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ope; death overtakes me while these still remain。
Here I must go back a little。 In the winter of 1886; as I remember very much against my own will; I was worried into writing an article about “Fiction” for the Contemporary Review。
It is almost needless for me to say that for a young writer who had suddenly e into some kind of fame to spring a dissertation of this kind upon the literary world over his own name was very little short of madness。 Such views must necessarily make him enemies; secret or declared; by the hundred。 There are two bits of advice which I will offer to the youthful author of the future。 Never preach about your trade; and; above all; never criticise other practitioners of that trade; however profoundly you may disagree with them。 Heaven knows there are critics enough without your taking a hand in the business。 Do your work as well as you can and leave other people to do theirs; and the public to judge between them。 Secondly; unless you are absolutely driven to it; as of course may happen sometimes; never enter into a controversy with a newspaper。
To return: this unfortunate article about “Fiction” made me plenty of enemies; and the mere fact of my remarkable success made me plenty more。 Through no fault of mine; also; these foes found a very able leader in the person of Mr。 Stead; who at that time was the editor of the Pall Mall Gazette。 I should say; however; that of late years Mr。 Stead has quite changed his attitude towards me and has indeed bee very plimentary; both with reference to my literary and to my public work。 For my part; too; I have long ago forgiven his onslaughts; as I can honestly say I have forgiven everybody else for every harm that they have done; or tried to do me。
To go back to “Jess。” Being somewhat
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