Literary Collections Books

ON THE ART OF MAKING UP ONE'S MIND "Now, which would you advise, dear? You see, with the red I shan't be able to wear my magenta hat." "Well then, why not have the grey?" "Yes—yes, I think the grey will be MORE useful." "It's a good material." "Yes, and it's a PRETTY grey. You know what I mean, dear; not a COMMON grey. Of course grey is always... more...

CHAPTER I. THE LAST WORD OF TWO GREAT COQUETTES After the disasters of the revolution of July, which destroyed so many aristocratic fortunes dependent on the court, Madame la Princesse de Cadignan was clever enough to attribute to political events the total ruin she had caused by her own extravagance. The prince left France with the royal family, and never returned to it, leaving the princess in Paris,... more...

A CRITICISM OF THE HEGELIAN PHILOSOPHY OF RIGHT As far as Germany is concerned the criticism of religion is practically completed, and the criticism of religion is the basis of all criticism. The profane existence of error is threatened when its heavenly oratio pro aris et focis has been refuted. He who has only found a reflexion of himself in the fantastic reality of heaven where he looked for a... more...

HOW THEY STRUCK A CONTEMPORARY There is such a thing as robbing a story of its reality by trying to make it too true, and The Black Arrow is so inartistic as not to contain a single anachronism to boast of, while the transformation of Dr. Jekyll reads dangerously like an experiment out of the Lancet.  As for Mr. Rider Haggard, who really has, or had once, the makings of a perfectly magnificent liar,... more...

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CHAPTER I. SERAPHITUS As the eye glances over a map of the coasts of Norway, can the imagination fail to marvel at their fantastic indentations and serrated edges, like a granite lace, against which the surges of the North Sea roar incessantly? Who has not dreamed of the majestic sights to be seen on those beachless shores, of that multitude of creeks and inlets and little bays, no two of them alike,... more...

AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHERAT CHAMPEL-LES-BAINS, SWITZERLAND Rue Chapeau de Marie Antoinette, Versailles, July 4th Darling Little French Mother: Things have happened. Fire-crackers! Roman candles! rockets! But don't be frightened. They're all in my head. Nevertheless I haven't had such a Fourth of July since I was a small girl in America, and stood on a tin pail with a whole pack of... more...

CHAPTER I In the days when the spinning-wheels hummed busily in the farmhouses—and even great ladies, clothed in silk and thread-lace, had their toy spinning-wheels of polished oak—there might be seen in districts far away among the lanes, or deep in the bosom of the hills, certain pallid undersized men, who, by the side of the brawny country-folk, looked like the remnants of a disinherited race.... more...

One of the most amusing questions concerning the short story is why a form which is singly so attractive that every one likes to read a short story when he finds it alone is collectively so repellent as it is said to be. Before now I have imagined the case to be somewhat the same as that of a number of pleasant people who are most acceptable as separate householders, but who lose caste and cease to be... more...

PREFACE: ON FLUCTUATIONS OF TASTE When Voltaire sat down to write a book on Epic Poetry, he dedicated his first chapter to "Differences of Taste in Nations." A critic of to-day might well find it necessary, on the threshold of a general inquiry, to expatiate on "Differences of Taste in Generations." Changes of standard in the arts are always taking place, but it is only with advancing... more...