PHILADELPHIA, 1890.
[DEAR DICK:]
I wouldn't undertake the "types." For one thing, you
will lose prestige writing for — — 's paper. For another, I
dread beyond everything your beginning to do hack work for
money. It is the beginning of decadence both in work and
reputation for you. I know by my own and a thousand other
people. Begin to write because it "is a lot of money" and you
stop doing your best work. You make your work common and your
prices will soon go down. George Lewes managed George Eliot
wisely.
He stopped her hack work. Kept her at writing novels and
soon one each year brought her $40,000. I am taking a purely
mercenary view of the thing. There is another which you
understand better than I — Mind your Mother's advice to
you — now and all the time is "do only your best work — even if
you starve doing it." But you won't starve. You'll get your
dinner at Martin's instead of Delmonico's, which won't hurt
you in the long run. Anyhow, $1000. for 12,500 words is not a
great price.
That was a fine tea you gave. I should like to have
heard the good talk. It was like the regiment of brigadier
generals with no privates.
Your
MOTHER.
This is a letter written by my father after the
publication of Richard's story "A Walk up the Avenue."
Richard frequently spoke of his father as his "kindest and
severest critic."
