e is constantly
submitted for criticism, that the only thing that ever prejudices me
against a book is the lack of literary style; but I can quite understand
how any ordinary critic would be strongly prejudiced against a work that
was accompanied by a premature and unnecessary panegyric from the
publisher. A publisher is simply a useful middle-man. It is not for him
to anticipate the verdict of criticism.

I may, however, while expressing my thanks to the "London Editor" for
drawing my attention to this, I trust, purely American method of
procedure, venture to differ from him in one of his criticisms. He
states that he regards the expression "complete" as applied to a story,
as a specimen of the "adjectival exuberance of the puffer." Here, it
seems to me, he sadly exaggerates. What my story is is an interesting
problem. What my story is not is a "novelette"--a term which you have
more than once applied to it. There is no such word in the English
language as novelette. It should not be used. It is merely part of the
slang of Fleet Street.

In another part of your paper, Sir, you state that I received your
assurance of the lack of malice in your critic "somewhat grudgingly."
This is not so. I frankly said that I accepted that assurance "quite
readily," and that your own denial and that of your critic were
"sufficient."

Nothing more generous could have been said. What I did feel was that you
saved your critic from the charge of malice by convicting him of the
unpardonable crime of lack of literary instinct. I still feel that. To
call my book an ineffective attempt at allegory that, in the hands of
Mr. Anstey might have been made striking, is absurd.

Mr. Anstey's sphere in literature and my sphere are different.

You then gravely ask me what rights I imagine literature possesses. That
is really an extraordinary question for the editor of a newspaper such
as yours to ask. The rights of literature, Sir, are the rights of
intellect.

I remember once hearing M. Renan say that he would sooner live under a
military despotism than under the despotism of the Church, because the
former merely limited the freedom of action, while the latter limited
the freedom of mind.

You say that a work of art is a form of action: It is not. It is the
highest mode of thought.

In conclusion, Sir, let me ask you not to force on me this continued
correspondence by daily attacks. It is a trouble and a nuisance.

As you assailed me first