Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1884-05-29
THELULLN FICTION WRITING.
Who Shall Succeed the Authors Now Pass
ing AWayS


Who Shall Succeed the Authors Now Pass
ing Away
Boston Herald.
They are all passing away, the fiction
writer's, who, from childhood to middle
age, made leisure hours enjoyable, and
as yet we see none to replace them, saws
the London Spectator. Dickens and
'Ihackeray, George Elliot and Trollope,
the Kingsleys and Charles Reade are
gone; and If we omit, as we suppose we
ought to do, Americans from the list,
there is only Mrs. Oliphant left who can
make us completely forget the pressure
Of the real, yet leave us with no lurking
sense of time wasted or mispent. Why
Is this? lis the change in ourselves, and
only the natural consequence of belong
ing to a generation which has grown
middle-aged and can no longer enjoy?
That will be said, and of course there is
truth IN 1t, but not much, for, after all,
the men of our generation are as sensi-
tive to poetry as ever; read grave itera-
ture, If it is only original, with appetite
witness the demand at Nudes for Mr.
Maurice's Life-and crave for original
fiction with even an undue desire. The
lull In the production of first class fiction
and, indeed, of good literature generally,
is very striking. There are books COM
ing out without end, some Of them good
books, scores of them reaching a fair aver
age of originality, and adding their quota
of knowledge or of enjoyment to the gen
eral store; but nobody gives US enchain-
| ing fctions. There never were very
many, but the supply never ran out so
completely as it has done recently, when
we have been driven to think natura-
lists slightly tedious account of the In
dian of Guiana-most insignificant folk,
hardly 10000 in all-the most nutritive
book of a year. It is partly accident, we
dare say the reading world standing by
to watch one of those interval which di-
vide literary periods, and give second
rate men their long hoped for chance
and we know that year, or even a de-
cade, is as short time in the history Of
literature as in the history of people OF
of timber tree. But suppose it should
prove otherwise! There have been lone
lulls in English literary history-and the
Americans are English, and a century
and half produced in literature next tC
nothing. The English world is growing
American, reading newspapers nsatiably
learning to watch foreign politics as
Americans do, as if they were operas per.
formed for their amusement, or, worse
still, fights in the arena, and listening to
the whole world with thirsty curiosity
which is not enObling, or at all events is
not conducive to any such concentration
of thought as new production requires
The news, too, is chiefly distracting
! There is no great cause about which men
grow passionate, no immense event that
has happened, even if it be true that i'm
mense events necessarily produce fine
literature-Which, after the experience
of America since the civil war and Of
Germany since she attained unity, we
should seriously doubt. The religious
movement, though most marked and in.
teresting, tends to Dissolve old faiths, not
produce new ones, and has not shown
the vivifying power witnessed 300 years
ago, when the old paganism struck its
last blow, and miracle of miracles-toa
world that seemed dying of sterlity, the
renaissance arrived. The signs of another
renaissance are not VISIBLE yet either
in literature or art, and it may be thai
none will arrive in time for the middle
age, who hencefOrth must put up til
death with work poor in itself, and which
seems to minds once fed upon the strong
est meat, and naturally little unsuscep
tible to the new, poorer than it is. Sup
pose that for 80 years publishers must be
content with studies of the old, with re
prints such as now deluge the wOrld-tC
the lovers of thought, who hate these
costly heavy octavos and editions de luxe
and with such books of observation al
travel and physical inquiry, and politica
watchfulness, may yield! It is a dreary
thought, but it is a possibly true one
and if it proves true, there will be to the
lover of literature sad compensation fol
all our triumphs-in science, and in mas
tering such secrets of nature as yielC
money. What consolation is Bessemer
or even Josiah Marson-who did at leas
make pens, and so was of some use to the
thoughtful-ift the men now 80 are never
again till thew are 80 or dead, to be taker
out of themselves by book?