ITS DISCREPANCIES.

17

shortcomings and overgoings. What most concerns us at present, however, is this-that, here in England, there is-I may venture to say so without claiming for myself exclusive information-little real literary criticism. We get opinions instead; and week by week there is opportunity of being amused at the wide diversity between them. Except in rare instances, when an author appears of such transcendent merit that not the worst critic in England can gainsay his genius, two verdicts on a book are seldom alike. One writer informs his reader that the work under his review is the most powerful he has ever read; another, that he has examined it with great care, and cannot find a line he could conscientiously praise.

It is very commonly, and, to judge from these discrepancies, not unreasonably believed that friendly bias or personal malice influences the tone of the critic, and prompts him to praise or disparage the work he is reviewing. When party feeling rose high, this probably was the case; but I conclude, from accurate attention to facts, that the belief is now rarely well grounded. Critics do not at the present day, as they did at the commencement of the century, attack a writer they have never seen simply because he belongs to a coterie with which they are at enmity, or from which they have themselves been excluded. Personality has fortunately ceased to be an

с

observable feature in our literature. The time when the personal peculiarities, or moral qualities, or obscure birth of an author influenced the judgment formed of his works has happily gone by-never, let it be hoped, to re-appear. One may still detect occasional revival of the custom; but the improved taste of the public mind preserves us from the risk of being subjected to that truculent, openly-avowed sort of disdainful personality which in the last generation characterized the writings of our predecessors. It now displays itself only at long intervals, and in a very modified form; it is latent; keen; usually directed against a rival and friend; and is meant less for readers than for the edification of him at whom it is aimed. With the prevailing belief that criticism owes its present deplorable state to the frequency with which critics suffer their judgment to be swayed by personal feeling I am not inclined to agree. Prudential reasons, if nothing higher, act as a too influential check upon the display of jealousy or favouritism. In rare instances, bias with regard to the writer reviewed undoubtedly regulates the proportion of praise and blame awarded to his book— the editor or critic being content to sacrifice the legitimate influence of his paper for the sake of gratifying his predilections, just as there are theatrical managers who are ready to withdraw a successful

JEALOUSY AND FAVOURITISM.

19

piece from the bills because, being actors as well as managers, their rôle is not sufficiently prominent to gratify their inordinate self-love. A journal regulated by feeling would not, however, exist for six months; and this is so well known to press managers that such literary wrong-headedness as would make the attempt is daily becoming less frequently exhibited. Indeed, were I to judge solely from my own literary experience, I should say it has entirely ceased. I have more than once reviewed books by men whom I have known to be in feud with the editor of the journal in which my criticism would appear; but no hint has, even implicitly, ever been given me as to the treatment it was desired the works should receive. On the contrary, I am happy, for the honour of English critics, in being able to recal numerous instances of a quite contrary tendency. Authors not unnaturally are apt to suppose every notice of their works that is not laudatory is designedly disparaging, and the public side with them in abusing the two or three journals which persistently and consistently refuse to be of so angelic a nature as to be able to detect merit in the books that week after week are offered for their imprimatur; but in the present state of literature amongst us there is unfortunately little opportunity for the manifestation of undue severity. Excessive

leniency, rather, is the vice with which periodical criticism can with more justice be charged. In addition to the tendency inhering in some minds, to deal tenderly with one who, in demanding their judgment upon himself makes them his patrons and benefactors, there is the incidental probability that the critic of a work is personally known to the author, or that he has succumbed to the importunities he was subjected to by the author's friends. The experienced eye at once detects the criticism that results-as, indeed, it was meant to be detected. The praise is abundant, but provokingly vague; the censure is deferentially advanced; the whole criticism is so indeterminate that it might be applied to almost any book in the language. Potentialities and not performance is the theme. We read of the author having evinced "decided indications of possessing marvellous power;" of much to be found in the work that cannot fail to exert "direct influence on the age;" of the critic not being surprised to hear "great things of Mr. Author hereafter;" and of the great delight he has for the present in "cordially recommending the work to his readers;" how it is "the book of the season." Even here, however, in his dishonesty, the critic is too honest to point out defects as beauties, or indicate specific but imaginary merits. He contents himself with overlooking short

ITS SLIGHT WEIGHT.

21

comings and expressing a hope that the author's future works will be better than that he is reviewing, and will not disappoint the expectations he has formed from this.

If, then, we may in great measure credit critics with the first requisite of criticism, the avoidance of partialities, and acquit them of the discredit of exhibiting malice and undue commendation in their judgments-how are we to account for the low condition of their art in England? How is it that the weight exercised by critical opinion is so slight that it is unappreciable? Readers, finding it impossible to consult every book, in order to ascertain the commodity they want, are obliged to resort to the critical reviews for assistance, and the assistance is in such matter equivalent to directions. What we call criticism has, I am aware, enormous power. It can sell off an edition of a book; by reiterating praise (or blame) it can send a book through several editions ; it can spoil the sale of a book it ignores. Critics, however, confound the power they possess of selling a book with the ability to determine its merits. They deceive themselves but not their readers; each of whom, while conscious that the opinion of his guide does not influence himself in forming his verdict, still believes that it influences others, and thus favours the delusion that power is weight. Authors,