Damaged Souls
by . Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1923. 8vo. xvi + 285 pp. $3.00.
THIS book tends to rob us of our fear of the Judgment Day. Most of us have thought that we stand at least as good a chance as Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr and Ben Butler and Mr. Roosevelt’s ‘filthy little atheist,’ Tom Paine. But when the last page of this book is read — and it must be, if the first be read — we find the judge with his arm around the whole group. ‘ He judges, not as the judge judges, but as the sun, falling round a helpless thing.’ And to every man with a heart this book proves that Mr. Bradford’s judgment makes its own approach to the ultimate.
One of the infrequent joys of being an American to-day is the expectation of a new volume on Americans by Mr. Bradford. Far and away the most notable biographer in the country, he uncovers more than any living man, perhaps, — more than judges and legislators, —the richness and charm of our American heritage. If only every worker in Americanization would take a course in his seven reverent and brilliant volumes. Reverent and brilliant — the combination explains his authority and alas! his uniqueness. For each one of his characters he supplies the background, he superintends the pose and turns on the appropriate lights. But he does n‘t presume to take the stage. He does n’t exclude contemporaries — what they say is duly noted; you even catch a glimpse of an occasional biographer in the wings; but the man himself has the main part and is responsible for the final impression. Under skillful handling, however, much of his talk is muted and most of what he does falls into shadow. As a chiaroscurist, Mr. Bradford excels Plutarch. Out of most thorough reading he plucks the characteristic utterances of each man and puts these jewels into magically harmonious settings. It is not his fault if some of the diamonds are paste. His sketches are not biographies; they are spiritual silhouettes — psychographs, as he correctly insists on calling them. The more one knows of the character depicted, the deeper is apt to be the appreciation; but every imaginative and cultivated reader is able, through Mr. Bradford’s fidelity, to enter into intimate companionship with the most notable Americans.
This volume is one of Mr. Bradford’s best. With the exception of the shallow Arnold, who should sit again for his picture, each of these ‘damaged souls’ seems to embody some common human trait. Burr is the image of frivolity, Randolph of opposition, Paine of rebellion, Barnum of the love of notoriety. Brown of fanaticism, Butler of vainglory. The reader may at times enter a caveat. If Brown and Paine are ‘damaged souls,’ who can or would escape? But who would be indifferent to the sentence If he were allowed audience with this judge w ho confesses that the surest sign of his own innate depravity was the singular tenderness with which they [damaged souls] inspired him, and who announces, ‘I sometimes wish I had the courage and the character to be a rebel myself!’
A. W. VERNON.