Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-01-21
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM
/ 1. C. M.

I Il
THE RED AND THE BLACK. Marie
Henri Boyle (de StendhaD. Trans
lated by c. K. Scott Moncrieff. The
Modern Library.
It is an interesting thing to do. In
tereSting to break through the sur
rounding barricade of books for an ex-
cursion into the immediate past of
print. Pleasant to hunt around in that
back pasture, to browse about for this
and that, maybe for scraps of evidence
that there is a certain line of descent
between then and now.
Upon such GRAND bent, there is a
definite place to CO. THE Little LIZ
brary," under ore family name or
another, meets everybody at the door,
| full-handed for this particular need.
Just a word: These libraries are
little" only in the sense that they are
so exactly handy for pocket and pocket
| book, both small. Otherwise, they are
of a real hugeness. The common
action of these is that of a great sieve,
I letting out loads of pen-stuff trash,
! while it holds fast to the lasting SUBJ
stance of good writing.
! It was to the Modern Library that
went in search of Marie-Henri Boyle in
his best novel, 1.-THE Red and the
Black" In its own French the title
sounds Ike q card game, LIE Rouge
ct lie Noir." Contrarlwise, this title is
| of the distilled essence of the story
itself-the red blood of war, the black
soutane of a monks garb. War and
religion, they used often to go together.
Not any more.
However, let's get along Here is the
story of Julien Sorel. You no doubt
+; read 1t long ago. The story of q
French peasant lad with an itch for
| the class above him. A most natural
impulse Nowadays this ambition to
rise would be called very proper one.
! But q hundred years ago it was dif-
ferent. Moreover, this was France.
ity and fraternity" there is no place
where blue blood-what there is left OF
| its held in higher esteem than in
! France. So, here Is the story OF In
dividual struggle on the part OF q
precocious and gifted peasant boy OF
France. A tremendous adventure, or
so this is commonly counted. Yet,
reading here, there is no adventure:
Nothing that the novels of today would
count as such. Rather, a series OF
views, a moving line of reflections like
clouds doubling themselves in the
| shining waters of still lake. On the
outside nothing much happens. step
| forward on the part Of the boy, now
\ tutor to a rich mans children.
commonplace incident yesterday. A
\ trivial episode today-and tomorrow
| another little hitch forward by Julien
on the basis of these two nothirgs
of the days before. And so the mat
ter runs-a trifle dull, when not truly
revolving, or so the average reader
| says-with the rise of Sorel onward,
/ awA Ans o.
! nominy and oblivion. A rather dreary
procession of small events. But 1t
| is not the substance of this chronicle
that counts It is the way Of 1t in
stead. Reading here, reading under
meath and keeping true tally, one
wakes to the thrill of going along with
a genuine realist-a realist in souls,
| Marie-Henri Boyle. Not a shade like
any of the modern tribe disporting
itself in the name of realism. These
! merely do addition, where Stendhal
delves and mines and saps. These are
busy counting millions of externals,
these spawn immaterial commonplaces
| in q shocking fecundity. These are
past masters of multitudinous psitta-
ceous repetitions.
There is no corner of Julien Sorels
soul that 'Stendhal does not bring to
| disclosure, to exposure, in this story.
The mean calculations of the boy for
| his own slight advance today, or to-
morrow. He was of the French peasant
| try, Q people of small, astute calcula-
| lions, as they had to be by virtue of
| their degraded past. A vital people,
uncomfortable In the wil-to-live. One
of the points in Stendhal's genius comes
out here. The end of this story lies
folded In It's beginning. Having, set out
with this peasant lad, whose mind and
soul and reach he knew so well, Boyle
| held to that through the successive
advances Of Sorel, and by way of such
fidelity, such honesty to- his material,
| the tale became q tragic one. It had
! TO- We 20 with this boy to his room
where he invents his little daily play
and rehearses 1t, like the painstaking
workman that he Is. We ourselves
dream Of the future and sit still for
the dream to come true. Sorel. whether
teaching the rich mans sons. as he
came to do, you recall, or learning to
be in love from the rich mans wife, as
he finally did in half-hearted fashion,
or whatever he was doing-Sorel was
| the small calculator, the religious
poseur, the-the anything to get along.
| An inside story Of amazing grasp and
divination. An outside story of retarded
| tempo. unaccented, uncolorful. The
passage of q naked soul, when It's true
value is appraised by the common
knowledge that we all possess, firSt OF
ourselves and then of the rest Of man
kind distilled through ourselves. What
about this Marie Henri Boyle who liked
! to call himself-freakiShly- the
name Of the place, Stendhal, where the
archneologiSt Winckelmann was born?
What about him?
= \ X
ESSAYS BY JAMES HUNEKER. Sc
lected and introduced by H. l..
Mencken. Charles Scribner'S Sons.
Turn to page 12l of this volume.
There, under the heading "A Senti-
mental Education" you will find the
answer to the question about Marie
Henri Boyle. And such an answer! But
this book as whole and, indeed, in
every line of 1t is such = bookI" Keep
ing to the point for a minute, this chap
ter delivers Stendhal to you-deliverS
him In his birth, at every stage Of his
career; hands him over in his tempera-
/ ment and his work and in his powerful
influence on q host of writers who came
after him. It would be hard to think
up any item about this Frenchnan of
Grenoble that is not answered here, and
answered in a manner to build into the
| man as he was In life-great artist,
great model upon which more than one
celebrated author has modelled himself; ;
a passionate man, soldier, lover, and,
above all, concerned with the inner
man, his soul, spirit-whatever 1t is
that so elusively torments us about our
selves and about everybody else. Read
that chapter. Don't miss 1t. Having
done this, your course is set beyond re-
call or change. You will take straight
way to the first page of this book,
where H. L. Mencken introduces James
Huneker in a eulogy which the vol
ume merely stresses and expands. re-
member few years ago coming upon
The Pathos of Distance" by James
Huneker-and then. as books have a