New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1876-04-02
For the Sunday Repu I'd, ican.l
THE MODERN CRITIC.

StcI CuoUIluScu VIC Will uuO Cn8C IL le
''the art of judging with propriety litera-
~ performance or any prod uction of the
fine arts" We know full we'll that Web
ster was learned man. but we are forced
to acknowledge that his lea rning was of
the old-scheol limitation. He was Q name.
sake of that venerable old gentlem an
whose world was an ark, consea emily the
standard "Cnabridged' was an abridge-
ment of the ancients.
Our "latter-day saint, the moder critic.
stands upon no such c:rcumscribed basis.
His collection of critical laws shine forth
in golden glory with lad libit um, ad intni-
tum," for their watchwOrd. In this pro-
gressive age the merits or faults of pro-
duction are of minor note when compared
with the beauties or inf1maties of the pro
Queer.
The advent Of book, painting ORA
statue into the literary or art circles Of to-
day ia the grand signal for war. The critic
seizes his victim like famished bird of
prey. Personality must first be considered,
social position must DE defined, proofs of
ancient lineage must be evinced. lis it a
man or woman" says old Miss Scatter.
brain. who was his grandfather" roars
Sir Pompous Pedigree. will it do to praise
him'" whispers sleek Major Policy. (Which
church does he belong to-" chimes Deacon
Belfrey. who did he vote for?" demands
Senator Ballotbox, and By these and vari-
GUS other modes do.we of the nineteenth
century cunnlngly dissect our arts and
artists.
The tactics of our modern critic are both
brilliant and valisd. Oh, generous and NO.
bic cir at is excellent to have a giants
strength" but why is it that with all your
craft, cunning and bOasted power, you are
so dain ty in your tastes, SO delicate in your
cruelty' How eagerly you leap upon the
modest, shrinking violet, and with the mus
cular force of your gigantic heel grind out
the precious hopes folded therein. The
sturdy oak you pass in silence, but the
crushed flower that sinks mutely to the
earth is testimony Of the scattering
mockery of your satire.
The world is familiar with the sad his
tory of Keats, the English poet, whose
early death is said to lie at the door of
Lord Brougham, who wrote the unfeeling
criticism, in the agony of reading which
Keats broke blood vessel. He was buried
IL home. and previous to his death he
directed this heart-broken epitaph to be
engraved upon his headstone: Here lies
one whose name was written in water"
Equally shrewd and polite are the tricks
of irony now in vogue with our critic He
is nothing now unless cynical; and although
it suits his mood to feel savage, that would
be inelegant, and he is gentleman If a
book appears with now and then a fault.
and the writer does not come under critical
law of exemption, he need never expect any
just mention of excellence. Woe to the
bright fancies, the holy sentiments, that
adorn its fair pages, for they will now re-
ceive the courteous but piercing dagger of
sarcasm.
But just let "a member of our church."
lone of our sect" whose "sire was knight
and his mother lady," leap from every
uoy iAAC AulO tuc WuIIiiuS vortex Oh the
literary world, and he is dealt with ten
derby. delcately! A book of poems by this
young ''ton OF ton," even though it is not
remarkable for Miltonic sublimity, is
warmly received for the sake of its good
intentions and-because ''ton If ton" is the
author. On the other hand, let some IN
known though powerful writer enter the
field rs rival of fortunes favored ton"
and he is snubbed and sneered at by our
most gracious critic, who pronounces his
brilliant ideas rusty and charges his
memory with Astounding in "cobwebs."
Brave, equitable critic! Verify, this is a
goodly age in which we live; but in this
centennial year of our nations birth you
should give us new Webster, with new
lexicon, for the old words have lost their
meaning. Some one says that new ideas
turn old ideas topsy -turvy, and that this
world is but an idea turned topsy -turvy by
each successive age" Now, if this be true,
what will become of our critics ideas!
Surely, humanity is not capable of Judging.
All we know lie, if ever mortal man de-
serves canonization, it is "the modern
critic" VR
Back of Fredericksburg, Virginia. ia an
elevation called Mary's Heights. Here