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Lavengro by George Henry Borrow

Who could be reviewed nowhere else


be sure he did.'

'But you don't like a thing of yours to be taken.'

'No, that's quite a different thing; what's stealing handkerchiefs, and that kind of thing, to do with taking my book? there's a wide difference--don't you see?'

'Yes, I see.'

'Do you, dear? well, bless your heart, I'm glad you do. Would you like to look at the book?'

'Well, I think I should.'

'Honour bright?' said the apple-woman, looking me in the eyes.

'Honour bright,' said I, looking the apple-woman in the eyes.

'Well then, dear, here it is,' said she, taking it from under her cloak; 'read it as long as you like, only get a little farther into the booth--Don't sit so near the edge--you might--'

I went deep into the booth, and the apple-woman, bringing her chair round, almost confronted me. I commenced reading the book, and was soon engrossed by it; hours passed away, once or twice I lifted up my eyes, the apple-woman was still confronting me: at last my eyes began to ache, whereupon I returned the book to the apple-woman, and, giving her another tanner, walked away.




Time passed away, and with it the Review, which, contrary to the publisher's expectation, did not prove a successful speculation. About four months after the period of its birth it expired, as all Reviews must for which there is no demand. Authors had ceased to send their publications to it, and, consequently, to purchase it; for I have already hinted that it was almost entirely supported by authors of a particular class, who expected to see their publications foredoomed to immortality in its pages. The behaviour of these authors towards this unfortunate publication I can attribute to no other cause than to a report which was industriously circulated, namely, that the Review was low, and that to be reviewed in it was an infallible sign that one was a low person, who could be reviewed nowhere else. So authors took fright; and no wonder, for it will never do for an author to be considered low. Homer himself has never yet entirely recovered from the injury he received by Lord Chesterfield's remark that the speeches of his heroes were frequently exceedingly low.

So the Review ceased, and the reviewing corps no longer existed as such; they forthwith returned to their proper avocations--the editor to compose tunes on his piano, and to the task of disposing of the remaining copies of his Quintilian--the inferior members to working for the publisher, being to a man dependants of his; one, to composing fairy tales; another, to collecting miracles of Popish saints; and a third, Newgate lives and trials. Owing to the bad success of the Review, the publisher became more furious than ever. My money was growing short, and I one day asked him to pay me for my labours in the deceased publication.

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