In the beginning was the Word . . .

The writings of Joyce show a progression from an early interest in words through a mature use of them to the excessive fondness of old age. In spite of variation from one work to another, the development is not always consistent and steady; sometimes there is a reversion to a former phase, sometimes an advance into a future phase. The direction, however, is unmistakable.

Whether because of a misunderstanding of the concept of evolution or for some other reason, a change has apparently come in the attitude of poets toward nature. Mr. Beach in his recent book laments the decline of faith in the benevolence of nature and presents the general attitude of nineteenth-century poets toward it as a bridge between the age of faith and the age of disbelief.1 But since neither terminal is proved, his fundamental thesis, which he calls a tragedy of belief, is unconvincing. The consequence of the acceptance of such a tragedy was clearly foreseen by G. K. Chesterton, who recently wrote:

When first it was even hinted that the universe may not be a great design, but only a blind and indifferent growth, it ought to have been perceived instantly that this must for ever forbid any poet to retire to the green fields as to his home, or to look at the blue sky for his inspiration. . . . Even the nature-worship which Pagans have felt, even the nature-love which Pantheists have felt, ultimately depends as much on some implied purpose and positive good in things, as does the direct thanksgiving which Christians have felt. . . . Poets, even Pagans, can only directly believe in Nature if they indirectly believe in God; if the second idea should really fade, the first is bound to follow sooner or later; and, merely out of a sad respect for human logic, I wish it had been sooner.

Wenige Jahre vor seinem Tode suchte Hugo von Hofmannsthal in seinem Aufsatz Das Schrifttum als geistiger Raum der Nation (1927) Rechenschaft abzulegen über die innersten Kräfte, die dem deutschen Geist jener Epoche Richtung gaben. Indem er sich nun hier gegen Schluss zu weitester Sicht erhebt, heisst es (S. 442):

Ich spreche von einem Prozess, in dem wir mitten inne stehen, einer Synthese, so langsam und grossartig—wenn man sie von aussen zu sehen vermöchte—als finster und priifend, wenn man in ihr steht. Langsam und grossartig dürfen wir den Vorgang wohl nennen, wenn wir bedenken, dass auch der lange Zeitraum der Entwicklung von den Zuckungen des Aufklärungszeitalters bis zu uns nur eine Spanne in ihm ist, dass er eigentlich anhebt als eine innere Gegenbewegung gegen jene Geistesumwälzung des sechzehnten Jahrhunderts, die wir in ihren zwei Aspekten Renaissance und Reformation zu nennen pflegen. Der Prozess, von dem ich rede, ist nichts anderes als eine konservative Revolution von einem Umfange, wie die europäische Geschichte ihn nicht kennt....

The letters written by Robert Browning to Isabella Blagden constitute the longest sustained correspondence carried on by the poet with any individual. The correspondence extends over more than twenty years, and for more than ten years of that time letters once every month were exchanged. This scheme of exchange—Miss Blagden to write on the twelfth and Browning to reply on the nineteenth—was begun in June, 1862. The correspondence ended in December, 1872, within a few weeks of the death of Miss Blagden. In bulk the letters outweigh those written to any other individual except Elizabeth Barrett. In style they are loose, usually hurried, dynamic, faultily constructed, friendly letters—full of gossip, opinion, detraction, dogged frankness, and honest vehemence. They are Browning, unadorned and prosy. Possibly no other single source offers so much information concerning his intimate life.

That the Danish poet Jens Peter Jacobsen played an important rôle in the life and thought of Rainer Maria Rilke is a fact well documented in Rilke's letters, and critical investigations have long begun to recognize the relationship by brief or lengthier references. Many of the letters, which spread over a period ranging from 1897 to 1924, have appeared in print, but a number containing references to Jacobsen still remain unpublished. Supplementing the letters, Rilke sometimes talked about Jacobsen, as he had occasion to do in 1925 while he was supervising the French translation of Malte Laurids Brigge or when the topic of conversation concerned matters so closely connected with both Jacobsen and Rilke as the behavior of words.

Ever since its appearance in 1924 Rivera's novel La Vorágine has been widely discussed. Its literary merits are beyond dispute, and the nature of its plot is sensational. Editions and translations into foreign languages have rapidly succeeded one another. Discussed as a literary work by several critics, La Vorágine has not yet been analyzed in sufficient detail to reveal fully its documentary character. It is a historical record of importance, containing an accurate summary of the barbarous conditions that prevailed in the Colombian interior and adjacent lands from about 1905 to 1920.

Elizabeth Robins Pennell, die sehr gewandte Biograpbin ihres vergötterten Onkels, Ch. G. Leland schreibt mit einer etwas belehrenden Ueberlegenheit:

I have heard it said the “younger generation” does not read the “Breitmann Ballads.” But, for all that, Breitmann has in him the stuff that endures, the stuff that ensured his success from the start.

In an article reviewing Werfel's collected poems from the Catholic point of view, Cornelius Schroeder, a Franciscan, maintains that despite constant references to God in his poetry Werfel does not experience any real religious faith. It is Schroeder's contention that Werfel does not succeed in finding a solution to the conflict between nature and spirituality which is so prominent in his poetry:

Als geistiger Mensch kommt er nicht hinweg iiber die Zwiespältigkeit von Natur und Geist, kommt er nicht los von der Qual, in welche die Geburt für die Erde den Geist gestiirzt hat.

The affinity of modern Populism to certain aspects of the Naturalist school in France has found general acceptance. Few critics, however, have attempted to trace this line of descent further back into the nineteenth century. Zola himself saw no precursors in the field of the proletarian novel beyond the confines of his own school, and cited Germinie Lacerteux as the first work bringing to the novel a sympathetic treatment of the humbler classes of society. Mr. Felix Walter has shown that the famous preface to the first edition of this novel constitutes a variety of pre-populist manifesto. Yet the claim of the Goncourt brothers to have produced “un roman vrai”—like their boast: “ce livre vient de la rue” —strikes no new note in the literary history of France. Almost a century earlier Rétif de la Bretonne had advanced substantially the same claim for his Pied de Fanchette, further noting that this seeming originality belonged to still another before him.

Le succès rapide de Julien Green n‘étonne pas: ce jeune Américain, né à Paris le 6 septembre 1900, s'est illustré dans les lettres francaises en publiant, entre 1925 et 1929, une série de romans et de nouvelles, toutes œuvres hallucinantes qui frappent par leur profonde originalité, par leur structure solide et par leur puissance. Il a reçu le prix Paul Flat de l'Académie Française pour son roman Adrienne Mesurat (1927), le prix Bookman pour la version anglaise de ce même roman sous le titre de The Closed Garden et le prix Harper pour The Dark Journey, traduction de l'original Lêviathan (1929). Si ses œuvres postérieures sont moins sensationnelles, elles n'en sont pas moins intéressantes, car elles jettent une lumière plus claire sur la personnalité et la philosophie de l‘écrivain.