The translation of any foreign book is always a most difficult task, but Miss Farraday has succeeded admirably. The flavor, the crude and virile humor of the original, and above all, the high and simple tragedy has been preserved. As for the dramas themselves, from the early, fragmentary, anonymous plays, such as "The Rocks of Börkhelm" or "The Long Ships," to Wolf's, the monk's, great Trilogy of Eylof, they are such as you would expect to arise from a fierce, maritime people, whose daily life was fire and sword; murder, piracy and rapine. The plays are a fit sequel to the fierce old Icelandic Sagas, out of which they grew. The preface, tracing the clear and startling analogy between these plays and the early Greek drama, can only be attributed to sheer genius. As in the Attic "goat-songs" and "village-songs" lay the germs of Aeschylos, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes; so in these crude tales of passionate life lie the germs of Ibsen and the great school of nineteenth century dramatists. Judged merely from a philological standpoint, this work of constructive research is a magnificent achievement. And let not the casual reader fear that the plays are not enjoyable as pure literature. Mere antiquity does not imply dullness. The final act of "Jötunheim and the Dead," where Eylof marches naked, sword in hand, through the flaming gates of Jötunheim to win back his ravished bride, Molla, is of an epic quality that stirs the blood, besides giving a curious parallel to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. And the scene in "The Wolves," where Eylof first wins Molla from the hall of her kinsmen is more than merely dramatic, it is pure poetry. This book is destined to attain wide popularity among the scholarly world, as it has already won for its writer a distinguished European reputation. J. F. C., JR. EDITOR'S TABLE. Atropos sat musing, alone in the unheated LIT. office. particularly warm, so coal conservation did not affect it). a bit blue and consequently a bit poetic. (It never was She was feeling "A year of office and then others take my place thus I pass on the torch to others. Those that come after must see to it that the flame burns as brightly as it did of yore. And you, too, must pass on the lamp-" Thus she mused. It would make a nice speech to the new Board, and she hoped that the girls, Zoe and Chloe, would not cry. She had nearly persuaded herself that all was o'er when Chloe entered, all tumultuous. "Why mercy, Attie!" exclaimed Chloe. "What are you doing here?" "I was just thinking," replied Atropos evasively. She did not relish having her mood disturbed. "What were you muttering about?" Chloe was perfectly relentless. "I was thinking that-'a year of office-and then others take my place'." "Oh, can that stuff!" said the Business Board, entering jovially. "Come on to the movies." "Movies indeed !" snorted Atropos. "Why not?" inquired Zoe, entering also jovially. (Note the clever way in which all the characters have made their entrances. The office is now crowded, and it was done so naturally and unobtrusively that you never noticed it.) "I have work to do," replied Atropos very grandly. She didn't really have work, but thought it best to say so. This shows the new spirit that has pervaded Yale. "There's a swell show at the Olympia" (advertisers please notice), sighed the B.B. "I will not go to the movies!" repeated Atropos. "But you will go to the Winter Garden with me." (This shows a regrettable aspect of the new spirit.) "With you?" breathed Zoe anxiously. "On me!" replied Atropos. Which is not a suggestion-nor a fact. ZOB. YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE. VOL. LXXXIII MARCH, 1918 EDITORS. No. 6 STEPHEN VINCENT BENET DONALD MALCOLM CAMPBELL THORNTON N. WILDER. THE THE WAR AND THE STATE OF MIND. HE German philosopher was not far wrong when he laid down the dictum that "war is the highest function of the state." Certainly modern war is the most pervasive influence that can settle upon a country or a community. Every resource, material and mental, is drawn into the current; even objects, in themselves insignificant, take on a false and enhanced importance. War is like a vast conflagration. Not only are buildings in flames, but the countryside for miles around is bathed in the smoky red glare and stands out in false proportions. We are in this war and our cause is just and righteous. What we are fighting is a system conceived in gross materialism and brought forth in autocratic aggrandizement. We must fight the war and we must fight to win. To save what we are and what we have we must conquer what Prussianism is and what Prussia stands for. Every available and apt resource must be strained to the uttermost to destroy this impossible obsession. But in destroying this, let us, if possible, maintain our own poise. Yale is, in one sense, cloistered from the world; in another, it is the world. Here on a small scale are enacted all the Here the course of the war has been phenomena of life. characteristic of the country as a whole. Let us consider the events. The drain on Yale's physical resources has enabled her to play a natural and honorable part. Thousands of men in service, brain power and science mobilized to combat German science, hundreds of officers trained and in training, a generous response to all bond, Y. M. C. A. campaigns, etc. Yale's material sacrifice, as emphasized by the glorious and steadily growing Roll of Honor, has been worthy of her best tradition. Thus far has the war pervaded the material side of college life. War psychology is a curious thing. It is not snobbish. It is exalted egoism. And such hysteria has touched our college life mildly. Everybody seems inclined, if possible, to make egregious asses of themselves. In a year when one would expect a closer union for common purposes, there have been more petty quarrels, more silly misunderstandings, more mean spirit in trifles than the College has ever seen. Discussions tend to become acrimonious, college politics are bitter, criticism of anything is greeted with contempt. This is lamentable, but it is quite natural. It is war psychology. The attitude nearly every individual unconsciously assumes is this: "I am patriotic. I believe that X is unnecessary and not consonant with the most efficient patriotism. B believes that X is perfectly harmless and perhaps useful. Therefore B is unpatriotic." And he comes out and declares in veiled and parliamentary terms that X is a menace to the nation and that B's motives are pacifist and unpatriotic. Of course, in this analysis there is a measure of exaggeration. But on the whole, the fundamental truth is there. Anything affecting college life, such as the Prom. problem, extra-curriculum activities, the proposed R. O. T. C. schedule, has occasioned volumes of communications, editorials, and articles in the News. Poor taste has often characterized these discussions, bitterness always. For Heaven's sake! let us keep a level head. We may not agree with each other, but there is no need for insulting the next fellow. We still have a sense of humor and a sense of proportion. Let us keep them intact. This war will last a long time. Many of us, perhaps, before it is over will be sleeping a last deep sleep, rancor and discussion forgotten. And if the war ends soon, if peace once more calms the fever of our life, in the cold light of reason may we not all be revealed as fools? Hardly a day passes now without hearing of some friend, some Yale man, who has passed the last great test. It makes us conscious that, while as patriots we must fight the Prussian, as Yale men we must uphold a fine tradition. Let us uphold it as gentlemen and let us recognize that intolerance and an intellectual reign of terror are not thinkable in a cultured community, and that criticism, even when unwarranted, is entitled to respect and to consideration. John F. Carter, Jr. |