THE EQUINOX
A Boox or Preraces. By H. L. Mencken. Alfred A. Knopf. $2.00.
Praise ye the Lord. Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise in the con-
gregation of saints.
Beuteve me, I had hardly hoped to live to see this day when a book of criticism
like this comes into my hand.
Let Israel rejoice in him that made him: let the children of Zion be joyful in
their King.
There are plenty of brains in America, and plenty of educated brains, but it
is extremely rare to find these two combined in one being.
Let them praise his name in the dance: let them sing praises unto him with the
timbrel and harp.
Mr. Mencken narrowly escapes the cleverness which is the Hall-mark of the
silver mind, but he does escape it.
For the Lorp taketh pleasure in his people: he will beautify the meek with sal-
vation.
Mr. Mencken’s perception may be gauged by just one piece of navigation, the
Straits of Ibsen. In 1901 I said of Ibsen, “he is the Sophocles of manners.” And
elsewhere spoke of him as “a purely Greek dramatist.”
Mr. Mencken says, “the fabulous Ibsen of the symbols (no more the real Ibsen
than Christ was a prohibitionist).” “His shining skill as a dramatic craftsman—
his one authentic claim upon fame.”
Let the saints be joyful in glory: let them sing aloud upon their beds.
His robust joy of castigating curs with his contempt swells a pean in my heart.
“Consider one fact: the civilization that kissed Maeterlinck on both cheeks and
Tagore perhaps even more intimately. . . .”
Let the high praises of God be in their mouth, and a two-edged sword in their
hand;
To execute vengeance upon the heathen, and punishments upon the people;
To bind their kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters of iron;
To execute upon them the judgment written: this honour have all his saints.
Praise ye the Lorn. AC
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