Fasuion is a fickle goddess whose power we have hitherto fancied was strictly limited to the legislation of costume and manners; but we now learn from a contemporary that her domain has been considerably extended, and that literature itself is controlled by the changeable decrees of the popular deity. The journal in question declares that there in a curious affinity existing between dress and letters, and quotes a3 an instance the fact we are now choosing our toilettes from the wardrobes of our grandmothers and great-grandmothers, and concurrently there is an equally great demand for the works of olden writers. Books that have become class sics are being unearthed and started off on a fresh journey in the daintiest of bindings and the most attractive of new editions; and Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen are the literary gods of the moment. So much stress is laid nowadays on the theatrical importance of a perfectly accurate mise en scne that _we suppose in private life also, nothing in the shape of an anachronism will beforgiven, and balance and harmony in home details are as much insisted on as they would bein a picture. We can easily imagine what tortures some of Fashion's most ardent votaries must undergo, however, in their endeavours to carry out this, he latest of her laws. It must be positive anguish to be obliged to feign an interest in Paul and Virginia when one has immoral yearnings after Rudyard Kipling or a passionate devotion to Messrs. Howells and James. Besides which we suppose the slaves of La Mode would feel absolutely compelled to model their conversation as well as their reading upon that adopted at an earlier date, It would be the grossest of solecisms for a maiden in an early Victorian gown to express a decided opinion on any subject; and we are surprised that a certain well-known authoress does not start a school for the instruction of modern damsels in the manners and customs of a period whose superiority she is so fond of comparing with the present day, We wonder if it is to this arbitrary arrangement that we owe the existing craze for making epigrams. It is a fashion that has been steadily gaining ground during the last few years, and has now assumed such alarming proportions that we are in great danger of being eaten up by our own words, Judging by the specimens that come before our notice daily, we are inclined to think that in the eyes of the British public, the charm of a speech lies not so much in the speaker's meaning as in the judicious placing of his words. As long as the sentences sound well, it matters little whether there is any sense m them or not. We believe that the success of Mr. Oscar Wilde's play A Woman of no Importance is mainly due to the torrent of intricate phrases that pours forth from the lips of the chief male character; albeit a critical contemporary has acknowledged boldly that the said phrases have a terribly laboured and unnatural air. The truth is that, the beauty of an epigram lies in its absolute spontaneity; and every witty speech Joses in proportion to the amount of care bestowed on its construction. Unfortunately, however, Fashion steps in and decrees that we must all be wits if we would escape being bores; and in our earnest desire to join the ranks of the former class, we very often run a great risk of qualifying' ourselves for admission to the latter. We do not fancy that the epigrams of our time will be handed down through long years as those of Pope and Swift, Rousseau and Voltaire have been and will be to all eternity. Nineteenth century bons mots will not as a rule bear analysis they will hardly stand the test of print, and their kindest and most forbearing critics are those who go away and forget them immediately they ure uttered. At a recent lecture on the Imaginative actor at the Royal Tatitation, the de-Faculty given by a popular and talented
fivition of Art as "the Unwept'l'ear of the Criminal and the Ode of the Aguostic to Immortality" is said to have fain brought down the house, The reman was characterised next day in the papers as being delightfully paradoxical and yet essentially sane and significant, We admit the paradox, but have yet to discover the sanity and significance, The unwept tear of the criminal would probably owe its origin to nothing more artistic than disgust at having broken the: el€venth commandment, "'Thow shalt not be found out," and we question whether Agnosticism necessarily implies the existence ofapoetic faculty that would burst into eloquent verse on what would panes be such an nonngenta! subject. We may be condemned for unjust criticism on the ground that we have no right to expect accurate technical de-great charm consisting, according to finitions in epigrams or aphorisms; their
ohn Morley, in the fact that they convey a portion of a truth with such point as sets us thinking on what remains. We are quite willing to endorse this opinion, but we claim that there should really be something to think about after we have reached the point, and that we should not then be compelled to acknowledge that the high-sounding seatence proves itself mere froth and bubble that vanish at a touch. Epigrams have been rightly called the true salt of literature, and it is a matter of regret to keen admirers of this wisdom of life that the soil of our century should be so unfavourable to its growth, he reason for such a state of things is not far to seek. It is not only our century, it is also our country that is to blame for the absence of piquancy and finish of phrase in our conversation, We are too hurried, too practical, and above all too intent on our commercial interests to waste avy time over the manufacture of those delicate tours de phrase that
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.