Salem State University - Clipper Yearbook

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If it is said that Frances Hodgson Burnett cannot be fairly judged by the same standard because the aim of her books is social rather than personal, let us consider, for example, the Shuttle, where this seems most likely. Why should she wait until the problem is settling itself comfortably before showing it up? lVhy waste two-thirds of the book over the love affair of Betty and Mount Dunstan, which has nothing at all to do with it? Ilvhy, above all, make characters and circumstances so unreal that, whatever aim she has, it is but ineffectively carried out? H. P. G. Memories of Childhood Although I can remember very few things connected with my early life, those few things stand out vividly in my memory. Up to the time when I was tive or six years old, I had a second mother under the guise of my next door neighbor. She was a married woman of middle age, but childless. Although I loved her devotedly and was always eager to show her my new frocks, I was bashful and could, under no circumstances, be persuaded to go inside her house alone. My sister, two years my senior, was always induced to accompany me, and at such times she was forced to carry on the conversation, for I refused to talk. I can see myself now, seated on the couch in Mrs. Craigie's neat sitting-room, wear- ing a brand new dress, while Hortense fwhom my father very properly nicknamed Gossip j sitting beside me, told Mrs. Craigie the news , and I maintained a golden silence. On such visits, I invariably stayed until I was given something to eat, and then made an abrupt departure. One other thing I remember about my very early life. When I had occasion to come up the street crying-which was very often-I always waited until I reached the very gate of my house before I formally burst into tears. My motive was doubtless to prevent any possibility of my supply of tears being exhausted before I reached home and mother, for mother was the only person who could be absolutely relied upon to sympathize with all my little troubles. As I grew older, I associated more and more with people and gradually lost every vestige of bashfulness. I was a very homely child, but I don't think I realized just how homely I was, for strangely enough, I was very vain and proud. But pride comes before a fall and many a fall did my poor pride suffer. One experience in particular I shall never forget. It was a cold day and snow covered the ground. A number of my class- mates in the schoolyard were occupying the time before the bell rang to no greater advan- tage than rubbing their cheeks with snow to make them red. I immediately followed suit, and entered school at the beginning of the afternoon session with my cheeks aglow -at least in my imagination! I can't remember just what the first lesson of the after- noon was, but I do remember that I made it convenient to go up and down the aisle sev- eral times during the lesson for no other reason than that my rosy cheeks seemed to be attracting considerable attention. This attention was so very gratifying to me that I could not see that their gaze was not directed at my cheeks. What was my dismay when the teacher's short Take your seat! was followed by the information, scornfully contributed by a classmate, that-my petticoat was coming off 3 The floor did not open up and take me in, but oh, how I wished it would! Xever was an afternoon so long, as I sat there oblivious of surroundings, thinking only of what a ridiculous picture I must have made! When the session finally came to a close, I ran home with all speed and closeted myself in my room until supper time. I had learned a lesson. Although the more I think of it, the more laughable it appears, I hope I shall never again experience horrible feelings of shame and fallen pride, as on that afternoon. The following incident I shall never forget-because my sister will never allow 23

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definitely settled. Helena Richie and Robert Ferguson have different opinions on the matter, and we are left to ours. Nina's lover feels that he is justified in his course, and there is much justice on his side. Why should he not say it was nobody's business what his father did, that he had a right to lead his own life regardless of the past and let the dead alone? Then, too, in keeping silence, he is doing only what his mother had done to him. Mrs. Deland's custom of ending a novel with a doubt in the mind of the reader as to the final outcome of the story is in direct contrast to Mrs. Burnett's method. Mrs. Burnett, as well as most other writers, does not venture to leave a story with an unhappy ending, she would think it unsatisfactory. A broken engagement, a disappointed young man, a sad and heart-broken girl are not her idea of a proper ending for a story. Yet it is this ending that gives the story its effectiveness. The ending of the Awakening of Helena Richie is not simply the happy clearing up of all troubles. It is not with light-hearted joy, but with grave doubts and responsibilities resting upon her, that Hel- ena Richie leaves Old Chester. To Mrs. Burnett, a satisfactory ending must settle things to the discomfiture of the evil doers and the happiness of the good, as in the marriage of J oan and Derrick, Betty and Lord Mount Dunstan, and the victory over Dan Lowrie and Sir Nigel. To Mrs. Deland, a satisfactory ending requires the settling of a problem, -the awakening of Helena Richie, the determination of Nina's happiness, the course of Elizabeth and David. The great weakness of Mrs. Burnett's books lies in their unreality. Good and ad- mirable women do not always fall in love with equally good and admirable men, marry, and live happy ever after. Wicked people do not always meet with swift and proper punishment. No person like Betty Vanderpoel ever existed. If we could believe in her existence, it would not be a help nor inspiration to us to do so. She is so far above possibility that it would be of no use for anyone to try to be like her. People suffering from want do not always meet some one who is able and willing to supply all their needs and give them what they want most. In life, the suffering and poverty go on forever, and if in a few chance cases, things are made better, it makes little difference to the general mass of sufferers. Nothing could be more unlikely than the story of the Dawn of a Tomorrow. When did a rich man ever swoop down among a selected group of wretched but deserving poor, receive inspiration from them, and in retur11 carry out all their wishes? Mrs. Burnett depends upon wealth for most of her transformations rather than upon natural influences, as Margaret Deland does. Her characters do not change essentially, as Margaret Deland's do. Joan Lowrie is a good and admirable woman, whether she reads the Bible or not. 'fGlad never becomes any better or worse than she is before she meets Sir Oliver Holt, except that money enables her to lead a less wretclied life. Not a character in the Shuttle changes in any important particular. Mrs. liurnettls sct.tings, English and Scotch, are less familiar to us, and she uses a great deal of Scotch dialect and American slang. These features ought to make her books more interesting, and they do make them more interesting than they would be without, but Margaret Deland, with ordinary settings and no unusual language, is really the more fascinating of the two. It is the reality which makes her so. She shows what ordinary people can do in ordinary circumst.ances. It may be objected that Dr. Laven- der was too good to exist. Margaret Deland did not mean him as a character to be emu- lated. hat rather as an influence. lt is the human, erring, struggling ones, and most of hr-r characters are such, in whom we see our likeness. NVith them we can turn to Dr. Lavendf-r tn settle Holm- of our problems for us. As keen as George Eliot in reading character because she is able to see all sides at once, and as skillful in portraying it be- cause she does not have to depend upon direct characterization, Margaret Deland has infused a strong purpose into her works and has made them a powerful influence. 22

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me to. It all happened one lovely moonlight night! I had teased and teased for fully half an hour for just one ride on my sister's bicycle. She refused me persistently, al- though she had but one objection, which seemed to me to be very inadequate. As it was dusk, I might collide with somebody and bring the bicycle to harm. fOf course any injury I might suffer would be of secondary importance.j I believe I had to cry for fully ive minutes before she finally acceded grudgingly to my wishes. Despite all my confidence in my own safety, I had been up and down the street only a few times when I suddenly collided with a young man on his bicycle and-clash! I went down on the ground. I bemoaned the fate that left me without injuries and broke the front rim of that precious bicycle. I told you so, greeted me on my sad return home, and I am sure it was a long, long time before I teased for another ride on the bicycle on moonlight nights! These are only a few of the many incidents of my eventful youth-I will leave the rest to the reader's imagination. M. R. H. The Brook Harkl do you hear a low tinkling sound Deep in a cool, shady glen, Far away on the green mountainside, Away from the haunts of men? 7 Into the sunshine a tiny brook bounds, Leaping and sparkling With glee, Merrily, cheerily rippling on, Dancing away to the sea. O'er the cool mosses and through the green ferns Bubbles this glad little brook, Capturing the sunbeams wherever it goes Through many a pebbly nook. See how the roguish old wind is about, Chasing the ripples in play 5 Into the shadows they dimple and melt, All through the long summer's day. Night with her cool dusky mantle of sleep, Silently steals o'er the landg Still, nothing daunted, the gay little brook Triekles merrily over the sand. Soft breezes blowing from over the hills Whisper a low gentle straing Fontent and happy the little brook now lic-hoes its drowsy refrain. .Ks the stnrs fade and bright morning sun .Xwukens the birds from their sleep, llaneing :md flashing the little brook whirls lbown in the pools clear and deep. On through the sunlight it qnivcrs and glides. Nlnrm'ring in sweet eestnsyg .loyously singing its gay little song, llurrying on to the sea. I. S. 24