A mind less naturally strong than Pierre’s might well have been hurried into vast self-complacency, by such eulogy as this, especially as there could be no possible doubt, that the primitive verdict pronounced by the editors was irreversible, except in the highly improbable event of the near approach of the Millennium, which might establish a different dynasty of taste, and possibly eject the editors. It is true, that in view of the general practical vagueness of these panegyrics, and the circumstance that, in essence, they were all somehow of the prudently indecisive sort; and, considering that they were panegyrics, and nothing but panegyrics, without any thing analytical about them; an elderly friend of a literary turn, had made bold to say to our hero—“Pierre, this is very high praise, I grant, and you are a surprisingly young author to receive it; but I do not see any criticisms as yet.”
“Criticisms?” cried Pierre, in amazement; “why, sir, they are all criticisms! I am the idol of the critics!”
“Ah!” sighed the elderly friend, as if suddenly reminded that that was true after all—“Ah!” and went on with his inoffensive, non-committal cigar.
Nevertheless, thanks to the editors, such at last became the popular literary enthusiasm in behalf of Pierre, that two young men, recently abandoning the ignoble pursuit of tailoring for the more honorable trade of the publisher (probably with an economical view of working up in books, the linen and cotton shreds of the cutter’s counter, after having been subjected to the action of the paper-mill), had on the daintiest scolloped-edged paper, and in the neatest possible, and fine-needle-work hand, addressed him a letter, couched in the following terms; the general style of which letter will sufficiently evince that, though—thanks to the manufacturer—their linen and cotton shreds may have been very completely transmuted into paper, yet the cutters themselves were not yet entirely out of the metamorphosing mill.
“Hon. Pierre Glendinning,
“Revered Sir,
“The fine cut, the judicious fit of your productions fill us with amazement. The fabric is excellent—the finest broadcloth of genius. We have just started in business. Your pantaloons—productions, we mean—have never yet been collected. They should be published in the Library form. The tailors—we mean the librarians, demand it. Your fame is now in its finest nap. Now—before the gloss is off—now is the time for the library form. We have recently received an invoice of Chamois—— Russia leather. The library form should be a durable form. We respectfully offer to dress your amazing productions in the library form. If you please, we will transmit you a sample of the cloth—— we mean a sample-page, with a pattern of the leather. We are ready to give you one tenth of the profits (less discount) for the privilege of arraying your wonderful productions in the library form:—you cashing the seamstresses’—— printer’s and binder’s bills on the day of publication. An answer at your earliest convenience will greatly oblige,—
“Sir, your most obsequious servants,
“WONDER & WEN.”
“P. S.—We respectfully submit the enclosed block—— sheet, as some earnest of our intentions to do every thing in your behalf possible to any firm in the trade.
“N. B.—If the list does not comprise all your illustrious wardrobe—— works, we mean——, we shall exceedingly regret it. We have hunted through all the drawers—— magazines.
“Sample of a coat—— title for the works of Glendinning: