to repeat the experiment. The
inclination once indulged becomes insatiable. It is not altogether the
gratified vanity of seeing one's self in print, for, before printing
was, the composers and reciters of romances and songs were driven
along the same path of unrest and anxiety, when once they had the least
recognition of their individual distinction. The impulse is more subtle
than the desire for wealth or the craving for political place. In some
cases it is in simple obedience to the longing to create; in others it
is a lower ambition for notoriety, for praise.

In any case the experiment of authorship, in however humble, a way, has
an analogy to that other tempting occupation of making "investments" in
the stock-market: the first trial is certain to lead to another. If the
author succeeds in any degree, his spirit rises to another attempt in
the hope of a wider recognition. If he fails, that is a reason why
he should convince his fellows that the failure was not inherent in
himself, but in ill-luck or a misdirection of his powers. And the
experiment has another analogy to the noble occupation of levying
toll upon the change of values--a first brilliant success is often a
misfortune, inducing an overestimate of capacity, while a very moderate
success, recognized indeed only as a trial, steadies a man, and sets him
upon that serious diligence upon which alone, either in art or business,
any solid fortune is built.

Philip was fortunate in that his first novel won him a few friends and
a little recognition, but no popularity. It excited neither envy nor
hostility. In the perfunctory and somewhat commercial good words it
received, he recognized the good-nature of the world. In the few short
reviews that dealt seriously with his work, he was able, when the
excitement of seeing himself discussed had subsided, to read between
the lines why The Puritan Nun had failed to make a larger appeal. It was
idyllic and poetic, but it lacked virility; it lacked also simplicity
in dealing with the simple and profound facts of life. He had been too
solicitous to express himself, to write beautifully, instead of letting
the human emotions with which he had to deal show themselves. One notice
had said that it was too "literary"; by which, of course, the critic
meant that he did not follow the solid traditions, the essential
elements in all the great masterpieces of literature that have been
created. And yet he had shown a quality, a faci