Fashions in Literature

FASHIONS IN LITERATURE
By Charles Dudley Warner

INTRODUCTION
Thirty years ago and more those who read and valued good books in
this country made the acquaintance of Mr. Warner, and since the
publication of "My Summer In a Garden" no work of his has needed
any other introduction than the presence of his name on the title-page;
and now that reputation has mellowed into memory, even the word of
interpretation seems superfluous. Mr. Warner wrote out of a clear, as
well as a full mind, and lucidity of style was part of that harmonious
charm of sincerity and urbanity which made him one of the most
intelligible and companionable of our writers.
It is a pleasure, however, to recall him as, not long ago, we saw him
move and heard him speak in the ripeness of years which brought him
the full flavor of maturity without any loss of freshness from his humor
or serenity from his thought. He shared with Lowell, Longfellow, and
Curtis a harmony of nature and art, a unity of ideal and achievement,
which make him a welcome figure, not only for what he said, but for
what he was; one of those friends whose coming is hailed with joy
because they seem always at their best, and minister to rather than draw
upon our own capital of moral vitality.
Mr. Warner was the most undogmatic of idealists, the most winning of
teachers. He had always some thing to say to the ethical sense, a word
for the conscience; but his approach was always through the mind, and
his enforcement of the moral lesson was by suggestion rather than by
commandment. There was nothing ascetic about him, no easy solution
of the difficulties of life by ignoring or evading them; nor, on the other

hand, was there any confusion of moral standards as the result of a
confusion of ideas touching the nature and functions of art. He saw
clearly, he felt deeply, and he thought straight; hence the rectitude of
his mind, the sanity of his spirit, the justice of his dealings with the
things which make for life and art. He used the essay as Addison used
it, not for sermonic effect, but as a form of art which permitted a man to
deal with serious things in a spirit of gayety, and with that lightness of
touch which conveys influence without employing force. He was as
deeply enamored as George William Curtis with the highest ideals of
life for America, and, like Curtis, his expression caught the grace and
distinction of those ideals.
It is a pleasure to hear his voice once more, because its very accents
suggest the most interesting, high-minded, and captivating ideals of
living; he brings with him that air of fine breeding which is diffused by
the men who, in mind as in manners, have been, in a distinctive sense,
gentlemen; who have lived so constantly and habitually on intimate
terms with the highest things in thought and character that the tone of
this really best society has become theirs. Among men of talent there
are plebeians as well as patricians; even genius, which is never vulgar,
is sometimes unable to hide the vulgarity of the aims and ideas which it
clothes with beauty without concealing their essential nature. Mr.
Warner was a patrician; the most democratic of men, he was one of the
most fastidious in his intellectual companionships and affiliations. The
subjects about which he speaks with his oldtime directness and charm
in this volume make us aware of the serious temper of his mind, of his
deep interest in the life of his time and people, and of the easy and
natural grace with which he insisted on facing the fact and bringing it
to the test of the highest standards. In his discussion of "Fashions in
Literature" he deftly brings before us the significance of literature and
the signs which it always wears, while he seems bent upon considering
some interesting aspects of contemporary writing.
And how admirably he has described his own work in his definition of
qualities which are common to all literature of a high order: simplicity,
knowledge of human nature, agreeable personality. It would be
impossible in briefer or more comprehensive phrase to sum up and

express the secret of his influence and of the pleasure he gives us. It is
to suggest this application of his words to himself that this preparatory
comment is written.
When "My Summer In a Garden" appeared, it won a host of friends
who did not stop to ask whether it was a piece of excellent journalism
or a bit of real literature. It was so natural, so informal, so intimate that
readers accepted it as matter of course, as they accepted the blooming
of flowers