The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1871-06-28
BoUGHT RKPuTAT1oNs

1hHE We nave the Inevitable Victor Hugo
out again before the bloody background of
ruined France, bowing and smirking like Sir
Andrew Aguecheek when dancing corantos
to show the excellent constitution of his
legs" "What is Paris?" cries Hugo; twhat
matter if, mad with starvation or crime. she
has cut her own throat, and is slowly bleed
ing to death9 What matter if great nation
has lost her place on the earth? Here am L |!
Look at me! mel Then, swelling with pa
triotism until he quite covers the ghastly
spectacle behind him, he proceeds to depict
himself as affording shelter to an imagi-
nary Communist. He calls upon all nations
to contemplate and do homage to himself and
his guest, ''two truly venerable figures"
Next he grows defiant, dares the world
ITO take this Communist from Hugo:" he
paints Hugo following him if taken; Hugo
sitting beside him on the prisoners bench,
and then he stands off and weeps over
Hugo's courage and heroism.
When we call to mind, without prejudice.
that the only actual work ever accomplished
by this Hugo was the writing of some Won
derful lyric poetry, and of some very graphic
and clever novels, which were advertised as
no others ever published, we are charitable
enough to suspect that this gasconade is not
the eruption, as it seems, of q monstrous dis
eased vanity, but a shrewd advertisement of
himself, and consequently of his wares. The
trade of boasting and self-advertisinp is
already well enough understood among us,
and, we regret to say, by none better than by
the men who profess to be the instructors of
the people both in press and pulpit. Outside
of the great cities the credulous public holds
out genial welcome to all literary or
devout reputations without a suspicion of
the means too often made use of to create
them. The journalist, or author, or sensational
preacher who finds Fame slow in bringing her
trumpet to her mouth, knows very we'll how
to jog her elbow. There is the ordinary
coarse expedient of a paid-for page in the
newest olives of Eminent Men," there are
innumerable anecdotes to be seen floating
through the PRESS there are adverse criticisms
written to order, angry newspaper dis
cussions, libel suits ''Notice your own
book, advised an eminent editor; cit is the
only way you can be secure of justice" The
system of laudation acts and reacts, too, like
circles in water. Nor is it only sham
pretenders who thus gild their tawdry reputa-
tions. There are among these men writers of
merit, and clergymen who are working
honestly to help their fellow-men We re-
ferred the other day to full-length statue,
exhibited in a Chestnut street window labelled
in choice running hand 'The Prisoners
Friend" Curiously enough, we thought it
intended for the wrong person, though the
right one really deserves the self-advertised
title; but he cannot refrain from thus thrust
ing his good deeds before the world. One
portrait of him represents angels, clothed in
convict garb, as crowning him while he enters
Heaven in glory. Now, perhaps we ought to
feel no more impatient disgust at this lack of
decent modesty in religious or literary men
than in others. Human nature finds praise,
or at least recognition, as necessary for it's
daily food as the body does bread; and when
the world seems bent on holding back ap-
plause until man is dead, it is a sore temp
tation to him to prick the sides of its
intent, particularly if his profession
has accustomed him to ride and direct the
sluggish beast. 1t would be useless to preach
to these self-advertisers the fact that the
deeds which ennoble men have no tangible
reward as their motive. They are more likely
to be accessible to another fact, which is
that the voice of the public is unerring in it's
final verdict on a man, and that the men of
press and pulpit among us who have been
awarded the highest places have been those
who worked solely for their work s sake and
who yet carry into their success the power of
sincere and grand humility.