with the indiscrimate distribution of praise which finds its motive in the interests of friendship or cliquism. The bias of particular coteries is not favourable to the higher kind of criticism. No matter whether the clique or party be political or artistic, or what not, the tendency of its judgments is to exalt those of its own inclining and depreciate those who hold different views. This used to be much more noticeable than it is now. The bias of party at one time shaped itself into ludicrous self-applause and vindictive condemnation. There were in the literary world of not very long ago, Montagues and Capulets, between whom raged feuds none the less deadly because they were veiled in civil phrase, and because the hand that wielded the weapon was gloved in the softest velvet. Happily, the vendetta of letters is becoming a thing of the past. The more glaring evils of critical cliquism have disappeared. Now and then, one meets with an indiscreet panegyric of some worthless work, or an ignorant puff of some wretched player, but blundering verdicts of this kind rarely appear in periodicals of any reputation or standing. To meet with puffing in all the wild luxuriance of its perfect growth one must go to America. The following is an exact and un embellished copy of a gushing criticism which appeared not long ago in the leading paper of one of the Western cities:-" The voice of this divine cantatrice would be capable, in the most literal sense of Milton's majestic words, of 'creating a soul under the ribs of death.' It now rises in mellifluous trills, and now falls like the dying whispers of a melodious seraph. Her power compasses all variations of human mood, and her ripe intelligence grapples with every phase of musical expression. Nothing is too lofty for her reach, nothing too simple for her condescension. The souls of her listeners are wafted at her sweet will, and their emotions moulded under the influence of her enrapturing song. Nothing like it has been heard outside the gates of Paradise; it leaves us prostrate in a delirium of satisfied joy, and for years after, the memory of its ecstatic strains will haunt every waking hour and people. our dreams with melody." The subject of these flattering remarks was a third-rate actress in an opera bouffe company. CHAPTER VIII. THE ANONYMITY OF CRITICISM. N criticism, as in most other departments of journalistic opinion, custom has given its august sanction to the use of the impersonal "we." At all events it is so in England. It is an exception to the general rule for a critic to put his name to his article, or even initials by which he may be identified. To all intents and purposes he is an anonymous writer. His individual opinion, whatever it may be worth, goes forth to the world with all the authority and influence of the newspaper or magazine for which he writes. It is not altogether unnatural that people who are severely handled by the critics should cry out against this system. Half a century ago, when the personality of journalism was nothing short of a public scandal, there may have been good reason for their indignant protest against the licence afforded to anonymous scrib blers. But in the conditions of journalism to-day there is very little which can be urged with cogency against the practice of publishing unsigned criticisms. Entire responsibility for whatever is written is assumed by the editor or conductors of the paper in which the criticism appears. The author who considers himself unfairly dealt with can obtain the same redress against the publisher as he could have obtained against the critic. No doubt the anonymous system magnifies the weight and importance of individual opinion, and if incompetent men are employed, a grievous injury may be done, not only to the person criticised but to public taste as well. As a witty writer has put it : "How much an editor would lose, if he, Wrote little 'I' instead of mighty 'We !' And shrouds from scorn his individuality! A respectable journal, however, takes care, or at any rate endeavours, to employ as its critics competent and impartial men. If its selection is not always fortunate,-if it sometimes entrusts the delicate work of passing literary judgment to an ignorant, or partial, or careless man, it is bound to pay the penalty in loss of influence among those who are competent to review and correct its verdicts. The idea that critics themselves are afraid of putting their names to their work is simply absurd. In the present position of criticism there is nothing to warrant the presumption of such cowardice. The only people who, in a system of signed articles would be likely to shrink from the ordeal, are those who are conscious of their inability to deal with the subject entrusted to them. So far as such a system kept impostors out of the field, and curbed the licence of captious incompetence, it would possess a distinct advantage over the existing one. But the prominence given to individual opinion, on the other hand, would savour of presumption and vanity. There is something a little offensive in the idea of any man, not of the first rank and authority, setting himself up as a judge and distributing praise and blame with unsolicited freedom. With such a multitude of organs of opinion as exist nowadays, it is simply impossible for a tithe of them |