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remarkable for its sustained flight in a Tennyson were academic poets ; not in perilous course, will serve for illustra- the sense that Addison and Leo XIII tion. We quote from Wild Eden (1899), were so. He has the sieve for noble which here, as in several other cases, words. Everywhere in the volume are presents a better text, to our mind, than images, turns of thought, cadences, symthat of the collected edition :
bols, that send the lettered mind flashI shall go singing over-seas :
ing away to Shelley, or Gray, or Tasso, “The million years of the planet's increase, or Theocritus ; yet no piece is merely All pangs of death, all cries of birth,
bookish. The mood is always real and Are clasped at one by the heart of earth.”
deeply felt, and if for the expression of I shall go singing by tower and town:
it the author has drawn deeply from the “The thousand cities of men that crown old stores of the Muses, it is but the Empire slow-rising from horde and clan
rightful privilege of the ultimus calaAre clasped at one by the heart of man.”
mus, the last pen, which, so it make them I shall go singing by flower and brier:
its own by eminent domain, may use at “ The multitudinous stars of fire,
will all the riches of its predecessors. And man made infinite under the sod
It may well be that here and there is a Are clasped at one by the heart of God.”
turn of this sort that is “ bookish ” in the It is clear that poetry so intellectual sense that it fails quite to carry to a reader as this, so constantly even in occa not acquainted with the classics of our sional pieces - guided by the spiritual own and other tongues. In the main, sense of life, is not calculated to win to however, Mr. Woodberry's volume is a the outer circles of popularity. There vindication of the scholarly mode of will, moreover, be those who will call it poetry. His envisagement of life is the “ academic.” This is a true character- richer for his scholarship, his expression ization, but if it be used in dispraise it in more suave and eloquent. And if there volves a misconception. Mr. Woodberry be a loss in extensiveness of appeal, there is an academic poet in precisely the sense is a compensating gain in the intensity of that Virgil and Catullus, Milton and delight for qualified readers. F. G.
THE CONTRIBUTORS' CLUB.
WHEN I declare my preference for fulness as a commercial instrument; it is Typowriter
the pen over the typewriter, as a literary instrument that I believe its
the hustling business man of value to be commonly over-rated. to-day will class me among the cranks Let it be granted that in many cases who would abolish the railway in favor the machine promotes legibility. There of the stagecoach. But I am no bigoted are persons of so vexatious a handwritdevotee of ancient ways. I have myself ing that the Golden Rule would prohibit used the typewriter for thirteen years, them from putting their thoughts on paand would not hesitate to give it a testi- per without its assistance. Yet, in spite monial for services rendered. I can un of the neglect of penmanship in modern derstand, too, that to the merchant or schools, these are exceptions. The next lawyer, with his immense correspon- advantage is speed. No doubt this counts dence, it has become a necessary labor- for much in an office, or in the reporters' saving device. I do not dispute its use room of a daily paper, but where it is a
question of thoughtful composition, and the constant rattle cannot but add to the not of the mere transcribing of shorthand strain, and produce a certain nervous notes, the supposed profit is illusory. You wear and tear. do not need a literary automobile for A novice at typewriting commonly ideas that can scarcely keep up with a fears that the demand of the machine pedestrian pace. I have serious doubts upon the attention must make original about the ingenious conceptions that have composition upon it impossible. Actubeen lost to the world because the author's ally there is no difficulty here, for after pen lagged behind his imagination. a little practice he thinks as little about
Now for my grievances against this his keys as the bicyclist about his balvaunted substitute for the old-fashioned
The real drawback does not lie pen. First, there is its weight, which in any sense of the unnaturalness of the restricts its use to the table or desk at medium, but in the awkwardness of makhome. Next, there is the fact that, be ing corrections while writing.
It is a ing a machine, it is subject to all the ills clumsy task to alter a word, or change that machinery is heir to. All makes the order of clauses, or make interlineaof typewriter except one
tions while the paper is on the cylinder, tisements and circulars passim have so we decide to wait until the sheet comes a tendency to get out of order, and the off the machine. By the time we have law of chances makes it unlikely that any reached the bottom of the page the individual among us will capture that elu- projected amendment has slipped our sive perfect creation. Now, as a rule, the memory. To some kinds of writing the professional author is not of a mechani forfeiture of this opportunity means a cal bent: neither natural aptitude nor serious loss. Literary quality is still training has given him the knack of deal- further impaired by a temptation to ing authoritatively with levers and pawls. which the typewriter exposes those auAnd the derangements are sure to come thors for whose work there is a great at the most irritating moments, with dis demand. In the facilities it supplies for astrous effects upon the writer's moods. the copying of dictated matter in a short There was no unhealthiness of tone about time, and at a cheap rate, some profesOliver Wendell Holmes, yet he was care sional writers have discerned an expediful to avoid all possible friction that ent for increasing their output. This might interrupt the act of composi- inevitably means the production of poorer tion. Many a fine thought, he said, had stuff. Mr. Herbert Spencer confessed perished ere it was fairly born, being not long ago that in re-reading his own strangled in the birth by a hair on the books he found those which had been nib of the pen or choked out of life by dictated inferior in style to the others. muddy ink. How much more apprehen When a writer attempts to compose at sive would he have been of the intellec shorthand speed he turns himselt into tual parts of an erratic type-bar or a an extempore speaker; he is insensibly refractory ribbon! Then, the physical drawn to cultivate the style of the man labor involved in the working of any on the platform, and his article has the make of machine must consume much diffuseness of an harangue. It night more energy than the formation of let- be impressive with an audience, but it ters by the pen. Possibly the average wearies the reader. literary man would be better if he took
that the book or article is more exercise, but indoor athletics of this completed without the aid of either stesedentary type scarcely supply the lack. nographer or machine, is it not desirable Further, although one may not be acutely that the manuscript should then be transconscious of the noise of the operation, lated into the clearer letterpress of the
typewriter before coming into the print- bring the slipper down on the right spot, er's hands? Only in one case, namely, which meant, of course, the one I was when the author performs this translation thinking of? Should that bad boy still hiinself. If his own handwriting is hard go unpunished for that particular sin ? to read, better let him send his autograph Discipline forbid ! Not if I have to give sheets to the printer in all their tangle and him what he deserves myself! uncouthness than have them “straight- “He [the illustrator] derives his idea ened out" in a typewriting office. The from the text just as the reader derives average compositor, in a good house, is his,” remarks the Contributor. But far more competent than the average there are times when we are forced sadly girl typist to decipher difficult manu- to doubt the truth of this statement, in script, and when his sagacity fails he has fact, to wonder whether the illustrator expert assistance close at hand to appeal derives his idea from the text at all. to. The typist will misread a word and “Sophronia sat in the twilight pondersubstitute another, which, though it goes ing,” Sophronia being represented in the a long way toward spoiling the sentence, story as a gentle, quiet New England does not make nonsense of it. The au- maid. Illustration, a thick-lipped, fiercethor, glancing harriedly through the type- eyed, disheveled, tropical sort of creature written sheets and not comparing them whom one suspects of mixed descent. minutely with the first draft, does not Or Alicia's straitened circumstances and notice the difference, and the printer, of narrow village life are happily indicated course, follows the copy that is set before by a modish, low-cut, evening frock. Two him. If the autograph original had gone generations ago we could forgive a Becky straight to the compositor's case the mis- Sharp who was apparently a decrepit Italtake would not have been made. I could ian hag. And in 1840, when the burning of give instances within my own knowledge, the Steamer Lexington was pictured, we illustrating the corruption of a text by were much edified to see all the gentlemen, the process just described. As I said at escaping on mattresses or floating in the the outset, I am no unreasoning foe to water, prudently attired in high hats. the typewriter, for it has been a helper We should not, I think, have caviled if and friend to the journalist and author we had seen them courteously removing as well as to the man of business; but those stately coverings in deference to at a time when there are so many other the ladies whom they were helping to causes of slovenliness in the production places of refuge. But times have changed of printed matter it will be a great pity since then, and our demands have if its indiscriminate use leads to a degen- changed with them. It appears, howeration in literary style, or to a lowering ever, that methods have not changed so of the standard of high-class printing. much as we are sometimes led to fancy.
I BEGAN to read the Contribution called With all the boasted advance in illustraUnhand- “Handsomely Illustrated,” in tion, Sophronia’s West Indian countesomely Illustrated. a recent Club, with all the nance and Alicia’s low-necked dress seem pleasant anticipation of the small boy to my humble perception to belong to the who sees liis contemporary about to come same stage of development as the early in for an application of the maternal Becky and the “ toppers” of the Lexingslipper. (Let me correct myself and say ton's passengers. paternal, for the Contributor has done Another weakness we should surely his utmost for the credit of the Club by have outgrown. “ Isabel watched Robbetraying his sex.) I read with interest ert's changing expression,” remarks an and sympathy, but finished disappointed. author in a late magazine. But in the Was it possible that he had failed to illustration, Isabel's attention is deter
minedly fixed upon a spot on the wall, perfect in geography. Would the dead about on a level with Robert's waist. come forth debonair out of their crypts Again I am sent back to the past, this to welcome me, if I could furnish no time to those large wall-engravings that dates by way of credentials ? I knowing within not so very long a memory no gen no Italian, would the gondoliers sing into tleman's parlor was without. “The Mar- my heart all the gayety of Venice? My riage of Pocahontas " was especially ad- French being rusted, would Paris pass mirable for the ingenuity of the artist in with me the merry time of day? I am providing separate points of attention for afraid Europe will say to me, Out of my all the numerous wedding guests, and still palaces, away from my pictures, don't avoiding the necessity of having a single lay finger on my cathedrals, - no ignoraone glance in the direction of the pair just mus wanted here ! - But I have no time making their vows to Heaven.
to study all these matters, nor patience Declaration of Independence" presents either. Nor am I minded to do Europe the same effect with no less success, the by Baedeker; I am right gypsy with the august Signers showing an entire lack of lust for strange faces and beckoning byinterest in the great document before ways, and with no nose whatsoever to them, and bending their minds, to judge be buried in a guidebook. I mentioned from their evident uneasy self-conscious- these my doubts and fears to a fellow ness and rapt gaze at vacancy, on hav- worker, who had scraped and saved and ing their pictures taken. The illustrator bought herself a summer, and returned who gave us Isabel cannot rival these as one likes to see travelers returnexamples in point of elaborate composi- shabby-coated, shining - eyed, speaking tion, but so far as his subject permits he little, with do-it-again-as-soon-as-possible has followed their tradition faithfully. writ large over all her plans and pur
I quite agree with the Contributor. poses. She answered promptly, “ It is Illustrations should illustrate. Is it too much better to study about it after you much to ask that they also make a nearer have seen it than before.” Perhaps it is ; approach to that realism which we are I will leave it that way, I think. Europe so often assured is the most striking char must take me just as I am; if it does n't, acteristic of our time ?
so much the worse for Europe. It is a matter of self-gratulation with Yet when I take stock of my knowEurope Un me that I am at one and the ledge of that various other side, what a Visitod.
same time an American, and small parcel it is, and how shakily done not a millionaire. Because of the first up! London, for instance. In London I may go to Europe ; because of the sec there are the Tower, and Westminster, ond, I have n't been there already. and the Temple, and lodgings, - streets
But I find two fears menacing my air and streets of lodgings. In the Tower ship fancies. Do I know enough to go are beef-eaters, a sort of mediæval to Europe? When I am ready to see Eu- policemen carrying halberds; and crown rope, will there be a Europe there to jewels in glass cases, — I never did care see? For I am densely, deeply ignorant. much for things in glass cases; and then That is all very well in America, where there are bloodstains ; but I am afraid I am only one among a nation of bluffers ; to appreciate bloodstains; I should have but would not Europe see through me, gone abroad younger. Westminster is a find me out, refuse to shake hands? I great dim place where you may stay all fear that the Grandmother Past would not day, like a Mr. Addison or a Mr. Hardtake me on her lap and tell me stories if ing, or poking about the Poets' Corner, I could n't recite my English sovereigns, feeling the ashes of the great mouldering if I proved hazy on architecture, and im- genially all about you, - only it would
be just my luck to be thrilled by a ceno- Italy, with its sunshine, its brown, caretaph.
free beggars, its old gardens, its old palThe Temple is a name of magic. I've aces, its old statues, all its grace of beautino notion of its appearance. There is ful decay. I want to see Rome, Horace's an Inner Temple, — that implies, I sup
that implies, I sup- Rome, Hawthorne’s Rome, Crawford's pose, a building like an American apart Rome; I want to see the Pope, and St. ment house built around a court. But it Peter's, and the Faun, and Miriam. And is the Temple, the Inner Temple that I I want to see the catacombs. How do want to see in London, because he lived you get to them? I picture myself runthere, had chambers there, held his ning about the streets hunting diligently Wednesday evenings there, — the sad- for a stairway down, just as I hunt for dest, merriest soul that ever chuckled in the basement in a department store. print.
How damp and shivery and fearsome Those London lodgings, – I should and Poe-ish! Let no man cheat me of have to live in lodgings in London, poor
my catacombs. lodgings, because they are cheap and I Venice is the next red spot on my map, am cheap, — frowzy lodgings, savored Venice by day and Venice by night, with with frying, garnished at intervals with the music over the water, the rhythmic a slatternly landlady and a little slavey. dip of oars, the lights of palace windows, In lodgings they furnish candles and and the gliding through moonlight into toast and tea, a diet which would have to shadow. But my American soul rises be washed down with plentiful draughts up in query, as thus, — if Venice were in from that cask I carry with me, that wine America, what a clatter it would make called Traveler's Delight.
in the press with its typhoid and its maMy Continental itinerary is delight laria! what in the world does Venice do fully vague; my imagination supplies a about microbes and mosquitoes? This is map of the everywhere, marked with irreverence. Let me here admonish mybright red crosses where are the Alps, self betimes, look 'ee, miss, when you Paris, Rome, Venice. My general im- go to Europe, do not carry the skeleton pression of the Continent is that, as a of a microbe with you to spoil the feast. whole, it suffers from a lack of the great But even as I dream of my red crosses, American bathtub, and does not supply and the brave unknown roads that lead ice water. Dirty and thirsty and happy to them, that other fear of mine comes hearted shall I make my pilgrimage. knocking, knocking, — will Europe wait Paris first, where you can sit — sit on for me? Even now it shows signs of what? — and see all the world drive by, impatience at my delay, says, “Hurry see all the world out pleasuring ; Paris, up!” and knocks down a Campanile in that performs all manner of naughtiness dudgeon. It is causing its cathedrals to 80 prettily that nobody cares, because it's crumble, it is girdling its Alps with trolParis, - should I dare to sip the tiniest ley lines, it is undressing its peasants to sip of absinthe myself ? Paris, — where trick them out in ugly clothes like ours, I should be cheated of my hard-wrung it is even muttering threats of household dollars with shrugs so picturesque and sanitation. If it would only wait a little smiles so ready that I would gladly pay while ! the price. But I have heard that in Such titles as “ Vanishing London" Paris strange men speak to young girls alarm me. I had not supposed that Lonon the street. I am not a young girl, but don would be vulgar enough to vanish. a man might speak to me, and being an I thought they did things better over American, I should n't like it.
there ; Henry James gave me so to unPosting southward, I shall find my derstand. I should have thought John