The old system of criticism in reviews and magazines
worked well in its day, but it won't do now. The era of the
old-fashioned novel critic has gone by. He knows it, and his voice is
seldom heard. Even a numerous body, working promiscuously and without
conjunction, could not accomplish much. The only manner in which the
requisite result could be brought about would be by a regularly
organized set of men, working under direction and regulated by
authority, like the body of tax assessors or national judiciaries. Such
a corps should be trained to their work as to a profession like that of
law or medicine, having brotherhoods in every publishing town or city,
working together and subordinately, like the order of the Jesuits. They
should test every work before it was given to the public, and brand it
with precisely its mark of real merit. And thus might be accomplished a
most inestimable public service. In France such a system might be
practicable, and not hostile to the spirit and institutions of a nation
accustomed to have everything, even to the play programmes of the
theatre, regulated by the powers that be. But in America, home of
democracy and fatherland of individual independence, such a scheme, so
invaluable though so impossible, must, we fear, ever remain a
tantalizing vision. As it is, of course many a man of real ability is
drowned in the rushing waves of multitudinous authors, and his works
pass undistinguished to that unknown grave which gapes so mysteriously
in some hidden recess of the universe, and silently swallows yearly the
vast masses of printed paper which has done its brief work and been
thrown by read or unread, forgotten.
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