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Mayne Reid (search for this): chapter 10
named Roe, and probably not so good. In this country the authors who have achieved the most astounding popular successes are, as a rule, now absolutely forgotten. I can remember when Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., received by far the largest salary then paid to any American writer, and Dr. J. H. Robinson spent his life in trying to rival him. The vast evangelical constituency which now reads Ben-Hur then read Ingraham's Prince of the House of David; the boys who now pore over Oliver Optic had then Mayne Reid. Those who enjoy Gunter and Albert Ross then perused, it is to be presumed, the writings of Mr. J. W. Buel, whose very name will be, to most readers of today, unknown. His Beautiful Story reached a sale of nearly 300,000 copies in two years; his Living World and The Story of Man were sold to the number of nearly 250,000 each, and were endorsed by Gladstone and Bismarck. This was only ten years ago, for in 1888 he received for copyright $33,000, and in 1889 $50,000; yet I have at hand no
Gladstone (search for this): chapter 10
tituency which now reads Ben-Hur then read Ingraham's Prince of the House of David; the boys who now pore over Oliver Optic had then Mayne Reid. Those who enjoy Gunter and Albert Ross then perused, it is to be presumed, the writings of Mr. J. W. Buel, whose very name will be, to most readers of today, unknown. His Beautiful Story reached a sale of nearly 300,000 copies in two years; his Living World and The Story of Man were sold to the number of nearly 250,000 each, and were endorsed by Gladstone and Bismarck. This was only ten years ago, for in 1888 he received for copyright $33,000, and in 1889 $50,000; yet I have at hand no book of reference or library catalogue that contains his name. Is it not better to be unknown in one's lifetime, and yet live forever by one poem, like Blanco White with his sonnet called Life and light, or by one saying, like Fletcher of Saltoun with his I care not who makes the laws of a people, so I can make its ballads, than to achieve such evanescent
Addison (search for this): chapter 10
in the position of that General Clive, once famous for his wealth and gorgeous jewelry, whom Walpole excused for alleged parsimony on the ground that he probably had about him no small brilliants. In these various ways a man sometimes escapes, perhaps forever, from the personal renown that should seemingly be his. Even if he gains this, how limited it is, at the best! Strictly speaking, there is no literary fame worth envying, save Shakespeare's-and Shakespeare's amounted to this, that Addison wrote An Account of the Greatest English Poets in which his name does not appear; and that, of the people one meets in the streets of any city, the majority will not even have heard of him. How many thousand never heard the name Of Sidney or of Spenser, and their books; And yet brave fellows, and presume of fame, And think to bear down all the world with looks. Happy is that author, if such there be, who, although his renown be as small as that of Thoreau in his lifetime, does not greatly
J. W. Buel (search for this): chapter 10
opular successes are, as a rule, now absolutely forgotten. I can remember when Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., received by far the largest salary then paid to any American writer, and Dr. J. H. Robinson spent his life in trying to rival him. The vast evangelical constituency which now reads Ben-Hur then read Ingraham's Prince of the House of David; the boys who now pore over Oliver Optic had then Mayne Reid. Those who enjoy Gunter and Albert Ross then perused, it is to be presumed, the writings of Mr. J. W. Buel, whose very name will be, to most readers of today, unknown. His Beautiful Story reached a sale of nearly 300,000 copies in two years; his Living World and The Story of Man were sold to the number of nearly 250,000 each, and were endorsed by Gladstone and Bismarck. This was only ten years ago, for in 1888 he received for copyright $33,000, and in 1889 $50,000; yet I have at hand no book of reference or library catalogue that contains his name. Is it not better to be unknown in one's l
English (search for this): chapter 10
in English and American popularity, and Scott's publisher, James Ballantyne, says that he could most gratify the author of Waverley when he could say: Positively this is equal to Miss Edgeworth. Fifty years ago Frederika Bremer's works were in English--speaking countries the object of such enthusiasm that publishers quarrelled for the right to reproduce them in English, and old friendships were sundered by the competition to translate them. At that time all young men who wished for a brilliaEnglish, and old friendships were sundered by the competition to translate them. At that time all young men who wished for a brilliant social career still took for their models either Pelham or Vivian Grey,; and I remember that a man of fine intellect, who had worked in a factory till he was eighteen, once told me that he had met with no intellectual influence to be compared with that exerted upon him by Bulwer's novels. The historical tales of G. P. R. James were watched for by thousands of eager readers, and his solitary horseman rode through the opening page among the plaudits of a myriad hearts. Dickens laughed all t
Alice Fletcher (search for this): chapter 10
s in two years; his Living World and The Story of Man were sold to the number of nearly 250,000 each, and were endorsed by Gladstone and Bismarck. This was only ten years ago, for in 1888 he received for copyright $33,000, and in 1889 $50,000; yet I have at hand no book of reference or library catalogue that contains his name. Is it not better to be unknown in one's lifetime, and yet live forever by one poem, like Blanco White with his sonnet called Life and light, or by one saying, like Fletcher of Saltoun with his I care not who makes the laws of a people, so I can make its ballads, than to achieve such evanescent splendors as this? It is not more than sixty years since Maria Edgeworth rivalled Scott in English and American popularity, and Scott's publisher, James Ballantyne, says that he could most gratify the author of Waverley when he could say: Positively this is equal to Miss Edgeworth. Fifty years ago Frederika Bremer's works were in English--speaking countries the objec
1896 AD (search for this): chapter 10
a merely literary ambition. The only absolutely impregnable attitude is in that fine invocation of the radical Proudhon, prefixed to his first work: Thou God who hast placed in my heart the sentiment of justice before my reason comprehended it, hear my ardent prayer.... May my memory perish, if humanity may but be free! --(Ah! perisse ma memoire et que l'humanite soit libre.） Oeuvres Completes;, I. 224. He who is thinking only of himself and of the royalty on his books must watch tremblingly over his own fame, and shudder at every adverse breath; he is like an actor, who hears his doom in every shrinkage of applause from the galleries. But the man whose thoughts are fixed on truth and right is better occupied; if he sees the torch carried onward, what matter who carries it? Still lives the song though Regnar dies ; and it will not trouble him though a generation of critics go to their graves, as Lady Holland said of Lady Cork, full of bitterness and good dinners. 1896
1889 AD (search for this): chapter 10
over Oliver Optic had then Mayne Reid. Those who enjoy Gunter and Albert Ross then perused, it is to be presumed, the writings of Mr. J. W. Buel, whose very name will be, to most readers of today, unknown. His Beautiful Story reached a sale of nearly 300,000 copies in two years; his Living World and The Story of Man were sold to the number of nearly 250,000 each, and were endorsed by Gladstone and Bismarck. This was only ten years ago, for in 1888 he received for copyright $33,000, and in 1889 $50,000; yet I have at hand no book of reference or library catalogue that contains his name. Is it not better to be unknown in one's lifetime, and yet live forever by one poem, like Blanco White with his sonnet called Life and light, or by one saying, like Fletcher of Saltoun with his I care not who makes the laws of a people, so I can make its ballads, than to achieve such evanescent splendors as this? It is not more than sixty years since Maria Edgeworth rivalled Scott in English and
1888 AD (search for this): chapter 10
ce of the House of David; the boys who now pore over Oliver Optic had then Mayne Reid. Those who enjoy Gunter and Albert Ross then perused, it is to be presumed, the writings of Mr. J. W. Buel, whose very name will be, to most readers of today, unknown. His Beautiful Story reached a sale of nearly 300,000 copies in two years; his Living World and The Story of Man were sold to the number of nearly 250,000 each, and were endorsed by Gladstone and Bismarck. This was only ten years ago, for in 1888 he received for copyright $33,000, and in 1889 $50,000; yet I have at hand no book of reference or library catalogue that contains his name. Is it not better to be unknown in one's lifetime, and yet live forever by one poem, like Blanco White with his sonnet called Life and light, or by one saying, like Fletcher of Saltoun with his I care not who makes the laws of a people, so I can make its ballads, than to achieve such evanescent splendors as this? It is not more than sixty years since
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