LYTTON STRACHEY

In 1918 a little volume entitled "Eminent Victorians" swept over England. Theretofore the Victorian age had been a sad business full of inhibitions and morality, the study for psychologists and professors of literature, the butt of disillusioned liberalism. But with the advent of this book into the world the dying years of the Nineteenth Century became an intensely human period peopled by men and women of flesh and blood. Lytton Strachey with his sardonlc pen had traced in a handful of fascinating actors upon a stage where before there had been only a dingy backdrop. But his contribution to literature was even greater than his kindness to a misused epoch, for he blazed a trail along which other men might follow.

It had long been the custom to write of popular heroes with a zeal which prolonged their life and works through six or eight carefully documented volumes. While such biography yielded much rich material to scholars it was a tedious task for the laymen. The average reader cared little for the diplomatic achievements of a Disraeli, but he was most anxious to know what manner of man he might be. This desire Strachey was able to fulfill. He employed sufficient facts to block in his background and enough psychology to sketch in the personality. His first work was followed by a life of Queen Victoria and later by "Elizabeth and Essex." All were delightful to read and relatively informative.

Other writers, noticing his marked success, followed after him. Maurois replaced the manifold volumes of Monnypenny and Buckle with a slim life of Disraeli full of anecdotes, personal revelations and a little history. Many people were forced, by the charm of the writer, to learn about a statesman of whom they had known virtually nothing. Ludwig in Germany began turning out his various biographies of almost any prominent figure that came to mind. There are many others who have performed similar public services.

It has been frequently argued that these men do more harm than good, that they create false impressions, misuse the facts of history, draw largely upon fluent imaginations. In part these accusations are doubtless true, but much can be said in opposition. Strachey has brought to life many men and women that hitherto have passed unnoticed save by academicians. He has given many people an idea of a time other than their own. He has made of Elizabeth more than a Queen who smiled vaguely down upon the youth Shakespeare. And he has given many happy, instructive hours.

Lytton Strachey's death has robbed literature of a talented witty pen at a time when there is much need of such a pen, for the field which he developed is being invaded by a host of catch penny writers. The loss of his adroit penetration and his aloof irony is only compensated by the literary legacy which he has left to his colleagues.