| 249 | https://historysoa.com/items/show/249 | The Author, Vol. 01 Issue 11 (March 1891) | <a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=49&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=%3Cem%3EThe+Author%3C%2Fem%3E%2C+Vol.+01+Issue+11+%28March+1891%29"><em>The Author</em>, Vol. 01 Issue 11 (March 1891)</a> | | | <a href="https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015031017927&view=1up&seq=20" target="_blank" rel="noopener">https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015031017927</a> | | | | | | | | <a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=51&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=Publication">Publication</a> | 1891-03-16-The-Author-1-11 | | | | | 281–308 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | <a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=89&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=1">1</a> | | | | | | | | | | | <a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=76&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=1891-03-16">1891-03-16</a> | | | | | | | 11 | | | 18910316 | Vol. 1.- No. 11]<br />
MARCH 16, 1891.<br />
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The Author.<br />
THE ORGAN OF THE SOCIETY OF AUTHORS<br />
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1891.<br />
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## p. 280 (#337) ############################################<br />
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AD VER TISEMENTS.<br />
Zhc Society of Butbors (Jncorporateb).<br />
PRESIDENT.<br />
The Right Hon. the LORD TENNYSON, D.C.L.<br />
COUNCIL.<br />
Sir Edwin Arnold, K.C1.E.<br />
II. Rider Haggard.<br />
Alfred Austin.<br />
Thomas Hardy.<br />
A. W. k Beckett.<br />
Prof. E. Ray Lankester, F.R.S.<br />
Robert Bateman.<br />
J. M. Lely.<br />
Sir Henry Bergne, K.C.M.G.<br />
Rev. W. J. Loftie, F.S.A.<br />
Walter Besant.<br />
F. Max-Mullbr, LL.D.<br />
Augustine Birrell, M.P.<br />
George Meredith.<br />
R. D. Blackmore.<br />
Herman C. Merivale.<br />
Rev. Prof. Bonney, F.R.S.<br />
Rev. C. H. Middleton-Wake, F.LS.<br />
Lord Brabourne.<br />
J. C. Parkinson.<br />
James Bryce, M.P.<br />
The Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery.<br />
P. W. Clayden.<br />
Sir Frederick Pollock, Bart., LL.D.<br />
Edward Clodd.<br />
Walter Herries Pollock.<br />
W. Martin Conway.<br />
A. G. Ross.<br />
Marion Crawford.<br />
George Augustus Sala.<br />
Oswald Crawfurd, C.M.G.<br />
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The Earl of Desart.<br />
G. R. Sims.<br />
A. W. Dubourg.<br />
J. J. Stevenson.<br />
John Eric Erichsen, F.R.S.<br />
Jas. Sully.<br />
Prof. Michael Foster, F.R.S.<br />
William Moy Thomas.<br />
Herbert Gardner, M.P.<br />
H. D. Traill, D.C.L.<br />
Richard Garnett, LL.D.<br />
Edmund Yates.<br />
Edmund Gosse.<br />
Hon. Counsel—E. M. Underdown, Q.C.<br />
COMMITTEE OF MANAGEMENT.<br />
Chairman—Walter Besant.<br />
Robert Bateman. i W. Martin Conway. I H. Rider Haggard. I Sir Frederick Pollock.<br />
A. W. a Beckett. | Edmund Gosse. | J. M. Lely. I A. G. Ross.<br />
Solicitors.<br />
Messrs. Field, Roscoe, & Co., Lincoln's Inn Fields.<br />
Secretary—S. Squire Sprigge.<br />
VOL. I.<br />
OFFICES.<br />
4, Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, W.C.<br />
2 A<br />
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## p. 280 (#338) ############################################<br />
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## p. 281 (#339) ############################################<br />
<br />
%\it JCtttljar.<br />
(The Organ oj the Incorporated Society of Authors, Monthly.)<br />
CONDUCTED BY WALTER BESANT.<br />
Vol. I.—No. ii.]<br />
MARCH 16, 1891.<br />
[Price Sixpence.<br />
CONTENTS.<br />
Conditions of Membership<br />
Warnings<br />
Notes and News<br />
A Note on the New Act<br />
In the I.ast Ditch<br />
Do English People Buy Books 1...<br />
Un Debut Dans La Vie<br />
The Signed Article<br />
In Grub Street ... t<br />
The Parnassus Publishing Company<br />
Correspondence and Cases<br />
The Production of Vouchers<br />
On Advertisements<br />
fAGE<br />
. 281<br />
. 281<br />
.. 38a<br />
. 286<br />
. 287<br />
. 288<br />
. 391<br />
• 293<br />
• 294<br />
.. 298<br />
• =99<br />
■ 399<br />
. 300<br />
<br />
Correspondence and Cases—continued—<br />
Authors and Reviewers<br />
Accepted...<br />
Literary Godchildren<br />
Gratuitous Contributions<br />
A Coincidence?<br />
The Authors' Club<br />
The Author's Book Stall<br />
New Books<br />
The Reading of MSS<br />
Publications of the Society<br />
Advertisements<br />
300<br />
301<br />
301<br />
301<br />
303<br />
303<br />
303<br />
304<br />
3°6<br />
306<br />
307<br />
CONDITIONS OF MEMBERSHIP.<br />
The Subscription is One Guinea annually, payable on the<br />
1st of January of each year. The sum of Ten Guineas for<br />
life memljership entitles the subscriber to full membership of<br />
the Society.<br />
Authors of published works alone are eligible for member-<br />
ship.<br />
Those who desire to assist the Society but are not authors<br />
are admitted as Associates, on the same subscription, but<br />
have no voice in the government of the Society.<br />
Cheques and Postal Oiders should be crossed "The Im-<br />
perial Bank, Limited, Westminster Branch."<br />
Those who wish to be proposed as members may send<br />
their names at any lime to the Secretary at the Society's<br />
Offices, when they will receive a form for the enumeration<br />
of their works. Subscriptions entered after the 1st of<br />
October will cover the next year.<br />
The Secretary may be personally consulted between the<br />
hours of 1 p.m. and 5, except on Saturdays. It is preferable<br />
that an appointment should be made by letter.<br />
The Author, the Organ of the Society, can be procured<br />
through all newsagents, or from the publisher, A. P. Watt,<br />
2, Paternoster Square, K.C.<br />
A copy will be sent free to any member of the Society for<br />
one twelvemonth, dating from May, 1889. It is hoped,<br />
however, that most members will subscribe to the paper.<br />
The yearly subscription is 6s. 6d., including postage, which<br />
may be sent to the Secretary, 4, Portugal Street, W.C.<br />
With regard to the reading of MSS. for young writers,<br />
the fee for this service is one guinea. MSS. will be read<br />
and reported upon for others than members, but members<br />
cannot have their works read for nothing.<br />
In all cases where an opinion is desired upon a manuscript,<br />
the author should send with it a table of contents. A type-<br />
written scenario is also of very great assistance.<br />
It must be understood that such a reader's report, however<br />
favourable, does not assist the author towards publication.<br />
WARNINGS.<br />
Readers of the Author are earnestly desired to make the<br />
following warnings as widely known as possible. They are<br />
based on the experience of six years' work upon the dangers<br />
to which liteiary property is exposed :—<br />
(1) Never to sign any agreement of which the alleged cost<br />
of production forms an integral part, unless an<br />
opportunity of proving the correctness of the figures<br />
is given them.<br />
(2) Never to enter into any correspondence with publishers,<br />
especially with advertising publishers, who are not<br />
recommended by experienced friends, or by this<br />
Society.<br />
(3) Never, on any account whatever, to bind themselves<br />
down for future work to any one firm of publishers.<br />
(4) Never to accept any proposal of royalty without con-<br />
sultation with the Society, or, at least, ascertaining<br />
exactly what the agreement gives to the author and<br />
what to the publisher.<br />
(5) Never to accept any offer of money for MSS., with-<br />
out previously taking advice of the Society.<br />
(6) Never to accept any pecuniary risk or responsibility<br />
without advice.<br />
(7) Never, when a MS. has been refused by respectable<br />
houses, to pay others, whatever promises they may<br />
put forward, for the production of the work.<br />
(8) Never to sign away American or foreign rights.<br />
Keep them. Refuse to sign an agreement containing<br />
a clause which reserves them for the publisher. If<br />
the publisher insists, take away the MS. and offer it<br />
to another.<br />
(9) Never forget that publishing is a business, like any<br />
other business, totally unconnected with philanthropy,<br />
charity, or pure love of literature. You have to do<br />
with business men.<br />
Society's Offices:—<br />
4, Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields.<br />
vol. 1.<br />
2 a 2<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 282 (#340) ############################################<br />
<br />
282<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
NOTES AND NEWS.<br />
—4<br />
THE American Copyright Bill has passed,<br />
and unexpectedly. Thus ends, we hope,<br />
happily for all concerned, the long and<br />
bitter reproach of English authors and the hard<br />
battle of American authors. We shall no longer<br />
pirate and plunder and prey upon each other as<br />
the law permits. Now we begin to look round<br />
and to ask—what next? First, let us carefully<br />
consider the following question and answer found<br />
in the Parliamentary Debates on Saturday, March<br />
7th.<br />
"Mr. Vincent asked the following question :—<br />
Bearing in mind the renewed declaration of the<br />
Prime Minister, on March 4th, to the Associated<br />
Chambers of Commerce, that English remonstrance<br />
on foreign commercial policy prejudicial to British<br />
trade at home or abroad is wholly futile under the<br />
present fiscal system, as we have no means of sup-<br />
porting the remonstrance, or giving any advantage<br />
in return for favourable concessions, what definite<br />
domestic action, asdistinguished from remonstrance,<br />
with a foreign power Her Majesty's Government<br />
proposes to take to prevent injury being done to<br />
industry and labour in the United Kingdom, and<br />
the probable disemployment of many workpeople<br />
concerned in the book trade, to restrain the transfer<br />
to America of the productions of the works of<br />
British authors desirous of securing American copy-<br />
tight by the use in the United States of American<br />
type or plates, and simultaneously enjoying copy-<br />
right in Great Britain and Ireland.<br />
"Mr. W. H. Smith.—We have no official know-<br />
ledge of the measure, and only know from the<br />
newspapers that it has been passed. It is quite<br />
impossible for me to express any opinion respecting<br />
its provisions until we see them. I do not know<br />
what changes may have been made in the Bill<br />
during its passage through Congress, and I am<br />
therefore quite unable to indicate what would be<br />
the policy or action of the Government with respect<br />
to it."<br />
1<br />
Quite so. We do hot know exactly what changes<br />
have been made in the Bill during its passage<br />
through Congress. Therefore we must wait until<br />
we do know. Meantime we have telegraphed for<br />
a copy of the Act.<br />
A meeting of the Council was called on March<br />
12th, to consider the situation as changed by the<br />
passing of the International Copyright Act. The<br />
chair was taken by Sir Frederick Pollock.<br />
The following Resolutions were proposed and<br />
adopted:—<br />
(1.) That at this stage of the long struggle for<br />
International Copyright carried on in America<br />
by the Copyright League and other citizens of<br />
the United States, to secure copyright to foreign<br />
authors in the States and td remove the long<br />
existing hindrance to the natural growth of<br />
American literature, the congratulations of the<br />
Society be, and hereby are, expressed by the<br />
Council now assembled.<br />
(2.) That the Secretary be instructed on the<br />
arrival of the Act, to have it printed and to send<br />
a copy to every member of the Society, inviting<br />
their advice, suggestions, or criticisms on the<br />
probable working of the Act.<br />
(3.) That the Copyright Committee be re-<br />
quested to receive these criticisms and to draw<br />
up a report on the subject.<br />
(4.) That authors be warned meanwhile not<br />
to sign any agreements giving up their American<br />
rights , and not to accept any offers whatever<br />
that may be made until the Act shall be in<br />
working order.<br />
(5.) That the Society without delay draw up<br />
a Petition to the House of Lords, urging the<br />
immediate consideration of Lord Monkswell's<br />
Bill.<br />
—*<br />
Here are a few points which may be of use to u&<br />
They certainly will not be affected by any amend-<br />
ments that may have been carried.<br />
It will be news to many, as it was to me, to hear<br />
that in many cases it will be unnecessary to take<br />
out copyright, and that the practice will still con-<br />
tinue of sending over a whole edition in sheets and<br />
paying the duty, twenty-five per cent, on the cost<br />
of production. Take, for instance, a book which<br />
appeals to the scholarly and cultured class only,<br />
and therefore cannot possibly have a large sale.<br />
An edition of a thousand copies in sheets might<br />
Cost, say ;£ioo. The American publisher would<br />
pay .£125 for it. He would then produce it just<br />
as he does now, on the chance that no one else<br />
will pirate it. Why should they? It is too small<br />
a market to be interfered with. Or take a book<br />
with dainty and beautiful plates. This cannot be<br />
pirated because the plates cannot be cheaply and<br />
successfully imitated. It must be remembered<br />
that in considering whether it would pay to take<br />
out copyright, the cost of production in America<br />
is a much larger factor than it is in this country—<br />
wages are much higher, materials are higher. ♦—<br />
To those who expect a magnificent harvest<br />
immediately—a warning. Last month there was<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 283 (#341) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
283<br />
an attempt in the Author to show that America is<br />
taking rapid strides to the production of nearly all<br />
her own literature. Hitherto the great mass of her<br />
books have been of English origin. This is now<br />
true only of the ten cent novels. These, it is true,<br />
are English. But who can believe that the American<br />
will prefer to read of English manners and modes<br />
depicted in fiction, when he can get his own<br />
equally well presented and at the same price? At<br />
the same time, should there be any capable of really<br />
striking the popular imagination, he will do so in<br />
all the English-speaking countries alike. For him—-<br />
unless he gives himself away to the first offer—<br />
there is indeed hope. How many are there among<br />
the living who possess this power? In a few months<br />
we shall see.<br />
There is another point to be borne in mind.<br />
On this a word was said last month. The cheap<br />
libraries, even if they are not enlarged, will have<br />
another twenty years' run at least. To compete<br />
with them is like competing with the works of the<br />
dead, which can be issued by anybody and at any<br />
price. But they will continue to be enlarged.<br />
They will say to the English writers who are not<br />
so much in demand in America as to call for a<br />
copyrighted edition, "You will get nothing here<br />
except from us—we will give you twenty dollars<br />
for your rights." That offer will be accepted, and<br />
so the ten cent library will be continued. Again,<br />
even if a writer is popular, people will ask why they<br />
should give a dollar and a half for his new book<br />
when they can get all his old books at sixpence.<br />
The Anti-Jacobin suggests the danger that<br />
English writers may try to pander to American<br />
prejudices, manners, and custpms. I do not think<br />
this is a real danger, first, because no living<br />
English authors have ever remained long enough<br />
in the States to learn these prejudices. We know<br />
the American who travels on the Continent. We<br />
meet the American gentleman in society. But<br />
neither the rich American who can travel nor the<br />
American gentleman represents the great mass of<br />
the American people, who, again, differ widely<br />
among each other. There can be little resemblance<br />
between the prairie farmer and the New England<br />
lawyer—nor between the white folk of North<br />
Carolina and the trader of Chicago. Wp cannot<br />
pander to ordinary American prejudice, because we<br />
do not know anything about it.<br />
Lower down will be found a few notes on the<br />
practical working of the Bill which will not be<br />
affected by any amendments that may have been<br />
added. To these notes we add a very serious<br />
warning. Let the author be more than commonly<br />
careful in his agreements. He must reserve<br />
American rights by a special clause. He must<br />
take care not to accept the first offer that is made<br />
—men are already in the field trying to "rush"<br />
the British author, and, if he is wise, he will refuse<br />
to treat at all until he has seen how the new Act<br />
works.<br />
On the evening of the day when President<br />
Harrison signed the Bill, he received quite a little<br />
shower of letters and telegrams. They were lying<br />
on the Presidental pillow when, at midnight, he was<br />
about to climb into the gilded tour-poster assigned<br />
to the Chosen of the Caucus. One of them, from<br />
the shade of John Milton, began as follows:<br />
"Grandson of my friend the Regicide," it said,<br />
"I have witnessed with joy thine action of this<br />
day. Thy Republic at length proves itself a des-<br />
cendant of my own. Thou hast shaken off" the<br />
Iniquity of a hundred years. Thou hast set free<br />
thine own people in doing justice to another nation.<br />
Lo! I see in my mind a noble and a puissant<br />
nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep<br />
and shaking her invincible locks; a nation npt slow<br />
and dull, but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing<br />
spirit; acute to invent, subtile and sinewy to dis-<br />
course. I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty<br />
youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the ful)<br />
mid-day beam." The rest need riot be quoted.<br />
Another was from Charles Dickens. "Fifty years<br />
ago," he said, "I beat the air with my fists, fondly<br />
thinking that I was fighting an easy battle against<br />
ignorance and greed. 'For fifty years the best of<br />
your own people have been vainly, until now,<br />
fighting that easy battle. You have shared with<br />
us our noble inheritance, the literature of the past;<br />
but the baser sort among you have stolen the<br />
literature of the present. It was unworthy of a<br />
nation desirous to be thought great. The loss you<br />
have inflicted upon us is that of dollars only.<br />
Upon yourselves you have inflicted the starvation of<br />
your own literature. Henceforth, however, what is<br />
yours is ours, and what is ours is yours. Farewell."<br />
There were also telegrams from Charles Reade,<br />
Wilkie Collins, Thackeray, George Eliot, and<br />
others. They were the same in effect, though the<br />
words differed. "We complain no longer," said<br />
Charles Reade. "Earthly injustice affects us not.<br />
Its memory has no longer any sting. Yet we<br />
rejoice that we stood up for honour and equity<br />
while we lived. And for those who have followed<br />
us, we are glad that your people have at last chosen<br />
the better way." These are noticeable communi-<br />
cations, and I hear that they are to be preserved<br />
in the Washington Library.<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 284 (#342) ############################################<br />
<br />
284<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
I am very pleased to publish the following com-<br />
munication from Professor Middleton, of King's<br />
College, Cambridge :—<br />
"After the many instructive warnings to authors<br />
which you have printed, with regard to what might<br />
politely be called the conventional morality of<br />
certain publishers, it may be a pleasure to turn to<br />
the other side of the picture, and receive a state-<br />
ment which will show that there are publishers in<br />
Britain whose practice is not only just in the<br />
highest sense of the word, but even goes beyond<br />
that, and amounts to real generosity.<br />
"I had an agreement with a well-known firm that<br />
they would publish a book of mine, and pay me<br />
for it a certain sum of money down, as soon as the<br />
book was printed.<br />
"This sum I received, expecting nothing further.<br />
"Some time after, without any suggestion of<br />
mine, I was informed by my publishers that they<br />
proposed to give me half-profits in addition to the<br />
lump sum they had paid me for the copyright of<br />
my book—a quite voluntary piece of generosity cn<br />
their part. Since then I have received, as half-<br />
profits, a sum about equal to the original payment<br />
for which I had bargained.<br />
"That is to say, that in consideration of<br />
my book being a success, the publishers have paid<br />
me nearly double of what they were bound to do.<br />
"Though I have no authority to do so, it can, I<br />
hope, offend no one if I mention that the pub-<br />
lishers referred to are Messrs. A. and C. Black, of<br />
Edinburgh and Soho Square, London."<br />
This document should be read prayerfully by<br />
certain reverend and revered friends of ours.<br />
Religion, we know, is not a thing of works, which<br />
are rags. Yet the carnal man remarks with<br />
surprise that a thing like this is done by the<br />
secular, not the sacred, publisher. Messrs. A. and<br />
C. Black were influenced by that spirit of justice<br />
which goes beyond the letter of the agreement.<br />
Professor Middleton, having signed his agreement,<br />
had no further claim, made none, expected nothing<br />
more, and entertained no other feeling towards his<br />
publishers than that of friendly content. Yet they<br />
went beyond their agreement. One is willing to<br />
believe that other cases of the kind are not un-<br />
known, though they are certainly infrequent.<br />
Personally, I would prefer such a system of<br />
publishing as would allow both publisher and<br />
author to know beforehand in what proportion<br />
results would be apportioned, and such a system I<br />
hope that we shall arrive at Then indeed will come<br />
the Golden Age, and we may all crown ourselves<br />
with garlands, take down our harps and sing<br />
madrigals by purling brooks, authors and publishers<br />
together, while the world looks on envious and<br />
admiring.<br />
♦<br />
There was held a dinner, the other day, of Pub-<br />
lishers and Booksellers. I hope that, before long,<br />
the other branch, perhaps the lower branch, of<br />
the Literary Profession—that of the Authors—<br />
may be admitted, as a branch, to this gathering.<br />
The chair was taken by Mr. John Murray, Junior.<br />
A person, whom I once believed to be a friend,<br />
brought me, the day after the dinner, a paper<br />
containing what purported to be an extract from<br />
his speech. I am a credulous creature, and I sent<br />
it to press. I have since discovered that I was<br />
the victim of a hoax. These words, in fact, did<br />
not form part of the speech. Nevertheless, as they<br />
seem to me brave and honest words, and such as one<br />
would expect from the heir apparent of the House<br />
of Murray, I prefer to believe that they were<br />
spoken. The following, then, is the forged docu-<br />
ment in question:—<br />
The Chairman then alluded—it does not appear<br />
from the reports that he so much as mentioned the<br />
Society—to the Society of Authors. "This associa-<br />
tion of writers "—really, he said nothing of the<br />
kind—" has of late proved that it aims at becoming<br />
a great power in the world of living literature. It<br />
has detected and exposed many of the cheats and<br />
robberies practised by the dishonest members of<br />
our trade: it has caused restitution to be made to<br />
many victims; it has diverted a great amount of<br />
business into the hands of honourable houses.<br />
For these reasons, gentlemen, we have every cause<br />
to congratulate ourselves upon its prosperity and<br />
activity. We ought to welcome any step which<br />
helps to purify the moral atmosphere and maintain<br />
the honour of the calling by which we live.<br />
Recently the Society has issued two books which<br />
are, I venture to say, the most noteworthy things<br />
ever done for the higher interests of publisher and<br />
author. The first of these, called the ' Methods of<br />
Publication,' shows exactly what is meant by every<br />
kind of agreement—what the publisher offers the<br />
author and the author cedes to the publisher. It<br />
also shows the frauds which are commonly practised.<br />
This exposure will be new to most of us here present.<br />
But it cannot fail to do great good. The next book<br />
is called the 'Cost of Production.' By these two<br />
books the author is, for the first time, placed in<br />
the position of knowing what his agreement means,<br />
namely, what risks his publisher runs, if any, what<br />
are his reasonable expectations, and how the joint<br />
venture is shared. Gentlemen, an honourable man<br />
has nothing—he can have nothing—to conceal.<br />
We therefore rejoice at the publication of these<br />
books, and we congratulate the Society upon the<br />
steps it has taken."<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 285 (#343) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
285<br />
The enclosed is a sign of the times. It has<br />
been sent to me by one of the promoters of the<br />
movement We shall rejoice to learn that the new<br />
Association is flourishing. Meantime, why women<br />
alone? Why not men and women?<br />
"We the undersigned, pledge ourselves as<br />
authors who believe in pure literature and high<br />
standards of literary work, to co-operate as members<br />
of a Society to be known as—<br />
"The Authors' Guild of American Women.<br />
"We are convinced that union is strength and<br />
consultation a source of education; and we hereby<br />
pledge ourselves to aid each other in all legitimate<br />
channels of work; to exercise our utmost diligence<br />
to purify publications; and to insist that literary<br />
work performed by women, if worthy of publication,<br />
is also worthy of just remuneration."<br />
♦<br />
The following communication needs no com-<br />
ment. One might, however, point out to the<br />
people concerned, that these things get talked<br />
about and do not improve the name of the House<br />
concerned. Also, that authors are getting more<br />
shy and suspicious every day, and more inclined to<br />
inquiry.<br />
"In December last, induced by a friend, I sent<br />
a MS. to a certain firm of publishers. Hearing<br />
nothing about it I wrote in January two letters to<br />
them, pointing out that delay would destroy my<br />
chance of publication for the season, and requesting<br />
their answer or the MS. They did not vouchsafe<br />
a word of reply for some weeks, when I received a<br />
curt note informing me that my MS. would be<br />
returned if I sent stamps for the purpose. I sent<br />
stamps, and after two or three days I got back the<br />
MS., all crushed, dirtied, and disordered. On<br />
putting it to rights I found one section missing, I<br />
wrote again, and after another delay of some days,<br />
the missing part was sent to me without one word<br />
of apology."<br />
The preceding case of discourtesy on the part<br />
of a publisher is capped by a case of equal dis-<br />
courtesy on the part of an editor—a religious paper<br />
this. Religion, we know, forgives every kind of sin,<br />
which is why sweaters flourish in religious societies<br />
and editors of religious papers behave like the<br />
gentleman mentioned below,<br />
"In September an author sent to this editor an<br />
article for his magazine. He was careful to<br />
enclose a stamped and addressed envelope in<br />
accordance with the directions to contributors.<br />
"He waited five months in patience. He then<br />
wrote, politely pointing out that he had heard<br />
nothing about it.<br />
"No reply at all.<br />
"He waited nine days and then wrote again, say-<br />
ing that if he obtained no reply he should lay the<br />
matter before this Society.<br />
"The MS. was promptly returned, but without a<br />
single word of explanation or commentary."<br />
An editor has, no doubt, to wade through a vast<br />
quantity of rubbish, but that is no excuse for<br />
absolute discourtesy.<br />
The preliminary Committee of the Authors' Club<br />
has been formed, It will begin to meet at once in<br />
order to draw up a working scheme for the foun-<br />
dation of the Club on a stable basis. The Authors'<br />
House will not be forgotten, should there be found<br />
room for it after the establishment of the Club. I<br />
beg to announce that I am not a member of this<br />
Committee, a statement which will perhaps make<br />
it unnecessary henceforth for the irresponsible<br />
paragraph writer to call it my club. But I hope<br />
they will elect me a member.<br />
The little exhibition of bindings of which<br />
mention was made last month is at Tregaskis',<br />
Holborn. It is now open to the public. All those<br />
who care for binding should visit the place before<br />
the books are dispersed.<br />
I once more invite members of the Society to<br />
consider the Author the natural home for all kinds<br />
of questions, cases, points, difficulties, anecdotes,<br />
&c, connected with literature. I do so because<br />
there is a danger that the paper should be regarded<br />
as nothing more than the organ of counsel and<br />
advice as regards agreements. That—most cer-<br />
tainly. But we are not always signing agreements,<br />
and in the world of letters there are many<br />
interests.<br />
♦<br />
The lovers of the works of Richard Jefferies are<br />
rapidly increasing in numbers and in enthusiasm.<br />
I am sure that a great many of them are on the lists<br />
of the Society—among our 750. Be it known to<br />
these that a bust of this great interpreter of Nature<br />
has been executed, that the Eishop and Dean of<br />
Salisbury has granted permission to place it in the<br />
Cathedral—and that the subscriptions still fall<br />
short of the amount required. Will every reader<br />
of this note—that is, every reader who can appre-<br />
ciate the "Pageant of Summer "—send me some-<br />
thing towards the completion of this work? I do<br />
not beg in the name of Literature generally, of all<br />
authors, but only of those who belong with me to<br />
the company of those who feel that never did any<br />
man write of field and wood, of hillside and of<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 286 (#344) ############################################<br />
<br />
286<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
hedge, as this man wrote. The treasurer of the<br />
fund is Mr. Arthur Kinglake, but I will receive<br />
subscriptions and send them on.<br />
On Friday last the first performance at the<br />
English Free Theatre took place. The piece was<br />
Ibsen's " Ghosts." The accounts of the play differ a<br />
good deal. If the critic is an ardent Ibsenite he<br />
says that it is a most beautiful play. If he is not,<br />
he says that it has all the faults which an acting<br />
play ought not to have. If he is a disciple he<br />
says it is a most wonderful sermon. If he is not,<br />
he says that sermons are things which can, and<br />
should, be delivered before the whole people with<br />
open doors, not with shut doors and in fear of the<br />
Lord Chamberlain. One thing is agreed upon by<br />
all, that the piece owed whatever success it ob-<br />
tained entirely to the acting of one lady. I suppose<br />
that Ibsen has some message to deliver or he<br />
would not have so many admirers. Meantime, let<br />
us for the present suspend our judgment on the<br />
new Free Theatre.<br />
Walter Besant.<br />
*<br />
A NOTE ON THE NEW ACT.<br />
ON and after July ist, authors, no matter what<br />
their nationality, will be able to acquire<br />
copyright in the United States, to add sixty<br />
millions to their "public." It is simply impossible<br />
to exaggerate the importance of such a change, not<br />
only to "popular" writers, but to the authors<br />
of all standard works. We hope in the next num-<br />
berof the Author to give the Revised Statute as it will<br />
pass into law. But, meanwhile, sundry considera-<br />
tions suggest themselves. The conditions attached to<br />
the acquisition of copyright are not a little onerous.<br />
Imprimis, it is necessary (i) that before the day of<br />
publication (in any country) the applicant should<br />
deliver at the office of the Librarian of Congress,<br />
&c, a printed copy of the title of the "book, map,<br />
chart, dramatic or musical composition, engraving,<br />
cut, print, photograph, or chromo, or a description<br />
of the painting, drawing, statue, statuary, or a model<br />
or the design for a work of the finearts for which he de-<br />
sires a copyright"; and (2) "not later than the day<br />
of publication" (in any country), deliver at the<br />
office of the Librarian of Congress two copies of such<br />
copyright " book," &c, or in the case of a painting,<br />
&c., a photograph of the same. But in the case of a<br />
"book" it is provided (3) that the said copies shall<br />
be "printed from type set within the limits of the<br />
United States, or from plates made therefrom."<br />
This provision was extended by the famous "chromo<br />
amendment," so as to require engravings, cuts,<br />
prints, photographs or chromo lithographs to be<br />
printed from engravings, cuts, negatives, or drawings<br />
on stone made within the limits of the United States,<br />
or from transfers made therefrom. But, according<br />
to Reuter's cablegram of the 2nd inst., this amend-<br />
ment was amended by the Conference Committee<br />
of the Senate and the House of Representatives so<br />
as to confine its operation to "lithographs, chromos,<br />
and photographs," all of which, to be the subject of<br />
American copyright, must, we take it, have been<br />
"produced" within the States.<br />
A question at once arises as to the definition put<br />
by American law upon the term "book." Does it<br />
include, as in England, "every volume, part of a<br />
volume, pamphlet, sheet of letterpress, sheet of<br />
music, map, chart, or plan separately published "?<br />
If so, obviously, the necessity of securing cony-<br />
right arises from the commencement of publication.<br />
It will be necessary, for instance, in order to obtain<br />
American copyright, to duly deliver each and every<br />
part of a serial story or work published in parts.<br />
But as against this it may surely be argued that the<br />
"day of publication" is the day of first publication<br />
in complete form. (4) The "person claiming" the<br />
copyright, may again, it appears, from Section 4952<br />
of the Revised Statutes, be the "author, inventor,<br />
designer, or proprietor of any book," &c.—a<br />
sufficiently wide definition. Is it intended that<br />
anyone, acquiring priority, should, by going through<br />
the necessary formalities, become the owner of the<br />
copyright? Or is it necessary that he must acquire<br />
rights from the author or his assigns?<br />
The effect of the Bill upon the English publishers,<br />
printers, compositors, bookbinders, and paper-<br />
makers cannot as yet be determined. But the<br />
fears which are openly expressed that New York<br />
will become the centre of the book trade, are, we<br />
believe, exaggerated. If English "stereo" is ex-<br />
cluded from the States, in the case of copyright<br />
works, it is practically certain that American<br />
"stereo" will prove useless in England. The differ-<br />
ence in typography alone would prove a fatal<br />
objection. The same remark applies to the im-<br />
portation of sheets or bound volumes from the<br />
States.<br />
It may, too, be remarked that in case it should<br />
be necessary, there exists a useful machinery under<br />
the Merchandize Marks Act. If there is any doubt<br />
as to the "country of origin," the Customs author-<br />
ities can require this to be declared on every copy.<br />
"Printed frpm type set within the limits of the<br />
United States " would pot, in England, be a popular<br />
line on a title-page, The "cost of production"<br />
will, too, thanks to the McKinley tariff, remain<br />
much higher in the States than in England, and<br />
English papermakers and bookbinders have not<br />
much to fear.<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 287 (#345) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
287<br />
IN THE LAST DITCH.<br />
"/^VNE of the oddest and most unfortunate<br />
I I phenomena in the history of the copy-<br />
right discussion," says the New York<br />
Nation, "is the appearance every now and then,<br />
when the Pirates are ready to throw up their hands<br />
and ask for quarter, of some moralist or theologian<br />
to cheer them up and encourage them to make<br />
some further resistance, by proclaiming that the<br />
poor men have done nothing wrong, and that we<br />
musi not call them hard names or despitefully use<br />
them."<br />
The last appearance of the moralist or the-<br />
ologian, one is pleased to observe, is that of<br />
an Englishman. Not an American at all. An<br />
Englishman of letters. A very distinguished man<br />
of letters. His name is here suppressed because<br />
he does not appear to have sent his protest to<br />
any English organ. He has been protesting in<br />
an American paper against certain harsh language<br />
used towards the House of Representatives for<br />
failing to pass the Copyright Bill last session.<br />
As regards the bad language, it never did any<br />
good to call names, and it never will. Yet we<br />
shall always continue to call names because it<br />
relieves the feelings. Hear, however, the Nation<br />
further in the matter.<br />
"But what concerns us now is the reasons Mr.<br />
A. gives for deprecating vituperation. One of them<br />
is that all property, and especially literary property,<br />
is the creation of law, and that copyright is 'a<br />
purely artificial privilege,' and that, therefore, it is<br />
highly indecent to speak of persons who publish<br />
other men's works without paying for them, as<br />
'thieves' or 'pirates.' That this man should<br />
offer the world, in such a cause, the plea that<br />
property is the creation of law is very curious,<br />
because there is hardly a step in the creation of<br />
the present English Constitution, from Magna<br />
Charta down, which was not a protest, in some<br />
shape, against the doctrine that a man's moral<br />
right to his goods and chattels is at all dependent<br />
on the provision made by law for his protection in<br />
the enjoyment of them. The great doctrine that<br />
taxation without representation is a thing to be<br />
resisted with the sword, if necessary, rests on the<br />
very proposition which Mr. A. denies. When<br />
Hampden refused to pay the ship-money because<br />
he had not voted it through his representatives,<br />
seven of the twelve judges decided against him,<br />
and his refusal was therefore illegal; but he per-<br />
sisted in it, nevertheless, to the death, and all<br />
Englishmen now hold his memory in reverence<br />
therefor. The amount was trifling, but, as has been<br />
finely said, if he had paid it he would have been a<br />
slave.<br />
"Property, in truth, in its moral aspect, is no more<br />
a creation of law than justice is. It was created,<br />
as justice was, by the appearance of a second man<br />
on the globe. On each of the two there then<br />
descended that great moral obligation which the<br />
friends of copyright now seek to have embodied in<br />
legislation—the obligation not to steal and not<br />
to covet his neighbour's goods, his ox or his ass,<br />
his man-servant or maid-servant, his wife, 'or any-<br />
thing that is his.' This obligation existed before<br />
either Parliaments or kings, before even the Ten<br />
Commandments. It arose out of the very nature<br />
of things. Mr. A. confounds, as do thousands of<br />
inferior men, the question of right with the question<br />
of security. Law cannot give a man a moral right<br />
to the product of his labour, nor can it take it<br />
away from him, a good illustration of which rule is<br />
to be found in the institution of slavery. The law<br />
deprived the negro of all legal rights, but it could<br />
not touch any of his moral or natural right.'.<br />
What the law does for property is to give it security.<br />
It can, by denying security, as in the case of<br />
literary property, make it worthless, but it cannot<br />
lessen the owner's right to it. It cannot diminish<br />
the moral guilt of stealing it from him. What the<br />
apologists of Pirates mean, therefore, when they<br />
talk of the law as a 'creator of property,' is simply<br />
that no man can, without the help of the law, get<br />
from property the sum of those pleasures which<br />
make it valuable. This may be true, but how can<br />
this fact excuse in the forum of morals the man<br />
who avails himself of this absence of legal defence<br />
to appropriate as much of his neighbour's goods<br />
as he takes a fancy to? Is it possible that when<br />
Arabs strip travellers in the desert, the offence is<br />
not robbery, but a failure of the law to create pro-<br />
perty in watches, guns, and camels in that particular<br />
region?<br />
"Mr. A., in like manner, when he comes to<br />
speak of copyright as 'a special privilege,' con-<br />
founds plagiarism and piracy. This is the most<br />
fertile source of misunderstanding in the whole<br />
discussion. What is a plagiarist? It is, says the<br />
dictionary, a man 1 who purloins the words, writ-<br />
ings, or ideas of another and passes them off as his<br />
own.' Now, it is no easy thing to convict a man<br />
of this offence unless he makes long textual<br />
extracts. The ownership of an idea, and even of<br />
forms of expression, is generally very difficult to<br />
trace. The same idea often occurs to hundreds<br />
of men at the same time, and often finds very<br />
similar expression at the hands of hundreds of<br />
different authors or writers. Therefore defenders<br />
of literary property have never attempted to set<br />
up the doctrine of 'property in ideas' which<br />
opponents of copyright are so fond of attacking.<br />
They have never maintained that it is or ought to<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 288 (#346) ############################################<br />
<br />
288<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
be unlawful to use a thought uttered by one man<br />
for the moral or mental culture of another man,<br />
or of forbidding the reproduction, in one man's<br />
book or speech, of as many ideas of other men as<br />
he can collect or re-cast to suit his purpose.<br />
Authors or writers who do this a good deal, un-<br />
doubtedly incur discredit by it with their fellows<br />
and the general public. It greatly damages a<br />
writer's fame to be rightfully accused of want of<br />
originality, or of imitation, or of getting materials<br />
at second-hand. But no one has ever proposed to<br />
punish or restrain this sort of misappropriation by<br />
law. No one has ever contended for the infliction<br />
on the purloiners of other men's ideas of any<br />
penalty but ridicule or disgrace, although their<br />
name is legion and their depredations ruthless and<br />
notorious; and yet a very large proportion of the<br />
Pirates and their apologists expend all their<br />
strength in showing that one man may lawfully<br />
appropriate another man's ideas for his own use or<br />
behoof, or even present them to the world as the<br />
product of his own brain,<br />
"What the champions of copyright, both national<br />
and international, assail is, not the appropriation<br />
of one man's ideas for another man's use and<br />
behoof, but the sale of one man's ideas and forms<br />
of expression in open market by another man in com-<br />
petition with the author. This is 'piracy,' This<br />
is what we ask to have stopped and punished by<br />
law. We do not say to Pirates, You shall not take<br />
the Blacks' Encyclopaedia to your home and pre-<br />
pare articles and speeches or even books out of<br />
its rich stores of information, and, if you are dis-<br />
honest enough to do so, give them to the world as<br />
your own, or absorb as much of the facts and<br />
ideas as your mental powers will permit. What<br />
we say is, You shall not, while denying the right of<br />
property in it in the hands of the original author<br />
or compiler, tseat it as property in your own hands,<br />
and offer it for sale in competition with the man<br />
whom you are plundering."<br />
■ *<br />
DO ENGLISH PEOPLE BUY BOOKS?<br />
THE theory that English people never buy<br />
books has long been a commonplace with<br />
writers of leading articles and press para-<br />
graphs. It is one of those fine old truths which<br />
are not to be questioned: it is taken as proved.<br />
The undoubted fact that novels are published at<br />
a price which prohibits their purchase, is held to<br />
establish the theory, which is irrefutable from a<br />
certain point of view—that naturally taken by one<br />
who buys books from him who creates them.<br />
Without doubt, while the prices of books were<br />
high, and when the book club provided all the<br />
new books, very few even of the richer households<br />
bought books at all. The book clubs, however,<br />
have nearly all vanished; their place has been<br />
only partly, not altogether, taken by the Circulating<br />
Libraries. The country has become very much<br />
richer than it was a half century since; it has also<br />
become much more populous: the education<br />
of the people has been enormously developed, and<br />
the taste for reading has grown with the education<br />
of the people. Therefore it would seem as if the<br />
circulating libraries alone would hardly suffice for<br />
the wants of the reading public, In addition, the<br />
last half century has witnessed the growth of the<br />
colonial empire from a few hundred thousands to<br />
something like twenty millions. And they have<br />
no circulating libraries at all. Yet they read.<br />
Let us, however, for the moment disregard the<br />
colonial demand. What do we see at first sight?<br />
Take, first, our own houses. Everybody knows the<br />
house where the dining room contains a bookcase<br />
filled with books which are never changed and<br />
never taken down. Gibbon is there; Robertson is<br />
there; probablyBlair'ssermons; HumeandSmollett;<br />
a Gazetteer; an edition of the Spectator. Formerly,<br />
that is to say, twenty years ago, or so, this book-<br />
case contained all the books of the house. Now,<br />
however, there are other shelves—a case in the<br />
drawing room filled with poetry and pretty editions:<br />
a bookcase in the school room, or breakfast room,<br />
filled with modern and new books—there will you find<br />
Rider Haggard, Stevenson, Lang, Black, Hardy,<br />
Blackmore, the newest essayist, not to mention<br />
Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Collins, and<br />
Reade. There you will find evidence that somebody<br />
or other in the house not only knows contemporary<br />
literature but buys it, and that plentifully, and with<br />
no sparing hand,<br />
Again, watch the bookstall at a London railway<br />
station. The place is not a stall, it is a great shop<br />
filled with new books. Here are all the newest<br />
works, the biographies, the dozens of Series, the<br />
novels, the essays—everything, Stand beside the<br />
place for a quarter of an hour before the departure<br />
of the express. Look at the people. They crowd<br />
about the stall: they are all buying books. Con-<br />
sider that this goes on every hour from morning<br />
till night—for twelve hours, or thereabouts, the<br />
people flock to this stall and buy books. Consider,<br />
further, that there are a dozen such stations in<br />
London, and that the same thing goes on at every<br />
big town in the United Kingdom. Will you still<br />
consider us a nation which does not buy books?<br />
But—a point which seems to make against the<br />
extension of the book trade—the country book-<br />
sellers' shops have certainly decreased in import-<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 289 (#347) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
289<br />
ance and in profits during the last half century.<br />
That is quite true. The bookseller of the old<br />
county town was a person of great weight and con-<br />
sideration. He had down all the new books, the<br />
clergy and the reading public of the place looked<br />
upon his shop as a place where literary news could<br />
be heard and the new books examined. But then<br />
there was no other way of getting the literary news.<br />
The country papers had none, the London literary<br />
papers went but little out of London, the people<br />
seldom went to town. They were therefore de-<br />
pendent upon the local bookseller, who, as one who<br />
studies his market, provided for his customers the<br />
things which he knew they would take. Also, a<br />
thing of the greatest importance, there was no dis-<br />
count of threepence in the shilling, and the published<br />
price was high. A bookseller who sold a book for<br />
1 of. 6d. which he had purchased for 7*., managed<br />
to do very well. He was a substantial person: on<br />
the social ladder he ranked first among the trades-<br />
men: he stood next to the solicitor and the<br />
doctor. Now, he has to give a discount of three-<br />
pence in the shilling. His half-guinea volume is<br />
reduced to three and six, which he sells for two<br />
and eight, and for which he pays two shillings.<br />
Therefore, he is fain to sell, in addition to books,<br />
stationery, photographs, albums, fancy things, and<br />
perhaps toys. His customers are independent of<br />
him; they learn easily from the reviews all that<br />
goes on; they order their books from London, or<br />
from the railway stall, and they desert the local shop.<br />
The book trade, in fact, has increased a thousand-<br />
fold, and yet the bookseller has decayed.<br />
Consider, next, the publishers' lists. I have<br />
before me the Athenaum, which contains, I sup-<br />
pose, more book advertisements than any other<br />
paper. This single number represents fourteen firms<br />
of publishers, most, in fact, of what are called leading<br />
publishers. It is by no means the best publishing<br />
time of the year. Yet, leaving out the books which<br />
are announced only, no price being affixed, we find<br />
an astonishing activity. Of biographical works there<br />
are 28, ranging in price from 2s. 6d. to £5 55.; of<br />
essays there are 29, namely, 9 at 2s. 6d., 3 at<br />
3f. 6d., 3 at 5s., 7 at 6s., 1 at 7*., 1 at 7f. 6d, 1 at<br />
9f., and 4 at iof. 6d. Of fiction there are some<br />
90 works, counting new books and new editions,<br />
viz., 17 at 3 if. 6d., 9 at 2 if., 1 at i7f., 24 at 6s.,<br />
1 at i2f., 3 at 7f. 6d., 29 at 3f. 6d., 1 at sf., 4 at<br />
2f. 6d., and two or three at 2f. We may pass over<br />
art books, histories, and one or two books of<br />
travel. If we look at this advertisememt sheet in<br />
another three months, most of these books will be<br />
changed for others. Now, if you please, for whom<br />
are these books published? For the circulating<br />
libraries? They may take all the three volume<br />
novels. For whom are the other books issued?<br />
For the general public. These advertisements<br />
represent the sale of, at least, half a million<br />
volumes; and, to repeat, the lists will be all changed<br />
in three months' time. Is that, then, the whole<br />
life's duration of our modern literature? It is of<br />
the great majority of books that are published.<br />
We remark on the price of these books. The<br />
favourite prices are 6s. and 3f. 6d. The books<br />
most bought are novels either at that price, or<br />
those in the cheaper form at 2f., which are not<br />
generally advertised in the Athenaum. And the<br />
novels which become popular retain their vitality<br />
for many years. Not to speak of Scott, Dickens,<br />
or Marryat, any popular novel of the last forty<br />
years is popular still.<br />
But these, remember, are only the advertisements<br />
of a casual week. Consider, one after the other,<br />
the general list of a great publisher, that long and<br />
encyclopaedic document embracing all subjects, and<br />
all authors, dead and living; think of the lists of the<br />
religious publishing houses, which cater chiefly for the<br />
uncultivated class, and administer doctrine disguised<br />
as fiction; think of the immense lists of books by<br />
the so-called popular houses, which issue cheap<br />
literature. One would like to have an enumeration<br />
and an analysis of all the books at this moment<br />
offered to the British public by the publishers.<br />
Certain it is that no shop could contain a tenth<br />
portion. Yet they are in demand—else they would<br />
be withdrawn from the list. For whom are these<br />
thousands of books published, and year after year<br />
reprinted? For this folk who never buy books.<br />
In fact, a great change has come over us in this<br />
as in every other respect. Increased ease in cir<br />
cumstances with an increased taste for letters has<br />
caused us to buy books as we never bought them<br />
before. We are now buyers on a gigantic scale.<br />
Every good book is caught up eagerly. There is<br />
no longer the slightest foundation for the old bogie<br />
of risk; there is no risk about a good book except<br />
the risk of over-printing, which no prudent man will<br />
incur; there are novelists, not by ones or twos, but<br />
by the score, whose books are in demand unknown<br />
even to such admirable writers as, say, Mrs. Gaskell,<br />
of thirty years ago. The three volume novel has<br />
its run as of old; I have not heard that it is<br />
decreasing in demand; but when the cheap edition<br />
of it comes out, if it is a favourite, it is bought by the<br />
very people who have first read it from the library.<br />
Whether we devote as large a proportion of our<br />
expenditure to buying books as we should is another<br />
question. The mind must be nourished as well<br />
as the body; it requires continual reception of new<br />
facts, new thoughts, new theories, new lights, new<br />
arguments. It requires continually to be refreshed<br />
by the exhibition of the old things. In an ordi-<br />
nary middleclass household the wife spends ^400 a<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 290 (#348) ############################################<br />
<br />
290<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
year on her house ; the husband, ,£75 a year on his<br />
wine ; the family, jQi 50 a year on clothes ; the same<br />
amount on travelling; there is also rent; there<br />
are the hundred and fifty little things in which<br />
money is wasted all day long. How much is spent<br />
on books? Formerly, three guineas a year. That<br />
was all. Only three guineas a year for the circu-<br />
lating library and for books, nothing, except a<br />
birthday present or two, and what the children<br />
bought out of their pocket money. But as for any<br />
idea that it is the duty of a man of culture to buy<br />
his mental food as he buys his meat and bread, that<br />
had not dawned upon their minds, nor has it yet,<br />
though, for convenience sake, people have begun<br />
to buy, and will, before long, buy yet more largely.<br />
It will be now understood from these considera-<br />
tions why we drew up certain questions and sub-<br />
mitted them to certain well-known booksellers in<br />
London; our best thanks are due for the courtesy<br />
with which these questions have been answered.<br />
They were not meant to be inquisitive or prying<br />
questions, but general, and directed mainly to<br />
finding an answer to the question at the head of this<br />
paper. Had not the views already expressed been<br />
confirmed, in the main, by these answers, they would<br />
not have been advanced.<br />
The following, therefore, is summarised from the<br />
replies received. Those received from different<br />
houses are put together so as to present a con-<br />
tinuous opinion.<br />
Every well-educated Englishman buys some<br />
books. In every house will be found shelves filled<br />
with books, chiefly new, and in most houses there is<br />
a library, or study, or school room. Students of all<br />
kinds have to buy their text books—a large trade<br />
ir| itself; most professional men have a taste for<br />
reading, and are frequently very good buyers.<br />
Schoolboys, besides having to buy school books,<br />
and young clerks, are great buyers of the cheap<br />
reprints of Lytton, Ainsworth, Dickens, Jules Verne,<br />
&c, which are sold at 4^1. a copy. Ladies are<br />
not, as a rule, good book buyers, except of books<br />
for children, and for household purposes; when<br />
they do buy, it is the two shilling novel. Country<br />
people and visitors buy a great many books. City<br />
men are often large and constant buyers. Some<br />
have their favourite authors, and buy everything<br />
that bears the name. The ordinary middle-class<br />
Englishman, he who lives by his shop, does not, as<br />
a rule, buy or read books at all. His daily paper<br />
is sufficient for him. Yet he will, on occasion, buy<br />
something that strikes his imagination, or that is<br />
much talked about.<br />
Opinions differ as to the best price for selling a<br />
novel. One, for instance, finds that the price of<br />
6s. is paid as readily as that of 35. 6d. Another<br />
says that the best way to treat an author is to<br />
publish him in uniform binding at 3s. 6d. In the<br />
case of a really good and lasting work it seems<br />
best to have several editions at 6.?., at 3s. 6d., and<br />
at 2s. The 6d. books have an enormous sale.<br />
They are generally editions of books whose copy-<br />
right is lapsed. There is, therefore, no author to be<br />
considered. If 100,000 copies go off, the publisher<br />
gets id. a copy, and the bookseller id., and so a<br />
handsome profit is realised.<br />
There is always a great demand for old works of<br />
fiction. Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Scott,<br />
Marryat, Charles Kingsley, and Wilkie Collins,<br />
still continue in greater popularity than any living<br />
writers. The bookseller suffers the living writers<br />
to drop out of his shelves, but always keeps them<br />
well stocked with these dead writers.<br />
Books of travel very quickly die when the first<br />
curiosity is satisfied. Yet there are a few excep-<br />
tions. Darwin's "Voyage of the Beagle," the<br />
"Voyage of the Sunbeam," Waterton's Travels,<br />
Cook s Voyages, are always in steady demand.<br />
Very few people buy new poetry. Yet for<br />
Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, Edwin Arnold,<br />
Mathew Arnold, and Longfellow there is always a<br />
steady demand.<br />
As regards essays: these vary with the subjects.<br />
For steady demand we may mention John Morley's<br />
Essays, Charles Lamb, Lubbock's "Pleasures of<br />
Life," Carlyle, &c, while for sudden popularity<br />
may be cited Augustine Birrell and Jerome.<br />
Books of biography possess either a wide interest<br />
soon satisfied, as in the life of a man recently dead,<br />
or an abiding interest as is shown in the steady<br />
demand for the many series now before the world.<br />
Books of history are always in demand. The<br />
most popular are Macaulay, Green, and Froude.<br />
The " Story of the Nations " series is very popular.<br />
The most popular American authors are, taking<br />
them in order of demand—Mark Twain, Bret<br />
Harte. Marion Crawford (if he is to be reckoned<br />
an American), and Howells, Henry James, Holmes,<br />
Emerson.<br />
Foreign books do not compare in popularity<br />
with native productions. Daudet, Georges Ohnet,<br />
Boisgobey, Gaboriau, Dumas, Eugene Sue, Jules<br />
Verne, are largely asked for.<br />
The discount of $d. in the is. has been much<br />
discussed by the trade. A Booksellers' Associa-<br />
tion has been formed to consider this among other<br />
matters. They have come to the conclusion that<br />
the discount must be retained, but that it must not<br />
be increased.<br />
As regards the extent of the colonial trade, no<br />
statistics have been furnished, and perhaps one<br />
cannot expect to arrive at any. But one book-<br />
seller pertinently points out that many houses are<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 291 (#349) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
291<br />
engaged in nothing else but the export of books, a<br />
fact which proves that the trade is very great.<br />
Enough has been adduced to prove that it can<br />
no longer be charged against us that we do not<br />
buy books. On the contrary, we buy vast quan-<br />
tities. Whether we buy as many as we ought,<br />
considering the number we read, is another matter.<br />
In our next number we may perhaps, by some<br />
analysis of publishers' lists, arrive at a closer<br />
estimate of the vast national interest of what is<br />
familiarly called the Trade.<br />
UN DEBUT DANS LA VlE.<br />
"OU are now, Martha Londers," said the<br />
Matron of the Orphanage, "about to<br />
enter upon the duties and responsibilities<br />
of life. Your career begins to-day. It depends<br />
upon yourself where it ends. It may be that you<br />
will rise to be housekeeper in a mansion, or even<br />
—such things have happened—to be Matron of an<br />
Institution."<br />
Martha Londers blushed; that is to say, a<br />
naturally rosy face .became fiery red, or even, in<br />
spots, purple; then she smiled—with breadth;<br />
then her eyes became humid, and a big tear, not<br />
of sorrow, but of joyful, emotional hope, swam<br />
gently over the amplitude of her cheek; and her<br />
nose, naturally broad, widened and glistenedi The<br />
occasion was great; the emotion of Martha was<br />
natural; for the first time in her life she was going<br />
to leave the retreat of the Orphanage, and to enter<br />
upon the world. All was before her: she was<br />
seventeen years of age, and she was beginning her<br />
career as assistant housemaid. What then? Many<br />
a field marshal has begun as a common soldier:<br />
many an archbishop has risen from the plough.<br />
To have one foot upon the ladder, even it be the<br />
lowest rung, is something. Martha Londers had<br />
two—solid and substantial feet they were—and she<br />
felt as if she must rise.<br />
"You must be ambitious," continued the<br />
Matron. "Remember that your present wages—<br />
they will be ten pounds at first"—Martha gasped<br />
and choked—" are only a beginning to one who<br />
is ambitious. She who means to rise must show<br />
her ambition by her work. She must be active,<br />
early rising—I think I have detected in you, Martha,<br />
a tendency to an inclination to love your bed—<br />
thorough and zealous. Let all that you do be well<br />
done, thoroughly done—done in earnest—done as<br />
if you meant it to be so well done that not even<br />
the most scrupulous housewife could detect a<br />
fault With these maxims to guide you, Martha<br />
Londers, I may safely leave you. To some girls I<br />
should add a warning about beauty being only<br />
skin deep,"—where, as in Martha's case, it is deeper<br />
than that, it sinks below the surface and becomes<br />
invisible.—"To you I would only say that temp-<br />
tation to all women, beautiful or otherwise, fre-<br />
quently assumes the shape of Man. Beware,<br />
therefore."<br />
"He will be home," said the housemaid, "to<br />
morrow morning. The Master's study has been<br />
left to the last. You can do it this morning,<br />
Martha. As he won't have it touched while he is at<br />
home, make a good job of it"<br />
It was eight o'clock in the morning. The day<br />
was all before her. Martha felt that her work—<br />
she had only been- in the house two days—was<br />
already appreciated. She had been kindly allowed<br />
to scrub the greater part of the house from garret<br />
to cellar, and she was now entrusted with the<br />
important mission of cleaning up the Master's study.<br />
Everybody in the collecting line knows the<br />
name of that Master. No man had a safer judg-<br />
ment about Aldines and Elzevirs; his collection of<br />
Elizabethan poets was almost complete; he knew<br />
the prices of books better than Mr. Bain himself;<br />
and he could talk by the hour of the prices which<br />
books had fetched. Then for bindings, he knew<br />
the work of everyone, Maioli, Grolier, Eve, Derome<br />
—all—and he possessed specimens which were the<br />
envy of all his brother collectors. Again, he had<br />
books which belonged to the library of Marie<br />
Antoinette, of Madame Du Barry, Madame de<br />
Pompadour, and others whose books are valuable<br />
for their bindings and their rarity. In fine, the<br />
chase of books was the chief occupation of his life.<br />
What sayeth "A. L" in his book of the Library?<br />
"Pour tout plaisir que Ton goute icy-bas<br />
La Grace a Dieu. Mieulx vaut, sans altercas,<br />
Chasser bouquin. Nul mat n'en peult s'eh suivre.<br />
Or sus au livre; il est le grand appas.<br />
Clair est le ciel. Amis, qui veult me suivre<br />
En bouquinant?"<br />
He was a man—say, rather, a collector—of<br />
catholic tastes, not bounded by books alone<br />
though his real strength lay in books. He had,<br />
for instance, on a great study table beside the<br />
catalogues which formed his library of reference,<br />
trays of valuable coins; he had Things—he called<br />
them Things—in bronze, Things in brass, Things in<br />
silver; panels lay about with wood carvings upon<br />
them—precious carvings picked up at sales, in<br />
brie h. brae shops, Things from city churches which<br />
they were pulling down, Things from Egypt, Things<br />
from Etruscan tombs, Things from Phoenicia, Things<br />
from Tunis, Things from Spain, Things ancient,<br />
Things mediaeval. The study, in short, a large and<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 292 (#350) ############################################<br />
<br />
292<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
handsome room on the first floor of a big house<br />
in Fitzjohn's Avenue, was crammed and crowded<br />
with old and curious Things.<br />
And Martha Londers, bursting with impatience<br />
to show her zeal, was turned into this room to clean<br />
it up.<br />
It was the last day of the Master's summer<br />
holiday. He had spent it wholly among the<br />
Italian shops. It was never too hot for him, so<br />
long as he could sit among the Things. Rome<br />
in August was as pleasant as Rome in April,<br />
provided there were Things to look at. Where<br />
are there no Things in Italy—Land of Things?<br />
It was over, and he was on his way home. And<br />
Martha Londers was in his study.<br />
She had the house all to herself, because the<br />
other servants went out for a holiday and left<br />
her alone with her work. Alone? No, not alone.<br />
There sat on a corner of the highest shelf, invisible<br />
to Martha, a Creature which grinned and mocked<br />
and laughed, and held its sides and rolled about<br />
with laughing. But not aloud—so that Martha<br />
neither heard nor saw, but went on with her work.<br />
Thorough work; zealous work; work in which<br />
not the most scrupulous housewife could find the<br />
least fault or omission. Work methodical and<br />
complete. Observe that Martha had never before<br />
seen a study or a library. There were books for<br />
the girls at the Orphanage ; they were distributed<br />
for Sunday reading between the three services;<br />
but a library she had never before seen.<br />
First she surveyed the whole; then she took<br />
down a book and found that it was dusty on the<br />
top, and that the shelf behind was very dusty.<br />
Then she saw that many of the books presented a<br />
faded and careworn exterior which she thought she<br />
could improve; and she observed with concern that a<br />
great quantity of the Things wanted cleaning badly.<br />
She went out and returned bearing a mop, a<br />
bucket of warm water, some soap, a scrubbing-<br />
brush, a knife for scraping, some plate powder, and<br />
other ingredients, with the help of which she pur-<br />
posed to pass a useful and a pleasant time.<br />
As she was alone in the house she sang over her<br />
work. At the Orphanage the girls only sang<br />
hymns. Martha, therefore, in a contented mur-<br />
murous kind of croon, while she scrubbed with zeal,<br />
beguiled the time with "Lead, kindly Light."<br />
She first removed the books from the top shelf;<br />
then, mounted on a chair, she sluiced that shelf<br />
with water and scrubbed it with soap, wiping it dry<br />
with a towel. It was beautifully clean when she<br />
finished it. No one would blame her, of course,<br />
because the water dripped through upon the books<br />
below, lodged and lurked between their bindings,<br />
and splashed their backs. She took out those of<br />
the second row, wiped them dry with her towel—<br />
everybody knows how a book bound in Russia<br />
leather or Morocco is improved by a splash of<br />
water and a good rub with a damp towel—and<br />
proceeded to sluice and scrub the boards; and so<br />
on until the morning was spent—the shelves<br />
completely cleaned, and the books, one and all,<br />
beautified for ever with her towel.<br />
Martha, well content so far, now retired to the<br />
kitchen and made a hearty meal off the cold<br />
mutton and potatoes provided for her by the cook<br />
before she left the house. She then mounted the<br />
stairs once more and began the second part of her<br />
work, singing again; but she changed her tune<br />
and now encouraged herself with "Art thou weary?<br />
art thou languid?"<br />
All day long the Creature who sat on the highest<br />
shelf laughed and rolled about with laughing.<br />
But he was invisible to Martha.<br />
When, about seven in the evening, she com-<br />
pleted her job, she had scraped and polished the<br />
bronzes, the coins—for which she used a file—and<br />
the old silver; she had "restored" the old leather<br />
bindings with a material commonly used for<br />
saddles; she had cleaned and wiped the books;<br />
some, though very old, had never been cut—this<br />
omission she repaired; others, mostly pamphlets,<br />
which had ragged edges, she cut even and neat<br />
with a pair of scissors; the wood carvings she had<br />
scraped when that process seemed necessary, and<br />
in all cases had scrubbed so that the panels now<br />
looked really beautiful. No one would notice<br />
and, indeed, it could not matter, that a few bits<br />
had come off—a grape or two, a flower, a flourish,<br />
the round knob of a cherub's nose. Finally, the<br />
Things looked now so very, very much better for<br />
their thorough repair and so different from their<br />
former grimy condition that Martha's honest heart<br />
swelled with pride and pleasure. What would the<br />
Master say when he returned? He would look<br />
about him with surprised satisfaction; he would<br />
ask what new hand had done this: he would be<br />
told that it was the hand of the new under house-<br />
maid, Martha Londers; and he would nod his head,<br />
promising himself to keep his eye upon Martha.<br />
Perhaps he would send for her to express his satis-<br />
faction and his approbation. When Martha, on her<br />
knees that night, made the usual confession of her<br />
sins, she could not help—it was not in human<br />
nature—feeling that for once the good deeds<br />
outweighed the bad, and left a balance to carry<br />
forward. 'Twas a Papistical thought, but she<br />
knew not the errors of the Roman Church, and<br />
may be excused.<br />
The Master, who had been travelling all night,<br />
arrived about seven o'clock. Martha observed<br />
him with curiosity. He was an elderly mm,<br />
somewhere in the fifties or perhaps in the early<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 293 (#351) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
293<br />
sixties; he was red-faced and of a full habit, but<br />
he moved with activity—a collector is always<br />
active; sometimes, to get before other collectors,<br />
he must even run. He entered the house.<br />
Martha was dusting the stairs and dropped a<br />
curtsey which he noticed with a nod. It will be a<br />
nod and a smile to-morrow, Martha thought. He<br />
went up stairs—but no—not yet—not into the<br />
study. He first had a change in his bed room,<br />
and then he descended to the dining room and<br />
took breakfast and the morning paper; he then,<br />
being fatigued with his night's travelling, fell asleep<br />
in his easy chair and so continued until noon or<br />
thereabouts.<br />
When he awoke he rose, yawned loudly, and<br />
walked to the door. Martha was dusting the<br />
hall clock. Now, at last, he was going into his<br />
own study.<br />
He was.<br />
As he went up the stairs Martha in her agitation<br />
nearly slipped off the chair on which she was<br />
standing. She stopped her dusting, and steadied<br />
herself to listen. Surely, surely he would notice—<br />
he would not fail to notice—the thoroughness of the<br />
cleaning, the zeal of the cleaner, the completeness<br />
of the job. He must notice it; he must ask who<br />
did it; he must be ready to-morrow with a smile<br />
of appreciation.<br />
What was that? The house trembled from<br />
rafter ridge to basement; the walls rocked to and<br />
fro; the glass on the side-board vibrated musically<br />
but strangely; the pictures rocked and swung;<br />
and Martha's heart stood quite still.<br />
A roar—a long prolonged roar j another roar;<br />
a third, louder and more terrifying. Martha's<br />
cheek turned white and her knees trembled<br />
beneath her as she stood upon the chair. Then a<br />
howl—a prolonged howl as of a wild beast in<br />
agony—and then the ringing of the bell—the study<br />
bell, as if all the bells in the whole house were<br />
ringing at once. Then a hasty footstep upon the<br />
landing, and the Master's head, purple, his eyes<br />
standing out, his arms outstretched, his fists<br />
clenched, showed over the balustrade, while he<br />
cursed and swore with such language as Martha<br />
had never before heard even from the lowest<br />
court, while the Orphans took their walks abroad.<br />
Her head reeled; she fell from the chair headlong<br />
and lay upon the floor.<br />
The housekeeper rushed up the stairs. "Good<br />
Lord !" she cried, "what's the matter?"<br />
The Master seized her by the arm and dragged<br />
her into the study. Now reduced to speechlessness,<br />
save for half articulate interjections which betrayed<br />
his emotion, he pointed to the trays of coins, to<br />
the bronzes, to the old silver, to the books—<br />
to the Things. The woman, who knew what<br />
Things meant, gazed in stupefaction. The Master<br />
roared again. He could now do nothing but<br />
roar.<br />
Downstairs, in the hall, Martha came to herself<br />
and sat up sick with fright. What was the<br />
matter?<br />
The other servants were gathered at the foot of<br />
the stairs listening. Presently, the roaring died<br />
away, and the voice of feminine weeping and<br />
lamentation, mixed with masculine thunderous<br />
rumblings, succeeded.<br />
Still the housekeeper came not down, and still<br />
they listened awestruck by the unknown disaster.<br />
No one took any notice of Martha, though she had<br />
got a lump as big as an egg at the back of her<br />
head by her fall, and though she was white with<br />
terror. For now she understood, somehow or<br />
other, that the trouble overhead was connected<br />
with herself.<br />
At last, the housekeeper came down, her eyes<br />
red with tears.<br />
"Martha," she said, with an attempt at calmness,<br />
"go upstairs and pack your box. Not another<br />
hour shall you stay. Go! You shall have your<br />
month's wages. Go back to your Orphanage.<br />
Tell them that sent you out that you're only fit to<br />
scrub the floors of your Asylum. Go! She's<br />
ruined," the housekeeper explained, "the whole<br />
of the Master's collections—the finest collections<br />
in London. Ruined and spoiled them all, she<br />
has. That's all. Nothing more. Books and<br />
coins, and old silver and all. Go, I say, for fear<br />
I take and slap you. Ruined them all. The<br />
work of the Master's life ruined, and in a single<br />
day by a . . by a . . by a Drab." Martha<br />
screamed and fled. "Oh! it's too much—it's too<br />
much! Poor dear gentleman! He's quite broken<br />
hearted. He can never, never get over it. He's<br />
quieted a bit, at last, and he's sittin' on the floor<br />
now, with his ruined collections round him."<br />
This was Martha Londers' entrance upon her<br />
Career. This was the lamentable fashion in which<br />
she returned to the Matron that same day,<br />
*<br />
THE SIGNED ARTICLE.<br />
THE proposal of Mr, Atkinson to compel the<br />
writers of editorial articles to sigh what<br />
they write has not led to the discussion<br />
one might have expected. But Mr. George<br />
Augustus Sala, in his "Echoes of the Week," had<br />
some very interesting remarks on the merits and<br />
demerits of the signed article. He says, "I have<br />
always been a strenuous advocate of the anony-<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 294 (#352) ############################################<br />
<br />
294<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
mous in journalism so far as leading articles are<br />
concerned." Few people are better qualified to<br />
speak with the authority of so experienced a<br />
journalist as Mr. Sala. If anything should be<br />
anonymous surely it is the leading article, which is<br />
supposed to be the expression of the opinion of the<br />
whole staff of a paper or party rather than of an<br />
individual. Nevertheless there seems to be a<br />
tendency now in favour of signed articles, other<br />
than editorials in the weeklies, for instance; and<br />
the monthly reviews are certainly more read than<br />
the stale confections of the Quarterly and Edin-<br />
burgh, which, if people ever read at all, they pay<br />
little heed to. True, there is a pleasant antiquarian<br />
flavour about the notorious reviews on Keats,<br />
Byron, Thackeray, Tennyson, and the Brontes.<br />
They are relics of the haute ecole of scurrility—<br />
that scurrility which, though like everything else,<br />
as we are told, is in its decadence, is found not<br />
in the new journalism^ but in the newest, the<br />
brand-new journalism. While endorsing the<br />
opinions of Mr. Sala, it is impossible to agree with<br />
Mr. W. H. Smith, that " the liberty of the press,"<br />
with rare exceptions, is far from being abused. The<br />
most disgusting personalities about eminent men<br />
are read every day with relish by thousands. We<br />
hear what an eminent poet eats for breakfast, what<br />
a politician drinks for dinner, the colour of the hair<br />
of the eldest daughter of an eminent painter, and<br />
the details of an internal disease that a well-<br />
known doctor is suffering from. If this is toler-<br />
ated would we be any better by knowing who the<br />
purveyor of such small talk was? What middle-<br />
man of journalism is responsible for jottings from<br />
the area, nursery, and servants' hall?<br />
No, far better to let him or her remain<br />
anonymous. Again, the question of reviewing<br />
books is an insurmountable objection to signed<br />
articles. Some books are bad, and some we do<br />
not like. A reviewer would be plunged into an<br />
impossible correspondence, and the editor would<br />
come in for his share if a review were signed.<br />
Why review books at all? is the question some<br />
people ask; but authors, especially young authors,<br />
like other human beings, are vain, and prefer to<br />
have their works attacked than not noticed at all.<br />
Anonymity in an article on some general<br />
question by an unknown writer, gives that article<br />
a value it might not otherwise possess. It is a<br />
distinct blow to learn that some fine piece<br />
of criticism is not by a Pater or Saintsbury, or<br />
an Andrew Lang, but the first effort of a Mr.<br />
Snook, who has just left the University. Then,<br />
too, there are many really important things a<br />
journalist might say (personality and scurrility<br />
barred) that he could not and would not care to<br />
say if the article were signed. That is why the<br />
Saturday Review contains so much the best<br />
reading in the whole of any of the weeklies. The<br />
signed article should be left to the monthly<br />
reviews, where we can find out what Mr.<br />
Gladstone has been reading, and what Mr. Parnell<br />
is thinking of. This, we believe, is the public point<br />
of view. Many eminent writers take the other side<br />
of the question; but in a daily morning paper, at any<br />
rate, the only signed contributions should be<br />
Reuter's telegrams and the advertisements, so<br />
that false news and false witness may be traced to<br />
their original source. Perhaps the most offensive<br />
type of the brand-new journalism which is always<br />
anonymous, is art criticism. Like science, art<br />
requires a thorough expert, and while anyone is<br />
at liberty to dislike this or that painting, no one<br />
should indulge in personal abuse and offensive<br />
invective of the painter himself.<br />
In all journalism, where some qualification as<br />
well as opinion is requisite, it is as well that a name<br />
should appear; to use Mr. Atkinson's words, "so<br />
that the public may know in each case how much<br />
or how little attention is due to each article.''<br />
F.<br />
[This is one side of the question. Perhaps<br />
some readers might like to add, briefly, their views.<br />
—Editor.]<br />
*<br />
IN GRUB STREET.<br />
—»—<br />
TH R proprietors of Answers are certainly the<br />
most generous patrons of literature. They<br />
have forwarded j£i,ooo, I am told, to the<br />
widow of a man who was killed on the railway,<br />
because he had in his possession a copy of their<br />
entertaining periodical when he met his death.<br />
The advertisement was certainly a splendid one.<br />
The widow of any gentleman found dead with a<br />
copy of the Author on his person, will receive<br />
either a thousand copies of the current number,<br />
or a free copy for life. This generosity should<br />
be encouraged in all grades of journalism and<br />
letters. The Author, though only costing sixpence,<br />
is worth quite a guinea a number.<br />
There are many authors who will not sympathise<br />
with Ouida's complaint in the Titnes, and who<br />
would have considered it rather a compliment than<br />
otherwise to have their nom de plume utilised in<br />
the interests of commerce. It was an act, however,<br />
of flagrant literary piracy, and let us hope that the<br />
company will be courteous enough to find some<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 295 (#353) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
295<br />
no less musical and attractive sobriquet as that<br />
which at present belongs to a distinguished<br />
authoress. Shakespeare's creations have been<br />
used to advertise soap and pills, so that Ouida<br />
is certainly in excellent company.<br />
There is a "melancholy and altogether pathetic<br />
interest" attaching to the last story of Mr.<br />
Ignatius Donelly's Great Cryptogam, in which a<br />
Daniel indeed came to judgment. An American<br />
farmer, according to Black and White, had pur-<br />
chased his two volumes under the impression<br />
that Shakespeare would be exposed; when, how-<br />
ever, the tallyman came round for payment he<br />
professed himself unconvinced, and returned the<br />
books. A law suit followed, and the learned<br />
judge, who had something of an Arabian caliph in<br />
him, decided that the farmer would have to disprove<br />
the cryptogam before he would be exempt from pay-<br />
ment. Had it gone the other way, a very dangerous<br />
precedent would have been created. For, on the<br />
same principle, we might refuse to pay booksellers<br />
who supplied us with dull or disappointing works.<br />
The biography of John Wesley, by J. H. Overton<br />
(Methuen and Co.), is one of the very best of the<br />
many lives that have been written, and shows the<br />
great preacher in quite a new light. The compli-<br />
ments that are being paid by one sect of Christians<br />
to another now-a-days are very charming. At the<br />
same time it appears strange for the press, com-<br />
menting on the Wesley centenary, to say that<br />
Wesley " belongs as much to the English Church"<br />
as to the Nonconformists. The same thing has<br />
been said of Newman lately. Now these two<br />
eminent divines made themselves famous, either<br />
by leaving the English Church or causing others<br />
to leave it. I do not think, therefore, that the<br />
Anglican Church can lay much more claim to them<br />
than the Roman Communion can Dollinger or<br />
Renan.<br />
♦<br />
To return once more to Mr. Andrew Lang's<br />
"Essays in Little." The boldest of us may tremble<br />
before admitting that we disagree with him.<br />
There is no more appreciative writer living, unless<br />
it be Mr. Ruskin; then why cannot he see some-<br />
thing in the Russian novelists? He is always tilt-<br />
ing at them : whether he is speaking of Dumas,<br />
Thackeray, or Dickens. Perhaps it is the admirers<br />
of Tolstoi that Mr. I^ang objects to. There are<br />
three ways of taking Tolstoi: one of them is to read<br />
him, the second way is to admire him, and the<br />
third way is to abuse him. Mr. Lang has tried a<br />
vol. L<br />
combination of all three, but surely one may burn<br />
incense at the high altar of Shakespeare, let us say,<br />
and at the same time have a side chapel for Mr.<br />
Andrew Lang. Cannot the same argument be<br />
applied to Dumas and Dostoieffsky? In Tolstoi's<br />
short stories especially there are moments as good<br />
as any in English literature.<br />
Speaking of Dickens again, Mr. Andrew Lang<br />
is very angry with those people who say they<br />
cannot read Dickens, but it is much better to say<br />
so than to pretend to an admiration of the<br />
"darling of the English people." In one of<br />
Mr. James Payn's delightful essays on the sham<br />
admiration of literature, he tells several amusing<br />
stories thereon, one of a lady who confessed she<br />
could not see the fun of John Gilpin, and a gentle-<br />
man who preferred the "Earthly Paradise" to<br />
"Paradise Lost." Even at the expense of cutting<br />
a poor figure, surely it is better to be honest about<br />
what you like to read. I much prefer reading, for<br />
instance (I know many will, but in secret, agree<br />
with me), "Essays in Little" to Milton's reply to<br />
Salmasius.<br />
The death of Poet Close was a local rather than<br />
a national loss. No doubt some future Mr. Andrew<br />
Lang will be able to find something as amusing in<br />
his work, as Mr. Lang has found in that of Haynes<br />
Baily. Like Mr. Martin Tupper, he belonged to<br />
the good rather than to the great. The death of<br />
Fortune1 du Boisgobey, though hardly noticed in<br />
most of the English papers, received an eloquent<br />
obituary notice in the pages of the Saturday<br />
Revieiv. I confess that I envy those people who<br />
were amused by him. I think Hugh Conway told<br />
much better stories, and that several other English<br />
writers of sensational fiction are better than this<br />
French novelist on his own ground.<br />
All writers of sensational novels have at one time<br />
or another been hard pressed for an idea, and the<br />
mysterious disappearance of a lady from the Law<br />
Courts the other day is full of suggestion for a<br />
capital romance. Some enterprising journal might<br />
offer a prize for the best story founded on the<br />
incident. It would be very amusing to see how<br />
each person worked at the explanation of the<br />
mystery.<br />
Mr. Egerton Castle, having already distinguished<br />
himself as an author, has been winning further<br />
laurels at the Lyceum. "Consequences" has<br />
2 13<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 296 (#354) ############################################<br />
<br />
296<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
reached its second edition, so let us hope it will<br />
soon appear in one~ volume. If poetry is in<br />
danger, fiction is certainly safe when Mr. Castle<br />
has won the public applause. Perhaps he will<br />
be generous enough to give us also ere long a<br />
second edition of his delightful lecture.<br />
The March number of the Fortnightly Revinv<br />
which, with the exception of the Author, is the best,<br />
I think, of all the monthly periodicals, is particularly<br />
interesting. Mr. Swinburne has some splendid<br />
stanzas for a statue of Marlowe, and Mr.<br />
Meredith continues "One of our Conquerors."<br />
Mr. Oscar Wilde gives a very original form of a<br />
preface for "Dorian Grey," in which he rebukes<br />
his critics in a series of pregnant aphorisms.<br />
"Dorian Grey," who shines like an evil thing in a<br />
very good story, will shortly appear with more<br />
harmonious surroundings than Lippincotfs Maga-<br />
zine. Among the many good articles in the<br />
Fortnightly, that on "Rossetti and the Moralists"<br />
is unfortunate. The writer seems to me to have<br />
entirely misconceived Rossetti's genius, and mis-<br />
understood the position he occupies in literature<br />
and art.<br />
Mr. George Moore has reprinted more than a<br />
dozen articles. They form a most interesting<br />
volume. It would be pleasant to notice many of<br />
them at some length. The articles on Balzac,<br />
Turgenieff, Verlaine, Rimbault, are highly<br />
suggestive, as is indeed all Mr. George Moore's<br />
work in this his special field of criticism. With<br />
regard to Turgenieff, I have never understood the<br />
disproportionate admiration felt for the least re-<br />
markable of the new Russian novelists. We have<br />
again studies on " Le Reve " and Ibsen's "Ghosts."<br />
The " Notes on Ghosts " has come very opportunely<br />
before the appearance of the play at the Royalty.<br />
If there is anything to be said against Mr.<br />
George Moore's book, it is that the egoism which<br />
he displays is to be regretted.<br />
♦<br />
Perhaps the article on the new pictures in the<br />
National Gallery is rather out of place in a volume<br />
on literary subjects, nor can I think that the<br />
pictures of Mr. Frith are otherwise than eminently<br />
in their place in the British School. Whether<br />
that school deserves a place in the Gallery is another<br />
matter.<br />
Verlaine is one of the most remarkable<br />
characters of the second half of the century,<br />
reminding us, as we are apt now to forget, that strong<br />
and sincere religious belief has always been found<br />
compatible with great disorder of life. A considera-<br />
tion of his life and works would be a wholesome<br />
occupation for " Moralitarians " of all kinds. They<br />
cannot do better than begin with Mr. George Moore's<br />
study. The "Balzac " is an article first printed<br />
in the Fortnightly, "increased to nearly three times<br />
its original length," and greatly improved. As a<br />
realistic critic of Balzac, Mr. George Moore is<br />
far superior in power and appreciation to any other<br />
Englishman. His notice of that little appreciated<br />
and most powerful etude, "La Vieille Fille," is<br />
masterly, and his remarks on "Le Cure" de Tours"<br />
entitle him to even higher praise; they are<br />
peculiarly terse and elucidating, a really fine<br />
example of appreciative criticism. I cannot wholly<br />
agree with Mr. George Moore's rubric, "that pro-<br />
bably the only way to convey a suggestion of the<br />
genius of the great novelist lies through the minor<br />
pieces." But certainly the minor pieces have never<br />
been sufficiently considered, and " La Vieille Fille"<br />
is one of the finest, superior in every respect to<br />
the better known" Femme de trente ans."<br />
Apropos of Balzac, compilers of anecdotes con-<br />
cerning him generally forget the characteristic<br />
note of Hans Christian Andersen in his "Mit<br />
Livs Eventyr." Describing his visit to Paris in<br />
1843, ne says:—" Balzac, whose acquaintance I<br />
made at this time, I first saw in the salon of<br />
Madame laComtesse de Bocarmd, as a fashionable,<br />
well-dressed personage. His white teeth gleamed<br />
between his red lips. He seemed a jovial man,<br />
but he did not talk much, at any rate in that<br />
circle. A lady who wrote verses fastened herself<br />
on to him and me; she drew us aside to a sofa<br />
and sat herself down between us. While she was<br />
talking with modest hesitation about how small she<br />
felt between us, I turned my head and caught<br />
sight behind her back of Balzac's laughing, satirical<br />
face and half-open mouth, slyly turned towards me.<br />
This was our first meeting. One day I was going<br />
through the Louvre. There I met a man in face,<br />
figure, and gait exactly like Balzac. But the man<br />
was dressed in shabby, worn-out clothes—really<br />
dirty they were. His shoes were all burst out, his<br />
trousers bespattered with dry mud, and his hat all<br />
misshapen and cracked. I stopped short; the<br />
man smiled at me, then I went on, but he was so<br />
incredibly like—I turned back, ran after him, and<br />
said, 'It can't be Herr Balzac!' The man<br />
laughed, showing his white teeth, and said only,<br />
'Monsieur Balzac started for St. Petersburg this<br />
morning.' He pressed my hand, his own was fine<br />
and soft, he nodded, and was gone. It must<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 297 (#355) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
297<br />
have been Balzac; perhaps he had been on one of<br />
his exploring expeditions among the mysteries of<br />
Paris. Or was the man someone else, who,<br />
being extremely like Balzac, and having often<br />
been taken for him, was amusing himself by<br />
mystifying a foreigner? Two days afterwards,<br />
when I was talking to Madame Bocarml, she<br />
gave me a message of farewell from Balzac—he<br />
had gone to St. Petersburg."<br />
As we might have expected, a delicate, half-<br />
satiric sense of humour was the point of contact<br />
between the all-comprehensive Balzac and the<br />
charming, childlike Dane. How delighted Balzac<br />
would be with the exquisite blending of pathos<br />
and humour in the tale, " En Hjertesorg," the grief<br />
of a little child who had no trouser button to pay<br />
the toll the other children exacted to attend the<br />
funeral of a dead pug.<br />
Everyone knows the story which Byron told<br />
Medwin. Shortly before Shelley's death he had a<br />
horrible nightmare. "He thought that a figure<br />
wrapped in a mantle came to his bedside and<br />
beckoned him; he got up and followed it; when<br />
in the hall the phantom lifted up the hood of his<br />
cloak, showed Shelley the phantasm of himself,<br />
and saying ' Siete satisfatto ?'—vanished. Shelley<br />
had been reading a strange drama, which is<br />
supposed to have been written by Calderon,<br />
entitled, "El embozado, 6 el encapotado." It is<br />
so scarce that Washington Irving told me he had<br />
sought for it without success in several of the<br />
public libraries of Spain."<br />
Where did Shelley obtain this play? Was it a<br />
Spanish play at all which he had read? Were<br />
Byron or Medwin correct? Does Washington<br />
Irving throw any further light on the subject?<br />
The authorship of Calderon is immaterial; so<br />
many plays by other authors were printed as his in<br />
his lifetime that it was necessary for him to make<br />
a list of his works. This list is known to be<br />
incomplete, but the point for remark is that no<br />
play entitled "El embozado " or "El encapotado"<br />
is mentioned in any of the exhaustive editions of<br />
Calderon among plays erroneously attributed to<br />
him. The title, again, is not mentioned in the<br />
lists of anonymous Spanish dramas. On the other<br />
hand there is a play of Agustin Moreto which<br />
in certain details suggests that he may have<br />
known some such story. The subject is a fasci-<br />
nating one, suggesting, as it must have done, one<br />
of the finest tales of the greatest of English writers<br />
vol. 1.<br />
of short tales, and again brought to our memory<br />
by the wonderful pen and ink sketch of Rossetti<br />
called "How they met themselves." The well-<br />
known stories of Theophile Gautier and Robert<br />
Louis Stevenson represent a similar but not the<br />
same idea; at any rate the point of view from<br />
which they regard the idea is different. Can any<br />
of our readers give any information concerning the<br />
play?<br />
Miss E. S. G. Saunders is bringing out a volume<br />
entitled, " Thoughts for the present Lectionary; or,<br />
the New Christian Year."<br />
Mr. Stanley Little contributes an article entitled,<br />
"The Camera's Service to Art," to the April<br />
number of the Photographic Quarterly.<br />
Mr. Hume Nisbet is producing this month, (1)<br />
"A Colonial Tramp: Being Adventures through<br />
Australasia and New Guinea." 2 vols. 32^.<br />
Ward and Downey. (2) "The Black Drop."<br />
2s. 6d. Trischler and Co. (3) The third edition<br />
of " Bail Up!" Chatto and Windus.<br />
He has also an article on "The Papuan and<br />
his Master," in the Fortnightly Review.<br />
Under the pseudonym of Evelyn Ballantyne,<br />
Mr. Eustace R. Ball has contributed on Continental<br />
Music Halls to the March number of the<br />
Theatre.<br />
An article on " Weighing the Stars," by Mr. J.<br />
E. Gore, F.R.A.S., appears in the Gentleman's<br />
Magazine for February, and another on "Planetary<br />
Nebula;" in the February number of the Monthly<br />
Packet.<br />
♦<br />
A new and cheaper edition of Mr. James Sully's<br />
"Pessimism," with a review of pessimistic literature<br />
up to the present date, has just been issued by the<br />
publishers, Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench and Co.<br />
Mr. William Westall has written a one volume<br />
story, entitled "Back to Africa: A Confession."<br />
It will be published by Ward and Downey in the<br />
course of the present month. R.<br />
*<br />
2 B 2<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 298 (#356) ############################################<br />
<br />
298<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
THE PARNASSUS PUBLISHING<br />
ASSOCIATION.<br />
THE Association consists of one man, Mr.<br />
Joseph Haggerston Dalston. With him<br />
are associated as many literary aspirants<br />
as he can persuade to publish with him at their cost<br />
and risk.<br />
Here is my experience with Mr. Joseph Hag-<br />
gerston Dalston. Some time ago, while I was con-<br />
cluding a novel with which I intended to astonish<br />
the world, I received a letter from Mr. Dalston,<br />
stating that he was an author's agent, and as he<br />
enclosed what appeared to be bonA fide testimonials,<br />
I replied to his letter. This reply doubtless war-<br />
ranted him in assuming my inexperience of<br />
business.<br />
In subsequent letters he offered to read my<br />
story for a fee of one guinea. This, for what<br />
he called himself, "an editorial expert whose<br />
opinion should be at once authoritative and final,"<br />
was not expensive. Before closing with his offer,<br />
however, I asked for proof that he had that<br />
influence with publishers which he claimed. By<br />
return came a letter enclosing one of recent date,<br />
from a publishing house of the highest standing,<br />
which was to the effect that they were very much<br />
obliged to him for having brought them the MS.<br />
of Mr. •, which they were prepared to publish<br />
immediately, paying the author a royalty. This<br />
proof seemed to me sufficient, especially when<br />
read in connection with the following wail of Mr.<br />
Dalston. "Unfortunately, however, even in large<br />
London publishing houses of assured authority and<br />
repute, few follow religiously the 'reading' of a<br />
new MS. by an unknown writer, while so many<br />
knmvn (yet not always repeatedly successful)<br />
authors are at the ' beck and call' of the majority<br />
of the large publishers to go on at any time<br />
mechanically writing 'to order'—too often a curse<br />
to the 'pot-boiling' reputation of the author, and<br />
ergo lesseningly attractive to these authors' favourite<br />
readers—a majority of the stupid reading public,<br />
too easily and too stupidly satisfied, to the<br />
oft-time exclusion of a new writer waiting with<br />
better work, but unable to pass with it through<br />
the barrier that too often bars the way to talent<br />
and genius in other directions than 1 literary<br />
land."'<br />
The "rough copy" of my manuscript I for-<br />
warded to his address for an opinion.<br />
Nearly a month elapsed before I obtained any<br />
reply, but repeated applications elicited the follow-<br />
ing: "Your MS. has really demanded from me<br />
more attention and deliberate care than I had at<br />
first anticipated. In the first place, I may say,<br />
that I did not like your introduction, but the con-<br />
cluding chapters minimise my first objection, which<br />
we may now let pass. The opening is clever and<br />
startling, and prepares the reader's mind with a<br />
powerful piquancy for the more attractive artistic<br />
'actualities' so skilfully drawn throughout the<br />
book; and the successive chapters increasing, as<br />
they do in interest, will hold the reader in sensa-<br />
tional subjection—fascinated by that mental mes-<br />
merism which enthralls at every turn of your<br />
pages.<br />
"Splendidly subjective and appalling are Chaps,<br />
xxi and xxii. 'The Captain' also is interestingly<br />
introduced and cleverly conducted to his doom!<br />
"Other chapters teeming with touches of talent<br />
will gain 'good words' for your work from the<br />
Reading World and Critics, even as fine present-<br />
ments of human passion, the littleness of life, and<br />
the greatness of death pourtrayed by your pen, inter<br />
alia in , , , have never been formed<br />
in the one time ever-praised pages of Bulwer!<br />
Dickens!! and Wilkie Collins!!!<br />
"So swayed in this connexion, then, I hold to<br />
the belief that there are 'situations' in your nar-<br />
rative that will awaken attention from many who<br />
are now steeped in sluggish 'society' stupor, whilst<br />
the psychological problems still awaiting solution<br />
will invite keener study from the scientist, and 'set<br />
the mind thinking'!<br />
"The lurid light of English intellectuality, quick-<br />
ening in its intensity by recent remarkable revela-<br />
tions in the Press, now searchingly turns toward<br />
what little is known of lawless life in Africa, that<br />
mysterious and uncivilized clime—and in the near<br />
future, perhaps, when we can discern more truths<br />
—coming to us, though they may, through the<br />
thinly-veiled romanticism of another Hanwell—<br />
then your and other philanthropic warning words<br />
shall stir the public pulse into indignation or re-<br />
volt, until the lightning message of rnercy, release,<br />
and reform is flashed from England to Mashona!"<br />
I am still inclined to think that this gratifying<br />
opinion is worth the guinea it cost me, especially<br />
when it is compared with the trivial comments of<br />
friends who have begged my books, or of critics whom<br />
I have feasted, treated, and entertained at a much<br />
greater cost. The indefatigable Mr. Dalston did<br />
not, however, expect to rest with one guinea, for<br />
with the letter which accompanied his opinion, was<br />
one with "Suggestions for Publishing," in which<br />
I was reminded that, "Looking at the immediate<br />
interest that would probably result from bringing<br />
out the book at once, it may be considered ex-<br />
pedient to publish the book on the author's own<br />
account! Mr. Haggerston Dalston, trading as the<br />
Mongoose Publishing Co., and publisher of the<br />
Muses' Herald, will undertake the work. "The first<br />
cost would be ^ioo (the actual cost of producing<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 299 (#357) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
299<br />
the first edition of a book in same form as pro-<br />
posed by Mr. Dalston is £23 17-r.), after sending<br />
100 copies for reviews, &c, the sale of 900 books,<br />
1 vol., at 6s. (less discount to trade, &c), would<br />
leave about £80 net profit. A smaller size type<br />
and vol. would cost £60, first edition, and leave<br />
about £40 net profit. The total editions of the<br />
first twelve months would probably leave a net<br />
profit (if published as suggested) of ,£1,000 to<br />
It would be interesting to know the figures upon<br />
which the estimated profits are based; there is a<br />
preciseness about the £1,575 greatly at variance<br />
with the round sum of £100, the estimated cost<br />
of production.<br />
I did not close with the offer, and directed my<br />
man to "place" the story with a good firm of<br />
publishers.<br />
A few days later he wrote making a further offer<br />
to publish on same terms as had been accepted<br />
by an author whose agreement (!) he forwarded to<br />
me. "You will forward me a cheque for £10,<br />
agreeing to pay a further £10 on receipt of proofs,<br />
and a final £10 when the book is in your hands,<br />
remaining risk and profits will be equally divided<br />
between publisher and author."<br />
Returning the stamped agreement of the author<br />
who had accepted these terms (his book has not<br />
yet appeared), 1 again asked Mr. Dalston to get my<br />
MS. accepted by a publisher. He wrote me that<br />
his offer was not "unworthy of acceptance," seeing<br />
that, for the gradual outlay of ^30, an edition of<br />
1,000 copies would have expeditiously followed,"<br />
then for six weeks failed to reply to any of my letters.<br />
"Respecting your MS.," he wrote in the last<br />
letter I received from him, "I am greatly dis-<br />
appointed at receiving it back from , whose<br />
manager I had seen before submitting yours and<br />
two other MSS.—all now returned.<br />
"When unaccepted, the daily consensus of suc-<br />
cessful scribblers seems to be—publish on your<br />
own account; but of course, this, as you know,<br />
is not an easy matter. However, I shall venture<br />
to publish the three MSS. (yours and the com-<br />
mercial's, and that written by a doctor's wife) under<br />
the following conditions, namely:—£10 in ad-<br />
vance, £10 further to be paid to me when proofs<br />
are in the hands of author, and £10 when the<br />
book is published and distributed, profits after<br />
publication to be equally divided between author<br />
and publisher."<br />
This being a similar offer to the one already<br />
proffered and refused, I determined to call upon<br />
the man and to secure my MS.<br />
The gentleman who is manager of the Mongoose<br />
Publishing Company, manager of the Muses' Pub-<br />
lishing Association, editor and publisher of the<br />
Muses' Herald, must surely be a busy man, yet I<br />
had to call many times at the room—it was on the<br />
second floor back—before I found the room occu-<br />
pied. Mr. Dalston is not a. young man, and he has<br />
a pleasing manner of address. He rarely speaks<br />
to the point, but abuses in general terms all the pub-<br />
lishing houses and their readers, and he never<br />
allows you to leave his presence without asking<br />
you for a money contribution to one or other of<br />
his ventures.<br />
As for the contents of his office there were two<br />
chairs, a table, a set of pigeon holes and MSS.<br />
In fact, the room was entirely furnished with MSS.<br />
It was simply full of "copy" piled from floor to<br />
ceiling, lying upon chairs and table, and floor, and<br />
fender. By a lucky chance my packet was upper-<br />
most of a newly made file, and was rescued without<br />
difficulty.<br />
Mr. Haggerston Dalston is now manager and<br />
everything else of a brand new association called<br />
the Parnassus Publishing Association. A clean<br />
sweep has been made of the MSS., and the name<br />
plate at the house and the Muses' Herald being<br />
defunct, with the Mongoose Publishing Company,<br />
a new plate is in preparation showing that here are<br />
the Central Offices (second floor back) of the<br />
"Parnassus Publishing Company" and of "Par-<br />
nassus Slopes," its magazine. Authors are now<br />
being invited by such papers as will take the ad-<br />
vertisements, to send their MSS. to the Company,<br />
and the old game has begun apain. The bait is<br />
the offer of "remunerative openings" and the<br />
promise that " suitable MSS.J' are promptly paid for.<br />
As for the magazine, every contributor must pay<br />
in advance for a whole year—it will probably<br />
collapse in a month or two, as happened with<br />
"Parnassus Slopes."<br />
Then the Company will disappear too. What<br />
becomes in the end of all the MSS., nobody knows.<br />
Perhaps not one in a thousand is worth anything.<br />
Yet that such an end—disappearance in this sink<br />
of low cunning—should be the fate of MSS. about<br />
which so many glowing hopes were formed, is<br />
melancholy indeed.<br />
*<br />
CORRESPONDENCE AND CASES.<br />
( The Editor is not responsible for the opinions expressed or<br />
the statements made by correspondents.)<br />
The Production of Vouchers.<br />
ACASE has been lately brought before a<br />
London Court which promises to become<br />
interesting and useful. It was to this<br />
effect. A certain publisher transferred his business<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 300 (#358) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
to another firm. Two of the authors whose books<br />
he had published on the "half-profit" system,<br />
moved by Counsel that the second firm should<br />
be called upon to find vouchers for all the items of<br />
receipts and expenditure supplied to the authors.<br />
Their Counsel argued that the first firm only was<br />
responsible for any claims. The judge, however,<br />
granted the order asked for, reserving the question<br />
of costs. We hope to publish the further history<br />
of this case.<br />
»<br />
On Advertisements.<br />
I wish to draw the attention of your readers to<br />
two points which are generally lost sight of by an<br />
author when signing his contract. When disposing<br />
of a book upon the royalty system, one of the usual<br />
clauses is, "That all expenses of advertising shall<br />
be borne by the said publishers."<br />
It is by paying out monies for advertisements in<br />
addition to disbursing the cost of production that<br />
the publisher earns his right to his lion's share, i.e.,<br />
the amount of cash that remains after paying the<br />
royalty to the author.<br />
Now let us suppose the case of an author who<br />
is pretty well known and whose three volume novels<br />
will be assuredly subscribed, we will say, to be well<br />
within the mark, to five hundred copies. If the<br />
publisher does not advertise at all he nets the<br />
entire difference between the trade price and the<br />
cost of production less the author's royalties—upon<br />
the five hundred copies. Therefore the less he<br />
advertises the better for it.<br />
But this is not all, the author who is absolutely<br />
in the hands of his publishers in the matter of<br />
advertising, often finds his book a sort of Christian<br />
thrown to the lions. The reason is not far to seek;<br />
somebody has to be "gibbeted," somebody has to<br />
be "guyed," and naturally the books that are not<br />
advertised go upon the black list, and the reviewer<br />
is given a free hand and told to work his wicked<br />
will upon them.<br />
The result of such "gibbeting" is probably not<br />
felt by the author till he comes to dispose of his<br />
next venture, say to some other publisher. "Your<br />
last book was very severely reviewed, Mr. Nibbs,"<br />
says the publisher, " and we have sent over to our<br />
friends, Messrs. Barabbas, who tell us that only five<br />
hundred copies were subscribed."<br />
It is thus that an author may lose ground, all<br />
for the want of a ha'porth of tar in the shape of<br />
having a cut and dried clause as to hoto much is to<br />
be spent in advertisements, and where it is to be<br />
spent.<br />
For novels, at all events, a certain amount of<br />
advertisement is necessary; reviews even very<br />
favourable reviews, and the mere fact that the book<br />
is on Messrs. Smith's and Mudie's lists to be<br />
issued to first class subscribers only is not enough<br />
to keep the book before the public.<br />
Then where advertisements are to appear is m<br />
portant.<br />
The writer once published an eight and sixpenny<br />
book, on the half-profit system, which ran into a<br />
second edition. There were no profits, because the<br />
book was advertised not wisely, but too well. "If,"<br />
thought the writer, "that mighty firm went on with<br />
a second edition, surely there must be profits, some<br />
profits, at all events, upon the first." Not a bit of<br />
it; the book was said to be swamped by advertise-<br />
ments. The writer went through the list of<br />
advertisements, and he found that his book had<br />
been advertised in the " Piscatorial Bulletin." He<br />
innocently wondered at this selection; when he<br />
found who the Bulletin belonged to, his wonder<br />
ceased. Perhaps after all the Fishing Fraternity<br />
are fond of oriental experiences. Who knows but<br />
that they may buy up the whole second edition?<br />
Not that the writer cares one brass button, because<br />
even if it were so, he feels certain that no half<br />
profits would ever accrue to him, because of course<br />
they'd be all mopped up by judicious advertise-<br />
ments in the " Piscatorial Bulletin," &c.<br />
Pachyderm.<br />
[The writer will find the subject of advertising<br />
treated in Mr. Sprigge's "Methods of Publishing."<br />
—Ed.]<br />
Authors and Reviewers.<br />
There are two questions I should like answered.<br />
First—Do reviewers conscientiously read the books<br />
with which they deal? Second—Do their criti-<br />
cisms honestly reflect the opinions that they have<br />
formed?<br />
Now any author worthy of the name must value<br />
and appreciate criticism which, however adverse,<br />
is nevertheless honest, discriminating, and intelli-<br />
gent. So far, at any rate, even if no farther, do I<br />
consider myself worthy to be called an author. I<br />
like being told what points in a work of mine are<br />
good, and what are bad. It is an intellectual<br />
satisfaction to me, and I feel precisely the same<br />
sort of gratitude to any reviewer that an intelligent<br />
student of painting or music unquestionably feels<br />
towards an able teacher, however severe his stric-<br />
tures occasionally may be. But my faith in critics,<br />
and consequently my good disposition towards<br />
them, have been considerably shaken of late. I<br />
find they contradict each other so wildly, that it<br />
is impossible for the most humble-minded writer<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 301 (#359) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
301<br />
to learn anything from them; and they occasionally<br />
give grave grounds for the suspicion that they<br />
have never even read the book they are professing<br />
to review.<br />
Let me give an instance from my own experience.<br />
Two years ago or thereabouts, I published a novel.<br />
The book was widely reviewed, and I, a tyro in<br />
the art of fiction, felt very curious indeed to see<br />
how my first effort would be received by experts.<br />
Here are some of the verdicts.<br />
The Saturday said it was undeniably a clever<br />
book—satirical, humorous, and amusing; appa-<br />
rently the work of a man who had observed and<br />
thought; an original and readable novel.<br />
The AthetuBum said that it was the most com-<br />
pletely worthless novel the editor had seen for a<br />
long time.<br />
The Manchester Examiner said that were the<br />
critic compelled to characterise it by one epithet,<br />
that epithet would be "vivacious." Unflagging<br />
vivacity was its great charm.<br />
The Sunday Times, on the other hand, con-<br />
demned it as " always dull."<br />
The Manchester Examiner, again, praised my<br />
"constructive ability"; while—<br />
My publisher's reader informed me that a lack<br />
of constructive ability was my chief weakness.<br />
I might fill two columns of your paper with<br />
similar examples. But surely these are enough—<br />
enough to bewilder anybody. Am I dull, or am I<br />
vivacious? Am I clever, or am I a fool? Is my<br />
book original, satirical, humorous, &c, or is it<br />
the most completely worthless novel out? Surely<br />
I am not unreasonable in asking whom I am to<br />
believe.<br />
One word more. I spoke to my publishers about<br />
one of the notices—a notice which appeared to me<br />
gratuitously and unintelligently insolent. "Oh!"<br />
replied the worthy man I was addressing, "I think<br />
I can explain that. The gentleman who wrote<br />
that review of your book threatened to 'slate'<br />
whatever we might send him, unless we advertised<br />
in his paper. We did not give him an advertise-<br />
ment, and you, unfortunately, are made to suffer."<br />
Perhaps this may throw some light on my second<br />
question. An Obscure Novelist.<br />
—»~—<br />
Accepted.<br />
In January, 1889, a MS. was accepted for a<br />
certain periodical. In May the publisher was<br />
changed. In July, the new publisher accepted<br />
three other MSS. and "also the one sent to the<br />
late Editor," the price of the whole being stated<br />
by letter. My writing name was published among<br />
the other contributors, and I was urged in different<br />
ways to help to make the magazine known.<br />
None of the MSS. appearing, after eighteen months<br />
I wrote to ask the cause, and was coolly informed<br />
that the Editor had more MSS. on hand than he<br />
could use, and he would return them.<br />
I offered to wait, but positively declined to have<br />
them back, but by return of post they arrived in a<br />
very tattered condition. There was neither<br />
"smash " nor "crash " in this case—the periodical<br />
is said to be flourishing. M. J. D. S.<br />
Literary Godchildren.<br />
There is a literary Nemesis when a popular<br />
author suffers from the intrusion of the manuscripts<br />
of aspirants after fame. But when an unknown<br />
writer—who finds a difficulty in having an article<br />
accepted, and as great trouble to get paid for it—<br />
is troubled for advice and assistance in getting the<br />
work of others placed and remunerated—then the<br />
Furies are the old women one blames for the mis-<br />
management of affairs.<br />
Fifteen years ago a friend of mine wrote a play and<br />
demanded my opinion of it. I did not dare to give<br />
anyexpression of criticism of a tragedy thathe assured<br />
me was more tragical than Scott's "Bride of Lam-<br />
mermoor," and more impregnated with humour<br />
than Schiller's "Wallenstein." I was even able to<br />
refuse when I knew that one of the poet's friends<br />
said, "No such work of genius had been written<br />
since Shakespeare's plays first saw the light." For-<br />
tunately, I escaped without much censure in this<br />
case. My friend said that he regretted my decision,<br />
because he "had a certain amount of respect for<br />
my taste." He did not insist on submitting his<br />
proofs to me.<br />
The next experience was more amusing, if a little<br />
more costly. A schoolboy who had got into debt<br />
wrote to a member of my family asking for 7*.,<br />
stating that he was about to write a three volume<br />
novel, that he had money owing for a short story,<br />
and enclosing some of his essays. The money was<br />
sent without any literary advice. And by the next<br />
post came a request for 1is. more " to save him<br />
from disgrace."<br />
Another manuscript was submitted to my judg-<br />
ment by a young woman who wished to make a<br />
profession of letters. It was clearly written, well<br />
paragraphed, and fairly interesting in matter. I<br />
had great pleasure in encouraging the writer, and<br />
urging her to perseverance. Now, I am glad to<br />
write, she is successfully supplementing her income<br />
by her pen.<br />
The last case is perhaps the most painful. In<br />
my desk at this moment there lies a morocco<br />
bound volume, in whose pages a beautiful, unfortu-<br />
nate girl has written part of her life experience. She<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 302 (#360) ############################################<br />
<br />
302<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
asks my opinion of her confession. It has origin-<br />
ality and observation, but otherwise it is unreadable.<br />
The writer is sensitive, and so much spoiled by<br />
the flattery of her friends, that it will be puzzling<br />
for me to speak the truth without giving some<br />
pain. A.<br />
Gratuitous Contributions.<br />
I lately offered a short story to the editor of a<br />
popular magazine. It was accepted, but when I<br />
came to ask what was the scale of remuneration<br />
for such contributions I was blandly informed that<br />
ladies and gentlemen were usually willing to supply<br />
the magazine in question with " copy," without hope<br />
of any other remuneration than the pleasure and<br />
glory of seeing themselves in print! Now this is<br />
by no means a rare instance of a practice on the part<br />
of authors which I think cannot be better described<br />
than as the process of " cutting their own throats."<br />
The lamentable weakness with which writers<br />
consent to give away the work of such brains as they<br />
possess is one to be severely deprecated. It is to<br />
my thinking an act of arrant folly, injurious not only<br />
to those who indulge in it, but to others. I can,<br />
in fact, conceive nothing more mischievous, as<br />
lowering the price of literature in the market, than<br />
this habit, widely spread as it is, of gorging the<br />
pages of periodical publications with gratuitous con-<br />
tributions to the exclusion of matter that would<br />
otherwise be paid for. For is it to be expected<br />
that the proprietor of a magazine would pay for the<br />
stories, articles, &c, offered to him by some writers<br />
when he is able to get any quantity of such com-<br />
positions from others at no cost whatever?<br />
The scale of pay allowed by many magazines is<br />
poor enough as it is. It is not uncommon for<br />
certain very well-known periodicals to offer such<br />
miserable remuneration as 2s. and 2s. 6d. a page,<br />
while 5*. a page is considered in such quarters as<br />
something magnificent in its liberality. I have<br />
really been surprised to find how strictly moderate<br />
are the views on the subject of payment entertained<br />
by the conductors of magazines which might be<br />
expected to offer at any rate something like ade-<br />
quate compensation for one's time and trouble.<br />
The reason of this parsimony is of course "gratuit-<br />
ous contributions." It is poor stuff for the most<br />
part, no doubt, that is thus given away, but it seems<br />
to be good enough for the editor's purpose. But,<br />
I contend, everything, whether good, bad or<br />
indifferent, should have its price. It is not to be<br />
expected that the magazines should be filled in<br />
every page, every month, with first-class literature.<br />
Many of these periodicals are circulated among a<br />
class of readers who are not over particular as to<br />
the quality of the wares supplied to them, just as<br />
in other markets people are content with cheap and<br />
inferior articles. Yet everything is surely worth<br />
something, if it can be sold, and every story, or<br />
other lucubration, which is worth printing ought to<br />
be worth paying for.<br />
I am afraid it must be said that ladies are the<br />
worst offenders in this particular. I do not greatly<br />
blame them. They have, as a rule, little experience<br />
or knowledge of the business side of literature, and<br />
though some of them dream of making fortunes by<br />
their pens, too many, with an excess of diffidence,<br />
think they can hardly aspire so high as to be paid<br />
like what they call "a regular author." It is these<br />
amateurs who cheapen the literary market, and<br />
many of them are worth a price, even though it be<br />
a small one. Let them at any rate not be content<br />
with the mere acceptance of their stories and<br />
sketches, but ask for pay, and, when refused, with-<br />
draw their contributions and send them elsewhere.<br />
Many an article which would be eagerly taken by<br />
one of those editors who never pay when they can<br />
help it, would be found acceptable by others of<br />
more liberal habit. At the worst, failing to get<br />
their contributions into the paying magazines, they<br />
could fall back upon the non-paying ones. These<br />
last only deserve to have the very dregs of the<br />
scribbling art.<br />
I therefore raise my voice in earnest protest<br />
against this pernicious custom of offering contri-<br />
butions for nothing, or allowing them to be pub-<br />
lished without any remuneration whatever. The<br />
Society of Authors, I think, could do no greater<br />
service to the cause at least of periodical literature<br />
than by making it as widely known as possible that<br />
all contributors to magazines, &c, will be duly paid<br />
for if only the contributors are firm enough to<br />
refuse to write for nothing. If such an appeal did<br />
not put a stop to this practice it might at least<br />
diminish the mischief arising from it. Pray then<br />
advise all authors, amateur and otherwise, whenever<br />
it is proposed to print their contributions for noth-<br />
ing, to return the reply so often received by some<br />
of them—" declined with thanks."<br />
No Pay, No Pen.<br />
—*—<br />
A Coincidence?<br />
Will you allow me to draw attention to a case of<br />
curious similarity between two stories—the one by<br />
Mr. Ernest Rhys, entitled "The Last Drearn of<br />
Julius Roy," which appeared in Macmillan's Maga-<br />
zine last month, and the other signed by my name,<br />
which appeared in the Newbery House Magazine<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 303 (#361) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
3°3<br />
of July, 1890, and which was entitled, "A Great<br />
Success"? I sketch the outline of the two stories<br />
in parallel columns :—<br />
Mr. Ernest Rhys's story.<br />
My story.<br />
"A GREAT SUCCESS."<br />
THE LAST DREAM OF<br />
TULIUS ROY."<br />
July, 1890.<br />
An author after a long life<br />
of failure starts from Trafalgar<br />
Square in a condition of ab-<br />
normal excitement, and rushes<br />
down the .Strand, intent upon<br />
lunching at a Tavern, Fleet<br />
Street being suggested. He<br />
orders a lunch which for him<br />
is unusually sumptuous. He<br />
has been full of unreal inflated<br />
hope, but overhears a con-<br />
versation in which he realises<br />
for the first time the abject -<br />
ness of his own failure. He<br />
has had ale with his lunch.<br />
He throws his arms over the<br />
table, lays his head on them,<br />
falls asleep and dreams. The<br />
dream takes the form of his<br />
own troubled experience.<br />
Again he is "hurrying through<br />
the streets of the great city."<br />
He is on his way to the<br />
palace of Fame. There is a<br />
gate which has to be passed<br />
through; before he gets in he<br />
has to present a gift. This<br />
gift he holds in his hand, but<br />
it dwindles and vanishes.<br />
He falls before the door at<br />
last, defeated and in despair.<br />
Then the dream changes;<br />
the door is unexpectedly<br />
opened by an unseen hand,<br />
and he beholds a face known<br />
yet unknown, which smiles<br />
upon him. The poor author<br />
enters in to find the aspiration<br />
of his life satisfied in ways<br />
not looked for by him. When<br />
found by the people of the<br />
Tavern, he is dead.<br />
February, 1891.<br />
An author after ten years<br />
of failure, starts from Trafal-<br />
gar Square, goes to Pall Mall<br />
to put on a dress coat, and<br />
finally returns in an abnormal<br />
state of excitement on his way<br />
to a Tavern ("The Three<br />
Friars") in Fleet Street, to<br />
have supper there. He orders<br />
an unusually sumptuous me al<br />
He has been realising the<br />
abjectness of his own failure,<br />
but on his way he meets with<br />
his old love, who gives him a<br />
flower, and he i« now in a state<br />
of wild, unreal hope. He has<br />
wine with his supper, and he<br />
throws his arms over the table,<br />
falls asleep, and dreams. The<br />
dream takes the form of his<br />
own troubled experience.<br />
He is "being whirled rapidly<br />
through the streets of a dark<br />
and unknown city," in a car-<br />
riage with the beloved woman<br />
by his side. He gets to a<br />
place which is a Theatre, and<br />
sees a phantasm of himself on<br />
the stage struggling in vain<br />
to pass in at a Gate; the<br />
phantasm falls down at last<br />
before the Gate, baffled and<br />
defeated. He goes on to the<br />
Stage to look after his own<br />
Phantasm. He himself knocks<br />
at the Gate, and it is thrown<br />
open, and the beloved woman<br />
stands before him smiling.<br />
Then he receives in unex-<br />
pected ways the desire of his<br />
life. When the waiter comes<br />
to rouse him, he is dead.<br />
E. Fairfax Byrrne.<br />
The Authors' Club.<br />
I am in favour of an Authors' Club. I think it<br />
would be greatly to the advantage of authors to<br />
come together oftener than once a year at a big<br />
dinner, and to have more frequent opportunity<br />
of exchanging ideas and "comparing notes." Of<br />
this I can give an illustration. Two years ago<br />
at our annual dinner, I sat next to a brother<br />
novelist, whose acquaintance I then made for the<br />
first time. That morning I had received from the<br />
vol. 1.<br />
editor of a weekly magazine of whose financial<br />
position I knew nothing, a request to write a<br />
Christmas story for him. Thinking my neighbour<br />
might be better informed, I inquired whether he<br />
had ever done ought for the periodical in question.<br />
"Yes," says he, "I did a Christmas story for it<br />
last year but one, and I have not got paid for it<br />
yet."<br />
On this hint I acted; when I answered the<br />
editor's letter, I named my price, and made it a<br />
condition that I should be paid on his receipt of<br />
my MS. With this condition he did not see fit<br />
to comply, and I did not see fit to write the story.<br />
Again, the other day I chanced to meet a<br />
member of the Society of Authors at the office in<br />
Portugal Street, to whom I mentioned that I had<br />
been requested to write a story for a well known<br />
magazine. "Be sure you make a bargain before-<br />
hand," he observed, "or you will get a good deal<br />
less than you expect." On this hint also I acted.<br />
I named my price, and was offered half—which I<br />
did not accept. Observe that in neither of these<br />
cases did the editor make any mention of terms.<br />
That, presumably, was to be left an open question,<br />
and would have proved a troublesome one for me,<br />
a trouble from which I was saved by being a<br />
member of the Society of Authors.<br />
The chief difficulty in the formation of an<br />
Authors Club' seems to me to lie in the defini-<br />
tion of "author." Will every man and woman<br />
who has written a trashy novel or volume of<br />
poetry, and paid for its production, be eligible<br />
for admission? And if not, where will you draw<br />
the line? W.<br />
[The line must be drawn by the Committee or<br />
the managing body of the Club.—Editor.]<br />
THE AUTHOR'S BOOK STALL.<br />
[This column is open for lists of books wanted, books<br />
offered for exchange and books offered for sale. Initials<br />
must be given for reference, not for publication, and the<br />
editor will place correspondents in communication with each<br />
other. Books must not be sent to the office of the Society.<br />
Letters enclosing list may be addressed "X,"care of the<br />
Editor. It must be understood that no responsibility rests<br />
with the Editor or with the officers of the Society.]<br />
Books for Sale.<br />
Atalanta in Calydon. Original Edition.<br />
Leckie's Leader of Public Opinion in Ireland.<br />
Berzelin's Jahresbericht der Chemie. Complete set.<br />
vols. Address "E.A.<br />
2 C<br />
27<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 304 (#362) ############################################<br />
<br />
3°4<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
Henry Irving Shakspeare. 8 vols. Edition de luxe, un-<br />
cut, in original cases. 11 guineas.<br />
The Odyssey. Translated by William Morris. I edition.<br />
2 vols.<br />
Viollet le Due. Dictionnaire. Mobilier Francais. 6 vols.<br />
Half calf gilt edges.<br />
Ionica I and II. The very rare first edition with author's<br />
corrections; handsomely bound.<br />
Aucassin and Nicollette. Translated by Andrew Lang.<br />
(Nutt.)<br />
Cupid and Psyche. With an Introduction by Andrew Lang.<br />
(Nutt.)<br />
La Morte D'Arthur. H.O.Sumner. (Nutt.) 2 vols.<br />
Musa Protova. A. H. Bullen. Privately printed; small<br />
paper.<br />
Lyrics of the Elizabethan Age. A. II. Bullen. Small paper.<br />
(Nimmo.)<br />
For Exchange.<br />
The English in Ireland. By J. A. Froude. Library Edition.<br />
3 vols. Exchange for Cabinet Edition of Froude's<br />
History of England.<br />
Address1' E. A."<br />
Morris' Vision of Saints, for Epic of Hades.<br />
Kingsley's At Last.<br />
Trollope's Decade of Italian Women.<br />
Emerson's Representative Men.<br />
Lufcadic Hearn's Two Years in the French West Indies.<br />
M. Life and Letters of the Princess Alice.<br />
List for Sale or Exchange.<br />
Bell's Chaucer. 1782.<br />
Lord Lytton's Poems and Dramatic Works. 1853.<br />
Original Edition.<br />
Life of Conde\ By Lord Mahon. 1846.<br />
Massinger's Plays. Edited by W. Gifford. 1853.<br />
Schiller's Werke. 10 vols. Very handsomely half-bound.<br />
Stuttgart. 1844.<br />
Oeuvres de Moliere. 6 vols. With old engravings; au 13<br />
de Republique. Paris.<br />
Chansons de Victor Hugo. 1865.<br />
Would Lend.<br />
Works of Peter Pinder. Vol. II. London. 1816.<br />
Stories of Apparitions (Duchess of Mazarine, Mrs. Veal<br />
&c. Title lost, old.)<br />
Pritchard's Heroines of Welsh I listory.<br />
Address G. M. Williams,<br />
Aberclydack, Nr. Brecon.<br />
NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS.<br />
Theology.<br />
BELL, C. D. The Archbishop's Judgment on the Ritual<br />
Case. With some Thoughts on Public Worship: a<br />
Sermon Preached in St. Matthew's Church. Cosserts<br />
Cheltenham). Simpkin. yl.<br />
Brooke, Rev. Stopford A. The Fight of Faith: Ser-<br />
mons Preached on Various Occasions. 6th Edition.<br />
Paul, Triibner and Co. 5J.<br />
Carpenter, W. Boyd. The Permanent Elements of Re-<br />
ligion: Eight Lectures Preached Iwfore the University<br />
of Oxford in the Year 1887, on the Foundation of the<br />
late Rev. John Bampton. 2nd Edition. Macmillan.<br />
6j.<br />
Fowle, Rev. Edmund. We Praise Thee, O God: The<br />
Choir Boy's Little Book. Skeffington. 6d.<br />
Gore, Charles. Lux Mundi : a Series of Studies in the<br />
Religion of the Incarnation. Edited by. nth Edition.<br />
Murray. 14J.<br />
Jeaffreson, H. H. Magnificat: a Course of Sermons.<br />
Paul, Triibner and Co. 2s. 6d.<br />
Pollock, T. S. Vaughton's Hole: Twenty-five Years in<br />
It. Mowbray, is.<br />
Stearns, L. F. The Evidence of Christian Experience:<br />
Being the Ely Lectures for 1890. Nisbet. 75. 6d.<br />
Wesley, John. The Father of Methodism; or, Life of<br />
Rev. John Wesley. Written for Children by Nehemiah<br />
Curnock. Centenary Edition. Wesleyan Conference<br />
Office. 6d., gd., is. By J. H. Overton. Portrait. {English Leaders of<br />
Religion.) Methuen. 2s. (ul. By Francis Kevan. 5th Edition. (True Stories of<br />
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Cruickshank, George. Memoir. By Frederic G.<br />
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Low. 3-r. 6d.<br />
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Grace, W. G. A Biography. By W. Methven Brownlee.<br />
Together with a Life-like Portrait and a "Treatise on<br />
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Holland, C. Gleanings from a Ministry of 50 years.<br />
E. Stock. 5s.<br />
Kingsford, William. The History of Canada. Vol. IV.<br />
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Thackeray, W. M. Life of. By Herman Merivale and<br />
Frank T. Marzials. (Great Writers.) W. Scott.<br />
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General Literature.<br />
Allfn, Grant The Tents of Shem: a Novel. New<br />
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Besant, Walter. To Call Her Mine, &c. New Edition.<br />
With 9, Illustrations by A. Foreslier. Chatto and<br />
Windus. 3^. 6V/.<br />
Black, Willi am. Stand Fast, Craig Royston! 3rd<br />
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Buchheim, C. A. Materials for German Prose Composi-<br />
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Caine, Hall. The Bondman: a New Saga. New<br />
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Cameron, Mrs. Lovett. This Wicked World: a Novel.<br />
4th Edition. F. V. White, is., is. 6d.<br />
<br />
<br />
## p. 305 (#363) ############################################<br />
<br />
THE A UTIIOR.<br />
3«5<br />
3 vols. 2nd Edition.<br />
Castle, Egerton. Consequences.<br />
Bentley. 31*. 6d.<br />
Cobb, T. On Trust. 3 vols. Hurst and Blackett. 31s. 6 J.<br />
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Crawley-Boevf.y,<br />
Edition. Ale<br />
Crommelin, May.<br />
White. 2s. 6d.<br />
Fakjeon, B. L. The Mystery of M. Felix : a Novel.<br />
New Edition. F. V. White. 2s. 6d.<br />
Garnier, R. M. Land Agency. With Illustrations.<br />
"Estate Gazette " Office. lot.<br />
Gibney, Somerville. The Maid of London Bridge. A<br />
Story of the Time of Kett's Rebellion. Illustrated.<br />
Jarrold and Sons. y. 6d.<br />
Graham, Scott. A Bolt from the Blue. Sampson Low.<br />
31s. 6d.<br />
Haggard, H. R. Cleopatra. New Edition. Longman<br />
and Co. y. 6d. The Witch's Head. With 16 full page Illustrations<br />
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y- 6,1.<br />
Hardy, T. Two on a Tcwer: a Romance. New Edition.<br />
Low. 2S., 2S. 6d.<br />
Harte, Bret. A Sappho of Green Springs, &c. With<br />
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James, Henry. The Tragic Muse. New Edition. Mac-<br />
millan. 3*. (xi.<br />
Keary, C. F, The Vikings in Western Christendom.<br />
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Lang, Andrew. Essays in Little. With Portrait of the<br />
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Henry and Co. 2s. 6d.<br />
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Illustrated by numerous Incantations, Specimens of<br />
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Hall. y. 6d.<br />
Lowell, J. Russell. Political Essays and Writings. VoL<br />
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trations. Chapman and Hall. 6s.<br />
Robinson, F. W. Her Love and His Life. 3 vols.<br />
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- No Man's Friend. Hutchinson. 2s. 6d.<br />
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Chatto and Windus. y. 6d.<br />
Thomas, Annie. That Affair. 3 vols. F. V. White.<br />
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Gibbs, W. A. What Next? or, The Power of Gold. A<br />
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Stevenson, A. L. Raymond: a Story in Verse of London<br />
and Monte Carlo. Paul, Triibner and Co. 3^. 6d.<br />
Stevenson, R. L. Ballads. Chatto and Windus. 6s.<br />
Tennyson. The Coming of Arthur and the Passing of<br />
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<br />
<br />
## p. 306 (#364) ############################################<br />
<br />
306<br />
THE AUTHOR.<br />
Educational.<br />
Berkeley. Selections from Berkeley. With Introduction<br />
and Notes for the use of Students in the Universities, by<br />
Alexander C. Fraser. 4th Edition, Revised. Claren-<br />
don Press. 8/. 6d.<br />
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lary. New and Enlarged Edition. Methuen. 2s.<br />
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