Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-06-24
A CRUEL REVIEW.

He cut it up root and branch--of
hat there can be no doubt. He
gave it what he technically styled "a
stating" and as he threw down his
pen and leaned back in his chair he
muttered. 81 think I've pretty well
settled that ounces. business"
He was very clever young man
little too obt17lsively clever per
haps to be an ideal critic; he was
not content to pass by feebleness and
folly with few mild, pitying words
Of condemnation; he rode at them
with all his skill and force, with
that weapon which is ''mightier than
the sword, )" pierced them again and
again with mortal wounds. Many a
young author, taking up a damp,
fresh copy of The Censor from the
breakfast table and searching eager
ly for a review of his beloved novel,
had read such scathing sentences.
such cruel witticisms, such merciless
mockery as had caused him to lay
down the paper with trembling
hand, damp, pale brow and with
strangled heart, to push his untasted
repast from him and to feel that for
him breakfast, luncheon. tea, dinner
and supper were henceforth ex-
ploded institutions.
Some folk might think that there
was all the less excuse for his sever
ity, in that just then George Charl-
tons prospects were looking particu-
larly bright in every way. His post
on that prosperous paper, The Censor,
was an assured one. A five act play
of his had just been accepted by
Adolphus Bolingbroke, lessee and
manager of the great Omnium
theater, and yesterday his own beau
tiful, adored Gertie had confded to
him, on being tenderly pressed upon
the subject, that June was her fa-
vorite month of the year and that
Thursday was her favorite day of
the week.
Considering all things, therefore,
some might say that he ought to
have been kinder to the author of
Scared Hearts, but the higher our
spirits with the more zest do we ply
our different callings, and it was pos
sibly because the man George Charl-
ton was in particularly bright and
happy mood that the critic George
Charlton was particularly fit" and
consequently particularly merciless
to trash and twaddle.
The book, as it happened, came be-
fore him at an unlucky moment;
and in truth Scared Hearts" was a
foolish, feeble, tlashy story, with
ethereal, impossible heroine and wild,
reckless, Greek profiled hero com,
plete; forced situations and weak, in
tated style; forced views of life;
characters like nothing, and he pre-
pared accordingly to give it, in his
already quoted phrase, "a stating"
Never was author fayed more merci
lessly.
This story said Charlton, lin a
more marked degree than any we
N~Aii oCClilS W iLtNo DCtu
written for the express purpose of
showing what the author cannot do.
Can any one inform us why it is that
the writers save the mark y who
have not even the talent to describe
everyday occurrences with a touch
Of humor or of pathos, TO draw
commonplace character with toler-
able truthfulness, are generally those
who undertake to show us life i'll its
most tragic aspect and the human
heart in its stormiest, most passion
ate workingsi Hugh Ellis is mas
,uline cognomen, but we doubt if
the worst masculine literary sinner
aver perpetrated quite so much folly |
NJ hes between the ornate covers,
'prinkled with slightly scorchei |
hearts of the work before Us. The
mob of gentlemen who write with