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SIR,—The airy superiority of Mr. Callendar's letter is a little difficult to accept.
Happy, indeed, but how precocious, the adolescent of is, who could fully appreciate the matchless subtlety of Stendhal's prose. La Chartreuse de Parme may indeed appear purely a romantic story to those who skim through its pages, when it is necessary to weigh each word and sentence fully to savour the delicate irony of the author's intention.
If I remember rightly, Mr. Derek Verschoyle said that Stendhal was his favourite novelist, and that considered opinion can hardly have been based on memories of early youth. Has Mr. Callendar done Stendhal the honour of re-reading Le Rouge et le Noir—in my opinion a far better book than La Chartreuse de Parme—and is his mature intelligence unable to cope with that?
There is no reason why Mr. Callendar should like or appreciate Stendhal. But he should be chary of using such phrases as "impossible heroics," "almost childish unreality," "exaggerated overpainting of every scene," and finally extreme boredom in connexion with this great author.—Yours faithfully,
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