If he wished
not to ruin his reputation among artists, among people who really create
things, he ought not to have published his books on "Style" and on
"Shakespere." He ought to have burnt them. For they are as hollow as a
drum and as unoriginal as a bride-cake: nothing but vacuity with an icing
of phrases. I am brought back again to the anecdote of the musician. No
one who had the least glimmering of an individual vision of what style
truly is could possibly have tolerated the too fearfully ingenious mess of
words that Professor Raleigh courageously calls a book on "Style." The
whole thing is a flagrant contradiction of every notion of style. It may
not be generally known (and I do not state it as a truth) that Professor
Raleigh is a distant connexion of the celebrated family of Pains,
pyrotechnicians. I would begin to go to the Empire again if I could see on
the programme: "10.20. Professor Raleigh, in his unique prestidigitatory
performance with words." Yes, I would stroll once more into the hallowed
Promenade to see that. It would be amusing. But it would have no connexion
with literature.
MRS. HUMPHRY WARD'S HEROINES
[_3 Oct. '08_]
It was the commercial genius of Mr. Hall Caine that invented the idea of
publishing important novels during the "off" season.
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