Monsieur Henri Beraud is apparently unwilling to let an old tradition die. Instead of trusting a ponderous and modern law of libel to crash his annoying critics into silence he has polished up his grandfather's rapier, frothed slightly at the mouth, and challenged them en masse to a duel in the true Dumas style. As yet there are no indications that the editors who objected to Monsieur Beraud's new novel have entered into the spirit of the occasion by sending their seconds.

While admittedly a relic from a more spirited age much can be said for a custom of duelling among the litterati. The pen is perhaps mightier than the sword, but putting an opponent to his literary death in monthly instalments contrasts unfavorably with the joy of making one quick lunge which will silence him forever. And the latter is by far the more humane method, since it preserves the blasted litterateurs from a lingering death by starvation or an equally unfortunate turn to the plebian occupation of automobile salesman.

The crusading spirit of H. L. Mencken and George Jean Nathan might prove far more effective if these doughty warriors wielded rapiers rather than fountain pens, and shocked an apathetic world with flying gauntlets instead of with a satire which too often goes unperceived. On the other hand, the bitterness with which these gentlemen are wont to attack beloved American traditions might be considerably tempered by a realization that swift vengeance by a biting blade would probably follow an unguarded word.