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"Respected ANDREW LANG," writes the Baron's Assistant Reader, "I have
read your criticism in _Longman's Magazine_ upon Mr. BARRY PAIN's _In
a Canadian Canoe_. It's an ugly piece of bludgeon work, I admit, but
not convincing to anyone who has read the book of which you speak. You
tear away a line or two from the context, and ask your readers to say
if _that_ is wit or humour. How your admirers would have protested
had any sacrilegious critic ventured to treat one of your own immortal
works in this manner. _Essays in Little_, a book which, by the way,
appeared in the same series for which Mr. BARRY PAIN wrote, is a
pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but even _Essays in Little_
would have presented a sorry appearance if, let us say, ANDREW LANG
had reviewed it in this perfunctory and extractory and arbitrary
fashion. I remember that in that case the critics were respectfully
enthusiastic. Even Mr. BLUDYER would have doffed his cap, I fancy, to
one
Who rhymes, researches and reviews,
Who sometimes writes like Genesis,
And sometimes in the _Daily News_.
For, after all, you stand high in the journalistic world. Your opinion
passes current in many a select circle. Not even your vagaries seem to
have power to offend the worshippers to whom your word has long been
a law, whether you spoke of golf, of salmon, of folk-lore or of books.
The censure of a BLUDYER (I wonder what has brought that formidable
name to my mind) can do little to discourage you. But Mr. BARRY PAIN
is a young writer. And yet some one remarked that _In a Canadian
Canoe_ was better even than _Essays in Little_, and the audacious
words were actually printed in a journal to which ANDREW LANG is
an occasional contributor. I myself have never dared to go so far.
There is something sacred about an established reputation. And I can
honestly say that I like the elegant airy trifles which your little
Muse has bestowed upon us, though I confess to a weariness when the
talk is too much of golf-clubs and salmon rods. And I admire your
appreciation of the original work of other men. In the present case
you and I disagree upon a question of taste. That is all. _Tant pis
pour moi_, I hasten to add. But I disagree in good company, for I note
with some amusement, that the PAYN whom you rightly praise, has a kind
and encouraging word for the PAIN whom you so vehemently disparage.
And in this case I will stake my all upon the eulogy of JAMES PAYN as
against the censure of ANDREW LANG. As you did me the honour to refer
to something I had written, I thought myself bound in politeness to
reply, and am
Your obedient servant,