But as I slowly descend the staircase my mind is full of the favorite old story-paper, and of the enormous influence which its Scotch proprietor, Robert Bonner, exerted over the literature of his day and generation—an influence which is still potent in the offices of the great magazines which now supply us with reading matter. I doubt if there has ever been, in this country, a better edited paper than the Ledger was in the days when its destinies were shaped by the hand of its canny proprietor. No editor ever understood his audience better, or, knowing his readers, was more successful in giving them what they wanted, than was Robert Bonner, whose dollars accumulated in his own coffers even as the files of his paper accumulated in country garrets in all parts of this broad land.
“Well, where do you find evidences of such careful editing in that hotch-potch which you describe so carefully?” I hear some carping critic ask, and as I run my eye over what I have written I realize that I have utterly failed in my attempt to convey an idea of the glories of that particular number of the Ledger. I would say, however, to my critical friend that the paper is well edited because it does not contain a line of prose or a stanza of verse that is not aimed directly at the hearts and minds of the vast army of farmers, midwives, gas-fitters’ daughters, and the blood-relations of janitors who constituted its peculiar clientèle. And I would add that if the critical one desires to get at the very bone and sinew of Ledger literature he should make a careful study of the poems which were an important feature of it, and in which may be found the very essence of the great principles by which the paper was guided.
Indeed, Mr. Bonner used to be more particular about his poetry than about his prose, and always read himself every line of verse submitted to him for publication. Some of the poems were written by women of simple, serious habits of thought; but a great many of the highly moral and instructive effusions that were an important feature of the paper were prepared by ungodly and happy-go-lucky Bohemians, who were glad to eke out the livelihood earned by reporting with an occasional “tenner” from Mr. Bonner’s treasury. These poets studied the great editor’s peculiarities and personal tastes as carefully as the most successful magazine contributors of to-day study those of the various Gilders, Johnsons, Burlingames, and Aldens who dominate American letters in the present year. For example, no horses in Ledger poems were ever permitted to trot faster than a mile in eight minutes, and it was considered sagacious to name them Dobbin or Old Bess. Poems in praise of stepmothers or life-insurance were supposed to be distasteful to the great editor, but he was believed to have an absolute passion for lyrics which extolled the charm of country life and the homely virtues of rural folk. If a poet wrote more than one rhyme to the quatrain he was warned by his fellows not to ruin the common market.
And now I hear from the carping critic again: “But you don’t mean to tell me that any good poetry was produced by such a process? Why, suppose one of our great magazines—”
“Who said anything about good poetry? It was good poetry for the Ledger subscribers to read, and as to the great modern magazines—haven’t I told you already that I stumbled over a heap of them just as I was leaving the old garret where the pop-corn and the wreaths of dried apples and the bundles of Ledgers are kept?”
CHAPTER II.
THE “LEDGER” PERIOD OF LETTERS.
A quarter of a century hence, perhaps, one of those arbiters of taste to whom poetastry owes its very existence will lecture before the intellectual and artistic circles of that period on “The Literary Remains of the Bonnerian Period”; and the Ledger school of poetry, long neglected by our critics, will become a fashionable cult. I hope, too, that the names of those writers who, as disciples of that school, gave an impetus to those great principles which live to-day in the beautifully printed pages of our leading periodicals will be rescued from the shades of obscurity and accorded the tardy credit that they have fairly won.
These principles have lived because they were founded on good, sound, logical common sense, for Mr. Bonner possesses one of the most logical minds in the world. In the days when he was—unconsciously, I am sure—moulding the literature of future generations of Americans, he was always able to give a reason for every one of his official acts; and I doubt if as much can be said of all the magazine editors of the present day. It was this faculty that enabled his contributors to learn so much of his likes and dislikes, for if he rejected a manuscript he was always ready to tell the author exactly why the work was not suitable for the Ledger.