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The Complete Works of Artemus Ward — Part 1: Essays, Sketches, and Letters — Background and Themes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
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About 268 minutes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
61,532 recorded words. 2 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #3271About 298 minutes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
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Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
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Read on Project GutenbergAndrew Lang opens his 1891 collection Essays in Little with a frank admission: he has not read all of Alexandre Dumas's thousand volumes, only dipped 'a cup in that sparkling spring.' This self-deprecating tone sets the stage for a series of essays that are less exhaustive critiques than personal appreciations. Lang writes as a fellow author, not a distant scholar, and his observations often turn on the specific diction, dialogue, and descriptive choices of his subjects.
The volume gathers pieces originally published in periodicals like Scribner's Magazine and Good Words, revised for this edition. Lang's subjects range from Homer to Mr. Kipling, with particular attention to novelists such as Thackeray, Dickens, and Charles Lever. Throughout, he privileges the author's voice and the texture of their prose over plot summary or biographical anecdote.
Lang's critical approach is conversational rather than systematic. He praises Thackeray's letters for their 'manly' emulation of Dickens, quoting Thackeray's exclamation: 'O! it is charming! Brave Dickens!' This is not mere praise; Lang uses the quotation to illustrate how one author's style can stimulate another. He notes Thackeray's more critical assessment of Kingsley—'a fine, honest, go-a-head fellow' with 'narrow eyes' and 'little knowledge of the world'—to show how Lang values specificity over vague admiration.
Lang himself adopts a similar blend of warmth and precision. He describes Dumas's works as 'sparkling' and 'heroic,' but he also admits his own limitations: 'We only dip a cup in that sparkling spring, and drink, and go on.' This modesty is a deliberate rhetorical choice, positioning the reader as a fellow traveler rather than a student.
Lang is attentive to the specific words and phrases that define an author's voice. In discussing Thackeray, he highlights the 'inimitable Dickens touches' that Thackeray himself admired. He also dwells on the 'scrofulous French novel On gray paper with blunt type' that Dumas could not read past the tenth page—a detail that reveals Lang's interest in how physical description of a book can mirror its content.
When analyzing Thackeray's Vanity Fair, Lang focuses on the character of Emmy Sedley, noting that she was 'partly suggested by Mrs. Brookfield, partly by Thackeray's mother, much by his own wife.' He then observes the effect of this composite origin: 'Emmy is more complex than she seems.' Lang's own prose mirrors this complexity, as he shifts from biographical fact to literary judgment without breaking stride.
Lang's essays are structured around a central anecdote or quotation, which he then unpacks. In the preface, he explains that five of the essays are new, while others have been 're-cast, augmented, and, to a great extent, re-written.' This revision process is itself a subject of interest: Lang is transparent about his methods, inviting the reader to consider how criticism evolves.
He also experiments with form. The 'Letter to a Young Journalist' adopts an epistolary frame, while the essay on Homer is a 'note' rather than a full study. This variety keeps the collection from becoming monotonous. Lang's paragraphs vary in length, from a single sentence to dense blocks of analysis, mirroring the rhythms of conversation.
A recurring theme in Essays in Little is the author as a reader of other authors. Lang quotes Thackeray's letters to show how one novelist responds to another, and he imagines a future where great authors 'condescend to tell us the history of their books.' He cites Scott's prefaces to the Waverley Novels as a model, praising Scott's account of 'how he worked, how he planned, and found all his plots and plans overridden by the demon at the end of his pen.'
Lang himself performs this role, offering glimpses of his own reading habits. He admits to reading Vanity Fair 'somewhat stealthily' at age ten, and he confesses that he has not read all of Dumas. These personal touches humanize the critic and remind the reader that literary judgment is always partial.
Lang's Essays in Little rewards readers who enjoy watching a skilled critic at work. Rather than delivering final judgments, Lang invites us into his workshop, showing how he reads, compares, and responds. His attention to diction, his willingness to quote at length, and his conversational tone make these essays a model of accessible literary criticism. For those interested in Victorian literary culture or the craft of the essay itself, this collection offers a window into the mind of a writer who was both a scholar and a storyteller.
There’s a particular comfort in rereading Lang’s gentle musings on craft—how he lingers over a voice rather than a plot. That unhurried attention stays with me. I found a similar quiet in Leaves in the Wind — Themes and Context, where the essays feel less like arguments and more like footnotes to a long, solitary walk. Time slips by so strangely there.
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