New-York tribune., 1901-03-24
A QUESTION OF LITERARY CANT.


Matilde Scrao. the Italian novelist, is the sub
ject of an essay by Mr. Henry James in a recent
number of The North American Review" Her
qualities, though not of a sort 10 command gen
eral acceptance in this country. are interesting
10 the student OF contemporary fiction. Mr..
James makes the most Of them but II is neither
with his praise nor with his blame that
are now concerned. Rather 10y his incidental
remarks on his authors freedom from the con
ventions which he thinks control American and
English nOvelSts does he invite an inquiry as
TO whether those conventions are really as
potent as he thinks they are Is IL true that
they have ''hlighted our fiction hy excluding
this or that subject from the range OF the novel
ist? Is IL true that largely out OF consideration
for the innocence of the young person" we
have entered into a conspiracy of silence"
about matters which 10 the rest Of the world
seem the very things most desirable for treat
ment in fiction? Mr. James is of the opinion
that this is fact, and he is sorry for us. 1t
pains him to realize that our ecccntrlcity," as
he calls it, lis. elsewhere than among ourselves.
pretty well held to have put us ont of court"
At the risk Of appearing shamelessly disrespect-
full of Continental opinion must add that If
/ such is the case why so much the worse for the
wlseacres elsewhere than among ourselves"
Mr. James is obviously sincere. yet he is really
echoing the cant of certain uninstructed lit
rery circles
There is no such thing as conspiracy of
silence in this business. Politely hut firmly
we must assure Mr.. James that we are not
arguing. telling him. We regret to find
him repeating this venerable chestnut the COM
mon excuse offered by little men for their fail
IRE In the attempt to pull themselves up by
their boOtStraps 10 the level of their betters. A
novelist of this stamp takes up an unsavory
theme and treats it not only crudely. but with
vulgarity; he dwels with fatuous sapience on
its basest eXternals, never linking il by so much
n thought to the serious Issues of human life
never appealing by a single word to mature men
and women. Such readers, uninluenced by
solicitude for the young person." but simply
out Of contempt for what is conceited. shallow
and trashy. remove the offending book at the
end of the tongs. Promptly the outraged dab
bier in dangerous waters raises great hubbub
about the inalienable rights Of art; he bewails
the prepOsterOuS domination of the young reader
who smells of bread and butter; and, with n
pious air of martyrlom, he explains that if she
could only he suppressed he would soon show
mankind what a truly sublime genius he is. and
what colossal inspiration is shown by his con
summatc eucidaton of the poetry and passion
in dunghll On which the merely intelligent
( reader, with 4 taste for sanitation. remarks
Fudge" Mr. James himself would of course
disdain such acts but unconsciously he gives
them countenance by his specious plea for what
ii is fashionable to call lheraty
No English or American writer worth his salt
was ever yet kept from unburdening his soul of
any perilous stuff it may have contained Such
n man has no more 10 fear from conventions"
or conspiracy of silence or the young per-
son" than he has to fear from the sumptuary
legislation of the Akhoond of Swat. He finds Il
publisher for his book without the smallest diff
Guilty, and the Anglo Saxon race unhesitatingly
reads him, profting by the experience. He
writes, as matter of course, like a gentleman.
If in his portrait of man he has warts, physi-
cal and spiritual, to deal with, he paints them
freely, but not though his heros life began
and ended with disease. IL he is irresistibiy
drawn 10 show the tragedy of vice and crime
he interests us in ii on high grounds; he does
criminal and vicious is properly left TO the
scientists, does he tell his tale with the
snigger of the smart decadent retailing nasty
anecdotes TO a crOny over glass of absinthe.
In short, this cant about freedom and art in
! literature is detestabe, and in season and out
of season it ought to be shown up for the
! cheap and flabby thing that it is When the
! right man arises he does not stop to envy the
untrammelled freedom of Flaubert Zola, of
/ Tostoi or Maupassant. of D'Annunzio or Matde
Serao, of any other Continental author, good or
| bad. He is unconscious Of anything enviabe
He utters his truths regardless Of what man.