desire, and who can unite their complimentary virtues in a common purpose. Mr. Brownell has every important qualification for this imperative task of American criticism—except one. In spite of the fact that he is not a professor but was once a journalist—which should disarm the suspicions of every barbaric heart; and in spite of the fact that he has been a lifelong friend and professional counsellor of authors and artists, he appears to lack the confidence of the Party of Nature. This, I think it can be demonstrated, he deserves no less than the confidence of the Party of Culture, which he has long enjoyed. The evidence may be examined in detail in the six distinguished volumes which he has contributed to American critical literature, as follows: French Traits, 1889; French Art, 1892; Victorian Prose Masters, 1901; American Prose Masters, 1909; Criticism, 1914; and Standards, 1917.
We have other literary critics who have written as learnedly, more voluminously, and perhaps on a wider range of topics; and we have other critics who have brought their personalities to play upon their public with more of what is often accepted without scrutiny as "inspirational power." But I doubt whether any other is more abundantly supplied with those general ideas in which the permanent value of critical writing largely resides; and I am not acquainted with any other who has quite so pertinently, intelligently, and intelligibly applied his general ideas to the real cultural problems of our time—I mean the definition of culture's own
