The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1893-12-25
THE RESURRECTION OF DEAD
BOOKS.

bOONSs
A few years ago when the death of
Charles Reade, following the deaths of
Thackeray, Dickens, Collins and Eliot.
left the field of letters bare of novel
writers of the first rank. publishers tried
the experiment of resurrecting the novels
of Walter Scott with marked success. A
number of new editions of the Waverley
novels appeared, and sold well; and,
though they did not restore the poet of
Abbotsford to the throne of fiction, they
proved that bis reputation had not been a
feeting fancy. Now. again. the crop OF
rOmances is scanty. The novels of the
day are fimsy and unsatisfying. One
writer after another raises hopes only to
disappoint them. and, consequently, read
ers are looking backward. not after the
fashion OF Bellamy, but really 10 sub
stantlal past, to see If it will not furnish
that which the present fails to supply.
Among other writers who are being dug
out of the grave are Charles Reade and
Anthony Trollope. Goud authority has
pronounced "The Cloister and the Hearth"
to be the finest historical novel In the Eng
llsh guage-superiOr to any of Scott's
and to Kingsley's Westward Ho." Yet
1t has been for some years out of print. So
are most of that other series of novels
with a purDose-"Love Me Little, Love
Me L ong," "Put Yourself in His Place."
Hard Cash." Foul Play" Griffith
Gaunt." These works all ran through
several editions in this country. and were
generally read. But they have passed
away from the booksellers shelves, and
they are not always found In public Ii
braries. Yet they are splendid works of
fiction. powerful, dramatic and euriously
exact in detail. They deserve better fate
than oblivion. So the publishers think
for two editions of The Cloister and the
Hearth" appeared this season at New
York. Both are editions de luxe, costing
SIS. If they sell well, as they probably
will. they will be followed by library
edition of Reade's novels, and the Eel
low OF Magdalen will assume the position
in letters to which his genius entitled him.
Anthony Trollope has never been appre-
ciated. People read his books, but they
treated him as Brigham Young did. When
TrOllope called on the Mormon chief and
explained that his visit was one of polite
ness, Young gruffly asked: Are you not
a miner?" Trollope explained that he
was q novel writer, and mentioned two or
three of his most successful works. The
Mormon said he had never heard of them.
TrOllope himself observed that they were
quite popular. To which Young retorted
Il believe you're a Miner" and slammed
the door in his face. Yet Trollope's pict-
ures of ordinary contemporary life have
never been surpassed for freshness and
realism. N one has pictured the English
churchman Of to-day as be did In "Thr
Chronicles of Barset"; the series is out of
print, but Mrs. Proudick has become
historic parsonage. The life of the fast
young members of the London upper class
has never been drawn as faithfully as he
drew it in The Way We Live Now; nor
has modern political life ever been de-
scribed more wildly than he describes it
in the ten or fifteen volumes which he
evotes TO Parliamentary chronicles. The
men are natural; they speak in their
natural voice and act just as they would
have done in real life; the stories have the
fascination Of a romance with the charm
of series Of photographs of the private
lives of public characters. Two editions
Of these works appear this year at London
and New York. They are far better worth
reading than the vaporous romances which
are being written to-day.
The boaiding-school miss and the aver
age merchandiser who proposes to depart
from his normal habits and to read some
thing more than newspaper generally ask
for new books" They ask for 1.-The last
new novel," They place reading on the
same footing as dress. The young miss
wants to be in the fashion and no more
proposes to read last years books than she
proposes to wear last years gown. But
though there Is such a thing as progress
i've taste IN letters the progress is slow.
and ii is not always in the right direction.
No one enjoys "Clarissa Harlowe" to-day,
and well-bred young ladies do not read
TON Jones'" The audience which is en-
raptured with Bulwer's what Will He
Do With 1t?" yawns over pelham" But
there is not novel by Dickens. Thackeray
or Reade which is not as fresh and timely
to-day as it was on the day of its pubIica-
ton. In running after the newest thing in
novels readers often find themselves read
ing poor. thin, dull stuff, while older books
full of sap, and life, and bri ghtness, and
fancy. and sense lie neglected at their
elbow. The resurrection of Reade and
Trollope will n OF only feed the novel-reader
with wholesome food. 1t may teach some
writers the lesson that fame and profit
may still be found in neglected paths.