It is quite within Mr. Roget’s right not to like the book—thousands of people didn’t like it. But what are his functions for sneering at it with confidence and weight?
First of all his age is thirty-six, and he is the editor of The Thesaurus.
We can dismiss those qualifications at once.
Then he is the Vicar of a Worcestershire church, and a well-known writer of light verse.
He began his journalistic career in 1890 by contributing “turnovers” to the Globe, has contributed to Punch and The Nineteenth Century, is a leader writer on a Church paper, and reviews theological books.
This is his journalistic career, and he has written seven little books in all, mostly verse. I take these particulars from Who’s Who.
All this is very well. It is a good thing for all of us to be in Who’s Who, though, by the way, it does the latter-day “celebrity” more harm to be out of it than it does him good to be in it!
Mr. Roget’s record for a young clergyman of thirty-six is honourable enough. He has done better for himself than most young priests of that age. But this does not constitute him “An author whom the public love,” etc.
I am very glad to find my own name in the fat red book, which is so useful, though in my little autobiography I never thought it necessary to mention the first “turnover.” I certainly did venture to say that one of my stories had sold 300,000 copies; but that was probably vanity, and I regret it.
But, to be serious, has my critic done as much in journalism or the literary world as your deponent? I’m not going to catalogue my work any more, but, frankly, he has not. All I ask, with proper humility, is just this—Is this gentleman qualified to sneer at me—not to criticize me, which is quite another thing—just because the public have approved of what I have tried to sell them and have bought it?