Such grandeur of conception and force of
language, combined with such gifts of melody, must produce universal
demand to know the name of this benefactor. I cannot express myself as I
would desire, because I have been brought up in France, where literature
is so different, and people judge a work more liberally, without
recourse to politics. This is a new work, only out last week; and a
friend of mine, a very fine judge of literature, was so enchanted
with it that he bought a score of copies at once, and as my good stars
prevailed, he sent me one. You are welcome to see it, sir. It is unknown
in these parts; but will soon be known all over Europe, unless these
cruel wars retard it."
With a face of deep gravity, Caryl Carne put into Frank Darling's hand
a copy of his own book, quite young, but already scored with many loving
marks of admiration and keen sympathy. Frank took it, and reddened with
warm delight.
"You may not understand it at first," said the other; "though I beg your
pardon for saying that. What I mean is, that I can well suppose that
an Englishman, though a good judge in general, would probably have his
judgment darkened by insular prejudices, and the petty feeling which
calls itself patriotism, and condemns whatever is nobler and larger than
itself. My friend tells me that the critics have begun to vent their
little spite already. The author would treat them with calm disdain!"
"Horribly nasty fellows!" cried Frank.
Pages:
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355