Books and Persons | Page 6

mild domestic loves _With furtive watch pursue
her as she moves,_ _The female with a meeker charm succeeds...._
Wordsworth richly atoned for his unconscious farcicalness by a

multitude of single lines that, in their pregnant sublimity, attend the
Wordsworthian like a shadow throughout his life, warning him
continually when he is in danger of making a fool of himself. Thus,
whenever through mere idleness I begin to waste the irrecoverable
moments of eternity, I always think of that masterly phrase (from, I
think, the "Prelude," but I will not be sure):
_Unprofitably travelling towards the grave._
This line is a most convenient and effective stone to throw at one's
languid friends. Finally let me hail Mr. Nowell Smith as a benefactor.

NOVELISTS AND AGENTS
[_20 June '08_]
A bad publishing season is now drawing to a close, and in the air are
rumours of a crisis. Of course the fault is the author's. It goes without
saying that the fault is the author's. In the first place, he will insist on
producing mediocre novels. (For naturally the author is a novelist; only
novelists count when crises loom. Algernon Charles Swinburne,
Edward Carpenter, Robert Bridges, Lord Morley--these types have no
relation to crises.) It appears that the publishers have been losing
money over the six-shilling novel, and that they are not going to stand
the loss any longer. It is stated that never in history were novels so
atrociously mediocre as they are to-day. And in the second place, the
author will insist on employing an Unspeakable Rascal entitled a
literary agent, and the poor innocent lamb of a publisher is fleeced to
the naked skin by this scoundrel every time the two meet. Already I
have heard that one publisher, hitherto accustomed to the services of
twenty gardeners at his country house, has been obliged to reduce the
horticultural staff to eighteen.
Such is the publishers' explanation of the crisis. I shall keep my own
explanation till the crisis is a little more advanced and ready to burst. In
the meantime I should like to ask: How do people manage to range
over the whole period of the novel's history and definitely decide that
novels were never so bad as they are now? I am personally inclined to
think that at no time has the average novel been so good as it is to-day.

(This view, by the way, is borne out by publishers' own advertisements,
which abound in the word "masterpiece" quoted from infallible critics
of great masterpieces!) Let any man who disagrees with me dare go to
Mudie's and get out a few forgotten novels of thirty years ago and try to
read them! Also, I am prepared to offer £50 for the name and address of
a literary agent who is capable of getting the better of a publisher. I am
widely acquainted with publishers and literary agents, and though I
have often met publishers who have got the better of literary agents, I
have never met a literary agent who has come out on top of a publisher.
Such a literary agent is badly wanted. I have been looking for him for
years. I know a number of authors who would join me in enriching that
literary agent. The publishers are always talking about him. I seldom go
into a publisher's office but that literary agent has just left (gorged with
illicit gold). It irritates me that I cannot run across him. If I were a
publisher, he would have been in prison ere now. Briefly, the manner in
which certain prominent publishers, even clever ones, talk about
literary agents is silly.
* * * * *
Still, I am ready to believe that publishers have lost money over the
six-shilling novel. I am acquainted with the details of several instances
of such loss. And in every case the loss has been the result of gambling
on the part of the publisher. I do not hesitate to say that the terms
offered in late years by some publishers to some popular favourites
have been grotesquely inflated. Publishers compete among themselves,
and then, when the moment comes for paying the gambler's penalty,
they complain of having been swindled. Note that the losses of
publishers are nearly always on the works of the idols of the crowd.
They want the idol's name as an ornament to their lists, and they
commit indiscretions in order to get it. Fantastic terms are never offered
to the solid, regular, industrious, medium novelist. And it is a surety
that fantastic terms are never offered to the beginner. Ask, and learn.
* * * * *
But though I admit that money has been lost, I do not think the losses
have been heavy. After all, no idolized author and no diabolic agent can