Not that I deem the publisher or the theatrical manager to be by nature
less upright than any other class of merchant. But the publisher and the
theatrical manager have been subjected for centuries to a special and
grave temptation. The ordinary merchant deals with other merchants--his
equals in business skill. The publisher and the theatrical manager deal
with what amounts to a race of children, of whom even arch-angels could
not refrain from taking advantage.

When the democratisation of literature seriously set in, it inevitably
grew plain that the publisher and the theatrical manager had very
humanly been giving way to the temptation with which heaven in her
infinite wisdom had pleased to afflict them,--and the Society of Authors
came into being. A natural consequence of the general awakening was the
self-invention of the literary agent. The Society of Authors, against
immense obstacles, has performed wonders in the economic education of
the creative artist, and therefore in the improvement of letters. The
literary agent, against obstacles still more immense, has carried out
the details of the revolution. The outcry--partly sentimental, partly
snobbish, but mainly interested--was at first tremendous against these
meddlers who would destroy the charming personal relations that used to
exist between, for example, the author and the publisher. (The less said
about those charming personal relations the better. Documents exist.)
But the main battle is now over, and everyone concerned is beautifully
aware who holds the field. Though much remains to be done, much has been
done; and today the creative artist who, conscious of inability to
transact his own affairs efficiently, does not obtain efficient advice
and help therein, stands in his own light both as an artist and as a
man, and is a reactionary force. He owes the practice of elementary
common sense to himself, to his work, and to his profession at large.

IV

The same dilettante spirit which refuses to see the connection between
art and money has also a tendency to repudiate the world of men at
large, as being unfit for the habitation of artists. This is a still
more serious error of attitude--especially in a storyteller. No artist
is likely to be entirely admirable who is not a man before he is an
artist. The notion that art is first and the rest of the universe
nowhere is bound to lead to preciosity and futility in art. The artist
who is too sensitive f