Books and men — Text and Context

Children, Past and Present

Repplier devotes her first essay to the stark contrast between the disciplined childhood of earlier centuries and the relative freedom of her own time. She cites the half-starved boys at Westminster boiling their own batter-pudding in a stocking foot, and the little John Wesley crying softly when whipped, not permitted even a hearty bellow. These images are not sentimentalized; they are used to measure the distance between past and present. Repplier notes that women, workmen, and skeptics all have reason to be grateful they were not born earlier, but children of today are favored beyond their knowledge and certainly beyond their deserts. She compares the modern schoolboy with his ill-fated predecessors, from Spartan discipline to the steel collars and backboards of Mrs. Sherwood's youth. The essay is a study in the evolution of discipline and the changing valuation of childhood.

The Decay of Sentiment and the Rise of Earnestness

In The Decay of Sentiment, Repplier examines the waning of emotional enthusiasm in reading. She recounts how Oxford students besieged bookshops for copies of Rokeby and Childe Harold, fighting over volumes and betting on sales. Lord Holland, asked his opinion of Old Mortality, answered indignantly, “Opinion! We did not one of us go to bed last night! Nothing slept but my gout.” Yet these works now gather dust. Repplier contrasts this with the modern reader's composure: we read The Bostonians and The Rise of Silas Lapham with due appreciation, but go to bed cheerfully at the usual hour. She quotes Father Faber that a sense of humor is a great help in the spiritual life, an absolute necessity in the temporal. The new disciples of earnestness try to persuade us we are too humorous, but Repplier suggests the real problem is not laughter but yawning—a satiety that makes amusement harder to achieve.

The Uses of Superstition and the Limits of Criticism

Repplier's essay On the Benefits of Superstition takes a contrarian view, arguing that superstition has its uses in moderating human behavior and providing a check on rationalism. She notes the inconveniences attendant on a too early development of the critical faculty, as in Freudenberger's case. In Curiosities of Criticism, she turns to the follies of literary judgment, citing examples of critics who condemned works later revered. Her tone is ironic and precise, never descending into mere mockery. She observes that the spirit of universal mockery is said to stifle nobler emotions, but finds that it is only to exceedingly strenuous souls that this lawless fun seems to manifest itself. The essays together form a coherent argument for the value of tradition, sentiment, and even irrationality against the encroachments of a dry, earnest modernity.

Repplier's voice is that of a learned, witty observer who delights in paradox and concrete detail. Readers will find that her essays reward attention to the specific anecdotes she selects—each one a miniature case study in the clash between past and present values. The collection is best approached not as a systematic treatise but as a series of provocations, unified by a consistent skepticism toward progress and a deep affection for the quirks of human nature.

Repplier’s sharp old essays made me think of my grandmother’s dog-eared copies, margins filled with her pencil. I felt that same quiet companionship reading Soliloquies in England, and Later Soliloquies — A Closer Reading, where the author’s voice seems to pause, listen, and hand you a thought you hadn’t quite formed yourself. Both feel like sitting with someone wise, not lecturing.