ELLEN ANDERSEN GHOLSON GLASGOW

[1874- ]

ROSEWELL PAGE

ELLEN GLASGOW, the novelist, was born in Richmond, Virginia,

on April 22, 1874. On her father's side she comes of that Scotch-Irish stock which, settling in the Valley of Virginia, made that section famous and sent forth its children to render the whole South illustrious. On her mother's side she belongs to that stock which in peace and war have been notable in the annals of the State for thought and action. This is a good setting for the picture of this Virginia girl who stands in the opinion of some by the side of Mrs. Wharton and Mrs. Ward.

How and where she got the information upon the questions of which she writes, are the same questions asked about Fanny Burney and those other precocious women who have surprised the world with their work and made it feel the strength that has come forth at the mouth of babes. For at an age when George Eliot had just begun. her work, this woman has published half a dozen notable books.

An old garden, an old library, and association with people of ideas and ideals are potent influences in the formative period of any life. Add to these the intimate knowledge of the most revolutionary and emotional period in the life of a brave people who have suffered and been strong, and see the effect upon a child of clear perception, strong will, and tireless energy. A successful future might be predicated thereupon in almost any field of endeavor. But with this, there may be that wanting which no critic can define—the one thing needful, and without which such incidents and environments may be but the marks of a high and charming, but unproductive culture.

The child taken by its mother to see the cook make the wonderful cake asked how it was done. When told the ingredients, he asked "What else?" "Then you put in the stuff." "And what is that?" asked the boy. "That's what makes the cake; but that's a secret!" So with Letters. Some call it genius; some, the divine afflatus. But by whatever term described, it is the secret which cannot be defined. It is the essential, the vision of the transfiguration, the gift of God. In 1897, when she was twenty-three years old, Miss Glasgow's first novel, 'The Descendant,' appeared. It was a notable book, but

was thought crude. Its tragic ending with Michael dead after Rachel had proclaimed that she would fight God for him was thought ultra, and the book was characterized as "disagreeable." The next year there appeared her book, 'The Phases of an Inferior Planet.' There is much in this book that grates upon those who like to read only of what is bright and cheerful. The scene of the book is laid in New York. It tells of the struggle, the heartache, and the suffering, of the street, the stage and the Church. It is in many respects real; but the keynote is one of pessimism.

In 1900 'The Voice of the People' was published. A story of political life in Virginia after the war between the States. It tells of conventions, elections, and their incidents. The hero finally gives his life to the mob for the criminal. The story is well told, and gives a picture of an unsettled period in the life of the people. In 1902 The Battle-Ground' was published. It is a picture of the South or of Virginia just before and during the war. The negroes, the children, the schools, the University, the war, the surrender, with the picture of General Lee at Appomattox, make a highly interesting book.

Two years later, in 1904, she published 'The Deliverance.' It is probably her best book. It is the country life of the South after the war. The story turns on the false admission of an act of murder and the service in the penitentiary by the hero to protect the boy who has committed murder, under the influence if not at the instigation of the hero, who thus makes the expiation and allows the boy who actually committed the crime to escape.

In 'The Wheel of Life,' which appeared in 1906, Miss Glasgow changes the scene from her own native country to New York. It is a "novel of manners." The smart set, the club life, the exclusive circle all figure in it. It is very interesting, but perhaps the best drawn characters in it are the Southerners, from which one may infer that her familiarity with these characters is greater than with the others, and may account for their more accurate portrayal. To quote what reviewers across the water think of this book, I cite the Spectator's observation that it is "extremely clever, very subtile and slightly disagreeable," and that of the Athenæum that "the average level of the tale is extraordinarily high; but it does not rise to anything that matters very much anywhere." The Spectator's criticism is the more just; for to picture the life of a great city or even a part of it accurately does matter.

In 1908, this year, her latest book, 'The Ancient Law,' appears. The hero is a Wall Street dealer who has served a sentence in the State prison for having violated the law in relation to honest business dealing, and spends his life making atonement therefor.

The heartlessness of the business world, its selfishness and narrowness, and the effect on morals and manners are well shown, as is the shiftlessness and thriftlessness of those gentle Virginia people who, dwelling under new conditions, maintain a semblance of a past life which was to some an incentive to action, and to others the goadings of despair.

In 1902 Miss Glasgow published a small volume of poems, 'The Freeman and Other Poems,' characterized by strength and feeling rather than by imagination. Since that time she has published some promising fugitive pieces in the magazines.

To sum up the work that this writer has done, one may say that it is characterized by painstaking effort, by strength, and sincerity of purpose. If her work does not appeal to certain readers, in spite of the fact that her books have been among the great sellers on their first appearance, it is due to the choice of subjects and the somber coloring with which they are clad.

That her books lack humor her greatest admirers cannot deny; but even in this criticism it must be remembered that humor is generally wanting in the tragedies of life. She has dealt with many of the hidden mysteries of life, and has dealt with them with a master's hand. Psychology is not generally a popular subject, and when it is put into a novel none but the hand of a master can make it endurable. Such subjects do not appeal to novel-readers generally, but this woman before she is thirty-five years old has laid hold on the great questions of human endeavor and handled them with a power that might only be expected of maturer age. In the choice and treatment of her subjects she is nearer to Ibsen than to George Eliot.

IN THE HOUR OF DEFEAT

From 'The Battle-Ground. Copyright by Doubleday, Page and Company. By per mission of the publishers.

As the dark fell Dan found himself on the road with a little company of stragglers, flying from the pursuing cavalry that drew off slowly as the darkness gathered. He had lost his regiment, and, as he went on, he began calling out familiar names, listening with strained ears for an answer that would tell of a friend's escape. At last he caught the outlines of a gigantic figure relieved on a hillock against the pale green west, and, with a shout, he hurried through the swarm of fugitives and overtook Pinetop, who had stooped to tie his shoe on with a leather strap.

"Thank God, old man!" he cried. "Where are the others?"

Pinetop, panting yet imperturbable, held out a steady

hand.

"The Lord knows," he replied. "Some of 'em air here an' some ain't. I was goin' back agin to git the flag, when I saw you chased like a fox across the creek with it hangin' on yo' back. Then I kinder thought it wouldn't do for none of the regiment to answer when Marse Robert called, so I came along right fast and kep' hopin' you would follow."

"Here I am," responded Dan, "and here are the colors." He twined the silk more closely about his arm, gloating over his treasure in the twilight.

Pinetop stretched out his great rough hand and touched the flag as gently as if he were a woman.

"I've fought under this here thing goin' on four years. now," he said, "and I reckon when they take it prisoner, they take me along with it."

"And me," added Dan; "poor Granger went down, you know, just as I took it from him. "He fell fighting with the pole."

"Wal, it's a better way than most," Pinetop replied, "an' when the angel begins to foot up my account on Jedgment Day, I shouldn't mind his cappin' the whole list with 'he lost his life, but he didn't lose his flag.' To make a blamed