I doubt, indeed, whether the earnings of literary men are absolutely as
great as they were earlier in the century, in any of the
English-speaking countries; relatively they are nothing like as great.
Scott had forty thousand dollars for "Woodstock," which was not a very
large novel, and was by no means one of his best; and forty thousand
dollars had at least the purchasing powers of sixty thousand then.
Moore had three thousand guineas for "Lalla Rookh," but what publisher
would be rash enough to pay twenty-five thousand dollars for the
masterpiece of a minor poet now? The book, except in very rare
instances, makes nothing like the return to the author that the
magazine makes, and there are but two or three authors who find their
account in that form of publication. Those who do, those who sell the
most widely in book form, are often not at all desired by editors; with
difficulty they get a serial accepted by any principal magazine. On
the other hand, there are authors whose books, compared with those of
the popular favorites, do not sell, and yet they are eagerly sought for
by editors; they are paid the highest prices, and nothing that they
offer is refused. These are literary artists; and it ought to be plain
from what I am saying that in belles-lettres, at least, most of the
best literature now first sees the light in the magazines, and most of
the second best appears first in book form. The old-fashioned people
who flatter themselves upon their distinction in not reading magazine
fiction, or magazine poetry, make a great mistake, and simply class
themselves with the public whose taste is so crude that they cannot
enjoy the best. Of course this is true mainly, if not merely, of
belles-lettres; history, science, politics, metaphysics, in spite of
the many excellent articles and papers in these sorts upon what used to
be called various emergent occasions, are still to be found at their
best in books. The most monumental example of literature, at once
light and good, which has first reached the public in book form is in
the different publications of Mark Twain; but Mr. Clemens has of late
turned to the magazines too, and now takes their mint mark before he
passes into general circulation. All this may change again, but at
present the magazines--we have no longer any reviews--form the most
direct approach to that part of our reading public which likes the
highest things in literary art. Their readers, if we may judge from
the quality of the literature they get, are more refined than the book
readers in our community; and their taste has no doubt been cultivated
by that of the disciplined and experienced editors. So far as I have
known these they are men of aesthetic conscience, and of generous
sympathy. They have their preferences in the different kinds, and they
have their theory of what kind will be most acceptable to their
readers; but they exercise their selective function with the wish to
give them the best things they can. I do not know one of them--and it
has been my good fortune to know them nearly all--who would print a
wholly inferior thing for the sake of an inferior class of readers,
though they may sometimes decline a good thing because for one reason
or another they believe it would not be liked. Still, even this does
not often happen; they would rather chance the good thing they doubted
of than underrate their readers' judgment.
New writers often suppose themselves rejected because they are unknown;
but the unknown man of force and quality is of all others the man whom
the editor welcomes to his page. He knows that there is always a danger
that the reigning favorite may fail to please; that at any rate, in the
order of things, he is passing away, and that if the magazine is not to
pass away with the men who have made it, there must be a constant
infusion of fresh life. Few editors are such fools and knaves as to
let their personal feeling disable their judgment; and the young writer
who gets his manuscript back may be sure that it is not because the
editor dislikes him, for some reason or no reason. Above all, he can
trust me that his contribution has not been passed unread, or has
failed of the examination it merits. Editors are not men of infallible
judgment, but they do use their judgment, and it is usually good.
The young author who wins recognition in a first-class magazine has
achieved a double success, first, with the editor, and then with the
best reading public. Many factitious and fallacious literary
reputations have been made through books, but very few have been made
through the magazines, which are not only the best means of living, but
of outliving, with the author; they are both bread and fame to him. If
I insist a little upon the high office which this modern form of
publication fulfils in the literary world, it is because I am impatient
of the antiquated and ignorant prejudice which classes the magazines as
ephemeral. They are ephemeral in form, but in substance they are not
ephemeral, and what is best in them awaits its resurrection in the
book, which, as the first form, is so often a lasting death. An
interesting proof of the value of the magazine to literature is the
fact that a good novel will have wider acceptance as a book from having
been a magazine serial.
I am not sure that the decay of the book is not owing somewhat to the
decay of reviewing. This does not now seem to me so thorough, or even
so general as it was some years ago, and I think the book oftener
comes to the buyer without the warrant of a critical estimate than it
once did. That is never the case with material printed in a magazine
of high class. A well-trained critic, who is bound by the strongest
ties of honor and interest not to betray either his employer or his
public, has judged it, and his practical approval is a warrant of
quality.