Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-03-31

L
co.'s Porche. Translated by John
Marvin. New York: Horace Live
right.
THIS is the story of Baudelaire and
= Of nobody else Yet, reading here,
two men, two poets, walk side by side
through the wild days and nights of
the author of LES F1eurs du NAL"
That other poet emerges from the last
years of the Middle Ages. His name,
Francois Villon. Sick men, both OF
these. Sick in their blood, in their
wild imagination. in their self-indul-
gence, in their childish cries over the
| hurts Of censorious world.
Two sorts Of people will read this
book. Maybe one of these will not
read it. But should both follow the
strange story through one set will go in
| love with the genius of the man. the
other in condemnation Of the man him.
self. The old contention, you see. On
| the one side those who claim that o
work of art, of beauty. has nothing
whatever to do with the fastening
hand On the other side, those who
refuse art in any form unless it spring
| from an unadulterated purity Of life.
The second group would better not
waste time on this complete, uncom-
| promising story, for Beaudelaire, poet
| Vi GdIlo, Wdo dUOub CtC1ybAA4l6
| according to these he should not have
been. Well born, well reared, never I'M
der the urge Of poverty, here was a
youth who from every point of view was
counted a wastrel. Yet, he was poet.
Not the greatest, to be sure, but a poet
nevertheless, in a world where songs
| are sadly lacking. This record has
| nothing to do with the poetry of Bau-
delaire. For that one must go else
where. But it. does set out the man
himself in every detail And in this re-
spect it is book Of wide implications.
1t throws light upon the new outlook
toward human nature and behavior.
That sin is but combination of weak
ness, ignorance. and unfortunate place
ment is upon the whole more hope
full view than that sin is sourced in a
fundamental belief Of good and evil,
Of the possession of a devil on the one
hand and rescue by providence on the
| other Sin and crime are sickness.
Baudelaire was a sick man. So was
Villon. Sick with weakness, self-love,
| disregard of others, personal uncon-
troll, vanity. These are universal traits,
possessed, in varying degrees, by all.
And it is by way of this common pos
session that saner people may under
stand and judge the waywardness Of
such as Baudelaire and Villon, and the
rest. Such Is one Of the broader uses
of this vivid record and its translation
in the exact spirit of the original. Poets
and artists will read it from another
point of view, but for the general reader
its insight upon the human heart
stands as its prime source Of usefulness
and interest.
THE TANTr1 IN TIE, rxOT ITEM cNAp
ABS. BY Diomedes de Pereyra. In
dianapolis: The BobbS-Merrill Co.
NOWADAYS the writer marches step
= by step with the explorer and the
discoverer. Therefore the South Ameri-
| can jungles are opening up to stories of
adventure. Here is one Of these. Two
young engineers are sent into the tropi-
cal tangleS Of this country to spy out
the land in the interests of great
Northern corporation having business
designs upon 1t. Their experiences
make the romance that you will read
here. Danger, mystery, strange natives,
stranger customs and more threatening
hostilities, natural world of astound-
ing variety-these are the elements en-
tering into this invention. One is i'm
pressed with the sense that there is
less invention here than there Is abSo-
lutte fact. To be sure, there is story
wherein old Inca legends and cere-
monies give glamour to the business in
| hand, wherein modern villainieS hobnob
with ancient ways, wherein uneXplain-
able people come and go. Yet the sub
stance Of this novel lies in the wealth
Of actual information that it projects,
information about a remote and isolate
corner Of the tropics. Prodigal as the
land itself is, this account of native re-
sources-hidden rivers, miles of impene-
trable jungle. mammoth trees bound
ineXtricably by monStrous vines, ami
mails of strange look and habit, among
them brilliant birds various in plumage
and mode Of life, veins of productive
earth. curious land carvings in cave
and gorge. Not otter will you find a
book so rich in its study of locality as
IS this romantic tale Of THE Land of
the Golden Scarabs" Lavish in nature
and sumptuous in its pictures Of an old
and broken civilization.
| n X y X
THE TREASURE HOUSE OF MAR
TIN HEWS. BY E. Phillips OPP
| penhein, author of "Matorni's Vine
yard" etc. Boston: Little, Brown
| & Co.
CoMEBoDY said that. somebody else
- said this was the finest Of the OPP
penheim novels. Forty novels had to be
read to reach this conclusion. Nobody
reads any one man to that extent.
However, that is not important The
point is that here Is, without much of q
chance for question, a perfectly alb
Sorbing mystery yarn. To be sure it
| should be of the finest quality. Prac-
tice is great thing and about the only
way to come upon perfection. Mr.. OPP
/ bat ISa- De-. lii e..
sources of pure hatred and inspired
| malice. He has gone into those sub
merged family hatredS about which no.
body will talk, or if they do speak, it
is ever in the way of denial and con-
cealment. This basic fact, however,
does not come to the surface till the
LAST moment, since that is the point of
time when it takes on its good Office
of surprise and climax. The matter
itself runs along the eccentricities of
Martin Hews, pitiful cripple, but
quite unpitiful in his possession Of
enormous wealth and in a passion for
collecting, from the world over, rare
pictures and jewels and other treasures
Of art in many of its forms. His lonely
and remote house where the treasures
are stored, guarded by every modern
device of protection, Is the object of
plot and attack by some curiously mys-
ferrous band with whom hatred and re-
venge serve as its directive force. So
the story goes, not greatly different
from other stories by this author.
There are high points here, not recalled
at the moment from Mr.. Oppenheim's
other novels. There is a time, maybe
five minutes long, of positively devilish
cruelty Of design and execution, an
episode of fantastic invention star
ting thing, horrible and revolting-but
plausible nevertheless in the long web
of circumstances from which it has
grown. There are other surprising mo-
ments, all excellently approached and
sprungAbut this one Of which spoke
is the climax and very properly that.
Probably this Is Mr.. Oppenheim's
best" 1t is fine story Of its kind. I