t, I received through
the post a single number of an obscure newspaper, whose existence, until
then, was quite unknown to me. Surprised at such an attention, I was
curious to know the contents. The journal contained an article on my
merits and demerits as a writer, the latter being treated with a good
deal of freedom. When one gets a paper in this manner, containing abuse
of himself, he is pretty safe in believing its opinions dishonest. But I
had even better evidence than common in this particular case, for I
happened to be extolled for the manner in which I had treated the
character of Franklin, a personage whose name even had never appeared in
anything I had written. This, of course, settled the character of the
critique, and the next time I saw the individual who had acted as agent
in the negociation just mentioned, I gave him the paper, and told him I
was half disposed to raise my price on account of the pitiful manoeuvre
it contained. We had already come to terms, the publishers finding that
the price was little more than nominal, and the answer was a virtual
conclusion that the article was intended to affect my estimate of the
value of the intended work in France, and to bring me under subjection
to the critics.[20]

[Footnote 20: The writer suffers this anecdote to stand as it was written
nine years since; but since his return home, he has discovered that we
are in no degree behind the French in the corruption and frauds that
render the pursuits of a writer one of the most humiliating and
revolting in which a man of any pride of character can engage, unless he
resolutely maintains his independence, a temerity that is certain to be
resented by all those who, unequal to going alone in the paths of
literature, seek their ends by clinging to those who can, either as
pirates or robbers.]

I apprehend that few books are brought before the public in France,
dependent only on their intrinsic merits; and the system of intrigue,
which predominates in everything, is as active in this as in other
interests.

In France, a book that penetrates to the provinces may be said to be
popular; and as for a book coming _from_ the provinces, it is almost
unheard of. The despotism of the trade on this point is unyielding.
Paris appears to deem itself the arbiter in all matters of taste and
literature, and it is almost as unlikely that a new fashion should come
from Lyon, or Bordeaux, or Marseilles, as that a new work should be
rece