OUR LITERARY ADVICE DEPARTMENT.
Reading edition
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.
Arrière Pensée, 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.
THE MILITANT'S SONG.
Each morning, vigorous and bright, I sing my little song:— "If I don't do the thing that's right I'll do the thing that's wrong." And if I chance to miss my aim By slight miscalculation I go on singing just the same With equal exaltation. So when I light my little sticks To burn up "No. 8" And find I've kindled "No. 6" My joy is just as great. And when my little stones I dash At windows in a hurry And hear the corner lamp-post smash I see no cause to worry. And when I take my little whip To punish "Mr. A." And find I've made another slip I giggle out, "Hurray!" And under lock and key I trill, Although my cell's a strong one:— "I didn't hit the right man, still At least I hit the wrong one."
Bethnal Green and Leith.
We are asked to say that some of the best friends of the Government take a grave view of the acclamations with which the Liberal Press has been greeting the recent "moral victories" of the Party at the polls. A few more of these moral victories and the language of triumph will, they fear, be exhausted before an actual victory occurs.
"Lord Plymouth's donation of £30,000 completes the purchase of the Crystal Palace. The shortage was due to Mr. Camberwell's refusal to contribute, and also to a reduction in Mr. Pinge's contribution by £15,000."
Otago Daily Times.
On the other hand we are glad to be in a position to say that Lord Penge, the Hon. Mrs. Sydenham Hill and the Dowager Lady Dulwich have behaved most generously.
"Respecting Ichthemic Guano, you can make use of my name, as it is one of the best fertilisers on the market."
From a Trade Circular.
We should like to know what our old friend Ichthemic Guano has to say about this. He will not like to hear that anybody else's name competes with his in the fertilising market.
THE HOLY ESTATE: AN EX-PARTE VIEW.
Her Ladyship. "So you are leaving to get married, Thompson? I must come and see your wife when you are comfortably settled."
The Lover. "Thank you, me lady. She seems a nice quiet sort of girl, and I 'ave hevery 'ope she'll make me comfortable."