1889-10-02 to Clara Lanza

Autograph letter signed, Columbia University, 446 words

[Edited for paragraph breaks, capitalization, spelling and punctuation.]

8 Kings Bench Walk, Temple

[Wednesday] October 2nd 1889]

Dear Clara Lanza

I hear that Belford Clarke has smashed and I have sent him all the proof sheets and a preface. You will guess how annoying this is for you know how I looked forward to the American edition which was to have been unexpurgated. I do not know if Belford Clarke will continue publishing; I do not know if they intend to bring out my books; I know nothing.

Will you, like the dear kind friend that you are, go to Belford Clarke and ask him what he intends to do with my book? If possible you might get him to give you the proof sheets and you might take them to your publisher and make the best bargain you can for me. I give you full authority, power of attorney we call it here; I have, I need not say, absolute confidence in your good sense and judgement; what you do will be right. The book I hear is a certain success and it would be a pity to waste it.

I had begun to suspect that something must be wrong for I especially requested Belford to write and tell me what he thought of his bargain and the days brought no letter from him.

Last night I dined with Heron-Allen and Edgar Saltus whom I thought mediocrity personified — a dreary little man. He had not heard of the failure and was at once attuned to the highest pitch of sensitiveness. He was quite overcome and his efforts to talk on other matters were lamentable. I shouldn't have criticised him so severely, it is difficult to be brilliant under such circumstances.

And now, chère bon maître (It seems strange, the French, does it not? and yet it must be correct. You [know] that it was so that Flaubert used to write to George Sand?) you know I am dying to read your book and what’s more I hope to write about it.

Why do you not come to Europe? I want to go to America and lecture and of course it would have been easier to arrange a tour if Belford had not gone smash and my book had been a success. Now all the fat is in the fire.

I send you the Fortnightly. My article is poor, very poor. You cannot write well about what you love completely and irreparably.

And now good bye. I squeeze both your hands and tell you in all sincerity that I am

Yours most sincerely

George Moore