The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-10-18
A FRIENDLY CRITIC.

AAiNI1d StHliGIldH u ItdSOL. ole
never could think what Horace Gibson
saw In him; and certainly that stringen-
editor and austere critic must have had Z
weak side to his nature somewhere. AT al
events II was not very long after he haC
become engaged to Gibson's cousin that
burst into the Office of the
Piccadilly Review with his pockets bulg.
Ing with manuscripts. He took up a firm
position in front of the fireplace, leaning
against the chimneypiece, and poured oui
his soul, while he passionately prodded the
hearth rug with the point of his umbrella
We'll, my boy said Gibson at last. q
admire your genial pessimism, but 1 cam
see what you've got to grumble at. You're
young, excessively young. in your case ar
obvious advantage; you're a government
clerk, and therefore an irresponsible per-
son; and you're engaged to my small
cousin, jamie Morris. What more do you
want?" The editor swung round in his re-
volving chair. and looked at his friend
with critical interest. Brownrigg was a
callow youth. with a prosaic body much
too long for his clothes. and a poetic soul
also absurdly overgrown. He WINGED nerv-
ously under the editorial gaze, and shifted
his position.
BY the by" continued Gibson, what
on earth brought you two together"
Fate" said ~Brownrigg, with sulky
solemnity.
"Ah! Fate's a matchmaker who won't
be cut by any man, let alone a boy of
your age. L congratulate you on your
good luck"
Its all very well for you to grin when
you're at the top of the tree L want to
climb; but how would you like to sit on a
high stool with your head, mind you,
bursting with original ideas) and have to
copy piles of official letters all day."
That kind of lfterature's not remark
able for imaginative thought, or for charm
and dignity of style; all the same"
"AH the same it's ruin to a mans Eng
fish. Besides, it's the injustice of the thing
I can't stand. If I'd condescended to prose.
If I'd pandered to the popular taste, writ
ten, say. a disgusting novel or a frantic
romance, I'd have been all right; being a.
poet, of coure I'm stuck into an office to
find my bread and butter"
And then you find it buttered side down.
MY dear fellow, you're too young to appre-
ciate the artistic irony of the situation"
Look here, Gibson, If you can't help me.
sa SO. / sent you all my manuscripts
under a pseudonym, SO that you mightn't
be embarrassed by any feeling of friend
ship
Thanks; it was most considerate of
you
Eyes, but honestly, did you suspect me
of having written those verses you sent
back?'
mo my dear boy, to do you justice, /
did not"
Would you mind telling me what fault
you found with "A Souls Epic?' Really,
it's the most sustained effort I've made
yet" and Brownrigg produced the manu-
script of a long photographed poem in
blank verse.
Gibson feighed extreme embarrassment
at the sight. IL hardly know-I may
have thought it a little too sustained. You
see the Review is limited as to space, and
"A Souls Epic would have swamped it for
the next three months He wheeled his
chair back to the table ana began to look
over a pile of papers. Suddenly he uttered
an amused Il say, you young
puppy: You don't mean to say you wrote
these studies of Swinburne?"
well, yes, 1 did-but-'
They're confoundly we'll done. Have
you any more of the same sort handy?"
"Loads-all idiotic. I've hacked and poll
ished them till they make me i'll. You
see, the poet is born, but the essayist is a
manufactured article. Those things you ad-
mire are purely mechanical; but this little
epic was struck out at a white heat; it's
charged with
L We no uOuDI II Is DuL QOn I let 1t OIL
just now. | can't read and listen at the
same time"
There was silence in the office for a
breaking of Brownrigg's boots as he
roamed from chair to chair. Presently
take this, and if you choose you can send
me some more like it; not any poetry,
oh" said .Brownrigg a little stifiy.
don't take the things because I happen
to be a friend and engaged to your cousin.
Il ofa stand mr. fall hy my npyn ~
its"
Il assure you I'm not influenced by per-
sonal affection. I'm merely Dandering, in |
an editorial capacity, to the popular taste.
BY the by. does my cousin admire "A
Yes" said Brownrigg, with some emo
ton, 'she says it's a noble Doenq-rates it
as high as anything in Byron, Milton, or
IF you'll take my advice. you'll keep
your verse for jamie and your prose for
something by and by If you'll condescend
to stick to Journalism. And now, would
you very much mind saying good-morn-
The poet went away more cast down
than otherwise by the prospect of success,
had risen in Gibson's eyes, but he had
was quite aware that he had fallen on his
feet, for Gibson was one of those people
word. and to be taken W py him was to
be more or less certain of a career.
In due time Brownrigg made his triumph
al entry into the world of literature
through the classic pages of the Piccadilly
Review. He wrote to jamie and told her
all about it, saying. and indeed believing.
that 1t was for her sake that he had made
this sacrifice of his supreme ambition, and
had consented to work on a lower level
for a while: adding that it would not be
long now before they could afford to be
married. For the rest he took Gibson'S adj
vice, and no longer sent his poems to pub
lishers; he sent them to jamie, inclosed in
long. melancholy, autobiograp hical letters.
JAMIE soothed him by return of post,
praised the poems, and p~rophesied fame
for their author.
jamie had always soothed him inexpres-
sibly. She was easily moved to mirth, yet
she never smiled at his little solecisms:
she never laughed when he tried to play
lawn tennis, and slipped and fell about the
grass in a variety of curious attitudes.
When Brownrigg blushed and looked I'M
comfortable, as he did a dozen times a
day, jamie suffered sympathetic agonies
And yet. when he was made sub-editor of
the Piccadilly Review a year later, and
gave up his government appointment on
the strength of it, Miss jamie was by no
means overjoyed at his good fortune. To
be sure he had told her that they could not
be married now for another four years.
and she was disappointed. Women are so
selfish, he reflected: they take everything
personally; and If jamie was going 10
stand in the way of his career-he did not
follow W that train OF thought, but went
down to jamie and explained the situation.