ne that they were going to stop the
sevenpenny, that anything could stop it? I suppose they did! More
agreeably comic than the attitude and arguments of the publishers are the
attitude and arguments of the booksellers. But the largest firms, Smith
and Son and Wymans, "do not find that the sevenpenny has interfered with
the 6s. novel." Be it noted that Smith and Son are now the largest buyers
of 6s. novels in England.

* * * * *

In the Shaw and Co. report, in the arguments of publishers, in the
arguments booksellers, not a word about the interests of the consumer! Yet
the consumer will settle the affair ultimately. That the price of new
novels will come down is absolutely certain. It will come down because it
is ridiculous, and no mandarinic efforts can keep it up. In the process of
readjustment many people will temporarily suffer, and a few people will be
annihilated. But things are what they are, and the consequences of them
will be what they will be. Why, therefore, should we deceive ourselves? I
quite expect to suffer myself. I shall not, however, complain of the
cosmic movement. The auctorial report (which, by the way, is full of
common sense) envisages immense changes in the book market. I agree. And I
am sure that these changes will come about in the teeth of violent
opposition from both publishers and booksellers. The book market is
growing steadily. It is enormous compared to what used to be. And yet it
is only in its infancy. The inhabitants of this country have scarcely even
begun to buy books. Wait a few years and you will see!

MEREDITH

[_27 May '09_]

The death of George Meredith removes, not the last of the Victorian
novelists, but the first of the modern school. He was almost the first
English novelist whose work reflected an intelligent interest in the art
which he practised; and he was certainly the first since Scott who was
really a literary man. Even Scott was more of an antiquary than a man of
letters--apart from his work. Can one think of Dickens as a man of
letters, as one who cared for books, as one whose notions on literature
were worth twopence? And Thackeray's opinions on contemporary and
preceding writers condemn him past hope of forgiveness. Thackeray was in
Paris during the most productive years of French fiction, the sublime
decade of Balzac, Stendhal, and Victor Hugo. And his "Paris Sketch-Book"
proves that his attitude towards the marvels by w