THE PROVINCE OF THE REVIEWER.

Press, Volume LXII, Issue 18680, 1 May 1926, Page 13

THE PROVINCE OF THE REVIEWER.

SOME HISTORY AND A WARNING.

[Bv the Right Hon. Augustine Birrell in the "Observer."!

How easy is it to compose tbo titlepage of an authoritative treatise, like Locke's or John Austins, and how bard to contribute a line towards the elucidation of the theme. Many long years ago I read, in one of those Preliminary Dissertations that in the earlier part of the last century still often formed the impressive, it not inviting, portico to substantial and many-volumed works, "that the origin of Reviewing has been attributed to Photius." This wan quite enough in those days to induce me to stop m>* reading and go in search of this fertile Photius from whose entrails sprang the buzzing swarm of Reviewers. At first I got started 011 a false scent, and found myself reading about a Photius who was the son ot a former alliance of that very wicked woman, Theodora, in whose career, needless to say. Gibbon took such an unholy interest, and consequently was the step-son of the Emperor Justinian, whose Institutes have played no inconsiderable a part in the education of many of us. This Photius was, as I soon discovered, not my man. The true Photius, the fons et origo mali, belonged to the ninth century, and his life, even in an epitome, presented most varied features; for he was not only an Ambassador, a Judge, and a Soldier, but also an Ecclesiastic, who in less than a week contrived to become Monk, Sulvdeacon, Deacon, and Presbyter, ending up on Christmas Day, 858 A.D., ns Patriarch of Constantinople! Would we could hold out to tho young Reviewers of the "Observer" any prospect of so rapid a proferment in either Church or State!

Father of the Profession. The claims of Photius to be the real father of our profession will not bear examination; for, though a great bookcollector (which few Reviewers are) and a persistent reader and note-taker, his ''AJyrio-biblicon" or "Bibliotheca" is reported to me to contain nothing but selected passages from tho books he had read (like another and an earlier Macaulay in India) during one embassy to Persia, and was never intended to be a critical survey. Still, the fact that Photius first read the manuscripts he noticed, entitles him to a place of honour in our rauki This Photiari tiethod of reviewing endured for maiv centuries, and probably p.ve satisfaction to the a " b-irs. who, as they had no copyright 111 their labours, could hardly complain of being abridged. The truo parent of the Reviewer, as he exists amongst us to-day, is to bo found, where we might expect to find him, in France, but no further back than the middle of the seventeenth century'— when Denis de Sallo, a man of position and mark, established in 1655 the "Journal des Savanti," or "Scavans," as the word was then printed. This was a weekly publication, and contained reviews "of the most popular and distinguished publications in every department of literature." The style of this periodical soon became so lively and sarcastic that de Sallo, wishing to shield himself from the blind fury of the Celtic author, published it in tho name of his footman, one de Houdonville; thuj forestalling by a century Thackeray's Mr Jeames do la Pluche.

The "Monthly Review." But though de Sallo and his footman got tho start, England soon followed on; for there has never been a publication so unmistakably British, as the "Monthly Roview," established in 1749 by Mr Griffiths and his wife, whose hard bargain with Oliver Goldsmith, perhaps the greatest miscellaneous writer we have ever had, is the subject matter of some of the best-known anecdotes in tho annals of Grub-Btreet. The "Monthly Review" continued, under different managements, until 1845, and fills 249 volumes. It soon had a rival in Dr. Smollett's "Critical Keview," and on the respective merits of these two Dr. Johnson once expatiated as follows, employing language not wholly irrelevant to our own times:— "The Monthly Reviewers are not Deists, but they are Christians with as little Christianity as may be, and are for pulling down all establishments. The Critical Reviewers are for supporting the constitution, both in Church and State. The Critical Reviewers, I believe, aften review without reading the books all through, but lay hold of a topick and write chiefly from their own minds. The Monthly Reviewers are duller fellows and are glad to read the books through." This last distinction between two olasses of Reviewers is certainly not- a distinction without a difference. It is a great difference, and one which will always be noticeable both by the author of the book and tho reader of the roview.

These two reviews deserve to be called critical journals; but their editors were not on good terms, and, being in this respect unlike presentday editors, who seldom condescend to recognise the existence of a rival organ, spoke out about each other, and their respective staffs with tho pleasant freedom of their century. Thus, Griffiths did not hesitate to say, and print, that " 'The Monthly Review' was not written by physicians without practice, authors without learning, men without decency, gentlemen without manners, and critics without judgment," to which Dr. Smollett retorted with undeniable spirit, "Tho 'Critical Review' is not written by a parcel of hirelings, under the restraint of a bookseller and his wife, who presume to revise, alter, and amend the articles. Our principal writers are unconnected with booksellers, by old women, and independent of each other." This may be an old-fashioned 6tyle of writing, hut it has a smack of "modernity" about it, and some of the caps still fit, though to put them on would be dangerous, writing as I do under my own name.

How Stands It To-day? It is with reluctance that I leave the eighteenth century, and the ashes of the dead, and force myself to ask the questions: How stands the business of reviewing to-day? How is the young Keviewer to thread his way through the crowded thoroughfares of th/ printed matter that, like a huge tidal wave, daily breaks upon an editor's office? One thing is plain, all the books, reprints, and new publications, cannot he even so much as noticed, save in the advertisement columns. Huh which, and how? In the Phntian method, in the sarcastic style of the "Journal des Savants," in the pleasant style of the Monthly and CriticaJ reviews, or in the big bow-wow style of the "Edinburgh" and "Quarterly"—and if in the lastnamed style, how in the name of Relativity can room be found, in a weekly or even monthly publication, for more than two reviews at a time? Never was a day when these questions were so hard to answer. Short notices are just now in great favour with editors, and who can wonder? But neither justice nor injustice can be done to a really good book or a bad one in 1000 words. Believe me, Mr Editor, the thing cannot be done! Haif-a-down poets squeezed into one column! A dosen novels in a column and a half 1 The publishers may be »at-

isfied, but not the author or the reader of the notice. There is 110 fun, even in Folly, unless it is drawn at full length. When Lord Jeffrey thought fit to make fun of Wordsworth, lie did so, being the honest man he was, at great length; with the result that his famous review remains to this day one of the best anthologies of Wordsworth yet published ; the fact that the Reviewer mado his selection from soino of the noblest and most heart-stirring lines in English poetry 011 the ground of their supposed badness and childish absurdity has been rendered innocuous by tho mere lapse of time. Wo have only to read the publishing lists to perceivo with what an avalanche of print the pre»entday Reviewer is confronted in all departments of literature and science. " by, Sacra Theologia herself, like a bird escaping from the net of the lowler, is fa.st repairing her ancient nests in the dim corners of the library. How are these books to be selected and judged? Some young and lusty reviewers, so I havo been told, are in the habit of descending upon tho editorial parlours, and carrying off with them to theirsuburhan lairs the review copies they either wish to add to their own libraries (though a reviewer's library is never a thing to look at with pleasure) or because for some reason they deem themselves to be the best qualified to handle the authors' theme. Tliis is a haphazard method of natural selection, and gives an unfair advantage to the able-bodied. The editor should prepare, and keep secret, a list of his reviewers, recording brieflv the nature of their gifts, the extent, so far as he can give a guess, of their learning, and on what subjects they should be forbidden to discourse.

A Caution. I will conclude with a caution. Why have Reviewers so evil a reputationV Is it not because of their past failure in the realms of poetry and imagination? Jeffrey misjudged Wordsworth and failed to appreciate Keats and Coleridge, that trio of quintessential poets, from sheer incapacity, and for the same sort of reason that, inspired Tom Moore, when writing to Lord John Russell, to express his disappointment that he had not had the chance of dusting th 0 young Tennyson's jacket in the pages of the "Edinburgh Review." In other branches of literature, and when only established reputations were concerned, these old Reviewers are not so had, though when you think of tho, wicked wrong and injury inflicted upon science by that impudent sciolist Lord Brougham, in the "Edinburgh Review," you feel how important it is that the editor of a critical journal should be man enough to keep even a Brougham in order. Leaving Science, which now can taJce care of herself, 011 one side, how is a literary editor to avoid the blunders of the old "Edinburgh" and "Quarterly" Reviewers when disporting themselves in the delicate reali\is of poetry and imagination? Can it be done by a judicious snubbing of the baldheads and bidding them "Stand down," in order to make room for their juniors. This may be the method, but if so it must bo adopted cautiously, for tho young men and women of tne present generation themselves become "back numbers" with an amazing celerity. Allow me. to put an end to these tortuosities with a quotation from Gibbon, after reading the ninth chapter of Longinus (Gibbon's "Miscellaneous Works, Vol. V., p. 263): The ninth chapter, which treats of the elevation of ideas, is one of the finest monuments of antiquity. Till now, I was acquainted only with two ways of criticising a beautiful passage, the one to show t>y an exact anatomy of it, the distinct beauties of it, and whence" they sprung—the other, an idle exclamation or a general encomium, which leaves nothing behind it. Longinus has shown me there is a third. He tells me his own feelings upon reading it, and tells them with such energy that he communicates them.