IV

WE have now seen what, in brief, are the contentions of the academic critic; and we must admit that if his claim, that criticism rests for its authority on the same basis as ethics and law, be established, it is expedient for us, if not incumbent upon us, to give criticism its due influence in the formation of our literary and artistic tastes and judgments. Could we once bring ourselves to do this, we should find that the parallel between criticism and its sister semi-sciences holds very closely. Just as there are some ethical principles acted upon by all civilized men, others acted upon chiefly by certain races, others only by individuals of a high type of character, so there are principles of criticism universal, racial, and individual in their application. For example, all men have practically agreed at least till the present generation to regard poetry as superior, on the whole, to prose; the French have practically agreed that the drama which preserves the unities is the best for their stage; most highly cultured individuals are agreed in giving a greater value to the sonnet as a

poetic form than would be accorded it by the average reader. In the light of these facts we must infer that there are some principles of criticism so binding upon us that we ought to endeavor not only to make an individual application of them, but also to inculcate them in our children; others which, as Americans, Englishmen, Frenchmen, or what not, it will probably be to our advantage to follow; still others which, in all likelihood, will appeal to us more and more as we advance in culture. In short, no man who is seeking to develop his literary and artistic taste and judgment can afford to be a thoroughgoing impressionist any more than he can afford to be an absolute individualist in his daily life and conduct.

If there be any force in the above reasoning, it is plain that something at least of M. Brunetière's teaching may be taken to heart by us all. The duty of fitting ourselves not merely to enjoy the great poetry of the world, but to prefer it to all other forms of æsthetic enjoyment, may be insisted upon with advantage. All men will not attain to such enjoyment or such preference; but this is no reason why all men should not be admonished to make the effort to attain. No man follows perfectly the law of Christ; yet

井

no preacher ceases to uphold that law as an ideal pattern of conduct. It is clear, then, that no man or child should be allowed to say complacently, as one so often hears it said, "I don't care for poetry." Perhaps they cannot be made to care for it; but their complacency may at least be shaken.

Again, it is just as certain that there are higher and lower genres of poetry as that poetry is superior, on the whole, to prose. Hence it is our duty to fit ourselves to prefer the higher genres to the lower. This, again, we shall not all attain to. Some people are so constituted that elegiac musings and speculations, such as those that make up the In Memoriam, will always attract them more than the stately march of the Paradise Lost, or the subtle beauty and keen interest of the Divine Comedy. On the other hand, one can find persons who do not care at all for such admirable elegiac verse as Lamartine's Le Lac. In either case, we may be unable to correct the bias; but we need not fail to point out that it is an unfortunate one, if any reliance may and should be placed upon the collective wisdom of the past and the trained judgment of the present.

But our teaching need not stop here. There will always be persons who will care

more for the subject-matter of a book than for the style in which it is written; yet we should none the less insist that it is the duty of every man to fit himself to tell a good style from a bad, to enjoy an excellent style, and to eschew, whenever it is possible, the books that are clumsily written. An insistence upon this matter of taste in style has, after many generations, placed French literature in its present position of supremacy: a failure to insist upon it has left German literature where it is to-day. If we Americans and Englishmen will only cultivate our taste for style, and will remember, too, that principle upon which Matthew Arnold was forever harping, that great literature needs a sound subject-matter, we shall all be saved from many bizarre judgments and opinions. We shall not then be able to rank Whitman, true and great poet though he often was, among the dii majores of song, nor to imagine that Tennyson or Wordsworth or Shelley can rightly be mentioned in the same breath with Milton.

Yet, although we shall do well to respect the academic critic when he bids us distrust our own judgments and consult the authoritative opinions of the best critics past and present, it does not follow that we must all

endeavor to inform ourselves about the evolution of genres, the details of literary history, or any of the numerous matters that assume great importance in the eyes of the professional critic. Few of us have the time for such minute study: fewer still have any inclination for it. One can love and get pleasure from flowers without knowing much about botany; similarly, one can love and get pleasure from literature without being a trained critic. The botanist and the critic, to be sure, ought, unless they become dryas-dusts, to have decided advantages over the mere lovers of flowers and of books; but the latter are in no bad way if their minds and souls have been enlightened in a broad and general manner. This broad and general enlightenment will begin to dawn

upon us the moment we are brought in contact with great literature and art; provided always that our tendency to excessive individualism is checked by proper training. Such being the case, we are in duty bound to range ourselves by the side of those academic critics who offer to furnish this training which, as we have just seen, is by no means technical in character.