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with misgivings and trepidation and Progress.” To those who are glorisuddenly found herself author of the ously confident that today the world first great novel written by an English is better than it has ever been Dr. woman. The effect of this news upon Wallace's conclusion will come as a the members of Miss Burney's family shock, for he says, "our whole system and upon literary London furnishes a of society is rotten from top to bottruly amazing and spirited bit of read- tom, and the Social Environment as ing. The book is more than the re. a whole in relation to our possibilities telling of an old story; Fanny, her in- and our claims, is the worst that the ner life, her success which failed to world has ever seen." Man's advance, bring her heart's deepest wish, become particularly during the last two cenof great moment to the reader. There turies, has been along the lines of is finish and feeling to the story and utilizing the powers of nature to an it should be even more widely received unprecedented extent. The result of than its predecessor. George H. this, according to Dr. Wallace, has Doran Company.

been almost wholly evil. It has caused

a growth of luxury on one side and England of witchcraft days is the

of unspeakable conditions on the background for a romantic story of an

other. That Dr. Wallace's sympathies alchemist's daughter "Keren of Low

are with labor against Organized bole.” Romance, however, in the pop

Capital is easy to be seen, In several ular sense of the word is by no means

clear, logical chapters he compiles the leading interest here. We are far

statistics which show the widespread more concerned whether the fascinat

existence of wrong and oppression. ing Keren can escape the charge of

In a final summary he states four witchcraft and whether she succeeds

causes for all our social evils and in making the wonderful blue stone of

suggests four remedies. They are as an alchemist's dreams than whether

follows: Competition for means of her hand is sought in marriage. The

existence must be cured by co-operafirst part of the book is laid in a wild

tion; economic antagonism must be country district, a fit setting for the

counteracted by an economic brotherstrange work that goes on in Keren's

hood; monopoly should be offset by a early home. Later the town of Col

"freedom of access to land and capichester and the life of thrifty burgher

tal for all"; and for the inheritance folk are described in so intimate a

by a few of the wealth of the world manner that one could believe the

must be substituted the "inheritance author lived at that time instead of in

by the state in trust for the whole the twentieth century. The book ex

community." It is also interesting to cels in that faithfulness to detail

note the stand which Dr. Wallace which seems to reconstruct completely

takes against the Eugenists. He bea time long past and give the human

lieves that the arbitrary control of beings of an unfamiliar environment

marriage by a chosen state board the breath of reality. Keren is like no

(which would be the logical outcome other heroine and her story is unusual.

of the theory) would greatly impair George H. Doran Company.

the race, and he gives biological arWhat Dr. Alfred Russell Wallace, guments substantiating his belief. Darwin's co-discoverer of evolution, The book is so simple and clear that thinks of present day social problems any one may read and understand, is set forth in his admirably concise while it never descends to a popular book “Social Environment and Moral style. Cassell and Company.





No. 3608 August 30, 1913


The Decreasing Value of Money By Walter F. Ford.


1. The Poetry of Robert Bridges. By John Bailey.

QUARTERLY Ravikw 515 “The Average American."

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE 530 III. Color-Blind. Chapter XIX. By Alice Perrin. (To be concluded.)


FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW 540 Henri Rochefort. By John F. Macdonald.

CONTEMPORARY REVIEW 548 VI. Fils d'Émigré. By D. K. Broster.

COBNHILL MAGAZINE 552 VII. Tho Point of View. By A. A. M.

PUNOH 559 VIII. The Nerve Doctor.

SATURDAY REVIEW 561 IX. Rudyard Kipling.

TIMES 563 X.

Swifts, Swallows and Martins. By F. G. Aflalo. OUTLOOK 568 XI. The Fate of the Jew.

ATHEN&UM 571 XII. The Tryst. By Rabindranath Tagore.

NATION 573 A PAGE OF VERSE XIII, The Pines. By James Elroy Flecker.

514 XIV. Dawn, By William Watson.





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Single Copies of THE LIVING AGE, 15 cents.

In ancient days in endless dynasty. And all around the snowy mountains

swim Like mighty swans afloat in heaven's


THE PINES. Oh, shall I never, never be home again! Meadows of England shining in the

rain, Spread wide your daisied lawns, your

ramparts green With briar fortify, with blossoms

screen Till my far morning-and o streams

that slow, And pure and deep through plains and

playlands go, For me your love and all your king

cups store, And-dark militia of the southern

shore, Old fragrant friends-preserve me the

last lines Of that long saga which you sung me,

pines, When, lonely boy, beneath the chosen

tree I listened, with my eyes upon the sea.

But I will walk upon the wooded

hill Where stands a grove O pines! of sis

ter pines, And when the downy twilight droops

her wing, And no sea glimmers and no mountain

shines, My heart shall listen still. For pines are gossip pines the wide

world through, And full of runic tales to sigh and

sing; 'Tis ever sweet through pines to see

the sky Blushing a deeper gold or darker blue; 'Tis ever sweet to lie On the dry carpet of the needles

brown; And while the fanciful green lizards


O traitor pines! you sang what life

has found The falsest of fair tales. (Earth blew a far-borne prelude all

around, That native music of her forest home, While from the sea's blue fields and

siren dales, Shadows and light-noon spectres of the

foam, Riding the summer gales On aery viols plucked an idle sound, Hearing you sing, O trees! Hearing you murmur, There are older

seas That beat on vaster sands Where the wise snailfish move their

pearly towers To carven rocks and sculptured prom

ont'ries, Hearing you whisper, Lands Where blaze the unimaginable flowers.

And windy odors, light as thistledown, Breathe from the laudanum and lav.

ender, Half to forget the wandering and pain, Half to remember days that have gone

by, And dream and dream that I am home

again. Beyrouth.

James Elroy Fleckr.

DAWN. Dawn-and a magical stillness: on

earth, quiescence profound; . On the waters a vast content, as of

hunger appeased and stayed; In the heavens a silence that seems

not mere privation of sound, But a thing with form and body, a

thing to be touched and weigbed.

Beneath me in the valley waves the Yet I know that I dwell in the midst palm,

of the roar of the cosmic wheel, Beneath, beyond the valley, breaks the In the collision of Forces, and clansea,

gor of boundless Strife, Beneath me sleep in mist, and light. 'Mid the sound of the speed of the and calm,

worlds, the rushing worlds, and Cities of Lebanon, dream-shadow-dim, the peal Where Kings of Tyre and Kings of of the thunder of Life. Tyre did rule

William Watson.



One of the pleasantest features in This being so, believers in poetry the intellectual landscape of the mo- were not likely to be led away by the inent is unquestionably the revival of voices which, after the deaths of poetry. Not that anyone who knew Browning, Tennyson and Swinburne, anything at all about poetry could sup- proclaimed that English poetry was pose it would really die. It has had

dead in their graves.

Nor are they too many deaths, followed by too many likely to be taken by surprise by the resurrections, for that. We are now present revival. This, like everything grown older and wiser than the peo- else in a Democratic age, seems at ple who, in the age of Spenser and the present to be more remarkable for exElizabethan drama, declared poetry to tent and size than for distinction. But be useless and provoked Sidney to we need not quarrel with that. The write the "Apology,” without which thing is genuine; the stuff is honest their very existence would be forgot poetic material, not shoddy; and if ten; or than Peacock, who, in the age some of the treatment tends at present of Wordsworth, Keats and Shelley, to give us a kind of rhetorical realism in asserted that poetry was obsolete and place of that musical and imaginative absurd, and had the same good fortune interpretation of life which is poetry, as his obscurer predecessors by provok- that is not unnatural in an age domi. ing a reply from Shelley which has nated by melodramatic journalism; and saved his attack from total oblivion. All will pass away as those who practise such fears have now passed away for it learn its emptiness by experience. ever from the minds of intelligent peo- Even if these defects were ple. Criticism, which has often in- marked than they are, they would jured poetry, has now done for it the afford no reason for failing to rejoice supreme service of showing the essen- in the fact that poetry now makes tial eternity of its nature. It has monthly magazines go into second editaught us to see in poetry the highest tions; that it has established a bookand most permanently satisfying of all shop of its own, selling nothing but interpretations of life, a thing which its own wares, a thing probably unhas the potentiality of being as many- known before on this, hitherto, mainly colored, as transcendental, as infinite prosaic earth; that it has issued a voland therefore as immortal as life it- ume of “Georgian poetry” which inself. So long as man lives he will cludes nothing published before the have an ear, a mind, an imagination accession of George V; finally that it and a spirit; and all four, especially if, has now established a quarterly re. as we may hope, they gradually de- view devoted solely to poetry and the velop in power, will more and more discussion of poetry. All these things claim poetry as the only food which are of the best omen; they mean that they can partake in common, and in the young poets believe in themselves the strength of which they realize their and have found a public which believes unity in themselves and their hold on in them too. ultimate and immutable truth.

But in poetry, as in life itself, there *1 “Poetical Works of Robert Bridges," ex

no absolutely new departures. oluding the eight dramas. London: Henry

The new which is to live is rooted in Frowde, 1912.

2 "Poetical Works of Robert Bridges." the old and knows that it is. So these Vols. I to VI. London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1898-1905

young poets—and it is not the least in


teresting fact about them—have dedi- pensable outfit of the Laureate; and cated their volume, not to some revo- they were as clearly possessed by Mr. lutionary critic who flatters them by Austin as they were lacking to greater saying that they are the people and men, like Shelley, for instance, or that wisdom was born with them, but Blake. And he added other gifts alto the most scholarly of English poets, most equally desirable for the part it to the intensely Etonian and Oxonian fell to him to play. The strongest and Robert Bridges. In him they rightly perhaps the best thing in him was his recognize the greatest living master of genuine love of all that is specially their art in this country, and at his English in meadow, wood and garden, feet they lay their work, an offering English birds and trees and flowers. which does as much honor to them as And the type of humanity in which he to him. Mr. Bridges has been as careful, saw his ideal was also one that was not to say perverse, in avoiding fame obviously built on very English lines. as other men are in seeking for it: All these things, which for some other but even he must, we should suppose, purposes might be weaknesses, were take some pleasure in this striking sources of strength for the Laureate tribute from his young fellow-crafts- ship, and though neither they nor the men, poets so unlike him, and yet so title of Laureate could raise a mediocre like in that likeness which obliterates poet out of his mediocrity, they did all unlikeness, in the sincere love and give him the best possible field for the earnest practice of the greatest of the powers he had. arts.

His death leaves the office vacant, Only a few months after the appear

with no obvious successor marked out ance of this significant dedication, an by universal opinion. Some suggest event occurred which gives it a special that the opportunity should be taken interest. The death of Mr. Alfred to abolish a post which has become an Austin leaves the office of Poet Laure- anachronism. But that is not the Engate vacant. That office, if it is to be lish manner of dealing with anachron. continued at all on the present lines,

isms. We do not abolish; we transdemands from its holder certain spec- form. The King may no longer wish ial gifts which many great poets bave for a versifier to present him with not possessed. Mr. Austin was not a complimentary odes on his birthday; great poet; he had neither the high but the poet is still the greatest of imagination nor the large utterance of all national voices, and both King and the great poets. But he had in abun- nation

may well desire to speak dance some of the qualifications which throngh him. If this be so, it will . the Laureate needs. The poet who is scarcely do to abandon the official and to speak in verse for the whole nation, political position of the Laureate, and almost as the Sovereign or the Prince make the title a mere compliment to of Wales may occasionally speak for the greatest living English poet. it in prose, must be a patriot, proud of For fifty fortunate years the greatest his country, full of pride in her past of our poets was also the most national. and faith in her future. He must be But we cannot expect that the happy something of a politician at least to accident, which united in Wordsworth, the extent of believing, as poets have and still more in Tennyson, all possible not always believed, in the greatness claims on the Laureateship, will alof political issues; and he must accept, ways recur. We may be content with and indeed honor, the traditions of his the unquestionable fact that there are country. These gifts are the indis- several living poets who would do no

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