THE CENTENARY of the birth of Joseph Conrad has come
and gone without too much fuss being made about it by anyone. An article in The Times by Dr. Leavis—Printing House Square seems a long way from Downing College—scattered notices in other papers, a book or two—all this is rather desultory and betrays the usual British incapacity for making the best of obvious cul- tural assets. In Poland there are to be official celebration centred, so I believe, on Krakow, and one can imagine what the French would have made of a similar opportunity of enhancing their national reputation. An impressive delega- tion of French writers would have been sent, ambassadors would have made speeches, mem- orials been unveiled and surviving relatives of the author in question been decorated. Here we are less concerned with what, after all, is one of the greatest compliments that can be paid to a nation: the deliberate choice by a great writer of their language as a vehicle and their country as an abode. But it is pleasant to know that Conrad is still read and admired in his native country. I am told that in Warsaw the bookshops are full of his works, while the plaque on the house where he lived in Krakow survived German and Russian occupations.
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