DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.51521#0087
(79)
Martyn and myself, if I would join and make up a trio.
At first I was reluctant to leave London and an unfinished
novel, for there was a sequel to be written to Evelyn
Innes, Sister Teresa, but I was out of humour with these
books and I agreed to go to Dublin with them.* Another
reason for my acquiescence in acting as one of the direc-
tors in the Irish Literary Theatre was the fact that de-
spite the success of Evelyn Innes (Sister Teresa was not
yet published), I began to perceive that my name had
disappeared from the columns of the daily and weekly
press. My books were reviewed, but my public was not
nourished like that of other authors by descriptions of
my personal life. I ascribed my absence from the gossip
columns to the fact that I had no yacht as Mr. Bennett
had; that I had no moor in Scotland. But this explana-
tion of the absence of my name from the gossip columns
began to seem unreal, and I sought for another and found
a better one in the fact that I hated the war that England
was engaged in with the Boers; but the newspapers’
*Whosoever would read of my efforts to rehearse the plays that
were selected for representation, can read an account of them in Hail
and Farewell. There are other books that I have excluded also, and
I take this opportunity of including them in the Black List as un-
worthy of me. Besides Evelyn Innes and Sister Teresa, there are
Spring Days and a few other trifles not worthy of being mentioned.
Of course, if my publisher should find sufficient support for any of
these books in defiance of my taste, which is no more infallible than
the Pope’s, he will be free to have them set up again and put on sale.
I hope not; but we all live in accordance with the changing laws
of aesthetic taste.
Martyn and myself, if I would join and make up a trio.
At first I was reluctant to leave London and an unfinished
novel, for there was a sequel to be written to Evelyn
Innes, Sister Teresa, but I was out of humour with these
books and I agreed to go to Dublin with them.* Another
reason for my acquiescence in acting as one of the direc-
tors in the Irish Literary Theatre was the fact that de-
spite the success of Evelyn Innes (Sister Teresa was not
yet published), I began to perceive that my name had
disappeared from the columns of the daily and weekly
press. My books were reviewed, but my public was not
nourished like that of other authors by descriptions of
my personal life. I ascribed my absence from the gossip
columns to the fact that I had no yacht as Mr. Bennett
had; that I had no moor in Scotland. But this explana-
tion of the absence of my name from the gossip columns
began to seem unreal, and I sought for another and found
a better one in the fact that I hated the war that England
was engaged in with the Boers; but the newspapers’
*Whosoever would read of my efforts to rehearse the plays that
were selected for representation, can read an account of them in Hail
and Farewell. There are other books that I have excluded also, and
I take this opportunity of including them in the Black List as un-
worthy of me. Besides Evelyn Innes and Sister Teresa, there are
Spring Days and a few other trifles not worthy of being mentioned.
Of course, if my publisher should find sufficient support for any of
these books in defiance of my taste, which is no more infallible than
the Pope’s, he will be free to have them set up again and put on sale.
I hope not; but we all live in accordance with the changing laws
of aesthetic taste.