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THE CHAMPAGNE STANDARD
BY MRS. JOHN LANE
Author of "Kitwyk," "Brown's Retreat," etc.
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY
MDCCCCV
Copyright, 1905,
By John Lane Company
The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
TO THE PUBLISHER
MY GENIAL AND
SUGGESTIVE CRITIC
My Preface
I was sitting alone with a lead-pencil, having a tête-à-tête with asheet of paper. A brisk fire burned on the hearth, and through thebeating of the rain against the little, curved Georgian windows I couldhear the monotonous roll of the sea at the foot of the narrow street,and the tear and crunching of the pebbles down the shingle as the wavesreceded.
I had been ordered to write a preface to explain the liberty I had takenin making miscellaneous observations about two great nations, and thenputting a climax to my effrontery by having them printed. So here I wastrying, with the aid of a lead-pencil and a sheet of paper, to constructa preface, and that without the ghost of an idea how to begin. Nor wasthe dim electric light illuminating; nor, in the narrow street, thenasal invocation of an aged man with a green shade over his eyes, armin arm with an aged woman keenly alive to pennies, somewhere out ofwhose interiors there emanated a song to the words, "Glowry, glowry,hallaluh!"
In fact, all the ideas that did occur to me were miles away from apreface. It was maddening! I even demanded that the ocean should stopmaking such a horrid noise, if only for five minutes. And that set meidly to thinking what would happen to the world if the tides shouldreally be struck motionless even for that short space of time. The ideais so out of my line that it is quite at the service of any distressedromancer, dashed with science, who, also, may be nibbling his pencil.
I sat steeped in that profound melancholy familiar to authors who arerequired to say something and who have nothing to say. Finally, in adespair which is familiar to such as have seen the first act of Faust,I invoked that Supernatural Power who comes with a red light and bestowsinspiration.
"If you'll only help me to begin," I cried, "I'll do the rest!" For Irealised in what active demand his services must be.
I didn't believe anything would happen. Nothing ever does except in thefirst act of Faust, and I must really take this opportunity to begFaust not to unbutton his old age so obviously. Still, that again hasnothing to do with my preface!
I reclined on a red plush couch before the fire and thought gloomily ofFaust's buttons, and how the