Punch (102.1892)

January 30, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 49

CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. ^ character cannot marry any lady who does not burn, as an

Auld Licht, with a hard gem-like flame." Violet Blair, his cousin,
III.—THE LITERACY DUFFER. [s just as staunch an Esoteric Buddhist. Nothing stands between

Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me to tell; them but the differences of their creed,
indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would explain the "How can 1 contemplate, Geoffrey," said Violet, with a rich
reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary Men decline to blush, "the possibility of seeing our little ones stray from the fold
tell me why they do not want my contributions. 1 am sure I have of the Lama of Thibet into a chapel of the Original Secession
done all that I can to succeed. When my Novel, Geoffrey's Cousin, Church?"

comes back from the How, I do not lose heart—I pack it up, and They determine to try to convert each other. Geoffrey lends
send it off again to the Square, and so, I may say, it goes the round. Violet all his theological library, including Wodrow's Analecta.
The very manuscript attests the trouble I have taken. Parts of it She lends him the learned works of Mr. SlSTNETT and Madame
are written in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to Blavatsky. They retire, he to the Himalayas, she to Thrums, and
whom I have dictated passages; a good deal is in the hand of my their letters compose ATolume II. (Local colour d la Kipling and
wife. There are sentences which I have written a dozen times, on Barbie.) On the slopes of the Himalayas you see Geoffrey con-
the margins, with lines leading up to them in red ink. The story is verted ; he becomes a Cheela, and returns by overland route. He
written on paper of all sorts and sizes, and bits of paper 'are pasted rushes to Bamsgate, and announces his complete acceptance of the
on, here and there, containing revised versions of incidents and truth as it is in Mahatmaism. Alas! alas! Violet has been over-
dialogue. The whole packet is now far from clean, and has a persuaded by the seductions of Presbyterianism, she has hurried
business-like and travelled air about down from Thrums, rejoicing, a full-

it, which should command respect. ■ \ blown Auld Licht. And, in her

I always accompany it with a polite \ I j ' ^hsh^;;-^^^ Geoffrey, she finds a convinced

letter, expressing my willingness to 111 ' i 3g==^=-—Esoteric Buddhist! They are n)

cut it down, or expand it, or change \\y \ ' better off than they were, their union

the conclusion. Nobody_ can say \\ \ \ I I f ><^tPSHl !____ is impossible, and Vol. III. ends in

that I am proud. But it always \\\ V\ \ iffiLJ -s^B!!!^ their poignant anguish.

comes back from the Publishers and lli ' ''^^^^^M Now, Mr. Punch,!?, not this the

Editors, without any explanation as \Y[\\ \\\C^^^fe. li ___j )$ffir<r very novel for the times; rich in

to why it will not do.^ ThisJs what A i^^^^^p^®^-— I jjj adventure (in Kafiristan), teeming

Publishers decline to tell me what , Qf^^^pf^ >: ^^^^^^^^^fJfojk % ' and sparkling with all the epigrams

their Headers have really said about , \ :S^)if^fw?&0$ ^^^^mOT^^"™^- of m.V commonplace book. Yet I am

it. I have forwarded Geoffrey's V 'j^^^^F^^^^^^^^^^^^SSS^^ about £300 outof pocket, and, more-

rious authors, with a letter, which ;' \ ^rl^^^^^^« '^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^M^^' ^ aave taken every*kind of pains;

f^^i^^^i^^ W^^^^MiHBflHHH fe^r make people interview me ; I have

occupied, but I am certain that you wUl^^^M HPBHHHHfcK& Pf i ^ m the m° T 1 k

will spare enough of that valuable 'llW^WSP^lli i j^MWWMiy study and research can suggest. If

commodity to |lance through the i H 7 ill MHIHIH^^H anybody has I have. been up to

accompanying^ MS, Novel, and ^give M Wfa :; >^MHH I see othSs flourish by^vSy arts

having it published under your own III - ' ^Hl fallU1'6f 18 * m7st^\ ?uj, 1

name receiving1 one-third of the ' I J SSI ' ^^^^^^^Wjj^^^SBSSSBBBS^^ am n°t at all more fortunate m the

profits? A speedy answer will greatly ^^^^9^ ^^^/S^^^^^^ T^tj lif-hSl^L bythe half

Would you believe it, Mr. Punch, -j. ^^^l^^jj^^P seditious songs, drawing-room poetry,
not one of these over-rated and over- %I1§L an Epic on the history of Labducuo,
paid men has ever given me any WSM erotic verse, all tire, foam, and fangs,
advice at all ? Most of them simply Jlllla JMff reflective ditto, humble natural bal-
send back my parcel with no reply. ^&11|Pl lads about signal-men and news-
One, however, wrote to say that he S\jtta^L. paper-boys, Life-boat rescues, Idyls,
received at least six such packets ^jjjS||jpi|^p f'funlip^^' Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in
every week, and that his engage- ^——I If blank verse. Nobody will print them,
ments made it impossible for him to ' 1' 1 or, if any bo y prints them, he regrets
act as a guide, counsellor and friend „ j- w worn a doak aud a T leM hat aud attitudMsed in tho that he cannot pay for them. My
to the amateurs of all England. Picture-galleries." moral and discursive essays are re-
He added that, if I published the ' jected, my descriptions of nature do

Novel at my own expense, the remarks of the public critics would
doubtless prove most valuable and salutary.

This decided me ; I did publish, at my own expense, with Messrs
Saul, Samuel, Moss & Co. I had to pay down £150, then £35 for

not even get into the newspapers. I have not been elected by the
Sydenham Club (a clique of humbugs); I have let my hair grow iong;
I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the
picture-galleries, but nobody asked who I am. I have endeavoured

advertisements, then £70 for Publisher's Commission. Other to hang on to weU-known poets and novelists—they have not wel
expenses fell grievously on me, as I sent round printed postcards to corned my advances.

everyone whose name is in the Bed Book, asking them to ask for j My last dodge was a Satire, the Logrolliad, in which I lashed the

Geoffrey's Cousin at the Libraries. I also despatched six copies
with six anonymous letters, to Mr. Gladstone, signing them, '' A
Literary'Constituent," "A Wavering Anabaptist," and so forth,
but, extraordinary to relate, I have received no answer, and no notice
has been taken of my disinterested presents. The reviews were of
the most meagre and scornful description. Messrs. Saul, Samuel,
Moss & Co. have just written to me, begging me to remove the

charlatans and pretenders of the day.

While hoary statesmen scribble in reviews
And guide the doubtful verdict of the Blues,
While Haggard scrawls, with blood in lieu of ink,
"While Mallock. teaches Marquises to think,

so long I have rhythmicaUy expressed my design to wield the
remainder" of my book, and charging £23 15s. Gd. for warehouse i dripping scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse,

expenses. Yet, when I read Geoffrey's Cousin, I fail to see that it
falls, in any way, beneath the general run of novels. I enclose a
marked copy, and solicit your earnest attention for the passage in
which Geoffrey's Cousi?i blights his hopes for ever. The story, Sir,
is one of controversy, and is suited to this time. Geoffrey MePhun
is an Auld Licht (see Mr. Barrie's books, passim). His cousin is
an Esoteric Buddhist. They love each other dearly, but Geoffrey, a

and I am not a paragraph the better. Short stories of a startling
description fill my drawers, nobody will venture on one of them.
I have closely imitated every writer who succeeds, but my little
barque may attendant sail, it pursues the triumph, but does not
partake the gale.
I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera.
What offers ?

vol cii.

F