CANDID advice given to the literary aspirant on easy terms by an old
journalist. His fame is world-wide, but he prefers to be known as THE
OLD NIB. Anyone sending him threatening letters will be prosecuted.
Frankly, LANCELOT, your _Passionate Pangs; or, Heart Throbs of a
Retired Government Clerk_, will never bring you in a large income. You
say friends have praised them highly, and you point out that TENNYSON
had to wait years for recognition. Well, you must do the same. You
could not have a better precedent.
You have a strong grasp of a situation, BENJAMIN, and the scene where
_Uncle Henry_ slips on the butter slide is quite thrilling. But you
must compress a little and avoid certain faults of style. "She hove
a sigh" is wrong; and I do not like "'Pshaw,' he _shouted_"; I do not
think it could be done. I tried myself in my bath and swallowed a lot
of soapy water. Pray be more careful.
I certainly like to hear from such an enthusiastic reader as WIGWAM.
His idea, of going to a fancy-dress ball dressed in a number of old
copies of _Wopple's Weekly_ is excellent and, if they let him in,
ought to be a great success. I hope he wins the hair comb. As to
his verses I have often seen worse. With a rhyming dictionary (for
rhyming) and an ordinary one (for spelling) WIGWAM should go far.
ANGELINA'S poem shows a nice domestic feeling which I appreciate. In
these days of Suffragettes it is not every authoress who will say--
"I like to see a familiar face
And I think home is a beautiful place."
But though "mother," as she says, is a very beautiful word it does not
rhyme with "forever." "Other," "brother" and "smother" are the rhymes
that I always recommend.
LEONIDAS has made a great improvement since I had to speak to him so
severely last spring. _Sly Sarah_ is quite a clever tale, and before
very long LEONIDAS will find himself writing for _Soapy Bits_ and
papers of that calibre. Of this I am sure. His characterization is
strong, his style is redolent of _bravura_ and his general atmosphere
is _fortissimo_. The character of the archdeacon might be improved;
indeed, if LEONIDAS is going to send it to _The Diocesan Monthly_, I
should say it must be improved. Why should he slap _Sarah's_ face? No
reason is given for this, and it is surely a very questionable action.
Human nature may be human nature, but archdeacons are archdeacons. By
the way there is only one _l_ in spoonful.
HENRY must be careful. This is the third time he has sent me his epic.
There are limits.
There is not much demand for tales of this description, HOPEFUL. But
as you say you like writing them I do not see who is to prevent you.
If you can get the permission of the local authorities by all means
give a reading at the Home for the Half-Witted.
I have no doubt CLAPHAM ROVER means well, but he has a lot to learn.
There are no events of any kind in the three tales he sends me. The
only thing that ever happens is that the hero is kicked downstairs.
Even then he lies prostrate in the hall for two days. Surely the maids
might have swept him up. CLAPHAM ROVER must remember the great words
of DEMOSTHENES when he swallowed a pebble on the sea beach: "Action,
action, and again action." He was thinking of lawyers, of course, but
his words have a lesson for us all.
INGENUOUS is the exact opposite of CLAPHAM ROVER. I rise from his tale
an absolute wreck. "Splash, she was in the river;" "plonk, he was on
the floor;" "whiz, a bullet shot past him." INGENUOUS must really go
more quietly and make a little less noise. Why not write a few essays
on some of our lesser known female didactic writers, or some such
subjects as "People one is surprised to hear that Dr. JOHNSON never
met?" It would do him a lot of good. But above all he must study that
master of Quietism, the incomparable author of _The Woman's Touch_,
_The Silent Preacher_, _Through a College Key-hole_.
PARSIFAL has pained me very much. He sent me a long poem, and after
I had given him a very detailed criticism I discovered that he had
simply copied out a poem of WORDSWORTH'S familiar to us all from our
earliest childhood. I have lost his address, so I cannot tell him
privately what I think of him, but it was a dirty trick.
CIUDAD RODRIGO (I don't know why he calls himself that; he writes
from Balham) sends me an essay on GEORGE BORROW. It follows with
great fidelity the line of established fact, never deviating into the
unknown. After reading it I felt that I did not want to hear any more
about GEORGE BORROW for a long time.
ARRIERE PENSEE, TOOTLES, PONGO and HUGGING: see answer to CIUDAD
RODRIGO.
I did an injustice to PARNASSIAN in my answer to him last week. Owing
to a misprint I was made to say that "his poems were written" (which
they were not, but typed, and very excellently typed too). What I
meant to say was that his poems were rotten. Sorry.
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