New-York tribune., 1920-08-07
Kipps, Son Of Martha

DaJlng IN Chclr Denalf. Ana now
whole volume, one of the most de-
hghtful and illuminating we have
ever read, happens before us replete
with informative matter upon this
very poignant subject. We mean
"Kipps," an early volume by H. G..
Wells, which is as good as "Mr.
Polly" which is to say that it seems
to us as good as Dickens at his best.
1t will be recalled that we at
tempted defense of the lot endured
by the Sons of Martha, who make
and deal in things and bear the
brunt Of the job Of making the world
go round, as against the lot, super
ficially far more grand and glorious,
Of the Sons of Mary, who sit in the
high places and deal in ideas. Not
to go into all the endless delights OF
"kipps,' it is the story Of an orphan,
entering the world quite naked, with
out matches or anything, who in
herits fortune and tries, as q mat
ter of high obligation, to marry
superior and admirable young wom>
an and become at least an imitation
Of gentleman-and who hunks at
the last minute and elopes with Ann,
his boyhood sweetheart, thereby
sinking back to comfort and sclf-rc-
spect and small shop.
1t can be seen that Kipps tried out
many strata Of existence and knew
what he was talking about. Incl
dentally, as Mr.. Wells has made
plain, he himself has the same ex-
perience behind him. That is to say,
he was apprenticed to a small shop
keeper, as was Kipps, and sprang
from equally small beginnings. Of
course, Mr. Wells did not sink bac}.
again having once fought his way
up. He was fated to become q Son
Of Mary, and that was the end of
that. But he plainly knows the joys
Of the other lot and in "Kipps"
makes clear just what those joys
are. Let us listen to Mr.. Wells:
"There is, of course, nothing on
earth, and / doubt at times if there
is a joy in heaven, like starting a
small haberdasher's shop. Imagine,
for example, having a drawcrful Of
tapes Cone whole piece most exqul,
sitely blocked of every possible
width of tape), or, again, an array
playing one sample of hooks and
eyes. Think of your cottons, your
drawer of coorcd silks, the little,
less, least Of the compartments and
thin packets of your needle drawer!
Poor princes and wrctched gentle
folk, mysteriously above retail trade
may taste only the faint unsatisfac-
tory shadow Of these delights with
trays Of stamps or butter flies.
write, of course, for those to whom
these things appeal. There are clods
alive to see nothing, or next to moth
ing, in spools of mercerizcd cotton
and endless bands Of paper-set pins
write for the wise, and as l write
wonder that kipps resisted haber-
dashery. He did. Yet even starting
bookshop is at least twenty times
as interesting as building your own
house to your own design in an un-
limited space and time, or any pos
sible thing people with indisputable
social position and sound securities
can possibly find to do Upon that
rest"
1t will be seen that Mr.. Wells's
testimony bears on both our points.
Shopkeeping-that most dull and
horrible of occupations By the
standards Of toplofty aristocrats-is
seen to be labor of love, a delight
full game dealing in the incest and
jolliest Of little things. 1t is not,
perhaps, creative in the sense that
blacksmith or any artisan is a crea-
tor; but it deals with the tangible
and the visible, with the world of
things directly, precisely as do the
creators Of things. Also, Mr.. Wells
remarks upon the pathetic effort of
the Sons of Mary to share some of
this delight-by playing with stamps
or butterflies. Our illustrations
were golf and fishing.
Some Of our readers refused to
concede our fundamental point. and,
stressing the hardships of many of
the Sons of Martha, argued that all
humans should be educated into
Sons Of Mary. Upon this point also
"kipps' bears testimony. For two
occupations "Kipps" is as appealing
as any Of the Dickens appeals in be-
half Of children. Kipps is appren-
ticed to draper, Stafford by name,
and the hardships, the dismal, blunt
ing life there led, are enough to make
the most callous employer of the old
type turn over in his grave. 81 tell
| you we're in q blessed drain-pipe,
onN b. L.y