Page:Free Opinions, Freely Expressed on Certain Phases of Modern Social Life and Conduct.djvu/308



The dignity of Literature is, or used to be, something more than a mere phrase. Days there were in the long-ago, when the thinkers and writers of a nation were held to be worthy of higher honour than trade-kings and stock-jobbers,—when each one that shone out was "a bright particular star" of genius, as frankly owned as an object of admiration in the literary firmament. At that time there was no "syndicated" press. The followers and disciples of Literature were not all herded together, as it were, in a kind of scribbling trades-union. The poet, the novelist, the essayist,—each one of these moved in his or her own appointed orbit, and their differing special ways of handling the topics of their time served to interest, charm and stimulate the intelligences of people who were cultured and appreciative enough to understand and honour their efforts. But now things are greatly changed. What has been generally understood as "cultured" society is rapidly deteriorating into baseness and voluntary ignorance. The profession of letters is so little understood, and so far from being seriously appreciated, that responsible editors will accept and publish magazine articles by women of "title" and "fashion," who prove themselves as ignorant of grammar as they are of spelling. The printer's reader corrects the spelling, but the