sibilities
of its position, and ought not to entrust an important work of letters to
some one whose most obvious characteristic is an exquisite and profound
incompetence for criticism. The explanation that occurs to me is that "A
Set of Six" and "Diana Mallory" got mixed on the _Athenaeum's_ library
table, and that each was despatched to the critic chosen for the other.

* * * * *

"A Set of Six" will not count among Mr. Conrad's major works. But in the
mere use of English it shows an advance upon all his previous books. In
some of his finest chapters there is scarcely a page without a phrase that
no Englishman would have written, and in nearly every one of his books
slight positive errors in the use of English are fairly common. In "A Set
of Six" I have detected no error and extremely few questionable terms. The
influence of his deep acquaintance with French is shown in the position of
the adverb in "I saw again somebody in the porch." It cannot be called bad
English, but it is queer. "Inasmuch that" could certainly be defended
(compare "in so much that"), but an Englishman would not, I think, have
written it. Nor would an Englishman be likely to write "that sort of
adventures."

Mr. Conrad still maintains his preference for indirect narrative through
the mouths of persons who witnessed the events to be described. I dare say
that he would justify the device with great skill and convincingness. But
it undoubtedly gives an effect of clumsiness. The first story in the
volume, "Gaspar Ruiz," is a striking instance of complicated narrative
machinery. This peculiarity also detracts from the realistic authority of
the work. For by the time you have got to the end of "A Set of Six" you
have met a whole series of men who all talk just as well as Mr. Conrad
writes, and upon calm reflection the existence of a whole series of such
men must seem to you very improbable. The best pages in the book are those
devoted to the ironical contemplation of a young lady anarchist. They are
tremendous.

THE PROFESSORS

[_26 Sep. '08_]

The death of Professor Churton Collins appears to have been attended by
painful circumstances, and one may be permitted to regret the
disappearance from the literary arena of this vigorous pundit. He had an
agreeable face, with pendant hair and the chin of a fighter. His industry
must have been terrific, and personally I can forgive anything to him who
consistently an