A sample of Mrs. Wharton’s zestful writing comes in the first sentence of

_New Year’s Day_ (_The ’Seventies_):

“‘She was _bad_ ... always. They used to meet at the Fifth Avenue Hotel,’

said my mother, as if the scene of the offense added to the guilt of the

couple whose past she was revealing.”

Her son’s mind flashes back to an incident when he was a boy of twelve

watching, with older people, the rapid and unbecoming rush of folk from

the Fifth Avenue Hotel, which was on fire. With her admirable technique,

Mrs. Wharton at once slips quietly back to the incident itself, and

we follow Lizzie Hazeldean in her progress from the scene of so much

confusion—a flight, but a controlled flight. This story holds a surprise

for the reader, who will not be likely to surmise Mrs. Hazeldean’s

true feeling any more than Henry Prest did. The scene between these

two, meeting for the first time after Charles Hazeldean’s death, is

incomparably well done.

Surely these four novelettes will be read a half-century hence with as

much appreciation as today! For such work, for such New York primitives,

one feels there can be no false dawn. I have no doubt that the immediate

effect, only partly traceable to the presence in the background of some

of the same persons, like Mrs. Manson Mingot and Mr. Sillerton Jackson,

will be to set everyone to re-reading _The Age of Innocence_. Which

is entirely as it should be, for they will find that novel fresher,

livelier, more wistful and even more beautifully satisfactory today than

four years ago.

A NOTE ON EDITH WHARTON

For a full list of Edith Wharton’s books and for reference to several

important discussions of her work, see the chapter on her in either

_Authors of the Day_ or _American Nights Entertainment_.

_The Age of Innocence_ is a story of New York society in the ’Seventies.

It was published in 1920, receiving the Pulitzer Prize, awarded by

Columbia University, as the best American novel of its year (over

Sinclair Lewis’s _Main Street_). The four novelettes called _Old New

York_ were published in 1924 (separate volumes, or set) and are:

_False Dawn_ (_The ’Forties_)

_The Old Maid_ (_The ’Fifties_)

_The Spark_ (_The ’Sixties_)

_New Year’s Day_ (_The ’Seventies_)

20. Not Found Elsewhere

i

Certain books which have seemed not to drop naturally into the scheme

of my other chapters are to be discussed in this; but that does not

mean an entire lack of relation among them. I shall first say something

about books dealing with Europe; then something about books on American

subjects. Both these groups are mainly of an historical character. There

will then remain for our attention a few books of a somewhat diverse but

distinctive character.

Easily the most important of the European studies is promised in a

two-volume work by the Earl of Birkenhead with the title, _The Inner

History of British Politics, 1906-1922_, to appear early in 1925. The

author first came to general attention as Frederick E. Smith, an Ulster

lawyer. As Sir Frederick E. Smith he was Attorney-General under Mr. Lloyd

George and later, as Viscount Birkenhead, he was Lord High Chancellor.

When he retired from office with Lloyd George he was made an Earl. With

Sir Andrew Carson, he was generally held to have been responsible for the

gun-running in Ulster when an Irish civil war seemed in prospect in 1914;

and he does not disclaim the rôle.[90] On this and other accounts he is

in some quarters one of the best-hated men in British public life.

But he is also one of the most direct, uncompromising and candid. He is

also much more open in his disillusion than most English public men have

ventured to be—or actually were. None of the rosy colors of Mr. Lloyd

George’s auroral intellect have any place in Birkenhead’s thinking. His

literary style is the somewhat encumbered one of the lawyer; but if it

is a little tortuous, it is precise, and leaves his meaning not vague.

His “Inner History” of events between 1906 and 1922 will be most bitterly

attacked, as biased, partial, misrepresentative of men and purposes. But

the reader will do well to form his own judgment; and in any event it

will be necessary to wring from the attacks, as you wring water from a

cloth, the large amount of emotionalism with which they are certain to be

saturated.

Birkenhead has, of course, certain advantages in preparing his work.

Lloyd George has spoken in one book[91] and Asquith has given his account

of the pre-war period.[92] Various other actors in the striking political

events that began just before the Asquith Ministry and continued

until Mr. Lloyd George’s defeat have been heard from. The material at

Birkenhead’s disposal is far more complete than the record of history so

entirely contemporary has ever been.

Arthur Hamilton Gibbs is a brother of Philip Gibbs and of Cosmo

Hamilton.[93] At the beginning of the war he was just out of hospital

and had gone home to England to recuperate his strength. He was under

a strict injunction not to ride a horse for six months. In one month

he had enlisted as a private in the British Army and was training as

a cavalryman. After service in France he was commissioned, eventually

becoming Major Gibbs. He also saw a long period of that morale-destroying

inaction which was the lot of certain units sent to the Bulgarian front.

His final period, in France, coincided with the great German drive of

March, 1918.

Out of this experience he wrote a book, _Gun Fodder_, published in 1919,

when the world, in sheer reaction, wouldn’t look at a war book. Yet

Arthur Symons called _Gun Fodder_ one of the six best books about the

war. And people on this side, like Christopher Morley, who have a faculty

for personally discovering the exceptional book, read it and talked about

it. When _Gun Fodder_ was republished this year (1924) it took its place

as one of the very few books of war experience that will last—that have

lasted—for more than the war’s own hour.

It is the only war book I shall bring to your notice; but there are one

or two after-war books which deserve your attention. _The Awakening of

Italy: The Fascista Regeneration_, by Luigi Villari, will of course

actively interest those who may have read the chapter on Italy in

Charles H. Sherrill’s _The Purple or the Red_[94] but many will go to it

directly in an effort to grasp the significance of Mussolini and Fascism.

They will find a singularly clear and even luminous account, as little

encumbered with unfamiliar detail as a full account can be. But they will

also find a story full of drama, yet told without any of the rhetoric or

verbal excess and floridity which one might expect in a book on Italian

politics written by an Italian. Villari is frankly an admirer and

partisan of Fascism, and his opinion of Mussolini as a great leader is

plain-spoken; but he is neither a mere enthusiast nor an indiscriminating

historian. The defects of Fascism he records as he sees them. He does

not contend that there are not grave problems ahead of Italy. But, as he

says, “the mass of the people, both among the educated classes and the

ignorant, are more interested in results than in theories, and no one who

compares the state of Italy today with that of the days before Fascismo’s

advent to power can for a moment deny the enormous improvement in every

field. ‘Ora si vive,’ the people say, ‘mentre prima non si viveva piu.’

(‘Now we live, whereas before life was not possible.’)... One has the

feeling that the country is really moving forward rapidly and surely, and

shaking off the shackles of the bad traditions by which it had been bound

for centuries.”

The Prime Ministry of Ramsay MacDonald in Great Britain makes

particularly timely _An Outline of the British Labor Movement_, by Paul

Blanshard. This is a short history, just what its title states, an

“outline” conveying exactly what the American reader desires to know

about the British Labor Party. The author is a young American with

training in the field of social and political study. His book was written

from material gained in England and its authenticity is attested in the

introduction provided for it by Arthur Henderson, the Labor leader.

Tons of books have been written about Russia and sovietism; yet I

expect there will be general agreement with me when I say that only

one other man (now dead) was so qualified to write on the subject as

Leon Trotzky. There can certainly be no denying the high interest of

Leon Trotzky’s _Problems of Life_. The Soviet Minister of War gives a

pretty complete view of the new Russia from the inside. It will possibly

come as a surprise that the new Russia is more interested in home life,

recreations, literature and the arts than in economics and politics. From

the viewpoint of Trotzky, the foundation of the home rests on the mutual

attachment of husband and wife—as always—but must be secured by the

liberation of both in economic directions. Most especially must the wife

and mother be aided by communal kitchens and relief from the effective

slavery of cooking, washing, and other ordeals by fire and water. The ten

chapters of _Problems of Life_ are discussions of the problems deemed

vital in Russian reconstruction. Such chapter titles as “Not by Politics

Alone Does Man Thrive,” “Reconstruction Requires Introspection,” “From

the Old Family to the New,” and “Mind and Little Things” give the angle

of vision.

ii

I might as well confess frankly that I am fascinated by William A.

Ganoe’s _The History of the United States Army_. Therefore, if you feel

it necessary, discount by a percentage for enthusiasm what I may say.

These will still remain solid, incontestable merits. This is the first

history of our army ever to have been written; and it has been written

with a strong story sense, so that it reads like a story. It covers in

a single volume the whole period from 1775 to 1923. Dates have been

placed in the margin, and reference to sources are omitted so as not to

interrupt the reader. There is a chronological account of a soldier’s

life in the American Revolution, and the first picture of the period of

military decadence after the Revolution. The truth about General von

Steuben seems to have been arrived at for the first time. What the army

did and did not do in the War of 1812 is told. There is a good picture

of the life of the soldier in peace times, when he becomes the nation’s

most important builder. The view of the Civil War is somewhat new and

certainly impartial. For the first time, this book gives us a complete

account of our Indian wars in chronological shape.

I think there is a great deal of truth in the assertion that one cannot

know American history without having read this book. Much that has

heretofore been withheld from general knowledge is told for the first

time. And there are picturesque matters which are far from being affairs

of general knowledge—for example, the fact that the construction of the

Union Pacific Railroad was due to the army and army training, or the fact

that General Winfield Scott, single-handed, saved the country three times

from war.

Who is William A. Ganoe? A West Pointer commissioned in the regular army

in 1907 who has served in Cuba, Hawaii, and various parts of the United

States. He was instructor, and afterward assistant professor of English,

and finally adjutant for four years at West Point. He was in command

of a company in the first series of training camps when we entered the

war, and head of a board of officers formed to edit the Infantry Drill

Regulations after the war. He is now head of the military history section

at the U. S. Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia. He has written

for the Atlantic Monthly (“Ruggs—R.O.T.C.”), Scribner’s, and the Yale

Review. He has, of course, had access to various records and historical

confirmations not available to the non-army writer.

_A History of the United States Navy_ had already been written by

Edgar Stanton Maclay, and readers will welcome Mr. Maclay’s _A History

of American Privateers_, which truly supplements the earlier work. For

during the Revolution the number of privateers was about four times

that of regular naval vessels; and the part played by the privateer in

the War of 1812 has never been minimized by any historian. From before

the Revolution to after the War of 1812 hundreds of respected men made

their livings—and their fortunes—by sailing as licensed pirates with

full powers to capture any ships of unfriendly countries. Men who were

unable to go bought shares in the privateers and often, when a rich

prize was captured, reaped an incredible dividend. So slight was the

difference in practice between privateering and plain piracy, so enormous

was the profit in both, that it is not surprising to learn that every

once in a while a privateersman, having waited in vain for a “lawful”

prey, attacked a ship of his own nation, or any first comer. The classic

instance is that of Captain Kidd, sent out as a privateersman, hung as a

pirate.

It goes without saying that Mr. Maclay’s book is romantic; it couldn’t be

anything else. Its interest is equally the interest of authentic history

and daring adventure; its value always that of fact. There are plenty of

books giving the history of our merchant marine; Mr. Maclay had done a

history of the navy; here he has filled the gap between by telling what

is perhaps the most exciting story of the three.

iii

If there is one thing more important than the American Constitution, it

is the United States Supreme Court. Charles Warren, formerly assistant

Attorney-General of the United States, and author of _A History of the

American Bar_, is a person with a remarkable capacity for hard work in

research. He has that other priceless gift, the ability to digest what

he has learned and to present it clearly but without the sacrifice of

opulence. For this double reason his _The Supreme Court in United States

History_, occupying to some extent the same field as Beveridge’s _Life

of John Marshall_, is the only work worthy to be put beside Senator

Beveridge’s masterpiece. The award of the $2,000 Pulitzer Prize for the

year’s best book on the history of the United States, made annually or

less often by Columbia University, quite naturally fell to Mr. Warren

after publication of his three-volume history. “This book,” Mr. Warren

says in his preface, “is not a law book. It is a narrative of that

section of our national history connected with the Supreme Court, and

is written for laymen and lawyers alike. As words are but ‘the skin of

a living thought,’ so law cases as they appear in the law reports are

but the dry bones of very vital social, political and economic contests.

This book is an attempt to restore, in some degree, their contemporary

surroundings to the important cases decided by the Supreme Court.”

In other words, this is the first history of the one most tremendous

factor in American government, and it is written from a non-legal

standpoint. After its publication Chief Justice William H. Taft and

Justices Day, Van Devanter, McReynolds and Clarke joined by personal

letters of praise the great voice of critical commendation which was

heard from all over the country. Chief Justice Taft spoke particularly of

the enormous labor involved in the reading of early American newspapers,

necessary if Mr. Warren were to get the contemporary view and feeling on

Supreme Court decisions. “I consider that you have put the profession,

and indeed the whole country, under a heavy debt,” the Chief Justice

concluded. But I submit that Mr. Warren’s perfect readability is the

chief item of our indebtedness.

I spoke of the Constitution: books upon it are much in demand these days.

One which has had a wide sale and praise from high sources is Thomas

James Norton’s _The Constitution of the United States: Its Sources and

Its Application_. Mr. Norton writes for the layman and his book has had

a somewhat extensive use in Americanization work. One of those heartiest

in praise of it has been the Hon. James M. Beck, Solicitor General of

the United States, who says: “I know of no book which so completely and

coherently explains our form of government, and I hope, indeed, for the

welfare of our country that it may have the wide circulation which it

so richly merits.” The generosity of this is the more appreciable when

we consider that Mr. Beck’s own book, _The Constitution of the United

States_, appearing about the same time, and founded on his Gray’s Inn

lectures in London, was in more or less degree a rival for readers’

attention. But it is apparent that people read, if they read at all,

not one but several books on the Constitution; for Mr. Beck’s volume,

rewritten and considerably expanded, is just being republished as _The

Constitution of the United States: Yesterday, Today—Tomorrow?_

James Myers’s _Representative Government in Industry_ and Sterling

Denhard Spero’s _The Labor Movement in a Government Industry_ are volumes

that, because of their specialized character, are more related to Mr.

Blanshard’s _An Outline of the British Labor Movement_. But they are

both on American subjects. Mr. Myers is executive secretary of the board

of operatives of the Dutchess Bleachery, Inc., at Wappingers Falls,

New York. This bleachery is an “industrial democracy,” or partnership

enterprise, operated by the employees. Mr. Myers’s book has therefore

a great advantage over most books of its sort: it records an actual

experiment in successful operation, not somebody’s theories as to what

ought to work. Mr. Spero’s book is adequately described by its subtitle,

“a study of employee organization in the Postal Service.” After a short

survey of unionism in the civil service, Mr. Spero gives the full record

of its history among the United States postal employees. The book is not

propaganda for any organization or group, but the work of an impartial

historian with no axe to grind.

Are new books on Lincoln justified? Yes. We are only beginning to get

those of enduring value, aside from certain contemporary records. “The

Lincoln papers, rich in letters to Lincoln, many of them quite as

important to the biographer as those written by him, have not yet been

released, nor will they be available for a number of years,” points

out Daniel Kilham Dodge, in the preface to his _Abraham Lincoln—Master

of Words_, “and the Hay Diary, a source of the utmost importance, is

still in manuscript form, to be consulted only by special permission

of the Harvard Library authorities.” These are only two of the known

important items. Mr. Dodge’s own new book is entirely confined to one

phase of Lincoln’s life, though a phase of the greatest interest. Was

he an orator? Was the Gettysburg address composed briefly on the train,

in effect an impromptu? Just what was Lincoln’s genius for effective

utterance?

Mr. Dodge has uncovered some interesting facts, and brought others into

valuable juxtaposition. Lincoln was no natural born orator. All his life

he was unable to make an extempore speech. On the day Richmond fell,

Lincoln dispersed an enthusiastic crowd before the White House, telling

them to come the next day when he would have a speech ready. He kept his

promise. It was his last speech before his assassination.

The young Lincoln modeled himself on Henry Clay. His earliest speeches

often contained the purple patches not entirely dissociable from

Southern oratory. The Lincoln humor, notorious in conversation, was

extremely rare in his speeches; another evidence that when he spoke his

words were studied. He simply could not express himself gracefully—or

effectively—on short notice. The evidence is that the Gettysburg address

was as carefully prepared as anything else. Mr. Dodge has made an onerous

examination of contemporary newspapers and sources to find out if anyone

really did perceive the speech’s classic line and immense stature. Only

about three voices were raised in acclaim.

_Abraham Lincoln—Master of Words_ is worth adding to the Lincoln shelf.

But its lesson is distinctly that such eloquence as Lincoln had came from

toil and care and thought—perhaps was achieved only because, so often,

the need for utmost sincerity in expression, the grave consequence of an

issue impending, came to his aid.

iv

It was Edmond Rostand who once said that the only Vice was inactivity

(_l’inertie_), the only virtue, enthusiasm. Douglas Fairbanks long ago

adopted this as his watchword. But enthusiasm is peculiarly a trait of

youth. How keep this youthful enthusiasm? The answer to this question

is the whole subject of Fairbanks’s new book, _Youth Points the Way_.

“You may have all the machinery for a successful life,” says the actor,

“education, health, intellect, and still fail to find the true zest in

life because your machinery lacks the vital electric spark—enthusiasm.”

It is necessary to think hard, work hard, play hard and live

enthusiastically. Fresh air and exercise are “the only medicine I ever

take.” Mr. Fairbanks rises in time to see the sun rise and chases his

breakfast to the top of a California mountain. “Keep in motion; that is

the main thing, and it matters little whether you do stunts on a flying

ring or only chin yourself on an upper berth.”

How is a young man to get a start in life? That, Douglas Fairbanks says,

depends entirely on what sort of a person he is; but one thing he must

do, “dive in.” Fairbanks himself, on graduating from college, borrowed a

thousand dollars and went to Europe. His start in life came through the

strenuous way he had to work to pay that money back.

_Youth Points the Way_ is the book of a man who has kept in motion and

who believes that to cease moving is to die. Some people stop after

failure, some after success. Fairbanks says that either is fatal.

Were he writing a scientific treatise, and not a popular, partly

autobiographical, inspirational book with many anecdotes and considerable

humor, he could find very important evidence in the work of physicists,

physiologists, and others to prove that he is right.

Perhaps you think that so much motion will disturb your blood pressure

(of which you have heard a good deal, and about which you are secretly

worried at times). Well, no; at least, only beneficially. If you would

like to know the truth about blood pressure—the subject of much ignorance

and much uninformed discussion—you may as well read the new book by

Lewellys F. Barker, M.D., LL.D., and Norman Brown Cole, M.D. Although

Drs. Barker and Cole are members of the Johns Hopkins faculty, their

book is equally serviceable for the physician and the general reader.

Technical expressions are avoided, and a very complete glossary helps the

ordinary reader where a medical name must be used for exactness. But the

book should remove all sorts of misconceptions. Blood pressure is just as

normal as breathing. It has certain general averages related to age and

condition; marked departures from these are the danger signal. Heredity,

the wear and tear of modern life, the use of alcohol, tobacco and coffee

may produce exceptional blood pressures. Development of high blood

pressure is a process rather than a disease; the symptoms develop rather

late in its course; and preventive measures must be taken early. _Blood

Pressure_ gives, in plain, comprehensible English, the information that

anyone interested in longevity, or even in normal length of life, would

like to have.

v

About 500 years ago there lived a Turk named Nasr-ed-Din, which means

“Victory of the Faith.” He became a teacher and a magistrate in the

district of Angora. As a teacher he was called “Khoja,” which means

“Teacher” and is a title of respect and honor. He was the author of a

series of Æsop-like fables which have come down as perhaps the most

authentic and indigenous piece of Turkish literature. There is not much

Turkish literature which is not an imitation of, or a borrowing from,

Persian or Arabic. _The Khoja_, or Nasr-ed-Din’s stories, is today as

popular and as universally read and repeated as ever.

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