St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1884-03-02
TALK

The announcement that z. P. Roe is to
contribute a serial for the Century is mat
ter of surprise to say the least. Either Mr..
Roe has improved in methods of style, in
spiration and construction sufficient to mer-
it his promotion to the audience of the Cen
t,0y, or he is accepted as the exemplar of a
school having wrought its own success, and
worthy Of a hearing in quarters where no
word of commentator ever gave its achiev
ment the least impetus. Perhaps Mr. Roe
will carry his earlier constituency with him,
to the desirable expansion Of the Ceptmy's
revenues, and thereby bring about a revival
in his former readers for choice magazine
literature. This concession to Mr.. Roe ap
pears to be generous reaction from former
difficult and tardy appreciation of meritorious
literary ventures. 1t may smack
too, of dread Of ignoring some effort des-
tined to be memorable in spite of every f1uc-
tuation of first recognition, and what pub
Usher wants to be associated with such
solecism as may give him unwelcome renown
as the earliest barrier of an authors advance
ment! Unwelcome renown indeed
Think Of Chesterfield bearing forever the
brunt Of Johnson's scathing letter to him.
Recall the sad stern words-''The notice
which you have been pleased to take of my
labors, had it been early, had been kind; but
it has been delayed till l am Indifferent, and
cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and can
not impart it; till am known, and do not
want it.
hope it is no very cynical asperity, not
to confess obligations where no benefit has
been received, or to be unwilling that the
public should consider me as owing that to
patron, which Providence has enabled me to
do for myself"
While Chesterfield was no publisher
he missed the chance of having
his imprint as patron on the dictionary which
is quite as celebrated for having caused this
letter, as for its eminent JohnsOnan author
ity.
The ways of literary success have changed
greatly within period of thirty years. Some
of the best things Hawthorne ever penned
were buried alive in obscure publications,
and now form the most delightful reading
in Twice-told Tales. Now the merest silhou-
cite of story found among his unsorted
manuscripts is priced as his Scarlet Letter
never was in the first years of its career. Not
Hawthorne alone, but other illustrious names
struggled to their present fame through sim
liar experiences. Perhaps the generosity of
the rebound in our dav gives much slip-shod
work hearing in an atmosphere where it
should be tabooed. The injustice is apt to be
in the overriding and the public is the suf-
ferer, because it -defers to certain
sources of opinion, certain oracles de-
cisive us to the best of every thing in litera-
ture-and if it finds f. P. Roe doing a di-
dactic serial in n leading representative
magazine, 1t is natural to feel surprised and
uncertain as to the fairness of the .whilom
verdict. Neither surprised nor uncertain,
however, when a writer has become famous,
and you see what Indifferent things can be
accepted from him, with conspicuous ella
ton moreover at the priv ilege Of securing it,
and paying roundly for it besides. Did YOU
read Walt Whitman's poem in Harper's
Magazine, ''With husky naughty lips, o,
Sear' The most charitable critic can only
regard it as sublimated balderdash, and yet
Walt has no difficulty in finding an author-
tative vent for his 'affiatus.'
Possibly because he has been under the
bans to stay his muse in the interests of de-
cency, until senility has come upon him,
and he is no longer dangerous, although
some of the old forbidden prestige clings to
his name, and gives him the interest of all
prohibited things.
SnnnOsa III I'm hut mi in
son had sent a diary of European travel to
he Century, just like that of the late James
A. Garfield, with the same bustling common
place, the same ignorance and the same can't
ing egotism what would be the chance for
distinction and remuneration? Not encour-
aging, surely. But with fame established
the process is easy-as easy as lying, it would
seem.
Some one says literature is the expression
of society, because society makes the
literature which it demands. Writers
spring up obedient to its
changing tastes, and as the tone of what is
widely read, so is the tone of society. l be-
lieve it.
Each week when copies of the Morbid
Firebrand are flung at every ones door,
with fragrant illustrations of previously
emotional people, in every circumstance of
the cruelest and bloodest Imagination, l
wonder what per cent. of the readers of the
gratuitous copy buy the continuance from
the breathless climax, where the red handed
avenger is left standing over the PROSTATE
form of his wonderfully disheveled victim.
We smile in the consciousness of our su-
periority to the addle pate patrons of such
papers, but in reality are we any better in
our dramatic tastes when the plays we APP
plaud seem to be dramatized from the very
sources we contemn.
AS a sample there is "Article 47,'
and what else is it but plot out of the Nor
bid Firebrand, without the least sympathy of
without pith or point or any per-
ceptible catching-on quality save the eXtrav-
agance and imposture Of puffery in the in
terest of a shamming actress. 'French,'
did you say? Yes, of verify, and there is
no absurdity of literature under the sun that
has not found its oracle, its inspiration, and
its mouthpiece in Paris.
There it is genius with big G, and
it gets crowned and seated in the Academic
IT'S the idolatry Of Bosh, and the glorfca-
ton of Cannon. Specifically one might
presume that there is no French literature,
no French drama except that of sentiment
and exaggeration and dirt. But the
dear, delightful country of France has
a sweet and tender and noble intellect, al
ways at work depicting the most elevated and
the most genuine aspects of its national life.
If it has Gerome for its Almes and Phrynes
it has a Millet for its Wheat sewers and its
Angelus. If it has Dumas for its Camille,
it has Racine for another Camille Tin Les
Horaces) instinct with purity. nobleness and