Evening Star Newspaper, June 16, 1929, Page 36

B s THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON. D G, JUNE 16 10_PART 2 REVIEWS OF SPRING BOOKS Benito Mussolini Writes an Autobiography, Which Is a Simple Barely Enought Land to Care for Natives Is Possibility in " Comparitively Near Future—Health of People Greatly Improved—Form of Government. BY BRUCE CARTWRIGHT. comparatively Tecent action of the United States Congress in accepting the cession of t- ern Samoa is in keeping with American _traditions of justice and fair play, finally giving the territory a fixed status which it has not enjoyed since 1900-04, when the chiefs offered | themselves and their lands for union with the American people. To many of us Samoa is but & name. Few have visited 88moa or even know where it is other than that we believe it is & “South Sea island,” and that implies that it must be in the Pacific Ocean. The Pacific Ocean is the largest body of water on earth—a sea which covers an area of more than one-third of the earth’s surface. It occupies more space than all the land masses com- bined, roughly 75.000,000 square miles. The number of islands in the Pacific 18 not definitely known. The majority, however, are found in & long, narrow area, about 4.000 miles long, running from northwest to southeast across the Fquator. About the center of this area and 14 degrees south of the Equator lies the Samoan group. It is more than 4,000 miles southwest of San Francisco and 2,500 miles from Sydney, Australia. The Samoan group runs from west to east. The islands of Savail,_ Apolima, Manono and Upolu west of 171 degrees Jongitude are governed under mandate from the League of Nations by New Zealand. Those east of this longitude— Tutuila, Aunum, Tau. Ofu and Olosenga and several smaller islands—are known as American Samoa. Climate Is Tropical. The climate of Samoa is tropical. Vegetation grows luxuriantly from the rich vegetable mold. Frequent rains keep the forests dripping even in_ the “dry” or “Winter” season, which lasts from April to November. The islands are of volcanic origin and are moun- tainous, with small areas of flat Jand at the valley entrances and in some nar- row strips along the shores. A dense tropical forest covers the is- land of Tutuila, which has a wonderful harbor in Pago Pago, Cocanut, the predominant tree, is seen everywhere, even along the crests of the high central range. Bread-fruit trees also are plenti- ful. Cascades of green verdure of many shades appear on every side, from the mountain tops down to the sea, & tropi- cal paradise such as is often pictured by imaginative authors. Polynesians Inhabit the Islands. Samoa is inhabited by Polynesians who are related in a degree to the Maoris of New Zealand, the Tongans, Tahitans and Hawaiians. They speak similar dialects. The Polynesians re- semble the Caucasians rather than the turies in Sampa developed a culture unlike that of any other land. ‘The London Missionary Society has been working in American Samoa for more than 90 years with the result that mearly every village, about 50 in number, has a native pastor.(faifeau), who be- sides his regular duties, also instructs the younger children in elementary sub- k’;’:‘l Attendance at church is uni- vel A communistic. form of government was established.- All property bel to family groups com) of numerous milies. ie head of each _“matal"” lands, -uung; als, family group, remove him from office .and take away his title. The greatest.| aity that can be im-‘ posed upon & Fmflln is to be deprived of his iitle; death is preferable. | The head of each separate family now is & matal. Under the present system it is extremely difficult to re- move a matai from office or to deprive him of his title. Under the commu- nistic system there is no guarantee that the ambitious worker will reap the benefit of his labors. If he works hard and accumulates wealth, it is likely that his wealth will be taken and di- vided among others. This does not happen often, though it has happened oc;_t:ionllly, e younger generation have grown to disregard the ancient customs and culture ‘and they outnumber the older I e I saw an aged woman, carrying four eoconut shell containers, go to the spring for drinking water. She was ac- companied by her daughter and several grandchildren, who carried buckets made of kerosene cans. Carefully- and slowly she filled her containers, let! the water gurgle in through the small holes in them. Meanwhile the daugh- ter and her children sat in the shade singing modern “'jazz” in mixed English and Samoan. When the grandmother arose, the children dashed their pails into the water, filling them without de- lay, and followed her. 2 Ancient Songs in Vogue. Ancient “Siva” songs and native folk songs are still sung at most entertain- ments. At one performance, I noticed that the greatest applause went to a young chief, who sang “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” He received many encores. Can any culture wi such onslaughts? ‘The S8amson house is still universally used because it is better suited to the climate than the frame or stone house. ‘The “lava-lava” (native skirt) is still worn for the same reason. Somoa cannot withstand world oon- tact much longer even if she wished to —which she does not. Navy adminis- tration, however beneficial, has brought to the Samoans a contact with the | toc! modern world. ‘There are no public lands in Ameri- ean Samoa. The lands are all owned by family groups—which generally re- side in villages. Nearly every one in a village is closely related. The village is ruled over by the town ruler| (pulenu'u). Every village makes its own rules. The village ruler is chosen by the matai (heads of families) and : this candidate is appointed by the gov- ernment. To ailow any one other than, a Bamoan or part Samoan to own land in American Samoa is unthinkable, ‘There is not much desirable land there, If the increase in population continues as it has during the last 29 years under the administration of the United States Navy, in a few years there will be bare- ly enough land there to take care of the native people. Native Culture Droops. This rapid increase in population— more than 40 per cent in 29 may account to some extent for the gration of native culture. ‘The es which . have to be systematically raised; some provi- sion wil have to be made for tomorrow. “The only industries in American Samoa mre the production of copra and the facture of curios and the neces- sities required to provide shelter, cloth- and the like for the natives. the dried kernel of the coco- nut, which is exported to foreign coun- tries where the oil extracted, is in demand for the manufacture of |of family worship. Soon after dinner | were Italian territory until 1860); 30 | (the Pope’s formal right to confer titles | deprived them of any form of political hich extreme nental aristocracy, land ing Pests have atly increased recently, and_this is the principal reason for small crops. There are two cles of beetle that attack the trees and eventu- ally destroy many of them. Rats and “fiying foxes” (large fruit bats) destroy many of the immature nuts. Pests also attack several varieties of staple foods, also the sugar cane, whose leaves are used for house thatching. ‘We are told that the younger genera- tion could not be kept at work by the “matais.” If there were individual ownership of land and laws guarantee- ing that the workers would receive:the reward of their labors, the copra in- dustry provided control. The life of the Samoan is not a life of ease. Before sunrise every morning most of the people go into the forest to gather food and raw materials for the manufacture of tapa (native cloth), canoes, houses, etc. For about six hours they work hard and then carry the food and raw ma- terial to the village, where the matai takes charge of and divides it. During the heat of midday they sit in the house, eat their first meal, which con- sists of what has been left over from the dsy before, drink’ ava and braid sennet, a twine made from coconut- husk fibers and very necessary in build- houses, canoes, etc. rly in the afternoon the men cook the food brought in that day and about dark & hot meal is eaten, after an hour t the pests were kept under the natives curl up on the mats laid over the floor of small round stones and sleep unless there is an entertain- ment. Their principal forms of amuse- ment are singing and dancing. If you can picture people of the pres- ent time lving in the medieval ages you will get some idea of the Samoans. They love to “malage” (pay visits to adjoining _ villages) and ceremonies. with accompanying feasts, songs and dances, Titles and the order of prec- edence appeal strongly to them. They have guilds. There is no industrialism. For about 20 years American Samoa has been governed by the United States Navy; a8 geddemul decree declared them to a “United States naval district.” Ahout 40-acres of flat land on the shores of Pago Pago Harbor were purchased by the United States and a naval station established. remainder of the territory of these islands was still Samoan and has re- mained so until Congress recently ac- cepted the cession by joint resolution. thus making American Samoa & part of the United States. Navy's Work Praised. The United States Navy during what might be called “the period of waiting” has governed wisely and well. A form of government has been created in which the beneficial native customs have been as far as possible and laws enacted in an effort to ad- vance the prosperity, comfort and hap- piness of the Samoans. The results seem to justify the effort. The general health of the people has improved. Many diseases common in America and in all civilized countries do not now exist there. “Flu” and other epidemics have been kept out. The tropical disease known as “‘yaws,” which is prevalent among children throughout Polynesia, has been stamped ht revive and even expand, | The | are been brought to every village. Hygiene has been taught and is now generally practiced. More than 50 miles of good roads have been constructed. Many schools have been established. Free dispensaries under competent directors have been located where they serve practically the whole population. A large, modern hospital has been bullt and is maintained by the Navy. The Navy also has protected the ing overrun by undesirables of the | other benefits have accrued to the na- | tives under the naval government. There are three general administra- tive divisions—based on ancient Sa- moan political divisions: The western |and eastern districts of the Island of |embraces the small islands of the | Manua group. Native Governor Named. | A native governor presides over each district. He is appointed by the naval governor. Districts are subdivided into counties, each of which has its own county chief. All the land divisions follow ancient political divisions, and most of the ruling chiefs are heredi- tary chiefs who normally would rule these land divisions according to Sa- moan custom. They are all appointed by the naval governor to hold office during good conduct. The governors of the three districts are chosen from the ruling county chiefs. Village councils are composed of “matais” from whose number onme is chosen to preside and is called the pule nu'u (village chief). When a pule nu'u is to be chosen the district mag- istrate presides. Bach of the village, county and district chiefs has a police- man who assists in keeping order. ‘A general meeting of fono 'is held once a year. The naval governor pre- sides. Delegates chosen from all parts of the group attend. They are notified in advance regarding matters considered and those matters are thor- before the general fono assembles. At the general fono pew laws and amendments to old laws are recom- mended and debated. Matters of gen- eral interest and those connected with the administration of the government also discussed, but the laws are actually promulgated by decree of the governor. Customs duties are charged on most imports, A small head tax is levied. This revenue s used to pay salaries of native officers, teachers, etc., and for necessary improvements. It is all spent in Samoa. The costs of free medical service, water transportation to Manu'a and other benefits are paid by the Navy. ‘l"l"\ere is no wealth in Samoa as we understand the term. A Samoan is considered “rich” according to the number of finely woven mats he owns. What can be done in the matter of supplying the Samoans with an organic act seems to depend upon two things: The - willingness of Congress to be moderate and helpful, and the self- control and willingness of the Samoans to undergo a of instruction in self-government. "Thé whole “problem must be carefully considered before a form of govern- ment can be devised which will provide not only for the present needs of the out. \ Clean, fresh mountain water has eign titles obtained before the terri- tories to which they refer became part of France (for instance, £1voy and Nice have been conferred on Frenchmen by foreign sovereigns, including the Pope being more than dubious), and 71 have their sole justification in the fact that they were used at the Court of Ver-| sailles, and ‘that, therefore, the French Kings, silently at least, approved of what was probably a usurpation. ‘This accounts for 341 titles out of the thousand. It follows that about 650 French titles of marquis now in use be- long to the ancient and illustrious fam- ily of the Marquis of Carabas, the young peasant of the immortal Perrault’s ‘But titles are really only the appear- ances and the shibboleths of an aris- tocracy. Even in the seventeenth cen- tury, when they still meant something, they really become a weapon with which suspicious sovereigns could bend to the lowering atmosphere of some Versailles the few haughty families still cu;wm with independent life on their estates. Situation in England. In an analogous sense one might say that what the English kings were unable to do to bring about the lowering of the British aristocracy—after Charles I the English kings had no more power than the Doge in Venice—the introduction of railways succeeded in doing. In Eng- land the railways were as potent a cause of the gradual democratization of Eng- lish society as the Reform Bill of 1832, for they played havoc with the trade and social life in the country. And with an aristocracy there must be country Iife, or it is nothing. For aristocracy is landlordigm. That is why its two strongest cases, up to the end of the war, had been Austria and Hungary, where the hochgeborne lived most of the year in their schlosse and deigned to to Vienna or to Budapest only for short court periods. An aristocracy which habitually lives in its palages, in a capital, is a mock aris- | TACY. In Austria the Emperor maintained toward aristocracy the spirit that his ancestors had felt ‘when, before the vic- tories of the French Revolution, they still were the heads of the Holy Roman Empire. It was a loose, federal spirit, not the narrow and jealous policy of elimination of federal power constantly followed by the French kings. That is why, up to vesterday, the members of a great Austrian family had an authentic certainty of their innate superiority, of which the French aristocrats were com- pletely deprived. Power Reduced. “The French monarchy began by at- tacking t e seigneurs through the institution of the intendants, which power. Then it reduced their economic strength, and with it their prestige. Im- poverished, they accepted the invitation to come to the capital. It was the last blow, for, in spite of their privileged ap- pearance, it made them a parasitic class. Dependent upon subsidies and salaries from the crown, their material privileges people, but also for their future welfare. Aristocracy _although perhaps more slowly #n Jess conspicuovs proportions, & t even there aristoéracy is docmed to dis- appeat: if we think of aristocracy as an institution and not as a collection of | titles. England’s Revolution. And if it is true that landlordism s doomed, it is equally true that England is facing a slow, silent, but inexorable revolution which will change her en- tire framework without any of the ex- ternal troubles and noises of a street revolution. Lloyd George began it in 1910 with his famous budget. But since then it has been a constantly increasing tide. Rates, taxes, death duties, have been multiplied to such an extent that many of the great landlords—dukes to begin with—are selling their properties, slice after slice, or changing them into com- panies, in order to escape taxation. But these are merely transition tricks. When the duke or marquis becomes a director with a salary in the company created with his estates he is no longer the man he used to be. A new atmos- phere swallows him up—and the day when he is going to sell all his land to speculators is not far distant. His hereditary pride gone, society life in London being so exciting and—to add & small but not unimportant argument ~_with no worrles about servants, why should he keep a formal link with something whose spirit has already dis- appeared? ven one of the families where a beautiful Whig tradition has kept all its heads at the service of the state, the Stanleys, whose head is now the seventeenth Earl of Derby—a highly respected type of British statesman and aristocrat—even this family has to sell, Properties which have belonged to the Stanleys since the War of the Roses have been sold to specu- lators. The landed properties of the Stanleys are still immense, it is true, but, all the same, it is a sign of the times. Probably a greater resistance will be shown by what might be called the lesser British aristocracy, the families whose members filled the House of Commons until three or four gene: tions ago and formed—and to a cer- the backbone of tice. But the “gentry”—an admirable reservoir of soldiers and civil servants —1s not, strictly speaking, a real his- torjcal aristocracy. Its functions were other than those of the British aris- tocracy; its atmosphere different. Conditions in Ttaly. The same admirable virtues which we still find in the English gentry exist in the modest middle classes of lu;zdlnd 3 by OppOos But, apart from Cavour and a few other bright excep- tions, constantly reappearing from his day to ours, the great intellectual, mor- al and economic Promu that Italy made from 1860 till the victory in the ‘World War was the work of statemen who, like Lanza and Sella in the '60s, Minghett! in the '70s, Depretis in the '80s and, last but not least, Giolitti, found their moral force in no aristo- cratic inheritance—all of them be- were increased at the very moment their lowered position méde those privileges harder to justify. ‘How different things were in England, where the crown never became as strong a8 in France! ‘The attachment to the soll was very much stronger among the English aris. tocrats. And the care with which they exercised the functions arising from this sttachment was much more zealous and vigilant than in: France, Italy or Spain. Herein lies the explanation of why have been longed to quite small families—but in & natural dignity which made them the best representatives of an epoch where great things and great changes were achieved without any theatrical arti- ficiality, without any demagogic ad- in Prance, vertising. The same th! where, since the fall of the French em- pire in 1870, three generations of states- men, of generals, of diplomats, have suceeeded in gaining for their country & colonial empire and a diplomatic situation such as never was reached under the last Bonaparte. ww“"lun living, as I have been obliged in the Prench capital, it makes tness the pathetic| ipty disdain for the new rulers among * P auicons B Cobaain vogre. islands from exploitation and from be- | beachcomber type. These and many | Tutuila, and the Manua district, which | be | ings, charcoal drawings by the oughly discussed at district meetings | A HOME AT PAGO PAGO. SMALL LIVING EXPENSES ATTRACT ARTISTS TO PARIS Young Man Can Live in’ French Capital for $60 a Month—Instruction Costs By JOHN GUNTHER. PARIS.—At one end of the Boulevard Raspail fish and beans give way to art —once in a while. The usual market— the market where the thrifty American in Paris buys flowers and shoes and eggs—closes down and in its place rises a picture market. Here under the trees are arrayed line upon line of easels, mounds of lithographs, heaps of etch- paintings and wood euts and sketches in every medium under the sun. At the other end of the Boulevard Raspail—if you jump diagonally across the river—stands an enormous domed building, the French tricolor above it, hundreds of sleek, swanky automobiles purring attentively outside. In it is an- other picture market—one of a differ- ent kind—the Grand Salon. ‘Between these two extremes, poised & le from each other, lies almost any kind of art the uneasy world can show —or look at. American’s First Step. ‘What happens to a young American who comes to France to be an artist? | ‘What leads to paintings at 20 francs ® gross (more or less) at the Raspail market, and what to Salon prize win- ners at $25,000? If 'a young American artist comes to Paris to study, his first step probably, | an if he has the price, will be to efroll in an atelier. There are dozens in Paris, and four of them—Julian's, the Dele- cluse, the Grand-Chaumiere and the Colla Rosse—are internationally known. They are not expensive. At Jullan's the fees in the drawing and painting classes is 125 francs ($5) a month for half a day’s work and 160 francs ($6.40) for a full day. All the atellers are organized alike. At Jultan’s the student enters a sin- gle enormous _room, hidden behind a court in the Rue Dragon. Jullan’s, by the way, is not coeducational. Wom- an students have to go to another branch, half a dozen blocks away on the Rue Cherche-Midi. The Rue Dragon room is divided into three ections. At one end students of scu'pture surround a model in blue pants squatting on a table. In the center half a hundred painters are bawling, yelling, kidding, expostulat- ing—around a girl who wears her nakedness with boredom. At the far end architectural students sketch from casts. Work of Former Stydents. Around the room are plctures by former students of Julian's students famous in George Moore’s day: among them Bouguereau, Constant, Jules Le- fevre, Jean-Paul Laurens, Robert Fleury. Forty thousand students have entered Jullan's since it was founded by Rodolphe JuliAn in 1868. The stu- dents today don't seem to bear the weight of this tradition very heavily. They smoke cigarettes 'at work, jibe their professors, kid the models and shout derisively every time a visitor enters the room. But cheap as the famous ateliers are (by American standards), they are far too dear for many young students in Paris. Or perhaps the young Amer- ican arrives in Paris with the elements of his job already under his hat; in either case he may rent a studio and start work on his own. To do that he needs, besides the studio, only his equipment and a model. Models for posing in the nude cost about 15 francs (60 cents) & day. It isn't very profitable employment— for the models. Yet hundreds of them flock sbout the cafes and boulevards looking for work. Once a painting or drawing is done, the student sets about marketing it. There are at least 850 art dealers in Low. Paris, most of them with little shops where they will hang paintings for a rake-off on the sales. Of the 850 dealers a few have shops on the Rue de la Paix and are open only to painters of established reputation. The others are probably more hospitable to new talent than dealers in any other ecity in the world. Prices for beginners’ paintings nn{e upward from $25 a canvas. If the artist doesn’t land in a deal- er's shop window there are still sorts of places where he can hang his pictures. Most of the youngsters sneer at the Salon—but usually send_their ictures there just the same. If re- cted by the Salon proper there is then he Salon des Independents. There any painte~ may hang any picture on pay- ment of a fee of 25 francs ($1). But if, perhaps, our young painter is contemptuous of the Independent Salon, too, there is the Salon of “Real Inde- pendents,” That was opened recently near the Porte Versailles, and, to any but their authors, nine out of ten of the canvases were completely, wildly unintelligible. And, finally, of course, there is the hawkers' market—on the Boulevard | Raspail—where many artists land. Cheapest Capital in World. ‘There's one reason above all others why students and artists flock to Paris make the Latin quarter what it is se, by and large, Paris is the cheapest capital in the world. here is a lot to say, of course, about the charm of Paris, the impalpable atmosphere which makes the streets of Montparnasse unique. One may talk about the camaraderie of Paris, the pretty girls, the artistic heritage, the carefree hospitality of boulevard and cafe; but none of these things really counts against the fact that a young man in Paris can live—if he must—on ot haii uf 1f of the 27,000 studes the University of Paris attend ;:lumn scot free. For the rest the tuitio charges are so nominal as to be ridic- ulous. mflddma an American student—or artist—do in an average day? What dors Jt cost him? A i Kooms at §$10 a Montn, Suppose it's the first of the month, when he pays his rent. If he is poor, and lives in one of the tiny hotels |along the Rue St. Jacques or Rue Jacob, probably his room costs 250 francs a month—about $10. It isn't much of a room. Studios come higher. I have heard of studios for 650 francs ® month ($26). Breakfast is a piece of bread—"petit pain”—and coffee. Probably for nine-tenths of the stu- dents of Paris’ breakfast costs less than 3 francs. The morning paper is 25 centimes, 1 cent. A shot of rum (on these cold mornings) may come to 3 cents more. If you buy meal tickets 10 at a time, luncheon comes to 4.75 francs (19 cents) and dinner to 325 francs (13 cents). Cigarettes are fairly expensive. After classes or after hours in the studios comes the cafe. It is an un- ceasing miracle to everybody (includ- ing the cafe proprietors) how many hours anybody in the Latin quarter can spend over one drink without or- dering another. , At cheap cafes & “bock™ (a quartér-beer) is 40 cen- times (under 2 cents); a real beer is 1 franc (4 cents). Any of the ordinary aperitifs, like vermouth or pernod or amourette, costs about 6 cents and liqueurs about the same. Buying wine by the bottle is the cheapest way to drink. Hundreds of students every day probably get a liter of vin rouge for 2.50 francs, or 10 cents. All these prices are, of course, rock- bottom. all questions are treated with just as much sense of life as in old Bysantium when the Turks were already masters of the empire. What makes one wonder. even more is that one is obliged to admit that what_exists no longer in the old aris- tocratic class—I mean the conscious- ness of a force and of a personality— still exists, even if unconsciously, among the new classes almost everywhere in Europe. What Labor Did. When a Labor cabinet came into power in England for the first time in 1924 it respected all the forms of a world dominated by breeches, buttons and the table of precedence. And it was not due to—at least not solely due to—the old English habit of slow trans- formations without destructions. The Labor party felt that by doing so it increased its prestige even among its warmest followers. Its adherence to certain traditional formulas obliged the old parties and institutions to share with the newcomer their ‘“respecta- bility.” ‘When one watches with serene de- tachment cases such as this, one is in- deed inclined to admit that it is prob- ably easier to conquer majorities in Parliament, or even to socialize big in- dustries, than it is to turn upside down the hereditary conception of social values, ‘The ironic wonder is even greater when one knows and feels that this hereditary feeling, general as it may be, has at least one exception—the very group which, having lost all political and moral influence, still sees itself the center of a sort of literary and artistic respect. There is now in England, Italy and Prance a half-literary, half-politi- cllé school whose aim is to the old pre-revolutionary feelings of respect for hereditary privileges. However, those the descen- dants of aristocratic families who ha pen to read such stuff always feel the plebeian incomprehension of the writ- ers, just as when l.hedy see at the “movies” scenes pretending to depict :‘he way In which aristocratic families ve. But it does not matter. Aristocracy, dead as it {s in reality, still has a long lease of life'in novels and movies. Re- spect and reverence are innate in hu- mans. Even in Soviet Russia the old “comrades” who carried on the revolu- tion are slowly becoming & sort of aris- tocracy. But reverence, so far as Eu- Topean aristocracy is PUBLIC LIBRARY Recent accessions at the Public Library and lists of recommended read- ing will appear in this column each Sunday. History. Adams, R. G. Pilgrims, Indians and ! Patriots, F83-Ad 18p. Baldwin, R. N. Liberty Under the | Soviets. F5466-B19 1. | Cramer, Floyd. Our Neighbor Nic- aragus, F966-C842. « i Orane, Leo. Desert Drums; the Pueblo | _ Indians of New Mexico. F804-C853d. Der, Ling, Princess. Old Buddha. Fe6- | Hackett, Francis. Henry the Eighth. P4546-H11, | Hergesheimer, Joseph. Swords and : Roses; Short Storles of the South. F834-H42, History of Russia. Platonoy, F54-P692.E. Sjostrom, I. L. Handbook of Napoleon Bonaparte, F30442-8§57. Strong, A, L. China's Millions, F66- Bt86. Modern Philosophy. Durant, W. J. The Mansions of Phi- losophy, B-D933m. Krutch, J. W. The Modern Temper; a Study of the Various Tendencies in Contemporary Thought. BD-K94. McKeon, R, P. The hy of Spinoza. BE46-Spé4l.m. Drama. Ramsden. orth, Play. ZYD-B219p. 5. Coward, Noel. Holinshe | ‘The Problem- as Us 1927. of the Japanese Drama, ZY67D-L83. Smith, R. M., ed. of Historical Drama, YD9-Smésty. Armenian Books. Alishan. Houshgk Hayreiniatz Hayotz. v. 2. 1921 604-A1 4. legh, Kughe. 1924, Y604-HI1T. Koushagian, Torkom, bp. Kherimian Hlm‘. 1025, Y604-KB4. xwyxx“ , Vahan. Asbed Libarid. 1924. Rafi. Khente and Chalaledin. 1905, ‘Anhedatzogh. Teme all | Italy, the Story of His Life—“The Mad Professor,” by Hermann Sudermann—Other Fiction! BY IDA GILBERT MYERS. MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY. By Benito Mussolini. Fore: by Richard Washburn Child, former Ambassa dor to Italy. Illustrated. New York: Chatles Scribner’s Sons. é« UT nothing can take the place of & book which you will write yourself,” Mr. Child speaking to Mussolini. “Write myself?” and Musso- %‘l‘l‘ registered complete amazement. | But only for a minute. Then came the prompt, “All right. I will.” And so he began. This is story. One comes out of Mussolini's account of himself, first of all impressed with the simplicity of the story. A simple man telling of his past, step by step, in a manner that does not impress the fact that these steps are all on an up- grade, that this career is an ascent from lowly beginnings to that which at the moment is the most- spectacular height upon which any man of the present is standing. Even when that summit is reached there is no change in the man's manner of dealing with it. From the start, days of school and the beginnings of work, on up to later events, this Mussolini is compound of two, no more than two, elements—will and action. Now, to be’sure, that will is stirred by in feelings, desires for advantage to ers and to himself. But these feelings are so sharply and suddenly crystalized Into the will to act, to do, to accomplish, that the two seem simultaneous, as the flash of lightning and the clap of thunder do sometimes seem. Here is the substancs of the dictator from start to finish. ‘The present hour is not hospitable to dictators, So, more than likely, one sets out upon this reading with a secret resistance to the man and his story. All right. I think I did myself. The reading done, however, I could find only as motivating source of such tre- mendous activity and power the love of desire to restore it to its older strength and influence, h the devoted contribution of every Italian in the land, no matter what his outer might be. Exacting, ty- rannical, ruthless—at times all of these. But in all measures—even in every act, one might with reason say—there was the driving need for Italy to do ihis or that for its own well being, for its place in the world. The book is deeply stir- ring. - The man himself is more stirring. Resolute, mot to be denied, not to be hindered even, this amazing dictator, clear anachronism in an era of political individual freedom, of democracy, the sanctity of the will of the people and all the rest of it—this man Musso- lini ‘'makes an amazing case for himself without lifting a finger to do_just that. It is for his people, it is for Italy, that he is mastering them like school chil- dren to follow the lessons that he pre- scribes. Maybe the novelty of coming upon & real character, strong and reso- lute, constitutes some of the power of this story of Benito Mussolini. It has wer and an absorbing interest. There no doubt of that. It has lessons, maybe. It puts questions, certainly. * o k x THE MAD PROFESSOR. By Hermann Sudermann, author of “The ted by Isabel nd Otto P. Schinnerer. New York: Horace Liveright. 'HE European novel—other than the English—is in increasing frequency m its way into the United States as general movement which, in field, is drawing all parts of the world iInto closer contact. The novelist, recognized and honored in his own country, is among the most useful of the agencies of acquaintance and understanding. Among these, Hermann own country, as he is also in France and other parts of Europe. To his “Song_of Songs” is now added “The Mad Professor” for the enjoyment of critical American readers. This is a romance of university life, a life with which author through his own student days is deeply familiar. A long novel, two volumes long, that passes from the multitudinous externals of the German university program down into the depths of psychological probings so charagteristic of the German scholar. A slow-moving record that neglects no point, that scants no attention, to the many aspects and features of the theme. The heart of the story is a young professor, the “mad” one, who by his independence of view, by his power of thought, by his individuality of habit —4n a word, by his difference from those around him, was counted “mad.” It is exactly that stigma of “difference” that everywhere and at all times brands its possessors with obloquy and persecu- tion. However, this is the story of Prof. Sieburth of the Konigsberg Uni- versity, a new keen-thinking instructor in philosophy. Since the faculty of an institution is a little piece of the world itself, no very long time before the professor became the ?.‘:.u of this austere and correct body. Shallow, these, and hypocritical withal, these rulers :‘f’ethe fIauudelull: life. And so rofessor came to grief, the miu f—if it be that—through his own choice. An American reader becomes at once impressed with the deep seriousness of university life, with the long discussions on the part of both student and professor, with the solem- in which these that etim to disaster, as fl tak national mind, clearly, sources of information Mad Professor’ for 40 y speaking — “and 1if destiny gives me another 10 years that novel shall be written.” Here it is. A great novel in its clear and unwavering projection of one side of life in Germany and of the ker (Kirkor Zohrab). 1919, Y604- Al 12, 1920. Y604-8s 12. g Ou Perots. 1910. Y604-Se6. Tiryakian, H. Hay Ye! . 1922, Tiryakian, H. Ha v tune. Y604-T51 h. Zohrab, Krikor. Echer Oughevori Me Orakren. 1932, Y604-Z76. Sign Painting. Hasluck, P. N,; ed. Glass Writing, TKF-H27g. Hasluck, P. N, ed. How to Write Signs. 1902, . TKF-H27h. Koller, B. L. TKF-K83. Martin, H. C. Card Layouts TKF-M364. Matthews, E. C. The Lacquer System of Sign Painting. TKF-M434 1, Fiction. Atkeson, M. M. The Shining Hours. Edginton, May. My Dear. Feld, R. C. Heritage. Gibbs, Mrs. J. P. Humdrum House. HUll, Mrs. G. L. Duskin. Keable, Robert. Though This Be Mad- ness. ‘Terhune, 4. P. Gray Dawn. A » Staglew_An. Avaies- ranagan - Y604-T51. Sudermann is of the first rank in his | very essence of modes of theught among this Teutonic people as a whole. So different from English and American that probing mind, that genius for g‘k - osophy and psychology by way of which their ou both life and death, their attitude before both of these, is new and strange, inviting even, to those of us who are habituated by dealings | with the more easily seized externals. * ok kX THE HEART OF HAWTHORNES JOURNALS. Edited by Newton c',Arvlll. Boston: Houghton, Miffiin 'HE diary implies personal, intimate self-revelation. This constitutes its prime general appeal. In the measure to which the analyst has come out into the open of public interest and curiosity, to that degree does his journal receive wide attention. Emerson, Tho- reau, Burroughs, have through this medium contributed substantially not only to an understanding of their own outlook upon life, but o a better a - clation as well of the periods in w] they lived. And here, in continuation of the work, comes Hawthorne's journal. Different, in general, from the others. Hawthorne is not the philosopher, like Emerson, probing the universe for its puzzle, nor a naturalist, like Thoreau on the one hand, like Burroughs on the other. Here is the story-teller, the dramatist, the man of “poetic imagin: tion, who out of his surroundings stinctively selects and sets down mate- rial for his craft. So, whether at home or abroad, Hawthorne sees the life around him in the essence of literary possibility. It is for this that this par- ticular volume is of high interest and the greatest of every possib] not before published, Mr. Arvin collected the material from which he fashioned a consecutive view of the novelist in the varied inferests and activities that summed in'his life as the means by way of which Hawthorne became America’s greatest romancer. ‘These brief studies, notes, comments, come together as picture on the one hand, as autobiography on the other. The book reflects a rich clearly to a rereading of Hawthorne's novels, of Emerson’s &hl.lowphy. of Thoreau’s seclusions with nature. * k¥ BRIGHT METAL. By T. S. Stribling, author _of “Teeftallow,” etc. New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co. Tennessee mountains and the life that these have bred back this new Stribling romance. To the mountaineer as, perhaps, the most un- and unc of all the ple of this country appears to have the design of the author. Certainly, this is the effect of the story. The theme calls for the dramatic power of the novelist. Mere descri] could not serve to deliver the hardships and nar- rowness and prejudice, the ignorance, the bitter feuds, the passionat that counted even a as the And, Mr. Stribling, by way of the novelist’ hts, made a story of the matter. ‘this isolated corner he sent a young man out into the world where, by a single act of heroism he came into a general passing popularity on the outside. Th | immedtate result of this flurry of flam | was a wife for the boy—a girl from the New York stage, down on her luck for the time being. There is the story. It is the drama of alien elements. and of the efforts toward accommodation. set up between the two. The problem is for this waywise girl to live with John Cal- houn Pomeroy in the Tennessee moun- tains—to live with the mother and the sister and the few neighbors of the lit- tle settlement. In sincerity and under- standing Mr. Stribling follows the trail of his own setting. Out of it a new “Main Street” grows, a finer “Main Street” than the one so loudly acclaimed. Sinclair Lewis is, in his novels, more or less subject to the bit- terness of own grain. Carica ridicule, satire, a shade of contempt, a tinge of external superiorily take away from his work as portrayal of character and custom on the one hand, and on the other take away from the true qual- ity of his art. With Mr. Stribling the supreme obligation is to embody the life of the mountaineers of this locality, is to deliver it in the terms of love and the -old accommodations of marriage. iways in complete sincerity—now in gayety, now in regret, now in plain rec- ord—the author does this. Therefore to his account stands another admirable n&\'l;le of the peculiarly winning Stribling stripe. * X% x RED TIGER: Adventures in Yucaten and Mexico. By Phillips Russell, author of “Benjamin Franklin,” etc. Pictures by Leon Underwood. New York: Brentano’s. Orr they go, these two. Their kit bulging with the lust of adventure to which nothing is added but plenty of paper and pencils. The place upon which they are headed does jump into the “fotingo”~—much pret. tier name than a “Henry Ford"—with this pair of adventurers to rattle our bumpy and hazardous way out to the ruins which the Carnegie Institution is unloading above ground. Something happens about once a minute. But at each of these minutes Mr. Russell falls to writing and Mr. Underwood to mak- ing pictures so, when forgetting inter- venes temporarily, we simply look to! the fl.hAl) 1 the left for the story and to for the scene itself, and on we go. everywhere, _ex with natives here and there in eating m-nnn“ foods, fishing with the . Rouben. Ovasts. 1920. Y604~ SHADOWED! By Hilaire Belloc. Draw- ing by G. K. Chesterton, New York: Harper and Brothers. BY way of “Shadowed!” these two sober, season in the |. literary life of New England. It invites | P) every hand. And nothing less than the highest will serve—no sium stuft for these two. They set the matter well into the future where a free hand in all directions is secure. For the central figure in the to-do they invent an in- nocent youth—maybe find him, for even in that future day innocence will not be wholly extinct, one judges. However this may be, instantly the harmless fel- low becomes the center of whirlwinds and tornadoes of pursuit, the object of Machiavelian plans of detection. Wholly tnndm\;llu to the role of villainy set for to play, the poor youngster rattles around in it both alarmingly and absurdly. The action sweeps along and awirls about in an e: ted cation. Where Mr. sign of slowing dos steps in with “talkie” the business ahead without loss of speed. Certainly “laughter holding both sides” is in control. No, no satire, as you might expect. Nothing more than hilarity on the part of these two young writers who are offe: proof that playtime is not so limi a period as the sober oldsters of the world would mystifi- something that needed —why, then, the joke is on them. Just fun to the delighted reader who along with this fine pair in & tumuit of laughter. MEMORIES AND DREAMS; A Collec- tion of Love Songs. By Evelyn Gage Browne. Boston: The Christopher Publishing House. History. _Illustrated. G. P. Putnam’s Sons. MANKIND ADVANCING; A Message Philadelphia: American Bociety. THE SINGING SOUL; Poems. By Pearle Moore Stevens. Boston: The Stratford Co, By HILOSOPHY OF THE Kain -O'Dare. Jones. FLOWER SONG; The Romance of Jane Alden. By Helen Catheryn Willis. Boston: The Stratford Co. AN ANTHOLOGY OF REVOLUTION- ARY POETRY. Compiled and edited by Barcus Graham. With an intro- duction by Ralph Cheyney and Lucia Trent. Published by the compiler. FROM DEAUVILLE TO MONTE CARLO; Via LeTouquet, Biarritz, Vichy, Aix-les-Bains and Cannes. By Basil Weon. - New York: Horace Liveright. ‘THE WORLD'S RELIGIONS AGAINST WAR; The Proceedings of the Pre- C;J;lztmee at Geneva September, , to Make Arrange ments for a Universal Religious Peace Conference. New York: The Church Peace Union. AND JEW; A Symposium for Better Understanding. Edited Landman. by Isaac L . New York: | Horace Liveright; LABOR MANAGEMENT. By J. D. Hackett, Formerly Lecturer on Labor and Employment Managsment. Nev. York Universit: Healt, Maintenance in Inc Y ¢ an Introduction by Sem A. 3 New York: D. Appleton & Co. |HENRY THE EIGHTH. By FPrancic Hackett. Illustrated. New York: | Horace Liveright. LABOR AND SILK. By Grace Hutchins. Tlustrated by Esther Shemitz. New York: International Publishers. COPY, 1929. Prom the Published Work of Students in the Courses 3 Extension, o Universiey. mum!“ B urrell. New 2 Rppieton & Go. LABOR AND AUTOMOBILES. New York: DUSK. lustrated INE Comedy Hughes. Co. A hiew Yo WD Appieton & THE POW-WOW BOOK; A Treatise on the Art of “Healing and er,” ticed by the Pennsylvania By A. Monroe sburg: Published THE VOICE AND SINGING. By George A.‘ Murphy, author of “Handicaps ih i Grand Rapids, Mich: A. P, Johnson Co. CHARM, ENTHUSIASM ‘AND ORIGI- NALITY; Their Acquisition and Use. By Willlam Sune, J. D. Los Angeles: Elan Publishing Co. ‘THE FPLAGRANT YEARS; A Novel of the Beauty Market. By Samuel Hopkins Adams. New York: Horace Liveright. GESTALT PSYCHOLOGY. By Dr. ‘Wolfgang Kofilfl; New York: : Beautiful Mirage First For Lake Constance To the tired and thirsty traveler in the desert there sometimes appears the tantalizing vision of an oasis, green with trees and sweet with running water. The camels wearily pad toward the promised spot, and, l.lll.pt:u mirage slowly fades, leaving only the hot, cruel, desert sands! Dwellers on the shores of Lake Constance were enchanted the other day by a clear and vivid picture of that part of the town of Immen- stadt with the Herzberg Palace appear- ing in the heavens and remaining isible for some time. This is the first time a mirage has ever been recorded Of course you want to read | the new books, yet you may not wish to own them. A | Womrath membership fills this need of booklovers. You enjoy the privilege of starting and stopping when you choose and you rent all the latest fiction' and non- fiction—if new and popular. WOMRATH'S issiat 1919 ¥ Sweer, 3046 14sh Swreet, N. W, SANE BARTLETY, 4400 Conmestiont Ave., N. W. . l