Evening Star Newspaper, September 14, 1930, Page 108

SJHREE TITANS: By Emil Ludwig, author of “Bismarck: The Story of a Fighter,” etec. With Portraits. New York. G. P. Put- nam’s Sons. ICHELANGELO, Rembrandt, Beethoven. Sculpture, painting, music meet here, embodying genius in one and another form of great art. The bond of this asscciation is an inner kinship that Ludwig discerns and portrays. Time sets them far aract, but time has little to do with this study of genius reacting to inspiration from a not grootly changing world. Somewhat vaguely, hcwever, the author does relate these men— th> great sculpture of one falling into the sya'phonic rhythms of the other, the half-lights of "®mbrandt suggesting the problgms of com- Pos tions set by Beethoven to himself in his later mucic. The essential quality of these three su't.ies does not rest, however, on fine lines of ait consanguinity. Rather does that rise from tix> now familiar Ludwig plan of biographic re-cieation. Here, as elsewhere, is the abund- suce of illuminating detail drawn from the common days and nights of these great men oi 7enius. Each in his own setting of time and place is looked in upon, is questioned, is meas- wred by his relation to the common life and his reactions to this. Each is called to interpret his own art by an almost personal explanation oif why he chose the medium that he did choose, of what led him to the selection of the thome of this particular work rather than some ot>or theme standing, solicitious, at hand. The author invites, and persuades, the man to teH of his trials and failures, of the impact of cur- rent poiitics and society upon his efforts, of his responses to these. In a word, attentive and sympathetic, tender and understanding, Emil Ludwig follows the lead of these men to ther "own self-revelations. That is his way. W: have learned to expect this from him. And th> result is, naturally, that living, working, a~" “ving men, or the opposite of these, step o..; of their immediate inclosures of time to wolk with us, to talk with us, to show us the thorny way set by visions of beauty or of grandeur as they impose upon genius the labor of converting dreams to art for the inspiration anrd guidance of the world as long as it is a wc?d. Little men, sometimes, these great men wera. Petulant men, suspicious, jealous, vain, desiring the love of women—a love which these three never realized—resenting the physical cha:ms of other men. And it is, maybe, by these smallnesses that we come closer to them, thai we come in time to realize the glory of their enduring works. These little human qualities by way of which, maybe, we rise from our lowly earth to their vaulted skies. I don’t know. I do know that of these three immortals Emil Ludwig makes for us not only the physical reality of them, but he creates as well a finer unders.anding of their work, a keener living Interest in it, a growing appreciation of other airt and other great artists. But that is his way. MARGARET FULLER; A Biography. By Margaret Bell. Introduction by Mrs. Frank- lin D. Roosevelt. New York: Charles Boni. (Paper books.) FEMINIST 75 years ago was both a rarity and a reproach. A New England feminist of that date was little better than a Salem witch and deserving of much the same summary treatment. Nowadays, there is some- thing of glory in the role. Certainly, no danger. An immunity for which the “strong-minded wom- an” of the present is in debt to those early fishters for enlarging the borders of woman's “vights.” Margaret Fuller was a feminist in the days when to be that was a disgrace and even something of a danger. A curious wom- an, a strange blend of New England and some exotic spiritual strain that set her apart from others, made of her almost a type in herself. One of the “fighting Fullers,” she went into battle gallantly for the underside half of the world, woman. A scholar of New England stamp, she delved into Greek and Latin for the classics of poetry and philosopy. An ardent woman, she puzzled the stiff sisterhood of the Puritin tribe with the open play of her emo- tions, with the frank latitudes of her behavior. Italy appeared to be her temperamental home. There the ardors of her championship of woman, the emotionalism of her attitudes and words excited only admiration. She became a friend of the Brownings there. She fell in love there—lempestuously in love—with an Italian gertleman, married him, bore a son, Angelo— and on the way home, all three were victims of shipwr2ek. That is the story. Romantic as pure invention could be at its best. The work of Margaret Bell, however, while it gives the fuil account, does stress, properly, the intellec- tual bent of Margaret Fuller toward the cause of emancipation for womanhood. This is the point at which she becomes significant to the present. This is the role in which she de- serves appreciation and homage from women who are enjoying the direct fruits of this wom- an’s high spirit and dauntless endeavor. A puzzling New Englander, this one, but fasci- nating and entirely deserving high tribute to her intellectual powers and to her great serv- ice in behalf of women everywhere, ~F.r the past year, every month, a Charles Boni paper book has arrived at this office. The beginning of a new year is marked by “Maczaret Fuller.” Last year's list is impres- sive for its general distinction. This year has commenced in fine promise. I'HE DANCE OF YOUTH. By Hermann Suder- man, author of “The Mad Professor,” etc. Translated by Eden and Cedar Paul. New York: Horace Liveright. AN this, his latest, and last, novel. Hermann Sudermann, as he has more than once done before, sets to frank drama some out- stauding aspeci of the social complex with which he is at the moment concerned. Here, THE SUNDAY. STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 14, 1930. Emil Ludwig Writes of “Threc Titans,” Michelangelo, Rembrandt and Beethoven. Many Novels on the Autumn List. as the title implies, it is the emergence of youth into its own freedoms from the re- straints and inhibitions of the older generation. Youth triumphant, youth even rampant in its liberty, is the theme of this open story. Father and mother, staid and forgetful of their own early wrestlings with age, are engrossed in proper “settlements” for these children, two girls and a boy. A German family, the tradi- tional outlook is upon good marriage for their children. But the children are seeing other things, for a long time to come at least. The older girl is off to Berlin, an artist of sorts. There she lives in independence, much as a young man would do. Why not? The younger girl, a soft and pretty little thing, catching the desire for taking care of herself, yet without any real preparation for this business life, be- comes assistant in the office of a prosperous and fashionable dentist. Idle rich women are his specialty. Stumpy is an engaging youngster, a confiding little girl who rather envies these fine ladies and their friendlineg with the great man. Stumpy has no chance¢. A mouse has not the ghost of a chance witn the big cat. And there are other encounters with life on the part of Stumpy, who steadily loses out. The older sister is harder, more tuned to the steeliness of situations—hard- boiled we would, rather crudely, call her. But it takes that to win, if the result really counts as gain. The story of Stumpy is one of “trial and error” throughout. A suspended ending—as if this experiment of youth might, just possibly might, make headway in a grown-up world, and that it might, on the other hand, retreat into the safeties of an earlier year, when a good safe marriage was the end—all of a girl's existence. And happiness? Oh, happiness is a cheat of a thing, never living up to any sort of promise. “A picture of the young woman in the new society, a vivid picture of deep in- sight, with suspended judgment as its strong- est and most suggestive conclusion. Here, the usual deep engrossment of the author, here.the strikingly effective projection of this German literary genius. THE AUCTIONING OF MARY ANGEL. By Coningsby Dawson, author of “The Garden Without Walls,” etc. New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co. ’I‘KIS book, according to the rules of art and the practice of composition, may be a novel. The point is not important. At any rate, it is a matter that will keep for some rainy day in the calendar of ecritic and purist. Here, open and aboveboard, is an inquisition set up. A tribunal of ferocious front, calling to judgment those who are absorbed in the busi- nes of peddling off the Mary Angels of the cur- rent life. The thing looks like a story, an engaging one at that. Its scaffolding, its means of getting ahead, is absurdly simple. Only two engaged— Mary Angel herself and “Uncle Biff,” Mary's friend and pal from babyhood. To him, one afternoon and another, Mary tells the story of herself as a commodity bartered off like a bag of sugar or a crate of eggs. A brilliant and audacious business on the part of Coningsby Dawson. You will have to read it to catch its darting venom. Yes, it is venomous, all right. The man is infuriated, the author himself. Look at his picture on the back cover. The eyes and tight lips belie the smart and idle indifference of the rest of him. He is a savage, as you will see, when you follow Mary Angel and Uncle Biff through this disclosure of a girl in the market place. Here is one of the fortunate girls, pampered, clothed in purple, educated. traveled—what for? Really and honestly, what for? Well, read this report of Mary Angel. If this were read widely enough, this caustic and savage arraignment of parents by lovely Mary Angel, the country would ring with indignant — and honest—denial by these same outraged parents. “I've never consciously done one thing that wasn’t for may child’s own good!” This is the tune to which the common claim runs. But, you see, “my child’s own good!” lies in the pre- possessions of the parent, in the ambitions of the mother, in the financial outlook of the father, in a thousand conditions which suffer ultimate repudiation by the offspring as not “good” at all, but quite evii instead. Astute, abominably clever, projected in the vividness of pure drama, inconsiderate, ruth- lessly rude—well, having begun it, leave it, if you can. GREAT MOMENTS OF ADVENTURE. The Dramatic Records of 19 Gallant Gentlemen. By Themselves and by Evan J. David. New York: Duffield & Co. FDITED from various sources of information “ and recital by Evan J. David, here is a body of truly thrilling stuff. Explorers, soldiers, aviators, adventurers of every modern brand have contibuted to the excitement of the book. And the way to read it, I take it, is not to read in order. No, move along. Look over the ground. Pick out the man who calls to you first. Then go as you like all along the way. Probably 9 out of 10 will rush for the Lind- bergh epic, old story though it is. Yel that is hardly an affair to take on age. It will stay young forever. Then will come—well, Peary, maybe, with the North Pole to his credit, or Amundsen, with the South Pole in his pocket. Lawrence in the desert is an interesting ad- venturer. Other flying victories than that of the “Lone Eagle” will win plenty of people, as they should. War and its moments of victory, or defeat, come into this volume. Stanley's hunt for Livingstone is an ever-new adventure. I miss here that immortal story of Capt. Scott —no, no, I'm wrong. I've found it at the very last—that gallant man, that heroic gentleman who lost to Amundsen the glory of the Ant- arctic discOVer. No greater story than his can be found, no more heart-breaking account of endurance and courage and the brave facing of death as it step by step moved over to his side. A desirable book for our low moments when we are feeling sorry for ourselves. - Thanks are due Evan David for getting it together for us— that Welsh miner of the Pennsylvania coal pits who grew out of coal into writing and who is, no doubt, on his way to substantial success in that direction. He is, too, from a record of what ‘he has done“Mush On,” “Big Boy,” a biography of Leonard Wood, and so on. Good luck to him. THE SON OF THE THREE MUSKETEERS. By Cami. Translated from the French by Jean Wright Gorman. With an introduction by Herbert Gorman. Illustrated by the au- thor. New York: Farrar & Rinehart, HERBERT GORMAN says: “I can very well imagine Alexandre Dumas pere, corpulent, crinkly-haired and vociferous, shaking with laughter as he follows the astounding adven- tures of the hero of ‘The Son of the Three Musketeers' ” Which means that this sublima- tion of D’Artagnan, Athos and Porthos to a single offshoot of spectacular heroism is an exceedingly rare piece of inspired burlesque. Here is a sample of Gallic wit. Those who swear by D’Artagnan and the two others will settle down into it in the joy that first smiles and then breaks out into gales of laughter. Those who do not catch the Gallic tang, delicate and with something of a child’s imaginative credulity about it, will prefer our rougher stuff in the way of fun. Cami, the author, is counted nowadays as the most famous of the French humorists, earning his honors as a newspaper man at the start, creating in that capacity a new order of journalistic humor for the French. The tip-top of his fame came, no doubt, when his name was expanded to Cami—"“the man who made Charlot laugh.” “A heavy-handed artist would have destroyed his purpose in the first chapter”—Mr. Gorman still talking—“but Cami is never heavy-handed. His satire is a satire of love, and because it is so there is a quality about his outrageous char- acters that arouses affection. Here is a typical Dumas plot, but observe what the humorist has made of it! Here is the typical Dumas hero carried to the last extreme.” One source of enjoyment here, quite apart from the nonsense itself, is the study of French farce and comedy beside the English and American acceptance in this field of literature. MOUNTAINS ARE FREE. By Julia Davis Adams, author of “Vaino: A Lad of Finland.” Illustrated by Theodore Nadejen. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. Tfll'lecend of William Tell is as fresh today as it was in its begininngs, four centuries and a half ago. The great war by which the mountain land of Switserland won its freedom from the tyranny of Austria has gone the way of wars—into the limbo of forgetfulness. But Tell and Gessler and the little son persist in a constantly reviving legend of personal hero- ism, working out in protection of the lad, in devotion to the cause of freedom for the native land. It is this story that Julia Davis Adams revives here in a fullness of fact and detail that turns the single tale of brave adventure into a panorama of history covering the strug- gles of Switzerland for its own independence. This is, in substance, the story of the Alpine country fighting for political liberty. It is, in effect, the ultimate and triumphant struggle of a little mountain land to gain and establish the independence and freedom without which the natives of such a region cannot live at all. History, authentic as it is, here takes the charm of story by way of its hero and the hazards and escapes of his courageous resistance to the enemy, by way of the ingenuity and ardor of his soldierly service. An exciting picture of Switzerland in its passion for freedom. A great adventure of youth for young folks to take delight in. The book is of fine substance; its events backed by research and proof. And this adds appreciably to the enjoyment of the reader. A true story wins over a merely made- up one every time. Quite remarkable are the illustrations by Theodore Nadejen—bold and active pictures that move into their respective roles with gallant distinction and the lure of true beauty. The book for boys and girls is dedicated to “My Father” who.is John W. Davis, in 1924 candidate for the presidency against Calvin Coolidge. OLD MOTHER EARTH AND HER FAMILY. By Milton Goldsmith, author of “I Wonder Why,” etc. Illustrated by Rosalind Gold- smith. New York: George Sully & Co., Inc. ABOOK of geography for 12-year-olds, or thereabout. Not like old geographies, You recall them. Long lists of names to be memorized, confusing network of maps to be scanned for cities, rivers, mountains and other regional characteristics; unpronounceable names, tables of arid figures and many another dead weight of “getting my lesson.” This is different. Soundly based upon the fact that first approaches to any subject what- ever must be long-reach advances, gathering first only big views and general features, “Old Mother Earth and Her Family” lives up to this gospel of gathering knowledge. So it seizes the earth as a whole. Shows it as a whirling ball, minding laws of motion as a child minds its mother, In long processes of time the earth has become fit to support life. And it has pro- duced life. Not the center of all things, either, this planet of ours. Just one of a large family, regulated, defined, and under control of the sun, head of this particular system. And all over the earth we go under this leadership of adventure. Finding people everywhere. Much like ourselves, different only as climate and soi’, products and industry have changed the blood of old Adam into what, for convenience, we call “races.” A busy world. Industry, inven- tion, discovery, cities being built, art and learning on the way, airways and waterways and landways binding the peoples of the earth into the essential unity of the planet itself. We visit the “islands of John Bull,” cross over into the land of “parlez vous,” span Europe and move eastward into the “Land of the Morning.” So on and on and around back home again. Along the great adventure the village main street has stretched to the measure of the earth itself, the cross-roads has widened to take in all great centers of city and town. A captivat- ing book, if you ask me. A simple and youth- ful adventure whose aim is the enjoyment of a thousanad facts of human existence. No strain, no postures of the teacher. A good time for everybody along about a dozen years old —a little more or less, Books Recerved PIONEERS OF FREEDOM: An Account of the Icelanders and the Icelandic Free, State; 874-1262. By Sveinbjorn Johnson. Boston: The Stratford Co. A DAUGHTER OF THE MEDICS: The Ro- mantic Story of Margaret of Valois. By Prof. Jean H, Mariejol. Translated from the French by John Peile, M. A. New York: Harper & Bros. THE RECOVERY OF TRUTH. By Count Her- man Keyserling, author of “The World in the Making,” etc. Translated from the Ger- man in collaboration with the author by Paul Fohr, New York: Harper & Bros. THE LIFE AND TIMES OF CHARLES FOL- LEN McKIM. By Charles Moore, chairman of the National Committee of Pine Arts, honorary member of the American Institute of Architects, life member of the American Academy in Rome. Illustrated. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin Co. DOMINATION: Some Napoleonic Episodes. By Marjorie Johnston. New York: D, Ap- pleton & Co. THE TRAIL OF FIRE: A Story of the Famous Alabama. By John D. Whiting, author of “Storm Pighters,” etc. Illustrations by the author. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co. A PIONEER OF OLD SUPERIOR. By Lillian ' Kimball Stewart. Boston: The Christopher Publishing House. Fiction. THE MOTE AND THE BEAM. By Pauline Stiles, author of “Cloud by Day,” etc. New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co. THE OTHER HALF. By Charles Francis Coe, author of “Swag,” etc. New York: Cos- mopolitan Book Corporation. CHERRY PIT. By Louise Platt Hauck, author of “Marise,” etc. Indianapolis: The Bobbs- Merrill Co. THE MAGNIFICENT SIN. By Andre Tellier. New York: Claude Kendall. THE DAY OF SMALL THINGS. By O. Doug- las. author of “Ann and Her Mother,” etc. New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co. THE EYE IN THE MUSEUM. By J. J. Con- nington, author of “The Case With Nine Solutions,” etc. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. : THE BOOK OF MURDER. By Frederick Irv- ing Anderson. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. Juvenile. STEPHEN THE VALIANT. By Juliska Daru and Charlotte Lederer. Illustrated by Char- lotte Lederer. New York: E. P, Dutton & Co. THE TALE OF TOM TIDDLER: With Rhymes of London Town. By Eleanor Farjeon, au- thor of “Italian Peepshow.” Illusirated by Norman Tealby., New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co. BILLY BOY'S SEA ADVENTURE. By Maud Wilcox Niedermeyer, author of “Wonderful World of Make Believe.” Illustrated by Helen Tilgner., New York: George Sully & Co. Ice Cream Output Gains. Ip you ate, individually, three gallons of ice cream last year, you did your bit toward keeping the average for the country at its record level. The output, which im all proba- bility was equaled by the consumption was of nearly 50 per cent over the 1919 figures.