face has lost the petulant brilliancy of his early portrait and assumes the sober cast of his forefathers. He lives constantly at Titchfield, undertaking voyages to America, subsidising explorations, fighting chivalrous causes. News of the death of Lady Rich must have reached them in 1606. They lose a four-year-old daughter, the Ladye Mary, in 1614. In 1616 they hear of the death of Shakespeare.

A great white stone wall still encircles the ruins of Titchfield Place. Magnificent and ghostly towers of the gatehouse still mark the place where the first earl drove his entrance through the nave of the priory church of Titchfield. Within the grounds the leafless trunk of a mighty oak lies white and ghastly on the sward. It must have been centuries old in Shakespeare's time. The walls of the palace are tapestried with ashen ivy boughs, dead and colourless as the stone. It might fitly represent the tragic end of the countess after 1624, for in that year the Earl is brought home. dead from Bergen-ap-Zoom, and with him the body of the heir, his son of twenty-six. Again a widowed countess reigns at Titchfield, her heir a lad of fifteen. But yet another tragedy awaits her, twenty years later. King Charles I. in his flight from Hampton Court takes refuge at Titchfield, hoping thence to escape to France. Clarendon says: "The king thought it best for avoiding all highways to go to Titchfield, a noble seat of the Earl of Southampton (who was not there) but inhabited by the old lady, his mother, with a small family, which made the retreat more convenient.

"There his majesty alighted and would speak with the lady, to whom he made no scruple of communicating himself, knowing her to be a lady of that honour and spirit that she was superior to all kind of temptation. There he slept, and was betrayed next day into the hands of Colonel Hammond, Governor of the Isle of Wight."

Could it be that the folio Shakespeare, studied by King Charles at Carisbrooke, was the gift of the aged countess to her guest?

On that last evening converse must have fallen upon past days, and on the mighty poet Elizabeth Vernon had known so long and so well in her youth.

grade, whether it be fiction or other printed matter-all of which does so much to interfere with the distribution of books of real merit. Undoubtedly, the sale of momentarily popular books sometimes adds considerably to the income of the bookseller; but, on the other hand, farseeing booksellers are coming to realise more and more that the concentration of their efforts upon merchandise of that sort has reacted disadvantageously upon the sale of better books.

We have reached a period in the history of the book trade, it seems to us, when it is imperative that the book trade and the public are disabused of the delusion that bookselling is merely the handling of fiction. That way of thinking has caused more confusion, brought more bad feeling into the trade, and has actually caused more harm to both publisher and bookseller than all the other perplexities that beset the book trade put together. It is just because so little knowledge is required to handle fiction, and because the equivocal price of novels is so generally known to the public that the department stores, that usually have larger means at their command than most any half-dozen booksellers in their vicinity combined, seize upon it as a bait to bamboozle the public into believing that everything they offer is sold at the same rate at which they sell books-that is, fiction. These stores rarely venture further into the book business than to exploit the novel of the hour, the competitive reprints or remainders of cheaplymade books offered at one time or another by "fly-by-night" publishing concerns as premiums or bait for other ventures, thus leaving the field of the more substantial books to the regular bookseller; and those department stores that do venture to maintain a well-equipped book department realise very quickly that they cannot afford to cut the prices on the better class of books so deeplyif at all-as they can on the books on which there is less risk, and which require only the service of the average shop-girl, who to-day is in the tinware department, the next day at the ribbon counter, and on another day, when needed to help out, acts as a bookseller.

The more wide-awake publisher, also, is beginning to realise that in cultivating fiction in the hopes of keeping his plant employed and adding to his income he is engaged in chasing an ignis fatuus. The further he ventures in this direction the deeper he finds himself in the mire, and the less he is in a position to develop the more solid and profitable feature of his profession. Indeed, there is already noticeable a tendency on the part of some of the older publishing houses to make fewer ventures into the realm of fiction, restricting themselves to the products of the authors already on their lists or the really meritorious work of a

new writer, and devoting most of their energy, instead, to the publishing of serious books from which only moderate sales can be expected, but from which larger and more certain profits are bound to accrue.

The bookseller, we claim, has an ever-widening and growing field as his own, because there are very large classes of books constantly published which are always are always in demand, on which the undersellers never cut the price and which are never included in their advertising campaign. Readers in this country are not exclusively readers of fiction, good or bad; and if, unfortunately, in the near future, some publishers should be so blind to their own best interests as to enable the undersellers to discredit the book trade by beating the life out of the "best sellers," we trust the booksellers of the country will have backbone enough to assist them by "sticking to their last," and by buying only enough of their output of fiction to supply the actual demands of their customers, and to devote the better part of their time and attention to the dissemination of books that are books, the books of all time and for all seasons, the books that count and are more rapidly coming into their

own.

We therefore hope that, if fiction ever becomes an incubus, and threatens to sap the life of the book trade, the bookseller may be forearmed to meet the danger before it is too late, because in that event even a revolution might prove futile.

TH

TRAGEDY.*

HIS is the first of a series dealing with the various types of literature, and if the rest in any way attain to the excellence of the volume before us, the publishers will have good cause to be proud of their venture.

The design of the book is to trace the course of English tragedy up to the middle of the last century, and to show its place and influence in the history of the theatre and of literature. This is a great task. To perform it adequately in the space of 377 pages of large type is still more difficult, but Professor Thorndike has accomplished it. Of course, no exhaustive treatment is attempted, though it may be remarked that all tragedies of the sixteenth century are mentioned. The book is really a critical essay; a guide-book, but not a text-book; a compact "Form at a Glance" of tragedy, yet essentially scholarly and dignified.

At the close of every chapter are Notes on Bibliography, which are quite invaluable.

We find, however, on page 81, an opportunity for quibbling, or making a strong protest-the reader may decide. Among stage costumes is mentioned the "gown to go invisible in," graced as here with inverted commas. To the best of our knowledge it should be "for to goo invisibell," and as such we can readily credit it. On the other hand, the gown that Professor Thorndike quotes is obviously an impostor. We will have none of it. The conclusion is so excellent, and so pregnant at the present time when efforts are being made to raise the theatre into its early significance, that we should like to reprint the whole of it here. Lack of space, besides other considerations, prevents such desideratum, but at least we are able to give two short extracts.

"The theatre, while crying for novelty, holds tenaciously to its traditions. Literature, while enforcing rules, precedents, prejudices, while clinging to its models and demanding imitation, yet incites to rivalry and originality, to new endeavour, variation and excellence. These two main classes of influence have rarely, if ever, run parallel. At times the theatre has attracted literature, as in the Elizabethan era; at times it has repelled literature, as in the early nineteenth century. Usually what the stage of the day desires and what the literature of the past encourages have been quite different and quite irreconcilable. It is the purpose of dramatic art to bring about their reconciliation to harmonise the technic of the theatre, the necessities of the drama, and the standards of literary excellence."

"Tragedy takes an abiding place among the great courses of continuous human activity dedicated to an inquiry into the meanings of life. Its imaginative and intellectual study of suffering and ruin must continue, however its form may alter, if the theatre is to be a social force of importance, if literature is to offer an intelligent, serious and comprehensive view of life, if the two are to unite in something better than a trivial and selfish entertainment."

CONTEMPORARY CRITICISMS.-X.

Z.

"THE HAUNTED MAN AND THE GHOST'S BARGAIN: A FANCY FOR CHRISTMAS TIME." BY CHARLES DICKENS. LONDON: BRADBURY AND EVANS, 11, BOUVERIE STREET. 1848.

Foremost in in the the ranks of Christmas chroniclers stands pre-eminent Charles Dickens, author of THE Christmas Carol, par excellence that little book, all-powerful in the magic of its eloquent simplicity. . . . The Carol, appealing as it did to all the best parts of our nature, and by the force of love winning men to virtue, became deservedly popular; in the language of the "Row" it was a decided hit-a speculation equally satisfactory to those who sold and those who bought. Accordingly the following Christmas gave to the

world "The Chimes," a goblin story. This, like most attempts to repeat a good thing, was in some degrees a falling-off; still, it had many of its predecessor's beauties, and certain quaint and loveable originalities all its own; witness that most fantastic but delectable creation, Trotty Veck. "The Chimes" was succeeded by "The Cricket on the Hearth"; and the charm of the story, the fascinations of Dot, and the vis comica of Tilly Slowboy and her pluralities, caused the general reader to overlook, and the friendly critic to deal gently with, a certain want of originality in the plot and character, and a light comedy arrangement of scenes and situations, which detracted from its merits as a work of art. But its very faults rendered it peculiarly adapted for dramatic representation. A Punch writer (with the author's sanction) chopped it up into the necessary longs and shorts . . . and the " Cricket on the Hearth became to all intents and purposes a comedietta.

Whether this palpable realisation of the ideal this clothing the graceful, air-born fancies of Mr. Dickens' poetic mind, in the inimitable flesh and blood of the Keeleys-was a wise experiment, we have grave doubts. However this might be, the consequences were fatal to the next Christmas book by this writer. Confused between publishers and players, Mr. Dickens produced a hybrid anomaly a thing with an unmeaning nameneither Tyrian nor Trojan, neither tale nor farce, where a phrase of high flown sentiment ended with a cue for Mrs. Keeley's funny maid-servant, and her little husband's buffooneries served to enliven the more serious business of transferring a lover, or breaking a father's heart. Such a mistake could lead but to one result; and, accordingly, the "Battle of Life" was condemned by the critics, pooh-poohed! by the public, hissed at the Lyceum, and finally (to use Tilly Slowboy's expressive compound verb) "dead-and-buried" by the Times reviewer. That the author was himself aware that, for once, his arrow had missed the bull's-eye may be deduced from the fact that last year he left the field to other competitors; and Thackeray, and the beadles, the comic almanacs and the dustmen, had it all their own way. It was, then, with no uncommon degree of interest that we saw the announcement, some months ago, of a new Christmas Tale by Charles Dickens; and it is with unmixed satisfaction that we now rise from a perusal of the work, convinced that its author has profited by his experience.

"The Haunted Man, and the Ghost's Bargain" (about as awkward a name, by the way, as ever was hit upon) is appropriately termed "A Fancy for Christmas Time," for such and such alone it is; but a more poetic and beautiful conception we have seldom, if ever, met with. Though we are

constantly gliding into the regions of the ideal though the ghost is a very thorough ghost, indeed, cold, vague, shadowy, impressive and horrible, as a ghost ought to be-though the heroine herself, the calm-eyed, loving, loveable, and particularly impossible Milly, is more a good spirit than a woman—yet the supernatural machinery all works in a very natural way; and though slow imaginations may be somewhat put to it to keep pace with the author's flights of fancy, there is nothing contrary to good sense or right feeling throughout. The story, moreover, has a clear, plain, easily discerned, and most excellent moral; wherein, of its predecessors, it most closely resembles "The Carol," and most widely differs from the "Battle of Life." The tale begins with ten pages of intensely Dickenish description of rain, wind, clouds, gable-ends, "lights in old halls and cottage windows" and shadows. . . Having disposed of the elements and the other picturesque "properties" to his satisfaction Mr. Dickens introduces us to his haunted man, a certain professor of chemistry, by name Redlaw, residing in an incomprehensible old edifice containing a lecture room... This gentleman has his dinner brought by a certain William Swidger, son of the superannuated custodian of the institution, and husband—hear it all ye romantic damsels, and shudder-of the Guardian Angel, Milly; they are joined by Milly and her father-in-law, who is constantly congratulating himself upon the greenness of his memorywhich colour by the way, is more or less discernible in the generality of his remarks.

A worthy family, rejoicing in the euphonious name of Tetterby, possess a most undeniable claim on our gratitude, by affording a vehicle for the display of our author's own peculiar inimitable vein of humour. Some of his touches are most happy. . . The description of a baby-a new, wonderfully imagined, and triumphantly executed baby, possessing a strong, clearly defined, and most alarming individuality, and yet, withal, perfectly true (to the best of our knowledge) to baby-nature-is irresistible. . . . The character of Milly must be dealt with gently and lovingly. Regarded as the personification of tenderness and charity, as the good genius of a Christmas Fancy, with just enough of the material woman about her to enable ordinary mortals to realise and adore: she is a most rare and beautiful creation. For curselves, convinced that in this spirit was the character conceived, and in this alone should it be treated of, we care nothing for the objections which we foresee will be urged against it, regarding all cavils as to its unreality as just so much false criticism. The design of the work is excellent; no mind but that of a good and clever man could have originated it; none but a master's hand could have executed it.

But

that he will get it back almost as good as new. editors are not the only people with this failing. I have remonstrated with a literary agent, who makes strange marks on the MSS. he sends round, pointing out to him that some of the contributions emanating from him bear the look of collars that have been clerically attended to by several laundries.

Disfiguring a manuscript is, to my mind, a distinct discourtesy on the part of an editor, anl "C. B.'s" protest is well justified. Yours faithfully,

R. S. WARREN BELL,
Editor of The Captain.

CORRESPONDENCE.

EDITORIAL FAILINGS.

I.

SIR, I think your correspondent "C. B." in your November issue is rather sweeping in his condemnation of editors. He complains that they (or their office boys) are in the habit of scoring MSS. and thus spoiling their virgin beauty. May I point out that from among thousands of MSS. which have passed through my hands and the hands of my assistants (who by the way are not office boys) during many years of editorial work, I have never had a single complaint that any MS. has been returned in a less cleanly condition than when it was received. MSS. are not numbered in this office, nor marked in any way.

I should be very grateful if you will permit me to use this opportunity for correcting another wide-spread error among aspiring authors. These gentlemen are never tired of asserting that editors do not read the majority of MSS. submitted to them. Let me assure all aspiring authors that not one of those many thousand MSS. alluded to above has been returned without having been previously considered either by myself, my assistants, or a special staff of readers. Most journals could not exist but for the contributions of outsiders, and as editors are rational human beings, in spite of all that is said to the contrary, they do not wantonly play ducks and drakes with their chief means of livelihood.

Yours faithfully, THE EDITOR,

C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.

II.

SIR,-I should like to inform "C. B." that I never allow MSS. to be marked in my office. If he likes to send me something, I can assure him

PENSION FUND.

SIR, I cannot think H. A.'s letter is representative even of himself, and can only agree with his last words, and then only by transposing them to read, "It is not a question of principle, but of the amount demanded." Literature is surely the most liberal of professions, and it could not exist without original thought, which means that no two people think precisely alike. Also, however valuable opinions, thoughtful persons are privileged to change them, and sometimes do go "full speed astern." Yet H. A. wishes us to believe that his only motive for not contributing is the fear that some small portion of his generosity, however great, might, at some future time, go to relieve the sufferings of some imaginary poor devil who might have the temerity to differ from him. This is not quite liberal, not quite tolerant; and the evil one may never need the pension. No compulsion, of course, but let those subscribe who can, and leave the rest to the pension committee.

ANOTHER A.

MILTON TERCENTENARY.

SIR, I have the honour, on behalf of the Milton Tercentenary Committee, appointed by the Council of the British Academy, in view of a memorial addressed to them early in the year by the Lord Mayor, the Chairman of the London County Council, the Vice-Chancellors of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and London, and others, to announce the following details of the programme of the celebration :—

On the evening of December 8, the eve of the 300th anniversary of the birth of Milton, the British Academy will hold a special meeting at the Theatre of Burlington House, Burlington-gardens, at which

Dr. A. W. Ward, Master of Peterhouse, Fellow of the Academy, will deliver a brief oration on "Milton's Life and Work," to be followed by a discourse on "Milton's Comus and its Incidental Music," by Sir Frederick Bridge, illustrated by the choristers of Westminster Abbey.

In response to a request addressed to him by the Tercentenary Committee, Mr. George Meredith, O.M., has graciously written some lines on "Milton," in honour of the occasion, and the celebration will fittingly open with the reading of these lines.

On December 9, the day of the tercentenary, a special commemoration service will be held in the afternoon, at the church of St. Mary-le-Bow, Cheapside, at which the sermon will be given by the Bishop of Ripon. The Right Hon. the Lord Mayor (Sir George Wyatt Truscott) and the Sheriffs, in State, leading citizens (especially of Milton's ward of Bread-street), the officers and Fellows of the British Academy, with other invited guests, will attend the service.

In the evening the Lord Mayor will entertain a representative company at the Mansion House at a banquet in celebration of the tercentenary.

On Thursday, December 10, in the afternoon, a general meeting of the British Academy will be held, at which will be communicated for publication the following papers on various aspects of Milton's life and work:—

"Milton and Dante, with reference to Macaulay's Essay," by Mr. W. J. Courthope, C.B. "Milton in the Eighteenth Century," by Professor E. Dowden.

"Milton's Fame on the Continent," by Professor J. G. Robertson. "Milton as Schoolboy and Schoolmaster," by Mr. A. F. Leach.

"Samson Agonistes and the Hellenic Drama," by the late Sir Richard Jebb. Further, Professor C. H. Firth will contribute a paper on Milton as an Historian." This will be read at the ordinary meeting of the Academy on November 25.

These papers, together with other contributions, will be published in extenso in "The Proceedings of the British Academy," and also separately.

On the evening of Tuesday, December 15, a performance of " Samson Agonistes" will be given at the theatre, Burlington-gardens, under the direction of Mr. William Poel, for the guests of the British Academy. Public performances are being arranged for in London and elsewhere.

At the British Museum there will be an exhibition of "Miltoniana," and a portfolio containing facsimiles of the Milton autographs and documents in the museum will be "published by order of the trustees, on the occasion of the Milton Tercen

1. The reconstruction of the Authors' Club has been accomplished with the cordial co-operation of the majority of the former members.

2. Amongst those who have joined the general council are the Lord Monkswell, D.L., Sir Edward Brabrook, C.B., Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Ven. Archdeacon Sinclair, D.D., Messrs. S. R. Crockett, C. B. Fry, Francis Gribble, H. Rider Haggard, Anthony Hope Hawkins, C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne, Morley Roberts, William Senior, Horace Annesley Vachell, Percy White, with Mr. Charles Garvice as chairman of the Executive Committee, and Mr. T. Cato Worsfold, hon. solicitor.

3. The new club rooms overlook the Embankment Gardens and the river, and, until the refurnishing is completed, members of the Authors* are guests of the Municipal Club in the same building.

4. The social affairs of the club are managed by the executive committee who were elected at the general meeting of members on the 5th ult., namely: in addition to the chairman aforementioned, Messrs. C. H. Cautley, E. J. Harper, Franklin Lieber, Robert Machray, G. Herbert Thring, E. H. Lacon Watson, Horace Wyndham (hon. librarian) and myself.

5. To ensure a continual infusion of fresh interest in the club's affairs, one third of the committee will retire in February, 1911, and every subsequent February, in favour of new officers, no past committee-man being eligible for re-election until the lapse of one year after resigning office. 6. No financial liability in the management attaches to any individual member. On behalf of the Executive Committee, I am, Sir,