The abuse poured on this lady seems to do the sale of her books no harm—it may even increase it—and the supposition is suggestive—but as books and the making of them have an interest apart from the commercial one, it seems time that a protest be made against the unworthy treatment to which one individual is habitually subjected. I have no personal acquaintance with Miss Corelli, and her books give me no more pleasure and no less than do those of Mr. George Meredith, whom your critic seems to place in antithesis to her, this also being the fashion of the moment; it is not in defense of a favorite writer that I wish to express an opinion, but in defense of those qualities that render criticism an honorable calling.
The heading of the critique in your issue of August 31st, and the introductory section, were alike unworthy of a literary paper and of the pen of a gentleman. The charges of self-advertisement are insulting and untrue. There are few writers who owe as little to the paragraphist as Miss Corelli, while the flouts and jibes flung at her because her books sell extensively are merely stupid. The size of an edition of any book depends on the publisher’s knowledge of the demand that awaits it. It might be better, in the interests of literature, to keep commerce and literary merit in separate compartments, but as long as such critical organs as The Bookman make a regular feature of tables of sales from Provincial and Metropolitan book-sellers, it is neither logical nor brave to pour vials of scorn on one writer because her publisher announces that the first edition of her book will be large.
The subject of Miss Corelli’s book seems a legitimate one; “If I were King” has appealed to the moralist, the fictionist, and the dramatist time out of mind. When a biography of this popular writer is called for, the critic may then be personal and impertinent if it seem good to him, but in connection with the discussion of a book personalities regarding its author are unfair and in the worst possible taste.
As an interested reader of the critical opinions in the Sunday Sun since the first issue of that paper, I consider myself entitled to protest when a journal of such eminence descends to methods that are neither amusing, informative, nor well-bred. Even a popular writer is entitled to fair treatment, and it is of the utmost importance to every branch of literature that those who undertake to form public opinion should remember that the rostrum has obligations as well as privileges.
E. Rentoul Esler.
the Heath, Dartford.
Mrs. Rentoul Esler is herself a writer of distinction and power, and is thus able to express herself with the vigor and lucidity which carry conviction. Her letter is a clear call for that “Fair Play” which Marie Corelli has been demanding for so long.
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That the novelist is well able to retort upon unfriendly critics is shown by a few verses addressed by her to The Quarterly in her “Christmas Greeting” (1901). A lacerating article concerning Miss Corelli and her work had appeared in The Quarterly, and it drew from her the following little epigram:—