Work, too, is often wasted. Full of enthusiasm, after a peep at the gorgeous Eastern life on my return from Morocco in the ’nineties, I started a novel, which was nearly completed when the agent discovered there was already a somewhat similar book on the market. The appended letters speak for themselves and show the generosity of a man like Grant Allen in replying to a young and almost unknown author:
“Dear Mr. Grant Allen,
“I am much distressed! I was in Morocco this spring, and took copious notes, which I have since been busily writing up into a story, now nearing completion.
“Telling the plot to my host the other night, he exclaimed, ‘That is very like Grant Allen’s Tents of Shem.’ He found the book, and I have just read it, and put it down feeling very sad.
“You make English characters play the drama in Algiers, I do the same in Tangier.
“You have a naturalist, F.R.S.; I have a Science Professor from Cambridge.
“A Moorish girl falls in love with an Englishman.
“A Moorish man falls in love with my heroine.
“Indeed, the similarity of idea is in many ways extraordinary. I don’t see what to do unless I rewrite the whole thing, the work of some months, and even then, your story is splendid and your name famous; mine is simple and my name more or less obscure.
“It is altogether very disquieting.