ABSTRACT
Of these two great writers whose stars have led them to antipodal frontiers, which will the future choose? We are not in a position to answer. Possibly the future will perceive the value of Mark Twain's four-square pioneers, whereas, when America has absorbed her nostalgics, Henry James's people may look like odd and incredible figments. We rather think that some place may be found for them beside other exemplars of disillusion-Pater's Marius and Byron's melancholy Childe. And obviously the ultimate preference will depend largely upon whether the choice is by life or by art. On either score, Mark Twain's chances seem pretty good, while the fate of Mr. James's delicate art seems to be involved in the hesitancy that affiicts his own heroes.
