[_2 May '08_]
A few weeks ago I claimed to be the discoverer of Mr. Wilfred Whitten as a
first-class prose writer. I relinquish the claim, with apologies. Messrs.
Methuen have staggered me by sending me Mrs. Laurence Binyon's "Nineteenth
Century Prose," in which anthology is an example of Mr. Whitten's prose.
Though staggered, I was delighted. I should very much like to know how
Mrs. Binyon encountered the prose of Mr. Whitten. Did she hunt through the
files of newspapers for what she might find therein, and was she thus
rewarded? Or did some tremendous and omniscient expert give her the tip? I
disagree with about 85 per cent. of the _obiter dicta_ of her preface, but
her anthology is certainly a most agreeable compilation. It shows, like
sundry other recent anthologies, the strong liberating influence of Mr.
E.V. Lucas, whose "Open Road" really amounted to a renascence of the
craft.
And here is the tail-end of the extract which Mrs. Binyon has perfectly
chosen from the essays of Mr. Whitten:
"...The moon pushing her way upwards through the vapours, and the scent of
the beans and kitchen stuff from the allotments, and the gleaming rails
below, spoke of the resumption of daily burdens. But let us drop that
jargon. Why call that a burden which can never be lifted? This calm
necessity that dwells with the matured man to get back to the matter in
hand, and dree his weird whatever befall, is a badge, not a burden.
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