New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1914-01-17
ton and keen upon getting on with his
work. Thus he sketched his purpose:


work Thus he sketched his purpose:
| have made some progress with my
"Marius," the setting OF which is to be
ancient Rome i'm the time of Marcus Au-
rehis Similar studies-Suggested by the
changes OF a sOul--have occupied the
minds of scholars in all ages; but mine
will / think. have SaNor-a bouquet OF
its own. IL now only remains Tor me 10
20 10 Rome as | shall, at the end of the
year. in order to WITTY the sentiments TO
which you have given expression ana 10
obtain local color.
Imagination boggles at the idea Of
Walter Pater, of all people in the
world. deliberately making a journey
i'm pursuit OF local color. like any popu-
lar novelist. But TO Rome he travelled,
and, in spite Of himself perhaps, some
thing of the actual color as well as Of
the spiritual atmosphere OF Rome
passed into his ages. We say in
spite Of himself" because 1t was in cs-
sentially literary sources that Paters
genius worked. You see this in one
more passage which we must quote.
Taking down from Jackson's shelves
the rare Homer OF 1923, and glowing
over its woodcuts, he said:
What a JOY to me il is TO be able to find
such a treasure as this in the hands Of
friend, To my mind II is an embodiment
of the soul of Marius and his love for the
beautiful. Here you see. four hundred
years nearer 10 the time Of Marius than
we are. an effort (another Marius, as IT
were). TO make clear 20 the minds OF the
unlettered, the incidents upon which the
blessed poet dwelt so fondly. | feel that
the men who made this book were more
permeated with the influence Of Greek 1T
erature than we are-that their principles
correspond more nearly than ours win
the principles that governed thought IN
the DAYS Of Aurelius. This book carries
me into the very heart of ancient Rome
Marius, the man. like "Marius," the
book, is fashioned not out Of life, not
out of a passionate divination of old
human experience, but out Of bookish
reverie, out of thrice-refned aesthetic
and metaphysical musings. Its reality
is that of some consummately painted
picture by a poet and dreamer turned
artist and working in such mediums as
water color or pastel. He gets his local
tints, as we have said but. authentic
as they are, they seem somehow trans
lated into hues hardly of this solid,
friendly earth, that we know with our
eyes and can touch with our hands.
The book il a strange fabric OF cool,
cleaning ldveliness. A pell-mell of
representative feelings and infinitely
subtle ideas one would call it if il were
not for the spirit Of grave thought that
broods over the authors complicated
prose. 1t unveils the drama of a soul,
yet, strictly speaking, there is nothing
dramatic about il, as one ordinarily
understands the word There is no OBJ
vious pattern TO this work of art. 1t is
an emanation from the authors mind,
rather than a scheme wrought out and
executed with a craftsmans insistence
upon giving his work a beginning, a
middle and an end. Without structural
form, without a clearly defined pur-
pose fully realized. without the indie
scribable vitality which marks the
product of the true creative genius. il
is emphatically not a great book. But
IL has a potent fascination. Though
Pater never has been, and never will
be, a popular author, "Marius" has
been getting itself read from the day il
was first published; and the connois-
seur Of delicate literary sensations will
go on reading il indefinitely.