Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1886-07-10
DRIFT.

| TeaueTs VI tne nlKner class OF HctlOu into
futter OF glad expectancy. For Prof Hardy
Is one OF those writer's from whom one al
ways expects something far different and
better than is produced in tho ordinary
course Of novel-writing. one reason prob
| ably IL that he is not professional novelist,
writing by rule, so many pages day, SO
| many volumes "A year, aud 80 ON but who
writes only when he has something special
| TO say. Another reason IL, perhaps to be
| found IN tho fact, not only that people are
| somewhat curious 10 see what professor Of
| mathematics can do in the field of fiction,
| but especially that they have been led to look
| for something new, unconventional, out of
| the ordinary run of novels by the striking
freshness and novelty Of a. But Yet a
Woman"
II there was element of unexpectedness
and of piquant incongruity between the au-
| thor's professional sphere and the whole
| plan, tone and manner of treatment in bis
| first novel, together with a certain kind OF
| disappointment, this Is still more striking in
| his second. For "The Wind of Destiny"
| 80 curiously awaited, is just out and con-
| fess | expected nothing like it. 1t is as diff
| ferent from " But Yet Woman " rs it IL
| different from any Other recent work of lic-
| tion-in fact, an utterly unexpectable book
| loss TO classify and define it They don't
| know what it Is
ONE thing is certain, {" The Wind OF Des-
| tiny" is not novel. Judged as such, 1t
| violates every canon of criticism. Hence 1t
| has been loudly condemned in some quar-
| ters a failure. Il Is a failure if intended
| for a novel. But no one has right to say it
| was so intended. 1t has more OF tho charac.
Tor rati .t thnnUh "A
| some that are important to perfection in that
style OF fiction. For my part i regard 1t AZ
| having more OF the essential elements Of a
| lofty poem, despite its prose form, than oi
either novel or romance, with some didac-
| tic aud highly dramatic qualities For
mover its characters are too vague and indeh-
| mite, the superhuman element-the wind of
| destiny-is too prominent, and it detes too
openly every rule of natural sequence and
| all restrictions OF time and space. For a ro-
| nance, again, IL is too realistic in many re-
| spects, too plainly didactic, and has too evil
| dent philosophical purpose. No, at least
prefer TO accept il as essentially poem, one
dealing with the loitiest problems of life, and
investing its profoundest truths with a
| strangely attractive spiritual charm.
II IL, first Of all, work for thoughtful peo-
pie to study and enjoy. 1t demands thought
to be fully appreciated and even understood.
1t may even mislead the unthinking reader
! tossed nitncc and thither by the wind of
blind destiny whereas IL really teaches
nothing of the kind. IL does, however, teach
the profounder real truth, and does it with
an infinite depth of pathos and marvellous
beauty of OK eXpression that while no man, in-
woven as all are in an intricate web of ply
sical, spiritual, hereditary influences and
forces, can ever here below fulfill the trueSt
and highest destiny of life while his outer
circumstances, what he has and much Of
what he does are modified, il not determined,
by these forces. yet his own true character,
his real immortal sell, what he Is and ever
shall be, these are fashioned and determined
only by each one for himself This is the
deep truth running through the whole story.
For the careless reader, however, / could
wish that mans self-determning power had
been more clearly and fully brought out
The attention is too much occupied with the
mere force of the " wind of destiny" and so
is liable to lose sight of the superior force of
character which can tame, direct and use as
a servant all other forces, As is proved by
Schonberg's case, though perhaps not with
| sufficient clearness.
THE most evident charm of the book, how
| ever, that must be felt by even the unthink-
ing reader, lies in its profound pathos, its
highly finished, artistic style, and above all,
its delicate, suggestive and beautifully poetic
tone. 1t is full of a pure and lofty idealism.
Its characters, incidents, descriptions are all
invested with a ttIIaln tluslNt, lilldHlfldIlNt
quality that is most refreshing in these days
of naked realism. No doubt on this very ac-
count it will bring down upon itself the en-
tire host of critics of the realistic school. In
spite Of them all, however, l shall be much
disappointed if this anomalous yet delightful
and exquisite book does not become one of
the most widely read and justly popular
works of fiction produced for some years past.
If it does not, it will not be because it doesn't
deserve 1t anyhow,
HERE are few passages which by some
critics l know will be counted faults in the
book, but which reckon among its greatest
charms
"What is more presumptuous than to
write the history OF "A man Trace the red
aud the black drops to The veins of his ances-
| tors, set his portrait over against the title
page strand him in a universe of self.seek-
| ers, catalogue his tastes, describe his habits,
board up the meagre incidents-after all the
| man escapes you, hid within that zone of in
| finite repulsion which surrounds the soul as
| il does the atom"
| THERE is no child who is not wiser than
| you. All the long forgotten first lessons are
| on his tongue. lie will dsconcert you over
the Pythagorean proposition, though you
| have since mastered the Pythsgorean philos-
| ophy. OF second, third last impressions he
| knows nothing 4; he will give you the first.
| tired to hear, whose life has no blessed sec
| ond childhood, which is the homecoming
| through reason and experience 10 what was
| once his by instinct For LIES middle belt
OF sand is bounded by gardens, and he who
| traverses safely the zone of doubt and pain
| finds beyond the sell-same fountains OF hope
and faith at which he once ignorantly
| drank"
| "HERE, too, was the riyer-the open,
maguaulmous river-where the sun searched
at noon and the stars hid at night that had
followed with such labor its track through
the flint of the hills and the tangle of forest
barring the way hurrying, hurrying, impa
patient OF restraint, angry with bounds, all tC
rest at last, full of stars and clouds, like
soul full of thoughts and dreams, at the enc
| of its course near the sea And here were
the soaring shafts of the trees that haC
pushed with such toll through the cover o
mould aud taugle of grasses barring the wa,
climbing, climbing last, like a soul tina
| spurns its clay, all to rest at last where tn
vision is wide and free, full OF murmurinl
sounds and sghs like soul at the end Q
, its flight tull of wonder and mystery"
/ "SURELY the way TO the heart does not Ii
| through tho senses, and what matters it
the way to the senses lies through tn
heart ?"
"OuT of the Willows like bird, tn
breeze sailed, like birds wing swept owe