in 
cities and the larger towns and no doubt serve 
a useful purpose. Dr. D. J. Stevenson, of the 
Ontario Agricultural College, has recently pre- 
pared a bulletin giving a list of books on Agri- 
culture and Household Science with brief 
notes on their contents and character. This 
compilation will be widely distributed through 
Ontario, and will make a useful guide for 

Brief mention, however, is made in this bul- 
letin of books, dealing with two of the most 
recently organized departments of agricul- 
tural study, namely. Agricultural Economics 
and Rural Soc'ology. The literature on these 
subjects is already quite extensive, and the 
war has accentuated its production. For some 
time it has been recogni/.ed by agricultural 
leaders that farming deals with other matters 
than the production of erops and live stock. 
It has also to do with the marketing of farm 
products and the up-bu ; lding and maintenance 
of a satisfactory rural life in which the farmer 
and his family may find expression for the 
highest ideals of citizenship. Hence the de- 
velopment of Agricultural Economics and Ru- 
ral Sociology, but as new subjects the prin- 
ciples have not yet been fully formulated. 

In connection with the new Rural Life 
Movement of the past decade, the Church has 
taken a deep interest and the results of many 
valuable studies of rural problems have been 
published in book form. The more important 
recent publications are : 

"The Rural Church Movement." by E. L. 
Earp. The Methodist Book Co. 

"Recreation and the Church," by II. VY. Gate 
The University of Chicago Press. 

"Using the Resources of the Country 
Church." by E. R. Groves. The Associa 
fcion Press. N.Y. 

"The Country Church.-' by Gill ami Pinchot. 
The Macmillan Co. 

"The Country Church ami the Rural Prob- 
lem." by K. L. Butterfield. The University 
of Chicago Press. 
From the general sociological viewpoint. 

the following publications are most valuable, 

and should be in most public libraries: — 

"The Rural Life Problem in the* United 
States," by S'r Horace Plunkett. The Mac- 
millan Co. 

"Report of the Country Life Commission, 
United States," Sturgis and Walton. 

"The Challenge of the Country." by W. Fiske. 
The Associated Press, New York. 

"Introduction to Rural Sociology," by P. L. 
Vogt. Appletons. 

"The Socialogy of Rural Life." Publ. of the 
Am. Soc. Soc. Vol. XT. University of Chi- 
cago Pl'eSS. 

"Rural Life in Canada." by J. MacDougall. 

The Westminster Co. 
"The Holy Earth." by L. H. Bailey. Scrib- 

"The Evolution of a Country Community." 

by W. H. Wilson. The Pilgrim Press. 

In the field of Agricultural Economics the 
following publications are valuable and sug- 
gestive, as they discuss the various problems 
quite fully : — 
"Farm Management." by G. F. Warren. The 

Macmillan Co. 
"Chapters in Rural Progress." by K. L. But- 
terfield. Univ. Chicago Press. 
••Agricultural Economics," by E. G. Nourse. 

Univ. Chicago Press. 
"Selected Readings in Rural Economics." by 

T. N. Carver. Ginn and Co. 
•'Rural Credits," by M. T. Herrick. 
"Rural Reconstruction in Ireland." Smith. 

Gordon and Staples. 
"Co-operation in Agriculture," G. H. Powell. 

The Macmillan Co. 
"Deep Furrows." by H. Moorhouse. G. II. 

McLeod, Ltd. 



January, 1919. 

"This Way Out of Chaos" 


Shortt, Adam, "Early Economic Effects of the War 
Upon Canada."' Carnegie Endowment for In- 
ternational Peace. Oxford University Press, 
London, New York and Toronto. 1918. Pp. xvi.. 

Henderson, Arthur. "The Aims of Labour." McClel- 
land, Goodehild and Stewart, Toronto. 1918. Pp. 
128. $.50. 

"The Elements of Reconstruction." Introduction 
by Viscount Milner. Nisbet and Co., London. 
1917. Pp. 120. One Shilling, net. 

Hichens, W. L., "Some Problems of Modern Indus- 
try." Nisbet and Co., London. 1918. Pp. 61. 
Sixpence, net. 

Macara, Sir Charles W., "Social and Industrial Re- 
form, 1918." Sherrat and Hughes, Manchester. 
5 shillings. 

Furniss, H. S. (editor), "The Industrial Outlook." 
Chatto and Windus, London, 1917. Pp., 402. 5 

Gardner, Lucy (editor); "The Hope for Society." 
G. Bell and Sons, London. 1917. Pp. 236. 4s 6d. 

Dawson, W. H. (editor), "After War Problems." 
George Allen and Unwin, London. Pp. 366. Six 

Carter, Huntlev (editor), "Industrial Reconstruc- 
tion." E. P. Dutton, New York. Pp. 295. $1.50. 

A REVIEW confined to Canadian economic 
or social publications of the past few 
months would be almost as brief as the 
chapter on snakes in the standard treatise on 
Ireland. There have been practically none. 
Whatever is responsible, the overshadowing 
war, the lack of trained writers, the scattered 
Canadian reading public, our habit of letting 
English and United States writers do our 
thinking for us, or what not, the fact remains 
that aside from periodical publications few dis- 
tinctly Canadian contributions are appearing in 
this field. Some of much promise, such as 
Mackenzie King's "Industry and Humanity" 
are announced for early publication, and there 
are other signs that a state of affairs which 
does little credit to Canada will soon be changed 
for the better. 

The outstanding Canadian economic work of 
the past few months is doubtless Dr. Adam 
Shortt's monograph for the Carnegie Endow- 
ment, "Early Economic Effects of the War 
upon Canada." Dr. Shortt begins by an ad- 
mirable survey of economic conditions in Can- 
ada on the eve of the war. Nowhere is a bet- 
ter analysis available of the feverish specula- 
tive activities which marked the years when 
men and capital were pouring into the country. 
He then traces clearly and concisely the effect 
of the war on industry, employment, and for- 
eign trade. If the other countries which the 
Carnegie Endowment intends to survey are as 
competently handled, the world will have a 
thorough and scientific review of one of the 
must important phases of the great war. 

In default of other economic studies by Can- 
adians, it may be of use to note very briefly 
some of the more important contributions 

which are being made across the water to the 
literature of reconstruction. 

"Reconstruction" is in danger of becoming 
as worn a counter as "camouflage." Yet the 
word stands for a great and pressing reality. 
The war has given not only new angles but new 
urgency to every social and economic issue, 
and has created a revolutionary temper which 
is prepared to overhaul every institution that 
does not measure up to the new standards of 
efficiency and social justice. The results of 
wars are often a very different thing from the 
objects aimed at by either side in the conflict, 
and there are already many signs that social 
revolution will hold the world's stage to the 
exclusion of most of the issues primarily in- 
volved in the war. Only by the most careful 
study of the great questions which have been 
thrust upon us can we avert chaos and disaster. 

From very nearly the beginning of the war 
many individuals aud groups in Great Britain 
have been planning the rebuilding that must 
some day be attempted. The books noted be- 
low, in which they present their conclusions, 
are of a very high general level of ability and 
insight. They differ widely in emphasis and 
viewpoint, but all are serious and distinctive 
contributions. Of course, their conclusions are 
not to be applied with change to our conditions. 
Only second to the folly of ignoring what other 
countries have to suggest to us, is the folly of 
trying to apply their policies or programmes to 
wha may be essentally different conditions. 

In "The Aims of Labour," Arthur Henderson, 
Secretary of the British Labour party, offers 
what may be essentially different conditions, 
the two famous pronouncements of the party on 
social reconstruction and on foreign policy, 
which are printed as appendices to his book. 
These statements of Labour policy have been 
widely circulated on both sides of the Atlantic, 
and merit the closest possible study. Whether 
one agrees with their conclusions or not, there 
is no room for question that they are the ablest 
and most comprehensive and coherent platform 
ever put forward by any political party. The 
Memorandum on War Aims, in its insistence on 
the establishment of some international author- 
ity to determine and ensure justice, in its re- 
cognition of the importance of the economic 
factor in world affairs, and in its detailed sug- 
gestions for reconciling nationalist claims with 
the need of economic unity, presents a pro- 
gramme which has the support of progressive 
opinion the world over. There will be more 
difference of opinion on the economic policy 
set forth. The four principles of National 
Minimums, of Democratic Control of Industry. 
of Democratic Finance and the Appropriation 
of Surplus Wealth for the Common Hood, will 
meet wide approval. It by no means follows 
that the nationalization of practically all in- 

January, 1!U!I. 



dustries is the in'st way, or a waj al all, to 
secure democratic control. The Fabian wri 
nr inspirers of the programme stand exactly 

where they did t w enty-five years ago, and seem 

utterly impervious tn the newei Ideas, whether 
of syndicalism, of guild socialism or of part- 
nership on the Whitley basis. It certainly is 
surprising to see the Labour part] bo ready to 
endorse Mr. Sydney Webb's identification of 

democracy with bureaucracy. Nonetheless, 

both the programmes of the party and Mr. 
Henderson's moderate and lucid comments de- 
mand attention. 

From another quarter there comes a little 
book. "The Elements of Reconstruction," fath- 
ered by no name but godfathered by Lord 
Milner in a pregnant introduction, which makes 
it clear that sweeping changes have advocates 
at both ends of society. The main thesis of 
the authors of this study, which is admirably 
concise, is that combination of industry on a 
very large scale is essential it* England is to 
hold her plaee in trade, and is indispensable 
as a basis for the application of scientific re- 
search to industry. Insteady of a tariff on agri- 
cultural products, they urge national purchase 
through one office of all food requirements, 
paying home producers more than foreign. 
They strongly advocate proportional represen- 
tation and also occupational representation, 
that is, the election of members representing 
Army and Navy" rather than such places as 
"Scotch Minerals or English Textiles or the 
Hampstead or Croydon, "whose inhabitants 
have scarcely anything in common except a 
postal address." Just how the two reforms 
could be worked o\it together, is not made 
clear. As might be expected in a book having 
Lord Milner 's blessing, the authors are eager 
to save the Empire by ample doses of that good 
old nostrum. Imperial Federation. As to edu- 
cation they urge the claims of history, philoso- 
phy and the social science, in university work, 
as against either an exclusively classical or 
an exclusively scientific curriculum. 

!->till more significant of the altered attitude 
of the employing class is the Watts lecture on 
'•Some Problems of Modern Industry," by W. 
L. Hichens, Chairman of Channel, Laird & Co., 
Mr. Hichens, as might have been expected, em- 
phasizes the necessity of increasing output, 
utilizing new methods and machinery, stand- 
ardizing machines, developing cheap and cen- 
tralized power, abolisihng strikers, removing 
restrictions placed by trades unions on out- 
put, and organizing common selling agen- 
cies for each industry. More novel is his 
insistence that industry must be considered a 
national service, and that in consequence profits 
must be limited, labour controlled by the state, 
a measure of partnership in the control of in- 
dustry set us (subject to the right of the senior 
partner to fire the junior partner, as every 
manager must be left free to select his own 
employees , a shorter work day made obligatory, 
and provision made for a yearly holiday on 
full pay for every worker. 

In '•Social and Industrial Reform." another 
distinguished employer. Sir Charles W. Maeara, 
presents the programme of those employers who 

see thai laissez faire and industrial autocracy 

nave had their day, but are not prepared to 
abolish the wage Bystem at the behest of social 
ist or syndicalist. lie wishes to see the "capital 

diluted with as much humanism as possible." 
Strong unions of workmen and employers, in- 
dustrial councils to work out a real partnership, 
increased output and high wages, industrial 

arbitration, international tree trade — these are 

the principles of this orthodox but progressive 
leader of England's greatesl industry, the cot- 
ton manufacturing industry of Lancashire. 

Iii "The Industrial Outlook," edited by II. S, 
Furniss, the views of a group of writers, chiefly 
instructors in the provincial universities, are 
given. II. Clay summarizes very clearly the 
present status of wage-earners, G. W. Daniels 
brings together some coiiiiuon-places on em- 
ployers and property. .1. K. Taylor gives a suc- 
cinct historical review of labour organization 
in England. A. W. Ashby gives an excellent 
analysis of English agriculture on the technical, 
labour and business sides. T. E. Gregory dis- 
cusses the changes necessary in the banking 
system, especially in increased gold reserve, 
longer trade credits, and the linking up of post 
office savings and the co-operative banks. W. 
H. Pringle outlines a scheme of state finance 
on free trade lines, and in a very acute analysis 
of the relation of the state to industry gives 
reasons for doubting whether the state is to be- 
come so all-dominant as many hope and many 
fear. Altogether, a well-informed, coherent 
survey, containing no startling suggestions but 
full of meat. 

Another symposium, "The Hope for Society," 
edited by Miss Lucy Gardner, is more sweep- 
ing in its scope and also more sketchy. The 
Bishop of Oxford emphasizes the part the fam- 
ily must play in reconstruction. J. A. Hobson, 
as usual, is pessimistic about the revival of a 
new industrial feudalism. Clutton Brock voices 
the claims of art to a larger consideration, 
and J. St. G. Heath emphasizes the need of 
developing a social conscience in the use of in- 
come. Miss Bondfield deals with the position of 
women in industry, while Mrs. Pethwick Law- 
rence discusses the wider aspects of the wo- 
man's movement. C. Turner and Roden Buxton 
present the conservative and the radical view 
respectively as to the future reorganization of 
agriculture. Philip Kerr, editor of the Round 
Table, gives a moderate statement of the case 
for imperial federation, while Mr. Ernest Bark- 
er has some wise words on sex and class re- 
adjustments. Sir Hugh Bell presents the em- 
ployer "s view as to trade union regulations 
and Dr. A. J. Carlyle the trade union view. 
The essays are all well written and all sug- 
gestive, though hardly full enough to cover 
their fields adequately. 

In "After War Problems." edited by W. H. 
Dawson, many of the some questions are given 
fuller treatment. The first essay, written by 
the Earl of Cromer just before his death, dis- 
cusses the subject of imperial federation from 
the standpoint of an experienced imperial pro- 
consul: in common with most English writers 
on this subject. Lord Cromer seems blissfully 
unaware that the Dominions at present control 



January, 1919. 

most matters which come under the head of 
foreign affairs, and do not need to seek repre- 
sentation in an imperial parliament to get a 
share of such control: Lord Haldane gives 
a weighty and very helpful survey of the edu- 
cational field. Sir IL II. Johmcon deals with 
proposals to restrict the immigration or natur- 
alization of aliens in the light of England's his- 
tory. Dr. Garnett, Professor Chapman, G. H. 
Roberts, the Labour member, and Sir Ben- 
jamin Browne present different angles of the 
question of the relation of the state, the em- 
ployer and the workman. The Bishop of Exeter 
gives the Cecil family view as fco the rehabili- 
tation of rural life. II. R. Aldridge deals in- 
formingly with housing and James Kerr with 
National Health. Professor Marshall makes a 
very thorough and well-balanced analysis of 
public finance problems, and a half dozen oth- 
er writers contribute their quotas to a solid and 
workmanlike book. 

Of a different type is the symposium edited 
by Iluntly Carter, entitled "Industrial Recon- 

struction." The book contains the answers 
made by some sixty representative Eulishmen 
to a series of questions as to the industrial 
situation after the war, submitted by the editor. 
As is inevitable in so varied a group of con- 
tributors, the discussion is uneven and a bit 
bewildering. The conciseness of the answers 
made, and the unity of theme, however, make 
it possible with a little care to get a very good 
idea of practically all the programmes being 
put forward for industrial reconstruction. The 
contributions of the National Guildsmen group, 
including G. D. Cole. W. Mellor and M. B. 
Reckitt, will probably be found most novel by 
the majority of readers, but the whole book is 
extremely stimulating in suggesting new angles 
of approach. 

Doubtless before another quarter rolls by, 
Canadian anil United States writers will have 
begun to make their contributions to the same 
general theme. Our English cousins have set 
a high standard of achievement in these pioneer 

How Autocracy Slew Itself 

BY superimposing the very dramatic and 
topical title "Suicide of Monarchy" upon 
a volume which was apparently intended 
originally to sail under the non-committal flag 
of "Russian D ; plomat," the publishers of 
Baron Eugene de Schelking's highly interest- 
ing collection of personalia on the royal fam- 
ilies of Continental Europe have probably 
succeeded in catching the public ear to good 
purpose. The new t ; tle is not unjustified. Mr. 
de Rchelking (he seems to have abandoned his 
Russian dignity when he settled in Canada) 
has a very intimate knowledge of precisely 
those weaknesses of the kingly caste in Europe 
which plunged the world into the recent catas- 
trophe and ensured the disappearance of both 
kin? and caste from so large a portion of the 
earth's surface. There is not in his pages any 
"l-eat amount of the "secret memoirs" style 
of information which will perhaps be looked 
For by Mime on the strength of the book's title 
ITe refrains from descriptions of the bathing 
habits of Rasput'n, and even discredits the 
idea that the conquests of that unclean per- 
son reached into the highest circles of Russian 
society. He suspends judgment concerning 
even the Eulenburg scandal, which most court 
gossips accent as sufficiently proven, and al- 
together exhibits a most praiseworthy atti- 
tude towards the accusation which are so eas- 
ily made concerning those who have lost the 
power to defend themselves. 

His portraits of the crowned heads of pre- 
war Europe are lifelike and drawn at short 
range, but do not profess to the intimacies of 

a valet or even a dentist. To serious students 
of recent history, the most valuable part of 
the book will be that which deals with the oc- 
cupants of the various important diplomatic 
posts in Europe during the last few years. Mr. 
de Schelking's knowledge of these personages 
is extensive, and his judgment acute, and he 
writes with the remarkable freedom of one 
who realizes that his past career is totally 
closed, and that he must make a new life for 
himself in a new world. Mr. de Sehelking 
has been residing for a considerable time in 
Vancouver, where he has entirely recast this 
volume in collaboration with L. W. Makovski. 
an experienced traveller and journalist whose 
articles on the war and the political situation 
in Europe have been one of the features of 
the Vancouver Daily Province, and who con- 
tributes a clever preface. "I know no book," 
says Mr. Makovski, not without justice, 
"which gives a better proof of the value of 
democracy than this one. Not because it deals 
with democratic principles, but because it ex- 
poses the weaknesses of autocratic govern- 
ment." And one lays down the volume con- 
vinced that, bad as it may be for statesmen 
to be compelled to consult the caprices of a 
universal-suffrage electorate (and it is only in 
a mistaken and exaggerated form of democracy 
that those caprices become dangerous), it is 
infiniately worse that they should have to 
maintain themselves in power by pandering to 
the follies and selfishness of vain and vicious 
autocrats. (Macmillan, Toronto, $2). 

January. L919. 



Among the Booksellers 

IT is impossible to converse for five minutes 
with any of the Leading booksellers of Can- 
ada without perceiving how greatly en- 
hanced a sense of the importance and public 
serviceability of the book business has been 
developed as a result of conditions during the 
world war. The besl booksellers in Canada 
have always regarded themselves as educa- 
tionists, leaders of the public taste; hut they 
have never had so many proofs of their power, 
and of the good uses to which it can be put, as 
they have had since the making of public opin- 
ion became a matter of general concern owing 
to the war. 

"Tlie hook trade has gained considerable 
prestige during the war." said Mr. Harry Bur- 
ton, of Foster Brown Company, Limited, to 
the Canadian Bookman. "It lias been declared 
by the governments, both of England and of 
the United States to be an essential industry. 
It has been used repeatedly by the various 
governments for the distribution of propa- 
gandist literature, and recognized as a power- 
ful socialising agent. 

"Literature, from a bookseller's point of 
view, has passed through four dist'nct stages 
since 1914. The first stage was the enquiry 
into the cause and origin of the war. and is 
well represented by the demand for such works 
as Bernhardi's 'Germany and the Next War,' 
Cramb's 'Germany and England,' Wister's 
'Pentecost of Calamity,' Oliver's 'Ordeal by 
Battle." the official government papers and 
the Oxford pamphlets. 

"The second stage was the public interest 
in descriptions of the fighting by war cor- 
respondents, and produced Boyd Cable's 'Be- 
tween the Lines.' Palmer's 'My First Year of 
the War.' Philip Gibbs' 'Soul of War,' and 
Donald Hankeys' 'Student in Arms.' 

"Third came the personal narrative period, 
during which soldiers wrote of their experi- 
ence at the front, The most successful narra- 

tives were 'Over the Top, ' ' Private Peat,' and 
'Kitchener's Mob.' 

"The final stage brings us to the present 
time, and finds the novel again the mosl popu 

lar hook. Although the most successful novels 
of the war, 'Soma,' by Stephen McKenna 
'Changing \V mis,' by St. John Irvine, and 
'Mr. Britling,' do not rightly belong to tie- 
later period, they are still in active demand." 
Mr. William Tyrrell, of Toronto, points out 
that not only is fiction the commanding com- 
mod'ty in the book market at the present mo- 
ment, but that the present winter is unique in 
bookselling records owing to the absence of 
any outstanding book of biography, reminis- 
cence, history or criticism. There are a mini 
ber of excellent minor works in several of 
these categories, but nothing comparable with, 
for example, the Morley "Recollections." 
Usually there are at hast two or three works 
of this calibre in a winter, works which every 
real reader feels obliged to make an acquaint 
ance with. The present anomalous situation is 
probably due to the uncertainty as to the fu- 
ture (of peace and war) which prevailed dur- 
ing the summer when publishers were laying 
their plans, and to the paper and labour short- 
age in Great Britain, which is the source of 
most publicaCons of the kind. Mr. Tyrrell 
noted a revival in the demand, in Toronto, for 
Lord Charnwood's "Lincoln," but this was 
due to the local accident of the distinguished 
author's visit to the Canadian Club of that 
city. War books are still in large demand in 
Toronto, and there is a growing supply of, and 
interest in, books dealing with the problems 
of reconstruction, but the literature of this 
class is in a tentative state, and has not ap- 
parently produced any permanent master- 
pieces. * The new interest in poetry, especially 
in the form of anthologies, was cited by Mr. 
Tyrrell as an evidence of the broadening of 
popular taste. 

Canadian Anglican Leaders 

"Leaders of the Canadian Church," a col- 
lection of biographical sketches of ten departed 
bishops of the Church of England in Canada, 
proceeding from as many pens but all edited 
by Canon Bertal Heeney, is obviously intended 
purely for circulation within the membership 
of that communion, since the term "Canadian 
Church" is used in an esoteric sense which 
would not be accepted by any other body. It 
is an interesting but very uneven compilation, 
ranging from the brief and finely critical and 
historical study of Bishop Strachan by the Ref- 
erence Librarian of the Winnipeg Public Lib- 
rary to the somewhat verbose and excessably 
affectionate tributes to recently departed dig- 

nitaries by personal friends. At a time when 
the whole question of the episcopate of the 
Church of England in Canada — of its selection, 
its position, its authority and its personal pres- 
tige — is up for serious consideration, such a 
volume, however, far from perfection, must 
serve a useful purpose. (Musson, Toronto, 

Persons desiring to form their own opinion 
on the military abilities of Foch have about 
thirty books of biography or impressions by 
his friends and others, his own work on War- 
fare, and literally hundreds of magazine ar- 
ticles to select from. It is evident that the 
public is by no means tired of the subject of 
military tactics. 



January, 1919. 

Norman Duncan's Last Word Hughes' Unpardonable Sin 

THE late Norman Duncan, whose two pos- 
North," and "Battles Royal Down 
thuinous volumes, "Harbour Tales Down 
North" have just been published in Canada by 
Thomas Allen, was probably the most accom- 
plished and technically finished teller of tales 
that Canada has ever produced. The short 
stories reprinted in these two volumes are 
striking examples of what can be done with 
the flimsiest materials by an assured art and 
an intense concentration on the one effect de- 
sired. The craftsmanship here exhibited en- 
titles the writer to be admitted, for compari- 
son at any rate, into the most select company 
of the masters of the short story, not on this 
continent alone, not in English alone, but in 
any language. To young Canadians seeking 
to learn how to write we commend an earnest 
perusal of these two volumes of tales, not be- 
cause they are the greatest examples avail- 
able, but because they are undeniably great 
in respect of their art, and noble in their con- 
ception, and because the man who wrote them 
was a Brantford boy, a Toronto University 
graduate, a worker for a time on Canadian 
newspapers, and because (as the biographical 
note in the volumes informs us) he never, 
though he spent most of his adidt life in the 
United States, abandoned his citizenship in 
the Dominion. An admirable portrait is in- 
cluded in each book. (Thomas Allen, Toronto, 
$1.35 each). 

Who's Who In America 

The tenth volume of "Who's Who in Am- 
erica," for the years 1918 and 1918, has been 
issued by A. N. Marquis & Co., Chicago, (price 
six dollars). It contains 22,968 sketches, of 
which 3,191 sketches have not appeared in 
previous issues. While remarkably complete 
in covering of names of Americans who are in 
any sense in the public eye, this work is 
strictly selective in that particular nobody who 
is not entitled to serve men of public interest 
is admitted to its columns. Persons who have 
been in the public eye by virtue solely of some 
official position, and who have since retired 
from that position are mentioned, who merely 
with bare reference to the previous volume in 
their biography may he found. "Who's Who 
in America," does not make any special ef- 
fort to cover the Canadian field, but it is as- 
tonishing to note what a large number of 
these prominent Americans have their birth- 
place in the Dominion of Canada. And ab- 
solutely priceless feature of the Bookman, 
which we had not remembered noticing in 
any similar publication is a geographical in- 
dex by which all the entitled persons living 
in any particular city or town of the United 
States can be found grouped under the name of 
their place of residence. 

Let Mr. Theodore Roosevelt stick to poli- 
ties. When he says Rupert Hughes' "The Un- 
pardonable Sin" is a "very, very strong 
book" — and he does say so on the cover — he 
apparently means "strong" in the sense that 
perfumes and meats may have the quality. The 
book is more than strong : it is high. Of course 
as propaganda intended to rouse the sentimen- 
tal American into Hun-hating it is perhaps 
effective. That may he why Roosevelt liked 
it. But as literature, even as entertainment 
— open the door! 

Once upon a time Rupert Hughes did some 
fairish things about New York shop-girls, but 
he has made himself a mere peddler of thrills 
for maiden intelligences that wallow in mor- 
bid sex stuff under the pretence of facing the 
truth about life. The Bryce report needed no 
dressing up. Surely respectable matrons of 
forty with grown daughters don't have to bear 
children to the German army, in order that 
American sewing circles may be moved to con- 
demn the German cause. Mr. Hughes places 
himself in the unenviable position of a man 
who, merely because it may have been true, 
tells an unpardonable story to decent com- 

The Crack In The Bell 

Primed as one has been from one's cradle 
with the notion that Philadelphia is slow, one 
receives something of a shock at the impetuous 
rush of Mr. Peter Clark Macfarlane 's latest 
novel, "The Crack in the Bell," which deals 
with the iniquition of Philadelphia politico, 
until they are revolutionized in two short years 
by a vigorous young amateur reformer yclept 
Jerry Archer. Perhaps it is needless to say that 
Jerry has red hair. Modern fiction so unvary- 
ingly presents either a hero or heroine with red 
hair, that one begins to feel that much-maligned 
color for tresses has at last come into its own. 
Be that as it may, one wishes Mr. Macfarlane 
wouldn't go quite so fast. For instance, be- 
tween pages 137 and 444, he forgets the name 
of the heroine's favorite aunt, and changes her 
from Stella to Letitia without even a "by your 
leave." It must have taken Mr. Macfarlane at 
least three hours, even at his rate of speed, with 
his trusty typewriter, to turn out that much 
fiction. So lie may be forgiven for his forget- 
fulness, but it is rather hard on the "gentle 
reader" — mixes one up so. And also, in his 
flair for speed, he. in at least two instances, 
refers to someone's "flare" for a subject. 
"The Crack in the Bell" is an eminently read- 
able tale of love and politics, which will give 
two or three! hours of good entertainment. 
Quite the best chapters are those in which Jerry 
makes an ingenious application of the "Liberty 
Bond" idea to his private business. 

January. L919. 


Notes of the Newest Books 

Canfield, Dorothy. "Home Fires in France." 
A sympathetic account, by one of America's 
most charming and individual novelists, of 
the work of the French people— old men, old 
and young women, and children — who kept 
the home fires burning in France during the 
four years, and of some Americans who helped. 
Told in brief sketches, with vividness and re- 
straint — both qualities needed by the tragic 
horror of some of the subjects. (Copp, Clark 
Co., Toronto.) 

"Centurion": "Gentlemen at Arms." Twen- 
ty short tales of experience at the front, writ- 
ten by a British officer who "makes no claims 
. . . . to be considered a writer of fic- 
tion," but has acquired a wide reputation for 
his skill in recording the actions, words and 
thoughts of British soldiers in action. Several 
of the tales are wonderful tributes to the 
faith and nobility that sustain such men in the 
hour of deepest trial. (McClelland, Goodchild 
& Stewart, Toronto, $1.40l) 

Chohnondeley, Mary: "Under One Roof." 
An autobiographical study of family life in an 
English country personage forty years ago, by 
the sympathetic author of "Red Pottage." A 
wonderful group of portraits, the most won- 
derful of the lot being "Ninny," the family 
nurse, who was sixty years in service, used 
to give costly presents to the children, and 
left $10,000 at her death, and who was "in the 
best sense a lady, well-bred .... refined, 
dignified. I have never seen her shy, or abashed 
or forward in manner." (Dent, Toronto, 

Dawson, Lt. Coningsby: "Out to Win." This 
is "the story of America in France," written 
by the well-known literary man and son of 
the Rev. W. J. Dawson. It is- propagandist 
in tone, intended largely to promote a better 
understanding between English and Ameri- 
cans. (Gundy, Toronto, $1.25.) 

Doyle, Sir A. Conan: "The British Cam- 
paign in France and Flanders, 1916." The 
third volume of this able author's History of 
the "War is given almost entirely to the Battle 
of the Somme, with a single subsequent chap- 
ter on the Battle of the Ancre. It has passed 
through three censorships, and all personal 
names save casualties or High Command have 
been eliminated; but it is the first publication 
to give the exact identity of the units engaged. 
These regimental references are very fully in- 
dexed, and 32 of the references are to specific 
Canadian troops. The maps are admirable. 
(Musson, Toronto.) 

Durkin, Douglas Leader: "The Fighting 
Men of Canada." A volume of spirited verse, 
sufficiently regular in rhyme and rhythm and 
sufficiently obvious in intent to have a good 
chance of popularity. Mr. Service should be 
proud of Mr. Durkin. who evidently comes also 
from the West, and probably from British 

Columbia. (McClelland, Goodchild and Stew 
art, Toronto, $1.00.) 

Ely, Richard T.: "The World War and 
Leadership in a Democracy." A new volume 
in the Citizen's Library of Economics, Politics 
ami Sociology, a series edited by Professor Ely 
himself. A brilliant contrasting of German and 
American mentality, by one of America's fore 
most thinkers, in which is developed very 
clearly the thesis that the great need of democ 
racy in America (to which we add Canada) is 
the institution of Leadership — the power of se- 
lecting, training, following and eventually re 
placing leaders — the exact opposite of dema- 
gogy. The book is short, but contains sug- 
gestive hints on how Leadership may be de 
veloped, education being, of course, the chief 
factor. (Macmillan, Toronto, $1.50). 

Flatt, W. D.: "The Making of a Man." 
Dedicated to the twenty-eight boys in the au- 
thor's Sunday School Class at Port Nelson. 
Ont. The story of a pioneer from the Orkney 
Islands, who came to Canada in the 'fifties. 
Should interest boys and give them a more 
vivid sense of the beginnings of modern Can- 
ada. (Briggs, Toronto.) 

Henderson, Rt. Hon. Arthur: "The Aims 
of Labour." A statement of the policy of the 
Henderson party, in a handy papercovered 
pamphlet of 128 pages. "Never," says "The 
Public," "have the privileged classes been ad- 
dressed in terms so peremptory and unmistak- 
able, and in language so well adapted to their 
understanding." (McClelland. Goodchild & 
Stewart, Toronto.) 

Irwin, Will: "A Reporter at Armageddon." 
Because he is not ashamed of being a reporter, 
Will Irwin is able to do good stuff about even 
so big an assignment a Armageddon. His pic- 
turesque narratives are still very readable in 
■ spite of the war being over. (Goodchild, To- 
ronto, $1.50.) 

Kemmerer, Edwin Walter: "The A B C of 
the Federal Reserve System." A detailed 
but (even to the amateur) intelligible study 
of the effect of the introduction of the Fed- 
eral Reserve System in American banking, by 
Princeton's Professor of Economics and Fin- 
ance. The Act itself as amended, with an ex- 
haustive index, and several other related fin- 
ancial documents, is appended, (Princeton 
University Press, Princeton, N.J.. $1.50.) 

Kennedy, G. A. Studdert : "Rough Rhymes 
of a Padre." Sincere, original and vigorous 
verse, expressive of the new attitude towards 
God resulting from the war. by a fighting 
parson known among his men as "Woodbine 
Willie." A worthwhile example of the- new 
war verse. (Musson. Toronto. $1.00). 

le Goffic, Charles: "General Foch at the 
Marne." A translation by Lucy Menzies of 
the French work entitled "Les Marais de St. 
Gond," dealing with the six days' fighting 



•January. 1919. 

which succeeded the arrest of the German ad- 
vance in September, 1914, and saved the world 
from Teutonization. A fine story, told by a 
military expert with literary vividness. (Dent. 

Lewisohn, Ludwig: "The Poets of Modern 
France.'" Headers interested in the develop- 
ment of modern verse, but unable for lack of 
French to consult the anthologies of France 
itself, will find value in the^e remarkably hap- 
py and tasteful renderings by an Ohio State 
University professor, tjut 'the fact remains 
that the more modern poetry becomes the less 
can it be translated. The translations are pre- 
ceded by an interesting essay on the sources 
of the New Poetry and the principles and me- 
thods embodied in it. Mr. Lewisohn is quite 
"•rmderfullv sympathetic'. (Dent, Toronto, 

Lowell, Amy: "Can Grande's Castle." The 
very latest in "polyphonic prose," which is 
poetry, but is typeset prose-wise, and includes 
"rhyme, assonance, alliteration and return." 
The preface is a highly interesting statement 
of purpose and method. As to the four 
"poems," opinion will be divided. That they 
possess in places the prose merit of eloquence 
none will deny. But is this method ap- 
plicable to a "poem" 50 pages long? (Mac- 
millan, Toronto, $1.50.) 

Mackenzie, Compton: "Sylvia Scarlett." 
Another volume of the wildly fantastic adven- 
tures which Mr. Mackenzie, by dint of extreme 
rapidity of narration and extreme vivacity of 
characterization manages to make plausible 
even to critical readers. It might just as well 
have been called "Carnival the Second." One 
does not recollect ever meeting any French- 
English actresses quite so impetuously irre- 
sponsible as Sylvia, but one wishes one could. 
No other English author could make a per- 
fectly good joke about a lavatory, as Mr. 
.Mackenzie does, except perhaps George Moore. 
and if he made it it would not be a joke. 

Marcosson, Isaac F. : "The Business of 
War." A popular explanation of all that side 
of the operations of an army in the field which 
is not included in actual fighting — supplies, 
transportation, salvage, storage, accounting. 
With a closing chapter eulogizing " North- 
cliff e — Insurgent." Written for the Ameri- 
can public, but dealing with the British army. 
(Dent, Toronto, $1.50.) 

McGillicuddy, Owen E.: "The Little Mar- 
shal and Other Poems." Some 40 pages of 
unassuming verse — half-a-dozen war poems and 
the remainder devoted to the joys of domes- 
ticity. Occasionally, as in "Comfort," Mr. 
McGillicuddy catches the really universal note 
of a true and unaffected simplicity. Usually he 
is off after something much more ambitious, 
and sometimes he tries to be simple and fails to 
lie more than commonplace. (F. D. Goodchild, 

Moorhouse, Hopkins: "Deep Furrows." 
The romantic history of the Grain Growers' 
movement in Western Canada, told in full de- 
tail with distinct propagandist motive, by a 
skilful writer of fiction, and economics. It 
touches some controversial matters, and will 
not meet with universal agreement, but it is 
worth reading by anybody interested in 
the future of Canada. (McLeod, Toronto, 

Pollard, Harold: "Aero Engines, Magnetos 
and Carburetors." A very neat pocket vol- 
ume, with lucid descriptions and plenty of 
diagrams. Just the thing for the beginner in 
aviation. The author is with the Air Service 
in Toronto. (Macmillan, Toronto, $1.25.) 

Strunsky, Simeon: "Little Journeys To- 
wards Paris, 1914-1918: A Guide Book for 
Confirmed Tourists by W. Hohenzollern." 
Route I. is "From Liege to Paris by Way of 
the Marne, the Was, and the Ain't." There 
are twelve others, and some side excursions. 
Mr. Strunsky has worked hard on a thin idea. 
(Goodchild, Toronto, 75c.) 

Strunsky, Simeon: "Professor Latimer's 
Progress." If this is America's "Mr. Brit- 
ling." as has been claimed by some, the dif- 
ference between literary England and literary 
America is vividly exemplified. It is the dif- 
ference between a great and carefully laboured 
canvass and a rather frivolous sketch. We do 
not think the Strunsky book deserves so high 
a parallel. It is more in the line of an A. C. 
Benson ramble without the Benson culture. 
(McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart. $1.40.) 

Tarkington, Booth: "The Magnificent Am- 
bersons. " Another of Mr. Tarkington 's won- 
derfully understanding studies of the Ameri- 
can juvenile; quite serious this time, with re- 
flections upon the mis-education of the gilded 
youth of the "best families," but very amus- 
ing for all that, with its pictures of social life 
in an American small city. (Briggs, Toronto, 

Thomas, Hartley Munro (R.A.F.) : "Songs 
of an Airman and Other Poems." With an In- 
troduction by S. W. Dyke, D.Sc, LL.D., Prin- 
cipal of Queen's Theological College, Kingston, 
Ont. Comparing the dates appended to some 
of these poems and those given in Principal 
Dyde's sketch, we find that many were writ- 
ten at the age of 16. The wisdom of publishing 
them is open to question. In the aviation 
poems, which are naturally later, there is evi- 
dence of considerable technical improvement 
and a fine sincerity of feeling. With proper 
self-criticism and a due amount of labour this 
writer, who undoubtedly has something to 
say. will give us verse to be reckoned with. 
Already, in "The Soninie" and in parts of 
"The First Who Came," he touches achieve- 
ment. (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, To- 

» *_/L.U Ull, 1 

60c. a Copy 

APRIL. 1919 

$1.50 a Year 


d_Ji tl_Ji 

"Canadian Poets and the Great War" 



Books Worth While for Young and Old 



"Under Fire" 

The Great French Real- 
istic Novel 

By Henri Barbusse. 

(Cloth $1.75) 

"The Four Horse- 
men of the 
Apocalypse ' ' 

The Great War Novel 
written by the noted 


Now in its SSth Edition. 
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"The New Book of 
Martyrs. ' ' 

A beautiful and touch- 
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which ensures an indis- 
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permanent masterpieces 
inspired by the war. 
By G. Duhamel. 
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"Marching on 

The classic on the 
African Campaign — 
more fascinating than a 
novel. — Second edition. 

By P. E. Young. 

(Cloth $1.75) 


"The Story of My 

The Rt. Hon. Sir Edward 
Clarke, K.C. 

A candid record of a 
wonderful and pictur- 
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(Cloth $5.00) 

Ready about March 31st 


By Peter McArthur. 

A popular appreciation of the great States- 
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200 pages. Cloth SI. 00. 

"Prime Ministers & 
Some Others." 

A Book of Reminescen- 

By the Rt. Hon. G. W. 
E. Russell. 

(Cloth $5.00) 


"Gone to Earth" 

By Mary Webb. 
(Cloth $1.50) 
"She (Mary Webb) is a genius, 
and I shouldn't mind wagering 
that she is going to be the most 
distinguished writer of our gen- 
eration." — N.T. "Sun." 

"The White Island" 

By Michael Wood. 
(Cloth $1.50) 
A story of unusual and arrest- 
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ference to the actions and of the 

"Before the Wind" 

i Wrack-Straws) 
By Janet Laing. 
(Cloth $1.50) 
A novel of freshness and orig- 
inality in which whimsical hum- 
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barrelled detective story. 

"The War Eagle" 

By W. J. Dawson. 

(Cloth $1.50) 

The author of "Robert Shen- 

stone" more than maintains his 

reputation in this fascinating 


"The Little Daughter of 

By Myriam Harry. 
(Cloth $1.90) 
A translation of a remarkable 
book about Jerusalem, showing a 
clear picture of every-day life 
there. The story is full of vivid 
touches of real and aiiventuroua 

"The Pathetic Snohs" 

By Dolf Wyllarde. 

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It has remaiirc.-! for Dolf Wyl- 
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looked ingredient of the snob- 


' ' Illusions & Realities of the 

By Francis Grierson. 

(Cloth $1.25) 

Author of "The Invincible Al- 
liance. One of the most highly 
praised books of the war. 

"Handicraft for Boys" 

By A. P. Collins. 
(Cloth $1.50) 
Fully illustrated. How to make 
practical things with simple 

"Spunyarn and Spindrift" 

By Norah Holland. 
(Cloth $1.00) 

A volume of verse by a cousin 
of W. B. Yeats, but who was 
born and still lives in Canada, 
which is indeed a classic. 

"Business of War" 

By Isaac Marcosson. 

(Cloth $1.50. Fully Illustrated) 

One of the most useful refer- 
ence books arising out of the 
Great War. 

"In the Days of the Guild" 

By Lamprey. 
(Cloth $1.50) 

Beautifully illustrated in color 
and black and white. A most 
charming book for both boys and 



"Lighted Windows" 

By Dr. Frank Crane. 
(Cloth $1.25) 

Good cheer and comfort in 
plenty are to be found in this es- 
timable volume. 

"Inventing for Boys" 

By A. P. Collins. 

Cloth $1.50. Fully Illustrated.) 
A practical book for boys de- 
siring to invent. 

"The Coming Dawn" 

A War Anthology in Prose and 

By Theodora Thompson. 
(Cloth $1.75) 
A book that we cannot too 
highly recommend. 

We have a wonderful range of high-class and up-to-date books on varied subjects. Let us place 
you on our Mailing 1 List for "Everyman's Book Bulletin," issued Monthly; also our Catalogue of 
Poetry gathered from all parts of the world; also "Everyman's Library" and "Wayfarers' library" 
Catalogues. All Free for the asking. 

J. M. DENT & SONS, LTD., Publishers, KSm TORONTO 


A Quarterly devoted to Literature, the Library and the Printed Book. 



J. A. DALE, Professor of Education, McGill University 
H. T. FALK, Lecturer on Social Service, McGill Uni- 

• versity. 

HON. W. S. FIELDING, Editor Canadian Journal of 
Commerce, formerly Finance Minister of the Domin- 
ion of Canada. 

J. M. GIBBON, General Advertising Agent C. P. R., 
formerly editor of "Black and White." 

J. J. HARPELL, President of the Industrial & Educa- 

• tional Press. 

R. E. HORE, Editor Canadian Mining Journal. 
F. S. KEITH, Secretary of the Canadian Society' of Civil 

W. LOCHHEAD, Professoi of Biology, Agricultural 
Dept., McGill University. 

GEORGE H. LOCKE, Chiet Librarian. Toronto Public 

O. D. SKELTON, Professor of Political Science, Queens 

A. STANSFIELD, Professor of Metallurgy, McGill 
University, Editor "Iron and Steel. 

J. N. STEPHENSON, Editor Pulp and Paper Magazine 
W. LAIRD TURNER, Editor Canadian Textile Journal. 


Ste. Anne de Bellevue, P.Q., April, 1919 

$1.50 PER ANNUM 



Editorial: Standards of Criticism; Free Trade in Debasing Literature 7 

The Deluge of American Magazines in '..'ana. la: a Symposium 10 

Contribute. 1 by Arthur L. Phelps, Mary J. L. Black, J. Castell Hopkins and , 

Frank Wise ' 12 

Canadian Poets of the Great War, by W. D. Lighthall 14 

Literary Convention, by J. E. Middleton 22 

Free Verse and the Parthenon, by Ramsay Traquair 23 

Little Grey Mother, by J. M. Gibbon .....' 26 

Some Canadian Illustrators, by St. George Burgoyne 27 

First Aid to Songsmiths, by J. A. McNeil 31 

On the Deterioration of Literary Style After Death, by B. K. Sandwell 32 

Free Verse, by Arthur L. Phelps 36 

v/ The Real Reason for Un-Bookishness in Canada, by "Professor's Wife" 37 

Wasted Nights, by Elsie A. Gidlow 38 

What is Poetry? by Alfred Gordon 39 

A Dream of Japanese Prints, by Edith Wherry 46 

The ' ' Colynm ' ' in Canada, by Ben Deacon 47 

A Canadian Spring Song, by Esther W. Kerry 53 

Reading Aloud in the Family, by Nina Pearce 54 

V Play- Writing in Canada, by Harcourt Farmer 55 

Sir Gilbert Parker 's ' ' Wild Youth and Another " 57 

Books About the Forest, by .1. N. Stephenson 58 

The New Partnership in Industry, by O. D. Skelton 62 

The late Eben Pieken, by St. George Burgoyne 63 

William Wilfred Campbell, by W. T. Allison 65 

The Foundation of Modern Belgian Literature 66 

Three Novels by Ibanez, by J. Poynter Bell 67 

What Every Canadian Ought to Know, by W. S. Wallace 69 

Monotones," by S. Morgan Powell 70 

Work for the Anthologist, by Alfred Gordon 73 

God, Conduct and Revelation, by .1. E. Ward 78 

The Pioneers, by J. A. Dale 

The Author of ' ' Sonia, ' ' by J. E. Ward vl 

Reviews & Notes of New Books 81 

Contributors to the April Number 

Best Sellers of the Season 89 


THE CANADIAN BOOKMAN is published quarterly by the Industrial & Educational Press Limited, at the Garden 

City Press, Ste. Anne de Bellevue, P.Q. 

J. J. HARPELL, President and Managing Director 
A. LONGWELL, Vice-President 

Copyright, Canada, 1918, by the Industrial & Educational Press, Limited 

A. S. CHRISTIE, Eastern Manager, 

B 30 Board of Trade Building, Montreal 

H W. THOMPSON, Western Manager. 

1402 C.P.R. Building, Toronto 


April. 1019. 

My Three Years 

in a 

German Prison 

By Hon. Henri S. Beland, M.D., 

Dr. Beland was one of the most 
notable public men held by the 
Germans during the war. His ar- 
rest after promises of immunity 
and his position as surgeon in one 
of the largest prisons in Berlin, 
gave him unparalleled opportuni- 
ties of observation. His story is 
epoch-making and will be highly 
appreciated in every Canadian 
home-library. Strikingly illus- 
trated with photographs brought 
out of Germany before the sign- 
ing of armistice $1.50 


of the 


Thanks be to God 

Who Giveth Us 
The Victory 

By Arthur Mee. 

Not War. but Victory, is the 
theme of this remarkable book, 
which traces the trend of events 
in Britain from the beginning of 
things to the end of the author's 
imagination. It is a wonderful 
summing-up of present-day con- 
ditions and tendencies by one 
whose recent books have proved 
to be a remarkably sane and gift- 
ed prophet $1.35. 

Your Bookseller 

can supply these 

and others of 

our Books. 



A compilation of the verse, letters and a bio- 
graphy of the late Col. John McCrae. 

This strikingly-Canadian book, with its collec- 
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graphy of a Canadian whose name has rung 
round the earth, promises to be the biggest-sell- 
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volume in striking aesthetic format, with deckle- 
edges and gilt top. Three or four characteristic 
illustrations of the poet are strong features. $1.50. 

Browse in your 


shop — ' Twill do 

you both 


The Cabin 

By V. Blasco Ibanez. 

Tou read "The Four Horsemen 
of the Apocalypse" with apprecia- 
tion. You will be immediately in- 
terested, then, in this some ways 
astonishing book by the same 
author. With its scenes laid in 
sunny and legendary Spain, and 
with its story told with an art 
scarcely approached by any living 
writer, it is held by the critics as 
one of the great novels of the 
year - 




Moon of Israel 

Here is another of Sir H. Rid- 
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holding Eastern stories. The plot 
is set in Egypt at the time of the 
Exodus, and centres around the 
love of Seti. a son of the Phar- 
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a beautiful maiden of the He- 
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venture. Egyptian lore, and local 
color $1.50. 



APRIL, 1919 

Standards of Criticism 

Arc you going to have various standards oJ 
criticism — for European, American, Canadian, 
Ontario, Montreal, productions! And how are 
your readers going to tell which standard you 

are applying to , for instance?- Ex trad 

from a letter of a sympathetic friend of the 
( 'anadian Bookman. 

FOK the heartening of trembling authors, 
the enlightenment of inquisitive readers, 
the clarification of our own principles even to 
our own mind, let us hasten to declare, irrevoc- 
ably in black ami white, in this our second issue, 
that we are indeed going to have various stand- 
ards of criticism, and that we can imagine do 
utility or vitality or reasonableness in a criticism 
which has only one standard and seeks to apply 
it indiscriminately to all artistic works. 

But let us also state, as clearly as may he. 
how those various standards are to be applied. 
The selection will not depend upon the place in 
which the author resides. We know of no rea- 
son why an inhabitant of Bobeaygeon should he 
encouraged to produce literature which would 
be censured if turned out by a citizen of Win- 
nipeg, nor why we should speak kindly of a 
work by a Haligonian when we should condemn 
that same work if executed by a Bostonian or 
an Aberdonian. That is not the idea at all. It 
is by what the writer is trying to do that we 
propose to judge him, not by where he strives 
to do it. In this sense every man's work eon- 
tains its own yard-stick, every book is the mete- 
w r and of its own success or failure. The ease or 
difficulty of the task which the author has set 
himself, the amount of assistance which he has 
received from his literary predecessors, these 
are considerations which must be borne in mind 
by the critic who is endeavouring to form a just 
judgment of any work of art. And they are of 
particular importance in judging an art which, 
like the literature of Canada, is avowedly m 
a pioneer stage of its existence. 

When a Canadian writer endeavors to express 
something of what he has honestly seen and dili- 
gently studied in the social or psychological or 
natural phenomena of Canada, we propose to 
extend to him all the encouragement that we 
can. lie is essaying a task which is very diffi- 
cult, because it is very new. We shall not hold 
it up against him that he does not make his 
novel, if it be a novel, as interesting to the uni- 

versal English-speaking mind as those of 
Thomas Hardy or Henry .lane or Hugh Wal- 
pole or Galsworthy. We do not, in the present 

State of the population, wealth and intellectual 

development of this country, expect to find 

men with the literary skill and practiced crafts- 
manship of those writers, engaged in the pro- 
duction of Canadian literature any more than 
we expect to find artists like Brangwyn, Zorn, 
Zuloaga, Orpen or John contributing to ''an- 
adian portraiture or landscape. Even if we 
had such men amongst us — and the law of 
mathematical chance is against it, to say no- 
thing 'of the more important laws of environ- 
ment and economic inducement — they would 
not be able to carry a purely Canadian art 
as far as Galsworthy or Orpen can carry their 
respective British arts, because they would have 
to pick it up at a much more primitive stage of 
development. An artist obtains both his ma- 
terials and his method by inheritance from his 
predecessors; even if the use he makes of his 
inheritance is to react from it most violently, 
it is still an inheritance imparting a character- 
istic quality and direction to his art. 

Almost the first beginnings of the task of ex- 
pressing Canadians to themselves in literature 
and the arts, and of expressing the world in 
terms of a Canadian viewpoint, still remain to 
be essayed. There is hardly anything for an 
artist to inherit. Not only have we done little 
to express ourselves ; we have scarcely become 
conscious of our own existence as a people dif- 
ferent from other people, and acquired thereby 
the desire for self-expression. Yet to-day we 
have that consciousness and that desire, and it 
is the first object of the Canadian Bookman to 
stimulate them both, and to encourage the ar- 
tistic effort necessary to fulfil that desire. 
When, therefore, w r e find Canadian writers try- 
ing to express Canada to Canadians, and the 
world in terms of the Canadian mind, we pro- 
pose to remember constantly the difficulty of 
the task which they have set themselves, the 
reluctance of a material so little handled in the 
past, the absence of tradition, literary associa- 
tion, the "background" afforded by the r id 

ing monuments of departed generations. We 
shall not ask a Robert Stead to exhibit the 
glamour of a Stevenson, nor complain because 
a novel about London, Out., lacks the historic 
richness of background of one laid in London, 



April, 1919. 

If, on the other hand, our Canadian writer 
elects to turn out the kind of stuff that could 
just as well be written in New York or Mon- 
tana or Clapham or Montmartre— if he throws 
his Canadianism overboard altogether, or uses 
it merely to give splashes of strictly commercial 
"local color"' to tales which have no essential 
Canadian qualities— if he writes Montana melo- 
dramas and labels them Alberta, or Chicago 
social-problem stuff and dates it Winnipeg— 
and half of our ablest writers, with their eye on 
the bigger American market, are doing precise- 
ly this thing— if he does anything like this he 
ceases to be entitled to any respect as a pioneer 
of Canadian literature, or as having any rela- 
tion to Canadian literature at all, but that of 
a deserter. It is not the business of Canadian 
literature to hew the wood of instruction or 
draw the water of entertainment for any other 
people whatsoever. There are some good Am- 
erican novelists and some good English (and 
Irish) poets dwelling in Canada and voting at 
Canadian elections, but they are not Canadian 
novelists or poets, and they will receive no more 
consideration, and very little more interest, 
\from the Canadian Bookman than if they dwelt 
in the lands to which they address their writ- 

Let it not be supposed that we deny to a Can- 
adian writer the right to look for an audience 
outside of Canada. What we ask is that he 
seek first to express himself as a Canadian for 
Canadians. If he does that successfully — and he 
can never do it successfully unless he tries to 
do it — the rest will be added unto him. The 
. first work of literature of Canadian origin to 
catch the ear of Europe and America (it is 
not yet a century old), was written without a 
thought of its ever being read beyond the circle 
of the subscribers to Joseph Howe's Halifax 
newspaper; and it was that very fact, with the 
sincerity and simplicity and directness that it 
involved, which made it capable of attracting 
the world's attention. If Judge Haliburton had 
deliberately set himself to write a book for the 
American and English public when he wrote 
"The Clockmaker, " he would indubitably have 
failed. The author who writes for the audience 
that he knows and belongs to has some chance 
of achieving a larger one ; the author who delib- 
erately writes for a public about which he knows 
nothing except the kind of thing that they are 
accustomed to read, will never get an audience 
for himself at all, for he cannot be anything 
more than an imitator. Canadians writing like 
Americans or Englishmen will never produce 
a Canadian, or any, literature. 

Free Trade in Debasing Literature 

THE idea appears to be firmly rooted in 
the Canadian mind that the dissemina- 
tion of any kind of periodical publica- 
tion (Bolsheviki propaganda of course exclud- 
ed) is a thing in itself desirable, and in no wise 
to be interfered with or discouraged by author- 
ity. With that idea in mind we have for gen- 
erations carried newspapers in His Majesty's 
Canadian mails at a rate immensely below their 
proportionate share in the cost of the postal 
service, and we have until recent years been 
fairly generous also to weeklies and maga- 
zines. With that idea equally dominant, we 
have excluded all classes of periodical printed 
matter from the otherwise universal range of 
our protective tariff, and have invited the week- 
lies and magazines of the United States and of 
any other country to enter freely and make this 
land their happy hunting-ground ; and those 
of the United States have accepted the invita- 
tion with alacrity. 

It might be worth while to consider what 
were the circumstances and conditions which 
enabled this idea to take root in a country 
otherwise so wedded to the protectionist doc- 
trine and the policy of discouraging the efforts 
of foreigners to sell us their products. What, 
for instance, was the character of the typical 
periodical or magazine at the time when we 
decided that periodicals must be given free 
access to Canada, and registered that decision 
among the list of things that we should not have 
to bother with again? Was it anything like 
the average American magazine of to-day? And 
if there are differences, are they such as to 
affect the validity of our old-time decision, — to 
make it uncertain that, if we had the whole 
question up for consideration and settlement 
afresh to-day, we should decide for free and 
undiscouraged admission with anything like 
the same positiveness ? 

It is difficult to say exactly at what date the 
idea of the extreme desirability of a free circu- 
lation of printed periodicals of non-Canadian 
origin became imbedded in the Canadian mind. 
It was certainly not there after the war of 1812, 
when the chief concern of the most influential 
Canadians was lest the poison of republicanism 
should leak through the borders and destroy 
the loyalty of the colonies to Great Britain. It 
probably entered at about the same time, and 
progressed with much the same speed, as the 
idea of Responsible Government — as a part of 
the great mid-nineteenth century movement to- 
wards freedom both of thought and of action. 
At any rate it was sufficiently established by 

April, 1919, 



L876 to ensure that the free admission of print- 
ed periodicals should be continued without a 
question when the admission of practically everj 

other kind of manufactured product was made 
as difficult as possible in order to afford an 
opportunity to Canadians to manufacture it 
at home. 

What, at this time, was the character of the 
periodical literature which was thus invited to 
enter Canada from outside? The great hulk of 
it (excluding newspapers, which are not con- 
cerned in the present discussion i consisted of 
copies of some half-dozen great American mag- 
azines. Most of them are still in existence and 
retain many of the characteristics of dignity, 
sincerity, artistic purpose and ability (and a 
slight sleepiness) which they then possessed; 
but instead of being the monopolists of the 
bookseller's magazine tables they are an insig- 
nificant minority, snowed up under a vast mass 
of "Ginger Jars," "Snappy Stories," "Paris- 
iennes" and "Spicy Specimens." They sold 
for twenty-five cents and upwards and made no 
effort to cater to the illiterate or semi-literate 
classes; and the present writer can well remem- 
ber emitting a wail of horror in the college 
weekly of his undergraduate days at the degra- 
dation which he conceived was being brought 
by the new ten-cent Munsey's upon the honored 
name of "magazine." Degradation, forsooth! 
In those days of the 'nineties — and how much 
more in the 'sixties and 'seventies ! — it was im- 
possible for anyone to dream of the degrada- 
tion which was to be inflicted upon magazine- 
dom in the twentieth century by a horde of 
literary panders who now control the numeric- 
ally largest, if not the most important and most 
influential part of magazine circulation in the 
United States and Canada. 

Fiction was by no means the sole interest of 
the magazine in the time when Canadians de- 
cided that magazines must be allowed into this 
country without let. Such fiction as they did 
contain was serious and important ; the ma- 
jority of the "classic" novels of the Victorian 
period passed through one or other of the great 
American magazines in serial form. But there 
were many other elements of solid cultural val- 
ue : science, the arts, travel, literature, religion, 
sociology, all were treated with knowledge and 
sincerity, yet in a democratic and semi-popular 
way which made their articles much more valu- 
able in a country like Canada than the top- 
lofty utterances of the "reviews" which flour- 
ished in England and Scotland. There could, 
in fact, be no question as to the cultural value 
of the magazine as it existed between 1850 and 

L900, nor as to the desirability of its free cir- 
culation in ( lanada. 
Today tin ituation is completely reversed. 

The greal hulk of the "literature" which comes 
into this country in periodical form is not only 
useless, it is destructive -as a narcotic is de- 
structive to the mental energies of the taker, if 

QOl as a vie, ig destructive to his morals. And 
it is time that this change in the utility, the 
cultural value, of the average printed periodi- 
cal was taken into consideration by the people 
of Canada. There is no reason why this coun- 
try should fiut itself to any loss, or forego any 
possible revenue, in order to permit "Snappy 
Stories" and "Spicy Specimens" to circulate 
freely in our midst. We arc not proposing a 
censorship. We do not suggest that any cus- 
toms official, or anybody else, be authorised to 
distinguish for us between those magazines 
which we should read and those which we should 
not. We are merely asking that the average pre- 
sent-day non-Canadian magazine, its character 
and utility, be taken into consideration when 
the question of the treatment of non-Canadian 
magazines is up for settlement ; and that if it be 
found that the average non-Canadian magazine 
in Canada is a pernicious and anti-Canadian 
nuisance, as we firmly believe it to be, Canada 
should then give up the sacrifices which she 
has made to promote the circulation of foreign 
magazines — sacrifices which she has made ow- 
ing to a conception of their utility which is 
hopelessly out of date. 

What are these sacrifices? A very consider- 
able revenue might be derived from a tax on 
imported periodicals, or on the advertising con- 
tained in imported periodicals, or on both ; and 
a protection might thus be afforded to the 
magazine industry in Canada, which at pre- 
sent derives no benefit whatever from the pro- 
tective tariff and suffers heavily from it in the 
increased cost of everything employed in maga- 
zine manufacture. We are sacrificing both the 
revenue and the magazine industry. Is it said 
that such a tax would hit the Century as much 
as the Ginger Jar, the Atlantic Monthly as 
much as the Police Gazette? Well, what if it 
did ? Most of those who read the Century could 
afford the tax, and love their Century enough 
to pay it ; and we might in time get an Atlan- 
tic Monthly and a Century of our own — we have 
just as good rights to the ocean and just as much 
interest in the century. Is it said that it would 
be a tax on knowledge? Why, we already tax 
every inch of printed knowledge that comes in- 
to the country, unless it happens to be in period- 
ical form. 



April, 1919. 

The Deluge of American Magazines 

in Canada 

Everybody admits that it exists, most of us deplore it, and here 
are four totally different views about how to deal 
(or not to deal) with it, by a Librarian, a Pub- 
lisher, a Litterateur and an Imperialist. 

Let All Continue to 

Come Freely, Says 

Arthur L. Phelps 

THE problem is important, At this very 
moment, beside the rusty, fat bellied 
coal stove at our cross roads grocery, 
with his feet up and his pipe aglow, sits, I war- 
rant, our local store keeper rapt in the pages 
of the "Popular." It is the hour of deep ease 
after dinner in the country; only the rare dis- 
turber will be driving the roads and clicking 
the door latch ; it is the hour of the "Popular." 
I have seen a truck load of these same "Popu- 
lars" dumped off into the pavement's grey 
maw on a misty morning in Toronto, the very 
flame and riot of their covers indicating their 
mission to bring light and colour to the drab 
Ontarians. I have stood at the magazine table 
in our departmental stores and watched the 
magazines being pushed about and lifted and 
glanced into and purchased by these same On- 
tarians. What variety of name, of appeal, of 
style, on that table ! What delightful diversity ! 
What magnificent flamings and delicate glow- 
ings! What dignity, vulgarity, reticence, aban- 
don! The Twentieth Century on a salestable ! 
The pulse of obscene splendour and the sedative 
of spinster propriety. "Snappy Stories" and 
the "Atlantic"! 

Can we do without all this ? Can we do with- 
out any part of it? If we wish to do without 
any part of it, how are we to accomplish our 
wish ? How are wc to discriminate amid the 
infinite variety of this vivid, silent invasion, 
what members debar, what members admit, and 
for what reasons? And who are "we," any- 

The magazines come in. They vivify and re- 
vivify us throughout the months. What shall 
we do with them ? 

Let them all continue to come. Because: (1) 
Their infinite variety is a stimulus that is on 
the whole good for morality and national feel- 
ing and national literary industry. (2) No 
discrimination, however exercised, could achieve 
a good, sufficient to offset the evils of restric- 
tion ; and discrimination, once admitted as a 
principle, would likely be disastrous as a prac- 

(1) Wise men have argued that the only 
real morality is built up out of the inhibitions 
of individual experience. Then, if the frivolity 
and cheapness of American magazines is affect- 
ing Canadian life, Canadian life, out of contact 
with the menace, will have to develop its own 
antitoxins. It is doubtful if mere protection 
from exposure will ever achieve a healthy im- 
munity that can be called national morality. 
Better let the Canadians who are going to have 
their mental measles and chicken-pox and "flu" 
from generation to generation, get it over on 
the exposure America so freely offers. There 
will always be such persons. If "Live Stories" 
isn't available to infect them they will wait and 
watch until "Jack Canuck" or some other Can- 
adian publication develops the particular germ 
that will do the trick. This is an admission, of 
course, that "Live Stories" may be just as 
necessary to our national morality, as, say, "The 
Century." I really imagine it could be proven 
that this infection isn't a very bad thing at 
all. that, unless the patient is marked for dis- 
solution any way, most of the cases run through 
"Snappy" and "Live Stories" up to the "Blue 
Book," the "Popular," "McClures," "Cosmo- 
politan," even to "Everybody's," "Scribners" 
and the "Canadian," that is, from disease to 
comparative health. 

All this indiscriminate invasion does not 
menace Canadian national feeling. Nobody 

April, 1919. 

C I A .!/»/. I.\ liunh 1/ I \ 


ever became an American from reading the 
"Red Book," or "The Literary Digest." Even 
the "Saturday Evening Post." though it does 
know how to create readers, doesn't make Am- 

Our own literary industry cannot be finally 
bettered by the exclusion of American or Eng- 
lish or any publications. Our own literary in- 
dustry is being stimulated by the very influx 
of such. Slowly there is being created a reading 
public with an increasing amount of sophisti- 
cated appetite and decent taste. As long as 
national feeling does not decline, and it is not 
declining, the public remains ready to welcome 
Canadian work, even to choose it from the 
American offering:, other things being nearly 
equal. Other things, up to the present, have 
not been nearly equal. Canadian work has had 
great fundamental qualities, but it has lacked 
in cosmopolitan finish and urbanity and the 
flair of sophistication, just those qualities which 
acquaintance with the infinite variety of the 
foreign magazine world will develop. This then: 
The American invasion will create appetite and 
taste. It will nourish in us the qualities, being 
little and young and provincial, we need. It 
will make us ready to recognise and welcome 
our own beginnings wherever our writers 
emerge offering us a Canadian subject matter 
in an artistic setting. It will help our own 
magazines by preparing for them a public cap- 
able of being critical. 

(2) One need not say much about the diffi- 
culties of discrimination. In the first place, 
where would discrimination begin and where 
end, and who should discriminate ? Neither a 
good and sober Methodist politician of unques- 
tioned denominational antecedents nor a Mc- 
Gill humorist would avail, to refer to only 
two of our prominent citizens. A humorist's 
discriminations would be as dangerous as a 
Methodist's and both far more dangerous to 
morality than the present laissez fairr. A 
Methodist is far too certain and a humorist far 
too uncertain for morality. I would distrust 
a Bureau of Discrimination altogether. I be- 
lieve we have no citizen moral enough or pos- 
sessed of sufficient insight into the principles 
of national well-being to be head of such » 
Bureau. Certainly the editor of "Jack 
Canuck" would not do, nor any professor or 
poet, nor the Minister of Education, nor any 
politician, nor any member of the clergy. Some 
simple citizen in some remote section of the 
countryside might be discovered with the re- 
quisite amount of unspoiled instinct ; but the 
corset and underwear advertisements in "The 

Ladies Home Journal" and II I, Mencken's 
column in "The Smart Set" would probably 
even then play upon his simplicity and elude 

his exclusions; he would mistake the one for 

natural phenomena and the other for wisdom 

1 should personally lie afraid of a censor be- 
cause, even if he were no worse kind of a man, 
he might exclude "Tie' Little Review," the 
"Liberator" and "Popular Mechanics" with- 
out which trio I couldn't know what Ezra 
Pound is up to next, or the number of lynch 
that occur weekly in the C.X., or how to mend 
my Ford car. I admit that Ezra Pound is queer 
and the lynchings are horrible and the Ford 
makeshifts abominable, but then, who is there 
among us who does not cherish his queerness, 
his horrors and his abominations, learning there- 
by the preciousness of life? 

In a word, nobody's instincts are unspoiled 
enough for this business of discrimination, even 
though we admit such a thing to be theoretically 
desirable. Certain philosophizings to the con- 
trary, nobody is God, not even J-hn M-e- 
N-ght-n. So let us diddle on without setting 
any one up among us to usurp the functions 
of Deity. We have done enough of that al- 
ready and made a wreck of our morality. God 
will take care of us. even of the Canadian pub- 
lishers, in this matter of magazine reading ma- 
terial, about which we are not sure. Some of it 
is certainly good. Some of it is certainly bad. 
Who of us knows which from which? Let both 
grow together until the harvest. The harvest is 
the end of the world. 

Have a Propaganda 

For Our Literature, says 

Mary J. L. Black 

IN considering the question of the use and 
abuse of American periodicals one wishes 
to avoid anything that looks like in- 
sularity, but the fact remains that there 
are grave dangers to our national spirit through 
the too extensive use of American periodicals, 
to the exclusion of our own. This statement is 
true, even if only applied to those excellent 
magazines of which any American may well be 
proud, for these magazines are edited by Am- 
ericans for Americans, and often with the de- 
liberate purpose of encouraging a love of and 
pride in their country. This is most commend- 



April, 1919. 

able so far as they are concerned, but it is an 
entirely different matter when we, as Can- 
adians, allow this same literature to vitiate our 
national spirit. Loyalty to one 's ' country, just 
as to one"s friend, is based on knowledge, re- 
spect and pride, and if our citizens get their 
reading largely from an American source, how 
can we expect them to get this intellectual, 
ethical and civic relationship necessary to pro- 
duce the Canadian spirit. Surely when one 
considers how limited is our field of Canadian 
periodical literature, and how difficult to pro- 
cure, and how abundant and inexpensive is that 
of the American publishers, it is not surprising 
that our loyalty is lukewarm, and our interest 

The difficulty in developing a periodical lit- 
erature of our own is not entirely due to small- 
ness of population, or lack of material, or to the 
slowness of the trade in encouraging the sale 
of such, but rather, to a lack of desire on the 
part of the people themselves to read exclusive 
Canadian publications. If one can find a rea- 
son for this lack, one has got a long way in find- 
ing the solution to our problem. 

To my mind, the first reason is the lack of 
adequate training in our schools in Canadian 
history and biography and natural resources. 
What opportunity has the average Canadian to 
know anything about the picturesque days and 
peoples of early Canada or the equally interest- 
ing romance associated with our economic and 
geographic development? None. Could any- 
thing be more barren than the ordinary Can- 
adian history text-book? Is it surprising that 
the average child looks upon his lessons in Can- 
adian history as an unmitigated bore, believing 
them to be lacking in everything that makes the 
old world history romantic and charming ? With 
this lack of knowledge how can they be expect- 
ed to have respect or pride, love, or loyalty? 
Surely, it would not be a difficult matter to 
write a child's history of Canada, that would 
give them all the life and activity and romance 
that they could possibly desire ! This must be 
the first thing done, and put as a text book 
into all our schools, and accompanying this new 
text book must come a reform in the methods of 
teaching the subject. I would like to see a 
scholarly and poetic specialist in each school 
to handle the history and literature, for only 
such a person can give the necessary historic 
background, without which deference for one's 
flag and national anthem, and an appreciation 
of the joy and responsibilities of citizenship, can 
never develop. 

Concurrently with this movement, the Gov- 
ernment should subsidize a certain number of 
men of letters, conditionally on their remaining 
in ( lanada, and doing their share in building 
up, through literature, a Canadian spirit, It 
should be one of the duties of these men to pro- 
duce suitable magazines to meet the needs of 
the various sections of the country, using Can- 
adian brains whenever possible, but never hesi- 
tating to bring in outside talent if necessary. 
These magazines, whether they be of a general 
character or those dealing with special lines of 
interest, should all possess one aim, namely to 
widen one's vision of Canadian history, litera- 
ture, national resources, and future possibili- 
ties. They should in every way encourage Can- 
adian writers and subjects, so that the multi- 
tude of Canadians who have been driven out 
of the country to seek their fortunes in foreign 
lands will gladly return to help in this mighty 
work. Of course, such a scheme would cost 
money. Why shouldn 't it ? Money is spent on 
other forms of propaganda, why not on this, if 
in the end, Canadians were taught to know their 
country, to take pride in it, and to rejoice in 
serving it? 

Then, and not till then, the periodical ques- 
tion will be largely solved, for we woidd have 
no market for the cheap and often injurious 
reading that is now pouring into our country, 
and the field for even the better type would be 
largely reduced when our public are shown that, 
excepting in those subjects that are entirely dis- 
associated from Canadian interests, the Cana- 
dian publisher can supply all his magazine 

Tariff to Protect 

Native Literature, 

Says Castell Hopkins 

I DO not know of any greater influence in the 
formation of national lines of thought than 
the flooding of this country with alien 
literature, ideals, principles and polity. The 
combination of a mass of American journals — 
cheap, popular, and in many cases lacking in 
morals or high development of thought — with 
a press which receives practically the whole of 
its news about Britain as the head of the Em- 
pire, about other countries of the Empire, and 

April, 1919. 



about foreign nations which are the friends and 
Allies of Great Britain, through Americans 
writing in London for the consumption of Am 
erioans in the United States, cannol but train 
the youth of our country along American lines 
and in a totally foreign view-point of Great 

What, after all, do we, and especially the 
youth of our country, learn from this American- 
ization of the sources of all popular knowledge, 
except the fact that the United States of Am- 
erica dominates the world in culture of a certain 
type, in swiftness of thought and rapidity of 
action, in capacity for raising armies and build- 
ing navies, while Great Britain is sleeping or 
dazed ? What do we learn from it except that 
American civilization, power, progress, are 
greater than those which we inherit and share 
in from Britain ? What do we learn except a 
continually greater sense of the greatness of 
the United States? 

Such poisoning of the wells of political 
thought cannot fail, in due time, to make our 
people non-British, if not actually anti-British. 
I do hope that your Symposium will do good in 
awakening public thought to the vast issues in- 
volved in the training of our people along the 
lines naturally taught by a foreign nation to its 
own people. After all, we are eight millions to 
one hundred millions, and the steady pressure 
of United States thought and United States 
views of British life, power, naval supremacy 
and expansion must influence us in directions 
absolutely inimical to our destiny as British na- 
tions in a great British Empire. 

How this difficulty can be adjusted depends, 
in my opinion, first on the granting of a con- 
siderable subsidy by the Government to Cana- 
dian Press Agencies in London, so as to remove 
from our despatches the American atmosphere 
with which American writers in London would 
naturally surround despatches intended for Am- 
ericans in the United States and utilized by our 
newspapers in Canada as being infinitely less 
expensive than direct Canadian despatches. In 
the second place the' matter of magazines de- 
pends upon whether the Government will con- 
sent to put a duty on these products and thus 
encourage native literary work and native pub- 
lication. It might be mentioned in passing, also, 
that these American magazines are full of every 
kind of advertisement calculated to draw people 
away from patronizing Canadian manufactur- 
ers and Canadian products. 

Tax The Advertising 

Pages, Suggests Frank 

Wise of Macmillans' 

Tvmeo Danaos et dona ferentes. 

PERHAPS 1 am the last person who should 
be asked for an expression on the Ameri- 
can Magazine Invasion since I never read 
them. Long ago I found even my poor, 
simple mind revolted at the "bosh" served 
up in the lordly dishes — the chromatic colored 
covers — which assail one at the news-stands and 
on the trains. 

I take it that you accept, as I do, Harper's, 
Scribner's and the Century as legitimate, and 
worthy of consideration as literature, also the 
Atlantic and the like, but what of the nasty, 
suggestive picture-covered allurements which 
are displayed for our seduction on street cor- 
ners, tobacco-shops and trains? "Ginger Tales," 
with an unclad female with golden eyes and 
ginger hair on the cover, "Snappy Stories" 
with another young person displaying all the 
snaps on her scanty underclothing, and the 
various "Hot Stuffs" and other abominations 
that evidently possess the magic password to 
get them past the censor sentry at the border? 

Is it not possible also that the movie is respon- 
sible for much of this worse than rubbish? 
Here again I must plead ignorance, since I 
never go to a movie, but judging from the 
suggestive posters which one passes outside these 
picture "palaces," I (should guess that the 
habitue of the average film house has his mind, 
or that part of his anatomy residing under his 
hair, well attuned to appreciate the various 
"Gingers," "Snaps," and "Hot Stuffs" which 
he is able to read on Sundays when the film 
ceases from reeling and Lesbia is at rest. 

This suggests that the churches have good 
reason for insisting on this Sunday closing. The 
Commandments and their public recital are 
surely the special province of the churches, and 
it is perhaps only natural that they should be 
jealous of the film which fakes a picture of the 
Creation and then takes the Commandments 
and illustrates them suitably, specializing on 
these, let us say, from the sixth to the last, with 
extra emphasis on the sixth and seventh. 

To translate, freely, my opening quotation — 
"I fear the Yanks when they come offering gay- 
colored magazines. 



April, 1919, 

Canadian Poets of the Great War 


I MUST be pardoned for the far from orig- 
inal remark that a period of intense na- 
tional exaltation is usually followed by 
a period of intense literary activity. The 
Augustan Age, the Medicean, the Isabellan, the 
Elizabethan, the Louis XIV, the Victorian — 
are they not common examples? Sometimes 
local difficulties have prevented the sequence, 
such as in the United States after the Revolu- 
tion, and in Canada after the migration of the 
Loyalists — though in the end these movements 
have produced profound effects in thought and 
expression; for even if the "Great American 
novel," and the Great Canadian one, be still 
missing, the traditions of Independence and of 
United Empire have both been vastly fruitful. 
It is fair to prognosticate an intense literary 
activity in Canada, as well as elsewhere, in the 
near future, resulting from the Great War, and 
it is well to scrutinize the straws in the wind 
even now, because that literary activity will 
not be merely a bookish matter, but a voice is- 
suing out of our people's deepest soul. 

What took place after that much less stirring, 
although momentous event. Confederation 1 
Momentous, for Confederation made us a na- 
tion. By the way, it is amusing to hear every 
now and then that So-and-so "made Canada 
a nation." The feat has been attributed to 
at least a dozen different gentlemen by their 
admirers on fanciful grounds, from time to 
time ; and to the C.P.R., and the McKinley 
tariff. But regarding even the superior claim 
of the Fathers of Confederation, had as many 
as two of them any real idea of the effects of 
what they were doing, beyond the solution of 
the old Provincial deadlock? Was it not only 
after the deed was done that the true scope of 
it began to dawn on our people? 

The word "nation" itself is one used in too 
many senses, and needs some standardization 
by the British Academic Committee, or, in a 
suggestive way, by some such literary body as 
The Royal Society of Canada. At any rate a 
word used in so many confusing senses as "The 
Five Nations" for the Iroquois tribes; "la na- 
tion canadienne" for the French-Canadian race, 
in Lord Durham's Report, and its French 
sources; "It- parti national" for the old Mer- 

cier Race Party in Quebec; "the British na- 
tion" for the people of the British Isles, and 
also for the British Imperial stock; "the Scotch 
nation", "the Irish nation," for two dialectic 
British provinces represented in the Parliament 
of the United Kingdom; "the Imperial nation" 
for the British peoples at large, and "the Can- 
adian nation" for that part of it municipally 
organized in Canada : — a word used in such 
a jumble of significations requires definition for 
any particular context. When therefore I say 
"Confederation made us a nation," what is 
meant by the word is, a people brought together 
as a working political organism within a certain 
territory. This by no means implies a sovereign 
state: Canada's nationhood is still a statehood 
in the United States of Britain, and perhaps 
sooner than we expect may, as part of the Brit- 
ish Commonwealth, be combined with a differ- 
ent and larger quality still, of membership in 
the Federation of the World. Our ultimate 
nationality is humanity. I confess to have long 
had a hope of a larger Union between the Brit- 
ish Empire, France and the United States. 
Anyway, Confederation lifted us out of the 
pettiness of provincialism. It brought us a ter- 
ritory larger than Europe to work in, and a 
wondrous ideal of what that new Europe might 
become for our seers to sing of. 

Thus arose the Confederation School of Can- 
adian poets. Why the prose writers lagged be- 
hind is another story. The compact and spirit- 
ed message of lyric verse is doubtless the main 
secret of its influence in an age averse to long 
compositions and diluted thought. As the first 
anthologist of the Confederation poets, I had 
the privilege of intimate acquaintance with the 
principal men and women of the school and pre- 
serve their letters as valued treasures. Among 
them were John Reade (now the delightful 
Dean of the guild), Archibald Lampman, 
Charles George Douglas Roberts, Bliss Carman, 
Charles Mair, Frederick George Scott, Hunter 
Duvar, William Wilfred Campbell, Dr. William 
Henry Drummond. Duncan Campbell Scott, 
John E. Logan, George Murray, George Martin, 
William McLennan, "Seranus," Ethelwyn 
Wetherald, Agnes Maule Machar, Pauline John- 
son and Isabella Valancv ( 'rawford. These ap- 
peared practically together like a flight of song- 



r l \ \PI I \ /:o//A 1/ I \ 


birds From tlir South in April, wafted in by 
some mighty wind of the spirit. The birthdates 
of most nf them are within a few years of each 
other, not far from I860. Roberts had the 
greatest promise. The new and spontaneous 
pal riot ic outburst of his : 

() Child of Nations, giant-limbed 

Who stand 'st among the nations now 

evoked an immediate emotional 
throughout the Dominion: 


But thou, my Country, dream not thou. 

Wake and behold how night is done! — 
How on thy breast and o'er thy brow. 

Bursts the uprising sun ! 

and again, his "Ode for the Canadian Confed- 
eracy," beginning: 

Awake ! my country, the hour is great with 

If the song of each of the poets of Confedera- 
tion is analyzed we find in it the note of a new 
freedom and mastery — a cry which had been 
lacking before, of relief from the small provin- 
cial outlook, and a devotion to the beauty of this 
most beautiful of all lands. Archibald Lamp- 
man, for instance, seems at first sight to deal 
in themes and measures far away from national 
outlook. What have his titles, "Alcyone," 
."The Favorites of Pan," or, "The Story of an 
Affinity." to do with Canada? Or "The Frogs" 
— those "quaint uncouth dreamers, voices high 
and strange?" — by which he told me he really 
intended the tree-toads! But in that exquisite 
poem, what a picture of the charm of his coun- 
try ! 

And ever as ye piped, on every tree, 

The great buds swelled; among the pensive 
The spirits of first flowers awoke and flung 
From their buried faces the close-fitting 
And listened to your piping till they fell, 
The frail spring-beauty with her perfumed 
The windflow y er, and the spotted adder-tongue. 

After all, in his most distant excursions, he was 
working at the enrichment of Canadian life. In 
"Freedom," he turns to the Laurentians ; paint- 
ing in clear, firm tones the new wide land : 

Up to the hills, where the winds restore us, 
Clearing our eyes to the beauty before us; 

Earth with the glory of life on her breast, 
Earth with the gleam of her cities and streams. 

Lampman's amplest expression of his lovely and 
attractive soul, for all who knew him loved 

him deeply is liis "Land of l'allas." that noble 

picture of the ideal country . 

A land where Beauty dwelt supreme; and Right, 
the donor 
Of peaceful days, a land of equal gifts and 

Of limitless fair fields, and plenty had with 
honor ; 
A land of kindly tillage and untroubled 

A land of lovely speech, where every tone was 
By generations of emotion, high and sweet , 
Of thought and deed and bearing lofty and im- 
A land of golden calm, grave forms and fret 
less feet. 

There were no castes of rich or poor, of slave 
or master, 
Where all were brothers and the curse of gold 
was dead; 
But all that wise fair race to kindlier ends and 
Moved on together with the same majestic 

That "land of golden calm" was the ideal Can- 
ada, the new vision of the community to be, to 
which his full heart yearned, and to which he 
gave prophetic utterance. 

Every one of the Confederation School in- 
stinctively contributed his share to the edifice, 
some more directly than others. Some were the 
landscape artists of our verse, some the histori- 
cal composers, others the mystics, others refin- 
ed musicians in the art of words. None com- 
posed with more Celtic passion of patriotism 
than the late William Wilfred Campbell. Of 
him one could always feel that he was the 
thoroughgoing poet, his own first convert to 
his message, untamed in soul, unapologetic for 
art, the incarnation of noble earnestness, a des- 
piser of ignoble things and ignoble men : 

Earth's dream of poetry will never die. 

Wrong cannot kill it. Man's material scheme 

May scorn its uses, worship baser hope 

Of life's high purpose, build about the world 

A brazen rampart : through it all will come 

The iron moan of life's unresting sea; 

And through its floors, as filtered blooms of 

Those flowers of dream will spring, eternal, 


'Tis the name that the world repeats. 



April, 1919. 

Till the last great freedom is found, 

And the last great truth is taught, 
Till the last great deed is done, 

And the last great battle is fought, 
Till the last great fighter is slain in the last 
great fight, 

And the warwolf is dead in his den, 
England, breeder of hope and valor and might, 

Iron mother of men. 

The Confederation School indeed expressed 
something which was at the root of the chival- 
rous conduct of our young Canadians in the 
Great War. They both expressed and inspired 


It would be very easy to trace the elements 
of the common task in the product of others of 
the school. I shall quote a brief distinctive note 
from two of its eminent members. 

Frederick George Scott wrote the following 
inscription for the Soldiers' Monument at Que- 

Not by the power of Commerce, Art or Pen 
Shall our great Empire stand, nor has it 

But by the noble deeds of noble men, 
Heroic lives and heroes' outpoured blood. 

And from Duncan Campbell Scott may be chos- 
en the exquisite sonnet: 


Before Dawn. 
The stars are stars of mom; a keen wind 

The birches on the slope ; the distant hills, 
Rise in the vacant North; the Chaudiere fills 
The calm with its hushed roar; the river takes 
An unquiet rest, and a bird stirs, and shakes 
The morn with music; a snatch of singing 

Prom the river; and the air clings and chills. 

Fair in the South ; fair as a shrine that makes 
The wonder of a dream, imperious towers, 
Pierce and possess the sky, guarding the halls, 
Where our young strength is welded strenuous- 
ly ; 
While in the East the Star of morning dowers 
The land with a large tremulous light, that falls 
A pledge and presage of our destiny. 

The Great War is vastly more stirring as an 
era than Confederation was. We are passing 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
and many of our sons have crossed the dark 
river itself and disappeared into the night. 
Pierce tests are forging men and will turn into 
our home life a stern and determined army, 
hating shams, not afraid of true revolutions, 
and accustomed to ideals, although singularly 
silent about them. Momentous views and pro- 

found feelings have already begun to find some 
utterance here as well as in other allied lands. 
By examining the body of scattered verse from 
Canadian pens, we may hope to construct a dim 
picture of our coming poetic generation. Never 
mind the form. The mass must be regarded in 
the same light as those absorbing wash-and-pen- 
cil drawings, which come from the front, whose 
interest lies in their transcript character — 
transcripts of hourly trial and danger; of in- 
cidents of battle; of sad and tragic partings 
with the dying brave ; of regimental losses in the 
charge; of heroic merriment under the miseries 
and privations of the winter dugout, the cold, 
the flooded trenches and the Flanders mud. 

Naturally, several of the surviving Confedera- 
tion Poets overlap the nascent After- War School 
by treating of such themes. Frederick George 
Scott has served at the front as chaplain since 
1914, has lost one son killed in action and has 
seen another part with an eye by a German bul- 
let. Out of the fulness of his heart he has 
composed several of our finest poems on the 
war. Charles G. D. Roberts, who also holds a 
commission at the front, Duncan Campbell 
Scott, Wilfred Campbell, Mrs. Harrison ("Ser- 
anus"), Mrs. Isabella Ecclestone Mackay, and 
Miss Machar, have all contributed to the ex- 
pression of war life. And Robert W. Service 
— who might be called a belated member of the 
Confederation School, because of his creation 
of the poetic Yukon— and Theodore Goodridge 
Roberts, brother of C. G. D., are doing good 
work in France. All these writers of pre-war at- 
tainment are giving our war verse some, of its 
first forms and part of its lines of impulse. By 
reason of their previous experience, they 
promptly seize some of its characteristics. Yet 
it is a question whether they do or do not have, 
in their previous training, a disadvantage as 
well as an advantage over the new writers who 
will be wholly inspired by the new era. 

The Great War period itself must be regard- 
ed as a new starting point, the foundation of 
the After-War literary edifice. 

What then do we find in this Great War 
period, now evidently shaped with considerable 
distinctness? Is it not the following qualities: 

1. Dreadful experiences. 

2. Supreme heroism. 

3. Ideals of fidelity— Chivalry, honor, pat- 
riotism to Canada, Empire, and humanity. 

4. Hatred of Wrong. 

From these have resulted self-confidence, inten- 
sity of convictions, directness of view, dignity 
and new outlook, — strong elements of impulse 

April. L919. 



which are certain to lead to constructive action 
in the near future, and thai action will, when 
it arrives at maturity in our national affairs, 
necessarily flow along the Lines of those experi- 
ences, ideals and impulses. 

Canon Scott, the heroic chaplain, always in 
the thick of danger and adored by the men, 
gives the following, among his "Poems written 
at the Front": 


They stand with reverent faces, 

And their merriment give o'er. 
As they drink the toast to the unseen host. 

Who have fought and gone before. 

It is only a passing moment, 

In the midst of the feast and song, 

But it grips the breath, as the wing of death 
In a vision sweeps along. • 

No more they see the banquet, 

And the brilliant lights around, 
But they charge again on the hideous plain 

When the shell-bursts rip the ground. 

Or they creep at night, like panthers, 
Through the waste of No Man's Land, 

Their hearts afire with a wild desire 
And death on every hand ; 

And out of the roar and tumult, 
Or the black night loud with rain, 

Some face comes back from the fiery track 
And looks in their eyes again. 

And the love that is passing woman's 

And the bonds that are forged by death 

Now grip the soul with a strange control 
And speak what no man saith ; 

The vision dies off in the stillness, 

Once more the tables shine, 
But the eyes of all in the banquet hall 

Are lit with a light divine. 
Vimy Ridge, April. 1917. 

In "Requiescant" he sees the same "unseen 

In lonely watches night by night, 
Great visions burst upon my sight, 
For down the stretches of the sky, 
The hosts of dead go marching by. 

Strange ghostly banners o'er them float, 
Strange bugles sound an awful note; 
And all their faces and their eyes 
Are lit with starlight from the skies. 

Robert W. Service, the "Red Cross Man," 
(who lost his brother. Lieutenant Albert Ser- 
vice, killed in action in 1916) has sought his 
subject with a sure instinct: 


All day long when the shells sail over, 

I stand ;it the sandbags and take my chance; 

But at night, at night. I'm a reckless rovt 
And over the parapet gleams Romance. 
Romance: Romance! How ['ve dreamed it. 

Dreary old records of money and mart, 
Me with my head chock full of fighting, 

And the blood of vikings to thrill my heart! 

But little I thought that my time was coming, 

Sudden ami splendid, supreme and soon; 
And here I am with the bullets humming, 

As 1 crawl and I curse the light of the moon; 
Out alone, for adventure thirsting! 

Out in mysterious No .Man's Land! 
Prone with the dead when a star shell bursting. 

Flares on the horrors on every hand. 

Theodore Goodridge Roberts gives us such 
stanzas as this: 


Steady they come, as those who had come in the 
Unshaken they passed where the bursting 
barrage was set; 
They passed their victorious; they 
passed to their goal — ■ 
The machine-gunned houses and gardens of 

Into and through it, they flamed like fire 
through stubble; 
With death before them, behind them, and 
swift in the air; 
They struck stark fear to the hearts of the 
craven f oemen ; 
With bomb and steel they dug the Boehe from 
his lair. 

September the Fifteenth. That was a day of 
With blood, with life, they captured the fort- 
ress town ; 
While far away, in the dear land they died for, 
In frosty coverts the red leaves fluttered 

Others of the older writers, who have not been 
at the front, have also been stirred by phases 
of the struggle. Duncan Campbell Scott has 
seen the vision of the aviator's soul in his Mil- 
tonic "Lines on a Canadian Aviator who died 
for his Country in France." 

But Death, who has learned to fly. 
Still matchless when his work is to be done, 

Met thee between the armies and the sun; 
Thy speck of shadow faltered in the sky; ' 

Then thy dead engine and thy broken' wings 
Drooped through the arc and passed in fire;^ 

A wreath of smoke, — a breathless exhalation ; 
But ere that came, a vision sealed thine eyes, 



April, 1910. 

Lulling thy senses with oblivion; 
And from its sliding station in the skies 

Thy dauntless soul upward in circles soared 
To the sublime and purest radiance whence it 

Robert Stanley Weir's "Treason" gives vig- 
orous voice to the intense anger at traitors : 



Because when your own Mother had sore need ; 

Because you knew it well and would not heed ; 
Because, though ruffians from the raging Rhine 

Assailed with roar her very door; 
You said Her quarrel is not mine. 
Because of this : 
Yours shall forever be a name to hiss! 

Because not only have you failed to fight, 

At Armageddon 'gainst all Devil's might; 
But held your brothers back when they would 


Blinding their eyes with dastard lies 
So that they went not up against the foe ; 
Because of this; 
Yours shall forever be a name to hiss. 

From Samuel Mathewson Baylis, author of 
the volumes "Camp and Lamp," and "At the 
Sign of the Beaver," come good fighting lines: 


All unafraid, as sire the seed, 

Indomitable, undismayed, 
Fronts the ringed teeth of mongrel breed 

All unafraid. 

If few the greater honor paid ! — 
Adown the years our Henry's creed 
Still fires high souls in arms arrayed. 

Though eyes be dim and torn hearts bleed, 

On ! still unshaken, firmly stayed, 
They greatly rise to greater need. 

All unafraid ! 

It would be invidious and inopportune to at- 
tempt a list of the others who have written well. 

But the deepest interest lies in that often 
formless mass of new utterance which is welling 
up day by day hot from the lifesprings of the 
new generation. The famous lines of Lt.-Col. 
John McCrae, who lately died of pneumonia at 
the McGill Hospital, Boulogne, are inseparable 
from the Great War. 

One of these dead in Flanders' fields, Lieuten- 
ant Bernard Freeman Trotter, who was killed 
by a high explosive shell on May 7th, 1917, 
wrote passages of lofty feeling. He exclaims 
while detained by ill-health from enlisting: 

God, the blood of Outram in these veins 

( 'ries shame upon the doom that dams it there 

1 n useless impotence, while the red torrent runs 
In glorious spate for Liberty and Right. 

O to have died that day at Langemarck! 
In one fierce moment to have paid it all ! 
The debt of Life to Earth and Hell and Heaven. 
To have perished nobly in a noble cause, 
Untarnished, unpolluted, undismayed, 
By the dark world's corruption ; to have passed, 
A flaming beacon light to gods and men, 
For in the years to come it shall be told 
How these laid down their lives not for their 

Their orchards, fields, and cities ; they were 

To slaughter by no tyrant's lust for power; 
Of their free manhood's choice they crossed the 

To save a stricken people from its foe 
They died for justice. Justice owes them this ; 
That what they died for, be not overthrown. 

And again : — 

happy dead, who sleep embalmed in glory, 

Safe from corruption, purified by fire! 

We shall grow old and tainted with the rotten 

Effluvia of the peace we fought to win; 

But you have conquered Time, and sleep for- 

Like gods with a white halo on your brows ; 

Your souls our lodestars, your death-crowned 

The spur that holds the nations to their vows. 

These words, written in France in April, 
1917, were the last he wrote before he himself 
"conquered Time, and slept forever." 

The verses from Lt. Peregrine Acland's poem 
"The Reveille of Romance" which I am about 
to quote show the spirit of high resolve and the 
imaginative outlook which actuated those who 
sprang to arms at the first call. This spirit up- 
held many throughout the stress of the cam- 
paigns. The author, who wrote the lines at sea 
on his way to the front, proved himself a fine 
soldier, received the Military Cross, was pro- 
moted to the rank of Major and was severely 

Regret no more the age of arms, 
Nor sigh, "Romance is dead." 

Out of life's dull and dreary maze 
Romance has raised her head. 

From East and West and South and North 

The hosts are crowding still ; 
The long rails hum as troop-trains come 

By valley, plain and hill ; 

And whence came yearly argosies 
Laden with silks and corn, 

April. 1919. 

C i \ i/'/ I \ BOOKMAh 


Vast fleets of countless armed men 
O'er tin' broad seas arc borne. 

Though warriors fall like frosted leaves 

Before November winds, 
They only lose what all must lose, 

But find what none else finds. 

Their bodies lie beside the way, 

In trench, by barricade, 
Discarded by the titan Will 

That shatters what it made. 

Poor empty sheaths, they mark the course 

Of spirits bold as young; 
"Whatever checked that fiery charge 

As dust to dust was flung. 

For terrible it is to slay 

And bitter to be slain, 
But joy it is to crown the soul 

In its heroic reign. 

And better far to make or mar, 

Godlike, but for a day, 
Than pace the sluggard's slavish round 

In life-long, mean decay. 

Who sighs, then, for the Golden Age! 

Romance has raised her head, 
And in the sad and sombre days 

Walks proudly o'er your dead. 

The women have contributed largely. Mrs. 
Annie Bethune Macdougald speaks the gift of 
the mothers: 


Some pay the tax in riven gold, 
But we in blood and tears, 

Heart throbs, lone vigils, and passionate tend- 
ance through the years; 

First bending low to cull the drifting smile of 
sleeping innocence incarnate 

Then level, eye to eye, with love's divining 

Would read the riddle of the dawning man in- 
nate ; 

Held hostage still by roguish straight-limbed 

And then with lifted eyes do we behold the 

Of manly strength stand up above us 

And then, with miser fingers, we con the hoard- 
ed treasure of the years 

And wonder, even as Mary, all human, all 
divine ; 

That all such fair investment of fine gold, 

Should buy us but a crown of glistening, bitter 

'Tis thus we women pay. 

.Miss Helen Coleman, 
"Marching Men War 

in her volume entitled 
s" has thoughts 

AUTI'.MX, 1917. 

Are there young hearts in France recalling 
These dream-filled, blue Canadian days, 

When gold and scarlet flames are falling 
From beech and maple set ablaze? 

Pluck they again the pale wild aster 
The bending plume of golden-rod? 

And do their exiled hearts beat faster, 
Roaming in thought their native sod ; 

Dream they of Canada, crowned and golden, 
Flushed with her autumn diadem. 

In years to come, when time is olden, 
Canada's dream shall be of them; 

Shall be of them who gave for others, 
The ardor of their radiant years; 

Your name in Canada's heart, my brothers, 
Shall be remembered long with tears. 

Some of these poets have been inspired to 
verse for the first time in their lives. Miss 
Esther Kerry, a young lady of a well-known 
and gifted family of Montreal, who served in 
England as a V.A.D. nurse, wrote one day in 
London these happy lines: 


He is a Canadian — I wonder has he stood 

In some thick forest, on a mountain slope, 

Silent beneath a pine. 

And looking out across a valley seen 

Nothing but bristling tree trunks far below 

And storm-scarred grey mountains 

Whose snow-caps 

Rise to a sun-swept blue. 

He is a Canadian — I wonder has he stood 

On some still morning by a tiny lake 

And watched the water ripple on the beach, — 

One little clearing 

In the mighty woods — 

And known that he is first to breathe that air 

Not weighted by a thousand lives and thoughts, 

But rare and pure, 

A breathing straight from God. 

Oh, Canada, of bigness, beauty, strength, 
Whom we thy wondering children know as 

ne'er before 
In exile's retrospect of glorious hours, 
We love thee with a love we never felt till now, 
A love not all our own, a heritage 
From those who to thy shores no more return. 
Their love of thee, unconscious, pent, 
Which drove them forth, they knew not why 
And urged them on 
All glad for thee to die. 
In this great love may we be consecrate 



April, 1919. 

And made a nation new, 
Strong as thy mountains, 
Generous as thy plains, 
Pure as thy winters, 
And with depths unknown 
As all thy forest lakes — 
Still pools of peace. 

And a lovely lament is the elegy "A Cry 
from the Canadian Hills" by Lillian Leveridge 
of Carrying Place, Ont., over her young brother 
Frank, who died of wounds in France: 

Laddie, little laddie, come with me over the 

Where blossom the white May lilies and the 

dogwood and daffodils ; 
For the spirit of spring is calling to our spirits 

that love to roam; 
Over the hills of home, laddie, over the hills 

of home. 

Laddie, little laddie, here's hazel and meadow 

And wreaths of the rare arbutus ablowing for 
me and you ; 

And cherry and bilberry blossoms and haw- 
thorn as white as foam ; 

We'll carry them all to mother, laddie, over 
the hills of home; 

Brother, little brother, your childhood is pass- 
ing by, 

And the dawn of a noble purpose I see in your 
thoughtful eye. 

Laddie, soldier laddie, a call comes over the sea, 
A call to the best and bravest in the land of 

To shatter the despot's power, to lift up the 

weak that fall ; 
Whistle a song as you go, laddie, to answer your 

country's call. 

Brother, soldier brother, the spring has come 

back again; 
But her voice from the windy hilltops is calling 

your name in vain ; 
For never shall we together, mid the birds and 

the blossoms roam, 
Over the hills of home, brother, over the hills 

of home; 

Laddie, Laddie, Laddie ! How dim is the sun- 
shine grown ; 

As Mother and I together speak softly in ten- 
der tone, 

And the lips that cpiiver and falter have ever a 
single theme. 

As we list for your dear lost whistle, laddie, 
over the hills of dream. 

Some new Western men have written well. 
Robert J. C. Stead, of Calgary, has given not- 
able verses on "Kitchener," among others in 

his volume "Kitchener and Other Poems." 
This dirge strikes the chord of Empire : 


Weep, waves of England. Nobler clay 
Was ne'er to nobler grave consigned; 

The wild waves weep with us today 
Who mourn a nation's master mind. 

We hoped an honored age for him, 
And ashes laid with England's great, 

And rapturous music, and the dim 

Deep hush that veils our Tomb of State. 

But this is better. Let him sleep 
Where sleep the men who made us free, 

For England's heart is in the deep 
And England's glory is the sea; 

One only vow above his bier — 
One only oath beside his bed — 

We swear our flag shall shield him here 
Until the sea gives up its dead : 

Leap, waves of England. Boastful be. 

And fling defiance in the blast 
For earth is envious of the Sea, 

Which shelters England's dead at last. 

Hyman Edelstein, a young Jew of Montreal, 
introduces one of the strangest notes of the in- 
credible contest, when he voices the gratitude 
of Canadian Israel regarding the Restoration of 
Palestine, — the re-wedding of the Holy Land 
to the Chosen People, — in which indeed a num- 
ber of our young Canadian soldiers took part : 


From Lebanon comes a shout of glee. 
And Carmel echoes long. 

And Jordan sings with a newfound rhyme 

And the valleys ring with the mingled chime. 
As the trees whirl in a rustling dance, 
Over the strange divine romance : 

Shulamith and her lost are met — 

Zion and Judah are lovers yet ! 

What saith the Jordan to the sea? 
And thou. Old Kishon, what aileth thee? 

Why run the rivers with hurrying gait? 

And what the tidings they relate 
To the fields that can no longer wait, 
And the woods that with wild joy vibrate? — 

it is the 'Earth of Israel' singing, 
Which feels the tread of her children's feet, 
And it is the shout of the strong hills ringing 
Which thus their ancient tenant greet: 
Zion is free ! Zion is free ! 
My children, my children, come back to me ! 

Yielding to the urgings of friends, I take the 
anthologist's privilege of inserting some lines 
of mv own : 

April, L919 

r \\ |/)/ | \ BOOB I/. I \ 



Yet Taint above the din, on ether borne, 
A clear voice rang the ancient battle cries: 
"Freedom and honor! truth and chivalry! 
St. George, defend thy pledges unto death! 
St. George, defend tin- weak, and save the 

And all true sons of Britain felt it vain 
To live, unless as British Imights of old, 

Then lo! with reverence and pride we saw 
The knights of old appear, — Sir Galahads, 
None purer, none more brave. They had been 

Till then hut as the schoolboys of the camps, 
Carefree and merry, warming elder blood 
By pranks of diving, reckless climbing feats 
Dp sheerest precipices. Trackless wilds 
Knew them as tenters. The shy beaver heard 
Their paddles unafraid. Widely they ranged 
The peaks and dales uncharted, seeking risks 
For love of danger and the jest with Death. 

Yesterday they were children. Scarcely yet 
Knew we they needed less our tender care, 
Until some grave look or some manly deed 
Warned us the soul was ripe. We pondered then. 

So came the world's great need and Honor's call, 
And silent, modest, up they rose to serve, — 
Then in our wonder we beheld them men 
And saw the Knights of Arthur's Table stand 
Before us in their sacred panoply. 
Little they said and naught delayed their go- 
Farewells to launch, canoe, fair lake and range, 
A tender word to mother, and forth they fared, 
As thousands like them fared from lake and 

Crusaders of the Grail. Rude knights were 

But knightly all : God loves all faithful men. 

Galahads of the camps ! For this you learnt 
The fearless life and strenuous company 
Of the wild North, contempt of hurt and cold, 
Joy of unmeasured contest, wit to meet 
Emergency, deft skill and steady nerve. 
What seemed but sport was training, and the 

Was inner, — loyal will and heart humane. 
And in your battles you remembered oft 
The mountains of the Land of Manitou. 

Some shall return with honor, henceforth called 
The heroes of the world. But where are those 
Who never shall return? 

Alas! to earthly eyes they sleep afar 
In fields of glory famed to end of time. 
Yet ever shall they clothe these leafy hills 
With visions of the noblest deeds of men 
And hold before Canadian youths to come 
The quest eternal of the Holy Grail. 

Having now taken a survey, more "r less in- 
complete, of our war verse, we may try to meas- 
ure its place and divine its future. In what 
qualities docs it differ from the large and well- 
developed body of war poetrj of the rest of the 
English speaking world" Two interesting com- 
parisons are easily made. One is with the An- 
thology called "Poems of Today" in which 
some of the besl things of the recent English 
poets regarding the war arc collected: the other 
is with the "Poems and Songs of the South 
African War" brought together by the late Dr. 
J, 1). Borthwick (who was somewhat over lib- 
eral in his inclusions). The great South Afri- 
can contest looks today almost an excursion by 
the side of monstrous Armageddon, and the out- 
put of verse it occasioned might be contained in- 
a leaflet. Yet on reflection, its national and 
even literary impulse was not negligible, and 
had a much larger result than is generally sup- 
posed. And it had a definite and close rela- 
tion to, and influence upon, our part in Arma- 

In technique, only a small part of our poetry 
of the present war compares with the product of 
such British writers as Kipling, Binyon, Mase- 
field, Rupert Brooke, Henry Newbolt. And 
in volume, it is of course but a little stream. 
Perhaps in both these respects — technique and 
volume — it may equal the work of the poets of 
the United States. But in three aspects it is 
unexcelled : no other verse is more bathed in 
the blood and agony of bitter struggle : none 
speaks from a soul of more uneompelled and 
undiluted chivalry ; and none other proceeds 
specifically from our Canadian point of view, 
and so to speak courses directly in our national 
veins. It has indeed a notable relation to the 
whole present and subsequent revolution which 
the war is bringing, and is to bring, into the life 
of nations. All over the world these common 
impulses are taking form, and all humanity will 
surely aim at closer links of fraternity, mercy, 
justice and liberty and the attempt to establish 
a better world. 

It is bound up, too, with the incoming tide of 
vital changes in the British Commonwealth. We 
have made it clear that the Empire is a living 
family, that all its people are our brethren, all 
its territory our country, its greatness our pride, 
its unity our concern, its organization one of 
our tasks, its future one of our grandest hopes. 
Those who have dreamed the British Common- 
wealth would fall apart have proved as foolish 
as those who proclaimed that chivalry is a myth. 



April, 1919. 

The office of our war verse will be to apply 
the deep lessons of the struggle to the making 
of a better Canada as well as a more secure 
Empire. Racial passions, appetites for domin- 
ation, ignorance, cowardice, materialistic ideals, 
will receive strong shocks from the forces of the 
new crusade; and the next generation will see 
many resultant changes in Canadian affairs. 
Few ideals are ever perfectly successful here be- 
low. But just as certainly, they form an en- 
riching alloy when poured into the baser metal 
of the world : and just as certainly the world is 
advanced by each, to some extent. The law of 
conservation of moral energy is as valid and 
exact as the law of conservation of physical en- 
ergy. None is ever lost. Whoever does a heroic 
deed, whoever enshrines it in a lyric line, have 
both achieved something immortal and eternal 
in their influence. The poets of Confederation 
had and will have a profound though noiseless 
influence. So will the War School. And as the 
war is a greater, wider, nobler event for us than 
Confederation, its influence will be so much the 

But are those who have already written on 
the War the whole of our War School of Can- 
adian poets? Are they not rather the precur- 
sors ? In Pisgah view, I think I descry the real 
school as yet to come. The Confederation Poets 
came chiefly after Confederation. The War 
School will, I believe, appear chiefly after the 
war. Young men and women of genius — some 

probably returned from the contest — will cele- 
brate its glorious deeds, will drink deep inspir- 
ation from that brilliant band of heroes who are 
already beginning to render our circles illustri- 
ous with their presence, develop the depths of 
feeling, the stirring calls to action, the pictur- 
esque adventures, the world-wide range of inter- 
ests, the passion for true living, the insistent 
calls for a better people, for improved institu- 
tions, for a more dignified civilization, worthy 
of the new, hardwon tradition of Canadian 
valor, which is to go down to our children and 
children's children. 

This is our Homeric Age. There never will 
be a greater fight. There never will be a vaster 
battlefield. There never will be richer experi- 
ences, more terrible shadows, more tragic trials, 
more glorious courage, more splendid triumphs, 
a higher tide of Empire, a worthier cause to 
live and die for. 

The art of song cannot hurriedly attain to fit 
celebration of this epic period. The poets may 
perhaps not yet be born who shall invent utter- 
ances that shall be truly worthy of the innumer- 
able heroic achievements, the Galahadic dedi- 
cations to the supreme sacrifice, the wonderful 
idealism of the whole crusade. The story is too 
grand to be forgotten. It will sound the trum- 
pet of the breast until it finds and calls out our 
supreme minstrel to supremely chant our Idylls 
of the Heroes. 

Literary Convention 


I MET a sweet, alluring maid 
In furbelows of fair brocade. 
"0 come," I said, "enchanting queen, 
Be my Romantic Heroine. 

"Ah, tempt me not," she answered low. 
"To Editors I dare not go, 
For each of them, or small or great, 
Demands my birth certificate." 

' ' And then, he cries — I tell you true — 
'A heroine? — at thirty-two?' 
Discredited your Art would be 
Because of ancient, doddering me." 

April, 1919. 



Free Verse and the Parthenon 


ABOUT the beginning of the Nineteenth 
Century Pugin proclaimed certain ideals 
in architecture regarding honesty of treat- 
ment and directness in design. The ideals were 
preached again by John Ruskin in the fifties, 
and in the seventies came to some practical 
realization in the work of William Morris and 
the school of "Arts and Crafts." They have so 
strong a resemblance to Ezra Pound's princi- 
ples for poetry as to encourage some compari- 
son both of the principles themselves and of 
their results. 

Ezra Pound says, to quote from the Canadian 
Bookman, "There must be no book-words, no 
periphrases, no inversions . . no cliches, set 
phrases, no inversions, no straddled adjectives." 
His ideals are: — 

(1) Direct treatment. 

(2) Use absolutely no word that does not 
contribute to the presentation. Use no super- 
fluous word, no adjective which does not re- 
veal something, avoid abstraction- 1 

(3) As regards rhythm, compose in the se- 
quence of the musical phrase, not in sequence 
of a metronome. The rhythm must correspond 
exactly to the shade of emotion to be expressed. 

These principles seem truisms, necessary to 
all good prose and not in the slightest peculiar 
to poetry, but their application has led Ezra 
Pound to "free verse." 

The architectural principles of the "Arts a; id 
Crafts" school are, in corresponding order: — 

(1) Structural treatment. The structure is 
the architecture. 

(2) Use no ornament that does not contri- 
bute to the effect and avoid all meaningless, 
merely archaeological and common-place on.,, 

(3) A building must correspond exactly in 
structure and in emotional feeling with its pur- 
pose. Its architecture must not conceal that 

These principles are as unexceptionable as 
the former, yet, though they were proclaimed a 
century ago, they have not yet revolutionised 
architecture. They have produced some very 
charming results in domestic architecture, in 
furniture and in similar arts, but the monu- 
mental building still relies upon old forms. 

Of course, the two arts are ruled by differ- 
ent conditions. The poet can write what he 
likes and publication is not necessary to his art. 

The architect can only design a building if 
somebody wants it. A mere paper design is 
only an embryo; actual building is necessary to 
develop the design. The difficulty for the 
architect is not to formulate principles — that 
was done a century ago— but to practice them. 
One school has proclaimed that structure is 
all in all. If we construct honestly, ignoring 
mere adhesive ornament, the result will be a 
truthful expression and therefore beautiful, for 
"truth is beauty." We must hide nothing, ig- 
nore nothing and add nothing. Thus the brick 


factory building is the "free verse" of archi- 
tecture. And very like some "free verse" it 
is. Yet this school has it triumphs. The battle- 
ship is constructed on just these principles and, 
artistically, is an expression of grim power. 
The Forth Bridge is pure structure and is 

Quite apart from the client's prejudice, there 
is difficulty in building a city on these lines. 
A city hall, well planned and honestly built, of 



April, 1919. 

sound yellow brick — and nothing else — would 
not be satisfactory. Even the most insurgent 
rebel would acknowledge that the old-fashioned 
cliches of architecture, the "orders." the col- 
umns and pediments, do add something. They 
may be poor things, they might be improved 
upon, but they are better than nothing, and it 
is very hard to replace them. The Corinthian 
capital took about four centuries to design and 
it is difficult to produce a new one on the 
spur of the moment. 

So let us look at the cliche, the well-worn 
phrase. Architecture is full of it. The whole 
apparatus of the "orders," the historic 
"styles." the crockets and pinnacles and tracery 

Nave Looking East, Showing the Effect 
Unbroken Continuation of the Rhythm. 


windows, what are they all but cliches. We may 
try to keep them fresh, to use them honestly 
and only where necessary, but, at bottom they 
are old forms re-used and, so far, even great 
artists have not found it possible to dispense 
with them. 

But has literature — good literature— always 
done without the cliche. Homer uses it freely. 
"Glaukopis Athene," "dios Odysseus," "Ton 
d'apameibomenos prosephe." Homer is in 
fact full of early journalese. Even the Bible 
uses well worn phrases — "Verily, verily I say 

unto you" — and gains power thereby. The 
"Phrase" has a power. Used in its place it 
produces an effect which could not otherwise 
be produced. It is a justifiable tool, though it 
may be abused. 

But these are problems of all good writing and 
do not go to the root of poetry. We must come 
to the more important problems of form and 
rhythm. Should poetry have a regular form and 
a continuous rhythm or should form and rhythm 
vary with the changing thought and emotion of 
the poem? In architecture we distinguish two 

The Parthenon, the perfect classic building, 
is complete in form. It cannot be added to, 
nor can one stone be taken away without de- 
stroying the artistic unity of the design. The 
simple rectangle of columns is bounded below 
by the steps, above by the cornice. The roof 
and eaves are unbroken by spire, tower or pin- 
nacle. The form is single and complete. Built 
by Greek builders ten centuries later, the 
church of Santa Sophia at Constantinople is 
artistically a unit. It is more complex than 
the Parthenon, but it is still an indivisible unit 
in design. Roman art is dominated by the same 
spirit. The greatest of all Roman buildings is 
the Pantheon. It is a unit in design. No part 
can be taken away; architecturally there are 
no parts to take. No part can be added, there 
is no room for an addition, and today it stands 
as it was built save for decoration. 

The Northern Cathedral is different. We 
may, and our ancestors occasionally did, pull 
down the western front, add a few bays and 
build a new facade. We may add a choir, aisles, 
chapels, cloisters, chantries, in what profusion 
we wish. The building will be artistically im- 
proved, for its beauty is in diversity. 

This tendency seems to be stronger as we move 
from South to North. The French Cathedral 
has more unity than the English, though less 
than the Parthenon. 

It is more than a coincidence that this is also 
the case in poetry. The strictest form of poetry, 
the sonnet, is Italian ; the looser forms, like the 
ballad, are northern. Classic poetry is control- 
led by syllables, English by accents. Perhaps 
we may even venture upon a definition of those 
much abused terms "classic" and "romantic." 
Classic is the formal art of the south, loving 
perfection and unity, romantic is the looser art 
of the north, loving richness and diversity. Who 
shall say that either is the better? 

Now as to rhythm. All good architecture is 
rhythmic. Monumental architecture is intense- 

April, L919, 

( i \ i/'/.i.\ BOOR 1/ I \ 

lv and regularly so, and the irregular rhythms 

arc only to be found in domestic and in un 

monumental work. 
The rhythms of a cathedral nave are easily 

analysed in, say, Lincoln. Dominant is Un- 
steady slow heat of the nave arches, soaring to 
a greal pause at the crossing, then subsiding 

to the steads beat, heat, heat of the choir. 
Above is the doubled heat of the triforiiim, twq 
beats to each beat of the nave, then a pause 
whilst we pass the vaulting pier, then again two 

heats. Beat, beat pause heat, beat- pause. 

Above this again is the complicated rhythm of 
clerestory window and vault alternating in 


Nave Looking East, Showing the Effect of a 

Sudden Interruption of the Rhythm. 

window — vault bay — window, often very com- 
plex but dominated by the steady bass accom- 
paniment of the nave arcade. As in simple 
music, the ornamentation, the rich melody, is 
above, the rhythmic accompaniment is below. 
The significant ornaments, the painted stories 
of saints, the armorial bearings of patrons, are 
all high up and are ruled in form by the simple 
regular measure of the structure. St. Paul may 
be more important than St. Peter, his window- 
is just the same size. 

The rhythm of the Parthenon is very simi- 
lar, but simpler and more exact. Below is the 

steady even heat of the columns, above is the 

doubled beal of the triglyphs and metopes, two 
accents to each column bay. above that again 
the quadruple heal of the mulules all bound in 
at the lop by thi' single arrhythmic line (if the 

cornice. Here, too. the rich and significant orna- 
ment is not at the base, but high up on the 
building in the metopes ami pediment8. It is 
controlled by the spacing of the columns and 
the form of the building. The wars of the 
Lapiths and the Centaurs have to accommodate 
themselves to the squares of the metopes; 
Athena must lie born in a triangle. This strict 
limitation of artistic form is good and right, nor 
could we imagine it otherwise. 

.lust as correct metre will not make a fine 
poem, so regular rhythm will not make a fine 
building. When, in the enthusiasm of the Greek 
revival, copies of the Parthenon appeared from 
Edinburgh to Nashville (Tenn.), they were all 
complete failures. The subject matter, the 
strictly tied ornament, could not be reproduced. 
The delicacies of curve and refinement under- 
lying the regular columniation were overlook- 
ed and without these the copy was-lifeless. These 
copies are in architecture what Pope's "Iliad" 
is in poetry; they are a good deal too correct. 
But they were not wrong because they were 
rhythmic, they were wrong because they were, 
firstly, uninteresting, and secondly, in the 
wrong place. 

In keeping with the simplicity of all Greek 
thought, the Parthenon has only one rhythmic 
form, and is a poem in a single metre, varied 
with the most exquisite skill without ever break- 
ing the beat. Our English cathedrals have many 
metres, each suited to its purpose. The rhythms 
differ in nave and aisles and chapels, but in 
each part the rhythm is consistent and unbrok- 
en. A cathedral is a poem of many varying 

We all know the charm of the irregular 
rhythm, the picturesque farm group in which 
each piece expresses its own thought. The com- 
fortable house, slightly formal in its door and 
windows, the great barn, the low irregular lines 
of outbuildings, and perhaps the sudden soar- 
ing of a windmill or a watertower. It is often 
very beautiful, with the beauty of natural land- 
scape. We may indeed ask : Is not the love of 
landscape in art, with its irregular rhythms, an- 
other Northern manifestation on a par with the 
informal poetry of the North? Certainly the 
modern school of landscape painting arose in 
England and the great landscape painters are 
northern. Southern and classic art is interested 



April, 1919. 

in persons more than in nature, in form more 
than in color. 

Ezra Pound does not care 
metronome. Let him listen 
his own heart and he will 
human metronome. A very 
his own rhythm and he w 
no more. It is little wonder 
great art is metronomic. But 

for the beat of the 
to the beatings of 
find that he is a 
slight variation in 
ould write poetry 
then that so much 
should the thought 

vary with each line? Rhyme has no doubt often 
suggested thought. How often has the desire for 
irregular rhythm led to irregular thought? Is 
not rhythm, regular rhythm, the very essence 
of poetry? No monotonous tum-tumming or 
perfect scansion, but the steady and sustained 
beat which dominates and unifies the ornament. 
In architecture certainly a regular rhythmic 
form has been found necessary to the greatest 

Little Grey Mother 



ITTLE Grey Mother !" 
So they have named her, 
No one has tamed her, 
No one has shamed her — • 
Grey in her glory, 
Grey in her story 
Of sea-fight and foray, 
Grey yet so sweet. 
Is there another 
Lighter of feet 

Than the Little Grey Mother? 

Little Grey Mother! 

Sweeter her flush is 

Than the rose blushes 

On the briar bushes; 

Scent of the heather, 

Mist of sea-weather 

Mingle together 

Close in her hair, 

Is there another 

One half so fair 
As the Little Grey Mother? 

Little Grey Mother! 

Sweet though her face is, 

Sorrow its traces 

Scatters in places, 

Grey hairs and furrows, 

Traces of arrows 

Barbed with tomorrows 

Shot at her heart. 

Was there another 

Gay counterpart 
Of the Little Grey Mother? 

Little Grey Mother! 
Mother of freemen, 
Mother of seamen, 
Fine and fair women! 
Out of her highlands, 
Lowlands and islands, 

Marshes and drylands 
Issues her brood. 
Is there another 
Redder of blood 
Than the Little Grey Mother? 

Little Grey Mother! 

Kin to the seagull, 

Yet never eagle 

Held heart more regal. 

All that have sought her 

Blood on seawater 

Rue they have fought her, 

Home as they roll. 

Is there another 

Stouter of soul 
Than the Little Grey Mother? 

Little Grey Mother! 
Straight as her hedges, 
Staunch as her pledges, 
Honour her wages, 
Faith her high altar — 
None that could halt or 
Force her to falter, 
True to the end. 
Is there another 
Faithfuller friend 

Than the Little Grey Mother? 

Little Grey Mother! 

Grey in her glory, 

Grey in her story 

Of sea-fight and foray — 

Who would her splendour 

Lightly surrender? 

Who but defend her, 

True Paladin? 

Is there another 

Worthier Queen 
Than the Little Grey Mother? 

•"Little Grey Mother" is a title employed in British 
Columbia to designate the Mother Country — England. 

April. 1919. 

C I A I/'/. I \ BOOK l/l \ 


Some Canadian Illustrators 


FOUR months of peart- have Followed four 
years of war. and illustrators in Can 
ada face improved prospects. While 
Mars was dictator and every force was 
concentrated to fill the requirements of his 
regime, Art marked time, save in a branch 
which promises to play an important part dur- 
ing the period of reconstruction— the poster. 
While Canada overseas, through the War Mem- 
orials, gave employment to many British paint- 
ers, so at home the Dominion Government by 
poster competi- 
tions gave illustra- 
tors a chance to 
employ their tal- 
ents. The Vic- 
tory Loan cam- 
paigns in large 
measure depended 
on publicity, both 
press and bill- 
board, and this oc- 
casion revealed a 
talent in this di- 
rection hitherto 
unsuspected. Can- 
adian bill-boards 
in the past have 
been things of 
utility, but not of 
aesthetic delight, 
save when some 
particularly artis- 
tic theatrical bills 
have had their 
one - week life. 
With the Victory 
Loans the bill- 
boards glowed 
with color and ef- 
fective designs. 
Those who are 
promoting cam- 
paigns for post- 
war work are also 
appreciating the 
necessity of pos- 
ters in bringing 

their claims and needs to the notice of the pub- 
lic. The War Savings Stamp poster by Frank 
Nicolet, who won the last Victory Loan poster 
prize, on that occasion utilizing the sentimental 
appeal of the late Lieut. -Col. John McCrae's 
poem "In Flanders Fields," is an effective 
work. It seems a pity that these posters, in 
common with much that is striking in commer- 
cial advertising, have no place on the sheet for 
the signatures of the artists. This is in marked 
contrast to the practice in England and on the 
Continent, where, by giving what is only the 
designer's due, a group of poster artists has 

A "Dingbat" Drawing by Dudley Ward. 

been developed. This realization of the value 
of the poster in making appeals to the "man in 

the street" promises another avenue of en- 
deavor to Canadian illustrators, for which work 
several are eminently qualified. 

These posters in a national cause are an 
effective reply to that argument so often ad- 
vanced that where the striking and novel is 
required one has to <ro to the United States for 
it. It must be admitted that thus far we have 
not produced any illustrator who is the creator 

of a type ; we have 
00 Gibson, Christy, 
Flagg or Boileau 
"girls," nor can 
we point to a 
draughtsman of 
Rackham's calibre, 
whose grotesques 
are so effective. 
The "Kewpie" is 
an American pro- 
duet, and so is the 
though its creator, 
Palmer Cox, was 
born in Canada. 
But in evolving a 
type of this latter 
order we have 
working among us 
todav Dudley 

This artist, a 
Torontonian by 
residence, besides 
his illustrations of 
a miscellaneous 
character is best 
known by his 
whimsical pictures 
of the "Ding- 
bats," — fantastic 
gnome - like fig- 
ures. Mr. Ward, 
who for the past 
nine years has re- 
sided in Canada, 
was born in Staffordshire, England, and com- 
menced his art career at the age of fourteen. 
He studied under Tom Browne, and at South 
Kensington, Amsterdam and Brussels. Recog- 
nition did not come without a struggle, and he 
made his entry into the illustrated periodical 
world through the pages of the English comic 
paper "Ally Sloper. " He created a Prehis- 
toric Slopcr which enjoyed some popularity un- 
til the artist responsible for the drawing of the 
title character on the front page of the paper 
objected to Mr. Ward's drawing Ally in any 
shape or form. Undaunted, Mr. W T ard created 



April, 1919. 

the "Dingbats," which jumped into instant 
favor. In Everywoman's World, Toronto, ap- 
pears his creation the "Jollikens, " a phase of 
his art work which he regards as his hobby. His 
work has appeared in "Ally Sloper" and most 
of the English humorous magazines, and in the 
Sketch, Illustrated London News, and Bystand- 
er. In Canada he has contributed to Maclean's, 
the Courier, Canada Weekly, the Christmas 
issues of the Toronto Globe, and Everywoman's 

An artist who has done much illustrating 
since his return from England, where he was 
engaged in Canadian War Records work, is 
Chas. W. Simpson, A.R.C.A. Better known 
as a painter and etcher, Mr. Simpson has, with 
a modest and artistic "S, " signed colored cov- 
ers and booklet designs of excellence. His ex- 
perience overseas he is now turning to good 
account in illustrating stories for The Vet- 
eran. Mr. Simpson was born in Montreal, 
and studied under Mr. William Brymner, 
C.M.G., R.C.A., past president of the* Royal 
Canadian Academy, and E. Dyonnet, R.C.A., 

Illustration to "The Rhyme Garden," Marguerite 
Buller Allan. 

— Courtesy John Lane. 

and later in New York, at the Students' Art 
League under a Canadian master, George B. 
Brigden. He was elected an Associate of the 
Royal Canadian Academy in November 1913. 
Works by this artist have been purchased by 
the Advisory Arts Council for the Canadian 
National Gallery at Ottawa. 

W. T. Topham, who saw active service as a 
Gunner with the 1st Siege Battery, and has 
used material gathered at the front for paint- 
ings which have been shown at exhibitions at 
the Art Association of Montreal, and the Royal 
Canadian Academy, has done illustrative work 
of a general character. He has contributed 
England, and Town and Country and The 
The Veteran, Montreal, had a striking cover 
by him — a Canadian soldier on the top of a 
ridge, the flash of a bursting shell forming a 
Maple leaf. Mr. Topham was born in England, 
and studied at the Derby School of Art and 
under L. L. Goldie, an English watercolorist. 

He also spent six months — 1908-09 — at the 
Secessionist schools in Berlin. He came to Can- 
ada about nine years ago. Recently the Cana- 
dian War Memorials purchased fifty sketches 
of a military nature, either done by him at the 
front or from jottings made while in khaki. 

Canada has ground for legitimate pride in 
her illustrators, and that the list is not longer is 
due to the, comparatively speaking, limited 
opportunities. There will be additions to their 
ranks when this Dominion takes its place as a 
publishing centre — when the presses are print- 
ing the original works of native writers, and are 
less occupied with Canadian editions of pro- 
ducts from overseas. Without a canvass it is a 
safe assumption that writers and artists in Can- 
ada have pride in this Dominion and, all being 
equal, would rather have their work given its 
premiere here. Many in both branches, how- 
ever, have made connections across the border 
where aggressive publicity and circulation meas- 
ures, and old established organization, promise 
the quickest success, and this is not the age 
when writer, artist, or actor would rather, on 
patriotic grounds, starve in Canada than eat 
regularly in the United States. 

The next few years will probably see an in- 
crease in the number of weekly and monthly 
publications, and the illustrators who contribute 
to them will not be faced with the problems with 
which the designers had to wrestle twenty years 
ago. The development of process printing has 
gone forward, and the artist can now submit 
designs, in color which can be reproduced with 
all the touch and character of the original draw- 
ing. Designers working in Canada today will 
recall the almost scandalized attitude of pub- 
lishers when a drawing in two primary colors 
was submitted — the cost was counted almost 
prohibitive. In that day, too, the zinc etching 
was most favored on economical grounds — its 
easy production and its certainty to give satis- 
factory results on even the poorest paper being 
the decisive arguments for it. That day is 
passing, and the artist can now devote himself 
to designs and pictures without being harassed 
by what the engraver and printer cannot do. 

The future of the illustrator and designer 
has seldom been more promising than it is today. 

The consideration of the Canadian illustra- 
tors in the United States might suggest that the 
Open Sesame is "Hamilton." Arthur William 
Brown, B. Cory Kilvert, Arthur Crisp, Arthur 
Heming (as respects his early training), all hail 
from Hamilton. Jay Hambidge was born at 
Simcoe, Ont., Palmer Cox, of "Brownie" fame, 
boasts Granby, Que., as his birthplace, Norman 
Price was born at Brampton, Ont., Philip Boil- 
eau was a native of Quebec, John Conacher, a 
Scotsman by birth, settled when young in To- 
ronto, H. J. Mowat is a native of the Maritime 
Provinces. There are probably other Canadians 
doing: illustrative work in the United States, 
but the few mentioned have established them- 
selves and are, or have been, regular contribu- 
tors to the best periodicals. 

April, 1919. 

i I A \l>l LA nonix 1/ I \ 


Jay Hambidge for many years contributed 
to The Century, McClure's, Colliers and Har- 
per's. Born in Simcoe, Ont., he received his 
art education a1 the An Students' League, and 
under William M. Chase, New Vm-k. He qow 
gives his attention to lecturing and writing on 
the philosophical aspects of Art, ami on theories 
of design. Ho is a member of the Society of 
Illustrators, New York, and of the Graphic Art 
Club, Toronto. 

Arthur Hearing is at present living in 
Canada, hut his chief illustrative work 
has appeared in American publications 
He was horn in Paris, Out., ami reel 
his early art training at the Ham 
Art School, where he subsequently 
became a teacher, ami continued 
his study at the Art Students' 
Lea-rue, New York, ami in Lon- 
don. He was first employed as 
an illustrator on the staff of the 
Dominion Illustrated ami 
afterwards, as a free lance. 
did a large amount of illus- 
trating of a miscellaneous 
character. He was sent 
by Messrs. Harper to ac- 
company Casper Whit- 
ney to the harren 
grounds of Canada as 
illustrator. He is fond 
of the out-of-doors, and, 
in quest of artistic ma- 
terial, has patrolled 
with the Koyal North- 
West Mounted Police, 
and travelled by pack 
train in the 
Rocky Moun- 
tains. Travel 
has interest- 
ed him, and 
it has been 
immate rial 
what means 
were employ- 
ed. Incident- 
ally he has 
covered 550 
miles by raft, 
1,100 by dog 
team, 1,700 
on s n o w~ 
shoes and 3,- 
300 by canoe, *Ji 
This experi- 
ence has fur- 
nished him with a wealth of material, and 
he has published articles and illustrations 
in the leading Canadian, English, French, Ger- 
man and American publications. He is the 
author of a novel, "Spirit Lake," and is a mem- 
ber of the Society of Illustrators, New York. 
His work possesses a distinct Canadian individ- 
uality. An example of his recent illustrating 
work appeared in the last issue of the Cana- 
dian Bookman. 

Illustration by Chas. W. Simpson, 

— By courtesy of "The Veteran. 

John Conacher is <>i f the best pen 

draughtsmen in the United states, and his 
work Inis appeared in Life, Punch, Scribner's, 
Harper's and Judge among other publications. 

It is sound in technique, full of character, and 
'tis style is akin to lie best English work. .Mr. 
Conacher was horn at St. Andrews. Scotland, 

ami was brought to Canada when eight years 

o'd. He studied drawing under William Cruick- 
!.. at the old Ontario Society of Artists 

school in Tor 

onto. and 
joined t h c 

Art Staff of 
the New 

York Herald 
twenty years 
of age. Mr. 
Charles W. 
Jeffreys was 
a confrere al 
that time on 
the s a in e 
journal. Lat- 
er he work 
ed for the 
P rank A. 
Munsey pub- 
lications, and 
„ afterw ard s 
did illustra- 
t i o n s for 
Harper and 
Brothers. The 
work that 
appeals to 
most is the original 
ings which he con- 
butes to Life and 

an Price was 
born in Hrampton, Ont.. 
and studied art in the 
Ontario School of Art. 
followed by practical 
work for the Grip Company. Later 
he went with some kindred spirits 
to England on a cattle boat, and in 
London the little band formed a 
business which they called the 
Carleton Studios and did a wide 
variety of art work. Messrs. Jack 
of Edinburgh then commissioned 
Mr. Price to illustrate "Lamb's 
Tales from Shakespeare" — twenty 
picture in color, one of which was 
exhibited at the Royal Academy. 
In 1909 he went to Paris and studied at Julian's. 
under Jean Paul Laurens and Richard Miller. 
an American painter, whose pictures hang in 
the leading galleries on the Continent, and in 
the United States. On his return to London he 
illustrated a '•Children's Tennyson." and also 
did many colored illustrations for the follow- 
ing series: "Days with Wagner," "Chopin," 
"Mendelssohn," "Christmas Bells," "A Leg- 
end of Jerusalem." "The Joy of the Lord," 




April, 1919. 

"Scott," "Mrs. Browning," "Kingsley," and 
many colored paper covers for books. In 1911 
he went to the United States and in 1913 
started free lance work. He has done illustra- 
tions for the Century, the American Magazine, 
covers and drawings for St. Nicholas, Harp- 
er's Magazine, Harper's Bazaar, Red Cross 
Magazine, and The Canadian Home Journal. 
The Century Company has published the fol- 
lowing books with his illustartions : "The Dere- 
lict," and "The Second Fiddle," by Phylis Bot 
tome, and "The Return of the Soldier," by 
Rebecca West. His best known commercial 
work is his Victrola advertisements. 

Of the younger men, the work of Arthur Wil- 
liam Brown has 
met with especial 
favor. He is at 
the moment the 
most prominent 
. Canadian illustra- 
tor in the United 
States. He is ap- 
parently a prolific 
worker and his 
illustrations ap- 
pear in the Satur- 
day Evening Post, 
and of late in 
Scribner's. He was 
born in Hamilton 
in 1881, and in 
1901 went to New 
York, where he 
studied at the Art 
Students' League 
for one year. He 
works now for 
practically every 
well-known mag- 
azine in the coun- 
try except those 
owned by Hearst. 
He did the draw- 
ings for "Seven- 
teen" by Booth 
Tarkington, and 
he also did effec- 
tive illustrations Illustration by 
for Tarkington 's —By 
later story, "The 

Magnificent Anibersftns, " which was review- 
ed in the last issue of the Canadian Bookman. 
He is a member of the Committee on Public 
Information. This Division makes all the post- 
ers and drawings for the United States Gov- 
ernment, Red Cross, and other war activities. 

B. Cory Kilvert, author of "The Kite Book" 
and of "Kilverts' Kids," is a native of Hamil- 
ton and studied at the Art Students' League, 
New York. Incidentally he won a cash prize of 
$500 for the best humorous drawing in the lar- 
gest calendar competition ever held in the Unit- 
ed States, and a cash prize of $250 was also 
awarded him for the best illustration of a fam- 
iliar quotation. He specializes in the drawing of 

1 HI W'ftk 



W* 1 '■ , ' 

BK *~ 

1 %• & 


children, and his work has appeared in the 
leading American and Canadian publications. 
He has also drawn cartoons for the New York 
Evening World and other dailies. 

Arthur Crisp, a Hamiltonian, has devoted his 
talent to a phase of art which is not strictly 
illustration. Some very good covers for maga- 
zines have been designed by him, but they were 
more in the nature of decorative studies than of 
illustrations. His talent for effective composi- 
tion has been employed in painting and mural 
decoration, to which he is now giving his whole 
attention. His work is represented in the Can- 
adian National Gallery at Ottawa. 
The late Philip Boileau, whose "girls" on 

the covers of the 
Saturday Evening 
Post appealed to 
those who sought 
the pretty when 
"heads" were all 
the rage, was a 
native of Quebec, 
and received his 
art education in 

Palmer Cox, al- 
though a natural- 
ized Americ a n , 
was born at Gran- 
by, Que., in 1840. 
He followed rail- 
roading and con- 
tracting in Cali- 
fornia in early life 
and contributed 
articles to publica- 
tions in that State. 
He went to New 
York in 1875 and 
took up writing 
and illustrating 
for child r e n ' s 
magazines. He is 
the creator of the 
" Brownie Peo- 
ple," and the 
Brownie books. 

H. J. Mowat has 
done much excel- 
lent work in 
Scribner's during the last four or five years. 
He is now overseas doing work for the Canadian 
War Records Office, after serving for some 
time with the Canadian Artillery at the front. 
While the war may have had an adverse 
effect on painting as such, it brought the gov- 
ernments of the world to a realization of the 
importance of the artist in the community and 
gave many an opportunity to show their power 
as propagandists. 

The newspaper cartoon, outside the scope of 
this article, long recognized as a powerful 
weapon, was, during the war, ably supported 
by the poster, showcard, and painting. 

These lessons learned will not be forgotten. 

Thurston Topham. 

courtesy of "The Veteran.' 

April. 1919. 



First Aid to Songsmiths 

By J. A. McNEIL 

MEMBERS of the Ports' I,,,,,,, have long 
had the assistance of rhyming diction 
aries, but no corresponding provision 
has been made for the writers of popular 
songs. This compilation of verse terminations 
favored by acknowledged masters of various 
schools of American songwriters for the past 
seven decades, with their periods of popular- 
ity approximately indicated, is offered in the 
confident belief that their employment will 
enable the aspiring lyricist of the masses to 
re-create not only the form but the spirit of 
any particular school. 

The Stephen Foster or negro minstrel song. 




Black Joe 






home gal 


honey cry 

roam Sal 


money die 

come youall poor 

funny shoofly 

The lugubrious ballad of the lost love. 1860- 

valley heaven dale 

Hallie forgiven vale 

dally oblivion pale 

Nellie eleven ( J ) wail 

September ( 2 ) 
November ( 3 ) 
December (*) 

The sweetly pretty song. 1870-1880. 



forgive her 
never ( 5 ) 


The Irish song, love or comic. 1875-1885. 


green ( 8 ) 
seen ( 7 ) 

avick, lick 
shtick, pick 
brick, Mick 
kick, etc., ad lib. 

The sedimental ballad. 1885-1900. 





The tough hoy and girl song. 1894-1 

Bowery spieler pearl 

Elowerj Delia girl 

showery heeler whirl 

how 're yer steal her squirrel (") 

The cake-walk or ragtime coon Bong. 1S98-1910. 

lady Tennessee cake 

baby levee shake 

maybe Mississippee date 

shady fricassee sake 

The Indian and cowboy song. 1903-1907. 

Wanna Navajo maid 

goner Idaho cave 

fonder wahoo braid 

honor Antonio (•) shade 

The Turkey trot or tango tune. 1910-1916. 

doing it 


oh you kid 

make a hit 


never did 

sling your feet 


lift the lid 

throw a fit 


watch us skid 

honey bug 

baby doll 


bunny hug 

let me fall 

holy gee 

The near Hawaiian song. 1914-1917. 

hula hula 






fool yuh 


O 'Haley 

hickey bula 



The great American war ball 

ad. 1917-1919. 


son, sun 



won, done, 



sun, gone 



Hun, run 

before me 

The Great American post-war song (1919-?) : 

beauty gob nurse 

duty job worse 

cootie Schwab hearse 

treat 'cm rough shimmie, shimmie 

eat 'em tough gimme, gimme 

beat 'em 'nuff Jimniie, Jimmie 

ou, la, la, 
comme gi, comme ga 
hello, paw. 

(i) Number of years since she died. ( 2 ) They met. 
(3) They parted. ( 4 ) She died of grief, 
(s) Always preceded by "forget her." 
(») Preceded by "isle of." ( 7 ) Preceded by "iver. " 

(8) This may be pronounced so as to give a perfect 

(9) "Preceded by "San." 



April, 1919. 

On the Deterioration of Literary 
Style After Death 


ONE of the most interesting, though also 
most distressing, features of that particu- 
lar variety of the future life exhibited 
by Dr. A. D. Watson of Toronto in his book, 
"The Twentieth Plane"— but one to which the 
author himself appears singularly blind— is the 
astounding deterioration which the faculties of 
verbal expression undergo after a period of re- 
sidence in the monotonously pink atmosphere of 
the latest substitute for heaven. After a care- 
ful perusal of the 1918 utterances of Victor 
Hugo, Shelley, Shakespeare, Coleridge, Words- 
worth, Meredith and a score of others whose 
work when on earth won them high distinction 
as masters of style, I am reluctantly forced to 
the conclusion that there is something either in 
the pink light of the upper strata of astral so- 
ciety, or in the habit of wearing an aura instead 
of a top-hat, or in the nervous strain of being 
continually on the hop to answer the call of the 
latest ouija board — or perhaps in all combined 
— which exerts a paralysing effect upon the 
sense of word-values and the power of rhythmic 

I believe this observation of mine to be new, 
and to be important. It has often been pointed 
out that the inhabitants of the astral strata, so 
far as they have deigned to communicate with 
us, have proved to be sadly lacking in any ideas 
which could be of utility (I do not mean merely 
practical, but artistic, spiritual, social, moral) 
upon this planet ; and to this it has been answer- 
ed, plausibly enough, that under totally differ- 
ent conditions from ours, ideas may have totally 
different values — that our commonplace may 
be the Twentieth Plane's highest wisdom, and 
vice versa. But the principles of expression in 
English and the values of English words and 
phrases can hardly vary even among departed 
spirits so long as they communicate in English 
and retain a lively interest in English literature 
— and Dr. Watson's astral visitants were so 
keen about English literature that they were 
constantly asking him to read them his latest 
poems and those of sundry other Toronto versi- 
fiers, and exhibited the liveliest admiration 
thereof. Thus I am driven to the conclusion 
that the absolutely inartistic character of the 

language used by Shakespeare and Wordsworth 
in Dr. Watson's parlor in Toronto last year was 
due to an unconscious but serious deterioration 
of the language facility. Nor is this unreason- 
able, when we consider that the uses of language 
in these upper strata are evidently much cur- 
tailed. Thus for example, when Dorothy Words- 
worth wants a new chair in her bedroom she 
does not go to a furniture dealer and describe 
the kind of chair she wants to have, nor even 
to the lumber-yard and describe the kind of 
wood she wants to make it of, and the quantity 
that it will need; she merely "thinks a chair," 
evolving it out of her inner consciousness, a pro- 
cess in which no word is necessary ; and this is 
doubtless typical of the simplification of life 
and the elimination of talk in the spheres above 
— though it is to be noted that lectures, on a 
sort of mutual-improvement-society basis, are 
frequent and well-attended. 

I have said "unconscious deterioration," be- 
cause as a matter of fact all of the eminent lit- 
erary deceased who visited Dr. Watson's circle 
seem to have been rather pleased than other- 
wise with their latest achievements as talkers, 
orators and writers. They are all still engaged 
in the production of works of literature, and 
very proud indeed of what they are producing. 
In .fact I should be inclined to fear that as a 
result of the Watsonian communication-line the 
firm of McClelland and Stewart might become 
the outputters of a vast mass of posthumous 
Shakespeare, Shelley, Wordsworth, Dante, Sam- 
uel Johnson and Goethe, of very inferior qual- 
ity, were it not for the serious obstacle of the 
impossibility of remitting royalties to the Twen- 
tieth Plane and the still more serious obstacle of 
the impossibility of collecting guarantees from 
the same place. Victor Hugo, for example, is 
convinced that the language employed by these 
astral personages, which he calls "ideographic," 
is similar in kind to the more vividly pictorial 
of his own earthly descriptive passages, only 
much better. He tells the Watsonians to look 
up his description of a storm at sea in "Ninety- 
three," "because one who wishes to become con- 
versant with the ideographic picture style of 
writing should study it." Now, according to 

April. 1919. 


Dr. Watson, the "ideographic picture Btyle of 
writing" is whal the Planers use to convey 
ideas to present-day Toronto, bul 1 cannol im- 
agine anything more unlike the majestic accum 
ulation of logical and clearly-related similes 
which constitutes a typical paragraph of the 
earthly Hugo, than the strings of vague, ram- 
bling, colorless and inane comparisons which 
come down from the Twentieth Plane. 

Here, for example, is one of the finest pass 
ages in all the earthly Hugo. Dr. Watson, with 
fatal ill-judgment, actually quotes it in full in 
this book, within a few pages of the Twentieth 
Plane Hugo's unspeakable balderdash, as an 
earthly example of "astral" style (but in jus- 
tice to the doctor, let it he said that the astral 
Walter Pater put him up to it). Bear in mind 
that this, superb as it is, is a translation, with 
but half the sonority and rhythmic beat of the 
original : 

There are men, oceans in reality. These 
waves; this ebb and flow; this terrible go and 
come ; this noise of every gust ; these lights 
and shadows; these vegetations belonging to 
the gulf; this democracy of clouds in full hur- 
ricane: these eagles in the foam; these won- 
derful gatherings of clouds reflected in one 
knows not what mysterious crowd by millions 
of luminous specks, heads confused with the 
innumerable ; those grand errant lightnings 
which seem to watch; these huge sobs; these 
monsters glimpsed at: this roaring disturbing 
these nights of darkness : these furies, these 
frenzies, these tempests, these rocks, these 
shipwrecks, these fleets crushing each other, 
these human thunders mixed with divine thun- 
ders: this blood in the abyss; then these 
graces, these sweetnesses, these fetes, these 
gay white veils; these fishing-boats, these songs 
in the uproar, these splendid ports, this smoke 
of the earth, these towns on the horizon, this 
deep blue of water and sky, this useful sharp- 
ness; this bitterness which renders the uni- 
verse wholesome, this rough salt without 
which all would putrefy, these angers and as- 
suagings, this whole in one. this unexpected in 
the immutable, this vast marvel of monotony 
inexhaustibly varied, this level after that earth- 
quake, these hells and these paradises of im- 
mensity eternally agitated, this infinite, this 
unfathomable, — all this can exist in one spirit : 
and then this spirit is called genius; and you 
have Aeschylus, you have Isaiah, you have Ju- 
venal, you have Dante, you have Michael An- 
gelo. you have Shakespeare : and looking at 
these minds is the same thing as to look at the 

Has the sublimity, the illimitability, of genius 
ever been more majestically portrayed ? And 
now. hear how this man talks — this man who 

could describe genius when he was on earth !"• 

cause he was l'ciiius hear how he talks after 

only a third of a century in the pink twilight of 
the realms above, i The questions arc by a mem- 
ber of the Watsonian group, the answers are by 

the astral Hugo) : 

(What is the highest purpose in Liters 


To reveal to view truth not touched to life, 
but latent in the soul. 

(Is not all Art but a varied manifestation of 
the divine | 

Certainly. The artist but translates it into 
the language of prose or poetry. 

(Who is the greatest French dramatist?) 

Moliere and Corneille. In poetry, Racine is 
very <_'reat. \,,t so high as a dramatist. In 
prose. Balzac and Dumas are great men. 

(How about LeSage?) 

He tried with dabs to write. See? 

(Next to yourself, who is the greatest French 

I am next to another. Put it that way. I 
rank all the French school as greater than mv- 

(Who is the greatest?) 

I do not care to say. Not now. Some others 
are here. 

Once I came to the vision screen tcr see your 
group. You and all in your room now were 
as faithful as Hebrews in their temple, but 
two I could name were like the mist of a jun- 

(Should we not be great enough to overcome 
the evil influences emanating from such per 

You were, hence I came to-night. 

Land of the tricolor, the My, and French va- 
lor, I often come again in fright of Paris and 
see France rise from the phoenix-ashes of war 
to the strains of the Marseillaise, marching out 
of the mist of tears to light. 

(Do you remember the French Revolution?) 

Thomas is here. He has written in his 
"French Revolution" the sum and substance 
of that epic time. That book is the soul of 
those drama-moments of history, and will sup- 
ply the details. I will say this, however, that 
book should be reviewed as a historical im- 
press of action rather than as the work of an 
earth historian. 

It may be objected, and with some force, that 
Hugo was bothered and put out of his stride by 
the preposterous questionings of what sounds 
like an undergraduate "culture" society in a 
rural theological college. But this is not true 
of all the astralites who conversed with the Wat- 
sonians. George Meredith, for example, who 
used in his earthly day to be a fairly careful 
writer, took up his stand at the '•instrument" 
and "transmitted" the following, which he 



April, 1919. 

clearly claims to be a well-thought-out lesson 
in the art of description : 

George Meredith is here. My loving earth 
souls, I deem it a very great joy to make you 
as happy as I am, so let us speak of things 
which, when thought out, will be of value . . 

There is a philosophy on the earth called 
Pragmatism. I will define for you Utilitarian- 
ism, Joyism, Pragmatism. 

(1) Pragmatism is the performance of a 
work of love done into tangible form because 
the doer believed material substance was the 
end of things of value. 

(2) Utilitarianism makes that which will be 

(3) Joyism realizes that Pragmatism, Utili- 
tarianism, and the Ideal are in combination, 
knows that the only true joy is that which 
one soul feels when looking into the eyes of 
another soul. 

Nearly all earth plane writers describe prin- 
cipally the things a character does. Now great 
literature speaks of the things a character is 
capable of doing. All of the five senses will be 
used by the characters; that is, all will be in- 
tensely human. Realize that there are other 
senses beyond the five. Your great character 
will always use these in a given crisis. Great 
characters do not in great crises do the so- 
called normal thing. 

A great writer writes as much with his vis- 
ion as with his education. 

I will use an example. The scene is a gar- 
den. We will say it is the garden of Shelley's 
sensitive plant. Vision it now in simple lan- 
guage. What would you consider the most im- 
portant thing to describe in prose in that gar- 

(Oh, I suppose, individual flowers, atmos- 
phere, lights and shadows, breezes and birds, 
physical effects, abstract qualities, heart 
memories, etc.) 

Here are my notes: 

A path of barrenness. A lonely woman walk- 
ing in that path. She feels that the world is 
cruel and without beauty. The moon rises 
full and clear. The woman, walking aimlessly 
into the garden, passes a rustic gate, her 
thoughts bowed down with grief. The air 
still. Silence profound as death. The woman 
hears a strange whispering. This wakens her 
mind to a little alertness. She opens her eyes, 
and sees she is alone. She says to herself, is 
this talking in a Garden where there are no 
people? It is almost a breezeless night. She 
wonders. Soon the silvery orb of soft mellow 
glory shows to her the varied and almost un- 
earthly bed of beautiful flowers. -She realizes 
that her soul is so still that she hears the lan- 
guage of the flowers — the love and sympathy of 
each to the others. Then the perfume bathes 
her aching temples. She feels the perfect 
flower-repose, and so vision, order, truth and 
beauty are angels which tell God's purpose 
to her soul. 

This is roughly what I wrote of such a gar- 
den. Should not all nature become accessory 
to all humans? 

It may be all right to write about gardens in 
that style on the Twentieth Plane, but I can im- 
agine what his publishers and his friends and 
his critics would have said if he had turned out 
anything like that while on the same earth on 
which he wrote, say, the "Diversion Played on 
a Penny Whistle" in 'Richard Feverel," or the 
paragraphs on the Triumph of the Identical in 
"Shagpat." The kindest phrase would have 
been "senile decay." 

Shelley is one of the worst of the lot. He 
was, even on earth, probably the last poet to 
whom any sane persons would think of going for 
a definition of poetry or a set of instructions 
on how to make it. But on the Twentieth Plane 
they are terrifically keen on definitions — or 
they think that definitions are the one thing 
needed to save this bewildered world of ours. 
They handed out dozens of them to the Watson- 
ian circle, which literally "ate them up." 
Shelley, without even waiting for an invitation, 
sailed up to the "instrument," announced him- 
self (in language of much the same sort as P. 
T. Barnum would have used to announce him if 
the poet had consented to do a lecture tour in 
the States), and poured forth the following: 

Greetings, Dear Friends. 

Bathed in the effulgence of a mutual love, in 
the pale pink lovelight, I kiss the soul of all. 
Of course you know 'tis I, Percy Bysshe Shel- 
ley, and so will proceed to the elucidation of 
the essentials of the poet's art. 

Poetry is the expression, through emotion, im- 
agination, rhythm, and light — the light of 
words — of big thoughts, great ideas, cosmic in- 
spiration, the soul on fire with intensity. And 
it is opportune to say that in the stirring times 
of the fifth plane, poetry is the herald of re- 
volt, for, mark you, I said when on your sphere 
of action, "Poets blow the bugles to battle, they 
are the unacknowledged legislators of the 

The philosophy of poetry is this : The poet, as 
Macaulay said, is like an artist ; He paints with 
words what the artist paints with colours. The 
first thing to realize in writing great poetry, is 
the mood ; second, spontaneity. Mood while not 
artificial, can always be governed by external 
objects. A red rose, a pink light, an overture 
on the harpsichord or the violin, will make a 
divine mood. 

The reception chamber in which imagination 
dwells is close to intellect and soul, and these 
three triune faculties can, if regulated, catch 
the inspiration of spontaneity, even though the 
flash of color, thought, form and purpose, comes 



'' I \ |/./ | \ l:nnl<MAN 

with the speed of lightning. My Indian Seren 
ade, read to-night, was the efforl of one great 
deep breath of spontaneous thought. It clothed 
itself in garments beautiful without effort, It 
was a golden glory piece caughl in the baakel of 
my mind. It was a child of the spontaneous, an 
offspring of the eternal. It lives, palpitates 
with joy, and is a thing of sublimity. 

There is something about that phrase, "golden 
glory-piece caught in the basket of my mind' 
that is the very essence of astral literary style 
— and the very negation of all that ever passed 
for style, clarity or intelligence here upon earth. 
If this is the utterance of a great writer, then 
Mary Baker Eddy is the greatest among us, and 
Shakespeare the least. 

Wordsworth contributed to Dr. Watson's 
compilation a carefully-executed description of 
an astral oil-portrait. If anybody had told 
Wordsworth that he was going to write like 
this after he died, he would have prayed for 
extinction. I am in some doubt as to who is 
supposed to have executed the portrait in ques- 
tion, and after reading the description several 
times, I am utterly unable to form any mental 
vision of the picture. Perhaps the readers of 
the Canadian Bookman may have better luck: 

Nestling as quiet as she is in the group of 
earth astral bodies painted here by r Titian and 
Rembrandt, on an easel of red gold ore con- 
struction, is to be seen the glory-painting of 
Rembrandt's art, as he dreamed of a girl, 
sweet, gentle, and the soul of things pensive. 

The canvas is pure white, and the back- 
ground reveals a sky as if each cloud were 
the tear-drop of an angel. In the foreground, 
one sees half-revealed flowers, a fountain of 
astral crystal waters, and a lone palm tree. 

The girl herself is seated on a bench near 
the sea. Her arm is on the back of the place 
she reclines on. It is long and sculptured to a 
state of perfection which would have been an 
inspiration to Angelo. The slightly stooping 
shoulders are delicately rounded in art curves 
like the curves of a swallow in flight. The 
hair is brown, as if Nature had taken the 
brown of apples, russet in their dress, and 
adorned the head of a maiden. The cheeks 
have a delicate pink, as if a blush had been 
caught when the maiden dreamed things of 
her heart, — secrets of him she loves. In the 
eyes slightly shaded one can see the outlook- 
ing soul all lit with education, strength of 
character, and the delicate touch of the artist 
of life, whose discrimination in taste is almost 

The atmosphere around all is one of pensive, 
deep-dreaming love, and, in a sentence, one 
sees in this astral painting, the fresh, innocent 
maid, worthy to have walked in Eden, when 
mortals were so close to the divine. 

Km beyond .1 doubt the saddesl case of lit 
erary deterioration is thai of Shakeapean Ee 

has I n up there longer than the rest, and is 

"wry much higher," and presumably more 
rarefied. His extraordinary power of vivid 
figuration lias complete!] disappeared; he is re> 
duced to the most ranklj commonplace and 
shopworn comparisons, such as arc chopped out 
of the writings of any cub reporter by any in- 
telligenl city editor. Be is hut what's the use'/ 
Listen to him : 

Now, the hour-glass spills much sand, so I 
will in subdued light, speak as the immortal 
urges me. 

As courses time through all the valleys of 
the life of man, as the chariot dashed around 
the amphitheatre of old Rome, as the almost 
perfect youths of Greece entered into the 
games, let us with courage and noble emotion 
enter the amphitheatre of great thought. 

Genius is that power which enables a man 
to do absolutely without effort what other men 
can not do with the most intense labor and 
struggle. Genius is always spontaneous, as 
rapid as light, as free as a bird in the trans- 
ports of a bird's pure life. . . . Genius can 
not be explained. It can be illustrated ; it can- 
not be demonstrated, because only the God 
of the Universe knows what genius is. 
and genius never tells 

Nearly all geniuses entered your world amid 
the surroundings of the crude and the humble. 

. . . The crude and the humble things of 
your environment are most in harmony with 
the great laws that sweep as do the fingers of 
the harpist the chords of a golden harp. . . 

Is this, think you, the kind of conversation 
which made Beaumont write that unparalleled 
testimonial : 

What things have we seen 
Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have 

So nimble and so full of subtle flame, 
As if that every one from whence they came 
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, 
And had resolved to live a fool the rest 
Of his dull life. 

Or is it not rather the kind of utterance de- 
scribed by Shakespeare himself: 

It is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. 

To anybody who is tempted to think that 
these communications proceed from a Words- 
worth, a Shelley, a Hugo or a Shakespeare who 
still retains the powers of intellect which made 
him a master of literary style when upon this 
earth. I can only recommend the perusal, side- 
by-side with these ineffable ineptitudes of 
meandering minds, of some typically brilliant 
piece of earth-writing by the same personage. 



Apnl. 1519, 

Free Verse 

(Dedicated to J. M. Gibbon) 


The Editor of the Canadian Bookman. 

Sir: — I have no meanly entertained desire 
to discredit Mr. J. M. Gibbon's finely con- 
ceived and admirably executed article in the 
first number of the Canadian Bookman, but 
really I feel that certain results of its influ- 
ence* should be brought to the attention of 
those who were responsible for its publica- 
tion. I was so interested in the considera- 
tion shown those who are the devotees or 
near-devotees of the stripped Muse (not even 
crinolines! but then, of course, how lovely 
is the nude!) that after reading the article 
I at once sat down to see what could be done 
about it. The enclosed free verses are the 
result. May I add, the direct result? The 
article was" read ; the verses were written. 
This statement of fact makes it obvious that 
there is no familiarity or warmth of family 
attachment or anything of that sort involved 
in the dedication of the verses to Mr. Gib- 
bon. He is their godfather and responsible 
for their begetting, that is all. And you, Sir, 
with your Editorial Committee share that 
responsibility. I anticipate for your edi- 
torial sanctum a great influx of free verse 
from all parts of the country. Yours, etc., 

Arthur L. Phelps. 


TIS not to be wondered at, is it, 
That the politicians, 
Who know something. 
Should forego their knowledge 
When they talk to the people, 
When the people are ignorant 
And like it. 


WHEN "A.D.", 
Albert Durrant Watson, M.D., 
— M.D. is after the name, 
A.D. before it, — 
Got his ear in the Infinite, 
Did we laugh, did we cry, 
When we read the denouement ? 

We smirked and reviewed it. 
Then, "To Hell with the Infinite!" 
And slap home to supper, 
— Maybe poker and supper! 

But Watson believes it. 

He was there with the steno. 


I HAVE eaten a piece of hard cheese 
in the moonlight 
And thought more of life and love and the here- 
Than when I sat with purple cushions 
In Morris chairs. 

Or tapped a cigarette on the mantel 
In the warmth of a fire. 


SHE had worked in munitions; 
And developed. 

"Children?" she said. 

' ' Why sure ! 

But you'll have to raise them!" 

When I argued: 

"Well, I'll give a year to them 

Intensely ; 

Three children, three years, say ; 

Intense years. 

Then you do the rest; 

With the help of the State 

'Twill be easy ; 

Your turn again. 

We women 

Will watch you." 


Being a Review of Certain Books. 

ADJECTIVES!" yearned the manager. 
"Adjectives!" shrieked the hireling 
"Adjectives, adjectives, adjectives!" groaned 
the printer. 

For the House had decided to print it. 
The cover, the shape had been chosen. 
The colour, the width of the margins. 
It remained but to startle* the presses. 
The cheque had been duly submitted. 
And duly accepted. 

But adjectives, adjectives, adjectives! 
'Twas adjectives that they wanted. 
Else how could they camouflage 
Nothing? How decive for awhile 
The Public? 

•Should be "start up." 

April. 1919 

C i \ i/>/.ia BOOR 1/ i a 


The Real Reason for Un-Book 
ishness in Canada 


I HAVE been much interested in reading the 
first number of the Canadian Bookman, 
to which I wish all success, and with the 
aims of which mere woman will sympa- 
thise. Particularly was 1 interested in the sym- 
posium on "The Need of more Bookishness in 
Canada." and in the varied and excellent rea- 
sons put forward for the too little "bookish- 
ness" which we all deplore. I read Sir Wil- 
liam Peterson's words: "What is the use of 
teaching children the mechanical art of read- 
ing if we fail to instil in their minds a genuine 
appetite for good books?" and Bishop Bid- 
well's statement that the English boy who at- 
tended his classes came from a home where 
there had been some atmosphere of culture, or 
where, at any rate, books and book-talk were 
common, whereas the Canadian boy generally 
was practical, knew about guns, engines, sail- 
ing-boats, canoes and so forth, but had clearly 
not lived among books, and could not pick up 
an allusion even to the best-known figures of 
Scott or Dickens. I read right through the 
articles till I came to Principal Hutton's, with 
his paragraph upon wifely jealousy and the 
spouse's alleged impatience with a scholar's 
library. (Till one read it, one had thought al- 
ways of "Margot Tennant" as one whose brain 
might even have the brilliancy which many 
deny to the lawyerly, scholarly mind of her 
good mid-Victorian husband.) But nowhere 
does it seem to me has anyone touched on what 
I consider to be the real reason of the lack of 
bookishness in Canada. 

In John Murray Gibbon's "Drums Afar" 
there is this sentence: "If we had educated our 
women to be better companions for their child- 
ren, the children would have grown up likely 
to be better citizens. The reason why progress 
is so slow is that only one half of the human 
race has taken part in the work." It is a com- 
mon axiom: "Get the mother, and you get the 
new generation." And my contention is that 
if the English boy is more bookish than his 
Canadian brother, it is because his mother has 
been a reading woman. Professor Ernest Scott 
makes a plea for "more of the habit of read- 

ing." and La it not the mother who seeks to 

form the habits of her child when it is young 1 
So it seems to me thai the question which has 
to be tackled is: "Why do the Women of Can- 
ada not

Sir Robert Falconer writes that his experi- 
ence leads him to believe that there arc more 
women than men in Canada who are good 
readers. He gives as a reason that "possibly 
they have more time, though that is doubtful, 
when household duties are so manifold and con- 
stant; I rather think the women make more 
time." Woman is naturally a book-lover. She 
has not the distractions that men have of club 
and business life; and when she has some well- 
earned leisure what more restful than to take 
up the good book so close to her hand and find 
companionship and stimulation and distraction 
from her drudgery. But in this stirring new 
country, where home-helpers are so hard to find, 
just at the time when she should have most leis- 
ure to mould the minds of her young children, 
just at the very time when she should for their 
sakes be keeping her own brain fresh and un- 
tired, the mother is hardest worked of them all. 
She is so occupied in caring for the bodies of her 
family, in giving them food to eat and clothes 
to wear, that she has not much time to care for 
their impressionable young minds. 

There is a time-honored custom which I 
should like to see more widely adopted by every 
mother; the last hour of their short day is 
"children's hour," and the mother hurries home 
from whatsoever engagement she has had so 
as not to disappoint the little ones, who all day 
long in Nurseryland have looked forward to the 
hour when gathered round their mother's knee 
they will fight the Gorgons with Perseus, or 
open the box of troubles with Pandora, or fly 
over many lands and see many strange things 
on the wings of Pegasus. They siug the beloved 
Nursery Rhymes, and at Christmas time their 
voices are lifted in the quaint old English 
carols ; and all the time there is being awakened 
in them a love of beauty, of poetry or rhythm. 
of music, and of romance which will be their 
heritage to the end of their days. Every child 



April. 1910. 

is born into the world with that most blessed gift 
of imagination, and woe be to the parent who, 
instead of cherishing and fostering it, suffers 
it to be stifled in the prose of life. 

It seems to me that the men of Canada have 
to see to it: first, that their women have more 
time; and second, that they are supplied with 
more literature. It is quite possible that the 
jealousy which Principal Hutton noticed comes 
from the fact that s.o often where woman is 
most cumbered and busy with "the little things 
that someone after all must do," indulgent 
man, smoking in his sanctum, must not be dis- 
turbed, while he refreshes his brain from the 
books and magazines she so longs to read her- 

But granted that the New "World woman has 
not the time of her more leisured Old World 
sister for the very big book, she might keep 
au courant with the progress of the world's 
thought, had she even the opportunity of read- 
ing the magazines of the month. 

It is the boast of one of the first universities 
of Canada (and may be of each for aught T 
know!) that the staff have a reading-room 
which is supplied with all the best American and 
English magazines. At a given date, true, the 
professors are permitted to carry an old num- 
ber home, and by the time the world may have 
nearly turned upside down in this very breath- 
less age in which we live, the professor's wife 
may have a chance to skim its pages. Similarly 

in the University Clubs and other clubs of which 
I am cognisant; where, in the women's quar- 
ters, is it possible to sit and enjoy any of the 
literature that is piled in stacks in the members' 
reading-room? Unfortunately, too, man having 
read and enjoyed his magazine thinks that now 
it would be waste and folly to buy it, and so not 
only are his women debarred from reading it at 
the club, but they are also debarred from seeing 
it in their own home. As a remedy for this I 
would suggest that a reading-room should be 
made in the universities for the wives of the 
staff, and in clubs for the wives of the mem- 
bers, where after a given date they would be 
able to see the monthly magazines before they 
are carried to the respective homes. If both 
parents had a mutual interest in the problems 
with which our age is teeming, and of which 
women may be oblivious for lack of the oppor- 
tunity of hearing of them, if both parents had 
the true love of good literature which unfortu- 
nately will die for lack of nutrition, the conver- 
sation at home might be one of the most stimu- 
lating and educational assets of youth. 

It will be a pity if the Canadian Bookman 
shares the fate of many other magazines and is 
read only by the men of this country. I con- 
tend that it should be read by every woman 
in Canada, if the rising generation is to profit 
by that literary home-atmosphere which will be 
the first step towards creating true " bookish - 
ness' in this land. 

Wasted Nights 


ALL those silent, mysteried midnights 
That passed us by ; 
Those slender, silver, scarcely world-born hours 

That we let die! 
No wonder the moon, that pale soul of sadness, 
Smiled from her sky. 

I have almost wept to see them 

All dying so, 
Draped" in their shrouds of stars, like virgin maidens. 

Pale, pale as snow; 
Wept tears for them slipping away, unknowing, 

From us who know. 

I have cried for all their beauty 

That scarcely seemed 
Nature's beauty, so fine it was, so finished 

It subtly gleamed. 
Yet — those nights might have been far less dear 

Than those I dreamed. 

April. 1919. 

CAh \D1 I \ BOOK 1/ I \ 


What Is Poetry?- A Synthesis of 
Modern Criticism 


THE most critical answer to the question, 
"What is poetry"" lias been made by 
Benedetto (Voce, in his "Aesthetic." It 
acts therefore as the hest cement for a discussion 
in which the mass of material is mi great, that 
only the most precise language (especially in 
limited space ) can present Confusion; and with 
out more ado I give a resume of it: 

Human knowledge has two forms: it is either 
intuitive knowledge or logical knowledge ; know- 
ledge obtained through the intellect; knowledge 
of the individual or knowledge of the univer- 
sal ; of individual things or of the relations be- 
tween them : it is, in fact, productive either of 
images or concepts . . . those concepts 
which are found mingled and fused with the in- 
tuitions are no longer concepts, insofar as they 
really are mingled and fused, for they have 
lost all independence and autonomy. They have 
been concepts, but they have now become sim- 
ple elements of intuition. . . . Every true 
intuition or representation is, also, expression. 
That which does not objectify itself is not in- 
tuition or representation, but sensation and 
naturality. . . Intuitive activity possesses 
intuitions to the extent that it expresses them. 
. . . How can we possess a true intuition of 
a geometrical figure, unless we possess so ac- 
curate an image of it as to be able to trace it 
immediately upon paper? . . . The princi- 
pal reason which makes our theme appear para- 
doxical as we maintain it, is the illusion or pre- 
judice that we possess a more complete intuition 
than we really do. . . People believe that 
anyone could have imagined a Madonna of 
Raphael, but that Raphael was Raphael, 
owing to his technical ability in putting the 
Madonna on canvass, nothing could be 

more false The painter is a 

painter, because he sees what others only feel 
or catch a glimpse of. but do not see. . . They 
are brought back to reality, when they are 
obliged to cross the Bridge of Asses of expres- 
sion. . . To have an intuition is to express. 
Tt is nothing else (nothing more, but nothing 
less) than to express. The intuition and ex- 
pression together of a poet are verbal. Some 
say: "Let us admit that art is intuition, but 
intuition is not always art: artistic intuition is 
of a distinct species differing from intuition in 
general by something more." But no one has 
ever been able to indicate of what this some- 
thing more consists. As science adds and sub- 

stitutes other concepts larger and more compre- 
hensive for those that arc poor and limited, yel 
its method does not differ from that by which 
is formed the smallest universal in the brain of 
the humblest of men, so what is generally call- 
ed art, by antonomasia (analogy), collects in- 
tuitions tliat arc wider and more complex than 
those which we generally experience, but these 
intuitions are always of sensations and impres- 
sions . . . the whole difference, then, is 
quantitative, and as such, indifferent to philo- 
sophy. . . The cult and superstition of the 
genius has arisen from this quantitative differ 
ence having been taken as a difference of qual- 
ity. . . Those who claim unconsciousness as 
the chief quality of an artistic genius, hurl him 
from an eminence far above humanity to a po- 
sition far below it. Intuitive or artistic genius, 
like every form of human activity. 'is always 
conscious; otherwise it would be blind mechan- 
ism. . . Does the aesthetic fact consist of 
content alone, or of form alone, or of both to- 
gether? . . In the aesthetic fact, the aesthe- 
tic activity is not added to the fact of the im- 
pressions, but these latter are formed and elab- 
orated by it. The impressions reappear as 
it were in expression, like water put into 
a filter, which reappears the same and yet 
different on the other side. The aesthetic fact, 
therefore, is form, and nothing but form . . 
. . (therefore) there is no passage between 
the quality the quality of the content and that 
of the form. . It has sometimes been thought 
that the content, in order to be aesthetic, that 
is to say, transformable into form, should pos- 
sess some determinate or determinable quality. 
But were that so, then form and content, expres- 
sion and impression, would be the same thing. 

•Bibliography for this article is as follows: — 

Benedletto Croc'e — "Aesthetic," MacMillan. 

Benedetto Croce — "Philosophy of The Practical," 

Sir Henry Xewbolt— " A New Study of English 
Poetry," Constable. 

Arthur Symons — "The Romantic Movement in Eng- 
lish Poetry, ' ' Constable. 

Arthur Ransome — "Portraits and Speculations," Mac- 

Irving Babbitt — "The New Laocoon." Houghton 

Basil Worsf old— " The Principles of Criticism," Long- 

Lafeadio Hearn — "Interpretations of Literature." 
Dodd, Mead. 

Lafeadio Hearn — "Life and Literature/" Dodd, Mead 

Lafeadio Hearn — "Appreciations of Poetry." Dodd, 

Professor Saintsbury — "A History of Eaglish. Pro- 
sody," MarMillan. 



April, 1919. 

It is true that the content is that which is con- 
vertible into form, but it has no determinable 
qualities until this transformation takes place. 
. . . Expression has its point of departure 
in the impressions .... (but) it will be 
(argued) that expression is sometimes based on 
other expressions . . . not in the least . 
. . he who conceives a tragedy puts into a 
crucible a great quantity, so to say, of impres- 
sions: the expressions themselves, conceived on 
other occasions, are fused together with the 
new in a single mass . . the old expressions 
must descend again to the level of impressions, 
in order to be synthetized into a new single ex- 
pression. . . When we take "content" as 
equal to "concept" it is most true, not only that 
art does not consist of content, but also that it 
has no content. . . In the same way the 


distinction between poetry and prose cannot be 
justified save in that of art and science. . . 
The relation between intuitive knowledge or ex- 
pression, and intellectual knowledge or con- 
cept, between art and science, poetry and prose, 
cannot be otherwise defined than by saying 
that it is one of double degree. The first degree 
is the expression, the second the concept : the 
first can exist without the second, but the 
second cannot exist without the first. There 
exists poetry without prose, hut not prose with- 
out poetry (e.g. the arrangement of a book on 
science). Expression, indeed, is the first affirm- 
ation of human activity. Poetry is "the ma- 
ternal language (italics mine) ot the human 
race." It is customary to dis 


tinguish the internal from the external 
work of art ; the terminology is infeli- 
citous, for the work of art (the aesthetic work) 
is always internal; and that which is called ex- 
ternal is no longer a work of art. . . Others 
distinguish between aesthetic and artistic fact, 
meaning by the second the external or practical 
stage, which may and generally does follow 
the first. But in this case, it is simply a case 
of linquistic usage, doubtless permissible, al- 
though perhaps not opportune. . . For the 
same reasons the search for the end of art is 
ridiculous, when it is understood of art as art. 
. . . to fix an end is to choose ... to 
choose is to will : to will this and not to will 
that : and this and that must be before us, they 
must be expressed. Practice follows, it does not 
precede theory; expression is free inspiration. 
The true artist, in fact finds himself biar with 
his theme, he knows not how; he feels the mo- 
ment of birth drawing near, but he cannot will 
it or not will it. . . If born Anacreon. he 
were to wish to sing of Atreus and of Alcides, 
his lyre would warn him of his mistake, echoing 
only of Venus and of Love, notwithstanding 
his efforts to the contrary. . . The impossi- 
bility of choice of content completes the theorem 
of the independence of art, and is also the only- 
legitimate meaning of the expression: art for 
art's sake. . . . The saying: the style is the 
man is either altogether void, as when it is un- 
derstood that the man is the style, in so far as 
lie is style, that is to say, the man, but only so 
far as he is an expression of activity ; or it is 
erroneous, when the attempt is made to deduce 
from what a man has seen and expressed, that 
which he has done and willed, inferring thereby 
that there is a necessary (italics mine) link be- 
tween knowing and willing. . . . Sincerity 
imposed upon the artist as a duty .... 
arises from an equivocation . . (the artist) 
deceives no one, since he gives form to what is 
already in his mind . . . (if) by sincerity 
is meant fullness and truth of expression, . 
. . . it is clear that this second sense has 
nothing to do with the ethical concept. . . . 
Art is thus independent of science, as it is of 
the useful and the moral. . . Let it not be 
feared that thus may be justified art that is 
frivolous or cold, since that which is truly frivo- 
lous or cold is so because it has not been raised 
to expression. . We do not ask of an artist 

instruction as to real facts and thoughts, nor 
that he shoiild astonish us with the richness of 
his imagination, but that he should have a per- 
sonality, in contact with which the soul of the 
hearer or spectator may be heated. A person- 
ality of any sort is asked for in this case; its 
moral significance is excluded . . . but it 
must be a soul . . art criticism would 

seem to consist altogether in determining if 
there be a personality in the work of art, and of 
what sort. . (Croee here goes on to say 

that the personality here meant is not empirical 
and volitional, but spontaneous and ideal.) 
. . . Thus it is without doubt that if pure 
intuition (and pure expression, which is the 

April. L919. 

CANADIAN i:noh\i\\ 


same thniL r ' are indispensable in the work of 
art. the personality of the artist is equally in- 
dispensable. If . tin- classic moment of 
perfect representation or expression I"- aecea 
sary for the work of art. the romantic moment 

of feeling is not less necessary. . . If the 
first or representative momenl be epic, ami the 
second, which is ... passionate and per- 
sonal, be formed lyric then art must 
be at oner epic and lyric hut if the 
essence of art be merely theoretic and it is 
intuibitity—c&Ti it. on the other hand, be prac- 
tical, that is to say personality and passionalityt 
(or vice versa). Here we find, on the 
one hand things intuible lying dead and soul- 
less; on the other, the artist's feeling and per- 
sonality. The artist is then supposed to put 
himself into things, by an act of magic, to make 
them live and palpitate, love and adore. But 
if we start with the distinction, we can never 
again reaeh unity, the distinction requires an 
intellectual act. and what the intellect has divid- 
ed, intellect or reason alone, not art or imagina- 
tion, can reunite and synthetize. . . We must 
recognize, either that the duality must be de- 
stroyed and proved illusory, or that we must 
proceed to a more ample conception of art, in 
which that of pure intuibility would remain 
merely secondary or particular. And to destroy 
and prove it illusory must consist in showing 
that here too form is content, and that pure in- 
tuition is itself lyricism. Now, the truth is pre- 
cisely this: pure intuition is essentially lyric- 

Pure intuition, then, since it does not pro- 
duce concepts, must represent the will in its 
manifestations, that is to say. it can represent 
nothing but states of the soul. And states of the 
soul are passionality, feeling, personality, which 
are found in every art and determine its lyrical 
character. Where this is absent, art is absent, 
precisely because pure intuition is absent. 
. . Thus the origin of language, 'hat is, its 
true nature, has several times been placed in 
interjection. . . If this deduction of lyric- 
ism from the intimate essence of pure intuition 
do not appear very easily acceptable, the reason 
is to be sought in two very deep-rooted pre- 
judices . . . The first concerns the nature 
of the imagination, and its likenesses to and 
differences from fancy. . . . Not only does 
a new and bizarre combination of images, which 
is vulgarly called invention, not constitute the 
artist, but ne fait rien a 1 'affaire, as Alceste 
remarked with reference to the length of time 
expended upon writing a sonnet. Great artists 
have often preferred to treat groups of images, 
which have already been many times used as 
material for works of art. The novelty of these 
new works has been solely that of art or form, 
that is to say. of the new accent which they 
have known how to give to the old material. 
of the new way in which they have felt and 
therefore intuified it, thus creating new images 
upon the old ones. ... If we form an ar- 
bitrary image of any sort . . . would this 

not be ... a pure intuition? . Cer 

tainly not it is a product of choict 

. . and choice i^ i sternal to tie- world of 
thought and contemplation . . . from this 
We learn that an image, which is not the ex- 
pression of a state of the soul, is not an image, 
since it is without any theoretical value: and 

therefore it cannot he an obstacle to the identi- 
fication of lyricism and intuition. Bui the other 

prejudice is more difficult to eradicate . . 

if art be intuition, would it therefore he any in- 
tuition that one might have of a physical ob- 
ject, appertaining to external naturet . . 
Without doubt, the perception of a physical 
object, as such, does not constitute an artistic 
fact; but precisely for the reason that it is not 
a pure intuition, but a judgment of perception, 
and implies the application of an abstract con- 
cept . . . and with this reflexion and per 
ception we find ourselves outside the domain of 
pure intuition. We could have a pure percep- 
tion of a physical object in one way only; that 
is to say. if physical or external nature were a 
metaphysical reality, a truly real reality, and 
not, as it is. a construction or abstraction of the 
intellect. If such were the case, man would have 
an immediate intuition, in his first theoretic 
moment, both of himself and of external na- 
ture, of the spiritual and of the physical, in an 
equal degree. This represents the dualistic 
hypothesis. Rut just as dualism is incapable of 
providing a coherent system of philosophy, so 
it is incapable of providing a coherent system 

of Aesthetic Art on its side 

tacitly protests against metaphysical dualism. 
It does so. because, being the most immediate 
form of knowledge, it is in contact with activity, 
not with passivity ; with inferiority, not exter- 
iority : with spirit, not with matter, and never 
with a double order of reality. 

Such, in brief, is Croce's "Aesthetic." a work 
which I believe to be as fundamental to poetry 
as the "Principia" to physics, or "The Oriein 
of Species" to biology. I have no doubt de- 
stroyed my own article in presenting this 
resume, yet I may boast that to have written 
a resume at all of a work already immensely 
compressed is no small feat, and one which, in 
consideration of its utility, would of itself be 
valuable. If hereafter I dwell in a reflected 
glory, I am content that it is a glory. 

The root of any difficulty in understanding 
this work, is that the complexity of contem- 
porary art. in contrast to primitive art. creates 
the illusion of a qualitative difference. Thus, 
at first sight, it appears that Croce contradicts 
himself when he says in the "Aesthetic" that 
"the distinction between poetry and prose can- 
not be justified, save in that of art and science," 
and, even further. "It was seen in antiquity 
that such distinction could not be founded on 
•xternal elements, such as rhyme and metre , 



April, 1919. 

. . that it was, on the contrary, altogether 
internal," while, in the "Philosophy of the 
Practical," he says: 

Every poet knows that a poem is not created 
from an abstract plan, that the initial poetical 
image is not without rhythm and verse (italics 
mine), and that it does not need rhythm and 
verse applied to it afterwards. He knows that 
it is in reality a primitive intuition-expression, 
in which all is determined and nothing is deter- 
mined, and what has already been intuified is 
already expressed, and what will afterwards be 
expressed will only be afterwards intuified. 

This apparent antinomy arises from the fact 
that while pure intuition is essentially lyricism, 
it is quite possible to have prosaic verse. The 
theoretic statement in the "Aesthetic" is as 
justified as the practical statement in the 
"Philosophy of the Practical," and vice versa, 
and thus we may endorse Arthur Symons ' ' ' In- 
troduction" to "The Romantic Movement in 
English Poetry," with its clear distinctions be- 
1ween verse, prose, the poetic, the prosaic, 
poetry. So safeguarded from a mechanical in- 
terpretation of form, Croce proceeds in the 
"Philosophy of the Practical": — 

No poet creates his poem outside definite con- 
ditions of time and space, and even when he 
appears to be and is proclaimed "a soul of 
other times," he belongs to his own time. The 
historical situation is given to him. The world 
of his perceptions is such, with those men, those 
customs, those thoughts, those works of art. 
But when the new poem has appeared, there 
is in the world of reality (in the contemplation 
of reality t something that was not there before, 
which, althoueh connected with the previous 
situation, yet is not identical with it, is indeed 
a new form, and therefore a new content, and 
so the revelation of a truth previously unknown. 
So true is this, that in its turn the new poem 
conditions a spiritual and practical movement, 
becomes part of the situation given for future 
actions and future poems. He is a true poet 
who feels himself at once bound to his nredeeess- 
ors and free, conservative and revolutionary, 
like Homer, Dante and Shakespeare, who receive 
into themselves centuries of history, of thought 
and of poetry, and add to those centuries some- 
thing that is the present and will be the future. 
. . . The false poet, on the other hand, is 
now a blind follower of tradition and imitator, 
now a charlatanesque innovator, and if in the 
vacuity in which he labours he sometimes does 
produce a fragment of poetry, this only hap- 
pens when he is made to look into himself and 
have a vision, be it great or small, of a world 
that arises. (Italics mine.) 

Vers-librists and imagists, etc., will therefore 
derive little comfort, after all, from what at 

first sight seems a charter for all imaginable 
license, as Irving Babbitt ("The New Lao- 
koon") took it to be. The criticism is, indeed, 
anticipated in "The Aesthetic" where he speaks 
of that "which is vulgarly called invention." 

The criticism, also by Irving Babbitt, that 
Croce neglects the so-called "higher intuitions," 
is not well-founded, for it is met in the passage 
I have just cited, and also where he says, 
"Those concepts which are found mingled and 
fused with the intuitions, are no longer con- 
cepts, in so far as they really are mingled and 
fused," and yet again, more specifically (in 
the "Aesthetic") :— 

The savage has speech, intellect, religion and 
morality, in common with civilized man. The 
only difference lies in that civilized man pene- 
trates and dominates a larger portion of the 
universe with his theoretic and practical ac- 
tivity. We cannot claim to be more spiritually 
alert than, for example, the age of Pericles ; but 
no one can deny that we are richer than they — 
rich with their riches and with those of how 
many other peoples and generations besides our 

Thus form arises from form not by mechani- 
cal addition, but 'by intuitjional elaboration ; 
and content grows richer and richer accord- 
ingly as concepts cease to be concepts: so it is 
that, while a poet cannot write "to order," 
when he does write, he writes in an orderly 
manner; so it is that certain things in modern 
life seem out of place in a poem, because they 
drag with them a train of scientific associations, 
— Galsworthy's "The Silver Box," for example, 
is a sociological play, and we are accordingly 
distracted from the artistic enjoyment of it. 

As I have lapsed for a moment into the com- 
mon division of form and content, it may be 
opportune for me to put Croce 's thesis in the 
simplest manner — that in art there is no such 
thing as a synonym, which is at once seen to 
be true. 

The beauty of Croce 's demonstration can best 
be appreciated by showing it in relation to other 
criticism, as, for example Coleridge's dictum 
that science and not prose is the true antithesis 
of poetry, the difference being however that 
Croce 's work does not consist of flashes of in- 
sight, but is the steady light of truth not mere- 
ly piercing, but illuminating the darkness. 

Here is justified Theodore Watts-Dunton's 
famous definition of poetry, so far as it goes: 
"Absolute poetry is the concrete and artistic 
expression of the human mind in emotional and 
rhythmical language." Watts-Dunton 's pecu- 
liar, and not very well understood, qualifica- 

April, 1919. 


t ion, ' 'concrete, ' is .-it once made 1 >r in- 

tuitions can only be of things. Watts Dunton's 
criticism of Matthew Arnold's phrase "criti- 
cism of life," to the effecl thai such criticism 
of life must, in poetry, be implicit, not explicit, 
is also made clear, which is important, as Wbrs 
fold in his "The Principles of Criticism' 
vives Matthew Arnold's criterion. 

Heroin is justified De Quincey's distinction 
between the literature of knowledgi and of 
power; and herein is settled all that Words 
worth did say. or anyone else could say, con- 
cerning pot tic tint ion. for a poetic diction (in 
the reprehensible sense of the phrase) is incon- 
ceivable with pur< intuition. Here we find 
Shelley's "The Defence of Poetry" correctly 
appraised as "the most notable contribution (of 
its time), in English, containing profound but 
unsystematic, views, as to tin' distinction be- 
tween reason and imagination, prose and 
poetry, on primitive language, and on the poetic 
power of objeetifieation." 

It is as criticism has become more exact, how- 
ever (I have had to mention Worsfold before 
his time), that the brilliance of Croce's per- 
formance is most evident, and it would be in- 
teresting to know whether Arthur Ransome had, 
or had not. read Croee before writing his essay, 
"Art for Life's Sake," from which I quote the 
following : 

Recognising (1) that a work of art has a 
political, comparable to its moral influence, (2) 
that it always embodies knowledge, (31 that it 
is nothing if it does not wake in us the feeling 
that we are near the achievement of the beauti- 
ful — we wish to deny none of these facts, but to 
prevent any one of them being taken as the 
foundation of a criterion of art. We wish to 
set over them a criterion of art that shall in- 
clude them all. Above technique, above opinion, 
above information, we set life, of the special 
kind that is here described, whose conscious vi- 
tality is to unconscious vitality what living is 
to existence . . that man is the greatest 

artist who makes us the most profoundly eon 
scions of life. Shakespeare is set above Herrick, 
who was a better technician, and Leonardo above 
Murillo. who painted more devotional subjects, 
on grounds with which men, neither as artists 
nor moralists, need quarrel. 

There was (if I remember rightly) a dispute 
as to priority in the title of this article be- 
tween Arthur Ransome and a French writer ; 
if so. I must suspect that it was a quarrel be- 
tween thieves ! I hope, however, that I am mis- 
taken, and that it fell to him to make the first 
clear statement in English upon the relation 

between art and morals, that a poem HI r 
can be neither moral nor immoral. 

I have alreadj alluded to Arthur Bymona' 
"The Romantic Movement in English Poetry," 

and es| ially the "Introduction" thereto. 

cepl that it is not rigorously written, 1 would 
have chosen it instead of the "Aesthetic" as my 
prologue. There is here n<> question at all of 
indebtedness, He takes up the problem where 
Croce leaves it. Croee demonstrates the in- 
tuitively lyrical nature of poetry. At that he 
leaves it. It is only on turning to the "Philo- 
sophy of the Practical." that you there find in 
passant the apparent antinomy. Symons on the 
very first page, by the mere terminology he 
there elaborates, solves the practical problem. 
Prose is at once seen to be the most fitting but 
not essential medium of the prosaic, as poetry 
is the most fitting but not essential medium of 
the poetic, thus : 

The on.- safeguard for the poet is to say to 
himself: What 1 can write in prose I will not 
allow myself to write in verse, out of mere 
honour to my material. The further I can ex- 
tend my prose, the further do I set the limits of 
verse. Th.' region of poetry wilMhus always 
be the beyond, the ultimate, and with the least 
possible chance of any confusion of territory. 

One has only to add to this, what Symons per- 
fectly well knows, that the poet says to himself 
nothing of the kind, but just goes and does it. 
The result of a poet doing violence to his in- 
tuition is seen in the work of Meredith. . . 
but perhaps the perpetual complaint in the Let- 
ters, that he was forced to write novels he- 
cause poetry did not pay, shows him no true 
lover of the Muse ! However, to be serious 
again, neither Meredith nor Hardy, both poets 
and novelists, are under any r illusion as to the 
fundamental difference between writing a novel 
and a poem, and we need not waste time, at 
this stage, on Worsfold 's further contention 
that novels should be again called, as they once 
were, poems. 

Sir Henry Newbolt, collecting his papers in 
"The English Review." under the title, "A 
Xew Study of English Poetry," is almost a 
Simon-pure disciple of Croce's. Croce is open- 
ly mentioned only in the chapter, "The Poet 
and his Audience," and it is to take issue with 
him — which is rather ungenerous, as he is the 
power behind the throne in passage after pass- 
age elsewhere, — yet the acknowledgment is 
more inadequate than ungenerous. The very 
figure of the crucible in which "the aesthetic 
and the intellectual materials are so effectually 



April, j 919. 

reduced to one substance that the whole mass 
becomes one single though highly complex in- 
tuition" occurs in the chapter "The Approach 
to Shakespeare," and the chapter, "Poetry and 
Personality" is built up on Croce 's statement 
concerning genius, the figure of the crucible, 
and this passage in the "Aesthetic" which fol- 
lows it : 

This also explains why it is customary to at- 
tribute to artists alike the maximum of sensi- 
bility or passion, and the maximum insensi- 
bility or Olympic serenity. Both qualifications 
agree, for they do not refer to the same object. 
The sensibility or passion relates to the rich ma- 
terial which the artist absorbs into his psychic 
organism ; the insensibility or serenity to the 
form with which he subjugates and dominates 
the tumult of the feelings and of the passions. 

So closely, indeed, does Sir Henry follow 
Croce, that, although he has dared to criticize 
the master in one respect, it would appear that 
he has deferred in another, even against his 
own poetic practice — such is the force of logic ! 
. . . or is it that Sir Henry has not read 
the "Philosophy of the Practical"? For he 
essays a new definition of poetry : 

Poetry is the expression in speech, more or 
less rhythmical, of the aesthetic activity of the 
human spirit, the creative activity by which the 
world is presented to our consciousness. Good 
poetry is not merely the expression of our in- 
tuitions, it is the masterly expression of rare, 
complex and difficult states of consciousness; 
and great poetry, the poetry which has power 
to stir many men and stir them deeply, is the 
expression of our consciousness of this world, 
tinged with man's universal longing for a world 
more perfect, nearer to the heart's desire. 

You see ! the language is quite Crocean ! But 
before I note the defect of this definition, let 
me point out the exceeding beauty of that part 
of it relating to great poetry. Not in the vul- 
gar sense, poetry is ideal. As Arthur Symons 
says, "There is no form of art which is not an 
attempt to capture life, to create life over 
again." But this also is not to be read in the 
vulgar sense. The latter would lead to the 
theory of art as imitation. The former would 
lead to worse still — the redeeming power of 
good intentions — but it is perhaps more true in 
art than anywhere else, that these pave the 
floors of Hell. The ideal in the strict sense, 
follows naturally from the theory of art as 
intuition, and the equivocations of the strict 
S use are duly dealt with by Croce. 

But why that "more or less rhythmical"? I 
see the novel creeping in by the backdoor, and 

surely enough it does! (p. 23). What is the 
reason for this diffidence over rhythm? Croce, 
as I have said, concerned in the "Aesthetic" 
with the theoretic only, finds no distinction be- 
tween prose and poetry, except in art and 
science. Yet, in the "Philosophy of the Prac- 
tical," he implies the natural corollary of the 
definition of pure intuition as essentially lyric- 
ism, the corollary which Symons makes explicit. 
The reason is, I think, the paralysing fear that 
just as some dry-as-dust critics of the poets 
of the romantic revival have since been made 
to look very foolish, so the critic who should 
set up bounds to-day may in like manner be 
confounded to-morrow. Yet, what "every poet 
knows" is surely not so indefinite? What 
does "every poet" do? "Every poet" employs 
rhythm of a regular and recurrent kind. When 
the practice of seven centuries of poetry, starred 
with the most diverse geniuses, can be shown to 
be reducible to a common denominator, it is a 
fair deduction that this is due not to any arbit- 
rary decree, but to a vital principle, and that 
to enunciate it, is not to vie with the folly 
of Canute, but, on the contrary, is to discern 
the motion of the tides. Prosody is no more 
jurisprudence than is science. 

The practice of "every poet" has been ex- 
amined by Prof. Saiutsbury, whose irrefragible 
conclusions I give : 

Every modern English verse shows a nisus 
(an effort) towards being composed of feet of 
one, two or three syllables. The foot of one 
syllable is always, long, strong, stressed, accent- 
ed, what-not. The foot of two syllables usually 
consists of one lonpr and one short syllable, and 
though it is not essential that either should 
come first, the short precedes rather more com- 
monly. The foot of three syllables never has 
more than one long syllable in it, and that 
syllable, save in the most exceptional rhythms, 
is always the first or the third. In modern 
poetry, by no means usually, but not seldom, it 
has no Ion? syllable at all. The foot of one syl- 
lable is practically not found except in the 
first or last place of a line, at a strong caesura 
or break. The foot of two syllables and three 
syllables may, subject to the rules below, be 
found anywhere. . . These feet of two and 
three syllables may be very freely substituted 
for each other. There is a certain metrical norm 
which must not be confused by too frequent 
substitution. (Italics mine.) In no case, or 
hardly any case, must such combinations be put 
together so that a juxtaposition of more than 
three short syllables results. 

J. B. Mayor ("Chapters on English Metre") 
cites from Tennyson half a dozen lines which 
show that three unstressed syllables can come 

April, 1919. 


I ■ 

QaUopmg of hor I sea o | ver tin- grass | y 

Petulant ! she spoke ' and al | herself | she 

Modulatt mi soul of min ! cing mi | micry 
Hammering and clink ! ing chat | tering 

sto ! ny names 
Glorify ing clown | and sat ] yr whence 

they need 
Timorous j >'.</ "»</ as ! the lead | er of | the 


But it will be at once seen that Prof. Saints 
bury's "hardly any case" is quite justified. 
Even so, Prof. Saintsbury's dictum, that the 
metrical norm of the line must not be departed 
from, is observed in the most artful of these 
lines, the last, which scans: dactyl, anapaest, 
iamb, iamb, iamb — and the norm is seen to be 
iambic. They are all the studied effects of one 
who was ever more a craftsman than a seer. 

That this the only rational way of analysing 
verse, and that unlimited substitutions, based 
on the musical analogy of crotchets, quavers. 
and semi-quavers, are absurd, may very easily 
be shown by writing two six-stress lines with 
totally different rhythms: 

Sir Richard spoke and he laughed and 

we roared a hurrah and so 
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues 

his way. 

The most fitting comment on the "stress- 
system'' is that Sidney Lanier's poetry is all 
explicable without it, for the reason that, what- 
ever theories he held in his ratiocinative mo- 
ments, he cast them aside in the moment of in- 
tuition ; whilst Robert Bridges, writing his 
"The Feast of Bacchus" in a merely ratiocin- 
ative manner, has written something which 
could never be called poetry, and which is pro- 
perly torn into shreds, piece by piece, by Mayor. 

I should be wasting time to discuss the "sylla- 
bic-system, ' ' and so I record my agreement with 
Prof. Saintsbury that: 

The foot-system, with equivalence and sub- 
stitution allowed, neither neglects nor sup- 
presses any part of the line in any case, but 
accounts fully for all parts. It applies to poetry 
only, and, to a large extent, explains the differ- 
ence between good poetry and bad. It adjusts 
itself to the entire history of English verse, 
since the language took the turn which made it 
English in the full' sense. It requires no metri- 
cal fictions, no suppression of syllables, no al- 
lowance of extra-metrical ones, no alteration in 
pronouncing, no conflict between accent and 
quantity. Xo period or kind of English poetry 
is pronounced wrong by it, though it may allow 

that certain periods have exercised their rights 
and privileges more fully than others. Iii short, 

it takes the poetry as it is. and has been for 
seven hundred years at least; bars nothing; 
carves, cuts and corrects nothing; begs no ques 
tions; involves no make believes: but accepts the 

facts, and makes out of them what, and what 
only, the facts will bear. 

Emphasizing again that these are not lerral 

enactments, but principles dedi d from the 

practice of the poets, let me also emphasise that 

it is by them that we may, in (Voce's words, 
most assuredly know both the "blind follower 
of tradition and imitator," and also the "char- 
latanesque innovator." And, if it be urged 
that I have only spoken of English poetry. I 
reply that, whatever be the language, its poetry 
will be distinguished from its prose by the same 
i ssential difference in rhythm. For example, 
many foolish things have been said about the 
Authorised Version of the Book of Job, and of 
the Psalms, in this connection, sometimes by 
those who ought at least to know that Hebrew 
poetry has laws just as "tyrannous" as those 
which govern English. 

If, by his "more or less," Sir Henry Newbolt 
had meant the difference between "Piers Plow- 
man," the "Canterbury Tales" and the "Pro- 
thalamion," between rudimentary and articu- 
lated rhythm. I should have no quarrel with 
him; but he clearly means that the poet of to- 
day may, without loss, forego his inheritance 
from the ages, and adopt an aesthetico-logical 
form— the novel. He forgets that the true poet 
of to-day does not say, "I will write a sonnet 
on 'that'." "That" comes to him as a sonnet. 
If he does say, "I will," the result is at once 
seen to be frigid. It is, as I have said, the 
complexity of modern poetry, which produces 
the illusion of a qualitative difference between 
a lyric by Burns or Blake, and "St. Agnes 

It is the same complexity that leads to par- 
tial criteria, such as Matthew Arnold's. But 
the one condition that "isms" and "osophies" 
enter into poetry, is that they shall cease to be 
"isms" and "osophies." By this, poetry as 
the universal is also shown to be false. As a 
special criterion, it would lead to poets of the 
Urge being ascribed the greatest. The universal 
belongs to science. Poetry can only be univer- 
sal by the range of things and ideas it can trans- 
mute in the flame of the imagination. In this 
sense, Shakespeare was a universal poet, 

It will be superfluous for me to offer a de- 
finition of poetry on my own behalf. To do so. 



April, 1919. 

would be only to cross the i's and dot the t's 
of all that the method of this synthesis implies. 
If the spirit of it is to be summarised, I shall 
say that, in a word, all special pleading is for- 
eign to true poetry, whether it be in Words- 
worth's prefaces, or those of Amy Lowell or 
Edgar Lee Masters (who announces in his pre- 
face to "Towards The Gulf," that his object 
is to mirror the age and the country in which 
he lives — which Tennyson did far better by not 
taking thought about it). I should like to say 
that all the critics whom I have laid under 
tribute will repay the deepest respect and at- 
tention — even Mr. Worsfold, whom I only had 
to take exception to, because he^ made just this 
error of making explicit what should only be 

implicit, — but Croce and Symons alone show a 
complete grasp of the question. The corner- 
stones of a sound critical method will be iden- 
tity of intuition and lyricism (Croce), poetry as 
distinct from prose as the natural form (Sy- 
mons, soiind prosody (Prof. Saintsbury). 

Rhyme is con discrezione. 

Poetry is almost everything incidentally, but 
essentially, as Symons, the "end of poetry" is 
"to be poetry," or as Croce says, poetry is 
lyric intuition, or as I put it, the poetic in verse. 

Lafacadio Hearn developed no formal theory 
of poetry, but the extraordinary taste, balance 
and discrimination displayed in his four books 
of criticism, might well have been based upon 
this implicit definition. 

A Dream of Japanese Prints 


U IROSHIGE, Hokusai, 

Hail to you, good fellows; 
Bald-pate dreamers of the sky, 
Silver storks and fish that fly, 
Lakes and moons and maidens shy, 
In old blues and yellows; 

Dawn pink, gold and malachite. 
"Floating World" illusions, 
Water-falls in star-struck light, 
Fuji Yama's fabled height, 
Cherry petals falling white, 
Old Japan's profusions; 

Lines of immemorial grace, 
Scented, magic pages, 
Spring-frost dreams of airy lace, 
Winter moon in chambered space, 
Phantom calm of oval face, 
Shinto gods and mages. 

Sweetheart, would that you and I 
Towards Tokio were wending, 
You, a two-sword Samurai 
Boldly sashed in fashion high, 
T, a lotos-princess shy, 
Upward glances sending. 

April, 1919. 



The "Colyum" in Canada 


Illustrations by J. B. PITZMAURICE 

IN contemporary annals the newspaper 
humorist is almost invariably presented in 
a false light. 

He is pictured as an exceedingly morose and 
reticent person in intercourse with his fellow 
man, a person who is as dull as an old pewter 
mug in public, and who shines only when 
pounding of a typewriter or sharpening up a 
quip in the proof. 

A Press Humorists' convention is commonly 
supposed to be every bit as cheerful as a meeting 
of the undertakers of a successful health re- 
sort. Whenever the paragraphers convene, 
some gay young genius on the reportorial staff 
of the local paper rushes to his Remington and 
hammers out a funny story about the funny 
men, letting the public into the secret. He repre- 

"Daly's the fellow who writes all the funny stuff 
in the Evening Blare." 

sents the gathering as very nearly as solemn as 
a Quaker Sabbath and as cheerless as the bank- 
ruptcy court. He describes with a wonderful 
wealth of detail the appearance of the dele- 
gates, sitting around glaring mournfully at one 
another, and he always propounds the theory 
that they are all afraid to spring anything 
funny lest some other delegate may steal it. 

This is the good old stock story about the 
press humorists. Like some of the war reports 
that emanated from Berlin, it contains a very 
small grain of truth. The press humorist is 
certainly not always blithe and gay. Among 
his fellows he is generally a merry soul, but in 
public — well, in public he is apt to be just a com- 
mon ordinary citizen like the stockbroker, or the 
government clerk, or the milkman. 

He is sometimes sad very sad. If you had 
spent some nine hours in a newspaper office 
struggling with the eul> reporter's grammar, 
trying to decipher indecipherable sheets of 
telegraphic despatches, squabbling with print- 
ers, getting yourself messed up with mucilage, 
translating the owner's political ambitions into 
innocent-looking editorial comment, losing your 
shears just when you want to clip something 
important, reading the proofs of the Sunday 
sermon, faking the thermometer readings, and 
doing a score or more of other journalistic 
chores, and you then sat down before a pile of 
blank paper with perfectly blank brain, and 
knew that you could not go home until you had 
worried out a column of bright and breezy para- 
graphs upon passing events — or if you did go 
home before finishing off the column, knew 
that you would have to spend the evening mind- 
ing the baby with one hand and writing jokes 
with the other — well, wouldn't you feel sad? 

The press humorist is very often reticent, but 
that is not because he fears that some one is 
going to steal his jokes. It is simply because he 
knows that if he is too communicative he will be 
expected to light up the proceedings with a few 
brilliant wheezes. And the. average press hum- 
orist does not combust spontaneously. It is a 
difficult thing to be spontaneously humorous. 
It can be done, of course. George Ham can do 
it, but then he doesn't have to grind out a 
whole column of it every day, rain or shine. 

The press humorist is generally of a retir- 
ing disposition. He has even been known to 
slink home by the by-ways and back alleys. If 
he is well known in the community he has to, 
not necessarily to dodge bill-collectors, but to 
avoid being waylaid by the individual who 
knows just how a humorous column should be 
conducted. This party has a habit of turning 
up at unexpected places. 

"Say!" he exclaims, stopping the unfortu- 
nate paragrapher, "I have something good 
for your colyum. " 

Then, after fishing about in his pockets for 
a few minutes, he produces a clipping from 
"Tit-Bits" containing a jest that the late Joe 
Miller rejected as old stuff. 



April, 1019. 

The press humorist may dodge the party with 
the clipping, but he has a hard time dodging the 
Enthusiastic Friend. The Enthusiastic Friend 
is generally a nice fellow who means well, but 
he is a thorn in the flesh nevertheless. He is 
liable to drift into the office without the slight- 
est warning at any time. He always brings an- 
other party with him. 

"Joe," he gurgles excitedly as he pushes his 
companion forward, "I want you to meet Mr. 
Daly Rimes. Daly's the fellow who writes all 
the funny stuff in the Evening Blare. Didja 
read that one he had in yesterday about the 
aldermen? That was a pippin! Howd'ja ever 
think of that one, Daly? 

Then he stands and gazes with fond expect- 
ancy upon the blushing paragrapher somewhat 
in the attitude of a man exhibiting a pup, 
which he has just taught a new trick. He is 
waiting for the paragrapher to perform. And 
if the luckless newspaper wight fails to come 
through with something which evokes a real 
hearty laugh from the party for whose benefit 
he is being exhibited, the Enthusiastic Friend 
will stab him with an expression of pained sur- 
prise, and on the face of the Enthusiastic 
Friend's friend will be written the verdict, 
"Punk show! Certainly not worth climbing all 
those stairs!" 

The Enthusiastic Friend always adopts an 
air of proprietorship in regard to the para- 
grapher that is particularly annoying. He is a 
patron of Art, and he prides himself on it even 
though his patronage costs him nothing but his 
idle moments. He glimmers in a sort of reflect- 
ed glory. 

And yet the attitude of the Enthusiastic 
Friend always conveys the impression that, if 
he cared to bother with such things, he could 
turn out a much better "Colyum" than the par- 
agrapher himself. He has never fabricated a 
jest or a jingle, or perpetrated an acute-angled 
remark in his life, but of course he knows very 
well that he could — it is merely a matter of 
sitting down at a rather untidy desk with a 
good supply of copy paper. 

He is wrong. Turning out a column of para- 
graphs is a hard day's toil for any one man. 
It is not the actual amount of stuff that is turn- 
ed out, but the amount of thought that the 
cohimn of print implies. In the average care- 
fully-wrought column you will find enough 
ideas to furnish material for two or three edi- 
torial pages. It is merely a matter of expand- 
ing them and infusing the combination of pon- 
derous solemnity of phrase and light-hearted 

inaccuracy of fact that is the hall-mark of the 
Canadian daily newspaper editorial. In fact, 
it has been said, perfectly truthfully said, that 
the newspaper paragraph is merely the editorial 
in its shortest possible form. 

The editorial writer comments upon three or 
four subjects per day. The paragrapher must 
seek out fifteen to twenty subjects to comment 
upon, and he must deal with them in a man- 
ner that is going to tickle the reader's fancy. 
This is not a light task, particularly as finan- 
cial conditions of the Canadian papers do not 
allow of the employment of paragraphers or 
column conductors, merely as such, practically 
all of them having to look after various other 
journalistic jobs as well. If you have any idea 
that the position is a sinecure, ask the first 
paragrapher you chance to meet and be en- 

"Say! I have something good for your colyum." 

lightened. Let me, in the role of Enthusiastic 
Friend, introduce you to a few of them. 

Come, first, to the office of the Toronto News 
where we will find the owner of the magic in- 
itials "J.E.M. " which appeared at the foot of 
the "On the Side" column for many years. He 
is Jesse Edgar Middleton, Grand High Priest 
of the Gentle Josh and president emeritus of 
the Royal Society of Colyum Hitters. 

A few months ago the "On the Side" column 
disappeared from the editorial page of the 
News, Mr. Middleton having been forced to as- 
sume new editorial tasks which made the carry- 
ing on of the column an impossibility for the 
present. I believe "On the Side" will be back 
in the News soon, or Toronto will have more 
rioting. And personally I would not blame the 
News readers for taking the law into their 
hands should the column be withheld much 

April. 1019. 

' i \ i />/.i. v 'BOOR 1/ i \ 


We ascend a somewhal dingy flight of staira 
to the second floor. As Enthusiastic Friend, 
We of course burst righl into the room without 
knocking. Mr. Middleton is sitting al a large 
desk, much littered with papers. He looks 
up witli a somewhat uncertain, uneasy air. 
Newton McOonnell, who cartoons industrious- 
ly in a corner of the same office, si/.es us up over 

the top of his high-slanting drawing hoard. 
Both appear a trifle apprehensive. Evidently 
they fear the worst. Most likely We are going 
to produce a clipping from "Tit- Hits" and 
offer it as a contribution to "On the Side." 

Mr. Middleton is inclined to look upon the 
would-be contributor with suspicion. He be- 
lieves that it is perfectly legitimate for the edi- 
tor of a humorous column to look a gift joke 
in the mouth. He once declared to me: 

Before a pile of blank paper with a perfectly blank 

"I have noticed in colyuining that the con- 
tributors one does not want are plentiful, and 
the others like hens' dentistry for scarcity." 

Despite, or perhaps (on second thought) be- 
cause of this attitude. "On the Side" had a 
following of remarkably clever "contribs. " 
Mr. Middleton organized "The Royal Society 
of Colyum Hitters," and a fellowship in the so- 
ciety' involved a stiff matriculation test. Mr. 
Middleton was never so lavish with his honors 
as was the government. 

The day that Middleton was born he took a 
good look at the world and saw that it was 
funny. His face wrinkled up into a cherubic 
smile and he gave a good-natured gurgle of de- 
light. He thought: "No one can possibly take 
this place seriously: I bet I can have a lot of 
fun with it as soon as I become strong enough 
to pound a typewriter." That outlook upon 
the world he retains to the present day, and the 

little wrinkles at tin- corners of his cy-s beam 
out a reflection of that first smile. Middleton 
first saw the urn-Id through the windows of the 

Methodist parsonage at Pilkington township. 

Wellington county, Ontario. The Methodist 
parson is much on the move. He is supposed 
always to settle up, but he never can settle 

down. Therefore Middleton. ;i- ;i boy, had op- 
portunity of studying human nature in various 
places, and he always found it amusing. He 
studied other things at Strathroy Collegiate In- 
stitute and at the Dutton High School. His 

first real .joke was at tl xpense of the writing 

fraternity. He went to Cleveland. Ohio, and 
became a proof reader. II.- continued that jo' 
on the Cleveland writers for three years, and 
then, escaping somehow with his life, he fled 
to Quebec City and went over to the other side. 
He became a writer. After passing his cub 
hood on the Quebec papers, he went to Toronto 
as musical critic of the Mail anil Empire. In 
1904 Sir John Willison gathered up an all-star 
staff for the News. Middleton was picked as 
Dramatic Editor. He moved to the News office 
and began to "do" the drama. 

Then one day, when Middletoij was still fol- 
lowing the trail which led Bernard Shaw to pub- 
licity and pelf, the well-known and much-dis- 
cussed tide within the affairs of men turned, 
and the initials "J.E.M." adorned a column. 

Sir John Willison happened into the local 
room and asked all the men there assembled to 
write him a few paragraphs from time to time 
for use on the editorial page. Middleton forth- 
with did a dozen, and coopered up a little light 
verse as well. The next day he was a para- 
graphic permanency. None of the other men 
had done any. Middleton had unconsciously 
accepted the nomination. 

"A great moral thesis might be written on this 
text." declares J.E.M. , "something about seiz- 
ing the passing hour." 

And now. having met the mysterious 
"J.E.M.", perhaps you would like to ask him 
something about the labor involved in grinding 
out a daily column, or, as he might term it, a 
"perpendicular of persiflage." or "an obelisk 
of observation." Here is his answer, clipped 
from "On The Side": 

If I get up at Six o'clock 

(I did that thing this morning) 
Disdaining the last forty winks 

And Sloth's inducements scorning. 
Then I can sit me down to write 

In silence and the kitchen 
(The very thing I'm doing now> 

Our Littachoor enrichin'. 



April, 1019. 

If I remain abed till Seven 

(The deed sometimes is done) 
I cannot twang the lyre until 

The day's work is begun, 
Then interruptions come, and proofs, 

And papers I must read ; 
Tin- first fine flow'r of rhythmic thought 

(Alas!) has gone to seed. 

But if I snored till Eight o'clock, 

My life were dull and grey, 
I would be laboring at rhymes 

Through all the weary day. 
And savage printers would appear 

Ere ever I could hide, 
All growling in their furious way: 

"WELL! Where is On The Side?" 

Thus I reveal their savage tricks. 

Needs must, when printers drive, 
And therefore I arise at Six 

(Thank Heaven it isn't Five). 

There is a smiling personality beaming out 
of J.E.M.'s column that is irresistible. He has 
an inimitable way of tickling the reader's 
fancy with quaint and unusual phrases, and he 
writes for all classes. He has a genius for rhyme 
and can knock together a verse on any con- 
ceivable subject at a moment's notice. But the 
jingle and the josh are not his only song as is 
evidenced by a volume of very fine patriotic 
verse recently published. 

H. D. Carman, of the Toronto Star, does not 
undertake a full column every day, but never- 
theless he does his daily bit to enliven this dull 
world. "A Little Bit of Everything" con- 
sists of from a quarter of a column to half a 
column of cheer and is one of the Star's bright- 
est features. Mr. Carman generally waltmasons 
on some topical subject and then runs a dozen 
or so pert and pertinent paragraphs, with now 
and then a bit of light verse sandwiched in 

"A Little Bit of Everything" was originated 
by H. F. Gadsby, who for some years now has 
been devoting his literary energies to brighten- 
ing up the political life of the Capital. His 
articles are syndicated to newspapers through- 
out the Dominion. Mr. Gadsby is now one of 
Canada's leading humorists, but he began his 
career as a humble paragrapher. When he left 
the Toronto Star to 'write-up" Ottawa, and 
Ottawa's inhabitants, Mr. Carman became skip- 
per of the "Bit of Everything" column. 

Mr. Carman was born in Sarnia. That was 
so long ago that he has forgotten the details, he 
declares, but he does not believe the event was 
essentially different from millions of similar 

events which have occurred in well regulated 
families, both before and since. He was— but 
let him tell it in his own way : 

" I'evolved from the printer's case to the desk 
after many vicissitudes, during which I grew up 
and acquired as little education as the teachers 
would let me off with. My humorous faculties 
— such as they are — lay dormant, I think, until 
I was 21, when I put up a joke on one of the 
girls, who didn't realize it until she found her- 
self tied up to me for life. I have had the 
laugh on her ever since. 

"My first experience in daily newspaper work 
was on the Sarnia Post. My career there was 
brilliant, so much so that the paper died and 
then I went to the then prosperous London 
Daily News. I remained until I saw that paper 
safely into the decline, and then joined the To- 
ronto Daily Star staff, where they have let me 
stay ever since." 

I asked Mr. Carman for his real, honest-to- 
goodness opinion of the paragrapher 's trade. 

"I have wholesome respect for the occupa- 
tion," he declared. "I regard the paragraph as 
the neatest thing that was ever invented in the 
editorial line, inasmuch as the paragrapher has 
the privilege of driving the nail home with 
one brief, lusty swat, while the leader writer 
has to hammer through half to a whole column 
of space to drive the same idea home. Life 
for many is a sad, stern grind from the cradle 
to the grave, and if I can bring even a faint 
fleeting smile to a careworn visage occasionally, 
I feel that I have done something worth while. 
I would rather cheer one sad heart for a min- 
ute than make a whole army weep for a week. 
I would rather write a good paragraph than a 
cheque — which wouldn't be any good anyway." 

You will find "The Khan's Corner" every 
evening in the Toronto Telegram, but to find 
The Khan you will have to go to Rushdale 
Farm at Rockton, Ontario. He is none other 
than Robert Kirkland Kernighan, well known 
in literary circles as the author of "The Tattle- 
ton Papers," and several volumes of verse. At 
Rushdale Farm he was born in 1857, and at 
Rushdale Farm he lives today. But he has been 
away from the farm between times. He has 
had a long newspaper career, having been con- 
nected with the Hamilton Spectator, the old 
Winnipeg Sun, and several Toronto papers. 

The Khan is not a paragrapher. His column 
has continuity. It is filled every day with a 
sort of meandering philosophy written in a 
delightfully quaint and humorous style. Besides 
being fascinating reading, it contains much 
good sound common sense. 

April. 1919. 

C I \.!/>/,l.\ BOOR l/IA 


The "breeziness" of the West is reflected 
in the "Col) nana" of the three Winnipeg pa- 
pers. All three serve political masters, and 
their editorial pages are therefore apt to be 
sometimes rather saddening, but the daily 
column devoted to original humor serves to take 
the curse off the editorial axe-grinding. 

The Free Press Evening Bulletin, which is 
the evening edition of the Manitoba Free Press, 
serves up its daily menu of light reading mat- 
ter under the title, "As You Like It.*' It is 
an apt title, for, judging by the popularity of 
the column, it is indeed pretty much as the pa- 
per's readers like it. David Bruce MacRae, the 
editor of "As You Like It,* was born at Max- 
well, in Glengarry county, Ontario, and there- 
fore there is reasonable ground for suspicion 
that he is of Scotch descent. However, he com- 
pletely refutes the slander about the Scotch and 
the sense of humor. His column makes light of 
passing events in a good-natured, mirth-provok- 
ing way that reveals not only a very keen sense 
of humor, but a very distinct understanding 
of human nature and its many frailties as 
well. Mr. MacRae is still a young man, but 
he has had extensive newspaper experience. He 
served on the Ottawa Journal and Peterboro 
Examiner as reporter and "desk" man for a 
number of years. In 1911 he went to the Win- 
nipeg Free Press as reporter. His sense of 
humor asserted itself and very shortly after his 
arrival he was selected to give the ribs of the 
Free Press readers the paragraphic tickle in "As 
You Like It." 

The Winnipeg Tribune's "Trumps" have 
been famous in the prairie metropolis for many 
years. "Tribune Trumps" were originated by 
Knox Magee, now editor of the Winnipeg Tele- 
gram. Mr. Magee was brought from Toronto, 
where he edited "Saturday Night," by Mr. Rich- 
ardson, publisher of the Tribune, with the idea 
of putting "pep" into the paper. Mr. Magee 
put the desired "pep" into it in a number of 
ways, one of which was the launching of the 
"Tribune Trumps" column. That was quite 
a few years ago, and the "Trumps'* which Mr. 
Magee wrote are now buried deep in the Tribune 
files. I have never seen any of them, but I 
imagine they did not lack ginger. This sur- 
mise is borne out by the word of some of the 
city's old-timers. (The old-timer, by the way, 
is one of the favorite products of the West.) 
They all agree that Mr. Magee said just exact- 
ly what he intended to say in good plain King's 
English. And they still quote some of his 
"Trumps" to this day. 

The "Trumps ' .-< »1 1 1 n 1 r 1 for some years now 
has been under the direction of Mr. .J. J. Mon- 

crief, the present Managing Editor of the Tri- 
bune. When you meel Mr. Monerief you get 
a good firm hand-clasp and a gentle, benign 
"Hello brother!" sort of smile. And the column 
is just like that. Mr. Monerief does not write 
everything that finds its way into the column — 
I imagine he calls for volunteers from the local 
staff now and then — but everything he writes 
stands out by its cheery good-nature and bluff, 
hearty style. He deals chiefly in gentle joshes 
aimed at prominent citizens, most of them old- 
timers. Sometimes the joke is a private one, 
intelligible only to the writer and to the man 
at whom it is aimed. But, even though you 
may not understand it, there is always a cheeri- 
ness about the little paragraph that puts you in 
a mood to chuckle. Mr. "Monerief is the direc- 
tor of the oratorio society, and any day that 
the "Trumps" column does not contain a quip 
about the choir, or the choir's activities, you 
know that he is out of town. 

The "Good Evening" column is one of the 
most popular features of the Telegram. It first 
appeared some four years ago and has "had sev- 
eral editors and many contributors. Mr. Robert 
Purves is the present incumbent. Mr. Purves is 
the only man I know who is both publisher and 
paragrapher. He came to Canada from the Old 
Country some eight years ago and headed for 
the West. After various experiences he landed 
in Balcarries, Sask.. where he purchased a paper. 
It was — well, it was merely a typical country 
weekly when he bought it. In a few weeks the 
subscribers began to sit up and take notice. 
In a few months he had stamped his personality 
upon it and made it talked about — and read. 
Then, when it became successful financially, 
Mr. Purves felt the call of the bright lights, and 
the movies of a big city. He left the weekly in 
charge of a partner and went to Winnipeg, join- 
ing the Telegram staff. The personality which 
he put into the country weekly now shines in 
the "Good Evening' column and makes it a 
part of Winnipeg's favorite literature. 

A particular feature of the "Good Evening" 
column is "The Grouch." This fictitious mis- 
anthrope complains daily about some real or 
supposed public grievance. Through him, Mr. 
Purves hits off local conditions and events, and 
throws a searchlight of satire on the unneces- 
sary ills that flesh is heir to. In spite of his 
disgruntled disposition, The Grouch is one of 
the most popular and most often quoted person- 
ages in Winnipeg. 



April, 1919. 

Up to a few months ago the morning edition 
of the Free Press ran a column which had a 
big following of readers, particularly among 
the city's "intellectuals." It was called "Heli- 
ograms," and its eponymous conductor was Mr. 
W J Healy, now editor of the Grain Growers' 
Guide In his column Mr. Healy aimed at a 
rather more literary style than is to be found 
in the average newspaper feature and, as a re- 
sult probably shot over the heads of a good 
"many readers. The column contained much fine 
wit and some good verse, however, and will be 
missed by a great many of the paper's subscrib- 
ers. In undertaking to guide the gram grow- 
ers Mr. Healy has not altogether put aside his 
sense of humor. He has done what might well 
be considered the impossible— introduced a vein 
of humor into the Grain Growers' Guide. A 
page of that publication is now devoted to Mr. 
Healy 's version of "Pepys' Diary," a feature 
of the former "Heliogram" column in which 
Winnipeg events are dealt with as they might 
have appeared to the famous diarrst. 

One of the most interesting of Canadian par- 
agraphed is to be found in Saskatoon, Sask., 
dealing out light-hearted and inconsequential 
remarks every day through the "Starbeams" 
columns of the Star. He is Harris Turner. 
Everybody in Saskatoon knows him; everybody 
likes him; nearly everybody reads his column. 
Mr. Turner is a native of Saskatoon and began 
his newspaper career on the old Phoenix of that 
city. After several years as a reporter on the 
Phoenix he went to the Star. When Mr. W. 
Scott Darling, the originator of the "Star- 
beams" column, left the paper to become pub- 
licity man for a big department store, Mr. Tur- 
ner took over the column. That was about five 
years ago. When the Kaiser turned the fawcet 
and allowed the stream of frightfulness sud- 
denly to ooze through Belgium Mr. Turner gave 
up the business of joking to adopt the more 
serious business of helping to stop th« German 
rush. He went overseas with a western bat- 
talion and was among those conspicuously 
present in several of the biggest of the war's 
early. battles. At Ypres he was severely wound- 
ed, and when he was finally discharged from the 
hospital he knew that he was doomed to dark- 
ness for the remainder of his life. The loss of 
his sight had not the slightest effect upon hia 
disposition. Cheery and smiling as of old, he 
returned to Saskatoon and again took up the 
editorship of "Starbeams." 

Mr. Turner's column overflows with mirth. 
It takes many a rap at many a man, but always 

in a sunny, smiling way. It is never cynical 
and never bitter. It is pure, good-natured fun. 
And it is a reflection of the man who writes 

Out at the Pacific coast they seem to take life 
too seriously for the funny man to flourish. 
None of the papers runs a column of original 
humor, that phase of newspaper work in Van- 
couver and Victoria being attended to by the 
scissors method. There are several departments 
of light editorial comment, however, notably 
"The World's Window," in the Vancouver 
World, and "Street Corners" in the Vancou- 
ver Province. The latter is a column dealing 
chiefly with local affairs, sometimes seriously, 
sometimes in satirical vein, but always interest- 
ingly. It is presided over by Mr. Bernard Mc- 
Evoy, one of the best known of Vancouver's 
newspaper men. 

From the historical point of view one of the 
most interesting of newspaper columns is prob- 
ably the Montreal Herald's "Sieve." It has 
not been notable for its sittings during the past 
few years — some one may have knocked a hole 
in it — but years ago it was one of the most 
famous newspaper features in the east. 

"Through the Herald's Sieve" first dawned 
upon the readers of the Herald about 1896. It 
was begun by one Joseph Dillabough, and the 
strain was too much for him as he lasted two 
weeks. Murray Williams heard the clarion call 
for help, got out his trusty scissors and glue pot, 
and lasted ten years. The Sieve, although fea- 
tured by the Herald with a double column 
heading on the front page, failed to attract 
any attention until the elections of the year 
1896, when Sir Wilfrid Laurier downed Sir 
Charles Tupper. Day after day during the 
campaign, every paragraph in the Sieve was 
devoted to politics, and one of the features 
of the column was a daily parody on Sir Charles 
Tupper 's speeches. Sir Charles was great on 
claims in those days, claims of what he had 
achieved and what he would do to Laurier. 
The Sieve said that he, Tupper, had told the 
people of the Maritime Provinces that he was 
the man who had originally fixed things so 
that the Atlantic Ocean would touch at Hali- 

In the early days, of the Sieve the Canadian 
newspapers were strong on serious matter, and 
for a time the Sieve was the only out-standing 
humorous column in the country. Certainly for 
a time it kept the none-too-prosperous Herald 
on the map. All the matter in the Sieve was 
not original. Its maker never denied that the 
glue pot and scissors were among his most valu- 

April, 1919. 



able assets. Hi- claimed that, us he was Finan- 
cial Editor, Commercial Editor and Baseball 
Editor of the Herald, the time at his disposal 
to knock the Sieve together was somewhat limit- 

-"I used to lift a good deal of stuff from 
the Chicago News," said Mr. Williams the other 
day, "and one day somebody on one of the 
other papers handed me a l. r >-ineh shell right in 
the eye. The association of humorous writers 
was holding its annual convention somewhere 
or other and, picking up an opposition paper, I 
read a paragraph that ran like this: 'Tf the 
author of the Herald's Sieve goes to the con- 
vention, he will have to get in on a Chicago 
•News ticket.' After that the glue pot and 
scissors went out of the window." 

Mr. Williams commenced his newspaper 
career at the bottom of the journalistic ladder. 
His energy and ability soon forced recognition, 
and he gradually rose until he was the finan- 
cial editor. There his farsightedness and his 
unerring judgment made him a factor in the 
market, and he was snapped up by the Montreal 
Star, where he remained for several years, until 
he joined the broker fraternity in the firm of 
O'Brien and Williams. 

There are various ways of turning out a 
column, including the scissors and paste me 

thod which has I n adopted by the majority 

of papers in Canada, There is one method 
which is not generally known, and I wish to cite 
it here for the benefit of any weary paragraph- 
ers who may chance to read this. 

Mr. Marcel Bernard is the inventor of this 
method. He once edited a column of paragraphs 
for Le Nationaliste in the days of long ago — 
long before Henri Bourassa's Nationaliste was 
thought of. Mr. Bernard explained this easy 
system of columning to me the other day. 

' ' I used to invite a bunch of my friends up 
to my rooms the evening before the column 
was due," he said. "Then I started a discus- 
sion on some interesting topic and every man 
was supposed to contribute a few bright re- 
marks upon the subject. All I had to do was 
to sit back and pot down anything that seemed 
good enough for the column. I generally had 
a couple of dozen of beer, and the thing was a 
complete success. We had an enjoyable little 
gathering — and I had my column." 

It sounds like a good idea, but there is one 
thing in the way of its present application. 

Could sufficiently bright remarks be secured 
by serving two-per-cent ? 

A Canadian Spring Song 


WHAT do I miss in this English spring, 
This tenderest, loveliest time, 
When just to live's a miracle, 
A song in sweetest rhyme? 
Gone is the biting winter's grey 
Swept away in a night; 
Radiantly, softly spring creeps forth 
Pale and green and bright. 

What do I miss though the crocus bloom 

And daffodils golden shine, 

While budding leaves on lacy boughs 

Seek the blue sky divine; 

The copper beech gleams dusky red, 

The grass is emerald foam? — 

The sound of the waters flowing free 

Down a hundred hills of home. 

Murmuring, trickling, heavenly sweet, 
The hidden streamlets run ; 
Or dashing down a hill-side brown 
Their waters mock the sun. 

The great still pools hold in their depths 
The spring blue of the sky, 
And gurgling, bubbling, sparkling gay, 
Fresh streamlets hurry by. 

What do I miss? To walk through the trees, 

On mountain slopes, and hear 

Mid fresh damp smell of earth and buds 

The waters singing clear; 

Or catch their sound when twilight soft 

The woodland spaces fills, 

That low ecstatic melody 

Of countless running rills. 

No sweet-voiced thrush, nor trilling lark 
Comes ushering in our spring; 
But God gave us a music too, 
A wondrous, joyous thing; 
And when the winter vanishes 
Spring's never spring to me, 
Unless I hear down all the hills 
The waters tumbling free. 



April, 1919. 

Reading Aloud in the Family 


MORE than a generation ago the family 
circle was a recognized factor in social 
life. Publishers and entertainers 
bowed to its mandates. Later, ready 
money, cheap amusements, and the growth 
of special clubs and so- 
cieties, threatened it. It 
is a happy sign, to-day, 
to see young and old 
drawing together again 
within its enclosure ; to 
see art, music, sports, 
rare evenings at the 
theatre enjoyed by fam- 
ily groups without osten- 
tation or undue indulg- 
ence. Often all that is 
asked is but "the hya- 
cinth that feeds the soul. 
Of all entertainment 
which old and young 
may enjoy together, 
reading aloud is easily 
first. It is cheap and 
satisfying and much may 
be gained from it. 

Those parents who feel 
that the young people in 
their care are drifting, 
that the ideals they had 
always meant the grow- 
ing son and daughter to 
hold dear have not been 
so cherished, will do well 
to copy the habits of fifty 
years ago, when a good 
book was a treasure to be 
enjoyed and discussed 
for many a day by the 
family who possessed 
it, and then exchanged 
with eager friends. 

Let us read aloud with 
the children whatever we 
value and feel will inter- 
est them, but never what 
offends our literary con- 
science. However harm- 
less it may be considered, 
cheap, exciting, easily 
forgotten fiction, wheth- 
er written for young or 
old, defeats the purpose of family reading. 

We may bring out the old books that were 
once our delight. When the child of twelve 
or so once knows Friar Tuck and Robin Hood, 
Richard Lionheart and Saladin, though we 
may tire of the old romances, he will read on 
and devour them. Tom Canty and the little 
Prince, Tom Sawyer and faithful Huck, 
Don Quixote, Tom Brown, and the man who 
denied his country and became a prisoner on 
the seas, will be his friends as well as ours. The 


T midnight when all the skeptics and 

grown-up (oiks were safely in bed, 

there was a faint rustling heard down 

in the library. No human ear would have 

heard It, had there been one there to listen; 

only fairy ears could catch the sounds. 

The little fairies of book-land had not 
been able to do any work for a long time 
past; In fact, if the terrible truth must be 
known they had been imprisoned for months 
in a dingy prison, the library book-case. 
When night came as they had not done any 
work they were very restless and could not 
sleep, so they spent the time talking of 
days gone by. 

"Anderson's Fairy Tales" draw in a deep 
breath, that made every leaf in its body 
strain and shiver. Then he turned to his 
neighbor, "Robinson Crusoe," and said: "Did 
you see how Bobbie and Ethel looked long- 
ingly at us to-night, after their dinner?" 

"Yes," said the other; "I heard them 
planning to ask their mother to read to 
them to-night before they went to bed; but 
she said that she was too tired." 

"I saw something shining roll down Bob- 
bie's cheeks afterwards," said "Anderson's 
Fairy' Tales." 

"Do you remember," went on the other, 
"how in the olden days we used to be select- 
ed turn about every night for the hour be- 
tween dinner and the children's bed-hour? 
Then Bobbie's grandmother would gather 
the children round her and read aloud to 
them, while they sat in breathless silence 
listening to all our wonderful adventures; 
and we never could determine which was 
the favorite." 

"Yes," said "Anderson's Fairy Tales," "if 
Bobbie and Ethel had someone to read to 
them in the evening they would sit quietly 
and listen, instead of quarreling and teasing 
that helpless little kitten of theirs. But 
what is the good of us sitting here planning 
these things when for months we have 
been so sadly neglected in company with our 

Ruby M. Bruneau. 

copy of "Lorna Doone" once read aloud will be 
re-read many times, and David Copperfield, 
Oliver Twist and Little Nell will live forever. 
We once listened to "Snow-bound" and 
"Evangeline" with delight, and so will he. The 
"Jungle Books" and 
"Uncle Remus" will 
mean far more if we 
read with him. English 
History, or rather its 
most dramatic events, 
will be permanently 
photographed on the chil- 
dren 's retentive minds, 
once they have read with 
us that little "History 
of England", prepared 
by Rudyard Kipling and 
Professor Fletcher, es- 
pecially if "Rewards and 
Fairies" has been added 
for good measure. Fran- 
cis Parkman and Dr. 
Drummond, Ralph Con- 
nor, Sir Gilbert Parker 
and Norman Duncan 
have many a message for 
young Canada. 

Soon the children will 
bring into the circle that 
which appeals to them. It 
is safe to say that their 
understanding and good 
taste will amaze us. 

Not only imaginative 
literature will claim their 
attention. They will be 
brimful of admiration for 
the heroic figures of 
their time. They will ex- 
plore the work of nat- 
uralists with zeal. Long 
after fairy stories have 
been left behind, they 
will rapturously follow 
the miracles of men of 

Schools teach literary 
values, but the differ- 
ence between a work of 
literature in the school- 
room and the same book 
read and loved by the whole family is as the 
difference between calisthenics and a good 
game of ball. 

A boy of ten once memorized the Gettys- 
burg Address for his own satisfaction after 
hearing "The Perfect Tribute." A child who 
had not learned to read, repeated from mem- 
ory, pages of the "Christmas Carol." Had 
such things been required of them as school 
tasks how vigorous would have been their just 
resentment! Nina Pearce. 

April. 1919. 



Play- Writing in Canada 


IN discussing Play-writing in Canada, one 
is tempted to remark that the subject 
can be disposed of simply and swiftly — 
there is no playwriting in Canada. But this 
would be a cheap and obvious thing to say; 
moreover it would be unfair. And it would 
be too close a critical reflection on our in- 
dividual selves. The machine can only func- 
tion when each part acts in co-operative ac- 

Because there does not already exist a 
powerful growing movement in Canadian 
dramaturgy is no reason that such a thing 
cannot exist. We must not discourage our- 
selves (or other drama-producing countries) 
by admitting that since native drama, to all 
intents and purposes, non est, such a deplor- 
able condition must perpetually prevail. Lit- 
erary and actable plays will be written in 
Canada when there is a demand for them; 
not before. 

Music and painting, poetry and general 
literature, all occupy places of definite social 
permanence and artistic importance here. 
They are recognized as necessary vital fac- 
tors in the country's development. As such, 
these branches of expression are receiving 
earnest attention, expert and otherwise, from 
men and women who really have the national 
welfare at heart. There are Canadian com- 
posers and interpreters, Canadian painters 
and sculptors, Canadian poets and Canadian 
authors. Where are the Canadian play- 

By "Canadian playwrights" I don't mean 
persons of Canadian descent, who, migrating 
to New York or London, have written popu- 
lar successes. Any competent literary work- 
man can do this, irrespective of nationality. 
The result is simply a commercial product, 
not in the least fashion typical of the author's 
own country. I mean persons of Canadian 
descent, or adoption, who have written plays 
the subject-matter of which deals with some 
intrinsic part of Canadian life, past or pres- 
ent ; and whose plays are directly artistic 
representations of Canadian life, or interpre- 
tations of Canadian temperament. 

I am the first one to admit that this is a 
rough and ready way of arriving at a work- 
ing definition. But, for the nonce, it can 

In discussing some points regarding plays 
in general and Canada in particular with an 
eminent Montreal merchant. I heard him give 
vent to this: that the boundary-line between 
Canada and the United States is. for all ar- 
tistic purposes, a thing of fancy; it doesn't 
exist. All American art appeals to Canadian 

people, ipso facto, and there's an end on't. 
Pressed, tl minenl merchanl admitted thai 

Toronto has produced some native musicians 
to whom musical America paid instant hom- 
age; admitted, too, that certain Canadian 
painters were more highly regarded in Bos- 
ton than certain nameless American artists; 
and finally, conceded, but without enthusiasm. 
that Canada was a young country and politi- 
cal comparisons were in bail taste. 

The man was speaking relatively, of course, 
but the unfortunate part of it is this: his 
opinions are shared by more Canadians than 
I would care to attempt to estimate. His at- 
titude is excusable. He doesn't know any 
better. But that is no reason why others 
should accept his conclusions as final and 

As a matter of accuracy, the boundary-line 
between Canadian art and American art is 
very clear and very well defined. But it is 
not as inelastic as (for instanca) the line 
drawn sharply between New York art and 
Chicago art. There are boundaries all over 
the place. That's the trouble. 

Playwrights and dramatists do exist in 
Canada, to my knowledge, because I have 
personally met all of them — the whole three. 
There may be others lurking in the fastnesses 
of Granby. or cunningly aloof in the social 
whirl of North Bay. disguised as citizens. If 
this writing will bring them out into the open, 
it will have served its purpose. 

In a fairly close (and eager) examination 
of the work of these three Canadian play- 
wrights. I failed to find any trace of the 
spirit which, to my mind, should inform such 
work — the spirit I have sought to define 
above; national interpretation in terms of in- 
dividual expression through drama. Their 
plays dealt with (a) obsolete and unpractical 
morality; (b) Wall Street machinations; and 
(c) a touching effort to dramatize the Monroe 
Doctrine. In the plays of (a) the locales were 
variously London. Paris, Xew York, and 
Lisbon ; the characters, as can readily be 
imagined, ran the racial gamut ; and the result 
was pathetically nondescript. In the plays of 
(b) the scenes alternated between Chicago, New 
York. Pittsburg and Cuba : the characters were 
exclusively American. (Imagine an American 
writing a play about Canadians!) In the plays 
of (c) the action transpired in San Francisco 
and Xew York, to and fro for five acts; the 
characters were British, American, German 
and one Irishman. 

These three dramatic plumbers are well- 
known and enjoy pleasant reputations. They 



April, 1919. 

may or may not be clever dramatists; that is 
beside the point, and, with a sense of happy 
relief, I leave such decisions to others. The 
point is, that in a total of some twenty plays, 
the product of these writers, all of them Can- 
adians, appears not one play that can be ac- 
curately and reasonably described as a Can- 
adian play. 

There is an obvious line of demarcation be- 
tween the dramatist and the historian. It is 
necessary to recall this fact (I apologise) be- 
cause there are several Canadians who have 
written some very interesting historical chron- 
icles ; but, in the compositions of this character 
that I have been enabled to glance at, 'there 
has been a sorry absence of dramatic tech- 
nique. So that, for the purposes of present 
discussion, we may consider that we have two 
groups of Canadian playwrights: the people 
who are versed in Canadian history and un- 
skilled in dramatic construction, and the peo- 
ple who are expert playwrights while being 
ignorant of Canadian history. The class to 
which Canadian Letters must look for the 
provision and development of the true Can- 
adian drama will have to be composed of the 
blended best of the other classes. 

In justice to the two classes let it be urged 
that their unsatisfying production has been 
induced from within rather than from with- 
out. They have not put forth a Canadian 
play, because they had no motive for doing 
so. There is no Canadian theatre, in the 
sense that there is an Irish theatre and a Rus- 
sian theatre and a Swedish theatre. Our 
playwrights can hardly be blamed for unwill- 
ingness to write under such disheartening con- 
ditions. Practically speaking, there is no de- 
mand for Canadian plays, accordingly there 
is no supply. Yet this will not always be so. 
In its early days the Irish theatre indicated 
a similar barrenness and apathy; but it was 
only the prelude to bigger themes to follow. 
The Irish playwrights have built their drama 
out of Ireland and the Irish ; and in the pro- 
cess have indicated with remarkable success 
the possibilities that lie in the creation of 
native plays. 

Canada teems with workable material for 
a 1 hundred good plays; there are great figures 
of the past; there is the fascinating epoch 
when Champlain and Beauchasse and Pont- 
grave held the stage; there is the lyrical story 
of Jeanne Mance ; there is the magnificent 
figure of the Indian — who will be the first 
to tell in terms of drama his romantic his- 
tory? Longfellow has given us a hint in 
"Hiawatha," and it seems curious that no 

Canadian has had the enterprise to write the 
tragedy of the Indian for the stage. 

In drawing attention to the wealth of sub- 
ject-matter to be found in the Annals, I do not 
wish to be classed with those who hold that 
native plays must inevitably be based upon 
historical events. There are great clashes 
and conflicts in our own day, which, in due 
course, will find their way into dramatic 
form. But objectivity is necessary. I think 
we have sufficient detachment to write artis- 
tically and sanely about the happenings of 
yesterday; but the great war is too near to 
us. Its splendors and pathos concern us pre- 
sently as men and women, not as dramatists. 
Still, it is the hope of many that, with the 
passing of time, a play will come out of Can- 
ada that will make the world of letters mar- 

It is encouraging to note the increasing in- 
terest shown in the drama of other countries 
by leading Canadian art and literary societies, 
especially in Montreal, Toronto, "Winnipeg 
and Vancouver. Papers are read, lectures 
are given, discussions held, and the conse- 
quence is a lively sincere effort to bring the 
drama into line with the sister arts. Mem- 
bers of these societies know more about the 
modern drama to-day than they did a decade 
ago; and they appear to be putting their 
knowledge to practical use. In this there is 
not merely unit development ; there is that 
necessary vital impetus which the drama must 
have if it is ever to occupy its proper place 
here. Men and women (particularly the 
women) are discovering that there is room 
in the home for a shelf of plays; and room on 
the platform for a speaker on the drama. And, 
in this connection, may it be mildly suggested 
that it is not wholly necessary to depend on 
New York and Boston for advice in the con- 
structional development of the drama in 
Canada. Occasional expert help we must 
have. But let it be complementary to our * 
own work. 

It is one thing to discuss plays and play- 
writing and another thing to write plays and 
stage them. The formation of Stage Socie- 
ties in the chief cities of the Dominion (there 
is already one in Montreal) would serve as a 
useful and practical extension of the work 
being done amongst the purely literary so- 
cieties. A co-operation between the two 
branches would work wonders, provided 
there was a ready agreement that all those 
cnncerned would work toward the common 
objective — our own plays in our own thea- 

April, 1919. 




Wild Youth and Another" 

SI K GILBERT I'AKKKK still possesses 
in abundant measure, the dexterity of 
the accomplished professional story-tell- 
er. The two tales in his latest volume, "Wild 
Youth and Another" (Copp, Clark Co., Toron- 
to, $1.50), arc entirely devoid of any special 
source of interest except the admirable skill of 
their telling. "Wild Youth" (the "rather 
puzzling title of the book merely indicates that 
its contents consist of one tale entitled "Wild 
Youth" and another tale called something else) 
is a sketch of a young girl married against her 
will to a hideous and brutal old reprobate with 
prophetic whiskers who owns a Saskatchewan 
fa mi ; the action is precipitated by the usual 
handsome and courageous young man, and the 

ih> tin is- ill' our younger Canadian novelists, sim 
ply because Sir Gilbert knows how to handle 
the situations in which he exhibits them, be- 
cause he always has something definite for them 

to do, because he knows what the reader will 
"see" and what he will not see in brief, be- 
cause he is an accomplished story-teller. Note 
how "Wild Youth" is opened. One paragraph 
sketching one characteristic of the town of As- 
katoon (and incidentally hinting at many 
others) — its alertness and interest in everything 
that comes into it. And then, instantly, tin- 
train draws in and a shiver passes through the 
town when "the prophet-bearded, huge, swarthy- 
Eaced Joel Mazarine, with a beautiful young 
girl behind him" steps out. And forthwith 


reprobate dies with the usual speed in order to 
prevent any unusual impropriety. "Jordan is 
a Hard Road" is the tale of a train-robber who 
settles down to an honest but pseudonymous life 
in order to be near his daughter, who is in the 
usual state of misinformation concerning her 
parentage ; he is compelled by the usual adverse 
circumstances to resume train-robbing in order 
to ensure his daughter's future, and he also is 
prevented by death from being present at the 
happy ending and embarrassing the loving pair 
(or at any rate the reader) with the fear of de- 
tection. People never die so conveniently in 
real life as in a Gilbert Parker tale. 

Nor are any of the characters in these sketchy 
little tales a bit more life-like or impressive 
than the average character of pleasant out-door 
fiction. They are figures done up iu the trap- 
pings of convention : but they move with far 
more ease and effect in those trappings than 

the situation between these two ill-assorted peo- 
ple is sketched briefly and vividly, not in the 
author's own person (Sir Gilbert knows tin- 
value of keeping himself out of such pictures), 
but through the mental comments of Askatoon's 
young doctor, its leading intellectual citizen. 
A compliment from one of the Askatoon citi- 
zens, an acquaintance of Mazarine's, to Mrs. 
Mazarine, and Mazarine's jealousy is in evi- 
dence — the hideous jealousy of the old man pos- 
sessing something which" he feels every other man 
covets, and might claim with better right than 
himself. And so, in less than four pages, the 
whole foundation of the story is sketched in, 
and the interest of the reader is nailed to the 
mast, not to come down till all is over. Would 
that our present generation of Canadian novel- 
ists would study this art. would cultivate this 
flair for the telling act, the significant move- 



April, 1919. 

Books About the Forest 


THE forest is closely associated with the 
pulp and paper industry, especially in 
Canada. The output of these mills is 
simply enormous, as will be seen from 
the fact that the exports of pulp, paper, and 
unmanufactured pulpwood during the year to- 
tal more than $100,000,000. Besides this, large 
and increasing quantities are used in the Do- 

Notwithstanding the importance of the pa- 
per industry in America — Canada and the 
United States produce nearly two million tons 
of newsprint paper alone — the literature of 
the industry from authors on this side of the 
Atlantic is very meagre. Most of our books 
on pulp and paper manufacture are from Eng- 
land and Germany, and naturally set forth the 
practice and viewpoint of the European. The 
reason for this is largely the attention to re- 
search and technical detail that has been given 
in the laboratories and mills on the other side. 
Manufacturers on this side have relied too 
much on the wealth of our natural resources 
and on the distance from competing manufac- 
turing centres to give proper attention to such 
matters as research and scientific control. 
There were, of course, exceptions and now, 
happily, we are entering an era when a care- 
ful study of processes is being carried on in 
many mills, and with this movement there is 
also growing up a corps of men who can write 
in an authoritative and up-to-date manner from 
the American (in its larger sense) point of 
view . 

The forester and the timber user are better 
provided with the literature of their business. 
All the way from the woods to house construc- 
tion and furniture factory, is a string of books 
that set forth experience and knowledge on a 
subject relating to the tree and its uses. The 
biologist and the forester are powerful allies 
of the lumberman and paper maker, and 
manufacturers are coming to realize their im- 
portance. Present studies in the forests of 
Quebec are likely to result in some important 
articles on fundamental facts regarding our 
forest resources, especially on the rate of re- 
production on cut-over areas. 

Organizations like the Canadian Forestry 
Association and the Woodlands Section and 
the Technical Section of the Canadian Pulp 
and Paper Association, through the papers 
and discussions at meetings, are beginning to 
draw out some of our latent talent, as well 
as serving to keep older writers in working 
trim. The Forestry Branch of the Department 
of the Interior has issued a number of bulle- 
tins, both as compilations made at the office 
in Ottawa and as a result of investigations 

carried on at the Forest Products Laboratories 
in Montreal. The Commission of Conservation 
is also doing valuable field work in co-opera- 
tion with some industrial concerns. Among 
the publications of the Department of the In- 
terior mention might be made of the follow- 
ing Forestry Branch Bulletins : — 

"Douglas Fir Fibre, With Special Reference 
to Length," by H. N. Lee and E. M. Smith. 
(reprinted from the Forestry Quarterly, and 
later published in the Pulp and Paper Maga- 
zine), is a fine piece of work in microscopic 
measurements, illustrated by charts and dia- 

No. 59, "Canadian Woods for Structural 
Timbers," prepared by H. N. Lee under the 
direction of Dr. J. S. Bates, at the Forest Pro- 
ducts Laboratories, is a comprehensive re- 
view of the adaptability of various Canadian 
species to the important uses of shipbuilding, 
railway trestles, dock construction, factory 
and other buildings. A number of interesting 
pictures are shown, among which is a Douglas 
fir timber 46 by 46 inches by 70 feet, for use 
in Montreal harbor work. The principal char- 
acteristics and properties of several species are 
given, and from this information is deduced 
the fitness of the wood for certain purposes. 
The bulletin will serve to correct the erroneous 
impression that Canadian timber is inferior to 
that brought in from the United States. 

No. 60. "Canadian Douglas Fir, Its Mechani- 
cal and Physical Properties," prepared by R. 
W. Stearns under the direction of Dr. J. S. 
Bates. This bulletin gives a more exhaustive 
treatment of the properties of this particular 
wood, with details of testing methods, etc. A 
bibliography of other works on the subject is 

No. 62A, "Forest Products of Canada, 1916 
— Lumber, Lath and Shingles." Tables and 
explanatory paragraphs give the consumption 
of these products by provinces and species, ac- 
cording to quantitv and value for 1915 and 

No. 62B, "Forest Products of Canada, 1916 
— Pulpwood." This bulletin is similar to the 
preceding one. In addition to the tables there 
are several maps showing the location of mills 
using pulpwood. 

No. 63, "Wood-using Industries of Quebec," 
compiled by R. G. Lewis and J. A. Doucet. 
This bulletin is issued in both French and 
English. It is based on data from 864 firms, 
and one is surprised at the number and variety 
of the articles produced.. The value of the 
wood used is more than $12,000,000. About 15 
per cent, is bought outside of the province, and 
of this, 36 per cent, comes from the United 

April, 1919. 

C i.\ l/'/.l.v BOOKMAN 


States. Tables show the principal uses of 17 
kinds of wood, ami this information should be 
of value in promoting the utilization of the 

large amounts of hardwoods left in the forest 
when coniferous trees are brought out from 
mixed stands. 

No. 64, "Forest Fires in Canada. 1914, 1915, 
1016." Tables and charts show areas burned 
over, monetary losses and the relation of rain- 
fall and temperature to the extent of fires. In- 
formation is also given as to forest areas, or- 
ganization for fire protection, etc. 

"Report of the Director of Forestry for the 
year 1017" (Part VT. of the Annual Report, 
Department of the Interior, 1917). In sub- 
mitting his report, B. II. Campbell mentions 
that sixty-five members of the staffs have en- 
listed, and nine have given their lives. This 
depletion of forces has prevented extention of 
the work. The disastrous fire in Ontario in 
1916 was largely due to lack of control in al- 
lowing settlers to start fires. Few people 
realize the dependence of Canadian industries 
on the forests, yet "ignorance, lack of defin- 
ite information, opinions rather than know- 
ledge of facts have characterized, and still to 
a large extent continue to characterize, the 
methods of handling the forest resources of 
the Dominion to their detriment and loss." 
Mr. Campbell tells what his department is do- 
in? to improve forest conditions and the know- 
ledge thereof, to utilize this resource most ef- 
ficiently and to insure its perpetuation. There 
are some fine illustrations. 

"Pulpwood Consumption and Wood Pulp 
Production, 1916." by Franklin H. Smith and 
R. K. Helphenstine, Jr., has been published by 
the Forest Service of the U. S. Department of 
Agriculture in co-operation with the News- 
print Manufacturers' Association. Such a 
bulletin has not been issued since 1911, al- 
though Canada publishes this information each 
year. Charts, diagrams, tables and descrip- 
tions cover the subject thoroughly. In 1916, 
230 mills used 5 1 /; million cords of pulpwood, 
producing 3% million tons of pulp. 

Mr. R. H. Campbell, Director of the Forestry 
Branch, recently suffered a fractured skull 
while investigating forestry conditions in 
Northern Manitoba. Mr. Campbell gave an 
interesting address at the meeting of the Tech- 
nical Section of the Canadian Pulp and Paper 
Association last winter on the outlook for the 
future supply of pulpwood in Canada. He 
enumerated the present estimated amounts of 
the various kinds of trees in the different pro- 
vinces, and stated the annual consumption and 
the approximate rate of reproduction as near- 
ly as possible as could be estimated. This ad- 
dress was printed in the Pulp and Paper 
Magazine for March 21, 1918. Canada's for- 
ests are not inexhaustible, as some people seem 
to think. 

Of interest to every Canadian is Bulletin 61, 
of the Forestry Branch, entitled "Native Trees 
of Canada." In this valuable work Mr. Camp- 
bell has collected information as to the locali- 

ties in which each species grows, and the in 

dividual characteristics of each kind of tree. 

Mr. Campbell goes on to give the uses for the 
different kinds of wood, and even mentions 
some new possibilities in the way of utilizing 

this material. Trees are referred to by their 
common names as well as hy their biological 
appendages, Many illustrations show individ- 
ual trees, the shape of leases, seed pods, etc , 

while in tabulated form one can quickly re- 
view and compare the principal features by 
which a tree may be distinguished. An in- 
stance of the usefulness of the book occurred 
while the writer was attending a meeting of 
the Technical Section in Toronto last June. 
Two of the visitors from New York were dis- 
cussing chestnut blight and one remarked that 
it was too bad to have all the beautiful horse 
chestnuts threatened. The other precipitated 
an argument by expressing the idea that the 
horse chestnut is not a real chestnut. A refer- 
ence to Mr. Campbell's book settled the dis- 
pute. New Yorker number two was right, and 
furthermore, the horse chestnut is not a tree 
native to Canada. 

A booklet that was popular during the per- 
iod of the shortage of coal is the monograph 
put out by the Commission of Conservation on 
"Wood as Fuel." It is written by Mr. Clyde 
Leavitt, Chief Forester to the Commission, and 
deals with the subject in a popular yet com- 
prehensive manner. Mr. Leavitt not only 
shows the necessity for making the greatest 
possible use of wood for heating purposes, giv- 
ing comparative values for weight, bulk and 
heating power, but also points out some of the 
difficulties in the way of obtaining and trans- 
porting this material. 

Canada is fairly well provided with periodi- 
cal literature on Forestry and kindred sub- 
jects, with the Canadian Forestry Journal, 
Canada Lumberman, Western Lumberman, 
and occasional articles in the Pulp and Paper 
Magazine that apply to this industry. From 
our neighbors we get American Forestry, a 
very superior publication, the Journal of For- 
estry and a number of lumber trade journals. 
When the Lord said to St. John "Write," 
the summons could hardly have been more ur- 
gent than that which comes to the technical 
man in the pulp and paper industry. There 
has probably never been a time when the de- 
mand has been greater for books, articles and 
special information relating to the manufac- 
ture of these materials. This is partly the 
cause and partly the result of the awakened 
appreciation of the value of research referred 
to at the beginning of this article. Another 
call for books comes from the manufacturers 
who realize the need of better educated and 
more intelligent workmen, and from workmen 
who appreciate the greater chances for ad- 
vancement for men with trained intelligence 
as well as skillful hands. How to meet this 
demand for literature is a difficult problem, 
yet it is being attacked vigorously by the pulp 
and paper industry. 



April, 1919- 

The Technical Section of the Canadian Pulp 
and Paper Association and the Technical As- 
sociation of the Pulp and Paper Industry 
(U.S.), have each a committee on Education. 
More than a year ago the Canadian committee 
came to the conclusion that a suitable text 
hook is the foundation for the efficient instruc- 
tion of mill workers and school boys who plan 
to enter the industry. After a careful investi- 
gation of the situation it was decided that both 
countries should act together in this matter, 
as it is not so much a problem for two coun- 
tries as for one industry. There is really no 
dividing line among the workmen nor in many 
cases even among the mill managements. The 
fundamental need is a standard text book of 
Pulp and Paper Mill Practice for the whole 

A joint meeting of the two committees was 
consequently held in Buffalo on the 16th of 
September, and was attended by every one of 
the two committees exeept one American, who 
was on important war work. The discussion 
disclosed two main divisions of the problem, 
the preparation of the text, and the manner 
in which instruction and direction in the use 
of the books can best be effected. An execu- 
tive committee of five, two Canadians and 
three Americans, was formed to carry out the 
plans roughly outlined by the meeting. Mr. 
George Carruthers, of Toronto, is chairman, 
and Mr. R. S. Kellogg, of New York is secre- 
tary. It is expected that the industry will 
encourage the work with generous financial 

This committee will first select an Editor-in- 
Chief, who may also act as educational direc- 
tor. With ' the advice and assistance of the 
executive committee and the bodies they rep- 
resent, he will arrange with experts in each 
branch and department of the manufacture 
of pulp and paper for the writing of the vari- 
ous chapters that will make up the complete 
text. The fullest advantage will be taken of 
material that has already been published. It 
is considered probable that the work will be 
published in the form of pamphlets. This will 
facilitate the development of classes in exten- 
sion and night schools, and the organization 
of correspondence courses in the science and 
technique of pulp and paper manufacture. 
There are already in existence a number of 
suitable texts on elementary but fundamental 
subjects, which it might be possible to incor- 
porate in order to build up a course represent- 
ing a practically complete technical education 
in this line. These would include business 
English, mathematics, chemistry, mechanical 
drawing, mechanics and elements of electric- 
ity. The provision for, or organization of, cor- 
respondence instruction will doubtless develop 
as the preparation of the material progresses. 

The main education committees are also 
working with local school authorities in improv- 
ing facilities for continuation classes and in con- 
necting the school work with the pulp and pa- 
per industry in communities where that activ- 

ity predominates. Some success has already 
been attained in organizing classes in the ele- 
mentary subjects that are familiar to most 
school programmes. The difficulty arises when 
the student wants to keep on going and there 
is no chart by which to guide his further pro- 
gress. The number of such cases that have al- 
ready arisen makes evident the need of just 
such a set of texts as that for the preparation 
of which the technical men have laid plans. It 
is a big undertaking and will require consider- 
able time to complete, but it will be of incal- 
culable value to the industry, and to the men 
engaged in it. 

As usual most of the recent books relating 
to paper have come from England. The Eng- 
lishmen are strong on research in the field of 
cellulose chemistry and the processes involved 
in the manufacture of paper. England is prac- 
tically devoid of forests from wtiich wood for 
pulp is obtained. Consequently we find little 
in British publications on the manufacture of 
pulp. The paper mills of Great Britain get 
their pulp from Scandinavia, Germany (for- 
merly), Newfoundland, Canada, and the 
United States. The industry lost a tireless 
worker and noted investigator when Mr. Clay- 
ton Beadle died a few months ago. He had 
contributed largely to the knowledge of cel- 
lulose and its products, and the manufacture 
of paper by his fine research work and fre- 
quent articles in the periodicals of the paper 
trade. Mr. Beadle was a co-author with C. F. 
Cross and E. J. Bevan in the preparation of 
the most comprehensive work in English on 
the chemistry and properties of cellulose, the 
fundamental material used in the manufac- 
ture of paper. This book is entitled "Cellu- 
lose," and was reprinted as a new (third) edi- 
tion in 1916 by Longmans, Green & Co., Lon- 
don. It is an excellent book for the researcher 
in this field, and for the student or other per- 
son interested in the properties of this impor- 
tant substance. For the most part the subject 
is treated from a purely scientific standpoint, 
though a number of important industrial ap- 
plications are introduced. These have particu- 
larly to do with compounds of cellulose, such 
as viscose, the nitrates, etc. F'or a scientific 
book it is written in a rather disconnected 
manner, but contains much valuable informa- 

Two of the writers just mentioned, Charles 
Frederick Cross and Edward John Bevan, are 
perhaps the best known of a really wonderful 
group of investigators in this field. Their work 
goes back to 1890 or so, and one who has col- 
laborated in a little research work must ad- 
mire the way these two have labored together 
for a quarter of a century or more, surely a 
most delightful companionship. Cross and 
Bevan 's "Paper-Making," has come to be con- 
sidered the standard English textbook on this 
subject. The fourth edition was issued in 
1916 by E. & F. N. Spon, Limited, London 
(Spon & Chamberlain, New York.) In this 

April, 1919. 



edition they had the collaboration of J. K 
Brings, a well known practical paper maker. 
The reviewer had the opportunity of using 
the third edition in his classes in paper-mak- 
ing, and found it excellent. It served not only 
as a satisfactory guide for lectures and recita- 
tions, but for laboratory work in paper manu- 
facture and testing:, and was used by the stu- 
dents in their laboratory course in the Chemis- 
try of Cellulose. In connection with this course 
"Cellulose" was also found very helpful. 
"Paper-Making" contains nothing on the his- 
tory of the art, but this is easily supplied from 
other sources. The book is divided into three 
main parts, the chemistry and characteristics 
of cellulose and the more important fibres, the 
processes and machines for making paper, 
and the testing of paper and analysis of the 
materials used in its manufacture. 

Among the same group of investigators and 
authors, we also find Sindall, Bacon and Ste- 
vens. Sindall and Bacon are partners in con- 
sulting work as well as in a number of liter- 
ary efforts. Sindall has two books from his 
pen alone. "The Manufacture of Paper," is a 
popular description of the way paper is made. 
It gives some interesting facts about the vari- 
ous kinds of paper, and tells what they are 
used for. His other book on the subject is 
"Technology of Papermaking, " which, as its 
name implies, is a more technical treatment. 
It contains a particularly good section on pa- 
per testing, and would be a valuable help to 
the advanced student, or for the practical pa- 
permaker who is interested in the scientific 
reasons for mill processes. The principal joint 
work of Sindall and Bacon is their "Testing of 
Wood Pulp," which has enjoyed a wide dis- 
tribution. It serves as a guide both to the 
seller of pulp and to the buyer. The test most 
frequently applied is the determination of 
moisture, and this is a very important one, be- 
cause on the result depends the satisfaction of 
the buyer that he is getting all the actual pa- 
permaking material he pays for, as well as the 
knowledge on the part of the seller that he is 
getting a proper return for his goods. This 
question has led to many serious disputes be- 
cause of the ease with which inaccuracies may 
occur. In spite of the importance of the test 
for moisture, and although Sindall and Bacon 
give a number of methods for making this de- 
termination, there is as yet no universally ac- 
cepted procedure. The nearest to it is the me- 
thod agreed on by the Pulp Importers' Asso- 
ciation, New York, and provisionally adopted 
by the Technical Association of the Pulp and 
Paper Industry. It was published in Paper 
(New York), and in the Pulp and Paper 
Magazine of Canada last fall. 

Stevens has written a very successful book 
entitled "Paper Mill Chemistry." It is just 
now out of print, but a new edition is in the 
press. This book goes more into the details 
of the chemical properties and methods of an- 

alysis of materials used in paper making than 

the other hooks mentioned. Ft also contains 
methods for the several routine analyses used 
in the control of processes, especially in pulp 
mills. The need of such a book is evident when 
one considers the number and variety of ma- 
terials involved in the manufacturing of a 
product that has come to be a very common 
part of our daily life. Among these we might 
mention coal, lime, sulphur, soda ash, bleach- 
ing powder, alum, acids, oils, glue, clay, and 
numerous dyestuffs and many other chemical 
products, not to say anything of the many 
tests necessary in the proper control of pro- 
cesses in the mill. 

There is probably no industry whose history 
is more closely connected with the progress 
of the race than is the story of papermaking. 
Yet no single comprehensive book on the sub- 
ject has been written. Interesting chapters, 
however, appear in Miss E. M. Smith's "Writ- 
ing and Writing Materials," and in Davis's 
"Manufacture of Paper." The Butler Paper 
Company of Chicago recently published a very 
entertaining little book entitled "The Story 
of Papermaking," which is mostly historical. 
But little is given of the period of the early 
European paper mills. This era is covered 
by J. N. Stephenson, who included transla- 
tions from German sources in an article, "Four 
Thousand Years of Papermaking," contribut- 
ed to Paper, New York, a few years ago. He 
gathered together the most important and in- 
teresting facts and stories of the industry 
from the Stone Age to the invention in France 
by Robert, in 1699, of the first machine for 
making a continuous sheet of paper. This 
event marks the beginning of modern paper- 

A few years before the invention of Rob- 
ert's machine, which was developed by Fourd- 
rinier, and is now known by that name, the 
first paper mill was built in America. It was 
established in Pennsylvania in 1690, on the 
banks of the Wissahickon, to supply paper for 
a publisher in Philadelphia. Those interested 
in the enterprise were William Bradford, the 
moving spirit, Robert Turner, Thomas Tresse, 
and William Rittenhouse, an enterprising Ger- 
man papermaker. At this time there were very 
few mills in England, where the industry had 
progressed with great difficulty and uncer- 
tainty. On the other hand, the small mill near 
Philadelphia was but the beginning of an in- 
dustry in America that has never lagged since 
that day, but has steadily grown until now it 
is one of the largest and most important in 
Canada as well as in the United States. Ly- 
man Horace Weeks relates the story of the 
American mills delightfully in his "History of 
Paper Manufacturing in the United States." It 
is a book of more than three hundred pages, 
and is well supplied with interesting illustra- 
tions. It is published by The Lockwood Trade 
Journal Company, New York. 



April, 1919. 

Nothing is said by Mr. Weeks of the industry 
in Canada. According to A. L. Dawe, in a 
pamphlet entitled "Some Facts About a Great 
Industry." published by the Canadian Pulp 
and Paper Association, the first mill in Can- 
ada was started at St. Andrews, Quebec, in 
1803. Now, scarcely more than a century 
later, there are more than one hundred pulp 
and paper mills, in fact, almost exactly one 

mill for each year since the first paper mill 
was built. For forty or fifty years the paper 
was all made by hand, now there is not a mill 
in the country using this process, while Can- 
ada has some of the largest and fastest ma- 
chines in the world. These monsters make a 
sheet almost 17 feet wide, and turn it out at the 
rate of more than six hundred feet per 

The New Partnership in Industry 


King, W. L. Mackenzie: — "Industry: A Study in the 

Prim-iples Underlying Industrial Reconstruction." 
Thomas Allen. Toronto, $3. 

MR. KING'S book is easily the most im- 
portant contribution yet made by any 
Canadian writer to the question of the 
organization of industry and particularly of the 
relations of capital and labor. In addition to 
the wide experience of industrial conditions 
gained as student and administrator in this field 
for many years in Canada, Mr. King has drawn 
upon the researches made in the past four years 
on behalf of the Rockefeller Foundation. Much 
of the ground is covered in other works on in- 
dustrial reconstruction which have appeared on 
both sides of the Atlantic in the past year or so, 
but the present work differs in its more com- 
prehensive sweep and in its unique combina- 
tion of well-worked-out theory and concrete il- 
lustrations from actual conditions. 

The first five chapters are devoted to an an- 
alysis of the present economic system, and of its 
growth out of simpler forms. The defects of 
inequality, insecurity and lack of understand- 
ing and common aims are made clear, but the 
writer does not find it necessary to join in the 
indiscriminate condemnation of the present sys- 
tem which characterizes so much half-baked and 
hysterical social criticism today. He empha- 
sizes the improvements made in the conditions 
of work and reward due to "the production of 
wealth on the scale made possible by the capi- 
talist organization of industry," insists that "if 
the cash nexus has broken the bond of personal 
security, it has broken also the yoke of personal 
subordination," and shows that "if capital has 
been a disintegrating factor, breaking up fami- 
lies and scattering individuals as atoms to the 
ends of the earth, more than any other agency, 
it has also been reponsible for bringing to- 
gether individuals in groups and communities, 
and making possible an ever-increasing measure 
of associated effort." 

Ah interesting parallel is drawn between in- 
dustrial and international relations. The differ- 
ent parties to industry, like the nations of Eu- 
rope before the war, live in suspicion and fear, 
fail to understand the point of view of the op- 

posing side, deal in dangerous ultimatums, are 
held back by pride from making concessions, 
and. after smouldering opposition has broken 
out in open warfare, inherit legacies of hatred 
and misunderstanding. More novel, and prob- 
ably the most original theoretical contribution 
made in the book, is the parallel between the rise 
of representative government in politics and its 
rise in industry. From Magna Charta to John 
Hampden, principles and incidents in the 
struggle for civil and political liberty are drawn 
upon to illuminate the path to be followed now 
(hat the world is trying to work out democracy 
in industry. 

In the concluding chapters Mr. King develops 
the principles and methods of the new law and 
the new partnership that must be achieved if 
society is not to perish in anarchy. In attaining 
industrial peace compulsory investigation and 
publicity are emphasized more than compulsory 
arbitration, as might be expected from the fram- 
er of the Canadian Industrial Disputes Inves- 
tigation Act. As means of securing the increas- 
ed productivity essential if the demands of the 
future are to be met, scientific management, 
profit-sharing and labor co-partnership, and 
the several methods of industrial remuneration, 
are considered in a well-balanced and informed 
review. The changes, particularly in the way of 
social insurance, necessary to conform to the 
national minimum of health, are then discussed. 
Chief emphasis is, however, given to the ques- 
tion of the organia^tion of industry. Various 
vociferous solutions, state socialism, syndicalism 
and guild socialism, are in turn weighed and 
found wanting. . Partnership, the recognition 
of the right of all the parties concerned in pro- 
duction to a voice in its management and direc- 
tion, is the solution advocated. Illustrations 
are given from the plan of local representation 
worked out by the writer for the Colorado Fuel 
and Iron Company, and from the joint indus- 
trial councils on a national scale proposed in 
the Whitley Reports. An ingenious series of 
charts and diagrams sums up the analysis and 
the conclusions of this comprehensive study. 
The book is not one for summer hammock read- 
ing, hut it will amply repay the attention of 
every serious student of the world's most uni- 
versal and most pressing problem. 

April. 1919. 



The Last of the Old-Style Booksellers 


EBBNEZBB PICKEN, the last of the 
old-school booksellers in Montreal, or 
for that matter in Canada, is dead. His 
passing leaves a vacancy that will never 
be filled. 

A visit to the little bookshop on Heaver Hall 
Hill meant more than a mere commercial ileal. 
.Mi-. Picken was not troubled aboul business 
in the ordinary sense, and if one sought a 
"best seller" of meretricious quality he would 
lie courteously referred to a book-store which 
prided itself on being up-to-the-minute. The 
impression conveyed after a few visits was that 
books were Mr. Picken's friends, and that if 

— Portrait study by Sidney Carter. 

no one wanted to buy them he would have 
his friends with him a little longer. There was 
about the old shop, and the man who presided 
over its destiny, an atmosphere of "money 
no object." Not that the surroundings sug- 
gested affluence, unless it were an affluence of 
the spirit. There was the undeniable sense 
that the volume which changed hands afford- 
ed, or should afford, the customers an intel- 
lectual profit for which the financial exchange 
was not commensurate. The City Directory had 
his listed as '■bookseller," but to his friends 

he was ill the truest sense the old-time book 

For over forty years Eben Picken held 
this place. His name was not displayed on the 
window, and to those who visited the shop it was 
just "Picken's." The window panes were not 
always free id' dust, and there was no attempt 
at "dressing" the window — featuring the 
wares that were for sale. On a slanting slab 
was a little of everything — books, pamphlets, 
periodical magazines, greeting cards, prints, 
and an odd watereolor or two. The upper panes 
were shaded by sheets of brown paper to 
lower the light in the interior of the old place. 
Up and down the hill Commerce and Finance 
buzz in limousines with liveried drivers — 
worldly success, or the bold front in face of 
ruin. Inside the shop was peace, and in 
browsing among the hooks the outside world 
could be forgotten. 

Books on shelves and in piles, art maga- 
zines, and prints were everywhere — the coun- 
ter littered with bookish material. A visit 
furnished all the thrill of opening a surprise 
packet. There was so much there that might 
not be found elsewhere, and if one showed sin- 
cere interest and some taste one could rum- 
mage without interruption. On the shelf be- 
hind the counter stood a row of framed pic- 
tures and if on occasion you had bought a 
hook devoted to paintings, drawings, or prints. 
Mr. Picken might lay down on the counter 
an etching, mezzotint, or engraving and volun- 
teer a few comments on its excellence, and 
give biographical data respecting the artist. 
For he was an authority on prints and a col- 
lector of taste and discernment. It was obvious 
that it was the older masters who claimed his 
affection — Durer and the men of that time, 
but not to the exclusion of modern schools. 

In literature his taste was catholic and sound. 
He had a fondness for verse, and the writer 
recalls how his interest in John Masefield was 
kindled when a copy of The English Review 
was laid on the counter for perusal. That was 
in the days when the voice of that forceful 
English singer could be heard almost every 
month. That act created a taste for Mase- 
field. Truly in the fullness of time, either 
by personal discovery or on the word of a 
friend, Masefield 's work would have been 
added to my list of admirations, but Mr. Pick- 
en introduced me to him years ago and saved 
me from having to bemoan the fact that I 
found him so late. This great thing can be 
said of Montreal's dead bookman; he has been 
a gentle, tasteful, and consistent propagandist 
of what is worth while in letters. A man of cul- 
ture, he has dealt in books through love of 
them, and not of financial necessity. 



April, 1919. 

When his door was locked for the last time 
it was a distinct loss to book-lovers, but many 
will carry to the end the sense of peace and 
pleasure which could be found there. The re- 
lief the old shop afforded on those Saturday 
afternoons in summer when all who could had 
made for the open spaces, when from the front 
steps the vista ended with foliage grey with 
dust and the silver dome of St. James Cathe- 
dral was seen through a shimmering film, will 
be remembered. Two doors down the hill there 
might be a perspiring tourist reading the 
graven tablet: "Here stood Beaver Hall, Built 
1800, Burnt 1848. Mansion of John Frobisher, 
one of the Founders of the North-West Com- 
pany which made Montreal for years the Fur 
Trading Centre of America." Inside the shop 
it was dim and cool. A band of mellowed light 
rested on counter, shelves, and floor, and be- 
yond to the little back office, where Mr. Picken 
kept his accounts and read his books, there 
was shade. Through the open door in the rear 
a tiny yard flooded with sunlight — an arrange- 
ment in light and shade which would have 
charmed an old Dutch painter. 

While we talked Mr. Picken would be par- 
celling books for Murray Bay, Cacouna, or 
Bic : — the very names letting into the dim shop 
a fleeting glimpse of blue sky, heaving sea, 
golden sands and umber rocks — and to our 
conversation there would be the running sing- 

song accompaniment of Chinamen chatting in 
the laundry next door. Looking out into the 
sun-lit yard one had on the left hand side 
types of a great and ancient race, on the right 
a marble reminder of a great Canadian com- 
mercial venture, and, between the two, aesthe- 
tic satisfaction and content. 

There was about the old shop, its contents, 
and its owner nothing to suggest material com- 
merce, and last of all wholesale hardware, but 
it was in this commodity, with Ferrier and Com- 
pany, that Mr. Picken started his business 
career. Forty odd years ago his taste for things 
literary and artistic became so strong that he 
abandoned hardware for bookselling, and his 
shop soon became a meeting place for kindred 
spirits in Montreal, where he was born in May, 

Ebenezer Picken knew, with the intimacy 
which comes of common tastes, practically all 
of the prominent literary figures of Eastern 
Canada in the last forty years. He had many 
genial and enlightening antedotes to narrate 
concerning them, and as he had himself con- 
siderable skill as a writer, he was often asked 
in his later years to set down his recollections 
in black and white. That he did not do so 
is perhaps mainly due to modesty, that virtue 
which when carried to excess becomes a vice 
and the cause of much loss to the world. 

— ■ ! ■ ' — J> " ' Hl li' i ^iA^ i 

''Mi,, % ^-^mmnmimm WGSim n I 


Eben Picken's Bookshop on Beaver Hall Hill, 

Am-ii. [919. 

CAh \l>l \\ BOOKM I \ 


William Wilfred Campbell 


IN the death of William Wilfred Campbell, 
LL.D., F.R.S.C., of Ottawa, on January 1. 

1918, Canada lost one of the greatest of her 
poets. Although far from being an old man 
when death closed his earthly career, being only 
fifty-seven years of age, he had a long literary 

life. For a whole generation he was recognized 
throughout the Dominion as a national poet. 
From the date of the publication of his first 
book of verse, "Lake 
Lyrics," in 1889, 
he was acknowledg- 
ed to be in the very 
front rank of Can- 
adian singers. His 
place in our literary 
annals will always 
be secure not only 
because of the high 
merit of his work, 
but because he had 
the good fortune to 
belong to w ha 1 
might be called the 
first national group 
of poets in Canada. 
The other members 
of this group were 
Archibald Lamp- 
man, Charles G. D. 
Roberts, Duncan 
Campbell Scott. 
Bliss Carman, and 
Frederick George 
Scott. All of these 
writers with the ex- 
ception of Lamp- 
man, who died on 
February 10, 1899, 
and in whose mem- 
ory Wilfred Camp- 
bell wrote one of the 
finest of his elegies, 
"The Bereavement 
of the Fields," are 
still active in the 
production of 
poetry, and still serenely wear the laurels which 
they won thirty years ago. A younger school 
of writers is now cultivating the art of song in 
Canada, but the names of the above mentioned 
poets are still the most considerable in our lit- 

William Wilfred Campbell was born in Berlin. 
Out., on June 1, 1861. He was the son of Rev. 
Thomas Swaniston Campbell, and came of good 
old Highland stock, belonging to a cadet branch 
of the House of Argyll, and numbering among 
his kinsmen Thomas Campbell, the poet, and 
Henry Fielding, the novelist. Educated at the 
University of Toronto and in Cambridge, Mass., 

— From a paint 


Wilfred Campbell was ordained rector as a 
clergyman of the Church of England in I 
and took charge of a parish first in New Eng- 
land and later in St. Stephen, X.l'». In his 
college days he had developed his taste for let- 
ters, and during the first years of his ministry 
be produced considerable verse. In 1889 he 
launched his initial volume of poetry, his "Lake 
Lyrics," which immediately established his re 

putation as a Can- 
adian singer with a 
distinctive note. It 
was mainly on the 
strength of his ac- 
complishment i n 
•' Lake Lyrics" that 
Sir Wilfrid Lan- 
rier two years later 
found a position for 
him in the Civil Ser- 
vice at Ottawa. 
where he joined the 
Dominion Archives 
Bureau under Dr. 
Doughty. From this 
time onward the 
poet devoted himself 
to the pursuit of 
literature, and the 
long list of publica- 
tions to his credit 
bears witness to his 
industry. He be- 
came a frequent con- 
tributor to such 
publications as the 
Atlantic Monthly. 
Harper's, and the 
Century Magazine, 
and the London 
spectator and Athe- 

During his dis- 
tinguished career as 
poet, antiquarian, 
novelist, dramatist, 
and government of- 
ficial. Wilfred Campbell had his share of hon- 
ors. In addition to wide recognition of his 
poetic powers in the United States and Eng- 
land, and his standing as one of the foremost 
poets of his native land, he was gratified at be- 
ing elected Fellow of the Royal Society o£ Can- 
ada in 1893. Another public honor came his 
way two years later, when he was made a 
member of the Library Committee in connection 
with the Quebec Tercentenary celebration. In 
1907 he was elected a councillor of the Cana- 
dian Society of Historical Landmarks. 

Although Dr. Campbell was not spared to see 
the triumph of the Allies, his soul was greatly 

by J. W. 

L. Forster 



April, 1919. 

moved by the epic struggle. He wrote many 
stirring lyrics, one of which, "The Ballad of 
Langemarck," will rank among his ablest pro- 
ductions. Of all our Canadian poets, Wilfred 
Campbell was the most ardent imperialist. His 
patriotic poems, all of them breathing the most 
intense love for the Motherland as well as for 
Canada, compose at least half of his published, 
and more than half of his unpublished work. 

The following is a bibliography of Dr. Camp- 
bell's poetic writing: "Lake Lyrics" (1889); 
"The Dread Voyage" (1893); "Mordred and 
Hildebrand," tragedies (1895); "Daulac," a 
tragedy (1896) ; "Beyond the Hills of Dream" 
(1899)'; "Collected Poems" (1905); "Poetical 
Tragedies,— Mordred, Daulac, Morning, Hilde- 

brand" (1908;; "Canadian Canticles" (1913); 
"Sagas of Vaster Britain" (1914); "Lange- 
marck, and Other War Poems" (1917). Dr. 
Campbell edited in 1912 "The Oxford Book of 
Canadian Verse," the standard anthology of 
Canadian poetry. 

The prose works of Dr. Campbell include 
"Ian of the Orcades," a romance (1906) ; "Can- 
ada," illustrated by T. M. Martin, R.C.A. 
(1907), "A Beautiful Rebel," a novel (1909), 
and "The Canadian Lake Region" (1910). 

A selected edition of Dr. Campbell's poems, 
including much of his unpublished verse, edited 
by Dr. W. T. Allison of Winnipeg, will shortly 
be published by The Musson Book Company of 

The Foundation of Modern 
Belgian Literature 

De Coster, Charles: "The Legend of the Glorious Ad- 
ventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel," with twenty wood- 
cuts by Albert Delstanche. Dent, Toronto, $2.50. 
(McBride, New York). 

Turquet-Milnes, G.: "Some Modern Belgian Writers: 
A Critical Study." Dent, Toronto, $1 (McBride. 
New Tork). 

MUCH that is at first sight unfamiliar 
and difficult of comprehension in the 
works of Verhaeren, Lemonnier and 
others of the group treated in the very 
instructive little volume of Turquet-Milnes. be- 
comes immediately natural and proper, drops 
into its true place in historical perspective, when 
we have read the flaming tale which Lemonnier 
himself called, with justice, the National Epic 
of Flanders. Nor is it alone the literature of 
Flanders which is made comprehensible by this 
tremendous work: it sheds much light upon the 
sources and nourishment of the spirit of na- 
tional patriotism which has sustained the Flem- 
ish people through centuries of trials such as 
perhaps no other nation, certainly no highly 
civilised nation, has been called upon to en- 
dure. "Tyl Ulenspiegel," which is now for 
the first time (and very beautifully) done into 
English by Geoffrey Whitworth, was first pub- 
lished, in sixteenth-century French (which its 
author maintained was the only language for 
the embodiment of Flemish ideas), in 1867. The 
difficulties of the language, and the fact that 
it was in a limited edition, conspired to prevent 
it from obtaining general recognition, and it 
was not till an edition in modern French was 
issued in 1893, long after the author's death, 
that it began to be hailed as a masterpiece. But 
its effect upon the new generation of Flemish 
writers was immense. It inspired them with 
that motive of the passionate ardor of animal 
life, the eager acceptance of all that the sun, 
the earth, the processes of the physical world, 
have to give, which has been the characteristic 
note of one-half of the school ever since the 
Renascence of Belgian Letters. And no one in 
the entire school has made more lovely poetry 

out of that ardor and that acceptance than 
has Charles de Coster. 

"Tyl Ulenspiegel" is an epic romance of the 
sufferings and the redemption of Flanders un- 
der the yoke of Spain. It deals wholly with 
peasant life, portrayed with the boisterousness 
and vivd humor of Rabelais, but also with an 
idyllic poetry that is more suggestive of the 
Greeks. In the half-dozen passages in which 
kings and priests and great personages are 
shown, they are sharply contrasted with the 
healthy honesty of the peasants, for they are all 
perverts, criminals, tyrants and butchers — as 
indeed they and their class may well have ap- 
peared to the wretched Flemings laboring under 
the yoke. Never perhaps in all literature have 
the virtues of the people, of the peasantry, the 
men and women in touch with the soil, been 
hymned as they are in this epic. 

The same reverence for the energy, the effort, 
the intense animalism of the Flemish peasant 
( celebrated long before in art by the great Flem- 
ish painters) is to be found in most of the 
work of Verhaeren, who next to Maeterlinck is 
the most important personage treated in the 
Turquet-Milnes book. Even the Greek idyl- 
lism turns up again; "the shepherds of Theo- 
critus have come back to live in Flanders." Yet 
there are tremendous differences between the 
naif beauty of the 1867 epic and the restless and 
disquieting philosophic inquiry, which charac- 
terises most of the present-day Belgian writers. 
Rodenbach, Eekhoud, Max Elskamp, Charles 
van Lerberghe, the Destree Brothers, Courouble, 
are all treated with sympathy and understand- 
ing in "Some Modern Belgian Writers," and if, 
like most handbooks, it is somewhat over-con- 
densed, the chief result of that defect will be to 
inspire a keen desire for further information on 
what is certainly one of the most vital and 
important literary movements in the world to- 
il ay, and one which has received an adventitious 
but not undeserved popularity and interest 
from the sufferings of the nation which pro- 
duced it. 

April. L919. 

r.i.v.i/>/ i \ hook ua.\ 


Three Novels by Ibanez 


SPAIN is still almost unexplored territory 
to the generality of novel-readers in 
English speaking countries. The works 
of Russian novelists are to be found 
everywhere, and most people seem to know 
something of Tourgenieff or Dostoieffsky. but 
the Spanish novelists, though a number of their 
books have been translated into English, have 
never, till just, recently, reached any large 
quantity of English readers. That Blasco 
Ibanez, who is not the greatest of the Spanish 
novelists, is coming to a wider popularity is 
due chiefly to the fact that the last of his 
books which has appeared in English i6 a novel 
of the war. 

"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" is, 
in nearly all respects except the language in 
which it was written, a French, rather than a 
Spanish, novel. Not only is the greater part of 
the story placed in France, but the thought and 
feeling throughout seem to be distinctly French 
rather than Spanish. This is particularly no- 
ticeable in the somewhat commonplace love af- 
fair between Jules Desnoyers, the painter, who 
does no painting, and the married woman, Mar- 
guerite Laurier, which is of a stereotyped pat- 
tern common to French novelists. 

The book probably owes the greater part of 
its success to the adventures of Marcel Des- 
noyers, the father, during the battle of the 
Marne. Ibanez. whose anti-German sentiments 
are clear enough here and elsewhere, gives a 
picture of the sacking of Desnoyers' chateau, 
the shooting of the mayor and the cure, and 
the savagery of a part}' of German officers ; and 
yet, for all the vividness, he does not succeed 
in producing the impression that he is describ- 
ing things which he has seen for himself. The 
best and most actual part of the book tells of 
the life of Marcel Desnoyers in Argentina, in 
which country he had taken refuge, as a com- 
munist, at the time of the Franco-German war. 
His father-in-law, Madarriaga, is perhaps the 
most interesting character in the book, and one 
is inclined to wish for more about him and ra- 
ther less about the Parisian life of the grand- 
son, Jules, and his futile friend Argensola. This 
friend, Argensola, is the only true Spaniard in 
the story and would seem to have been brought 
in to show the indifferent attitude of certain 
Spaniards on the question of the war, an atti- 
tude with which the author has evidently no 

A very different Ibanez appears when he 
writes about his countrymen in their own coun- 
try. He gives us not only characters of an 
unaccustomed type, but descriptions of places 
and of the life of the people which should be 
intensely interesting to readers outside of Spain. 
He writes of these things as one who loves them, 

but, for all that, he is a strong advocate of radi- 
calism and anti-clericalism, with a devotion to 
his cause which in always evident, and he gives 
in his stories good reasons for the faith which 
he preaches. 

"Blood and Sand," or "The Blood of the 
Arena," as it is called in another English trans- 
lation, is a story — almost an analysis— of bull- 
fighting. It is a study of the vanity and cow- 
ardice of a bull-fighter, and popular hero, Gal- 
lardo, who after many triumphs in the ring is 
badly wounded by a bull and, on recovering, 
finds that he has lost his nerve. He tries, with 
little success, to work himself back into the 
favor of his public, and is killed on the horns 
of a bull which has only with difficulty been 
persuaded to fight at all. The man is for the 
most part contemptible and serves to convey 
the author's scorn of bull-fights and of the 
people who watch and applaud them, but, with 
all his scorn, Ibanez is evidently Spaniard 
enough to have a very thorough knowledge of 
bull-fighting. The deaths of many bulls and 
the wounding of men and horses are described 
with a completeness of detail which may be- 
wilder, and sometimes disgust, readers who are 
not Spanish. 

The rather scanty story holds together several 
excellent pictures of life and customs other than 
those of the bull-ring. An amusing, though ma- 
licious, description is given of the Holy "Week 
procession at Seville, a pagan mixture of piety, 
or superstition, and wild buffoonery, and we 
get some idea of the ways and adventures of 
boys when they are brought up in a country 
in which a bull-fighter is always a great man. 
Two characters in the book are particularly at- 
tractive. One of these is a marquis who breeds 
bulls for the ring, and is divided between his 
affection for the animals and his pride in the 
glory of their deaths. The other is an old bull- 
fighter, Nacional, who in the intervals of his 
work mixes with radicals and anarchists. As a 
result, while he continues to fight bulls for 
his living, though always with a certain regard 
for his own safety, he looks on bull-fighting, in 
the abstract, with disapproval as something con- 
nected with clericalism and reaction. 

A more interesting book, in every way, than 
either of those just mentioned is "The Shadow 
of the Cathedral." In this Ibanez gives full 
play to his love for his country and its history 
and, at the same time, to his anti-clericalism. The 
whole story passes in the precincts of the cathe- 
dral at Toledo and most of it in the cloister and 
the houses which open on to it. The persons of 
the book are all clergy, servants or hangers-on 
of the cathedral, some of them people whose 
families have been attached to the cathedral for 
generations. A member of one of these fami- 



April, 1919. 

lies, who has wandered about the world, first 
as a Carlist and later as an anarchist, comes 
back, his body worn out by imprisonment at 
Barcelona, to his old home, hoping to find there 
rest and safety from the attentions of the police. 
As he becomes better acquainted with his new 
neighbors he forgets the caution which he had 
imposed on himself and begins to expound his, 
and Ibanez', political views. He expounds at 
considerable length ; there is page after page 
of his speeches, until he becomes as wearisome 
as Tchernoff, the crazy Russian anarchist in 
the "Four Horsemen." The final result of 
his preaching is that his pupils — servants of 
the cathedral and the cobbler, who has his 
house in right of his wife, a member of one 
of the cloister families — attempt to rob a statue 
of the Virgin, decked with jewelry for a festi- 
val, and murder their teacher when he tries to 
prevent them. The festival procession through 
the streets is distinctly more decorous than that 
which is described in "Blood and Sand," but 
Ibanez manages to get some comic effect out 
of it. 

The pictures of the cathedral and its sur- 
roundings are very unequal in quality. At 
times the author seems inspired by the beauty 
of the church and even its ceremonies, at others 
he gives us pages of description which are wor- 
thy only of a guide-book. In spite of his anti- 
clerical views, he is able to write with real en- 
thusiasm of the spectacular part of Spanish 
Catholicism and of the history of the church 
and the glories of its ancient bishops, but he 
wastes little or no sympathy on the clergy or 
the religion which they practice. He takes par- 
ticular delight in describing the fights between 
the Archbishop and the Canons of his cathe- 
dral, and the Archbishop's eventual triumph 

over them. The Cardinal Archbishop himself 
receives a kinder treatment than the other clergy 
in the book, not indeed in his capacity of priest, 
but as a very human old sinner, whose daughter 
passes as his niece. One of the best scenes in 
the book is that in which the Cardinal, cheered 
by a recent victory over his Canons, discusses 
his failings, very frankly, with the old garden- 
er's widow, whose playmate he had been as a 

The charm of the book, apart from the scene 
and the atmosphere, lies in the characters of 
the people who live around the cathedral. There 
is the official who takes charge of the admis- 
sion of visitors to the church and its treasures, 
and does his best to mix sanctimonious pro- 
priety with the business instincts of a show- 
man. There are the cobbler whose function is 
to repair certain giants which had figured in 
processions, the night watchmen, and the boy 
whose chief duty seems to be to drive dogs out 
of the cathedral. Best of them all is the Chapel 
Master, a priest to whom music means far more 
than religion, his true faith being summed up 
in the statement that there is one great Lord 
in the world and two lesser lords, Galileo and 
Beethoven. Ibanez has an evident affection for 
his old musician, whose conversation is delight- 

The diversity of ideas and methods in these 
three books is remarkable ; they show us Span- 
iards of every kind and degree with their good 
and bad qualities. All through them the bright- 
ness of southern sunlight seems to bring cheer- 
fulness into the doings of people as poor and 
primitive as any that are to be found in Rus- 
sian novels. There are elements or "orutality and 
a good deal of superstition, but both seem cov- 
ered up by bright and gay coloring. 

Some Advice for the Dramatic Muse 

Professor "William Lyon Phelps' book, "The 
Twentieth Century Theatre," is more correct- 
ly described by its sub-title, "Observations on 
the Contemporary English and American 
Stage." The Lampson Professor of English 
Literature at Yale is excellent in observation, 
but he has not in this volume made much effort 
to systematise the results of nis note-taking. 
He has, however, a thesis, and a very promising 
one, though he has not succumbed to the temp- 
tation to "work it up"; it is that before there 
can be anything like a diffusion of dramatic 
art in America "there must be a stock com- 
pany in every city, and every company must 
have the right to produce new plays. ' ' This is 
obviously a radical attack upon the present 
system under which a single producer, and often 
a single star actor or actress, enjoys the mon- 
opoly of giving performances of an important 
new dramatic work for year's upon years, as 
Miss Adams (with the connivance of her man- 
ager and the author) has in the case of "What 
Every Woman Knows" and other Barrie plays 

— works of the first importance in the modern 
English theatre, yet which no resident of the 
North American continent can see except the 
two thousand a night, in the larger cities, who 
can present themselves at the theatre where Miss 
Adams happens to be playing; say, 600,000 a 
year out of a population of one Tiundred mil- 
lions. Allowing for holidays, houses of less than 
2,000 capacity and "repeat" visits by some of 
the audience, and under this system it takes 
two years for one per cent of the population to 
get the chance of seeing a new play. 

There are other points of interest and com- 
ments of justice in Professor Phelps' book, 
which will stimulate readers to serious thought 
about the lamentable condition of ptiblic enter- 
tainment on this continent. But we trust that 
the rest of his information is more sound than 
the assertion, apropos of municipal theatres, 
that "In Canada, Port Arthur has had one for 
a long time." Can he be thinking of the other, 
and perhaps in this respect more civilised, city 
of the same name? (Macmillan, Toronto, $1.25.) 

April. 1!M!I. 

C I V.IW I \ i:nnh 1/ I A 


What Fvery Canadian Ought to Know 


THE insularity of England is as nothing 
compared with the insularity of America. 
If most of the inhabitants of North Am- 
erica were candid with themselves, they 
would admit thai their knowledge of the poli- 
ties and history of modern Europe dates from 
1914 or thereafter; and even to-day many of us 
read the dispatches from Europe in the morn- 
ing newspaper with a frequent sense of mysti- 
fication. Yet we have learnt that an incident 
in' an obscure town in the Balkans may affect us 
most intimately and profoundly ; and doubtless 
many of us have come to feel that we ought to 
know more about the contemporary history of 
Europe than we do. 

There have not been lacking hitherto books 
which professed to give a view of European his- 
tory in the nineteenth century ; but most of 
these have been books written for the edifica- 
tion of undergraduates, and did not make easy 
reading. The need for a book suitable, not 
only for the undergraduate, but also for the 
general reader, has now been supplied by Pro- 
fessor J. Salwyn Schapiro of the College of the 
City of New York. His "Modern and Con- 
temporary European History" (Boston: Hough- 
ton Mifflin Company, 1918, pp. xv. 804) is 
worthy of hearty recommendation. Though 
Professor Schapiro 's style does not everywhere 
reach the same high level, the book is for the 
most part brilliantly written. It presents, more- 
over, some revolutionary aspects. In his pre- 
face, which is a sort of historical confession of 
faith, Professor Schapiro says: "Believing that 
the main function of history is to explain the 
present, I planned in writing this book to devote 
increasingly more attention to the periods as 
they approached our own time." His chap- 
ters consequently might almost be described as 
an introduction to the daily papers. In his mode 
of writing history he is equally unconventional, 
and equally happy. He breaks free complete- 
ly from the methods of the mediaeval chronic- 
ler, who has too long cast his spell over modern 
historical writing ; and he disentangles the vari- 
ous threads and strands in the web of history, 
and follows each through to its ending. In this 
way his chapters are self-contained stories. He 
concerns himself, not only with the stock in- 
cidents of political and military history, but 
also with industrial and agricultural history, 
with new movements in thought and in social 

organization, with scientific progress and even 
with literary progress. His method, in fact, 
is topical and encyclopaedic. 

In selecting phases of Professor Schapiro 's 
book which might call for especial notice, one 
is embarrassed by the wealth of choice. A strik- 
ing feature of the book is the admirable chap- 
ter entitled "Revolutionary Labor Movements," 
in which the rise of nineteenth century social- 
ism, anarchism, and syndicalism is described. 
Another interesting chapter is that dealing with 
"The Woman's Movement." Many readers will 
find food for thought in the chapter which bears 
the striking title, "The Expansion of Europe," 
in which the imperialistic projects of the Eu- 
ropean nations in Asia and Africa are brought 
together. Separate treatment is given to the 
"Irish Question" and to "The British Em- 
pire." The sections dealing with literary his- 
tory are, however, perhaps the most novel in 
the book. To devote, as Professor Schapiro 
does, more space to George Bernard Shaw and 
H. G. Wells than to the history of the Domin- 
ion of Canada or to the history of Australia 
and New Zealand put together, must have re- 
quired courage of no mean order ; but one is 
tempted to forgive Professor Schapiro because 
of the brilliance of his comment on the former, 
and the poverty of his treatment of the latter. 
It may be doubted whether Professor Schapiro 
was well advised in including in his book the 
long chapter on "The World War," for, as 
he himself admits in his preface, the history of 
the World War can hardly be written yet ; and 
in his general outline he rather sinks back into 
the manner of the mediaeval chronicler. But 
these are perhaps captious criticisms which 
should not be allowed to abate one's admiration 
for the masterly way in which the book has 
been planned and in which the plan has been 
carried into execution. 

A feature of the book is its remarkable accur- 
acy. In the two pages devoted to Canada there 
are, perhaps inevitably, some half-truths ; but 
there are no actual errors, a statement which, 
to be candid, can be made about few books 
dealing with Canada published in the United 
States. The proof-reading has been carefully 
done; the book is illustrated with some good 
maps; there is a very useful bibliography and 
an adequate index. 





April, 1019. 


T is worth while climbing— in order to fall. 

Religion was created in order that men 
might dissent. 
The inevitable is what we did not try to 

If Paris had eaten the apple, Troy might still 
be standing. 

Emotion is the sounding-board on which we 
strike mostly discords. 

Innocence differs from ignorance in that it 
is not vulgar ; both are equally fatal to the pro- 

The reason women love dissimulation is that 
it acts as a stimulant to their intuitive facul- 

History is strewn with social failures, but the 
world goes on striving. 

It is the triumph of hopes over fears which 
sustains the faith that makes for the progress 
of the world. 

Most people receive their beliefs ; they do not 
form them. A widely-diffused mental inde- 
pendence would be the death of social unity. 

The value of history lies in its negations; it 
teaches us what not to do. 

Partial knowledge is never more fatal than 
when it precipitates conclusions in regions that 
lie deep in shadow. 

The world groans between dead common- 
place and abortive originality. Progress lies 
between ideas and systems that will no longer 
serve, and social states that cannot be discerned 
even afar off. 

Formality and convention are necessary, but 
they are the ministers of seemliness rather than 
of feeling. Feeling may go along with them, 
but feeling has its own sanctions. 

Between those who think that the lighter side 
of life is life, and those who believe that what 
men chiefly need is definite instruction on seri- 
ous but inscrutable things, the world is well 

There is such a thing as sanity ; it is the mean 
between the conventionalism which accepts 
everything that is established, and the unreason- 
ing revolt against everything because it is es- 

What would happen if men were agreed as 
to what is important and what is not important 
is almost unthinkable ; there is a sense in which 
the world, as we know it, would come to an end. 

The principle that "it is expedient for us 
that one man should die for the people" is a 
social principle which sacrifices the few to the 
many; it is the refuge of an uneasy self -right- 
eousness which knows its own secrets. 

It is a mental attitude not inconsistent with 
sincerity to realise that our certainties are not 
the measure of things, and that the stress of 
our emotions may be laid on what is least veri- 
fiable and most ready to vanish away. 

Authority is a human necessity ; sound au- 
thority is the foundation of progress. In mat- 
ters of social concern, we cannot, except at a 
price, have people thinking, and, as often logic- 
ally follows, acting for themselves, irrespective 
of their competence. 

It seems that superstition is necessary, or, 
which is the same thing, inevitable ; those who 
think that it is not have to explain why it has 
played such a tremendous part in the world, 
and why no age, and it may almost be said, no 
human being, is free from it. 

Nations, like individuals, go on building an 
edifice of material prosperity, and concurrently 
with it they undergo a psychological evolution. 
In what fashion they evolve is of consequence, 
for in spite of self-appreciation, self-content, 
and even external praise, the gifts of fortune 
carry with them no moral implications. 

Serious things belong to serious people; and 
there has never been a nation which contained 
more than a serious minority. In any sense 
which takes account of interests not personal 
and immediate, the majority of men are not 
serious; and quite apart from individual char- 
acter, there is much in their education and cir- 
cumstances which explains why they are not. 
The mass of men are unthinking, and many of 
them are worse ; it is still true that nations are 
saved by a just remnant, and it is a part of wis- 
dom to bear, without too much vexation, follies 
that have a long pedigree. 

The necessary absorption in material cares is 
to most people nine-tenths of life; what is im- 
portant for them is to survive. It is when this 
necessity has been surmounted, and when we 
reach a region of choice, that social observation 
widens. It is a region that has been surveyed 
from the earliest times — upon which philoso- 
phers, satirists, saints and sages have had their 
say. Their agreement is wonderful ; it may be 
compendiously stated in the proposition that 
most people who have freedom and opportunity 
are concerned for unimportant things. They 
do not know how to live, and they have a very 
imperfect appreciation of, and generally a total 
indifference to all that makes for the general 

April. 1919. 

V I \ l/'/.l.\ i:ool< I/. I \ 


A world of unselfish and bumble men would 
be the negation of elements of civilization, 
which, whatever their drawbacks, have tended 
to the development of society from social struc- 
tures that had drawbacks still greater. The 
world has progressed through striving, and the 
outcome of individual and collective striving is 

There are sentiments and emotions that cost 
little, that are pleasurable or comforting in 
themselves; as aids to self-deception they have 
a well-established reputation. Spurious forms 
of loyalty, of patriotism, and of religion, have 
a common pedigree — they are equally founded 
in vanity, superstition, and self-pleasing. It is 
not possible to have virtues that are inexpen- 
sive, and to stand well above the crowd. 

•The lines of progress are many, and enthu- 
siasts are not well fitted to take full account of 
them. They are fated to illusions that may be 
termed beneficent, because they give them 
power to do the work to which they seem to be 
called. Only those who are unable to form some 
idea of the procession of man through the ages 
will be ready to assign a more than relative 
value to the enthusiasms of even the greatest 
reformers. Experience, which tests all things, 
enables us to recognise that it is not every truth 
that is for all time. Movements that appear to 
have in them the promise and potency of the 
millennium are seen to be mere links in an end- 
less chain. The religious, moral, and political 
movements that stir men are pregnant with 
great hopes, but between hope and realisation is 

a gap that is never bridged. By the slow ac- 
tion of many forces, the conditions of all prob- 
lems are changed, and new adjustments, new so- 
lutions, and new prophets arise. 

Suspicion, in its social aspect, is a form of 
precaution begotten of experience. Men know 
their own motives, and they know, more or less, 
one another. What people do, and refrain from 
doing, is judged, not so much by what they pro- 
fess, as by what it is thought they must be aim- 
ing at. "Now what does he mean by that," 
said a diplomat, when he heard that a colleague 
was ill. There are simple explanations of things 
that are not in the least incredible, but there 
are persons much too astute to accept them; they 
know better; in spite of all appearances. 
Whether the tendency be towards favorable or 
unfavorable 'estimates of human nature, the 
mental medium through which men and events 
are seen colors everything. Readiness of sus- 
picion, or the reverse, is thus a part of tempera- 
ment. Obviously in this, as in so many matters, 
prudence lies between extremes, which is only 
another way of saying that the right use of sus 
picion belongs to the insight which takes men 
in the mass to be neither wholly good nor 
wholly bad, and which recognises that as be- 
tween individual men, there are important dif- 
ferences. As there is no general rule for being 
wise and discerning, so there is no rule for be- 
ing suspicious at the proper time and place. 
Hence both excess and defect of a quality that 
plays a necessary part in social and individual 
preservation ; between misplaced trust and un- 
founded mistrust lies the tragedy of life. 

The Island of Intrigue 

An island is the ideal setting for a mystery, 
marvel or romance, because almost anything 
can consistently happen on an island if it is 
small enough. Possibly that is why Isabel Os- 
trander chose that little piece of wild, almost 
unin<habited land off the Coast of Maine — 
Hog's Back Island by name — as the stage for 
her story, "The Island of Intrigue." The tell- 
er of the tale, who is also the heroine, is an in- 
genuous young millionairess with no one in the 
wide world to love her (when the book opens) 
but an adoring, though eternally busy father 
who, on the first page, disappoints her hope of 
accompanying him on a long trip he is about 
to make. Because of this, the unfortunate girl 
sees the desolate prospect stretching before her 
of spending the summer with a stupid, rich fam- 
ily she hasn 't seen for years and years, not since 
she was a little girl. They were nice when they 
were poor, and she was little, but she soon dis- 
covers that they have grown unaccountably 
vulvar and horrid. Altogether, she has a per- 
fectly abominable time, and we don't know what 
she would have done if it hadn't been for that 

delicious young man who "happened" exactly 
at the right time. It was a most fortunate co- 

The fair young heroine lures you along to the 
middle of. the book before you discover that it 
is a mystery tale you are reading, and that 
there is a murder, and a lot of real horrid 
criminals in the story — half a dozen of them, in 
fact. She is very young, the heroine — Oil Well 
Waring 's daughter, very young and trusting 
and unversed in the world's ways, but those 
people who are trying to frighten a million dol- 
lars out of her father soon learn that she is a 
lot cleverer than they counted upon her being. 
That's what spoilt their plan, of course, that and 
the young man's presence. The book has in- 
genuous, unpretentious simplicity, and healthi- 
ness. There is hardly an obvious page of love, 
yet love flows along, like a hidden understreani, 
through all the last chapters, welling up very 
occasionally with a little bubble. In the end 
too, Justice has her way with all the wicked 
ones in a most satisfying manner. (Dent, To- 
ronto, $1.50.) 



April, 1919. 

Novelists, Pulpits and False Doctrines 

Gale, Zona: "Birth." Macmillan, Toronto, $1.60. 

Grey, Zane: "The Desert of Wheat." Musson, Toronto. 
$1.50. (Harper. New York). 

White, William Allen: "In the Heart of a Fool." Mac- 
millan, Toronto, $1.60. 

THE yearning of the American novelist 
to ascend into the pulpit and preach a 
sermon is usually insuperable; and the 
American public, not long emancipated 
from the church-going habit and still inclined to 
like being preached at, if it can lie on a soft sofa 
in the parlor during the process, seems to like to 
hear the text given out and the cushions thump- 
ed. But there is none of your old gospel in the 
preaching; it must be the new stuff, with all 
the latest catchwords; and very sour and un- 
matured some of it is. Mr. William Allen 
White is by antecedents a journalist, which 
merely shows that the born preachers are more 
and more realising that there are better pulpits 
than those in the churches. He must undoubted- 
ly have preached unintermittently in the col- 
umns of the Emporia (Kas.) Gazette; and he is 
now preaching to a much larger and hungrier 
audience in a series of American novels, of 
which the best-known to date is "A Certain Rich 
Man." It will be noted that he takes his titles 
from the same source as his forbears did their 
texts. The New York Sun says his new novel, 
"In the Heart of a Fool."" will "profoundly 
affect the thoughts and feelings of many who 
read it and so will alter their lives." It is cer- 
tainly addressed to those who want to have 
their thoughts and feelings affected, to the type 
of people who go to revivals for just that pur- 
pose ; but we hope that it will not largely achieve 
its purpose, for it seems to us that the doctrine 
which it teaches is decidedly dangerous. It is 
an enormous book — 615 pages — and very loose- 
ly and raggedly written, but it contains in pass- 
ages a very picturesque and eloquent denuncia- 
tion of constituted authority (authority fallen 
into evil hands, it is true, but authority none 
the less) and holds up to a somewhat sentiment- 
al and undistinguishing reverence the very type 
of impractical visionary who, in Russia and 
elsewhere, is at this moment making the world 
a place of horror, disorder and disorganization. 
Mr. White is essentially a revolutionary, and a 
sentimental revolutionary, and therefore in some 
measure a dangerous man. His contribution 
to literature is, like many another modern Am- 
erican novel, the contribution of a man who 
has no faith in the institutions of the United 
States to preserve justice, liberty and the inter- 
ests of the community ; and he therefore por- 
trays, not merely as a psychologically interest- 
ing thing (there is no artistic detachment about 
any of his writings), hut as a highly desirable 
thing, the efforts of his strike leaders, his pro- 
phets of the new social gospel, his wielders of 
■"spiritual forces," to defy the courts and in- 

voke a physical conflict with the military. Of 
course the courts and the military authorities 
are represented in the blackest colors, as the 
slaves of the "interests," but that is the inevit- 
able argument of the revolutionary. If the 
courts were just and the authorities honest, 
what excuse would there be for revolution ? 

Perhaps the best thing to be said for Mr. 
White is that he makes out so poor an excuse 
for revolution anyhow, for his "fool" is so vis- 
ibly a fool and so little a prophet of real pro- 
gress, that it is difficult to sympathise with 
him. The Zane Grey novel, on the other hand, 
belongs emphatically to the anti-revolutionary 
school, and is chiefly devoted to the misdeeds of 
the T.W.W. in the Western wheat country. It is 
vividly told, and its love episodes are pleasant 
and intelligible, which is more than can be said 
for Mr. White's, in whose pages love is much 
the same rampant and incomprehensible mon- 
ster as in the amorphous novels of Will Leving- 
ton Comfort. It is interesting and significant 
that the revolutionary theme, though treated 
so differently, should form the subject of both 
of these important novels of the American sea- 

In Zona Gale's "Birth" we come into much 
calmer and more artistic atmosphere. It is an- 
other study of village life, but with something of 
the seriousness and breadth of view of the Eng- 
lish novelists — a far more important, if per- 
haps less popular, piece of work than the 
"Friendship Village" tales. It is not a cheer- 
ful tale. It is a picture of very weak, bewild- 
ered, unadapted human souls, beating in baffle- 
ment against sordid, spiritless monotony of an 
American village, against the narrow walls of 
a species of community which has failed to keep 
up with the expansion of modern life, against 
the lack of opportunity, of beauty, of reason- 
ableness — against all the things that for two 
generations past have made existence in most 
villages on this continent a nightmare and driv- 
en hundreds of thousands of villagers into the 
pitiless, overcrowded, unhealthy cities: But 
Miss Gale draws these poor futile wretches, 
both men and women, with an intensity of 
sympathy that lifts their story almost to the 
level of tragedy. And she has a true poet's 
grasp of the immense significance, the beauty 
the redeeming power of Death, even the death 
of the lowliest of men and women. The prob- 
lem that this book deals with is a great one, 
no less than the opening of the possibility of a 
full, rich, human life to millions of people on 
this continent. And "Birth" is an important 
document for its study, to be read along with 
the "Spoon River Anthology" and the current 
volumes on The Problem of Village Life in 

April. 1919. 



Work for the Anthologist 


MacDonald, Wilson: "The Song i>f The Prairie Land, 
am! Other Poems," with Introduction by Albert 

E. S. Smyth.' McClelland and Stewart. Toronto, 
Holland, Norah: "Spun- Yarn and Spindrift." Dent. 
Toronto, $1. 

Hueffer, Ford Madox: "On Heaven, and Other Poems. 
Written on Active Service." Dent. Toronto, $1.25. 


. MacDONALD has written an extra- 
ordinary book of verse whose merits 
and demerits are alike extreme, so that 

the ony fair way to review it is at some 


The "Prelude*' at onee shows one of his 
gifts, the use of odd rhymes from which the sense 
is not often wrenched : 

The other traced and interlaced 

By the strange fancy of a Dorian 

Was sloped and curved to a woman's waist, 

And worthy the pen of a grim historian. 

but equally it shows his faults, a lack of struc- 
ture, and loose imagery. It sets out to contrast 
two jugs, one hewn from wood, the other of 
Greek pottery, and Caneo wonders from which 
he shall drink. The poet then declares himself 
to be Caneo, and the jugs types of the muse, 
rough or highly finished, but, speaking in his 
own person, he brings in a third : 

This is the poel 's Bell ; to know 

I low rich a thing is Ins song's treasure; 
To stand at night i nthe wind flow, 
In a pure hour of leisure, 

though T could scan: 

This is the poet's Hell; to know 
How rich a thing is his song's treasure; 
To stand at night in the windy flow, 
In the purest hour of leisure, 

Mr. MacDonald may reply that I am taming 
his metres. Not at all. The next four lines 
read : 

To call to his children and find 

His voice is a broken chord 

That is weary from calling all day in the wind : 

"This hour's bread, Lord," 

different, but not club-footed. 

"A Song to Canada" has his first purple 
patch : 

And here is my grief that no longer she cares 

For the tumult that crowds in a rune 

When the white curving throat of a cataract 

In a song to the high floating moon, 

marred only by the elliptical use of "bares." 
He means "lies bare," but that will neither fit 
the line nor rhyme with "cares." I leave it to 
him to re-write it to match this: 

Or a basin of rock, by the sea flavored 
Shall be the cup I fill. 

and the parallelism ends. These lines also show 
a recurring metrical deficiency. The preced- 
ing lines alone demand : 

Or. a basin of rock by the salt sea flavored, 

while a "wisp of juice" is not a trope as is 
Francis Thompson's 

I see the crimson blazing of thy shawms. 

Mr. MacDonald is very fond of his "wisp," 
which in "The Cry of The Song Children" be- 
comes one of bread, but this is as bad, and I 
cannot scan : 

But this is my grief that no longer she cares 
For the old wounding message of truth 
That sounds on the lips of a poet, who dares 
Look under the rouge of her youth, 

less fine imagery, but better verse. 

Unfortunately, the more ambitious he is, the 
less sufficient his craftsmanship, as is seen in 
"A Poet Stood Forlorn": 

Brings warmth that droops in drowsiness the 

is not happy, though defensible, with "droop" 
as an active verb. 
The lines preceding 

Toward the mystic haunt where Beauty dwells 

require "to-ward" which is horrifying. 


( \ I SAD 1. 1 N BOOKMAN 

April, 1919. 

'Twas imperfection \s gain 

That split this elm and made it grow in twain. 

is a good image for the "beauty of ugliness," 
except that he does not mean the "gain" split 
the elm, but that a split elm gains by its very 
lack of symmetry a strange, new beauty. 
Immediately after this comes: 

In one famed park, that sires a perfect craft, 

of which, first, a park can do no such thing, sec- 
ond, his ears were stuffed with wool when he 
wrote "park" and "craft" in one line. 

These are not all the offences in six pages; 
but, though I have noted, with just qualifica- 
tions, the good, I have not done equal justice to 
the bad, lest I should seem to pay tithe of mint, 
etc., and to omit the weightier matters of the 
law, which are, besides judgment, mercy and 

The "Song of The Snowshoe Tramp" aims 
less high and almost hits the mark. The "wisp" 
turns up once more, but lest my criticism seem 
waspish, this time it is of "thread." There is 
here a good example of his carelessness : 

We carried the shoes to the marge of the town, 
To the edge of a still white moor; 

Now "marge" suggests a wide space, e.g., the 
marge of the great deep, and if he were to write : 

We carried the shoes to the edge of the town, 
To the marge of a still white moor, 

he would gain the alliteration of the t 's and d 's 
in the first, of the m's in the second line, and 
also would make the town stand out sharply 
limited against the larger picture of the moor 
conjured up by the word "marge." 

Next comes "The Whip-poor-will" with line's 
as fine as: 

Limned on a leaden sky, the huddled trees 
Stand like the evil dregs in some black drink, 

and as bad as: 

Listing thy song waves plash a velvet shore, 

but I will this time attempt to analyse struc- 
ture instead of detail. 

The Whip-poor-will is appropriately invoked, 
"Sad Minstrel," etcs., but it has a load on its 
conscience, and is made to wait till night to un- 
burden it. There is no harm in this, for the 
Whip-poor-will is of course Mr. MacDonald. 
But the sun of mercy has just died with the 
last golden ray. which brings in the gloomy, 
but purple, patch above. 

The scene is now set, and the bird sings its 
"one simple song" to the "silent copse," while 
the poet "on a hill, in pensive mood" stands 
"listing," and he then reflects: 

Oft hath Selene, in the vale of sheep, 
Fondling her fair Endymion, as he lay 
Pillowed where tearful grasses nightly weep, 
Pled with Tacita through thy bowers to stray, 
And warn thee lest thy lay 
Should rouse her lover from his dreamful 

And angry, often hath she, knowing thou 
Dost Phoebus fear, to trick thee it was morn. 
Burnished her chariot's prow, 

and the complications and bad verse begin. I 
presume the Whip-poor-will was once guilty of 
disturbing Selene's enjoyment of Endymion, 
though why it should be charged with this I can- 
not fathom, save that the poet elsewhere loves 
to wrap his tongue round every syllable of 
Selene, though the clue is possibly in the last 
three lines, the poet reflecting, "when Selene 
heard this bird, she would have liked to wring 
its neck," but the reflection is an interruption. 
However, he goes on : 

When Eurus drives the first reluctant light, 
With all Apollo's pageantry behind — 
A dew-imbibing cortege — and the Night 
Staggers to some black recess, stricken blind, 

(note the wrong accentuation of "recess") 

Full various are the kind 
That tune a medley for the exiled king. 
And so, doth man not woo his minstrelsy 
At flush of power ; doth every bard not sing 
When Pomp and might pass by? 

Greater I deem is that attempt to thrill 
The hour of gloom with deliquescent call. 

Apparently the thought is that while Man 
usually hails Apollo, the Whip-poor-will does 
better to "brave the pall of this Cerberian 
Hall," though this clashes with "tuning a med- 
ley for the exiled king," i.e. Night, not Apollo; 
yet that this is the meaning seems clear from 
these lines : 

Like thine our noblest utterance hath been 
Out-bugled through the hours with shadows 

and then the poet, after calling fancy fickle, 
describes how the bird first seemed like one of 
the foolish virgins, then to wear a robe of cour- 
age as it sang through the increasing gloom : 

Fancy must play; did pierce thine ebon sphere 
Some soldier, broken parcel of lost poweT, 
I doubt not he would hear 

April, L919. 

CANADIAN I'.ooK i/.l V 

Thee calling back to line the craven band 
Thai hushed their Bonga before the cuirassed 

Like some more ardent lover of his land 
Who hails bark fleeting soldiers to their nark. 
Like thine his cry: hark! 
Like is thy note, so fraught with dull despair. 
(Too full already is that frory bed.) 
And thou dost call as vainly through oight air 
As he calls o'er his dead. 

and the idea that if a soldier could picture the 
same scene as the poet, he would imagine the 
Whip-poor-will calling back the birds afraid 
of darkness, as he would rally his men, is orig- 
inal, though the execution ("did pierce," the 
abrupt run-on to "some soldier," and, worse 
from "hear" to "thee calling) is atrocious, 
while the transition from the seventh to the 
last line is certainly sudden. 

This is the second ,and last interruption, and 
the poet reverts to his opening mood: 

To-night again I lie on that green isle, 

but it is not strange that he has forgotten he 
commenced "listing" on a hill, though he re- 
members the bird was troubled: 

If we like thee, dear, gentle bird, could sing 
Away our sorrow in the dark alone, 

but the last stanzas are clear, if weak : 

But we must face the multitude and smile 
Though Anguish leaneth on the heart's strained 

which is worse than Ella Wheeler Wilcox's 

"Trapper One and Trapper Two" is a tale 
of two trappers who loved the same girl. She 
dies, bequeathing to One a locket. One dies, 
charging Two to bury it with him (under pen- 
alty of a curse) — an "old song re-sung": 

And the day you find me lifeless, in this cabin 

gently search 
For a testament to prove my words to men. 
Should they challenge truth you'll find 
Foil to parry in a pocket. 
When you reach it, pray unwind 
Someone's hair within a locket. 
Hold it to mine eyes grim socket : I shall see it, 

dead and blind. 
Would you grant a dead man bliss, press it to 

my lips to kiss : 
Though I 'm dead I swear I '11 kiss it with a dead 

man's sacred kiss. 

Touch thy glass to mine, comrade, who know 

sorrow such as mine : 
Legion of the hopeless lovers! drink with me 

this bitter wine. 

1 pass over "Otus and Bismol, " in which Otus 

is the flesh and Rismel the soul, because I found 
myself as incapable as the pool of remembering 
which was which, and quote from the entirely 
delightful "Whist-Wheel": 

And over the hills I went. 
And a gentle mound 
I found; 

Like some fairy's lost pillow upon the ground, 
And I knelt on my knee, 
And wrote on the sand, 
With a sorrowing hand: 
"Little brown Dee 
Sleeps here by the sea : 
All ye who pass 

"Mary Mahone" is more of a poet's ballad 
than the others, commencing: 

A Poet in soul is our Mary Mahone: 
She walks with a sweetheart when walking 

but the rest of it is only pretty. 

I have nearly overlooked "At the Ford": 

Who now shall fear to journey where the feet 
Of all our noble dead have ferried forth ? 
The solemn air that fans the tragic ford 
Is sweet with their remembrance. They have 

To light the temples of a fading star 
Against our lonely passing, 

a strain sustained for thirty lines, when the 
poet is once more swallowed up in the "exuber- 
ance of his own verbosity." 

The concluding poem is "Peace": 

Flow, flag, in the soft wind ; blow, bugle, blow ; 
The day we dreamed of through the years is 

Lowered is Mars ' red spear ; 
And the shot-peopled air, 
Tired of the wild trumpet's blare, 
Tired of the upturned, glassy eyes of men, 
Is quiet again. 

Discord has fled with her gigantic peals. 
And, at her heels, 

Walks the old silence of the long ago. 
Flow, flag, in the soft wind ; blow, bugles, blow, 

and the likening of peace to a great silence 
after a great noise is fine of itself, and the line 
in which the thought is embodied is also very 
fine, but there are other fine lines here: 

I see the hours quaff up a mother's tears 
As the sun drinks dew upon a Devon hed<?e. 



April, 1919. 

The gun that camouflaged her brutal throat 
In Bourlon's thicket 

Shall dream to-night in wonder at the note 
Of some lone cricket. 

And that vast company we call the dead 
Shall know the flag of peace flies overhead 
Because of the new lightness of our tread. 

and there was no need to borrow thunder from 
McCrae's famous lyric, and the last four lines 

are banal. 

The indiscriminate Introduction, bracketing 
this poet with Keats, naturally reminds me of 
Gif ford's review. We are now told that Gif- 
ford was blind to genius. Of course, he might 
have seen some of "Endymion V purple patch- 
es. It is easy to be wise after the event. I there- 
fore plead that I have praised Mr. MacDonald's 
purple patches, and dare say that if he pays as 
much attention to my blame as Keats did to 
Gif ford's scorching, we may have another 
"Hyperion." The flashes here are blazing, and 
the poet's own. We are told he designed the 
cover of his book, and writes operas, libretto, 
score and scenery, all by himself. Judging from 
his verse, he has a streaky sort of genius in all 
the arts, but he needs much more self-criticism. 

Miss Holland's first volume of verse taken 
as a whole, falls definitely into the category of 
belles lettres. 

This, rightly understood, is not doing it any 
injustice; for belles lettres and minor poetry 
(which are not the same thing) comprise that 
field in which those random flowers grow for 
the gathering of garlands. The major poet, in 
his greater complexity, is like a tree whose roots 
run down into the earth, and whose branches 
spread upwards towards the sky. 

The Greeks with their exquisite sense of the 
fitness of things recognised this by plucking 
the flowers for their anthologies and leaving 
the branches upon their mighty stem. 

If to-day the giants of the forest are few, 
never were there so many or sweeter flowers; 
and the true anthologist (not he who makes 
selections from the work of major poets), light- 
ing upon this book, will more than once delight- 
edly exclaim, "And here is another!" Such 
a flower is "The Little Dog-Angel." 

Criticism of work of this nature seems not 
only ungenerous, but beside the mark ; yet be- 
cause there are hints of greater ambitions, it 
must be attempted, however delicately. 

One positive merit of Miss Holland's verse is 
that it is, as verse, good. There is "ope" once 
in a line in which "open" would read just as 
easily, and "yore" somewhere else, and "neath" 
somewhere else again, but these blemishes are 
few. Most of the stock phrases are avoided. 
These are things for which to be thankful. Yet, 
on the other hand, there are few touches such as 

"the medicine of your gladness" in "0 Littlest 
Hands and Dearest." One swallow does not 
make a summer, and a purple patch does not 
make a poet ; but as the swallow is the herald 
of summer, so the purple patch gives promise 
of the imperial pomp. There is hardly an unex- 
pected phrase. 

As there is too little individual accent in the 
phrase, so there is too little new in melody. 
There are frank imitations such as "The Gen- 
tlemen of Oxford, ' ' and others, with which there 
can be no quarrel. But this conscious imitation 
has unfortunately led to unconscious imitation, 
notably in "Sea-Song" (Masefield's "Sea- 
Fever"). "The Last Voyage" (Masefield's 
"D'Avalos' Prayer"), "Ships of Old Renown" 
(Masefield's "Cargoes"), "A Song of Erin" 
(Ethna Carberry's "The Passing of the Celt"), 
less so in "The Remittance Men" (Kipling 
echo), "In Arcadie" (Noyes echo), while es- 
pecially subtle is the relation between Miss Hol- 
land's Celtic poems and those of Yeats, "A.E." 
and Fiona MacLeod. 

It is well that Miss Holland has such good 
taste as to choose these poets for her models ; 
but it is ill that we see so clearly not what she 
is, but what she prefers. 

There is promise in the variety of things at- 
tempted in this book, but of none of them can 
we say (as of most of Marjorie Pickthall's 
"Drift of Pinions"), "No one else could have 
written that!" 

Miss Pickthall is a true, though limited poet, 
because all but a few of her poems represent her 
own spiritual experience, not merely her taste. 
This gives to her poetry as a whole a certain 
stamp as evident as that of any of the major 
poets whose experience of life is more complex. 
This stamp is the all-important thing. With- 
out it one has hardly even a minor poet, but 
only minor verse, or, as we have said, belles 

If Miss Holland can look more into her own 
soul, and less into books, and exhibit the same 
variety in a more deeply personal manner, 
there will be a unity in that variety which will 
make her more a poet, and less a writer of 
poems — a distinction not without a difference. 
As it is, we shall be happily content to re- 
vert to our initial figure of speech, and to gather 
another flower or two before we go. 

"Our Dead" is a very fine poem indeed, one 
of which anyone might be proud. "Newbury 
Town" is an equally fine ballad. Of the Celtic 
poems, "Easter 1917 In Memoriam Thomas 
MacDonagh" is the most convincing. 

We have chosen all "strong" poems — not be- 
cause it is our preference (we yield to no one 
in our appreciation of Celtic wistfulness when 
it is not second-hand), but because we believe 
that Miss Holland's originality inclines towards 
strength, and we would encourage what is orig- 
inal rather than what is derived. 

Canadian poetry has been either so neglected 
or has received such extravagant praise, that a 
reflective review such as this which we have at- 

April, 1919. 



tempted may mislead some readers, and we 
therefore add thai Miss Holland's booh is one 
to be bdught. 

Mr. Hueffer, confessing that he lias written 
prefaces enough, nevertheless defies once more 
the proverb that qui s'excust s' accuse, and pub- 
lishes his verses with a preface in which be says. 
"The greater part of this book is, I notice on 
putting it together, in either vers libr< or rhym- 
ed vers libre. I am not goinj: to npologise for 

tli is or to defend vers libre as such 

Vers libre is the only medium in which I can 
convey my more intimate moods. Vers librt 
is a very jolly medium in which to write and to 
read, if it bo read conversationally and quietly. 
And anyhow, symmetrical or rhymed verse is 
for me a cramped and difficult medium — or an 
easy and uninteresting one. But 1 certainly 
don't put the things forward with any jaunty 
air or fling them in the faces of the critics." 

Such a sophisticated writer as Mr. Hueffer 
will hardly expect lis to accept this charming 
naivete with equal insouciance, and according- 
ly, undisarmed by it, let us pass judgment on 
the work so introduced. 

That it is generally strong, and often of great 
beauty may be gladly admitted, and all the 
more therefore does one regret the prosaic leav- 
en in the poetic lump. 

Setting aside all questions of rhythm, it is an 
infinite pity that "Antwerp" should be par- 
ticularly ruined by such a line as "Oh poor 
dears!" That is to debase pity to bathos, or to 
be insensible to the incongruous. 

It is a striking book because the raw material 
of poetry is inherently superior to mere versi- 
fication, and the imaginative quality of the book 
is very high, though more flashing than sus- 

Yet compare "Footsloggers" to Masefield's 
"August, 1914," both treating of the love of 

one's land, and the difference between irripre 
sioiis which are merely jotted down and those 

which arc brooded upon is very apparent. 

Again, take the title-poem. <>nc appreciates 
Mr. Hueffer's prejudice against a merely for- 
mal symmetry, and that the poet who essays it 
is more often the slave than the inheritor of 
tradition; nevertheless one cannot but feel on 

reading this poem that it would not have been 
emasculated if Mr. Hueffer had availed him- 
self of the legacy left by Francis Thompson, 

whose odes (and Mr. Hueffer's poems are odic 
in form) exhibit every variety in length of line, 
ami. while reasonably free in rhythm, never be- 
come so lax as to be prose. One inevitably com- 
pares this poem to the first part of "Sister 
Songs," a not less personal poem than Mr. 
Hueffer's, to his disadvantage. 

It is not a coincidence that the loveliest parts 
of Mr. Hueffer's poems do not stumble, but 
sin"; — that they are not vera libre; for poetry- 
is not "jolly." that is, colloquial; but intense 
and lyrical. 

That Mr. Hueffer can rise altogether above 
colloquial impressioniam, and can conjure be- 
fore us in a few lines a vision of a world brood- 
ed upon in the imagination, is amply seen in 
"A Solis Ortus Cardine . . ." 

No doubt Mr. Hueffer has realised his inten- 
tions equally in all the poems mentioned, but 
one wishes that his intentions had more often 
been directed towards the achievement of 
beauty as well as vitality, as in the last named 
poem: the former need not exclude the latter. 

However, at least mere prettiness has been 
avoided ; much that is lovely has been enshrin- 
ed : far more lines are metrical than are not; 
and if violence has sometimes been mistaken for 
strength, it is a <rood fault. 

The Incapacities of Democracy 

The incapacity of a democratic community 
for acting as the owner of a complicated piece 
of business mechanism like a steam railway has 
never been more vigorously portrayed than by 
the pseudonymous author of "52 Questions on 
the Nationalization of Railways," a booklet of 
125 small pages bearing the signature of ' ' Fa- 
bius" and published by Dent, Toronto. It is 
a dramatic statement, with appropriate illustra- 
tions, of the doctrine that profit and advance- 
ment — more money or more power, authority 
and responsibility — are the sole reliable incen- 
tives for getting a man's best work out of him, 
and that where there is no definite connection 

between effort and this kind of reward, effort 
will not be made. A recent school of economists 
answer this doctrine by the assertion that the 
motive of "service" — of doing good to others, 
or to the commuuit.v — may be made equally 
powerful, and that Public Ownership, by call- 
ing on the motive of service and eliminating 
the selfish motives, will get the very best that 
men have in them. It is an interesting contro- 
versy, but the side of Socialism will have to 
work hard to produce as clever a statement of 
its case as this statement of the side of Individ- 
ualism, of the Selfish Motive as the Mainspring 
of Progress. 



April, 1919. 

God, Conduct and Revelation 

By J. E. WARD 

Adler, Felix: "An Ethical PhiK-ophy of Life." Ap- 
pleton, New York, $3. 

Sellars, Roy Wood, Ph.D.: "The Next Step in Re- 
ligion." MacMillan, Toronto. $2. 

Bryant, Dr. Sophie: "How to Read the Bible in the 
Twentieth Century." Dent, Toronto, $1.25. 

TO weigh life and to explore its field of 
action and reaction is ever interesting. 
To do so in company with one at once so 
reverently frank and frankly reverent as 
Dr. Adler is a privilege well worth while. We 
can but have deep respect for one who, in his 
own words, finding his Mosaic religion but 
truly a religious mosaic, feeling his faith of ex- 
perience to have outgrown his faith of youth, 
considered it but honorable to pass on into a 
fuller quest. 

Such a mind is hardly patient of the idea ot 
finality in religion, whether Hebrew or Chris- 
tian. In both these faiths Dr. Adler finds him- 
self circumscribed in thought and in experience. 
"The monotheistic idea in the one case, and the 
centralitv of the figure of the Christ in the 
other" mark for him the limits of development 
or change. He, with many another religious 
pilgrim, finds a deal too much in religious 
teaching that is negative and circumscribed to 
give it a strong ethical content. 

Accepting, as a principle, the aim of life as 
being "the affirmation of our ethical per- 
sonality," of our spiritual nature, of "that 
holy thing in us without which man loses his 
worth," with all reverence for the "incompar- 
able Author" of the Gospels, he fails to find 
therein the positive need for the present com- 
plex demand of society. He is quite frankly 
opposed to the thought of "a faith once for 
all delivered to the saints." 

Nor is he patient of the Socialist position. 
The Socialist is for Adler a sort of idealist 
without an ideal— a man who lives so near the 
mountain that he loses somewhat of the vision 
of the far travel of the sun. 

From a scholarly examination of the position 
of Kant, in which there is much of value for 
the student of philosophy, the writer passes 
on to an intimately practical application of his 

He places Personality at the centre ot his 
system and pleads for a fuller insistence upon 
spiritual values. He frankly accepts the more 
sordid facts of life but gives even the prob- 
lem of sin and evil a positive content. 

For Dr. Adler, the supreme ethical rule 
would be: "Act so as to elicit the sense of 
unique distinctive selfhood as interconnected 
with all other distinctive spiritual beings in 
the infinite universe." His central idea is 
"that the numen in the self is raised out of 
potentiality into actuality by the energy put 

forth to raise the numen in the other . . the 
two divinities greeting each other as they rise 
into the light." Thus his plan at once includes 
and transcends both egoism and altruism. He 
makes them minister to each other in the bring- 
ing about of a higher ideal — a daring con- 
ception indeed. 

Enough has been said to lead the reader to 
expect much of worth in the study of the social 
relationships of life. The social institution, 
the family, the organ of education, the voca- 
tion, the political organization, the organiza- 
tion of mankind and the ideal religious society 
are treated in a progressive series each bring- 
ing to the individual a fuller development of 
ethical personality. There is little of life's 
activity that Dr. Adler does not touch or does 
not illumine. In the sphere_ of international 
society the very "backward peoples of the 
earth are the paramount object of reverence" 
calling for a union of civilized nations "to 
accomplish the pedagogy of the less de- 

The main gain from his system would seem 
to be the transformation of the strong in- 
dividualistic trend in human nature into a 
service which at once combines the features 
of the individual and social claims without 
denying either. He seems to stand in a un- 
ique position in thought between orthodox 
Christian teaching and the socialistic outlook, 
and brings with his view a fuller contribution 
in the way of solution of the problem of dual- 
ism than we have hitherto met. There are 
those who will take issue with him on the 
ground that he has not done full justice to the 
Christian faith, but Dr. Adler is presenting a 
Philosophy of Life, and has chosen not to 
draw distinctions between what might be call- 
ed pure and orthodox Christianity. Had he 
done so it may be that he would have found 
far less of the negative, of dualism, of trans- 
cendental outlook, of insistence on sin, in the 
mind of the Nazarene than in that of many of 
his professed followers. 

When an author sets out to tell us the Next 
Step in Keligion and takes the whole of our 
time in recounting for us the myths of "Meso- 
pot" or Patagonia, what shall we say? We 
would be fair. There is need for a close 
examination of our beliefs in the light of mod- 
ern knowledge, in whatever field. There is 
great need for the upbuilding of the positive 
content of our faith. We would even clasp 
the critic's hand for the marvelous labor he 
lias performed. Yet there are critics and 
critics, and a book which claims to give a sum- 
mary of the results of higher criticism must 
give us more of edification than a trio sung 

April, 1919. 

C i.\ I/'/ I A BOOKMAN 


in a minor key by our old friends Loisy, 
Pfleiderer and Gilbert Murray. 

We do not feel thai we have a sure guide 
when we find the author using a <'<>mpass, the 
worth of which he has already denied; e.g., 
it is not permissible to quite the authority of 
Mark when Mark's value is questioned. Nor 
do we feel sure of a writer who speaks of the 
Christian conception of Jesus as a "master 
piece of lyricized mythology," and in the next 
breath tells us that the success of Christian 
ity was due to its "connection with a noble 

The fact seems to be that Dr. Sellars writes 
more fluently than he thinks. The basic be- 
liefs of religion must stand the test of exam- 
ination as those of any other phase of life. 
Christianity, if its claims be true, must learn 
•to welcome such examination and to search 
even farther than her critics would force her 
to go. But examination must be undertaken 
in a constructive spirit to be of worth. 

Having taken fifteen out of sixteen of the 
chapters of his book to assure us that all our 
beliefs are pure myth (though he says it may 
be "more plausible to give a relative credence" 
to the belief that such a person as Jesus ever 
existed), to show us that all such small matters 
as immortality, personal agency, the problem 
of evil, the worth of anything in the shape of 
prayer, or the reality of the supernatural are 
neither here nor there, we w r onder that Dr. 
Sellars confesses to anv difficulty with regard 

to the retention of the use of the word 're- 
ligion.' One may be fully grateful that he 
has not questioned such a dearly divine attn 
bute as a sense of humor. Mut what really is 
"The Next Step*".... 

Religion is to be "human and social," a 
thing "of this world," "without a supernat- 
ural," "concerned with virtues and values," 
and "catholic in its count of such." Having 
gone thus far in justification of the title of 
his book, our author leaves us with the remark 
that "Man's soul will crave <rracious sur- 
roundings." We had thoughl he had denied 
thai he had a soul. Well, well; he has given 
us much of generality, much of contradiction 
and evasion, not a little of imagination and 
questionable assertion, but all so jauntily writ- 
ten that— we are not cross. 

Many a teacher will be glad to have Miss 
Bryant's guidance in handling the material of 
the Bible in class work. Herein the theme of 
the Bible is regarded as the progressive revela- 
tion of God to man through man, culminating 
in Christ, God and Man. The study of the 
theme is approached by the Gospel narrative, 
followed by the Apostolic history and the 
spiritual history of the Hebrew. A course of 
readings from the Bible and other books is 

There is much that is good and provocative 
of thought in such a new presentation — there 
would be gain as well as loss in its acceptance 
en bloc. 


By J. A. DALE 


T TREAD again the ancient way 
That westward burns, 
And strike again the ancient clay 
A new race turns : 
The shadow of an ancient day 
Once more returns. 

In my heart there wakes again 

From out the deep 
The spirit of forgotten men 

Who agelong sleep 
Far beyond our tiny ken 

Their gains who keep. 


Prometheus, whose auspicious fire 

Unsought began 
The conquest which his sons lift higher 

As each one can — 
He made us heirs of earth's empire, 

Maker of Man! 

He never soared on splendid wings 

Rifling the skies — 
In labour's vague imaginings 

He lit tired eyes, 
And slowly mid transfigured things 

Let bent backs rise. 


For us with mighty thews they strove 

A space to win, 
And paths through sightless forest drove, 

Let sunlight in : 
With pain the clod, the rock they clove, 

For undreamt kin. 

Yet they too watched as from the ground 

The lark uprose, 
And children met them homeward bound 

At the long day ( 's close, 
And at their feet in gloom they found 

The waiting rose. 



April, 1919. 

The Author of "Sonia" 

By J. E. WARD 

IN those far days before the war, when 
one could peacefully wander over the 
Berkshire fields, it was good to stray 
from the beaten track in search of some na- 
ture's secret and incidentally sense the good 
English sunlight. For England has her sun 
in spite of much maligning — a mellow, caress- 
ing sun. 

Thus employed, or unemployed, it was that 
I remember first chatting with the future 
author of 'Sonia" — I, a stranger in a strange 
land; he — well, I doubt whether Stephen 
MeKenna would ever be a stranger in any 

Well, could I picture now the probable cir- 
cumstances of his day. London had claimed 
him these few days past, as London will. A 
short run down on the evening express had 
found him ensconced at Twyford in the pa- 
ternal car ready for a three-mile country run 
— and ready for dinner, in the old oak-beamed 
and broad hearthed dining room. 

So some music and then to bed — no, the 
family would go to bed — not so Stephen. 
Long past the time when a peaceful country- 
side had settled in to rest — long after the 
church clock at the crossroads had struck 
the midnight hour, " Sonia 's" creator might 
be counted on in smoking jacket somewhere 
beneath that gabled roof drinking deep of 
the wealth of England's storied lore. He 
would read everything and marvellously re- 
membered it. Then sometime between mid- 
night and dawn one may presume that Stephen 
may have gone to bed. No-one seems ever to 
have caught him at it. 

Nor was he ever to be seen at the break- 
fast hour. Fond noon would rouse him, or 
tempt him forth — what should lesser mortals 
know of his rising. And the afternoon sun 
would company with him over the fields. 
The acme of lazy leisure, you would say. Yet, 
though Stephen's clock seemed to have been 
wound some hours overlate, one could not 
say that there was not deep profit for him in 
its winding. He gained men's richest in 
companionship; he stored up hours of quiet 
in the early night; and stowed himself away 
when least there was to lose in the English 

This was the Stephen, in Norfolk greys, 
that now was chatting with me jauntily, as 
only Stephen could. 

Far hidden among a group of stalwart 
Berkshire trees, the curling smoke marked 
where a gabled home housed his father's 

Many a day's gratitude has there been in 
the writer's heart for hours spent beneath 
those warm red tiles. There was no board 

throughout the countryside more lavish. 
There was no hearthside talk more full of 
wit than that where gathered a small family 
circle trained from childhood days in a keen 
environment charged with active interest in 
the social and political life of their great 

The name of MeKenna is a name that has 
placed its mark upon English life. It is a 
name that will still be known w T here English 
politics hold keen sway. 

And now it finds its way in Literature — 
for "Sonia" will live perhaps as few of our 
war novels . It is more than a mere war 
novel — a strong, deep record in fiction's name 
of those great days when England's bridge 
of destiny needs must be crossed. 

A delightful environment it was — this 
country home called "Honeys" — for any au- 
thor's youth, and " Sonia V early pages 
breathe full of it. A fond younger son writes 
fluently of that easy-going leisured life 
which was his before the war. And insofar 
as he writes thus, he writes, in a sense, class 

There, one remembers him, the youngest 
born of a fond little gray-haired kindly lady; 
the pride of a most astute old gentlemanly 
Pater; debonair, full of youth's joy in enter- 
ing intb his own. 

There in those old timbered comfort-laden 
rooms he was the typical .young graduate of 
"the House," quite consciously content in 
the knowledge of his gift. Slight of build. 
always immaculate, ever keen, palpably well 
kept and ably groomed, at times with a tinge 
of youthful cynicism in his outlook, yet kind- 
ly so. And now he has grown up. 

If you don't believe it, read "The Reluc- 
tant Lover," and then read "Sonia." They 
are the products of the heart and mind of 
the two worlds of which he speaks. 

The gay, carefree tramper of the country 
lanes in well-spun Norfolks we hope will 
never go. Yet knowledge may pass to wis- 
dom, and not lose its joy. 

The Stephen of "Peckwater Quad" and 
Berkshiredom is now, we feel, more the deni- 
zon of old London's clubs, and politico- 
social rendezvous. He is even about to take 
unto himself a wife from the late Premier's 

Bless the lad — too many of his class have 
gone and left our literature poorer. It is 
good to feel that some there are still left to 
wield a ready pen. 

Can he write another Sonia? It is a tale 
not easily twice told, yet mayhap we shall 
see. He is but at the threshold of life's broad 

April. 1919. 

Canadian boos, i/i \ 

Notes of New Books 


Florence Howe Ball, daughter of Julia Ward 
Howe, das ready "Memories Grave and Gay," 

which will contain many reminiscences of 
leading American and European literary cele- 

There are more authors per capita, if not 
per acre, in British Columbia than in any 
other Canadian Province. In the mild climate 
of the Pacific Coast it is comparatively easy to 
keep warm in a garret, and the ink does not 

One of the best of recent books for students 
of journalism, though it does not purport to be 
a textbook, is Frank M. O'Brien's "Story of 
the Sun," which explains in full detail how 
cleverness and human sympathy in the treat- 
ment of news built up a great New York news- 
paper property out of literally nothing. 

Though 1918 has been very short of biogra- 
phies in England, it has, perhaps for that rea- 
son, been very full of them in the United 
States. The immensely enhanced sense of na- 
tional self-respect that followed the entry and 
effective work of the United States into the 
great war was a stimulus to American bio- 
graphy and history. The cleverest, if not the 
most important, biography of the year is 
probably "The Education of Henry Adams." 

"Old Days on the Farm," by A. C. Wood, 
is a modest literary effort, not without a dis- 
tinct flavour of its own — the charm that conn 
try roads, wayside flowers and fragrant fields 
have for the town-dweller, and that a really 
heart-felt appreciation of the farm has for 
the country-born. Mr. Wood's Pegasus is a 
gently ambling, bucolic steed, which stops to 
browse on every fence corner, munch an apple 
from every orchard, and listen to the farmers 
swapping yarns at every cross-road. The 
excellent photographic studies of farm scenes 
add greatly to the appearance of the volume. 
(McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto, 

The reader who buvs "The White Rook," by 
J. B. Harris-Burland (Gundy, Toronto, $1.50) 
to increase his knowledge of the habits of the 
feathered folk, may suffer some disappointment 
in finding that he has secured "a crow of quite 
another colour" — a very readable book turn- 
ing on the mutual fascination of the study of 
chess for a retired medical specialist and explor- 
er with a young and unappreciated second wife, 
the army officer whom she jilted, and a Chin- 
ese spy. The latter possesses a secret drug 
that paralyses the will-power of the absorber, an 
undying spirit of revenge against the doctor, 
and a qualified admiration for the military 
man, and the complications that arise from these 
motives will hold the attention during the read- 
ing even if they do not remain in the memory 

There is a boom in translations or fiction, 

and plays from the Spanish, a circumstance 
Which is hard to explain in view of the seal 

ly glorious pari played by thai country in the 

war, but may be due to the intrinsic merit and 
activity of the Spanish writers „f the day. 

In view of the fact that Canada has long 
possessed a novelist bearing the name of F 
Clifford Smith, author of several popular 
works, it seems sad that England should now 
come along with a new writer calling himself 
Clifford Smyth. Is this not a colorable imi- 

A volume calculated to stimulate thought in 
those who are capable of envisaging a rather 
violently novel idea is "The Abolition of In- 
heritance" by Harlan Eugene Read (Macmil- 
lan, $1.50). Professor Read declares that the 
right to inherit property is no more sacred 
than the right to inherit authority; but he 
does not ask that we abolish inheritance alto- 
gether and immediately. A limit of $100,000 
seems to him reasonable. 

"Kiddies," by J. J. Bell (Copp, Clark Co., 
Toronto. $1.50), is a collection of short stories 
about children in the now well-khown "Wee 
Macgregor" manner. A certain monotony of 
flavor, as of a surfeit of butterscotch, may be 
perceived if one reads them all together. The 
children are all so cute, and the parents so 
stodgy and unimaginative and uncomprehend- 
ing; and then something happens and a great 
light dawns on the parents and all is lovely. 
But taken in mild doses these "Kiddie" stor- 
ies will be found entertaining, and may help 
some of us grown-ups to remember what we 
were like when we were young, and conse- 
quently to be kinder to the juveniles of to-day. 

There is one thing you may always unhesi- 
tatingly prognosticate about Kathleen Norris's 
books, and that is that you may safely place 
them in the hands of the youngest of young 
persons. They are so sweetly pretty, don't you 
know, that even though, as in the case of 
"Josselyn's Wife," the hero does fall in love 
with his own stepmother, and is cast into jail 
for the suspected murder of his own father, 
you feel satisfyingly sure that virtue will be 
triumphant and sin will be followed by retri- 
bution, as in this case, when the hero acquires 
tuberculosis during his stay in prison. The 
heroine is always so perfectly lovely, both in 
face and character, and the "bad woman" is 
always so vampirish, and so sure of being pun- 
ished, that you feel just as if you were read- 
ing a grown-up "Elsie" Book. Mrs. Norris 
has a host of devoted admirers who "just 
love" her books, and one feels sure that 
they will fairly "eat up" "Josselyn's Wife," 
(Briggs, Toronto). 



April, 1919. 

"The Tin Soldier" is a novel by Temple Bailey 
(Copp, Clark & Co., Toronto, $1.50.) Because 
his dad — the old General — was in the habit of 
indulging in occasional bacchanalian bouts, 
dear Derry Drake was unable to obey his coun- 
try's call and don the khaki of the American 
Expeditionary Force. The General's failings, 
and a sacred promise to his dead mother never 
to leave the wayward papa, kept Derry in the 
ranks of the healthy slackers, much to Derry 's 
discomfiture. There are some women charac- 
ters in the story, which has its locale in Wash- 
ington and the society of the idle rich. Really, 
the story was so uninteresting that it was quite 
an effort to read it. Plot and "pep" are both 
lacking, and we cannot predict for "The Tin 
Soldier" any lasting place among the play- 
things of literary humanity. 

It all took place in "The Room With the 
Tassels." The tassels shook mysteriously. 
There was an aroma of prussic acid, although 
the murder for which the room was historic 
had been performed (with that pleasant poi- 
son) fifty years before. The spectre of the 
murderess walked into the room through a 
locked door at midnight, and blew out the 
candles of the unfortunate ghost-hunter who 
happened to be sleeping there. Other things, 
equally eerie, happened. And there is a rea- 
sonable explanation of the whole spine-chilling 
yarn. Carolyn Wells tells it, and it is a thriller. 
Some people will wish that she had spent the 
time on those nonsense verses which she does 
to such perfection. Others will wonder how on 
earth a woman who can write ghost yarns like 
this can waste her time on nonsense verses. 
(McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto, 

"White Man," by George Agnew Chamber- 
lain (McLeod, Toronto, $1.75). We presume 
that the moving-picture rights were much more 
constantly in the mind of the author of this 
tale than any mere literary ambitions. It is 
necessary now-a-days for a good moving-pic- 
ture that the hero and the heroine should be, 
as the slip-cover of "White Man" puts it, 
"forced together by circumstances to live in 
the heart of the African jungle" (or on a desert 
island, or in the coldest part of Alaska, or on 
an inaccessible peak of the Rockies, or at the 
bottom of an abandoned mine — anywhere so 
long as they are not restricted by the pro- 
prieties), and that while keeping constantly 
in the minds of themselves and their readers 
or audience the naughty things that they 
might be doing, they should rigorously persist 
in not doing them. Mr. Chamberlain's novel 
fills all these essential requirements, and adds 
much good screen material in the shape of 
aeroplanes, elephants, African kraals, hunting 
parties, and lots of diminuendo changes of 
dress for the heroine. Presumably Miss Mar- 
guerite Clark w ill play the heroine; any screen 
actor with a g ood chest and an honest face 
can do "White Man," 

"Sinister House," by Leland Hall (Thomas 
Allen, Toronto, $1.50), is a tour-de-force of 
technical dexterity in ghostliness, by a new 
author. The slightest indication of the clue 
to the mystery would impair much of the read- 
er's enjoyment. It must therefore be merely 
recorded that this is (to the best of our be- 
lief) the first ghost story in which a Ford car 
has ever played conspicuous part, that it is 
a story which the most hardened reader will 
find it impossible to lay down, and that its 
moral tone is unexceptionable. It is a person 
who is "haunted" by ghosts, not a place, and 
as soon as he can nerve himself to confess to 
his wife the very excusable wrong-doing in 
his past life, which gives them their power 
over him, they are baffled and depart. But 
there, we promised not to give so much as a 
hint. Unlike most ghost stories, this one has 
several characters which are very human and 

Childhood's shuddering delight in ghost 
stories is scarcely dead, even at seventy, and 
Amelie Rives' "The Ghost Garden," is such 
an engaging, not to say charming nightmare 
that it should find rapid sale among those 
who love to be made to quake comfortably by 
the fire-side. The Princess Troubetzkoy (Ame- 
lie Rives) takes one's imagination gently by 
the hand and leads it to a beautiful deserted 
mansion where a pretty lady had died in a 
tantrum some years before. Creeps abound on 
every page from page 13 to the end. The 
ghost is intricately connected with the love af- 
fair on which the story is threaded, and is by 
far the most interesting person in the book 
The whole matter is sweetened — perhaps a 
trifle too much — with love-making of the kind 
approved by disappointed widows and poetic 
spinsters ; and scented faintly with spiritualist 
notions. The interest is sustained and the 
ending satisfying. (S. B. Gundy, Toronto, 

Red-headed Irish orphans, female and eigh- 
teen, should not be willed to the guardianship 
of boyish American lawyers with proud but 
passionate natures. That it can be done with- 
out scandal is apparently proven by H. DeVere 
Stacpoole in a novel entitled "The Ghost Girl," 
but Mr. Stacpoole has proven many a more 
interesting contention. The play, "Peg 0' My 
Heart," once so popular, was the first of this 
new style in heroines and, one might have 
hoped, the last. But Mr. Stacpoole has appar- 
ently dragged Peg back out of the happy mar- 
riage another writer framed for her, made 
her his own, dubbed her "Phyl." and clamped 
her between the covers of his book with a 
view to captivating us all over again. The 
story is readable and has the conventional 
flourish of joy at the end. From any other 
author it might be called fair light reading. 
But from Stacpoole it is disappointing. "The 
Blue Lagoon" was of another order of magni- 
tude altogether. (S. B. Gundy, Toronto, $1.50.) 

April, I9ld. 

' i \ADIAN bookman 


Kipling's ".Jungle Hook" has passed its fif 
tieth edition in the United States, and lias the 
steady sale of a classic — which it is. 

Very slight domestic matters (if, indeed any 
domestic matters are slight to the poet who 
truly, and Englishman-wise, loves his home) 
are the theme of the versifications of R. C. 
Lehmann in "The Vagabond" (Dent, Toronto, 
$1.25), all but two of which an' extracted from 
recent issues of Punch. A robin that wanders 
into a bedroom, a tortoise-shell eat which is al- 
leged by- the children to be a dragon, the mis- 
behavior of a Pekinese — such are the topics 
touched by Mr. Lehmann 's wonderfully light 
and dexterous hand. But somehow they look- 
ed more at home in Punch than in a volume, 
even a dear little 120-page volume like this. 

The Musson Book Company, Limited, have 
commenced the publication of what is an- 
nounced to be the complete works of Am- 
brose Bierce, the American market being 
looked after in the same way by Boni & Live- 
right. The reputation of this very distin- 
guished American writer has been steadily on 
the rise for the last ten years, a movement 
probably due in no small degree to the dis- 
cerning estimate of him given by the late Per- 
cival Pollard, in his brilliant volume of criti- 
cism, "Their Day in Court" — an estimate 
which might well be reprinted as preface to 
one of the forthcoming volumes. The first 
and only volume issued up to the present is 
"In the Midst of Life," formerly known on 
this continent as "Tales of Soldiers and 
Civilians," an example of the macabre and 
grizzly short story, which is certainly un- 
rivalled outside of Edgar Allen Poe. It is not 
Bierce 's best work, but it is the best book for 
drawing public attention to his work. (Mus- 
son, Toronto, $1.50.) 

"Cap'n Jonah's Fortune," by James A. 
Cooper, is an interesting little story of some 
quaint 'longshore folk, told in the simple pleas- 
ing manner of Mr. Cooper's previous tales of 
Cape Cod. Little Pearly Holden, the heroine 
of the book, is "articled out" to Orrin and 
Sarah Petty of the Shell Road, Card- 
haven. She lives the life of the drudge with 
these distant relatives of her dead mother, un- 
til the arrival at the "Orrin Petty 's place" of 
Cap'n Jonah Hand. The old sea captain, tired 
of life on the briny deep, has come to Cardhav- 
en to end his days and nurse his rheumatism in 
the home of "Niece Sarah." The harsh treat- 
ment which poor Pearly receives soon arouses 
his indignation, and by means of an imaginary 
fortune he manages to pla.v fairy godmother to 
Pearly's Cinderella. Through the medium of 
some "ile shares" long considered worthless, 
the imaginary fortune conveniently becomes a 
real one, and little Pearly and the ' ' city feller ' ' 
in the tortoishell glasses, who "teaches fish 
to hatch their aigs" end under the mistletoe. 
(Briggs, Toronto, $1.50.) 

"The Marne," bj Edith Wharton (Appleton, 
N 5T., $1.25). Taken as a whole this is a 
slight ami inconsequential sketch of a subject 
of which Canadians are becoming not a little 
fatigued, namely the "regeneration" of the 
Tinted States by its war effort. But when 
Mrs, Wharton is satirising the pre-war Amer- 
ican- .she is in her element. Delirious indeed 
is Binde Waslick, the girl from the Middle 
West, who in 1917 wanted "to organize an 
< lid Home Week just like ours, all over France, 
from Barver righl down to Marseilles. And all 
through the devastated regions too." 

It would require a surly spirit indeed not to 
enjoy "The Caravan Man," a novel by one 
who is apparently a new author, but one who 
possesses the essential faculty of being amus- 
ing by evident gift of nature. Ernest Good- 
win, the author, has been justly upbraided for 
that his best female character disappears from 
sight on page 44, never to reappear save as 
the merest goddess of the machine at the very 
instant of the tale's conclusion. For our- 
selves we refiise to weep for her; we are con- 
vinced that Mr. G-oodwin is saving her for 
another novel. And it would have been a 
strain on even a veteran author to keep up 
the conversation between her and the artist- 
hero on the level of joyous insouciance set by 
the opening chapters. What matter it that the 
life of a painter of the nude is seldom really 
as adventurous as it is here represented T The 
public must be permitted to imagine romance 
in some quarter or other of the body politic, 
and where can it be if not in that which is 
dignified by the title of Latin* A twittering 
tale of youth and beauty and the outdoor life, 
wthout a trammel of realism. (Thomas Al- 
len, Toronto, $1.50.) 

"The War Eagle," by W. J. Dawson (Dent, 
Toronto, $1.50), is another novel of the 
psychological changes effected by the war. Its 
author, who is well known in Canada as an 
eloquent preacher and speaker at Canadian 
Club luncheons and the like, has recently ac- 
quired a farm in British Columbia, and his 
pictures of pre-war life among the fruit- 
ranches of the Kootenay Valley is vivid and 
charming. "When the war gets going the hero, 
a novelist, removes to New York, and has some 
interesting passages with his publisher, a char- 
acter whom one suspects of being portrayed 
from life. The heroine, the daughter of a war- 
contract millionaire, also turns up in New 
York, and we see the process of the rubbing 
off of surface frivolities, and the revelation 
of the real quality of the woman underneath, 
which has formed the subject of rather num- 
erous novels lately. The millionaire and the 
publisher get drowned on the Lusitania and 
the hero and the heroine eventually go to war 
and learn to love one-another unselfishly and 
nobly. Mr. Dawson is very much in earnest 
about it all, and the book will be widely 



April. 19-lS. 

Hergesheimer's " Java Head " 

IN our last issue we drew attention to the 
fact that the United States can now 
boast of the possession of an entirely 
modern novelist, who has in high degree 
the quality or qualities of distinction in idea 
and in expression. "Java Head," the latest 
book by Joseph Hergesheimer, whose "Three 
Black Pennys" was reviewed in the January 
number, is in one respect inferior to its pre- 
decessor. Mr. Hergesheimer is not strong on 
construction. He does not see a novel whole, 
in all its complicated ramifications, when he 
starts to write, and pursue a definite if devious 
path to an assured end. In the "Pennys" this 
did not greatly matter, for the book was avow- 
edly a succession of episodes, related only by 
heredity and comparison. But in "Java Head 
Mr. Hergesheimer has undertaken to fill up 250 
pages with one story, and to do so he has had 
to introduce minor episodes which have the 
stuck-on appearance of unrelated ornament. 
Thus the episode — astonishingly clever in itself 
— of Roger Brevard, the middle-aged lover, and 
Sidall Ammidon, his school-girl beloved, facing 
her coldly contemptuous parents, the girl eager 
to make a stand for her freedom and her love, 
but the man struck dumb by the sense of his 
own inadequacy — this episode, on which the 
book practically closes, seems to have absolute- 
ly no relation with the general theme, and pro- 
duces the effect of a violent change of key too 
near to the end of the piece. We may be wrong 

in this; there may be a subtle, tonal relation- 
ship, which will become more apparent as we 
grow more familiar with the workings of Mr. 
Hergesheimer's mind. In any case we do not 
advance it as an important defect ; structure is 
not a highly-regarded element in the modern 

"Java Head" is the story of the incursion in- 
to the life of a New England ship-owning and 
ship-commanding family, of a Chinese high- 
caste woman, the wife of one of the ship-cap- 
tains. The astounding domestic "interior" 
thus produced is rendered with the same subtle 
sympathy as the interiors in the "Pennys," and 
the extraordinary thing is that we get, not one 
person's view of it, but the views and reactions 
of almost everybody concerned, including the 
Chinese wife herself. The difficulty of making 
an Oriental into a genuine three-dimensional 
figure in a realistic novel is notorious, and al- 
most all writers resort to sentimentalising or 
melodrama ; not so Mr. Hergesheimer. He has 
a plot that would provide scope for the wildest 
kind of melodrama, w T ith thrills of cinemato- 
graphic intensity — an opium-fiend, with an 
atrocious career in China behind him, conceives 
a desire for the Chinese woman, entraps her, 
drives her to dishonor and a particularly ghast- 
ly Oriental suicide. But he is never melodram- 
atic ; he never forgets his characters, their mo- 
tives and their consistency. It is a verv not- 
able novel. (S. B. Gundy, Toronto, $1.50) 

The Plain Tale of Canada's Ace 

THE end of the war is not likely to bring 
an end to the interest in such vivid nar- 
ratives of its most adventurous phases 
as "Winged Warfare," by Canada's famous 
"ace." Major W. A. Bishop, V.C., D.S.O., M.C., 
and now A.D.C. to the Governor General. In 
this volume (a very handsomely made up af- 
fair of some 280 pages, with a large number 
of photographic illustrations), the author tells 
in simple everyday language, and in such a 
detached impersonal manner as almost to sug- 
gest that he is writing about a casual acquaint- 
ance, the narrative of the most astounding ser- 
ies of adventures that it ever fell to the lot of 
one man to achieve. This sounds like a super- 
abundance of superlatives, but it is impossible 
to avoid them in writing of the number of 
hairbreadth escapes which are detailed in this 
book. If ever mortal man bore a charmed 
life it was certainly Major Bishop. No writer 
of fiction would ever dare to permit his hero 
one-half so many lucky shaves, and even the 
compiler of a movie serial might hesitate he- 
fore emulating this spectacle of real life. 

The war has produced, among other things, 
a capacity in brave men for writing simply and 

without false modesty of their own experi- 
ences and exploits which was very rare before 
1914. There is, both in writers and in the pub- 
lic, an ability to discriminate between straight- 
forward narrative and mere boasting, which 
makes for frankness in war literature. But 
one cannot help regretting that the adventures 
of Major Bishop had to be written in the first 
person. Not on account of egotism, but rather 
the reverse. In the effort to avoid egotism I 
has been seriously handicapped in picturing 
the details of many of his experiences, and the 
reader would have been richer could the storv 
have been transmitted through a third party, 
who could have drawrt in the whole picture 
without having to concern himself whether it 
made the central figure stand out conspicuous- 
ly or not. Of the actual sensations of flying, 
apart from the perils of conflict, no aviator 
has been more communicative, and those who 
have been wondering for years how their 
young friends with the winged badges on their 
uniforms felt when first adventuring off terra 
firma will find their questionings answered 
with full detail and vividness. (McClelland To- 
ronto. $1.50). 

April. 1919. 

C i \ I/'/ i \ BO0X i/.l.V 


A Volume of John McCrae's Verse 

THE value of a book is not measured by the 
Dumber of its pages, any more than the 
value of a poem by the number of its 
lines. "In Flanders' Fields." the poem, con- 
sists of fifteen lines only; but it is one of the 
great achievements of the war. "In Flanders' 
Fields," the volume, consists of but forty-five 
pages of verse and an "Essay in Character"; 
but there is no Canadian, having but one dollar 
and fifty cents to spend on a new book in 1919, 
to whom we would not say with the utmost con- 
fidence: "Go forth and purchase 'In Flanders' 
Fields': the year has not produeed and will 
not produce another book more desirable for a 
Canadian to possess." 

Sir Andrew Macphail, literary executor of 
John MeCrae and author of the "Essay in 
Character," tells us that the body of MeCrae 's 
verse as contained in this book "might be en- 
larged; it would not be improved." Those of 
us who knew and loved John MeCrae cannot 
but be thankful for the conscientious editorial 
judgment which has preserved for us only the 
impeccable among his accomplishments, elim- 
inated all of which we might have said: "John 
MeCrae could do better than this." For im- 
peccability of workmanship — the same scrupu- 
lous striving after the best and the same rapid 
instinct for the best which made him a brilliant 
surgeon — is the characteristic of the poem "In 
Flanders' Fields" and of all the two-score short 
poems included in this book : and anything less 
sheerly beautiful would have broken the design 
and lessened the solemnity of the w 7 hole compil- 
ation. As it stands, it is the temple of a soul 
— of one of those rarely beautiful souls which, 
even when they are not self -expressive, compel 
the love and something of the adoration of those 
who know them, and when they have in addi- 
tion the power of embodying themselves in the 
printed word or the painted picture or the 
carven stone, become the idols of mankind. 

None of the poems are new. MeCrae knew 
when he had achieved the perfection which he 
desired, and was willing to give the perfected 
product to the world. They cover an astonish- 
ingly long range of time. The earliest is from 
the Varsity. Toronto, of 1894. when the author 
was but '21 years of age. and might almost have 
been written twenty years later, so profound is 
its human sympathy, so poignant its expression, 
so perfect its workmanship, so devout its faith 

in the purposes of Cod. These, and an intense 

sense of the sublimity and pathos of the indom 

liable struggle of man against ti ruelty of des 

tiny, are the permanent characteristics of his 
whole work. ITe is saturated with the spirit of 
the loftiest writers of the Old Testament, im- 
bibed through a Scottish ancestry in which cour- 
age and tenderness were the outstanding vir- 

It is rarely that so good a poem is so ram- 
pantly popular as "In Flanders' Fields." Not 

one in ten of those who love it realise that they 
do so not merely because it expresses vividly the 
mood of the civilised world at a crisis in its his- 
tory, but because it expresses that mood with 
consummate technical art. Thousands of peo- 
ple have paid this poem the compliment of think- 
ing that it must have been easy to write — and, 
by trying to act upon that idea, have promptly 
demonstrated how utterly wrong it is. The 
tribute to "In Flanders' Fields" is in the num- 
ber, not the quality, of its imitators. 

Sir Andrew, in addition to a portrait study 
of the character of John MeCrae. done with the 
skill of the literary artist and the affectionate 
carefulness of the friend, and largely document- 
ed by McCrae's own writings, has provided an 
interesting account of the origin and nature of 
the famous poem. TVith characteristic modestv 
he ascribes the analysis to a certain sapper offi- 
cer who. he says, brought into his dugout the 
copy of Punch in which the verses first appear- 
ed. Tt may be so; one of the elements of Sir 
Andrew's crehius is the way in which he attracts 
to himself unusual minds. He tells us that it 
became the "poem of the Army": that it cir- 
culated by word of mouth, and developed cer- 
tain slight textual changes in so doing — those 
which he cites being typical of the tendency to 
weaken unusual, but careful, phraseology into 
more obvious forms. Curiously enough, an au- 
toeraph copy written by MeCrae himself, a 
photograph of which is prefixed to the volume, 
itself contains an error in the shape of "grow" 
for "blow" at the end of the first line. There 
are two portraits and a facsimile of a sketch by 
the poet. Time and space do not now permit 
of an attempt to estimate his place in Canadian 
literature, but it is very safe to say that it will 
bear no relation whatever to the amount of his 
output . (Briggs. Toronto, $1.50.1— B. K. S. 



April, 1919. 

"The Golf Course Mystery," by Chester K. 
Steele, is a rapidly moving mystery tale and 
love story combined, introducing that inimitable 
Southern gentleman detective, Colonel Robert 
Lee Ashley, who fishes in more ways than one. 
A volume of many surprises and one which 
places this author high in the ranks of writers 
of detective romances. (Goodchild, Toronto, 

In her latest novel. "Phoebe" Eleanor Gates 
presents a heroine who is such an altogether 
charmingly quaint and wistful young person that 
readers of all ages will take her to their hearts. 
The story shows how startlingly the new gener- 
ation differs from the older in some important 
and unexpected ways; it shows, too, certain 
fresh problems that touch upon the youth of our 
American cities, and how "society," the law, 
and the church clash — even amusingly — in con- 
sidering, or in failing to consider, these same 
problems — which have to do with every-day, 
"polite" familv life. (Macmillan. Toronto, 

An interesting bit of Canadiana has just 
been received by the Toronto Public Library. 
It is called "Sermons and Speeches of Rev. 
Peter Jones, alias Kah-Ke-Wa-Quon-A-By. the 
converted Indian Chief, delivered on the occa- 
sion of the Eighteenth Anniversary of the Wes- 
leyan Methodist Missionary Society for the 
Leeds district." It was published in 1831 in 
Leeds, and contains in its twenty-four pages 
some very interesting personal reminiscences 
of life among the Indians on the Grand River, 
at Rice Lake, and near Lake Huron. 

Sir H. Rider Haggard has been gradually 
taking us back from modern South Africa to 
more and more ancient Egypt and the further 
he takes us the more fascinating his subjects 

The Hebrew version of the Bondage in 
Egypt, the plagues and the Exodus is familiar 
to us all and the presentment of these events 
from the "Egyptian point of view by such a 
master of his craft must engage the attention 
of every reader. 

In "Moon of Israel" we are introduced, by 
the pen of Ana the Scribe, to the Pharoah who 
knew not Joseph, to Seti the Heir to the 
Throne, whose sympathy with the Hebrews 
costs him his succession, but wins him the love 
of the beautiful Merapi. known as "Moon of 
Israel," to their mutual happiness and misfor- 
tune. The Egyptian point of view concerning 
the commercial aptitude of the Israelites, and 
the "taking" qualities of their womenfolk, es- 
pecially in the small matter of the borrowing of 
jewelrv, is enlightening. (Briggs, Toronto, 


"The White Island," by Michael "Wood, is 
published by J. M. Dent & Sons, Toronto, $1.50. 
This delightful little mystic tome will take 
much the same place between the book blocks 
as the mystic takes in life. Loved by some, ig- 
nored by many, yet having its value within it- 
self and so going its contented way, it cannot 
fail to win a place with the thoiightful and 
bring delight to the mind which is glad to feel 
the touch of some hand less sordid or cynical 
than that of many a modern writer. Michael 
Wood has given us the soft effect of the silver 
point as compared with the sharp lines of the 
more strident engraver of books. His little 
work will appeal to the lover of the silver point 
touch in life. 

Professor Leon Carroll Marshall's "Readings 
in Industrial Society" is a symposium of a 
thousand pages, designed to furnish "a foun- 
dation for a thorough and intelligent handling 
of industrial questions." The editor has en- 
listed an army of collaborators, as early as Adam 
Smith and J. S. Mill, as recent as Spargo and 
Veblen, as diverse as Carver and Hillquit, but 
each an expert in his field. In the table of con- 
tents one glimpses the whole history of industrial 
society; in the essays one finds brief, expert 
treatment of any phase over which one can ling- 
er. The work ought to be of exceptional value 
to the many who, if hurried in their study of 
economics, still wish to be widely informed and 
accurate, while the foot-notes provide an am- 
ple bibliography for the most thorough scholar- 
ship. (The University of Chicago Press, $3.50.) 


There are few countries which have had a 
more interesting and remarkable constitutional 
development than Canada. Certainly none of 
the other British dominions have had a history 
nearly as fascinating as that of the country 
where the problem of colonial autonomy was 
first worked out. Naturally, the story of Can- 
adian constitutional evolution has attracted the 
attention of numerous writers; though the truth 
is that no first-rate treatment of the subject has 
as yet seen the light. Mr. -John D. Hunt's "De- 
mocracy in Canada" (Macmillan. Toronto, 
1918. pp. 56), is merely a sketch of Canadian 
constitutional history. It was originally a 
chapter added to Mr. Hunt's "The Dawn of a 
New Patriotism." and is now published as a sep- 
arate brochure. It is primarily intended for 
"naturalized Canadian settlers, who have never 
had the advantage of our public school course"; 
though Mr. Hunt, with engaging frankness, as- 
sures us that "for those who have read exten- 
sively, the pamphlet will supply a valuable out- 
line. " There are a few minor mistakes in Mr. 
Hunt's pages., such as any author who does 
not rely entirely on the original documents is 
liable to make; but on the whole his sketch is 

April, 1919. 

<■ IN I/)/ l.v lino KM I v 


THE vorrn of w. ii 111 nso\ 
It is just twenty five years since "Idle Days 
in Patagonia" appeared and acquainted a few 
observant students of currenl letters with the 
fact thai another great writer-naturalist had 
joined the galaxy of those who can turn the 
investigations of science into the material of 

[Hire literature. Since then W. II. Hudson 
has acquired a host of admirers, who will find 
in "Par Away and Long Ago," a collection of 

memories of his early life on the South Ameri- 
can pampas, a work possessing all the simplicity 
and charm and varied and exotic eolor of his 
other hooks, together with an unusually intim- 
ate revelation of the author himself. An admir- 
able photogravure portrait accompanies the 
volume. Perhaps the book's most interesting 
feature is the extraordinary and scientific 
frankness with which Mr. Hudson details and 
discusses his early religious seekings and ex- 
periences, which are not the less interesting by 
reason of the fact that as a boy he was con- 
demned by the physicians to an early death, 
and was fully aware of it. 


Admiral .Tellicoe 's "The Grand Fleet, 1914- 
16" is being handled in Canada by Musson's, 

and as it is one of the ereat original first-hand 
documents on a most vital part of the war it is 
likely to have a larsre sale. It is written with 
the utmost modesty and clarity, and will pro- 
vide the necessary material for settling the 
lone-disputed question as to the real merits of 
the British naval command at The battle of 
Jutland. For the time being, the dispute still 
rasres. and the book itself seems to have afford- 
ed ammunition to the anti-Jellicoe party. 

A. II. Pollen, a well-known naval expert ex- 
presses the opinion that a complete victory over 
the German High Seas Fleet in the battle of 
•Tntland would have been a certainty' if Admiral 
•Tellicoe had not deployed and refused to face 
a torpedo attack from Admiral Scheer's de- 

"Admiral .Tellicoe," he says, "has told his 
story with such unparalleled frankness, he has 
thrown himself so completely on the generosity 
of his readers, that no harsh word or epithet 
can ever be employed against him. If he was 
wrong, his error has cost this country, and 
Europe, an incalculable price, but he has given 
all his reasons for his actions, and if he is con- 
demned, it will be out of his own mouth." 

Admiral Sir Edmund Fremantle says blunt- 
ly: ".Tellicoe lost his chance. His book is full 
of excuses and difficulties. The plain truth is 
.Tellicoe. though a eood officer, is not a man of 

And bitterest of all. the Toronto Telegram, 
in a four-column review of the book says that 
after reading it "you still feel that what the 
British navy required at the battle of Jut- 
land was a better admiral, not a better press- 


A verj interesting and successful experiment 

has been worked out tins winter n onection 

with the Fori William Public Library, when the 
services of the head of the Walton Pyre Stock 
Company of Chicago, now performing in Port 
William, were engaged to give weekly matinee 

lectures on dramatic art. These were thrown 

to the genera] public at a nominal charge 

of 25 cents each, and the lecture room has been 
well filled on each occasion. The course com- 
menced with a couple of lectures on dramatic 
interpretation, since which there has been a 
series of interpretative recital-lectures on 
Browning, Kipling, "Hamlet." "The School for 
Scandal." Lectures on "The Taming of the 
Shrew" and Tennyson will complete the course. 
With the close of the lectures, it is the inten- 
tion of the circle to organize as a permanent lit- 
erary society, with the object not only of study- 
ing the drama, but of encouraging the produc- 
tion of amateur theatricals. Tn connection with 
the latter feature, Mr. Walton Pyre will put 
on a play in the near future, using only local 
talent for the cast. 

Fisher Unwin in London, and Dent in To- 
ronto, are issuing a new edition, entirely revis- 
ed and reset, of the "Poems" of W. B. Yeats. 
It is slightly larger in size, but with the same 
back-design, as the two-volume edition issued 
by Macmillan in 1909, and contains in its 315 
pages most of the verses and ballads from the 
first volume of the Macmillan edition and the 
two greatest of the plays from the second vol- 
ume, which bore the sub-title "Dramatical 
Poems." These are "The Countess Cathleen" 
and "The Land of Heart's Desire." which are, 
of course, vastly the best of Yeats' dramatic 
work, and even the Yeats-lover can get along 
without "On Baile's Strand," or "The King's 
Threshold": but we should have supposed that 
"Deirdre" would have been desired by many 
of those who want their Yeats in one book. As 
it is, it must be bought in "Plays for an Irish 
Theatre." The smaller poems are under the 
headings of "The Rose" and "Crossways," the 
former being those orginallv published with 
"The Countess Cathleen" in'l892, and the lat- 
ter with "The Wanderings of Oisin" in 1888. 
It seems strange that the anthologies have not 
made more extensive use of so exquisite a poem 
as "The Ballad of Father Gilligan," one of th- 
Rose collection, which tells a story of great 
popular appeal and contains such lovely lines 

He knelt, and leaning on the chair, 
He prayed and fell asleep; 
And the moth-hour went from the fields. 
And stars began to peep. 

Then slowly into millions grew. 
And leaves shook in the wind: 
And God covered the world with shade. 
And whispered to mankind. 



April, 1919. 

Contributors to the Ap:*il Number 

Arthur L. Phelps, who besides contributing 
to the Symposium on the American Deluge is 
also the "author of the delightful take-off (if 
take-off it be) on Free Verse, dedicated to J. 
M. Gibbon, is well known to the followers of the 
current poetical movement in Canada, although 
he has never published a volume. The Camp- 
bell Anthology, the most authoritative of Can- 
adian collections, contains a charming piece of 
his verse, and others have appeared from time 
to time in the University Magazine, the Cana- 
dian Magazine and the Chicago "Poetry." He 
is permanently a denizen of Bobcaygeon, Out., 
but his ministerial function in connection with 
the Methodist Church keeps him supplied with 
a temporary address, which happens just now 
to be Bath, Ont. 

Mary J. L. Black is known to all librarians in 
Canada, and to a large proportion of the lit- 
erary public, as the energetic and original lib- 
rarian of Fort William, Ont., and an ex-pre- 
sident of the Ontario Libraiy Association. 

J. CasteU Hopkins needs no bush. 

Frank Wise is the manager of the Canadian 
establishment of Macmillan's — the Macmillan 
Company of Canada, Limited, Bond Street, To- 
ronto — and a well-known leader in imperial, 
naval, literary and other movements in Toronto. 

W. D. Lighthall is President of the Royal So- 
ciety of Canada, and the substance of the ar- 
ticle contained in this number was delivered by 
him as the Presidential Address to that body 
at its last meeting. He was the compiler of the 
first important anthology of Canadian verse, 
and is known from end to end of Canada as a 
leader in the movement for the betterment of 
our municipal institutions, while his verse, his 
antiquarian skill and his critical faculty have 
made him known to an audience extending 
throughout the Empire. The present article is 
an excellent example of his faculty of judicious- 
ly stimulating young writers towards the best 

•T. E. Middleton's biography will be found in 
the article on "The Colyum in Canada." 

Ramsay Traquair is Professor of Architec- 
ture at McGill University, an expert on fencing 
.'ncient and modern, a collector of rugs and an- 
ti'pies, a theatrical producer (not for filthy 
lucre) ;i designer of stage costumes, and a most 

engaging theorist. An article by him, throw- 
ing an entirely new light on the duel in "Ham- 
let," will appear in the next number of the 


.1. A. McNeil is dramatic critic of the Mont- 
real Gazette. 

Alfred Gordon is one of the most thought- 
ful and most technically equipped of the young- 
er Canadian poets, though a Canadian only 
by fairly recent adoption. He has issued two 
volumes of excellent verse. 

St. George Burgoyne is city editor of the 
Montreal Gazette, but is better known to the 
public (since city-editing is the most self- 
effacing of jobs) as a water-colorist of skill and 
delicacy, whose landscapes, chiefly among the 
Laurentian mountain valleys, have been hung 
at many Canadian shows during the last ten 
years. He is also an art critic whose sense of 
justice is much relied on by readers of the 

Edith Wherry is the author of a series of 
brilliantly successful inovels of Chinese life, 
the materials for which she acquired during a 
childhood spent in that Empire. It is perhaps 
violating no secret to state that she is in pri- 
vate life the wife of a Montreal physician, Dr. 
H. S. Muekle.ston. Mrs. Muckleston is at pre- 
sent in California assisting in the screening of 
one of her novels for moving-picture represen- 

Ben Deacon, although his article fails to men- 
tion it. is himself one of the cleverest "eolyum- 
ists" in Canada, but temporarily called away 
from that form of service to humanity to fill 
a post in the Chief Press Censor's Office at 
Ottawa. This is one of the worst consequences 
of the war, that a man who can write should be 
employed exclusively in preventing other people 
from doing so. Mr. Deacon's light last shone in 
the columns of the Winnipeg Tribune. 

Harcourt Farmer is a young Montrealer who 
has devoted himself to the stage, and in par- 
ticular to advancing the interests of the non- 
commercial drama. 

S. Morgan-Powell is the dramatic critic of 
the Montreal Star, and in the intervals of that 
busy life has turned out a considerable quan- 
tity of good verse and sound literary criticism. 

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July, 1919. 



JULY, 1919 

One Way of Exploiting Canada 

THOSE who are familiar with the system 
under which the Canadian book-buying 
field is exploited by the American pub- 
lisher are necessarily acquainted with the rea- 
son for a state of things which evokes amaze- 
ment in the uninitiated. When the author of 
a literary work has consented, as part of his 
bargain with his American publisher, to allow 
the latter to control the rights for the work in 
Canada as well as in the United States, it fol- 
lows naturally that the only way in which a 
Canadian publisher can secure that work is to 
accede to the terms which the American pub- 
lisher may lay down. These terms naturally in- 
clude the purchase by the Canadian firm of the 
largest number of manufactured copies of the 
work that it can possibly be induced to handle ; 
but it is not this feature to which we refer at 
present. In many cases a much more objection- 
able condition is attached. In order to secure 
the Canadian market for a book of obvious Can- 
adian appeal, one which Canadians must have 
in order to keep up with the best thought of the 
British race to which they belong, the Canadian 
publisher has frequently to consent to purchase, 
along with this book which he wants, a prepos- 
terous number of copies of a book, or of several 
books, which he does not want in the slightest 
degree. And in order to emerge from this forced 
transaction with as little loss as he may, he is 
compelled to do what he can, in his turn, to 
force these undesired and undesirable books 
upon the Canadian bookseller and the Canadian 

This, and this alone, is the reason why Cana- 
dian publishing houses are so often seen act- 
ing as agents for. and sometimes even puttinir 
their imprint upon, volumes written by fourth- 
and fifth-rate American authors, without a ves- 
tige of appeal to any piiblic beyond the bor- 
ders of the United States. The situation is not 
unlike that which prevails in the theatrical 
business of this Dominion, where, in order to he 
able to secure a few attractions of international 
appeal and unquestionable merit, the lessee of a 
Canadian theatre is constantly compelled to ac- 
cept also the bookings of low-grade composi- 
tions of the most insular Americanism. And, 
like his fellow the Canadian publisher in simi- 
lar plight, he is obliged to represent these ut- 
terly un-Canadian works of "art" as being ex- 

cellent matter, thoroughly suited to the require- 
ments of the Canadian public, in which task 
he is usually able to find some sympathetic 
newspaper critics to assist him. And the unen- 
lightened outsider wonders if Canadians really 
are so sublimely ignorant of the artistic re- 
quirements of their own nation, and so slavisl' 
ly contented to accept whatever the larger of 
the North American nations chooses to send 

We are not drawing attention to this practice 
because of any alarm lest these works, of litera- 
ture or of the drama, should have an anti-Can- 
adian effect upon our people. After all, a 
work of art, to produce any effect of import- 
ance, must have merit; it is the clever and in- 
teresting American productions that we need to 
be afraid of if of any — those which our people 
choose of their own motion and from their own 
predilections. All that we aim to do is to urge 
Canadian book buyers to save their money and 
not to expend it upon American ephemeral 
works of less than negligible merit, for no bet- 
ter reason than that a publisher or a bookseller 
is resorting to particularly violent and showy 
methods in order to dispose of "slow" stock. 
In particular do we urge that Canadians should 
turn a deaf ear to the blandishments which 
would induce them to help the American pub- 
lisher to shuffle off in this country a few thous- 
ands of the enormous mass of meaningless 
"war" books which have poured from the Am- 
erican presses ever since April, 1917, and are 
now choking the shelves of wholesalers and re- 
tailers and going staler with every day of peace. 
And in uttering this warning we conceive 
that we are advancing the true interests of the 
Canadian publisher as much as an3'body else. 
For, after all, it is only the ultimate foolish- 
ness of the Canadian public, its susceptibility 
for exploitation, that enables the astute Ameri- 
can publisher to pull this game off at all. The 
Canadian publisher is forced into a competitive 
position ; the house which will undertake to sell 
the largest number of William Johnson Cub- 
reporter's "Why Wilkes's Corners Went to the 
War" is the winner in the bidding for the Can- 
adian business in the latest Marie Corelli or 
Winston Churchill. Once make it obvious that 
Canadians will not buy Mr. Cubreporter's book, 
and no Canadian house will undertake to look 
after it, and this form of competition will cease. 


July, 1919. 

Slip-Cover English 

SOMETHING should be done, and that 
speedily, about the persons who, seated 
on stools in some back office of some 
publishing house in New York or Chicago or 
Philadelphia, concoct the appalling messes of 
English with which they smear the slip-covers 
of contemporary novels, and damn their con- 
tents in the minds of all sensitive and discern- 
ing people before they are read. Here is one 
who tells us, among other rubbish, that "The 
Arrow of Gold" is a story of "the last Pretend- 
er to a European throne," which, being a bare 
statement of fact and not of opinion, is per- 
haps the most demonstrable lie that has been ut- 
tered by any of these gentry during the past 
three months — seeing that the Pretender does 
not for one single page or one single line ever 
come into the action of the story. But a mere 
lie is harmless compared with the Twentieth- 
Plane-like perversions of the English language 
which more customarily decorate these pieces 
of wrapping-paper. Here are a few glowing 
words on the wrapper — and on the subject — of 
the latest Walpole, "The Secret City":— 

Drenched with color, and passion, and drama, 
a work of art which mingles the elements of 
Wilkie Collins and of "The Golden Bowl," 
here is the most penetrating picture yet given 
of the soul which bore the world's menace to- 
day — Bolshevism. 

Indescribable awe is given to "The Secret 
City" by the circumstance that it is not con- 
cerned with the outward manifestations of 
war, but to adapt the Russian proverb itself, 
"with the dark forest of the hearts of men." 
The scene is Petrograd — a Petrograd at once 
utterly beyond belief and entirely convincing. 
The time is the coming and the bursting of the 

Vera is, as she proclaimed, "Not a heroine 
in a book! But alive! alive!" Alexei Petro- 
vitch Semyonov is one of the most surpassingly 
sinister figures in literature. The Rat — what 
is he? — the rising dark peril. And so the scene 
is knit of a multitude — each a facet in the 
weirdest caldron in history. 

The object of slip-covers, as of other forms 
of advertising is to sell; in this case to sell 
books. Different classes of books are bought by 
different classes of people. "We can imagine 
that the class of people who buy Corelli or Eli- 
nor Glynn might be attracted by this sort of 
cover ; and we ourselves, as we do not care in 
the least what is put on the outside (or inside) 
of a book by either of those popular writers, 
would be in no wise disturbed. But Mr. "Wal- 
pole is an author who appeals, or so at least we 

should suppose, to persons of somewhat deli- 
cate literary susceptibilities; and the nerves 
of such persons are likely to be shocked and 
their artistic gorge to rise upon the perusal of 
sentences like those just quoted. To us, there- 
fore, it seems that the slip-covers, upon books 
of genuine literary quality, are "bad business," 
and should be suppressed in the interests not 
merely of art, but of salesmanship. 

The subject is at any rate deserving of care- 
ful consideration, and we shall be glad if read- 
ers will assist us by sending in any particularly 
shining gems which they may meet with in their 
libraries or in their booksellers'. "We plan to 
make a collection of them, a sort of publishers' 
chamber of horrors — "each a facet in the weird- 
est caldron in history." 

Printers or Authors? 

AT the time of writing this article it ap- 
pears improbable that the Copyright 
Bill introduced in the Senate since our 
last issue, and made the subject of extensive 
and diverse representations by different inter- 
ests, will be able to make its way into the stat- 
ute book before the close of the session. Pre- 
posterous as is our present copyright law, we do 
not feel at all sure that the work of reconstruct- 
ing it will not be aided by a few months of de- 
lay for the consideration of the many important 
questions which are involved. 

In its main principles,. and particularly in the 
(to Canada) absolutely novel and fundamental 
principle that copyright exists as soon as a work 
is created and belongs to the creator until ef- 
fectively transferred by him, the Bill which has 
been under discussion during the last two 
months seems wholly admirable. It is in con- 
nection with the detail* by which it is proposed 
to carry out those principles or, in one or two 
cases, to create exceptions from them, that dis- 
cussion has arisen. 

The most important of the exceptions is that 
which abandons the general principle of the 
Bill in favor of a retaliatory policy against the 
United States. The Bill confers copyright on- 
ly upon works whose author was, at the time 6? 
making, a national or resident either of the 
British Empire or of a country included in the 
Berne Convention, and whose first publication 
(in the case of published works) occurred in 
such a country; leaving it to the Government 
by Order-in-Council to "direct that this Act 
shall apply to" other persons and publications, 
and to lay down "such conditions and formali- 

July, 1!)19. 


ties" as it. may see fit. These phrases deny 
eopyrighl altogether to works of Ameriean or- 
igin and also to works first published in the 
United States; and the poliey of leaving the 
Government a free hand to deal with sueh works 
is obviously inspired by a desire to enable the 
Government to negotiate with the American au- 
thorities for better treatment of Canadian 
works. The motive is entirely praiseworthy; it 
remains to be considered whether the method 
chosen is likely to be effective and whether the 
employment of it would not do more harm than 
good to Canadian interests. 

Those interests are, of course, extremely di- 
verse. Several of them were represented before 
the Committee of the Senate, among: them tbe 
Trades and Labor Congress, which desires to 
compel the printing of American works in Can- 
ada in order to give more work to Canadian 
compositors and pressmen ; the organised print- 
ing industry, which desires more work for Can- 
adian printing plants; and various individual 
and organized authors and composers, who are 
chiefly concerned with the preservation of the 
rights of Canadian authors and composers in 
foreign countries. The Canadian publishers 
themselves are divided upon the question, ac- 
cording to whether their varying businesses 
give them an interest in printing in Canada, 
with or without importation from Berne Con- 
vention countries, or in importation from non- 
Berne countries, meaning the United States. It 
does not appear that any of them are particu- 
larly interested in what may be called the ne- 
gotiatory object of the Bill as drafted, which is 
presumably intended to enable the Government 
to get such concessions from the United States 
as would enable Canadian-produced books to 
enjoy American copyright. The plain fact 
seems to be that the benefit of any reciprocal 
arrangement that might be made with the 
United States would be very slight indeed to 
this country, which is the small end of the see- 
saw ; and those who are interested in the retali- 
atory' proposals are interested in them as a per- 
manent policy and not as a means of negotia- 
tion for something else. In other words, they 
want American books excluded from Canadian 
copyright, and would be grievously disappoint- 
ed if the "retaliation" produced any effect and 
led to an arrangement by which each country 
would admit the books of the other. 

This is quite an intelligible position, and not 
at all an unnatural position for the printers and 
their associated interests to take, seeing that 
they are in a country much wedded to Protec- 

and that their industry derives pr.i 
ally no benefit from the form of Protection at 
presenl in vogue. We are accustomed to the 
;n -"nine 'lit thai it' a thing can be made in Can- 
ada the tariff, or something else, should see to 
it that it is made in Canada; bul it is usually 
advanced by those who have a somewhat person- 
al interest in making it in Canada, and we have 
therefore to scrutinize the situation pretty 
closely in order to ascertain whether the price 
that we must pay for making it in Canada is or 
is not. excessive. Now if the negotiators object 
of the new Bill were to succeed, and a free ex- 
change of books were permitted (save for tariff 
duties) between Canada and the United States, 
there would be no more book-producing in Can- 
ada than there is now — save to the extent to 
which we might induce the Americans to btry 
books of Canadian origin and manufacture, 
which for a time would not be great. But no- 
body is expecting it to succeed, for a long time 
anyhow, and those who favor the retaliatory 
policy do not desire it to succeed, so we may as 
well leave it out of count. "What, then, would 
be the extent of the increased manufacture of 
books in Canada while the retaliatory policy was 
in effect? And what would be the cost? 

And here we are met with an absolute blank. 
Nobody knows what regulations would be im- 
posed by the Order-in-Council for dealing with 
the copyright of American works or works first 
published in America. The Government has 
carte blanche. It is well to remember that un- 
der the existing state of the American law, the 
owner of a work "first published" in the Unit- 
ed States is frequently a Canadian, and the 
work itself of Canadian origin. It is highly im- 
portant to know the terms on which such works 
are going to be dealt with. A licensing system 
was suggested to the Committee, under which a 
non-Berne work would be put up to be bid for 
by any Canadian publishers desirous of pro- 
ducing it, and if nobody bid for it, or if the 
bids were considered inadequate by the regis- 
trar of copyrights or some similar official, a 
license to import would be granted to the owner. 
Such a proposal requires very careful scrutiny. 
Practically, it places the owner of a non-Berne 
work (and most Canadian works, owing to the 
desire of their authors to obtain American 
copyright, must under this Bill become non- 
Berne works) completely at the mercy of a 
small group of publishers, not merely for his 
Canadian market, but his very copyright in 
this country. If he refuses their terms (and 
the registrar of copyrights does not intervene) 



July, 1919. 

they can print his work anyhow; for it ceases 
to be a copyright work. It is difficult to feel 
satisfied that the rights of the author would be 
sufficiently protected either by competition be- 
tween the publishers or by the supervision of 
the registrar, under such a system as this. It is 
even questionable whether works of American 
origin could enjoy copyright at all under this 
Bill without actual production in Canada, so 
long as the United States requires actual pro- 
duction in that country; for after enumerating 
the countries affected by the Bill and stating 
that other countries may be added by Order-in- 
Council, the Bill goes on immediately, and in 
the same clause, to say : 

Provided that the terms of copyright shall 
not exceed that conferred by the law of the 
country of origin of the work, and the enjoy- 
ment of the rights conferred by this Act shall 
be subject to the accomplishment of any condi- 
tions and formalities prescribed by the law of 
the country of origin of the work, and the rights- 
conferred by this Act shall be co-extensive with 
the rights conferred by the law of the country 
of origin of the work. 

Which appears to mean that so long as the 
United States continues to require manufac- 
ture as a condition of copyright in its terri- 
tory, so long must Canada require manufacture 
as a condition of Canadian copyright for any 
work of American "origin" — which means any 
work, even by a Canadian, which has its first 
publication in the United States unless it be 
"simultaneously" published in Canada or one 
of the Berne countries. It seems questionable 
whether the Government could over-ride this 
very definite "Provided," even by a licensing 

Such a requirement would undoubtedly bring 
to Canada quite a little printing. Those who 
favor the "manufacture" policy allege that the 
cost of production (per copy) of the small is- 
sues required for the Canadian market would 
not be much, if at all, in excess of the prices 
charged by American publishers for the Cana- 
dian allotment of a book manufactured in the 
United States; having in view especially that 
the Canadian producer could gauge much more 
carefully the quantity of copies which he would 
print and bind, being able to meet the demand 
from time to time, whereas under the present 
system he is compelled to take an excessive num- 
ber of copies, all complete, in order to obtain 
the Canadian rights. But after all, this is a 
matter purely of competition between the Can- 
adian publishers, and they are not compelled 
to accede to the terms of the American publish- 

ers for any book if they regard those terms as 
unprofitable. Apart from special considera- 
tions such as these, the setting up and printing 
of a Canadian edition of a book which could 
just as well be produced from the American 
plates at the same impression as the American 
copies seems like the introduction of an enor- 
mous amount of unnecessary labor, which must 
be paid for by somebody. That somebody may 
sometimes be the American publisher; but 
surely there is grave danger that it will often 
be either the author or the Canadian book- 
buyers? And we ought to hesitate a long time 
before adding to the burdens of either of these 
classes, just to provide more work for Canadian 

Among the numerous elements of the price 
to be paid by Canadians for the privilege of 
insisting on Canadian manufacture of works of 
"American origin" is the loss (or so at least it 
is claimed) of the whole privilege of copyright 
in the United States for Canadian nationals. By 
legislating ourselves out of the British copy- 
right territory in which we at present belong, 
we deprive ourselves of any share in the copy- 
right convention between Great Britain and the 
United States, and by the very terms of the new 
Bill we ignore the requirements of the United 
States for countries which desire their citizens 
to have copyright protection in the Republic. 
A foreigner can secure copyright in the United 
States only when domiciled there at the time 
of first publication or when his country 
"grants, either by treaty, convention, agree- 
ment or law, to citizens of the United States 
the benefit of copyright on substantially the 
same basis as to its own citizens, or copyright 
equal to that secured by the foreign author un- 
der the United States act, or when the foreign 
state is a party to an international agreement 
providing for reciprocity in the granting of 
copyright, and the United States may. by the 
terms of that agreement, become a party ther' 
to" (Encyc. Brit.', "Copyright"). It looks 
very much as if the effect of the present Bill 
would be to compel every Canadian author who 
desires American copyright (and we must not 
forget that for an author of any importance be- 
yond his own parish that copyright is vastly 
more valuable than our own) to pack up his 
things and remove as promptly as possible 
across the border. Are we prepared to obtain 
work for a hundred printers, at the cost of 
losing the presence in our midst of a hundred 
Canadian authors? Is a printer or a writer 
more important to this young Dominion? 

July, 1919. 


The Poems of Horace Bray 


IN the fall of the year 1014 the weather was 
growing dark and darker, the news from 
overseas more and more discouraging. 
City after city, town after town the Germans 
progressed through Belgium and Northern 
France. Their military tradition of ceaseless 
victory had been broken on the Marne, but 
these successes were re-enforcing it. 

Early in October word came of the siege of 
Antwerp — tale of treachery and unprepared- 
ness. The flight of the Belgian Court follow- 
ed, together with the final capitulation of the 
tragic old city on the Scheldt, Then, in rapid 
succession news of the occupation of Ghent — 
Bruges — Ostend. And before November was 
two weeks old the sand-dunes of Dixmude were 
stained as red as the sunset over the North Sea 
with the blood of those indomitable defenders 
whose trenches, marked here and there by a 
lonely poplar tree cross, are the only graves of 
one of the greatest battle-fields of history. 

To those days, too, fell the terrible first 
fighting in the Argonne — tough bush-fighting 
along forest clad hills. Then the newspapers 
bristled with strange names and with stranger 
rules for pronouncing them, so that people in 
offices and workshops, on the streets and in the 
street-cars wrestled almost as mightily with 
continental vowels and terminations as the for- 
ces of the Aisne wrestled with the enemy. 

Three weeks before Christmas the cables an- 
nounced that the "Princess Patricia's" had 
been moved out of Salisbury, brigaded with 
English regiments and sent across the Channel. 
Nobody realized it at the moment, but from that 
cable — interminable knelling in Canadian 
hearts — dates the mysterious dread word : 
"Somewhere in France." 

On a night of that same December, in his 
study in the rectory at Thamesford, Ontario, a 
young student of eighteen years, recently ma- 
triculated, but too restless to take up his work 
in the university, sat reading Xenophon's 
"Hellenes"; reading — 

. . . of men who died before 
The Roman world had risen to sight. 
When Sparta boldly matched her might 
'Gainst Athens in unholy war. . . . 

The boy delighted in the Greek historian, 
whose marvellous detail, picturesque simpli- 

city of style and almost breath-taking sense of 
reality have made him a favorite with all ages. 
This night, however, he wearies of his task. For 
him, he scarce knows why — 

. . . the printed page 
Throbs, in a hazy mist of heat 
The letters seem to part and meet — 
A sudden drunkness in the sage. . . ! 

Then as in a vision there comes to him an ap- 
preciation of the fact that — 

Another Sparta now has sprung 
Full at the throat of all the world, 
Beneath the battle vapours curled 
Once more have steel and armor rung. 
Once more the seas have known the shock 
Of fleets in wrath. . . 

Why sit here reading of old forgotten things 
and battles long ago, when the hands of the 
men of his own day are set to as mighty a work 
as ever the world has known . . . when the 
sons of his own empire and his own country are 
flinging their bodies, their wills, their hearts, 
their all — to save their souls from slavery? 
This, he argues, is a task he dare not beg nor 
shirk. He — 

. . . cannot do the paltry thing 
While our own ones lie bathed in blood — 
A newer, costlier, ghastlier flood- 
That Freedom may more strongly spring. . . 

So he pushed his books from him, and draw- 
ing pen and paper near, he wrote the poem from 
which I have taken the above stanzas. 

"He brought the poem to me," says his fath- 
er in a scribbled note on the manuscript, "and 
said: 'Dad, I can't go on like this! I must go! 
I don't want to go, but I must.' The next day 
we went to London and he enlisted." 

What high hearts there were everywhere in 
Canada in the year 1914 — high hearts of whom 
in their blindness men had said that they had 
not the great stuff in them of the men of old ! 
What colleges gave up their crusaders and their 
cavaliers ! What workshops poured the metal 
of their manhood into the mould of heroes ! 
What farms and shops and counting-houses 
proved themselves to have been manned by 
Hectors and Hotspurs ! What homes sent out 
their ministering saints! What mingled fear- 



July, 1919. 

lessness and fear, longing and loathing swept 
our country from wave to wave ! Let us never 
forget either the dark daunt or the deathless 
daring of those to whom we owe the dawning 
of this better day. 

Of those high hearts no heart beat higher 
with the joy of life than that of the young poet- 
student, Horace Edgar Kingsmill Bray, son 
of the Kev. H. E. Bray, of Thamesford. Re- 
cently graduated from the Gait Collegiate In- 
stitute, the honor boy of his year with a long 
list of literary stuff and some worth-while verse 
to his credit, the idol of his class-mates and of 
his family, good to look at, in full health — and 
with the gift of song; here was one of those 
rare ones against whose future his friends are 
willing to set their fairest wager. A dice with 
destiny. All unexpected of him and his kind, 
the war came. . . How could a poet stand 
aside when Youth and Death for Freedom ride ? 
Young Bray took service with the 7th Can- 
adian Mounted Rifles, then recruiting. Toward 
the end of January he entered training, and on 
the 9th of June, 1915, sailed for England on 
the ss. Caledonia. 

Three months in camp followed, and in Sep- 
tember he was sent to France — -then almost a 
year in the Ypres salient. In the late summer 
of 1916 the 2nd Canadian Divisional Cavalry 
was ordered south, and on the 28th of Septem- 
ber of that year Private Bray, while engaged 
in the volunteer task of stretcher-bearing, was 
severely wounded by shrapnel, in Poziers 
"Woods. Subsequently he spent eight months in 
hospital and in convalescent homes in England. 
Upon recovery he applied for a commission in 
the Royal Flying Corps. On July 9th, on the 
very eve of his second departure for France, as 
the result of an accident due to no fault nor 
carelessness on the part of any one concerned, 
he paid with his young life the debt which so 
many of our bravest and our best have paid 
for the inestimable boon of man's mastery of 
the air. 

Flight! The poet's dream, the scientist's 
and the economist's hope for better things. 
Flight in which the thought of the ages has 
dared to see the greatest of all mechanical fac- 
tors in the redemption of mankind from the 
hard grind of crowded poverty, a chief in- 
strument in the elimination of time and space — 
the drawing together in a closer union of minds 
and of souls those races of men, those nations 
of the earth, those individuals whom space and 
time have hitherto kept asunder. Man flies! 
The future opens before his pinions. If a poet 

must die. how better than as Icarus died of old 
— his wings beating their way to heaven? 

All the poems of Horace Bray were thus 
written in the years before and in the two 
months and two weeks after the twenty-second 
anniversary of his birth. They are a boy's 
poems — a boy younger than Bernard Trotter 
— younger than Alan Seeger — younger by nine 
years than Rupert Brooke, in that day when he 
too joined the company of those who: 

. . . poured out the red 
Sweet wine of youth ; gave up the years to be 
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene 
That men call age ; and those that would have 

Their sons, they gave — their immortality. 

Therefore the volume of his poems is not so 
much a work of art as it is the vision war and 
death have granted of the first steps in the 
making of an artist — something incomplete but 
beautiful with promise. This the poet himself 
sensed when he wrote : 

You would forgive the dull imperfect telling 
If you could only grasp the things I tell — 
If through the broken words the Soul upwelling, 
Could cast its spell. 

But hearts too weary may not tell their sorrow. 
And things too deep to tell of keep me dumb ; 
I may speak worthily in some tomorrow, 
Some day to come. 

It is a boy, then, who sings in imitation of 
the beloved vagabond, Francois Villon, with a 
note of regret and passion that is true and 
sweet as only the best poetry is or can be ; this — 

Because we loved — the world was gay, 
And life was brimming full of joy; 
We gloried in the busy day, 
And life was glad without alloy — 
Because we loved. 

Because we loved — alack-a-day! 

We loved and now we love no more; 

Why it is so I cannot say, 

But our two hearts are sad and sore — 

Because we loved and love no more. 

So little, and so very much— 

A look, a sigh, a hidden tear; 

One look, one sigh — and then a touch 

Of far-off days so very dear 

Because we loved when they were here. 

A look, a sigh; and if we could 
But read the heart we loved and hurt ; 
If we could do the thing we should — 
Call back the cruel word and curt — 
(It was because we loved it hurt.) 

July. L919. 



We mighl still love, ami life would lie 
Once more a very hymn of joy- — 
Again our busy days would see 
Laughter and glee without alloy. 

Because we loved. 

Ami every dear remembered tone 
Should strike a heart in perfect tune — 
All, lovers that the world has known, 
Lend all your magic to the moon 
That we may love again, and soon ! 

Swift times speed characters as well a 
events. It is a boy rapidly turning a man un- 
der the impulse of a great decision who writes : 

Time was when life seemed very fair and 

sweet — 
We went our common ways with careless mien, 
And shuddered when Death thrust a hand to 

One of those whom wo jostled in the street. 
(Men said we were degenerate, effete.) 
Then the Arch-Murderer came with hands un- 
clean : 
And in an orgy crimson, vile, obscene 
Our world crashed into ruins at our feet. 
Our ears are too accustomed to the roll 
Of guns — our tired eyes too often view 
A piteous agony of mind and soul — 
The parting-place is no more strange nor new — 
While murdered thousands do not add unto 
The weighted balance of the staggering whole. 

It is a scientist in the becoming who thus dis- 
cerns : 


God rolled up his shirt sleeves 

At a quarter-after-seven, 
You could hear the mortar splashing 

As He built the walls of Heaven ; 
You could hear the mortar splashing 

In the silence of the morn, 
And in between two splashes 

A Universe was born. 

God put on His jacket 

At twenty-five-past-six, 
For He'd laid a firm foundation 

And He'd used up all His bricks — 
Now God, He don't talk loudly 

Nor give Himself much praise, 
But He finished off Creation 

In the space of seven days. 

For God He is a Workman 

Who sees a job of work 
And goes and darn-well does it 

And never tries to shirk. . . 
Now we are all His Workmen, 

Foremen and 'Prentice boys — 
And God, who works in silence, 

Won't judge us by our noise. 

It is a youthful philosopher who argues: 
I loved him but my love was unavailing; 

I offered all but nothing would lie take 

My tears and smiles alike were not prevailing, 

He spurned the treasure teeming for his sake; 

I gave my teal's my pearls of fairest worth — 
Bui all unheeded did they drop to earth. 

I hated him and threw him scornful glances, 
I stabbed him with a sharp and bitter word; 
Hut he was armed against my pointed lances 
And went his way as he had never heard: 
And all my envy and my hate returned 
Because an all-unheeding ear he turned. 

I cared no more and straight he followed after ; 

I passed unheeding — and he heeded me ; 

I- tossed my head with light and scornful 

And he was mine — no longer fancy free : 
Because I did not care, he cared indeed 
And followed after with an eager greed. 

It is an artist in words who paints: 


He wore twin stripes of gold upon 

An empty tunic sleeve; 
His eyes were blue, his face so young » 

One hardly could believe 
That he had seen the death and hate 

That make the whole world grieve. 

His hair was fair, his eyes were blue, 

I thought that I could see 
(Just where his sunny smile came through) 

The lad he used to be — 
Dear happy little mother 's-lad 

Of only two or three. 

But then across his eyes there came 

A sudden look of pain — 
His mouth set very hard and straight, 

He was a man again — 
He gave his shattered dream of youth 

That England might remain. 

I felt hot tears rise to my eyes 

When I looked at the lad. 
Brave gallant shattered smiling youth — 

He gave us all he had : 
For youth so fair, so sorely hurt 

All England's heart is sad. 

He passed me in a crowded street, 

We did not meet again — 
He showed me in a sudden flash 

Our England's pride and pain. . . 
And when all else is long forgot 

His memory will remain. 

Oh, wonderful Youth— Youth of the World. 
slain in its high places! The war rolls on. We 



July, 1918. 

have battle-songs and ballads, hymns to the 
glory that is England; sonnets, rondels, classic 
stanzas, many of them, his sister tells me, sent 
from the Field on torn and blurred fragments 
of paper, arriving in an almost illegible condi- 
tion: others scribbled on the flyleaf and the 
margins of "the priceless little Omar" he car- 
ried in his pocket. We have a few, a very few 
love lyrics — the prophecy of a larger and a 
deeper growth in loving: 

Something that has the sadness of a smile — 
Something that holds the wonder of a kiss— 
Ah, could the phantom memory stay awhile, 
Of all I miss. 


Oh, loss and gain that none may count 

know — 
Only the dream of that dead yesterday 
Gives faintly back the pain that will not go, 
Yet cannot stay. . . . 

There is little religious doubt but much relig- 
ious wonderment in the body of Horace Bray's 
verse — "The splendor of Life and of Love; the 
wonder of Death: the endless march of the 
soundless stars above, and the whispered breath 
that blows in the silent woods," these things 
mightily intrigue him ; he muses on them con- 
stantly and must have mused upon them to the 
end. How greatly intimate and how intimately 
great to him is the thought of the immanence 
of God : 

Thou God art in the stars above, the trees, 
And Thou art in the mountains, in the sea, 
And wind-borne wings . . .one eager hope, 

—0 God! 
Art Thou in me ? 

Always a certain weariness and that longing 
for rest inseparable from the terrific experi- 
ence possesses him and makes him long for a 

world where "Time is measured by hoary sun- 
dials in green gardens," yet always he is con- 
strained to be true to the vision of the stain- 
less shield, mindful of the knightly dream, re- 
cognizing for himself and for his soldier peers: 

The supreme keen pain and joy of life — 
Standing to face the unrelenting foe, 
Beating him back in close and bitter strife 
For home, for kindred — mother, sister, wife — 
That they may never know the things we know ! 

Finally even as Childe Roland, picking his 
way across the hideous plan, comes to his "Dark 
Tower," this Canadian boy, warring over the 
rough and ravaged fields of Flanders among 
images of death so strange the very stars in 
heaven seem to shrink from seeing, reaches his : 


There are long slopes of sadness drenched with 

And gray-veiled landscapes wistful for the sun ; 
There are long nights of grief and bitter pain — 
A burnt-out candle-end, a blotted page — 
And all tlie beautiful in life seems done : 
The fire of youth is out ! I feel the weariness 

of age. 

And there, dauntless as any Roland, he blows 
the challenge of eternity: 

After the ultimate stress and the effort and 
Silence and Rest ; 
After the throng and the battle, the wounds 
and the pain 
Solitude blest; 
After the panting and heaving and wrestling 
and strife 
A pause and a breath : 
Now I am master of Knowledge and Master of 
Can this be Death ! 

July, 1919. 

CAN I/'/. I \ HOOK l/.I.Y 


The Coming Canadian Novel 


AVERY good library," said Mark 
Twain, "can be started by leaving 
Jane Austen out." This dictum is 
quoted by a writer, who remarks that Mark 
Twain "was a strenuous critic of books because 
he was a shrewd critic of men." .Mankind must 
have changed since the days of Sir Walter 
Scott, for Scott's verdict on Jane Austen was 
very different. 

"Read again," he says in his journal of 
March 14, 1827, "Read again and for the third 
time at least Miss Austen's very finely written 
novel 'Pride and Prejudice.' That young lady 
had a talent for describing the involvements 
and feelings and characters of ordinary life, 
which is to me the most wonderful I ever met 
with." Then he goes on to talk of her "exqui- 
site touch which renders ordinary commonplace 
things and characters interesting from the truth 
of the description and the sentiment." 

I find many who agree with the judgment of 
Sir Walter in regard to Jane Austen rather 
than that of Mark Twain. And if the consen- 
sus of opinion is still in favor of Jane Austen, 
it only proves that contemporary judgment 
should not be discarded simply because it is 
contemporary, and that we need not wait for 
the verdict of posterity. 

Mark Twain was really blaming Jane Austen 
for being an Englishwoman who lived in and 
wrote about a world of snobs. He had so little 
in common with a society where it was a tra- 
gedy to be reduced, like Mrs. Dasliw r ood in 
"Sense and Sensibility," to three servants — two 
maids and a man — and where the business of a 
mother was frankly "to get her daughters mar- 
ried; its solace was visiting and news." Yet 
Jane Austen fulfilled the mission of the novel 
in reflecting her times. For the novel has nev- 
er been better defined than by Edmund Gosse 
who says it is: 

The name given in literature to a study in 
manners, founded on an observation of contem- 
porary or recent life, in which the characters, 
the incidents and the intrigue are imaginary 
and therefore "new-" to the reader, but are 
founded on lines running parallel to those of ac- 
tual history. 

According to this definition, the novel should 
realistically reflect contemporary life, and 

judged by this criterion the novel of England 
and the novel of the United States does serve 
its purpose. Dickens and Mrs. Qaskell visual- 
ise for us better than any history the England 
of the middle and lower classes between the 
passing of the Reform Bill and the Repeal of 
I lorn Laws. An American reader who had sys- 
tematically gone through a course of H. G. 
Wells, Arnold Bennett, Thomas Hardy Mrs. 
Humphrey Ward, John Galsworthy, George 
Gissing, George Moore, William de Morgan, 
Samuel Butler, Robert Hichens and W. L. 
George, superimposed on a grounding in An- 
thony Trollope, George Eliot and George Mere- 
dith, would have a very fair idea of contem- 
porary English social life outside Court circles. 

The England of these decent novels is a 
highly complex England with subtle caste dis- 
tinctions growing out of birth, money, educa- 
tion or locality — a well-read England claiming 
Paris as its capital as much as London — a tra- 
velled England, befitting the mistress of the 
seas — an England of cultured leisure, liviug 
within a stone's throw of and drawing its in- 
come from a fierce industrialism which has em- 
bittered but not destroyed the peasantry still 
rooted in its soil. It is an England, moreover, 
with two insurgent elements — labor and 
woman — both demand their share of this cul- 
tured leisure — the one no longer satisfied to 
be merely a wage-earner, the other no longer 
content to be a domestic slave. 

So too an Englishman who just as conscien- 
tiously went through a course of Edith Whar- 
ton, Winston Churchill, Ernest Poole, Henry 
Kitchell Webster, Booth Tarkington, 0. Henry, 
Theodore Dreiser, Owen Johnson, Fanny 
Hurst, Edna Ferber and W. D. Howells, would 
have a not unfair survey of the life of the Eng- 
lish-speaking Eastern and Middle-Western 
States — while if he supplemented these with G. 
W. Cable, Thomas Nelson Page, Will N. Har- 
ben, and John Fox, Jr., he would get the warm- 
er, softer atmosphere of the South. For the 
States on the Pacific Coast he would gain more 
from a study of the American-made motion pic- 

Instructed by this literature, an Englishman 
could come to the United States and find him- 
self in a familiar country. 



July, 1919. 

The United States of these outstanding novel- 
ists with the exception perhaps of W. D. 
Howells and the Southerners is a country of in- 
tense commercial, industrial and political life 
full of great cities each nervously alive to its 
own importance, inhabited by a religious peo- 
ple whose God is Success. They are not all suc- 
cessful—therein lie their tragedies. They 
laugh but they are not happy. They are rich, 
but they are not content. They live in a world 
of unrest and of nerves. Their most typical 
home is the hotel. 

English is the language of the American 
novelist, but the American people are less and 
less English every day. 0. Henry described 
the Statue of Liberty as "made by a Dago and 
presented to the American people on behalf of 
the French Government for the purpose of 
welcoming Irish immigrants into the Dutch city 
of New York. 

Turning now to Canada, the Englishman 
who looked for a representative picture of Can- 
adian life in the Canadian novel would be dis- 
appointed. The Canadian novel has hitherto 
rarely strayed beyond the life of the pioneer, 
the farmer or the small town dweller. There 
has been no memorable picture in fiction of 
either Montreal or Toronto, for instance, al- 
though Montreal has a population almost as 
large as Boston, and Toronto is no mean city. 

To the Englishman, the surprise of the Can- 
adian army was not its size so much as its men- 
tality. He did not know that Canada had such 
engineers, such surgeons, such sanitary experts, 
such nurses — products of an unreported city 
life. It was startling to find that Canada could 
produce munitions and aeroplanes quicker than 
the United States, and that for rapid handling 
of army supplies Canadians had nothing to 
learn from the Americans. The Englishman 
found nothing of this in Gilbert Parker, in 
Ralph Connor, in L. M. Montgomery, or in the 
romantic American writers who depict Canada 
as the semi-arctie haunt of Indians, trappers, 
bad men and mining experts. Canadian wheat, 
bacon, cheese and lumber were natural enough, 
but Canadian shells were at first considerably 

Now there are reasons for this dearth of Can- 
adian life in Canadian fiction, which like most 
good reasons are economic. The chief of these 
reasons is the absence of the Canadian publish- 
er. Until twenty years ago, there was only one 
publishing house in Canada of any account, 
and that house had a religious foundation. In 
a house, the realistic novel had no place — 

what was wanted was the goody-goody love 
story with the happy ending, preferably in a 
setting of farmyards among the blameless pigs 
and chickens, or with a touch of romance am- 
ong the pioneers who homesteaded on the prair- 
ies or blazed the forest trail. With a parson as 
his hero, the Canadian novelist doubled his 
chances of Canadian publication. Another al- 
ternative was to write historic romance — that 
might pass as being instructive. The realistic 
writer, however, had perforce to go to London 
or New York, and so became American or Eng- 

As one prominent Canadian publisher writes : 

Canadian authors have catered more or less 
to the larger American reading public when 
not qualified to exploit the Elder in the Kirk 
and the Scotch Parson presiding at death-bed 
scenes or engaged at fisticuffs with one of his 
flock, thus giving the brethren who would not 
pay out their good money to see a circus or 
countenance a boxing exhibition, a combination 
of a revival meeting, funeral effect and prize 
fight all rolled into one at $1.25 the lot. 

Within the last few years conditions have 
changed. Publishers who still are little else 
than distributors put their Canadian names as 
imprint on novels less dominated by the Sun- 
day atmosphere. Only a few of the writers of 
these books are Canadians, but the economic 
tide is turning in favor of the Canadian writer, 
as the Canadian publisher is willing to con- 
cede a reading public, not so large yet as it 
ought to be, but still considerable. The Cana- 
dian people themselves are wakening up to 
their own capacities. The accident of war 
threw them on their own resources, and these 
resources proved more than sufficient. They 
found that by co-operation they were able to fin- 
ance themselves instead of borrowing, that they 
could produce more, transport more/ export 
more than ever, even though half a million 
men had been withdrawn from their scanty pop- 
ulation. Those who went overseas showed the 
rest of the world that they represented a bold, 
inventive and courageous people, with the re- 
sult that Canada stands today on the threshold 
of a new era of nationhood. 

That era, from the very nature of the case, 
must be an era of intense activity, with actions 
and counter-actions, all the play of circum- 
stance which literary art reveals as drama. The 
very intensity of the activity will tend to pro- 
duce the writers who \will interpret it and 
express it in the form of fiction. For wherever 
in the modern world there is activity, there is 

July, 1919. 

r \\ \;,i i \ BOOKMA \. 


tlic creative and imaginative reporter. Tl 
movemenl may be complex, a combination and 
interplay of other movements simple enough to 
have a distinctive name -such as feminism, la- 
bor, militarism, but he is its prophel and inter- 
preter. Balzac, Tourgenief, Tolstoi, Maxim 
Corki and the hos1 of English realists from 
Dickens to the present day are such creative re- 
porters, voicing the problems and spirit of a 
century of social turmoil and upheaval. The 
English realistic school is closely identified with 
industrial unrest and so too is the later Rus- 
sian school. It is to my mind significant that 
the very considerable output of American real- 
istic fiction in the last twenty years coincides 
with the intense industrial activity following 
on the McKinley tariff. Easy-going cultured 
Boston no longer dominates American literary 
expression just as it is no longer the reflex of 
strenuous American life. Is there not reason 
to expect a similar output of literary expres- 
sion in the era of industrialism which now has 
nearly a million Canadians in its army, which 
has lifted Montreal for instance in eighteen 
years from a population of 270,000 to over 700,- 
000 — with all the problems of over-crowding, 
vice, surfeit of wealth and poverty which mean 
drama to the novelist ? 

Industrialism is, so to speak, the "speeder- 
up" of production, and speeds up the output 
of literary expression, evolving the creative 
novelist from a host of matter-of-fact reporters. 
Even such an interpreter of country life as 
Thomas Hardy is the product of an industrial 

So far then, one may expect a parallel be- 
tween English and American conditions, but 
there, I think, the parallel must cease. For the 
origins and outlook and background of the 
Canadian writer are definitely different from 
those of the United States, and still more so 
from those of England. Whatever may be the 
outcome of this war, it must be remembered 

that previous t" the war one-third of the popu 
lation ct' England belonged to the unoccupied 
or leisured classes. Tin- atmosphere of Oxford 
and Cambridge with their ideals of cultured 
leisure permeates English literary expression 
.just as it pervades so large a Bection of Kn<_'li>li 
lit''. A writer such ;us II. <;. Wells may fight 
against it, but without it he himself would have 
no public. Ilr would be revolutionary with no 
one to depose or to applaud. In Canada, how- 
ever, it is the man of leisure who is out of place. 
The Canadian has as his background and his 
origin and so often still his youthful circum- 
stance, not the city with its dreaming spires, 
but the forest clearing or the prairie farm. He 
has graduated so often through the lumber 
camp or the threshing outfit, and if he becomes 
a college boy still works his way through his 
vacations. If the general economic "speeding- 
up" forces him into literary expression, that 
expression will surely be tinged with the cir- 
cumstance from which he sprung and which 
has bred so many of those for whom he writes. 
He may not be conscious of it, because he is 
himself only a voice— but it will color and give 
"timbre" to that voice — a voice which may be 
less subtle in its modulations than the English 
voice, but will be trenchant and direct. 

The spirit of Russia seems to me most per- 
fectly expressed in a novel such as Maxim 
Gorki's "Mother"; the spirit of France — a 
more intricate and artificial civilization — in the 
"Comedie Humaine" of Balzac. England and 
the United States have produced no such gigan- 
tic intellect as that of Balzac, but the spirit of 
England — more in flux than that of France — 
and the spirit of the United States — not yet 
wholly integrated — is fairly reflected in the 
writers I have named. Canada is still waiting 
— hut will not have to wait long — for her pro- 
phet — or more likely her group of prophets who 
shall interpret her many-sided, but always vig- 
orous, life to her own people and to the Nations 
who have accepted her as Come of Age. 



July, 1919. 

A Sea- Writer Shanghaied 


THE shortage of executive workers iu this 
country, and the high valuation placed 
upon their services (not merely in 
money but in prestige), is having a most dis- 
astrous result upon Canadian literature. This 
country is constantly turning out fresh supplies 
of young men who can write well and vigor- 
ously and originally, and who give promise of 
developing into something worth while in the 
realm of letters; 
one does not predict 
positively in any in- 
dividual case that 
the develo pment 
will take place as 
per schedule, but 
one does know that 
on the average a 
substantial percent- 
age of these young 
men ought to be- 
come master crafts- 
men in the literary 
workshop. But what 
happens to them as 
soon as their prom- 
ise is definitely re- 

With few excep- 
tions they are im- 
mediately subjecterl 
to one or both of 
two temptations. 
They are tempted to 
sacrifice their Can- 
adianism but not 
their art, and to 
pursue the latter in 
one of the larger 
English - speaking 
countries where the 

rewards are greater; or they are tempted to 
sacrifice their art but not their Canadianism, 
and to devote their abilities to what most Can- 
adians are pleased to call "practical" work, 
in contradistinction to the hopelessly "im- 
practical*' task of creating ideas. As if ideas 
were not the only durable things in life! 

The force of these temptations is rendered 
much greater than it should rightly be, be- 
cause of the lamentable deficiency not merely 


of the material rewards (that was to be ex- 
pected), but also of the social recognition, 
the prestige, the influence, attaching to the 
literary craft in this young Dominion. The 
average Canadian undoubtedly thinks that he 
is "rewarding" literary talent by giving its 
possessor a chance to cease to exercise it, and 
to devote his energies to, say, the management 
of a small sub-department in a red-tape- 
bound government 
office, or the secre- 
taryship of a com- 
pany, or a publicity 
bureau, or a man- 
aging editorship on 
a newspaper. And 
where this idea is 
almost universal, 
what wonder that 
the writers them- 
selves eventually 
begin to succumb 
to it? We in this 
country are still at 
the stage where 
the United States 
stood in the days of 
Hawthorne, when 
custom-house jobs 
seem to have been 
considered the pro- 
per thing for men 
who were so foolish 
as to try to make 
a living by the pur- 
suit of letters. Nay, 
worse, for the Unit- 
ed States evidently 
did not expect its 
literary civil ser- 
vants to spend 
much time "at the receipt of customs," 
whereas we have to-day impose upon our liter- 
ary men tasks which compel them either to 
abandon literature or at least to convert it 
into the merest hobby of their leisure moments, 
a substitute for golf and bridge. 

Captain Frederick William Wallace is an all- 
round literary man in virtue of the two quali- 
fications which are imperative for that rank, 
namely the possession of knowledge and the 

Jaly, 1919. 



ability to convey it in words. I lis knowledge 
happens to concern a phase of Canadian 
'life which has importance as a producer 
of wealth as well as a producer of lit- 
erary material — the sea as the scene of 
the operations of the fishing industry. His 
knowledge could therefore he turned to an 
executive as well as a literary use, and the 
demand for the former has so far outweighed 
the demand for the latter that for four years 
he has not written anything involving more art 
than a business letter. (Lest some business 
man here arise to confute us by remarking 
that, a business letter requires the highest art, 
we hasten to admit his contention in advance, 
with the sole qualification that it is a differ- 
ent kind of art, and that it has no importance 
when once the object to which it is directed, 
namely the advancement of some piece of busi- 
ness, is achieved ; whereas the importance of 
a piece of fine art like a pood novel or short 
story is very much more durable, and may 
even be as lasting as the human race.) 

There are not many of Captain Wallace's 
books now available to the Canadian book 
buyer, though some which are now out of 
print may be found in libraries. The chief 
volume still obtainable is "The Shack Locker,'' 
now handled by Dent & Son, and consisting of 
a number of "Yarns of the Deep Sea Fishing 
Fleets," most of which originally appeared 
in the Adventure Magazine. They are written 
in the rather exaggeratedly simple and direct 
style cultivated by that periodical, which 
would involve the instant rejection of a story 
by Conrad on the ground of over-ornamenta- 
tion ; but Captain Wallace can write orna- 
mented English prose when he has a mind to, 
and a few examples of it have managed to stray 
even into the pages of "Adventure." And the 
"Adventure" style has one great point in its 
favor; it involves the use of a great deal of 
the most vigorous and picturesque dialogue 
that the people portrayed can be induced to 
provide; and Captain Wallace's researches 
among the fisherfolk of Nova Scotia and New- 
foundland have enriched his stories with a 
vocabulary as racy, as distinctive and as rich 
as that of Masefield and considerably more 
so than that of Norman Duncan. Sailors are 
not talkative, but when they do talk they say 
something, in a language the force of which 
is compressed by long silences into an extra- 
ordinary energy of imagination and figura- 
tion. How delightfully natural is this baiting 

of the brutal skipper of the Pole star by some 
of the brawny fishermen who have evaded his 
attemps to shanghai them: 

"•lest come aboard, ol' hairy face," said 
Henderson facetiously, "an' I'll take a lot o' 
pleasure in outtin' ye up for trawl bait! We're 
an mm crowd aboard here, an' I'm sure none 
o' th' boys 'ud lay a hand on ver sanctified 
huU '- Oh, no! by th' time we gol through 
with ye, th' dogfish 'ud be sniffin' at rar 
corpse! Ef I say th' word th' hull crowd 
o' us 'nil board yer blasted timber drogher 
an' take yer whole crew away from ye! Run 
back, ol' blovv-me-tight ! That hairy mug o' 
yours gives me a pain in th' side!" 

And it is pleasant to hear the chivalrous 
captain of the Isabel Winslow handing out 
a description of the boatload of firemen and 
stokers from the liner Alcestis who have left 
the passengers of that sinking ship to their 
fate : 

"Cast their painter off," he roared to the 
cook. "They're a dam' lot of bunker-cats 
who've rushed th' boat an' saved their own 
dirty skins! White-livered swabs! Back you 
go, blast ye, an' get some o' th' passengers ye 
ran away from, or I'll leave ve to drbwn as ye 
did the others!" 

We have no desire to deny the usefulness 
of the work in which Captain Wallace has 
been engaged during the last few years, to the 
exclusion of all literary efforts. As a promoter 
of the movement for the increased use of fish 
as an article of diet, he rendered yeoman ser- 
vices to the Allied cause and effected a per- 
manent improvement in the eating habits of 
Canadians, while as editor of the Canadian 
Fisherman and an official of the Fishermen's 
Association he has done much to place the 
fish industry on a better organized and more 
efficient basis. But if the time has come when 
these duties can be to some extent laid aside, 
in favor of the task, at least equally important, 
or portraying to inland Canadians and to the 
world at large the lives and the heroisms and 
the greatness and the littlenesses of the men 
of the Nova Scotia coast — one of the most 
richly characteristic, intensely Canadian and 
enduringly picturesque of all the Dominion's 
communities — if Captain Wallace is now to 
be able to abandon the propaganda of fish 
eating in favor of the propaganda of telling 
Canadians about their own fishermen — then 
Canadian literature will regain the services 
of one to whose work it is indubitably entitled. 



July, 1919. 

How Canadian Novelists are Using 
Canadian Opportunities 


-* -rr r HATEVER may be the relation of Car- 
W/ tier, Champlain, LaSalle, LaVerendrye, 

* * Vancouver and Mackenzie to the explor- 
ation of British North America, it is undoubted- 
ly true that Parkman was the real discoverer of 
Canada. He spent a lifetime in plodding 
through the documents, manuscripts and re- 
cords of two and a half centuries, piecing to- 
gether that marvellous story of adventure and 
daring, intrigue and statesmanship, hardship 
and discovery, fighting and conciliation, ro- 
mance and settlement, which we know as the 
history of Canada — a story that in human in- 
terest and in the fascination of its literary style 
surpasses many of the most thrilling tales of 
fiction. With few exceptions Canadian litera- 
ture is the product of the last half century, and 
much of the splendid historical fiction with a 
Canadian background, written by American, 
English and Canadian writers, has been based, 
beyond shadow of doubi, on the pregnant pages 
of Parkman 's fascinating history. 

The most notable of Canadian literary tradi- 
tions — the story of Evangeline — is unfortu- 
nately not of Canadian authorship, but so po- 
tent has been the film of magic thrown over the 
expulsion of the Acadians by the poet's death- 
less story that thousands of tourists every year 
visit the district associated with the poem, and 
that part of Nova Scotia is universally known 
as the Land of Evangeline. 

Unfortunately, when Longfellow wrote "Evan- 
geline" the real truth about the expulsion 
had not been revealed. Charles G. D. Roberts, 
who lectured at Acadia University at Windsor, 
and who is probably the most accomplished of 
Canadian men of letters, has tried in several 
excellent novels and books of short stories — "A 
Sister to Evangeline," "The Forge in the For- 
est," "By the Marshes of Minas," and "A Pri- 
soner of Mademoiselle" — to correct Longfel- 
low's highly-colored version of the episode, but 
in spite of his splendid artistry the spell of the 
great poet is not likely ever to be broken. 

Marshall Saunders has placed her "Rose of 
Acadie," one of the most notable of Nova Sco- 
tian novels, among the descendants of the exiled 
Acadians, who returning to Canada years af- 

terwards found their homes occupied by others 
and settled on a narrow strip of land on St. 
Mary Bay at the south-western corner of the 
Province, and it is a faithful and sympathetic 
study of a people over whom broods the sombre 
influence of a racial tragedy. 

But Nova Scotia has another famous literary 
tradition — one that to Canadians is, if any- 
thing, more important than that of Evangeline 
—that of Sam Slick. Judge Haliburton is re- 
cognised as the founder of the school of humor 
in which the "American" dialect is the con- 
spicuous element, and he was the first Cana- 
dian writer to find an assured place in Eng- 
lish literature. Haliburton was not a novelist 
in the accepted sense of the word, but Sam 
Slick is about as real a personality as Mr. Pick- 
wick, and in "The Clockmaker," "Wise Saws 
and Modern Instances," "Nature and Human 
Nature" and other books the author covers 
most of Nova Scotia, and many of his phrases 
and epigrams have become crystallized in the 

The New Brunswick novels are for the most 
part nature stories and books dealing with her 
most important industry — lumbering. Charles 
G. D. Roberts was born in the province, away 
up amid the salt marshes on the Tantramar 
River. Here he spent the early formative years 
of his life, roaming the woods, cruising the wa- 
terways and studying the birds and animals, 
and then it was that he acquired that know- 
ledge of woodcraft and wild animal life that he 
has used to such wonderful advantage in his 
books of nature stories: "The Heart of the An- 
cient Wood," "Kindred of the Wild," "The 
Watchers of the Trail," all of which are placed 
in the New Brunswick woods. "The Back- 
woodsman" and "Earth's Enigmas" are stor- 
ies of life among the lumbermen, and in "The 
Heart that Knows" he recalls his boyhood life 
in the salt meadows at the upper end of the Bay 
of Fundy. 

Theodore Roberts, a- younger brother, also a 
successful poet aud novelist, has several splen- 
did novels of life in the lumber mills and camps, 
"Jess of the River" and "Ray ton," and H. A. 


C! I VADIAN i:nni< \l I \ 


Cody, of Fredericton, has a good lumbering 
Btory .'ailed. "The Fourth Watch." 

Prince Edward Island since the publication 
of "Anne of Green Gables" in 1H06, will never 
lie the same again. Beautiful for situation, as 
the Psalmist puts it, it has through the wonder- 
ful skill and charm of one of its own daughters 
become a veritable story book island. There is 
perhaps no more winsome child in all fiction 
than Anne Shirley, the homely little red-haired 
girl from the orphan asylum who unexpectedly 
comes into the home of the old couple who want- 
ed a boy to help with the work; and although 
since she first appeared in "Anne of Green 
Gables" she has passed through "Anne of 
Avonlea." "Anne of the Island," "The Story 
Girl" and "Anne's House of Dreams," and 
has married and settled down, the author has 
not even yet exhausted her infinite variety. 

In spite of the great extent of her coast line 
and the importance of her shipping and fisher- 
ies Canada's production in sea stories has not 
as yet been extensive. But it is interesting to 
know that the best novel yet written dealing 
with the North Atlantic deep sea fisheries has 
been written by a Canadian. Frederick "Wil- 
liam Wallace, editor of the Canadian Fisher- 
man, and secretary to the fish committee of 
the Canada Food Board, wrote "Blue Water," 
in 1913, immediately following his return from 
a rough and eventful voyage in a Bank schoon- 
er out of Portland. With the impressions of 
the trip fresh in his mind, and using Digby as 
his base of operations, he has given a picture 
of the ways of the deep sea fishermen, which is 
true to life, full of action and instinct with the 
romance of the sea. There are few things in 
the literature of sea stories finer than his des- 
cription of a storm at sea off the Nova Scotian 

Storms are the terror of the fisherman's life, 
and the coming of a nor'-wester is ever a cause 
of uneasiness. But the sea in wrath is one thing 
and a storm at sea in the ice is quite another. 
In the one there is the welter of storm and 
briny water, of ripped canvas and broken spars, 
of struggling sailors clinging to the rails, of the 
danger from splintering masts and torn rig- 
ging. But a storm at sea in the ice is some- 
thing more. Here is the wind shrieking through 
the rigging, the icy cold and the blinding snow ; 
but there is the moving ice — the great resist- 
less moving ice. Driven by the currents or the 
tides or the winds the great fields, sometimes 
miles in extent, approach one another slowly 
and silently, \intil as their edges meet 'they 

crack acrosa with ;i continuous roar like th<- 
thunder of many cannon, and huge cakes 
Weighing countless tons arc piled high one on 

top of the other to a towering height. 

Such is the background of W. Albert IlicV 
man's brilliant sea story, "The Sacrifice of the 

Shannon." The scenes are laid in the Straits 

of Northumberland and the Gulf of St. Law- 
rence, and the deck of an ice breaker among the 
ice floes provides the stage. With two such 
sea stories it cannot be said that Canadian ma- 
rine literature lacks distinction. 

Then there are the stories of the sea-faring 
folk of Newfoundland and Labrador. New- 
foundland was discovered by Norman Duncan. 
It was then virgin soil. He was not satisfied 
to spend his time in writing stories of the Syrian 
Quarter of New York. He wanted to write 
stories about the sea. He had wandered up and 
down the Atlantic Coast from Cape Hatteras to 
Bar Harbor in search of suitable material, but 
without success. The sea which he wanted to 
write about was the hard, cruel, merciless sea 
from which brave men snatch a precarious liv- 
ing out of the jaws of danger, and where beet- 
ling crags and hoary headlands are the main 
features of the landscape. 

He landed in Newfoundland in 1899, where 
he spent four months ; but it was not until he 
had lived six summers in Newfoundland and 
Labrador that he felt sufficient confidence in 
his knowledge and understanding of the peo- 
ple and their life to write "The Cruise of 
the Shining Light." •'The Adventures cf Billy 
Topsail" and other boys' stories, all deal with 
life among the fishermen of the north-east coast. 
and "Dr. Luke of Labrador," his best work of 
fiction, is placed on the Labrador Coast. 

The City of Quebec, next to the Land of 
Evangeline, is Canada's most notable literary 
landmark. With a history reaching back more 
than three hundred years almost every one of 
its weather-beaten old buildings has a story to 
tell or a memory to preserve of some long-for- 
gotten event ; and in the fiction with a Quebec 
background almost every important episode in 
the history of the City has been employed from 
the days of Champlain himself right down to 
the collapse of the first Quebec Bridge. 

The period of the Conquest naturally has been 
the most fruitful in the way of romantic fic- 
tion, and it is singularly fortunate that the 
greatest Canadian historical novel yet written 
—William Kirby's "The Golden Dog"— 
should have for its setting the most dramatic 
event in Canadian history. The gilded effigy 
of a dog gnawing the thigh bone of a man, which 



July, 1919. 

provides the theme for the story, is still pre- 
served and is to be seen in the wall of the Post 
Office building, which occupies the site of the 
original Philibert place of business. 

The two years immediately preceding the 
Conquest cover the period of Gilbert Parker's 
great historical novel, "The Seats of the 
Mighty" — a story which established its author 
firmly as Canada's most notable novelist. 

Parker's novels of rural life in Quebec, "The 
Pomp of the Lavillettes," "When Valmond 
came to Pontiac," "The Money Master" and 
"The Right of "Way," are sympathetic studies 
of French-Canadian life and character, even if 
his habitants are a little stagey. "The Forest 
of Bourg-Marie, " by Mrs. S. Frances Harrison, 
and "Jean Baptiste." by P. E. LeRossignol, air 
probably the most accurate attempts at inter- 
pretation of French-Canadian life yet produced 
by English writers. 

Major John Richardson's splendid histori- 
cal novel "Wacousta," dealing with the period 
of Pontiac 's conspiracy and the capture of De- 
troit, was published in 1832 and remains to 
this day the best study of Indian life in Can? 
dian fiction and one of the best of Canadian 
historical novels. 

Of the war of 1812 there are several books 
worthy of mention — Wilfred Campbell's "A 
Beautiful Rebel," in whicli the famous but ec- 
centric Colonel Talbot is one of the characters, 
and "In the Wake of the Eighteen Twelvers," 
by C. H. J. Snider of the Toronto Telegram, a 
splendid collection of sea stories dealing with 
naval operations on Lake Ontario during the 

The best volume of Canadian historical fic- 
tion published in many years is undoubterly 
Percival J. Cooney's "Kinsmen." The author, 
now a resident of Los Angeles, formerly lived 
in Renfrew County and his story deals with the 
attempt made by the hereditary chief of the 
Clan McNab to establish a feudal system of 
landlordism in that County about the time of 
the Mackenzie Rebellion. Unfortunately for 
the old Chieftain he came to Canada 8t the 
wrong time. The tide of democracy was then 
at flood and his scheming methods and aristo- 
cratic arrogance met with the disaster they ^o 
righly deserved. 

Several Scottish settlements in Ontario have 
been pre-empted for fiction purposes, much as 
Barrie and Ian Maelaren had taken villages in 
Scotland. Ralph Connor was born in Glen- 
garry County, where his father was Presbyter- 
ian minister, and his "Glengarry School Days" 

and "The Man from Glengarry" have been 
based on his own boyhood experiences. Marian 
Keith has placed several excellent stories — 
"Duncan Polite," "The Silver Maple," "Trea- 
sure Valley" and others in Oro Township, in 
Simcoe County, and Robert E. Knowles has 
used the Presbyterian community of Gait as 
the background of "St. Cuthbert's." 

Rural Ontario has found an excellent inter- 
preter in Isabel Ecclestone Mackay. The scenes 
of "Up the Hill and Over" are actually placed 
in the City of Woodstock, but they might with- 
out change have been located in almost any 
town in the Province; Anison North's excellent 
story "Carmichael" deals with a species of 
country family feud that might be found almost 
anywhere; Joanna E. Wood places most of her 
stories, such as "Judith Moore" and "The Un- 
tempered Wind ' ' in the Niagara peninsula ; and 
Sydney Preston's two delightful stories of 
rural life, "The Abandoned Farmer" and 
"On Common Ground" are located near the 
village of Clarkson. 

In the Government Park reservation at Ron- 
deau in Kent Country, Archie P. MeKishnie has 
found a setting for one of the most delightful 
animal and nature stories that Canada has yet 
produced. Mr. MeKishnie was born in this 
neighborhood, his father was a keen nature lov- 
er, and in the weaving of the fabric of "Love of 
the Wild" he has been able to employ a wrcat 
wealth of knowledge, keenness of sympathy and 
charm of description. 

Toronto has been used many times as a back- 
ground for fiction. But as Toronto does not 
seem to be a place where romantic or unusual 
things are likely to happen, it has not bulked 
large in Canadian literature. Curiously enough 
too the life of the city, the spirit of its people. 
its place in the commercial life of the Dominion 
and its political and industrial importance have 
all been passed over, and with the exception of 
Alan Sullivan's analytical study of character, 
"Blantyre Allen." and his study of factory life, 
"The Inner Door," most Toronto stories have 
been founded on college experiences during the 
author's student days in the city. 

Harvey J. O'Higgins builds the main fea- 
tures of "Don A' Dreams" around student life 
in Toronto University in the middle nineties. 
Ralph Connor carries the hero of "The Prospec- 
tor" through his theological course at Knox, 
and Robert Barr contributes in "The Measure 
of the Rule" a vivid picture of life at Toronto 
Normal School in the earlv seventies. 

July, 1019. 



Hut it is in the vast north and west beyond 
the sky line, where the strange ways go down, 
that the most characteristic of Canadian fiction 
is to he found. Here arc adventure and haul 
ship, romance and struggle. Here are hardy 
and adventurous Hudson's Hay factors and 
voyageurs; picturesque "breeds" and red-skin- 
ned braves, rugged trappers and traders who 
for generations threaded the trails and follow- 
ed the water courses; red-coated mounted police 
who carried law and order into the frontier 
plaees and made settlement possible ; hardy and 
venturesome settlers who pioneered the way in- 
to the prairies and laid the foundations for the 
cities and towns that were to be. 

Gilbert Parker's "The Trail of the Sword," 
deals with the early days of the Great Com- 
pany when d 'Iberville LeMoyne crossed over- 
land from Quebec to clear Hudson Bay of the 
hated English, in order to ensure the safety of 
the French colonies on the St. Lawrence: and 
Agnes Laut in "Heralds of Empire" recalls 
the daring attempt of the swashbuckler Radis- 
son to seize the ships of the Company in Hud- 
son Bay in reprisal for their shabby treatment 
toward himself. 

"Lords of the North" is a brilliant story by 
Miss Laut, dealing with that most thrilling 
period of Hudson's Bay history, the fight be- 
tween the Company and their rivals the Nbr'- 
Westers, and the founding of the Selkirk set- 
tlement in Manitoba. 

The opening up of the West for settlement 
following Confederation and the purchase of the 
North-West Territory from the Hudson's Bay 
Company resulted in the establishment of the 
Royal North-West Mounted Police force. Nat- 
urally so picturesque and remarkable a body of 
soldier constabulary has been of the greatest 
value to writers of fiction, for the possibilities 
for adventure and romance in a force of near- 
ly one thousand men patrolling a country as 
large as an empire are practically unlimited. 
American writers particularly have been at- 
tracted by it, but Canadians who have used 
the mounted police for fiction purposes are 
Ralph Connor in his "Corporal Cameron" and 
"The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail," Roger 
Pocock — himself a former member of the force 
—in "The Cheerful Blackguard" and "The 
Man in the Open," H. A. Cody in "The Long 
Patrol," and Gilbert Parker in his book of 
short stories "Pierre and His People," prob- 
ably the best volume of Canadian short stories 
yet published, and his "An Adventurer of the 

Of stories by Canadians with a background 
'it' prairie life we have many. Robert J. C. 
stead's first novel, "The Homesteaders," re- 
calls the first great rush of settlers into the Red 
River Valley in 1882; Nellie L. McClung'a 
"Sowing Seeds in Danny" and "The Second 
Chance" are placed in a small frontier town in 
Western Manitoba, and Ralph Connor's "The 
Man from Glengarry," 'The Doctor," "The 
Prospector" and "The Major" are all inter- 
pretative of some phase of western life. In "The 
Foreigner" he deals particularly with the ef- 
forts at assimilation of the Slavic, people into 
Canadian citizenship. 

But what is perhaps the best western story 
by a Canadian writer has been written by an 
Easterner, Arthur Stringer. "The Prairie 
Wife" is a splendid tribute to that wonderful 
love, loyalty and courage that inspire young 
womanhood in the East to forsake father and 
mother to follow the man of her heart co share 
with him in the loneliness and hardships of 
prairie life. 

R. G. Stead's "The Cow Puncher" is not a 
ranching story, as its title would suggest, but 
one dealing with the mischievous * real estate 
boom which disgraced Calgary in pre-war days, 
and Isabel Paterson's brilliant novel, "The 
Shadow Riders," is a story of Alberta poli- 

British Columbia and the gold-studded Yuk- 
on have as yet great unexplored resources of ro- 
mance for Canadian fiction writers. Gilbert" 
Parker in "The World for Sale" and Frank L. 
Packard in his book of railroad stories, "On the 
Iron at Big Cloud," have found material in 
the construction camps of the Grand Trunk 
Pacific; Robert Alison Hood's "The Chivalry 
of Keith Leicester" and Robert Watson's "My 
Brave and Gallant Gentleman," are both love 
stories with a British Columbia background; 
and Arthur Heming in "Spirit Lake" and Hul- 
bert Footner in several excellent stories of ad- 
venture have taken the Peace River Country 
for background. 

Footner in the development of his background 
has taken an unusual method. He knows the 
Upper Fraser and the Peace River country 
thoroughly, and for purposes of fiction he has 
taken a section of the country for his own and 
mapped and marked it in his own special way 
and called it Athabasca. Here he has placed the 
scenes of "Jack Chanty." "Two on a Trail," 
and "The Sealed Valley," three stories of ad- 
venture as splendid and thrilling as one could 



July, 1919. 

Good Yukon novels by Canadian writers are 
not numerous. American novelists evidently got 
there first and staked the best claims; but Rob- 
ert W. Service's "Trail of '58," H. A. Cody's 
"If Any Man Sin" and Madge Macbeth 's 
"Kleath," are pretty well up to the standard 
set by Jack London, Elizabeth Robins and 

Too often the Canadian people have been told 
by those in authority in matters intellectual 
that there is no such thing as Canadian litera- 

ture ; or at all events that what there is has little 
importance. In this hurried trip across contin- 
ent on the trail of the Canadian romanticist re- 
ference is made to but a few of the better known 
books by Canadian writers. Whether these are 
sufficient in numbers or high enough in stand- 
ard to constitute in themselves a literature is a 
matter of little importance ; but their real value 
consists in that they are pictures of Canadian 
life, that they interpret the Canadian spirit and 
that they express to the world the Canadian 

The Return 


SO still the ways of dear accustomed things, 
No sound pierced through when echoing tocsin thrilled ; 
So safe my steps that met life's beckonings, 
They could not stray to sombre fields untilled, 
Where Death swept low on dark, untiring wings. 

Yet when you stood steadfast beneath the blue, 
I was so close your courage reached to me : 
And as we strove, from out the anguish grew 
Those highest years we leave to memory, 
Bright with the faith whose waking held us true. 

Soul has met soul : a strengthened pledge we hold 
Who through the shadows side by side have pressed. 
Though still they wait, those wondrous hours of gold, 
I lean on love that did not spurn the test ; 
New dreams shine clear where never dawned the old. 

.Inly. L919. 



The Duel in "Hamlet 




S usually represented on the modern stage, 
the duel in "Hamlet" is fought with 
modern French fencing foils and the 
players employ the tactics of the modern school 
of arms. The result is much as follows : — 

The players select their foils and salute, 
sometimes going through the elaborate and 
beautiful "grand salute." They then fall on 
guard, play and Hamlet delivers a hit on Laer- 
tes' jacket. They play again, and again 
Hamlet delivers an irreproachable hit. A third 
time they engage, Laertes hits Hamlet, the pair. 
for some reason or another, throw their foils 
on the ground, each picks up the other's, at 
once they engage again, without acknowledge- 
ment of the hit, Hamlet wounds Laertes, and it 
is then, and not till then, that it is discovered 
that Laertes' foil never had a button and that 
both players have been wounded. The requisite 
fatal results then follow. 

From the fencer's point of view this action 
is impossible in many details. If to a know- 
ledge of fencing he adds a little historical 
knowledge of the sword, it is impossible from 
beginning to end. The principal difficulties 
are as follows: — 

Firstly, neither Hamlet nor anyone else no- 
tices at the beginning that Laertes foil has no 
button, but is sharp. Through the first two 
bouts this remains unnoticed, though Hamlet's 
eyes must be on his opponent's point the whole 
time. A button is a very noticeable thing and 
its absence could not be ignored. 

Secondly, after Hamlet has been hit and 
wounded, the fight goes on. Hamlet does not 
acknowledge his first hit. This impoliteness 
does occur, but is not what we expect from 
Hamlet. Wounds occur, though very rarely, iu 
the fencing school. They are usually due to 
the breaking of a foil but the bout is necessarily 
stopped the instant such an accident occurs. 

Thirdly the exchange of foils is impossible in 
modern fencing. One player may drop his foil 
or have it forced out of his hand, but both 
could not be disarmed at the same time. 

As a historic objection, the "salute" was on- 
ly developed about seventy or eighty years ago. 
It was quite unknown to Shakespeare. 

These points are known to every fencer. 
Even the critics and actors have put forward 

numerous explanations and methods to account 
for them. There is need to recapitulate these 
here. Not one of them explains the first diffi- 
culty. Why did Hamlet never notice the ab- 
sence of the button from his adversary's foil? 
Carelessness and an unsuspicious mind can ac- 
count for much, but to a fencer this is impos- 

The nearest approach to a real explanation is 
that given by von Friesen. 1 He refers to the 
teaching given in the German fencing schools 
in the beginning of last century, which had re- 
tained many tricks of the rapier, amongst them 
being the "left hand disarm." His explana- 
tion is probably something like the scene as im- 
agined by Shakespeare, but there seems room 
for some further explanation. 

The difficulties all arise from the confusion 
between the "rapier" and the "small-sword." 
The modern fencing foil is the practice weapon 
of the small sword, a weapon not developed for 



^ c£l 


\>\ ^ 

— * — - 

"A Prinse faut Faire contre-prinse, comme est ici 
monstre par ce Lieutenant au Prevost. ' ' — From 
the "Treatise on Fencing" of Henry de Sainct 
Didier, Paris, 1573. 

two centuries after Shakespeare wrote. It is 
a pointed weapon with no edge and can be 
used for thrusting only. It is stated in the 
play that the duel is to be fought with rapier 
and dagger. 

The rapier was the single eombat sword of 
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and its 
use was brought to considerable perfection in 
Italy. It was a long, rather heavy weapon with 
a slender-edged and pointed blade and was used 

i Hermann Freiherr von Friesen: "Die fechtscene im 
Hamlet." Jahrbuch der deutschen Shakespeare-Gesell- 
schaft, 1869 p. 376. Given in Furness' Variorum 
Shakespeare. "Hamlet," vol. II, p. 338. 



July, 1919. 

both for cutting and for thrusting. The hilt 
was formed of inter-laced bars which, in the 
earlier rapiers, would give protection against a 
cut but not against a thrust, and in consequence 
stout leather gauntlets were worn in fighting. 
These are mentioned in the stage directions. 

The practice rapier was in all respects as the 
actual weapon save that its edge and point were 
"bated," that is blunted. It was quite a for- 
midable weapon and skill in rapier play was 
only acquired at considerable risk and with 
many hard knocks. It had no button, the play 
was rather rough, and though dangerous or 
fatal wounds were unlikely, yet a "broken 
head," that is a scratch on the head sufficient 
to let the blood flow, was not uncommon and 
would be accepted as an ordinary hit. Masks, 
it need hardly be added, were never worn. 

In the sword play both cut and thrust were 
used. The Italian masters of the end of the six- 
teenth century were developing the use of the 
point in preference to the edge, but in this they 
were in advance of the rest of Europe. So 
far as we can judge, the English fencers of 
Shakespeare's day still showed a preference for 
the edge. Both cuts and thrusts were delivered 
with a short step forward, but the "lunge" 
with its tremondous extension was not yet 
thought out. Parries were very simple and 
primitive, indeed every parry was also an ac- 
tion of attack, so that a combat was carried on 
by what a modern fencer would regard as a 
series of time thrusts. Under these conditions 
double hits must have been common. As com- 
pared with modern foil play all movements 
were slow and heavy. 

When "rapier and dagger" were the weapons 
the dagger was carried in the left hand, and 
was used for parrying. The stage directions of 
the later folios mention daggers as brought in 
by the attendants. In a friendly bout such as 
was proposed the daggers would not be used 
for attack, and accordingly we hear nothing 
more about them in the play. 

The rapier was held in much the same man- 
ner as the modern Italian duelling sword, with 
thumb and two fingers round the cross bar and 
underneath the bar hilt. This gives a very 
strong grasp of the weapon, and makes the dis- 
arm very difficult. 

But amongst the various tricks taught and 
practiced in the rapier schools of the sixteenth 
century was one in which the attacker stepped 
in with the left foot and, seizing the hilt of his 
opponent's rapier, endeavoured to twist it out 

of his hand. The answer to this attack was in 
turn to seize the attacker's hilt. The two fen- 
cers then abandoned their own rapiers and fell 
back, transferred their new weapons to their 
right hands and came on again. The man who 
came in first after such a scuffle had a very 
good chance of scoring. 

This manoeuvre is given in full in Sainct 
Didier's treatise on fencing published in Paris 
in 1573 with illustrations showing every step. 
These are reproduced in Egerton Castle's 
"Schools and Masters of Fence," a book in 
which the curious may find full information on 
rapier play. 2 

This was evidently the action of which 
Shakespeare was thinking. The stage directions 
are in harmony with it: "They catch one an- 
other's rapiers and both are wounded"; or in 
the first folio: "In scuffling they change ra- 

The nature of the hit that was to prove 
fatal is indicated in Act IV, Scent VII, where 
Laertes says: — 

Typical Elizabethan Rapier Hilt. 

"Where it draws blood, no cataplasm . . . 
. . . . can save the thing from death, 
That is but scratched withal." 

Laertes considers it a possibility that he 
may, in an apparently honourable bout, scratch 
Hamlet. "If I gall him slightly it may be the 
death." With the rather rough rapier play 
in vogue in England in the beginning of the 
seventeenth century he could easily do so, and 
never be blamed for it. 

We may now attempt a reconstruction of the 
duel according to the methods of seventeenth 
century rapier play. 

The combatants draw on their gauntlets, take 
their rapiers and step forward. Hamlet takes 
the first rapier that comes, but Laertes has to 
look rather carefully to see that he gets the 
poisoned rapier. Indeed he actually picks an 

- Egerton Castle. "Schoo's and Masters of Fence," 
Bell and Sons, London, 1885. 

July, 1U19. 



innocent one first and has to exchange on the 
plea of weight. "This is too heavy, Let me 
see another." It is only by close examination 
that the difference between the bated and on- 
bated weapons can ho seen. They do not salute, 
hut approach one another in a slightly stooping 
attitude, the head well back to be out of dan- 
ger, the rapier held rather stiffly in front, 
dagger in the left hand. They circle slowly 
round, delivering short vicious stabs and cuts 
which are parried by simple movements and 
counter attacks of dagger and rapier. Pre- 
sently Hamlet gets home on Laertes' body. He 
claims a hit. Laertes, who has possibly not felt 
the slight touch, appeals. The judge decides 
for Hamlet: "A hit, a very palpable hit." 
They fight again and Laertes must acknowledge 
Hamlet's next hit. So far they have fought 
a very gentlemanly game, but both are now get- 
ting excited. Hamlet challenges Laertes: "I 
pray you, pass with your best violence," the 
"pass" being a technical term for the step with 
which a blow was delivered. Laertes attacks 
violently : ' ' Have at you now. ' ' Hamlet, see- 
ing that Laertes is dangerous, drops his dagger 
and attempts the "left hand disarm" of the 
schools. He is a fraction late in grasping 
Laertes' hilt and receives a slight scratch on 
the head, enough, with the sharp weapon, to 
draw blood, but not enough to halt his attack. 

I Every defence in rapier play is also an at- 
tack. ) 

Laertes counters with the approved defence. 
As Saincl Didior says: "A prinse faut fair. 
contre prinse." He seizes Samlet's rapier and 
lets go his own. He can do nothing else. His 
chance of safety lies in getting Hamlet's rapier 
quickly enough to defend himself. But Ham- 
let, the more skilful fencer, Ls in before Laertes 
can recover and deals him no light scratch, but 
a hearty blow, whether a cut or a thrust we 
cannot say. The stage directions in the Quarto 
say: "Laertes falls down," and this suggests a 
thrust. Hamlet, who does not at all realise 
what he has done with the sharp rapier, calls on 
him to come on again, but Laertes is down, tend- 
ed by Osric. "How is't, Laertes?" 

In later editions Laertes falls only after 
Hamlet's speech "0 villainy! Ho, let the door 
be locked." Either time is quite suitable. The 
duel is over. Both are wounded, strictly ac- 
cording to the rules of rapier play, and the de- 
sired result has been obtained without any ac- 
tion which woidd have seemed strange to an 
audience, many of whom carried rapiers at their 

Laertes dies first. He has been really seri- 
ously wounded. Hamlet, whose scratch is but 
slight, lasts long enough to finish the king's 
business. But the poison is powerful and Ham- 
let, too, must die. 

Practice Rapier, early Seventeenth Century, showing the manner in which it was held, 
with finger and thumb over the cross-hilt, protected by the bar guards. 



July, 1919. 

Among Sweet and Tranquil Things 


FAR AWAY and Long Ago!" What an 
enchanting title ! 

The comment and the fervor with which it is 
spoken betray a feeling which, nowadays pos- 
sesses lis all. The world — as we know it — alas, 
is too much with us. 

Ah, if for a brief and blessed interval, one 
might utterly forget labor complications and 
boundary disputes, war taxes and civic malad- 
ministration, the repatriation problem and the 
tenement housing disgrace and live awhile am- 
ong sweet and tranquil things, unaltered by the 
passing years. 

The books of William Henry Hudson make 
this withdrawal possible. Lured by their entice- 
ment, held by their spell, we are for awhile en- 
grossed by the sights and sounds of wide grr-en 
places where the only changes are those wrought 
by spring and autumn, storm and sunshine, day 
and night. And the Midas touch of the literary 
artist turns common things to gold. 

"All the books of Hudson." says Galsworthy. 
"breathe revolt against our new enslavement of 
towns and machinery. . . . His fancy is 
akin to the flight of the birds that are his spe 
rial loves; it never seems to have entered a 
house, but since birth to have been roaming the 
air in rain and sun. . . . The smell of the 
lamp has not touched a single page that he ever 
wrote. That alone is a marvel to us who know 
that to write well, even to write clearly, is no 
gift of the angels."" Yet "as a stylist Hudson 
has few if any living equals. And in all his 
work there is an indefinable freedom from any 
thought of after benefit even from the desire 
that we should read him." 

As Hudson himself says of "Gerarde of the 
Herball," with a delightful adaptation of his 
own phrases to the subject: "The color of his 
style is never overworn, and he is forever fresh 
■and full of agreeable surprises like Nature her- 
self, who maketh her plants not for meat and 
material uses only, but some to be esteemed for 
beauty alone and as garlands and crowns for 

Hudson's style in the last analysis owes 
much of its witchery to the author's preference 
tor simple Saxon words. 

He is in most of his work merely the guide 
showing us what he wishes us to see. directing 

our attention to what he wishes us to hear in 
the out-door world. 

In "Who's Who" — this is perhaps an open 
secret — celebrities are invited to exploit them- 
selves, but W. H. Hudson makes no use of his 
opportunity. His notice therein is merely a 
dated list of his seventeen books. He feels evi- 
dently that though a man's work belongs to the 
public, his life is his own affair. But in "Far 
Away and Long Ago," he becomes for once in- 
timately reminiscent and frankly self-revealing. 
His mother, his childhood, his home, its neigh- 
bors, the influences which moulded his plastic 
years, are told with simplicity and charm. <i 

He was the son of an English father and an 
American mother, who had emigrated to the 
Argentine Republic "The house where I was 
born," he says, "on the South American pam- 
pas was quaintly named Los Veinte-cinco Om- 
bues — which means the twenty-five Ombu 
trees — there being just twenty-five of these 
trees, gigantic in size, standing wide apart in a 
row. ' ' 

This house, and the home of his boyhood to 
which the family moved when he was in his 
sixth year, were both near the great estuary of 
the Rio de la Plata. 

The landscapes (except for the frequent shal- 
low lakelets called "lagunas" and alive with 
birds) must look like those of the great Ameri- 
can plans west of the Mississippi. 

Here and there, like an island in an ocean 
of rippling grass, is an estancia or farm with 
its dwellings and outbuildings, its windbreak of 
tall trees, its grove and orchard. 

It is a cattle country where as in Israel of 
old wealth is reckoned in herds. Wide distances 
separate the estancias, and a "neighbor." using 
the term in its local sense, is one who lives but 
half a day's journey away on horse-back. The 
population learns to ride soon after it learns 
to walk and huge horses are bestridden and con- 
trolled by mere babies. At six years old Hud- 
son himself could ride bare-back at a fast gal- 
lop without falling. 

Hudson's father is but briefly sketched : "He 
was not anxious to get rich, and was more bro- 
therly towards his fellows than most men. . . 
The instinct of self-preservation, supposed to be 
universal, was not in him. and there were times 

Jalv. 1919. 


when this extraordinary def-- 

keenest distress in my mother A 

in Ha •- more disastrous, shinine quality 

was a ehild-li- :\ the absolute pood faith 

of every person with whom he came into 

new relations. Things being what they 

this inevitably led to his ruin. " 

- mother's personality is much more clecr- 
ly defined: we feel her winsomeness. "There 
was." he says, "'a bond of union betwee 
since she best understood my feeling for N'a- 
tnre and sense of beauty. Thus besides and 
above the love of mother and son we had a 
spiritual kinship, and this was so much to nie 
that everything beautiful in sight or sound 
affected me came associated with her in 
mind!'' "From the time when I began to 
think for myself I used to wonder at her toler- 
ance; for she was a saint in her life, spiritually- 
minded in the highest degree. To her. a ehild 
of New England parents and ancestors, reared 
in an intensely religions atmosphere, the people 
of the pampas among whom her lot was 
might have appeared almost like the inhabitants 
of another world. They were as strange to her 
son! morally and spiritually as they were un- 
like her own people outwardly in language. 
dress and customs. Yet she was able to affili- 
ate with them, to visit and sit at ease with them 
in their lowliest ran-:\ - _ f as 

much in their affairs as if she belonged to 

7 ese neighbors would be strange to our 
souls too. One was "'the patriarch of the pam- 
pas who lived in a long low mud built b 
on a wide empty treeless plain ; three crooked 
acacia trees grew beside it and a little farther 
away was a cattle enclosure and a sheepfold. 
The lord and master of this naked dreary-look- 
ing house was one of the principal land owners 
of that region. Moreover he was the husband 
of six wives all living with him under one roof. 

ir how was he. with six simultaneous wr 
regarded by his neighbors ? He was esteemed 
and beloved above most men in his position. 

Another neighbor is described as ""a gorgeous 
figure in picturesque gaueho dress and with 
long ringlets falling over his shoulders. He 
did nothing but sit all day in the living room 
sipping bitter mati and listening to the endless 
gossip of a swarm of poor relations who had the 
freedom of his he 

Even in Buenos Ayres — the Paris of South 

America — doings are described which sound like 

. comic episodes in an Elizabethan play. "The 

city was guarded at night by quaint frowsy 

watchmen mostly old. wearing big cloaks and 

iron lanterns with 
tallou the stroke of 

each hour from all thi :rom all over the 

town woi. .ills with in f 1 

ty in the voices. I . poor night- 

men and their cries, and it trrieved my lit- 
tle soft heart to hear that it wa 
sport by the rich youns eentlemen to sally forth 
at nisht and do battle with them, and to deprive 
them of their staffs and lanterns." 

During his first visit to Buenos Aj 
little boy. then about six years old, rushed to 
the street door with his playmates to see the 
impressive passing of the famed Don Busebio, 
cour- or Rosa, "the Nero of 

8 ith America." "Down the street in his 
general- for it was one of the Dictator's 

little jokes to make his fool a general — all - 

vith a big scarlet three-cornered hat, sur- 
mounted by an immense aigrette of scarlet 
plumes, came Don Eusebio. He marched along 
with tremendous dignity, his sword at his side 
and twelve soldiers, also in scarlet, his body- 
guard, walked six on each side of him with 
drawn swords in their hands." Far away and 
long ago. indeed ! 

Among the ranchmen, in their gatherings, 
terrible tales used to be told with throat-cut- 
ting as their theme. In those dark times of 
the Argentine Republic, following the casting 
off of the Spanish yoke, the peoples of the 
plains developed amazing ferocity; they loved 
to kill a man, not with a bullet, but in a man- 
ner "to make them feel and know that they 
were truly killing." 

When Hudson grew old enough to realize the 
horror of the stories told, with gloating and 
with laughter at cattle brandings, races and 
other occasions, "such a loathing," he says." 
"possessed me that ever afterwards the very 
sight of these men was enough to produce a 
sensation of nausea." 

Luckily there were some English residents, 
and the nearest English neighbor was an edu- 
cated man of genial disposition; with him and 
his family the relations of the Hudson family 
happy and intimate. 

The open hospitality of his home gave him 
much human experience. Strangers and travel- 
lers took their rest there. "The poorest." he 
• en men who would be labelled tramps 
in England, would be made as welcome as those 
of a better class. . . The more uncouth or 
ridiculous, from our childish point of view, they 
appeared, the more anxious my mother would 
be to put them at their ease." 



July, 1919. 

And the little hoy developed tastes which safe- 
guarded him against loneliness. Very early he 
acquired a habit of going about alone. In after 
years his mother told him how anxious this sin- 
gularity used to make her. 

"She would miss me," he says, "when look- 
ing out to see what the children were doing, and 
I would be called and searched for. . . Then 
she began to keep an eye on me, and when I 
was observed stealing off she would secretly fol- 
low and watch me, standing motionless among 
the tall weeds or under the trees by the half 
hour This disturbed her very much, and then 
to her great relief and joy she discovered that 
I was watching some living thing. And as she 
loved all living things herself she was quite sat- 
isfied that I was not 'going queer in my head' — 
for that was what she had been fearing. ' ' 

This nature study at first hand seems to have 
been Hudson's chief education. 

We read of three resident tutors, all in dif- 
fering ways unsatisfactory, none filling his 
post for long. , 

Instruments and new books were only to be 
obtained with difficulty and after long delays. 
There were plenty of books in the house, many 
of them of theological and meditative character. 
"I was familiar with their appearance on the 
shelves, even their titles, and that was all I Knew 
. about them. A general Natural History and 
two little works by James Rennie on the habits 
of birds was all the literature suited to my 
needs in the entire collection." 

He says of himself that his was "a mind that 
had not been trained nor pressed into a groove 
by schoolmasters — a mind that was a forest- 
wilding rather than a plant grown in a prepar- 
ed soil." 

Nevertheless by his sixteenth year he had 
read a number of serious and standard works — 
Carlyle's "French Revolution," Rollins' "An- 
cient History" and Draper's "History of Civil- 
ization," "and I was still deep in the 'Decline 
and Fall,' " he narrates, "when disaster came 
to us; my father was practically ruined owing 
to his child-like trust in his fellow-men, and we 
quitted the home he had counted on as a per- 
manent one, which in due time would have be- 
come his property had he but made his position 
secure by a proper deed." 

"Thus ended sadly enough the enchanting 
years of my boyhood," he says, and the family 
went back impoverished to the old home where 
he first saw the Light. 

There he took his share in the rough work of 
the cattle farm, and was much out of doors on 

horseback. One day he undertook unaided to 
drive home a troop of cattle purchased at a dis- 
tance of many leagues, and he was all day in 
the saddle in violent wind and rain. The result 
of a very thorough drenching and chill was a 
rheumatic fever, followed by years o~ bad 
health and a permanent weakening of the heart. 
"Nor was this the worst that had befallen 
me. I now discovered that the old dread of an- 
nihilation which I had first experienced as a 
small child was not dead, as I had fondly imag- 
ined, but still lived and worked in me. It wis 
not strange that in these circumstances 1 be- 
came more and more absorbed in religious litei- 
ature. " 

His desire for a reasonable hope of immor- 
tality was intense and constant. The assur- 
ance of immortality was difficult to achieve and 
still more difficult to retain. 

"The mournful truth that every man must 
die alone," he says, "had been thrust sharply 
into my mind, and kept there by frequent vio- 
lent attacks of my malady, every one of which 
threatened to be the last." He was haunted by 
"the apprehension of loneliness at the moment 
of the severance of all earthly ties and the 
parting with light and life. 

"The whole desire of my soul," he ' 5 ays, "was 
life — to live for ever, and I had been sentenced 
to an early death. Nature could charm, could 
enchant me, but the spectral always followed 

"The rising and setting of the sun, — the call 
of some newly returned migrant — the first sight 
of some flower in spring would be like a sudden 
ray of sunlight in a dark place — a momentary 
intense joy fo be succeeded by ineffable paiu. " 

"Gradually suffering and disability dimin- 
ished, gradually strength increased, and the 
conviction grew that the physicians had been 
false prophets, that — barring accidents — I 
could count on thirty, forty, even fifty years 
with their summers, autumns and winters." 

"And that was the life I desired— the life 
the heart can conceive — the earth life." 

To him it was joy to be akin to all created 
things, to realize our community of descent 
with the little brothers of earth, air and water. 

"The delight I experienced in my commun- 
ings with nature did not pass away, leaving no- 
thing but a recollection of vanished happiness, 
to intensify a present pain. The happiness was 
never lost, had a cumulative effect on the mind 
and was mine again, so that in my worst times, 
when I was compelled to exist shut out from 
nature in London for long periods, sick and 

.lulv. L919. 

( l \ I/'/ I \ BOOK l/.l A 


poor and friendless, 1 could yet always feel 
that it was infinitely better to he than not to 

After this we know little of Hudson except 
his published work. His first book, "The Pur- 
ple Land," appeared when the author was in 
his twenty-fourth year. 

"The Purple Land that England Lost" was 
the original title, the sub-title being "The nar- 
rative of one Richard Lamb's adventures in the 
Banda Orientale as told by himself. ' ' Gals- 
worthy calls this book "a romantic piece of 
realism." It bewails the loss of the purple 
land which was taken by force of arms, and 
then relinquished by the British in exchange for 
a couple of thousand British soldiers held as 
prisoners in Buenos Ayres. 

One or two of the more serious library jour- 
nals reviewed this book — not favourably — un- 
der the heading: "Travels and Geography," 
but the reading public did not buy and the 
work shortly fell into oblivion. This might 
have been the sleep that knows no waking, had 
it not been for certain men of letters who 
chanced upon it and concerned themselves to 
review it. May we remark in passing that this 
was also the story of Fitzgerald's Rubaiyat. 

"The Purple Land" is Uruguay, and the ad- 
ventures related are supposed to happen in the 
late sixties and early seventies of the last cen- 
tury. This book, like "The Crystal Age" was 
republished after the lapse of years. 

The immediate successors of "The Purple 
Land," "Argentine Ornithology," "A Natur- 
alist on the La Plata" and "Idle Days in Pata- 
gonia" are all, as their titles show, books of the 
South American out-door world. The country 
portrayed is not tropical. The great cattle 
ranges as described would remind an American 
reader of the country beyond the Mississipi, 
and the green things growing near dwellings 
are most of them things which grow also in the 
blue grass region of Kentucky. 

We read of rows of poplars, of apple, peach 
and quince orchards, of violets which the chil- 
dren used to gather in spring — even the weeds 
which haunted the door yards of the estancias 
are too familiar to would-be gardeners in the 
United States, and the home of Hudson's child- 
hood is well beyond the Tropic of Capricorn, in 
the south temperate zone. 

"The Crystal Age" differs from his other 
books. It uses again a somewhat outworn lit- 
erary theme. His hero sleeps an unconscion- 
able time and awakens, after long lapse of ages, 
into a different civilization. 

Unman society i-~ as in patriarchal days, the 
family is the social ami governmental unit. 
There i^ no coinage tin- hero's sovereigns dis- 
covered in his pocket are curiosities almost in- 
explicable to a people who know nothing of 
money as a medium of exchange. 

There are greal public meals in a superb din- 
in"; hall. To us it seems that the society de- 
scribed, where it differs from ours, is retro- 
gressive rather than progressive. 

The following book returns to South America 
which perhaps laid its spell upon its son Cor all 
time, For here is what he says in "Far Away 
and Lon£ Ago" when he thinks that his Deloved 
lagunas are perhaps drained and utilized: 

"When 1 recall those rushy and flowery 
meres, with their varied and muitndinous wild 
bird life — that cloud of shining wings, the 
heart-enlivening wild cries, the joy unspeakable 
it all was to me in those early years, I am glad 
to think I shall never revisit them, that I ahall 
finish my life thousands of miles removed from 
them, cherishing to the end in my heart the im- 
age of a beauty which has vanished from the 
earth. ' ' 

Ah yes, Hudson should not depart from his 
metier which is description of the out-door 

His style seems especially suited to the por- 
trayal of nature in England, where all his lat- 
ter work is done. "Hampshire Days" is writ- 
ten in Richard Jeffries' country, and has all 
Jeffries' charm without the things which mar 
it — the intrusion of the personal note and the 
>ense of the shadow of death. 

We read these books of the English country- 
side and still the wonder grows that they are 
not better known and loved. 

Thoreau's "Early Spring in Massachusetts" 
and his "Walden" have had their vogue and 
hold their place — yet Thoreau's books compar- 
ed to these are dry as seedsmen's catalogues. 
For it is the personality of the author that 
lures or repels us after all, and "Thoreau, " 
says Stevenson, "is priggish and selfish." "In 
his whole works I find no trace of pity. It is 
profit that he is after in his intimacies — 
moral profit certainly, but still profit for him- 

In contrast to this we recall what was said 
to Hudson by an old gipsy horse-tamer of the 
Banda Orientale: "In that chief quality which 
we think was given by the Creator to us — the 
ability to be one in heart with the men you meet 
whether they are clothed in velvet or in sheep- 
skins — in that vou are one of us." 



July, 1919. 

And this sympathy is not for men only — for 
here is the tragedy of a caged bird as related 
in "Nature in Downland": "A silent sullen 
daw — and no wonder! He did not, like Sterne's 
captive starling, cry continually 'I can't get 
out'; he made no cry and had no hope of ever 
feeling the wind and the sun, or ever seeing the 
blue sky and green earth again. Eight to nine 
years he had been immured in that cursed pri- 
son, and he would never leavej it until his 
tortured life had left him; then his dead body 
would be taken out and another bird, I dare- 
say, put there in his place." 

With John Burroughs still in the land of *3ie 
living, "Current Opinion" calls Hudson "the 
greatest living writer of out-door literature," 
and regret ar recognition of him has been 


In long days in the open, with trained facul- 
ties, he has studied insects — "the slow beetle, 
heavily armored, and the fantastic fly — a mir- 
acle of inconsequence, the esteemed humble- 
bee and the wasp — that very fine insect gentle- 
man, — in his mood of devilish cheerfulness, the 
diligent ant absorbed in her minute business, 
the grasshopper with his small stringed instru- 
ment and long, grave countenance, and the dra- 
gon-fly with those two great gem-like orbs, that 
reflect a nature of unimaginable aspect. 

He has studied birds, and writes of swifts 
which rise on a summer evening till they disap- 
pear from sight and appear very early in the 
morning as if falling from the sky — and he puts 
forth the fascinating suggestion that they 
spend nights on the wing, far up, in the light of 
the stars. 

In one of the South American books he writes 
of a stealthy conversation among serpents, "a 
low mysterious chorus, death-watch and flut- 
ter and hiss." 

One does not see why these books should rot 
share the immortality of the "Natural History 
of Selborne" in the description of which Hud- 
son has accurately described also his own wurk. 

"Why does this little cockle-shell of a book 
come gaily down to us over a sea full of waves, 
where so many brave books have foundered? 
The style is sweet and clear, but a book cannot 
live merely because it is well written. I would 
humbly suggest that the personality of the au- 
thor is the principal charm of the letters, for 
in spite of his modesty and extreme reticence 
his spirit shines in every page, — that the world 
will not willingly let this small book die, not 
only because it is well written and full of in- 
teresting matter, but because it is a very de- 
lightful human document." 

The Answer 

By F. O. CALL 

\\T HY do I lie upon the ground 

And listen to the silver sound 
Of water flowing from a spring? 
It sings the song I cannot sing. 

Why am I gazing at the sky 
To watch the clouds go trailing by? 
— Pearl ships upon a sapphire sea — 
They seek a land unknown to me. 

Why do I listen to the song 
Of pine-boughs singing all day long? 
The secret that their songs unfold 
Ten thousand bards have left untold. 





A Prologue In Heaven 


§ l. 

TWO eternal beings, magnificently en- 
haloed, the one in a blinding excess of 
white radiance, and the other in a be- 
wildering extravagance of colors, converse 
amidst stupendous surroundings. These sur 
roundings are by tradition palatial, but there is 
now also a marked cosmic tendency about them. 
Tiny have no definite locality; they are above 
and comprehensive of the material universe. 

There is a quality in the scene as if a futurist 
with a considerable knowledge of modern chem- 
ical and physical speculation and some obscure 
theological animus had repainted the designs 
of a pre-Raphaelite. The vast pillars vanish 
into unfathomable darknesses, and the compli- 
cated curves and whorls of the decorations seem 
to have been traced by the flight of elemental 
particles. Suns and planets spin and glitter 
through the avanturine depths of a floor of crys- 
talline ether. Great winged shapes are in at- 
tendance, wrought of iridescences and bearing 
globes, stars, rolls of the law, flaming swords, 
and similar symbols. The voices of Cherubim 
and Seraphim can be heard crying continually, 
"Holy, Holy, Holy." 

Now, as in the ancient story, it is a reception 
of the sons of God. 

The Master of tbe gathering, to whom one 
might reasonably attribute a sublime boredom, 
seeing that everything that can possibly happen 
is necessarily known to him, displays, on the 
contrary, as lively an interest in his interlocu- 
tor as ever. This interlocutor is, of course, 
Satan, the Unexpected. 

The contrast of these two eternal beings is 
very marked; while the Deity, veiled and al- 
most hidden in light, with his hair like wool and 
his eyes like the blue of infinite space, conveys 
an effect of stable, remote, and mountainous 
grandeur, Satan has the compact alertness of 
habitual travel ; he is as definite as a grip-sack, 
and he brings a flavour of initiative and bustle 
upon a scene that would otherwise be one of 
serene perfection. His halo even has a slightly 
travelled look. He has been going to and fro 
in the earth and walking up and down in it ; his 
labels are still upon him. His status in heaven 
remains as undefined as it was in the time of 
Job ; it is uncertain to this day whether he is to 
be regarded as one of the sons of God or as an 

inexplicable intruder among them. (But see 
upon this question the Encyclopaedia Hililica 
under his name.) Whatever his origin, there 
can be little doubt of his increasing assurance 
of independence and importance in the Divine 
presence. His freedom may be sanctioned or 
innate, but he himself has no doubt remaining 
of the security of his personal autonomy. He 
believes that he is a necessary accessory to God, 
and that his incalculable quality is an indis- 
pensable relief to the acquiescence of the Arch- 
angels. He never misses these ii.vnions. If 
God is omnipresent by a calm necessity, Satan 
is everywhere by an infinite activity. They en- 
gage in unending metaphysical differences into 
which Satan has imported a tone of friendly 
badinage. They play chess together. 

But the chess they play is not the little in- 
genious game that originated in India; it is on 
an altogether different scale. The *Ruler of 
the Universe creates the board, the pieces, and 
the rules ; he makes all the moves ; he may make 
as many moves as he likes whenever he likes ; his 
antagonist, however, is permitted to introduce 
a slight inexplicable inaccuracy into sach move, 
which necessitates further moves in correction. 
The Creator determines and conceals the aim of 
the game, and it is never clear whether the pur- 
pose of the adversary is to defeat or assist him 
in his unfathomable project. Apparently the 
adversary cannot win, but also he cannot lose 
so long as he can keep the game going. But he 
is concerned, it would seem, in preventing the 
development of any reasoned scheme ii. the 


Celestial badinage is at once too high and 
broad to come readily within the compass of 
earthly print and understanding. The Satanic 
element of unexpectedness can fill the whole 
sphere of Being with laughter; thrills begotten 
of those vast reverberations startle our poor 
wits' at the strangest moments. It is the humor 
of Satan to thrust upon the Master his own 
title of the Unique and to seek to wrest irom 
him the authorship of life. (But such jesting 
distresses the angels.) 

"I alone create." 

"But I— I ferment." 

"Matter I made and all things." 



-July. 1919. 

"Stagnant as a sleeping top but for the 
wobble I give it." 

"You are' just the little difference of the in- 
dividual. You are the little Uniqueness in ev- 
eryone and everything, the Unique that breaks 
the law, a marginal idiosyncrasy." 

"Sire, you are the Unique, the Uniqueness of 
the whole. ' ' 

Heaven smiled, and there were halcyon days 
in the planets. 

"I shall average you out in the end and you 
will disappear." 

"And everything will end." 

"Will be complete.' 

"Without me!" 

"You spoil the symmetry of my universe." 

"I give it life." 

"Life monies from me." 

"No, Sire, life comes from me." 

One of the great shapes in attendance De- 
came distinct as Michael bearing his sword. 
"He blasphemes, Lord. Shall I cast him 

"But you did that some time ago, ' answer- 
ed Satan, speaking carelessly over his shoulder, 
and not even looking; at the speaker. "You 
keep on doing it. And I am here." 

"He returns," said the Lord soothingly. 
"Perhaps I will him to return. What should 
we be without him?" 

"Without me, time and space would freeze 
into crystalline perfection," said Satan, and at 
his smile the criminal statistics of •. myriad 
planets displayed an upward wave. "It is I 
who trouble the waters. I trouble all things. 
I am the spirit of life." 

"But the soul," said God. 

Satan, sitting with one arm thrown over 
the back of his throne towards Micheal, raised 
his eyebrows by way of answer. This talk 
about the soul he regarded as a divine weak- 
ness. He knew nothing of the soul. 

"I made man in my own image," said God. 

"And I made him a man of the world. If it 
had not been for me he would still be a needless 
gardener — pretending to cultivate a weedless 
garden that grew right because it couldn't grow 
wrong — in 'those endless summers the Hess n d 
ones see.' Think of it, ye Powers and Domin- 
ions ! Perfect flowers ! Perfect fruits ! Never 
an autumn chill! Never a yellow leaf! Golden 
leopards, noble lions, carnivores unfulfilled, 
purring for his caresses amidst the aimless 
friskings of lambs that would never grow old ! 
Good Lord ! How bored he would have been ! 
How bored! Instead of which, did I not 
launch him on the most marvellous adventures? 

It was I who gave him history. Up to the very 
limit of his possibilities. Up to the very limit. 
. . . And did not you, Lord, by sending 
your angels with their flaming swords, approve 
of what 1 had done ? ' ' 

God gave no answer. 

"But that reminds me," said Satan, un- 

§ 3. 

The great winged shapes drew nearer, for 
Satan is the celestial raconteur. He alone 
makes stories. 

"There was a certain man in the land of Uz 
whose name was Job." 

"We remember him." 

"We had a wager of sorts," said Satan, "it 
was some time ago." 

"The wager was never very distinct — and 
now that you remind me of it, there is no re- 
cord of your paying." 

"Did I lose or win? The issue was obscured 
by discussion. How those men did talk! You 
intervened. There was no deeisiou. " 

"You lost, Satan," said a great Being of 
Light who bore a book. "The wager was 
whether Job would lose faith in God and curse 
him. He was afflicted in every way, and par- 
ticularly by the conversation of his friends. But 
there remains an undying fire in man." 

Satan rested his dark face on his hand, and 
looked down between his knees through the pel- 
lucid floor to that little eddying in the ether, 
which makes our world. "Job," he said, "lives 

Then, after an interval: "The whole eurth is 
now — Job. ' ' 

Satan delights equally in statistics and in 
quoting Scripture. He leant back in his seat 
with an expression of quiet satisfaction. "Job," 
he said, in easy narrative tones, "lived to a 
great age. After his disagreeable experiences 
he lived one hundred and forty years. He had 
again seven sons and three daughters, and he 
saw his offspring for four generations. So 
much is classical. These ten children brought 
him seventy grandchildren, who again pros- 
pered generally and had large families. (It 
was a prolific strain.) And now, if we allow 
three generations to a century, and the reality 
is rather more than that, and if we take the 
survival rate as roughly three to a family, and 
if we agree with your excellent Bishop Usher 
that Job lived about thirty-five centuries ago, 
that gives us — How many? ... It is, 
at any rate, a sum vastly in excess of the pre- 
sent population of the earth. . . You have 

July, 1!MP. 

C I \ I/'/ I A liOOh'.HAN 


globes and rolls and swords and stars here h*»s 
anyone a slide rule?" 

But the computation was brushed aside. 

"A thousand years in my sight aro hut as 
yesterday when it is past. I will grant what 
you seek to prove: that .lob has become man- 


The dark regard of Satan smote down 
through the quivering universe and left the toil- 
ing light waves behind. "See there," he said. 
pointing. "My old friend on his little planet 
— Adam — Job — Man — like a roast on a spit. 
It is time we had another wager." 

God condescended to look with Satan at man- 
kind, circling between day and night. "Wheth- 
er he will curse or bless?" 

"Whether he will even remember God." 

"I have given my promise that 1 will at last 
restore Adam." 

The downcast face smiled faintly. 

"These questions change from age to age," 
said Satan. 

"The Whole remains the same." 

"The story grows longer in either direction," 
said Satan, speaking as one who thinks aloud ; 
"past and future unfold together. . . When 
the first atoms jarred I was there, and so con- 
flict was there — and progress. The days of the 
old story have each expanded to hundreds of 
millions of years now. and still I am in them 
all. The sharks and crawling monsters of the 
early seas, the first things that crept out of the 
water into the jungle of fronds and stems, the 
early reptiles, the leaping and flying draeons 
of the great age of life, th" mighty beasts of 
hoof and horn that came Liter: they all feared 
and suffered and were perplexed. At last came 
this Man of yours, out of the woods, hairy, 
beetle-browed, and blood-stained, peering not 
too hopefully for that Eden-bower of the an- 
cient story. It wasn"t there. There never had 
been a garden. He had fallen before he arose, 
and the weeds and thorns are as ancient as the 
flowers. The Fall goes back in time now be- 
yond man, beyond imagination. The very 
stars were born in sin. . . . 

"If we can still call it sin," mused Satan. . 

"On a little planet this Thing arises, this 
red earth, this Adam, this Edomite, this Job. 
He builds cities, he tills the earth, he catches 
the lightning and makes a slave of it. he 
changes the breed of beast and grain. Clever 
things to do. but still petty things. You say 

that in some manner he is to come up at las- to 
this. . . 1I>» is too foolish and too weak. 
His achievements only illuminate his limit a 
tions. Look at his little brain boxed op from 
growth in a skull of bone! Look at his bag 
of a body full of rags and rudiments, a haggis 
of disease! His life is decay. . . Docs he 
grow. 1 do not see it. He he made any per- 
ceptible step forward in quality in the last ten 
thousand years? He quarrels endlessly and 
aimlessly with himself. . . In a little while 
his planet will cool and freeze." 

"In the end he will rule over the stars," said 
the voice that was above Satan. "My spirit 
is in him." 

Satan shaded his face with his hand from 
the effulgence about him. He said no more 
for a time, but sat watching mankind as a boy 
might sit on the bank of a stream and watch 
the fry of minnows in the clear water of a 

"Nay," he said at last, "but it is incredible. 
It is impossible. I have disturbed and afflict- 
ed him long enough. I have driven him as 
far as he can be driven. But now I am moved 
to pity. Let us end this dispute. It has been 
interesting, but now— Is it not enough? It 
grows cruel. He has reached his limit. Let us 
give him a little peace now. Lord, a little sea- 
son of sunshine and plenty, and then some pain- 
less universal pestilence, and so let him die. ' ' 

"He is immortal and he does but begin." 

"He is mortal and near his end. At times, 
no doubt, he has a certain air that seems to 
promise understanding and mastery in his 
world; it is but an air. Give me the power to 
afflict and subdue him but a little, and after a 
few squeaks of faith and hope he will whine and 
collapse like any other beast. He will behave 
like any kindred creature with a smaller brain 
and a larger paw ; he, too, is doomed to suffer 
to no purpose, to struggle by instinct merely 
to live, to endure for a season and then to pass. 
. . . Give me but the power and you shall 
see his courage snap like a rotten string." 

"You may do all that you will to him, only 
you must not slay him. For my spirit is in 

"That he will cast out of his own accord — 
when I have ruined his hopes, mocked his sacri- 
fices, blackened his skies, and filled his veins 
with torture. . . But it is too easy to do. 
Let me just slay him now and end his story. 
Then let us begin another, a different one, and 
something more amusing. Let us. for example. 



July, 1919. 

put brains — and this Soul of yours — into the 
ants or the bees or the beavers! Or take up 
the octopus, already a very tactful and intelli- 
gent creature ! ' ' 

"No; but do as you have said, Satan. For 
you also are my instrument. Try Man to the 
uttermost. See if he is indeed no more than 
a little stir amidst the slime, a fuss in the mud 
that signifies nothing. . ." 
§ 5. 

The Satan, his face hidden in shadow, seem- 

ed not to hear this, but remained still and in- 
tent upon the world of men. 

And as that brown figure, with its vast halo 
like the worn tail of some fiery peacock, brood- 
ed high over the realms of being, this that fol- 
lows happened to a certain man upon the earth. 

("A Prologue in Heaven," which is the in- 
troductory chapter of H. G. Wells' new novel, 
"The Undying Fire," is printed by kind per- 
mission of the Macmillan Company of Canada, 
Limited, who are the publishers of the book in 

The Silent Saguenay 


Oil. the Saguenay, 
The blue-grey depths of the Saguenay! 
1 sit upon its rocky sides 
And watch the narwhals rolling in their play, 
And see the rise and falling of the tides. 
And wonder at the silent Saguenay. 

Oh, the Saguenay, 

The "aunt, grey capes of the Saguenay! 

1 stand upon their lichen 'd knolls 

And see the misty hills stretch far away, 

Or look to where the wide St. Lawrence rolls 

And mingles with the silent Saguenay. 

Oh, the Saguenay, 

The deep, still nights of the Saguenay ! 
I hear the water's lapping sound, 
And rippling echoes in the tiny bay; 
I see reflected fires on hills around 
That grimly guard the silent Saguenay. 

Oh, the Saguenay, 

The strong, cool winds of the Saguenay! 

They gambol with me as they please; 

I let them blow my wandering thoughts away, 

I see them whispering to the nodding trees, 

And rippling all the silent Saguenay. 

July. 1910. 

CA YAD1 I \ JtoohH.W 

The Bystander Papers 


ONE cannot help ruminating sometimes on 
the caprices of popular fancy. Two 
generations ago there came to Canada 
a great Victorian — a former Regius Professor 
of History at Oxford, in the line of succession 
with Freeman, Fronde, and Stubhs, ; a leader 
of the Liberal party in England; and a master 
of the English language. He married a Cana- 
dian wife; he east in his lot with us, and min- 
irled in our parish polities; above all. he pla.ved 
a journeyman's part in Canadian journalism; 
and he died in our midst. Yet apart from a 
certain lip-homage that we paid him, dubbing 
him in our public prints "the Sage of the 
Grange," we esteemed him not. And now we 
have almost forgotten him. We never mention 
him : his name is never heard. 

Goldwin Smith was not in harmony with 
Canadian public opinion. He was a leader of 
lost causes. His advocacy of commercial union 
with the United States, his belief that the ulti- 
mate destiny of Canada was political union 
with the United States, his doubts about the 
future of the Canadian west, his clear vision of 
the defects of the Canadian Confederation, his 
dislike of imperialism and clericalism, even his 
opposition to liquor prohibition and female suf- 
frage — these things did not endear him to large 
sections of the Canadian people. Yet opinion 
is free. Only bigots refuse to read an author 
with whom they disagree, especially when that 
author expresses his views, as Goldwin Smith 
did, with an unfailing courtesy and candor 
not always imitated by his opponents. Surely 
we do ourselves wrong in allowing our preju- 
dices to blind us to the fact that we once en- 
tertained an angel in our midst unawares — or 
if not an angel, at any rate one who was on the 
side of the angels. 

One of the most remarkable things about 
Goldwin Smith is the oblivion that has fallen 
on his Bystander papers. It is admitted that 
he wrote no great or epoch-making book. ' But 
this was because he was essentially a journalist : 
and journalists do not as a rule write great 
books. It was in journalism that his genius 
shone brightest and truest, and nowhere more 
brightly and truly than in the little journal 
called The Bystander. This little journal is 
so little known, and a complete set of it is now 

such a rarity, that a brief account of its course 
may well be in place. 

Goldwin Smith settled in Toronto in 1871. 
In 1872 a group of Canadian literary men be- 
;ran the publication in Toronto of The Cana- 
dian Monthly, a magazine that compares fav- 
ourably with any magazine published in Can- 
ada since that time. To one of the first num- 
bers of The Canadian Monthly, Goldwin Smith 
contributed an article, signed "A Bystander," 
on the fall of the first government of Ontario. 
Sandfield Macdonald's "Patent Combination," 
at the end of 1871. This was, to speak strictly, 
the first of the Bystander papers. Thereafter 
Goldwin Smith continued to contribute to The 
Canadian Monthly a variety of papers under 
the name of "A Bystander"; and the depart- 
ment of "Current Events" was apparently 
largely written by him too. It was not, how- 
ever, until January, 1880, that The Bystander, 
as a separate publication, appeared. It bore 
the sub-title of "A Monthly Review of Cur- 
rent Events, Canadian and General ' ' ; and its 
motto was, "Not Party, but the People." From 
January, 1880, to June, 1881. it was published 
monthly; from January', 1883, to October, 1883, 
quarterly; and from October. 1889, to Sep- 
tember, 1890, monthly. It was written wholly 
by Goldwin Smith himself ; and its cost was one 
dollar a year, or ten cents a copy. At other 
times regular contributions from "A Bystand- 
er " appeared in the columns of The Nation 
(the organ of the Canada First Movemeut) ; 
The Week, and The Sun; but all these were 
weekly publications, and "A Bystander's" 
contributions to them were of a fugitive and 
transitory character. The cream of Goldwin 
Smith's journalistic work in Canada is to be 
found in the three series of The Bystander pro- 

The wind bloweth where it listeth ; and there 
is no accounting for tastes. But the present 
writer finds a thousand times more pleasure in 
reading The Bystander than Steele's Tatler, or 
Addison's Spectator, or Johnson's Rambler, 
which are more nearly comparable with it lhan 
anything else, and which go on enjoying new 
editions, in whole or in part, while The By- 
stander remains in its original boards. Thack- 
eray once wrote about "bedside books"; The 
Bvstander is a bedside book like none other. In 



July, 191!). 

it the most diverse readers may find pleasure. 
Whether one is interested in religious ques- 
tions, or social problems, or art, or literature, or 
political history, whether Canadian, American, 
or European, he will find in the pages of The 
Bystander much that is stimulating and bril- 
liant. There were few questions that appeared 
upon the horizon of his day about which Gold- 
win Smith 's intellect did not play with lambent 

The very phrases which he sti'uck out are a 
joy forever. Since nearly every page bristles 
with them, one can only quote at haphazard 
and ad aperturam. The imperialism of Dis- 
raeli he describes as "Music Hall Imperial- 
ism"; the charity of the old-fashioned society 
he dismisses as "rosewater philanthropy"; the 
onslaughts of certain Canadian journalists on 
him are termed philosophically "printer's 
thunder"; the pose of Thomas Carlyle as a 
"Seer" is satirized as "his claim to the heri- 
tage of Merlin"; the Canadian capital is "that 
Arctic lumber-village turned into a political 
cock-pit." A lesser man might acquire a con- 
siderable reputation as a phrase-maker by the 
plunder of these forgotten pages. 

Goldwin Smith thought in epigrams. The 
most famous perhaps of his sayings — "The 
Father of Confederation was Deadlock" — first 
appeared in The Bystander. But many other 
sentences, no less pertinent and no less neatly 
turned, might be quoted from him: 

"The voice of reason, rightly heard, is the 
voice of its Author." 

"People will not go tiger hunting, if they 
think they are to be left to the tiger." 

"Political grapeshot kills nobody." 

"The state of Europe may be described as a 
reign of military ambition tempered by de- 
ficits and modified by the Almanach de 

"A political federation spanning all the 
oceans and embracing communities in all the 
quarters of the globe is a chimera really as 
senseless as any that enters the head of an 
Oriental despot under the inspiring influence 
of bang." 

"While we have armaments, we shall have 
customs duties." 

"The North-West is a land of extraordinary 
promise, barring some special drawbacks — a cli- 
mate which, though exhilarating, must require 
a heavy expenditure in clothes and fuel, late 
and early frosts, grasshoppers, and politi- 

"Obituary biographies, let them be written 
by whom they will, are worthless; they merely 
pile up heaps of fiction for the besom of his- 
tory to sweep away. ' ' 

"There are more Grits than Tories in On- 
tario, as there were more High-heelers than 
Low-heelers in Lilliput." 

"The mention of the servant difficulty is like 
the opening of a seal in the Apocalypse. It is 
followed by a universal wail." 

"A local addition to the Decalogue must al- 
ways be an arduous undertaking." (This 
apropos of Prohibition.) 

"A party of interest may get on with a bell- 
wether ; a party of opinion needs a chief. ' ' 

These, it will be understood, are merely ran- 
dom selections, picked out almost as the pious of 
another day used to pick out for their guid- 
ance verses of the Bible — by closing the eyes 
and placing the finger on the page. 

It is the student of Canadian history and 
politics who will perhaps find most of interest 
in The Bystander; for it dealt first and fore- 
most with Canadian affairs. Of the Canadian 
constitution, Goldwin Smith was an unsparing 
critic. He disliked greatly the application of 
the federal principle to Canadian government. 
"This country," he wrote, "encased in its in- 
tricate and expensive apparatus of Constitu- 
tional Monarchies, and Parliaments, Central 
and Provincial, is like the fabled Dutchman in 
his dozen pairs of nether garments." "The 
multitude of petty Parliaments, with all their 
paraphernalia, and with a Constitutional King 
to read speeches from the Throne to each of 
them is a legislative evil as well as a pecuniary 
waste." "The Ontario Legislature has risen 
after once more proving, by the magnitude of 
the machinery and the smallness of the result, 
that to draw a cork with a steam engine is a 
waste of money and power." One might al- 
most suspect that the statesmen who drew up 
the Act of Union of the South African provin- 
ces, which presented a problem no less difficult 
than that of Ontario and Quebec, had taken to 
heart the arguments of the Bystander. 

On the lieutenant-governors especially Gold- 
win Smith poured the vials of his ridicule: 

In the name of common-sense what can be 
the use of such Royalty as this? We fully ad- 
mit the force of sentimental as well as of prac- 
tical considerations ; but what sentiment can lie 
kindled by a delegated Majesty which is com- 
pelled to scuffle for its railway fares and its 
bath-towels, its theatre tickets and its drinks? 
What good purpose of any kind can be served 
by bringing down with pop-gun salutes and an 

July, 1919. 



egcoil of six men, a figure in an antiquated oos 
tome to read a speech, nol a word of which is its 

own. one tlic exact opposite, perhaps, of thai 
which it was made tn deliver the session before? 
. . . The hypocrisies of Constitutional 

.Monarchy on a grand scale may be august : Oil 
a small scale they are ridiculous. As a politi- 
cal officer, the Lieutenant-Governor is notor 
iously nothing, and of nothing, nothing comes. 
Fancy assigns to him and his lady high value 
as the heads of Provincial society. Fine pic- 
tures are drawn of a wealthy and hospitable 
pair, with the finest manners, making the Gov- 
ernment TTouse a social centre, and diffusing 
happiness and refinement around them. Put 
where are such people to he found? Suppos- 
ing they were found, what should induce them 
to give up their pleasant home and their con- 
genial circle for publicity without power, and 
parade without distinction? . . It is prepos- 
terous to expect that these appointments will 
ever be treated as anything but rewards for 
steady voting and reimbursements of money ex- 
pended in elections. Sir John Macdonald is 
7iow peering under every bush for the next 
Ki njr of Ontario. Why cannot he take Nature 
at her word, and relieve us of an office which 
there is nobody to fill? 

Another feature of the Canadian constitution 
which the Bystander deplored was the Senate. 
He called it "a political infirmary." "a gilded 
armchair for partisans who have done their 
work," "a set of shelves for veteran, and other 
superannuated, politicians." A passage in 
which he discussed its historical antecedents 
presents so much food for thought that >t may 
profitably be quoted in full : 

Before we debate the question ^ how the 
Senate ought to be constituted, we must sacri- 
fice on the altar of truth by frankly declaring 
our disbelief in Senates altogether. The illus- 
trious Council from which the name is derived, 
was not an Upper House, but the government 
of the Roman Republic, having the executive 
practically under its control and the initiative 
of legislation in its hands. The American Sen- 
ate is a special representation of the Federal 
as distinguished from the popular principle, in 
a country where, be it observed, foreign rela- 
tions being in the hands of the national govern- 
ment, there are real federal functions to be dis- 
charged. But the other modern senates are 
intended imitations of the House of Lords, and, 
one and all, begotten of the same illusion. The 
House of Lords is not a Senate, it is an old 
Feudal Estate, embodying not a political cast 
of mind different from that embodied in the of Commons, but a different interest, 
and at the dictate of that interest resisting to 
the uttermost every measure of change, from 
the Habeas Corpus Act to the mitigation if the 
( 'riminal Code, and from the mitigation of the 
Criminal Code to Parliamentary Reform. In 

no single instance, we are persuaded, .-an the 
House of Lords he shown to have discharged 
tin- supposed function of a Senate, by revising, 

in a calmer atmosphere, ami in the lighl of 
maturer wisdom, the rash resolutions of the 
Lower House. Its members arc not older and 
more sedate, much less are they better informed 

or wiser than those of the House of Coi ons. 

They arc simply members of an hereditary aris- 
tocracy maintaining the privileges of their or- 
der. . . Yet the belief that they are a sage 
council of political revision has given birth to 
the double chambered theory with the multi- 
farious embodiments of which the British 
colonics and constitutional Europe are over- 

And he clinched the argument with a few 
pregnant phrases: 

Is the Upper House to be composed of old 
men? — It will be impotent. Of rich men? — It 
will be odious. Of the best and wisest men? 
— The Lower House, which, as the more popu- 
lar, remains the more powerful ,will be left des- 
titute of its natural guides and controllers. 
From this quandary, which, if we had space, 
might be illustrated historically, we really see 
no escape. 

"With regard to titles in Canada^ Goldwin 
Smith was nothing if not incisive: 

Aristocracy was perhaps the necessary or- 
ganization of a feudal kingdom with unintelli- 
gent masses, provinces imperfectly united, no 
regular legal system, no centralized admini- 
stration. The titles in those days were official, 
not simply territorial, much less mere badges 
of social exclusiveness ; they denoted needful 
duties really performed to the State. It is 
needless to add that the titles of chivalry, 
whieh are thrown as crumbs to the vanity of 
colonists, are about as laughable an instance of 
perversion and debasement as the whole mus- 
eum of historical curiosities affords. A man 
who chooses to parade in such antique gew-gaws 
ought to be made to carry out the joke and wear 
an iron pot on his head with the thermometer at 
a hundred. 

Of the Bystander's pen-portraits of the lead- 
ing political figures of his day, some are inim- 
itable. For Sir John Macdonald he had a 
sneaking regard. He described him as "a lead- 
er whose genius and fortune have drawn fo 1 - 
lowers from every camp"; and he admitted 
that "Sir John Macdonald has always been 
true to the public interest in the appointment 
of judges." But even about Macdonald 's head 
he allowed the rapier of his satire to flicker, 
as the following passage attests: 

Whatever may be the ends of the Prince of 
Darkness, there can be no doubt that he is skil- 
ful in the choice of means. He exercises fore- 



July, 1919. 

east in the choice of his line of action ; he stud- 
ies men, though perhaps too much on the weak 
side; he is enabled by the knowledge which he 
thus acquires to speak not to the reporters, but 
for votes; and he makes it felt that he will al- 
ways stand by his friends and be loyal under 
all circumstances to the party cause. Standing 
by his friends is in fact a habit which he carries 
to excess, certainly as regards the public in- 
terest, probably as regards his own ; and the 
legal maxim noscitur a sociis applied to his con- 
nections might bear hard on him. Yet the regu- 
lation of being a true and gallant comrade is, in 
a general way, as useful a point of character 
as a party leader can possess. 

With others he was less gentle. Alexander 
Mackenzie he described as "a worthy man" 
who was, "by the grace of the former master of 
the Globe, Prime Minister of Canada"; of Sir 
Charles Tupper he said that he "has not lived 
or perhaps cared to live in the odour of political 
sanctity"; the career of George Brown he epi- 
tomized as "a tyranny of libel." But some of 
his most delicate thrusts were directed against 
Sir Oliver Mowat. "Mr. Mowat," remarked the 
Bystander, "is the Sir John Macdonald of On- 
tario." And when Mowat, in an evil moment, 
announced that his ambition was to play the 
role of "a Christian statesman," the Bystand- 
er observed, with stinging sarcasm, that "the 
Ethiopian does not change his skin, even when 
he becomes a Christian Statesman." 

It might perhaps be tedious to quote here 
from The Bystander passages dealing with 
English and European politics in the eighties ; 
but some comments on the English and con- 
tinental public men of that day lend themselves 
to reproduction. With Disraeli, as is well 
known, Goldwin Smith had a vendetta. In 
Disraeli's "Lothair," Goldwin Smith, under 
the thin disguise of "the Oxford Professor," 
was lampooned as "a social parasite." When 
the book appeared, Goldwin Smith was in Am- 
erica ; but he promptly cabled back to England 
describing Disraeli's references to him as "the 
stingless insults of a coward." And thereafter 
he lost no opportunity to plant his poniard in 
the lampooner. Here is one thrust : 

An Oriental in character as in blood, Lord 
Beaconsfield has never had any sympathy with 
English liberty; what he loves is the power, 
pomp, and parade of absolute Monarchy: the 
subject of all his dreams has been the autocracy 
at which the Stuarts aimed, tricked out in the 
livery of the Moguls. 

And here is another: 

We were wrong in saying that Lord Beacons- 
field's career would leave no trace. It will 

leave a trace, for some time at least, in the al- 
tered tone of English public life. Nobody can 
doubt that, in point of veracity and what is 
generally called honour, there is a difference 
between the English character and the Orien- 
tal. Hitherto the word of an English states- 
man has been above impeachment; but under 
the administration of Lord Beaconsfield there 
have been constant complaints, not only from 
English opponents of the Government, but 
from foreigners and neutrals, of prevarication 

and deception. 


Was ever any man called a Jew and a liar 
in more adroit and unimpeachable language? 

Mr. Gladstone comes in for some hard knocks, 
especially after his espousal of Home Rule for 
Ireland; but in the earlier period of The By- 
stander, he is still the hope of England : 

The great representative of the decided Lib- 
eral element, after all, is the Prime Minister, in 
whom everybody feels that there are possibili- 
ties of progress bounded only by the Psalmist's 
limitation of life, which itself is losing its va- 
lidity in an age of septuagenarian statesmen, 
generals and emperors. It is easy to under- 
stand why Mr. Gladstone is an object of almost 
frantic hatred to the Tory aristocracy, and of 
perfectly frantic hatred to their wives. He is 
not only a Radical and the most powerful of 
Radicals, but a renegade, ami a renegade equip- 
ped in an armor of culture and social rank 
borrowed from the arsenals of those whom he 
has deserted. Mr. Bradlaugh is a son of Eblis, 
stamped with his father's likeness and doing his 
father's work: but Mr. Gladstone is an apostate 
child of light. Yet the people are right in 
thinking that not only was Mr. Gladstone's 
change of party perfectly sincere and honest, 
but that his course has been really one of con- 
sistent progress, though it has, no doubt, a re- 
markable curve. 

But enough perhaps of politics and politi- 
cians. On religion and religious questions, the 
Bystander frequently touched. His position is 
difficult to define ; possibly he did not care to 
define it himself. He recoiled from dogmatic 
orthodoxy. "Dogma," he said, "is unreason 
imposed by ecclesiastical authority." Nor did 
he take kindly to ritualism. "In the Middle 
Ages, art and ritual were necessities of belief ; 
they are often necessities of unbelief now." But 
on the other hand he deplored also natural re- 
ligion, which he described as "not only lighten- 
ing the cargo, but scuttling the ship to sive 
her from wreck." He cannot be classed among 
the unbelievers. "There is a fanaticism of un- 
belief," he protested, "as well as a fanaticism 
of belief." Perhaps his standpoint may be 
well indicated by the following passage : 

July, L919. 



The close of the year 1880 finds the civilized 
world still celebrating the birth . in a stable, of 
a Galilean peasant as the great event of his- 
tory That it is the great event of history, at 
any rate, may be taken as beyond dispute. 
Prom it all genuine civilization flows. . . . 
With it commences that morality, beyond which 
the world cannot be said yet to have passed. 

Or by this passage: 

Perhaps the day may arrive when it will be 
seen that the Founder of Christianity asked 
those who came to Him no questions about the 
date of the Book of Daniel, the authenticity of 
the second part of Isaiah, or any of the prob- 
lems of Alexandrian theosophy; that the bond 
between them and His disciples was wholly 
spiritual and that such ought to be the bond 
between the members of His Church. 

Some subjects allied to religion are discussed. 
In a striking commentary on cemetery reform, 
there is a passage which, in view of the By- 
stander's then advanced age, is not lacking in 
pathos and beauty: 

Death, in any case, is awful and sorrowful ; 
awful as a change, sorrowful as a parting ; nor 
can we see any propriety in the attempt to turn 
its abode into a pleasure ground. The much 
praised cemeteries of the United States with 
their rose walks and pieces of ornamental wa- 
ter have always seemed to us offensive attempts 
to disguise the sadness of mortality. The old 
English churchyard with its solemn yew tree is 
a far better treatment of the theme. . . 

To eminent men, and sometimes to eminent 
malefactors, special monuments will be raised 
by the community; at all events eminence will 
have its place in history. But the only monu- 
ment for which most of us can hope, or ought to 
care, is the brief survival of our memory in a 
few hearts till they. too. are turned to dust. 

And tins passage is reminiscenl of another. 
in which doldwin Smith indicated what he 
thoughl the most attractive phase of Canadian 
history. With regard to Canadian party poli- 
tics, he voiced the opinion that "the ashes of 
all these rivalries, controversies, and scandals 
will be gathered by history into a very narrow 
nvn " Bui the history of the Canadian people 
ill their early struggles with oature appeared 
to him much better worth telling: 

There is a history which if it were only re- 
corded, or capable of bein<r recovered, would be 
interesting indeed, and would furnish us with a 
religion of gratitude. It is the history of the 
Pioneer in all his lines. The monument of that 
history is the fair land in which we live; its 
archives are the lines on mouldering head- 
boards, where perhaps an emigrant and the 
partner of his exile, sustained through their 
lowly but heroic struggle with the wintry wild- 
erness by mutual affection, rest in their humble 

Is not this the veritable accent of a master of 
the English tongue? 

Many other excerpts might be lifted from 
The Bystander. There are many quotable pass- 
ages about art and literature, about education, 
lower and higher, even about such questions as 
the eternal query, "Is Life Worth Living?" 
which occur as one turns the pages. There are 
passages, about female suffrage, about "the 
Red Spectre," about the prohibition of spiritu- 
ous liquors, which may be read with as much 
interest and profit now as then. But perhaps 
enough has been said and quoted to give the 
reader some idea of the wealth that lies hidden 
in this mine of forgotten gold. 



July, 1919. 

Plagiarism or Coincidence 

By J. A. McNEIL 

PLAGIARISM is a grave charge, and one 
not to be lightly laid against the man 
of letters. If proven, it convicts the of- 
fender of a serious breach of the ethics of his 
profession, and even if unfounded, the accusa- 
tion is apt to travel faster and farther than the 
refutation. Even where it is possible to adduce 
seemingly conclusive evidence of deliberate 
imitation, there is a reasonable margin of 
doubt, to the benefit of which the defendant is 
entitled, for there is always the possibility that 
unconscious or sub-conscious memory, and not 
intentional borrowing, is responsible for the 
apparent parallel, while there is also the rarer 
but still tenable explanation of identical or 
similar phrasing being suggested independent- 
ly to two minds of kindred mould just as there 
have been cases recorded of two inventors un- 
known to each other hitting upon the same 
device. And when a charge of plagiarism in- 
volves not one writer but two — the author and 
the translator of a suspected work — the accuser 
must go warily lest he do an unwarranted 
though unmeant injustice to the innocent 

Some twelve years ago, in reading Arthur 
Symons' translation of Gabriele D'Annunzio's 
"The Dead City" — a sensuously poetic treat- 

ment of a morbid and repellent theme — ■ the 
present writer was struck by the familiar ring 
of one or two sentences in Act II., and only a 
brief searching of the memory was required to 
identify them as an almost literal paraphrase of 
four lines from Swinburne's "The Triumph of 
Time," a poem whose inspiration is ascribed to 
the only real romance of the singer's life, and 
notable as being one of the few in the first 
series of "Poems and Ballads" which is not 
marked — the moralizing critic would have writ- 
ten "marred" — by unhealthy eroticism. Had 
this similarity of words and sense occurred in 
but an isolated passage, it might have been 
passed over as one of the mere coincidences 
which may be found in the writings of even the 
most honest and careful of authors. But 
when, in the next act, first a single line and 
then half-a-dozen consecutive sentences are 
found to agree almost word for word with 
other stanzas of the poem, an interesting lit- 
erary problem is presented. The reader may 
judge for himself how closely the Italian play- 
wright's lines correspond with those of the 
English poet. Here are the passages which are 
as nearly mated as verse and prove well can 

Bianca — We know that there are things 
stronger than death in keeping two beings 
apart. Death could not have separated us as 
these things separate us. 

—The Dead City, Act II. 

Anna — I lose what I love, I save what I 

—The Dead City, Act III.. 

Anna — All the bounty of Spring cannot give 
reflowering to a plant that is wounded at 
the root. 

Anna — I have put my days and my dreams 
out of my soul; the days that are past, the 
dreams that are spent. 

—The Dead City, Act III. 

Anna — I would that no one had pity upon 
me, that no one tried to comfort me. 

—The Dead City. Act III. 

By the door of life, at the gate of breath, 
There are worse things waiting for men than 

death ; 
Death could not sever my soul from you 
As these have severed your soul from me. 
— The Triumph of Time, stanza xx. 

1 lose what I long for. save what I can. 

— The Triumph of Time, stanza x. 

—The Dead City, Act III. 
. . . .this fruit of my heart. . . . 
It will grow not again, it is ruined at root. 
— The Triumph of Time, stanza iii. 

I have put my days and dreams out of mind. 
Days that are over, dreams that are done. 
— The Triumph of Time, stanza vii. 

There is none of you, none, that shall comfort 

Not a soul upon earth would pity me. 

—The Triumph of Time, stanza xxiii and xxx. 

July, 1919. 

CAN i/</ i \ BOOKMAN. 


Anna 1 would find some quiet way for my 

uncertain feel : some place where sleep and 

sorrow are one, where there is neither noise 

nor wondering, nor anv who watch or listen. 

—The' Dead City, Act 111. 

At the time of noticing this curious duplica- 
tion of phraseology, the writer drew attention 
to it in the dramatic column of a Toronto daily, 
hut, so far as he is aware, without eliciting 
any comment or explanation which would dear 
up the problem. Since then, Time "which say- 
eth and gainsay eth" has been busy with tin' 
three personages concerned. Swinburne has 
rone out to learn the answer to the greatest of 
all enigmas. D'Annunzio, long the leader of 
the Italian decadents, has won a new immortal- 
ity by his typification of the very soul of Ital- 
ian patriotism. Mr. Symons, the remaining 
member of the trio, has quietly pursued his lit- 
erary labors, though doubtless he, too, has felt 
tin- soul-quiekening of the four years' world 
tragedy. Now the writer commits his discov- 
ery to the Canadian Bookman in the hope that 
in the pages of a periodical devoted to letters 
it will at least arouse the curiosity of those in- 
terested in the ways of authors and translators, 
and perhaps call forth some theory or some ex- 

I have found a way for the Failing Eeet, 
A place lor slumber and sorrow to meel ; 

There is no rumor alioiit thr place, 

Nor Light, nor any that sees or hears. 

— The Triumph of Time, stanza xvi. 

pression of opinion which will shed further 
tight upon the question. 

Swinburne's poem was given to the world 
in 1866, when the eccentric Italian genius was 
an infant, mewling and puking in his nurse's 
arms. D'Annunzio 's play was published in 
1899. Has D'Annunzio read Swinburne in the 
original and echoed his lyric accents in liquid 
Italian prose? Or is the onus of proof upon 
Mr. Symons? Himself a skilled verse-maker 
of what Robert Buchanan called the fleshly 
school, and, like Swinburne, deeply influenced 
by Baudelaire and others of the French eroti- 
cists, he doubtless steeped himself in his youth 
in the earliest and most perfervid of the Eng- 
ligh poet's lovely measures. It is quite a ten- 
able theory that in turning "La Citta Morta" 
into English, Mr. Symons' memory played a 
trick upon him and allowed him unwittingly to 
adopt as his own the musical lines which have 
delighted so many lovers of poetry since they 
startled and enthralled the mid- Victorians. 

Knee-Deep in Teeth and Ears 

Anyone can write, a book in which the 
quite obvious already happens, but it takes 
some ability so to write the obvious as to re- 
tain the interest of those whose appetites are 
a bit jaded with the obvious in fiction. 

Victor Rousseau's "Wooden Spoil" reminds 
one irresistibly of a movie scenario by an 
American producer — that is, there is "some- 
thing doing every minute'' from one cover to 
the other, and you are never for a moment in 
doubt that everything will come out all right 
in the end. And yet he writes with an atmo- 
sphere of vigor and freshness that carries one 
along with him. 

The scene is laid on the north shore of the 
St. Lawrence, somewhere between Quebec and 
the Saguenay. It concerns the struggle put 
up by a young American who has suddenly 
inherited an apparently bankrupt timber limit, 
to make it pay. A gang of crooks are deter- 

mined to freeze him out and the fur begins 
to fly as soon as he gets there. You cannot 
help admiring him ; he goes through one lum- 
berjack after another, and one crooked poli- 
tician-boss after another, very much as one 
of his saws goes through a tree trunk. One 
questions whether, in real life, an unarmed 
youth could clean up a whole shantyful of 
furious bush fighters armed with knives, as 
Hilary Askew did, but why cavil? If virtue 
can't triumph over vice in a hot weather novel 
what chance has it? Incidentally Mr. Rousseau 
gives Quebec Province an awful black eye so 
far as the administration of the liquor law is 
concerned, but, again, why be censorious? 

So Hilary wades to the arms of the Seign- 
eur's lovely daughter knee deep in teeth and 
ears and bits of scalp. 

A fine, stirring yarn for the dog days. It 
should "go big" when someone films it. 
(Doran, New York, $1.50). 



July, 1919. 

The Editorial Versifier — and More 

THERE is, we suppose, no poetry in all 
literature more deliberately didactic 
than that of Rudyard Kipling. For 
twenty years and more he has held it his boun- 
den duty to prepare a short and versified hom- 
ily upon every current problem upon which 
he thought the British people, collectively or 
individually, were in danger of being misled; 
and he is still doing it. In "The Years Be- 
tween,'' a collection of some fifty verse com- 
positions which have been written, and for the 
most part published in the daily press, since 
the issue of his last book of poetry, we find in- 
structions to the British public what to think 
about the Irish situation, the neutrality of the 
Papacy in the World "War, Bolshevism, the 
Marconi scandal, the alliance with France, 
King Edward the Seventh, the Declaration of 
London, Lord Roberts, Spiritualism, the Meso- 
potamia Report, Joseph Chamberlain, Female 
Suffrage, and a half-score more of very par- 
ticular questions of the day and hour. And in 
an age when a vast number of people have 
learnt to write prose well enough to be scorn- 
ful of editorials written in that language, it is 
well that they should be provided with editor- 
ials written in a language that they cannot 
write and do therefore respect, that they may 
harken and hear. 

It is not, we believe, to be expected that edi- 
torials in verse shall enjoy any more immortal- 
ity, however great their craftsmanship, than 
editorials in prose; and therefore we do not in 
the least anticipate that future generations will 
store up "Ulster: 1912" or "Things and the 
Man" as gems of either wisdom or beauty. 
They were not penned with any such object, or 
with any such audience in view. It is impos- 
sible to image a preacher getting up in the pul- 
pit of a brightly-lighted church with any more 
definite and immediate sense of the audience to 
which he is to address himself than Kipling has 
when he sits down to write a poem for the 
Times. It is we, the unenlightened of to-day 
who must be preserved from the possible fol- 
lies of tomorrow — it is we to whom the ser- 
mon is preached ; nor is it the sort of sermon 

that can be put away in a trunk and hauled out 
again for use on another congregation five 
years later. 

The effectiveness of these sermon-editorials 
is immense and immediate — as it should be con- 
sidering the amazing skill, the artifice, the 
craftsmanship, that are sacrificed to make it 
so. There is as much inspired word-selection, 
both for sound and sense, in any one of these 
as would make a permanent poem of equal 
length if only the subject were permanent. We 
are not suggesting that a permanent poem can- 
not be written about a passing political or so- 
cial question; but there must be the desire and 
the aim to reach a permanent audience, to 
achieve something that will affect men's minds, 
not for a vote in the House of Commons to- 
morrow, nor for a by-election next week, nor 
for the choice of this or that man for the wool- 
sack or the episcopate at the next vacancy, but 
for some vast universal principle which will be 
equally valid in all generations. The younger 
poets of our age, less concerned with the prac- 
tical politics of the war, have seen far deeper 
into its eternal issues, and have produced verse 
which is much more likely to stir the blood of 
British men for generations to come ; but then 
they were not burdened with a sense of respon- 
sibility for the correct guidance of the British 
men of today. 

And at odd moments, when the burden of 
state falls from his shoulders and his mind is 
free for the deeper truths of life and death and 
time and eternity, our own Kipling can still 
turn out poetry as absolute, and as modern, as 
any of them. Masefield could hardly have be- 
gun better than: — 

'Have you news of my boy Jack*' 

Not this tide. 
'When d'you think that he'll come back?' 

Not with this wind blowing and this tide. 

But he would not have carried it to its preachy 
conclusion. "The Virginity." a poem of re- 
tired sailors who will insist on settling near 
the sea, is rich with human nature until it 
comes to that obvious tag with which Kipling 

July. 191». 



(usually in italics) constantly adorns his 
verses as it he feared that we should not know 
they have a moral: — 

Parsons in pulpits, taxpayers in pews. 

Kings on your thrones, you know as well as »n . 

We've only one virginity to lose, 

And where we lost it there our hearts will be! 

And "The Garden Called Gethsemane" is al- 
most a bare transcript of human experience, 
such as a New-Elizabethan fighting man might 
have set down between trips to the front 

It is not for us to deplore Kipling's didacti- 
cism. The world needs teaching, goodness 
knows, and only those have a right to object to 

Kipling's teaching Imperialism and Unionism 
in verse who object to anybody's teaching those 
formularies in prose: and even they would do 
better to seek England over for a Radical. 
Gladstonian, Home-Ruler, Asquithian, Social 
isl or Independent Labor Party editorial versi- 
fier, rather than to criticise Kipling for doing 
what their side cannot do. Out of the clash of 
contending editorials, versified or otherwise, 
are born the processes of Democracy. The in- 
ner workings of the soul of man arc somewhat 
beyond the reach of editorials, and Mr. Kip- 
ling is not, in these Years of Grace Between, 
much concerned with them. (Macmillan, To 
ronto, $2; pocket edition. $1.7. r > 

An Octogenarian's Volume of Verse 

Mr. Ebenezer Bain, who is well known m 
literary and other circles in Montreal, has 
published at the age of eighty-one a volume 
of poems, the earliest of which, he tells us. 
was written after he had passed the half-cen- 
tury mark. The volume bears the name of 
•"War Poems, Songs and Other Verse," but 
above that somewhat catalogue-like title is the 
much more characteristic supertitle (printed, 
however, in smaller type) : "Ramblings in 
Rhymeland." By way of introduction Mr. R. 
Stanley Weir contributes four beautifully fin- 
ished stanzas commencing: "Your torch was 
lighted at the Golden Flame." 

Mr. Bain would he the last to claim to have 
added any new note to the poetic choir; and 
yet he has done something which a great many 
minor poets do not succeed in doing — he has 
revealed with unconscious art a personality 
as ingratiating, as sensitive, as earnest and as 
thoughtful as any to be found in Canadian 
literature. There is a profound beauty in the 

spectacle of an old age so full of kindly feel- 
ing to all mankind, of sympathy with the joys 
and aspirations of youth, of tolerance for 
everything except intolerance, of invincible be- 
lief in the upward destiny of mankind. We 
suspect Mr. Bain of going to a lot of trouble 
about the exactitude of his rhymes and 
seansions a'nd the propriety of his figures (he 
has even re-written a well known poem of 
Burns to relieve it from the necessity of com 
paring a lady's neck to a swan), when after 
all these are not the things that really matter. 
It is Mr. Bain, and his philosophy, and his 
broad affections, and his reverences and his 
hatreds — the latter very impersonal, if the 
Kaiser be excepted, and even the Kaiser is an 
institution rather than a man — that we like 
in this book, and that will give it a place in out 
hearts which would be denied to much cleverer 
versifying. It is easy to write clever verse : it 
is not easy to. develop and maintain during a 
long lifetime a character such as Mr. Bain's. 



July, 1919. 

Present Literary Activity in 
British Columbia 


FOR many years past it has been, unfortu- 
nately, the custom of our native critics 
to speak disparagingly of the home pro- 
duet in literature and thus they have encour- 
aged, perhaps unwittingly, foreign critics to 
give us no consideration whatever. It is only 
when our writers go abroad, as many have 
done, like Gilbert Parker, Robert Barr, Grant 
Allen, Thompson Seton or Bliss Carman, that 
they win due recognition. It is discovered with 
surprise that Canadian writers have abilities at 
least equal to those with whom they compete. 
and some people wonder why they should 
have gone so far afield to write. Professor Pel- 
ham Edgar concedes "that the general level 
of our writing is distinctly higher than it was, 
and thought the balance of intellectual trade 
is shockingly in our disfavour, a few reputa- 
tions have succeeded in penetrating beyond the 
limits of our Canadian territory. But it is 
easy to see that in the way of authorship Can- 
ada has hardly yet begun to justify her exist- 
ence. A foreign critic would tell our literary 
story in a manual of five pages." I am ac- 
quainted with Professor Edgar, and have 
usually much respect for his literary judg- 
ments but in this matter I cannot see eye to eye 
with him. I suspect that he has been too fer- 
vent a worshipper at foreign literary shrines 
to the neglect of those nearer home. In my 
humble opinion Professor Edgar's estimate of 
Canadian literature and Canadian writers is 
placed absurdly low, and is manifestly an in- 
justice. But the estimate is typical of our 
general lack of confidence in everything Cana- 
dian. For myself, I have little patience or 
sympathy with this procedure. I feel pride in 
what has been accomplished by our authors, 
who, with great handicaps to overcome, manage 
somehow to get their work before the public : 
and some of it. in spite of what has been said, 
is extraordinarily good, quite up to the for- 
■ ign standard of work which the critics unite 
in commending. 

There is another reason for my objection to 
this treatment of the Canadian writer. When 
the critics uuder-estimate the work of an au- 

thor, his readers, who know little about the 
matter, but accept the critics at their face va- 
lue, first begin to belittle him, then to neglect 
him, and finally drive him across the boundary 
line, where, as Mr. J. M. Gibbon says, he may 
still stir a little Canadian flavor into his liter- 
ary soup ; but by residence in the United States 
and cultivation of American taste he writes af- 
terwards primarily for another clientele than 

Anglo-Saxondom collectively have ever been 
notorious sinners at this business of disparage- 
ment for more than a hundred years, and there 
is along list of victims, English, Australian, 
American and Canadian, whose names will 
readily recur to the read/er. The time has 
surely arrived when our literature can be stud- 
ied dispassionately like the literature of any 
other country; for in spite of the handicap of 
indifference and neglect and the woefully 
sparse population of their country, Canadian 
writers are rapidly and steadily building up a 
creditable body of fine prose and true poetry. 

The numerical list of Canadian authors has 
now reached quite respectable dimensions, and 
these are not "birds of passage," but either na- 
tive of the soil or long resident in the country 
— long enough to have caught the Canadian 
spirit and the sympathy of the Canadian citi- 
zen — and are keen interpreters of its varying 
moods, its varying aspects and its glorious 
scenery. We should strive hard to keep them 
with us, by making their paths as easy as pos- 
sible ; we should regard them with affection 
and pride and do everything we can to encour- 
age their efforts. 

Canada has been made the poorer by the loss 
of so many of her writers. Wm. Cotes (Sarah 
Jeannette Duncan) is in India, Charles G. D. 
Roberts and Theodore Roberts are in England 
with Gilbert Parker; Bliss Carman, Thomp- 
son Seton and George Patullo are in New York. 
Many others are scattered about the world. Of 
course, all of these have not gone because of 
lack of home appreciation. Mrs. Cotes, for 
instance, married an East Indian official, and 
went to India with her husband. If Canadian 

July, 1919. 

( i \ .!/>/.!. \ i:ooh\l.\\ 


readers felt it their bounden duty to liarlior a 

modicum of national spirit they would buy and 

read the works of Canadian writers. Does t'an 

adian literature deserve this consideration? My 
answer is emphatically that it does. "If there 

is any external stimulus." says Mi', Gibbon. 
"which may lie acknowledged, it is the stimu- 
lus of praise and recognition, and only in so 
far as money represents tangible evidence of 
such appreciation does it play any vital part in 
the author's production." I believe that state 
ment to lie true. 

Although many of our authors are abroad we 
have a considerable number of the first-class 
still in our midst. In the East are Miss L. M. 
Montgomery (Mrs. MeDonald), Arthur String- 
er. Ralph Connor, Jean Blewell, Marjorie L. ('. 
l'ickthall, Norman Duncan. W. A. Fraser. and 
many others. In the West we -have Charles 
Mair. Win. Ecclestone MacKay, Bernard Me- 
Evcy. R. A. Hood. Robert Watson. L. A. Le- 
fevre. Rev. R. C. McBeth, Judge Howay, Hart- 
ley Munro Thomas. T. R.